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| FIRE IN THE DISCO |  | Category: Social
Friday, September 12th, 2003 @ 03:14 pm
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 Johnny Cash. Dead. John Ritter. Dead. Bad day for people named John trying to revive dead careers. PSA: If your first name is John and you used to be a celebrity, don't try a comeback. You could die today. Even if you try sometime in the future.
In other news, last weekend during a drunken night of glee at my house, Ian introduced me "Gay Bar" by Electric 6, and I'd have to say its been and endless source of teh funney since. Not to mention I got reintroduced to "Danger (High Voltage)", featuring none other than that whiney little cockass Jack White. Kudos to Niel for bringing that one to our collective attentions months ago, and Kudos to Ian for bringing them back up. And kudos for me 'cause I am so damned cool. Oh yeah, and if you haven't seen the video for either, jump on your p2p theft vehicle of choice and start downloadin'. Sure, you may be putting yourself at risk for a lawsuit, but that's the kind of risk us seekers of goods must take to live life the way we do.
In third-ish other-ish news, we went down to the lake front with daiquiris in tow, on a beee-youtiful Saturday evening last weekend to take in the sights and sounds of summer giving way and gracing us with the great week and a half of autumn that we so richly enjoy and deserve. While we were there, there was some guy buzzing around in one of those ultra-light aircraft that apparently, after talking to a few coworkers, are all the rage these days. It was like, cool and stuff. Then we went to get oysters at Acme Oyster House, but they were closed for a private party, so we just drank beer and read Playboys for the rest of the night.
In Forth-ish other-ish news, I'm popping the veritable cork on the second coming of the TurboDiesel. That's right boys and girls, tonight the caps will fly in the air like confetti as we guzzle down bottle after bottle of home brew, lovingly crafted wit' me own hands. So come one, come all and join in the festivities and stay and drink as long as you like. Unless I get a chance at the CP. Then all you bastards are getting kicked the fuck out real quick like.
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| I'M BACK! | | Category: Social
Wednesday, July 2nd, 2003 @ 11:46 pm
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 I just flew back in town yesterday, and boy is my penis tired! Cause, I, um, swung it around like a helicoper. Don't tell anybody... and the pictures are staying in my private stash. Mustache.
I've been steady drinking since getting back, trying to make up for lost time. I doubt this will be much of an issue tommorow when my 3 day July Fourth weekend starts. I plan to kill myself with booze. KILL myself I say!
What's the plans, peeps? Who's partying where and how hard is what I want to know. I've sat at home countless weekends, then when I plan to live it up, I get sent to the ass-end of the country for a week. I am ready to die for fun. I will let you punch me in the face if you have an ice cold beer in your hand when you do it. Why? I don't know! Maybe the act will force the alcohol into my bloodstream via violent osmosis. I'm making this up as I go along people!
So, barbeques? Nights out? Poolside escapades? Fireworks? What's the dealio? You people must have planned veritable mountains of fun in my absence. I will drink myself to death, then the first person who bought me a drink gets to whip out defibrillators, rub them together, yell "BEER!", then shock me back to life and hand me another one. See that "beer" thing was a play on "clear" that people say when they... ah shit, nevermind.
Well, fill up the comments with your plans of three day weekend greatness, so that I may dip into it with my cowboy hat and drink from its brim like the badass half-cowboy, half-pirate, half-ninja that I am.
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| TA-TA-TA-TOOBIN! | | Category: Social
Tuesday, May 27th, 2003 @ 11:30 am
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 Well, gaggle of us toobin' on Memorial Day to celebrate yet another birthday. For the uninitiated, toobing is the art of placing your posterior into an inflated tire innertube, placing an icechest into another one, placing many beers into your digestive tract, and lazily floating down a polluted and treebranch strewn river or creek. Its usually as fun as a bucket of fun things. Usually....
We got there around 1pm, jumped on in, got a few beers up in us and noticed the sky beginning to darken. Thirty minutes later, it was kind of grey and a horribly chilly wind was upon us. Thirty more minutes later, we were pretty much toobing in what seemed to be a non-stop deluge of rain the likes of which I had never seen before.
When the realization hit us that it was not going to let up for a while, we headed for a nearby "shore" (and by "shore" I mean a pile of sand, sharp pebbles and a host of bugs and pointy plants) where we noticed a couple other groups of people running to for some sort of shelter. Of course, there wasn't any, but you take what you can get.
So, there we are, about 20 people, just stading there in a downpour of biblical proportions (you know, that kind of rain that actually hurts when it hits you), freezing our genitals off, miserable as all hell. After about thirty minutes, I noticed a group of people hovering around one of their friends, then they laid this person on an innertoob on the ground, covered them up with as much craps as they could find, and all huddled around them. Shortly after that, a couple guys ran off in what looked liked "going to get help" mode. Apparently something really Not Good happened, and I really Did Not want to be involved in it. So, about another half hour later, we took off the second it let up a bit to try to get it all over with as quickly as possible, and to put as much distance between us and the greek tragedy that was playing itself out on the shore. I say "let up a bit" because for the remainder of the lesuirely stroll down the river it never once actually stopped raining.
When we finally finished this cavalcade of horrors about three hours later, we heard that the person back there on the shore had gotten hypothermia, so I'm guessing they got picked up at some point. Gee, what fun.
It may be a long time before I can drop my ass in a tube again and enjoy it. The scars from this trip run deep and wide, but I'm sure I'll work through it ... one day at a time.
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| THE GRAND EVENT | | Category: Social
Wednesday, April 30th, 2003 @ 08:17 pm
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Better late then never....
I attended the spectacular union of Fix and his bride Mrs Fix ( formerly Lizzy ). It was a gay time indeed. Mainly because Ian was there and he gays everything up with his immeasurable gayitude.
Unfortunately, I forgot my goddamned camera, so shitz on that. I would have loved to shower glowing pixels of love upon you all, but alas, I am a dumb ass (rhymity rhyme). There was no Voodoo priestess or pirate, but when your reverend doubles as your bartender and there's a painting of a brothel in full swing in the "chapel", goddamn, you know you're in the right place.
Also, due to its weekday timing and the grumblings of the little missus's stomach, I couldn't stay for the entirety of the kickass psuedo reception at Molly's -- but I did learn something about Drew while I was there...
We were drinking and getting our revelry on, when out of the blue a person walked up and Drew and her started showering greetings upon each other. With him not being from New Orleans, or no where near its general vicinity to my knowlege, it dawned on me who Drew was. I leaned over towards Ian and proclaimed, "So, he's that guy, eh?" (of course referring to the guy you can't take anywhere without him knowing a shit-acre of people). To which Ian responded, "Well damn, I guess so. I only thought it was a Montana thing though." Of course we were talking in victorian accents and continuously bowing to each other as we were talking, but that's neither here nor there.
So, there. I hope that gives you some insight into the Fix.
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