The Rock Star and The Frat Bar.

"It's Ladies' Night at the Animal House, we should go," Jackie said to me. I wrinkled my nose. Ladies' Night? What does that usually mean? A crowded, sweaty-ass bar filled to the brim with boys looking to score and girls wearing clothing one size too small.

"Come on," she said. "Fifty cent drinks all night. Any drink. Top shelf, anything." I sighed. I need to get out more anyway.

We parked in the ramp across the street and I saw a line outside. God. We were carded by a big man in an orange shirt that read RESIDENT ADVISOR and immediately I was hit with the intense bass line of some shitty-ass hip hop song and the overpowering smell of Axe Bodyspray. The place was well-lit, but I couldn't even see the bar.

I grabbed Tim's back and Jackie's hand and we attempted to maneuver around the skanky girls and the leering boys. After waiting a full ten minutes, we finally got up to the bar, and immediately I set my elbow in a puddle of beer.

"ALKSOEIL MNZXKWIU?" Jackie shouted.
"WHAT?"
"WHAT DO YOU WANT TO DRINK?" she shouted much closer to my face. I couldn't see the bar except for the beer list, so I decided to have a good ol' Premium.

We smashed ourselves into two unoccupied feet of space; Tim grabbed a chair and the two of us crowded around him. I spent the majority of the time pivoted sideways, making myself as small as possible so as not to obstruct what was apparently the aisle to get to the bar.

Being in the Animal House made me feel like I was working at Frankie's again, but much skankier and, believe it or not, drunker. Watching the crowd was fantastic, however. Drunk, drunk boys trying to get random girls to buy them drinks (because they're fifty cents, of course). Girls chatting up the baseball players. Every now and again, a couple would start dirty dancing as they tried to move past us, which was awesome to watch.

With Drink Two, I chose a Tanqueray Rangpur and tonic, taking advantage of the fifty cent deal. The mistake was having a Drink Two. As the moments passed, the place got nastier and nastier. I sat in beer, I stepped in beer, I set my purse in beer, I put my hand in beer... pretty much everything ended up touching beer in one way or another.

Of course, I had to use the bathroom. With my Cocktail Waitress Skills Of Steel, I was able to politely work my way through the crowd with a surprising efficiency. Once inside, I realized I was in the world's smallest bathroom. Seriously, I managed to smash a girl behind the door, and, of course, step in a lot of toilet water. Awesome.

I left the bathroom to find a huge crowd. They were just chilling in front of the bathrooms, doing their thing, not realizing that I needed to get the fuck out. I tried to be polite, I tried to use my expert pivoting skills and well-placed nudges, but I had had enough. I quite literally shoved my way back to my friends. We slammed our Rangpur tonics and I dragged them out into the cool, crisp, Axe-free oxygen.

Screw frat bars, ladies' nights and all. Give me a smaller, quieter bar, good music, and a good beer, and I'm golden.

My .02.

I say we make this blog about our general rock and/or roll lifestyles. Sex, hangovers, live music, Bulldog sightings, whatever it is that we celebrities do.

Aye? Nay?

Me again

No, I have not updated my other blog in a week and yes, I am well aware of that. But lets be honest here, I think about sex more than I think about anything of any normal sort of variety. One of my long lost friends back home has a new profession as a Pure Romance hostess...you know those people who go to parties and try to sell women sex toys, which they are too embarrassed to buy and usually just purchase some sort of flavored lube instead? Yeah, those ones.

Anyway, she gave me the website because I am in the market for a new gadget, considering my bullet has developed some severe form of narcolepsy and always falls asleep when I need it most. This way, I figured I would be helping myself out AND helping a friend. Always thinking of others, that Fuller girl. So I am looking through the variety of vibrating, gyrating toys when I think to myself: Wouldn't it be fun to be able to test all these before you buy them? There are a bunch of things to sample, either by yourself or with others, and it would be one hell of a week (no way you could do all this shit in the matter of a day).

This concept of being able to test all these sex toys got me thinking about sex in general and then I was done for. Thinking about sex while living at your parents house is just about equal to thinking about running down the beach when you are sitting in a jail cell. It ain't gonna happen. Not no way, not no how. And it hurts me to realize that the possibility of me getting laid anytime soon is so unbelievably minuscule that I might explode before my next opportunity arrives.

So all of you who are enjoying your daily fuck, I say, enjoy it while it lasts. Work it out like you have never worked it out before. When you're good and finished, you can find me here on my computer, shopping for a partner that operates on double A's. Maybe the one that is shaped like King Tut even.

I have an idea

Since no one apparently gets drunk in Duluth (I'm not buying that one for a minute) I think we should change this blog to Perfect Duluth Sex. The reason I'm saying this is because I want to write an entry about sex...probably about three times a week. But I can't on my other bloggy because parents and other adult like figures read it. And I think my mom could decipher the broccoli reference pretty quickly when there are words like 'orgasm' associated with it, because really, if my broccoli ever had one of those, I don't think I could eat it anymore.

I don't even know if people check this anymore, but I don't care, I'm going to start writing in it when I feel like it. First topic? Threesomes. Would you ever? Why or why not? What would your rules be? I'm just curious what your opinions are on the matter.

And Anne, you better get to making a new banner ;)