The New Seattle Lexicon.
Hey guys. Just thought I'd tell some stories about Seattle using this oh-so-clever-device. Try and work some of these into your vernacular/habits.
1. Dead Baby Downhill Firedrill
Might as well start with this one.
If you haven't heard about this, you are retarded. Approximately 97.4%-98% of the world is going to this event in which a bunch of drunks ride down a hill. Some in costumes. You would think putting a bunch of kids on bikes and shoving them down a hill would be pretty simple, but it is not my friend. There's marketing and sponsorships and T-shirts to be made for chrissakes. It's funny because the hill is actually created by the earths axis changing due to the amount of people who come to this venerable ride. Currently, the course is flat, but when close to six billion people arrive in less than a week, the weight of all the downhillers will turn it into a 35% grade. True story. Anyway, there's a lot to do to get ready, you know? There's no time for BBQ's and talking on the phone and such--I mean, there's barely enough time to chase Juggalos aroung Georgetown (don't even ask).
Sometimes of course, one will forget how close it is and how little we have accomplished so far. I mean, we could just be sitting in the backyard eating a hotdog or mowing the air or something when someone remembers, often shouting: "Oh my god you guys, I just remembered...the downhill is in less than a week!"
Then, of course, we all start freaking out over unstickerred water bottles and undistributed flyers and run around in circles kicking and juming over small obstacles while waving our hands manically screaming things like "Oh my god!!! Where's my fixed gear!!" and "We gotta make t-shirts!! Holy Shit!!" and "I cant find my vest!! Where's my freaking vest!!" and of course the classic: "THE DOWNHILL'S IN LESS THAN A WEEK!"
2. God bless The Child
On Amanda's birthday we were all at the bar and Amanda had stolen someone's bike on accident and went and hung out at the Eagle's lounge or something. In the meantime, I spied a little 22 y/o across the way, and turns out he was new in town. Wait--let me say that one more time--he was new in town. Sweet. He also lived two doors down from me. Well, I mean, I s'pose he still lives there, I'm just home now.
Oh, a little background on that--Geaorgetown, much like Lower Haight, is small, incestuous, and people have the tendancy to use your doorbell rather than the telephone. So, a beer leads to a walk and a walk leads to after-hours and after-hours leads to nakedness.
Yeah well, the next day when Lauren, Colleen and Sarah walked over to drink beers with me in my backyard, it turned out he was a little more connected than I had previously understood and worked at a popular little restaraunt down the street. Oops.
Anyway, I kept forgetting his name so we just started calling him The Child. It caught on. To the point where Monday morning found me, DBBP and Amanda drinking on the back porch as The Child had dipped through our backyards to grab more beer. Even DBBP commented "Dude, where'd The Child go?"
3. WHO TOOK MY MIXER!
Saturday Afternoon found us girls drinking homemade Muscle Milk cocktails AKA vanilla soymilk and vanilla vodka (Amanda), Hard Rootbeer Floats AKA vanilla vodka and rootbeer (Crystal) and Maker's on the Rocks with Oly chasers AKA exactly what that sounds like (me). Anyway, Crystal went to make another one and looked in the fridge to find her other bottle of rootbeer gone as I had given it to Alexis (Corrine, not Lopez) and her best friend Kim a couple days ago. So then Crystal starts faux freaking out, stomping around like a troll screaming "WHO TOOK MY MIXER!" like some kind of drunken orc. Amanda and I were quickly rolling around on the ground laughing with tears in our eyes.
4. Yeah! I'll give you a snug!
First, watch this.
Now, watch me watch you not be able to tell me that that isn't the funniest thing you've ever seen in your entire life.
Well, we thought so too and began using the word "snug" with an abandon unforseen this side of the Mississippi. It became noun, adjective, verb, and the much touted present progressive "snugging".
First, it was just Crystal, Amanda and I. But in our surreptitious drunkenness it caught on, and snug soon swept the masses. It even caught on with my sister and brother and law in less than a couple of hours of meeting them. Next thing you know, Amanda's conveniently in the batroom and my brother in law is talking to DBBP in the nook of the Nine Pound talking about "Dude. Dude. You gotta snug it out with her. She's way too hot not to snug with." YES. And oh how they snugged. There was also a full-on song, composed by Jim, called "Snug It Off".
You can also ask me about Southern Love, Joan Jett, Worth My While, Marina-ahhr the me-ahhr, Santa Suits, Jeremiah's foot tattoo, Flash Dancing, "What the fuck is that bitch doing at the downhill in a car?", Seven Dresses, Vagtinis, Bison, Watch Me Watch You, Boring Whores, Fence Fuckers, Foxy, Snarl Face, Matchy-Matchy Adidas tracksuits, that time at the Nine Pound when we almost got kicked out for our DB firedrill, and finally Crystal waking us up after a night of snugging with "Hey you guys. Get up. The Downhill's in a week."
Also, ask me to re-enact Drew's Hunter S. Thompson-esque entrance into Amanda's birthday party when his bike carreened across the lawn and he was left standing there, arms splayed, wearing all plaid with a parasol and a suitcase strapped to him with an innertube screaming: "SEAN! CUT ME OUT!". Priceless.
This trip was the stuff of legends.
Oh, and a shout out to AZ Dave: hope this lives up to your expectations, haha. E-mail me anytime--m@mmoure.com. Oh, and good luck on the downhill.
You might need it.
--M
p.s.--Seriously though, it's in less than a week. Oh FUCK!! Where's my Fixy! And by fixy, I mean doggy.
1. Dead Baby Downhill Firedrill
Might as well start with this one.
If you haven't heard about this, you are retarded. Approximately 97.4%-98% of the world is going to this event in which a bunch of drunks ride down a hill. Some in costumes. You would think putting a bunch of kids on bikes and shoving them down a hill would be pretty simple, but it is not my friend. There's marketing and sponsorships and T-shirts to be made for chrissakes. It's funny because the hill is actually created by the earths axis changing due to the amount of people who come to this venerable ride. Currently, the course is flat, but when close to six billion people arrive in less than a week, the weight of all the downhillers will turn it into a 35% grade. True story. Anyway, there's a lot to do to get ready, you know? There's no time for BBQ's and talking on the phone and such--I mean, there's barely enough time to chase Juggalos aroung Georgetown (don't even ask).
Sometimes of course, one will forget how close it is and how little we have accomplished so far. I mean, we could just be sitting in the backyard eating a hotdog or mowing the air or something when someone remembers, often shouting: "Oh my god you guys, I just remembered...the downhill is in less than a week!"
Then, of course, we all start freaking out over unstickerred water bottles and undistributed flyers and run around in circles kicking and juming over small obstacles while waving our hands manically screaming things like "Oh my god!!! Where's my fixed gear!!" and "We gotta make t-shirts!! Holy Shit!!" and "I cant find my vest!! Where's my freaking vest!!" and of course the classic: "THE DOWNHILL'S IN LESS THAN A WEEK!"
2. God bless The Child
On Amanda's birthday we were all at the bar and Amanda had stolen someone's bike on accident and went and hung out at the Eagle's lounge or something. In the meantime, I spied a little 22 y/o across the way, and turns out he was new in town. Wait--let me say that one more time--he was new in town. Sweet. He also lived two doors down from me. Well, I mean, I s'pose he still lives there, I'm just home now.
Oh, a little background on that--Geaorgetown, much like Lower Haight, is small, incestuous, and people have the tendancy to use your doorbell rather than the telephone. So, a beer leads to a walk and a walk leads to after-hours and after-hours leads to nakedness.
Yeah well, the next day when Lauren, Colleen and Sarah walked over to drink beers with me in my backyard, it turned out he was a little more connected than I had previously understood and worked at a popular little restaraunt down the street. Oops.
Anyway, I kept forgetting his name so we just started calling him The Child. It caught on. To the point where Monday morning found me, DBBP and Amanda drinking on the back porch as The Child had dipped through our backyards to grab more beer. Even DBBP commented "Dude, where'd The Child go?"
3. WHO TOOK MY MIXER!
Saturday Afternoon found us girls drinking homemade Muscle Milk cocktails AKA vanilla soymilk and vanilla vodka (Amanda), Hard Rootbeer Floats AKA vanilla vodka and rootbeer (Crystal) and Maker's on the Rocks with Oly chasers AKA exactly what that sounds like (me). Anyway, Crystal went to make another one and looked in the fridge to find her other bottle of rootbeer gone as I had given it to Alexis (Corrine, not Lopez) and her best friend Kim a couple days ago. So then Crystal starts faux freaking out, stomping around like a troll screaming "WHO TOOK MY MIXER!" like some kind of drunken orc. Amanda and I were quickly rolling around on the ground laughing with tears in our eyes.
4. Yeah! I'll give you a snug!
First, watch this.
See more funny videos at Funny or Die
Now, watch me watch you not be able to tell me that that isn't the funniest thing you've ever seen in your entire life.
Well, we thought so too and began using the word "snug" with an abandon unforseen this side of the Mississippi. It became noun, adjective, verb, and the much touted present progressive "snugging".
First, it was just Crystal, Amanda and I. But in our surreptitious drunkenness it caught on, and snug soon swept the masses. It even caught on with my sister and brother and law in less than a couple of hours of meeting them. Next thing you know, Amanda's conveniently in the batroom and my brother in law is talking to DBBP in the nook of the Nine Pound talking about "Dude. Dude. You gotta snug it out with her. She's way too hot not to snug with." YES. And oh how they snugged. There was also a full-on song, composed by Jim, called "Snug It Off".
You can also ask me about Southern Love, Joan Jett, Worth My While, Marina-ahhr the me-ahhr, Santa Suits, Jeremiah's foot tattoo, Flash Dancing, "What the fuck is that bitch doing at the downhill in a car?", Seven Dresses, Vagtinis, Bison, Watch Me Watch You, Boring Whores, Fence Fuckers, Foxy, Snarl Face, Matchy-Matchy Adidas tracksuits, that time at the Nine Pound when we almost got kicked out for our DB firedrill, and finally Crystal waking us up after a night of snugging with "Hey you guys. Get up. The Downhill's in a week."
Also, ask me to re-enact Drew's Hunter S. Thompson-esque entrance into Amanda's birthday party when his bike carreened across the lawn and he was left standing there, arms splayed, wearing all plaid with a parasol and a suitcase strapped to him with an innertube screaming: "SEAN! CUT ME OUT!". Priceless.
This trip was the stuff of legends.
Oh, and a shout out to AZ Dave: hope this lives up to your expectations, haha. E-mail me anytime--m@mmoure.com. Oh, and good luck on the downhill.
You might need it.
--M
p.s.--Seriously though, it's in less than a week. Oh FUCK!! Where's my Fixy! And by fixy, I mean doggy.
posted by Miranda Moure at 10:42 PM
0 stools at the bar
links to this post
