Tell me your dreams...

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

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

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!!!!

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

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?

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.