Porkapalooza

NOTHING beats daytime drinking. Even in San Francisco, where weekend daylight hours are full of physical activity and cultural absorption, sometimes we all still need a bit of pulled pork and PBR. Sometimes we all need a less sophisticated Saturday. No wine, just swine. And so we did. At Porkapalooza 2005.

Hosted by MMG's brother, I have been waiting for this party my entire life. Or, at a minimum, all of my life in which I've known MMG. (Which the more I think about it, have been the best years of life.) Because technically, one could pinpoint that the reason I moved here was because of Porkapalooza 2004. An excerpt for yas:

(Highest pitch voice imaginable.) "YOU HAVE TO LIVE HERE. SAN FRANCISCO IS... YOU JUST HAVE TO LIVE HERE. EVERYONE IS... LIBERAL. AND... YOU HAVE TO LIVE HERE! [VERY VERY VERY LONG SILENCE] I'LL CALL YOU TOMORROW."

Porkapalooza 2005 delivered. Two pigs were carved. I saw the spinal cord. And that didn't stop me from eating some meat that "Meat" carved up nice and fresh for me. (MMG's brother is aka Meat, as noted by his nametag, which was planted firmly on his chest, because why wear a shirt under your overalls? How unnecessary is that?) After pork, I coleslaw. And then potato salad. And finallybaked beans. I really did eat in that order, although I don't know why. I also consumed 3 PBRs spliced with a tequila shot. Or two. Then we moved onto Coors Light because the PBR kegs were tapped. When's the last time you ever heard of a PBR keg being tapped?

Perhaps better than the pork were the people. I was probablly the youngest and preppiest of the crew, although I was wearing my new navy blue ass pants, so I think I'm forgiven. Guys with colorful tatoos and hair to match replaced dudes named Chad who live in The Marina. And people who are just out there and very interesting replace the Jen's who twirl their hair and still use Daddy's credit card to buy rounds of shots. I even spent some QT with the Gynecologic Consultant. His occupation is fictitious, but he does have cards. They state, "Your vagina is my business." (I'm not shitting you.) He thinks this line is a legitimate test for weeding out women. If you're offended, he wants nothing to do with you. If you laugh, beware. He'd like to buy you dinner, and afterwards, YOUR VAGINA [will be] HIS BUSINESS.

I also hung out with The Dentist. She's really cool, and I'm mildly obsessed. We exchanged phone numbers, and I can't tell you the last time I was so excited to give my number out to someone. Swapping numbers with fellow females is a way bigger deal than swapping with males.

The day was long and carried over into the night and got a little sketchy. I didn't get porked. In that sense. But I did get porked by Porkapalooza. And now I'm gearing up for 2006. Already.

MMG, book your flight!