Em-ee-ay-tee Night

Around the time I was articulating that David didn't have the same opportunities for community as I did, he decided to host Me_@t Night.

Me_@t night, as you may be able to guess, is where all the guys get together and eat- you guessed it!- me_@t. Annnnnddddd, pretty much only me_@t. (Though, I did see a bag of cheddar bugles in the mix.) You know, getting back to their primal roots and all that.

(I am protecting this post because I mentioned me_@t night on facebook, and now I'm nervous that certain family member might be curious about it, google it, and land right here.)

Anyway, since David hosted it at our house, I got to see, hear, AND smell what exactly me_@t night was.

There was a moment where I thought they might be burning my house down, as it became so smoky upstairs- where I was putting our children to bed- that my eyes felt a little watery.

There was, of course, lots and lots of me_@t being cooked, but I'm happy to report that no firetrucks were called.

There was much less chest-thumping and much more philosophical conversation than I expected. At one point, when I myself came for a sampling of charred flesh, the conversation was about religious theology and how the different churches, politically speaking, came to be.

The tv offerings last night were much too engrossing (plus I had GLEE to catch up on, as a back-up plan) for me to do any eavesdropping, but I did hear sporadic uproarious laughter throughout the night. The smell of cooking me_@t was renewed often, as I am under the impression that the cooked dead animal JUST. KEPT. COMING.

Just to warn you, if your own man-folk decide to do something like this: when David came to bed at 2 AM, he absolutely REEKED of smoky, charred, cooking food. I had to turn over and breath through my mouth until I fell back to sleep.

I sadly don't have any pictures of the event, though my camera finger was absolutely twitching the couple of times I popped downstairs. I kind of figured that posing for a group photo would ruin their carnivorous mojo, ya know?

This morning I woke to a sparkling clean kitchen, the aroma of the me_@t-athon mostly gone. The only clue that anything different happened in there was the dish drainer piled high with pans, knives, and cutting boards. Well, and a can of cigarette butts outside the back door.