"Why is my mom three thousand miles away?": Life After The E2 End of Summer Denial of School Northwest Gathering (thing)

(all of "Why is my mom three thousand miles away?": Life After The E2 End of Summer Denial of School Northwest Gathering, there is 1 more in this node)

(thing) by moJoe (1.3 wk) (print)   ?   (I like it!) Mon Aug 20 2001 at 23:28:54 C! info: 3 C!s given by: m_turner, icicle, cahla

Everyone talks about debauchery, but when you put qousqous in charge, debauchery happens. --moJoe By general consent, there is very little to be said about the very wholesome, family oriented gathering of noders that just recently took place here in the beautiful state of Oregon. We have decided for various reasons which need not be mentioned here that--though something must be noded for posterity?s sake--recording an actual play-by-play of the entire evening is neither desirable nor even possible. So then, with the help of joyquality, qousqous and Pyrogenic, we have, in a think-tank fashion, ironed out the format in which this rather uneventful gathering should be covered. A vague list. qousqous learned that he needs to use less teeth and more lip. Pyrogenic was deified. Eco left early and made very little sound, contrary to what one might presuppose by his name. ideath is, disturbingly, the sexiest seventh grader that we have ever seen. Hands down. Joyquality looks innocent and book-wormish. Really, she is the ringleader. We had no idea. Unless serviced every one of us. Brain was educated as to why kissing a man with facial hair sucks. moJoe lost his underwear. The idea of Prole's bra being used as headwear did not amuse moJoe or qousqous. lordOmar was completely innocent of all wrong-doing. No really, I swear. chattering_magpie also left early. She really isn't all that loud either. darkmind.iLs was drunker than he has ever been in his life. He also woke up wearing moJoe's underwear. The scenarios... take them for what you will, we won't talk. You are on death row and he is your bitch, you are about to be executed and he is your last meal. You are a white-trash girl hitch-hiking from a truck stop... he has a big sleeper compartment. You are a seventh grade teacher and she is a student that you hold a mutual attraction with. You have kept her after school for detention. You are a male hooker and he is a nervous first-timer coming out of the closet. You have a flat tire and he is a hunky guy who has pulled over to fix your tire... among other things. You are in a coma, and he is your gay lover. Think sleeping beauty. You two are freshmen dorm mates who just staggered back to the dorm from a frat party. You never have kissed another girl... The classic "strangers on the train" scenario... we really don't need to elaborate, do we? He's an alien who's just beamed you up into his flying saucer. Suddenly something rouses your deepest passions, and you're headed for a close encounter of the fourth kind. A vague accounting of activities: (Ed. note: *I* was being vague when I started this. All the long winded accounts are that of Pyrogenics.) There was a meeting in Pioneer Square involving a large umbrella and a sign reading "LIVE NUDE Lesbians PLUS SOY EATING MONKIES". There was a walk to Powells and browsing therein, the largest new and used bookstore in the country. According to the employees, anyway. There was softcore Japanese porn, there was the Zen of Driving, there was a long planning session in the cafe. There was Dada-ist poetry called into KBOO and read on the air. There was finally a consensus reached as to the next destination: the Montage. After feasting at the Montage, a 25.7% tip, and acquisition of elaborate to-go containers, there was a long discussion over which was the superior evening activity: visiting a juice-bar strip club or alcohol and everyone's favorite party game. We chose the latter. We engaged in a few gloriously competitive rounds of the only entertaining Parker Brothers game ever concieved. We intermittently consumed a grand total of forty-eight lime slices, a half a carton of salt, three-thousand milliliters of eighty proof alcohol, roughly one-hundred cigarettes, two gallons of water, two boxes of Wheat Thins, a half of an English muffin and not just a little bit of accidentally ingested brominated water. No one regurgitated anything as far as we know. We put a few new spins on a game as old as "courtesy limes". No one brought a bathing suit, which was really a shame. We again played everyone's favorite Parker Brothers game; this time with a questionably non-traditional variation of the game's parameters. Quotes: "Why is my mom three thousand miles away?" --ideath while being tickled mercilessly by three noders. Will add more as they are submitted.

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