The Tiki Bar Newsletter
Well, fellow Tiki members, if you missed out on this weeks gathering, then you may as well start banging your head with a rock now. You really missed out. The Grand Pooh-Bah inducted two new members, Bim and Katrina. The event was well attended by other members, Patrice, Flannery, Christopher, his wife Alise, and various small children from the neighborhood.
I think the new members will be a nice fit with the rest of us Tikiers. Bim treated us to jokes, quotes, impressions, pokes, and show tunes. Yes, it was that kind of evening! Katrina complained about airports. She looked us right in the eye and said,” You know, they won’t even let you carry on your detonator anymore?”
“Your detonator?” Bim asked
“Yea, you know, the thing you push, to uh, you know, start uh, yer car.”
“Keyless entry auto-start.” I volunteered, not sure at all that that was what she was talking about.
“Yea,” she said, ”Yer detonator. Isn’t that what you call it?”
Well not since I quit the Irish Republican Army.
Patrice said that she had read the previous post on the Tiki bar and she was very kind in her praise to this writer, but was considering a name change, now that she knew she was going to appear in print. All evening she waffled back and forth. I suggested every name I could think of (Eunice, Gretchen, Yolanda, Belinda, Salome, Evelynn, Mad Cynthia the Red, etc.) but by evenings end, she decided that she would stay with Patrice. She didn’t want to be known as the artist formerly known as Patrice. I agreed.
As the evening wore on, I told Patrice that the Grand Pooh-Bah and I had tried to hire some dancing girls, but we couldn’t afford them, so would she and the girls like to volunteer to dance for us, and Flannery, without missing a beat retorted “Well, you sure can’t afford us!” Too true my dear, too true. But they danced anyway, and boy did they dance! Gentlemen, we need to take up a collection for that brass pole we have been talking about for so long now, or at least a Go-Go cage, because these girls didn’t learn to dance by watching American Bandstand! I can only guess what kind of jobs they may have had to work to pay their way through college. I suspicion that it was one of those dark, seedy places out by the airport. You know the kind of place I’m talking about. The dancing girls must have worked their magic, because not long after the dancing started, the Grand Pooh-Bah led Patrice away, under the guise of “putting the food away”. This must be a Tiki tradition that I was unaware of. They returned after some minutes, rumpled, hair askew, and laughing. Apparently, “putting the food away” at the Tiki Bar is a full contact sport.
(As a side note, should the Grand Pooh-Bah ever ask your help in “putting the food away”, ask if you need to get your shoulder pads. This is a football town. I’m just sayin’.)
And speaking of food, Our Trusted Leader puts on quite a spread! His potato salad is the envy of the neighborhood and his sausage got rave reviews, especially from Patrice. She loves a good sausage. Most every dish was seasoned with his trademark Hotzup and really made the cold drinks disappear in a hurry. If you have not yet tried Hotzup, please, please, see the Grand Pooh-Bah and turn your friends on to something great. Your taste buds will thank you. It is guaranteed to turn any occasion into Tiki Bar fun! (Another side note: Please ask the Grand Pooh-Bah for his Deviled Egg Recipe. I don’t know what the green spice was that he used to top them with, but it sure made us all really, really hungry afterwards.)
I could go on an on about the evening, but I’m afraid that I have said too much already. I’m sure every member can recall some fun aspect of the night that I missed recounting here, (such as one eyed stair climbing event, but I blame that on the wine). I tried to be everywhere at once, pencil in hand, to provide a faithful account of the nights going’s on but I can only spread myself just so thin.
This coming weekend we can look forward to a visit from Big E and Madame E. It’s my guess that we will wander over to the Tiki Bar eventually. Even from my house, the pull of the Tiki Bar can be felt by those in the know. So if Saturday night comes, and you feel a tug at your sleeve when no one is there, you’ll know. It is just the mighty Juju of the Tiki Bar calling to you, and with any luck, you’ll answer the call.
P.S.: I offer up an open apology to Patrice for the above article. If I have embarrassed you in any way, I am truly sorry. I am willing to make it up to you by performing an equally embarrassing act of your choice, except help Franklin “put the food away”.