Getting It Out There

Some weekends just have too much material for only one blog post, or 3.  I'm getting these pictures out there so I can move on with my life.

You've seen the Sways, now watch the jumps:

I know, we're getting really good.


And you won't want to miss this guy run:

Rumspringa: Or, How I Lost My Hair But Kept My Pride

"Would you rather be a Mormon or an Amish?"  - Schmatie

Did you know Iowa City is deep in the honey pot of both? We weren't that interested in building handcarts and walking to Utah but the Amish had cheese curds, cheap herbs, and butter powder to sell to us.

Just as long as you keep your hands out of their meat jar. The Amish don't play that. Unless of course it's during Rumspringa, the Amish spring break. Then anything goes; hand in the meat jar, meth addiction, bed courtship, even buttons are kosher during Rumspringa. The Devil's Playground left us with a lot of unaswered questions (where does a rebelious Amish teenager get a car from?) and a lot of pride in our post-8th grade educations. Which is exactly what the Amish are worried about in the first place.

After a day full of prideful activities, we had some penace to do.

To atone for my normal day-to-day vainglory (see above) I let two Natural Nnackers -in-training have a go at my hair,  which had been fast on its way towards feathered coif status. Now it comes in Pony-Hawk or Yoder Bowl options.

I also realized that I'd been wearing button-fly jeans all day:

Katie finally gave into her deepest desires and pulled the trigger on the Snuggies purchase. Which, as it turns out, is actually Amish approved loungewear.

Then of course there was Joanna and her gaudy triple-dessert birthday Pastry Duel. What better way to piss off those pacifist Amish than to host a duel with 3 entrants? And look how proud she is of that mud filled profiterole too. She might as well have put up a lightning rod.

Meanwhile, I was busy matching my tie and sweater to the cupcakes. My profiteroles might look like shit but I can still make a v-neck look good, even without any "fancy" cardigan buttons.

 

Then there's Nick's pie; its blueberries all fattened up and juicey. If that's not prideful I don't know what is.

Happy birthday Joanna.

Happy Birthday from wbarnebey on Vimeo.

Raw Emotions.

Where are we? This isn't it. from wbarnebey on Vimeo.

The Wrong Way to play Asshole.

You know how everybody has their own slight variation of rules for Asshole? New Berlin, WI has the worst rules ever. On each of the three basic parameters along which Asshole is likely to vary they do it wrong. Terribly wrong.

1. Socials: if you tell me I can't complete a social whenever I want I'll ask you what's so social about that anyway. If you tell me that a social only requires 3 cards, I'll tell you you're an idiot and I hate your rules.

2. Three's: In New Berlin 3's do nothing. Boring.

3. Doubles/Triples: What, you can play doubles on singles? Way to eliminate the last vestige of strategy from this seemingly enjoyable game.

Maine Menu

You've probably already seen pictures, and maybe pictures, of the latest Barnebey (and Friends) Vacation. The '08 event was located in Maine and featured a week of Ethnic Eating Events (EEEs) as well as The Barnebey Family Olympics on Friday. Despite getting egg on my face, the Olympics were a good time. Except for the Speed Scrabble event, which is my least favorite variety of Scrabble. That was a terrible experience.

What we're really most proud of though is the menu:

Weariness

Last night found us at The Weary Traveler for another in a series of send-offs for Tommy and/or Megan. A rousing game of Apples to Apples followed dinner. The cards were well worn and had a more than faint hint of vomit. Or maybe it was just the years of accumulated dried beer and hand sweat. Either way, they made your hands stink. The game involved a number of completely inappropriate plays. Here we see Megan, while judging SQUEAKY CLEAN, left with no choice but to award the card to MUD.

We went to Sears...

(more to follow)

Gem Sweater Thursday (Rehash)

This week's Sweater Thursday was truly a jumentous momentous event. I wish I had been able to write this post yesterday, and document it better. Neither of those things happened, but this is what did: (The following story is true. None of the names have been changed to protect anyone's privacy.)

In preparation for Girls Gone Wild Madison 2008 Joanna and I were talking on the Phone Wednesday night. She brought up the fact that if we were going to be in Iowa City this weekend again we would have to go see Leslie and The Lys, (a.k.a. the Gem Sweater Girl). Leslie, of Leslie and the Lys, is a Lady Rapper out of Ames, Iowa. She is dedicated to documenting, caring for, and promoting that which is The Gem Sweater. We weren't going to be in Iowa City though, we were going to be in Madison, WI (see above event name RE: GGWM 2008). After doing a little research (of the youTube, myspace, and google variety) I was fascinated. It was then that I came upon her tour schedule. I immediately realized that her scheduled performance at The High Noon Saloon, in Madison, on Sweater Thursday was a sign. From the Sweater Gods. I quickly informed Joanna of this, and there was much celebration.

Thursday night there was much preparation for our date with The Gem Sweater. Darcy and Joanna donned sparkly things and brightly colored tights, I put on a colorful tie (from my collection of Ties I Have Known, That Are Ugly), and blog posts were put off so that they could include the Day's Featured Event. At this point we made our one and only mistake of the evening; despite talking about who was bringing a camera, both Joanna and I managed to leave my apartment without one.

Unfortunately for you, there are no words that adequately describe Leslie and the Lys' live show. It was everything we were hoping for and much more. It is disappointing that there are no pictures of us from that night. This is a recreation of my outfit taken the following morning:


[Rizzo is always up for a good time; Kermit is usually passed out somewhere]

And this was our late night snack upon arriving home. I have recently received both my Mustard of the Month Club and my Cheese of the Month Club shipments. As you can see, they compliment each other very nicely. The morbier in particular had a delicious rind; earthy and buttery, with a hint of clovery freshness.

Days of the Week

Because of the general agreement among attendees that Mexican Monday was a great success, Tuesday was quickly declared Thai(/Tie) Tuesday at the Barnebey house, shortly before midnight on January 14th. Coming up with our Mexican Menu was a fairly routine affair: guacamole, tortilla soup, stuffed poblanos, fish tacos, a punch bowl of margaritas, and coffee flan for desert. The only challenge there was making sure I made enough for all 12 of us. But Thai is a bit more opaque than Mexican. At least to me. I mean I like Thai, it's one of my top 5 food ethnicities, but I don't really understand it. So what do you make for Thai Tuesday? And more importantly, what's the correct drink for Thai Tuesday (note: Mai Tais is not a valid response)? These were all questions that were eventually answered by spring rolls, coconut curry soup, green curried chicken shrimp and pork satay, Dark and Stormy's with our homemade ginger soda served in coconuts (with umbrellas), and tapioca pudding for dessert. Oh, and Singha beer to fill up the boot.

Unfortunately, I'm leaving for Wisconsin in a matter of minutes. And that means that Welsh Wednesday, Thirsty Thursday, French Friday, and Sloppy Saturday will have to wait for the next Barnebey Family gathering.

And, as should come as no surprise to anybody, Kermit over did it again. Now I have to get him onto a plane. hopefully he can hold it together until he makes it to Madison.

Sweater(!), with Frog

It's been a busy 2 weeks, and for most of it I didn't have my camera. This is unlike me. To compensate I had to have my way with other people's photographic devices. Unfortunately, I did not get to document Sweater Thursday last week. I promise I did wear a sweater. This week I am coming back en masse (with a frog). Tonight is the 2nd in the series of (Occasionally) Traditional Bi-Weekly Barnebey Family Friday Fish-Fries (OTB-WBFFFFs). Needless to say, we are both excited. Untraditionally, this Friday Fish Fry is happening on a Thursday since I'm going to visit the A-Dog in D.C. tomorrow.

Field Crumpets

Yesterday Stanford, Ansley and I played Field Crumpets. I originally described this game as similar to polo with whiffle bats, and without horses. After playing it though I think it's actually closer to field hockey, except without the little plaid skirts. Also there's a relative dearth of young Northeastern WASP-ettes.

Anyway, we were invited to play field crumpets by Dalibor, a computer science grad student from the Czech Republic. Of course that means he was actually born in Czechoslovakia, a fact that is not relevant to this story at all. Still, wouldn't it be strange if the place you were born suddenly became something else? Like what if New Jersey decided that it really didn't fit in with the rest of America (Huzzah!) and decoupled itself? In contrast to what happened when the South tried this, I figure a lot of people would actually be OK with it. Of course old New Jersery would probably want to rename itself to make sure it had a clean break and a chance at a fresh start. I figure the most likely choice would be to try to highlight its only redeeming quality (Shorelandia?) since there's really not much of a Lenni Lenape population there anymore. So, say you were unlucky enough to have been born in West Trenton, or Vineland, or (I'm sorry for even saying it) Pennsauken? Wouldn't that be strange? (see #4 here for an additional wrinkle to this scenario)

Anyway, field crumpets with the comp. sci. peeps (and Meghan from Spanish). The blue team consists of myself, Martin, Meghan, 'John', and someone other guy whose name I can't remember. John was foreign and when he introduced himself to those of us who don't know him we weren't sure what he said. He then said to just call him John. How about you just say your name so we can hear you and we'll call you that? Across the field we faced the red team: Tommy, Tristan, Molly(?), and Dalibor, who, being something of a Field Crumpet ringer, was relegated to the team with fewer players.

Despite being played with plastic bats and a child's Sponge Bob rubber ball, FCs is actually a fairly fast paced game. Or at least it is when Tommy, Martin, and I are playing. We (maybe just me) may have brought a little more competitive spirit to the game than was expected by the geek squad we were playing with. This resulted in me finding myself on the ground after making some diving lunge for the ball fairly often, as well as a healthy number of collisions. My face in particular had 2 very physical moments. The first was a brief but direct introduction to the end of Dolibor's bat (to be fair my face was very close to the ball at the time) and the second was a chance meeting with Tommy's shoulder. I really wish this latter one had been filmed since it resulted in my recoiling backwards and falling to the ground. My only regret of the afternoon was my difficulty in scoring on Dolibor. Three things make me feel better about this: 1. he's European and obviously knows his way around a soccer goal too, 2. I did get a few past him (though only on the side of the field that was easier to score on), and 3. it turns out the red team was cheating by leaving him in the goal for so long.

Unfortunately the 3rd, and tie breaking, game of the afternoon was cut short due to a deflated crumpet that had vaulting itself onto a fence post. Which reminds me of a great line from In To The Wild.

more at twiigs.com...

Barnebey Bros. Inc., "We'll build you a barbecue or your money back."

The Barnebey brothers entered the masonry business today. Luckily no one from the Bricklayer's Union happened by, otherwise the parents would have been in hot water for employing non-union labor. And then all of their friends wouldn't like them. This is just the beginnings of the wood-fired barbecue we are constructing in our parents' side yard. The final plans call for a 3 foot high brick base, filled with sand and stone (for heat retention), a 4' x 3' stone barbecue with both rotisserie spit and grill attachments, and, at some later date, a wood-fired oven constructed under the light of a waxing moon.

We had a slightly inauspicious beginning. While Evan and I assembled the bricks, Taylor and our father measured out the area. After about 30 minutes the bricks were ready to be laid, the design team however was still struggling to mark off a rectangular area. For some reason they always ended up with a trapezoid instead. Once this was remedied there was then some debate about the the consistency of our mortar. Evan was briefly allowed to air his opinions on the subject. They were then promptly ignored. With a super-majority vote on the mortar, the bricking began. The rain stopped us at 3:00, at which point we retired to the kitchen for Yuenglings. Tomorrow the work continues.

Out of Time™

This morning I finally made it through the above issue of Time Magazine, dated Feb. 5th, 2007. This marks the end of my almost 4 month backlog of Times. Over the last several weeks I've been slowly working my way out of the Time sink that I had gotten myself into. Today I'm proud to say that my self-enforced semi-weekly time alottment per magazine has paid off. Of course the new Time just showed up today. And I haven't read that yet. But I'm pretty sure that it doesn't count as backlog until it's at least a week old.

On another note, the word of the day is:

Inveigle: 1. To win over by coaxing, flattery, or artful talk. 2. To obtain by cajolery. Etym. - From Old French aveugler - to blind, from Vulgar Latin aboculum - away from, without + eye

Midwestern Hip Hop

Thursday night found us at the Union Terrace. It was a warm night in the Midwest and a large crowd was gathered on the shores of Lake Mendota to enjoy the night's entertainment, and drink the beer. The event, part of Madison's "Hip Hop as a Movement Week", might not seem to be a big draw in a city that is less that 6% African-American and held at a university that is half that. This is where the Jews and the Lesbians come in though. Both demographics were out in full force, to a surprising degree. I think it's pretty reasonable to say that few people get to enjoy the funkaliscious stylings of The Coup in such an environment. I'm not going to claim that I was honored, that would be a lie, but I did appreciate that fact on an intellectual level. I also appreciated Coup members Boots Riley, for his impressive 'fro/mutton chops mien, and DJ Pam the Funkstress, for her energy and verve. The point of all of this? The Coup, really good. With or without Lesbos. A few choice tracks: Ride the Fence, Laugh/Love/Fuck, My Favorite Mutiny, and of course Baby Let's Have a Baby Before Bush Do Somethin Crazy.

Black Snake Bemoaned

Last night while sitting in a theatre watching Black Snake Moan I was thinking about a few things. Long time readers may have noticed that I tend to make lists when I blog, I had similar tendencies in .plans.

1. The Flag Code. A shot of Old Glory on J.T.'s left shoulder got this one going. David, having earlier ID-ed Justin upon sight of the tattoo on said left shoulder, was suspicious of its stars-forward placement. Fairly certain this was indeed the correct positioning, I needed an explanation why. So I mulled. Mulling is a tricky process. If done with the wrong ingredients or without proper supervision it can go horribly wrong. This was not one of those cases. My conclusion, flags on moving vehicles (or persons) should always be blue first, as if blown by the wind, was confirmed here.

2. Later in the movie I began to wonder why we were even here. I had satisfied myself that there was no controversy regarding the flag, it had been at least 20 minutes since I had seen Christina Ricci's knockers, the plot was slowing, and I was getting bored. After a rowdy scene at the local juke joint my mind wondered to dancing. Inspired by the sweat filled, alcoholic, frenzy of jive-goodness on the screen, I began recalling my Top 10 dance moments. The following should be viewed as a stream of consciousness listing rather than a ranking:

i. A BSU party at Rochester attended with Lounsberry in the winter of 2001. Although I did not attend a large number of BSU parties while at Rochester, the ones I did go to were always quite enjoyable. This one stands out because of the critical mass that was reached early in the night, the unusually high ratio of hot chicks with big hair, and the realization at one point in the evening that a circle had formed spontaneously around Sarah and I and most of the party was watching us dance. Hot.

ii. Late fall of 2006, somewhere south of Regent St., Madison, WI. This was a WI crew event, meaning it involved a bunch of girls who were younger than me, but didn't know it. The house was quite literally packed with people, there was a lot of dancing, which induced an extreme amount of sweating among all involved. Girls' tops were transparent (or missing), guys' shirts were off. A freshman madeout with me. Then I lost my jacket.

iii. August 2005. Porto, Portugal. At a club on the edge of the city, Northern Portugal's young and attractive came to party. The Barnebey Boys, Lounsberry, and one Nerdess followed them. Unfortunately what happens in Portugal stays in Portugal. I will say this, similar to (ii) above, my shirt came off and I was thoroughly sweat through.

iv. December 2006. Victor's Tavern, Germantown, Philadelphia. Victor's Tavern is the local watering hole in the neighborhood of the Barnebey Homestead. Surprisingly, it had not been frequented until Thanksgiving of this year. This is a point that all of us have struggled to explain satisfactorily, without positive results. On this occasion, as is known to happen at Victor's, there was a full spread of home cooked soul food. Fried chicken, greens, pasta salad, mac & cheese, pasta salad; the works. It should be noted that at this point, as was common in our early years, the Barnebey Boys' rosy skin tone was not to be seen on another face in the place. This was probably true for a radius of several miles actually. Nostalgia always induces good times. Soon the dancing started, and while fairly tame as compared to many of the other events listed here, I, as the dancing white boy, was a hot commodity.

v. June 1999. Marlo Fiovanti's graduation party, South Philly. As one of the last in a week full of high school graduation parties, Marlo's was well anticipated and attended. This was The Class of 1999's last hurrah before graduation and the summer that followed. The dancing lived up to expectations. I am fairly certain that this party also introduced the world to Whitney's signature move, setting the stage for all future moments when I would end up laying on my back in the middle of the dance floor.

vi. Halloween 1999. Chambers 410, Univ. of Rochester. The crew halloween party. The memories of this are sketchy but I do remember dancing alot, and with the girl formerly known as Amanda. This was slightly awkward since I was dressed as a woman. More awkward was Vlad dressed as a woman in his girlfriend's high heels and Dunham dressed as a woman with jolly ranchers for nipples. Ezti was also dressed as a bee which was pretty awesome at the time.

vii. December 2001. Beirut, Lebanon. After spending the previous 4 months in Egypt, Beirut seemed like the a really really good looking version of Gomorrah. Realistically the dancing was restrained at best, with plenty of room for at least 3 Holy Ghosts. In our hijab distorted minds though this was a whore house. A beautiful, dancing whore house. Oh, and it was in an old bomb shelter too.

viii. May 1998. Florence, Italy. During my junior year in high school we took a school trip to Italy. In Florence we stayed with host families who had kids our age. On a Saturday night they took us out to the Discotheque on the back of their Vespas. Overloaded with hot Italian chicks, and me only 16, this was obviously a really good time. This was also my first introduction to the European white pant. One of the the girls hosting a friend of mine was wearing them that night, along with 95% of the other girls there who weren't in hot pants or mini skirts. She was hot, we danced. And the white pant has forever held me in its sway.

ix. July 1999. The Left Bank, Paris. In a basement jazz club somewhere in the Latin Quarter 6 Americans met the French.

x. October 2000. Kendrick 320, Univ. of Rochester. This was the first of several cage parties held that year. The party was very well attended and the 'cages' were put to good use. Their novelty encouraged experimentation on the dance floor as well. It was a good party. At its conclusion, Vince was passed out on the dance floor, arms splayed as if on a cross, and Dunham had to be dragged out of the suite.

Don't go see this movie.

Vag on Wheels

Saturday night the roller derby was in town. And we were at the roller derby, surrounded by an eclectic mix of lesbians, hula hoop artisans, neon lights, a surprising number of cougars, a gorilla, and one almost naked fat man. I don't know how many people reading this have been to a roller derby, but it's quite an interesting event. Perhaps most interesting was the mob of people waiting to get into the arena an hour before the thing was supposed to start. I, as has become my habit of late, was not wearing a winter jacket, despite the temperature being in the teens.

Ostensibly, the action of roller derby itself consists of two teams of 5 women each circling a small flat track roller rink trying to get pasteach other. The real action comes when girls with names like "The Dutch Oven", "OctoPushy (#007)", "Harlot Brönte", "Backdoris", and "STank Girl the Stench Wench" stop being polite and start getting real. In addition to the women on women action during the bouts, there was halftime entertainment. First, hulahoopers (in from Chicago) did amazing things with their hoops. Then, in the mascot olympics, Snack (a fat pseudo-naked man in leather hot pants and chains) and Kid Electric (an 8 year old with ADHD, a pitchfork, and glo -sticks), among others, went head to head on the skate floor. Whoever thought a hyper 8 year old clothed in a green smock and tights would be a good mascot for a roller derby team was a genious.

Later, while running home from a bar, I came across the gayest fight I have ever seen. As I crossed Gilman a crowd poured out of the Blue Velvet to watch two guys yell and slap at each other. The fights at the roller derby were much more hard core than that.

Heavy, wet snow.

There is nothing better to build a snowball than heavy wet snow. But we'll come back to that. First we need to talk about the Text Message War currently being waged in WI.

It started last Wednesday night. The 21st of February. Mine was the first offensive move, a discrete text from a friend's phone sent without their knowledge. The content simple, 'I like you', the genius laid in the recipient. The blow back came Saturday during the send off of Rosemblat. A text came in from joanna reminiscing about my walk (and other, more personal things). Soon she was reading that I LIKE HER ALOT. Unfortunately for my adversary, that's actually true. And yes, in that way. What I was not counting on was an "I like you" texted several hours later, to a much more vulnerable target. It has yet to be determined what the long term effects of this latest "I like you" will be.

But back to the snow, and the snowballs. Close your eyes and imagine with me... It's 2:15 AM on a Sunday in Madison, WI. The city is in the middle of a blizzard. The roads are non-functional, the buses are not running, and it's bar time. The influx of warm, intoxicated bodies onto the street quickly results in an all out snowball fight between the two sides of State St. And what a fight it was. Now, I've been a part of some fairly large snow offensives in my time; Germantown is a tough neighborhood, not to mention the intensity of Scoggins' Ball, but this was of a new order. The perfect conditions of heavy, wet snow combined with a surfeit of enthusiastic participants produced the best snowball fight I can remember. I lost feeling in my hands on at least 3 occasions, nailed numerous targets (plus a bunch of defenseless girls), and took out 1 street light. That's a good Saturday night.