So last night I get home, my shoulder and neck muscles killing me, and Deb has eight partial bottles of wine that she brought home from work and has been calling neighbors for an impromptu wine tasting.

My first reaction was grumble, grumble. But, oh my god, we had such a great time. We ended up having only four extra neighbors (that makes eight of us altogether), but they were a really good four.

M. and L., a gay male couple from around the corner, are flight attendants. Then there's Lucy and Ricky across the street. He works for a high-up in the gubmint, and she's a flight attendant, too.

If you ever get the chance to hang out drinking with some flight attendants, do it. They were a scream, especially when they cut loose on how they really feel about passengers, arrogant business travellers being highest on the shit list. And pilots? Considered the armpit class of the aviation world in the eyes of the FAs.

L told us this great story.

Lady: Do you have peanuts or almonds or something?

L: No, ma'am. But we've got some snack mix. Let me go get something for you. *big fake smile*

L. goes and prettily arranges a nice little basket of snack mixes. In his words, if it's worth doing, it's worth taking two minutes to make it look pretty.

L: So I go back to the lady and present my nice little basket, and she roots around in it, looking at every bag!

Lady: There aren't any peanuts in there.

L: No, you stupid bitch, I told you we don't have peanuts, and you just fucked up my basket!

He didn't say that last part out loud to the passenger, of course. Heh. You had to hear the queeny tone of indignation about his little basket.

And Ricky and Lucy are the coolest straight people. When they first moved in last summer, they didn't have a lawnmower yet, and their grass hadn't been cut in a couple months. I'm kinda bizarre in that I like mowing the lawn. I mow ours and Jake and Sara's, too, most of the time. So one day I've got the mower out, and I've got plenty of gas. I mowed Ricky and Lucy's yard. They were away on vacation at the time.

When they got back, Ricky came around asking who he owed neighbor points to. Jake said, "Oh, that must've been a drive-by mowing. That just happens around here sometimes. You've really got to watch out for that."

So ever since then, Ricky and Lucy have just loved us. They brag about their drive-by mowing to their acquaintances who think our part of town is too dangerous for white people to live in (or something, whatever).

Ricky has had a helluva few days because, with his job, he was right in the middle of the new Georgia state flag hubbub. He was so ready to cut loose last night.

He proceeded to tell stories on himself, his wife, their friends, bitchy constituents. Everybody was kinda telling stories on themselve. Jake, Sara, and I could all tell that Deb was just chomping at the bit to reveal the true nature of our little familial relationship.

Not that there's anything wrong with these folks finding out. There's a lot of people who know. It's just we have to carefully consider any possible ramifications or whether that's something our neighbors really want to know. TMI and such. So Deb held back.

By the end of the night, Ricky had offered to take us up into the dome of the capitol building, and to come stay at his family's lodge after hunting season is over. Oh, and they want us to take them out dancing and to a drag show.

Here's Ricky's dirty joke for the evening:

A rich guy and a poor guy are talking about what they got their wives for their birthday. The rich guy says, "I got my wife a four-carat diamond ring and a Jaguar." Poor guy says, "Jesus Christ that's a lot for a birthday present. Why'd you give her so much?" Rich guy replies, "Well, I thought that if she didn't like the ring, she could get in the car and go return it. What did you get your wife?" Poor guy says, "I got her a dildo and a pair of flip-flops." "That's really odd," replies the rich guy. "Why did you get her that?"

Poor guy says, "I figured if she didn't like the flip-flops, she could go fuck herself."

Jake says, "Huh. That wouldn't work for me, because we've already got ..."

Sara turns chrimson, "Shut UP"

I'm thinking, "Hmmm. I wonder what make and model he got her."