The TequilaCon Recap to End ALL TequilaCon Recaps
You’d better get your ass up and go to the bathroom now, folks, because this is a long one.
Epic.
Let me tell you the tale of drunken revelry and debauchery that is TequilaCon 2008. There was so much fun it’s difficult to wrap my head around it all, particularly those hours between around 1am to whenever I went to bed Sunday morning.
First of all, it’s no great secret that I’m a touch socially phobic. I’ve described it in length before, but suffice it to say that most people don’t really know I’m inwardly freaking out in groups of people. I put on a nice little happy face and everything is fine. Such things are not required at TequilaCon, though, because I’m always happy once I get there and jump into the middle of things.
It helps me more than I can describe when Hilly is there. She’s my rock, she gets me, and loves me no matter what. And that works both ways. So even though I was basking in the glory that is Becky, Adam, Britt, NYC Watchdog, and Poppy, I was ecstatic when Hilly finally got to the hotel. When Becky drove Adam, Britt, and I from Philly airport, we knew about halfway to the hotel that the traffic was just ridiculous and we wouldn’t be able to pick Hilly up. As it was we didn’t make it to the Sheraton until 5pm and Hilly’s flight was landing at 5:30.
“How shitty of us would it be if we asked Hilly to take a cab?” Britt asked. We all agreed that while it might be a little shitty, it wouldn’t be anything that couldn’t be polished over with a lot of alcohol.
So we all chipped in and made some welcome signs for her. And we were going to go down to the lobby and hold them up and give her big cheers when she arrived. Alas, we were still busy being shitty in Adam’s room, drinking deliciously smoooth tequila that Becky brought. Hilly called us from the lobby to tell us she’d arrived and Britt screamed “Fuck!” and we all grabbed signs and ran out into the hall to greet her there and pretend we really weren’t so shitty after all.
Hilly was finally in Philly and all was right with the world. I’m telling you, seeing her twice a year is just not enough for me. We did some more shots after I reloaded by grabbing Becky’s OTHER bottle of tequila from her room. During all of this, I’m exchanging phone calls with Shelli and text messages with various other folks, plus we’re all occasionally Twatting everything for the folks back home.
We arranged to meet with Shelli, Rachel, Megan, Diana and her husband Mike for dinner. Well, that’s not entirely accurate. We decided to make them come to US at the Sheraton for dinner because that’s how we roll. We didn’t want to leave the luxury of the Sheraton. Or we didn’t want to worry about transportation when we were all getting hammered. Take your pick.
We went down to Phillip’s restaurant, which is a big seafood place. You know I hate seafood, but I know these places always have non-water-dwelling dead creatures to eat, so no biggie. We were given a private room to dine and we all haggled and bitched about the seating arrangements because the two primadonnas (who shall remain nameless but whose names rhyme with Madam and Tit) wanted to sit at the heads of the table.
When I looked at the menu I was inwardly screaming bloody murder because even the salads were $145. A fucking Guinness was $7 and it wasn’t even on tap! A bottle for frak’s sake…$7. I wound up settling for the petite filet mignon, which looks like this. No, there was no other food on the plate. This is how it showed up. $30.
Nevertheless, at TequilaCon you pretty much just have to say what the fuck and move on. It is not a time of moderation. Hilly and I split a small dish of potatoes au gratin ($6, no, you don’t get sides with your meals there, so quit your bitching). I DID, however, try a coconut shrimp and it was actually very good. People thought I was just fucking around when I said I’d try it. I’m not as stubborn as you might think…I try new things every so often because I know tastebuds change. The crab dip, however? Blecch.
Soon Shelli and her entourage showed up and the table was full of bloggity goodness. There were 14 or 15 of us altogether and we were pretty damn loud, I’m sure. Lots of laughter and photos.
That’s Christine and Jan, my rooming buddies for the weekend. I’m not linking to them because Jifferswitt asked me not to for reasons that will become clearly apparent several hours down the road when you finally finish reading this post. Hmm, maybe I should just break the story into parts. Meh, fuck it. I might feel differently in a while, though. We’ll see.
There’s Diana and Mike and Dawg and Poppy. Sorry for the blurry photos, but I prefer the ambient light to the flash. We were having a raucous good time when in walks this enormous skyscraper of a man. We were convinced that he was a bouncer to kick us out of the restaurant due to our profanity-laced shouting matches. But no, it was Delmer. What’s a Delmer look like, anyway?
He looks like that guy in the middle sitting at the end of the table. This was the bar area of the hotel, where we quickly moved to after dinner because we felt we weren’t being loud and raucous enough quite yet. More alcohol was needed, but what? No Guinness?! Ack! So I went for a whiskey and ginger ale, because they didn’t even have Jamesons.
I was feeling pretty good at this point, so when a group of us went outside to make out (totally not code for going to smoke), and left my camera on the table in the bar with all the nasty people, it didn’t come as any great shock that I found the following photos on my camera the next morning.
That’s why you should always come to TequilaCon a day early, people. Trust me, if you don’t, you’re missing out on golden moments. Even though it was a beautiful day in Philadelphia, that night it got downright chilly. Keep in mind that I live in Florida now, so I’m used to 85 degrees at night. Had to be down in the 50s, perhaps the 40s with wind chill considered. Nevertheless, you can’t let a stupid thing like frostbite on your nipples deter you from making out.
We basically shut down the bar, said our goodbyes to the non-Sheraton losers, and went upstairs to Adam’s suite, which only had one bathroom, much to Adam’s chagrin. You know, because primadonnas need TWO fucking bathrooms. The drinking continued and so did the laughter. I’m sure we were all amazingly entertaining from Adam’s point of view. He doesn’t drink these days because the last time he went on a bender, he was arrested for breaking into Sea World and molesting the dolphins. It required a lot of therapy to help those dolphins recover, and the resulting mutant pregnancies that came as a result were not pretty to look at.
Apparently, on May 1, the Sheraton went totally smoke-free. Except for Adam’s room, of course. It was grandfathered in so Britt and I could smoke. That’s how we interpreted the policy, anyway. I’m not sure what time we all left to go back to our rooms (fortunately, mine was only a door away) but it was probably at least 3 or 4.
Stop! Intermission time!
Believe it or not, I woke up at 8:45. Not one to get hangovers, I got up and found Christine already awake, typing away on her laptop. Hell, I hadn’t even broke my computer out at that point, but knew I’d have to at some point, if only to download all the photos to free up my camera for the day ahead. Christine was a fabulous roommate. She got up and made coffee for us and even brought it to me in bed, wearing a lusty pirate wench outfit that looked remarkably like sweats and a sweater.
I know I was tired because I slept on my back. Or it might have been the drunkeninity talking, I don’t know. Regardless, Jifferswitt was a little peeved because I promised her during our planning phase that I don’t snore. Which I don’t. When I’m sleeping on my stomach. She’s a very light sleeper. A mosquito woke her up when it passed by the room window. Outside. So my snoring made her want to shove a pillow over my face and then sit on the pillow and scream, “Die, you motherfucking bastard, die!” Christine thankfully restrained her.
After I drank a cup of coffee and apologized profusely to Jifferswitt while she threw daggers at my head, I went down to go make out. Pleasant surprise, Dawg came down to join me. I have to tell you, it’s a rare thing for me to feel so comfortable and close to anyone in such a short time. Dawg is just one of those guys. Genuine and welcoming and totally willing to smoke two cigs in a row with me. Truthfully, though, the weekend was filled with people I warmed to almost instantly.
Eventually, we all got our asses moving and decided to eat downstairs in the expensive-as-hell Terrace restaurant. $15 for a fucking buffet? Are you KIDDING? I couldn’t wait to go somewhere else, though. I was feeling a tad low, blood-sugar wise, and that’s not good. Diabetic, in case you didn’t know.
Adam couldn’t wait to go see “Iron Man.” He’s hardcore that way, so Dawg and Poppy went with him to the movies while Hilly, Britt, Becky, and I decided to hit the historic district. Independence Hall, the Liberty Bell, Ben Franklin’s grave, all that good colonial stuff. We drove around for a while and couldn’t find any parking, so, um…
Yeah, that’s what we did. Hey, technically, I’m handicapped. OK, maybe not, but I AM on disability. Don’t judge me. We had a legitimate tag.
We wandered around Independence Hall before realizing that you had to have a ticket to get in, and they’d already given them all out for the day. You need a freaking appointment to go inside Independence Hall. That doesn’t sound like Freedom to me. A little let down, we didn’t let it stop us from wandering about.
We took a nice little horse carriage tour for 30 minutes and had a great driver, who filled us in on all sorts of stuff that I only halfway paid attention to. She was very personable, though, which is good, because we’re kind of a rowdy bunch to be around.
We wandered by the Liberty Bell. Outside in the courtyard there was a big Free Tibet rally. I don’t know who Tibet is, but apparently he’s a big fucking deal. People were chanting and singing and standing around with signs and shit. This dude is very popular. Whoever Tibet is, I say let him the fuck out already!
Oh, did I neglect to mention that I walked all around historic Philadelphia wearing a crown the entire day? Yeah, I did. We got lots of weird looks and smiles and after a while I forgot about the thing on my head. Hell, I’ve blogged NAKED, people. I can do ANYTHING.
There was much Twattering going on, of course. I am not going to like my cell phone bill next month, that’s for sure. I used the damn thing more than I think I’ve EVER used it. Here are my lovely posse girls doing their thing.
I didn’t feel like waiting on the huge honking line to get in to see the Liberty Bell up close, so here it is. Take a picture, it’ll last longer.
I brought some Super Glue with me so I could see about repairing the damn thing, but security got all uppity on my ass, so I backed off. Geez, you try to be a patriotic citizen and they get all pissed.
So we wandered along a bunch of streets, with Britt insisting the entire time that she knew where we were going, back and forth and up and down. I was getting a little dizzy from all the walking. After all, I was severely dehydrated. Finally, we found ourselves in front of Christ Church, where Ben was living. I was a little shocked to see this sign:
I thought we did away with the slavery a long time ago. I mean, hello? Does World War II ring a bell?
They even had some incredible historical documents on exhibit, evidenced here.
See? They even SAY “Historical Documents!”
So we paid our two dollars (”Two dollllars!”) to get in and wandered around for about an hour. It was a beautiful old cemetery, with the bulk of the gravestones and markers from the 1700’s and 1800’s. Naturally, we gravitated first toward Ben Franklin who is, in fact, dead. Who knew?
We had to throw pennies on his grave because apparently Zombie Ben comes out at night and gathers up his winnings for the day before heading down to the local pub. They say if your penny lands heads up, it’s good luck. If it lands heads down, Zombie Ben will come up and bite your face off. So Britt was scrambling to throw a shitton of pennies on the grave, saying, “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” at every little clink. She managed to get one heads up, finally, but I’m still concerned for her pretty little face.
Then there was Benjamin Rush, a signer of the Declaration of Independence - which was when America told England to suck it, bitches! - but more importantly…
The Father of Modern Psychiatry. I owe this man my life. Seriously, I’ve seen more therapy than all of you put together. So Dr. Rush? Thanks, dude. I never knew how fucked up I was before seeing therapists. Plural. Multiple.
Upon seeing this, Hilly said, “Look, it’s a big pump!” She was talking about that cross-like thing on the left which, in fact, is a cross. I responded with a big laugh…we all did, before I said, “Yes, because that’s how Jesus died, crossified on a big pump!” What spooked me out was the baby bed looking thing next to it. Eeeeeery.
Naturally, we were totally inappropriate during our trek through the tombstones. Hilly was laughing, saying, “Wouldn’t it be fucked up if I touched one of these gravestones and they broke?” Which is why, by the way, there’s a big sign saying “DO NOT TOUCH THE GRAVESTONES OR WE’LL KICK YOUR SORRY ASS!”
We next walked our asses off to the Free Quaker house, where you get a Free Quaker with every $10 purchase. Hey, these are the jokes, people. Laugh it up. He was actually a very nice guy, even though he said upon my entering, “Hey! We don’t like kings in here!” He also did call Britt a selfish bitch. “What?” she screamed from the balcony. “Did a Quaker just call me a selfish bitch?” Yes, yes, he did. Course, the shirt she was wearing might have had something to do with it.
We asked a lot of questions about the Quakers and the Declaration of Independence, which apparently has three errors in it. There’s a sign that tells you that, and says “See if you can find the errors.” Fuck you, assholes! Find your OWN fucking errors. I get paid for my editing and writing skills, bitch. I’m not working for free, even if you ARE Quakers.
The Free Quaker was quite nice, though. When (I think) Becky asked him where we could find the best Philly Cheesesteaks, he gave us directions to Sonny’s Famous Steaks. Of course we went. Hey, would a Free Quaker steer us wrong?
I thought the sandwich rocked, even though I was trepidatious about putting Cheez Whiz on anything edible. But I trusted the man behind the counter (and the Free Quaker) and he didn’t steer me wrong. Britt wasn’t thrilled with hers, but that’s because she’s pretty much hi-may. That’s when Shiny showed up and we got to hang for a while before we ditched his ass to head back for the hotel. Hey, women need prep time before TequilaCon. I dig that. I know they wanted to look hot for me. Understandable.
And they did not disappoint. I was ready to stick my tongue in Britt’s mouth, but thought she might take that the wrong way, so I focused more on Becky, who spurned my every advance. We all headed out (Britt, Becky, Adam, Christine, Jifferswitt, Hilly, and me) in Becky’s car and parked once again in the handicapped spot in front of the North Bowl. To be fair, we did drive around the block once to find parking.
Hey, Jifferswitt has a broken leg!
We met up with Jenny and Dave and Vahid and Dustin and Jessica and her husband (dammit!) and grabbed our free schwag and schweet lanyards. And I finally wandered over to the bar for my first beer. What? No Guinness? Is there a conspiracy or what? How can a bar not have Guinness? On tap. So I grabbed a Yuengling with Becky and we started the binging.
Not really. I had two beers, then a margarita, then another margarita, and was very disappointed to not even have a buzz.
Mmm, a Karl sandwich. Yummy. That’s Shelli and Lisa, by the way, two of the sweetest and kindest yet raunchiest women I’ve ever met. I loved hanging with them both, as I did fucktons of other people I probably can’t squeeze in here. You can always look at the photos in the Flickr pool. As it is, there’s less than 90 minutes for me to finish this freaking thing and I’m starting to panic.
Sandra, who I’ve been reading since the Lost Blogs book project two years ago. We hooked up for brunch a couple years back in San Francisco and she totally rocks. She was smooching me and jamming with the crown. And Karl does love a crown, as I think we’ve established. Uh oh, Karl is talking in 3rd person. Karl hates when people do that. So he’ll stop.
Then there was the beautiful Sarah and Metalmom. I’m still always a tad surprised when someone tells me they read my blog. I don’t know why. I’m fucking amazing. So when Sarah (a brilliant photographer, check her on my Flickr contacts) said she’s seen MY photos…wow. And Metalmom, well, she was so excited to pinch my ass that she could barely keep her eyes open. I was disappointed she had to leave so early, but hey I can be a lot to drink in in one dose.
There’s Dave, Becky, Adam, and Jenny (don’t change your number!). So like I was saying a while back, I still wasn’t buzzing and it was irritating. Between 10 and 11 I decided to do something about it.
Stop! Intermission Time!
I grabbed Victoria, our sweet and energetic waitress, and ordered two shots of tequila and two Jamesons and ginger ales. I was finished fucking around. No more froo-froo drinks for me, dammit. This is TEQUILACON. Christine sat down next to me and shook her head in concern. Or maybe it was disgust. But bam! Bam! Bam! Bam! Downed them all in less than three minutes.
And I went back for more. “Another shot of tequila and another Jamesons…”
“And ginger ale?” Victoria said.
I loved that woman. She got me. She really got me. Plus I was ordering the GOOD Tequila. I am not sure when it happened, but I suddenly found myself with a very good buzz, but I did NOT slow down. No sir. I know this because this morning, when I pulled out the receipt from my jeans pocket, I had, um, a $125 bar bill. What? I totally had a corndog and tots somewhere in there.
That’s where the pictures for the evening end. At least from me. I’m pretty sure there are all sorts of other ones out there. I remember bits and pieces. Kind of. I remember stumbling down the stairs at 2 o’clock when the North Bowl assholes wanted to lock up and harsh my wicked buzz. I remember kissing Lisa right on the mouth at some point as we exchanged drunken I Love You’s. I remember promising someone sex in a totally joking but semi-serious manner. And stumbling around to Becky’s car.
The beautiful thing about me as a drunk is (1) I’ve never thrown up from drinking. Not ever. And I kept my record intact, thank God. Though Becky sure was worried about me puking in her car. (2) I never get hangovers. For me, a hangover is dry mouth. But that’s easily fixable. Just water up and keep the water coming.
The not-so-beautiful thing about me as a drunk is (1) I now have a two-for record for sleepwalking while hammered. Last year I woke up outside my hotel room wearing nothing but my boxers. (2) Apparently I get kind of sexed up when I’m seriously drunk because…well.
Let’s first talk about hanging out in Adam’s room when we got back to the hotel. I was WAY drunk, people. If you don’t believe it, go check out my phone conversation with Jester. It’s 45 minutes long so don’t go there YET. But I told him about 243 times that I wished he were there. He kept saying he wanted to see pictures of my ass and I slurred, “I have no problem with that.”
Next thing you know, woop! I dropped trou all the way to the floor and hung out in all my glory. I fully expected someone to take my picture so Jester could see my ass. Since Hilly was sitting on the floor, my junk was pretty much right there at eye level. “WHOA!” she screamed. And Becky was laughing hysterically. Well, everybody was. Except for Britt, who was passed out on the bed. My ass was right in Becky’s face and she’s on the phone with Jester telling him the play-by-play as he screams, “Oh, for the love of God! SOMEONE better be taking photos!”
Not to worry, people. There IS evidence. Over at Avitable’s place. WAIT! Don’t leave yet! I’m not finished.
That’s not even close to the best part.
I fell over a bunch of times and have a scar to prove it. Didn’t notice it until last night, in fact.
But THAT’S not the best part.
The next thing I remember is waking up near my bathroom. Totally naked. This is the part where I remind you that I’m rooming with two women who I’d not met before. Fortunately, they were sleeping. So I pulled on a pair of shorts and all was fine.
Until a few hours later when I awoke to a couple of embarrassed faces. Jan got out of bed and said, “Hey, why is the floor wet between the beds?”
I quickly thought back to last year, when I found myself in my boxers in the inner hotel hallway. Not one of my prouder moments, people, but I peed on the floor right there in the hall. I couldn’t wait and I was locked out of my room.
“Um,” I said, “I might have peed on the floor?”
“Ewww!”
“I think you did more than that,” Christine said. “Not even the worst part.”
“WHAT?” How can THAT not be the worst part?
“I don’t think you want to know.”
“I want to know.”
“I don’t think you want to know.”
“I REALLY want to know.”
The girls just laughed and kind of cringed and it took me 90 fucking minutes to get it out of them. I’m thinking I must have had sex with a sheep or something.
“You were kind of, um, worked up.”
“What do you mean?”
“You were sort of…” Giggle, giggle.
“WHAT?”
“Playing with yourself.”
That’s right, people, as drunk as I was…barely able to stand, let alone walk…I laid there on my bed and jerked off right in front of Christine and Jifferswitt.
But THAT’s not the worst part. I know!
I couldn’t finish myself off. Yes, I rejected MYSELF.
Now you know why they don’t want me linking to them in this post.
When I told Adam, he died laughing. When I told Britt, Hilly, and Becky THEY died laughing. And when Christine came into their room to see about heading down for breakfast, they died laughing again.
I profusely apologized again and again because, yes, even I can get embarrassed. But I’m almost more upset that I couldn’t finish myself off. I’m pretty proud that I was that drunk and still able to kinda sorta jerk off. That’s fortitude, baby.
Class, however, not my forte. Not at TequilaCon.
Somehow I don’t think I’ll have the same roommates next year.
There, now I’m done.
And THAT’S how you write a recap, baby.
Schwinging From the ChandaliersI’m Excellent. I Have a Button to Prove It.Blogging Gods Unite Filed under Blogging, Local Goings On, Sex, TequilaCon |67 Responses to “The TequilaCon Recap to End ALL TequilaCon Recaps”
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[...] here and be sure to make jumps from the comments: nycwd, poppy, adam, britt, karl, hilly, shiny, black belt momma, jen, dave2, metalmomma, shelli, [...]
Wow. Just…wow.
Now, why the hell weren’t you this fun in Portland????
(Well, you were fun. Just not THAT fun…if you catch my drift…)
Dying over here.
Brandon wasn’t there? WHAT?
And I hope you all got the syph.
I only say that due to extreme envy.
I wish I’d been there - it looks like you all had so much fun! I’m glad everyone made it home safely & lived to tell the tales.
xoxoxoxox
I’m totally rooming with you next time. I’m bringing several video cameras. And a diaper.
*falls over dead from laughter*
my entire body is convulsing with laughter, yet again. karl, you made tequilacon for me. as much as i am crushing on hilly and adam and britt it is multiplied tenfold for you. the way you held your head high and did breakfast with us all cracking up at that thought of you whacking it, jacking it and peeing on the floor…well, you made me fall in love with you just a little more.
you embody the spirit of tequilacon. next year i am so going drink for drink with you.
That was one of those minute-by-minute recaps of the whole weekend. Nice job and making me wish I was there for most of the fun.
We’ll see if history will repeat itself at TC09.
p.s. a special shout out to my mom for the handi parking thingy. mom, put in a good word for me so that i don’t totally burn in hell for using it!
I still am laughing hysterically at this story even though I’ve heard it AND told it. I still don’t know why no one smacked you on the big head and told you to stop!
Eye level with your dong did not make Hilly happy.
*snort*
Oh yes, Hello reminded me…at least we now have our little saying!
Whacking it, jacking it and peeing on the floor.
hill is mad that they didn’t throw things at you and i am mad that they didn’t video tape it or take photos. one of us is whacked. i’m saying hilly.
i can barely type whacking it, jacking it and peeing on the floor because i start to laugh all over again and my fingers fly off of the keys.
xoxo,
becky
Well… It sounds like you had a good time! Although not that good I guess, or you would have finished.
oh.my.god…I totally need to go to this tequilacon thing…that was the best story ever!
You earned that crown, dude. You are the King. That was the best recap ever. As for the whacking, jacking and peeing… EVERYONE will want to party with you now. You RAWK!
Adena - actually, I was feeling pretty nervous last year. This year I knew that it wouldn’t be such a big deal. Freaked out before I landed in Philly, but knowing that Britt, Adam, and Hilly were not far behind helped.
akaMonty - nope, Brandon was sadly absent.
Jester - diaper? I don’t need no steenking diaper!
Barnmouse - Uh oh. You’d be the first person I killed. You know, except for when I was in Nam.
Hello - You made my weekend, too. So glad we spent so much time together. Must do it again soon.
Martymankins - so you’re sold? You’ll be there next year, right?
Hello - Yes! I love your mom!
Hilly - most women would kill for such a chance. And yes, whacking it, jacking it, and peeing on the floor. I’m sure I peed because I was laughing way too hard in Adam’s room.
Hello - Wow, I’m saying Hello a lot.
Amanda - so true.
Tobi - You simply must go. I should be paid by TequilaCon for the publicity. Oh, wait, they’re not a real organization? How is that even possible?
Winter - I AM the king!
sounds and looks like a great time! I am hoping to cross the waters for next years festivities or we need to have it in Europe!
Wow…that was like The Illiad with sex and booze.
That is by far the bestest most amazing post ever. I just died laughing my ass off.
Now that was a recap! I’m surprised you didn’t mention when Britt snatched the phone out of your hand to talk to Hilly and you wanted to just bop her on her cute, curly little head!
I’d say “What happens at TequilaCon stays at TequilaCon,” but clearly the more accurate statement is “What happens at TequilaCon gets photographed and videotaped and recorded and posted and linked over and over again!”
We might have to get you a bodyguard for the next TequilaCon!
I might be making a post length comment.
Can I just add that before TC we made this plan to room and as it was getting closer Jiff was getting a little twitchy about the arrangement. (and this may have had something to do with a perfume post or too many illusions to making out which Jiff didn’t know was code for smoking) At one point she was even saying that she didn’t want to go (but this had more to do with all the fun we would miss at home) So I say ok, I will go on my own and she is too nervous for me to go be with Karl by myself. Your kidding. Karl? First off he is *nice*, second he is shy all I will have to do is scream “Boo” and scare him and third I could totally kick his ass. Maybe not BBM style but enough. Anyway I told her that if Karl does anything completely offensive to her I will spring for the exorbitantly price hotel.
So along comes the middle of the night…Karl is standing between the beds, sort of leaning against his, and as I come into more consciousness it starts to dawn on my what I am hearing. I can only see a silhouette but the movements are fairly clear. I move thinking Karl will get his oversexed ass to the bathroom where his actions are more appropriately housed. Nada. Is he doing this to freak us out? The thought is more than a little disturbing. I am careful though because I do not want to wake Jiff, who really can be woken by sound of a pin dropping the next block over. So I sit up. No change in Karl. Aha he is dead asleep. Then the whole scene is rather dull, it is just Karl…sleep wanking. I turn over and go back to sleep and shortly after hear him give up on his jamesons dulled intentions.
When Karl woke up kind of alarmed and said “ummmm I am naked and not quite sure how that happened” I started the big giggle fest that was Sunday morning. Jiff also kind of let me off the bet even though I obviously lost bad.
Jiff had to confirm the cause of the wet spot. That only woke me up a little bit. We huddled to compare notes and then took forever to find a way to break it to Karl gently. As in not in front of Adam.
I could room with you again. But I might have to tether you to the bed for your own safety.
Epic.
And here I thought I had the best TequilaCon ever!
Sounds like a good time was had by all. Or, a good time was attempted to be had. By you. Hee hee.
HA! Whiskey Dick!
Don’t feel bad. I reject myself often. It’s rather unfortunate.
The best thing about this recap (and Avitable’s video w/ Karl’s, ahem, guest appearance), is that Karl performs all these antics wearing a shirt that says “INTROVERTS UNITE.”
AHHHHH, the irony.
Wow. I don’t even have to finish my recap now. Thanks.
I’ve heard this story a million times, and I STILL died laughing once I hit “why is the floor wet between the beds?”
hahahhahahhaha
And PocketCT’s comment is even better!
hahhahhahaha
Wow, that was long. Sounds like you had a really great time. Thanks for sharing it. That 1st intermission had me wandering over to the freezer to grab a drumstick. What is it about dancing food that makes you hungry?
omg that was so long it’s tomorrow now.
Where are my boobs? I didn’t expect to see them here, but I’m still looking for them.
Karl,
Not to worry, I would have suffocated you mercifully!
Also, I was somehow worried more that someone would pee on me drunk when I was sleeping on the bathroom floor. Ironic.
You were sweet and fun to room with, and I will second Christine in saying I’d do it again, but would employ duct tape, either as snoring or sleepwanking prevention.
Nice re-cap. Now I know I’m REALLY too old for TC!!
I did need another cup of coffee and a pee break to get through it all.
Glad you had a good time, King Karl.
First, this is quite the epic post… and I applaud you for finishing it within 36 hours of getting home. That’s an amazing feat unto itself.
Second, since I usually double-fist my black & tans, two ciggies at a time is more than natural to me.
Finally, irregardless of what you do in your sleep, I would totally endorse you as a roommate for others… because your great to make out with so the little inconveniences like piss wet carpeting or some 5 knuckle shuffle are just minor issues.
Of this, I assure you.
Mr. Fabulous - Ha! Almost spit coffee through my nose, so thanks for that.
Libragirl - You type amazingly well for a dead woman.
Avitable - Thank you, sir! I wanted to include more but as the hours went by and midnight approached, I just couldn’t make it happen. I finished at 11:59pm! Besides, I had to leave some shit for everyone else. I’m not entirely a selfish bastard.
Jenny - With Avitable? You’d better believe there’ll be evidence galore.
PocketCT - Wow, an epic comment for an epic post. I forgot to mention that Jiff slept on the bathroom floor! Aw, you’re so sweet, not wanting to tell me in front of Adam. Course, he was the first person I told. Truly a pleasure rooming with you and Jiff. Glad I didn’t burn those bridges too badly.
Dave2 - I’m sure you did, but you probably kept your pants up. Smart.
Jen - Prexactly.
Anonymous City Girl - That’s better than what some people called it.
Lady Jaye - That’s sad. Need some help?
Jessica - I know, right?
Miss Britt - I knew I’d have to get it all done for today, since I leave bright and early tomorrow for Dallas. But go on, do your photo recaps. I always love them.
Michelle - I know! I love dancing food. Makes me want to bite their little legs off.
Poppy - I’ve uploaded my photos to Flickr, so you can find your boobs there. I’ll write a recap of our Sunday tomorrow.
Jifferswitt - Aw, thanks. You’re a total sweetie, too. So sorry about the bathroom floor thing. Course, that was pretty minor compared to the NEXT night, but hey, I’m glad you had fun. Loved hanging with you.
Little Miss Sunshine - nah, you’re not too old. There are plenty of other (more tame) stories people are sharing. I’m still adding people to my feedreader. There were people of all ages.
NYCWD - Thanks, bud. You’re definitely one of my fave new people. I can’t believe I wasn’t reading you before a couple of months ago!
I looked for my boobies yesterday — twice. I am now crying.
And I just looked a 3rd time. No swallows. Are you sure that didn’t make it into your private porn collection? *sigh*
Holy-Freakin’-Recap-of-EPIC-Proportions!!!
Karl - It was Wonderful to have met you! I too wish we could have spent a bit more time talking and getting to know eachother. There was so many people there, and so many of them new to me.
I laughed when I saw your pic of the Liberty Bell as I had dones the exact same thing…take a pic of it *outside* as I too wasn’t about to wait in that long ass line. (Your pic looks like mine…reflection and all!)
I look forward to reading more of you and getting to know you a bit more, as it appears that your writing is anything *but* ‘Tryptophan-inducing’.
~ZZ
I started giggling when I got to the wet spot, but when I read Pocket CT’s comment, “Then the whole scene is rather dull, it is just Karl…sleep wanking. I turn over and go back to sleep,” I completely lost my shit. At work.
Thank you, thank you, thank you.
yeah, i definitely had the same “i am nowhere near drunk enough” moment followed by about a billion jameson and patron shots followed by the “where the heck am i?” moment. sheesh, what a night. (and next day.)
YAAAAAY! Thank you for giving me the PHO-TO!
Greeneyezz - Great meeting you, too. I loved Britt’s comment about the Liberty Bell. “It’s just a bell. What’s the big deal?”
Finn - Heh, I’ve lost my shit a bunch of times reading people’s recaps.
Kat - Yeah, I have some major memory loss of those 3 or 4 hours.
[...] Totally stolen from Karl who special-uploaded it for me after I cried like a baby. [...]
Fuckin-A where the hell have you been hiding on the net? Why have I not read you before? Wait let me think of more questions…………………..
Fuck it this is a great recap. So glad I finally came around and found you out there in this big bloggy world.
Hope you go next year, I may just get my butt down there.
Bloody genius!! What a laugh it was reading this. You absolutely win the Best Re-cap prize ;o)
Penelope - Why, thank you, miss!
Damn…all I can say is damn!!!
I am literally in tears laughing so hard. I was dying to know what happened after we left.. and boy I am not disappointed!
Nice.
Still crying laughing.
Oh Karl, the guts you have to actually post this. Then again, rather you post about yourself than have everyone else do it for you, which I’m sure they will anyway. You’re becoming a TC legend.
You can add me to the list of people who are dying laughing at you. That is some classic stuff right there!
Hahahahahahahahahahaha
If I go next year, we can so room together. I will have the camera ready!
Hahahahahahahahahahaha
Can’t. Stop. Laughing.
Holy shit, dude. You deal with “unique personal circumstances” like a pro. So much for social phobia!
BBM - I AM a legend in my own mind. I hear you have video. Give it!
Sybil Law - IF you go? IF?! This didn’t sell you?
James - At TequilaCon, my friend, you have to roll with the punches. Even if you’re giving them to yourself, so to speak.
Oh my God, Karl. What the hell kind of stalker am I that I was in the same city as you and wasn’t there to see all of that stuff at the end?
There was so much funny stuff I had along the way of reading this post, Karl, but I forgot it all. I am an old woman with a feeble mind.
BTW, you kissed me 2 times. Once on the nose and once on the mouth.
Wow, now that is a good weekend in my book. I’m glad I got to meet you somewhere in the middle of all the awesomeness!
Wow. Two days ago I was trying to convince myself that maybe I’d turn up for TC ‘09, but based on your recap, I don’t think I can handle it.
Cyndi - Glad I got to meet you, too.
Stacey - Well, to be fair, that was the wild shit and only from my point of view. I have another post coming up at midnight that talks about the more serious side of things. I think that’ll sell you.
KARL! How many girls did you kiss?!??!
And here I was thinking how fun it was to follow along via Twitter and Flickr! We missed all the really good stuff.
Bret and I have already set up a savings account for TC09. After reading this I told him, “Honey, you can get as drunk as you want at TC09. Karl will surpass anything you might do to embarrass yourself!” He thanks you for the reassurance.
Wholly crap! I’d have something else to say…. but I think I need a moment.
I wondered where my crown was last weekend. Where is TequilaCon next year?
SJ - I was looking out for ya with today’s post.
Kyra - Ha! I wondered when you’d chime in.
Queen Lynn - nobody knows where yet. It’s usually not decided until March.
OK, I had to re-read your post as I couldn’t do it justice while at work today.
Oh My. It is far and few inbetween where I can be left speechless. Kudos to you Karl, for being one of the Few, the Proud, The TequilaCon Masterbator!
This post Rocks! (And apparantly, so did you!)
~ZZ
There was a lot I wanted to comment on in this post but there was sooooo much post I sort of lost track of the parts I wanted to address.
But, god, it had me laughing.
Thanks for welcoming me to Tequilacon.
Okay, breaking my comment cherry here. Longtime Avitable & Britt reader….and recently have become a fan of yours as well….now THAT is how you recap! BTW…love the dropping trou’ pic at Avitables. I totally need to go next year…..my boobs belong amongst those above! One thing about us lady bloggers…we are stacked!
Delmer - It was my pleasure, dude. Loved talking with you. If only TequilaCon was extended for 48 hours, I might have actually been satisfied with how much time we had to chat.
Stephanie - Woo hoo! Welcome! And thanks very much.
Karl, didn’t you suggest that we room together in July for BlogHer?
Uh…