On high weekends such as this we open our house to all of the housemates -although no dogs or children allowed- and we easily top 10 to 12 people. Normally you might think that would be a problem, but the majority of our house is made up of single girls who often prefer to sleep elsewhere. Saturday afternoon finds our house in a flurry of activity as we burn, rip, hem, drape, duct tape and staple to reach the desired effect. Remember it’s always a challenge to put together an outfit that will stand up through the night, grab the attention of some dark stranger and at the same time not look as though you came off the set of “Camelot”.

So, after a light dinner of chicken breast and salad- definitely no carbs- and three or more Vodka Red Bulls (hey, it takes liquid courage to wear a loincloth) we make our way to the party around midnight. As you approach the Beach you can hear the pounding of the music in your chest and as you cross the boardwalk and it is a sprawling, light dazzled small village on the beach that greets your eyes.

The housemates and I generally stick together for a few rotations but then we quickly adopt the ”Divide and Conquer” mentality throughout the rest of the night as we wind our way through the VIP booths with men of a certain age, flirt with the cute volunteer bartenders, dance with hot muscle guys on the dance floor, pose with Porsche and the other drag queens, and make out with slender Latinos sprawled on the benches and sofas scattered throughout the party.

And, as the first light of dawn begins to brighten the beach you will find yourself in the arms of someone warm and sexy as the DJ spins “Somewhere Over the Rainbow”.

Related posts:

1. “Summer lovin’. Had me a blast” Five months, twelve weekends, thirty six days and unlimited men!...

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.

Housemates are clearly divided into the camps of cooking and cleaning and those who can cook quickly learn that if you can get out early on a Friday and take responsibility for that meal you are absolved of further kitchen details during the weekend. Also note that the bar for Friday night cooking is much lower than the Saturday main event, whereas you can get by with an over the counter Barbeque Chicken from the Pines Pantry and not be questioned.

Alas, some housemates are over-served Planters Punches and do not always heed the internal clock and decide the guy they are making out with at High Tea deserve their utmost attention. These are the ones who turn up mid dinner wearing someone else’s T-Shirt and end up eating the chicken wings and who load the dishwasher as penance.

And, of course then there are the meals themselves.

• None of my housemates can look at an Edamame Bean squarely and not remember the infamous “Edimame Bean and Fresh Herb Salad” that certainly hit the spot at 1AM while dancing at Sip N Twirl.  That particular business brought 4 housemates rushing back to the house.
• And anyone who has an aversion to projectile vomiting tries to block their mind from the chicken skewers that had a mere passing encounter with the grill that was not noticed until the last one was eaten
• Mandatory drag dinners pose a completely different set of complications which usually don’t involve the actual food. We all fondly remember the drunken guest who stood to make a toast and his Diane Von Furstenberg dress rose with him, revealing no underwear which posed a serious threat to his salad when he leaned over the table.
• Occasionally visiting family members are roped into this vision of togetherness and they rise to the occasion as we discovered when we came home one night to find a housemates mother drinking gin martinis and attempting to light the grill by tossing lite cigarettes into the charcoal.
• And note that drunken Italian cooks who incidentally cook badly tend to take it especially hard and sit at the table weeping when say a pork chop chars in the searing heat and flys off the table when a diner attempts to cut it with a knife

So if you are visiting the Island and do not possess the skills of Rachel Ray or Martha Stewart and do not want to find yourself as a kitchen slave then land yourself a guy at low tea and head to Top of the Bay, The Pines Bistro or Jumpin Jacks to name a few. Like the guys- the options are limitless!

No related posts.

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.

On this weekend a friend from the city was also invited to attend this Birthday extravaganza and we decided to share a room. Since he had never experienced Fire Island I wanted to give him the experience of a share house- not the dirty towels, flip flops underfoot and empty bottles of Sky Vodka that is life in our house, but three course communal meals, poolside drinks and a hot tub full of soaking hot guys like they sell you at the Share A Thon.  So, we checked into the Pines Bluff Overlook, a guest house, overlooking the ocean in The Pines.

Arriving on a beautiful Friday afternoon but with our terrible city drama still intact we were warmly welcomed by the owners Jim and Jim and their two Boston Terriers- or maybe that was because we arrived during wine and cheese hour. After literally dropping our bags in the room (BTW- it was well decorated, spotlessly clean, quiet and had a private outdoor sitting area) we made a beeline for the Chardonnay which would provide the social lubrication we needed to tackle tea later at the Blue Whale.

As we sat on the roof deck lounge chairs with a glass of wine in one hand and a striking view of the ocean in front of us it was as though the warm breeze was lulling us into the Fire Island vibe and putting the city ever farther behind. While topping off our wine glasses- who counts- we met other weekend guests and as the conversation alternated between evening anticipation, the wine glow and the sexy smile of one particular guest from San Francisco I discovered a calm and relaxed Pines far different from an overcrowded share house.  And, when I woke up much later in a different room of the guest house than mine I knew I had found the different experience I was craving!

No related posts.

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.

Fire Island Friends

Saturday afternoon in Fire Island Pines finds three of the housemates in various states of stupor watching a gardening documentary as the pool outside overflows from the torrential rains that have made this one wet summer on the Island. All six of the other house mates progressively bailed out of the weekend and even now one of us is fixated on his IPhone with the BF back in the city so you can guess he too will be on the next ferry. While I pour a generous amount of Dewars into a glass and watch the water gushing over the top of the gutters a text message comes through on my cell phone. It’s a guy I met during Happy Hour at G Bar in the city last week and surprise- he and a friend are staying in Cherry Grove for the weekend. After a few more “What r ur plans tonite?” they reveal they are going to a Toga Party at the Ice Palace. And, not only are they going but a friend has made their custom togas.  “Do u want to join?” Maybe it was a weak moment but facing an evening watching the Carol Burnett reunion show just released on DVD did not exactly appeal to me so I agreed to catch a Water Taxi and meet them. I did have a wardrobe crisis though as I live in a  house where all the sheets are Blue and from the Martha Stewart collection. Not a problem as their friend offered to put something together for me. So, after a long, soaking wait for the Water Taxi- thank god you can see it from Tea at the Blue Whale, and a wet, rough ride I disembarked in Cherry Grove. Their friend- a closeted costume designer whose favorite movie must be ”Cleopatra” had a tunic awaiting my arrival. Now this was no ordinary tunic, it featured a cape affixed to the right shoulder with a large broach and there was even a garland to accent my shaved head. A few more “dressers” to boast our confidence- after all how often do you go out sober wearing a sheet and no underwear and our little band of Romans was off. The Ice Palace was transformed,  with shimmery, custom-made drapery and adorned with large bunches of grapes and if the lighting was just right, you stood back a good distance and squinted – it really did look as if you were in a Roman orgy! So it was that I found myself dancing with a hot Roman bear- okay he was Puerto Rican- and realized that not wearing underwear may not have been the smartest move as the front of my tunic now had a prominent bulge. He noticed too and I’m sure it was only to protect my dignity that we were soon outside in a cold rain on our way back to his place. And so, on Sunday morning if you were enjoying your coffee at the Bay Bar and you noticed a a barefoot guy running by in a wet Toga and clutching a tattered cape you can relax- you did not miss the try outs for “Cleopatra” at the Whyte Hall Community Center.

No related posts.

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.