How much do you fit in YOUR weekend?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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"

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.

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

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.