This weekend was sweltering. Of course it was the weekend we planned to celebrate Harrison’s and my birthday and have a BBQ to welcome Harrison back to Southern California.
The lights have a cool yellow appearance. Then you realize it’s all the grease coming from the grills that has turned them yellow.
Flock of Seagulls and teased bangs were no match for sweat and Korean BBQ oils.
Kyung’s birthday gift to me. If you don’t know what these are, you are far too young.
Oregon Trail, anyone? Space/King’s/Police Quest? Maybe a little Leisure Suit Larry?
Stuffed and sweating meat out of our pores.
After stuffing our faces with meat, we headed over to Miss T’s Barcade. For those of you that are unfamiliar with this hidden gem, it is a dive bar with 80’s arcade games. They serve beer, soju cocktails, and sake bombs. Careful with the sake bombs, though. The bartender didn’t know how to make one at first, and he gave me a glass half full of beer and half full of sake. That is what I like to call a Nagasake Bomb. The place is really cool, and since no one else was around, it was like we rented out the place to ourselves.
A little bit of Joust to start off the night.
The whole bar is singing happy birthday, but it looks like we’re just singing to ourselves.
Kyung brought an LED toy that said, “Let’s Party” when spun around. It’s being spun backwards here. I found twenty pictures of this thing on my camera in the morning.
Pretty much the gayest picture we could’ve taken all night.
The only defense I can give for that last picture is the Nagasake Bomb. I went home and crashed right away. I’m pretty sure the right side of Michelle’s bed smells like Korean BBQ now. I woke up a little bit late to head over to Harrison’s plae to start smoking some meat.
With the heat wave, this pool looked so inviting.
This is why we’re here. This is why we’re here.
Grilled to perfection.
Wasp nest on the basketball hoop. Every time someone hit the rim or backboard, they would fly around and land again, only to be disturbed by the next shot.
My first batch of smoked ribs. You can see the meat came off the bones when I picked them up with a pair of tongs.
Time approves of my ribs. They were good, but I want to do better next time.
This weekend was spent gorging myself with deliciously cooked meats and sweating out those same meats from my pores. This is the good life.