April 2006
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Skipping past Writober and Nanoblomo . . ? Shit, I dunno. I'm as bored as you are.


Friday, April 28, 2006

It Begins

We made it to Atlanta. I’d been convinced that something was going to come up, that Mia was going to get sick or something, and we wouldn’t be able to come. But we’re here.

We haven’t actually MET any of the other bloggers yet, but we’ve been texting one another like crazy. Probably a bit of foreshadowing that all the girls in the Party Van convened at a bar in the Hartsfield-Jackson Airport. As I type, it’s almost 5:30 and we’ve heard reports that they only JUST got the van, so they’ll have an interesting slog through the Friday-night traffic as they inch their way to CW’s house in the northern outer ‘burbs.

Fortune has been smiling on us, though, because as we were coming into the area, we caught up with an ambulance with its sirens blaring. And followed it for about 25 miles into downtown Atlanta. As Michelle said, “We’re making the most of an unfortunate situation. Turning tragedy into something positive.”

Confession time:

-- In honor of my metrosexual attire for the evening, I need to spend the appropriate amount of time on the hair. Because I just got it cut a couple days ago, and I’m not sure how it’s gonna work out.

-- I have a new laptop. I bought it with my bonus check. Before you gasp, it’s an almost-entry-level model that I got a very substantial instant rebate* on. But now I’ll be able to live-blog the Meetup . . . if CW replaced his router.

-- My fly is open.

* When we got our Dell desktop a couple years ago, we had a $100 mail-in rebate that got fucked up somehow and I vowed to never rely on that kind of rebate as a “savings.” I think “instant” has a nicer ring anyway, don’t you?

shaken and poured by Scott-san on 04/28 at 04:24 PM
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Tuesday, April 25, 2006

Coming To

I’d be exaggerating if I said that it’s taken me this long to sober up from Saturday night. But it did take me a large portion of all day Sunday. I don’t think I had that much to drink. I mean, Christ, I posted about the night before going to bed and there are hardly any glaring typos/misspellings.* But that might say more about the simplicity and ease-of-use of the blogging nest that Patricia has built for me than my perceived alcohol tolerance.

I’m not sure, but this might be my last real post before leaving for Atlanta Friday morning. I’d love to promise that I’ll post every day, multiple times per day, but you and I know that’s not gonna happen. Sometime, I’ll experiment with trying to post once per day, but that would require me to remember more of the funny stuff that I see and hear . . . and/or post about the people I work with. Which, considering my supervisor is probably reading this, would require me to post only the uplifting aspects of my job. So, I won’t really be posting about work. Which is sad, because I work with some interesting characters.


* Some things I left out of my summary**: Prof. Tom was going beer-for-beer with Mr. Glory Hole, and he was the designated driver for the pair of them. And as crazily out-of-it Mr. GH seemed that night, Michelle reports that he was at work very early the next morning (a Sunday).

** “Knockers?” Seriously? And writing about peeing? I must be really adept at using the computer under the influence. Because I was. I’m not sure I can “bring it” like that in Atlanta, either, Styro.

shaken and poured by Scott-san on 04/25 at 08:10 PM
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Saturday, April 22, 2006

“Confluence of Coincidence"*

This is officially my last night of training before Atlanta next weekend. Michelle’s playing out of town tonight this morning, and I opted to stay in town. I was at a loss for what to do, but I settled on trivia, which Michelle seems to have lost the passion for. Originally, I was just gonna meet Mr. ADD there, but then Mr. Glory Hole (and others) came through. We stayed there through some turgid and tortuous NASCAR trivia-related interrogation, and then played a few games for non-retard trivia. After a few games of trivia pitchers of beer, we were off to Waterworks (Tallahassee’s uber-hipster watering hole). Lowlights?

-- This is the rule I follow when I go into the bathroom: Always piss in the lowest urinal. Like, the KIDS’ urinal. Unless there’s someone pissing in the next stall. 

-- A lot of people were present at the sports bar to watch the Miami Heat battle the Chicago Bulls. Including the two African-American ladies who were making fun of the ultra-white boys pretend-high-fiving for their trivia “prowess.”

-- From the moment Prof. Tom pointed out the girl sitting behind me with HUGE knockers, Mr. Glory Hole / RLP was gesturing to her obscenely. With tongue.

-- Michelle requested that I text message her while we were apart today / tonight / this morning. Many of her replies were “Oh, dear,” in relation to my text messages about Mr. Glory Hole.

-- Mr. Glory Hole was constantly singing lines from “My Humps” during his trivia triumph (yes, the MOST DRUNK person in the bar was WINNING the trivia). He also stopped in front of the African-American ladies on the way out to seranade them with the chorus of “Waterfalls.”

-- I resisted the temptation to piss in a beer bottle that someone had left on one of the urinals at the sports bar.

-- Mr. Glory Hole asked our waitress to dance at the uber-hipster watering hole. When she declined, he offered her money.

-- Mr. Glory Hole is my hero.

* This was a quote from Mr. Glory Hole while trying to convince me to meet up with him and his friends after he’d been drinking for six hours. By the time I left him, he’d been drinking for over 12 hours.

shaken and poured by Scott-san on 04/22 at 11:45 PM
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Tuesday, April 18, 2006

Memoirs of an Easter

Thanks to the Stealth Holiday (turns out the ol’ preschool was having its version of a Teachers Planning Day), we had a three-day weekend (Mia and I). As I predicted, Friday was very much like a normal Saturday, but with a Pan-Asian ending. See, first there’d been talk about going out for sushi at a Chinese restaurant, but someone was reportedly being an asshole, so the wife suggested we blow that off. Plan B continued the Pan-Asian theme, as we got multi-ethnic cuisine from a Thai / Vietnamese / Chinese / Japanese restaurant near Michelle’s parents’ house (where we were house/cat-sitting); Michelle got sushi and I got curry (with sushi . . . although the sushi was a comparatively bad sideshow). To expand further on the Pan-Asian theme, we watched Memoirs of a Geisha (Japanese subject matter, Chinese cast, filmed by Americans . . . probably in California). All that adds up to a resounding “Eh” (except for the curry, which was awesome).

Oh, also on Friday night, there was a bit about Mia giving herself a black eye.

Saturday turned out to be a lot like Friday, as Michelle had to work some overtime. So, I took Mia to see Ice Age 2 and then for a walk/duck-feeding around Lake Ella. And then it was Ms. Jazz Hands’ birthday dinner at Food Glorious Food. (Home of the $9 kids pasta! I’ll go on record and say that I verily enjoyed my risotto-stuffed raviolis and scallops. And was full afterward. I know . . . shocker!) After dinner, it was over to Casa de ADD (and Jazz Hands) for UFC action. Three ciders and lots of criticism of the deficiencies of the apparent 10/9 scoring system, and it was off to bed (after a drive across town, of course).

The Holiday-Wherein-We-Celebrate-Fluffy-Bunnies-Who-Leave-Us-Eggs-and-Candy-Rather-Than-Our-Lord-and-Savior-Jesus-Christ-Ascending-to-Heaven was given the appropriate amount of respect . . . in the form of hiding plastic eggs and having Mia and her cousin hunt for them. And then painting more eggs. I found the eggs featuring anarchy symbols, Mr. Hanky, and the Flying Spaghetti Monster to be particularly inspirational.

Gulp, gulp. And photos are fucking up the look of my page, so click somewhere above to view the Flickr-ized (and brief) summation of our Easter.

shaken and poured by Scott-san on 04/18 at 12:25 PM
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Friday, April 14, 2006

The Black Moss

I never posted about the Pirate Birthday Party from last weekend. Long story short, Ms. Jazz Hands was throwing a party for her 30th birthday at her family’s broke-ass beach shack. There was a pirate-treasure hunt, a bonfire, lots of eats, and the omnipresent, ever-flowing alcohol. Because the house was small and broken and full of lots of people and dogs and (most likely) bugs, Michelle thought we’d sleep in a tent. Which worked out nicely. I think.

Here’s the “set” on Flickr:

Just click around. Snark away.

Today’s Good Friday. Or, as I’m calling it, the STEALTH HOLIDAY. See, I’d planned to take off today for another bout of selfish relaxation. And then I got the memo from Mia’s preschool that they’d be closed today. My sincere wish is that today is like a normal Saturday, tomorrow is like what today SHOULD have been, and Sunday . . . well, we’ll see when we get there. 

shaken and poured by Scott-san on 04/14 at 08:00 AM
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Monday, April 10, 2006

Beer Before Liquor . . . Eat a Dick

In the course of my long and distinguished drinking “career,” I’ve never been a believer in the whole “Beer before liquor, never sicker; liquor before beer, never fear” rule(s). I much prefer “Never too much of one thing,” or “All things in moderation . . . as opposed to, say, mixed together in a funnel.”

The pirate / birthday adventure was a good time. More on that later (with PICTURES as we found our camera).

No, see, I’m here to put forth a drinking theory. You understand that part of the problem with people getting sick from drinking tequila is that, besides drinking a lake of it, tequila has a very specific taste. Like rum or gin. Vodka (and Everclear) don’t, which is why I can still drink those comfortably even though they’ve rocked me in the past. But what if you mixed your alcohols in such a way that the flavors / auras cancelled one-another out? How do you think 2 ½ Junebugs, two Red Stripes, a Bacardi Limon concoction, and an indeterminate whiskey and Seven would go down? I’ll tell you: Surprisingly well. Seriously, I might have been generous with the ice on those drinks, but I had no discernable hangover the next morning and no lingering flavors.

Atlanta? Bring it.

(EDITOR’S NOTE: This is what’s wrong with my drinking career . . . I can’t even get the Golden Rule right. Thanks, my commenting friends. I had it right, but typed it wrong.)

shaken and poured by Scott-san on 04/10 at 04:11 PM
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Friday, April 07, 2006

Roughin’ It

I apologize for the relative “silence.” It’s been a topsy-turvy week . . . lots of emotional upheaval and schedule fucked-upedness. Right now all I can think of are those lists on the right. Yeeeeeeeeaaah, buddy. I’m trackin’ that shit. It’s accurate! I’m listening to Mogwai’s Mr Beast RIGHT NOW! YOU SHOULD BE, TOO!

This weekend, we begin formal training for Atlanta (three weeks from today). It’s a pirate-themed birthday celebration. On the beach. Possibly in the rain. Invitees are encouraged to bring rum. And Michelle put another spin on things by asking, “How would you feel about sleeping in a tent?”

If nothing else, I’ll have some good stories to tell. The ones I can remember.

shaken and poured by Scott-san on 04/07 at 11:41 AM
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Monday, April 03, 2006

So . . . Sleepy . . .

Before the weekend of “rock-star” excitement began, I said that I’d be amazed if everything went according to plan. Well, I’m amazed. And now I’m also very, very tired.

Our shows went well. The Girls got to Miami and back safely (and their show was awesome, but I’ll let Michelle tell you about that). Because our camera is still missing / lost / misplaced, my snapshots are in form of bullets:

-- Our first show (Friday night) was at the Unfair, an art exhibition by non-major art students at FSU. There were paintings and drawings, videos, and some performances (including belly dancing and hula-hooping). My personal favorite was the “artist” who manipulated Andrew Wyeth’s “Christina’s World” to include dragons, one of which was setting Christina’s house on fire with its breath.

-- There was an anthropomorphic condom on stage with us with a selection of free condoms (extra-lubricated or dual-pleasure).

-- Our friend Mark’s band, Yellow Crystal Star, which included a drummer for this outing, played alongside a performance-artist (Bob), who was a middle-aged guy painted head to toe with white acrylic paint. The band played one long instrumental piece (very reminiscent of a tribal, early-70s Pink Floyd) while Bob sort-of danced in slow motion with a stage light. I should mention that Bob was naked, except for a well-placed thong-type covering.

-- I didn’t drink too much at the show, and we got out at a fairly reasonable hour. Unfortunately, I made the mistake of going out afterward.

-- I spent most of Saturday really hungover. After coming home from loading in for the second show (reuniting with Michelle, back from Miami), I had lots of half-flat Sprite and raw carrots. Hangover gone. (In fact, I felt so good, I had a beer at the show and a shot of Crown . . . with a ginger ale in between.)

-- The second show was at Tallahassee’s “new rock” haven. I think everyone who came to see us was on the guest list. And still we walked away with twice the amount of money we were promised.

-- One of the bands was from Bainbridge, Georgia, and brought along a lot of friends / fans. A number of drunk females were grinding on one another in a faux-lesbitronic way. I’m sure their boyfriends were very impressed.

shaken and poured by Scott-san on 04/03 at 04:01 PM
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There's no "I" in threesome.


I can't remember whether I've seen anything new since my birthday. Oh, right, that one.


I was hoping for a little more detail in the accounts of mauling-by-zombie. But the anecdotes were disturbing, nonetheless..


I don't have a solid grasp on which exact cheap beers I had at the ATL watering holes.