Let's do this.

Okay guys, I'm filling in the gaps. I had some camera issues last week and had to borrow cameras, now it's time for catchup. These are photos from our lost party two weeks ago. Yeah, Fuck Off, nice sassy coffee cup Onion.

 

So Desmond borrows a tie-dyed shirt to cover up his nakedness, good call Hurley.

 

This lost party comes with haircuts included.

 

Dogs love boogers, seriously. It's like they think they are owed them, and they'll do whatever it takes to get them.

 

Abi shows up, Hi Friend, it's been awhile. BTW does anyone ever tell you that you look like Jaws, cause you do.

 

Hey Assholes, the twins lost, seasons over. Get over it.

 

First foggy glasses of the season.

 

Serious Smoking Sessions. Seriously.

 

These guys know something funny.

 

Riding Drunk home inspires "fast car at night" pictures.

 

Okay, this is one is the last left-over photos. The night of the shoeshiners cd release party my blogging machine (camera) was out of batts, so I had to use Nicole's cell phone. She just bluetoothed these bitchez over to me tonight, and I can finally ad the pics to deucecities.

 

Now we're catching up. Tuesday night, we head over to First Ave to see The Hold Steady play a rock show. We're all placing bets as to see whether or not THS will play an hour long encore of their first record front to back. The good news is this doesn't happen and we all lose the bet.

 

So many people. This sucks balls when your only 5'4".

 

50's take charge and gets us up to the front, I don't have to worry about looking at the back of the guy in front of me. Good going friends.

 

Signature Finn moves, I like it. There's not as much "hand-clapping" as I was anticipating, but I've got a new move though called "punch dancing" and I brought it. BTW look close and you can see ripplechip filming in the background.

 

Franz is seriously fucking crazy, he plays the harmonica like he knows what he's doing.

 

You're serious with that thing? Seriously?

 

Thursday night, tubs gives us a glimpse of his Halloween costume. I'll give you a hint it's he's not gonna be Luigi.

 

We head over to The Future show at the Hexagon. I finally make it out to the show, after months of empty promises. Good going guys.

 

Friday morning, I head with TPC down to Chicago for the start of their tour. The van passes over the 200,000 mile mark. Pretty sweet. Congratulations Silver Fox.

 

50's and Jordan coordinate their cigarettes with their lighters, very fashion conscious guys. Way to be.

 

What do I do? Where do I call? I'll take two of those please, It's on.

 

Weird fucked up sculptures at the venue. Too weird for words.

 

Oh yeah, I totally forget that it's Halloween, people are celebrating almost 5 days before the actual holiday. Totally awesome and crazy. Nice costumes sluts.

 

Pensive moments for TPC.

 

So serious.

 

Smoking competitions, the loser buys shots. Whoever can let their ash burn the whole way down to the filter first wins. Jordan loses, Matt wins, second round, I lose, Matt wins. All is fair in love and war.

 

It's a tight race.

 

Our party table.

 

Jeff takes his first in focus photo, way to go buddy.. thanks for contributing.

 

TPC brings it.

 

Saturday morning, we go out to breakfast at the Gold Nugget in Downtown Chicago. It's Halloween so all the servers are dressed up in crazy costumes, of course. We have some intense times with coffee creamers.

 

Pyramids.

 

Matt shows us this trick where he stabs himself in the eye (but really it's the creamer) and it gives the effect of his eye exploding. Believability results are undetermined at this time.

 

Oh no you didn't.

 

TPC drops me off at the mega bus stop and I start the long journey home. Bye Chicago, you're like a giant MPLS.

 

Wisconsin can be pretty sometimes.

 

Julie picks me up from the bus stop and takes me over to a party. Ripplechip is testing out this mustache and seems to like it. He says he's gonna grow one for real, we'll see.

 

Doogie is unbelievably stoned out of his mind. He can't even keep up. I take this photo to prove to him that his eyes look like shit. Rumor has it he leaves to play video games at his house and is found sitting up in a chair drooling all over himself. You did it tonight buddy.

 

Tequila shots with worms and all, super gross shit.

 

The boys head out to more parties and us girls head back to Jules place for a vag party of our own. Nicole gets it.

 

Jocelyn is down.

 

I don't deny I went to art school.

 

The vag party family portrait.

 

We play "circle of death" which as I recall is called "categories" but tevs, we all end up getting wasted. I fall asleep on the couch while a raging dance party goes on all around me. Way to do it guys.

 

Sunday night! Bob Dylan bitches, 2nd row tickets, me and my dad.

 

We're pretty close huh? It's totes awesome. I hate big concerts but this one was really sweet, thanks bob. I'll tell the crew that you said, "Hi"

 

There's a first time for everything, tonight was the first night I got awesome with my dad. Love you lots Daddy-O.

Next stop NYC, stay tuned for crazy east coast adventures.

Wiggin' Out

Friday night. Northeast Minneapolis. Tony Jaros' on Lowry and Marshall. Greenies. Vodka, Tom Collins mix, Sour, Jello mix. Delicious and potent. Our low key chill night will end up not resembling a low key and chill night at all.

 

Coles shows us what its like to wear what you're drinking.

 

Tony Jaros' is known for the Greenie and not much else. They recognize this though and plan their shit accordingly.

 

Back at Coles place after the Greenies we listen to Hole's "Live Through This," naturally. Apparently, everyone in Olympia, Washington looks, talks, and fucks the same. We also discover Nicole's hidden adoration of Gangsta Rap from 94'.

 

Coles shows us this sweet-ass new temporary tat she got from the vending machine at Taco Bell in North Minneapolis. "Smile Now, Cry Later." Truly words to live by. Notice how badass the clown on the left is and how tortured and devasted the one on the right is. Apparently, this is supposed to make us treasure the good times? Perplexing.

 

Sleepover ragings. Everyone goes to bed but me and Coles and we stay up late, re-listening to the Hole album and hanging out with this mirror.

 

The next night, after the TPC/Shoe Shiners show at the Triple Rock, a shit ton of peeps wind up at 50's and Danielle's house for more backyard firepit shenanigans. Shit got real.

 

Jesus, this is fucking scary. Danielle pulls out a bearded mannequin head and uses it to severely frighten all of us with its near-lifelike qualities and stoic visage. Here, Beardhead is totally partying down with some pizza and a Twins hat.

 

Now Beardhead gets down to some hip-hop jams and busts some serious moves. God, this is weird to look at.

 

Danielle also pulls out her wig collection, with hilarious results. Jules is a confused and flustered aunt from coastal Florida, I'm a jewish mother from Jersey, Nicole is a fretting Lutheran mother from Bemidji.

 

Danielle is a coke-addled debutante from Soho.

 

I swear I didn't steal from the church collection plate.

 

Peter Vader, father of the genius Shoe Shiners, is in full effect, reppin' the wig and rockin' the thumbs up.

 

Wow. Just wow.

 

Huh.

 

Iceberg in full effect, beard and all. The night goes late, the fire burns hot, the beers run wild, our hearts are pure.

 

The next night, we find out that our good friend Brian (aka Blestos) is one of 5 people to win the Jerome Grant for emerging artists for his amazing photography. This isn't a picture of him. But it is a picture of us at the Loring Pasta Bar in Dinkytown, having a short notice fancy-friends dinner to celebrate Brian's awesomeness. Just imagine Felicity, Ben and the rest of the UNY crew hanging out in NYC and you can imagine us.

 

Fancy friends, red wines, tablecloths.

 

We are mature and fancy. Check out these video clips of us being so mature and fancy. This one That one

 

Continued maturity and fanciness.

 

The big winner, soaking up the adoration, adulation, and libations. Nice work, Blestos. Next stop: THE WORLD. Brian's new nick name: B.T.S. that's short for "Big Time Shit"

It's a Dre Day.

Wednesday night, and the feeling is right. Lost is on, and the second episode of the new season is only slight less sucky than the first. For a full analysis, and to view the Allen Fam's stint at being guest bloggers click here .

 

Nami sleeps sitting up. She is an old Chinese maid.

 

Fast forward to Friday night, the sun is setting upon one of our deuce cities and casting an eerie orange glow on the glass condos, law firms, and financial groups that make up downtown Mpls.

 

Me, Jeff, Coles, Ripplechip, and 50's go to Pancho Villa on Nicollet for some authentic Mexican foodstuffs. Any Mexican restaurant that doesn't give you free chips and salsa is just plain rude. Pancho Villa comes through in the clutch.

 

Crazy pink wallpaper patterns and old black and white photos of Mexican cowboys complete the experience.

 

After dinner we head over to 50's and Danielle's for some bonfire ragings.

 

The night is cold, really fucking cold. So everyone bundles up
in coats and scarves, cuddles close to the raging flames and warms their
gullet with delcious alcoholic drinks and tobacco smoke.

 

My brother Mike Deuhs shows up with his crew, Lucy and Jurg-dizzle. Ski goggles? Really? You're gonna wear ski goggles? Whatevs.

 

Gymnastics hour commences, a ritual at 50's backyard parties.

 

The only way you can tell these twins apart is by the polka-dot underwear of the asshole on the left.

 

Jules and Tapp arrive and Jules immediately dives into acrobatics with passion and confidence. Tapp looks on and prepares for a nasty fall.

 

Sometimes you need a friend to help get you up in the air. Truly heartwarming.

 

More teamwork.

 

Inside for late-night Pictionary. The inside of the house is not much warmer than the outside. Fuck autumn in Minnesota.

 

Tapp's drawing for "scraggly." Apparently, a drawing of Jesus was his best idea.

 

Sporting my new sunglasses, still perfect in every way.

 

The night goes late and we end up all sleeping over at Coles. Here we are waking up in her bed, while her pet chihuahua tries to lick Jeff's face off and Royal (the boxer) looks on confused.

 

What fixes a hangover better than bloody mary's? Well, some rest and water probably, but they're not as delicious or fun.

Holy Shit, It's Snowing.

Okay, so I've heard requests for the "hat tossing in the river" incident that was conspiciously missing from the last blog. It was quietly removed due to it's sensitive nature. Now that the cat is out of the bag, and all parties are aware of the incident, I've decided to bring it back.
To set the scene...we're sitting down by the river peacefully drinking beers when for no fathomable reason, other than the fact that Jules has a rageful hate of John Tapp's floppy golf tournament hat, she throws the hat into the cruel, cold waters of the Mississippi. This is not like Julie at all, and the next day she feels great regret when John asks about the whereabouts of the hat. It was truly a crazy thing that happened.

 

The hat sinks. Bye.

 

Tuesday morning, we go to the first of two postseason Twins games at the Metrodome. We are totally amped and can't wait to see the Twinkies go to the World Series. Unfortunately the Twins lose this first game, despite the patriotic pregame festivities. We are sad.

 

The next day. A new day, a new game. I take Colez to the game since Jeff is working. We get really excited cause it's a close game, until the A's win. We can't believe it. We go home like heartbroken little puppies.

 

The metrodome is sold out both days. Look at all those homer hankies.

 

Fast forward to Saturday night. Everyone's favorite architect Finger Tap turns 26! The celebration goes down at the local VFW #246, which is noteworthy because it is the only bar in Minneapolis that successful comingles middle-aged grizzled war veterans with twentysomething assholes like us who are subconciously digging the irony of being in a VFW while simultaneously genuinely and sincerely enjoying the cheap drinks and chill atmosphere. Yet another example of the newly discovered post-post-modernism (aka po-po-mo).

 

Karoke ensues. Jeff visits 10th Avenue Freeze Out. Go Boss!

 

Sing along bitchez, sing along.

 

One of the craziest Brian faces ever recorded. I like it. Doogie is a sassy gay hair stylist.

 

Look at these stylish assholes.

 

Brian sings a song for John. Totally heartfelt.

 

This is the part of the night where Jeff has a lot of things to tell a lot of his friends. He starts by dropping some authentic knowledge on McTubbins.

 

Nicole is the next victim.

 

Jeff's done talking. There's only love and admiration here.

 

Julie sings a song with John's mom, Cindy, and Cindy's friend Sarah -- both visiting from Cannon Falls, MN for the celebration.

 

Monday night, a fall walk down by the river.

 

A picture is worth 1,000 gay words.

 

Later we go over to McTubbins new place (aka East Lake Strong aka E.L.S.) for a record-listening gathering. Brian soon joins. We rotate clockwise and we each choose one side of a record to play. We decided to start a record club, details forthcoming in future blogs.

 

Jeff and I bring over a bin of records spanning all eras and genres.

 

Scoops arrives.

 

I find my dream sunglasses and McTubbins lets me borrow them for an indefinite amount of time. Big Time Fuller cheerses the occasion.

 

I make a joke and decide that Tall Bikes' nickname when he wears this outfit is "Ketchup and Mustard." I like it.

 

This is what a record listening gathering looks like.

 

Jaws comes home and gives Lucy a hug.

 

I don't even know.

Here's to a quarter century

We had some massive nights. The biggest weekend of the fall, with the most crazy shit going on starts on Friday night with McTubbins art opening in Uptown. He's put together dozens of fucking crazy and beautiful pieces for his show and the results are nothing short of dope.

 

Crazy bastard.

 

Here Isaac (aka Iceberg) is enjoying some crazy chasm beasts.

 

After McTubbins show we head over to a warehouse-gallery show in Northeast celebrating the new studio of Burlesque design. Some bands and rappers are playing. Here Jeff and Pittsburgh Dave engage in some brokeback appreciation.

 

Beak enjoying the copious posters on display.

 

P.O.S. plays to a packed basement gallery space, with Paper Tiger trying to look useful in the background. Nice try, dude.

 

Eventually, the set turns into some 80's hardcore punk type situation with P.O.S. standing in the midst of a sea of dancing punks as he raps.

 

The next night is the real rager. It's Jeff's 25th birthday and we get not one, but TWO, kegs for the occasion. Here they are before the nights festivities begin -- just waiting to be raged upon by experienced keg-standers.

 

The night starts at the Triple Rock, where our good good friends from Detroit are playing. They're called Thunderbirds Are Now and they consistently rule as a band and as dudes. Here, Scott pulls a table from backstage in front of his keyboard and rages on it as he plays the keys.

 

They bring up some of us to sing on the last song. Tambourines actually give you bruises on your hands if you play them too hard. Jeff and Beak learned this the hard way on this night.

 

Also playing at the Triple Rock this night is Will Whitmore, our good old friend from Lee County Iowa. He's on tour with Lucero and is here holding down the bar with us. Here, Jeff is already being fed birthday beers.

 

After the show, everyone heads to our place. Julie has made animal-themed birthday cupcakes. The frog had marshmellows for eyes. A real "Animal Collective" huh? HA!

 

Coles is there, repping shit hard in front of the donation jar.

 

Howard from Thunderbirds and Matt compare cheek structures. Winner undecided as of press time.

 

Blestos, Tapp, and Doogs all look awesome. Later, people remark that this night marked the return of "the old Tapp" which I think basically means loud, drunk and hilarious.

 

Tubs and Jocelyn show up. Hugs not drugs? No. Hugs AND drugs.

 

Wow.

 

Yikes.

 

Matt Duff brings 50's back his suitcase that he left in Pittsburgh while in tour in November of 2005. The jeans have mold on them, but the red bath towel is still as stylish and functional as ever.

 

Ryan from Thunderbirds puts on his best "bad-ass with a digital camera" pose.

 

Jeff and Julie, who now insists that we call her "Jules." You heard it here first. This is now her nickname.

 

Isaac is dared to eat a cupcake in one bite in exchange for one free record of his choice from our vinyl shelf. He obliges and actually succeeds! Jeff drunkenly forgets to offer him a record before he leaves and Isaac is too nice to bring it up. In sum, Isaac totally got punked.

 

A trend emerges. The animal collective is destroyed.

 

Jeff puts on his new personalized Twins shirt that I bought him for his birthday. The fact that his name and age are written on the back is both ironic AND sincere, which is an example of the newly-discovered post-post-modernity (aka po-po-mo).

 

Mike Deuhs shows up to support Jeff on his birthday.

 

Nami is a party cat. If she was big enough she would do a keg stand.

 

Matt Duff. A brilliant man.

 

50's, Jeff, and the newly-arrived Will begin freestyle rapping to 1990's rap songs. The lyrics revolve around these themes: 1) this ain't no earthday/it's jeff's birthday and 2) we really understand black culture, our appreciation of rap music confirms this.

 

Did I mention it was Isaac and Meghan's one-year wedding anniversary this night? The lovebirds in action.

 

Neil is in town for a few months from Boston. He puts on his best rage face here.

 

Yes.

 

Late, late, late, late night crew ends the night on the floor. This is after the cops asked us to turn down the music.

 

The sun is coming up, but the beers are still going down for Jules.

 

Me, at my finest.

 

A retired soldier. Honorably discharged from the party militia.

 

The next morning we head to breakfast at the Triple Rock to send the Thunderbirds dudes off safely to the rest of their tour. Jeff lets everyone know just how fabulous they are and just how slightly-still-drunk he might be.

 

50's orders a Bloody Mary with style, grace and panache.

 

Scott, Rickles, Neil and Mama K.

 

Outside the Triple Rock Beak wishes Jeff a happy birthday again. Best friends since they were twelve.

 

The whole crew before we say goodbye.

 

After they hit the road, Jules, me, Jeff and Angela from Detroit head down to the river in St. Paul for more keg beer (stealthily placed in empty water bottles), lip gloss, and sunglasses.

 

A great looking crew.

 

That night, we head over to First Avenue for the Minnesota Music Awards. TPC are up for some awards and are always up for more drinking.

 

They win! Two awards, even. Like assholes, they thank the Minnesota Twins for their success. All in all, one of the longest and most frenzied weekends in a long time.