Since we’ve been without a beer post for a while, I thought I’d regale you all with tonight’s selection:

Yeah yeah, I know… Close enough.

At least I’m having this along with it:

Organic, grass-fed beef tri-tip. Peppercorn marinated. Charcoal BBQed to medium perfection. I can almost cut it with the fork. SO GOOD.

Gipper would like me to know he’s interested in some sort of food-sharing arrangement. But not too interested.

And here’s what happens when I don’t share quickly enough:

He’s so nonchalant about his thievery - he won’t even get up to steal. Further proof the cat is king of the household. 

Background: I was trying to call the DMV. I dialed prefix 882.

Man: “Hello?”
Me: “Hi… this isn’t the DMV, is it.”
Man: “Nope, this is the guitarbecue!”
Me: “I see! I definitely have the wrong number then.”
Man: “Yep, unless you’re interested in guitars or nachos!”
Me: “Well… I do like both of those things, but I doubt you can be much help with my DMV question.”
Man: “I’d certainly like to, but I’m afraid me advising you on such matters is probably against at least one state statute. You might want to try dialing 883.”

I should have asked him where the guitarbecue was being held… I want to go! :(

(Almost as awesome: We passed a house on one of the main streets in town the other day - one of those weird houses located in the middle of an area that is now mostly businesses - and there were a bunch of college students out front barbecuing… with a sign that said “You honk, we drink!”

We honked. They drank.)

March 17 = St. Patrick’s Day, when I simply must have corned beef and cabbage.

March 22 = Lent ends at sundown.

The problem?

For Lent, I gave up soda… fast food…  AND MEAT!

What kind of self-respecting Irishman has a vegetarian St. Paddy’s Day?!  At least I’m eating fish/seafood… There must be some kind of hearty chowder or cod dish I can make to redeem this travesty.

I tend to accrue browser tabs with the intention of blogging the contents… but have a bad habit of never making it over here to do so. Here’s to breaking bad habits!

• Wis. Teacher Arrested for Blog Comment
  Police Capt. Toby Netko defended the arrest. He said the teacher who complained was disturbed by the reference to “one shot at a time” and other educators agreed it was a threat.

  “What happens when you say bomb in an airport? That’s free speech, isn’t it?” he said. “And people are taken into custody for that all the time.”

  Okay, first of all, I don’t think people are literally taken into custody “all the time” for merely saying bomb in an airport. I’ve said bomb in an airport, and I’ve never been taken into custody. That said, Capt. Toby Netko is an idiot, because rather than defend the arrest as justified by equating the teacher’s comment with, say, the “fire in a crowded theater” hypothetical - which is not considered free, protected speech - he’s trying to say that people being taken into custody for free speech is okay, and therefore he’s justified in trampling on the 1st amendment because “Other people were doing it too!”

  That said, I think we’re slowly witnessing the death of (free) satire and sarcasm. Which means I’m screwed.

• Irish Cops Bust 2 in Connection to Massive Beer Theft

  DUBLIN, Ireland — Ireland’s national police force has arrested two men in connection with an audacious robbery last week on the landmark Guinness Brewery in Dublin - but said Thursday they were still looking others involved in the beer banditry.

  The Garda Siochana police force declined to specify how many kegs have been recovered following the Nov. 29 raid, when a lone man drove a truck into the brewery, hitched up a trailer loaded with 450 kegs and drove straight out through the security gate into rush-hour traffic. Guinness called it the biggest robbery in the 248-year history of the brewery.

  When Mike first showed me that story, my immediate reaction was: “BRILLIANT!” And you know, I honestly didn’t get what I’d said until after I said it.

• Media Coverage of Mall Shooting Fails to Reveal Mall’s Gun-Free-Zone Status

  But despite the massive news coverage, none of the media coverage, at least by 10 a.m. Thursday, mentioned this central fact: Yet another attack occurred in a gun-free zone.

  Confirming what I already strongly suspected, the above editorial deals with the mainstream media’s apparently deliberate ignorance of the “gun free” status of the mall in Omaha.

• Iranian Students Protest Against Crackdown on Activists

  TEHRAN, Iran — Hundreds of Iranian students expressed their anger over a crackdown on activists and protested Sunday at Tehran University, the second such demonstration in less than a week, witnesses and state radio said.

  One witness, Mehdi Arabshahi, said the campus protest lasted more than two hours as students rallied against President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad’s hardline administration.

  Those folks are why I have hope for Iran, and think we really need to re-think the rush to talk of war.

• Woman Accused of Bringing Loaded Gun Into Disney World

  There was a little less enchantment in the Magic Kingdom Sunday morning when a 63-year-old Pennsylvania woman was taken into custody for allegedly bringing a loaded semi-automatic into the park.

  Disney World security personnel reportedly discovered a silver handgun on Mary Ann Richardson as she entered the park with other family members, according to the Orange County Sheriff’s Office. The .32-caliber Beretta handgun had been loaded with seven live rounds in the magazine, but the chamber was empty, MyFoxOrlando.com reported.

  Richardson claimed she regularly traveled with the gun and forgot she had been carrying it around in her purse. Also found in Richardson’s purse was a pair of scissors and a locked blade knife, authorities said. She was charged with possession of a concealed weapon.

  Okay, first of all, I resent the “little less enchantment” thing, as if guns somehow RUIN YOUR DAY. Also, I think Disneyland is stupid, so though I haven’t been there, I’m going to guess Disney World is just its horrible big brother. Anyway, I should keep an eye on this story, because I’m curious to know whether she seriously didn’t have a CCW permit, or if she was actually charged with some sort of trespassing for bringing the concealed handgun to Disney World.

  Hmm… I just did a little Googling around, and this is really rich:

  Disney World appears to have a strict no gun policy. No law-abiding citizen, including an off-duty police officer, is allowed to carry a firearm, concealed or otherwise, to protect their family from violent predators while at Disney World.

  Well, at least Disney doesn’t think cops are the only ones worthy of personal defense… Instead, they’ve determined none of us are. Cute.

I have “Kung Fu Fighting” stuck in my head for no explicable reason.

EVERYBODY WAS KUNG-FU FIIIIIGHTING! HEEEYAH!

Drinking beer before class: BEST IDEA I’VE EVER HAD.

Implementor wins the “Blog Reader of the Month” award for finding me these. If all goes well, I’ll owe you one for finding the solution to my insomnia. :)

On an unrelated (but funny as hell) note, my blog was recently located with the following search query:

Best one yet. And to answer the question, no… no you can’t. But a little green food coloring, vodka, and an empty Listerine bottle, and… Party at Al Asad!

A big fat hat-tip to pretty much everybody on the old LiveJournal friends list; these links are all from them.

• 300 in 15 Minutes - effing hilarious.

• The Landlord - a short film by Will Ferrell. Also effing hilarious.

• 300 Pikachu style. Let it be known that I hate Pokemon with a firey passion, but damn if that isn’t a well-done video!

• Women may make their own sperm. This raises a really interesting question, in my opinion - how healthy would a fetus created with all-female genetic material be? I don’t know enough about genetics to tell whether or not there is a likelihood of issues or not, but it seems like there will have to be significant research into the necessity of gender diversification before this goes forward. Obviously healthy clones have been created, so would the same thing apply here?

• Crocodile severs zoo worker’s arm. WARNING: Photo at the link may be disturbing. Also, eww.

• Penn and Teller screw with hippies. Yet another win for P&T - I highly recommend their episode of Bullshit! on gun control, too. A+++.

• Ziggurat Con! The very first gaming convention to be held in a warzone. I’m going to take info on this to the local game store and see if they’d be willing to donate some materials to the cause. Awesome! (Additional link here.)

Alright, off to get cleaned up a bit, retrieve my truck from where I left it last night, and have some beers downtown with Mike and Paul. More later!

Since Therese just wrote such a high-larious account of her weekend, which can be found here and is directly connected to my story, I’ve decided to chronicle my own adventures of last Friday.

It started off with Mike, Daniel and I going out to dinner at Winger’s. I had a beer and decided… Tonight, I shall resume my social life. I haven’t gone out around here in forever, so I decided to make an event of it.

Mike had to work, so I texted Robby to find out what his plans were. He works at my bar of choice, and was on shift for the night. I decided to go down there and hang out while we waited for him to get off, since he wanted to drink too.

I showed up at about 10:15 and started on my first rather large beer. Robby, Marcus and Brent were bartending, so I just sat there trying to figure out if I was cool or lame for sitting there by myself since my comrades were working. This is when I sent text message #1 to Therese: I’m at the bar alone cause all my friends are tending. Does this make me pathetic or awesome?

Thus spawned the most epic text messaging conversation ever. I really should have saved them all; I recall sending at least three pictures, and God-knows-how-many texts. She was apparently in fine form herself, and hilarity ensued.

Anyway, Robby decides to fry us up some finger steaks. Now, I had never even heard of such a thing. Turns out they’re deep fried steak… fingers. Like chicken fingers. It was probably the beer talking, but damn if they weren’t the most delicious thing I’d ever tasted. I’m sitting there yacking at the bartenders, munching on the finger steaks, when one of the most traumatic events of my life occurs. Prepare yourself.

Three people appear on my right, all three of whom are rather white trash. Now, they’re not dirty white trash. There is a difference, I think, but I can’t quite explain it. They appear to have most of their teeth and their clothing isn’t stained or covered in any kind of trailer dirt. They’re just… not very classy. The women are wearing clothes that are too small for their stomachs, which are too large for their frames. They were most likely drinking PBR. Anyway, two of ‘em are female, and the third is a guy, who starts ordering drinks for all of them. At this time, Female #1 sidles up next to me and says, and I quote:

“Yer awfully cute t’be sittin’ here all bah yerself!”

::blinks:: I’m confused. Did a white trash chick seriously just use the worst pick up line I’ve ever heard… on me?!

I look at her for a good four or five seconds without saying anything, and then say, “Umm… heh… Yeah, actually, I’m kinda hanging out with the bartenders, see… I know them, and…”

She starts touching my back. TOUCHING MY BACK! Then she says “Yeeeah, but you sure are perty! I mean, yer too cute to sit here an’ wait for them, you should come hang out with us.”

“Oh, that’s okay, I mean, Robby is gonna get off work here in a few minutes, and…”

“I mean, look’atcha! Yer so skinny and gorgeous! I wish I was as skinny as you. Then again, I did have muhself a baby just a month ago.”

To accentuate her point, she grabs/pats her stomach. I am in awe. I catch Robby out of the corner of my eye - laughing.

As if this could not get any better, Female #2 - who has been doing the drunk-lean on her friend the whole time, chimes in: “Aw hell, that ain’t nothin’ - I’ve had two of ‘em!”

Female #1 then leans across my lap and starts eating our finger steaks. Ricky Bobby immediately pops into my head: “THAT JUST HAPPENED!”

So the three amigos finally get their drinks and wander back to their table, not before telling me several more times to come join them. Yeah, right.

Now, bear with me, this gets better. Sometime between when they left and the time when I realized there are gizzards on the menu - what the HELL!? - Female #1 returns. She’s lost her purse. She’s also drunker now. She is attempting to ask Robby if anybody has found a purse, and then…

She drunk-leans on me, puts her arms around my neck, and says: “Yer so gorgeous, Gorgeous!” and starts KISSING THE SIDE OF MY FACE.

You know I’m not making this up, because if I was making it up the chicks would be hot. Oh no. They were not. And she was going all St. Bernard on my face. I was paralyzed with squicky fear. I started mumbling “Okay, okay, thanks, yep, thanks, yep, thanks…” over and over again.

I’m not moving. My eyes start darting back and forth. I see Robby to my left, laughing his ass off. I mouth “HELP!” but he just keeps laughing. I look right, and there’s Marcus with a half-horrified, half-amazed look on his face. The male character accompanying Female #1 finally peels her off of me, and drags her out the door. The whole way, she’s leaning back, stretching her arm out towards me, saying “Bye Gorgeous! Isn’t she gorgeous? She is so gorgeous!”

At this time, I’m aghast, and Robby stops laughing long enough to say, “Dude, I seriously thought you were going to punch her in the face. I honest to God thought, ‘This is it, Laurel is about to haul off and lay that chick out.’ I can’t believe you didn’t.”

Marcus says, “I… wow. I can’t believe she did that! She was like, licking your face!”

I replied, “Yes I KNOW, does anybody have some Purell!?” Lo and behold, Marcus produced some Germ-X, which I promptly slathered all over my hands and face, and got in my eye. Then, I text messaged everybody and their brother, because… WTF.

The rest of the night got a little fuzzy. I know it contained a second order of finger steaks, closing down the bar, talking some chick out of driving drunk, walking to Brent’s apartment, playing fetch with Parker and Brandi (Brent’s German Shorthair), attempting to watch Deadwood, realizing one of the characters is the Vice President from 24, talking about what a badass Jack Bauer is, which I believe devolved into Jack Bauer/Chuck Norris jokes, and then having to explain about 75% of The Pursuit of Happyness to Robby because he’d managed to overtake my level of drunkenness after he got off shift, and later visiting the porcelain god… Along with re-visiting the finger steaks. Yum.

So that, my friends, was my Friday night. Saturday entailed a mother of a hangover. Go read Therese’s blog if you want to hear about the other half of our adventures, which - though they occurred across the continent from one another - were shared partly thanks to Cingular and largely thanks to the spirit of a couple hell-raising girls who hang out in bars that always manage to give us excellent blog fodder. Incidentally, I believe we’re both back on the wagon this week. ;)

I was dying of curiosity, so I just did the math on the caloric content of the Guinness I drank on St. Patrick’s Day. According to some website I found, each pint contains 210 calories. If I really drank twelve, which Sara still swears I did, that would be a grand total of 2,520 calories consumed.

This is on top of the Denny’s sampler for brunch (with a Mac & Jack) and corned beef sandwiches I had…

Dear heavens… this must be what people mean when they say drinking a Guinness is like drinking a meal. Except that was like drinking two days worth of meals… Thank god I don’t actually go out that much, I’d be one fat alcoholic! :)