Friday, June 20, 2008

Everything began as innocently as any ordinary late night birthday BBQ was expected to be. Guests, both conspirators as well as the victims, streamed in by pairs and and got the BBQ started.

The two disgustingly loving lovebirds.

Sandra and her bitch of a Thomas. Hahaha..

Dom and Carol hitting the scene.

Our long lost brudders, Sam and Weisheng!

Victims-to-be. Smile you suckers! Wuhahaha..

The start of a very long and awfully messy night for the intended, and a wickedly fun night for rest.

*Insert sinister laughter*

Hot dogs crisped while prawns in aluminum foil bubbled in their marinates and sweet potatoes toasted amongst the glowing hot charcoal. Soon cooked and overcooked (Norm in any of our BBQs. ) food filled and mingled on plates, only for a moment or two before being gulped down by some hungry buggers who just eat but never cook.

A hungry mob raids the table of food.

Who needs a lighter when you've got red hot charcoal!

Don't feint ignorance and look around. Every soul knows that when I say "hungry buggers who just eat but never cook", I meant you two, Gimo and Wanyi! Wuahahaha..

Though it was I who wouldn't let them cook their own shite as they were the birthday peeps. But still isn't a good enough reason to stop blaming them, right?!

Soon all that were supposed to be there were there and with no further delay (As well as no more food to BBQ!) the cake was secretly taken out of Dom's car boot. Its candles were then lit and its bearer marched a stately pace towards the the two dumbshites who were smiling in both beaming delight and feint surprise, all whilst the ever traditional "Happy Birthday" song were sung.

A combined celebration calls for a combined cake.

Gimo: Eee! Your hand got wash or not?

Gimo: Okay lah I also didn't wash mine.

Sausage fest!!!

Gal power!

Spot the extra.

Wanyi: I wish for a uber rich and dashing boyfriend!
Us: Eh you already got 1 and he's super rich and dashing lor!
Wanyi: Oh my god!!! My wish came true!
Us:...

Gimo: How I wish my friends would stuff freezing cold ice cubes down my pants.

Dom never ever lets such weird wishes go unrealised.

All this seemingly pleasant and joyous facade of a celebration conjured by us schemers were to lure the two unfortunate victims into sedation, paving way for the highlight of our day (And the rock bottom for theirs).

In a smooth and practiced-like move, the bags of flour which was initially stowed away from plain sight was brought out into open, much to the maniacal joy of many. Empty hands soon dipped in the ripped bags and out came hands clasped around loose flour. In that same few moments, the faces of the intended showcased an amazing myriad of emotions, starting from shocked to dreaded anticipation and ultimately settling at that of resignation.

From what initially started as a campaign against the two birthday peeps soon degraded into random and opportunistic pelting of flour, smashing of cake and splashing of beer onto one another, making sludge sculptures out of both conspirator and victim alike.

But the beer's innocent!

Top 3 casualties!

As with every mess comes the inevitable and much dreaded cleaning up, a point proven by the apparent dragging of celebrants' beer soaked feet across the flour speckled grass towards the toilet.

Beer definitely helps the situation. Alot.

Ambush!

Why me!? *Flees*

For those of you dumbshites who thought the worse was over the moment the last can of beer was splashed and last grasp of flour was thrown, you seriously deserve the title thou bestowed upon thee.

Even our beloved Wanyi can tell you that flour coupled with almost any liquid always produces agonizingly sticky results. And just to make matter worst, fudgey chocolate cake was thrown in (Literally.) for good measure!

And to think I endearingly call Wanyi idiot. So what does that make you, especially since my sentiments doesn't really stretch that far as to include you?

Lets leave it at that shall we?

Anyway the end of the celebration was still far off into the night and any putting off of the cleaning almost guarantees as much ridicule as discomfort in the wee hours to come.

Driven by the nagging urge to rid their bodies of the sticky goo, the celebrants went about the cleaning expediently. Some were tearing off paper towels and wiping their cake smeared while others washed off flour powdered heads under running facets.

Unfortunately for the latter, water did little to remove the hardened globules of dough stuck onto the hair, other than wetting their heads and everything else beneath them. Brute force in pulling those hardened lumps on the otherhand proved only marginally better, except that all who attempted gave up, evidently overwhelmed by the sheer amount of lumps as well as tremendous pain in removing each one.

All she needs a rake and some industrial strength solvent. And a wig after she's through with them.

One look at them and you know they're asking for more!

Gimo: OUCH!

All in all, I would say that the choice in using flour was a good one!

The subsequent pace of the celebration followed a lazier beat as all that effort in fleeing and chasing finally caught up with us. Luckily for them the inevitability was well taken into account during planning. With a grin, we produced out a pack of cards and played our all time kelong favorite, HEART ATTACK!

Perhaps you may think we're childish, but I am sure as hell not giving a shite as to what you think. *Grins*

Lets RUMBLE!

Actually she smells heavenly but that's no reason to not pose with a sickened face.

Fucked up people who deserve each other.

Smack and smack we went, punctuated with the occasional yelps of pain from some unfortunate soul getting their hand whacked into too crimson a hue and of course, who can forget the howls of laughter from the rest who escaped.

But the night wore on and lassitude eventually crept up on all of us, smothering our focus at the game and seeded thoughts of home and bed in all of us. But years of friendship has taught us one thing, and that is to never ever let any birthday peeps get away without first stomaching the traditional Birthday Cocktail!

Acting like an idiot. Oh wait, I am.

Already grinning away even before they suffer.

Weisheng: Such a small bottle only!?

Even our peace loving Carol showed no mercy!

The finale of the entire celebration came in the form of a toast made by Wanyi and Gimo to the celebrants and accompanied by a symphony of jeers, cheers and laughter, they bravely gulp down the concoction. With the wry gagging face that followed their struggled swallow comes the end of their birthday party.