Saturday Night in Helen…

This is when it started getting really ugly. Actually it was a blast and didn’t get rough for me until most of the folks had already retired for the evening. Somehow it was decided by a general concensus well ahead of time (like before I arrived) that the party would be at my cabin on Saturday evening. Oh shit…

It was also voted that we would be having a cook-out for supper rather than everyone invading a restaurant on Saturday night, so a boatload of people walked to the store and bought steaks, vegetables and other goodies. Luckily I was not the one that had to prepare dinner for a change.

It took a while to prepare half a cow and involved stealing a grill and loading it into the back of my pickup truck which I was in no shape to drive, so I handed over the keys and allowed the hooligans to take it. Good steaks were had by all but I think I will grill them next time. Mine was a crispy critter, but then again it could have been the liquor clouding my judgement. I have never had a steak doused with garlic butter though, and I must say that it is a wondrous thing. Thanks, Elisson. Good stuff there.

After we ate there was plenty of entertainment in which I remember nothing in any particular order but we had Robert Service by way of Eric, a great ghost story from Joan (the bearer of flying monkeys) and mucho singing and guitar playing from the elderly brothers as well as several others. RSM has impeccable timing and showed up prior to dinner being served, as did Kelly and the Senior Chief whom I haven’t seen since last year’s yellin’ in Helen.

I think my downfall was the fact that I joined in a couple of Chocolate Vodka toasts on top of all the punch and beer. Man that stuff is good.

Getting Denny the Grouchy Old Cripple up the stairs was quite interesting but not nearly as much fun as bearing him back down the stairs in his wheelchair. He is a much braver man than I as I would have crapped my pants having us drunks carry me down stairs like that.

The party had pretty much died down with a few diehard exceptions when I finally decided I needed to make my exit. Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately) the party was in my cabin so it was difficult to make my way up to the second floor so that I could blow chunks in privacy. I ended up spending half the night on the bathroom floor so that I could be as close as possibly to the porcelain altar in case I needed to pray. Once I started feeling as if I didn’t need to throw up anymore I moved back to the bed, but on the side closest to the bathroom.

Apparently Zonker and Michelle needed to continue the party so they joined our neighbors in the cabin next door. I don’t know the specific details but it had something to do with this chick who was there with her ex-husband and current boyfriend, all of whom were sleeping together. Surreal. I understand that it started moving in the direction of the macabre for awhile. I did manage to get something out of it though, as she actually allowed them to take a photo for this weeks edition of…

(don’t click if you get offended easily)



Yeah, I know I don’t generally do TST here anymore
but it was a fitting ‘end’ for the evening. I am still not sure if that
is the chick or one of the guys. Is that stuff back hair or stretch
marks anyway? ughh.

7 throughts on "Saturday Night in Helen…"

  1. The folks in the neighboring cabin were freaks. That tramp stamp was on the chick. She was the freakiest of ’em all. I just remember Michelle getting set to take the picture as Freaky Chick wiggled her hips toward the camera and muttered “No one’s ever taken a picture of my ass before!”

  2. Once again, I have to ask the obvious. HOW is it that her mother never reported her missing, but is being treated as a “cooperative witness”???
    The mind really boggles sometimes.

  3. I dated Shawn Damon Barth 20plus years ago in California. I am still in shock. I can’t believe he’d do such a thing. He was always a gentlemen on the many occasiions we spent time together.

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.