Yesterday was a great garage party. We opened up our garage door to have a half-inside, half-outside party with all of our friends. We put the Lakers and the Mavericks game on (although the lakers lost, which was tragic) and we cracked open a bunch of Blue Moons and Coronas. We firedu p the grill, flipped burgers and rotated hot dogs. One of my friends asked for a Smirnoff Ice, which doesn't make any sense to me but he was letting us use his HD tv so I wasn't about to refuse him.
Another friend had to finish up some work at home, so we all dropped by to give him encouragement, small back rubs, and put on some of his favorite songs to get him pumped up for finishing his work. Poor guy had to go to bed early, but at least he knew we loved him.
We set up one of those foldable beer pong tables and played several matches of truly epic pong. All of our friends were there: young ones, old ones, ones who were romantically interested in one another, ones who were bromantically interesting. Some bets on the game happened, dares were executed. One kid got a little overenthusiastic and weirded out the rest of the guests, but whatever.
One of the beer pong players brought a sweet congo drum from somewhere in Africa, and we all beat out rhythms that either clashed or meshed with the pop music playing. Some of us discussed anthropology.
It was a beautiful day outside, and the warm late-afternoon sun slanted down into a gorgeous early-evening, with periwinkle skies and warm, lazy breezes. A few fireflies came out, flittered in the opening of the garage door. It was simply glorious, enjoyed with laughter and hugging and a lot of good-natured yelling and shrieking.
Turning your garage int oa real room can make for some pretty special memories.
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