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

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

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

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

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




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

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





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

Obviously.

Why wouldn't it?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yeah, the repeated shot-pouring. Hilarious!

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

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

FIVE to NINETY percent?!?!

Thanks for narrowing it down for us, jackasses!

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

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

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

After much deliberation, this is what the certificate says:

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

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

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




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

So. Who deserved the inaugural award?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



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

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

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

Check out his stance!



Oh Buddha, I love and heart thee.

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

Fiff. Obviously!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Whaaaaaat???

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

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

Yikes! Umm, no thank you?

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

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

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

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

And so began my Spring break....

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Right on.

Wait, what?

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

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

VIDEO!

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

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

But hey, here's the video!

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


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

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



The momhawk didn't last long.

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




Isn't she gorgeous?

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

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

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

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

Cute, right?

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

Glorious.

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

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

How many licks?

So I'm procrastinating on correcting papers. I am going to write this blog, then work out (I'm guessing at midnight?) then shower THEN grade some papers. Who thinks I am actually going to grade A paper, much less several, this evening? Hmmm....

Anyway, I want to start out this story with a little anecdote about my grandmother. In the last blog, I mentioned about my mom saying that she said the f-word.

Well, I had been expecting that she was going to tell me that grandma had said it quoting someone else, or involved in some ridiculous story about someone else or something.

Not so.

Apparently, it was just some lame, offensive and non-pc joke!

Evidently, my dear sweet grandma-ma was telling some joke about how "Indians" name their babies by looking at what is going on around them. What I am told, was that she said that names are chosen that way, and that exampls were "Hawk-fly-low" or "Two-Deer-Fucking."

Whaaaaaaaat?!

Anyway, so that was pretty much the shock of my life. Apparently my mom has only heard my grandma use the "f-word" twice in her 47 years of life. I've only heard my mom say the f-word twice, too. Ok, that's not true at all.

Moving on.

So last night I decided to stay in. I've had a rough week and have been in a terrible mood a lot of it, especially the last 36 or so hours. So, I decided the best option would be for me to go to bed early. So I did.

At about 445am, the freaking fire alarm went off. So annoying! Best part, however, is that as I am exiting my apartment into the hallway, this guy walking out of the apartment next to me says, "What is this a fire drill? I feel like I am back in prison!"

Awesome. I'm happy to living next to you, Ex-con.

Moving on again.... (Haha, this blog has no attention span.)

So I decided to cheer myself up, I'd make the drive down to Ray-town and get myself a Kewpee cheeseburger (or two). Well, Kewpee's was closed. This really made my hand cold*. So I thought I'd go to my second choice, which was Rosie's. Nope. Closed. Third choice is The Farm. Also closed. So then I thought I'd try Caesar's. Guess what? That is now a Mexican Restaurant. Sweet. I ended up driving 45 minutes to eat Culver's. How lame is that? My hand was freezing*.

So I ate my Culver's and went to see my Mom and Marv. Whilst there on the porch, we started talking about my roommates, past and present, and how I grateful I am to have D, who is an amazing roommate. This is especially relevant when we consider the girl I lived with as well the first year that I lived with Danielle, who was named Abbey.

She was insane. Literally.

One time the three of us went down to U of I for a weekend to go to the Badger game, and to make a long story short, she decided we had to either leave at three o'clock in the morning or find our own rides back up to Madison. Basically, she didn't like the way Danielle's friends were treating her (read: they weren't giving her enough attention or kissing her ass). This is absurd, because Danielle is one of the nicest girls in the United States and doesn't really associate with douchebags, for the most part (haha).

Haha, anyway, the conversation shifted a bit to Abbey's exboyfriend, Ryan, who we called Tootsie Pop.

This is because ol' boy was about 5'11" and 45 pounds. I am pretty sure that about 25 of these pounds were allocated to this unfortunate-looking man's head.

He was stick thin, and had the biggest melon on record. More or less, he looked like a tootsie pop.

When we start talking about him, my mom says, "Did I tell him that he looked like a tootsie pop?"

I do not even know why she asked such an absurd question.... Of course she did. My mom is even more brutally honest than I am!

But more about Tootsie Pop....

This man was such a joke!

He was the manager of Men's Wearhouse. He actually transferred from the one in Minneapolis to come live nearer to Abbey, who regularly dated several gentlemen simultaneously.

She was so brutal about him, too, because she hated that he was such a pushover. I guess it's easy to push someone over when they weigh 45 pounds and over half of these pounds are cranium.

She didn't like that she could push him around. She lost respect for him as a result, and thus was even more brutal to him than she would've been to a regular person (perhaps someone with an average-sized head?).

Anyway, I have no problem of purveyors of fine menswear, but this dude just reminded me of Ben Affleck's character in Mall Rats. The Casual Male guy. He took himself approximately that seriously. Bru-tality.

The best part, however, was that he participated in COMPETITIVE KARAOKE.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen. That is correct. COMPETITIVE KARAOKE.

He sings country songs in karaoke competitions. Hilarious.

So then back to the pushover thing....

Back in college, I wasn't good at sleeping either.

One night, I was up late as usual, when I started hearing weird noises from the living room.

Noises like "Ouch! Ouch! Stop hitting me!"

And weird phone beeps.

And slams.

As it turns out, for some reason, Abbey was beating the shit out of Tootsie Pop with the cordless phone, and she had to take him to the hospital after to see if his nose was broken.

The whole Quad-plex could hear this taking place. Absurd.

So my mom, Marv, and I were reminiscing about these shenanigans, and Marv says

"Perhaps she was trying to get to the creamy center!"

and then my mom says,

"How many licks with a phone does it take to get to the center of the Tootsie Pop?"

Oh hilarious.

So that was my afternoon.

Oh, and by the way, Mom, I looked at the geoducks. Those are some hideous and phallic-looking creatures! And I'll be damned if they don't live for a century and a half!!!

Alright, I should probably get to working out and such....

By the way, Chevy Chase turned 64 and Paul Hogan (Crocodile Dundee!) turns 68 today, October 8th.

For the record, Dirty Work is one of Chevy Chase's best movies. And the sequel to Crocodile Dundee can whoop the first one's ass.

And, here's a weird ass video. I love it. I watch it all the time!

Try to wrap your mind around that one!

Seriously, who crashes a bridal shower?

I had been craving a cheeseburger for awhile. Not just any cheeseburger, but Kewpee's cheeseburgers. They are the best in the world. Literally. It's science.

My good friends Mara and LL had mentioned that they had never really experienced Racine, my hometown. I couldn't believe it. I figured that they should really experience such a place, and that they should definitely at least leave with a good taste in their mouths.... Well.... I tried.

Mara had a Saturday off, so she came down from Madison to Milwaukee. After getting lost in many of the most absurd of ways, she finally made it to our house, and we made the short trip from the Mil to Raycilla, Wiscompton.

I'd like you to take a moment to check out "Welcome to Wisconsin" by the Raytown Hustlas - www.myspace.com/theraytownhustlas. It's also not a bad idea to catch the documentary "World's Best Prom" which actually is about my prom (www.worldsbestprom.com). I'm in it for about one tenth of a second, haha. Both of these masterpieces give you a good idea about Raytown, if the following story doesn't tell you enough.

Anyway.

So we go to Kewpees, and I get my usual. Two cheeseburgers, fries, and a rootbeer. The other girls order the same thing, but didn't realize that the cheeseburgers are normal-sized, and so they were in over their heads a bit. Oh well, turns out we'd need the good base anyway.

Then we decide to check out one of Racine's best parts - downtown. Main Street shopping, specifically. It was nice. A highlight included a cute new store called "Elegant Pauper" which included many items that had a map of Wisconsin, complete with a star on Racine and the phrase "Racine: The Hamptons of the Midwest," on them. That is so ironic and ridiculous, it's not even funny. Oh wait. It's actually hilarious.

I figured while I was in town, the girls should meet my mom. They'd been dying to anyway, and I thought it would really round out a great Racine experience.

I called my mom, and she was at a bridal shower. Darn.

Called her again later. She was still there.

"Why don't you guys just stop by?" she says.

"We aren't invited. We can't just crash a bridal shower!" says I.

"Sure you can. Here's the address."

So off we were, on for another adventure.

I told LL and Mara - "Why do I have a feeling that we won't even make it back to Milwaukee, and that we'll end up getting hammered at this little party?"

Called it. Well, almost.

So we get to the party, and it's a pretty standard Racine crowd, except for this absurd squirrel, who was in the bird feeder.





The party's theme was a luau. This reminded me of an absurd night spent in Madison during which a very drunk friend of mine went around asking people "Do you like luaus and shit?" and handing out flyers to someone who he didn't even know's party. That night, and that guy, are an entirely different story, however, and it is time to get to this luau.

In the picture below (from left to right), we have Mr. Turkowski, whose house was used for the party. Then next is JoJo, who used to babysit me as a child. In lime green, taking a drink, is Melissa, the bride-to-be. Next is Cheryl, who is pretty close to having the quote of the day for that day. I'll get to that in a second. And finally, we have Becky, who will also require more explanation.



So. Cheryl's quote. I was talking about a bizarre experience I had with a date who showed up to my house wearing mal-fitting clothes (among other bizarrities - yes, I am aware that I most likely made up that word there). Cheryl says, "Oh, his clothes don't fit? And he knows where you live? I'd move. People whose clothes don't fit usually end up being stalkers."

What?

The reason that would be a quote of the day is pretty clear, I think. Hilarious!

And Becky. She's quite the feisty one. I've known her since I was a small child. She's my aunt's best friend, and is more or less (more more than less) hysterical. This day was no exception.

So we get to the party, and immediately get lei'ed, and are handed tropical rubber duckies, as well as festive glasses with floral straws. I fill my glass with a margarita. I mean really, when the choice is between something that has Tequila in it, and something that does not, is it really even a choice? Let's be serious about life for one second. The answer is no.

Mara and LL had some sort of Wap punch. I believe it involved Champagne, which would've been intriguing to me (I love Champagne), if it weren't for that whole Tequila thing, especially since it was right after my trip to Austin (which I still have to blog about.... Waiting for pictures from John to add to the story). Plus, I was driving, so there was a one-drink rule in effect for me!

Here's Mara, caught by surprise on the left, and LL on the right, enjoying the festivities.




And because I'm nice (although not nice enough, apparently, to not post the caught by surprise one), I did a re-do on the picture for Mara's sake. And here it is!




You may be wondering, "How is it that Cheryl didn't win the quote of the day hands down with that absurdity?"

Well, it's because my mom just may have taken the cake.

Because I have no attention span and can't sit still oftentimes, I kept squeezing my rubber ducky, which caused him to squeak.

Kim, the mother of the bride, said "I didn't know that the duckies squeaked."

It was time for my mom to dole out her motherly wisdom. Here's the bomb she dropped....

"Yeah, he squeaks until you fill him up with alcohol and suck his butt!"

Whaaaaat? Really?

Hilarious.

I was later to be admonished for misquoting her as talking about sucking ass. Not yelled at for saying ass, but just for misrepresenting the situation. Obviously.

Here is another shot of the party.... My aunt Laura is the redhead on the left. Next is the daughter of the people whose house the luau was at. Then there's Mom, looking festive indeed.





The luau started to die down, so we decided that it was time to take the part elsewhere, but not before I got invited to the wedding. Did we go to Milwaukee right away as planned? No, we most certainly did not.

I had always wanted to go to a bar on South Memorial Drive called "Cash Money's." Why? Because it is called "Cash Money's" and that is pure comedy, to me.

Why haven't I gone? Because it is on S. Memorial Drive. My mom won't go with me, and she is pretty bad ass, as is my stepdad, who won't go either. But who is the most bad ass of them all? Apparently, Becky is. She said she'd go, and my mom said that she'd go if Becky went, and Auntie Laura's always up for a good time, so let's do it!

But first, it's time to let Trixie, Becky's dog, out. So we go over to her house and let the dog out. In the meantime, Becky takes us to her basement, and offers us anything we want from her bar. "It's just like college," she says, "You're in a musty basement with a bar."

It is at this point that it is clear that Becky did not go to college. Her bar had bottles such as grey goose and Stoli. There was no Ron Diaz, or even Admiral Nelson. There was no Fleishmann's or Buen Amigo. Silly Becky, your liquor is far superior to a basement in most college houses! So I had a Grey Goose Pear and water (it was just ok, nothing I'd get to have at home or anything. Apparently I am not a fan of pear-flavored beverages).

So we move on. Onward and upward? Certainly not.

On the way to Cash Money's, I decide it would be humorous to put on the cowboy hat I obtained during my trip to Texas. It was a gift from the photographer that I worked with whilst there.

Apparently, I was the only person that thought this was funny. No one said anything. I thought it was equivalent to me wearing one of those viking hats with the horns on it, but.... Wrong again. When I asked about it later, I was told it looked cute. This baffles me, but so do a lot of things in life, so I've kinda stopped asking questions at times.

Also, for the record, I am wearing a tuxedo tank top (as you may notice). I'm wearing this because it says, "I want to be formal, but I'm here to party." Cool points go to those who get the reference. And, in retrospect, it seems like perfect attire for someone to wear to crash a bridal party luau.

We get to Cash Money's and the door is locked. Brutal. Well, what can we do? We decide to take a picture in front. So Becky takes my camera and takes this picture. Obviously, the sign was the focal point.




Then she moves in a bit closer, so that we are more visible.... My mom is probably saying something hilarious.




Then Becky comes back, and we start talking about how unfortunate it is that there isn't some hooker nearby that we could give a couple bucks to to take a picture with all of us in it, and that we'd chase her down and beat her ass if she tried to steal my camera, when as if from nowhere, a man with very disgusting teeth appeared as if from nowhere.

He was sweeping the sidewalk behind Cash Money's. I have no idea why.

We asked him to take a picture for us, and he did.




What confuses me here is that this man is sweeping the sidewalk, and not shooting for the cover of National Geographic or Vanity Fair. His skills are.... evident?

He informs us that Cash Money's does not open until 7pm. It was almost 6:30. Hell no we are not waiting around to go to Cash Money's. I am sure that I will have another opportunity. The nice man tells us that if we come back, he will take care of us.

I am sure you will, kind sir, I am sure you will.

Next stop? Hi-O Headquarters. This is where I basically grew up. My mom worked here for like 12 years or something.

One special treat that we enjoyed whilst at Hi-O was Broadway Bake's World Famous Pizza. What? You've never heard of it before?

Weird!




See the sign below? My mom made it like.... 20 years ago, or something crazy like that.

Here's LL and Mara, below, with their first Shorties. I did not partake, because I do not like beer. I had one Captain and Diet, and then several waters.

I wish I could say that a whole bunch of crazy stuff happened at Hi-O, but it didn't. Being in that place is an indescribable experience. I can't really do it justice with words.

My mom and I played some songs on the jukebox, and I sang my heart out while getting my ass kicked at darts. I am very inconsistent, and it just wasn't my night.

Before departure to move on back to Milwaukee, I needed a picture with my mom and aunt....

Ooops. My ridiculous hat was now blocking my aunt's eye. Re-do!

Much better. Thank goodness for my trademark head-tilt!

Notice that my lei has now become a tutu. Hotness!

Next stop was wing stop. That was funny because all three of us really had to go to the bathroom, and none of us wanted to do so at Hi-O (for good reason), so the first thing we did was hit the bathroom.

The man running the place asked us if we were alright and if we were going to eat there. Haha, as though we would just use the bathroom in a restaurant and then leave? Heinous!

Then we got our wings. They weren't terrible. Apparently, they are Troy Aikman's favorite. I think the quote on the packaging and such there was "These are the best wings I've ever had in my life - Troy Aikman." Ridiculous. And, for the record, they don't even hold a candle to the wings at the Brodeo.

We ate our wings, then decided that we were too tired and not feeling the whole idea of getting dressed up and going to such places as Hi-Hat (where I now work!) and so on, so we just went as we were to Murphy's. Always an experience. We were exhausted, so we had one long island each, played a couple games of photo hunt, and a couple games of darts.

People were commenting annoyingly about my hat (compliments, but given by drunken douchebags. Brutal.), and we were just way too tired, so we called it a night. Home before 1am!

I swear, Raycilla, Wiscompton really just sucks the life right out of you!