HIll Mechanical Group

So yeah. Get together at my place this Friday night-ish for a celebration of life. Of course, it’s not a celebration without some rules – hard and fast rules. I’m putting them forward now because, if my personal history is any indication, I won’t be in a state that allows me to inform/enforce the rules come tomorrow night.

Rule 1: Bring shovels and work gloves. There are some cool old boards and artifacts in the ruble piles behind the Box Factory. I want the stuff from the bottom, and you’re going to help me get it. What I'm really looking for is some nice boards I can turn into a display case for my collection of 19th century thimbles and knick-knacks. Also, bring lemonade so we can wipe our brows and drink lemonade and remark on weather patterns.

Rule 2: Ties and jackets for the guys, corsages for the ladies.

Rule 3: ABOSUTELY NO ILLEGAL SUBSTANCES. That means: no pixie dust, runners, X, jammers, mush, E, Q, snuff, O, blow or mary jane. After all, who wants to have a heightened experience of pure pleasure? Who wants to be able to kiss the stars or stop time or, if the stuffs really good, go back in time? Who wants to have the secrets of the universe revealed or have the wallpaper in my apartments start crying gummy bear tears? No sir. None of that spastic delight for me. I would much prefer to stand around looking at non-crying wallpaper drinking 40 ounces of malt liquor that will make me bloated, fat and sleepy. Now that’s good fun. So please, don’t bring drugs and definitely no hallucinogens. *Bring drugs.*

Rule 4: No gambling on the cockfights taking place in An Doof Asses old room. The second a dollar falls in the ring it can get ugly real quick. *gamble*

Rule 5: Yes, you have to put your keys in the fishbowl. And yes, by my intial count the ratio of “guys” to “gals” is running at about 16 guys to every 1 girl, but we’re doing it anyways.

Rule 6: Absolutely no free booze. You think I want to pay to watch you piss on my floor and use my "50 States Collectors Edition" spoons to stir Skol vodka into Diet Coke? To hell with you.

Rule 7: When Heather and I get into our inevitable, nightly, drunken scream/slap fight just act like nothings going on. Pour yourself another glass of Hennessey and just enjoy the Gordon Lightfoot record - let his soothing voice carry you away…

Rule 8: There will be no breakfast.

So come enjoy yourself - just don’t touch anything, ask me about my job or life, look Heather directly in the eyes or use the bathroom. Oh yes, one more thing, we’ll have disposable plates and plastic cups: If anyone –ANYONE- tries to use my glassware, or for that matter even enters the kitchen, the party is over.