On July 4th, I attempted to social-butterfly my way to as many events as possible, but it was a tough balancing act for me; when you try to see everyone, it’s hard to spend as much time as you’d like with anyone.
After gathering at Jess’ place, we crossed the street to Bell Square Park, where they were having their festival, complete with sad cover bands, dogs in tiny patriotic sweaters, and NO ALCOHOL.
How wrong is it to call your stand ‘Margarita Village’ when you don’t serve alcohol? I’m going to go out on a limb and say pretty goddamned wrong. A few of us kept searching the grounds in disbelief–surely there must be a beer garden cordoned off somewhere! No. This was a completely dry festival. And that, friends, is how I know Bellevue sucks. It was a lovely day, but I personally do not deal well with the proximity of hundreds of screaming children without a drink.
Everyone else felt much the same, and as it was quite a while before the fireworks were due to start, we went back to Jess’ place. On the way there, we spied a short, very steep hill; I’m not certain who first voiced the desire to climb up and roll down, but I’m absolutely not one to say no.
My grandparents used to own a cabin in Eagle River, Wisconsin, next to a very steep hill that went down to the lake (Otter Lake, as I recall). My brother and I used to play a game wherein we’d roll down the hill, making ourselves dizzy. One night, while our parents/grandparents/every adult in the park were drinking and socializing (because that is all there is to do in the evenings), my brother and I and a few other kids decided to push the boundaries and try to stop on the rocks at the very edge. As usual, I went first. I hit my mark on the large, flat rocks, but they were slick with lake-slime and I went flying off the edge and directly into the lake. My parents were slightly less than ecstatic when I trudged into their party, waterlogged with stinky lake water. (Note: This is the same lake where I jumped off of a raft and had a beer bottle go through my foot, AND got smacked in the face with a baseball and have scars on both places to remind me why I should never go outside. I will tell you ALL of my hilarious injury stories later, if you would like to hear them.)
This hill in Bellevue did not end in comparatively soft lake water; this hill ended on cement, making the stakes a little higher in case I wanted to do some more permanent damage to my face. Jess wisely decided to roll after me, to assess if it was more dangerous than he’d first believed. So, in a desperate attempt to feel young as a twenty-six-year-old who is never carded for booze anymore, to the great amusement of everyone around me, I lay down and started my roll. I rolled so fast, it was almost as if someone had shot me downhill with a rocket launcher. As you can see, I’m not bleeding from anywhere, which may only serve to encourage me to do this sort of thing again.
Not long afterward, it was time for me to skedaddle if I was going to make it to gehn and fraxl‘s place before the fireworks started.
I mainly took the below picture to frustrate the latecoming vultures who were circling around, waiting to nab my parking spot. Bellevue’s festivals may be sad, sad affairs, but the buildings are very pretty at twilight.
When I arrived on Capitol Hill, I miraculously for the first time ever found a parking spot without having to circle every surrounding block. This is madness!
By the time I got to the party, everyone was well on their way to drunk land, but had made a ‘bro pact’ not to pass out before midnight.
We went upstairs to watch the fireworks from the roof; deqlan pointed out that Amazon’s headquarters looked like the Lizard Fortress in Heroes of Might and Magic III, and I can’t say I disagree:
After the fireworks were over and we stopped singing ‘America, fuck yeah!’ on the rooftop, we played the sort of asinine games that are only fun when you’re drunk….which may well be the best kind of game. We also learned that if you play ‘hide Nicole’s phone’ over an extended period of time, she will start biting people in order to have it returned, which is less sexy and more painful than you can even imagine.
All in all, it was a fab Fourth, superior to last year only in that I did not end it by vomiting out a car window on the freeway.
So when you are ruler will stills be legal?
Because a festival without booze is just another day in Alabama.
Yes, stills will be legal. Bathtub explosions are a minor side-effect compared to living in a dry county.
Also, no more of this state-run liquor store shit. You’ll be able to buy booze 24 hours from grocery stores, like God intended.
Yes, stills will be legal. Bathtub explosions are a minor side-effect compared to living in a dry county.
Also, no more of this state-run liquor store shit. You’ll be able to buy booze 24 hours from grocery stores, like God intended.
So when you are ruler will stills be legal?
Because a festival without booze is just another day in Alabama.
Wow, your 4th was way better than mine. I hung out with my parents.
I can’t believe you aren’t making more use of your handy police dispatch receiver. If I had one of those, I’d light off fireworks ALL THE TIME.
My neighbors take care of that, it’s like the 4th of July all the time!
Did you do anything special for your anniversary?
Did you do anything special for your anniversary?
My neighbors take care of that, it’s like the 4th of July all the time!
I can’t believe you aren’t making more use of your handy police dispatch receiver. If I had one of those, I’d light off fireworks ALL THE TIME.
Wow, your 4th was way better than mine. I hung out with my parents.
Dude, i STILL have bite marks. Ow.
Still. Worth it.
You really should get a matching one on the other side!
You really should get a matching one on the other side!
Dude, i STILL have bite marks. Ow.
Still. Worth it.
I LIVE BY THAT SCARY HOSPITAL! YOU COULD TOO!!!
Actually, we’re pretty excited about not having roomies for a while (at least I am – and plan to be for the next three weeks…until our first $1400 rent check is due) SO excited, in fact, that I think we’ll have a Roomie-free summer fiestah. Yes. Fiesta has an H. For southern-ah baptist-ah emphasis-ah!
You can come!
We’ll call it “RECLAIM THE THEATER ROOM!”
I’ll make a sign that says “no huffing in this house” out of the leftover silver and gold paint, of course!
I’m so there. Can I come with spray-paint marks around my nose? 😀
duh… but only if they’re gold. You have to match the paint that he managed to get all over the kitchen.
But still…WHO EVEN DOES THIS?!
I really have no idea! Considering that the act makes you instantly more stupid, I would think that subsequent instances of huffing would be easier to justify than the first, but still–I don’t get it. I don’t get a lot when it comes to drugs, though. I used to work at a porn/head shop, and we sold some stuff that only existed to kill brain cells, and people snapped it up. It was called ‘liquid incense’ and it pretty much served the same purpose as huffing, though. I’ll have to tell the story about the guy who drank some in store to you sometime, it was horrific.
ohhh boyyyy…
That sounds awesome. I dunno though… I couldn’t give a shit about weed – I don’t know why he couldn’t just do that. Nobody who smokes a ton of weed ever did anything to hurt anyone. But he knew he had 1 chance to get it right and keep his shit together. If for no other reason but to make sure that nothing dangerous enters my house…my job depends on my integrity. I can’t be gettin’ into no secondhand trouble.
It’s probably better that he’s gone, then. Hopefully you can find someone decent to take his place. I’m really sad that I can’t do it!
It’s probably better that he’s gone, then. Hopefully you can find someone decent to take his place. I’m really sad that I can’t do it!
ohhh boyyyy…
That sounds awesome. I dunno though… I couldn’t give a shit about weed – I don’t know why he couldn’t just do that. Nobody who smokes a ton of weed ever did anything to hurt anyone. But he knew he had 1 chance to get it right and keep his shit together. If for no other reason but to make sure that nothing dangerous enters my house…my job depends on my integrity. I can’t be gettin’ into no secondhand trouble.
Well, I for one want to hear THAT story.
I am not liable for any damages incurred when you projectile vomit while reading this story.
Like I said, I worked at a porn store/head shop. We sold a little bit of everything: 30 different kinds of lube, latex asses, a giant wall of dildos, videos of every sort, huge bongs, hookahs, incense, what could only be crack pipes, whippets (to buy these, you needed to fill out a form stating you would use them for ‘cooking use only’–I know I get all of MY cooking supplies from head shops!), and this liquid incense (and more, but that’s the gist). We also had a spank tank; a row of preview booths in the back.
This liquid incense apparently used to be sold as something called ‘jungle juice’. I can’t remember the exact name we sold it under, but that wasn’t it. Scratch that–we sold it as Rush. It also, as far as my knowledge goes, used to be sold as video head cleaner. Here’s their website–you can’t even tell what that shit is from the COMPANY. The point is, people would buy it and then basically huff it.
So, that’s the scene. Sometime in the late afternoon, just before the after-work rush hour, a squirrely-looking guy comes in, of the sort that you can tell he doesn’t go out on a whole lot of dates. He buys a dildo (for his girlfriend, he explained. I learned quickly not to question ANYTHING there), a container of Rush, and buys some tokens to watch some preview movies in the back. I forget about him very shortly after the transaction; it’s busy in the store, and even though it was strictly not allowed for customers to spank in the tank, I really didn’t give a shit most days because it wasn’t MY responsibility to clean it. We had a retarded guy for that. No shit.
So about 30 minutes later, this guy comes back up to the counter, only now he’s stumbling and looking quite unsteady on his feet. He comes up to the clerks and asks us “So, that Rush stuff? You’re supposed to drink it, right?”
“No. Hell, no.”
He coughs, and blood starts coming out of his mouth.
“OH GOD, NO.”
And THEN he collapses on the floor, convulsing wildly. We all freak out, no one knows how to handle this, meanwhile there are guys at the other end of the shop yelling that they want some MOTHERFUCKING SERVICE. One of the clerks, a guy who looked like Rob Zombie’s brother, handcuffs the semi-alert, drooling, bleeding, head-snapping guy to a display rack (with fuzzy handcuffs, no less) to prevent him from leaving as he was starting to make motions like he was going to go out the door. Why did we want to keep him? I don’t know. Legality thing, maybe? Another clerk, who married a guy from overseas in exchange for money so he could get his green card, called 911 and started shrieking “I don’t know” over and over again until the ambulance arrived. They got the situation under control, wheeled him out on a stretcher, and I’m pretty sure he lived to be a retard another day. The cherry on this particular cake was when one of the clerks thought to go back into the spank tank to do the rounds, and found the guy’s dildo…but just the packaging. To this day, we have no idea if it left up the guy’s ass or if someone else was in the building who would be skeezy enough to steal an opened dildo.
*claps delightedly* That’s a really good story, Auntie Mellzah! Tell us another one!
*claps delightedly* That’s a really good story, Auntie Mellzah! Tell us another one!
I am not liable for any damages incurred when you projectile vomit while reading this story.
Like I said, I worked at a porn store/head shop. We sold a little bit of everything: 30 different kinds of lube, latex asses, a giant wall of dildos, videos of every sort, huge bongs, hookahs, incense, what could only be crack pipes, whippets (to buy these, you needed to fill out a form stating you would use them for ‘cooking use only’–I know I get all of MY cooking supplies from head shops!), and this liquid incense (and more, but that’s the gist). We also had a spank tank; a row of preview booths in the back.
This liquid incense apparently used to be sold as something called ‘jungle juice’. I can’t remember the exact name we sold it under, but that wasn’t it. Scratch that–we sold it as Rush. It also, as far as my knowledge goes, used to be sold as video head cleaner. Here’s their website–you can’t even tell what that shit is from the COMPANY. The point is, people would buy it and then basically huff it.
So, that’s the scene. Sometime in the late afternoon, just before the after-work rush hour, a squirrely-looking guy comes in, of the sort that you can tell he doesn’t go out on a whole lot of dates. He buys a dildo (for his girlfriend, he explained. I learned quickly not to question ANYTHING there), a container of Rush, and buys some tokens to watch some preview movies in the back. I forget about him very shortly after the transaction; it’s busy in the store, and even though it was strictly not allowed for customers to spank in the tank, I really didn’t give a shit most days because it wasn’t MY responsibility to clean it. We had a retarded guy for that. No shit.
So about 30 minutes later, this guy comes back up to the counter, only now he’s stumbling and looking quite unsteady on his feet. He comes up to the clerks and asks us “So, that Rush stuff? You’re supposed to drink it, right?”
“No. Hell, no.”
He coughs, and blood starts coming out of his mouth.
“OH GOD, NO.”
And THEN he collapses on the floor, convulsing wildly. We all freak out, no one knows how to handle this, meanwhile there are guys at the other end of the shop yelling that they want some MOTHERFUCKING SERVICE. One of the clerks, a guy who looked like Rob Zombie’s brother, handcuffs the semi-alert, drooling, bleeding, head-snapping guy to a display rack (with fuzzy handcuffs, no less) to prevent him from leaving as he was starting to make motions like he was going to go out the door. Why did we want to keep him? I don’t know. Legality thing, maybe? Another clerk, who married a guy from overseas in exchange for money so he could get his green card, called 911 and started shrieking “I don’t know” over and over again until the ambulance arrived. They got the situation under control, wheeled him out on a stretcher, and I’m pretty sure he lived to be a retard another day. The cherry on this particular cake was when one of the clerks thought to go back into the spank tank to do the rounds, and found the guy’s dildo…but just the packaging. To this day, we have no idea if it left up the guy’s ass or if someone else was in the building who would be skeezy enough to steal an opened dildo.
Well, I for one want to hear THAT story.
I really have no idea! Considering that the act makes you instantly more stupid, I would think that subsequent instances of huffing would be easier to justify than the first, but still–I don’t get it. I don’t get a lot when it comes to drugs, though. I used to work at a porn/head shop, and we sold some stuff that only existed to kill brain cells, and people snapped it up. It was called ‘liquid incense’ and it pretty much served the same purpose as huffing, though. I’ll have to tell the story about the guy who drank some in store to you sometime, it was horrific.
duh… but only if they’re gold. You have to match the paint that he managed to get all over the kitchen.
But still…WHO EVEN DOES THIS?!
I’m so there. Can I come with spray-paint marks around my nose? 😀
I LIVE BY THAT SCARY HOSPITAL! YOU COULD TOO!!!
Actually, we’re pretty excited about not having roomies for a while (at least I am – and plan to be for the next three weeks…until our first $1400 rent check is due) SO excited, in fact, that I think we’ll have a Roomie-free summer fiestah. Yes. Fiesta has an H. For southern-ah baptist-ah emphasis-ah!
You can come!
We’ll call it “RECLAIM THE THEATER ROOM!”
I’ll make a sign that says “no huffing in this house” out of the leftover silver and gold paint, of course!
Also: No booze?!? Wtf, bellevue. I thought rich people lived to drink! What else are WASPs for?!
I know, right? I thought all WASPs did was: drink, spend money, and be racist. WTF?
Too bad I can’t be a WASP… I’m all those things.
Too bad I can’t be a WASP… I’m all those things.
They don’t drink in public unless it’s a “gala event” and in those cases only have one.
They don’t drink in public unless it’s a “gala event” and in those cases only have one.
I know, right? I thought all WASPs did was: drink, spend money, and be racist. WTF?
Also: No booze?!? Wtf, bellevue. I thought rich people lived to drink! What else are WASPs for?!
When the going gets tough, the tough bring hip flasks.
I *really* need to get one of those.
I *really* need to get one of those.
Mine has leopard fake fur on it!
Mine has leopard fake fur on it!
When the going gets tough, the tough bring hip flasks.
Awesome.
I think Amazon’s HQ looks like a hospital.
I think it used to be a hospital. was convinced it was an insane asylum.
I think it used to be a hospital. was convinced it was an insane asylum.
it is still partially a hospital. or, rather, doctor’s offices.
i work in what used to be the MORGUE.
*glee!*
Amazon’s a multi-jillion dollar company and can’t manage to have the whole fortress to themselves?
actually, they’re getting ready to move into their own campus type dealio, kind of like microsoft.
it’s going to be at least a year or two though.
actually, they’re getting ready to move into their own campus type dealio, kind of like microsoft.
it’s going to be at least a year or two though.
Amazon’s a multi-jillion dollar company and can’t manage to have the whole fortress to themselves?
it is still partially a hospital. or, rather, doctor’s offices.
i work in what used to be the MORGUE.
*glee!*
Awesome.
I think Amazon’s HQ looks like a hospital.
I LOVE MY BUILDING.
i totally need an icon of it.
It looks spooky at night!
i know 🙂
i know 🙂
It looks spooky at night!
I LOVE MY BUILDING.
i totally need an icon of it.
The hills are alive
As with all steep, green hills, you have to watch for dog poo, which is also part of the strategy involved.
Last time I rolled down a hill I was in high school. The hill was next to a lake, and you had to watch for duck doo too, which is mainly green, so it’s harder to spot.
You had a 4th I envy. I read and slept (fighting a bug)and really got into the spirit of the event by ordering Chinese delivery.
Re: The hills are alive
I HATE that people don’t pick up after their dogs and I can’t roll down the hills as carefree as I’d like. I pick up after *my* dog, it’s really not all that difficult.
Re: The hills are alive
I HATE that people don’t pick up after their dogs and I can’t roll down the hills as carefree as I’d like. I pick up after *my* dog, it’s really not all that difficult.
The hills are alive
As with all steep, green hills, you have to watch for dog poo, which is also part of the strategy involved.
Last time I rolled down a hill I was in high school. The hill was next to a lake, and you had to watch for duck doo too, which is mainly green, so it’s harder to spot.
You had a 4th I envy. I read and slept (fighting a bug)and really got into the spirit of the event by ordering Chinese delivery.
The 2nd picture is truly the best, did he have a name for that pose?
Not that I recall–it was part of an elaborate mating dance designed to attract supple rich Bellevue women for a weekend romance.
I’ve heard about dances like those, one man enter no man leave
Sadly, his fate remains a mystery to me as I had to leave before I could witness him making his move on some sweet young thang.
Sadly, his fate remains a mystery to me as I had to leave before I could witness him making his move on some sweet young thang.
I’ve heard about dances like those, one man enter no man leave
Not that I recall–it was part of an elaborate mating dance designed to attract supple rich Bellevue women for a weekend romance.
The 2nd picture is truly the best, did he have a name for that pose?