Piece Out

[Note: Blogger would not let me upload all of the pictures from the weekend, so there will likely be a follow-up post with several more pictures, including a totally awesome one of the anonymous wife of Alex, Katie W., and Captain Jack Sparrow.]

The weekend was a whirlwind of emotion. It started off rather morosely, as Joe "The Original Goni" Malangoni infomed me via electronic mail that Danny Flores, writer, saxophonist, and singer on The Champs' classic '50s roadhouse anthem "Tequila!", died, apparently from complications with pneumonia and surprisingly not from alcohol-related conditions. Somewhere Paul Reubens was either weeping or masturbating, or both.

Given the news, Jessie and I decided to stay in on Friday night and reflect on what tequila meant to us. Deciding that both the drink and song meant very little to us on an existential level, we retired early to catch up on some much-needed sleep.

After 9-10 hours of sleep, we awoke on Saturday with a renewed lease on life, having already forgotten about Flores's passing. Aside from a rain-soaked dog walking, we watched IU score 7 fewer points than UConn in a horrible football game. I think I've figured out IU's problem: a lack of talented athletes.

After the game is when things started to get crazy. First, out of nowhere, Chris "The Red Cobra" Ball calls me and says he's in town. He then headed over to our place, and then the three of us headed to Piece Brewery & Pizzeria in Bucktown, which is where Jessie and Ari's birthday gala was to be held.

Piece is owned by Rick Nielsen (guitarist for Cheap Trick) and our friend Bill from the dog park (Bill and Rick are shown to the right at Piece with none other than Rachel Ray, who was unable to make it Saturday due to previous commitments, or so I assume). Bill and his staff hooked us up, whether it was a discounted bill, Piece t-shirts for the birthday girls, or birthday cake. When Bill arrived, he explained to me that his purpose for coming to the bar that night was to buy us beers and get us drunk. I thought that was good.

The night started off innocently enough with some pizza, beer, and MSU drubbing Notre Dame. Piece brews their own beer, and I quickly became addicted to their dunkel-weizen, as it reminded me of my childhood in Munich. Plus it was served in really big glasses, so that was neat. Here's a picture of Jester and me, taken at the beginning of the night. Normal.

Then everyone started showing up, and the night devolved quickly. Among the well-wishers were: the aforementioned Ball, Klint, the anonymous wife of Alex, Alex, Tom, Courtenay, Morgan, Melissa, Eric, Bohmann, Adam, Katie W., Sean, Bridget, Katie B., Julie J., Tana, a couple of Tana's friends, Brian, Brian's roommate, Dan (another friend from the dog park), a couple of Dan's friends, Christoff, Reed, Sarah, one of Ari's former co-workers and her boyfriend, and probably some others. Drinks were consumed. Pizza was devoured.

By the time dinner was done with, I was feeling pretty good. We made our way from our reserved area (which would later be the live band karaoke stage) to the bar area where more drinks were consumed, including smaller, more powerful drinks that the bar referred to as "shots." At some point, MSU conveniently gave up a 16-point lead to Notre Dame. I think I figured out MSU's problem: the Catholic Church pays refs quite handsomely.

By the time the Karaoke Dokies started, everyone was good and lubed and ready to sing. As soon as I got the list of songs, I went straight to "D." Staring me in the face were the words "The Darkness - I Believe In A Thing Called Love." That's all I needed, so I signed myself up.

I had some time between my sign-up and performance. During that time I was fed shots and beer by my so-called friends and Bill, respectively. Also during that time, several other things happened.

The Birthday Girls pretended to like each other for at least 2 seconds:

Jessie auditioned her new character, The Boob Monster, to rave reviews. The beauty about this is that Katie B. and the anonymous wife of Alex had no idea that The Boob Monster was lurking. And that's kind of The Boob Monster's thing: lurking in the shadows and then pouncing on boobs.

Jessie kept accusing me of having gum in my mouth. As you can see, I did not. Jessie could barely contain herself when she found out I had been telling her the truth the whole night.

Dan performed a spoken-word version of Motorhead's "Ace of Spades."

Then it was my turn. As I walked up to the stage, the crowd came to an anxious hush. "Who is this jackass in the polo shirt?" they thought. "Go back to Lincoln Park, yuppie," was yelled at only a level that I could hear. I refused to be dissuaded. Once the mic was in my hand, I was electric. I explained to the crowd, "I'd like to dedicate this song to my beautiful wife Jessie. It's her birthday. Honey, I just found out I lost my job, so this is your only present." Jessie, of course, didn't hear a word I said, but I did get some "awws" from the otherwise rabid crowd, most of whom could see me about this well:

Then the opening riff kicked in, and it was on. Aside from my footspeed, random trivia knowledge, the only thing about myself that I am proud of is my falsetto. Give me a Four Seasons or Darkness song, and I will go Scott Peterson all over it. You won't even know what hit you. I hesitate to call myself a golden god, mostly because I was wearing red. But for those three minutes I felt alive for the first time in my life. Later on, as I was settling my $4.50 bar tab (yes, $4.50), an attractive girl tapped me on the shoulder and asked, "Were you the guy that sang that Queen song?" I replied, "You mean The Darkness?" Probably believing that "The Darkness" was the title of the Queen song that she thought I sang, she said, "Yeah. You were great. With what you're wearing, you're completely unassuming, and then you got up on stage and totally rocked." Having never been complimented on my singing ability, I didn't exactly know how to take it. Despite my repeated requests, Jessie did not think a threesome would be a "great birthday present."

In other news, Alex, Ari, and Brian's roommate busted out "Folsom Prison Blues," or at least that's how I remember it. As you can tell, the drummer decided at some point in the night that his shirt was no longer a necessity. Meanwhile, some guy in the front was wearing a stupid hat.

Katie B. was impressed with the effort. Ryan and I were not.

Reed and I posed for a picture with our special lady friends, which turned out about how you would expect for 1:30am, after drinking for 7 hours. I look like I just ate a couple children. At least Sarah tried to grab my wife's boob.

Soon thereafter, Jester and I headed home, and for the third night in a row I got more than 8 hours of sleep. I don't think I've had a run this good since the legendary "Last Winter Break" run of December 2002 to January 2003.

Meanwhile, Greg was nice enough to drive Adam, Katie W., Sean, and Bridget back to Lisle (since he now lives in the DG). Apparently after dropping them off, the four of them had a bit of an adventure. Here is an email I received from Bridget:

"Yea, that dude, Greg, I think, drove us to the Lisle train station where Katie's car was so she and Adam drove Sean and I to Naperville. On the way, she got pulled over for what the cop said was speeding although I don't think she was or actually I was drunk so I wasn't really paying attention. So anyway she pulls over into a parking lot and another cop comes, which I am assuming is the DUI unit. The cop comes to talk to Katie and says it reeks of alcohol. Well duh, we were all drunk. So Katie totally kept her cool and had to get out of the car and do an eye test which she amazingly passed. The cop let her go and suggested she stop and get some coffee. So when we got to Sean's she had a few glasses of water and they hung out for a little bit. It was scary and close, but Katie did a good job."

I'm glad my friends are DUI dodgers. Overall, the night can be summed up with two fingers: