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"You really are clueless, an embarrassment to the name. Hope you're adopted." -- June Dever
"this guy is right about conserving a clue. he hasn't one and that leaves more for the rest of us." -- Jim Lovell
"Your e-mail addy... should be 'dever@getalife.net.'" -- Sponge
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| BloggerFiesta - The Party |
| Posted by: dever on Tuesday, August 27, 2002 - 03:00 AM |
Saturday, August 24th 1815 EDT
I'm lying in bed popping Advil and Tums trying to figure out if I pulled a muscle in my chest or if I just have really bad indigestion. This is the exact same chest pain I went to the hospital with on Memorial Day, so I know it's not a heart attack ? I'm still paying the bills from learning that lesson - but it's just my luck that I'd have to put up with it today of all days. That's ok, winners play through the pain, and I'm planning on anesthetizing myself real soon. Besides, it's time to go pick up Chuck and Dave to meet our man at the Great Lakes Brewing Company so I deal with it.
Parking outside GLBC is always a pain in the ass, so I just pull up in front of a fire hydrant and walk inside. We're already late and the restaurant is jumpin, so we sit down near the bar to wait until our man can get away long enough to let us into the brewery's storage. From there, it's easy? a keg of nectar from the Gods themselves ? Dortmunder Gold - into the back of Dave's truck. Now we're ready to party. As I'm walking back to my car two girls give me a rude look and comment to themselves about the parking job. I hit the siren as I pull away from the curb and watch them jump ? fuck you, too.
Saturday, August 24th 2043 EDT
Dave, Chuck, the Keg, and I pull up in front of the Olsen house. We're almost two hours late; I'm the only one who's met anyone inside, and only 4 people at that. I think, "This is going to be interesting." Now, I don't know how many of you have tried to crash a party that you've actually been invited to, but if you ever have the opportunity, do so. The three of us came busting through the front door like something out of an old Beastie Boy's video dragging a keg through the living room. A hush fell over part of the crowd ? some wives started suggesting to their husbands that it was time to leave.
Out on the patio Marc Weisblott has a reporter from the Free Times cornered at a table and is animatedly explaining how Dawn and Eric Olsen have turned themselves into counter-culture icons and are the on-line incarnation of the Osbourne's. I listen to about 30 seconds of it and think, "Christ, I need a beer." (It's not that I disagree with Marc, or wouldn't be willing to discuss the subject ? I was just having a difficult time keeping a straight face and the man knows how to work a journalist.)
Meanwhile, the womenfolk have congregated outside of the bathroom door and are waiting for unsuspecting men to walk in and relieve themselves. Every time a victim entered, a hush would fall over the women (followed by the necessary giggling) as the women determined the presence (or lack) of foreskin on "Santa's Little Helper" by sound alone. Now, I'm not convinced that one can really tell if "little Johnny" wears a hood based on the sound of urination ? it sounds more like inadvertently being part of some strange prostate exam.
Saturday August 24th 2302 EDT
Dawn starts showing off the enormous black dildo that Jules-the-Cubeslut bought for her. John Scalzi examines the phallus and explains that it is not black, but is actually mulatto - this is a man who knows too much about dildos for my comfort level.
Dawn and Suli are also getting the boys to entertain fetishes, taking pictures of the young, innocent looking Caleb Brown laying in piles of stuffed animals and painting his toenails. I look around and I see more and more men with a painted big toe as the night progresses and Dawn and Suli continue to mark their conquests. The weak and uninitiated start making a B-line for the door.
Sunday, August 25th 0031 EDT
Chuck says the two words that bring fear out of this former frat boy ? Keg Stand. Excuse me, sir, is this the Delta house? From the time we've arrived, Chuck, Dave and I have done our best to bring the party to a whole new level of drunken degradation. People are talking about Chuck in quiet whispers while he runs around the party chain-smoking, sweating, encouraging the mass consumption of alcohol, and generally exhibiting an utter lack of impulse control. Marc suggests, "You should rent yourselves out as 'The Party Guys.' People could pay you to show up with a keg and Chuck on a leash." Yeah, and let the mayhem reign. Frankly, I've known Chuck so long I don't even notice anymore. Besides, this is supposed to be a party, not one of those weak blogger bashes where a bunch of unemployed-journalist-wanna-be's sip wine and bitch about being marginalized by the same mainstream media they keep hoping will employ them. No, this is more like something out of the college initiation handbook from hell. Grown men are being hoisted in the air and having a tap shoved down their throat. Sophomoric? Damn right it was.
After a few minutes of this, the women start lining up and asking to be given keg stands. You've gotta be shittin me.
Sunday, August 25th 0119 EDT
Somewhere deep in Chuck's mind the thought of girls arm-wrestling surfaces and proceeds (like most of his thoughts) straight to his mouth unchecked. I'm vividly reminded of a chilly October night in a Chicago bar with tables designed for arm wrestling. Incredibly hot college women kept coming in and challenging their friends. Before the girls would square off against their opponent, they generally removed any superfluous items of clothing from their bodies. To this day I am impressed with what a simple and ingenious addition this is to any bar or party. I readily concurred with Chuck.
Round One. I square off at the living room table with the ever charming Moxie. We're given the word and neither of us starts pushing. I'm feeling mighty confident and cocky and am trying to toy with her a bit instead of just putting her arm flat on the table ? she's not about to let me have my fun though. It's a quick victory for two terribly mismatched opponents as I probably weigh two and a half times what she does.
Round Two. Dawn makes me feel the muscles in her arms before she kneels at the other end of the table. I know from the beginning that I'm just playing for pride at this point, I have to stave off her assault long enough that I can slink away from the table with a modicum of my manhood intact. The word is given and I'm instantly listing at about 30 degrees. I grit my teeth and dig in a bit while thinking, "Damn, this is one tough broad." Within seconds it is all over and I'm heading outside to grab a smoke and cover the bruises left across my ego.
Sunday, August 25th 0200 EDT
I am Captain Herbalist.
Sunday, August 25th 0505 EDT
I've tried to lie down for a few minutes, but my snoring is doing a wonderful job of keeping everyone around me awake ? so they return the favor. We all move over by Caleb Brown and keep him up as we talk and laugh in our PJ's. Someone grabs the bottle of bloody Mary mix and we try to play spin the bottle. It doesn't work all that well, but I get a kiss out of it ? I'll take it where I can get it these days.
The conversation takes a strange turn for the worst as the topic of "Dever's Weenus" comes up. Always being one to oblige, I leap to my feet and rip the belt open on my shorts. I wish I could say I thought of something amusing like, "Excuse me while I whip this out." Or, "That's not a penis? this is a penis!" Instead, it?s far more likely I said, "Don?t laugh... too much," and dropped my shorts. People started diving for cover in the dark. A flashbulb going off sent me scurrying to pull my shorts back up over my boxers ? I should have known that The Mox doesn't flinch.
Sunday, August 25th 0604 EDT
I'm awoken again hearing Suli and Moxie calling, "Dever?. Dever?" out of one of the bedrooms. I, of course, decide to investigate. Can I figure out how to turn on the ceiling fan and keep the light off? Sure. I pull the various chains ? the fan kicks up to high but the light refuses to extinguish. After a few moments, we just unscrew the light bulb. Suli takes the opportunity to molest me ? finally.
Coming up ? Sunday: Laughing, Talking, Cleaning Up, Saying Goodbye.
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