My Pal Ali

I've been fortunate enough to have my good friend Jayson Ali aka "Musi" (Pronounced Muz-zee as in short for Muslim as in the guy looks like a friggin terrorist and Alladin got in a fuck contest) be my director here at the school. He generally represents the weedeity of the department and I represent the boozeity- but do not be fooled my friends! Musi is a spectacular drinker and can often be found with a flask full of fancy vodka in his pocket for the just-in-case situation. Our former partner Dave was always known for his extreme drinking skills also, but could also play ambassador to the vices a bit. When I was playing weekly with The Spirit Merchants, Davey and I's band-which Jayson eventually joined too- Thursday was the show night; making Friday the painful...painful...painful day here at The Conservatory. We would play late, drink for free, and rock until 3 or 4 in the morning weekly. Since those days we have somewhat kept the trait of Thirsty Thursdays or whatever the hell you want to call it; you can often find one of the two troopers remaining with bloodshot eyes and unkempt hair on Friday mornings.

Here is the actual transcript of the IM Jayson sent me this morning first thing:

jaysonalicras: i think i am going to throw up

jaysonalicras: again

GregS CRAS: ?

GregS CRAS: no throwing up

GregS CRAS: you gotta quit being sick on the weekends, you can't call out on the weekend bro

jaysonalicras: lol

GregS CRAS: sick or brown bottle fever?

jaysonalicras: bbf

GregS CRAS: nice lmao

jaysonalicras: went to devils martini last night

jaysonalicras: 2 for 1 drinks

jaysonalicras: plus i know the bartender...

jaysonalicras: bad combo..

GregS CRAS: 4 for 1 Friend Special?

jaysonalicras: for me at least

GregS CRAS: i heart substance abuse

jaysonalicras: lol

Hours later Jay pulled up to my location (he works at our Tempe location and I in Gilbert) and plopped down into my office. Unshaven, hair matted down, sunglasses, I'm sure you know the look. Him and 2 friends went to Devil's Martini, clearly an appropriate name. They left with one car less- it was cab time- and one more in tow, I'm assuming a fantastically hot looking drunk Scottsdale bimbo. After closing the bar down it was off to his friend Chuck's house where the bottles went down and the bongs came up. While Jayson was pulling a handful of tubes and grabbing a bite of pizza, the sounds of a world class drunken screaming coitus session reverberated throughout the home from upstairs. But as most weeknight late night party sessions go, 8:30am was approaching way too fast. Jayson slept for a pair of hours and grabbed a 5am cab back to his car and got back home for a short nap before work. At 8:37am my fine Musi friend opened his eyes to a painful morning in which there was no time for the muchly needed hangover shower. Clothes on and out the door and I'm so happy he did. Sitting in my office looking at his hair it was clear which side he napped on the previous eve. Smelling of Robert Downey Jr., he was aware that at noon he could still be DUI potential as he prepared to leave back for Tempe. Good drinking Jay, good drinkin'.

On his way out our hungover protagonist spies the back right side of his car, and it is no longer flush. A giant foot long dent is embedded into it along side the trunk. Trying to console him we see that in conjunction with the sad hungover mysterious dent is a giant cock written in the dirt on his back window spurting wiener milk out the top like Krakatoa. I love next day mysteries even when they really really suck. And exploding cocks drawn in car windows is always entertaining to me because I am a giant child. Good job Jay, now it's Friday so go bite that summummabitch dog pal!

My Students are Drug Addicts

And thank God for that. Money's been a bit tight lately and tonight I have one of two remaining classes to attend to for a little court case that's been keeping me cheery for the past 7 months. The classes aren't free and are mandatory, and if I don't show it could be jail time for ole Uncle Greg. If I show but don't pay they send me home and it's the ole iron bars too. So last night I knew that the $0.78 in my laughable checking account would not cut it. I also am aware that said class begins right after work and so I have the next 4 hours to figure out how to conjure enough dough, $20-$40. Time to get resourceful.

First stop, time to hock my precious, wonderful Gibson Nighthawk. I love this guitar dearly but the truth is I haven't played it in years. I called up Guitar Center and inquired and was told it'll go between $400-$1k. Electricity Bill here I come baby! Now from what I remember (2 years ago, that's a lot of memories deleted and hazed via substance abuse) this guitar was in prestine condition! So that's what I told them at the GC. Now keep in mind that I also don't have a vehicle thanks to some jerkoffs who thought it would be funny to steal my license plate, so i also need a lift. Called a few friends, no luck. Asked a few peers at work, no dice. I'm not going back to jail over $20 so I humbly started dialing...students that i've gotten close to. Afterall I can always threaten them with a shitty internship or 'mysterious' failing grades! One student, Mr. Poe, lives in the same complex as I do, and I'll be damned it's his day off and he's home. Score. He agreed to pick me up and drive me the 10 miles to Guitar Center, and off we went (after I bummed a ride home from one of the Administration Representatives- godamn I'm a mooch but desperate times come a callin...)

Arriving at Guitar Center I proudly walked in, checked in my axe, and found the guitar tech. Of course I started talking the Nighthawk up, I love this guitar. I unzipped the case and presented my piece, and much to my shock, 'prestine' is not the phrase I would use to describe it. Other adjectives such as 'scratchy,' dirty, 'unpolished,' would be much more appropriate. i still know I can sneak $250 or so out of them. Right? I'm counting on this damned money! After 20 minutes the word came down from the higher ups. Nope. Although the axe still plays like a dream, she isn't the big titted blonde that like to show 'em at the local dive bar she used to be. . I felt totally dejected, like when someone tells you 'Ooooh Greg you can really do better' and you realize that you're dating the nasty girl with bad breath and even though she sucks great cock and tells you she loves you in reality she couldn't finish high school and works at the local fertilization plant. Damn. Well at least I get to keep my baby but the thought of mace wielding officers guarding my bunk every night is starting to make me nervous.

One more guitar shop to go. It's a local establishment, Mom & Pop style. I know that I'm not going to get as much for her, but even $150 will save my nuggets. So Mr. Poe was kind enough to give me a humble lift to shop #2. As we pull up the sign not only is unlit, but there's a fine reassuring sign that this guitar will not be sold proclaiming the words 'LEASE FOR SALE.' Sorry Mr. Poe, I've bummed a ride all over the city for nothing. I kindly offered to put $0.78 worth of gas in his ride and he declined. A new problem is developing also, and that problem's name is nicotine. Including my lust for Fleishman's Vodka is also a lovely addiction to smokes and the meter is reading two left. Back to the couch to regroup.

Eye spying my apartment a wall of Xbox games caught my sight. Now last time I sold a chunk of games I got about 12 bones for 15 games. Resale on old shitty games is not so hot despite the fact that I think that Worms Armageddon is a priceless piece of modern entertainment. So I painfully bagged up 13 games in hopes of at least getting enough for a surrendering pack of smokes and a bum bottle of Popov to drown the failing sorrows into. With no ride available now I hoofed it to the local video store and was told by the clerks that the 'gaming dude' isn't there. Jesus what a killer string of crap luck. But the deitys of luck are still out there and can be found with a little bit of time, effort, and resourcefulness. I opened the bag up at the counter and asked the guys if there's anything they could do for me anyhow. Thanks God these dudes are nerds, they liked the games, made a call to the stoned up gamer dude, and in what I imagine was a haze of thick smoke told them to just give me $2 a game. For anyone that's tried to hock games before you know that that is well overpaying for games that came out years ago. $28!! Even better the clerk told me "Fuck it dude we'll round it up to $40 to make sure we're not ripping you off Mr. Stefus." I love these guy's arithmetic! I damn near tipped the dude- damn near.

So I needed $20, $40 would have been perfect, but the need for smokes was taking control and I was willing to take the risk in hopes of a little leeway from my class counselor. So I've gone from hopeless to potential celebration mode, from Popov's to Fleishman's!! It's not really an upgrade but it is the truth. I took my Chevrolegs to the grocery store and skipped home like a guy who just scored $40 and was about to have an unexpected cocktail and smoke. Sweet! A happy Greg sat at home enjoying what was likely the last few hours of cable before it gets shut off anticipating the new South Park episode whenst a knock begat my door. Mr. Poe had returned with his brother, both with beers in hand, and invited me out to the pub next door. Already feeling guilty for spending money on booze that should have been saved for substance abuse counseling I declined- until they told me the beers and billiards was on them. I'm in.

PRELUDE STORY- 7 weeks ago my girlfriend decided she didn't want to drink anymore and wanted to smoke green leafs instead to avoid the hangover. That lasted for 4 days, but the bag of horticulture still existed in my freezer.

The bar was the bar, cold beer, good company, the usual. Now I've been partying with students after a harsh evening of despair, cheers to success! But at 11pm I knew responsibilities were calling me, I had class in the morning with these dudes and I'll be damned if I'm going to show the weakness of a hangover to students I've been drinking with. Mr. Poe offered me a ride home and on the way him and his friend discussed how they wish they had some devil lettuce to partake in. Come on up boys. $20 more in my pocket and one baggie of sticky stuff less, I'm buzzed, I'm up $60 on the evening, I have the full $40 for class, and I officially sold naughty lawn to my own students. Morals? Not for me officer, I don't keep ethics round here!

Don't judge me, -G

The Amish Have Amazing Hands

Last evening a wonderful friend of mine, we'll call her Michele to protect her identity, gave me a ring for a long overdue how-the-hell-are-ya phone call. We've both been busy and now that my traveling to Philly and NYC are over with her traveling is beginning. Amongst her's include a vacation to a very relaxing hippied out trip to the fine if not lame state of Vermont, a work trip to the incredible if not gay San Francisco, and a trip to the beautiful if not terribly shitty smelling city of Lancaster PA, Amish capital of the world. Lancaster has many delights, including the esteemed Auntie Anne's Pretzel College, proving once and for all that they're not only delicious but surely cult driven.

The Amish were once a proud, simple people, but it seems that over recent years their fine name has become tainted. Here's just a few news clips: (These are absolutley real)

-Arlie ******** was busted in a rare sting when an undercover agent bought raw milk from the Amish dairy farmer in an unlabeled container.

-Two young Amish men have pleaded guilty to conspiring to sell cocaine to young members of their community and could face up to 40 years in prison for their crimes...The two men bought cocaine from a Philadelphia area motorcycle gang called the Pagans, then sold the drugs to Amish youth groups.

Check out this line from a recent book about the Amish: "In some ways, the Amish trouble us, even torment us. We worry that without modern technology, higher education, the latest fashions, and unfettered freedom that they can be as happy as us."

With all the unchecked raw milk, undercover agents, motorcycle gangs, and cocaine issues (no wonder they can get those barns built so quickly) it's no surprise that Americans are starting to get wary of our bearded funny named friends in Pennsylvania. Some change had to have been made to protect their good name, and my friend Michele seems to have found it. An outlet to do good for the community, boost the local AND Amish community, and also find a way to release some of the terrible sexual tension those poor dusty genitals must deal with. AMISH DAY SPAS.

Go head and treat yourself to prove that I'm not totally full of shit and do a search online. Before I began writing this I was looking for an angle, and after searching google for "Amish Day Spas" I realized I didn't need one. There are HUNDREDS! Best tag line for any of them for those of you who know the Amish accent is "SAY 'SPAHH' IN MERCER COUNTY'S WORLD-CLASS DAY SPAS!" The comedic value of this is priceless. Picture a stout Amish gentelman in his mid-twenties straddling your favorite lady friend massaging her back with a 5 foot butter churning rod right after asking her if she'd like the emulsion treatment on her face. Love it. "Oh Ezekiel it feels so good, can you work my shoulders next?" God bless the concept, those burly farmer hands must be a sure-fire hit for the women-folk! Hot wax therapy you ask? No shortage of candle architecture here! I'm concerned that the vichi shower would likely be a boron scrub, those Amish do like to keep it from the land...and the haircut and style might not be the most exciting for East coast lookin', but that complimentary black cap will fix 'er right up.

Keep in tune for in a short couple weekends I'll have the full story and I'm SURE it can't be anything less than hilarious. Michele I'm waiting for the phone to ring! So throw your car down the road at ya and heavy at the spa you go!

1308

I believe that the saying is 'A true alcoholic can always find a way to get booze.' My roomate and I were just that alcoholic yesterday. It's been a rough month with being in Philly for a week and NYC for another, that's a great chunk of missed work. Bills are piling up and the bottom of the barrel has more than approached at this point. However shitty chains of events call for certain actions, and those actions come in bottles.

I get back from NYC to find that some dickhole has stolen the license plate off of my car. The bills have their own bills now, and the collectors are well into my ass at this point. My girl has broken up with me 4 times since I've been home (this is actually somewhat normal but it's still super stressful), and last night my ride bailed on me stranding me at work after I got my balls chewed into by some cunt of a mother of one of my students.

I am thirsty.

I also have the knowledge that I have $0.38 in the ole bank account and but one 5 spot in the wallet. I also have a bucket of pennies in the office and a small change jar at home. The mission is to get 2 good boozehounds drunk, and retain enough cigarettes to sustain both of us through it all. Ryan picked my late ass up from work with bucket 'o pennies in tow. First stop- the mailbox. We'll call it quality check, you never know when some kind family member sent out 20 bones just to say they were thinking about you and missed you. This can be the difference between a night of Thunderbird or a night of Chablis. Quality Check: Mailbox negative. But we were determined. Ryan found a small handful of change in his room and I grabbed my little jar and it was off to spend 8.9 cents on the dollar at the Coinstar!

We hit the road to the local Fry's and were snuffed out by shit luck. Coinstar needed a helping key from the manager and damnit we just didn't have that kind of time! So we went next door- to the other Fry's- God I love Arizona mass community planning- and on the way there we scored! Ryan had purchased a buy one get one free Parliament Light pack and had forgotten about the second pack in the door panel! Things are looking good and the booze diety's are smiling upon us so far.

$13.08. That's the magical Coinstar number.

To the booze section! Fleischman's Vodka 750ml on sale at $6.99. One liter of bargain tonic- $0.69. Ry to top it all off and make it close- Bud Light 32 oz'ers 2 for $5. We knew it was gonna be close but we braved the checkout line anyway. Beep beep beep beep the numbers kept increasing and we were damn near at $16 when I pulled out the last trick we had up our sleeves. The Fry's Super Shopper Discount Card. With one swipe of the magical black strip the numbers dropped back down, to $13.08 on the digits! It felt like winning the poverty stricken lil' booze lottery. This was going to be the tastiest hobo swill ever.

And now I write to you, my dear friends, with just a tinge of a cheap vodka hangover. Just what I was hoping for. Cheers!

From the Microphone to the Grave

Well I have made my return home to Arizona and now the blog. This is Monday of the first full week of work I've had in 3 weeks and I'm not looking forward to it. NYC was incredible, and my partner nor myself were never in real danger of getting arrested which was nice - and a first. Not to say we didn't break the law at all, believe you me there were plenty of alcohol, drug, and indecency charges that could have been filed. But no real danger.

The best story I came home with was our friend's at Blue Microphone, an excellent mic company. I met up with Eric from Blue on Saturday night and asked him how his booth was on the showroom floor. He told me that they had sent out 5 pieces to their booth from LA to NYC- but only 4 arrived. Imagine trying to show off all your new gear and software to potential clients and peers at the largest conference for your industry, but you're missing 20% of your equipment. That next morning at 4am they got a phone call from the lobby telling Blue that they had a package awaiting for them at their booth. In an empty dark room at The Javit's Center huge convention room floor, in front of Blue Microphone's booth- was a coffin. With dead body in tow.

Someone at DHL or UPS or whatever they used to send their packages must have mixed up the labels trading 'Ole Uncle Billy for a bran new Blue Woodpecker Microphone. Must've been a funny lookng urn. I know you want to feel bad for the family, but what about the dude who found the coffin by himself in a dark huge room at 4:30am? That shit would put me in therapy. I did recommend that he take a rival manufacturer's product and put it in the dead guys hand, then post a sign that says 'Bob used "X" Microphones,' but Eric then mentioned something about poor taste.

I did get to meet Les Paul and got a pic with him (see above), but no Bon Jovi. In fact I think that my boss misheard and it was Bongiovi or perhaps Englebert Humperdinck. I did see Boone from Anaimal House who is now on NBC's 'Damages', and I think I had a Snoop Dogg sighting too. NYC is a crazy place, lot's of walking. I drank all I could drink, ate all I could eat, and still I returned in better shape and a couple lbs. lighter. The last thing I learned was that trains rule. After playing tourist a little bit with the folks who joined me on our last day up, we took the train back towards Philadelphia. Amtrak was fast, comfy, and easy- the only thing simpler was the subway system in NYC which is nothing to be afraid of. It does smell a little bit like pee and sure you'll run into a few creeps but that's part of the fun of it. It was a quick reminder that vacation was over when I get home at 8am to go to work for the first time in a week and some jerkoff stole my license plate off my car. So no driving for Uncle Greg. Then I get to work and a client wants my head cuz one of my jerkoff students walked off the gig without so much as a 'Fuck you prick!' So it's back to the grind again, and I'm looking forward to another week of adventure.

This weekend was doused in a little vodka, the Diamondbacks proving they are not the better team this year as they slip to 3 games down to none, my girlfriend losing her keys somewhere in Chandler leading to a romantic early morning hungover hike around town, another hike over to a Chinese Buffet, and a dog park. Nice, quiet, & lame, which is just what I needed after the self punishment of last weekend. Welcome back me.

Flying Pill Box

Wed Oct 3rd

Well I should be somewhere over the Midwest by now on my way to the fine state of New Jersey. The usual late night laundry packing session went on flawlessly followed by a very short night’s sleep, one of my trademarks before getting on one of these airborne pill boxes. I’m on US Airways this time, and it’s just the same as every other airline I’ve flown. Shitty. I understand making the most out of your time and space when it comes to business economics, but when a city bus flat out ROCKS you In the comfort department I think it’s time to make some changes. In fact I ENJOY the city buses. And if you’ve been to Phoenix you know that the public transport is thin out our way, and the city bus is reserved for only the desperate and the ruined; but hell that adds to the personality of it. I’m pretty deft at striking up a conversation but not with the dullards you find on a cross country flight. That’s one of the beauties of flying Southwest for me- find yourself the best group of boozehounds and try to end up in line next to them, it’ll make for a much more entertaining flight in comparison to being the 14C gamble; which is where I’m sitting at right now.
I do commend the steward staff though. They have to put up with these ungodly dregs day in and out. I wonder if they fall asleep every night swearing that if they have to watch Evan All Mighty one more time they’ll eat the next bullet they can scrum up. I hear that Continental still serves chow on most flights as part of the flight. If I want a delectable egg sammich off this cart that will surely smash into my arm here in the next two minutes (fucking aisle seat) it’s going to run my ass $7. How is it that these seats were designed that my extremely undersized freak show shoulders can’t be within the boundaries of the seat? I would say that most of the ladies I know in this world have a wider shoulder berth than I do, what kind of fucking jerk off would do this to his fellow man?
Ah well soon I’ll be dining in a fine Jewish deli and then desert at an NYC Sake bar where I doubt I’ll be bitching about much. My roommate did try to rub it in that he scored tickets to a Tuaca Party; Tuaca by the way is my favorite I could live off the stuff for days. Well probably just hours, it’s no sippin tea if Uncle Greg has a glassful. But the Tuaca party is a body paint party, so he’ll be hangin with a bunch of hot nude lasses drinking my favorite before during and after dinner drink come Sunday. Maybe there was a tinge of jealousy, but somehow when I’m partying in Times Square with company credit card in hand and no real budget to adhere to I think that jealousy will be checked at the door to the nearest VIP club. But for now I’m just going to focus on that Jewish deli, because even that $7 egg sammich sounded tempting. Mmmmmmmmmmm airline mayo…

NYC Here Greg Goes

Well it's off to New York tomorrow morning for the Audio Engineering Society conference. By now I've been to a handful of these style of conventions, and this is my second AES. These soirees are bizarre little parties. Most in my industry are high level nerds with a passion for showing off and bragging. Add an infinite amount of booze and you have a very interesting mix of humans.


We just got word in today that on Friday Jayson and I will be partying at the legendary Avatar Studios for their 30th anniversary. With Bon Jovi. Cool. Last year we got to party with Steve Miller, the dude from T-Rex, and Billy Gibbons from ZZ Top in San Francisco. My goal this year is I'd like to at least meet Les Paul and at best take the man out to dinner. So I'm packing my best pocket protectors and massaging my liver, the party starts at 9:30am!


Ignoring all the cool recording studio parties, famous faces, kick ass hotel room in Times Square (I'm staying at The Crowne Plaza Times Square http://www.manhattan.crowneplaza.com/ Check it out!) I'm really looking forward to hanging out in New York. I spent 22 years in Philadelphia and for some bizarre reason never bothered to make the trip. Last time my department made the trip they got to witness pot delivery services complete with business cards and menus, but minus me. I don't know what to expect but I can assume late nights, lack of sleep, tons of liquid debauchery, and some good ole fashion East Coast livin'!


We've been invited to some cool studio parties, another one that I'm stoked about is Electric Lady Studios in The Village. Electric Lady is literally the studio that Jimi Hendrix built after receiving his recording bill the year before he passed away. He built the studio to avoid racking up more expensive bills, and died a few months after building completion. BBQ at World Wide Audio, Quad, Legacy, and a fistful of other legendary NYC studios.


Last year we did San Francisco which was way way cool, and the big comparison I'm interested in making between the two recording hubs is the crackheads. SF had some of the most amazing, captivating, and best dancing drug addicts I have ever seen. One of them approached my team and sang us the Roto-Rooter theme song before declaring to us and the cafe we were at and the world we live in that he had in fact just shit himself. Can you top that New York? I've already been instructed by several studio managers on the phone today to make sure that I keep my wallet in the front pocket of my pants, which was a quick blatant reminder that many studios are located in the hood, could my first mugging also be during this coming week of recklessness? Well go company dime go, I heart company credit cards. Me getting mugged would be the likeness of raping the elderly, it's still rape but it'd be pretty fruitless. Depending on what you're into I suppose. See you in New Jersey, Newark here I come!

The BPP Finale

Well that was everything I assumed it was going to be. The BPP was a smash success! The day started early beause I am a procrastinator and had prepared for the BPP with only ideas. My roomate Ryan and I decided to go with the Porn Pool over the last second idea Palsey Pool which included putting our wheelchair Zippy in the center of our pool. Our first obstacle was getting a pool. Swimming season is almost over out here in Arizona, so we got the bad news that WalMart and Target had no baby pools for sale. So I hit the horn and found a swimming pool specialty store and scored. They had just put a 4' baby pool on clearance for the off season. Score! $15 later and we had our pool. $8 porn mag from the liquor store around the corner. $10 in condoms, platic sleeves, and equipment to make a sign. $3 in chicken fingers at the deli (I was starving). And we had the makings of a porn pool. Also in our arsenal was a tube of Anal Eaze, a fist full of beads, a dildo, and an S&M whip; all of which came from my house from my personal stash, which was a quick reminder to myself of what a pervert I am. Yay me.

The first thing of note was the huge life guard chair in the center of the yard. It had crucifixtion sized nails sticking out all over the place and the design was complete fly by night. Awesome. Dave said he built a full sized life guard chair, but you take these things with a grain of salt. Good job buddy. Then team Porno Pool's arts and crafts began. A wonderful humbling experience is defined when you're cutting out hard core pornography and stuffing it into protective plastic sleeves in your buddies living room while guests you've never met before are entering the party. Try starting up a conversation with a member of the opposite sex you don't know while cutting out a 9" cock held in place by 2 huge fake tits. Blew the pool up, designed the sign, laid out the beads, dropped in the Anal Eaze, unwrapped a couple of condoms, wrapped one around the dildo, it was magical. The dildo sank tip first to the bottom of the pool but the hind end FLOATED! Like a diving stick in mature-people-pools! To top it all off, the cherry on the sundae, the Anal Eaze FLOATED! So when we were filling the pool with water the current from the hose made the butt lube fly around the little 4' pool, it was awesome. Hell YES! Sadly once it was at max capacity we discivered it had 2 little holes in it, side by side. So the porno pool was leaking and had a pair of holes, and I thought that kind of made it a little more pornoesque, so I was okay with it.

So here's the layout, the competition. A pirate pool. It was purchased, as is, so there was no add on creative extras. It was a dope pool though, complete with a water cannon and a slide, it dwarfed my little porno pool. The Rennaissance Era Pool was just a black tub, it looked like a horse trough. The provider claimed it was like taking a bath in 1862; I think the owner hadn't picked up a history book in a while. Ah the chronological science of a drunk. And Davey and crew provided the 4th pool, the Oktoberfest Pool! Dave had to work in the morning, so it was up to his teamates Rachele and Chris to decorate it. At 8:30 AM Dave gets a call fromthe ladies asking where a good place for bloody marys would be. The decor was bypassed for the need to intake tomatoe and vodka first thing in the morning, so it was just a plastic blue Oktoberfest-less pool, but the team dressed the Oktoberfest part well so that counts for a chunk of points. The 5th team couldn't find a baby pool for purchase, so he showed up in a pirate outfit to overtake other people pools, unknowing that a team of 4 had already established the pirate garb. However in team 5's defense he was a bad ass looking pirate. I however was unaware that this was a dress up party along with the whole dressed up pool thing, though in hind site I probably could have put 2 and 2 together; I just totally missed a sweet opportunity to dress up like a porn star, damn!

So the beer drinking began, and the usually keg o beer stuff starts taking place. Then a bucket of chalk was found and the grafiti began. Dave asked the crowd to please write the most awful thing you could think of on his walls and patio. "I heart racism, the holocaust is a joke, Jay (Team #5 and Pakistani) will steal you plane, Jews are all rich, white people have lots of stuff, If she's older than 15 I'm not interested, etc, etc." You got it Dave. I somehow doubt any responsible guests will be invited over to the Harper compound anytime soon, but then again somehow I doubt that that compound knows too many overly responsible humans. Dave finally kicked off the waterworks by putting on a pair of flippers and Jacque Cousteau-ing it into the Pirate Pool where Rachele and Jen were getting their feet wet. Appropriately 2 cups of beer were immediately dumped on his head. The party went as parties go, beer beer beer beer beer hillbilly golf, washers, and finally the usual surprise at 8:30 when the keg kicked and it was beer run time. 3 and a half cases of beer were rescued from the local Mart and the party was saved. There were no terrible injuries, everyone got hammered, and there was plenty of porn for all to see.

-Side note: upon the tedious task of picking out the perfect porn mag my teamate said that we have to make sure we get both kinds of porn so we have plenty of cock and plenty of tits for the mixed audience. I had to calmy remind him that straight porn contains both key elements all in one neat little nude package.