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.

Brut brut brutality...

Earlier this week, my cousin Christine sent me a text to ask me if I wanted to meet for dinner on Friday. It was kinda strange, because Christine and I really haven't hung out in a long time, like since we were kids, other than at family functions. Well, she came to our holiday party, but I didn't really feel like we got to talk much, which was unfortunate.

Anyway, I happily accepted. I love Christine, and I am all for the idea of she and I hanging out more.

So yesterday when she got done with work, she came over and we watched Office Space to pass the time. It was her first time seeing it!

After that, we went to La Fuente. Mmmmm mmmm mmmm. I love that place. The food is just so good! And of course, we split a pitcher of rainbow margaritas. Now, I swear. When I've been there in the past, I thought they had a small pitcher or something that you could order. Like one that would serve about 4 margaritas. I don't know if they have that or not, but I do know that that is not what we got. What we got was a lot of margaritas.

We were at the restaurant for a long time. I got an inkling that Christine was drunk when she texted me from across the table to let me know the waiter was standing behind us and staring at us. Perhaps that could have been because we were there for like 2 hours because we were struggling to finish those aforementioned margaritas.

We went to the bathroom on our way out. This was hilarious, because Christine just couldn't get the electronic hand dryer to work. It was one of those that had the motion detectors. It was cracking me up. After she dried her hands on her jeans, I waved my hands in front of the hand dryer and it immediately worked.

Then we left. Decided that we would go to Murphy's because it is close to home. My home, anyway.

Guess who was working? Vitucci! I should have ran away. He provided me with a tall vanilla vodka and sprite, and a limon and sprite for Christine. She originally ordered a limon and lemonade, which I thought was funny.

Vitucci's next move was to give us each a skittles bomb, which was delicious.

Next came a shot of goldschlager. I think you see where the night is going. Toward heinosity.

Vitucci convinced us to go to his house while he changed. We were also with Josh (aka Lori - long story for another blog), and we met up with Drew. Fun times!

First stop was Buckheads. Christine's cousin on the other side, Brian, was there. It was nice seeing him, because I hadn't in a long time. He is one of those people that in my head is still like 8 years old, because most of my experiences with him are from when he was Janet's annoying little brother. In my head, he is not a law student at Marquette. Ah well.

We also ran into LP, the girl I teach with, who was with her friend Sara, as well as Noisewater.

Fun times! I had a few drinks there... And two pictures were taken. Here they are!

First, Christine and I. She's very tall, so it's weird that we are posed like this!

Next up, it's me and Vitucci...

Cut to 10:30 this morning. I wake up in my bed. I go into the kitchen, where I see my pants and underwear. No clue where my shirt or bra is.

I call Christine, because I wanted to make sure that she made it home safely. Told her I didn't remember the end of the night. She told me that I was so drunk I was falling down. I don't think I've ever been so drunk that I fell down.

I then went into the bathroom and found my shirt and bra. Then I remembered that Ousmane's game was today, and consulted my magnet on the fridge. The game was to start in ten minutes, and it was on ESPN. So I watched that, still kinda drunk, and talked to Tia on the phone for awhile.

Then I laid down for awhile.

When I woke up, I thought I would look at the pictures from the night before. That's when I realized that I my purse wasn't at home with me. Yikes.

I call Christine back to ask her what cab company we took home. She tells me that she couldn't remember, and that we were in like eight cabs. Whaaaaaat? I then asked her what bars we went to. She said Buckheads, which I knew, and Bar Louie, which I vaguely remember, and McGillycuddy's, and then she said she wasn't sure where else we were. Yikes.

So I called Vitucci. Asked him where we went the night before.

You know that the night before was good when you call someone to find out where you went while in search of your purse, and the first thing he says is...

"Do you have a pen and paper?"

Brut brut brutal.

Turns out, we were at Murphys, Buckheads, Bar Louie, McGillycuddy's, Jo Cat's, Scooters, Hi Hat, and Vox.

I had a lot of phone calls to make!

So I started calling.

Finally, I got through to Jo Cat's. Hurray! My purse was there! I was so embarrassed. I seriously considered asking where the place was located. But then I remembered that it was on Brady St.

I went to retrieve my purse. Absurd. It was my third time in Jo Cat's, yet it felt like the first, since I have no memories of the first two. When I got home, my friend Adam had written on my facebook wall something about "When are you going to stop being a ho and start dating *unnamed basketball player*? Makes me wonder if I saw him again last night, since I did see him at Jo Cat's that time after the runway show, and barely remembered it.

Still putting the pieces together!

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!

Brut brut bru-tal! Drunk diary 12-17-06

You may be wondering why I named my blog "Brut brut!" Well, it's because that is one of the phrases I use the most in life. I'm not referencing the heinous-smelling men's aftershave found in g-stores nationwide. I'm shortening the word "brutal." I often sing "brut brut" in many songs. I've also been well-known to say "Bru-tal." That would be changing that second syllable to rhyme with "Al" or "Sal" or "Hal," and not "bull." Anyway, there's your explanation.

Most of the things in my life are bru-tal. Lots of my stories are absolutely bru-tal. Here's one of them!

I thought I told you that we don't stop, I thought I told you that we don't stop!

STICK THROUGH TO THE END. IT'S THE BEST PART AND TOTALLY WORTH IT.

So yeah... I totally meant to blog this sooner, but I've been busy (i.e. last week of school, mid-week trips to Brother's in Madison for Wingding Wednesday, staff Christmas party, etc.). Then today it was in one of my three dreams during my afternoon nap (the other two involved a lady snatching my wine glass out of my hand at a fancy soiree in front of my groupd of female friends, and Ous telling me I owe him 43 hugs. Weird.). I'll throw in the dream that inspired me to blog at the end of this silly account.

So Sunday, December 17th, I was in a runway show. It was for DiCarlo Salon, Fred Fashions, MP2, and Sweet Kicks, and at the Vucciria in Milwaukee. I was pretty excited, because it had been awhile since my last runway show, and I didn't think I'd be selected for it. Plus, I'd like to do more modeling and stuff, especially in Milwaukee, since I live around here.

Also in the show with me were Nicole and Jon, who are both modeling friends of mine. Nicole could be described as my partner in crime, especially after this last Sunday. Fairly recently, when Nicole had to deal with a heinous situation, I suggested she fill a water bottle with Bacardi Limon and water... The alcohol is virtually undetectable. So, Nicole pulled right through and showed up at the salon with a HUGE evian bottle filled with this magical mixture. Because we obviously needed that.

So we get crazy runway hair done and cute makeup... Here's a picture of us at the salon...

Aren't we fly? I don't think we're really drunk yet at this point...

Anyway, so we get to the show and practice a million times and have a couple drinks. They're making them strong, too.

Wait a minute, I skipped a part. Not to name names here, but SOMEONE (who I love dearly) could not find her car. Apparently this was not due to alcohol, but entirely because of talking on the phone while parking. So we were driven around a bit to get the car, and finally arrived at the show.

We ran through several times and made friends with other models involved, the dancers that performed in-between the passes of the models, as well as other behind-the-scenes people.
Then we did the show, which was fun. I have seen some pictures of the show, and it looked like it was a success, and I felt good about my performance in it.

After the show, we were instructed to walk around in our last outfits for an hour and mingle with people. Great. This was basically like Jason DiCarlo telling us to go and get hammered.

I mingled. Oh yes, I mingled. One of the people I mingled with was Dan Gadzuric. That would be a center for the Milwaukee Bucks. If you are a more visual person, maybe this will help you...

Apparently, at this point I was hammered. I was trying to talk to him about a broken TV in the Bradley Center locker room, but it was a struggle. He didn't understand a goddamn word I was saying. I swear I was speaking English! I was not, however, texting in English. I'll throw in a list of the texts I sent this absurd evening at the end, just before my description of the dream sequence!

Here's a picture of Nicoley and I with the aforementioned dancers...

I like the one guy's chain jewelery. He also had a matching bracelet (not pictured). And under the padlock was one of the Aldo necklaces that I have that benefits AIDS. We obviously have the same taste!

Here's a shot of Nicole and I....

We're obviously sober. At least I don't look naked.. Oh, wait...

Nicole apparently also liked the guy with the chain... Here's proof!

She definitely told him that he would look better with a grill! (One of the first times we went out, I woke up to find a picture of Nicole with a friend we had made at Marquette Gyros that definitely had a grill. We meet the best people, don't we, Nicole?)

So then after our hour of obligatory and awesome mingling, we changed out of our awesome clothes.... I made friends with Gina, the girl who was in charge of shoes. Such good friends, apparently, that I changed clothes right in front of her. I also made a bet with her ($100) that I was older than her. She's 31. Oops! I texted her, and we plan to hang out soon (possibly tonight!).

So Jon checked out for the night, and Nicole, a model named Russ (who was actually in the last wedding that I went to with my ex-boyfriend) and I went to Jo Cat's on Brady (so I'm told). It was at Jo Cat's that I saw my friend Adam. He's trouble. I don't think I've ever been in his presence without doing at least one shot. And they are never things like "Dirty Girl Scout" or triple sec. It's always stuff like So-Co and Lime, or Liquid Cocaine. Perfect. Just what the doctor ordered.

According to Adam, I berated him for not recognizing me, despite my crazy runway hair. I then told every single girl that walked past that Adam was a baller. He bought me a So-Co and lime, and we took this great picture (which was, by the way, one of the only things that made me remember seeing Adam... Oops!)

Then Nicole, Russ, and I left. I am pretty sure that we went to Red Light, which is the bar above Trucadero (or however you spell it!).

Anyway, I am pretty sure more drinking occurred. It had to. I am also pretty sure that I was still drunk for awhile at school. Oops.

Maybe some day, I will start acting my damn age. Don't hold your breath!

Alright, as promised, here are the texts!!!

"Hey, it's madg3 and we are going to hang out." - me to Gina, in charge of shoes!

"Where wm are?" - to Nicole

"No, I love you." - to Ous!!!! Perfect. How romantic?!

""I'm at an amer show party and hammered."

"Hi miss you!"

"Dabo"

"I'm working to your tv spoken" - to Oha, intended for Ous.

"Nowy straightu i i'pl here!" - To Curti - Was I speaking in Hawaiian????

"I n'i4 7768"

"I miri you"

"I big not fifte yet."

"S'hhhi!"

"Ale de feel beautivetj' "

"You serge hot and I want you."

"Damm tv. I lurk want you. And there other peeps. F' "

Yeah. So that's good.

I called Gina (shoe girl) on Tuesday because she told me I could buy the boots that I wore and get a modeling discount. When I told her who I was, she was like "Oh, cute little drunk Mandie!"

Perfect.

When I went into the store to try on the boots and buy them, we talked a bit about the show. I told her that I had heard from a photographer that my first dress was sheer when the flashes hit it. One of the other store clerks asked if I was wearing underwear. Gina was like "I saw her with her pants off, and no, she wasn't wearing underwear!"

Great. Good good. She says that it was just Nicole and another female model in there, so I guess I still had SOME discretion!

When Ous was over on Tuesday after his game, he informed me that I also called him. Apparently, he was sleeping. But when he woke up (while I was leaving an incredibly intelligent message at 231 am), he called me back (How sweet. Maybe he thought I was having an emergency issue?). He says that I was mumbling unintelligibly at the beginnging, and then I was like "Hold on, someone is calling me. It's you! Hello? Hello?" He then tried to tell me that I said "hello" for three or four minutes. Fabrication, Ous! My phone records say I was on the phone less than a minute and a half!

I wonder what it's like to have never tried alcohol, and have some crazy chick drunk dial and drunk text you regularly?!

So my dream... I had a dream that Jason DiCarlo asked me to be in another show, and when everyone was getting ready, he said "This time, there will be no alcohol at the show" and then he looked at Nicole and I with a crazy look! Bru-tal!

Now I ask you...

Would you rather be compelled to enter every room by jumping into the doorway with an imaginary pistol drawn like a 70's cop show or invariably make your orgasm face instead of smiling when being photographed?