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.

Info Magazine Launch Party, Bon Voyage Joe & Happy 85th birthday - Parties to Remember (or at least try to).

This weekend, I had the joy of attending my great uncle Erv's 85th birthday party. Time with my family is always interesting. And yes - I missed Shaq and the Heat playing the Bucks (the only time, other than possible playoff games, that I would've had the opportunity to see my Shaquille this season) for such an event.

I also had the joy of attending the Info Magazine Launch party. This was a little bit more interesting than the family party... Although it lacked 82-year old men drinking gin on the rocks and inadvertantly hitting on family members, it had its own heinosity.

We should've known it was trouble, Nicole, Carrie and I. I mean, Nicole's friend "Dusty Rhodes" was bartending, so we got free drinks all night. So we had that going for us, which was nice.

My main purpose there was supposed to be to network. Well, to network while having fun. Nicole had some photographers to introduce me to, and she also wanted to introduce me to the man who is in charge of Info Magazine. I met a couple photographers, yes. As far as the guy in charge of Info Magazine... I feel like I may or may not have rubbed his head at some point. Sweet. I'm sure that to him, that was just what the doctor ordered.

I also met a couple other people on my own... One was Kevin, a man who has a jewelery line inspired by an African tribe... I talked to this guy a lot, because we have similar ideas about music and life, and because apparently these days I am interested in anything remotely related to Africa. I don't know if it is because of my school project, or if it is because of the boy, but whatever. Africa is interesting to me, so we spent a lot of time talking about that.

The other guy... Well, I don't really remember how I got to talking to him. I do remember, though, that at some point in the night, I tried to give him a website, and in my infinite drunken wisdom, decided the best way to do this would be to text him the link. We'll see why that was wise in a few moments (and actually, it remains to be seen whether or not that should be sarcastic!).

I also ran into a few people at this shindig. One would be Andrew. He is the best friend of my Exboyfriend, Eric, who I haven't talked to in months. That was interesting. He called me out on missing Eric. But I don't think I miss the current Eric. Having not talked to him in months, I honestly don't know who the current Eric is. I do kinda miss the 8 years ago Eric at times, though, which I think is normal.

The other people that I ran in to were affiliated with that last runway show I did - the one that inspired "Drunk Diary 12-9" or whatever that day was. Jason DiCarlo, and Megan *something*... The people who were IN CHARGE of the show. Coincidently, they are also in charge of the next show I am doing, which is on March 1st. I am pretty excited for that one. Hopefully, I will be able to pull my life together for it!

What was special about running into them was that I saw them at first, when we first got there, and I was still completely sober... I did have a margarita at home while waiting for Nicole and Carrie to come and get me, and I did have a couple drinks of whatever that purple-ish burgundy stuff was in that water bottle. But still - sober.

Later, however, when I ran into Jason again, I was not so much sober. I wasn't hammered, but it probably seemed like it. Nicole was walking around with me and dumped about half of her dirty vodka martini on me, which made me smell like.... dirty vodka martini. So the next time I saw Jason, that was what was goin' down. But perhaps he was actually less sober than it would've seemed, because he did talk about sucking the drink out of my shirt if he got thirsty - haha. Ah well. Here's a picture of Carrie, this girl Cherie (or Sherry or Shari, or something) from the NEWD line, me with spillage evident, and Nicole. This one is from Cherie's (or however you spell it) camera. I have one from mine, too, but it's almost exactly the same, except Nicole looks more normal in it... I haven't uploaded it to my computer yet, though.

That spill sure is sexy, isn't it? Haha. What I want to know is, why do they put drinks that have the most alcohol in the most treacherous glasses? I mean, here is a drink that is often 100% alcohol, and they put them in receptacles that have the most surface area for spillage. That is why I rarely drink martini's, especially if there is moving around taking place. Well, that, and because they are expensive. And, well, (I guess the real reason), because I am terrible at sipping. So I don't keep in mind that this is almost entirely alcohol that I am drinking, and I drink it as though it is chocolate milk or something. Bru-tal.

Anyway, so I talked to people and did my thing, and then we all left. Got home, took a shower, ate a tv dinner pizza thing (yummy) and went to bed.

When I woke up, I had a text from the guy who I texted the link to. For the record, the link was www.tialynlingerie.com. The first text I received from this man was a picture text of the front page of the website, which is a picture of me. Let's first mention that the text was sent at about 8:20 am. Who needs to wake up to see a picture of themself at 8:20 am after you were up until 3ish drinking the night before? Not me.

Throughout the course of the day, I received several more texts from him, about meeting to talk this week, or looking at his company's website, and so on. I kept ignoring them, because I was still kinda annoyed that I paid for an image text that was a picture of myself. A picture that I have the high-res file of, as well as prints, that I could look at every day if I wanted. Don't get me wrong... Tia and Lawrence, you know that I love the picture. One of my faves. But I just wasn't trying to be woken up by its arrival in my text inbox.

Yesterday, I got a few more texts from him, including (but not limited to) another picture of myself from Tia's website. And then, while I was napping, he called and left a message. Says his clients include (but are not limited to - my words, not his), Harley Davidson, Boston Store, Kohl's, La Perla, etc, and if I would meet with him and his two partners (one male, one female), we could talk about me doing print and web work for these clients. Sweetness. Hopefully he is not full of shit. Also, I hope that when he is saying La Perla, he either means the restaurant, and that I will get free food and margaritas (yay rainbow!) for life, or he means the lingerie company, and I will be paid immensely well. Either way, as I mentioned, for obvious reasons, I am not yet sure if I am happy or sad that I inadverntantly gave this guy my number. I guess we'll see.

Oh boy. Right in the midst of writing this, I received pictures from Nicole from the party. Without further ado...

I don't know why they are all pixelated and crazy, but that's me with Nicole and Carrie.

That would be the same shot as the first one in this post, but from Nicole's camera. Looks like the best one of all!

There's me with Kevin, the tribal jewelery designer dude.

And, of course, there's me licking Carrie. Why do I always do that? My hair looks pretty cute, though! Haha.

Anyway, so that was that night. Since we're on the topic of parties, I figure I should do some justice to Joe's going away party at Mantra.

Joe. How do I explain Joe? I met him through my friend LP, who teaches at the school as me. She told him before we met that I was a model, and that is basically how my old nickname from HS came back (long story). Anyway, she kept telling me that every time after she told him about me that they all went out, that he would ask if I was going to be there, too. Something about him being in love with me before we met or something. It was silly.

Anyway, we finally met, and danced the night away at Can's. I also danced with AY a lot, but I don't remember such things. This night was ridiculous. Anyway, we ended up going back to Joe's, and he made us French toast. It was disgusting. So, we decided we were going to get gyro's (Natalie, LP, and I), so we went outside to call a cab. It was after 3am. Anyway, when LP got on the phone, she gave the operator for the cab company the intersection we were at, because she did not know Joe's address. Apparently, an intersection is not sufficient. So she gave her the only other address we could see.

To this, the cab operator responded "Ma'am, are you aware that you are at the library?"

Oh man, that was ridiculous. So the three of us went back up to Joe's and slept on the futon and couch.

Next time we hung out, I wanted to make sure that I was avoiding the not-entirely-cooked French toast, so I made sure we went to Mykonos for some gyros. We came back, and I was sitting cross-legged on Joe's floor when he kissed me on the forehead and told me that he loved me. This was terrifying to me. Time to GFO!

Next day, I told LP, and she thought it was hilarious. "I'm pretty sure that Joe has never said 'I love you' to anyone before."

So, we joked about it for a few months. Then, when summer finally rolled around, we laid this info on Joe. He was quite amused. Didn't remember it at all. So now, every time we see eachother, there is the obligatory forehead kiss and profession of love. So funny!

Anyway, Joe recently moved to California, but before he did, he had a going away party. He used to own a bar called Rhino in LaCrosse, so he had the guy who normally dj'ed there come to Mantra in Milwaukee for the special event.

That was heinosity. I was doing shots like it was my job (which, when I am with LP and Natalie and the like, it kind of is).

Dancing the night away. Saw people from Racine that I hadn't seen in a long time, a which is always interesting.

Got Danielle dancing with one of the many people who I joke about as her "future husband." I'm always trying to set that poor girl up with someone. Not seriously, but in talk. Here they are. We decided on this pairing because they are both super nice people, and both are pretty short. Awww.

Anyway, in my post about Pedro from Napoleon Dynamite dj'ing at Can's, I said I would tell another story about phone numbers and Mexican men.

One of LP's best friends from college, Sarah, married a man this Fall from Mexico. They were dating a few years, and were basically getting married so that he could have citizenship. If things worked out, then they would get married for real at a later date. Apparently things didn't work out, and they broke up shortly after the wedding. They are still friends, and still share a 1 bedroom apartment.

At this particular event, Big R (Sarah's husband from Mexico) was apparently a dance machine, and I was his partner. He was dancing with me the whole night. I figured that Sarah must be ok with it, and was unaware of the breakup at that time.

It was another one of those cases where I was like "Oh, it's so and so's boyfriend, and we are all friends, so it's cool to dance together." Happens all the time.

Everything was fine, and there was a bit of drama (entirely unrelated to everyone who was at Joe's party except for me) at the end of the night. Life went on as normal.

Had to make sure that I got a picture with Joe, reenacting the forehead kiss before we left and he moved away. That was nice. See below.

The drama worked itself out the next day. Life went on. But then, weeks later, I was going to send a friend a text when I noticed a foreign (literally) name in my address book. Big R! Brut brut!

"Pooping to Stay Cool" and the list!

Happy Escape Day!

One of my students is just plain bizarre. Today, she outdid herself.

First, during third hour (I have many of my students twice a day), she randomly says "What if toilets were live hippo heads that could talk?"

I did not even have any idea what to say to her. How absurd?!

Later, during 8th hour, there was an issue with an orange. I had peeled it during sixth hour but didn't have the chance to touch it again until during 8th hour. When I went to eat it, I noticed the whitish yellow stuff on the outside of the orange (yet inside the peel) was crispy and hard. It was so gross! So I shared this information with the class.

One of my students then told me that it was a shame that I would not be able to enjoy the orange's citrusy goodness. Then this bizarre student says "Something will enjoy it."

And then she thought about it for a minute... And she's like "It will probably be vultures."

I could not hold in my laughter AT ALL. Of course, I was thinking of my friends and the fact that we call most male humans "vultures" because they are a predatory mammal that swoops down in search of booty.

Anyway, back to my student. She thinks again for a minute, and then says "Vultures are gross. They poop on their legs instead of sweating."

I was just dying. I couldn't even take it. I am not sure if this statement she made about such vultures is fact or not, but oh man. It was one of the funniest things I have ever heard in my life. A little late on in the hour, she said, out of nowhere "...and I'm not kidding about vultures pooping on themselves to stay cool."

Then she calmly asked me "What if snowflakes screamed and attacked anyone who stepped on them?"

OK. That's enough about her. Hysterical though, isn't it?

Another funny student story... A kid (7th grader who always tries to flirt) asked me yesterday if I knew that my hair blew like wind when I walked, like a superstar does.

Oh, kids are so humorous!

You know who else is humorous? Parents. That's why this post is dedicated to my mom.

At Christmas, out of nowhere (it seems like almost everything in my life is completely random and out of nowhere*), my mom asked me if something that had happened a long time ago had scarred me for life. I told her that it hadn't, and then she proclaimed that the other night, her and Marv (her husband, my stepdad), had made a list of things that they did when I was a kid that might've scarred me for life so that they could ask me about them the next time I came home.

Without further ado, here's the list:

1. The time they made me talk to the deaf girl
2. The City Slickers thing.

Leave it to my ridiculous mom to write a list with two things on it, and still call it a list. I don't know if list technically needs more than two, but it would seem to me that this would be a jotting of a couple things on a scrap piece of paper more than it would be the crafting of a list, but what the hell do I know? That's not the point anyway. Let's get to the stories.

1. The time they made me talk to the deaf girl. When I was around 8 or so, a girl moved across the street who was deaf. My mom thought it would be a good idea for me to try to befriend her. I agree. This was a good idea. In theory, it is excellent to try to get me to talk to as many different types of people as possible, and to teach me to look past different people's differing abilities.

But, as often is the case, theory and practice do not always go together like Chinese Food and Chocolate Pudding (Thanks, Cal Naughton Jr, for that fine Talladega Nights quote!).

I walked across the street, with a pen and pad of paper in hand, hoping to befriend the sweet little girl from across the street and talk to her via writing notes on the pad I was bringing.

I don't remember if it was something smooth, like "Hi!" or something even smoother like "Do you want to play with me?" or "Do you want to be my friend?" but whatever it was, it made an impact.

Upon reading whatever it was that I had written on the paper, she promptly taught me some sign language that I had long known: she flipped me off.

I swear to you that this is not a fabrication, but real trauma that I suffered! I didn't steal it from a TV show either, though it sounds like something that would happen on one. Apparently, my mom watched all of this transpire from our porch, where she met the issue of not knowing whether to pity her poor daughter, or laugh hysterically. My guess is that she did both.

A follow-up to this story would be that a few months later, we all saw the girl storm out of her house and lock herself in the car, with her mom following her, yelling as she signed. The girl then became a personal hero of mine when she basically gave her mom a big "F U" by covering her eyes with her hands, to stop the intake of the lecture of whatever she did wrong!

Item #2: The City Slickers incident. You all know the movie "City Slickers." Billy Crystal goes on a herding expedition or something like that and gets in touch with his cowboy roots, falls in love with the calf he delivers, names it "Norman," brings it home to his family, and then lays on a million inappropriate sexual innuendoes to his wife that you don't understand until you see the movie again as an adult (it's alarming!).

Anyway, when I first saw this movie, it was during a phase in my life that involved me being a hardcore vegetarian. For about 6 years, I didn't eat any meat because I felt sorry for the animals that were slaughtered to provide it. Anyway, my mom and Marv used to say that Norman was on his way to being a Big Mac. All the time. And I used to cry about it.

I know, I know... That's not as good of a story. And no, it did not scar me for life. I think it's good they did that - I clearly needed a thicker skin anyway!

Since option #2 on the list was kind of a lame story, I am going to throw in a bonus childhood memory for you... One that definitely shaped who I am today.

Late one autumn night after dark, we came home from the bar (I spent a lot of time at bars as a child!), my mom decided that it would be a good idea to do a little terrorism. Now I am obviously not talking suicide bombing, or really any bombing at all... What I am talking about is the fact that there were just too many neat piles of leaves on our street. So we quietly (well, as quietly as we could've while surpressing giggles) scattered the leaves back into our neighbor's yards. Can you imagine waking up to find all the leaves you raked scattered back all over your yard? Would you believe that it was a 30-year old woman's idea? That's my mom for you. How funny and random is she? And do you still wonder why I am the way that I am???? Haha. Brut brut! I am sure there will be more stories in this vein!

You may have noticed the asterix above. Here's why it was there!

*Speaking of my life and randomness, I gotta shout out something that just cracked me up like you wouldn't believe. While celebrating the likes of Bob Eucker's and Marlon Wayans' birthdays, as well as Australia Day and Opposite Day (different sides of midnight), my girl LL and I were out at Murphy's. Absurd things were going on as usual, and at one point, I turned to LL and said

"Is my life serious?"

to which she replied

"No, I am pretty sure your life is a joke."

HA! I'm still laughing about that one.

Alright, time to go to another basketball game. Such is my life these days!

Danny Glover: The Legend

After I posted last night's blog about birthday celebrations and whatnot, I realized that I never even explained where that came from. So that is to follow.

Last night, the game went well. It was a reality check for me, though... I had to sit in the nosebleed seats. I have been spoiled all season with Ousmane's family section seats. They are such a benefit... They are free. They are excellent seats (about center court, rows C-E usually). You can hear Crean yelling at the team. It's just spectacular. Well, since Ousmane's host family came to visit and see him play (can't be mad at that), my glorious date (my grandpa) and I watched the game from outer space. I can't really complain, though. I had a lot of fun spending time with my grandpa, and it was interesting to see the game from that perspective. It's a lot easier to see the plays develop and so forth.

Humorously enough, during the second half, I noticed that there was a sound they were playing when spectacular things happened, such as when Ous dunked, or got exciting rebounds... I was convinced that it was the sound of a vulture call. I could swear it was! I was so curious if there was something that Ous wasn't telling me... So, after the game, I asked him about it over an Eskimo Pie (haha, we celebrated!). He told me at first that he did not know what I was talking about. Then, when I mimicked the sound (which was more or less the epitome of brutality), he informed me that that was actually an eagle cry that I was hearing. Hell0!? Had I forgotten that they were the Marquette Golden Eagles? Perhaps I still thought they were Marquette: The Gold. (See video below that cracks me up, if I can figure out how to post it!!!!)

Anyway, I informed Ous that I consider all winged creatures vultures, including (but not limited to) moths (but excepting angels, I guess), and that was the end of the discussion.

The Eskimo Pie Day celebration was pretty laid back. Danielle, Ous, and I pretty much hung out and talked about random stuff and ate Eskimo Pies. Perfect.

So today is Opposite Day. I am at work, on my lunch break, wearing pajamas. It is banking time day, which means that there are no students here, which is why I can pull off head to toe velour. Sweetness. I decided that instead of working here at school on Opposite Day, that I would write a blog explaining the origin of my celebration of D-List (although I am sure DG is at least B list) birthday celebration.

About this time last year, we got a new teacher at our school. LP. She and I bonded instantly when I told her that I was up in the 2-1-3 (that is my classroom number). We've been very good friends ever since. Hanging out with her is trouble. I don't think I've ever made it through sober... Ok, maybe a few times. But absurdity often ensues.

There's a pic of us all at Buck Bradley's. We can scarcely go out to eat without ordering shots to our table. Anyway, we were all out one night ( a group of about 15 of us) when our friend Kenny (affectionately known as Dr. Kenneth Noisewater, or Ken, or just Noisewater for short) texted to say that his friends had rented out the third floor of a bar (the Y Not 3, for anyone familiar with the Mil and North Ave area) for a private party, and that we had to come.

So, we all went over there and sure enough, the private party was in full effect. There was a dj and everything. So I was getting my dance on for a good half hour or 45 minutes when I suddenly noticed that the eyes of Danny Glover were surrounding me. Everywhere you looked, there were pictures of Danny Glover. I asked Noisewater about it...

Me: Kenny, why are there so many pictures of Danny Glover all over the place?

Kenny (nonchalantly): It's his birthday. This is his birthday party.

Me: These people threw this party just because it is Danny Glover's birthday?

Ken: Yes.

Perfect. I was hooked. I thought it was brilliant. So much so, that I had to take a piece of the action home with me. I did this in two ways.

The first way was physical. I left the party with a 24"x36" headshot of Danny Glover.

He's folded in half, but you get the idea. Can you see the pride and excitement in my eyes and on my face? I'm sure you've seen him in pictures taken in my apartment, where he now resides in a nice wooden frame, in between Tupac and Snoop on the left, and Madonna on the right.

Just after that picture was taken, somewhere in the neighborhood of 330am, I called Danielle to let her know that she could rest easy (maybe that would be less difficult if I didn't drunk dial her in the middle of the night!) now that she is being made aware that I have a 4x5 (I meant feet, and was estimating) picture of Danny Glover to put on our mantle (we do not have a mantle). She thanked me for calling, and I drove back to Madison the next day... Framed him and hung him. When she got home, she was quite shocked to see that I was closer to feet... She thought I said "coaster" and not "poster." But, since Danielle is the lovely girl she is, she accepted Danny with open arms, and now our living room theme is celebrities.

The other thing I took from this experience is beyond physical, and has left me with hours of fun. And that is that I had decided to celebrate ridiculous celebrity birthdays with appropriate shots. We did it all summer. It was glorious. Now it is back. But today's is Alicia Keys. Kinda lame. Tomorrow's a new day, though!

The sky is falling! Nope, just a chicken wing.

So, Wingding Wednesday... A little background. This summer was the summer of Brother's in Madison. I practically lived there. I was honestly there 3-5 nights a week (Wednesday through Saturday, with random Tuesday's after flip night at Brat's thrown in). Why Brother's? Well, it started out as boy chasing. No elaboration planned on that one! Then we realized that they play amazing music... most of the time. THEN we became friends with the staff, and the rest is history.

Wingding Wednesday is the best night of the week, if you ask me. So good that twice since September, I have gone there afterschool and come to school the next morning. Yes, an hour and a half, hungover at six a.m. Brut brut! The reason this night is so fantastic is that they have delicious wings for only ten cents each. AND, Captain mixers are 2 for 1. The Captain and I... We are great friends. Sometimes enemies, but as they say, there's a fine line between love and hate.

This past Wednesday, we went up because Danielle just finished her first semester of graduate school. She had been living in the library and clinic constantly. She needed to get out, and where's a better place to do such things than at Brother's in Madison?

During the summer, we kinda assembled a group of girls. Weird for me, because normally I hang out with all guys. This has been working well, though. Well, the five of us hadn't hung out since Halloween. Here's a pic.



Here's the scoop. We were shots. Well, all of us except Jamie. From left to right... Danielle, my awesome roommate. She was a kamikaze. You can't see it, but her shirt says "READY TO DIE." Next is Mara. She's a Jolly Rancher. Lisa's in the middle, and she's a redheaded slut. I'm a dirty girl scout. I put fake dirt all over me, wore knee-high socks, and my skirt is pretty short. Jamie was a pumpkin. I know. LAME! The four of us who were shots wore name tags that had our ingredients on them. And of course, we did all of the shots we were dressed as throughout the night.

So anyway, this Wednesday was a reunion of the five of us... The five of us have somehow became "Derek's Angels" because Derek (Jamie's boyfriend) created a facebook group and invited only the five of us. Bru-tal. So yeah. We were finally all back together. Yay!

I decided that I was going to "take it easy" this night, since I had to teach the next day 90 miles away. My friends were having none of it, especially Ross. Here's a couple shots (two of nine that he insisted on taking that night) of Ross and I... He just kept lining up the captain and diets in front of me!!!



So yeah. I had more than a little Captain in me. And I also had the pleasure of running into a few people from my hometown (name withheld - of the hometown and the people I ran into!)...

It was absurd.

Many wings and rounds of Captain ensued. It was Derek's (the one who is apparently in charge of the Angels, who are doing a photoshoot together within the next month) birthday, so at night, I introduced everyone to my good, dear, old friend Pat Ron.

Here's a shot of the five of us re-united...



Yes, cute little Danielle is definitely standing atop something. This is one of very few pictures you'll see of her being taller than anyone over age 8. And if you're focusing in on my playboy armband, allow me a few moments to explain. I stole it from Rob, one of the bouncers at Brother's the last time I was there in November. No, I have no idea why. But I did accidently wear it to a go-see the next morning with a lingerie designer, with my hair still wet from being in the hottub until 8 am. Thank God she also happens to be one of my best friends!

The night rolls on, and vultures swoop. I am told to "b strong." And that is just what I did.

One incredibly absurd guy was just dancing up a storm. It was hilarious. He was also singing without abandon. We did a couple duets.

Then I found a guy who looked exactly like Jamil Lott. Except he was about 18" shorter than Jamil, and probably brushed his teeth about 63% less, because he really had terrible breath. I can think of few things that I regret more than talking to this guy about how he looked like Jamil. I clearly wasn't trying to hit on him. Just wanted him to know that he looked like Jamil. Couldn't I have just said that, and him said "ok" or "thank you very much" or something like that and have both of us move on with our lives? Apparently not.

Anyway, so I am standing there and texting (shocking, I know), when as if from nowhere, a chicken wing lands on my phone. And another on my arm. Someone had apparently bumped into a guy who was walking past me and carrying a basket of wings, sending several wings flying in many directions, covering me, my phone, and other surroundings in the sauce (which, for the record, contains no cheese). At this point, one of the friends I had run into from my hometown, apparently sees that his girlfriend has had a wing land on her head (brut brut!) and decides that the best option is to beat the guy carrying the wings' ass. So there is a huge fight right next to me. Table gets knocked over, I'm covered in beer and wing sauce, many glasses and bottles broken. Just bru-tal. Thank God for Pete and Dan swooping in and breakin it up, and apparently ripping my friend's jeans off in the process. My first instinct was to break it up, which is what I do at school... Then I realized that these were not middle school children (who are also larger than me, but not by as much of a degree as these grown men... Well... That is actually questionable).

Here's a couple pics of the wonderful staff at Brother's and I...






That's Curti. He's probably one of my best friends... I'll be posting the story about the night we met sometime soon - it's a good one! Just gotta get around to pasting it over from MySpace...






That's Pete and I. I call him "Pet" because when I was first putting him into my cell phone, that's what I typed in, and it stuck!



That's Rob. His legendary armband is wrapped around my leg, and we thought we'd take a picture of it before I gave it back to him!

There wasn't much to the night after the fight was broken up... Little Dan was kicking us out, which was obnoxious... I paid my tab, and Danielle took me to McDonald's and then to Mara's. How brutal is it that McDonald's has a special "middle of the night" menu that serves double cheeseburgers, but not singles? All I want is a single cheeseburger. Ok, all I want is actually two single cheeseburgers and some fries and a drink. But those bastards in the McDonald's in Madison (we went to three the night that I stole Rob's armband!) will not give it to me.

Then D and I went back to "Hotel Mara." Mara was so amused by my footie pajamas (which LL calls "Teletubby pajamas, because I apparently look like a teletubby when I wear them) that she had to take four pictures of me in them in front of her Christmas tree - here's one...



For the record, it was those footie pajamas that I wore back to Milwaukee the next morning... I didn't have it in me to put on real clothes just yet. I did, however, put on my boots over the pj's... I ended up taking one off, though, because I couldn't zip either of them, and the left one just kept dragging on the ground! I didn't want my precious new boots to get destroyed, so I thought that carrying it in my arms would be a good call. I am sure that I was a sight to behold to construction workers when I walked past in that state! They definitely gave me strange strange looks! Oh well... Life goes on!!!

Sneaky Vulture Tricks (Volume I)

Alright... This is probably my favorite blog ever. I wrote it back in July, but it still applies. Actually, I am pretty sure that it is like the ten commandments - it will be an everlasting document. Perhaps I shall carve it into stone? Anyway... Enjoy!

I warn you, this is kinda going to be a rant. After both my roommate* and I got vulched tonight in very separate situations, we had yet another discussion on boys and their sneaky tricks. I correct myself - vultures, and their sneaky tricks. We discussed and compiled a list, and I look forward to the feedback of anyone who reads this. Pardon the bitterness, I am almost done with a bottle of Chardonnay on another sleepless night. Also, I want to note that this is in no way a how-to manual for boys to get myself or Danielle to fall in love with you so that you can be bastards to us. If you do this, I will kill you.

That said, here's the list.

1. Swooping in intermittently. By this, I mean calling, talking to us, giving us glimmers of hope just often enough that we can't get you off our mind, but not often enough that we feel confident that the relationship is going anywhere. Just enough to drive us crazy, and give us no sense of security.

2. Smelling good. We know you stink. But you bastard vultures camouflage your natural stink with things like deodorant and cologne, and then when you hug us (see #3), you leave these delicious smells behind, so that we can continue smelling and thinking of you. Heinous!

3. Hugs/cuddling. You have developed an embrace that makes you unforgettable. You are the best in the world at cuddling, and you cuddle with us a bunch of times, and then fly off into the sunset. That makes us feel safe and at home in your arms, when we should be keeping in mind that you are a predator... Because you are a predator. Just because you are bigger than us, and know how to hug a girl doesn't mean that we should lose sight of the fact that you are really a wolf in sheep's clothing.

4. Bigness. I am a sucker for bigness, and I don't mean this in a sexual way. My first blog was about my love for Shaquille O'Neal. Don't know if you noticed, but he is big. As a youngster, I had a crush on Arnold Schwarzenegger, who is also big. My dad is 6'2" and about 230lbs, which is big. I have always loved being carried around by a big man... And my love for big men has made me lose sight of the fact that they are carrying me away (meant physically AND mentally/emotionally) for less-than-innocent reasons. Big bastards and your f'ing huge wingspans!**

5. The charming smile. You jerks. What are you smiling about? And how do us ladies (carcasses, if you will, to keep the analogy going) confuse it for sweetness or love, when it is most likely truly a "haha, she's falling for my sneaky tricks, I know it, and it makes me happy" kind of a smile? Oh, I will kill you.

6. Empty promises. Oh, I will change. I mean it when I say.... BS! You aren't going to change or do whatever it is you say you are going to do. Now just shut your mouth when you're talking to me. If you don't have something honest to say, then don't say it at all, I say!

7. Musicality. I am not even sure that that is a word, but I am sick of being won over by someone's ability to sing or play an instrument or dance. I am a special sucker for dancers and pianists. No, not penises, pianists. I think that I would swoon immediately if someone played me a song on the piano and sang to me, and then took me out dancing. But why? You ain't special, you pianist you. You are just trying to trick me.

8. Voice. Boys have great voices. Something about the deeperness. I know that that is not a word, but I do not care. I am just saying that since I hate all things high-pitched that I am a sucker for any boy with a voice deeper than mine, and it doesn't even always matter what they are saying. I am also a sucker for those who have voices that speak French, or those who want to hear me speak French. I love speaking French and so far, no one I have ever dated has cared or wanted to hear it. I don't care if you understand me or not. Humor me.

9. Liking animals/children. This one kills me. I think it is so cute to see a guy and a puppy. As an educator, I am very impressed by a man who is good with kids. But seriously... So sneaky!

10. Blending in... Ah yes, for my final rant, I chose "blending in." I have met guys who are not vultures. Plenty of them. But then I have also met guys who are vultures, but hid it well for a long time. How are us girls supposed to tell what species you are? If you are a vulture, admit it and swoop with pride. If you are not, then please step into my office (after a few more months of me being single, because I am really not ready for you yet... But I would love to hook you up with someone who is!).

Before I end this rant, I want to add a disclaimer. I am not a man-hater. In fact, most of my friends are probably guys, and it seems to me that most aren't vultures. I am just struggling today. I also want to say that although there are specific people who come into mind from either my life experiences or the life experiences of my friends for each number, that this rant was not written about a specific guy at all. What I am saying is, this is about vulturous guys who are bad and know it. I know that not all guys are vultures. If I didn't believe that, I would be a lesbian.

Just sayin'.

End rant.

(Ok, not really end rant, because there's always Sneaky Vulture Tricks Volume II and Sneaky Vulture Tricks Volume III, PLUS the Vulture National Anthem sent to me by Brian!)

**** HAHA! I just re-read this for the first time since July! So funny. I'm not this bitter right now, but there are definitely times in between then and now that I have been! And I think that some of the parts are definitely hilarious, considering who I currently spend my time being interested in, and who I was with in the meantime... Those who know me know this is funny...

* For any strangers reading this, Danielle is my roommate. Love her to death. All four feet and eleven inches of her!

** This cracked me up. Although eh doesn't seem to be a vulture, 7'3" of wingspan is pretty f'ing significant!