Still Drinking on Fridays Despite Eating Rat Poison

Bunderwear has the gall to ask me why I haven't posted a follow-up informing the loyal reading public as to what Mrs.Ear and I did on our 10th wedding anniversary. #1 - As I told you, I'm still working on the powerpoint presentation. #2 - You are in charge of the blog now. YOU post something about my 10th wedding anniversary. Then I'll sit back and write smug anonymous comments. You know the old saying, "Turn-around, it's fair play."

In other news, this kind of thing always intrigues me. What, you are surely asking yourself, makes this so remarkable? This young lady lists among her many accomplishments that she was "born underwater." Firstly, I am not sure that it is fair to take credit for the actions of your mother or in her choice of where to ejaculate you from her crotch. Secondly, I personally have known several carp who were "born underwater," and they never got their own websites.

There is also a religiosity about this website which might easily be attributed to pandering. Such attribution would not seem far-fetched given what seems to be going on. The term "self-aggrandizement" comes to mind, only it is someone whom this particular self excreted that is being aggrandized.

This is what makes it intriguing. All of this is going on, as it is happening in so many "American Idle" inspired households, and yet beneath the nonsense, there is something bubbling which seems almost artistic. http://www.artakiane.com/akiane_art.htm#

We seem comfortable with the realization that art can emerge out of extremely harsh circumstances. It is much tougher to stomach the reality that Justin Timberlake actually has some talent. But there it is.

It reminds me of a meme.

Now, what the hell did I do on my anniversary?

Recrap

This is a recrap of Rusty 2008 - The Bloodletting.

The event was held at the house of your hero and mine, your's truly in Wisconsin.

On Thursday evening, Alceste arrived. He and I went to the Rathskellar to hear a bluegrass band, but, as expected, as soon as I returned with our beer, the tune they were playing ended and the band began packing up their shit. For some reason, this always seems to happen to us.

So, we drank up and then drove to another tavern to hear a blues guitarist named Catfish Stephenson who was accompanied by an electric bassist.



Alceste and I hung out for two sets which were fantastic. However, it is disheartening to watch someone who is that good picking a guitar sitting in a nearly empty bar, and it is even more disheartening to consider that, try as you might, you will never be in the same league with Catfish. Eventually, we'd had enough, and we headed out for my house.

On the way, we stopped at Le Tigre Lounge for a few Martinis. Le Tigre is a place in a strip mall and, from the outside, it looks like a place in a strip mall. However, once through the doors, you are in a lounge. Frank on the dime jukebox if the piano isn't being played, velvet everywhere, and tiger decor which makes the phrase "over the top" seem under the bottom.

Eventually, we left Le Tigre and went to my house. I believe we went across the street for a few beers at the Gone Fish Inn, but we may have just drank outside at my house or both, I can't really keep the nights straight. Eventually, we retired for the evening.

Friday morning, Mrs. Ear was up and out before I awoke. We got the boy to school, dropped the girl at daycare, and then headed for the airport to pick up Doc Bok. I think we stopped at Bennett's smut and eggs on the way home, though they only have smut on Saturdays and Sundays, so we just had bloody marys.
From there, we hit the grocery to pick up some sausages and bourbon. While we were commandeering supplies, Coco was making his way northward. His first assignment - pick up Bunderwear at the airport. Meanwhile, back at the Hall of Just Us, the following happened, though I'm not sure in what order:
we went to the yellow house bar, scene of the famous incident when DBok wanted to suck Randy's dick. DBok wanted to punch, kick, and/or lick Bunderwear's testicles.
started a fire
DBok career counseled BJ to leave his wife, job, and life. This was the last time the bar was open.
could not start the LP grill
fire went out
we went to a bar to hear a band
Bunderwear and I went to the house of an origami and her husband
Jack the giant bartender and I played guitar
we burned the christmas tree
it rained
the fire went out
Coco took a long, long nap
Dok Bok took a long, long nap
climbed up a hill
threw up
we went to the terrace and Bunderwear went to the airport
we went to the jam
dropped off Alceste and DBok
Coco went home
I tried to piece myself back together

It's not getting any better

Some sheep have referred to me as an "autopederast", but I am actually a "no-auto pedestrian". Occasionally, I run out into the street and pour a glass of gasoline on the pavement and run away giggling like a school girl.

Maybe not 'Breathtaking'

Alright, OneEar. Here's the rest of the scene, which I didn't do justice by honing in on the gas prices (notice how much they went up, just over the weekend).
Mind you, it's no Verona, but there are worser places to live, and I should know. There are also considerably cheaper places to live. So, like the California Council on Tourism states: "Come to California, where your 4-story mansion can be sold in whatever respective state you happen to live in now, just to make a down-payment on one of our premier 1-bedroom roach-infested condominiums."