Who knew Monday nights could be so rowdy? Last night was an outstanding tribute to Christen and her impeccable rack of lamb. Instead of sticking to my original plan of sitting around and watching the game, I met with Rory, Nina and Christen at Schiller's to celebrate Queen Goon's 25th birthday. We dinned on a bounty of steak and cheese while regaling ourselves with tales from the previous weekend, (Rory and Christen are traveling allstars). Wow, sorry about that last sentence. After a pitiful rendition of "Happy Birthday" - I only say pitiful because you expect more out of a man like Rory whose silky voice is the missing link between Dean Martin and Ray Charles - we hit headed to toward the Mercury Lounge.

We waited out front for Karli who brought the cupcakes that came into play upon our exit. We jumped inside to catch a set by Fields who is getting special attention by Vice and Atlantic even though their latest release came out courtesy of Black Lab. The game is funny sometimes, but the music is definitely decent. There wasn't anything that jumped out and kicked you in the balls, (save the Icelandic princess who has the whole heroin sheik thing nailed down) but they will appeal to the indie kids who dig on bands like Shout Out Louds and Silversun Pickups. They opened with my favorite track from their previous Annex show, "Songs For The Fields" which was nice because then we could concentrate at the task at hand: Getting Christen shitarded.

The mission was fully accomplished by the time we left Mercury. As we hung around out front, it became apparent that treachery was afoot. While Christen and I chatted up Syd, Rory came out of no where and smashed a cupcake in her face. I continued the sweet bukkake when we got to the corner. The girl was covered in delicious - as any birthday girl should be. Darn, Jeff, Karli and the like spent the duration of the evening upstairs at 2A trying to keep Melissa (the bartender) from ripping Rory's nuts out. I'm wondering if they are still intact this morning.

As for the rest of the weekend, it was a bit crazy. On Friday Hawkins cooked me a fancy ass dinner with some short ribs before we cruised down to Bowery to see What Made Milwaukee Famous, (I can safely say it wasn't that band). My attention span for all three bands was nil, so we proceeded to drink our tits off in collegiate fashion. Due to a work induced late start on Saturday; I scrambled to catch up with Hawkins and Jesse upstairs at 2A. Thanks to Merida for setting us up and laying the ground work for an awesome evening that included a stunning Sparkstini (pictured below with Whipple Jr) at Julia's party. Our time at said party was cut short due to the police showing up and Hawkin's being carted away. Julia and I rode with Boss Hog to wait for him while the cops did their bullshit routine. We ended the night somewhere with some people, but I couldn't tell you. The Sparkstini (which is basically a Sparks, rum and anything else people poor into your cup) was a bit of a mind fuck.