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Here comes the joker
with his silly grin
he carries a martini
made of bathtub gin

Wendy's on the windowsill
Waiting to be let in
And were all in the bathtub now
Making Bathtub Gin


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The Joker
is enjoying:







making bathtub gin:

the joker
31, Pisces
Denver, CO

Windowsill Wendy
is enjoying:

windowsill wendy
29, Capricorn
Denver, CO

"Music is a spiritual expression of what's in your heart. Music as a way of getting rich is a pretty new thing, and I often wonder if the mega-bucks glitzy atmosphere is making the quality of music suffer. You have to work really hard to get around that and remember why you're in it in the first place: because you have to be. It's like an addiction. You can't go a day without picking up your guitar. To me, the only commercial goals that are really valid are, 'Boy, I wish I didn't have to go to work. I wish I could do this all the time."
-Trey Anastasio

"Impose rules to make life simpler. Break them to make life more fun."
-Jon Fishman

Monday, July 30, 2007

Fear and Loathing in Stillwater

posted 1:00 PM by Windowsill Wendy

I was somewhere outside of Guthrie, on the edge of Payne County, when the drugs began to take hold...

Well, the Ibuprofin, anyway. Y'know - to help with the hangover from Friday night.

Trips back to Stillwater always feel like going home to me. It's hard to wipe the idiot grin off my face once I take the Highway 51 exit and point my headlights toward OSU.

Saturday afternoon, I rolled into town for a wedding. I promptly installed myself in a chair at the Hideaway, ordered two large Half-Bakeds to go and proceeded to eat an entire Dagwood and some pasta salad, eschewing the fried mushrooms with the greatest difficulty. Best. Hangover. Food. Ever.

After lunch, I had some time to shop, and I have now added two shiny new Koozies, among other trinkets, to my vast collection of orange and black.

Driving back from Stillwater Sunday morning, still half drunk, nursing a burdgeoning Category Five hangover, it occurred to me that I only make it back there once or twice a year, because my liver simply could not survive more than that. See, when we all get together in Stilly, we drink until we can't stand up. That's just how it works.

I forgot how hot and humid Central Oklahoma can be in July - I guess I've acclimated to Colorado after all. Still, the wedding on Saturday was absolutely gorgeous. Plus, it's obviously a successful party when the bride, groom and a third of the guests leave the reception, change clothes, hit the bars on the Strip and wind up drinking warm Bud Light on the steps of the Student Union at 4:30 am.

Because my attorney kept advising me to pour whiskey shots down my throat; because somebody kept passing me Jell-O shots and because it was so hot that I was forced to down cold Newcastle by the pitcherful, the following may not be 100% accurate. That said, here are some highlights:

Windowsill Wendy: "I'm not too sure about taking this shot sitting right here in front of me."
Young Master William: "Nobody said anything about this being amateur hour, Wendy."
WW:*Sigh* "Well, I suppose sometimes you just have to man up."
YMW: "Barkeep! Two more shots, and two more beers!"

San Fran Stan: "Let's get drunk and make bad decisions!"

WW: "Yeah, can I get two shots of Tuaca, please?"
Bartender: *Blank Stare* "Tuaca? What's Tuaca?"
WW: "Dammit - I keep forgetting where I am. Make that two Coronas."
YMW: "Yeah, Wendy. Remember who the audience is. We are beer drinkers."

WW (in Norman, of all places, on Friday night): "Right. These are not my people. My people are sitting on barstools topped with saddles, drinking cheap beer and singing at the tops of their lungs. I need to get to Stillwater."

SFS: "You think you've got problems? I just woke up on a full-sized bed, with two other people, and I'm wearing Jorts*.
WW: "Oh. Right. Yeah - your problems are definitely worse than mine!"

WW (to the bride): "I'm sorry about the 'exploding-beer-in-the-bridal-suite-incident.' I promise not to make that happen again."
Bride: It's cool - no worries. Here, have another Bud Light."

*Jorts: Cutoff jean shorts - an amalgamation of the words "jeans" and "shorts" used to describe what used to be known as Daisy Dukes. Not to ever, ever, ever be worn by tall drunken men. Ever.

 

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