ASSHOLE(S)'S BRUNCH

that the chickens had been producing so many eggs lately was the ostensible justification for the gathering, and that the one of the three chickens currently in the backyard who was also one of the five originals was originally named asshole seemed like reason enough to name the gathering after her, because, well, the gathering was justified by the chickens. a superfluity of eggs is good enough reason for brunch, and mother's day is more than enough reason to have sunday brunch at home. and when monique searched the internet for details on brunch and white people (they love it, and she wanted to understand), she found a picture of a t-shirt advertising the message that brunch was for assholes. after that revelation it was impossible not to call the brunch after asshole, especially since so many white people were coming. so the question then became whether the descriptor in the title of the event should be pluralized to describe our guests or left singular to pay tribute to the chicken. not many of the guests would know the hen, and the event was going to be advertised via social media -- the principle venue for white people's advertising where they're taking their sunday brunches. monique can't be racist because i'm white, in the same way that i can't be a sexual orientationist because monique is straight. assholes, see?

i knew that i wasn't going to be able to make it for the entire dozen of the deneuve films, but i didn't think i'd have to make that confession until i made my scheduled trip out of town on wednesday. rather, i thought i'd make it solidly through the first six and then make up a delicious story. if only it hadn't been for those assholes -- or just the one. i'd already missed the screening of "the young girls of rochefort" when we cleaned the corner store out of crappy brut at six p.m., and it wasn't likely that i was going to make the seven o'clock screening of "mississippi mermaid." most of the food had been eaten by two (and what hadn't was what mismatched little the guests who came after that had brought), so we also needed to think about what we were going to eat before our evening obligations outside the house. just sustenance: nothing could possibly have topped those quinoa cakes.

needless to say, it took some time to recover from brunch, although i did make it through all of "the last metro" on monday evening -- and didn't once give myself over to the arrant seductions of sleep. you should understand why i haven't had the wherewithal to post anything more substantial on the films. it's tiring, being a host. making sure the drinks are full and all. and the unexpected chafing. i mean, those assholes kept me up. asshole, i mean. kept me up, that is. when there are only hens in the coop, one of them starts taking on the role of the male, which means frequent awkward crowing.

the last brunch guests to leave left twenty-one hours after the first ones were asked to arrive, and they left without drinking the breakfasts we'd poured for them before tucking them in. some people do have to work on mondays. those guests should have understood why we weren't going to go to the trouble in the morning.

and so it comes to pass that there will be only four in our deneueve dozen, but supplemented with dozens of eggs, all of them from assholes -- and some of them from the chicken with that name.

singular.