Langerhans Pancreas Cup, Adventures with the Buddha, and Mamalicious Goes Bald!

Yes, yes, I know. I am fully aware that I only blogged once in March. Please accept my deepest apologies. Mom, I think you've survived, and I think we know who is to blame for my lack of bloggification! Haha. Too much fun, not enough downtime to document it.

Anyway, after much waiting, here's another one. Kinda random, but this should not surprise you anymore.

So a few weeks ago, Mamalicious and I were at Value Village in Raycilla, Wiscompton, when we came across one of the most ridiculous things we'd ever seen, which is quite the accomplisment, because between the two of us, we've seen some pretty ridiculous ass shit.

I'm not even going to try to describe this thing. Here's the picture.




So what we're looking at is a bright yellow vessel with arms, legs, and a face. He's kinda bumpy and weird-looking. I'm fairly certain that when Mamalicious spotted him, her first words were, "What the hell?"

We could not for the life of us figure out what this thing was supposed to be, other than that it was a cup. This was, of course, until we turned this fine thang up-side down and read the bottom.





That's right, mofos, it says "Pancreas."

Obviously.

Why wouldn't it?

This definitely inspired us, and we purchased it. Who could pass such a thing up, especially on half price day? What really begs the question for me is, "Who could donate such a thing? (or buy it in the first place? Or manufacture it? Ok, there are just too many questions!)

Anyway, we took it home, and as we discussed it, we kept calling it the "Pancreas Cup." We decided that that definitely sounded like some kind of award... You know, like the Stanley Cup or World Cup or whatever.

We also decided that neither of us really knew what in hell our lovely pancreas does in our body, so we went home and hit up google, where we came across this ridiculous website.

There are so many glorious things about that website, that I almost don't know where to start, but for those of you who aren't all that big of lovers of reading (what in hell are you doing reading my long ass blog then?), we'll just start with the obvious amazing graphics.

After the first obvious and necessary diagram of the pancreas, we have the Cuervo bottle with the big red x going through it. NO!!!! NO CUERVO!!!!!

Then there are a couple gross pictures, and some medical staff clip art (which includes, but is not limited to a man sprinting whilst pushing a patient in a hospital bed), and then my favorite comes....

Yeah, the repeated shot-pouring. Hilarious!

Obviously, the pancreas does something with alcohol, or is negatively affected by it. Or maybe it's just moderately-priced Tequila that is the nemesis of the pancreas?

But for those of you who did read this website to enlighten yourselves about our wonderful pancreases (pancrii?), you may have noticed that 5-90% of the cases of pancritis in the US are attributed to alcoholism.

FIVE to NINETY percent?!?!

Thanks for narrowing it down for us, jackasses!

Oh, and I am sure that you readers (or pancreas afficionados) noted that "Langerhans" is some kind of cell that is affiliated with the pancreas!

So as usual, my mom and I are laughing so hard we are crying, and woke Marv up from his nap.

We decided that the pancreas cup is going to be an award for people who do absurd things whilst drinking, and set out to craft a certificate.

After much deliberation, this is what the certificate says:

Congratulations! You are a recipient of the Langerhans Pancreas Cup! You have earned this honor by challenging your pancreas to an Olympic level of metabolizing alcoholic beverages and living to tell tales of absurdity! As a Langerhans Pancreas Cup winner, your responsibility is to pass this award on to another individual who has earned it by achieving similar feats as you have in the areas of beveraging and ridiculousness, and you only have thirty days to do so! It is also your responsibility to ensure that the tales of absurdity are passed on to Sir Langerhans Pancreas by emailing whatever tales earned you the cup to PancreasCup@gmail.com. Enjoy your award, and remember to always drink irresponsibly with a responsible person.

We also included an interesting (and incredibly phallic) image of a real pancreas on the certificate. And yes, we did set up a gmail account for the cup, as well as a myspace .

Here's a picture of Mamalicious and I with the cup.




And yes, every time a new recipient is selected and sends the story, the blog will be posted on here as well as on the cup's myspace. =)

So. Who deserved the inaugural award?

Paul! The Asian drunken mohawk elephant who does tricks while defending the homeless. Yeah, his nickname grows almost daily because of the ridiculousness his life is. He actually might rival me, and together, it only multiplies.

We're talking about a guy who got punched two Mondays in a row for no good reason. A guy who got drunk in a bar and got a mohawk. A guy who sends texts that say things like, "I am too much to drink."

He and Mamalicious are friends on MySpace, and he often sends her tales of whatever ridiculous business he did the night before.

Here is what he sent her that made us decide that he deserved the first award:

"Ok so now I am home and just about to take a nap. I figured I could not rest until I told you the entire story.

Well the evening began with myself and my friend Demetri at Kenadee's. We knew the bartender, so our beverages were over-poured by a substantial amount. I get there and Demetri is with one of his co-workers. It so happens this co-worker of his wanted to hang out with us all night. I think her name isHallie.

Anyway, a bunch of beverages later, more friends arrive. Rachel and Maj from the club I work at show up and so begin the shots. This all before 10:30pm. I did receive a few texts from Mandie regarding her state of inebriation. Well, tradition usually has it that we start at Kenadees and proceed to Centanni, this really nice piano bar where a couple of my friends work at.

Before that could happen, we had to pick up a girl that Demetri likes from another bar. While I was in the process of "drunken ninja," Demetri told me to get rid of Hallie so we could go pick up Barbie. Yes, her name is Barbie. I refused. So we began a text battle from 2 feet away. I sat with Rachel and Maj and leftDemetri with Hallie to deal with. Here is a synopsis of the text battle:

Demetri: how do i get rid of her?
Paul: Punch her in the face.
Demetri: She wants to go with us.
Paul: She should, you need the ass.
Demetri: I dont want her to come.
Paul: Lets just leave and see if she notices.
Demetri: I cant do that I work with her.
Paul: Punch her in the neck.
Demetri: I hate you.

It could have gone other ways, but that is what I remember. Anyway, so he somehow got her to leave and we were ready to go. We arrive at this bar where we are supposed to pick up Barbie. She is fall down drunk. So, Demetri says to me, "Sorry to do this to you dude, but we have to take her home."

I said "That's fine, we can drop her off at the condo and go back out."

Demetri then told me that he was going to stay with her. I became very angry at this point, because mybuddy just ditched me for a drunk girl. So in retaliation, I stole his car keys and took off in his Cadillac to go meet up with our friends at Centanni. No less than a minute after I arrive I already have a shot of Grand Marnier waiting for me. Well, we all know how this story goes, one shot turns into two andtwo turns into 15.

So I get a text from Maj askingwhere I was and I responded accordingly. She asked me to meet them at another bar, and I said sure. I meet upwith Maj and their friends and no more than 30 seconds later I was gone. I had no idea what I was doing there and realized I had to return the stolen vehicle. I figured 2am would be a good time.

I get back to the condo and used my cell phone as a flashlight to guide my way through the house. Why I did not turn on the lights is beyond me at this point. I find Demetri sleeping peacefully in his bed and I throw the keys at him as hard as I could at his chest. That got his attention and I proceeded to tell him thathe needed to take me to my car. He agreed and we were in the garage where his car was and he decided to pee on a snowbank outside next to the garage. I thought itwould be funny to push him into the snowbank as he was urinating. Turns out he is a lot heavier than I am.

Well, then I thought he was thristy so I grabbed some gatorade from the garage and threw them at him. He had trouble catching them since he was still peeing. Afterthat I decided I needed to chill out and sober beforeI made my way home. So I had some water and then made it home safely later that morning."

Yeah, he typed all that out in a MySpace message and sent it to my mom. Thanks, mom, for sending it to me! Who thinks Paul should start blogging?! I do, I do!

Anyway, here's Paul with his award...



Doesn't he look so proud? He should be! Now he just has to find a worthy second recipient! I can't wait to see where this thing goes....

Someone who has a good chance of receiving it is Buddha. Met him out randomly on a Sunday night, where we preceeded to make "Brutalities I'm hammered?" a reality.

We were at Vitucci's and a group of them were playing that hunting game. No one was as intense as Buddha, who "likes to kill things."

Check out his stance!



Oh Buddha, I love and heart thee.

Anyway, I think my favorite quote of the night from Buddha was when he said, "I don't really ever lie, unless it is something really bad, like when I called my mom from that jail in Mexico..."

Fiff. Obviously!

Anyway, as we were leaving, we encountered a man who had quotes who would likely top Buddha's. He was a war veteran that I had encountered when we were walking in. He noticed my buttons on my jacket for my breast cancer 3-day walk, and asked me about them.

He then told me that his son, who was quite embarrassed and sitting right next to him, had undergone a heart transplant recently. We talked a bit more, about tame things, and then I went back by our group of friends in the back.

I had not, however, seen the last of this man.

As we were leaving, Buddha was closing his tab, and I went to talk to him so we could walk across the street together and go back to Decibel. Buddha was standing next to this man, so I stood between them.

One thing led to another, and the next thing I know, we are talking about Buddha's ass, which is, for the record, the firmest ass ever. It feels like marble, which is exactly what I told this old man. I encouraged him to grab Buddha's ass, which is something that I do to pretty much everyone who meets Buddha, as it really is a thing of wonder.

Maybe it's from his intense shooting stance? Haha.

Anyway, I thought for sure this guy would be game to grab Buddha's ass, but instead, he took the opportunity to grab mine.

Whaaaaaat???

His son was very intensely embarrassed. He just explained that when presented with choices on whose ass to grab, he'd rather grab mine. So he did. Again.

I was in such shock (I don't know why anything shocks me anymore) that I was pretty much laughing so hard that I was crying and couldn't speak. The guy then said something about how he, Buddha, and I could have a threesome, but that he would hit Buddha over the head.

Yikes! Umm, no thank you?

Then we somehow got back to talking about Buddha's ass, and the old dude finally grabbed it. He was quite impressed, but decided he needed to compare it to mine. Really, dude? Come on!

He said his hand was forever frozen in the shape of my ass, and said something to Buddha about how most girls' asses are "too rotten to fuck" so you have to eat them, or something. He then said something about how he has false teeth, and he can just take them out, and he has like a three-inch tongue or something absurd like that. Says the ladies love it.

Again, I say, "no, thank you!"

Time to go! We bid this man and his very embarrassed son adieu, and went on for more adventures at Decibel's "alternative lifestyles night," where Buddha and I made a few new friends and a pact to get married if we're still single at age 32.

And so began my Spring break....

Tuesday rolled around, and it was time for my mom and I to do some hanging out. The plan was to go to Knuepple (pronounced ka-nipple) and get her a temporary fake tata to hold her over until she has reconstructive surgery, go to lunch at Kewpee's with my grandparents, then go to get her head shaved.

Well, the whole tata plan never came to fruition, as apparently (app a rent ly!), you need to have an appointment, and it is a two-hour process. I guess she's going this Thursday. We'll see how that goes!

So, we had a ton of time. Went to Kewpee's, which was glorious as always. I want that right now, actually!

Decided to use our extra time to go and perhaps find Mamalicious some wigs. In a strange turn of events, the wig store she knew of was closed for Spring Break.

So I texted google (you know I love doing that), and found that there were a few more.

They were either weird (think a man coming to the door in the worst toupe you've ever seen, at a store that makes CUSTOM wigs and also is a gift shop that sells Christmas crap in March), or non-existent. Damn.

So we kinda just drove around randomly. I felt bad, because I was so hung over from the night before, when a ton of the Decibel employees and regulars went to see Nate at Jackalope Lounj and then off to Rain for Paul to get his Monday punch in the head. Bru-tality.

Anyway, my hangover made it difficult for me to stay awake, so my mom was kinda stuck making conversation with my grandparents much of the time.

This was a little interesting, though, as sometimes my grandma says some pretty mind-blowing things. For example, when we were driving past a bridal store in Raycilla, I spotted a NEON lime green (like the intensity and brightness of a tennis ball, but greener) WEDDING DRESS in the window, and I made a comment about how seeing that dress made me want to find a man and get married right away.

Grandma said, "You don't have to get married to be on drugs, you can just come by me."

Right on.

Wait, what?

Love her. I see where we're headed, Mamalicious! Haha.

Anyway, we finally got to the hair salon, and shaved Mom's head.

VIDEO!

Warning, the video is like twelve minutes long, and really not that incredibly excited. I personally hate watching it, because I was doing the filming, and I am the most easily-heard voice and giggle on the video. I hate listening to myself. I hope I don't sound that lame in real life! (Don't tell me if I do.)

Plus, it's not as funny as you might think to watch your mom's head get shaved.

But hey, here's the video!

http://video.google.com/googleplayer.swf?docId=4741383372673306380&hl=en" flashvars="">


And, of course, there are pictures....

In the middle of the thing, she had a mohawk, which I decided was a "momhawk," so I had to take a picture for Paul.



The momhawk didn't last long.

Soon, she was totally bald, and honestly, flyer than ever. Check it out.




Isn't she gorgeous?

Dustin, who made the dictuary (one of many times!) for saying, "Balds have more fun!" was ready right away to welcome Mamalicious into the Bald is Beautiful club.

Mom was ready to go up to Cush and stand between the Jenkins twins and be the middle part of an oreo cookie of baldness. The Jenkins triplets? Haha, hilarious.

Seriously, though, I think she looks great. Her head is shaped so well for it! I would worry I would look like a conehead or something, but I think she looks amazing.

She decided that she'd rock a blue wig when we left, and here's what she looked like in that....

Cute, right?

And here she is with my grandma and I . Three generations!

Glorious.

Anyway, before I close out this long (as usual) and random (also pretty customary) blog, I will leave you with another video.

It is my public service announcement, and it is all factual, I assure you.

NYE2k8

Alright, so this has a little Christmas in it, too.... One picture.

It's my cousin April, aunt Laura, Mamalicious, and I.... Doing a Christmas shot of 1800....



I swear to you that I am not pregnant.... It's the shirt that makes me look that way, probably coupled with the awkward way I am standing. If I was pregnant, I definitely wouldn't be consuming Tequila, especially since it would pretty much be an immaculate conception! Wouldn't want to kill whatever miracle kid would be growing inside me. Anyway, this is getting off-track and terrifying! On to New Year's Eve....

Although, I should probably comment a bit on Mamalicious' visit, which was the Thursday in between Christmas and NYE.

First we went to Fred and Red Heel's Thursday night soiree thing.... You know the last Thursday of the month, where they have wine and martini night. It was fun. Had a glass of wine and bought some thingies to put into my black heels (the ones with the closed back, in case you keep track) so that they fit better.... I wear them so much, they stretched out a bit.

Next stop was VI Degrees, where I likely had my last Randy Watson. Nate, Lindsay and Fred are no longer affiliated, so I see no reason why to go all the way over there and then to drive all the way to North Ave for the rest of our Thursday night. Sad! Oh well. We'll survive (and probably better off, haha). Anyway, I had my last Randy, and we moved on.... Met up with LL at Vitucci's.

We had our obligatory shot of Uncle Pat Ron, and then went to Cush.

At Cush, we did some shots.... Had a couple drinks. I learned how to play that elusive and absurd bar dice game that has been the end of me on numerous occasions, including but not limited to the wifebeater bar crawl!

Then on to Decibel. O.D. was there and provided tons of dictuary material. I guess at some point I had better blog and explain the dictuary, eh? That will go on my list right when I am done with this one!

Anyway, a couple of martinis later, and we were at Ma Fischer's, where of course we ran into Rob Villanueva (he is at Ma's every time my mom comes!) and a man who claimed he was also Rob Villanueva, and that there are 4 Rob Villanuevas. Absurd.

The next day was an enormous struggle. Reverse eating and everything. WAY worse than New Year's Day. Who gets in worse shape on a random Thursday with her mom than on NYE? Brutal. I guess I do!

Speaking of NYE..... This blog is going to be similar to the St. Patrick's Day one from last year. I guess that's what happens when you have more pictures than memories.

Ugh! I don't know why it made that a link, too! Lame.

Anyway, it was my New Year's resolution this year to take more pictures, and to blog more. That first one is going to be a little bit of a challenge for now, which I will get to, but hopefully I will be able to pull it and blog a couple times a week. That'll sure make Mamalicious happy!

So of course we went to Decibel for our celebration. I don't really know who I was kidding when I was considering celebrating elsewhere. Ah well. I don't think anyone believed I'd be anywhere else, to be honest!

By the way, as we go along, the photos are going to get progressively less attractive. Why don't you go ahead and grab a bottle of your favorite spirit (haha) and imbibe a shot or two every couple pictures. Then you'll have your beer (or non-beer, if you are like me) goggles, and we'll look glorious. Sound like a plan? Good deal!

Shortly after our arrival and part of the hello tour, but not before getting our drinks, of course (I'm having a water.... <---LIE!), we had Geno take a picture of the three of us. We wanted to capture ourselves before the shit hit the fan and we looked like we went through hell and back. Here it is!



Soon after, we ran into Katie. Funny thing about Katie is that whenever we actually make an effort to hang out (aside from being in fashion shows together), it doesn't work. We pretty much only hang out when we randomly run into each other, and of course this happened on New Year's Eve.




Isn't she gorgeous? People who wear red dresses on NYE know what's up.

And of course, there was the necessity of the obligatory roommate picture. It would be full-lenght, if I wasn't so damn tall. I guess that's what happens when you are 6'11".



Keep in mind that I had both my New Year's Resolution in mind, as well as the fact that I knew that I was going to get less attractive as the night wore on. HAD to take a buttload of pictures right away! Plus, we've never taken a picture with Trey. So we did!

Soon after the pic with Trey, the clock struck twelve. We did the champagne toast, but not until after the good luck kiss at midnight.... Wouldn't want to have bad luck in 2007!

A few minutes before midnight, I decided that it would be best for Danielle, LL, and I to just all kiss each other. It was determined that we did not need vultures, and that they may swoop in and swoop out, but us three would always have each other. So we did a triple kiss.

I know. Hot! Haha.

Then, of course, we did the champagne.

Now. First of all, I want you to note my girls double fisting. That's why they're my girls!

Second, I want you to look at the champagne flutes. One might think that Danielle, who is one of the littlest adults I know, was given a smaller dose (dose? Really?) of champagne.

But then, of course, one would be wrong. We all had evenly full glasses. Danielle just happened to pound three quarters of a glass as though it were a shot. Well done, my love!

So then we got restless on the Decibel side and decided to go over to Deep Bar, where we ran into one of our favorite people to walk the earth, Dustin.

Here we are!

And of course, LL needed to get in on the action with our #1 glove!

Awww.

Also on the Deep Bar side was my fiance, Arinze.

Now, the reason he became my fiance is because of his amazing hugs (haha). Although he did withhold them from me at first, he did not disappoint.

Looks like I'm wearing a giant Badger sweatshirt or something! Haha.

And here we are again....

And, still on the Deep Bar side, I had to get a picture with JC... (It's all starting to get fuzzy here. Not very clear memories!)

I absolutely LOVE our expressions. Goofasses!

Back over to Decibel side, and Danielle says she is not drunk. Well, LL and I are. F. I think I am two shots ahead of Danielle (one of Pat Ron from Dustin, who was celebrating his golden birthday, and one from D'Araun - aka D'Arachnid - while we were waiting for drinks. LL was the shot of D'Arachnid up). So, I thought Danielle should do two shots to our one, to even things up. She said she wanted to let go and have fun on New Year's Eve!

We went to see Shawn, and order shots. Thought I'd include the lovely bar staff who served us so well the second half of 2007, which meant that I should probably be getting Rumple Mintz. That is what Shawn likes!

Maybe a little too much.... Haha.

This next one....

Well, like I said, a little fuzzy. It's hard to say. Maybe Danielle right after the second shot? Who knows what I was trying to get there. Fiff.

There are few people (aside from employees) who spend as much time at Decibel as we do. One of said individuals is Amber. So we took a picture with her!

LOVE her dress! Don't know where her partner in crime, Erin, is. Hmm!

Must've decided I wasn't taking enough pictures, because here's one of LL and Danielle! Yes yes, I am the lucky lady who got to kiss these babes at midnight. Holla!

And then another one with Danielle and Arinze. She seems a little scared of him. Or maybe she's scared of the girl over her shoulder?

Funny thing is, Arinze looks hammered in that picture, but ol' boy doesn't drink. Absurdity.

I guess at some point, we saw Kenny. Neither Kenny, nor I, recollect the below picture being taken.

But there I am, doing that weird thing with my hand again. It was last seen on my birthday, in the pictures with Curti and Broseph.... I wish I had an explanation. I don't.

Speaking of not having an explanation... What in hell is going on right there? Hmmm....

At risk of sounding really creepy, for some reason, whenever I get a few cocktails in me, I molest CL Seth. He's only 18!!! He could've been in my classes. CREEPY. Anyway. Here we are. Oh, and by "molest" I really only mean rub the top of his head, because he buzzes it, and it feels cool.

And I guess on NYE, it also meant to grab his tie for a picture. I swear that's all that ever happens, though! I'm pretty sure I've never even grabbed his butt, and I have a propensity for butt-grabbing! And boy, oh boy, do I look good there? Good, as well as sober. Fiff. Poor CL Seth.

And then we saw Ell. Well, at least it seems as though we did, since there are pictures of us with him. And by "pictures," I mean "one picture," since that is all there actually is.

I am not really sure if what I am doing to him is a reprise of the tie-grabbing with Seth, or if it is an extension of that weird aforementioned hand thing I do, projected onto an innocent bystander. Who knows? "Not I," said the fly.

And of course, the last picture taken on my camera that night (and for awhile) is of my partner in crime, LL, and I.

Lookin' good!

Now, of course, at such a fly place on such a fly night, there's going to be a bit of media coverage. Evidently, both Milwaukee Scene and Milwaukee Nights were there, as well as several other hots spots throughout the city. It was nice to be able to check out what other people I knew were doing.

Anyway, the funny thing about the whole deal with those website people being there, is that I remember talking to the Milwaukee Scene guy, because we had met a few times before.... I knew he was Josh, couldn't remember which site he was from, and figured I'd be able to tell by looking at the pictures.

The Milwaukee Nights ones were up first.... I looked, and there were pictures of us. BUT, the catch is, they weren't as I remembered the ones from that guy Josh taking. So confusing!

Then I checked Milwaukee Scene, and there we were!

So... This one, we remember...

The ones below, however, we do not. What?

I think I actually was introduced to the Milwaukee Nights dude at Cush one time, but I am not positive. I get introduced to a lot of people at that place that will never remember me, and that I likely won't remember. Especially not coming out on NYE.

Anyway, we decided that we were going to go home a bit, nap, then come back for the Decibel after party thing at 5am. We have no idea at what time we made this decision. Word on the street is that we left my tab open, since we were coming back, and went to Ma's.

Next thing I know, we're all on LL's couch. I keep saying "Chi Hua Hua," asking for eye drops, and talking about how my mouth tastes like garbage.

I can't wait to see the pictures from the night before, but to my dismay, my camera will not turn on.

Brutality!

I hand it over to LL, who uses her technological prowess to determine that the issue lies in the fact that my camera lacks a battery.

What?

What in hell happened to my battery?

We may never know.

Who loses just the battery to her camera?

That'd be me.

Hopefully, that is all that the issue is. My new battery should be on its way, as I already ordered it (I am determined to stick to this New Year's Resolution like I have the one that made me decide years ago that I don't turn down shots, ever). I am a little nervous that something else happened and that the only issue isn't the lost battery, but we shall see soon!

Alright, that about covers New Year's Eve, and my first blog of 2008. I still have to finish that one I started on 12/07/07. I am determined to do such things before 01/07/08!

Happy New Year!

OH! And by the way.... Now that it is after midnight (which makes it technically January 5th, although I am of the belief that the date doesn't change until I wake up on the new day), it is officially Vulture Day! Ok, it's actually Bird Day. But come on... Same shit, different pile. If it has wings and isn't an angel or butterfly, it's a damn vulture!

Sneaky Vulture Tricks, Volume III

I'd like to start this blog out with one of my new favorite quotes.... It's from the Raccoon Whisperer, about me.

"The notion that someone could keep you in line is absurd. They'll find bigfoot first."

Love it. I think I need a t-shirt that says that.

Anyway.

Apparently, I have no blogged in awhile. The other morning, I got an email from my mom that said "Good morning. November 24th, Really? Love, Mom."

The next day, I got a gchat message from the Prince that said "I know I've been slacking on emailing, but I also noticed that you've been slacking on blogging."

Bru-tal. If the prince and my mom are demanding blogging, I suppose I had better get to it!

That said, it has been a long time since I've touched upon the topic of vultures.

Firstly, I'd like to share that there is a new species in town. Not exactly in the bird fam, but a parasite nonetheless.

I'm talking about cockroaches.

Cockroaches are individuals that scurry about in odd and frenetic manners. Of course, this was written with a certain individual in mind, but since his status as a cockroach was discovered, we've noticed cockroach-like tendencies in other individuals.

If you haven't already, you really need to read Sneaky Vulture Tricks Volume I and Sneaky Vulture Tricks Volume II.

The worst type of vulture, the velociraptor, or king of the vultures, is even worse if he has cockroach blood in him. That makes him much more likely to partake in the first vulture trick on the list.

Anyway, there is something that will soon be in my repertoire, and I can almost not wait for it to flourish. That is the VV or vulture violation. Vultures will be given citations for using the sneaky tricks. It's still in development. I am looking forward to handing the first one out, and I think I know who will get it!

Swoop swoop.

I also want to remind my readership that when a good-intentioned man does these things (well, before most of volume 3.... volume 3 is pretty much pure heinosity), it's glorious. But when a vulture does them, it is straight shitttttaaaay!

Without further ado....

22. Being cute, nice, or friendly to our friends. "Oh, I am in love with your friend, make sure you take care of her." Shut up. You are not. You are a fricking vulture. Don't use my friends to get me to fall helplessly prey to your damn charms? Get out of my father's Lexus (my father does not have a Lexus, but one time whilst shopping, LL heard an interesting man say "get out of my father's Lexus" to another guy in a story about failing his driver's test. Hi-larious. Had to steal it.).

Numbers 23-25 are all in a separate sub-category I like to call "secret women."

23. Having a girlfriend. What in hell? If you have a girlfriend, why are you talking to me? Are you so amazing and so much to handle that you have to have more than one woman? I doubt it. If you want me, get rid of her first. I shouldn't have people giving me shirts that say "I'm his mistress" because of the way that I've been attracting boys with girlfriends almost exclusively for over a year. What in hell, I say again, what in hell?

***Note added 5-7-09****

This has been SO prevalent, that I have been given TWO shirts to commemorate this - one that says "I'm his Mistress" and another that says "Tell Your Boyfriend to Stop Texting Me." Lawd.

Ok, back to the old blog!

*************************

24. Having a wife. This one isn't anything I can speak of from personal experience, but I have friends who can. See #23, but someone should also slap you, douchebag.

25. Having secret children... Having children is fine, but why not be proud? That's cute. Unless you are just pretending, and doing that whole sneaky vulture trick from volume one, like with being good with kids or animals. I should not know you for several months and then find out you have a litter somewhere, that I still know just about nothing about. Fiff. I suppose things could be worse. This isn't that bad, just bizarre. I wanted a round number, which isn't very normal for the girl who sets her alarm and microwave clocks for times like 6:41 or 2:32 and so on. I hate round numbers! Ah well.

So that's that. Been a little sick lately, but am getting over it, I think.

Was in a couple fashion shows a couple weeks ago.... You can see pictures on www.myspace.com/milwaukeestreet in the slideshow for "Fred/Red Heel Fashion Show." There are also pictures from the one I was in the next night, which you can see on www.themilwaukeescene.com, if you go to Gallery and then to "NEWD one-year Anniversary/MOCT" or something like that. Good times. I was hammmmmmmered. Part of the payment for the show was a free bar tab. Dangerous! I ended up trying to steal a male model's shirt from off of his body, in front of his parents. I then ran into him a week later at Nad's birthday party, and didn't recognize him, and was a little surprised when he proposed, told me he loved me and was infatuated with me, and then invited me both to Christmas with his family, as well as on a roadtrip to Florida. Hmmm.... Brut brut!

P.S. He was smart. He asked if I was married, and if I had children. Why don't my friends and I do that??

Well, I think I am going to go back to watching Coming to America now. Had to get into the Randy Watson spirit, since tomorrow is Thursday!

Still trying to think of where we wanna go on NYE. I want a kiss at midnight! Fiff. Any vultures free? Ah-ah-ah-ah.

I'll try to blog again soon.... I started one on Ousmane's birthday (Dec. 7th) but have yet to finish it.

Who does that?

Mama Seuss has e-mailed me and called me to inform that today marks one month since my last blog. I feel like it's confessional or something.... Although since I am not Catholic, I can't say that I really know what that's like. I feel like on TV and movies, the people say "somethin' somethin' somethin', and it's been ____ (length of time) since my last confessional."

Well, it's been one month since my last blog. I know, bru-tal. But let me tell you, it is difficult to blog when you have no job other than modeling and you have to go out to the bars every single night. Please take a couple minutes to feel sorry for me because of the brutal summer I've endured.

Ok, sympathy time over.

My motto for the summer, I think, has been, "Who does that?"

The response every time?

"I do."

That's right.

A couple weeks ago, I went to Vegas for the Lingerie Americas tradeshow.

A couple weeks before that, I was in NYC for the same show.... Here are a couple pictures from that trip that I took with a model who goes by "Acie." No, I am not naked. The photographer shopped off my strap.

Anyway, Vegas was absurd. I only gambled $1, and it wasn't even by choice.

Who goes to Vegas and only puts $1 in a slot machine? WHO DOES THAT?

I do, bitches!

Most of the time that I was there was spent working in the tradeshow. I know it sounds easy, but standing around in lingerie in a freezing cold ballroom is pretty tough, especially when you're only accustomed to sleeping late and laying around.

Getting to Vegas was a little brut. My flight was taking off at 6am on a Saturday morning. I decided the best plan of attack (P of A, if you will, and I know you will!) was to go to Decibel (obviously) and then to leave straight from there to go to O'Hare. Dustin even said I could put my luggage in the office. How sweet, right?!

Original plan was for me to stay sober and drive myself, but it ended up that my sweet lil roommate had to go to IL for a wedding anyway, so she stayed home whilst I got hammered with LL and her roommate Joee. Danielle then picked me up at about 3:30 and we made our way down to O'Hare.

I was a little nervous because I was totally hammered. I remembered kinda talking to Buddha on the phone during the trip. I also remember being upset because when Danielle picked me up, I asked her to take me to McDonald's to get a three cheeseburger meal, and they were only serving breakfast at that time. Bru-tality.

I changed clothes in Danielle's front seat, so as to not be on the plane looking like I was going out to Vegas to start a career as a prostitute. I didn't want to be the girl in the mini skirt on the 6am flight. At least not that day! Somehow in this shuffle, I left one of my favorite shoes in Danielle's car, so when I got to Vegas, it was minus a stiletto.

Tried to go to the McDonald's in O'Hare, but the same breakfast-only struggle was in full effect. I decided that I Should eat anyway, to avoid hangover, so I got a cinnamon roll. I couldn't even enjoy it, because it wasn't a cheeseburger.

I love cheeseburgers. The only person I know that loves cheeseburgers more than me is Lers. She even has a tshirt that says "I <3>

Lers responded, "Yes, I am making a statement. The statement is, 'if you have a cheeseburger, hand it over.'"

Goodness gracious, I love that girl. Even more than I love cheeseburgers. Haha.

Anyway, back to the story.... I was so nervous at the airport. Paranoid. I was confessing to the woman in line in front of me for security that I was very very drunk. Heehee.

Once I got on the plane, I was out, which was a miracle, because I think I was sitting in the middle. Or maybe the aisle? Who knows. I just know I didn't have anything to lean on.

Woke up, got off the plane, and was still drunk. It was like 9am Vegas time, 11am Milwaukee time.

I called my traveling companions, who were driving in from Wisconsin, and they said they were an hour away, which I know really means three hours away. So I decided to sit in the airport awhile, since I figured that that would be the place I would look most normal sitting around with a lime green suitcase.

I talked on the phone for awhile, and then got bored with the airport.

At this point, I would kill a man for a cheeseburger.

Not a lie.

Anyway, I take a shuttle over to the Venetian, and sit around there on the phone, waiting more for my traveling companions. I don't think I ever got a cheeseburger the whole time I was in Vegas, but I did when I got back!

Most of the rest of the time in Vegas was pretty uneventful. Went out for some nice dinners, did a moderate amount of drinking.... Tradeshow a lot....

Then came the last night.

First on the agenda after we took down the tradeshow stuff was to go to a couple other tradeshows, such as the Storerotica show. This is just like it sounds. It is a tradeshow where exhibitors present their products to adult stores.

That started off with us getting free samples of a very genius product, which was a margarita popsicle which contained tequila. Yum yum! We then were offered other interesting samples, such as samples of organic lube (apparently a recipe that is over 100 years old - wahoo!), and pens advertising different companies such as twisted cherry. We were even given capsules, which were apparently supposed to enhance mood, energy level, and sexual performance. I don't know about you, but I am not the type of girl to just take any random pills that some chick in a corset and thong hands over to you, even if said pills are a pretty purple color that perfectly matches the chick's corset (haha).

There were some interesting people at such a convention, including (but not limited to) prostitutes, porn stars and no shortage of dirty old men. Perfect!

Downstairs from this classy event was the "Gentleman's Club Owner Convention." There were some classy individuals wandering around for that, too, as I am sure you can imagine. And apparently, later, Ron Jeremy was supposed to be handing out some kind of awards for exotic dancers or something. What an honor!

After these fun situations, we decided we were famished. So a big group of us went together to a buffet, which was glorious. MmmmMmmmm. I ate a lot. That's all there really needs to be said about that, haha.

Then we decided we were going to have a drink or two, after a little gambling. I decided instead to socialize with my traveling companions, as it were, so I sat in front of a slot machine without really gambling, until one of my friends told me to put a dollar in. I wasn't feeling that machine, so I knew it wasn't going to go well. It didn't. Oh well, only $1! And, I'll have you know, the only dollar I gambled. Or at least I am pretty sure that that was all I gambled.

Oh well. From there, it was time to go and have a few drinks. It was at this point that I introduced a few people to one of my drinks of choice, which was a vanilla vodka and Sprite. YUM! They loved it. We had several.

Then I joked about how it was time for shots.... JOKED! Well, that wasn't a joke long, and soon there was my crazy Uncle Pat Ron, who always comes around and makes things a little crazy. This time was no exception.

Here's a snapshot of the carnage..... Mind you, this is four adults drinking.

After all that, we decided to part ways to our hotel rooms. It was about 2am. So I quickly packed up my neon lime green rolling suitcase (which is small enough to be a carry-on), and changed from a "going out" shirt to an "I <3>

So I bid my traveling companions adieu and went downstairs to the casino, mind on gambling.

Well, apparently, I didn't get the memo that says if you walk around Vegas in a denim mini skirt and "I <3>

The next thing I knew, I was in Denver.

Not a lie.

One minute I am in the casino, thanking some random dude for a shot of Patron, and the next minute I am waking up on a plane in Denver.

At this point, I have no idea how I got to the airport (my wallet was not missing any money at all). I have no idea how I got my ticket (I hadn't checked in online or printed out a boarding pass or anything) or made it through security, especially since my mom had warned me "not to get too fucked up" or, according to her, they wouldn't let me on the plane.

I'm ok with being in Denver, because that is where my layover was. I had done something right.

I had also done something wrong, though.

My purple velour track suit jacket was on, which was cool. Pants were on, too, but they were hanging around my neck the way Alex P. Keaton wore his sweaters.... Hot! (I feel the need to mention that I did have a skirt on. Haha)

This was not the worst part.

I had no luggage!

I vaguely remembered realizing earlier that I didn't have luggage at some point, but then convincing myself at the time that I must've checked it.

I didn't think "What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas" applied to my damn luggage!

So, I asked an airport employee (who was very helpful, and also a bastard) and he called the Vegas airport as well as my hotel and checked the plane and such. No luck. He put me on a later flight to Chicago, and I called my mom to tell her what had happened.

At this point, it's like 9am, and I am still drunk. Again. Just like the way out there.

So I call my mom and tell her that she has to pick me up a little later. I also explain the struggle, which she doesn't really react to on the phone. She tells me she'll get me.

So then I put my pants on like a normal person and put the skirt in my purse, and get on my flight.

Flyin' first class, thanks to the guy who switched my flight. Nice, except I was drunk and upset, so I didn't get to fully enjoy it. Slept almost the entire time, with the exception only to eat a chicken caesar salad, which was pretty good.

Got to Chicago, and the flight attendant or pilot or whoever she was that was sitting next to me says, "wow, you slept a lot!"

All I could muster is that I was really tired.

So I get to the airport, and get a hug from my mom, who starts gushing about how she's so proud of me, because I must've had such a good time the night before.

Only my mom, seriously!

Finding our car had a couple obstacles, but nothing insurmountable.

When we got to the car, my mom had two sirloin tip burritos from Tacos El Ray waiting for me. The best thing about Racine aside from my fam and friends is definitely the food. Tacos El Ray is completely amazing.

She knew I needed a bit of cheering up, so she got me a burrito to eat right away (took me like three sittings, because when I am hung over, I am never hungry!), and a burrito for later. Awesome!

And, like only my mom can, she was cracking me up with ridiculous jokes about the situation, such as....

"At least you don't have to unpack. Unpacking is the worst part of vacation anyway."

"At least I don't have to help you carry anything upstairs."

"I'm forever the optimist. My suitcase is always full, I just don't know where the fuck it is."

Hahahahahahha. She is hilarious.

Anyway, the story's not over. The day following my return, I set out to call cab companies. The fourth one I called had my bag. Apparently, I just got out of the cab and bothered neither to pay, nor bring my luggage with me. Sweet.

A photographer that I know was still in Vegas at the time, so he went and took care of it. My bag is supposedly en route. I haven't gotten it yet, though. I can't wait!

I'm currently struggling, because there are a lot of important things that I use frequently in the bag, like my flatiron, my makeup (I've been using my reject makeup), my curling irons, some jewelery, cute clothes, and one of my favorite shoes (the other one is in my bedroom, since I left it in Danielle's car).

Can't complain too much, though, because I feel like the luckiest person in the United States for just being able to locate such luggage. It sucked that I had to pay $25 in addition to the $17 cab fare to get it shipped to me, but I'll take it.

Alright. I promise the next blog will be much sooner.

Oh! And this Saturday, I am going on a wifebeater bar crawl. The temptation is great to wear my "I <3>

3 score and one year ago today....

....there was born a legend. That's right, bitches, it's Danny Glover's birthday again today!

(Read this {or paste this link: http://brutbrut.blogspot.com/2007/01/danny-glover-legend.html} to know why this is so important!)

Last Sunday when I was on the phone with my mom, she said to me, "Mandie, do you know what today's date is?"

Me: "July 15th?" (The only reason I knew the date is because I had been looking forward to this party for awhile.... The rest of the summer, I barely know what DAY it is, much less the date! Haha.)

Mom: It's been TWELVE DAYS!

Then, five days later, we're on the phone again....

Mom: It has been seventeen days, Mandie. I am getting really sick of clicking on your blog every morning and seeing that stupid Wisconsin Barbie thing. Your blog's like visual crack for me, I need more!

Me: Well, Mom, I have been really busy! And when I've been home, I've been tired and lame, like if I would write about it, I wouldn't even be funny!

Mom: Well, you need to just get liquored up and get to blogging!

Oh Mom, you crack me up.

I wasn't lying, though. I have been really busy.... I've gone out a ton of days in a row. I think something like 12 of the last 15 days. And when I say, "go out," I don't mean have one cocktail and get home by eleven. In almost every case, it involves staying out unti after bar close, and then doing something afterward, usually involving food (be it S'Mores, or grilled cheese...)

I also have been getting a lot of modeling work, which is good, too, because it enables me to not be homeless. Hurray for non-homelessness!

Tonight, though, was an exception. I was supposed to go to a friend's birthday party at Decibel, but that ended up being a no-go. I was also supposed to go to some party on top of the South Tower on Yankee Hill. And, I was invited by a friend whose blog I read, and who reads mine, to go out and finally meet in person, but that wasn't happening either. I had invited Cari to come up and hang out, but get this..... She declined, so that she could stay home and read Harry Potter. Whaaaaat????

Speaking of, this video is pretty funny. Check it out, and pass it around if you agree!

Oh, and if you watch it, tell me if you think the main actor's cute. H-Pitty, if you will. I can't decide.

Anyway, I was too tired to go out. I intended to blog about a few of the things that are on my list (a couple weddings, Favio's party perhaps, this past Tuesday, maybe this past Thursday, or LL's recent absurdity, Summerfest/Danielle's birthday.... The list goes on....), but I am going to make another post in honor of Mr. Glover, and the celebrations.

Today has been a glorious day over the years, because MANY greats were born on it.

July 22nd....

Bob Dole is first in our lineup. I think this picture says it all....

Yeah, so Bob Dole is now officially old. Oh wait, that's been the case for a long time.... Oh well, bru-tal!

Also turning old today is America's favorite game show host (I am not actually sure if America has a favorite game show host, but oh well.), Alex Trebek, who is shown below with Sean Connery.

Wait, F! That's not Alex Trebek! It's Will Ferrell. For the record, Will Ferrell is WAY FUNNIER than Alex Trebek. Oh well, happy birthday to the real Trebek anyway!

Here's a shot of Trebek and Bucky!

Does that make them "Trebuck" together?

And, well, once I saw this picture, there was no way I was able to pass up posting it. I mean, really?

Wow. I'm pretty close to speechless. I mean, I'm not one to make fun of people....

Oh wait. YES I AM!

This picture pretty much almost makes fun of itself, though. What in hell is Alex Trebek doing topless? Bru-tal. I mean, really, Alex? Come on. But ladies, when we're honest, we'll admit that this picture could be a poster promoting the advantages of human cloning (Oh, if we could all have our own Trebek's!) or that it could have a tag on it that reads "To: Women, From: God."

Anyway, I also learned that Mr. Trebek and Pamela Anderson are two of Canadia's (That's right, I wrote "Canadia." And I teach Geography to children. So?) most famous people. What a pair!

Then we have Don Henley of Eagles fame.... His hair speaks for itself....

And next we have Willem Dafoe. I have nothing to say about him, other than that he's one goofy-lookin'-ass bastard!

I don't know about you, but I'm pretty much terrified....

Definitely can't write a list of July 22nd birthday VIP's without including the wonderful David Spade. Can we say Tommy Boy? Holla! Amazing!

And to round out our honorable mention of birthdays, we have Rufus Wainwright. Oddly enough, I was pretty displeased with the photo selection that I could find, and wanted to put on my fave RW song... "Instant Pleasure." It's catchy, damnit. What I found was this video on YouTube that combined the song with two things I have spent many an hour enjoying - Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and drinking. The video is actually clips of people drinking on Buffy, with Instant Pleasure playing in the background. How weird is that? Anyway.... That concludes the honorable mention, although with the toplessness and heinous hair, I am not entirely sure that I can really call it "honorable." Oh well.

And to the main event. Danny Glover!!!!

Insanely enough, I was hard pressed to find any incriminating or absurd pictures of Mr. Glover, and I am not just saying that because he has become one of my heroes. They literally do not exist, or are hard to find, which is fine with me. But just above here is the picture that is still hanging gloriously in our living room. DG's smiling face, watching over us in our apartment.

But, if you want to laugh for hours (or at least somewhere around two hours), go and purchase the movie Pure Luck. It's comedic gold. I saw it in the theatre with my mom, and we cracked up forever. I need to get that on DVD, because I don't know how long the VHS' are going to hold up! Yikes!

Sigh.

I will never forget the morning after the Danny Glover night, last year, when Meams came home and I could hear her from Lers' bedroom, and she said, "Why is there a huge fucking poster of Danny Glover in here? Nevermind.... Mandie's here, I won't even ask."

And she had only known me about a month. Ha!

Anyway, I have to go to bed.... I have some celebrating to do! LL and I (and Danielle, depending on when she gets home and what she has going on/how much energy she has!) are going to hit up Red Light for the celebration of all of these birthdays, but mainly Danny's. Also, I am going to try to see if I can get another blog posted before we go out!

Any shot suggestions? I don't know what would fit who.... Brut brut!

Stay classy, Milwaukee!

From "Dying-of-Starvation Diva" to a Living Blonde Version of Rodin's "the Thinker" in a matter of hours, plus today's absurdity....

***Warning. This is going to be long as a mo-fo, but probably worth the read.... Maybe you should break it up into sessions?****

Really life? Why do you play such games? I mean, seriously. The last 36ish hours have been completely absurd.

We'll start out with a bit of awesomeness. My good friend LL surprised me by telling me that she was going to pick me up yesterday (Monday) at 7, and that I should wear my new dress. I had no idea what to expect, apart from amazingness.

So I get ready, and LL comes and picks up D and I. There is a "Happy Graduation" balloon in the car that actually says "ConGRADulations" on it. LL was right. This did piss me off, as it did her. She and I share a love for correct grammar, and have similar pet peeves of the grammatical nature. It was still funny, though. In addition to my adorable and wonderful roommate, there was a cake in the backseat for the occasion as well, and a couple awesome presents, too!

So we're celebrating my graduation, (yes, I graduated in 2005), and she informs me that she is taking me to Coquette Cafe, which is a nice French restaurant in the third ward. Awesome.

We pull up to the curb, and I open the door. As "luck" would have it, we are parked next to a large sewer grate. My new dress is made of silk (fake silk, I think, actually). I start to move to stand, and of course, my keys sliiiiiiiiiiiiiide right off my dress, and onto the sewer grate, where they hesitate momentarily and then fall to their death in the sewer of Milwaukee.

Brut.

This is especially brut since I have electronic keys to my apartment building which I had to pay a deposit of something like three hundred and seventy nine thousand dollars to secure. Fan-flipping-tastic.

It's cool though.... I am trying not to be too upset, although I was halfway into panic mode, since I do not have a real, steady job this summer.... Did I already ask y'all if you have any odd side jobs for me to do? Haha. Anyway, it's not too hard to keep happy, though, because I am just basking in the glory of thinking how awesome LL and Danielle are for doing such things for me with the celebration and what-not. Plus, I am usually pretty laid back and hard to upset, and I didn't think the situation was over.

We get inside and the server came over and introduced herself.

So I says to her, I says (haha, that's a ridiculous way to tell a story, but I like it!) "Let's just say, hypothetically, that you knew someone who dropped her keys into the sewer. What would you do? And do you think this friend would get her keys back?"

She answered without cracking a smile that she would call the department of public works, but that she would guess that her keys were probably "toast."

Brut.

Anyway, we get our meals..... Mmmm.... I am enjoying a nice glass of Cabernet Sauvignon, which (for the record) is my favorite type of wine, and eating some delicious Coq au Vin. Yummy!

There was a group of really adorable old people at the table next to us, including (but not limited to) a man wearing a blue and white striped (think tiny stripes, like a railroad conductor's uniform, only a lighter blue) sport coat and red bowtie. I don't really know why I am including the detail about the old people, but I enjoyed them and listening to the parts of their conversations when they weren't talking about who's all recently died.

Another fun detail is that in the beginning of dinner, I looked out the window to see a freaking woman dressed as a bumble bee standing on the street.... It made more sense, although only a little more sense, when we noted that the Fred Astaire Dance Studio was right there, and that she was with them.... There were all types of characters dancing around in there, such as supergirl, pippy longstocking, and a man with a turtle shell. I have no idea why they were dressed in such a "fashion," but they seemed like they were having a lot of fun. They also seemed like they were doing completely different dances to completely different songs all in one large room, but hey, you do what you gotta do, I guess!

Dinner's over, and we go back to our apartment. We decide we are going to go out, and the place to apparently go on Monday's in Milwaukee is Rain. Rain is a club, which I've been to once with Troy (who is going to get his own special blog entry sometime soon, because he is absurd and has caused some absurdity in my life), and it was ridiculous. It opens at nine, which was about what time we were done with dinner, but we didn't exactly want to be the first people in the place, because that is just awkward in a nightclub. We decide to play a game called "What the Fuck?" which Danielle got me for a birthday present or some other present, and that entertained us for quite some time. Meanwhile, a torrential downpour commences outside, and I keep imagining the sewers filling higher and higher with rainwater, and my keys floating down to Chicago or something heinous like that.

We decide once we've grown tired of "What the Fuck?" that we are going to just call it a night, because there is a Biblical rainstorm taking place outside, Danielle has a lot of work to do, LL has summer school in the morning, and well.... We are just not that hardcore or pumped about Rain.

So I wrote last night's blog, and went to bed.

Got up in the morning at the crack of ten am, and called the department of public works. They told me that some sewer magicians would meet me at the sewer to see about getting my keys out of the drain. Wow! I didn't think that such a thing was even a possibility.

So Danielle gives me my extra key to my car and the remote for our parking gate, and I venture back to the scene of the incident. The men come, and determine that I will be considered an extremely lucky woman if my keys are there after the rainstorm last night, but that we'll give it a whirl. They remove the grate and get a big, apparently powerful, magnet on a rope and swing it around down in the drain....

We make small talk for a bit whilst they "fish" for my keys. They are incredibly nice gentlemen. Then, all of the sudden..... Something comes up.

The man says "Did you happen to also lose altoids?"

Damn. Nope! And if I did, and they were in the sewer, I don't think I'd really like them!

More small talk.

JACKPOT! My keys! The men basically tell me that I am the luckiest person in the United States. We'll see.... If I am truly the the luckiest person in the United States, the electronic keys will work. I'm not quite ready to try them yet, due to the fact that my keys are now wrapped in a napkin, and sitting inside my cup from my McDonald's that I ordered the other day.

But when I get home, I discover that all of my keys work, and I feel awesome. Exceptionally amazing.

So then I work out and eat, and post workout and meal, my phone rings. It's an "847" number, which means Chicago. I secretly hope it is my agent at Ford calling with work for me, but when I google the number, I get nothing. I wait a bit, and there is a message.

The message is to the effect of the caller being some dude named Alfredo, who got my number from one of our "mutual friends" at the WAC (Meams used to work there, and many of my friends do work out there, so it could be several different people, but none of whom I would expect to give my number out to randoms). He apparently also does some modeling on the side, and said that our "mutual friend" sent me a picture of him (I had not received any pictures of anyone). I was very confused. I mulled it over for a bit, called Meams, and went off to donate blood.

Now, this is always an ordeal for various reasons, but nothing big (unless you're talking height). Today was no exception. The last time I tried to donate, at the blood drive, they didn't accept me because my iron was too low. This time, it was higher than it had ever been, which I considered a personal success, because I had obviously been working to raise it by eating foods high in iron, so that I could successfully "give life" again. Go me!

So the technician is talking about how I have wonderful veins, and all of the sudden she's like, wow, they're really good, you just sprayed me!

I look, and sure enough (or sho' 'nuff, if you'd rather), there is blood all over the arm of the chair, and her glove. Brut.

The rest of the donation goes off without issue, and she informs me that it's brat day (only in Wisconsin, I am sure) and that all people who donate blood on Tuesdays get brats. She asks if I would like one, and I decline, since I had eaten just before I arrived, and because the blood center always has Pain Chocolat, which was one of my favorite things about Paris and Toulouse. I get over to the food area, and there is no pain chocolat, so I tell her I will have a brat instead. And then she asks if I want any chips, and she gives me cheetos, and a diet coke.

I asked her if she could give me information on how to volunteer there. I figure that since I don't have a summer job, maybe I could save a few lives by going to the blood center and calling people who haven't been there in awhile and asking them to donate blood or something. May as well do something good, I figure!

She's looking around for the business card of the volunteer coordinator, when I start to feel a little iffy.

She comes back with some info for me, and once she looks at me, she says "Are you feeling ok?"

I respond, "Well, I am feeling a little iffy."

She is like "Just sit tight, I'll be right back."

She goes away for a second and comes back with a wheelchair.

I'm thinking to myself, "Really lady? Are you kidding me? That seems like a little much." But I just get into the chair. I figured that laying down sounded glorious, and if she wanted to push me over to the recliney things (yeah, I made up that word, deal with it), that's fine. I am sure I could walk, but oh well.

Then I start feeling REALLY iffy, once I've been in the chair about five minutes (which is probably really only thirty seconds, because I can't think of a logical reason why they'd keep me in the chair and not moving for that long instead of getting me into the recliney thingy). They push me over to the bed, and the proverbial shit really starts to hit the equally proverbial fan. The nices ladies tell me to put my head down, and I bend at the neck to do so.... They tell me to bend it further down, and I comply.

Then they tell me to get into the recliney thing, and I do. I am feeling better already. They ask me if I am hot or cold, and I tell them hot. I am pretty much sweating profusely. (note: I just accidentally typed "swearing profusely" instead of "sweating profusely." Isn't it amazing how one little letter can change the ENTIRE tone of the story? Haha). They give me a couple ice packs, and I close my eyes, which they tell me not to do. We just chill out (ha) and I continue to feel better, and drink my soda.

Turns out, that I did not go from bending down and then straight into the recliney thing. I was passed out for about a minute and a half, they told me. News to me. There's one minute and a half of my life I'll never get back - haha. I was also informed that I turned some bizarre shade of green that matched my shirt (which was some mix of olive and lime, kinda like split pea baby food, or that stuff that Linda Blair vomits in the Exorcist). I pretty much just sat around until I felt better, and went and ate my brat (after I assured them that I had eaten several full meals before I even came in) and a pain chocolat they found for me (in talking about my job, we got to talking about Paris, and of course then I started in on food), and I went home.

I then texted all of my friends who I know work out at the WAC and ask if the name "Alfredo" means anything to them. Apparently, to them, it means white sauce. Meams calls, and we discuss. I tell her that I knew a Fredo in highschool, but he wouldn't have said all those shenanigans in the message about mutual friends and so on. I text this guy, and ask who our mutual friend is. He writes back apologizing for his boldness in calling me and so on, and at the end of the message says "Yes Al." I figured he was signing the text, and that he went by "Al" for short (which would be lame). I was getting pretty annoyed at this point, and Zak Attack (who works out at the WAC and assures me that he would never give my phone number to a random) tells me that he thinks he sounds like "a weirdo pervboy." I tell him that I agree, and send Alfredo another text to ask him again who our mutual friend is.

He writes back "Milwaukee Al" and also asks if he can call me to explain. Well, yes. Please fricking do. I need to know what in hell is going on!

Remember back a couple months when I went to the Info Launch party, and met that guy who promised me modeling work, but ended up really creeping me out?

Milwaukee Al.

So Alfredo and I end up talking awhile, and he actually seems like a decent character. We also agree that this Al character is not right (in the head, and in the principal) for doing this, and just based upon having met him. Bam!

So today in a nutshell involved me retrieving my keys, which still work, from the sewer, then going to a Math Assessment Coordinator's meeting, then hearing from Alfredo - who is an unidentified random, then I spray blood all over the blood center (a bit of a stretch - I guess that's me using artistic license), and then I pass out, and then I spend an inordinate amount of time on the phone with this Alfredo stranger.

That's just me. That is just my life. Just L-I-V-I-N'.

And that's not even what I had intended to blog about. How absurd is that?!

Ok.... The part that I was intending to blog about begins at a shoot.... But before we get to that, I want to throw in a couple pictures.

The first one is by Norris Carden. I am in a wedding dress in a lake! How cool is that? That was a crazy shoot. It felt so weird to wear that into the lake! And when I got out, the dress weighed probably approximately the same amount as I do. But we got a great shot of the sunset, don't you think?



Ok, the next five are what I am pretty sure are going to be my new Ford comp card. Thefirst one will likely be my front/main image, and the other four will be on the back. Whatcha think?

Ok. Goodness! It's time for the actual frickin' story!

As you know, one of my best friends, Tia, is a lingerie designer, and an amazing one at that. She had recently decided to enter a design contest, the winner of which would get to have a fashion show in Bryant Park in NYC during fashion week. Apparently, she needs two full-length images, one front, and one back, of two different outfits. So she makes a few outfits, and calls me up. Of course I would do anything for Tia, so I'm in. She then calls Lawrence, who is also awesome and one of my best friends (and an amazing photographer to boot). He's in as well. Sweet!

As I mentioned, I am fortunate enough to call each of these amazing people dear friends. I would trust either of them with my life, and feel completely comfortable around them. I mean, we've driven across the country to NYC in a pick-up truck and experienced many many absurdities together. Simply put, we are close friends who make a great team, whether it is for a photoshoot, or something that is supposed to be simpler, like negotiating a sub with an appropriate amount of mustard in a truck stop somewhere in Pennsylvania.

Anyway, due to the caliber of both Tia and Lawrence, both professionally and personally, I know that when I work with either of them, the result will be outstanding. When I work with them both, I know it will photographic platinum (my equivalent of the superlative "comedic gold").

So I am pretty excited, and I drive down to Lawrence's studio on Michigan Avenue in Chicago. I park and he meets me outside, and we sit around and talk for awhile, because Tia ran into a traffic situation and is running a little late. I had eaten before I left, but that had been at about 11 am.

Tia arrives, and there is all kinds of setting up that needs to be done.... Lawrence needs to set up the lighting and backdrop. Tia needs to steam garments. I need to do my hair and makeup in a way that appropriately complements the garments, but does not detract or distract from them.

Simply put, there is much to be done, and it takes awhile.

We finally get all set, and get me dressed, and I am starting to feel quite hungry. I mention this, but try to shoot anyway. It had only been, at this point, about 4 or 5 hours since my last meal, and I should've been fine. I wasn't.

I was feeling.... A little bit "off my game," if you will (and I know you will! If you won't, then don't read my blog! I didn't beg you to come to this site and read it or anything. You could be doing anything else you want to! Wow. That was chapter 54, and it is entitled "Attitude." {if you get that allusion, you get major cool points. And yes, I am using brackets!}). To give an example, for those who know me, of how off my game I was.... I am kinda reknowned for knowing a lot of songs, and a lot of lyrics to such songs. This is not genre or time period specific. It is pretty intense, I am told. Anyway, in the sitting around period, before Tia had even arrived, a song came on the radio, and Lawrence asked me to identify the artist. I couldn't! He said "Wow, I am pretty sure the apocalypse is coming!" Brut.

My posing was a little stiff, to say the least.

I kept mentioning that I was very hungry. I was trying to be polite but not a pain. I was in a situation where I couldn't advocate for myself very well, because I wasn't familiar with the area, and didn't know where I could find food that I would not be afraid to eat (Lawrence had previously told me interesting anecdotes about the nearby Burger King). All I could really do was make my hunger known.

Lawrence is doing routine lighting checks, and making adjustments, and there is another model friend of his, who I had met once and around whom I didn't feel especially comfortable, which also increased my effort to be polite in saying I was hungry.

I kept kinda making jokes, but I was getting more and more on edge. Crabby. I just wanted some food. I was starting to feel a bit weak at this point.

So I made more jokes about being hungry, like saying I'd go on strike soon if they didn't feed the model, or how I'd walk there in the lingerie, and so on.

Food still doesn't seem to be on the horizon. Brut.

So I start to get a little angry. My posing gets even worse, even more stiff. Lawrence and Tia comment on this.

Then I am seriously angry, and suddenly very weak (it's harder than you imagine to stand around under lights and hold poses on an empty stomach), so I just flip out like I never had before.

I say, almost with tears in my eyes, "If it doesn't seem like there is food on the horizon soon, I am going to lay on this set and not move or work until I see some food! I'm shaking!"

Lawrence's and Tia's jaws both just drop open. The other model doesn't even react. They inform me that we will get food right away, and I basically sprint off the set, taking the clothes off as I move, to get to food faster.

We go and get food, and while I'm eating, Lawrence looks at me and says "Wow, you weren't kidding, you really are shaking!"

I could've kicked him in the face. (I love you, Lawrence!)

I informed him, in between bites of cheeseburger that I more or less (more more than less) inhaled while on the phone with John in about two minutes, that I wasn't kidding when I said that.

In their defense, Lawrence and Tia said that they didn't know how hungry I was until my "episode." Apparently, I am better at being polite and hiding my displeasure than I had previously thought. (Yeah, that's right Sarah, I wasn't being amply rude!)

Soon after my little model belly was full, we got back to shooting. The other model left, and so I felt like all was normal with our little modeling family (except Kevin and Jon were missing, but it still felt very cozy!). I was as happy as a bug in a rug (who made that phrase up? How is a bug's happiness measured?), which meant that we were going to get good stuff....

I haven't seen all of them yet, but everything I have seen so far, I more or less have loved. Here's the first one, my favorite....

Now, Lawrence and Tia were talking about how I had gotten in shape (which was mainly to prepare for this shoot, and possibly for a return trip to Austin), and how they could especially tell by looking at my back and legs.... I didn't really understand what they meant by having a fit back. Lawrence was trying to show me on his little viewfinder screen, but it wasn't cutting the mustard (and Lawrence LOVES mustard! :-P). I was "in the land of the clueless" until I saw this picture.... Holla!!!

This is quite the change for me, because usually, I exclusively like pictures that focus on my face, as my body was my biggest point of insecurity. Now, here I am, having all kinds of love for an image that barely has my face in it. Hey-oh! I am proud of how far I've come!

The second one.... Not bad, eh? I am not 100% thrilled with my expression, but I think part of that was because Lawrence kept reminding me to kinda disengage with the camera so that the attention would be on the garment, rather than on me, which was a challenge, but I think I did decently at it!

He did get yelled at, though, by Tia at one point, when she caught him taking beauty shots of me for his own purposes, when she said, "is the garment even in that picture?"

Haha, it wasn't.

Later, Tia and I would wish that he had taken more beauty shots so that I could use them in the good ol' Smashbox contest, but alas, these are great, too!

That is the "inspiration board" she entered into the contest. I just pretty much think it's awesome, and not just because there are little parts of me in the two outfits she made! It's just so cool. We're totally going to NYC for fashion week, because Tia's going to win this. Hey-oh!

We finally wrap up the shoot at about 1030 or 11pm, and sit around a little bit and talk, unwind.

My plan was to meet a friend of mine, Emily, who I worked with at Pedro's in Madison my Senior year, downtown. She was in town visiting from Seattle, and leaving the next day.

Apparently, her brother, Cory, lives down in Wrigleyville, and I was welcome to stay at his place.

After the shoot, I was exhausted, and hadn't heard from Emily. I was considering just going back to Milwaukee. I was secretly hoping that she wouldn't respond to a text, and I could just go home and go to bed, or go home and go out with friends here in the Mil (which is weird, because I am not the biggest fan of this city, as referenced in my last entry!).

No such luck, which actually ended up being lucky (or "Lucke," as it were). She totally responded to my text. Brut. That meant I had to go out.

I asked for directions, and tried to explain where I was on Michigan. This isn't the Magnificent Mile part of Michigan Avenue. It's actually quite the distance away from it!

This was a concept that Cory was having difficulty grasping in his drunkeness. Although he did not give me directions that would work to get me from the studio to the bar, he did succeed in convincing me that he was a moron, which was a conclusion that I jumped to a bit more quickly and easily than I normally would've because I was tired and ready for bed, not so much ready for the bar.

I was incredibly tempted to use the inability to get reasonable directions as an excuse to get out of dodge, but Emily kept telling me that she loved me and how excited she was that I was there, and apparently I am a sucker. So after quite a bit of deliberation, discussion, and asking people for advice, Lawrence mapquests the route from his studio to Cory's apartment. I drive Tia to her car and say goodbye to her, and Lawrence (but in the other order, since that is how it makes sense), and drove to Cory's, parked, and took a cab to John Barleycorn.

My hair is done in the updo you see above. I am wearing a lime green tank, and my ripped up jeans. I swear to goodness that it is entirely coincidential that I wore the jeans in the story from last night, which took place this past Saturday, and in this story, which took place sometime in May or April. I think I only wore them once in between!

I get in line, which is the longest line in the United States, due to the fact that we were in Wrigleyville and the Cubs had played the Socks (or is it Sox? I think it's Sox. I hate baseball.) earlier that evening at Wrigley.

I inform Emily that I had made it safely to the bar and was at the end of the long ass line. She tells me that she is going to see what she can do.

A bit later, I see Emily and who I had to assume was Cory, speaking to a very intense-looking man with a walkie-talkie, and pointing to me. I get the idea from how it's going that this man would like to help out, but couldn't. I just hang out in line and people watch, and try to psych myself out for a night of fun, so that I wouldn't get too sleepy. I was doing a little better, because I had been rocking some good music on my drive from the studio to Lawrence's.

I get kinda into my own little world, when all of the sudden, some guy (who I had seen in the window and had assumed was Cory) appears as if from nowhere, doesn't say a word, grabs my hand and pretty much pulls me into the bar. Holla! I'm in. Awesome. Big hugs from Emily. You know I love hugs! She also warns me that her brother is going to try to rape me, but that I shouldn't worry because he's harmless and has a girlfriend. Whaaaaat? He's going to rape you but don't worry? Oh Emily. Cracks my shit up! I just told her that I am a big girl and that I have been hit on before, so I am sure that I will be ok, as long as he is not ACTUALLY a real rapist, which she says he isn't. She does warn me of these same things a few times, though.

She's a bit tipsy. She informs me that I need to catch up, and we're going to get me drinks. Cool. We go up to the bar. I am still not really clear on the random dude. I tell her about how absurd the directions were, and the introduction finally takes place. I was right - it was Cory. My assumption did not make an ASS out of U or ME. Wahoo!

A couple seconds later, he asks what I would like to drink. I think for a second, and respond with "Captain and Diet." This is of no surprise to you.... But you are not Cory. He took my hand (again, haha) spun me in a circle pirouette style, and got on one knee to propose marriage to me three seconds after our introduction. Seems about right!

While waiting for the bartender to serve Cory, Em and I decide that it would be a spectacular idea to take a picture before we were too drunk and ridiculous. Good call. Here it is!

In taking such a picture, Emily realizes that I apparently have the same camera as Cory, and informs me that it is likely that he is going to want to marry me (really? I don't know what gave her such an idea....) because I drink the drink he has been drinking for years, and we have the same camera. She also mentioned something about me being attractive, but let your eyes look up a little bit. Wanna talk about the pot calling the kettle black? Emily's gorgeous.

We take down some jagerbombs (in an effort to "catch me up" to the group). Talk a little bit. I realize that they are hammered (which explains why Cory seemed like such an idiot on the phone). I am totally sober, but still having lots of fun, which was surprising to me, since I didn't want to go out in the first place!

Then I meet Cory's roommate, Koz, who is apparently some sort of baller (per Emily's statement, as well as future events), and his girlfriend, and this d(o)u"d"(ch)e(bag) (minus the second "d") Paulie, who was kinda creepy and inappropriately wearing white shoes, since it was well before Memorial day. Yes, I try to follow that fashion rule my grandma laid down years ago, especially if it allows me to make fun of somebody. Yes, I am also aware that the amount of time I spend making fun of people might make it impossible for people to call me a nice girl.

Anyway, we decide we want to go upstairs. I had been to that place before, but was completely unaware of how seriously ginormous it was, since the previous time I had been there, I got WAY overserved, and ended up leaving with my shirt being a struggle, and getting in a big fight with my ex, and having Danielle say something about how she didn't have to listen to that shit....

Wow, I am rambling. Anyway, I didn't know there was an upstairs.

Back to the story.

There is a huge line to get upstairs. Brut.

But hey, I said that I was told this guy, Koz, was a baller, right? He went straight to the front of the line, had some words with the man in charge of letting people upstairs, and the next thing I knew, we were single file, on the stairs.

On the way up, I hear a voice (Cory's) behind me, saying, "Oh my God."

I just started cracking up. When we got to the top, he informed me that I shouldn't be showing off the way I was. I told him that I was just walking up the stairs. Apparently, if one does that in the pants I was wearing, that is showing off.

Once we get inside, Koz takes us to the VIP area. And, baller that he is, gets us all in. I think it is actually there where we encounter this Paulie kid. Anyway, here's a picture of all of us. Can you spot the creepy one?

Yep, far left.

Anyway, once we are comfy in VIP, we get more drinks and more shots. I no longer feel sober (most likely because I had once again not eaten in awhile, and didn't eat much as a whole that day). It is at this point that Emily decides that she needs to use the ladies' room.

On the way, I come across a blast from my past, Matt.... He was a good friend of one of my ex's and all of his friends. It was nice to see him, but Em was focused and didn't allow us much time to catch up before we were back on our quest to the bathroom.... She did, however, allow enough time for this picture to be snapped....



So I bid Matt a hurried adieu, and run off to follow Emily, while texting Matt "I'm sorro," which only shows what type of state I was in (besides the obvious, Illinois).

We get over to the women's bathroom, and, of course, the line is a mile long. We decide that we'll try the men's. After much discussion with the bathroom bouncers (There were two. How weird is that?) we learned that we would not be going into the men's bathroom. We did, however, make a deal that we'd get moved to the front of the line of the women's.

We get back over to the women's, and there was no longer a line. Figures.

Em goes to the bathroom, and I buy a hairtie that matched my shirt and had glitter from the bathroom attendant for the low low price of $1. My hair (as you can see above) was taken out of the updo in the bar, and I thought I'd like to pull it back later.

We decide on our way back to the VIP that we should dance some. So we do. Then "Baby Got Back" came on, which is a special one for Em and I. When we worked at Pedro's, we often worked the Karaoke shifts together, and had sang such a song ourselves only a couple years before.

There were weird hos trying to dance on the stage and looking foolish, so we decided to show them up. I think we were successful the entire time we were up there, which was approximately 14 seconds.

After exiting stage left, we went back to the VIP. Emily decided that body shots were in order.

Cory, however, had left. She didn't want him to. She told me to text him and tell him that I would do a body shot with him, and gave me his number. I did such a thing. We waited a little bit, and he wasn't there, so we proceded without him.

It was Emily, Paulie and I. I desperately wanted to avoid this Paulie character, so I volunteered to do my shot off of Emily. Here's a picture of me taking the lime from her mouth, which she would later think was me offering her the lime, but having it backward. Haha!

Emily then did her body shot off of Paulie, and he did his off of me. I was not happy. That picture will remain far from everyone's eyes! Gross.

Moments after these shenanigans were over, Cory literally hopped the fence into the VIP section. He wasn't the happiest person in the United States when he found out that he had just missed the body shots....

....but I don't think he looks too devastated, either.

Now here is where the night gets a little fuzzy.

Somehow, we get separated from Cory, Koz, the girlfriend whose adorable shoes were hurting her poor feet, and Paulie. I was not shedding any tears over that last one.

Then I remember Em and I going downstairs, and talking to a few randoms.

We took some pictures of some tomfoolery, involving me licking her cheek (which I am known to do.... Because sometimes you just gotta lick your friend's cheek), and her showing a bit of cleavage, and us doing our best to make drunken sexy faces, which are really absurd. In one, I look like I am about to bite her face off (or just her cheek). I had those pictures in here, but I don't know what happened to them....

(I put all of the pictures in the blog first, and then as I tell the story, I put the words around them. Helps me to keep an order, and not forget things that were captured on "film.")

Anyway, Emily and I end up leaving the bar by ourselves, which is brut. We're both hammered, and neither of us really knows the way to Cory's. In fact, at this point, Em can't even correctly pronounce the name of his street. In her defense, he does live on a very bizarrely-named street.

These minor details do not, however, dissuade the two of us from trying to walk "home."

At some point during this trek, Emily decides she has to use the restroom.

In a strange turn of events, there aren't really any public restrooms available at 4am in the residential parts of Wrigleyville. How weird is that? Who would've guessed?

This does not make Emily have to relieve herself any less, though, so she decides to go in the street.

While she makes tinkle, she decides to put her purse on top of a car, so she can focus or balance or do whatever she has to do.

Em's doing her business, and I am texting back and forth with Cory. Good thing I had texted him earlier about the body shot, or we would probably not have made it home!

He asks me where we are.

I had no idea.

One would think that someone who was asked where she was and didn't know would respond with something at least quasi-constructive, like "I don't know."

Well, if you thought that, and you were thinking about, me.... Wrong-o, my friends!

My response?

Oh, it's a good one. You ready?

"Fiff."

Whaaaaat?

I mean, I know I say that frequently, but Cory had to have thought that I was just some type of crackhead, and a hypocritical one at that! Only hours before, I had determined incorrectly that he was a moron because he couldn't give reasonable directions, and he asks me where I am, and all I've got is "Fiff?"

Brut.

Fiff.

Anyway, I think at this point we took a cab to Cory's, with his help reminding me the address and such things as that. When we get there, however, we realize that Emily has left her purse on top of whatever car she urinated near, somewhere unknown to us.

She flips out, and rightfully so. Her plane ticket, ID, credit cards, iPod, camera.... All in her purse. Pretty much everything she needs to exist.

I realized that I was pretty useless in the ordeal, since I never had any idea where we were once we left the bar. So I took a seat on the curb.

You know my style. I evidently decided to go to sleep. Apparently, I was posed like Rodin's "the thinker" statue, with my hand folded under my chin. According to Cory, it was pretty humorous, or at least would've been if Emily wasn't crying hysterically.

Brut.

I guess at this point, a couple officers of the law arrived, and walked up to Cory and said "Do you guys know Emily?"

How Emily got to be on a first name basis with this policeman will likely be a mystery for life.

Anyway, as far as Em's concerned, this man is an angel, because in his hand, he carried her purse.

Actually, it is quite possible that this man IS an angel. I mean, how else would he tie her purse to her brother's house? The address wasn't there. It was more or less (more more than less) amazing. A miracle, if you will.

Next thing I know, I am on a two-foot long (ish) loveseat with a towel covering me, fully clothed,

including my heels.

I've felt better. I pretty much sucked at life.

Cory's on the couch, and starts talking to me, and kinda filling me in on the purse story. Actually, I am pretty sure one of the first things he told me was about me responding "Fiff."

Then Emily calls me from Cory's bedroom, only a stone's throw away.

We all rally, and move on with our day, which included me driving back to Wisconsin and stopping at Sarkis in Evansville where I got four Loretta's (delicious sandwiches) and then pretty much stayed in bed all day.

Ok, time for me to go to bed. Hope you enjoyed the read, and that you didn't miss anything (such as one of your grandchildren's birthdays) during the lengthy duration of reading this!

Oh yeah, and go vote for me.... Only 5 more days!

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