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Weetacon '07 Part III

Issue Date: Thursday, Mar. 08, 2007

So, yes this is taking a long ass time to write and, yes babies, even longer to read. I am Talky McSpeaksALot and I want to remember every moment of the Green Bay weekend.

Every moment except for the hoopty luggage… that piece of shit was drug around so much that the reinforced wire that is wrapped in fabric to create stability for the body of the luggage? It was worn right off and then, me dragging the luggage over asphalt, tarmacs and concrete ripped that piece of metal in twain. I had a weapon of mass hoopty luggage that would catch on Every. Single. Mat. In front of Every. Single. Door.

I got caught on rubber “wipe the snow off-a your feets” mats. Every time I would go into and/or out of a door. And there were door, oh yes… there were many doors. Stupid luggage. Samsonite, I curse thee.

So, back to the debauchery.

After we left the Simon Creek Winery we stopped for a photo op of this red barn right here. (Photo courtesy of Mo.)

It had snowed all of Friday and Friday night. The weather was temperate with those big fat fluttery snow flakes while we were at the Bad Bar. Saturday’s weather was perfect; sunny with fresh snow on the ground and a nice brisk wind.

Or next stop was the Door County Winery. I followed the mob to the back of the retail area where they had the wine not in bottles but in… boxes (? Coffee pots maybe, Igloo coolers? I really don’t know) and they would just pull a tab forward to let you taste that batch. It felt weird drinking wine on tap, but I went with it. This is where I (after hearing many a Weeticoner exclaim about it) found the Cranbernet. Cabernet and Cranberry wine married in one beautiful concoction. Not sure it is really something that should be found in nature, or in a winery, but it was good.

I purchased the Cranbernet for me and a Chesun Plum wine for Mister… as well as a half pound of cherry wine fudge. Seriously y’all. That stuff? The fudge? Is totally how chocolate covered cherries should taste. No lie. I had the winery ship all the stuff to the office as well and that is the wine that showed up yesterday along with my purchases from the ark of the covenant, also known as Renard’s Cheese Factory.

I am totally distracted by Boy Named Sue by Johnny Cash off of Weet’s mix cd that she gave out for swag. I have heard the line, “My name is SUE! How DO YOU DO?” since I was wee, just about every time I introduce myself. Yes, very original fuckers… let it go.

I am so scattered. Nothing to worry about… I am just offering an explanation for this entry and the four years of writing before it. Gah.

So, cheese, honey, chopped cherry jam, champagne mustard, four bottles of wine and a bottle of walnut flavored grape seed oil later and we all boarded back on the bus… only to stop at Storheim’s Frozen Custard. God.

I can totally feel my arteries hardening and actually hear my ass getting bigger… it is loud. It sounds sort of like a timpani, like a big build up in Fantasia or something. Maybe the music to the dancing hippo in her little pink tutu. So yeah, there’s that then. I will always have part of Green Bay with me… in the form of a larger ass. Go me.

On the way to Storheim’s we drove by (“This lake is Great.”) Lake Michigan and played Trivia. The two teams were the Starboard side and the Left Si-yeeeede! The Left Si-yeed kicked our Starboard asses and Weet handed out the most coveted of all prizes. The “Drink Bitch” magnets that she had made special for the trivia game. Only half of the Weeticoners got them and the other half were teased mercilessly about the massive awesomeness that were the magnets and the powers that they who held the magnets held within their grasp. They held the magnets aloft like He-Man all, “We have the powerrrrrr!”

I wanted a magnet.

Also to crawl inside Mare’s investment purse and to go home with her.

The flavor of the day at Storheim’s was, and I am not kidding, “Death By Chocolate”. I tried for restraint and ended up somewhere near begging for a small scoop of the Death By Cellulite Chocolate. I should have just stayed on the bus and made out with LA or something. It was good though, the custard. As a direct quote from the Weeticon program (yes, I know… how fucking awesome that Weet made an 8 page program for us?) the frozen custard is, “A sinfully rich form of ice cream made with real cream, real eggs, and real good! Not to be confused with ‘soft serve’, true frozen custard bypasses the digestive process and converts directly to body fat.”

No kidding. Can y’all hear my ass getting bigger from where you are? It’s like Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairies but only louder and with 100% more hippo.

We returned to St. Brendan’s Inn to wrap up and warm up and layer up because next stop bitches? Was the sleigh ride. We all piled into the bus at 5:00 p.m. and headed off to the Circle K Ranch. We passed around the Doctor and laughed and told stories and I commented on the bar after bar after bar that we passed. My bus buddy, Scotty Boom Boom gave me a lesson on local bars and skiing in freezing ass water, “Wear a hat.”

Upon our arrival at the Circle K Ranch Weet’s in-laws had laid out the biggest spread of food that side of… Canada?

Like we needed to eat again. I had, over the course of a single day, ingested enough calories to keep a team of sumo wrestlers feeling full and sleepy.

We all laid out our swag on the back tables (I have a few bookmarks left, if you want one, email me) and everyone “ooh’d” and “ahh’d” over all of the trinkets that everyone brought. There were cookies and fudge, recipies, glow sticks with lollipops on top, bookmarks (mine), chap books, six mix cd’s, hand warmers and teeny bottles of Bailey’s Irish Cream, a whoopee cushion, nihilist gum and so much more. Everyone did such an awesome job on their swag.

Weet’s mother in law handed out to go cups of rich hot chocolate with whipped cream and shaved chocolate (the good stuff) on top. Most people added Bailey’s and even Doctor to their hot chocolate.

Poppy, Tam, Fredlet, Amy, Lisa-Marie and I all headed to the barn to check out the barn cats and their undying love for anyone who will give them attention. And one really fat Beagle puppy. I felt like that dog looked. All wagging his ass and boinging around on stumpy legs while his belly remained taut and full. The kittens were in heaven, crawling all over each other and all over us to get some lovin.

And then a big horse farted on us.

Percherons are huge draft horses and their butts hit me at like eye/mouth/nose level. If I would have been standing behind that one horse? I would have gotten a face full of horse fart. Smelly horse fart. Long, drawn out, wet sounding horse fart. Pleasant.

So we did what all normal girls do when a humongous horse farts in your general direction. We squealed and ran for fresh air while laughing our fool heads off. It is protocol. Mark that one down in your books under the chapter called, “When Animals Fart”.

At six on the dot we loaded up into two sleighs. The ones with Drink Bitch magnets were on one sleigh (well mostly) and the ones without were on the other. On the way through the forest the trees were all sparkly with new snow and the fresh powder under the sleigh squeaked when the horses drew it forward. On the front sleigh (I was probably the only one without a magnet) we got clever and even made up a cheer, “We have magnets, yes we do! We have magnets, how ‘bout… oh, I’m sorry….”

We stopped in this beautiful clearing (the one in which Kevin proposed to Melinda two years before… awwwww… did y’all know that? No? Well, it is fucking awesome.) and everyone got off of their respective sleigh and congregated around, smoking, passing the Doctor, laughing. It was such a beautiful night. The moon was almost full and the snow was blue and sparkly. It was so quiet… oh except for the howls of laughter that pierced the night every other millisecond and a half.

We got back into our sleighs and the horses took us back to the ranch where we warmed ourselves by the fire, ate a wonderful meal and then had time to get to chat with one another. Mike, Lisa-Marie and I talked about the South and “Who are your people?” Mike and I are so Southern that we are probably related. What a great conversation, we were discussing the term redneck and why that term is not favorable in the south. Mike would give an example and then I would, then we would move on to crackers, hillbillies (why some of them really are blue), how certain nationalities came to be where they are and all the while Lisa-Marie was, “Hmmm… really?”

It was at that moment that I realized that even if I didn’t know these people when I showed up on Friday, I sure as hell would know them by the time I left.

On the way back to the hotel to go freshen up and primp a bit before we left for karaoke I was sitting next to Scotty Boom Boom with LA across the isle from us. Scotty and Esteban has made some home brewed beer and I had not tried a taste of it. He was kind enough to fetch me a bottle and a cup, “It may have yeast in the bottom.” So that I could try their beer. While he was away, LA slid into the seat next to mine and we started this discussion about men and their strange ways.

Scotty returned, poured my beer, I tasted it, “Mmm yeasty.” And then he slid into the chair behind us. LA was asking about how to address the nice boys. And I, basically raised as a nice boy, offered, “Be direct. They will never assume anything because they don’t want to 1) feel rejected if they assumed the wrong thing or 2) make you or any women feel objectified or sorta slutty.” She asked, “So, can you flirt with them?” “Oh, yes. You can definitely flirt with them, just be direct because they won’t read between the lines because they are worried of taking things the wrong way.”

She turned, draped herself across the back of the seat and asked Scotty the same questions, when he answered back basically verbatim what I said, she turned, cocked a knee up and said, “Well holy shit, you were right.” I love LA.

She was having a tough time (as you may have read) with the first boy she put in her shopping basket. She thought she was done (shopping) for the weekend and her ego was taking a beating. So right before we left for karaoke she and I were standing on the steps of St. Brendan’s with Rachel having a smoke and I saw her face fall. So I did what any good friend would do in that situation. I spanked her until she followed my orders and yelled, “I am a pretty pretty princess!!!!!” So the next time you get the chance… tell her that she is a pretty pretty princess.

At karaoke we basically took up most of the Mikey’s Pub except for the eternal regulars; Bearded Randy, Drunk-Stumbling Jerry, and a party of girls there celebrating Catherine “With a C”’s birthday. The karaoke guy passed out the books, the slips of paper to make your request for a song and some pens. We were all just getting started with our drinks for the evening when karaoke guy called up “JAKE!” Jake bounded onto stage and did a killer (heh) rendition of… Mr. Brightside by the Killers. It was on then.

Jake, then Jerry, then Randy, then Weet (awesome voice), then a regular that looked like Samantha Fox but had the voice of Speedy Gonzalez, then Eben, then Mark (who knew?), then Mare… oh y’all… Mare rocked the freaking hizzouse! We all danced to Mare. Then Eben again and this time Mare came over to the table I was sharing with Rachel and Mark and said, “Let’s dance… but I get to lead!” So she dragged me out onto the dance floor and we danced and danced and danced. Holy shit, can that girl lead.

Hands down my favorite time of the whole weekend was a toss up between dancing with Mare at Mikey’s Pub and the girl fight that broke out there between two locals at about 2 a.m. Klassy.

Scotty Boom Boom came to the rescue that evening again and drove BettyBigHead and her husband and I back to the hotel. We love you Scotty!

Susan (BettyBigHead) was all, “I feel so fulfilled! I have never seen a bar fight!” She is so pretty y’all… you just don’t know. Those huge eyes and her beautiful smile and her sweet husband. Aw. Love them. And Rachel and Mark… I think I may just want them to adopt me. I would always be in good for sweaters and show tunes. Or, I could move to California with Kevin and Melinda because Mister would enjoy the temperate weather and I would enjoy the sweet yet snarky company. They have this five year plan to move to Green Bay. I may just have to go with them.

I had the best time, and Sunday morning was bitter sweet. We all had breakfast and then migrated to the bar to get ready for the trek to Lambeau Field. We said goodbye to some and good morning to others. I met JenTrance and I wanted to sit there and listen to her talk for hours. I have been reading her for a frillion years and it is kind of surreal when you meet someone you feel like you know… but you really have no clue about.

I had been reading Weet since 2001 or so and speaking with her on the phone before the trip really helped solidify what I hope to be a lasting friendship, but meeting some of these people that I call the Diaryland Royalty was such an amazing experience. She was so gracious and beautiful and shared her time, her life, her in-laws and her husband with a bunch of crazy people from the internet.

We headed off to Lambeau Field and got lunch at Curly’s. I sat there and looked around at some new friends. I knew I had to leave in a bit and I wanted to dig my heels in and stay forever.

I finished my lunch and hugged everyone and then Scotty, the loyal, once again chauffeured me one last time. To go home.

I wanted to thank each and every one of you that were there this weekend. Every one of you somehow made it the best weekend I have had in a long time. I will definitely be back next year.

Much love and green pimp hats, Susan


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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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