On December 4, 2008, the Wordwrights writing group got together for our Third Holiday Dinner. (Here’s the link to a photo essay of our Second Dinner.)
We held it at the Exton Buca di Beppo (AKA Bippity Boppity) in the Pope’s Room. (It was very popeular. Bad jokes never die.) Despite some members being excommunicated early in the night, they eventually were welcomed back by the Pope - after he had a few.
While it was the Holiday Dinner, it did have a last supperish feeling.
(We let Walt have the seat of honor so he wouldn’t kill us. )
Between rounds of picture taking,
we spent a few hours laughing, overeating, and besmirching the characters of members and husbands who weren’t there to enjoy the wine, women, and song. We covered numerous – and varied – topics of conversation. I’ll leave out the disturbing story of Walt playing dry nurse to a kitten, but topics such as the following came up:
We also confused one of our waitresses by asking what the … things behind the throne were.
She didn’t know, but after some discussion, our consensus was aliens. Something we didn’t bring up to our waitresses – we just giggled about amongst ourselves – was an unfortunate placement of one of the paintings. (Note the lecherous grin. )
At one point the … unwashed masses outside the Pope’s Room were singing “Happy Birthday” to some peon, so we honored them by joining in. Then, a couple of big-mouthed, birthday boys let slip that their birthdays were coming up. We could not let such admissions pass without punishment.
But the main reason we were there was to eat. And eat we did.
Soon, bread baskets were empty and plates were licked clean.
And after we had our fill, we sat around and discussed more weird things. Eventually, some began digging into the leftovers,
while others just stared into their drinks. (It’s looking into a beer bottle, in case you’re wondering.)