Tequila Mockingbird

Before I leave, Brush my Teeth With a Bottle of Jack...

2010-01-05T14:39:00.003-06:00

Been a holiday of wonderment; baked an obscene amount of deliciousness I sent to various parts of the continental US. Now I'm sick with a cold, it sucks, and I'm doing shots of dayquil with the cat (Mr Meowpants is not having any). Fortunately, I was still able to party with my bff for his birthday and New Year's Eve with champagne and some other party favors I probably shouldn't mention.

I am unsure why I even bother blogging anymore. I'm considering starting a new one that focuses on a facet of my life, that just would not do to discuss here. What's the purpose of it anyways? To be cathartic, and to exercise a writing muscle one might not otherwise get to. Unfortunately, too many people that know me, or did know me read it, and it definitely diminishes the potential for what I'm actually able to write.

The Alamo's blog will continue on, I imagine. We are considering getting turrets on the wall we will eventually build around it (manned by what else, rabid badgers?). In other news, an alarming amount of my electronics have been getting wet. Not cool. The blackberry spent last night and today in a ziplock full of rice to get the moisture out. The laptop's right button wont work now because of some Sierra Nevada CELEBRATION holiday brew. So, new years resolution: Stop fucking up the stuff I have because I dont want to spend monies to replace it!

Rose-marie and I have had our vodka tonic nights, I met a midget in ybor city (yes, he will wrestle me in lime jello, and said if i did it in a bikini, he'd get some of his friends to accompany him), got lots of fun jewelry for xmas (AND A KNIFE, to protect it, I guess!). It's been busy, and it's been fun, and I wouldn't trade it for all of the vodka in Russia.

Robo-Trippin', Gandolf The Molester, Gwar, & Bar Dancing

2009-10-28T13:23:00.003-05:00

I'm sick, no swine flu (although my gay's got it, and JayDee felt that this made them "disease ridden plague-rats", which of course got me spicy towards him). Yesterday, while accidentally robotripping, I had a religious experience, in which I saw Mechano Jesus (who's tears are pure WD-40, by the way). Fortunately, I went to sleep before the walls started melting.

In other news, stuff AND things are going exceedingly well. Been doing more blogging here, about The Alamo, which is the culmination of our pride, fears, hemorrhaging of monies, and hope all in one 1920's style mission house.

As for funsies, I threw Dad a birthday bbq-pool party. The dixie slut and her fake cans that visited him from TX did not come to it, because he figured out she was a gold digging whore, and took her back to the airport early. Been to a few boxing matching and MMA fights. Only one resulted in an almost-fight (I so did not start it with that guy; you can't start talking about my boobs while I walk by without considering I might tell you graphically how you should kill yourself in front of your buddies). Rosemarie and I have had some good times, including a vodka tonic night that ended playing on a trampoline, and another night that included us dancing on the bar at Coyote Ugly and stroking some girl's giant inflatable wiener. I went to Busch Gardens for Hallowscream again, note super-tall Gandolf trying to feel me up below. I saw GWAR, which where we were at in VIP, is literally like the front row to the apocalypse; even got to meet Batman there, among other curious creatures. If you've never seen GWAR live, you need to; who wouldn't want to see a sci-fi metal thrash band that dances around with a giant fake cock that has a pig's head on the end of it?

Well, those are the highlights, I can only manage so much these days, because of time constraints, and general ambivalence. Stay tuned for impending Guavaween, Deadmau5, and Nerdcon events which are on the horizon! If I haven't said it before, I'll say it now, I am so incredibly glad I moved back from Minneapolis!

Baconnaise, Cock Magic, and The Alamo

2009-08-22T09:34:00.005-05:00

Once again I return after many moons of not blogging. Don't get me wrong, plenty of good times have been had, and hell, that's part of the reason I don't have the kind of time needed to blog. Just to recap a little, life is going well, but "well" doesn't even do it justice! We closed on our house, Aka The Alamo, yesterday; it's a 1927 Spanish house, with a basement (super rare for Fla; it's only 1 of 20 houses in Tampa w/ a basement). Jaydee (the bf) and I will be blogging about it intermittently here. There is a ton of work to do on it, but the house has a lot of character, which is what we wanted instead of a cookie cutter house.

To introduce Jaydee a little, he's a quality dude. I dated him before I moved to Mpls, but it wasn't serious, and it took him about 6 months after I moved for him to figure out I'm a "unique" find (hey, I didn't get moved across the country twice because I was average; the great cans didn't hurt either). At first I thought it was one of those "wanting something you couldn't have" things, but he kept at it for 3 1/2 years. Other notable things he's done to prove that he digs me (besides just putting up with my lunacy): driving 4 hrs on xmas eve to pick me up from the airport because it was the only airport in the state of fla I could get into, letting me make the majority of the decorating decisions for The Alamo, and flying up to MN to help me drive my car down. Also, besides having a magical cock, he's super smart (which is hot), makes delicious beef jerky, and supports my womanizing.

In other news, I got a fantastic marketing job at a place that produces 4 soon to be 5 publications. In a shitacular economy, a hooking up growing business is the wise route to go. There, I study the demographics of each mag's target audience, then come up with new/pre-existing products or services that fit, and then chase down the right contact person. It's how I found out about baconaisse! I'd like to note I don't do any selling; we have a dept for that & I'm way too emo for sales (and it would probably end up with me cursing people out, telling them to buy my fuckin' advertisement or I'll slit their throat).

There's many stories I'd like to catch up on, and will try to get to. For now, have a slideshow and don't forget to check out our house's blog!

Why I Hate my New BlackBerry Pearl

2009-05-31T14:45:00.003-05:00

Now, my last flippy phone was pretty basic, and it didn't have a full keyboard, so I would multiple hit the keys to select the letter. However, I had gotten quite quick at this and was able to do it quickly and while doing almost any other task. When I got my new phone this week (along with my Florida number, WHEEEE! I FEEL LIKE A RESIDENT AGAIN! Now all I need to do is start selling oranges on the side of the road in a bikini and scamming the elderly!), I thought all of the fun bells and whistles and ability to stalk people on facebook from my phone would be cool. Not so much. It's a burden that is eating away at my soul, and this is why:

it's harder to text and drive, so I'm constantly running off the road and scaring tourists
it lights up like a goddamn christmas tree, so NO stealth texting at work under my desk now
it doesnt take pictures of female impersonators very clearly when they move fast (I missed some magical trannytastic moments at the cabaret show at L'Olivier in Ybor city friday; I blame the blackerry and not the martinis).
it's ambiguous as to whether it's plugged in and charging. See, I dont fucking need to have my phone go dead on me. If my car breaks down, I need to be able to use my phone before I get eaten by a gator, or my skin burns off from being out in the sun.
the text messages dont flow conversationally, so when trying to find a specific message, I'm forced to sort through the other bajillion text messages I've sent
it didnt recognize profanity or racial slurs for the first few days, which really cause my texting time to almost double

Your cell phone provider trying to get you to take a blackberry pearl? DONT FALL FOR THEIR DARK MAGIC! It's a trap, much like the trannys at cabaret... it looks like a good idea, but you'll just end up getting an unpleasent surprise.

Nothin' like packing all of your shit into a saturn and blowin town!

2009-05-20T18:39:00.007-05:00

Man, I do love reader responses... The longer I go without writing anything the more colorful they are:

"I heard you have aids, true?"

Goddamn right I have aids! FULL BLOWN IN FACT!!11!one!!

No, not really. I've just been busy, OH RIGHT, MOVING ACROSS THE FUCKING COUNTRY AND RE-ESTABLISHING MYSELF.

That's gone well by the way. Had an awesome GTFO luau (yes, it's on the list to get to) that involved a captains hat, booze filled pinata, a dublin shiv, and schoolies. And that's just for starters! The 1,500 mile, 26 hour straight through drive down to Florida from Minnesota wasn't a particularly funsies one, but it could've been entirely worse (only had to mcguyver up my car once with zip ties). By the time we actually got to Fla, Illinois, Tennessee, and Georgia were missing shot glasses from gas stations. Except the one, which came from an eating establishment inside a barn "The Hen House;" thought it was so fucking classy I got a T-shirt (an indigestion, but that just made me feel more like a trucker.)

So today marks my two week anniversary of being in the state, and I can legitimately say there are more scaryass spiders here than I remember. Oh, and even more disturbing is my creeper. I was just minding my own business, in my big ol empty ouse with a pool, burning my boobs in an effort to reduce tan lines, and I hear some shit in the bushes. WHAT THE FUCK?! Now yes, it could be an animal because it's a wooded area, HOWEVER--

Fast forward to last night, I get home from work before going to Carrabas to meet my dad and his new girlfriend (the old one got kicked out on thurs for being lippy); this one bought me dinner as opposed to the old one who just bought me a jug of wine, so combined with her being younger I think it's an overall trade up... However, I'm getting off topic here...

Anyway, I get home to find two large panel screens ripped open and what looked like to be vomited up meat on my patio. WHAT A TREAT!!! Fortunately, Uncle Ted came over to investigate, and I have a gun now, so I feel much better about whatever is in my patio. Whether it is some leering masturbating fiend, or just a big ass animal, I'm almost kind of hoping they bust back in the patio, so I can blast them in the face. Hell, I'm considering doing moar topless sunbathing just to lure him out.

Life is good, and I'm excited about going to see UFC this weekend. Also, I definitely see some shootin' up of Gramma's orange grove next door in my future for target practice. Enjoy the slideshow, it's part of the good times fla has bestowed upon me so far.

Let's Play Hide and Go Die in a Fire

2009-04-23T09:41:00.005-05:00

This is the little treasure of feedback I received today, on my last post: BBC has left a new comment on your post "Cowboys, Indians, and Uno Mexican":

"Last post March 5. Has the drunk party girl wore out?"

In answer to that, No Twatwaffle, I have not worn out, if anything I've had so much funsies I don't have time to post. Also, most recently I've been preparing to move across the country, sell the majority of my earthly possessions so the leftovers fit in a goddamn saturn, and getting ready for the schoolie luau to come.

Eventually, I'll catch up and write about the three day keg finishing challenge(hosted by Cheryl, where someone not me was arrested), my 25th Birthday Bar Crawltacular, the St Paddy's Day Revisited party I hosted, Spam's birthday(we got kicked out of two bars and a pizza place), Easter weekend's all-night poker fueled by red bull vodkas and chicken mcnuggets, Timmy's birthday and why I'm not allowed back at Old Chicago for awhile. I've indeed been busy, but not in jail or in the hospital or giving handy j's at a truckstop.

However, I assume once I'm back in Florida, I'll have some time on my hands; then I can post my adventures, complete with slideshows. All in good time, fuckers, all in good time.

Cowboys, Indians, and Uno Mexican

2009-03-05T12:09:00.004-06:00

Once again, it's been awhile, bet ya thought I abanonded the blog (hell, I almost thought I did). I've been busy, activities including but not limited to: going to a pampered chef party where two people either had or still did sell herbals, making ham (we had so much ham I started feeding it to the cats, turns out it makes their coats really shiny!), having my car break down in an 8 inch blizzard, playing poker, contemplating a move, finding a surprise cache of Heavy Metal magazine (SRSLY, ITS PORN-ALIEN-VIOLENCE comic.. what more could one want to put in their bathroom?), seeing Joel McHale live (his standup is much better than his show, The Soup), losing my wallet then having a creepy guy return it (YAY, HE NOW KNOWS WHERE I LIVE!), and last but not least going to an underage party where Timmy and Pandafrank and I had to school some whippersnappers about drinking games. That was a helluva run on sentence that left me breathless.

Landon has come up with a new drink recipe: "The Landini" - 1/3 part boonesfarm + 2/3 boxed wine. Side note: when you put it in a Vitamin water bottle it blends in and you can take it to bowling, on the bus, or chinese buffet. I know this for a fact.

Most recently was Lisa and Ashley's Cowboy and Indian party. Landon went rogue and decided to dress as a mexican, perhaps it gave him and edge, as we were an undefeated team in beer pong. Timmy almost wore a headset & tunic and was going to give out tech support all night, but no, this party was referring to the casino, fire-water Indians. Eventually the jello shots caught up to me and had me technicolor puking in the sink. Unfortunately, it did NOT have a garbage disposal, so I had to pick out the chunk of carrots and cocktail weiners. I'll just leave this slideshow here with intentions of returning with some other (probably alcohol fueled) adventure.

Protesters, Wizards, and Truth Or Dare

2009-01-19T13:19:00.005-06:00

Such a crazygoodtime weekend I don't even know where to begin! Friday night Pfrank, Timmy and I played guitar hero downstairs at Marc's. It ended with Pandafrank almost getting a handy j from a larger girl, and me waking up with Marc's cat eating my hair. Turns out I knocked over a table that night, so there was a fun mess of broken glass, rocks, and soil to clean up

Saturday I got to be inconvenienced by protesters. Also, it was Kevin's birthday/Harry Potter party. That's one of the many things I love about the gays, not only do they recycle, redecorate, and smell great, but they throw costume parties. And really, what's better than a bunch of drunk wizards? I went balls to the wall with my costume (which was even awesomer when I busted in the liquor store in full garb), and loaned my extra cape (BECAUSE WHY WOULDN'T I HAVE TWO CAPES?) to Timmy. We went down there with Ellen and Pj, and when we arrived, everyone was already hammered. We worked hard to catch up, and shot of the Dr Macgillicuddies helped. Not only did I get asked to be a surrogate mother (don't I need to stop drinking for that? I can't blame 'em, I do have spectacular Irish genetics!), but we played a rousing game of truth or dare. It involved, but was not limited to, me giving Melissa a lap dance, Raleigh running around the culdesac naked, Timmy making shadow puppets with his wiener and two of the straight boys making out.

Sunday I had more adventures, as I rode the bus for the first time on the way to retrieve my car from Ellen and Pj's house. Turns out a lot of "interesting" people ride the bus. We entertained them all, with our McDonald's cups full of white russians and stories from the night before.

Everyone Wants To Be Naked and Famous

2009-01-11T08:28:00.006-06:00

Once again, it's been a hell of a weekend. Started early on Wednesday by catching up with Andrew over Snakebites (hard cider and Guinness) at Old Chicago. Friday Landon and I pre-drank at the house (I made some concoction with UV Blue, redbull, and then added in some pear cider when I ran out of the redbull). Then his girlfriend Lisa, her roommate Ashley, and The Novice came out with us for one of our old fashioned pub crawls in Uptown. I classed it up and brought a watermelon candy cane with (cause why WOULDN'T I have a candy cane at the bar in Jan?), and some weirdo at Stella's was like "ohhh NICE, I LIKE THE CANDY CANE!!" Yeah, thanks asshole. From the 2-for-1's there, we went to Williams, with a quick stop at McDonalds to get some grease to soak it up. Darts, pool, pints and peanuts set us up right. What happened next is subject to interpretation because none of us remember it... At some point on the walk home I *think* I fell in a snowbank. Why do I think this? Because I woke up with a rather large bruise on my back (I cant wait till it turns greenish yellow because it will make my fairy tattoo look gangrenous), my knee all fucked up. But WHY a snowbank in particular? Well, when I woke up my phone had so much water damage the screen wouldn't work and it didn't get a signal. I tried to bake it in the oven (what setting do you even put the oven on to bake a phone we wondered? We treated it like a creme brulee, where less is more), but no dice. Landon took me to Godfather's pizza buffet on Saturday afternoon so I could eat away my pain. Then to the sprint store where they gave me a new cell. I guess all is well that ends well. Or something. My injuries caused me to tap out early on Sat night, after only a couple Leinies Dark N Creamy's. PandaFrank and Timmy made fun of me mercilessly, I told them to shut the fuck up, because I was crippled. Not a valid excuse it turns out.

Merry Xmas and a Happy Go Fuck Yourself

2009-01-01T11:02:00.001-06:00

So I'm sure most of you are itching to know how the new job is going. It's definitely going well, despite getting lost in the skyway of my building the first day. I don't have all of the free time to dick around on the interwebs like I used to, but if it's a decision between doing that and having to work with incompetent wastes of flesh, big pass on my part.

In other news, I had a fanfuckingtastic holiday in Fl. It contained (but was not limited to) eating stone crab, missing my first flight because the cocksuckers at US airways misprinted the concourse number on my ticket (and subsequently finding out they don't serve liquor until 8 am in the state of Minnesota, which is retarded because I AM NOT FLYING THE PLANE, SO WHY CANT I BE INTOXICATED), Auntie Cougar got engaged (congrats!), dressing up my aunt's cats in santa hats and reindeer ears (they LOVED it), turning the leftover xmas fruit salad into a frozen rum-filled concoction, going to a party on Anna Maria island that had a tiki hut in the back yard, talking to my dad about the first time he touched fake tits, drinking manishewitz and vodka (it's my tip o the hat to the jews and my way of celebrating Hanukkah) and hmm I think that about covers it. All I can say was it was festive, and we really enjoyed each others' company and truly remembered the real spirit of Christmas--- that Santa died for our presents.
Timmy had an interesting holiday as well... he got arrested. I didn't have anything to do with it, he was in Wisconsin with his family, his brother PandaFrank encouraged him drink some exorbitant amount of booze, then took him to Hardees. What happened next is subject to dispute, but what CAN be agreed upon is he started talking shit to the manager and told him to "shut the fuck up", that he could do his job better, and HE WAS DRUNK... this didn't go over so well. They were told to leave, the cops were called, and everything wouldve been fine if he hadn't gone back for his food. I can't throw stones; I do love some curly fries. Anyway, fortunately it was just a fine. What happened to the good ol days of when you were a dick to fast food people and they just spit in your food?

between a bullet and a target

2008-12-20T10:28:00.004-06:00

No, really, I know, it's been a long time and I've borderline abandoned the blog. I've had decent reasons though... I had all hell break loose in both my personal and professional life. I wont speak on the personal part (and no, I didnt fall off the wagon.. to fall off of it, you hafta be on it!), but I ended up getting fired two weeks ago.

Let's chat about that! First of all, I'll say that I start my new job tomorrow, and it pays more. So I'd like to thank the salty pirates at my last job for making that happen. Will I miss working with the chick that got herself knocked up just to keep her garbage man boyfriend around and felt the need to sabotage people to compensate for her own shortcomings? Will I miss working with the mumblefuck tool or the girl who was unfathomably cold, and even combining the two wouldnt create a person worth the air they breathed? Will I miss working with the girl who was mind-numblingly self absorbed, but yet couldnt figure out why she was alone (not to mention scared to try to sell things, which is a big FAIL if youre a salesperson)? Will I miss working for a boss that couldn't be consistent even if she tried, and ran the office with a in such a way that even when staff changed, the atmosphere of resentment and tension remained (there's probably a reason your womb was barren.. it's natures way of saying you would be a horrible parent and you dont deserve children)? I'm thinking I wont miss any of those people.

Also, because of this, I'm now able to hit Fla this week to hang out with my family for xmas. Almost makes me want to send them a loaf of fruitcake for making all of these positive things happen. But yeah, I didnt give up blogging, but I wont pretend I havent considered it. I'll do what I can to catch up on some of the funsies I've been up to, chili cookoffs, beer pong, TMNT party, a Florida trip a couple weeks ago, and finding out that the Dollar Store does sell thongs (no, I didn't buy them, but it induced LOLZ)... Have no worries, the hillarity and good times have still ensued, and they will be put on here eventually.

Tell me your dreams...

2008-11-24T17:38:00.000-06:00

So I randomly got a text from my roommate this morning while at work. I'll definitely say it broke up the day.

Him: "last nite i had a crazy series of dreams. it involved kid rock trying to touch my dick, zorro, nazi's running people over with trains, silver, electrocution and man getting smashed by a tree"

How does one even respond to that?

Me: "did you beat kid rocks scumbucket ass?"

Anyway, that's all I have. It's fucking cold here. Like, when I consider driving to a bar when I can see one across the street, it's COLD. Maybe I'll borrow his ski mask.

More like Strawberry Tallcake

2008-11-19T14:27:00.002-06:00

I’ve been absolutely horrid about updating this thing, but it’s certainly not for lack of good times! Halloween, I still managed to hit three parties (one of which Landon hosted at our house), despite recovering from a cold I picked up while in Florida the week before. I didn’t stay at the party at my house for very long, and eventually Timmy’s party started to die down, so we took the entire thing to Kremlin.

They welcomed us with open arms, possibly because I came bearing a Tupperware full of jello shots, and a jug of punch leftover from Timmy’s. There was a keg of hard cider, sushi, and a snake present. All the makings for a fabulous party; just when I thought it couldn’t get any better, a multi- leg amputee showed up. He happened to be wearing the same costume (sort of ) as Spam… Welcome Matt! Turns out this dude likes being walked on by cute girls in heels. Of course I HAD to participate in those hijinks. This guy thanked me profusely, and was quite polite. Made me want to consider trying to find a dominatrix to apprentice for as a side gig, but I figure I should probably stay away from the sex worker industry if possible.

My costume, sweet Strawberry Shortcake, was not only enough to get some leers at the grocery store when I wore it in there, but it got two guys to offer to drive me and like 8 other people back to Timmy’s. Now that’s a quality accomplishment!

Goose Stepping Overlords and Fembots

2008-11-04T17:00:00.002-06:00

So who’s ready for socialism with a side of fascism? Take a peak at a convo I had today with a friend, as I don’t feel could possibly better sum up my feelings:
(9:06:38 AM) J W: OBAMA2K8!
(9:16:46 AM) ME: READY TO WEAR YOUR CLOTHES THAT THE COLOR SIGNIFIES YOUR SOCIAL STANDING?
(9:16:49 AM) ME: I KNOW I AM!!!
(9:17:03 AM) J W: McCain=Facism
(9:17:08 AM) J W: Obama=Socialism
(9:17:17 AM) J W: I for one look forward to our goose stepping overlords
(9:20:01 AM) ME: i agree wholly
(9:20:10 AM) ME: i hope it becomes a combo
(9:20:15 AM) me: with robot task masters
(9:20:24 AM) J W: Fembots?
(9:20:41 AM) ME hopefully
(9:20:46 AM) ME: i like my robots with boobies
(9:20:57 AM) J W: big lucious tits with strapons?
(9:21:04 AM) Me: absolutely
(9:21:11 AM) Me: to penetrate us with their political prowess
(9:21:17 AM) ME: hows taht for alliteration?
(9:22:07 AM) J W: I'm excited
(9:22:34 AM) ME: i figured
(9:23:10 AM) J W: why so bitter
(9:23:23 AM) ME: me?
(9:23:26 AM) ME: naw, it's just politics
(9:23:36 AM) ME: i'll vote for who i wish, but i think both are figureheads
(9:24:12 AM) J W: both are vile
(9:24:22 AM) ME: exactly
(9:24:44 AM) Me: it's like being forced to pick between a masturbation session with a potato peeler and a battery acid douche
(9:25:33 AM) J W: with a side of sodomy
(9:28:01 AM) ME: indeed

Zombie Pub Crawl!!!!

2008-11-03T09:30:00.001-06:00

Before I get into this past weekends outrageous Halloween celebration, I’ve got to back up to tell about the explosion of awesome that was the zombie pub crawl. They’ve had this for a few years now, but this is the first one I’ve done. We did all of the make-upping and costuming at my house, since it wasn’t far away from where it started. A big thanks to Ben, who with his theatre experience helped get everyone looking zombie-riffic. Thanks also to Spam, who made our bucket of fake blood (corn syrup, chocolate syrup, and red food coloring); eventually we had a big fight with it outside. I feel a little bad for the cabbies who took us to the beginning of the pub crawl route and had their cabs defiled by our fake blood. Good thing we tip well!

We had a blast yelling out the cab windows “BRAAAAINZZZZzzz” on the way there, and an even better time leaning over the hoods of other cars screaming the same thing while going bar to bar. Some of the coolest zombies I saw was a Sarah Palin zombie at taco bell (that was right before I induced vomiting), a whole flight crew of zombies, and some SS officer zombies who people were getting for real pissed off at (seriously? come on.. it’s a zombie pub crawl and these dudes were definitely not REAL SS officers… chill out). I’m glad I wasn’t a prom dress zombie there was way too many of those. Another thanks goes out to Tony, who took a shit ton of pics of us, but unfortunately cause he took them, we don’t have any of him… he made a bad ass zombie Kim Jong Il. Randomly, I had some strict zombiest who tried to tell me that my costume wasn’t valid because I was a zombie cat. FUCK YOU, EVER WATCHED PET CEMETARY?!?! Overall, it was a quality event (about 500 people dressed up and came out), and despite leaving my house covered in fake blood and zombie makeup… I cant wait for next year’s!

Hat Fashion Show and Vomit-Eating Birds

2008-10-03T11:59:00.001-05:00

Yeah, I know I went to Florida like a bajillion months ago, but I ended up getting super busy and never finishing the tales of my journey. One of the last days of my trip, I went to the beach with my best friend Mike, Casey (our friend from high school), and her interracial love puppet. His name escapes me at the moment.

Anyway, so we got there and set up next to a family, who was not at all amused with our talks of rim jobs. We had good times catching up, which was interrupted when I had to run to the dunes to puke (hey, I was on vacation, you didn’t actually expect me to go to the beach sober, did you?). I didn’t quite make it to the dunes, and yakked in the sand instead. Randomly, a sea gull found my vomit to be enticing. I’d be surprised if it didn’t get sick later.

We finished up the day by going to a tourist store so I could shoplift some souviners for my homies back in Minnesota. WELL COME ON; I didn’t live in florida for over 20 years to come back and pay money for shells. Anyway, I digress… Our shopping trip turned into us dancing around the store trying on hats and singing showtunes. It wasn’t the best way to keep a low profile, but the staff was more amused than suspicious of us. Or perhaps they thought Casey’s boyfriend would ‘cap them in the ass’. Not really sure, but either way, it was a day of sun, fun, vomit and shoplifting!

How much do you fit in YOUR weekend?

2008-09-23T14:48:00.003-05:00

Two house parties, Renaissance festival again, and a concert… It made for the weekend equivalent of a clown car. Friday was a party in ghetto Minneapolis, but they had a keg of Harp, a slushie dispenser full of white russians and some greenish-blue Romulan Ale (it fuckin’ knocked me on my ass, and for a concoction to do that, it’s got to be both impressive and possibly slightly toxic).

Highlights include (but are not limited to): trying to have the patience to wait for them to stop singing Tim Malloys around the bottle of birthday mead so I could actually drink some, watching a super old guy try to operate a bong, having a former stripper/speedfreak bitch at me when I used the word faggot-- keep in mind, I actually BROUGHT a gay guy to the party and like the gays overall more than the straights usually.

We grabbed a cab back to my house, but by then it was bar close. Early Saturday Jason, Timmy, Spam and I hit Uptown Bar, which left us squinting into the daylight when we emerged, drunk as piss at 3 pm. After ragstock it was nap time to be ready for the house party that was conveniently down the street from me. This house was also equipped with a stripper pole. I’m not sure who’s idea it was to install one, but it was pure genius. Nothing turns regular, boring, awkward girls into whores-in-training quicker than a stripper pole.

At midnight it was officially Shyong’s birthday and we were forced to concede to his wishes of going to the Soho Café for drunken food. On the way there, a stir was caused when I finished my beer-for-the-road (hobgoblin, mmmmm! Try it if you haven’t), because I threw it on the sidewalk not AT anyone, but um a little too near people.

Sunday was Renaissance festival with Spam, James, Sami, Cheryl, Ben, and Timmy. James tried to hustle the jugglers there (he’s like elite with some pins), but they didn’t fall for his trap. One of the friends we had working there led us down a hobbit path for some mystical ye olde herbals. One of the downsides to fest isthe absolute disgust when some turn their fat side-boobs into cleavage with bustier; IT IS NOT THE SAME AS REAL CLEAVAGE!\

We managed to turn a family-friendly place into debauchery as usual with copious amounts of mead, cigars that lead to black phallic jokes, and trying to find Timmy some fairy wings so in case some people didn’t “get” he was gay, they’d know without a shadow of a doubt.

I wasn’t planning on going to see Lagwagon, but it was on the way home, Spam had tickets and SHIT, WHY NOT, ITS FUCKING LAGWAGON!!!! We left after the show, but Pope, Joe and Sarah ended up singing with the band at the gay bar next door. If that’s not a serious case of badassery, I don’t know what is.

Laboring through Labor Day Weekend

2008-09-12T14:48:00.001-05:00

Though this past weekend with the Renaissance Festival was a grand time (despite rain, which made my gypsy jingly belt make even more obnoxious reindeer-like noise), in the interest of catching up, I’ll back up to the weekend before, Labor Day weekend.

Friday, the 29th, I finally got to drink with McWhisky, who because he wakes up at 6 pm outlasted us all with his post-bar guitar hero antics. Fuck me and my 8-5 job; it’s really interfering with my drinking! Anyway, Saturday Ben, Cheryl, Spam and I went to the MN State Fair. Yes, I was intoxicated on booze (I only brought one flask, but hooray for leinekugals stands every 5 feet!), but I think I also became intoxicated on fried food. The thing about the fair, there are always disgusting lumps of people that make me feel better about my couple extra lbs, so it encourages me to shovel food in without abandon.

Highlights from the fair: getting cool cops to breathalyze all of us to see who was the drunkest, just for fun (no, I didn’t win), almost getting kicked out of the art exhibit because we were belligerent enough to be like “THIS WON AWARDS? THAT’S FUCKED UP” or “HOW MANY COCKS CAN YOU SEE IN THIS PAINTING, I SEE 4”.

Sunday was robbed of productivity due to some herbals of a rather strong nature. Monday was Labor Day, so we started drinking early at Skark with some screwdrivers that had 99 bananas (schnapps, for you uneducated boozy folks) in it. Then, Take Back Labor day hip hop show at Harriet Island; that would’ve been much better times had 1. they had some other beer besides Miller light bullshit and 2. Tom Morelos from Rage Against the Machine not lectured us about politics. Seriously, just sing some goddamn music; it already has a bucket load of your political rantings. And with that, I give you pictures.

Warmin' Up the House

2008-09-03T17:55:00.003-05:00

We are gonna need to rewind a little bit here… I got backed up, and I still haven’t explained the gloriousness that was my housewarming. After a couple reschedules, Jason, Landon and I ran around like lunatics cleaning, and hiding all of our good liquor in preparation. I had decided rather than have a bunch of food, we should probably just have liquor (if they needed food, they could go across the street to one of the many restaurants). I made what I like to call “Donkey Punch”, and it has Limeade, maraschino cherries, an unfathomable amount of vodka, raspberry sherbet, 7 Up, and 5 hour energy. It was guaranteed to get you fucking drunk and keep you awake for the entire night.

My main goal of the evening was to keep the donkey punch flowing and keep people off the roof. We as a household may go out there, but dumbasses at the party I didn’t trust to not fall off (or at least not to sue me if they fell off, which is just as important, if not more).

Jason had brought home a large pirate flag, but we felt it was best not to draw attention to our house when we threw a party, so unfortunately it did not fly proudly. However, we did cover one kitchen wall with a paperbag and attach markers for people to write fun things on; because we are classy folks, we didn’t have string, so we used dental floss (which came in handy after the brownies Timmy made that um had some stems and whatnot in them). The best thing added to the wall was "cock juggling thundercunts," courtesy of Jessi, a quote from Parker Posey.

We are already discussing our next theme for the party… We were considering having a “flashlight and ski mask party” just to freak out the neighbors, but we definitely don’t want to combine it with our Fantastic Fall Frying Festival. Deep frying a bunch of shit in the dark seems like a bad idea.

August's Douchebag of the Month

2008-08-29T12:13:00.004-05:00

This month is already coming to a close, and since I’m still gathering pictures from the party I threw last weekend (oh hey, whomever stole the big ass grill lighter from the front porch, I hope you light your fucking nuts on fire with it), I’ll go ahead and bestow my most honorable award: DOUCHEBAG OF THE MONTH, here we come!

So, Tuesday night, a very lit up Tequila Mockingbird went to the Science museum to see the Star Wars exhibit. The IMAX movie wasn’t just about Star Wars special effects, but all special effects. Well thank you very much Professor Douches for showing me something on IMAX that would’ve been just as breathtaking on the discovery channel. Despite that, and the lack of my flask, I still had a good time, but mostly with people watching. Surprisingly enough, there aren’t a lot of hot chicks at the Star Wars exhibit, but there are some “characters” (I think that’s what my grandma used to call weirdos). And look at this bad ass visor I found to wear!

The Republican Natl convention is in St Paul, so when leaving, we scouted for cross-dressing toe-tappin’, money hoarding republicans in the streets. We saw none, but some friends and I are considering dressing up in hottie-whore clothes (possibly short-shorts with "juicy" on the ass) and going trolling for Republicans to eventually blackmail (with our hidden cameras). The real douchebags of this month are the molls hired by the FBI’s Joint Terrorism Task Force. Some douchemongers felt it would be a good idea to have molls hang out with the protestors just to keep them in line. Gee, maybe we should just stop all pretensions of free expression, and have some red scare action going on. And to the people who became tool-bags and molls, well I hope you’re still able to walk after losing your spine like that.

Capt. McDrinketyDrunk

2008-08-26T13:11:00.005-05:00

There’s much catching up to do. I threw a party this weekend, so there’s some cleaning to be done, both to the house and to the cobwebs left in my brain. So instead of a weekend recap, I’ll tell the tale of drunken boating with coworkers.

Every year we have Boat Day. Which consists of going out on my bosses’ boat on lake Minnetonka with a couple coolers full of booze. It’s unfortunate we all don’t get along better when we are sober, because it was a decent time had by all. Granted, it wasn’t like a couple years ago when Debbie’s fake boobs came out. No one got shitfaced like the year Pauline did and then fell off of the boat. But our boss put in some Craig David (I totally loved that guy when I was in middle school like a decade ago), and we kept well hydrated.

The girls in the office made a pact that if one of our boobs fell out, we would yell out our code word “JANET JACKSON”, in reference to a wardrobe malfunction. Unfortunately, when the alarm was sounded, it was on me. DAMNIT! Then when Tory figured out the code, he kept yelling it, making me paranoid.
Overall, it’s a good ‘team building day’ when no one gets injured or fired. Hell, I was still even able to make it to #skark bowling that night, but you can only really drink in the sun all day without it taking its toll; no driving home for me that night.

Hats, Can Smoking, and Betting on Beer

2008-08-18T10:46:00.008-05:00

Skark moved our usual bowling group to the horsie track on Thirsty Thursday, and it got the weekend off to the right start. Senor Scat wasn’t racing, so I kept my bets mostly confined to the Leinenkugals stand, where I’m ALWAYS a winner.

Early-evening Friday was fried shrimp and honeyweiss at Stella’s with Landon, then I met up with Timmy at Marie-Louise and David’s, where I had potato schnapps. It was a new experience, but I figure since I’m Irish, and I’ve never met a schnapps I didn’t like, it was right in line with my interests. I liked the Absolut Kurrant with soda water better. We tried on hats, some that Marie-Louise makes (she’s seriously the most awesome, and possibly only, Danish girl I’ve ever met), and once it gets colder, she promised to teach me how to crochet, so I can make my own whoville hats.

After all that, Timmy and I walked to an undisclosed location, where we did a science project that led to us partaking of herbal essences out of a Strongbow can. It was classy AND refined, and we followed it up with a slumber party in the living room.

Saturday Timmy and I went on a quest to find a fedora, which I finally did at Ragstock. After miscellaneous hijinks, we met up with Spam for a drive to Chanhassen (SERIOUSLY, WHY DO YOU NEED TO LIVE OUT IN THE ASS END OF NOWHERE?! THE BOONIES ARE ONLY GOOD TO DISPOSE OF A DEAD BODY) to a bonfire. I failed, and not only got marshmallow in my hair, but dropped my wiener in the dirt. I hate when my wieners get dirty.

Sunday was supposed to be my super productive day, but shockingly enough once I started getting rid of the stragglers of beer that made it to my house from Saturday’s bonfire, I only felt like watching movies. HOWEVER, because one of the movies I watched was “Animal House”, a toga party is now in the works. Maybe my day wasn’t so unproductive after all!

School Girls With Topiary Equine Aspirations

2008-08-11T20:21:00.006-05:00

Tonight's my big night off from shenanigans and hijinks's. Ate some leftovers from yesterday's BBQ (hat's off to Spam for the delicious concoction that had vermouth in it to put on the steaks) and got to decompress and rehydrate.

Friday we started off at the Irish Fair, to see Flogging Molly, which as usual was legitimate badassery. I wore an Irish school girl outfit; the picture isn't from Friday, but it's the only picture of me in it I could find. It allowed us to play the game of watch-which-pervys-leer-at-me. After the Irish Fair, we went to Epic, and normally I'd probably not wear school girl outfit, but I figured why the hell not since I was already wearing it. It was once again well-received.

Saturday stalled like a shitty car because of breakfast of tater tots and screwdrivers. After some violent old school video games with Landon, he and I went out to Stella's to meet up with Camaroon. He's the one running for Congress, and he really has a good shot of winning. Landon's politics that night was limited to pissing off some chick he was trying to score with by arguing about issues she was very passionate about. Hilarity (at least for me) ensued. Random side note: I got recognized at the bar this weekend. like, someone who read my blog saw me out and was like HEY TEQUILA MOCKINGBIRD!!!" it was both flattering and scary.

Sunday was horsie races! The only bet I won on was one for Senor Scat (I SHIT YOU NOT, THAT'S HIS REAL HORSEY NAME!!!!). Shockingly enough, the horse named "Fiddy Cent" was a black horse. My newest goal is to ride the topiary horse they have in the court yard. Even if I got in trouble for it, having an infraction on my record with "equine" just makes it worth it.

Putting the "ASS" in "GLASS"

2008-08-08T08:34:00.001-05:00

It’s been a hectic and taxing week. Tues was memorial happy hour; I think the gays are the only group of people that can possibly make redheaded sluts seem like a respectful shot to take. I remember driving home, and having the most irrational thought that if I got a DUI and missed my friend’s wake the next day, he would be pissed. Fortunately that didn’t happen, and we said goodbye to Bill. Fun fact, his family told me that while looking on his camera, one of the last pictures he took was of me “sleeping”. Hehe, I have the sneaking suspicion I might have been passed out on his couch.

Anyway, I figure I might as well catch up and get to last weekend’s recap. Friday was the art fair, which was conveniently located a few blocks away from my house. Saturday I went to Valley Fair, which compared to Busch Gardens and 6 flags, sucked. But, when you think about the relative awesomeness (lets be honest, Minnesota isn’t exactly over run with theme parks and roller coasters), it wasn’t too terrible. Oh, beware folks; if you see a guy that looks like one of the bearded dudes from ZZ Top, be careful. As soon as we saw him, The Renegade broke. I’m positive there was a correlation.

I was supposed to see Nine Inch Nails on sat. night, but Trent Reznor was sick (or just being a pussy), so that was rescheduled, and instead I went out with LuckyPants and Landon. Granted, I get drunk and wild, but this chick brings it to a whole different level. It was both impressive and scary. Like, after a night of drinking, we wake up to my kitchen table flipped on it’s side, her without pants, and when we did find the pants they were wet and had glass and flowers inside (which had formerly been on my table). It’s been almost a week later, and we still aren’t sure what the hell happened.

She woke up on Sunday and started hitting some Jim Beam. I had a better idea, so we got on my roof with some orange juice, vodka, and peach schnapps. As the afternoon wore on, she started screaming at people walking by to the art fair. Keeping in mind Landon and I have been known to yell shit off the roof, we live there, so we keep it somewhat classy. Luckypants is yelling to women’s boyfriends, telling them to show her their dick, calling people fat asses, and randomly complimenting people on their accessories. Once bottles started falling off the roof, I knew it was time to go back inside.

Bill.

2008-08-04T10:27:00.008-05:00

Though there are stories of good times from this weekend, instead of sharing those, I must instead make a departure from my usual posting to say goodbye to my friend. Bill, who has been a reoccurring character on here died yesterday. He was 34, and had beaten cancer... but one can never win them all. He had a heart attack, which caught us all off guard. Much love to Timmy who gave him CPR until the paramedics arrived.

So yesterday goldshlager and I went over to the gays, and in between crying jags and chain smoking, we shared some of our favorite stories of him. And all though it made us miss him more, we felt less sad. His death put a crack in the armor of youth that can sometimes seem impenetrable. To those that knew him well or even superficially, he was a beautiful person and I'm proud to have called him my friend.

UPDATE: people deal with loss in their own way. My friend's and I dealt with ours by drinking a his favorite drinks and making a bunch of food for his family. Two casseroles, 5 loaves of banana bread, and 75 cookies later, I feel better. He's the only one I ever let get away with calling me "Christy", a variation of my name I never particularly liked. And because it was him who introduced me to most of the gays, they all call me that. I guess that will just be part of his legacy for me. For anyone who reads this and knew him, we are doing happy hour today (tues), the wake is tomorrow night, and thursday morning is the funeral. Contact me for details.

July's Douchebag Of The Month

2008-07-31T16:57:00.002-05:00

I’ve been running a little behind lately. But just because I’m a little slower at getting to it, please don’t be confused and think that this award smells any less of the aroma of douchebaggery. This award because I waited so long, will be shared this month.

First and foremost, I need to bid a bitter farewell to Bennigan’s. I knew some of the staff there, and they undeniably had the best happy hour specials in the suburb I work. When I found out about their closing, I happened to have just been there the day before. I was like someone who had a friend die, but had seen them recently. My reaction: “WHAT, BENNEGINS CLOSED?! I JUST SAW ‘EM YESTERDAY… LOOKED FINE!!!!!” So, #1 douchebag of July goes to the assholes (Metromedia Restaurant Group) that filed for bankruptcy. Way to cowboy up and try to get through it. Oh wait, you actually took the coward’s way out.

The second part of this illustrious honor goes to Kid Rock. He has sodomized one of my favorite Lynyrd Skynrd songs. If the majority of the band was alive, I’ll am more than positive they would rain hot fury down upon his greasy, scumbucket ass, that would be akin to napalm on a Vietnamese village. Why doesn’t he take a shit atop Jim Morrison of the Door’s grave while he’s insulting iconic music legends? I mean, if he had even a moderate amount of talent (for music, not for railing bleach blonde hepatitis whores), it wouldn’t be so fucking offensive. Like when Stone Temple Pilots did “Dancing Days” by Led Zepplin, granted it wasn’t as good as the original, but at least it wasn’t insulting the taste of music listeners. But you, Kid Rock, you have honed the craft of douchfulness, and it stabs at my eardrums with every note I listen to that you have spat forth... And it's for that that you get the heavy crown placed upon your do-rag adorned head.

And They Shall Call Me "FRANK"

2008-07-28T21:29:00.006-05:00

Friday I went to the Eagle with Bill, met up with Craig and Luther and some of the others. I had the fortune of discovering the gay man group, Bearforce1, which if you know what a Bear (see #5) is, you can get my amusement of watching these guys dance around in pastel shirts, then water while singing jauntily. I managed to meet the ONE straight there. Going around, like I usually do, I asked this cute guy that if I had a dick, would he suck it... To which he replied NO, because he was straight. He thought it was funny and understood how I might think a guy in a gay bar would be homosexual. Guess those drink specials of 3-for-1's really draw 'em out.

We also figured out my gay name. Luther said something about me talking to more guys in the bar than even the gay guys do. And I'm like: "HELL YEAH, I'D MAKE A GREAT GUY DUDE!" so of course then we needed to figure out a name; at the same time, Craig and I came up with "Frank".

Saturday was divine. Sunday I made guinness pork chops (because all of my yumgasm marinades and sauces had dripped on the grill), we had enough smoke to blow into the next door neighbor's house. The fire alarm went off and two fire trucks came. WHEE!

I once again had a quality weekend with some gays, but Timmy (who went to Bismark Pride, a wholly different experience than Mpls Pride), had adventures that eclipse mine. Just a big field of gays, camping, getting drunk and having queertastic weekend. They were even selling "jock on a stick," which as you might have imagined is a neon jockstrap, on a stick, tied in the back so it's tighter. Once you have that, what other article of clothing do you really need?

The family that gets intoxicated together, stays together

2008-07-24T13:52:00.007-05:00

I think because I lived in Florida until I was 21, it made my trip down there less like a vacation and more like a revisiting of my former life. Needless to say, it was more than a little overwhelming to attempt to see all of my friends and family in such a short window of time. Being related to me, of course my family is awesome, and decided to help me out by throwing a little shindig on the 5th. My dad blackened fish, Auntie Cougar had a well-stocked bar, and my grandma just tried to not be offended when she heard us using copious profanity in everyday conversations.

I also got to meet my Dad’s new girlfriend. Keeping in mind that the last time I saw him with a woman, it was my mom… things were bound to be weird anyway, much less that his lady friend happens to be a lunatic. This is not just my opinion, this is something he and many others who have met her share. But she’s hot, and kind of looks like Rachel Ray… A Rachel Ray that would slit your throat in your sleep if she’s pissed off enough. Also, because she’s a lunatic, her 12 year old son is a little fucked up in the head. Like, for example, he saw my dad playing grab-ass with her in the pool, and he flipped out. So there’s Tequila Mockingbird, drunkenly trying to console this kid and to get him to stop crying. Obviously, that was not the highlight of the evening.

I saw friends from high school, we chased each other through my grandma’s orange groves, and set off fireworks. Fortunately, nothing exploded or caught on fire like the night before. That might have been more than a little embarrassing, seeing as how there were two firemen present at the party. Both of them said they would’ve without a doubt been able to put out a fire no matter how intoxicated. This is a subject of debate and disagreement.

Ostriches, Camels, and a Fiesta

2008-07-21T11:36:00.003-05:00

As much as I need to get to part III of my Florida hijinks, this weekend had some serious badassery that I must first address. Friday I went over to the gays, where we made homo punch (cherry limeade, sprite, lots o vodka, and maraschino cherries) that resulted in a quest for cherries later that night. I can honestly say it was the first time I ever went into a liquor store and did not buy any alcoholic beverages. Later, when the fount of homo punch ran dry, we busted into the cheap champagne, and even convinced the Jimmy John’s bicycle delivery guy to drink a glass quick.

Somehow we ended up at Brother’s, which is a club/bar, but more of a club than a bar. Not knowing I’d be going out, I was wearing a sublime shirt and jeans, which had me looking like a hippy. Timmy was rockin’ the 70’s porn start look, complete with chops and “my name is earl” mustache. When we were dancing I heard someone remark “OHhh shiiiitttt, HIPPY GIRL CAN DANCE!”

Saturday Leslie and Skoalface had their annual fiesta. They had a kickass party favor, a beaded necklace with a shot glass on it. Joep was sitting next to the keg and kept filling up his little cup. We played boozy-badminton, which required us to keep holding onto our margaritas AT ALL TIMES. Landon and I left early, and because his date was cut short (he showed up 25 min. late, with hickeys from Fri’s date, and already drunk), he came with me to Chammps to watch MMA affliction, but I was too drunk to try to get jello wrestling scheduled with the midget bartender.

Sunday #skark went to Canterbury, which in the epitome of awesomeness was hosting Ostrich and Camel races instead of just the usual horsies. Ostrich races were fail (they ended so quickly.. it was like the premature ejaculation of racing), but camel races made up for them. We had some side betting going on after we saw two different chicks wearing tacky sequin purses as to if we would see a third. Instead of just seeing a third, we saw two more. No accounting for taste I guess. I busted ass from a wet spot on the floor inside, but like a pro managed to keep my drink upright and not spill the entirety of it. I still wish we had been able to steal ostriches and race them down Hiawatha ave against the light rail.

Blowing Shit Up

2008-07-18T11:56:00.010-05:00

Last night started out with a bang, when I found out on the way to bowling you aren’t supposed to text while going 15 miles over the speed limit. But since I don’t look gross, the cop was nice and was like “instead of a ticket, I’m going to give you a stern talking to.” Well thanks; boy O boy did I learn my lesson! Like most #skark events, the night ended with drama, and amazingly enough I was not at the center of it this time. It was a nice departure.

Anyway, so back to my Florida trip, on the 4th of July I saw my dad and some of the firemen I grew up with at his station. Then my bestest friend since middle school, Gay Mike aka Poodles, threw a party at his apartment. With fireworks, pharmaceuticals, booze, and enough homosexuals to fill up a Pier 1 we had a blast, literally. We aren’t sure if the apt place turned the sprinklers on because of the commotion we were making or if was on a timer, but either way we were angrier than a stripper with a C section. Maybe they should’ve kept the sprinklers on and then we wouldn’t have blown a hole in the chair. Oops!

Here is that day’s slideshow. Next week I’ll have more Florida adventures in awesomeness.

Fake Fog & Ribs the second time around

2008-07-16T13:31:00.003-05:00

I got back from Florida last week, but as soon as I returned it was Skark Skarey movie night, complete with dry ice to make fog and some extra that I stuck in a punch bowl with berry limeade and vodka to carbonate it. It somehow turned into Skark night swimming in the pool during a thunder storm (yes, I know, but at least we weren’t holding golf clubs high in the air). Disregard my arm looking fat, it's really not like that in real life.

Then on Saturday I had the gays (Timmy and Bill) over for bbq and a couple pitchers of mojitos, then subsequent walking around my front lawn with champagne flutes full of pink champagne. At some point one of us had the grand idea to bake a cake (this might have been fueled by Timmy’s bearings of high quality greenery) at 1 am. So we walk down to the gas station, buying our cake mix and the gas station attendant who had already seen us in there a couple times that day was like “really, REALLY now? Baking a cake in the middle of the night?” Nevertheless, chocolate cake with strawberry frosting and oreos on top never tasted so good.

The trip went awesomely, and eventually I’ll get to all of my stories with corresponding pictures. I went to Busch Gardens, and it turns out it’s not a good idea to eat a hearty meal of ribs and French fries and then go on Kumba twice in a row (yay, we had platinum passes that let us skip to the head of the line and go twice on all the rides)… the three people behind me that were covered in my rib-french fry vomit also figured out it was a bad idea. Hell, I’m just glad I didn’t throw up on my friends or family. That wouldn’t have been cool at all. Notice I'm wearing two different pairs of sunglasses; fucking gwazi stole the first pair (as well as almost thieving a shoe). To recoup the loss, I stole a replacement pair from the gift shop

She who Stands Where I Stood

2008-07-03T09:45:00.000-05:00

In the last post I alluded to us moving. I’ve moved so much in the past year, I feel like a gypsy (only I take showers and smell better). Anyway, Landon and moved in next door with Jason this weekend. It's a bigger place, roughly the same price, and has off-street parking; that’s overall the largest win, cause when you live somewhere that everyone else wants to live, it’s a bitch to park. Granted, Landon and I still park on the street whenever convenient, because fuck everyone… we’ve had to walk a block or so to get home before, why should we make it easier for other people?

We were actually thinking of just throwing shit out of Landon’s window or rigging up a pulley system, since his old window was directly beside the new place. That way we would avoid the gazillion flights of stairs. OHhh how these stairs have memories of drinkety drunk times before!

Anyway, one of the things I wont miss about the old place is the plumbing. Because our building was one of the oldest in Uptown, it had some bad news bears where that was concerned. For example, you needed to hold down the handle on the toilet, but not hold it down too long. And the sink was vile; not only was it rusty (no, Maintenance, painting it will not fix the problem), it had two handles AND faucets for a cold and hot side of your face during a wash.

One of the cool things that came with the house next door, is Invader Zim, Jason's cat. He's one of the most awesome cats ever. He looks drunk here.

Thanks to those who helped us move. It was invaluable; yeah we had like two months notice and it was next door, but when it got down to the wire it was still like "OH SWEET MOSES, WE NEED TO GET OUR STUFF OUT!!!!" We were considering leaving a doubledecker for the next tenants (they dont check the toliet tank when doing move-out checkups!), but opted not to.

Chuck Norris got moved behind the pool table upstairs. Hopefully he’ll improve our game. Also, between the three of us, we now have four mini fridges. Can't ever really have enough of those. Anyway, you folks have a good week. I’m rolling into Florida for the week like a hurricane.

Filling the streets with my noise

2008-06-30T21:13:00.001-05:00

It was another big weekend. Somehow despite moving next door into Jason's house (I'll get to that soon), I still managed to have more good times than Target has mentally handicapped people working for them (seriously, have you noticed that too?). Friday night Landon and I walked down to Stella's for the first shift of happy hour, where we had to fight to keep our stools from being stolen by this Asian chick with a face like an old leather purse. Later Landon's large breasted lady friend (they were at least thrice as big as mine), Calvin Crustitron, and his friend Tony that was visiting from Cali joined us out.

I still cant quite put my finger on why, but I didn't think Tony was gay. Landon thought it might be an act, cause he thought Tony was hitting on Tits McGee. I saw one of the gays, Hector, on the street while walking to the bar, and I refuse to believe it's a coincidence that we had just been playing the penis game. After Bar Abaleine and the Drink, we went to Burrito loco, where I was impressed when the staff chased after some assbag that stole the tip jar. On the way back home, Calvin Crustitron and I got in a stupid argument that left us screaming profanity at each other all the way down Hennepin. Nothing but class.

Sat. I still managed to have time to make blue, green, and purple jello shots to go with the red, orange, and yellow ones Melissa made for the Pride party. What better way to celebrate that with a spectrum of fruity booze?! Hmm, maybe perhaps the rainbow cape from the AIDS benefit party?

I wore it around Loring park for the En Vogue concert. It did well to hide the Guinness in my back pockets. Then onto the 19 bar, where we were trying to figure out if I looked more like a homosexual Batman or the gay grim reaper (we were thinking in place of a scythe, perhaps a large purple dildo instead).

Surprisingly enough, the employees at the gas station we went into were less amused with the cape and the stream of colorful people coming celebrating pride. I think of any gas station for me to be in with a cape, the Super America was the most appropriate. I still don't see what the problem was. For all they know I could've been a super hero; "Butt Genie to the rescue; NO MOAR TACKY DECOR FOR YOOOooooou!!!"

Robocop, Tater Tots, and a Recipe

2008-06-25T20:07:00.000-05:00

My bad about the weekend recap taking so long to get out, but this week I'm in the middle of moving and also getting ready to go to Fla next week, not to mention I left my camera at Craig's house when I was drunk (shockingly enough!).

Friday I first met the gays at The Eagle, where I saw a lesbian that looked like Harry Potter, a black midget (no, he dissapeared in the crowd before I could pick him up and sprint away with him), and a Pirate that spit a lot when he talked.

After that was a bbq at Bill Skark's house. I brought some ribs that were so awesomely marinated, they ripped a hole in the universal curtain of "awesome." Amy and I were considering running through the sprinklers scantily clad on the golf course he lives in , but unfortunately 1. weren't paying attention the first time the sprinklers turned on 2. were taking a 2 hr "nap" the second time they came on.

After the nap at 6 am we ate some leftover ribs and drank more rasp. lemonade-vodka and watched Robocop. Somewhere during the movie we toook another nap, and woke up ready for Uptown Bar tater tots and screwdrivers/bloody mary's. Helluva way to start your Saturday!

Sunday it was Craig's birthday, and the gays threw an a fanfuckingtastic party, despite the intermittant rain. But hey, I look great in a wet t shirt anyway. We were solidly entertained by the ghetto couple across the street having a domestic dispute. She locked him out, but then kept opening the door to throw a handful of ice at him. Their reconcillation after 15 min took away our amusement.

I made Mojito Jello shots; last time I made them, you greedy bastards wanted my recipe. Here it is in all of it's glory. If the steam doesnt burn your eyes, you're doing it wrong.

Mockingbird Mojito Jello Shotz

Boil ALMOST a cup of water, the rest of the cup being taken up by lime juice and mint extract (dont use real mint leaves, when they boil they turn brown and look like dogshit)

Add a package of lime jello and 2 tablespoons of sugar. STIR of course

Turn off heat and add 1 cup of light rum.

YOU'RE IN BUSINESS CHAMP! (watch out, they sneak up on you like a paternity suit)

Ahoy, Failboat!

2008-06-24T11:40:00.000-05:00

While I wait to get pictures back from this weekend's shenanigans, I will take the time to call out some fail of epic proportions. Apparently pirates took four European tourists hostage and are now hiding in the hills of Las Qoray.

First of all, European tourists are not the ones to take as hostages. They arent sure whether they are French or German, but come on... Both countries dont give as big of a rat's ass as America does about it's citizens being . So if you want to be a successful captor, you would aim to snag some American tourists. That's where the real booty is!

Most importantly, you cannot be a pirate and hide on land. The whole thing about being a pirate is you STAY IN THE WATER... 'a life at sea', not 'a life at sea until people are chasing me'. NO GET BACK IN YOUR FUCKING BOAT!! Bunch of pussies, that's what they are. Unless they are hunting down ninjas on land (which is a difficult endeavor to begin with) or have run out of rum, their asses should be in the water, fighting off whomever is after them.

Thirdly, snagging a tourist vessel that has run out of gas seems to take away from their pirate cred. Everyone knows you are supposed to go after merchant ships so their is more shit to steal. And a boat that has run out of gas? You dont even need cannons to take it down. LAAAaaaaaame!!! I didnt see anything in the pirate laws against this stuff, but it still doesnt seem quite right.

Main point: It's not the hokey pokey, you dont put your left foot in and take your left foot out; if you are going to be a pirate, DONT HALF ASS IT.

Remembering Memorial Day...

2008-06-20T09:16:00.001-05:00

So, I had a blast on Memorial Day, but unfortunately, I didnt quite remember all of it. Thanks to Chelsea, I now have pictures to forever memorialize the after-party with the gays. Notice the progression of the evening. I still dont know when I managed to lose my shoe, but the falling down does explain the rug burn I woke up with on my elbow. Have a good weekend folks!

June's Douchebag of The Month

2008-06-18T15:38:00.000-05:00

Once again, I’m singing that same song that goes a little something like this: “do-doo-doooouchebaaaaag, oh how you make me want to smaaaack you with a mesh bag of piiiiineaaaaaaaappples… dooo do douchebaaags!” June’s winner of the fail-waste sweepstakes is psychics.

The immediate cause for me awarding this to them is that there is one occupying prime space in between my house and one of my favorite bars, Liquor Lyles. It’s a great bar, but if you go there, and things suck, there’s no other options except to walk four blocks to Lyndale, where Mortimer’s and Rudolph’s are located. It really is a serious investment. Anyway, if they ran the psychics out of there like they did in the good ol’ days (with pitchforks and lighted torches, of course), it’s totally big enough to have a decent sized food-drink establishment. I wonder, since they are psychics, if they would know beforehand that someone was going to throw a brick through their fucking window?

And going along with that line of thought, how come Miss Cleo didn’t know she was going to be sued and tap out before any of that started? OH WAIT, BECAUSE SHE WASN’T REALLY A PSYCHIC! I would be hard pressed to find someone who could prove to me that they were REALLY a psychic; most are just able to give semi-decent guesses based on people’s voices and the information they are given.

Maybe the sad sacks of shit that call those psychic hotlines deserve to get ripped off. Kind of like a dumbass tax. In this case, maybe it’s the callers of those hotlines that rank higher on the douchetitude scale. I’ve said this before in different posts, to think that the universe will magically fix life problems is idiotic and that energy would be better spent trying to improve the things that one does not like about their lives. Hope in one hand, douche in the other.

No Title Can Possibly Do This Justice

2008-06-15T15:46:00.001-05:00

Saturday Lego's friends from Iowa came over (sure as hell beats drowning in their flooded state!), so we showed them St Paul. Keeping in mind they had read me and heard stories about me, but I'm not sure ANYTHING can really ever prepare a person for me. I think they assumed it was mostly exaggeration surrounding me; hmmm not quite!

Anyway, first stop was the Liffey, where the boys were attacked by a group of cougars out for a bachelorette thing. Too bad none of them were hot and were trying entirely too hard to be "naughty." It was sad really, and they smelled of Oil of Olay anti-wrinkle cream and barely surviving hopes.

On another disturbing note, we saw this guy with his gym-teacher-with-balls-hanging-out-of-his-short-shorts.

Awesomely enough, we found someone had left a flowery, frilly umbrella underneath the bar. So, on the walk to the McGoverns, I twirled it around like Mary Poppins and had a blast with it. Here is Andy and I with it, WHEeeeee! This was before I hit a pole with it and it broke. Oops.

At McGovern's, there was some Coldplay-ish band playing. Which of course made me feel compelled to start yelling "PLAaaaaaay SLAYER!!!;" those two bands couldn't possibly more dissimilar, so as you can imagine, they did not play any Slayer for me, however, they did keep telling me they would in a couple songs.

After saving some random girl with HUGE cans (seriously, I shit you not.. they mine look small) from having to dance with this gross old man, we started dancing, which somehow lead to making out. Funny how that happened. Her girlfriend was not amused, Legos and his friends were delighted. Sorry about the poor quality of pictures. All four of the boys have promised to ALWAYS carry digital cameras on them, instead of relying solely on blackberries.

Trainwreck Friday- Choo Choo BITCHES!

2008-06-10T11:05:00.000-05:00

Landon came home on Friday, kicking my bed to wake me up for Stella’s 2-for-1’s (or as he calls them, “4-for-2’s”). I was still trying to recover from Thursday’s Skark Bowling that included but was not limited to:

a crying jag

Pecan Pie for Pope's Birthday that I made with Jim Beam

Pantsless Bowling

Piggyback Bowling (one person gets on another's back and bowls

After Stella’s and then Old Chicago, we got up on Jason’s roof with a bottle of Dr. Mcgillicuddy’s (hey, it has “Doctor” on the bottle, so that means it’s good for you, right?), and Invader Zim the cat to yell at people down below. For example, the 30 year old pizza guy got a “IS THIS REALLY WHAT YOU WANTED TO BE DOING WITH YOUR LIFE?!” We knew it was time to get off the roof when a bird shit on Landon’s pant leg and he started screaming he was going to throw shit back at it.

The arab from the gas station across the street had recommended the 5 hr energy supplement, so we split it up into shot glasses to prepare for what we like to call “long distance drinking.” We met up with a birthday crowd that Jason knew at Nye’s in downtown Minneapolis, and came to the conclusion that as amusing as the polka band was, that was not the side of the bar to be on, because they poured Guinness in pure failure fashion. By this time, Landon (who had been pulling on the McGillicuddys harder than we had) was hiccupping).

We still aren’t quite sure how this happened, but we got kicked out of the cab on the way to Brits. We are good natured drunks and were agreeing with something the foreign cab driver said. Whatever. Fuck him and the border he snuck in on. At Brits I saw Jesus on the rooftop. He bought me a drink, so I assume I’m going to heaven now. We ended up back at Green Mill, who took our arguing with each other as a cue not to serve us. WTF?! We’ve been way more belligerent than that before.

Some people just don’t know how to take a joke.

A Brave New World (of drinking)

2008-06-05T12:49:00.000-05:00

While reading the news today, I literally got a little wet when I saw this story. See, when a person lives in a place that is colder than an Eskimo’s dick for the majority of the year, they tend to drink at home considerably more than those who live in more accommodating climates. This is not the case for me, as I go out frequently. Anyway, the idea of a delivery beer man still appeals to me. Especially if he was hot (I can see the pornos now, “what would you like for a tip, Mr BeerMan?”)

It’s a fairly reasonably priced service too, but unfortunately with the raising of gas prices, that will change. This is also a fanfuckingtastic idea because with beer being delivered, there is less of a chance of DUI’s, and other bad times that can come with non-professional (AKA non-home) drinking.

There should be more places doing this. Granted, the area they are doing it in, Duluth, is a shitty, barren, funless place, BUT I think even in the cities it would still do well. They could even have the delivery truck play fun music like ice cream trucks do. I’m thinking it could be Bare Naked Ladies “Alcohol” song or maybe “Drunken Lullabies" by Flogging Molly (see video down below). Either way, I could see a parade of big-gutted men following the beer truck down the street like the pied piper.

Office Retardation

2008-06-04T09:53:00.000-05:00

So today I had probably the most asnine staff meeting ever. Though this meeting wasn’t directed at anything I had done or said, I was still silghtly irritated (and not just because it took away from valuable time I could’ve been plucking my eyebrows or online shopping for sex toys). We work in a small office, that’s deadline-driven, thus tensions run high. Backstabbing bullshit is out of control, because people cant just confront people face to face... Seriously, GROW THE FUCK UP.
Which brings me to my main issue… when did people lose their spine and become unable to deal with even the most minimal conflicts? Are we that weak as a society we have resorted to being confrontationally crippled? I think all of this touchy-feely-we-should-tread-lightly has ruined us and made us mealy-mouthed milk-toast hollow shells. Not everyone will always like everyone else. And especially in an office setting where you have a group of people thrown together who otherwise would want nothing to do with each other, it wont always be cotton candy and rainbows.

What’s the point of this post? Basically to tell everyone to cowboy up and grow a thicker skin because conflict is inevitable and avoiding confrontation wont make it go away, but instead let it simmer like a stew of bitter resentment. So if you are sick of the office douchebag peeing in the coffee pot or the office bitch telling everyone you smell like a hobo behind your back, SAY SOMETHING. Or sabotage their car. Do something, because if you do nothing, you’ll just tweak out one day and come into the office shooting.

Grand Ol' Weekend!

2008-06-01T12:19:00.000-05:00

Just as I figured out an angry midget is a harbinger of bad times, when Landon and I saw two midgets in the post office, we knew it would be a doubly fun weekend. It actually translated into two opportunities for public intoxication. After post office on Saturday, we went to The Felafel King's buffet. If the Burger King guy is so fucking creepy, the Felafel King must be even more disturbin, but instead have a turban with a crown over it and smell like curry and old shoes. But the place was fantastic. It had a bunch of Mexican guys working at it who kept threatening to kick each other's asses. Felafel King fight club? Hmmm.. I LIKE THE SOUND OF THAT!!

The first opportunity to get publicly hammered was a filthy tease. They blocked off a solid couple of streets a few blocks from us on calhoun square for the Beerfest. Too bad it was $28 to get in. JUST FOR SAMPLES!! Unless it comes from a mason jar, it'll take more than a sample to rattle my cage...

Anyway, Saturday wasn't such a lucky day for some folk... It started hailing like a sonofabitch (probably the forces of the universe in a rage about the cost of Beerfest...), and I had the distinct pleasure of laughing at some people running down a Hennepin while I was nice and cozy in my apartment, with my drink. THE FIRST of my "FUN IN THE SUN" summer drink recipes I will bestow upon you:

Tropical Mockingbird

Pineapple soaked for at least two days in light rum and another day frozen
Tropicana Orange Juice (it's from the town in Fla I'm from. Don't settle for that concentrate OJ Bullshit)
More of that light rum good times

Unfortunately, time flies when you're having rum, so next thing I know it's Sunday and time for Grand Ol Day. No intraweb definition can give you the full picture of the awesomeness of this event. Thousands of people, drinking on Grand St. in St. Paul, for miles. Jugglers, Bands, Beer Gardens (those are for suckers), fried food on a stick, crafts, lawn parties, and GENERAL RUNNING AMOK!!! For this, I filled a camelbak with Red Bull, Blue gatorade, and vodka. I was like a tranny, trying to remember to tuck my hose in; I doubt the law would've been enthusiastic about the booze I lovingly carried upon my back.

After a shit ton of food and liquor (we had arrived already tanked, properly ready for the festivities), and walking down the miles of Grand St. the celebration stretched for, Landon and I started feeling ill, sun burnt (turns out a Ginger like me should probably slather on some sunscreen), and blisters... sooo, we decided it was time to roll out. We felt like the goddamn jews wandering around for 40 years trying to find Landon's car on Summit. We tried waiting for the shuttle bus, and had a pine cone throwing fight before eventually giving up and just walking it. I almost vomited in some of the nicest lawns in St Paul. I did see this house. WTF? Teddy bears in all the windows??

PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT!

2008-05-30T17:12:00.000-05:00

Oh man, this is more than a little creepy. Not just inherently because it's about molestation, but because it's like a how-to for pervys. HOWEVER, it's funnier than a penguin playing the banjo, SO it should totally make up for my blog-slacking (hey, it happens when you have you are out there having ridonkulously roaring fun times)! So, have a good weekend, and watch out for Mr Macgregor and his wood working (yes, it feels nice at first, but then you KNOW it's just wrong)...

A Memorial Day To Remember

2008-05-27T19:55:00.001-05:00

This weekend is much like my penis if I had one-- long and full of fun. Friday I made the mistake of taking a nap after 2-for-1's on Stella's rooftop, and combined with the lack of sleep from bowling late into the night on Thurs, I didnt manage to wake up for a round 2 with Landon. Saturday we watched the other two Indiana Jones' movies and then took the flasks to see the new one. Eh; it could've been better, but honestly a bad Indiana Jones' movie is better than most movies in general.

Sunday was skark's bbq, where I brought my crowning achievement in jello shot making, Mojito Jello Shots. They were a raging success, as was my lemon pepper blacktip shark my Dad sent up from Florida (he does fishing charters there). Suprisingly, no one got hurt despite juggling and Spam climbing up on the neighbors roof like fucking Spiderman to get the cat down. Later, he would grab a bottle of Stoli, and run around without his pants, screaming "STOOOOOOOOLIIIII-NAAAAAAACHAAAAAaa!!!" I didnt leave until 6 am, after a refreshing nap on the hammock I passed out on. A special thanks goes out to whomever gave me a blanket!

There's really no rest for the wicked, and Monday afternoon one of the gays, Craig, threw a party full of margaritas and delicious looking men. I brought a watermelon that had been soaking in vodka (note: it takes about three days... it's not really a spur of the moment type of boozing). Here's me with Hector, who is rumored to have a huge dong. More pics to follow.

The after-party at Bill and Timmy's house was where good times really rolled. The last thing I remember was stomping around with a bottle of Korbel, calling myself a champagne pirate. Unfortunately I woke up with a sore hip, a rug burn on my elbow and missing a shoe. I guess these are just the prices one must pay for a weekend of greatness!

Tapeworms, Chicken Rings And Breaking Bowling

2008-05-23T09:37:00.000-05:00

I’ll preface this post by saying I didn’t go to bowling with the goal to bowl fabulously; more so to hang out with people and have good drinkety drunken times. That’s just how Thirsty Thursday’s go, folks. Anyway, so I brought the cookies (sugar cookies, with strawberry frosting and chocolate sprinkles) I had made the night before. I call them Moregasm Cookies, because after you eat one your eyes roll back in your head and you scream: “MOOOOOOORE I NEEED MOOOOORE!!!”

I definitely dig the bowling place, they make the drinks strong and will play Warrant’s “Sweet Cherry Pie” for me. We had three lanes, and definitely amused the other lanes with our 1. curling up in a ball of shame after a bad bowl 2. screaming about Poptix’s tapeworms that he may or may not have 3. throwing ice at each other. I either bowl really bad or really good, and the more I drank, the better I bowled. AMAZING! I wish driving had the same correlation. I’ve been trying to convince Spam that if he had his ball engraved with “I HEART COCK” he would bowl better. He says no, but I told him that it wouldn’t necessarily mean he’s gay, because he COULD be talking about his cock… it’s not like it’s plural.

I refused Poptix’s claims that I needed the retard ramp. Not that it mattered; he broke the lane by rolling two balls at the same time. Also, it turns out you ARENT supposed to try to bowl in someone else’s lane when they aren’t looking. We made up for our follies in liquor sales.

The staff at White Castle afterwards was solidly less amused with us. First of all, they kept giving us conflicting stories about whether they had chicken or not. And the old lady behind the counter kept giving us nasty looks when we were discussing whether or not Jesus got gangbanged by the disciples. Seems like an appropriate drunken White Castle conversational topic to me. People are so weird sometimes. Overall, a grand time was had by all, except for the bowling and White Castle employees who cleaned up the havoc left in our wake.

Indiana Jones And the Temple of FAIL

2008-05-22T09:07:00.000-05:00

In preparation for the awesomeness I hope that the new Indiana Jones movie will be, last night was an Indiana Jones movie marathon and cookie baking extravaganza. Keeping in mind “Temple of Doom” came out the year I was born, when I saw it as a child, I didn’t notice some annoying aspects of it then.

Most glaringly was how annoying Kate Capshaw was. In between high-pitched screaming about bugs and dead bodies, she was whiny, petulant, and overall made me want to choke the shit out of her. The worst part is she wasn’t even hot. I could’ve overlooked her shrill shrieks of “INnnnnnnnnnnnnndyyyyy” if she was slammin’, but alas, she was not. The only part where she was even mildly appealing was when she was wet in a white t shirt. Even then, I’ve seen hotter crack whore transvestites outside the liquor store; no wonder Indiana Jones didn’t rail her the first time she offered, she looks mannish.

Secondly, the kids in the movie (other than the cool little Asian kid that saves Jones’ ass) were a bunch of little bastards. For example, those kids he frees, they don’t come help him out. What the fuck?! He saved you from a life of slavery and eventual death and you aren’t going assist him in the fight against the bad guys? How ungrateful; this is why they keep you in factories making shoes. And what was up with the little kid with the voodoo doll? He just needed a good ass whipping to keep him in line.

Seeing it on a warped VHS really added to the magic. Gee, it’s times like these I am devastated I missed the 80’s.

Light Sabers, Roller Girls, and Guy Fawkes

2008-05-20T09:10:00.000-05:00

Between Armageddon at work and all my other semi-controlled chaos, I’m just now getting around to the weekend recap. Friday night was one of those nights that can only be put together from texts, myspace comments, picture mail, and stamps on my hands. I think part of the reason for getting blackout drunk was the early start and then some chemical additions that I don’t normally have. I had some delicious pear cider at Old Chicago, and while Jason, Landon and I were drinking there, we noticed what we thought were prostitutes. They were ueber hot, and going around chatting to groups of men, so obviously we thought they must have been propositioning them. No, turns out they were just Coors girls, telling everyone about the new Pale Moon beer. It was awesome, they gave us free samples, (although, them giving us the glass took away some of the fun that comes with acquiring glasses from bars). Pale Moon may smell like woodchips, but it was free, thus tastyriffic!

We went back to Jason’s house, joined up with Calvin Crustitron, and did some crack pipe shots, and I assisted a friend with some chemical acquisitions (unfortunately, Tequila Mockingbird sucks at this kind of thing, and ended up dropping the remainder of it on the sidewalk, BUT amazingly enough, found it the next morning). At some point I remember walking to the bar with everyone, but after that it’s hazy. From the lobster stamp on my hand, I gather I went to Stella’s next, and a couple bars after that. Then from what I am told they stopped letting us into places, so we just went back to Jason’s. IMPRESSIVE!

The next morning, we fixed ourselves up right at the Uptown Bar with tater tots and screwdrivers at 10 am, and sat in the sun watching the lunatics, hotties, panhandlers, and trendy hipsters that passed by. Later I went to the roller derby finals with Legos and the airsoft crew. During pre-drinking at the Local, we saw people in Guy Fawkes masks protesting Scientology. They were not amused with me screaming at them: “SHOW ME YOUR TITS.”
I definitely fell in love with a couple of the hotter roller girls; something about their short skirts, colorful underpants, and violence really rocked my dock. One of the many highlights of the evening was my light saber fight during half time.
A couple of the airsoft guys are married to roller girls (Strawberry Snatchcake and Freddie Kruelgirl), so we went to the after party at the Black Bamboo. There they had karaoke, and I’ll admit that seeing two lesbians sing “Like a Virgin” was seven shades of entertaining.

Want to Kick Some Trains?

2008-05-16T10:34:00.000-05:00

Today after cake for breakfast, I don’t exactly have the energy to write something of my usual caliber of awesomeness, so I’ll fall back on a meme. It’s the initial meme, where I use the first letter of my name to answer these questions. Feel free to do it, or don’t do it and live with the shame and regret forever of letting it pass you by.

FAMOUS SINGER: Cobain, Kurt

FOUR LETTER WORD: Cock

COLOR: Cobalt Blue

GIFTS/PRESENTS: Conga CD for a party

THINGS IN A SOUVENIR SHOP: Conch Shell

BOY’S NAME: Clint

GIRL’S NAME: Cheetara

MOVIE TITLE: “Captain Cunniligus and the Crazy Redheads”

DRINK: Cinnamon Schnapps

OCCUPATION: Cowboy of Space

CELEBRITY: Chuck Norris

MAGAZINE: Club

U.S. CITY: Clearwater Beach, Fla (when I lived in fla, I used to party and do wet t shirt contests there)

PRO SPORTS: UFC

FRUIT: Cantaloupes (like my boobs)

REASONS FOR BEING LATE FOR WORK: Cunts driving like shit

SOMETHING YOU THROW AWAY: Coupons

THINGS YOU SHOUT: “CUMMING MMmmm, oh yess arrrrrrrgAAaahhh!!!”

CARTOON CHARACTER: Captain Planet

Car: Conversion Van that looks like it probably has a rapist inside.

Well I hope you all have a great weekend. I leave you with this disturbing screen shot from craigslist. Brings to mind a lot of “WHAT THE FUCKING HELL” questions to mind.

Off Roadin' For jesus!

2008-05-14T09:30:00.001-05:00

So while driving the other day, I had some African-american fellows staring at my car when I pulled up next to them at a stoplight. Possibly because I have a 12 inch subwoofer in my trunk and they could feel the vibrations from the bass. Because of my dark tinting on my windows (which Officer Friendly has informed me is too dark and should be scraped off… yeaaaah I’ll get right on that), they couldn’t see who was inside, and when I rolled down the window, were quite surprised to 1. hear Irish punk music playing and 2. see it was a white girl; they responded with “OHhhhh Snap! WHITE GIRL GOT BUMP IN THE TRUNK!”

Indeed. This got me thinking about car stereotypes. Everyone’s seen the Hispanic car; their last name emblazoned on the back window of a lowered truck, music blaring that makes it sound like a rolling carnival, hydraulics bumpin’ and my favorite the mudflap girl. I like them because they usually pack a metric ass ton of people inside (hey, they were going green before it was trendy!) and they drive safely because they aren’t always in the country legally.

And I’m sure we’ve all seen the typical white trash mobile… Nascar bumper stickers holding the rust bucket together, a shotgun rack, rebel flag, and a trail of chew running down the side of drivers window. Good ol’ off roadin’ for jesus!

Which brings me to religious cars; they usually drive the worst, and have some holier-than thou smarmy pro-choice stickers (FUCK YOU, MAYBE YOU SHOULD'VE BEEN ABORTED), “god is my co-pilot”(well then stop driving like an asstard), and a jesus fish that the sunlight bounces off of and blinds me. Thanks, I'm sure if there is a higher power, he's proud of you and your Buick. Actually, in high school, I made it my mission to remove all of the jesus fish off of the cars in the student parking lot. Then I took the jesus fish I collected, and melted them into a phallic symbol. WHeeeeeeee!

So, what does your car say about you? Does it say you want to save some animal (that’s cool, as long as it’s not Manatees… they aren’t cute or cuddly, so they can eat a the proverbial back of dicks in the form of extinction)? Would you rather be golfing? Have you not cleaned your car in so long that someone has written “I LIKE COCK” on your passenger side door in the grime and drawn an arrow?

Update: Harx posted a comment that reminded me of the whiskey plates; we have them in MN for when you have multiple DUI's and they give you a special license plate that starts with a "W"(so much for being a stealth drunk). A Whiskey plate along with an Irish flag, a few dents from run-in's with other cars, an upraised middle finger, and a stream of profanity leaking out of the window, and there you have the sterotypical Irish person's car! Harx's pic of his car proves he's ultimate well prepared alchy :

Jello Shots For AIDS!

2008-05-11T15:40:00.001-05:00

Once again, it's another weekend-O-debauchery post from me. I don't particularly like doing only drunken shenanigan posts (I prefer to break them up a little with some scornful rantings), but I've been busy with work and I know that's all you bastards come here for anyway (that and the possibility I might post a topless pic).

Friday I was driven to drink early after getting the most expensive picture taken. I saw a guy in a lobster hat, so naturally, I wanted a picture with it. Unfortunately, the guy took this as an opportunity to tell me about how his brain aneurysm brought him a relationship with The Lord. Fun stuff, too bad Legos and I are both staunch atheists. We ended what seemed like a jamillion year long conversation with letting him know about Cthulhu's love.

Anyway, so by the time we got to Speedracer at the Imax theatre, I was solidly shitcanned. A few factors led me to my next move; once I realized how campy the movie was (and I would NOT be seeing Christina Ricci's boobs), added to the fact I had never seen the cartoon (thus had no appreciation for it) I decided to have a bit of a nap. It sure beats having seizures like Japanese kids.

Saturday the gays threw an 80's themed party. It was partially Bill's birthday, and partially to raise money for the AIDS walk that they are doing next weekend. I made jello shots that we sold; our slogan was: "Shlurp for a cure." When Timmy caught me stealing jello shots, he told me that it was my fault there wasn't a cure yet. Here he is as a bearded Marty McFly:
We had a raffle too, one of the super sweet things that was being raffled off was this cape. Fortunately, Bill won it, so it will stay in the family and he said he now plans to wear it to pride.
There was a kissing booth, which they forced me into, even though the majority of the people there were gay guys.

I think my outfit was definitely "win". The gold stretch pants with stirrups were the pinnacle of 80's awesomeness. I had to modify the neon ball-bustin' blazer with extra shoulder pads I ripped out of another blazer at Savers. Fuck them, I did them a favor, getting rid of those. I topped off my outfit with gold bangles, gellies (christ, apparently they are coming back in style, and I felt like a giant tool buying them at Urban Outfitters yesterday) and teasing the fuck out of my hair and then adding a side ponytail. I think I looked cute enough to spank the "facts of life" out of. Thanks to Chelsea's craftyness, there was a sweet cigarette-girl tray to sell my jello shots in. Nothing like a good cause to make boozing seem like an even better idea!

Weapons Galore And Cake to the Face

2008-05-07T13:24:00.001-05:00

Sometimes the weekend is just so overflowing with good times to the point where it cannot be contained in one post; this was one of those weekends. Saturday I spent part of the day cleaning up shrapnel off the bathroom rug that was the result of too many raspberry kamikazes mixed with patron shots. Afterwards I went to see Ironman. On further reflection, I think the experience would’ve been enhanced if I had dressed up in tin foil and ran into the theatre screaming “I AM IRON MAAAAN!!!” I enjoyed the movie, despite my lack of tin foil (possibly because my flask did indeed come along), and I went to see it with Legos, who jismed in his pants no less than 9 times because as an engineer for Lockheed, all the tinkering got him hot and bothered.

Sunday was a weaponriffic day for me! I started off by shooting guns, partially as a late tribute to Charlton Heston. I will preface the story by saying I DID NOT DRINK ANY BOOZE OF ANY TYPE BEFORE OR DURING MY GUN RANGE EXCURSION. Granted, I do like to include liquor in many of my activities, but playing with guns seemed like an activity best done sober; it’s just a hunch. Anyway, I totally dug shooting guns, not only because the smell of gun powder is a turn on, but I got to shoot a range of guns—two Rugers, a Glock, and a fun zombie killing rifle (with infrared sight for killing far away zombies, not just close by zombies… which is good because the closer the get, the more likely they are to eat your brain). After that, I met up with the St Paul Drinking Team to celebrate Nick and Dorf’s birthday. Awesomely enough, there was a piñata we hit with a hurling stick that was full of candy, little plastic bottles of booze (mostly schnapps, gin, and rum), pencils, the tape dispenser and Nick’s remote and USB plug for his ipod.
We dumped all of the booze in a punch bowl, added strawberry kiwi soda, and made shots out of it. Afterwards, we went to The Dubliner, where we met up with a bunch of other people and The Wild Colonial Bhoys were playing. Fortunately, because The St. Paul Drinking team knows the staff, they were ok with us bringing a cake to the bar. Of course it led to the inevitable cake smashing to the face. Oh, it’s definitely for the best that everyone tips well!

Rape Whistling my Way Through The Holiday

2008-05-06T09:32:00.000-05:00

I always hate when drinking holidays fall on the week days. Nevertheless, I made this Cinco De Mayo a quality one. I spent the day re-hydrating from Sunday night’s double birthday festivities, so I was ready for the night to begin. Unfortunately, Landon and I got kicked out of Pancho Villas, but not for a good reason; apparently after 8:30 they stop letting new people come in. WTF?! You are a Mexican Resteraunt on Cinco De Mayo, get your head in the game! We ended up walking down the street to Little Tijuana’s, which was a giant fail move, because they didn’t serve any alcohol. Seriously, what is the point of liberation or whatever Cinco De Mayo is about if you aren’t going liberate some heavily potent margaritas and Mexican food? Next year we are considering just getting a jug or two of the pre-made margaritas with the XXX on the label and sitting in the parking lot of Taco Bell.

We managed to recover, and after a few Guinness at home (hey, it’s always a good time of year to drink Guinness), we walked down to Old Chicago, where they gave us beads, plastic maracas, and these light up rape whistles. The drunker we got, the more fun it was to make noise. By the time we walked home, we sounded like a goddamn carnival; I’m sure the people who live on Hennepin were pleased as punch to hear us, but fuck them if they cant enjoy the holiday... Them not enjoying our copious noise probably just means they hate Mexicans.

The weekend treated us well. Friday, Calvin Crustitron and Landon and I walked to Old Chicago in the rain and met up with a chick that Calvin Crustitron was interested in. At least until she mentioned three other dudes were railing her. That caused Landon and I to text back and forth, very stealth-like about her skankfulness, and how she needs to shut her whore-hole because she was pissing off the waitress. From there we went to Bar Abaleine, because we caused a scene at Old Chicago when Landon threw pineapple down my shirt and I started punching him in the arm. After Bar Abaleine we met up with Jason at his house, where Calvin (still being angry from finding out Katie was a slut, and hearing Jason and I discuss who could get in her pants first) started walking around with a bottle of patron, drinking like a salty sea pirate.

Shortly after that, the night ended. Ok, this rodeo has already gone on long enough. Saturday and Sunday’s exploits will need to be told tomorrow.

May's Douchebag Of The Month

2008-05-02T10:27:00.000-05:00

I almost didn’t post today because of last night’s rip roarin’ drunkgasm of a thirsty Thursday, that left me slightly intoxicated this morning, and forced me to have the breakfast of champions (mini hashbrowns, sugar free redbull and advil). But, I felt it would be a disservice to hold off on one of the blog’s most sacred events; that’s right, bitches, it’s Douchebag of the Month time!!! WhEeeeeeee……

So for May, I think the best candidate I came across was Rev. Jerimiah Wright. Not so much because of all the batshit crazy stuff he said; that was actually entertaining. Some of my favorite topics include (but are not limited to):

America is still the No. 1 killer in the world
We brought 9/11 on ourselves
We believe in white supremacy and black inferiority and believe it more than we believe in God
We supported Zionism shamelessly while ignoring the Palestinians and branding anybody who spoke out against it as being anti-Semitic
We started the AIDS virus

But those nuggets alone aren’t enough to garner him this illustrious award. It’s the fact that he didn’t keep his mouth shut, and kept spouting off and trying to defend himself that did even more damage than the original statements of douchebaggery. He claimed to be a friend of Obama, but instead he just hurt the campaign. That makes it even shittier. I have a friend running for Congress in one of the local suburbs here, but I have enough sense not to connect him to my blog. And that’s what friendship is all about… not letting your personal shenanigans drag down your friends.

Obama has done what he could to separate himself from Rev. Wright, but the damage is already done. At this point, I think the best thing for everyone involved is for the douchetastic Reverend to team up with Josef Fritzel, the runner up for May’s Douchebag of the Month. Rev. Wright might benefit from having his douchemongering ass locked in a cellar.

Like a Drunk Betty Crocker W/ More Cleavage...

2008-04-30T14:41:00.000-05:00

Today was potluck at work, and although these events have a high occurrence for craptasticness, we manage to avoid it. I’ll still never understand the appeal of a green bean casserole. It looks and tastes like someone else already ate it, and threw it up. It’s the kind of food that should be regulated to a “two girls one cup” type of situation. So, we had a sign up sheet, but we had to periodically hide it, because one of our coworkers who sells for the lesser of the three magazines we produce is a heinous beast. She treats us all like she knows how to do our jobs better than us, and is just an overall a distinct displeasure to work with. Granted she had some questions when she came in.
Q: “Why is the kitchen full of food and dirty dishes” A: “Well it IS the kitchen!”
Q: “Why is their a crock pot full of chili dip in the copy room?” A: :Why wouldn’t there be a crock pot in the copy room?”
Q: “Why is there a hibachi grill outside?” A: “uhh we were just burning old copies of the magazines…”

Last night to prepare for said potluck, I made cupcakes, Tequila Mockingbird style. The most key ingredient in my strawberry shortcake cupcakes is not love, but a glass with three fingers ketel one, the rest sugar free cranberry, and then a splash of diet ginger ale. Now, normally I would prefer to make my cupcakes from scratch, buuut some of us have more important things to do, like drink and look at porn, so this was not possible. Instead, I got the yellow cake mix, added a spoonful of strawberry preserves, then added more strawberry preserves to the buttercream frosting, and fresh strawberries on top. It’s like I’m Betty Crocker, only with more cleavage and the smell of vodka on my breath.

My cupcakes were a success, and I’ll say this… making hamburger patties at work made me feel like I worked at Mcdonald’s. It was sweet; my job was low pressure and the I didn’t have a care in the world, other than hoping my shift manager didn’t find out I was beating off in the meat (that’s what they do at those places, right?)

Thundercats vs. Squid

2008-04-29T08:28:00.000-05:00

My sugar-free red bull addiction has me all hyped up this morning, so this post might be a little scattered. First of all, my deepest, darkest fears are coming true. Not too long ago I wrote about how squid scare the bejesus out of me. Now, it seems they have found a 1,089 lb, 26 foot long squid; you laugh now, but when they evolve to have bones in their body and come ashore to fuck you up with their acid-ink, it wont be so funny. So, it’s time to take some action, and eat more calamari.

Second order of business is to attend to this meme that I inadvertently started when asking one of my bizarre questions on a comment on Malach’s blog. “If you could go back in time, and combine your genes with any non-human animal, to create a super race, what would it be and why?” Well, this has already been somewhat done for me by a children’s television show, The Thundercats. I would combine my superior Irish seed with a cheetah, because of their speed and stealth. Unfortunately, they aren't so good adapting to new environments, but as proven when I adapted to a new climate with a move from Florida to MN, my genetics would iron that out. Also, just like cheetahs, I am spotted as well. See what an awesome thundercat Cheetara I make! Not to mention, a Thundercat could totally whip the ass of bony squid...

And finally, last night was a sad night at Uptown Old Chicago; it was my favorite waiter James' final night working there. He's moving on to bigger and better things, and I wish him the best of luck, but it's still a sad occurence. Thanks for overlooking my flask action, and forcing me to eat pizza when I'm too drunk. I'll definitely come visit you at your new digs in downtown.

Mucho Bacon, A Corset, and Negroville

2008-04-28T08:42:00.000-05:00

The weekend was a bit more sedate compared to weekends that have come before. Friday we went to La Fonda, and I was pissed I didn’t get to see the mariachi band. Although, they had the perfect sized margaritas… Tequila Mockingbird size, in fact. After a couple of them, I did not care there was no mariachi band, nor did I care that one of the waitresses had a distracting tractor ass.
Saturday there was some awesome Mall of America shopping that culminated in a corset of “win”. After that we had some afternoon Guinness and watched “The Assassination of Jesse James, By The Coward Robert Ford,” which legitimately sucked balls. It was disjointed, and kept going off on rabbit trails. It reminded me of when my slightly senile Grandfather from the old country would get drunk and try to tell a story. You sort of knew what he was talking about, but overall it was confusing and hard to follow.

That night I ended up at Famous Dave’s where my corset of win got me into a bit of trouble. See, I tend to talk to random people when I drink, especially if there’s something about them that catches my attention. So I go up to this guy, and I’m like “I totally love your jacket, can I get a pic with you?” and he’s like “Sure; you know, I really love your shirt…”

Where is Negroville? I’m still not quite sure… I didn’t see it on a map. Anyway, the weird look on my face is because although you can’t see it, Mr Negroville put his hand on my ass. I was torn between drunken hysterical laughing and wanting to sodomize his eye socket with my elbow. I decided I did not want to go to jail, so I opted for disengaging his hand and scurrying away quickly.

Sunday, Landon and I were too lazy to yell at each other through the walls, so we just texted each other about getting ourselves to the Chinee Buffet. Afterwards we went shopping so he had some decent clothes to wear to his new job (before he had been ok with looking like a boxcar kid). He was actually unemployed for part of this week, and he made the most of his time by doing the following:

Cooking 2 lbs of bacon (my arteries clogged from just smelling the greasy goodness!)

Did his taxes (hey, better late than never)

Pirated more dvd's

Cleaned out his car, and found his slingshot inside (WTF? What, are you dennis the menace?)

Overall, a good weekend despite the light snowing. Thanks Minnesota... that's what the end of my April reeeeeallly needed!

An Open Letter To Those Who Walk Past My Apt:

2008-04-25T08:41:00.001-05:00

Dear Passers-by,
I understand that my apartment is located on a heavily traveled street in Uptown. Trust me, that has not been lost upon me; when I hear car alarms going off in the middle of the night because juvenile delinquents are shaking them, how can I forget? Don’t get me wrong, I love my location, I’m within walking distance from a myriad of awesome places, many of them bars, and being able to walk to them (and stumble home) has kept me from getting multiple DUI’s.

Anyway, I’d just like to say a few things to those pedestrians that pass by my windows. Just because you can see in, does NOT make it ok for you to watch me on the elliptical. Seriously, I’m sweating off yesterday’s boozing to some Black Sabbath, and you’re just standing there like Creepy McStalkerson. You’re fucking lucky I didn’t have Landon shit in a paper bag and put it under the hood of your VW. He would’ve probably done it with glee.

Also, I can hear the shit you say when the windows are open. What, you think you smell weed? Great job Scooby Doo, you’ve solved the mystery!!! However, those plants in the window are not weed, dumbass; it’s goddamn cilantro and chives.

So you don’t like “Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story”? Well, I wasn't tickled pink by it either, but we had already gone to the trouble of downloading and burning it, so fucking a, we were going to finish it. But, when you, asshat-of-discriminate-tastes walks by and criticizes it, it makes me want to go outside and deliver a Christpunch to your taint.

Thanks for keeping this in mind when and if you walk down my street. It’s as much for your benefit as it is to mine, because you never know when some big guy in a ski mask might jump out of an alley to scare the shit out of you for annoying him and/or his roommate.

Sincerely Yours In Douchebaggery,
Tequila Mockingbird

My Dream Job

2008-04-24T10:37:00.000-05:00

I was in a bit of a foul mood while driving to work today. and I thought about my dream job and what it would be. Granted I’ve toyed around with the idea of how awesome being a panhandler would be, but it was raining today, so that was out. And I started thinking about what I do best, my hobbies, interests etc… I LOVE BEING AN ASSHOLE, wouldn’t it be great if I could get paid for it? You may be thinking, who would pay you to be an asshole to people? Well, dear reader, I think there’s a bigger market than you may think for this service.

For example, your ex boyfriend is getting married. You pay me to stand up in the middle of the wedding and start screaming out “THIS PIECE OF SHIT GAVE ME GENITAL WARTS!!!!!” and start sobbing as I run out of the church. Did a resteraunt give you poor service or food? Well, hire me and I’ll go there with a purse full of rats, let them go and then stand on my chair, screeching about vermin and throw in some false fear of getting rabies. It’ll clear that place out in no time.

I could even employ the help of my obviously pregnant friends. We almost did it to Jason last week, but thougth better of it. Nothing really ruins the magic of a first date as much as having a pregnant girl come to your table, upset about her “baby daddy.” There are just so many awesome options for my asshole-for-hire business. Got a coworker you hate? Well, planting a flask or some drug paraphanalia in their desk and then sending an anonymous note to the boss will take care of that right quick!

Do you have people telling you that youre acting like a dick all of the time? Youre just the kind of person we are looking for to commit some douchebaggery for hire. And look at how much money that assbag Dr. Phil makes from being an asshole? That can be you!

Yard O Beef For Your Soul

2008-04-22T11:41:00.000-05:00

Often I have wondered how and why they name products the way they do. Some names make me think the marketing team is either asleep at the wheel or coming up with them at the bar. For example, Sam’s Club offers Hilshire Farm’s Yard o Beef. MMmmm doesn’t that just sound appetizing? Fuck, I can feel my arteries clogging just typing it. It sounds like a bad, gay porno movie as opposed to something to eat.

Going along those same lines is Jig-a-loo, another product apropos for pornos. Instead of lube, it’s more like WD-40. They call it the “can of all trades,” which seems like they are just begging for someone to use it in the sack. It DOES say it’s “ideal for wood, metal, glass, rubber, leather, fabrics, most plastics, and a number of other surfaces…” So, strap on your chaps, lay down the rubber sheets, and lube up like a pro!

Some product names come from someone’s name. My ultimate favorite is Otis Spunkmeyer cookies. Yeah, maybe that’s the guys name, but it makes me wonder what OTHER ingredients are in his cookies… seems like something not quite kosher; they are indeed salty. About the only name for a cookie that might rival it would be “Cleatus Jizzmeyer.” It still gives the mental picture of some guy in overalls beating off into a bowl of cookie dough behind the shed.

Dick Blick’s actually changed their name when kids kept stealing the “B” (making it say “DICK LICKS” in large letters) which oddly enough, I can’t seem to find a picture of. Granted, I put in “Dick Licks” into google images, and I get all kinds of findings, but not quite what I’m looking for.

I’ve figured out what I would name a product if I had it. “Vodka for the Soul.” It would totally kick the ass of those heartwarming, sappy, religious-based stories. And honestly, I think vodka, tequila, whiskey, or rum for the soul might do more good than those piece of shit books.

Nose Fisting and Overindulgence in Jello Shots

2008-04-21T10:06:00.000-05:00

Normally I try to keep posts brief, but sometimes a weekend of awesomeness is too much to be contained in a few paragraphs; so bear with me. Friday we made smores in the park. FYI- hot marshmallows feel like napalm. Saturday was a whirlwind, with me rushing back to Uptown to make over 100 jello shots at Hart’s house (these were significantly stronger than the last weekend's.. so much so the steam coming off of them burned my eyes). During the process, I slammed three Guinness in preparation for going to the museum for the “Deadly Medicine” exhibit with the gays. Granted, all of the Jew anhilation was a buzzkill, but Nazi douchebaggery is best dulled by chemicals.

Before we saw that part of the museum, we looked at the displays about different viruses, immune systems etc… FYI- West Nile Virus is pretty (I felt like I could hollow it out and make a nice vase and/or bong) and I learned not to open the little door that on the asian girl’s face—she sneezes out water; Gross. Fisting the giant nose was probably the highlight of my science museum excursion.

After the museum I had just enough time to run home, change, eat some mac n cheese and run next door. Calvin Crustitron made this awesome shot concoction he called "strip and go nakeds", with half OJ, half midori, and then a shot of beer. The highlight of the party is when someone brought swords; hilarity ensued. Once midnight rolled around, it was officially 420, we celebrated in the little room painted black with the glow in the dark stars. I used a new variation of my jello shot recipe, and I’ll admit they snuck up on me. Some people’s mediums are clay or paint… mine is jello, and I definitely refined my craft this weekend. Eventually, the room started to spin, and I was grateful I wasn’t on the roof with some of the others. It was indeed time to stumble next door to home.

I woke up fully clothed (including my boots), dried jello in my hair, and a headache (that’s a real shocker). A text message at 9:30am from someone who knows me better than I’d like to admit: “The good lord says it must be time for wake and bake.” My response: “The lord knows his shit!” Landon and I went to chinee buffet, and then met Hart, Jason, Troy and the chick he brought with him at Stella’s rooftop for two-4-one blue moons. Being the classy fellows that they were, they came in with a stack of 12 Uptown bar glasses that they had partially purchased and partially stolen. It was a chore trying to keep the staff from clearing the Uptown Bar glasses instead of just theirs. Some random guy came up and asked me what my shirt said and when I told him “If I had balls, they’d be bigger than yours” he said “ok, now I’m going to walk away emasculated.”

We went back to Jason and Hart’s to finish up the 25 or so jello shots left and to celebrate 420 while watching Superbad. We were going to get out on the roof and scream at people walking by, but I’m glad we thought better of it. Jason had told me that if I could sneak-thieve an Uptown bar glass from them and get it home, it was mine. That sounded like a challenge to me. So, Jason, I know you read this, and if you hadn't already noticed your count was off, now you know... I GOT ONE!

It was the kind of weekend that caused me to take and extra helping of vitamins and go to bed last night at 9:30.

Even Out The Evening With Thievery

2008-04-18T09:48:00.000-05:00

Last night I met my friend Andrew out for drinks and to watch the Wild game at O’Gara’s. It’s a nice old place, with lots of character, so much so you can almost hear the carousing and drunken mick fights echoing from the walls. The bartenders were great. Jill, even bartended in Ireland for a few years; that’s the holy fucking grail of bartending! Both knew how to pour a Guinness properly, one even poured it with a shamrock on it. This may not seem like a great feat, but there was one bar I went to where my Guinness was all head, and although normally I like a lot of head, this bad pour earned the bartender a “LEARN HOW TO POUR GUINNESS CORRECTLY” in his tip line.

Unfortunately, they hid their chicken all the way at the bottom of their nachos. An appetizer shouldn’t be like a goddamn easter egg hunt. This was outweighed by their offering of candy in the bathroom. Thanks O’Gara’s, for helping my breath smell cinnamon-y fresh and not at all like booze! However, they had advertising on the bathroom door. Now, I work in advertising, BUT when I’m going to the bathroom, I want to be left alone. Instead, I was forced to look at a obese pasty white man, nipping out because he was doing a polar bear swim to support some affliction or special cause. Like most women, I do the hover method on public toilets because I’m paranoid of STD’s lurking on the toilet seat. Looking at this flaccid, hairy beast of a man with nipples large enough for a baby to suckle upon, I almost lost my balance, which could’ve meant bad news bears.

So far, there had been two positives and two negatives for this bar. I felt the only way to tip the scales was to bring home a new glass for my collection of pilfered bar glasses. A tear almost came to my eye when I saw this Widmer’s “hops and hoops” glass. It may just be my favorite acquisition!

Booze Infused Wisdom

2008-04-16T09:52:00.000-05:00

Some of the wisdom that comes out of a night of drinking can be simply astounding. Usually, since my memory isn’t as clear, I need to write it down… this has led to me waking up with barely decipherable scrawls across my hands and arms. But, now we have a chalkboard in the kitchen to capture those sparkling gems that have been produced when the stars and drinks align to form brilliance. Here are some:

“You know you’re on a date with the wrong person when you make out with them with one eye open, scanning the club for someone better…”

“One refill does not a tip make” (this was after a drunken Chinese buffet excursion)

“Best hit the books… No one wants to fellate a dullard”

“Goatse is our generations walk on the moon… everyone will always remember where they were when they first saw him”

Yesterday it was finally nice enough to do some grilling, so Landon and I brought some drumsticks that I had soaked all day in three kinds of BBQ sauce, mesquite, and garlic powder, and then Hart, his girlfriend, and Jason had pasta salad and spicy brats. We played some cards, and Jason went on a date. We actually had a decent idea of where he was taking her in Uptown, and we toyed with the idea of finding him and having Nicole, Hart’s very very pregnant girlfriend, go up to him on his date and being like “I THOUGHT YOU LOVED US! WHO IS THIS WHORE?!?” but we aren’t totally douchebags.

Instead we went to Bar Abaleine for some two-for-one action and to watch the Wild game. Jason joined back up with us, and I’m not even sure what it was in reference to, but Landon came up with “No need to milk the prostate when you can get the clown for free..” but he said it with such conviction, it SEEMED like a golden nugget of wisdom. And sometimes presentation is everything; the appearance of knowledge can be more valuable than the knowledge itself. So next time a friend of yours is having a bad day, and needs some words of encouragement, take their hand in yours, look at them deep in the eyes, and say: “No need to milk that prostate when you can get the clown for free” and then walk away quickly, before they can ask you any questions.

Boot and Rally

2008-04-14T11:19:00.000-05:00

What is boot and rally, you may ask.

Boot and Rally (n): to continue drinking steadily and heartily, even when you feel like passing out or getting sick; that’s the time to cowboy up and finish out the night in good form, without being a burden on others around you.

This was the quintessential boot and rally weekend. Friday, I burned 600 calories when I got home from work, then met Jason at Green Mill for a warm up with Absolut Pear and red bull. Luckily, the bartender I pissed off when he was a patron at another bar didn’t recognize me, or maybe just didn’t hold a grudge.

Landon personified the “boot and rally” spirit, as he had been ill all weekend, so much so he had missed a few days of work, and was hopped up on cold meds… yet he still managed to man up and came out with us. Hart, Jason, Landon and I snagged a cab to downtown, had a few at the Local, then went back to Uptown to Williams. I was drunk, to the point that I was failing at darts and spilled popcorn in the fooseball table. But after a text from Landon, telling me I needed to buck up because I was being a disgrace to the Irish, I managed in total boot and rally fashion, to become aware enough to notice when some chick was about to steal my coat. We finished the night off with some Ramen and pizza rolls, because HEY, why wouldn’t they go together?

I thought the party the gays were throwing was next weekend, but when I found out it was Saturday night, it was time to boot and rally yet again. It was a Caribbean-Hawaiian party, so of course I used it as an excuse to wear my pirate costume from Halloween. I couldn’t figure out why people were staring at me on the drive over, but then I realized that it IS a bit odd to see someone in a pirate costume in the middle of April…

I got there early, at 4 , so I could make Jello shots (I made double batches of grape, blue raspberry, red raspberry and peach), they turned out well, but I got Martha Stewart’d when someone else brought their jello shots in a hollowed out orange. However, because I did get there so early, I needed to take a time-out and drink water for an hour so I wasnt passed out by the time the majority of hte people arrived... HOWEVER, if you show up at 10pm and there are already people passed out, you KNOW you've come to a good party!

We made special brownies, but they weren’t like pants-on-head-special, more like different-classes-special (but not for lack of trying). We had two blenders out on the deck, and my blender leftovers of both margaritas and rummy fruity drinks the gays wanted me to make them drinks… as the night wore on, my proportions got a little fucked up, to where the last couple weren’t as fantastic as the first three or four batches.

I’m not sure how with 80-some people there, the majority of my pics had Timmy in them
We weren’t sure what to do with the coconut (we ended up pouring the milk into chocolate shot glasses), BUT we did get to find out how many drunk pirates it took to crack open a coconut.

Hey, Hey, Hey, Burrito Lady

2008-04-11T09:07:00.000-05:00

It’s April, and I had the treat yesterday of experiencing every form of precipitation possible. At lunch, it was raining, at about 3 it started snowing, as I left work it was hailing and then on the way to my destination the slush action started. My commute this morning was pretty craptastic too! Anyway, I’m in a bit of a foul mood, as I only welcome nature giving me a hot carl when it gets me out of work. This did not happen.

As many people who work in an office environment know, there are a lot of bullshit phrases that get thrown around the way a monkey flings poo. They are usually tools of micromanaging, obfuscation, and overall occupational douchebaggery. Here are some of the all-stars:

“Going forward…”- This is unnecessary and a waste of breath. What, are we going to go backwards instead? You aren’t Marty McFly, where it’s important to distinguish that shit.
“Touch base”- We are not playing baseball, although when I hear it, I DO want to fuck someone in the face with a baseball bat. It’s also vague… am I to be expecting an email (those are my fave! I LOVE paper trails) or is it a phone call that I need to avoid so you are forced to email me?
“Someone has a case of the Mondays!”- No, I just HATE you and would rather be spending the morning sleeping, getting head, working out, plucking my eyebrows, or almost anything else than being at work, pretending not to be hungover.
Using "dub dub dub" in lieu of the "www" at the beginning of the website - This does not make you seem like any more hip or any less of a tool.
"Thinking outside the box"-Frankly, I'm surprised when I find anyone thinking at all. Most of my thinking isnt so much in the box or outside of the box as thinking about boxes. Whether mine, or someone elses...
“Team building exercise”- You’re kidding, right? Unless it’s happy hour, I doubt it will make me appreciate your subtle asinine sense of humor or tolerate your incompetence more.
"I think we’ve had a bit of disconnect”- No, you are just a dumbass and have gotten yourself confused. Or, you are low priority, so I’m ignoring you.
And my personal favorite: “Where are you with this”- Well, Chief, I’d be a lot further if you’d quit pestering me and let me do my job. And no, it’s not necessary to CC everyone and their goddamn mother when asking me this. I am very good at what I do, and you CCing people only annoys them because it fills up their inbox and makes you look like an uptight jackass. Way to go!

I Need More Dick

2008-04-08T10:14:00.001-05:00

I don't feel like doing a legitimate post today, so I figure I'll plug some stuff instead.

First of all, Capt. Flak PaperPants has been doing awesome things with his webcomic, Dick Biggman. I have never plugged anything on here, because I'm not a tool. But, this is so fanfuckingtastic, that I must let the hillarity ensue for you as well. Besides, who WOULDNT want more dick? Just the fact I am plugging it should tell you how amused I am by it.

Secondly, I want to plug the guy outside my apartment building who gave me a dirty look when I was walking across the street with my bottle of Guinness last night. And by plug, I mean cap him in the ass, Charlton-Heston-shooting-some-goddamn-ghost-apes style.

Thirdly, here is one of my awesome birthday presents I received. I look good in it, but I might possibly look better out of it. Anyway, Thanks.

And then I leave you with this bomb ass remix of two of my favorite songs. Even if you aren't a whippersnapper, you should be able to appreciate it. If you cant, well then maybe you need to crack open a can of malt liquor and chill the fuck out.

Skeet Skeet Skeet

2008-04-07T10:30:00.000-05:00

First of all, I want to thank everyone who left me birthday comments (whether here or on myspace), presents on their blogs, sent me texts/emails, AND a special thanks goes to the awesome person who sent me a tiara (I cause a ruckus enough when I go out, but the tiara really made the night). You all contributed to me having a fanfuckingtastic birthday. I got off work at 3, Landon was home because he had just got back from Oshkosh, and off we went to Stella’s (where they no longer have free shrimp on Friday’s, which seems a little bait n switchy to me…), then Chino Latino’s and finally Old Chicago. It was then about 6, so we took an intermission while Landon napped, and I worked out and re-hydrated. The Novice came over about 9, so we did pre drinking and got ready to hit downtown Minneapolis. I went out prepared, with a note that had my address on it, and a ten dollar bill (to cover the cab ride from downtown back home to uptown).

The cab driver was sufficiently amused with our chatter on the way there, specifically Landon’s desire to bend this hot milf with a broken foot over her walker and bang her hard. We went to Harvey’s first, where we met up with Camaroon, who hadn’t been out with us for a few months because he’s running for Congress. I won’t link him or use his real name, because I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t be efficacious. Also, he’s doing well enough on his own, and he should officially get Democratic endorsement next week.

Anyway, next we went to Bella Notte, where I saw some bachelorette chick who also had a tiara on. I briefly considered fighting her for the honor of who gets to keep their tiara on, but we left soon after. Then we went to The Local, where I met some randoms who bought me shots and kept going on about birthday spankings. This offer was met with adamant refusal. From there we went to Brits, Chambers, and finally Jimmy Johns, and by then I was almost comatose on the cab ride back. It was sweet... I didnt buy any drinks for myself the entire night. But then, who DOESNT love a drunk girl in a tiara??

Saturday was an perfect day to have a birthday, being that it was beautiful and sunny, unlike the rest of the week that had been rainy, windy, and sometimes snowy. So Landon and I walked down to Figlios, then to Stella’s where they had their roof top café open finally. Calvin Crustitron came down to make up for douching out and not showing up for the previous night’s shenanigans. Sarah and Joe came joined us, and I got so into the two-for-one honeyweiss with orange slices inside, that I lost track of time and had to run the 4 blocks home to get ready for my evening plans at the Acme Comedy Club. Dinner, drinks and a comedian that didn’t incite my heckling made for an awesome night. Birthday spankings ensued afterwards. If I have more birthdays like this, maybe getting old isn’t so awful.

Birthday Bitch!

2008-04-04T09:04:00.000-05:00

So tomorrow I hit the ripe old age of 24. Jesus pigraping Christ; I really don’t dig birthdays all that much because unfortunately, women only go downhill with age… at least guys can look “distinguished” or some bullshit. I guess I just need to hope that because I take good care of myself (heavy drinking notwithstanding), I'll age gracefully like my Aunt did and look like a cougar.

Despite not totally being enamored with my birthday, there are festivities planned that I’m totally psyched for. Also, Landon made me birthday pickles; unfortunately he put too much dill in them so they hurt your face with the sourness. I had to take them out of the fridge because they were making other food taste like goddamn pickles.

As I embark upon my agedness, I leave you with these lists--

Things I know:

Do not pluck eyebrows while drunk
Ninjas do not wear corduroy
When bananas have more freckles than me, it's time to eat them or throw them out
Lady mullets mean my plumbing will be fixed the first time
If they come out with a new CSI show, The Who will be singing during the intro
Don't watch colon cleansing infomercial while high; you'll get paranoid about the parasites and filth inside of you
If you are a female in your 30's and have Nickleback's "Rockstar" as your ringtone, you probably will take it in the pooper.

Things I have yet to learn:

Why would they make my wine fridge in such a way that a box of Franzia wont fit?
Why can I not stop staring at someone with googly eyes? I never know where they are looking...
I should not send emails while drunk, they are never flattering
Why more businesses don't hire the mentally handicapped; they are funny as hell to watch try to work

Do you know what I want for my birthday? Well, besides a pony, I want a tampon taser. The fresh floral scent helps eliminate fear, not just cover it up!

UPDATE: now i want this for my birthday too (my tits would look GREAT in it):

April's Douchebag of The Month

2008-04-02T11:13:00.000-05:00

Snow is melting, the sun is shining, birds are chirping… but douchebaggery doesn’t quit for spring; it’s always the right season! Now before I get into the meat (and I know I love meatiness, DON’T YOU?!?), I’d like to give an honorary douchebag runner up award to all of the people who said they were quitting blogging. Yes, haha, yesterday was April fools, BUT, to all of the ones who have threatened to swear off blogging forever, don’t just talk about it, do it. And if it’s being said to get people to pander to you and say: “Oh please don’t quit, you are a blogging rockstar,” you can suck a dumpster full of dicks.

Moving right along, the real douchebag heroes that have won this month are the Hookah smoking hipsters. Personally, I don’t get the idea of wanting to put smoke and filth in your lungs if you aren’t going to get high. If these were opium dens and not hookah lounges, I would be in full support of them. It’s almost akin to the scam of non-alcoholic beer. Why not just smoke something out of a light bulb that doesn’t get you high (but still makes your teeth rot out), so you can FEEL like you’re smoking meth. My main point is, why would you do something that gives you the negative aspects but yet gyps you over on the positive, pleasurable benefits? Who the fuck do you think you are, that blue caterpiller from Alice and Wonderland?

How about you shove those hookah mouthpieces up your ass (hell, you might get more pleasure out of it that way)? Blowing smoke up your ass is in essence what your friends and whomever else has done by convincing you going to these places is a quality idea. Not only are these goddamn hookah lounges a waste of fucking effort, but they are taking up prime realty in my trendy Uptown Minneapolis neighborhood. Yes, there are already a shit ton of bars within walking distance, but I’ve managed to piss off a bartender at one of my favorite places (THAT was a whole bag of fail on my part), so a new bar would be welcome at this juncture.

When being hip becomes more important than common sense, it’s time to put down the starbucks, take off your ipod, and think for yourself. If you cant do that, I hope you get raging mouth herpes from the hookah mouthpeice, as sort of a scarlet letter to warn everyone of your douchebagtitude.

Jubilee of Fuck You's

2008-03-31T19:53:00.000-05:00

I'm actually in a good mood. I got off work early today because of the snow-slush storm, and by the time I got home I still had time for an hour of drinking that was technically on the clock. But it did suck carrying a case of Guinness and box of wine a half of a block through the snow. Anyway, this post is so titled for all of the drama and bullshit that goes on in the blogosphere. Overall, I like blogging... I started it because I figured my life and rantings were interesting enough to keep people entertained. I had friends on myspace tell me they liked hearing about my drunken shenanigans, and then I would write these crazy rantings on craigslist. The problem with this outlet was that myspace was private, thus unavailable to the unwashed masses. However with craigslist, I didnt get to quite take full credit for my posts and eventually they expired so I couldnt share my gems of awesomeness in a long term sense. I finally took everyone's advice and started a blog and I'm glad I did.

I'm not even quite sure where I was going with that. I've made an applicable post not too terribly long ago, and I'll finish this tangent by saying, dont forget why you started blogging or neglect your real life for the crazyness that happens on the intrawebs.

Now speaking of real lives, lets take a look at my dresser contents to figure out the real Tequila Mockingbird. I just noticed what a random mismatch it was, and thought since everyone else took artsy pics that illustrate their lives in some facet, so here's my attempt at it. In case you cant tell for sure what everything is, there is obviously my keys, my ipod, a guinness bottle cap, bracelets that one of Landon's bar chicks left here (hey, I'd prefer if they leave stuff as opposed to taking it!), handjob pink nailpolish I have on right now, Angel Innocent by Thierry Mugler (it's one of my fave perfumes, and what an ironic name!), some lipgloss, my flask, hair barrettes, my oriental rug bookmark, and pearls that I've had since I was 15 (I'll solidly stop wearing them when I hit 40, because then it just makes you look older). Not really sure what all this says about me. What would the top of your dresser say about you?

Ass Darts, Electric Fetus, & Mongolian Stir Fry

2008-03-30T22:43:00.000-05:00

Ohhhh, good times were afoot this weekend! I could've been out drinking at the bartenders' ball tonight (some deal where only bartenders get tickets, and there's free leinenkugals and appetizers... a friend of mine had extra tickets), but tonight I needed some time to chill out and stay in (despite my affection for Leinies, and the shenanigans that would've probably ensued), since I hadn't since the wednesday before last. Even I can't manage to go 24/7.

Anyway, Friday Landon, Hart, his brother Jayson( HAPPY 27TH BIRTHDAY!) and I drank on top of their roof, and discussed physics and Marky Mark. Now, let me explain it wasnt an apartment building, this was the third story of their house. Anywhere else but Uptown, this wouldve been weird to see (and there was a decent amount of foot traffic). In Uptown, it seemed ordinary almost. From there we went to Williams, where Hart helped me with my darts. Why wouldnt a game involving drinking and something that can put an eye out be a good idea? They aren't as awesome when someone stabs you in the ass cheek with them either (seriously, WTF Landon?! I think my response of a kick answered any questions you had about whether that was a good idea or not). Calvin Crustitron who joined up with us later, was drunk enough to be chatting with a chubby who had a boyfriend. That unnegotiably = a double fail.

Saturday delicious Ghenghis Grill followed up by The Other Boelyn Girl, and a slushie(enhanced by my flask full of vodka). The movie was mediocre. I think part of my problem was that I went in expecting to see Natalie Portmans boobs. I'm not quite sure how I got the impression that's what would be in the movie, but I did. And when this didn't happen, combined with the weird rabbit trails the plot went off on, my experience was only salvaged by the quality of my company.

Today I went to the Electric Fetus, a sweet indie store that's full of records, incense, blasphemous products (like the nun chucks), Pirate bandaids, smoking paraphanlia, weird books, and this awesome car air freshner I picked up.

I had someone recently see me parallel park, and being from the suburbs was like: "YOU JUST HIT THAT CAR", and I was like "no, I nudged them to make sure my car was nice and snug in there. " when you live in the city, as long as you aren't blocking a driveway or a fire hydrant, it's time to be creative, whether that means parking on a snow drift, or moving the dumpster up a few inches.

Double the Happy Hours, Double the Fun

2008-03-28T09:31:00.000-05:00

I didn’t really feel like working out this morning. Actually, I felt like vomiting, so much so I kept the trash can by the elliptical. But if you can make it through the first 150 calories, you’re usually good to go. I cant really say I’m surprised, two happy hours can lead to some unpleasantness in the morning. The first happy hour was with my office, which wasn’t bad at all. We all get along well when we are drinking and not being dicks to each other. It was like motherfucking magic!

From there I managed to have a whole hour and a half to myself (it’s actually a lot harder than you think to manage that sometimes) where I hit the bong, Guinness, and the elliptical to work off my beloved beer that’s so thick it’s like you need to chew it. Also, it is handy that my beer bottle fits in the cup holder of the elliptical… it’s like they were meant to be! Then my friend picked me up and we went to the Herkimer on the other side of Uptown. It’s not quite as awesome and trendy as the part that I live in (I blame the goddamn hippies that make it so bohemian filth-chic; go smoke your hookahs filled with flavored tobacco somewhere else).

Anyway, so I’m usually a fan of the Herkimer, because it IS awesome that they brew their own beer, make the best sweet potato fries, AND you can play shuffleboard (hey, it’s about time I learn… I’m getting old; I turn 24 in a week). But last night they were not making my vodka cran’s very stiff, so I figured I’d get a beer (hard to fuck that one up), and then I remembered, HOLY SHITCOCKS! they only serve their beer there. Not cool, but I cowboyed up and tried one of their lagers. Not too shabby. My friend was not amused with the place because our waitress with the nice cans was ignoring him and hitting on me. In her defense, I was rockin’ some cleavage of win last night. I think we managed to come out even because I stole a Herkimer glass to add to Landon and my collection of pilfered bar glasses. Too bad it wasn’t all the way empty and my new nine west purse now smells of beer.

I AM Mrs. Chuck FUCKING Norris

2008-03-27T16:17:00.000-05:00

I'm sure you are aware of the facts surrounding Chuck Norris; if you arent, you should not only be horribly ashamed of yourself, but you should rectify the situation before He (yes, I capitalized it, just as if I was writing about a diety) finds out and delivers a roundhouse kick to your taint. Anyway, this guy, Ian Spector illustrated some of the most awesome facts about him. Check it:

Trying to outweird the weirdo

2008-03-26T09:46:00.000-05:00

Because my screen name on yahoo looks slutty, I get some random weirdos trying to cyber me up. This morning I got one that was more unusual than the rest, so I figured I would make it a game to see if I could outweird him. Hillarity did ensue. I left his real screen name in, so feel free to instant message him for a chat!

(9:16:04 AM) panty_hose95: Hi!! Care to chat...m/ct
(9:19:17 AM) ME: hmm right...i'm not a cybering person, sooooo if that's your brand of good times, you'll probably be dissapointed
(9:19:57 AM) panty_hose95: not into cyber either
(9:20:26 AM) ME: then what
(9:20:40 AM) panty_hose95: lol....pantyhose...lol
(9:20:47 AM) ME: wtf.. what about it?
(9:20:53 AM) ME: got some weird fetish?
(9:21:10 AM) panty_hose95: lol..yea..long time fetish I guess
(9:21:26 AM) ME: fun, so do tell, what do you do with this fetish?
(9:23:12 AM) panty_hose95: Check out pics of ppl in hosiery...chat with em...wear em at times...lol
(9:24:55 AM) ME: and youre a dude, right? do you wear any other lady clothes?
(9:25:35 AM) panty_hose95: yea...heels and panties at times too...lol
(9:26:11 AM) ME: do you have a wife that plays along?
(9:26:34 AM) panty_hose95: no...g/f..doesn't like it
(9:26:44 AM) ME: hahahahah, i imagine not
(9:26:57 AM) ME: does she get pissed if you steal her panty hose and put a runner in them? id be pissed
(9:27:11 AM) panty_hose95: lol...no...I have my own
(9:27:46 AM) ME: well that's respectful of you; disrespetful sexual deviants suck!
(9:30:42 AM) ME: so do you like women to jack you off with pantyhose feet?
(9:31:06 AM) panty_hose95: mmmm...yea that would be great!
(9:31:17 AM) ME: what if they have snaggly toenails? or their feet smell rancid
(9:31:45 AM) panty_hose95: lol....no then!
(9:32:05 AM) ME: hmm, probably a good call, chief! so do you ever have them toe fuck you in teh ass?
(9:32:44 AM) panty_hose95: no
(9:32:50 AM) ME: hmm, maybe you might like it; you seem to be openminded... and if they were wearing pantyhose......
(9:33:29 AM) panty_hose95: maybe....would love a pair of your panties to enjoy ttho!
(9:33:42 AM) ME: i bet. hey, i know what youd like even more..
(9:34:03 AM) panty_hose95: what?
(9:35:10 AM) ME: someone with panty hose on their head coming up behind you and taking you by force; youd get a reach around, but i'm pretty sure there woudl be some anal penetration
(9:35:34 AM) panty_hose95: lol
(9:35:40 AM) ME: so, that's a yes?
(9:36:03 AM) panty_hose95: maybe
(9:36:11 AM) ME: interesting; what if someone was jacking you off with their foot and htey had athletes foot?
(9:36:48 AM) panty_hose95: no
(9:38:11 AM) ME: why not? sometiems it can be stealth. you dont notice it until the skin starts yellowing and peeling and itching.. it would probably suck if that happened to your penis
(9:38:27 AM) panty_hose95: lol
(9:39:08 AM) ME: is it hard to fit your balls into a thong?
(9:39:44 AM) panty_hose95: yea..at times
(9:40:04 AM) ME: k. do your shave your nuts? id think the hair poking through would snag the pantyhose
(9:40:30 AM) panty_hose95: lol...no
(9:40:58 AM) ME: how do you feel about donkey punches?
(9:41:26 AM) panty_hose95: what?
(9:41:35 AM) ME: you know, donkey punches. like if i was fucking you in the ass with a strap on and punched you in the face as you were about to cum
(9:41:58 AM) panty_hose95: no
(9:42:11 AM) ME: like a definite NO or like if i got you drunk enough youd be game for it
(9:42:45 AM) panty_hose95: no good
(9:43:01 AM) ME: how do you know until youve tried it. you might be surprised... a punch in the face when your cumming hard might be just what you need. i mean, you could wear your panty hose while i did it
(9:45:15 AM) ME: i'm taking your lack of answering for quiet contemplation of the hotness of that

The New Niggers

2008-03-25T11:03:00.000-05:00

So, as I’m sure everyone’s noticed, we have a woman and a black man running for president. Most of America seems to accept this (at least on the surface… as of the last few decades, racists have been less outspoken, more like ninja bigots), and we seem to have progressed as a society. But what if it was a homosexual running for president? I know without a shadow of a doubt that the religious right would be up in arms, sputtering about how this isn’t what our forefathers would’ve wanted blah blah blah (and I’m sure those slave owning, wife beating sons of bitches are THRILLED about the candidates this year!!!)

It reminds me of the John Lennon song that he did with that filthy whore Yoko Ono, “Woman is the Nigger of the World”. He did it to show how women were being treated as second class citizens, in a subservient role, of course it was banned from being played because of the N-word. Homosexuals seem to be the new “nigger.” They don’t have equal rights like marriage, and still get discriminated against in their professional and private lives. Some feel the need to lead their sexual lives in private because of this, especially politicians. Frankly, I think it would be great to have a gay president. He would make recycling mandatory, spruce up the White House, and change the presidents march to something a little more snappy, possibly with “It’s Raining Men” mixed in. A homosexual president might actually put more time and attention into finding a cure for AIDS, instead of trying to prove his manhood by blowing up other countries.

Anyway, I leave you with this poster… if you had problems figuring out who to vote for, I’m sure this fucking clears it up. For me, it was the goddamn serifs and the fact he’s fucking my girlfriend and sister (shit, I didn’t even KNOW I had a sister!!!)

Props to Jesus, The Gays, And Varmints

2008-03-24T10:21:00.000-05:00

My weekend didn’t actually go like planned, but if it had, I’m not sure it would’ve been as much of a blast. Friday I was still struggling with my cold, and figured I’d stay home with some Magner’s Irish hard apple cider. Halfway through the 6 pack, Calvin Crustitron excitedly calls, saying the cougar from our pub crawl last weekend texted him and we all needed to go out. Hart and his brother Jason further encouraged me to come out with them, and when Landon’s date tanked because it turned out she was larger than he thought, me going out was solidified. I finished the rest of my Magners while watching a documentary on prostitutes with Calvin and Landon until the happy hour specials started. It was a pretty typical night of drinking with the boys; Old Chicago, then to Stella’s for two-for-one’s, and finishing up at the Independent.

Saturday I managed to be productive, despite my decision to overcome my slight hangover by staying in bed for two hours and chonging down. Then the gays called to invite me over for turkey dinner (thanks for all your hard work making it Chelsea!), which was more for Shane’s birthday as opposed to Easter. Either way, root beer barrels, pink champagne, and Guiness added to the celebration. Part of the carrot cake got eaten by the dog, but we just cut off that section, re-frosted it, and popped some Easter egg candies in the side. Which reminds me, I’d like to give a big shout out to Jesus, for dying and all that jazz, because he made possible some delicious butterfinger eggs! As Jon from White Boys can dance says “Way to take one for the team, guy!”

I also found out a few awesome things at Saturday night's turkey dinner that I did not previously know:

Degrassi rocks. Yes, it's for teens, but they have all kinds of scandelous shit going on that is HIGHLY entertaining.

Nate gives great foot rubs. Ohhh those are some lucky bastards that get handy-j's from him, cause those fingers are MAGIC!

Timmy is ferret sitting, so we played with them. HOOORAY for these little weasly varmints! Timmy would not let me give them Guinness though. *sighs*

Sunday Landon and I celebrated Easter in a somewhat untraditional way. I think it was acceptable to eat Chinese buffet because of the name of the place "Eastar Buffet"

They werent in such a celebratory mood there... they regarded us pale faces with much scorn, but that might have been because we were skimming the meat off all of the dishes. But hey, Fuck 'em if they cant take a joke!

What's Your Headline?

2008-03-21T09:58:00.000-05:00

The other night over dinner, we were discussing sex and Landon said “Good sex smells like sweat, blood and poo.” Though I disagree (seriously Landon, WTF?), I told him he should use that for his match.com headline. That got us talking about what other headlines would be fantastic to have on there. Here’s what we came up with:

“I got bored with Porn”
“My wiener is crying, please soothe away the pain”
“When stalking just ISN’T enough”
“This is cheaper then a well-made blow up doll”
“Once you start shaving your ass crack, you don’t stop”
“The state says I’m fully rehabilitated”
“Want to see my stuffed animal collection?”
“Save me from being a sexual predator!!!”
“What foreign objects may I stuff into your holes?”
“How keen is your sense of smell?

Feel free to add your own. This is all for today folks; I have a cold that has reared up again (turns out binge drinking doesn’t help your immune system no matter how many vitamins you eat), and it’s snowing like gangbusters here. Have a good weekend celebrating the rising of our Lord and Savior.

If you aren’t sure how to celebrate, Calvin Crustitron and I came up with a Easter egg coloring drinking game. There’s a couple different ways it can be played (improvisation is your friend with this one I think); our game plan was for everyone to have a drink, and there would be a timer set for 5 min, and in that time you drink your drink and color your egg. If the timer goes off and you have not finished your drink, you must finish it immediately and take a shot (something colorful of course). We figure everyone will end up trashed, covered in vinegar smelling pastel colors before the dozen eggs are finished.

UPDATE: Harx has come up with a great way to commemorate that the Easter Bunny died for our sins and then rose again, to be able to lay multi colored chocolate filled eggs:

As far as Easter goes, I'll be celebrating with an Easter Beer Hunt. One person paints up cans of beer and hides them, then everyone goes looking. What you find is what is yours, the only rule is that you must drink the last beer before looking for another.Works best if you have a 12-to-1 beer-to-person ratio, but tell everyone it is only a 3-to-1 ratio

Beads, Booze, And Leprechauns!

2008-03-19T21:42:00.000-05:00

St. Paddy's day itself was fairly sedate compared to the shenanigans of the weekend (although I did take Tues off, because I was like, who am I kidding?). I went to Keegan's in Dinkytown, which is an ueber cool place for all kinds of reasons including that the wood in their bar was carved in Ireland and shipped over. They also make the best corned beef sandwiches, which is perfect to soak up the Guinness and appletinis that came later. They had a mediocre Irish band playing, and girls did the riverdancing (too bad they weren't hot). I did see this awesome dude, with a jacket that had The Crow on it. It's so bizarre, it might just be bad ass.

So I finally compiled all of the pics from Saturday night. Thanks to everyone who sent them to me. Ok, so here is my wine fridge that sits in my living room (doesn't everyone have one of those??) filled with Guiness. It was sweet; our local liquor store gave us free t shirts and beads on Saturday. I love getting beads without flashing the goods.

This is me doing some quality pre-drinking before we left for the pub crawl, and the carnage of pints began.

Here I am with a wicked action shot. w00t!

This crazy broad was at Green Mill, already shitfaced at like 7ish. She shovedfeathers from her green feather boa into The Novice and Landon's jacket pockets. She was so potent smelling I think my eyes began to water

Here we are (The Novice, Landon, me, and Hart) at Liffeys. We are rockin' the festivity much like Luke Skywalker rocks the force.

Here's a dude I met (also at Liffeys). He was way short, but not technically a midget. In my Guiness infused rowdyness, I kept calling him a Leprechaun and threatening to thieve his pot of gold. But since I pressed my boobs against him, he was more than happy to take a picture with me. Hell, he probably wouldve wrestled me in lime jello.

I think we might be significantly more intoxicated in this picture. It's just a hunch.

I'm not even 100% sure what bar we are at here, but I'm 110% positive we were having a good time. I hope all of you had as good of a time this St Paddy's Day as I did!

The Gays, Peanut Wars, and Endless Guinness

2008-03-17T15:53:00.000-05:00

To say this weekend was shamrockin’ would be an understatement. Friday I went to the Eagle, a fanfuckingtastic gay bar with my most favoritest homos. They honestly have the best drink specials, with three-for-one’s, which had me with one vodka cran in the crook of my right arm, one in my right hand and drinking one out of my left hand. They gays totally dig me because with my super-tallness, big curly red hair, and stellar rack I remind them of a drag queen, just without the man face or adam’s apple. So, after some raspberry kami’s I was sure enough dancing with my homo-tastic friends, which was all cool until my one friend unzipped my pants and pretended to give me some mouth-lovin’ but was really just blowing hot air on my cooch… the bartender was like “cut that shit out!”, but they have a healthy appreciation for me there, since I was one of the 5 females at the bar, and I wasn’t gross looking like the others.

Saturday, Landon and I paced ourselves (slow and steady wins the race!), not starting our pre-drinking until 5 (I’ll give Hart a lot of credit, when I talked to him at 5:30 he wasn’t even sure what bar in uptown he was at, yet he soldiered on through the entire night). The Novice was our designated driver (thanks again, cupcake!), to St Paul where we did our pub crawl. Honestly, I don’t remember all of the bars we went to, but they were all packed to the rafters. I remember McGoverns, because Calvin Crustitron was hitting on this cougar, and before we left, he gave her his phone number; the rest of the night he kept drunkenly yelling about wanting to “put it in that old whore’s butt!” Liffey’s was also legitimate good times, but beware of the rookie mistake of buying the bottle of Guinness when you can get a pint that is the same price but more booze. When I was double fisting my Guinness, I distinctly remember some dudes in green beards who were impressed with my ability to do this. I was, however, impaired enough where I had to stop texting people who were trying to figure out which bar I was at so they could meet up with us.

Eventually we made our way back into Uptown, stopping at the SoHo café for some pizza, where they were not enthusiastic with our raucous festiveness, despite the lack of belligerence (hey, we’re all good natured drunks!). This was just the fuel we needed to walk down to Williams for some green beer and free peanuts. That’s where we met random peanut guy. He was taking the free peanuts and throwing them in people’s drinks. When we realized this, we started throwing them in his, and then of course picking the peanuts out of our beer and throwing them at each other (they actually hurt if they hit you hard enough when they are wet). Normally, the staff would not look kindly upon peanut wars, but they were so busy, that was the least of their concerns.

We walked home after bar close, Landon and I arguing about who gets to sleep in the bath tub (makes clean up so much easier when you can just hose yourself off). I woke up with more beads than I started off with, my hair smelling of Guinness, peanuts down my shirt (probably my fault for having cleavage), and the NEED for much water. All indicators I did indeed have a good night.

I don’t have all of my pictures back yet, but I should by wednesday, and then I’ll post them.

Getting Geared The Fuck Up!

2008-03-14T11:15:00.000-05:00

So as you very well know, i'm pretty UNDENIABLY Irish, so for me, St Patricks day is akin to Hanukah in that its not just one day/night.. it's like that whole '8 crazy nights' concept; I've even been listening to Irish punk music all week to get myself ready for the awesomeness that will be this weekend. Last year was pretty sweet too, and because I heart you all, I will repost from my myspace last year's adventures to tide you over until I am fully recovered from the most holiest of holidays:

Even though St Paddy’s day wasn’t until Saturday, I started Thurs night baking Sheppard’s pie and drinking appletinis at Sarah’s house. Friday night, four other people and I went to Kips, this Irish pub that’s attached to a Marriot and got some rooms. Many Irish car bombs later and after some killer Irish music, we realized the bar would be closing at 1. OH NO!!!! What to do?!? We certainly weren't going to be driving to a different bar; that was part of the purpose of getting a room... to ensure there would be no chance of a pesky DUI. So we queried of the bartender:"Chad, what can you do about this?" And he informed us that at 1:01 he could no longer serve us drinks, but that at 1:00 he could serve us each two drinks. At that moment, we knew we would be ok, with some double fisting action coming our way. That led me to my next favor to ask Chad the bartender (and possibly the oddest convo i'd ever had with someone)... "So hey would you bear my children for me?" and he gave me this look of confusion and responded with a "ummmmm...." so I thought I must need to clarify; "Chad, come on, you'd LOVE to have a bunch of curly red headed freckled spawn of mine running around, right?" he was starting to get that I just might be a little drunk.

Chad: "well I wasn’t planning on having children till I finished school, but for you I might make an exception."
Me: "thats good to hear Chad. dont worry I'll take care of you after I fistially inseminate you"
Chad: "wow, I didnt know that’s how you would impregnate me.. but I guess if you’re taking care of me and not going to leave me barefoot and pregnant in some trailer..."
Me: "youre a reasonable man Chad... I think you’ll made a good man-mom to our little bastards"

Saturday started out well, with not a hint of a hangover (I shouldn't have taken this as a license to get as shit housed as I did that day). Had lunch at Keegans, and Irish pub in Mpls. It was packed to the rafters because they are one of those places that serve REAL Irish food, not some defrosted shit from a plastic container I detest. About 4 appletinis in (hey theyre green...) I realized I should probably take a nap. I woke up feeling quite refreshed, ready for this party I had been psyched about all week. There was going to be a belly dancer there... (be still my heart). You wouldn’t think a belly dancer was apropos at a St. Paddy’s day party, but it was also the host's birthday, so why NOT have a belly dancer?

In hindsight I should’ve ate more than brie (it doesn’t really soak it up so awesomely). Also, I shouldn’t have started leaving my redbull mixer out of my mandarin absolut (three drinks in I thought it was a fanfuckingtastic idea). This guy, Dave, who I've known from other parties was there too, and for the longest time he had been trying to convince me that it would be SO impressive for a chick my age to drink scotchy mcscotch scotch . Before, I had never quite been able to stomach it. I'd like to say it was peer pressure, but no, I was just feeling gloriously festive. Then the belly dancer arrived.... I will admit to dancing with her (and allegedly making out with her). I remember needing to lean on people. I remember thinking I might have underestimated lunches' appletinis being gone from my system. I had also put entirely too much stock in how Irish I was and that I could drink all the vodka in russia and still be my usual charming self. I couldn’t figure out why my drink kept leaping out of my cup. Perhaps it was the luck o the Irish that I was taken home before I got too obnoxious. However, I spent the wee hours of Sunday morning on the bathroom floor. My tab had come due.

To Date A Mockingbird

2008-03-12T10:22:00.000-05:00

As many of you know, I recently entered the dating scene again (AKA endless parade of douchebags), and after two months, I’ve encountered some bizarre and interesting shit, and it simply amazes me how many good looking people are bereft of personality. When did it become acceptable to use hotness as a crutch for being boring? Also, I’m definitely unique, but I don’t look weird so that tends to attract some cock-hooligans. Not everyone has been an assbag though, and I’ve actually had some positive experiences (for example, one date I played legos with the guy. No, not because he’s a pedophile, but we both dig legos and it seemed like a fun thing to do). Anyway, here is a list of requirements, “do’s” and “don’ts”. Yes, the list was generated from my dating experiences, and they should feel fucking lucky I don’t link their internet dating profiles and in one case a photography website.

You must have a job. I’m not a gold digger, but I’ll be damned if I’ll always be the one paying. Fucking get your shit together… this isn’t so much a requirement to succeed at datingas it is to succeed at life.
Don’t try to leave hickeys on my tits. Seriously, we aren’t 14, and it pisses me off when I cant sport cleavage for a week because you’re being possessive.
You must have a car. I’m not picking your ass up everywhere we go… Do I look like the guy from Driving Miss Daisy?
Don’t spill booze on me. It’s wasteful and then I smell like vodka on the way home, which isn’t cool if I got stopped by a cop.
Shut the fuck up about asking to meet Landon or any of my other guy friends. All you need to know is that I’m not banging them, so I’m not sure why you would want to hasten their scorn by meeting them; they are going to pretty much hate any guy that they think is trying to get in my pants.
Do not try to meet me in a coffee shop or a tea bar (why is it called a bar if they don’t serve booze? Fucking teasing bastards!). I don’t date non-drinkers in the first place.
Do not wear so much cologne my eyes burn. It makes me wonder what foul odor your trying to cover up.
If you hafta ask if we are dating, WE ARE NOT!
Warn me about your fucked up teeth. It’s partially my fault for going out with someone with only closed-mouth pics, but still, if they look like an old garden rake, give me a heads up.
Don’t have a beard. I probably don’t want to make out with you anyway, but definitely not if you have a beard. The only man in my life I want to have a beard is Chuck Norris.
And MOST IMPORTANTLY, don’t leave dirty condoms on your living room floor. This was by far the vilest thing that I ever encountered. I didn’t freak though, I asked “hey, so when’s the last time you had sex” and you responded “two weeks.” Now, I’m not sure what makes you more of a scum merchant, the fact you lied about something you totally didn’t need to lie about (it was our first date, I don’t care if you got laid yesterday) or that you had a dirty condom lying on your floor for 2 weeks. Either way, game over.

March's Douchebag of the Month

2008-03-10T12:33:00.000-05:00

Yes, I know I’m a little late with this one, but I’ve been busy. Unfortunately, because I waited so long, it’s like dueling banjos of douchebaggery as to what to write about. I’ve even had bloggers nominate themselves for the award, but noooo it’s not about attention whoring. Anyway, so this month the award will be shared. First nomination is daylight savings time. Seriously, what the fuck, it’s not like we are all farmers anymore. I think we need to pick a time and stick with it. This morning when I woke up for work I felt like it was three am. And because I have been stricken with pink eye (guess that’s what I get for all of the skull fucking I’ve been engaging in), I couldn’t get one of my eyes open to check out the clock. As much as I hated the oozing puss coming out of my eye, I was more pissed off that it was time to get up than anything. Side note: Landon has threatened to put me in quarantine AND stop beating off into my eye when I sleep; I told him I hope he continues so that way his dick will seep just like my eye is. Really gets the ladies going!

The other douchebag that gets the award this month is the water treatment companies who hid that there is a metric ass ton of pharmaceuticals in our water. As awesome as it is that fish now have 4 hour boners, low cholesterol, and are happier, it is also turning female fish into males. I think I’m going to start drinking more spring water (because even bottled water isn’t all safe anymore; some companies just bottle tap water) so my chest doesn’t start sprouting hair and I don’t grow some nads (although, it would be super hot to be able to teabag people….)

I know that the pharmaceutical industry says it’s not a problem. And why would they have a reason to lie? To me, it seems they would be the very picture of honesty! But, if it’s not a big deal, then why do prescription drugs in waterways damage wildlife across the nation? At least if you’re going to douche people’s health over, give them a heads up, instead of being a ninja douchebag and having it sneak up on them. And hell, now that I know there’s pharmaceuticals in the water, I don’t feel such a need to go to the docs about my eye. I figure I’ll just splash some tap water on it, and either my eye will starting burning or the pink eye will clear up.

Got Wang?

2008-03-05T14:44:00.001-06:00

I think I might be getting sick with a fucking cold. Staying out late last night drinking and singing Dio at Old Chicago's karaoke probably contributed. No matter what it was, I dont feel like doing a legitimate post today. But, I figured I should give you greedy sonsofbitches something, and this site that has the funniest IRC quotes EVER. I always knew something wasn't kosher about Harry Potter...

Purely in the interests of science, I have replaced the word "wand" with "wang" in the first Harry Potter Book
Let's see the results...
"Why aren't you supposed to do magic?" asked Harry.
"Oh, well -- I was at Hogwarts meself but I -- er -- got expelled, ter tell yeh the truth. In me third year. They snapped me wang in half an' everything
A magic wang... this was what Harry had been really looking forward to.
"Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Harry Potter." It wasn't a question. "You have your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wang. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wang for charm work."
"Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wang. Eleven inches. " Harry took the wang. He felt a sudden warmth in his fingers. He raised the wang above his head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on to the walls
"Oh, move over," Hermione snarled. She grabbed Harry's wang, tapped the lock, and whispered, 'Alohomora!"
The troll couldn't feel Harry hanging there, but even a troll will notice if you stick a long bit of wood up its nose, and Harry's wang had still been in his hand when he'd jumped - it had gone straight up one of the troll's nostrils.
He bent down and pulled his wang out of the troll's nose. It was covered in what looked like lumpy gray glue.
He ran onto the field as you fell, waved his wang, and you sort of slowed down before you hit the ground. Then he whirled his wang at the dementors. Shot silver stuff at them.

I have found, definitive proof that J.K Rowling is a dirty DIRTY woman, making a fool of us all:
"Yes," Harry said, gripping his wang very tightly, and moving into the middle of the deserted classroom. He tried to keep his mind on flying, but something else kept intruding.... Any second now, he might hear his mother again... but he shouldn't think that, or he would hear her again, and he didn't want to... or did he? O_______O
Something silver-white, something enormous, erupted from the end of his wang
Then, with a sigh, he raised his wang and prodded the silvery substance with its tip.
'Get - off - me!' Harry gasped. For a few seconds they struggled, Harry pulling at his uncles sausage-like fingers with his left hand, his right maintaining a firm grip on his raised wang.

Handful of Random Stuff

2008-03-04T10:13:00.000-06:00

I’m not quite sure what to think of this product. I am interested, but yet more than mildly disgusted. I am all for alcohol exploration (new and creative frontiers of boozing!), but to me, bacon vodka sounds like it might release a person from the shame and self recrimination of morning drinking. Maybe have it with a shot of cheese rum and some greasy hash browns to soak it up? This sets a bad precedent. I enjoy drinking, but even I don’t tie one on in the morning. Granted, a person COULD drink it later, but I can only handle so much bacon. Besides, WTF would you mix it with, because not everyone drinks their vodka straight. I’m thinking cranberry and bacon vodka would probably taste vile.

Something I definitely like (despite not drinking beer) is this shirt. Although, I’m fairly sure if I wore it out, I would get some random groping from gross people, which I wouldn’t dig. Maybe I would just need to wear it to a lesbian bar and hope that most of the other people there were hot.

And this has nothing to do with boozing (well maybe it does because alcohol might encourage it), but I was greatly amused by this poster. Thanks google trends for telling us about the trend history of ass-to-mouth vs anal fisting. How was 2006 for you?

This Will Be a Big Shocker, Folks...

2008-03-03T12:07:00.000-06:00

As bloggers, we put ourselves out there to entertain and as a way to reach some sort of catharsis. However, when we open up our lives like we do, people who we never wanted to find the blog, can and sometimes do. For example, Lawyerman’s parents found mine and read the infamous chicken post (the comments were particularly harsh on that one too). It was not the cause of our dissolution, but it did not help a tense situation.

More recently, someone who didn’t know me very well came across the blog (I should probably stop mentioning my blog in passing; it turns out I’m the first hit when you google “douchebag of the month” DAAAAAAAMN YOU GOOOOGLE!), and I totally get how I must seem to someone who doesn’t know me… I look like a raging alchy. And I’m not, but I don’t post the average and boring daily activities I do, so readers only get to hear about my interesting shenanigans (that yes, frequently involve drinking).

So instead of talking about my drunken mini golfing at the Mall of America on Friday night or the burlesque show I attended in NE Minneapolis on Saturday (where I allegedly made out with one of the burlesque girls), I will instead tell of my not as exciting doings.

Landon and I went shopping for curtains to replace the Spanish whorehouse curtains (as much as I love random people walking past on the street to be able to see in and watch me doing the elliptical, I think it’s time for a change.
My coworker Calvin Crustitron and I are growing clovers we got for a dollar at Target. We’ve been thinking that since they are Irish, maybe they would grow better if we gave them some Guiness or Jamesons. But that sounds more like a home project than one for work.
I tried fried pickles for the first time on Saturday at Stella’s; yes, I know it sounds gross, but it was awesome, especially with some ranch dressing.
After living with me for a little over a month, Landon has found out exactly how much I shed. Because my hair too curly to brush, it tends to get everywhere. Even though I have never been anywhere near his balls, he said he found a long, curly reddish hair wrapped around his them in the shower. NICE!
I started reading Stephen Colbert’s “I am America and so Can You” when he was off the air to get my fix of his “truthiness”, and I’ll definitely recommend it to all of you.
I saw a play this weekend, “What’s Done In The Dark”. If it comes near you, check it out.
Landon and I are learning how to cook together. This weekend we made veggie beef soup, and it turned out fanfuckingtastic.

So there you have it folks, I’m not THAT off the reservation, and actually do somewhat regular things that do not include drinking. I feel better now, don’t you? I’m glad we had this conversation.

LIGHTS OFFF!! Guerilla Radio....

2008-02-28T18:10:00.000-06:00

Good News: I got to go home today an hour early because of snow! HOEEEEE-ray for me! So, when I left, stopped by the liquor store, at 4.40pm I was technically still getting paid!!!!! HOLY TITFUCK! Can't beat that with a stick (not even one with nails in it).

My knee has healed enough where I can hit the elliptical early in the morning to some Rage Against the Machine; I'm sure my neighbors love that shit at 6 am, but FUCK THEM because they have LOUD DISGUSTING SEX at all hours of the day. And it's not like I'm hating on them having the sex (because I like to get laid as much as the next young, liquored up chick), but they are gross looking. If they were super hot, that would be entirely acceptable.

Anyway, I'm rambling, but that's ok, because I am pre-drinking to get ready to go out. So, I leave you all with this (thanks to TheWurx). Be careful folks, you could get it too!

Rip it all to shreds and let it go

2008-02-27T07:24:00.000-06:00

Once again I have sucummed to peer pressure. The blogosphere has been posting songs that they think sums them up, much like a theme song. Here's mine, no explanations are needed. Thanks to Simply Curious for coming up with this.

Darwinism Strikes Again!

2008-02-26T11:44:00.000-06:00

I came across a story today that though it will not win March’s Douchebag of the Month award, it should receive and honorary mention for all of the stupidity involved. To summarize it, a tourist died from shark bites, which in and of itself wouldn’t be that big of a deal, HOWEVER… the sharks were around this dumb ass diver because they had been chumming the waters with bloody fish parts. Imagine that, sharks being attracted to bloody fish? A real shocker (silly sharks and their instincts). The kicker is that he PAID people to do this! Why not just poke the shark in the eye with a stick?

The Scuba Adventures’(the company that took him out), website promises the opportunity to get “face to face” with sharks. Well what a golden fucking opportunity! Hell, while were getting face to face with nature, how about covering ourselves in antelope blood and running around in a cage of lions? Well, Mr. Markus Groh certainly had his “unique shark trip;” I wonder if they still ran his credit card and charged him for it?

At first I wasn’t sure who was more of a douchebag, the dead guy or the company. Then I realized that because this guy was paying for them to do this, he was the ultimate douchebag. It doesn’t even sound like a remotely good idea on their website: "consequently, there will be food in the water at the same time as the divers. Please be aware that these are not 'cage' dives, they are open water experiences." I think anyone who finds that an awesome idea, save for maybe the croc hunter types (because that’s stupidity at it’s most entertaining!), deserves to get their ass bit by a shark, otherwise their stupidity will just continue to run rampant, unchecked.

Putting out the fire

2008-02-25T08:56:00.000-06:00

So I totally remembered why I stopped smoking weed this weekend. In college, I was one of those students that went to class high, did homework high, studied high, took the test high and got high grades. But eventually, I stopped. While moving, I found my water bong, and mentioning this to a friend, my friend gave me a present. All this past week, I was having a helluva time, enjoying my present, and I kept telling Landon, “Jesus-tap-dancin-Christ, why did I ever stop chonging down? This is GREAAAAAT!!”

Positive evidence for not stopping was when on Friday, I got ready for all you can eat FREE shrimp at Stella’s by having some herbal essence. We walked down, and I will say this, there was an ugly, middle aged, overweight woman (reeking of liquid butter and overall dissatisfaction with her life) who was standing by the bowl of fried shrimp, just shoveling shit on her plate, and then she gave me a bunch of shit when I tried to get some with the other set of grabbers. Fucking greedy bitch, BUuuut because I was a little more chilled out than usual I just smiled and was patient. I could’ve punched her in the throat like I did the last chick that fucked with me, but I did have plans later that night and I did not want to go to jail.

This positive was negated by when on the way back home, Landon warned me about this huge patch of ice, but there was this girl walking towards us with this tacky skirt (the best way to describe it is if someone ate a clown wig and then threw it up in the shape of paisleys), and because she was large, there was so much more skirt to appreciate so I was entranced. Next thing I know, I’m looking up at Landon from the ground. My knee instantly turned black/blue. Looks hot, doesn’t it?

More to remind me why I quit smoking was when I was looking at my hair, and noticed a silver hair (oddly enough, it’s straight too), and then I got paranoid (hmm, wonder why?) that I was aging overly fast. Landon thought it was hilarious, because he started going silver when he was 19. I made him come with me to Liquor Lyles that afternoon for some two-for-one’s, to make the pain lessen. I ended up forgetting my card at the bar and even though we went back and I got it, it legitimately sucked. I could deal with losing my keys and my phone around the apartment, but that’s just too much.

So there you have it… I think I’m tapping out of any greenery, and I’m taking ginko bilboa to offset any short term memory loss so I don’t forget this time.

BRING ON THE HATE

2008-02-22T09:22:00.000-06:00

BLOGGING MILESTONE; I got my first hate comments yesterday! I think this means I have arrived as a blogger, when random people post angry comments, not about my writing, but as me as a person. If anything, this totally reinforces my raging narcissism; if some assbag thinks I’m so lame I should kill myself, yet still continues to read my blog, that means my shit must be pretty fucking awesome. I was so tickled by it, I almost sent out a Myspace bulletin. The amusing aspect about this is, as anyone who really knows me can tell you, I thrive upon conflict. Despite this, I doubt I’ll be responding to anymore comments of the sort… that’s giving the commenter(s) too much validation. However, feel free to BRING ON THE HATE!

Moving right along, I’ve seen this meme going around, about what our 10 commandments would be. What an apropos time to do it!

Thou shall not attempt to parallel park if one cannot do it in 30 seconds or less. I swear to fucking tap dancing Christ if I see one more dumb ass block the street for 7 min while trying to parallel park, I will throw my latte at him. THAT’S 7 PRECIOUS MINUTES YOU’RE THEIVING FROM MY HAPPY HOUR!!!! If you can’t parallel park, either don’t come into the city or pay to park.
Thou shall not chew ice in the movie. Not only is it bad for your teeth, it annoys the piss out of me. I hope all of your teeth fall out because you do not deserve to have them. Hey, all the better to give gum jobs with!
Thou shall not mix my drink poorly and then give me a nasty look when I top it off from the ketel one in my flask.
Thou shall not use “Candle in the Wind” for anymore dead celebrities (this is mainly directed towards Elton John); why not write a new song when Princess Di kicked it? Especially if they were such good friends. Even if she was a stranger, recycling death songs is sick. Dear Sir Elton John, please remove the lance from your ass. I think when Britany Spears dies her song will be “Goodbye Skanky Whore”
Thou shall not use dissolving Listerine whitening strips. The jism-like substance on the back of your teeth moves to the roof of your mouth, and you end up looking like a dog with peanut butter in its mouth.
Thou shall not let thy whores drink my booze (this is mainly directed at Landon). It hasn’t happened yet, but lets not let it, and we’ll get along nice.
If you are in the far left lane, thy peddle must meet thy metal. Thou shall not try to block me from passing by speeding up. You are in a 4 cylinder, I am not. You will not win anything other than my scorn.
Thou shall not use the word “stat” unless you have a medical degree. If I hear one more person at Caribou say they need their chai “STAT” I’m going to throw the scalding liquid in their face.
Thou shall not worship Brangelina offspring.
Thou shall not panhandle in front of the bar. Unless you are the guy by Williams with one leg that has a hilarious sign that says “I’m on my last leg, please help,” but it was kind of a falsehood because he wasn’t standing, he was sitting on the ground.

UPDATE: it seems there is one I need to add: If hair grows from thy facial mole, ye shall pluck it every fortnight.

Which Came 1st, The Homo or the Republican?

2008-02-20T16:16:00.000-06:00

So I heard about it again today…Another republican caught in a homo-erotic sex scandal. This time, it was Bush judicial nominee Robert Somma when he rear-ended another motorist after getting shitfaced at a gay bar. Apparently he was wearing some sexy-time fishnet stockings, and a cocktail dress (well, at least it wasn’t a slutty dancing-whore dress…see, I KNEW he had morals) and had to fish through his purse to get his drivers license.

With the problems following the republican party, it makes me wonder, do they pick these assholes up in a gay bar before nominating them? With such shining examples as Larry Craig (come one, why in my city? At least George Michael had the decency to keep his bathroom shenanigans in California), and Mark Foley electronically pedo-feeling up one of his male pages, I don’t get why the Republicans are so anti-homosexual rights. It just reinforces my opinion that the most homophobic people are usually the ones who secretly want to be gay.

Do they think that by denying open homosexuals their rights that it will make the members of their party any less covetous of cock in their ass? But it’s like that riddle ‘which came first, the chicken or the egg..’ where maybe they think if they give homosexuals equal rights that more Republicans will come out of the closet. Hell, I think that there would be less scandals if they could just be open about it.

It's About Goddamn Time!

2008-02-19T09:54:00.000-06:00

So today I was sent the link about Lindsey Lohan posing nude as Marilyn Monroe in her last sitting (be sure to check the slideshow, there are boobs galore). WOW! Now that she’s not all drugged up and has a little meat on her bones she really has a decent set of cans. Don’t get me wrong, when she was Dachau thin and she looked like she could fuck me with her collar bone, that was hot too. Laying off the diet of cocaine and self-destruction is really flattering.

She says she did the photo shoot because she was a huge fan of Marilyn Monroe, but I’m pretty sure she did the shoot and agreed to get nekkid so easily in a last ditch effort to stay relevant. Yes, I understand she did the ragingly successful Herbie movie, but her fame was never because of her career, and people were starting to hesitate in hiring her. And now that she is ‘sober’ (we’ll see… I give it 6 months before she’s snorting something off of Paris’ hipbone), she can’t be a tabloid disaster, what else does she really have to offer us than some naked pics? Good move, Lindsey, probably your best one as of yet. Now get out there and make a sex tape and then your career will REALLY take off (p.s. make sure it’s in that green night vision lighting that they use to catch illegals hopping the border).

So, what I can’t figure out is who will like these pictures the most? Old men who had a boner for Marilyn Monroe? Pedophiles who watched her in the Parent Trap? Her creepy dad that’s always hanging around and trying to hold her hand? Hmmm… it’s really a toss up.

Bongwater Breath

2008-02-17T16:08:00.000-06:00

After the last few days, I am not drinking today. I seriously need to dry out. Thursday night I went to The Rock nightclub to see Nonpoint, a band that's actually from around the same place I'm from in Florida. My friend had won tickets, and despite them having HORRIBLY mixed drinks, I agreed to go. It's sad when after topping off my third drink, my flask was empty . The opening bands sucked ass, as most local bands do (sometimes it's time to just realize you should go back to community college because you're not going to be a rockstar). Awesomely, I ran into my fat twin again, and even though she said she would email me a picture that her friend took of us, I don't see it happening... guess my twin is as lazy as I am.

Friday night I wasn't even planning on going out because I had been out almost every night during the week, but then Hart called and said that him, his brother, and Calvin Crustitron were going out. I managed to get myself together and walk next door, and after a few shots of sambuca we went to Old Chicago. Some of my favorite staff was working there, and they always take care of me and whomever I'm with. Happy hour ended so we went Green Mill cause it's so near home for us. Unfortunately it was crowded, so Calvin starts chatting up some large black ladies with the other half of their table free. They got to be thicker than theives. We left to go back to Hart's house for more drinking and Guitar Hero, but he stayed behind to hang out with our tablemates.

Saturday I hit the elliptical extra hard and sweated it out. Some people Calvin Crustitron and Hart went to school with in Red Wing were throwing a party. House parties are when I'm in my element, this one was no exception. I am also proud to report they taught me a new drinking game. Booze Pong; yes it's much like beer pong, but we were playing on their hardwood floor and we had mini basketball hoops behind us. If you touched the other teams backboard, it was worth 2 drinks, for any of the four cups in front that was 3 drinks, and if you made it in the basket, 4 drinks. Also there was a sudden death colander in the middle that making it into would require the other team to finish their entire drink. After some of this, Hart decided he was back to his old wrestling days, and started tackling people. I think this is how I ended up with some of my U.D.I's.

Hmm, well I guess that wraps it up. I think I should probably go eat more vitamins.

Thank Cthulhu It's Friday!

2008-02-15T08:59:00.000-06:00

I’ll get around to writing about my VD tomorrow (and by VD I mean Valentine’s Day, not what your mom has), but for now I’m in recovery mode with bottles of water and some green tea extract pills. However, I figure I should give you a Whitman’s sampler of good times for your Friday, but I’ll leave the nasty toothpaste flavored chocolate out.

This first item was sent to me by Buzzardbilly. It’s perfect for the boozy woman out on the town, who wants to get shitfaced, yet still be safe. Not only is it a cane to help keep you steady so you don’t fall down, but with a solid brass handle you could give someone a serious beat down if they tried to fuck with you. The best part is with the corked flask in the center, that pops open with the handle is removed. I don’t know how I could go wrong with this, it’s the ultimate accessory for a classy burgeoning alcoholic.The second awesome thing that was brought to my attention was that Guinness has a proposition to make St Patrick’s Day a ‘real’ holiday. Being 100% Irish, I don’t think I can fully express the ginormous boner I have for this. It would officially allow us to express our Irishness (and believe me, I have a metric ass ton of it), and would be a way for non-Irish people to commemorate St. Patrick, who was legitimately an amazing guy. Frankly, I don’t know if I would have the stones to drive a bunch of snakes out of Ireland, but this guy did. So, go to the site, and sign the petition; even if you aren’t Irish, would you REALLY turn down an extra day off of work? It only takes a couple of minutes.

Happy Fuckin' Valentines Day

2008-02-14T06:39:00.000-06:00

It's that one special day of the year when people can show their significant other they love them, through oral sex of course... I wish you all the best of luck with that (this product might help you get oral sex... what says eternal love more than a valentines day flask?) For those of you who are single and trying to find their special shnookems snugglebuddy via the intrawebs (hey, they can't all be rapists who will commit identity theft, RIIIGHT?), I have some advice about internet dating profiles:
1. don't put that you are trying to "turn your life around." that makes everyone assume you are a drug addict or just got out of jail.
2. guys, dont take a picture with your cat. just because you have cat doesn't make you look like any less of a scum merchant, BUT might make us think you are gay and just won't admit it.
3. don't have pictures with someone else shoving their tongue down your ear. it makes you seem a little unavailable.
4. don't put that you "like to have fun." we can all safely assume everyone likes to have fun, unless you're one of these emo bastards that sits around cutting on themselves.
5. and most importantly, if you can't string some words together in a coherent sentence, with some cool jive like punctuation and whatnot, don't fucking bother. just buy a prostitute.

If intranets dating isn't going so hot for you (if you're hideous looking, what do you expect? Personality doesn't count in a picture), maybe you should try one of these sites.

And because I love you all from the bottom of my pickled heart, here's a Valentine (no, it is not redeemable for the afore mentioned oral sex):

Office Harmony Reached by Traveling The Road of Douchbaggery

2008-02-11T15:22:00.000-06:00

Today I developed a new found respect for my office and coworkers. I have bitched and moaned about the people I work with, and different passive aggressive shenanigans I perpetrated upon them in the effervescent spirit of douchebaggery. But this morning, something happened that washed away the tidal wave of contempt I had for their incompetence.

A little back story about my office, there is a grand total of 12 of us here, and we LOVE our cake. Whether it’s for birthdays, holidays, anniversaries, pet’s death, new babies (so far no dead babies, but then again the pregnant girl is only 5 months along), promotions, etc… we don’t fucking care. Bring on the cake. Especially early in the morning. So, knowing that it was ToolBag’s 35th birthday this weekend, we were all anticipating cake bright and early on Monday. When he decided to be a pussy and not come in because the heat in his car wasn’t working (fucking man up and put a scarf on!), we were left with a big decision. Do we wait until tomorrow? HELL NO! So at 10 am this morning, we all sat around the conference room table and ate half of his dairy queen cake. That wasn’t enough, though. But once we recorded us eating the cake while singing happy birthday to him, THEN it was enough. That was of course promptly forwarded to him.

The sheer cruelty of eating someone else’s birthday cake and then shoving it in their face was enough to restore respect in my coworkers. I guess I should probably stop poking holes in the bottom of the Styrofoam coffee cups now.

Working Out With Chuck

2008-02-10T14:53:00.000-06:00

I brought Chuck over today, now it really feels like home. It wasn't easy to get him here though. First I had to take pliers to him, to release him from the nails that crucified him to the basement wall in Lawyerman's house. And of course today was windier than Oprah's asshole, so he kept trying to fly away both on the trip from house to car and car to apartment. I am sad to say we had a rip. For all of the legend about him (like, there is no 'ctrl' button on Chuck's keyboard, because he is ALWAYS in control), he tore fairly easily.

Luckily for us all, it was only a slight rip; hey, I don't want to get my ass kicked because of it, and because he's omnipotent, he KNOWS when an effigy of him is damaged. So I decided to put him up next to the elliptical machine, so that way when I start slowing down, I have Chuck looking down upon me, telling me that is unnacceptable, and he will roundhouse kick me in the taint if I dont speed up.

This weekend was super cold, so no real awesomely entertaining stories. However, I have had like 6 people tell me about this product. With all of my flask adventures and focus on my fantastic rack, a booze bra does just scream "Tequila Mockingbird," as loud as a first time porn chick faking it. I like how when people hear about this product they instantly think about me. I guess it's better than if a facial wart remover product reminded people of me.

I would totally dig this product, because the biggest problems I have with my flask, is that I lose the top to it, or that it's bulky. And because I already have ample endowments, it's not like at the end of the night I would be left flatchested. The one concern I have about it, is that if I sprang a leak, then my shirt would reek of vodka. "Yeah Officer, my flask bra sprang a leak...", wouldn't neccessarily help me if I got pulled over. Either way, it's good to see inventors are making quality and important products for boozy broads like me.

Help Me Solve This Mystery

2008-02-07T10:23:00.000-06:00

So, it’s going to be super cold around here again, but then it IS Minnesota, so not all that much of a shocker. Although, I can’t wait for this global warming deal to pan out, because then it’ll be like a tropical paradise here, while you other fuckers are burning to death. Anyway, I digress. Even though I live in the perfect location in Uptown, within walking distance to many awesome establishments (and by establishments I mean places that serve booze), unfortunately in the winter that walk isn’t always pleasant. To make it a more bearable walk (and by bearable I mean not having a Donner party experience), we wear layers and whatnot. Usually, I jihad my face up in a scarf, and Landon wears a ski mask. It turns out everyone looks like a rapist/robber in a ski mask.

Take this picture for example. Here we are, smiling and drinking beer, he's giving that reassuring I-promise-not-to-assault-you thumb up, yet something's just not quite right. Is it impossible to look non-threatening in a ski mask?

Or this picture; he’s just taking a sip of his beer, while pretending to strangle our friend The Novice. WTF? How does he STILL manage to look creepy?

I just don’t get it. Like when we were leaving Bar Abilene (hey they had $3 margaritas, it was worth walking a few blocks in 20 below zero temps), and Landon had his ski mask on, there were these three girls getting out of a car and he said “HEEEEEEEEEEEY LADIEEEEEEEEEES!” and none of them looked like they wanted to chat…Doesn’t everyone want to chat with ski mask clad guys? They aren't ALL terrorists or muggers.