August's Douchebag of the Month

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.

Nose Fisting and Overindulgence in Jello Shots

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.