Asian parties.
Ahhhh, the sound of tiny innocent asian kids "quietly" teetering through the large house, flinging ice at everyone and anyone. Though, of course, kids these days just find plenty of things to keep themselves occupied.
I would know. ;]
Whilst the kids amuse themselves with Silly String and a huge mudbath in the back, our lovely parents are socializing either in the house or in the garage.
The ones inside however, are the "macho" men. They sit in there, chuggin' "macho" Heinekens, talkin' bout their "macho" golf clubs. Then again, they always end up stumbling outside with their faces as red as I would possibly look like if I had tried tanning in the sun, only to wind up with an excellent sunburn. I suppose their machoness may return to them once they have those faces under control.
The ones outside are the wonderful ladies. The dear ladies who happen to make the food, which we so dearly love at a barbeque. No matter how generic those hot dogs are, or how extremely self-conscious-like those aluminum-wrapped asparagus are!
But of course, considering all the asians, and a few white neighbors (Mind you, we like our diversity.), who can but expect the asian-ness of the spread lay out on the plastic tables?
Sushi!
I suppose it's not as chinese as we'd like, but it's sushi nonetheless and it's free! My aunt happens to own a restaurant named Aodake in Darien and another in Romeoville. (That so happens to make excellent sushi, not that I'm advertising. :])
Sushi is the key to life. I swear.
Endless food (maybe not that endless, people do clean us out), countless relatives (And I absolutely mean countless, most of them, I don't even know if I'm related) , and multiple ways to keep ourselves entertained, whether it be listening to conversations regarding how fat so-and-so has gotten (usually me) and how fast a specific relative's child has grown, surrounds me and all I can think about is:
Why do I even come to these barbeques?
Then I look around at the people around me, at their expressions, and the carefree demeanors they carry themselves around on and I remember.
This is why I come.
