Yesterday, because I am A Patriot, I celebrated Memorial Day by drinking too many beers and eating semi-edible tofu dogs.
Ari and I went to J.P.’s place in the Bronx, which is basically as far away from our apartment in Brooklyn as it gets, but I’ve known him for 16 years now and he told me he was having a BBQ and that he even mowed his lawn, so we were going.
Once we got there we lit the new grill that J.P. had bought.
We looked at this for at least fifteen minutes.
Here is Ari looking cooler than fire.
Try and look cooler than fire, I dare you.
Not many people can pull it off.
When the fire died down J.P. manned the grill because that is what Men do – they Cook Things With Fire.
Not shown is our friend Jim yelling, “My hand is on fire!” and J.P. telling him to “Bun it! You’ve got to Bun it you fool!!!”
Jim did not Bun It and he paid the price. Bronx BBQs are not for the lighthearted.
I bet you’re asking yourself, “Well where were you while all of this was happening?” If you’re not, please do so now.
I, once we got to J.P.’s, found a nice chair and proceeded to sit in it for about three hours and forty-five minutes of the four hours we were there.
I did manage to say Helpful Things like, “Dude grab me another beer!” “You should close the lid now, let the burgers cook” and “Time for another ice cream sandwich!”
I think the chair next to me was empty as a signal that maybe people weren’t too happy with me, but I’m probably reading too much into it.
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