Week 27: Mocktails and Shemales at Hamburger Mary's

Rise and shine, it’s the morning of our very first Meatball Chronicles event. We’ve invited our followers and I am slightly nervous. Sadly, I envision my wedding day being an identical situation--a bunch of people I don’t care about, showing up for the food, booze and trannys.  

I prefer to remain behind the scenes, amusing others through my blog without attaching a face to the spitefulness. It is because of this that I have decided to wear a disguise: lipstick. I typically arrive at brunch unshowered, with caked on makeup from the night before. I truly believe that no one will recognize me if I attempt looking like a heavier-set Megan Fox today. My lips are fire engine red.  We are on our way to Hamburger Mary’s for their Drag Queen brunch and I will put these shemales to shame, even if they do have bigger boobs than me.

As we approach the entrance, a half hour early, a girl is sitting outside and Ryan immediately greets her “Heyyy Stranger. How have you been? I didn’t know you were coming today! Have you met Michelle?”  Girl with oversized sunglasses sweating through her apparel while sitting on a bench like an Ybor bum: “Of course I have! Hey Michelle!”  Shit. I have no clue who this hooker is. I hate it when I forget people.

Despite arriving early, people were already there and seated. Again, shit. So much for “hosting an event”— these people are on their own page. I gladly accept this though because the thought of interacting with people this morning makes me cringe. Between my pounding headache, overbearing feeling of nausea and the PBR Tallboys that are seeping out my pores, I don’t want anything to do with them.

What an eclectic crowd: Jews that Booze, a DUI counselor, a black man who slightly resembles Sinbad the Sailor, a swinger, a Mexican, an aspiring European, an old man, lovebirds, a red head, a mom, a silver spoon child, a tranny-phobe, a dwarf with phenomenal hair, Ryan, a man who likes cats, a reality TV star, and an entire half of a table I never got around to meeting. Oh, and a girl with rainbow suspenders. Very nice. Really.  The only commonality we have is that we are all bastard children, celebrating Father’s Day at a $12.95 brunch.

While nearly everyone took advantage of Mary’s bottomless mimosas and bloody marys, I was stuck trying to control my dizziness and nausea.  A few shots here, a few shots there, not even the hair of the dog could cure me from this hangover. I wanted to indulge in the heaping piles of amazing buffet food but despite it’s deliciousness I just couldn’t do it. I was disappointed with their mimosas that were approximately 80% orange juice with a splash of champagne. I may be an alcoholic, but give a girl a break.

Ryan was on the slippery slope towards becoming a hot mess. I know when he’s passed the point of no return because he starts making noises similar to Scooby Doo. Every response is “But Babe…” “Hmmm. Yummm” …. “What Babe What?”  (Insert Scooby Doo accent + variation of fist pumping here).

Shortly after 1PM the shemales of Mary’s came on stage to begin the drag queen show. I know this lifestyle is foreign to Ryan but we are in the front row and I plan to make one of these hot drag queens sit right on his lap. If I’m lucky there will be some ball on ball action. I need more dollars. Ryan, go to the ATM…. It is I who wants a lap dance….

Well, even dollars didn’t accomplish the situation I had envisioned. It turns out the performers aren’t strippers. In fact, they are far from it. One of them even sings and dances, and is very good at it.

While enjoying the show, a few people in our group tried stealing a stuffed animal ewok that was on display. Upon getting caught by the waiter, they bribed him with $20 to just let them have it.  $20? That is the stupidest $20 ever spent. Ever. What are we 6 years old at a carnival? If you wanted something short and hairy walk out the frigan door, there’s always a midget at James Joyce Pub.

I am going to need to go back to Hamburger Marys… But absolutely not for the booze. The Washington Apples I needed so desperately to save me from my hangover were as weak as my immune system that morning. The champagne was almost nonexistent in the mimosas and they somehow managed to run out of it. I’ve never really enjoyed bloody marys either. Ryan enjoyed several bloodies, probably because he drowned pieces of bacon from the buffet in them. If it wasn’t for everybody buying shots left and right, I don’t know how anyone would have accomplished a buzz. I mean, I get it, you don’t always get a group of 30 bastards wanting to black out on Father’s Day. But you’ve gotta be prepared for these things.

The buffet was amazing and I am still kicking myself for being unable to eat, which is why I will be back. For $12.95, I say screw the booze and eat tens of dollars worth of sausage patties, eggs, fried chicken, mac n cheese, biscuits and gravy, mashed potatoes, whatever the salty mystery meat was and the amazingly tasty and oddly shaped tater tot they so kindly sized up to a pre-pubescent boy. Don’t worry Mary, I’ll be back. But I’m bringing a flask.