East bound and down, loaded up and frozen.

So, there I am, minding my own business while living a quiet life of hermitude in an abandoned refrigerator box under the I-35 overpass, when along comes this charlatan calling himself "Septic Headed Peeface" (a shockingly appropriate name, I might add) who lures me into a white van with no windows and whisks me off with the promise of hobo wine and only slightly stale Doritos.  Next thing I know, he's collecting a ransom in the amount of $4.76, and here I am- chained to a desk, forced to type until my fingers bleed, and only rewarded with that sweet, sweet hobo hooch after I have contributed to no less than 352 blogs, some of which aren't even in English.  I think I might be the most famous mommy blogger in Uruguay now, though I only type broken Uruguay-en and I may be confusing "famous" and "wanted by the law for promoting hard-labor camps for toddlers", but that is neither here nor there.  I'm sure that someday I will thank Mr. Peeface for dragging my lethargic, uninspired, SAD-suffering frozen ass back to this com-pu-tor thingy, but right now I'm just pissed that I'll be missing the all-hobo winter formal tonight, taking place in a perfectly magical abandoned manure processing plant.  One-toed George, my date, will surely be devastated as I had finally decided to let him get to second base tonight, providing he wears the only-slightly-used plastic gloves that I found in that hospital dumpster- a girl's gotta be careful, you know!

Since I'm here, and since it is almost 2 years to the day, and since this weekend is going to be equally frigid as I experienced 2 years ago, I am going to repeat a project that I completed for y'all in 2008. 

Back in the other winter of my malcontent- January aught-eight, to be exact, I gave you all the opportunity to dictate what I would be doing over the weekend.  Oddly enough, I have this same weekend wide open with little to do other than increase my codependency with my dog and occasionally pluck random hairs as they pop up.  I thought that this was a rousing success last time, and I'm willing to do it again if you guys can think of things that you want me to do, providing that they won't get me arrested or end with me waking up in a foreign country pantsless and bald.

I will do as many as I feasibly can, and I will document each event in photographic/video form for your amusement.  Hell- you deserve it, what with me wandering off after sparkly things and unicorns only to come back more than a month later, disoriented and mumbling...again. 

Somewhere in the greater St. Paul/Minneapolis area that you want me to visit?  Something you'd like me to cook?  Snotcicles you'd like me to photograph (um, hello- it's -11 degrees out right now)? 

If I can do it in the time allotted, thy shall be done.  I am your monkey, and I shall dance. 

I missed you, internets.  Life is so much more boring without the special brand of stupidity and shamelessness known as Whiskeymarie VonPartypants.  Let's get that bitch jump-started and kick her in her ample (but lovely) ass. 

Whiskeymarie is AWOL! (Awesome With Out Leave)

Hi. I am not Whiskeymarie. My name is Septic Headed Peeface. The world renowned Whiskeymarie VonPartypants blog is now under my absolute control. She has abandoned you. Abandoned you. Abandoned you. For the sum of $802 and 11 cents, I will… I mean, she will…, no, YOU will… umm…

Aw, fuck it.

I’m totally not worthy of the mantle of responsibility here.

Click to embiggen deets.

Do you really think that Chuck Norris would drink a mai-tai? Really? C'mon!

I was driving down the freeway yesterday, and I saw a billboard for Bacardi "O" rum.  It said something along the lines of, "Work overtime...on your friendship."

All I could think was, Really?

I mean- sure, I have had every meaningful moment in my life over a cocktail had some "bonding" sorts of moments with people over a libation of one kind or another, but this ad sort of threw me off.

I mean, when you see a movie or something on the teevee where two people are engaged in deep, meaningful reminiscing or miscellaneous "life talk", generally it is over some sort of respectable type of beverage.  Two sisters laughing and crying together over one (or three) bottles of good red wine?  Been there, done that.  Two guys sharing a good bottle of whiskey after a particularly rough day?  I'm sure it happens all the time.  A glass of fine sherry in front of a roaring fire in your fancy high-rise city apartment?  Well, Fraiser and Niles did it all the time, so I'm guessing other folks have as well.  While I can easily see two sorority girls "pre-gaming" in their room with 13 shots of Bacardi "O" chased with gatorade before they go out to meet boys that they'll probably end up throwing up on during messy, grunty sex, I find it very hard to believe that two reasonable, adult individuals would sit around and "work on their friendship" over a bottle of Bacardi "O".  If it did, I would imagine it going something like this:

Guy 1: "Hey man, I owe you my life for pulling me and my family out of our house when it was on fire the other night.  And the fact that you went back in for Puddles, our cat?  In-freaking-credible.  Those burns sure look painful- I've never had a skin graft, but it looks like it really hurts.  You're a freaking hero!  I don't know how I could ever repay you- I love you, man."

Guy 2: "Dude- forget about it.  It's nothing you wouldn't have done for me, right? We're in in 'til the end, my man.  Now- what say we fire up the 'ol blender and kick back with a couple of tall, frosty banana-lime daiquiris?"

Guy 1: "Hells, yeah!  Make sure I get TWO umbrellas and extra sparklers, 'cause that's how I roll, yo!"

Annnnnd...scene.


Happy Friday, my fuzzy little navels- go out and have yourself a responsible, sensible adult beverage or three this weekend, yo.