ridin with the boob krewe!

MY PANTS ARE TOO BIG THEY KEEP FALLING DOWN. Oh, yes, I could wear a belt. Or I could come here and type about it.

So… man, there’s been a lot since the last time I was here. I always say that. I will continue to say that until the end of the internet, which, based on the current economy, should be here sometime within the next 4 months. Unless the government bails it out. And it will, because I will seriously riot in the streets if they take away my Facebook Scrabble (again).

Anyway! This weekend:

  • we had dinner at Grumpy’s, to which the fakemeats have finally, gloriously, returned (and our favorite girl-crush server was there).
  • met Kris and Orsi at Oktoberfest under the bridge on Main Street (which sounds a lot seedier than it is).
  • I intentionally bought one wooden nickel for one beer, as we had plans extending late into the night, but one of their friends kept passing us more wooden nickels. Approximately 40 of them.
  • the polka band played the (University of Minnesota) rouser, and I nearly died of hockey-related excitement.
  • Matt learned to barrel-roll.
  • we made a brief stop at the Industrial for snacks and to say goodbye to Kris and Orsi (I love them).
  • journeyed northward to the Otter, where I promptly made BFF for life the next few hours with a girl named Felicia (I remembered this only because of the association with Priscilla, Queen of the Desert).
  • everyone else arrived: Missy, Doran, Pete and Klein et al, plus 400 other people, which clearly exceeded the fire code at the Otter.
  • all 400 people touched my butt while they stood waiting at the bar. At the Otter, the things that are normally irritating are not.
  • we stopped at Santana’s for the most pornographic cheese curds on earth.
  • As I’d declared it my intention to go dancing last weekend, we sought out the Imperial Room for half-priced drinks and their DJ.
  • Matt and I danced our asses off. Cindi, Jumi, and Willis sat at the table enjoying the developing trainwreck that started after midnight when all the slutty suburban chicks came in to dance.
  • We went to Red White and Fucking Blue, which was supposed to have half-priced drinks after midnight, but they lied and the bartender was a massive bitch to boot.
  • Regardless, there was more dancing, and a patio overlooking Hennepin Avenue to hang out on.
  • Cindi went home with a salt shaker in her purse, like any other really good night.
  • All day Sunday, we watched the sports, and I knitted.
  • Life is good.

Monday was date night, so we went out for dinner, and then went to see Burn After Reading, which was really funny (though no Big Lebowski). I love the Coen Brothers for being OK with killing off a character like Brad Pitt’s only halfway through the film. (Oh, was that a spoiler? Sorry.) Last night, we went out with Dan and Kate, and got to sit outside on one of the last 80-degree days of the year. While we were there, they decided that they’d move in together on December 1, a month after us. We swore to help each other move. Holy god, we’re so gay. And yet, still awesome.

Tonight we have to spend some quality time with Target and the laundry room, in preparation for the 3-Day. Tomorrow is Crew Day, which means that we all go meet at the opening ceremonies location at the fairgrounds and learn what exactly we have to do during the 3-Day. Wendy and I will get the keys to our van, and we’ll do all our decorating then. I probably didn’t tell you about our van, did I? Well, the theme is Mardi Gras, and we’re the BOOB KREWE. Oh yes. We’ll be wearing our teal crew shirts, purple capes, knee-high harlequin socks, all manner of beads, and crowns. OK, mine’s more of a tiara. We have 200 strings of beads to hand out, and I hear we’ll have cowbells, too. If this makes absolutely no sense to you, then you have probably not witnessed the 3-Day.

Those of us you know are probably all on crew, which means we don’t get the opportunity to see our friends and family at cheering stations along the way. I guess that’s a fair trade, since we also don’t have to walk 60 miles. Having done that for three years, I’m glad to have this break. Regardless, it would still be excellent of you to show your support to all the walkers, because they’re doing something extraordinary. Here’s information about how to do that, including the opening and closing ceremonies information, and here’s the map of the route. If you’d like to make a last-minute donation, here’s that link, too. I thank you in advance.

Friday, we’ll arrive at the fairgrounds at 4am, and prepare to spend the weekend dedicating ourselves to boobs. You can’t go wrong, really. And since I’ll probably get all teary-eyed if I start writing too much about it, I’ll stop now and save that for after the walk. Hope to see you there!

Jenni

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