My Friends

I just learned a place on Capitol Hill where my friends used to love getting chicken wings is basically closing. Thinking of this place makes me remember a particularly ridiculous night we had hanging out there...which makes me remember other ridiculous things about that particular group of friends. I'll share some of those things now!

The Slap Game
At some point years ago, I heard that there was a phenomenon occurring in England where people would walk up to random strangers and just slap them in the face for no reason.

Knowing that my friends are just as weird as I am, I immediately shared this excitedly.

To this day I still don't know why that started happening in England or when it ended, but one night at that place on Capitol Hill - my friends and I decided to see why that game might be fun. And you know what? It IS! ...until you are the one being slapped.

(This photo is of two of our friends slapping one another...who later married each other. Proving relationships CAN survive this "game", in case you were wondering...)

That night, I think we only attacked eachother, but since then, my friend Rebekah has definitely hauled off and done it unexpectedly to strangers. As you can guess, it doesn't go over so well usually. EXCEPT the one time she kept slapping the rear end of a girl and then blaming our friend Mike, inadvertently creating a situation where Mike had to apologize repeatedly to the girl...and ended up scoring her number.

Hmm, perhaps I should rent out Rebekah to guys on the weekend to help them talk to women....

Anyway, this same group of friends is also fond of Theme Parties. Really, any excuse to wear something ridiculous.

Through the years, they've had parties like "Jovi/Sinatra" (where attendees must decide if they are more white trash - aka Bon Jovi, or classy - aka Frank, and dress accordingly. The Jovi crowd is always quite the sight...a very painful sight.) They've also had parties like "Dress as your favorite injury!" Yes. I know you are jealous that these are my friends and not yours.

And one of my favorite things about these parties is: Henrietta.

Henrietta
Henrietta is a turkey. Not a live one, a frozen one. Who is at least, oh, 7 years old now I'd say.

It all started when two friends in that group lived together. When they moved into different places, one still had a frozen turkey in the freezer. And long story short, this started a multi-year game where they'd take turns keeping the Turkey. They'd pass it off to each other whenever they moved again and then it began showing up at their parties.

One New Year's Eve, Henrietta even wore lipstick, which ended up on my arm, prompting unsuspecting guests to wonder why my bicep was bleeding. But that wasn't nearly as bad as what happened a couple years ago when someone's boyfriend showed up to one of our parties completely obliterated and proceeded to hoist Henrietta up in the air...

and then dropped her on someone ELSE at the party. Starting a fight.

And I have to say, if you are going to get injured at a party, telling people someone dropped a FROZEN TURKEY on your head is really the best story you can have.

That turkey has been around.

But another thing that's also been around our parties? Naked Guy.

Naked Guy
So at one of the Halloween parties my friends had one year, everyone invaded their house in costume. Except one guy. Who showed up without one and felt left out. So what does he do?

Takes his clothes off.

Not completely, he left on his underwear, but the funny part was one of the girls hosting the party - didn't know who the guy was. So we started asking around.

And NONE of us knew who he was.

Which made us like him even more because who just wanders off the street into someone's house and takes their clothes off?

We later found out the other host knew him (to our disappointment) BUT the NEXT time they had a party -

He did it again.

But no one else was in costume.

The girls just dared him to do it so he did. I can't remember how many parties this guy ended up at without clothes but I love that I don't even know his name to this day. He's simply: Naked Guy. And recently I saw him out in D.C. at a random metro stop and I frantically texted a friend like "I think I just saw Naked Guy but I can't be sure because he looks different wearing clothes..."

The fact that I can send texts like that to these people are why we are friends.

Sadly, many of these guys have since left D.C. But perhaps I'll go slap someone on the street now, in their honor...