Slangin' Keys in the Nasty with The Dude

It was a banner weekend for the GMYH crew. And by GMYH crew, I am referring to me. Anywho, the wife and I headed down to Cincinnati Friday night to see the Black Keys concert. Joining us for the show were John "Hamburger Helper" Ashcraft, Brian "Intern" Ezell, "NaviKate" Rohrer, Mike "Kate's Male Friend" Ullmer, Jenn "Not a Rookie" Weisgerber, Marc "Tron" Wiesinski, a couple of Intern's friends (including some chick named Catherine who will come (pun intended) into play later), and a couple of Jenn's friends. Many of us met at Marc and Brian's house in Mt. Lookout before the show. It was then when I was introduced to Sparks, an alcoholic energy drink that tastes like Sweet Tarts and hits like Mike Tyson. Brian swears by the stuff. And to his credit, he's got one convert.

Anyway, the show was at Bogart's, which is apparently on UC's main bar drag. I would describe Bogart's as an old VFW hall that gets cooler bands. Plus they sold those massive Foster's cans. Did you know that Foster's is Australian for beer? So I downed a couple of those while watching the Black Keys rock the hizzie. Here's a picture. Notice the totally awesome high school talent show silver back drop.

After the show, we all went back to Marc and Brian's house, where we had a couple more drinks, I jumped over a driveway, and then we headed out to some bar called The Shade or The Shape or something that started with an S. The bar was pretty cool, or at least could have been cool, had they not had a shitty DJ and just played from what looked to be an excellent and funtional juke box. At some point between the concert and arriving at The Shade, Catherine (who lives next door to Marc and Brian) went from mildly intoxicated to Irish funeral drunk. It comes out that she has wanted Brian for a while (apparently this wasn't big news). So then Catherine and Brian go back to her place, where Brian says all that happened is that they watched a Grey's Anatomy DVD, which definitely explains why he didn't return home until noon on Saturday. No matter what happened, I wrote a song about their torrid love affair, and I think I should share it with all of you. I call it "Next Door Man (Catherine)"

Verse 1:
I love you Catherine
Even more than heroin
I think that we should live together
Even if your roomate Heather
Doesn't move out
Once school's out

Chorus:
Catherine, there's a yard between us
But that didn't stop you from wanting my penis
Catherine can't you understand
Wanna be more than your next door man

Verse 2:
I dig you neighbor
Even more than Lifesavers
Catherine, now I'm falling for you
I think we should have a kid or two
Maybe next year
If you're still here

Chorus

(extended guitar solo)

Break:
It might have been the Sparks
But I saw you in the dark
And I knew right there
That I'd have your underwear
Just a-hangin' from my teeth
Underneath your satin sheets
And all that noise
That you've made with other boys
Would be nothing compared
To the sound you made in there
When we would consecrate
What I thought I'd really hate
Oh yeah!

Verse 3:
I'll see you Catherine
Every time I frown or grin
Let's not make things awkward yet
Because you still have my Erector set
And I'll want it back
And you in the sack

Chrous 2x

See, now wasn't that cathartic? I know it was for me.

Saturday was just as good. Kate and Mike left at the asscrack of dawn to go to the OSU/Michigan basketball game in Columbus. Marc, Jester, Brian, and I had lunch at Zip's, which is a bar/restaurant a couple blocks from Marc and Brian's house. Their specialty is the Girth Burger, which is a hamburger with a split mettwurst sausage on top of it. Pure genius.

During the afternoon, Brian bought a 1000-piece puzzle because I told him I'd give him a dollar if he finished it by the end of the night (I still have my dollar). We watched some old game shows on the Gameshow Network. One episode of Family Feud we saw featured one of the worst/funniest answers we had ever heard. It was the final round, and a daughter and father were the chosen contestants. The daughter gets a pedestrian 88 points in her half, so that father has some work cut out for him if they want to win. The first question is "Name a profession that is considered dangerous." The daughter said "policeman," which was the #1 answer. What does the dad say? Fireman? No. Stuntman? No. Football player? No. This SOB says "Steeple painter." Yes, steeple painter. We were rolling for a couple minutes. I haven't laughed that hard since Gacy got executed back in '94.

Saturday evening, Marc and Brian hosted Mini-Lebowskifest, which involved the inhalation of White Russians and the viewing of The Big Lebowski. Joining us for that were the following nihilists: Amy "Bunny" Belanger, Jamie "Marmot" Belanger, Aiden "AC" Belanger, Holt "Uli" Hedrick, Chris "Smokey" Stoll (whose girlfriend is Catherine's roommate--yes, the very same Catherine who I wrote a song about), and Chris's girlfriend Kim.

The movie was as funny as ever. And I thought of a sweet name for a band (if it doesn't already exist): The Royal We. Aside from the drinking, Jamie once again endangered the life of AC. Not by allowing him to date Spano or accidentally killing his pet lizard while he was on vacation, but by letting him have full access to Jamie's Coors Light bottle (as shown in the picture below).

Don't get me wrong, I love to see babies get drunk as much as the next guy, but when AC gets drunk, he always talks about how he fucked things up with Jessie and how he wishes he would have gone to Iowa on a wrestling scholarship instead of Cal U. In fact, he goes on and on about how "the College Years" were just one big mistake all together.

After the movie, Marc's special lady friend, Maggie (aka Mag Dog), arrived from Chicago. She missed the I-65 exit on I-90, so she just took I-90 all the way to I-75, and took that all the way down. For those of you who might be curious about whether this is a good idea, I will refer you to elementary geometry, which teaches us that a triangle's hypotenuse will always be shorter than the other two sides combined. Anyway, it turns out that Mag Dog and I grew up only about 5 minutes from each other, and that she and I went to the same church growing up (shout out to Fr. Gallagher, Fr. Klees, Ray Ray, and the rest of the St. Cletus posse--holla!), and that we would have gone to the same high school, except she went to the nearest Catholic school instead of walking the same hallowed halls as David Hasselhoff once walked at Lyons Township. Either way, it's pretty random.

So then all of us (minus the Belangers--they had to take AC home before he tried to put someone in a Figure Four) went to Mt. Lookout Tavern, known colloquially as MLTs. We drank some drinks there, listened to a band that was pretty good (or so I don't remember), and hopefully got Holt liquored up enough to remember that he didn't hook up with anyone on his birthday weekend. Oh, and at the end of the night, Brian went next door for some reason. Probably to watch whatever episodes of season one of Grey's Anatomy he hadn't yet seen.

And for those worried about Mr. 10,000's biography, don't worry, its coming.