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Weetacon '07 Part II

Issue Date: Wednesday, Mar. 07, 2007

YAY! It is tomorrow and I should be working on my speakers’ gifts… but NOOOO… I am going to clickity clackity on my little keyboard until I get some of these great memories about Green Bay down on (virtual) paper.

So, we were in Paris dancing on stage at the Crazy Horse… right? No?

Damn. Ok, so we were still in the bar at the hotel, the group was getting riled up as the liquor flowed, the cigarettes were smoked and old acquaintances were rekindled and new acquaintances were made. Oh, and one more thing about the WINGO card? There was a spot on it that had these words, “This person will sign after watching you perform a Weeticon cheer that you just made up.” I asked Eric (a local) to sign that spot as soon as he took Esteban’s place between Amy and I at the bar. He blinked at me, raised an eyebrow with a look that said, “Make with the embarrassing cheer missy.”

I did my little cheer, he smirked and signed my WINGO card.*

*Cue foreboding music.

Weet wrangled us all together and we all gathered out coats and belongings and headed outside to basically cross the street to go to the restaurant. There is a $10 rule that is strictly enforced while you are at Weeticon. Ten Dollar Rule: “You must eat at least ten dollars of food before you go to the bad bar, otherwise death awaits you in the form of a hangover that will not expire… EVER.”

So we all went to Victoria’s. It is a quaint little Italian food place that had portions bigger than a 12 pound baby**.

**Perfect for that Le Creuset 13 Quart cooker, really.

We all ordered and munched on the most delicious bread this side of the world. Okay, that sounds a little extreme… maybe I was just hungry. But it was good. The waitress came by to take our orders and I asked her what she suggested. It was something I couldn’t pronounce that was basically tortellini, stuffed with cheese, spinach and veal, covered in a cream sauce with mushrooms the size of my fist. One please!

Everyone trickled in and Mo took up all of the WINGO cards (okay only two, one from me and one from The Jason) and I won first prize, which was three drinks at the bad bar!

Yay!

But then boooo… Eric yelled out, “Make her do her cheer.”

Y’all? My mouth went dry. It was just like that time in fifth grade right before I went onstage to do my solo dance routine to Xanadu. I was totally smoking in the purple leotard and those tangerine, white, pink and purple scarves that my mother lent me did fill out the dramatic effects and added just enough pizzazz*** to O.N.J.’s silky voice.

***These are jazz hands, [whapuh!] THESE are spirit fingers.

Or maybe it wasn’t JUST like that time. But it was enough to make me very nervous and do that really high pitched laughter thing and be all, “noooo… I couldn’t”. That’s when from across the room I heard the beautiful bell-like voice of Jessie ring out in the darkness that was closing in fast and say, “I’ll do it with her!”

So? We went around the corner, I gave her the pitifully short Weeticon cheer that I had pulled out of my ass a scant hour earlier and she was all, “Got it. Let’s go!”

Love her. Jessie, love you. Mean it.

We went back into the private room where Weet was holding court and Mo announced that we were going to perform our cheer and then she’d give us the instructions to the games “Drink Bitch” and “Booyah!” So Jessie and I, side by side, her strong voice ringing out and mine barely a squeak commenced to do our cheer.

W-E-E-T, Weeticon – WOO!
W-E-E-T, Weeticon – WOO!

Go ahead y’all. Do it.

I then dubbed Eric “Traitor” and wouldn’t call him anything else all weekend.

The games were awesome. Drink Bitch is basically where you yell out the artist’s name of a song that is playing on the jukebox and make everyone around you drink. If you are wrong, two drinks for you… and if you are challenged. Um… something else happens. It’s basically like playing “Love Boat” where you drink every time your character comes on screen. “GOPHER!”

Or playing “Bob” with The Bob Newhart Show. PS… the lushes always want to be Bob. Or while playing “Love Boat”… the ship.

Mo also told us about the Booyah game.

If you noticed in the pictures from the link I posted yesterday… posted again here for your convenience: Weeticon Photo Pool. Clickety, Click, Click Bitches.

You will see Tam, Joe, Jessie and Traitor with fuzzy hats on their noggins. They won these by being Booyah’d. Weet had four pins made with “Booyah” written on them. They were stealthily hidden upon someone’s person and then that person would be told that they had been Booyah’d quietly or with much fanfare.

If you were in possession of the Booyah button when the bartender came over the loud speaker and yelled, “BOOYAH!” you would have to take a shot of Esteban’s choosing… and he’s a fucker, dontchaknow?

We danced, drank, sang along to everything, performed choreographed dance moves to “Sweet Caroline” (with Eben as the lead… so good, so good, so good), saw boobies, watched Jake make a snow angel, smoked in the blizzard, kissed LA, kissed Melinda, sweated, danced some more, avoided the Booyah button, flirted with the Israeli bouncer, kissed everyone else, oh, and played a game that included the following: glow bracelets and stickers with names of famous people on them. If you guessed who you were (which sticker was on your back) you got a glow bracelet… or glow cleavage enhancers… as it were.

We also watched the local wildlife come alive in the forms of skankalicious women with mall hair and no rhythm try to hump every man on the dance floor. It was awesome.

That evening which was Friday I felt the tiredness creeping in early. I am so ashamed to say that I called it an evening at eleven o’clock because clearly, I can not hang. Scotty Boom Boom was sweet enough to shuttle people back and forth to the hotel so that they, and by “they” I totally mean ME, would not take a header into a snow drift. I accepted the ride gladly and little did I know that he would be my chauffer for much of the weekend. He’s a nice one, that Scotty Boom Boom.

I left before Mare, Rachel and Mark got to the bad bar and before Hot Jason and Hot Nancy pulled Weet back behind the bar and made her play bartender. But I knew that the next day would be a long one.

I got up at seven (what was I thinking?) because I popped up wide awake at 5:30 and just sort of dozed until my alarm went off. I ran around in the shower (seriously, that thing was very big) to get clean and get the smoke out of my hair, dried (sort of) my tresses, brushed my teeth for about fifteen minutes and then put on my outfit and some make up.

Did y’all know that there are costume changes at Weeticon?

I didn’t. I should have brought more outfits. On Friday alone I saw LA in three outfits. And she looked hot in each one. Weet? Three outfits. One for knocking around and picking up people at the airport, one for the meet and greet and dinner and one for the bad bar. Oh, the bad bar shirt is now called the vagina shirt. I’ll let her tell the story. It’s a good one.

So I went downstairs to have some breakfast and that’s where I got to talk to Kari for the first time. She came up for the day and was my bus buddy on the Door County Bus Tour. She is so teeny and such a sweetie.

We left at 10:31 a.m. and our first stop was at Joe Rouer’s where we picked up high maintenance hamburgers, fried cheese curds and spuds for our trip out to Door County. Renards Cheese Factory. Oh. My Ever-loving God. I called Mister as soon as I walked in the door and as soon as I read the contents of the store to him he was all, “Ship one of everything home.” And y’all? I got my order today at the office. Havarti cheese, real mozzarella string cheese, cheddar cheese curds, alfalfa honey, champagne mustard, two jars of chopped cherry jam and two jars of cherry spun honey.

Yes, cherry spun honey. Two. Jars.

I spent $32.00 on cheese. And I am not kidding.

Our next stop was at the Simon Creek Winery. I have never cultivated a taste for wine (or whiskey or scotch) so I was interested in going on the wine tours as I knew there would be tasting involved. I am pretty sure that is why I have never acquired a taste for wine as it is normally sold by the glass or the bottle and if I didn’t drink it all I would feel wasteful, so I didn’t want to waste something that I was just going to try a little bit of.

I did like this Cabernet Franc that Roy’s used to have. It was incredible and I have only had one glass… and now that they don’t have it anymore, I may cry.

Back on track, rambling, sorry.

So, at the winery we all went belly up to the bar and started tasting everything on their list. The list was like “The Blah Dee Bloo is very oaky and has a hint of pears when they first bloom in the summer, it also likes long walks on the beach, men with hairy chests and the color mauve.” I have no clue about wines so I was all… um, can I try the reddish one? So they learned me about wines. The lady behind the bar was very nice and said that I should go from dry to sweet. I know I have heard the term dry in regards to wine, but, come on. Dry, for a liquid? Is this going to hurt like that whiskey?

So I started tasting the wines one by one. By one. By one. Seriously, this is all you got bitches? My momma has more wine than this in her pantry!

Kidding. I didn’t get drunk or embarrass anyone (except for myself and the non adult thing of knowing squat about wine). So I kept trying them and about eleventy two glasses down the line I found one or two that I thought were passable, either that or my taste buds had given up, put the white flag out and were going home for the day. And this was at like 11:30 a.m. I’m HARD CORE FUCKERS! Wooo Hooo!

(My mother totally steals glasses from wineries. Did I tell y’all that? Seriously, she gets all klepto with things that she loves… public things that she loves. She’s taken plates – okay, whatever, saucers – from Bed and Breakfast places and restaurants. “No, that waitress totally gave this plate to me!” That Statue of Liberty thing? Will totally be in her front yard one day. Ps. Mom, sorry I called everyone a fucker and then ousted you about your stealing ways.)

I picked out two bottles (oooh, shiny) and totally copied Eben on what he was getting because, how would I know the difference? I got those bottles for Mister (couldn’t call to get his take on it, no cell service) and then I saw some walnut flavored grape seed oil. Now, that is something I can get behind****. So I made my purchases and had them shipped to my office with the eleventy dollars worth of cheese and cheese products from Renard’s.

Weet loaded us all up and we then went to ANOTHER winery. Door County Winery. And I got their stuff and the stuff from Renard’s TODAY. Here… in the office. Wine and cheese bitches.

Ok. Time to pack it in****. More tomorrow.

****That’s what she said.

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To understand this dear reward (above) at all, you must hie thee on and read gatsby’s grape ape entry and my comments.

And because of said comments he sent me my very own dream turtle in an email titled wee gift with these words attached, “my purple monkey is booked solid so i ordered you a tangerine turtle. hope he proves helpful.”

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