Sunday, September 28, 2008

All Our Friends Will be Drinking All the Beer

Kids, this weekend ended up being an odd mix of fun, migraine pain, and then, when I'd get the headache under control, I'd have these weird bursts of cleaning and organizing energy (and you know that's very unusual, so I had to go with it).

Anyway, I'll start with Friday for this post and be about 2 days behind all week, because I wasn't on the internets most of the weekend.

Okay, let's begin. I got off at noon and did a bunch of stuff, but not all the crap I wanted to get done. The girls got home from the Quad Cities earlier than I thought, and it seems the minute they get home, the running them all over hell begins.

I got to the cookout at A.'s house about eight. I brought guacamole and refried beans and some corn tortillas I had fried. They grilled fish and we made fish tacos. I've been hearing about them forever, but never actually had them. They were amazing. The whole cookout was great for many reasons. I was sad to leave, but I had J.'s birthday to attend, and so I took my leave.

I didn't take any photos at the cookout, but I think I have to have a beer or two in order not worry about how obnoxious my documenting is. Luckily, by the time I made it downtown, I was at that place. The fun started even before I went down to the Dublin. J. and some other friends were sitting on the bench in front of Pizza on Dubuque smoking.

J. was also being serenaded, or more accurately chanted to by these three, very funny Yea-hoos. Someone must have told them her full name because they just kept chanting her first and last name over and over again. All through the night, they would disappear and reappear and you would always know they were there, because of the birthday girl's name chant. It was charming until it became annoying to some of my friends. I thought it was hilarious the whole time, but you know how I feel about things being run into the ground. After another hundred times, it starts getting funny again.

While I was standing outside, some guy I'd never seen in my life, stopped me and asked me if I walked to work down a particular street everyday. I said, I did. Then he said he drove past me every morning on his way to work and he kind of considered me his imaginary going to work friend. It wasn't creepy at all. He was just being friendly and dorky and I can appreciate that more than anyone. He told me what kind of car he drove. I told him I couldn't promise him anything, but if I was alert enough that early and before I had any caffeine to notice, I would try to wave to him when I saw him.

My favorite thing about Homecoming Friday, is that the alumni marching band comes back into town for the parade and then they go from bar to bar drinking and playing either "In Heaven There is No Beer" or our school fight song. It's good dorky fun and everyone dances around and sings like jackasses. It's the one night of the year when I'm not the only jackass at the bar, and that's why I love it so much.
When I spied the marching band guys, I ran up and asked if I could take a picture of them. They said, sure, as long as they could take some photos with me. "Um, okay." I have no idea why, but it was only fair.

Here's me pretending to play the trumpet. See? I wasn't kidding about acting like a jack ass.

When I told the birthday girl about the photo op, she wanted in too. So, we went back up. This time, the woman sitting on the other side of the trupmet player got a little territorial. I'm sure if she could have gotten away with it, she would have peed in a circle around him, but instead, she insisted on being in the photo. What the hell. We didn't care, as long as J. got to hold the trumpet. We certainly weren't trying to stir up any shit, we just thought it was funny.

Here is the group of girlies in the middle of the fun and spectacle.

Later in the evening, I got a text from DJSass. She was at the Deadwood and needed a reprieve from silly boys and wondered if I was at the Dublin. Why, yes I was. She stopped by and we were able to pay homage to her lovely PBR tallboy. Her fiance joined us and a little later, the Wedding Date guy showed up too.

It was great fun, but then I started seeing scenes like this.

And this. Then I knew it was time to go home. Saturday was going to start early and involve me running around like that chicken with my head cut-off most of the day. So, I took my leave and went home and fell straight to sleep. Night, night.

11 comments:

Mrs. Hairy Woman said...

You really are the party animal.. Now you have to take up learning the trumpet.lol

Cricket said...

Peed a circle around him? I'm still laughing at the image.

Boo migraines.

DJSassafrass said...

Who is that sexy weirdo in the last photo? You should give him my number.

Susan said...

Ahhh PBR. I planned on drinking an obnoxious amount of that this weekend but ended up drinking Jack Daniels instead. Don't ask how I went from one to the other.

Remiman said...

Churlita,
PBR was the beverage of choice back in my wood cutting days.
Which may see a revival if fuel oil prices don't drop.
rel

NoRegrets said...

Fish tacos!!!!

Poptart said...

Yum, fish tacos.

Looks like so much fun! I love that they wanted you in the pics!

Mr Atrocity said...

Bottom photo = time to go home. That's sage advice. Usually I look back at photos from the evening and after the "guy sticking his tongue out" shot come the progressively more and more out of focus blurry ones that are probably better that way rather than showing the true horror of the rest of the night.

MrManuel said...

Looks like it was a great time had by all!

laura b. said...

That whole post had me laughing, right here at my desk! Scandalous. I can't wait to hear more about your weekend :-)

Churlita said...

Mrs.,

I don't think anyone wants that.

Cricket,

Boo indeed.

DJ,

From I can see, he already has your number and he's very happy to have it.

Susan,

I can't drink hard liquor. I can barely drink a couple of beers. But I'm a lot older than you.

REl,

I know. It's crazy, isn't it?

Nor,

Mmmm.

Poptarts.

They were fun dorks - the best kind.

Mr Atrocity,

Exactly. It gets past a certain point and it's definitely time to go.

Mr Manuel,

It was.

LauraB.,

It gets way mellower after that.