The Annual Manistee Baccanal

[erynpsudoname]

So, I've returned from a weekend party in Manistee, and here I sit on my wonderful new laptop to recount tales of past glories to LiveJournal while listening (and singing along shamelessly with) to that onstage orgasm that is Rent (thank you for that oh so appropriate description, Tim) on my MP3 player that finally works ^_^ (not an iPod, a Creative Zen Touch, for those who are interested...) So, about this year's party...first, I feel the need to explain one thing...I'd be willing to bet good money that my family from Manistee arguably have the heartiest constitutions when it comes to drinking in the entire -country-. Irishmen might be able to give them a run for their money, but anyone else...forget about it. Basically, any excuse to drink will do, and since a couple of years ago, they've decided to hold an annual "family reunion" that all the various celebrations of the year get rolled into (weddings, showers, birthdays...hell, even Christmas...oh, and this year, my graduation) so everyone gets rip roaring drunk, starting on Friday night and drinking nonstop until sometime on Sunday. It's hilarious ^_^; Anywho, this year was actually fairly mild compared to previous occasions, but there were still some events worth recounting, so here goes. The weekend started when we made it to my Aunt and Uncle's house (Aunt Debbie and the infamous Uncle Bob, who always makes a point of plying my mother with Fuzzy Navels in a somewhat futile effort to get her to "loosen up" (not that she's particularly stiff, she just won't get drunk))(oh, this is also the Uncle Bob of the infamous Jell-o shots...for those of you who know the story) Anywho, got there around 10:30 Friday night, and my dad jumped in to help "da guys" roast the pig. Yes, they roast a pig every year in their custom-made pig roaster that can get up to at least 1500 degrees (I say "at least" because that's only as high as they've ever tested it...they know now that the glass starts to crack at about 900 degrees...) So, like I said, "da guys" (the funniest of which is my cousin Derek) start making the (this year, 200 lbs) porker the night before the party (which is when they first start in on the beer) and stay up all night babysitting it, giving eachother hair and backhair cuts with clippers, and listening to Sabbath. So while my dad did -that-, my mom, William, and I headed up to the house to help my Aunt Debbie with the rest of the food, which included two HUGE vats of sausage that bear a frightening resemblance to dead penis, a cheese ball (made of cream cheese, green onions, and ham...yum), and Jell-O salad...which, suffice it to say, is about as appetizing as the cheese ball (to answer your question, yes I do starve every year at these parties) So we spent that night cooking with Aunt Debbie and being crude enough to scandalize William ^_^ (I mean, c'mon, it's not like Aunt Debbie hasn't realized that we were making franks and balls that night...) Besides those jokes, probably the most entertaining part of that night was almost being hit by the truck of one of "da guys", and then seeing him get out with the open beer ^_^ Ok, Saturday...seeing as a blow by blow is getting kinda long-winded, I'll cut it down to the best part...(I'll DEFINITLY leave out the drunken kareoke) the Demo car. Yes, as in demoLITION car. Alright, this monster wouldn't even be street legal in HELL, but William, Uncle Bob and I went for a ride anyway (keep in mind that Uncle Bob had been goin' since about 11 pm...) Alright, the back tires are completely bald, the doors are bolted shut so you have to climb in over the hood and through the windshield...or at least were a windshield would theorhetically be...the bumbers are chained on, the gas tank is in the back seat, and the battery is in front of the passenger seat. I'm hoping to get pictures soon ^_^ Anyways, we went out doing donoughts in that badboy...or at least, donought...we kinda ended up in the ditch after that one...Oh, and William, my Dad, Derek, me (apparently), Uncle Danny, Aunt Missy, Uncle John, Uncle Bob, Aunt Debbie...and my mom (I think that's all anyway) have decided to start a band next year to sing LOTS of Doors and Sabbath and gods knows what else...ask William, he remembers...so Derek kept reminding Will to practice that bass...except that he plays guitar...and how Will's "gonna be the next Black Sab...Slayer...we'll call him Slasher Two..." The Derek monolouges were continued the next day with the Teredactyl impression (or lack there of) and his buddy (the one who almost ran us over) being "the lamb of God". Please be aware, its actually kinda hard to tell when he's drunk (ignoring that he usually is when I see him...)most of the time he doesn't even slur, so except for the fact that the stuff he's saying is completely fucked up, you would never be able to tell that he's drunk off his ass, which of course makes it all even better ^_^
Ok...so, I know I kinda fizzled out there at the end, but that's probably the best account of the most interesting part of this year's Manistee baccanal ^_^
*~Eryn