"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!

Celebrating Quasi-Obscure Absurdities

It has been a long time since I've blogged. I've missed it. I've decided to turn over a new leaf and rekindle and old activity that I enjoyed greatly this summer…

The new leaf is the celebration of bizarre American holidays. Today, January 24th, is National Eskimo Pie Patent Day. After tonight's game, Ous is going to come over and he, Danielle, and I are going to eat Eskimo Pies. Seems appropriate and delicious. I am pretty pumped. I am going to try to make up for the fact that I didn't start this one day sooner, which would have afforded me the luxury of celebrating both "National Handwriting Day" and "National Measure Your Foot Day," all on my sweet grandmother's 70 th birthday. I guess I kinda celebrated the foot measurement day about a month ago. I was curious about whether or not the thing that people say is true, that your foot is the same length as your arm from your elbow to your wrist. Ous has really long arms, and his feet aren't that big (well, compared to Shaq), so I thought he'd be an exception. Turns out, no. In a strange turn of events involving holding his size 16 shoe up to his forearm, we learned that even if you have a wingspan of 7 feet and 3 inches, the rule is still in full effect.

The old activity that I am going to bring back starting tonight? That would be celebrating celebrity birthdays, particularly obscure ones. Today's celeb's are Neil Diamond and John Belushi. I can scarcely think of a better pair. Well, there were some this summer, like Martha Stewart and James Hetfield… I think Hulk Hogan's birthday was the most brutal, as far as getting hammered is concerned, but that's neither here nor there. Anyway, for today's celebration, I'm thinking that it might be appropriate to sing a little Sweet Caroline and perhaps watch Animal House… Or maybe we'll throw in Saving Silverman and eat a Cheezeborger. There are so many phenomenal options!

Alright… Before a whole month passes by without me blogging this, I need to share a little story. Let's take a time trip back to December 28th, 2006. The place: Can's. Can's is in my top five favorite bars in Milwaukee, of what I have experienced so far. Great music, ample space, interesting mix of patrons. Known for its unusual service of beer in a can (hence the name). The reason for the trip??? Efren Ramirez was DJing 80s music all night. Plus, they had $2 or $3 martini's. Who is Efren Ramirez? You probably know him as Pedro from the amazing movie Napoleon Dynamite. What you probably don't know is that he has a twin brother… But we'll get back to him momentarily.

The night started out with Danielle and I finding a superb parking spot just across the street, right by good ol' Vitucci's. Jackpot! We then went in, and had a few issues with people walking around the bar as though they are mute linebackers – slamming into people and not apologizing or saying excuse me or anything. As a semi-small individual, this drives me nuts! But once I had a drink in my hand (ok, I'll be honest… once I had my 2nd drink in my hand), I was no longer too upset. Funny how that works, no?

The next thing after getting drinks was to secure a good spot with a line of sight for me to Efren. I'm sorry to say that it is not usually a priority in crowded situations to get a good line of sight for Danielle, because that is generally a lost cause. Let's be honest. She's 4'11". She is used to not seeing much. Or maybe she sees a whole lot of interesting things that we miss? Who knows. Anyway, I made it my goal initially to take a picture of Mr. Ramirez so that he was looking our direction, and so that his image was also simultaneously on the flat screens. Another charming thing about Cans is that they always have a ridiculous movie on their tv's. I think the time before last I was there, I enjoyed Top Gun while listening to Run DMC and drinking a vanilla vodka and sprite (yum!). What more can you ask for?

Well, I got a couple good shots, as you can see!
Then Efren introduced us (as a crowd) to his twin brother, Carlos. Carlos (whose hat I covet) eventually made his way over to Danielle and I. He really liked Danielle. We didn't exactly capture it in a photo, but he definitely kissed both of us (on the cheek, of course. We're ladies!)



Throughout the night, Efren was hysterical. He was thanking the crowd for voting for him. He was quoting the movie (particularly the part where Napoleon asks if the chickens have large talons...) and he has an impressive Napoleon impression! (impressive impression? Ha. Absurd!).

Then Nicole (my beloved friend who can take credit for my hair!) and her boss and friend Carrie arrived. That is where it got absurd. We had been talking to this douchebag who kinda latched on to me and actually pissed me off. He implied that I was hammered, which is why I thought that Pedro's twin was Pedro's twin. Ass clown. Look at them! Plus, he was lame. The only things he had to say were lame. But apparently, it was Danielle who really got the short end of the stick (ha! I am cracking myself up!). The guy, who was a friend of the guy who was trying to talk to me, that was talking to her (who was, I must mention, wearing a tie. To Can's. Brut brut!) was apparently one hundred times more lame, and was very disappointed when she declined his invitation to a wine tasting party. Anyway, Nicole and Carrie kinda rescued us, but only a little. Shots were bought. It was the Tequila that took me over the edge, for sure.
As we always do, Nicole, Danielle and I (and in this case, Carrie too!), made a new friend. No, he had neither a grill nor a bike chain for a necklace. What did this man have that made him special you ask? Moves like I wouldn't believe. He could dance like nobody's business. AND, to make it all the better, he was sporting a headband/bandana thing in the style of karate kid. My favorite of his moves was when he lifted his leg off the ground with his arms, and proceeded to play air guitar on it. And if I am not mistaken, he also picked both Nicole and I off the ground in his antics. We naturally had to take a picture with this stunner!

We capped off the night parting ways with Nicole and Carrie. Nicole was hammered. She ran into a friend from childhood, gave him a huge hug, was very excited to see him and exclaimed in happiness… Then said "How do I know you again?" Too funny.

Then, after bidding Nicole and Carrie adieu, Danielle and I started our short walk across the street. On the way, a couple men of Hispanic origin called to us. I thought they were friends with Carlos (whose hat I was trying to obtain), and so I turned around and talked to them. They asked for my number, and I denied (who is proud of me? I have been so good lately about this!) him, but took his number. When he gave it to me, I asked his name, and then let out another joke in poor taste that was only appreciated by Danielle. He told me his name was Mike, and as I was entering "Mike from aosigfhor" into my phone (that is a rough estimation of what it actually said), I said "yes, that is what I would've guessed." He had a very clear accent. And I am not racist, or trying to promote stereotypes… At least Danielle thought it was funny. The guys didn't even catch it! Silly boys and their inability to focus!

Anyway, end of story. We went home, whilst I sent a bunch of absurd text messages (and one really long facebook message) to poor Ous, who always seems to be the target for such communications. I don't know why he puts up with me!

Stay tuned for stories of a going away party (which, coincidentally includes another story of me obtaining a Mexican man's number), and a holiday white elephant party, and maybe even pictures of tonight's Eskimo pie celebration!

Who let the dogs out?

Here's another oldie but goody from my myspace blog. There's an update at the end, after the **'s.

Disclaimer: This is one of those nights where two glasses of wine (and no, Jamie, not the glasses from the night of the ACF show that are gallons large, but normal-sized glasses!) have made me squiffy (and not just ready to sleep as planned), so excuse any side effects of non-entire-sobriety. Wait, what?

Oh, and also, I want to use this public forum to thank my friends for being my friends and being amazing people. Madisonians - some of you are making me feel so missed, it's not even funny. Like, according to y'all, how is Madison even still functioning? And Milwaukeeans... I haven't seen most of you. Yet. Tomorrow we're tailgating, though... I have no intention of going to the game... But I have to say that in the last couple days, laughing with Lers at the most absurd things have been exactly what the doctor ordered... SO that too. And D... We've both been crabby and stressed and on emotional roller coasters.. But when we're pulled together (such as when our apt reached new heights), it's the best.

More or less, I love you all!

Alright, this story is over a week old, so I know that half the people that actually read my blog have heard it in person, which I guarantee is better than reading the written word... But hey, some of you just don't talk to me in person or on the phone enough. I guess this is your lesson!
So yeah...

So shortly (not a pun making fun of D's height) after we moved in, we didn't really have a place to eat, or food to eat. So Danielle and I went to Wendy's and brought food to one of the nice common tables overlooking the lobby. We are sitting and quietly enjoying our meal and the atmosphere of our fancy ass living quarters, when two people are at the elevators and yell to us "Are y'all packer fans?"

I explain that Danielle is a Bear fan, that I don't care about NFL football, and then say that my dad is a Packer fan.

Then the lady (there is a lady and man in this story) says "well, let's show them this, they will think it is cute." We meet about halfway between the table D and I were eating at and the elevator, and she shows me this dog that is wearing a Packer jersey. If you squeeze it's hand, it sings "Who Let the Dogs Out?". Could this be any cooler? The answer, as it turns out, is yes.
They don't just have one electronic stuffed dog with them, but two. The second dog trumps the first like you wouldn't believe. It is Humphrey the Humping Dog. A chihuahua that humps whatever you hook him too. It's so creepy. It moans and climaxes and shit.

Anyway, so these people show us the two dogs and the awesome things that they do (i.e., singing "Who let the dogs out" and humping things), and they say... "We will give them to you for $10. We need gas."

Well, I think that this story alone is worth ten damn dollars, so I fork it over. They tell me that my dad will love the "who let the dogs out" dog. I just want to tell people that I was solicited to buy battery-operated pets in my goddamn apartment, so I don't even care. Plus, I have needed gas money before, so I kinda understand. And, let's not forget that I am a freaking sucker. Just sayin'!

Anyway, so that was that. For the low low price of $10, Danielle's and my family in the 213 has nearly doubled. However, our lease only allows two cats, and no dogs, so we have to do away with such pets.

Worry not. The "Who let the dogs out" Green Bay Packers dog is going to DB, who helped us move. He doesn't even know what he is in for!

Again, I say worry not. If you want Humphrey the Humping Chihuahua (and who wouldn't), all you have to do is visit our apartment. Every visitor is gonna fill out a damn raffle thing, and at some pre-determined (Danielle and I need to do the pre-determining, and fast, because peeps is comin' tomorrow) point, we will draw a name of who is gonna take Humphrey home. The more times you visit, the more entries you get. No, we are not desparate for guests... We just love fun and prizes, and we think Humphrey is a good one.

Oh, and if you wanted an update... I've run into the lady who sold me the dog several times, and nearly every time, she asks me if the people I bought them for liked them.

Also, the dog situation helped in our favor (already worth more than $10!)... Those of you who know me, know that in the summer time, I wear some pretty short shorts. When I am just wandering my apartment, this doesn't even occur to me. Well, as it turns out, I was wearing some pretty short shorts the other day when D and I went to the cyber lounge, and we encountered a man with braids, the ends of which were in curlers. He was speaking volumes about my short "Dookie shorts" and talking about what he looks like in dookie shorts, and was basically checking me out as though I was a statue or something unable to think or realize that he was being such a vulture. Anyway, the elevator opens, and my BFF was like "Hey, leave those girls alone, they're my friends! They bought the dogs."

So yes. For the low low price of ten dollars I get the following....
1. A gift to give to Bolin, who helped us move.
2. A hilarious story to tell.
3. Protection from vultures in curlers that live in my apartment
4. New friendship
5. The chance to offer a prize to visitors
6. A gift that just seems to keep on giving.
Can you think of a better way to spend $10?

Well, I had a couple glasses of wine earlier, while framing prints, so I think I am going to go to bed. I hope that I was able to impart this story in an amply humorous way... I guess I will see how the comments roll! It might be a "you had to be there" type of thing... But perhaps the pictures below will help!

And P.S. I am pretty sure that not ALL of my blogs will contain some sort of mushy shout out. I just need to adjust, you dig?

P.P.S. Pharrell is on MTV right now, and I still have a crush on him. He's still in my top five. Swoop swoop! Brut Brut! (Yes, Lers, strong U).

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

Update: LL won Humphrey. It was glorious. Check out the pics!

Here's us presenting Humphrey to LL....


Here's LL holding Humphrey over her head victoriously.

And here she is, proudly displaying Humphrey's capabilities.

Drunk Diary 8-12-06

2006 is almost over. Almost time for 2007! To ring it in, I am going to post one of my favorite memories of 2006... I remember most of it, anyway!

Alright, I don't know how Cari decided that I am the storyteller of the two of us, but apparently it is my responsibility to impart the absurdity that was Saturday... I have a feeling that a lot of this is going to be "you had to be there" kind of humor, but even if it makes one person smile, it's worth it...

Night begins with a decision as to where we are going to go. Cari mentions a desire to hear Billy Ocean's masterpiece "Get Outta My Dreams," and the decision is made. We're going to Brother's, since as Andrew pointed out, they play that song nightly.

Since Danielle has other biznass to attend to (good girl!), the sweetheart and angel she is drops us off, because let's be realistic... Neither Cari nor I are going to be safe to drive at the end of this night. So, we pop "Mike D's Old School Mix" (which, for the record, is an f'ing phenomenal cd) into the car stereo and get moving on our way. We sing a little BBD (Yes, "Do Me" is one of the highlights of Mike's masterpiece) and some other awesome hits until we get there.... But when we roll up in the Acura with the curbside service (thanks again, DeFran), it's all about "If It Isn't Love" by New Edition. Hell yes, we were bumping it. And I can't say with certainty, because I was only wearing my left contact lens at the time, but I am pretty sure that Gerard, who was at the door, looked at us like "Who do you think you are?"

You know who we are, Gerard.

And yes, he did, because he just let us in... Although he was a little iffy about it. What a snot!
Anyway, first order of business was to get a drink. We were hoping for Curti, who was working, but were served by a much more serious man. So we drank drink #1 for the night.

(This seems like it is going to be really long. It might be. But let me ease your mind with the fact that the details get more and more hazy and the events get more and more interesting as the night rolls on.)

Drink #1 is done, so we go for #2. Yay! Curti! It should be noted, that right after saying hello to me, Curti says "Your hair's funky tonight!" with that big smile of his. Thank you for noticing, Curti! I explain that I was in a funky mood. Curti gives us our drink, then takes a picture of us for us...

When he hands back the camera, Curti says "Wow, you actually physically made love to the camera in that picture. I don't know how you did that!" Haha, Curti. You're too funny!

Shortly into drink #2, Cari and I are approached by a big meathead. He looks like he is 35 years old, but I am scared to tell him this, because he might go into a 'roid rage. After a little bit of talking (during which he keeps moving closer and closer to us... Such that we started out at the corner of the bar, and by the end of our drink were by the f'ing stairs from backing away from this man so much), he introduces himself.

Meathead: "My name's Kiev."
Me: "Kiev? Like Chicken Kiev?"
Kiev: "Well, I usually say 'like the city in Russia,' but I suppose chicken kiev works, too."

Turns out, my age estimation was dead on. Chicken Kiev is 35 years old.

The meathead judgement was dead on as well. One of Kiev's most entertaining stories was about how he takes long lunches to go work out at the Princeton Club, and that there is a Puerto Rican guy he is friends with from working out, and they yell "Hey, Cabron" at eachother across the gym. Let's also not ignore the fact that was pointed out to me - Kiev is actually not even in Russia. If you're going to liken yourself to a city, you should at least know where it is!

If that story is what this man uses to try to bring home girls, maybe it is a good thing that performance and muscle enhancing drugs have likely caused his testicles to shrivel. He won't be needing them anyway.

Another interesting tidbit about Kiev, who we talked to for way too long (so long, in fact, that we considered switching bars to get away from him... Worry not, we were saved by my overactive bladder that night... I don't know what was up with that.), and too many times... He was in Madison that night with his "body guard" who was just this enormous ass individual that looked like a wall. He definitely could have been a professional football player if he had any skills... I am guessing that he didn't have any, though. Or if he did, none of them were "speaking English" because he didn't say a word all night. Maybe that was better, although I can scarely imagine a scenario in which letting your friend Chicken Kiev do all the talking is the best P of A.
So after this admission of having a big body guard, and lengthy explanations of why no one would consider jumping him if his friend was with him (sure would have been nice if there was a knight in shining armour or two to save us at this point), Cari strokes his ego a bit and tells him that she is pretty sure that he (Chicken Kiev) can hold his own in a fight.

I am having none of this. I praise his idea of having the body guard, and explain to him that I am actually Cari's body guard, and when people see us in an alley and think about jumping Cari, and then they see me, they think "There is no way in hell I am going to fuck with her." And from this point forward, with Chicken Kiev, I basically repeat back everything he says, but make it so that it is the exact statement but about Cari or I. Meathead Chicken Kiev has no idea we are making fun of him directly to his face.

Drink #2 = finished. Bathroom trip #2 = in progress. Who do we see, but Lance and Miguel, the erotic photo hunt legends of Madison, WI. Cari has a little bit of a sour taste in her mouth from the last time she met Lance, when he was the drunkest person in the world, smelled like a lawn mower, and said many beligerant and dirty things to her. I assured her that he wasn't so bad the other time when he was soberer, and she agreed to give him a second chance. We say hi briefly, go get the bathroom thing taken care of, and then go back to Lance and Miguel.

I immediately called Lance out on his vulturesque behavior the last time we saw him, as well as the fact that he smelled like a lawn mower, and he appologized profusely and explained that he had been golfing and drinking all day, and didn't even remember everything that he said. Bravo, Lance, Bravo! We had some friendly conversation, several laughs, and then took this cute little picture...

In the meantime, I have set up a tab with Curti. For drink number three, I get his attention, and he holds up two fingers, while raising his eyebrows. I nod, to confirm that both Cari and I will be imbibing a new drink at that point. Amazing. By the time that I get to the bar, the drinks are ready, and he takes my card. Just beautiful. Thank you, Curti.

We bid LanceNMiguel ado, with a sad farewell, since I will not likely see them again since I am moving to Milwaukee, and me threatening to kill them if they come to my Photo Hunt turf.

A little bit of time passes, and Cari and I decide that once we finish our drinks and go to the bathroom (again... sorry, Cari), that we should do shots. On the way back from the bathroom, I spot Curti and smile, he puts his two up, I nod, drinks are on the way. We get to the bar, and there are our drinks... He notices that we are not lined up correctly, and switches them, handing them to us individually, and saying "I believe you are the Captain" when he gives me mine.

Damn right, I am the Captain, Curti!!! That's what I liked to hear. Anyway, the three of us do a shot (one of Curti's creations), and we step away from the bar to drink our drinks and finally debrief about both Kiev and Lance N Miguel. We also, at this point, had the chance to rock out to "Get Outta My Dreams," by Billy Ocean. It was beautiful.

We are not standing there long when I am hit by a blast from the past. Alex M! He was a couple years younger than me and went to my highschool... I was good friends with his brother, John M, who is a year older than me. How funny! In my mind, Alex was still highschool aged, despite the fact that I had knowledge that he was at Madison. We quickly took a picture together, caught up really quick, and parted ways...

Shortly after Alex steps aside, we look up at the bar to see a girl we had been making fun of all night (She had the most absurd blonde dye-job and was dressed like a street walker. "Is that girl serious???") and a few of her hoe-ass friends dancing atop the bar. That was ridiculous. And, to top it off, they all sucked at dancing. I resisted the temptation to show them up, and waited patiently for them to get off the bar. Once they did, Curti and I used our signals to procure more drinks... And shots, for Cari and I.

Then we decide that I need a picture with Gerard. So, we obviously make that happen... Notice the face on Gerard's shoulder... That's Jay-Bob. He comes into play later. I don't know the other broseph's name, but he is always there. (Turns out, he's Ben. I would befriend him later in the summer/Fall).

Such begins the ridiculous picture fest.

Now, Cari decides that what she really needs in life is to have a picture of me kissing her on the cheek. Alright, sounds good. Gerard was the chosen one as photographer, since he wasn't doing anything immediately after posing with me anyway.

(Sidenote: Cari, aren't you proud of us for keeping it 100% G-rated?? YES!)

Anyway, at this point I believe that we got more drinks with the Curti thing. I mean, he just made it way too easy. I don't know exactly how many times I got drinks in this easy fashion, but I can tell you that it was convenient as hell, and spelled trouble.

Then Kiev, who is still f'ing there, comes and talks to us for a second. Just a second, though...

Thank God! But worry not, for another vulture is prepared to swoop... This guy walks up and says "I gotta ask you girls a question, and I have been wondering this all night. How in the fuck do you two know Kiev?"

What makes you think we know him? Because he is being a stalkin'-ass vulture?

We explain that we had just met him that night, and did not know him. Then this friend explains that Kiev is actually a cokehead, which confuses the shit out of Cari (I gotta say that I am a little baffled as well), because Kiev is such a big dude...

Cari: "I thought that cokeheads were supposed to be all EMANCIPATED?"

Emaciated? Yeah. Anyway, the friend goes on and on about how Kiev's eyes were all dilated and blah blah blah boring vulture blah.

OK, last call! We had better get more drinks, since it is our last chance.

Now keep in mind, that we had a couple drinks BEFORE going out, since Danielle was driving.

We paid in cash for two rounds... And we went up there twice at this point to get both drinks AND shots, as well as 1-3 other times for JUST drinks. Also, keep in mind that we started drinking while we were getting ready at approximately 9:30, and that we got to the bar shortly after 11. It is now 2am. Three hours of fun after arriving at Brother's.

What do we say to Curti when we get to the bar to get our drinks, which were, of course, sitting and waiting for us???

"Curti, we're not drunk yet, so we're gonna need shots, too."

We're not drunk yet???? WHAAAAAT??? Obviously.

Anyway, so we do a shot with Curti, and then step aside to drink our drinks...

Then I close my tab ($40 - sweetness!), and get Curti's number, which he hands back to me on a slip... Curti and I had previously (a couple weeks before) discussed how we each loved making up stories about who we were, and thought it would be fun if he ever came to Milwaukee to make an absurd backstory and lie to people all night... And I should probably give a little background on how Curti and I became acquainted... The time prior to this one that Cari was in town, when I was the drunkest person in the United States and stole Zak that mojitos poster, I apparently told Curti that he should remember my face and name for the next time I was in there, because I am a good tipper and I wanted good service. The next day I went in, and he immediately said "Hi, Mandie!" to me, and I hadn't remembered the previous night's conversation, so I felt like a huge drunk. Ah, well...

Anyway, moments later, I am talking to Curti about how he needs to transfer to the Brother's on Water street in Milwaukee... And I want to confirm that he will call me when he is in Milwaukee... And I dont remember him giving me his number, which was at the time, in my pocket. So he gives me his number again, and I put it in my phone. I was a genius at this point. Thank you, Cari, for your help here.

This part gets a little fuzzy for me... But I know that we were talking a lot to the staff of Brother's about various things... Which is probably how we ended up being the last patron's in there... Our explanation was that we needed pictures with Curti, our favorite bartender in the world, for obvious reasons...

Have you been wondering all along what he looks like? Good... Here we are!

Awww...

And of course we need another, with Cari...

OK, so I have no idea how it happened... But remember Jay-Bob, from the picture above with Gerard? Well, at this point, he must have attacked me with a permanent marker... Because that is the only way I can think of that the words "Jay-Bob ownes me" and a picture of a fish, as well as a blue dot could have gotten drawn on my arm. And yes, he spelled it "ownes." Brutal!

Danielle, notice the "bracelet arm" pose?

So, at this point, Cari and I decide that it is time to continue our trend of all Mexican food all the time, and go to T-Bell for some crunchwraps. Done and done. We were the last people here, too. Yes, the employees (who I probably bonded with as well) were sweeping as we were leaving. Again. Good for us! I am pretty sure it is 3am at this point. Could be later. Who knows?

At some point, either at the end of the night at Brother's (perhaps even by Kiev's friend? Who knows?) or at T-Bell, we are invited to an A-Bar at TKE... Of course we are ready to party. I mean, at this point, are we even ready to admit that we might be drunk? It's anybody's guess. So we walk over to TKE. Thank goodness Cari knows her frats and sororities... Or maybe not. Because when we arrive, no one is there. Or if they are, they are not conscious.

So we decide to go home, and I decide that it is time for some drunk dialing and texting. Do I remember any of the conversations that took place at this time? Nope. I sent a thank-you text to Curti. I sent many other texts, too. Are they grammatically perfect? Yes. Do they make any sense at all when strung together, or even put back and forth with the responses? Not so much, no. Good thing I was communicating with someone else who wasn't so sober!

I suggest we hail a cab. Apparently, I thought that I was in NYC. Did I really think there would be cabs all over State Street at 4am? Yes. Ah well. So Cari is the crabbiest person ever because we feel duped about the TKE party... I don't really care about this. She tells me that I am stupid on the "hail a cab" idea (she's right) and then calls one (thanks, Andy, for the number!). She doesn't know my address, and I am on the phone, so she has to tell the cab operator that we are going "Somewhere on Fish Hatchery Road." The cab operator is like "You don't know where you are going???" (Almost as good as "Ma'am, are you aware that you are at the library?)... The cab comes...

We get in the cab, and that's pretty much a time warp. I don't remember anything other than getting in and out of it.

When we get back to my apartment, I see that a new phone book has been placed inside the main door. This apparently upsets me. I start bitching about how we have like eight fucking phone books (complete lie. At this point in the story, we had one phone book, which is the perfect amount), and why do people keep giving us phone books?

Obviously, the best course of action is for me to take this phone book, which I do.

Cari, the voice of reason here, asks me "If you guys have eight fucking phone books, then why are you taking that one?"

And I say "Because it's a free gift!" in my most cheerful voice.

I take out my contact, brush, floss, wash my face and go to bed.

When I wake up (at 8am - WHAAAT?), my hair looks exactly as it did when I left the apt. I don't know how. And the first thing I had to do was wash off "Jay-Bob ownes me" of my arm.
Thank you so much to everyone involved in the night, whether directly or indirectly, for making it awesome.

And thank you to you, whoever is reading this, for being an f'ing trooper. This shit is long.

Almost took me an hour! Hope you enjoyed!

Karma is a bee-otch, isn't it Book???

Ah, another old post from myspace... But still brings a smile to my face! ENJOY!

An exerpt from "H to the Izzo" by Jay Z, aka Sean Carter:

"Holla at me...

I do this for my culture

To let 'em know what a nigga look like...when a nigga in a roaster

Show 'em how to move in a room full 'o vultures...
Pay us like you owe us for all the years that you hold us

We can talk, but money talks so talk mo' bucks"

Alright, let me tell you a little story...

Two years ago, when I was living on Prospect Avenue, I went to the Oak Crest (now Lucky's) to visit a "friend" who worked there, with my lovely roommate, Danielle. That night, Danielle was lifted over the head of an enormous bouncer who just couldn't stop talking about how cute Danielle was... And how much she reminded him of his 8-year-old sister, except for Danielle being white.

Fast forward two nights... Danielle and I in line at F'ing Qdoba (which I hate, because I think the food tastes like air) because Taco Bell was closed (wow, must've been a weeknight, I guess) when we hear this voice... "Heeeey, it's you guys!" Hello big bouncer from the Oak Crest. Talk ensues again about how cute little Danielle is... And then he asks... "Hey, do you guys know who Booker Stanley is?"

For those of you who aren't Badgers, Badger Alumni, or followers of Big 10 football, Booker Stanley was a running back for the Badgers when I went to UW... And he was pretty decent. To be honest, though... The best thing about him was his name. Danielle loved it. At every game we went to, whenever the announcer said his name, Danielle would say "I love his name."

Sooo... Me being who I am, and often not realizing that I am about to embarass Danielle (ha, happens all the damn time... Sorry, girl!). So when big bouncer dude (or, from here on out, BBD, if you will, because his name didn't stick with me, and he really isn't incredibly important to the story) asks if we know who he is, I'm all like "Ohhhhh yeah! Danielle LOVES his name!" Of course I didn't think that the punk ass a few people in front of me who is my height, and about as wide as he is tall is the man about whom we were speaking. BBD yells "Book! Hey Book! Come here!" and this cat just waddles over with the biggest fake diamond I have ever seen in his ear. BBD says to "Book," "Dude, these girls love your name."

Now, I don't know about where y'all are from... But to me, that is not license to hit on people. I don't know where Book is from, either, but apparently that is a direct translation over thurr.
So Book's talking to us, and he's like "Hey, can you do me a favor? I am kinda low on money, so do you think I could borrow money for the 7 cheese nachos?"

Oh really, Book??? "Psh. Look at that rock in your ear. You have money. I haven't worked in a couple weeks because I broke my foot. (I was still wearing that sexy boot... Must've been what attracted him to me!) Besides, when am I going to see you again?"

"I get paid $9,000 in two weeks. I will buy you nachos then."

"Umm, I don't think so."

"Well, I have all but fifty cents of it. I will let you cut in line so you can get out of here sooner if you give me the fifty cents."

Alright, fine... That seems alright, right? I mean seriously... Fifty cents? Who cares.

So we go up by where Book was standing in line, and he's talking to me about all types of stuff. Stuff like my invisalign... During that conversation, he informed me that he has a gap between his two front teeth. I wish I had a pic of him cheesing for you, because the gap is like a half inch wide. Seriously. Thanks, Book, so glad you've pointed that out.

Then he tries to get me to go home with him. Says that he lives closer, and that way I wouldn't have to walk so far with the broken foot.

After I decline, he actually offered to carry me home, over his shoulder, to where he stayed. Seriously, Book, are you that lonely? Are you going to club me over the head like a caveman anyway if I say no? (Yeah, the irony of that statement is coming.... hang on to your seats).

Anyway, so he figures out finally that I am not going home with him, and decides we should order, and then he will, and then he'll pay and go home. Danielle and I order our food to eat in Qdoba, and Book orders his to go. I jokingly say "You better give me my change!" Thinking it would be absurd for him to leave with my change.

Well... Turns out no. Being the running back he was, Booker Stanley took his 7 cheese nachos and ran right out of Qdoba. With my $3. Fucker!

How does all of this tie in to today, and to Karma? Let me give you an excerpt from a story from Channel3000.com...

Headline: Ex-Badger Booker Stanley Found Guilty on Four Counts. Three counts were felonies.

Story:
MADISON, Wis. -- The Dane County Court issued a guilty verdict for former Badger football player Booker Stanley.
Stanley was found guilty on four counts -- three felonies -- including second-degree sexual assault, recklessly endangering safety and bail jumping.
The verdict stems from a Dec. 21 incident involving an ex-girlfriend.
No sentencing date has been set. Stanley could spend more than 50 years in prison, WISC-TV reported.

WOW! As the title says, isn't Karma a Beee-yotch? I am tempted to write the judge a letter, and say that he should be considering adding an hour or so to that 50-year sentence because of his theft of three dollars from a girl who was limping around Madison with an orthopedic boot on. I hate seeing my Badgers brought down by assclowns such as this chump, and Nick Davis, and the like... But this brought a giggle to my lips. And that's real.

Sneaky Vulture Tricks (Volume II)

Sneaky Vulture Tricks, Volume II.

Did you really think that vultures only had ten tricks? Come on now, let's get serious. While many have bird brains... They definitely have more up their feathered, long wingspanned sleeves than anyone lets on. And trust me, I have dealt with some long wingspans.
I want to apologize if this is weak compared to volume 1. Sequels usually are. Cut me a break. Plus, I am 100% sober, unless there are remnants from this past weekend going on.

Also, please accept my apologies for the length of time this took to be composed. To be honest, I had been just too happy and carefree to even get upset about any vultures... But that only lasts so long, and I read something that made me miss being in a loving, romantic relationship, so I guess I am bitter for now, which will hopefully work in the favor of my readers!
I also want to reiterate my ultra important point that this is not a guidebook to being a life-ruiner. Use it that way on any of my girls, and I will personally end you.
And finally, I want to say again that this is not about anyone in particular, but vultures as a species.

And without further adooooo....

11. Being evasive. What is wrong with just being up front? Why you gotta be ambiguous? Are you the Ace or Gary of feelings? If so, then you should wear a cape. It would be at the very least sexy, which is a definite positive addition to just eminating utter confusion. Why choose playing games and acting like you're not interested, or you're maybe interested, when you can just be like "I think I like you, let's get to know each other."

(Sidenote: An excerpt from Wedding Crashers...

"Janice, I apologize to you if I don't seem real eager to jump into a forced awkward intimate situation that people like to call dating. I don't like the feeling. You're sitting there, you're wondering do I have food on my face, am I eating, am I talking too much, are they talking enough, am I interested I'm not really interested, should I play like I'm interested but I'm not that interested but I think she might be interested but do I want to be interested but now she's not interested? So all of the sudden I'm getting, I'm starting to get interested... And when am I supposed to kiss her? Do I have to wait for the door cause then it's awkward, it's like well goodnight. Do you do like that ass-out hug? Where you like, you hug each other like this and your ass sticks out cause you're trying not to get too close or do you just go right in and kiss them on the lips or don't kiss them at all? It's very difficult trying to read the situation. And all the while you're just really wondering are we gonna get hopped up enough to make some bad decisions? Perhaps play a little game called "just the tip". Just for a second, just to see how it feels. Or, ouch, ouch you're on my hair."

end of sidenote, back to sneaky tricks)

I'll tell you why boys are evasive... Because it drives us ladies crazy. How are we supposed to get them off our minds and move on with our lives when we can't stop analyzing their every move to determine whether they're feelin' us? But don't tell boys that. And this only works for so long, at least on me, because I just lose patience and give up apparently.

12. Touching. This one needs to be broken down into two sub-groups, because there are at least two (well, these ones come to mind) ways that vultures use touching to trick us ladies.

a. Extraneous touching. If I am standing in a crowded bar, and a vulture is walking past me, puts a hand on my shoulder, says "excuse me" and then steps past me, and then puts his other hand on my hand or waist on the departure... He is not tricking anyone. Seriously, Roamin' Hands McGee, who are we kidding? I mean, yes, I do take notice... But only in a "why in the hell is this a-hole touching me so much" kind of creepy way. Or, there's the good side of it... The "I am going to make my point ten times stronger by touching my hand to your leg," or the "I am going to be quasi macho and aggressive and show my big tough manliness by getting in a fake fight with you" or even the "I am going to casually tap you mid conversation for no reason" trick. If I have nicknamed you "double touch" you should just leave. For good. What's even more absurd is when vultures just up and move you, or a part of your body. Who do you think you are? OK, now I am just rambling... On to part B!

b. Romantic or flirtatious touching/massages. There is nothing like a strong man putting his strong hands on... 'Nuff said. You sneaky sneaky bastids. I hate you. Or at least I wish I did. I mean seriously. If I say "my back is sore" and your are giving me a massage before I can properly face my back to you... You're just asking for trouble. Only do this type of thing if you actually care about the soreness and the muscles, not just to seem nice or have an excuse to touch a poor girl.

13. Being in shape. Any shape. Men's bodies are so tempting... Whether you have an adorably perfect amount of pudge, or so little body fat that you don't even feel like a person - just skin on brick... Damn you. How dare you exist and be so attractive?! Bitches. I will kill you. I don't even care that this is not your fault. I never claimed to be fair here.

14. Guilt trips - I thought that this was "something chicks do. Your not a chick, are you?" Ahhh, Old School. Anyway, yeah. This one isn't really my thing, at least not recently, but it goes out to someone who knows who she is. It's for you, girl, and I love you. Always have. All I am sayin' is that if you love something, let it go. If someone is clearly trying to break up with you, let them go. But above all, and this is really driving the point home.... If you are upset about something, just say it. Don't make a girl feel bad on purpose and never really say what's on your mind. Save the games for the bedroom olympics, son!

15. Shyness - "Oh, look at me, I don't talk because I am bashful and cute. And I am so intimidated by all of your awesomeness and your amazing friends, that I can't even utter a word for fear that I might embarass myself." Why do I latch on to this behavior? Why do I feel like I need to take these boys under my wing to make sure they are amply enjoying life, when I should be realizing that I just got reeled in to a vulture's nest??? I simply need to remember that they are the ones with wings, not me. F'ing vultures. Swoop swoop!

16. Compliments - "What's it like to know that when you walk into anywhere, you will be the most attractive person in the place?" Are you serious? I don't think I even need to explain why the compliments are just absurd. If you can make a realistic statement that is heartfelt about someone, by all means, do it to it. But if you are just going to say the most absurd thing you can think of to try to get me to the top of your tree and into the nest so that you can push me out of it, just get out of my grill. Are you wearing astronaut pants? Because your ass is out of this world. PUH-LEASE. I think I just threw up in my mouth a lil bit.

17. Apologies - You f'ing tricksters. If you don't mean it, don't say it. If you are just going to do the same damn thing again, don't apologize for it.

But on the other hand, if you are an a-hole and know it, but want to change, appologize. Come on now. It's not that hard. I am pretty sure this idea starting being brought to boys' minds at a very young age. Fiff.

18. Number 18 is about any little reminder that a boy is thinking about a girl... For example, when a vulture knows that his girl is out at a bar, and sends a "you should be thinking about me right now" sort of text message. If this is a loving, committed, and serious relationship, or a blossoming one in the cute stage, by all means... Keep that shit coming. But if it's a struggle, and something that just shouldn't be... Pull your life together and let the girl have some fun without being reminded about how miserable you make her life at times.

19. Gifts - This is just the sneakiest. No explanation needed.

20. Alcohol - Are we serious here? Beer goggles... I don't know. But personality enhancer? Fo shizza. Get off my block. People who aren't equally cool sober as drunk really just need to take some time to figure out their lives. And people who give other people alcohol to make theirselves seem more appetizing... Just get out of here! I think this one is another that doesn't really require explanation. But it is sneaky, and ladies.... Beware!

21. Uniqueness - This one just breaks my heart, and it is another one that isn't really the vulture's fault, but I am still angry about it anyway, so I will throw reasonableness (I don't know if that is a real word or not, but I pulled off saying "optimisticnessism" or something like that without too bad of a consequence the other night, so I am just going to let that one fly) to the wind and bitch about it. Life would be infinitely easier if vultures didn't have a couple good qualities that shine through that you just know that they'll be impossible to find in another. F. I am not going to elaborate any more on this one, either.

OK, well, I think that this has been sufficiently long, and hopefully informative or at the very least, amusing. I have one more apology about it, and that is that there really isn't agreement or consistancy. Some of the time I wrote it directly to vultures, sometimes to girls as a warning, and sometimes just a general article. Deal with it. Because if after reading this, that is your concern, and not the wisdom laid down within... I got nothing to say to you!

Alright, I am going to dump the rest of this half-empty glass of haterade down the drain and go pull my life together.

Oh, and I am sure there will be a volume three. Stopping at 21 isn't necessarily an accident here.***

Peace out.


*** At the time this was written, I was "seeing" a 21 year old... But not the 21-year old that I am "seeing" now who actually just turned 22. Who needs to pull her life together???