Christmassive Nights

I promised an epic blog. I deliver. A portend of what's to come -- a raging Christmas Friend Feast Rager Birthday Party in St. Paul, Minnesota. Notice the presents under the tree. They are all cases of beer, every one of them. But let's start on my birthday.

 

This is my real birthday. I take the day of work and my parents take me out to lunch. The food isn't great but these ice cream testicles sure are.

 

Then I go to my mom's house and she somehow tricks me into spending my birthday afternoon helping her put up her Christmas tree.

 

Birthday self-portraits in the suburbs. 25 years young.

 

To wipe the sour taste of the afternoon's domesticity from my mouth, I apply kamikaze shots at Costello's in St. Paul. The crew comes out for bar food and drinks. St. Paul old-school neighborhood guys aren't amused by our presence, but that's all good. Ripplechip is my rage friend cause everyone else has to work in the morning.

 

After dinner, we head down the road to Mancini's, an old-school St. Paul dinner club instituion. It used to be some top-awesome mafioso scene in the 60's -- martinis, tommy guns, bribery. Now its a wonderful po-po-mo slice of St. Paul that has pull-tabs and vinyl boothbacks.

 

Boys table, optical switcheroo.

 

Girls table, optical switcheroo.

 

Martinis. Danielle is not ready for this.

 

Tall Bikes buys me a whiskey shot. A rare moment of boys-booth and girls-booth diplomacy.

 

Jay-Z and I share a birthday, today he's doing shots down at the 40/40 club.

 

A clearer picture of the Mancin's scene. Total chill classy vibes.

 

More Mancini's steez.

 

Fast forward to Thursday. Jeff and I drive down to Iowa City for a birthday road trip. We're going to the Picador, an awesome bar that used to be Gabe's. It was gonna get closed down but our friend Jacki from Lawrence Fucking Kansas (aka LFK) stepped in to buy it and made it even awesomer.

 

Driving photos. I'm inspired by the Fields of Opportunity.

 

Midwest.

 

Continued Midwest. Windmills on the horizon.

 

Total fucking windmill.

 

Before the show we go to the Deadwood with Craig for some brews. The whole staff sings happy birthday to me over the loudspeaker!

 

C-Fizzle. Now with neckbeard.

 

The show is packed and loud and sweaty and drunk. It's good to see these guys in a small venue, up close.

 

Franz makes the worst keyboard face in the history of keyboard faces. Somehow its endearing. At this point, I am getting very very very drunk. It couldn't be the heavy pulls on the whiskey bottle could it?, no, no... It must have been the 12 beers I consumed in less than four hours, yes that must be it.

 

I get invited onstage during the encore. I am wasted. Seriously wasted. I stumble around for three songs in the background and think I'm awesome.

 

The next morning. Hungover. Breakfast at the Hamburg Number 2 (the first one burned down, according to local folklore).

 

Holiday decorations.

 

These three words sum it up.

 

I get eggs benedict, a rare indulgence.

 

Jeff gets a mexican veggie burger. We share a pie shake. They put a whole piece of pecan pie in the shake machine with ice cream and BLAMMMMMO. Deliciousness. We can't finish the shake and the waiter is kind enough to put it in a to-go cup for the long drive home.

 

We drive home after breakfast. We start cleaning and preparing for tomorrow night's friend feast rager. It's being held at our place and will feature dinner, drinking, and hanging out. 50's and Danielle stop over to help us get ready.

 

This is an awesome picture of Nami. She is helping to clean by laying on 50's scarf.

 

We set up a massive and intricate string of christmas lights throughout our entire place. Macguyver-type shit.

 

Cleaning and preparation require beer for help.

 

This is what preparation looks like.

 

BOOM. The next night! 50's and Jeff cooking the meal and drinking beers. You may be wondering about their outfits. Here are the rules of the night.

1) All participants must wear Christmas or Cosby sweaters.

2) All participants must bring beer wrapped as a Christmas present. The beer will be placed under the tree and opened like a present when the beer supply runs low.

 

Allen Christmas Photo 06'

 

The table set up. Our entire place is consumed by tables. Colezones looks on at the meal preparation looking striking in her suburban mom Christmas cardigan.

 

We buy Nami a Christmas sweater but she doesn't like it much. It says "Cold Paws, Warm Heart" it should read "Cold Heart, Warm Paws." Yeah.

 

Coles and Chips bring over Tony Jaro's Greenie Mix (as learned about in this blog). You can buy it at the liquor store, but only at the one across the street from Jaro's in NE. Notice everyone's festive outfits, including Beak's khaki pants.

 

50's sweater is probably the best one. The penguins have demonic-lit red eyes. Satanic caroling.

 

Holiday jello shots! Julie makes them and they are a) delicious and b) filled with vodka. Snowflakes made of whipped cream.

 

Window wenches. Note my awesome Christmas tree. I spent a lot of time making it look sweet.

 

The meal is ready! 50's slaved over the oven to create this awesome huge meal with shit tons of awesome shit.

 

Friend feast! Neil is pointing to his potatoes to show everyone that they're really good. He and Ripplechip have gone the Cosby sweater route.

 

Jeff shows us his engorged belly following the feast.

 

This is what our place looks like from the outside when people are raging in it, holiday style.

 

We want the whole world to feel the holiday spirit, including our hallway.

 

Isaac and Meghan are jewish. Isaac for real, Meghan by marrying Isaac. They bring in this sweet-ass menorah. We don't have any candles, but cigarettes are a good replacement. We totally take joy in mocking their religion.

 

Until they get smoked.

 

Coles and I shotgun in honor of the birth of Jesus (aka J to tha C). Notice my greay sweatshirt. It has Santa's face on it.

 

All the beer presents have been opened. Unto us is born the son of God.

 

Shit is getting real.

 

Cam drinks deeply from the cup of life (aka vodka red bulls).

 

Mike Deuhs and Jurg-Dog.

 

Dance parties commence. Clipse and Jay-Z and Ludacris. We are white people.

 

Most people head home around 3AM, but a small devoted crew sleeps over and goes all night. Nicole and I put on TPC release show t-shirts and partake in some "Indian Wrestling" where you lay on the ground, lock arms and wrestle with your feet. Everyone's a winner.

 

50's and Mike Deuhs get violent while wrestling. Note the multi-tasking smoking prowess of 50's.

 

Yeesh.

 

Yes, that is exactly what happened.

 

Ripplechip crashes out.

 

Christmassive nights.