Wednesday Special

Since Maria's busy handing out tote bags and getting plowed on the company dime at Something Boring About Construction Software Annual Conference Ought-Nine, and I'm balls-deep in a high-stakes game of Minesweeper, Stag Party is going to do something it has not done before: encourage you to peek the work of our dear friend, Nicole Laverty, for no immediate ego-boosting/self-deprecating/monetary return-- basking in the delight of this naked buffalo lady, painted with whiskey and truffle oil, is reward enough:



And you should totes follow Nicole's blog, butterme, baby, 'cause shit's about to blow up quicker than these sweet, sweet pixelated mines I be sweepin.'

Product Review

In my never-ending quest to reduce the number of showers per week I feel pressured by society to take (as it is important in life to have goals) I recently invested $4.99 in a product named PSST! Dry Shampoo.  It's been around since the 70s, and I guess the original packaging is still working for them, because they haven't changed it, ever.

 

On the back of the can they helpfully list suggested scenarios that might require the use of dry shampoo.  This might be because dry shampoo is for lazy, filthy people like me who would rather sleep for an extra 20 minutes than perform expected routine tasks of personal hygiene, so it's good to have a few reasons that will excuse your ownership of the product, should someone come across it in your bathroom drawer and want answers.

The reasons they give:

Between Shampoos

On Camping Trips

After Sports

When You Are Ill

Really though, there are so many more reasons to use PSST! and I think that, should the makers ever decide to reintroduce the product to a market of 21st century consumers, they might want to take a look at a few of the myriad reasons I've already come up with:

When You Are Too Depressed To Get Out Of Bed.

In The Car On The Way To Work After A Weekday One Night Stand You Already Regret.

During A Visit To Your Grandma's House After She Catches On And Hides Her Valium, As A Temporary And Ruinous High.

To Cover Up The Dense Smell Of Weed At Your Boyfriend's Apartment So He Doesn't Get Another Note From The Landlord Because If He Gets Evicted He's Not Fucking Moving In With You.

In Between "Featured Dances" At Little Darlings When Your Hair Is All Matted From Sweat And You're Backstage And Your Kid Will Not Stop Crying And The Owner Is Yelling At You For Bringing Him To Work Again And God When Will All This End.

To Make A Simple Blowtorch. 

Feel free to add your own! 

This Gun's For Hire

In my business, we call this "consulting," but here's what it all boils down to: I need money, and you need shit done. Here's some shit I can do for you:

• Getting hospital drunk and heckling your ex-boyfriend's band, making the lead singer cry, etc.
• Coming up with thesis titles that both amaze and confuse. To wit: "From Boot-Hat to Bindle and Back Again: A Semiotic Analysis of the Plains State Hobo," and "BARRACUDA! Or is it? Animism and Gender Identity in Heart's Early Years."
• Crafting you the kind of Personal Budget that will always leave room for a pack of Pall Malls and some buffalo jerky, but neither pants nor cable.
• Telling pointless stories at your awkward party to keep the conversation flowing. These usually start with something innocuous enough, like "I was standing in the checkout line today…" but will inevitably turn into barelling steam engines of poor elocution and offense, ending somewhere in the region of: "…and that's how I paid for my English degree with Nazi gold."
• Rating your record collection from the perspective of a whiskey-guzzling burnout living in Puyallup in 1976.

Money orders, cashier's checks, and the afore-mentioned Pall Malls accepted.

Virtual Tour

I cleaned my apartment... like really, really cleaned it. It was an experience I would now like to share with you.

For context, a typical "before" picture, taken prior to a night out on the town during the summer.

CHALLENGE: can you find: takeout containers, a dead plant, a full box of fruit cups, my cat resting on a pile of trash, leg makeup, my crotch shot.

OK, now check it out. As a disclaimer i should mention that my building is kind of old and I have a lot of stuff, so what constitutes really clean for me is is not like, "khaki clad mom wielding Bounty paper towels in commercial aired during daytime TV" clean, it's more like "young freshman pledge attempting to keep his room in the frat house neat but not so neat he gets called queer" clean.

First up: the kitchen.

See, I know you're thinking... whatever, pretty standard, not that great. But look, I have a TEAPOT. Like an adult. And there aren't dishes on the sink, AND nothing is visibly rotting in the fruit bowl. Let's continue.

This is my cupboard, which is where my dishes are now, arranged with their like compatriots. Usually they are in the sink, or lying next to my bathtub covered with dried ketchup and stale bits of chicken patty. On one amazing occasion a gentleman friend found a dirty plate 'neath the pillow he was sleeping on. That won't happen again!

Moving on...


This is the top of my refrigerator which clearly adds to the theory that I am slowly morphing into the cartoon character "Cathy" as you will notice the contents are: Kahlua, Bloody Mary mix, Margarita mix, cheap and dusty red wine, cat treats, and about 12 different weight loss/slimfast powders. Below you can see other people's wedding/bridal shower/baby shower invitations affixed with my one magnet, which advertises a 24 hour cat emergency room. Yep.




This is really where I just kind of cram the stuff I don't have room for anywhere else, but since all my art supplies are in a box there I like to call it my studio. I have high hopes of summer days spent creating masterpieces while I gaze out the window at my foxy shirtless neighbor sunbathing on his balcony....until the day I muster up the courage to ask him if he'd like me to apply gentle strokes of sunscreen to his giant horse tattoo so it doesn't fade in the sun.

you might think the bed is where the magic happens. but you'd be surprised. Sometimes you can find curly fries in the cushions to enjoy as a delicious nightcap, but since J in the B on Broadway closed, it's been happening less and less. But, sometimes.


I like to turn all the lights off except the Christmas lights and pretend I'm sitting on a porch in Savannah with a sweet tea, watching the firefies dip and play. But then I spill Rainier all over the bed and have to turn the lights back on to change the sheets.

my closet is not so great or organized, but Maxi has not recently kicked cat shit on the floor so it's like a GRIP better than normal. Also, bonus points if you can figure out a good outfit I can wear that leopard print shrug with... I was going to return it but then I got part of a Shamrock shake on it and now the fake fur's a little matted, so...

I've wanted Tibetan prayer flags ever since the days of Camp Orkila when Trek proudly displayed them on Turnripple. I've wanted to continue collecting pictures of birds made entirely out of feathers ever since I realize they really creep my mom out. God, let's take a moment and watch that hardwood gleam.


Hey, have I somehow managed to go the last five minutes without trying to overcompensate for what I worry you may perceive as my life's current mediocrity by finding a way to bring up the fact that I've spent time in Southeast Asia in a conversation where it would not normally be considered relevant? Well then, why don't you look at my Buddha faces, or maybe my Vietnamese propaganda posters, and then try not to forget next time.

These are my washing products. MaybPublish Poste now that they are arranged so pleasingly I will venture into the shower more often. Just kidding, my hygiene is excellent.

The Saddest People

The only thing more depressing than the way I obsessively peruse Craigslist Missed Connections are the people who SO DESPERATELY want one to be about them that they reply to the vaguest listings (for example "Brunette in car on I-5") with postings like, "More info!?!?!? What was I wearing?????"

Milestone

Today, we had more than 7 people read this blog.


April Fools!