Well, this weekend's quarterly Scare the New Kids into Submission Barbeque went off without a hitch.

OK, besides Dewey's friend making all the girls visibly uncomfortable and then dousing me, my bed, the hallway, and Frosty with shaving cream after we'd all fallen asleep...well, no hitches.

Actually, that hitch turned out to be a blessing in disguise. See, I was passed out in my bed upstairs and woke up to feel cold shaving cream in my ear and on my pillow. So naturally, my first reaction was to yell, "Goddamit Frosty, you're a fuckin' asshole!!"

Little did I know Frosty was just waking up himself downstairs, also doused in shaving cream like a pie in the face. The image of a shaving cream-doused Frosty waking just as confused as I was - except hearing me curse him out...well frankly it'll keep me going for months.

Oh, and one more little hitch. Several insensitive parties decided it would be "fun" to torment the cripple, in his defenseless state.

Women fear date-rape drugs in their drinks. (And Dewey's strange friend.) Crippled men-children fear the melon.

The terrible, terrible melon.



19th Hole, officially crowning Dickie Supreme Dictator (of the Barbeque). Oh blessed day.




At first Dickie resisted intensely, but eventually relaxed, accepted, and settled into his new role. Sort of like breathing that weird liquid oxygen in The Abyss.




RND (whom I can call RND since she's been calling me "Cripple" all week), Dickie, ToriKatz: Class Rep, and Dewey. Dewey who, apparently, doesn't think it's quite humiliating enough that Dickie is wearing a watermelon.

Oh, and when not drinking keg beer like a fratboy, I've been doing a little of that "writing" thing. So far, so good, knock on wood - interesting assignments to report on. World War II vets are involved. Of course, if they saw pictures of me with melons on my head they might not be as forthcoming. But more on that later...

Mad props to RND for the photos.