i killed the biggest cockroach on the planet, too
June 27, 2003, 10:12 pm

So what's been going on with me, eh?

Okay, the lowdown:

Last Wednesday, I went to Sputnik Cafe with the lovely and always good times fiestada. We enjoyed a delish dinner, we reminisced about memories past, and we decided that we would go through the waxing together. We also have a sort-of Book Club for two where we maybe discuss two sentences worth of book talk, but exchange shopping bags full of books monthly. We've been doing it now for about two or three years and it never ceases to amaze me how many new books we find between the two of us. Delightful.

So, uh, LAST FRIDAY:

There's a legend in GB by the name H.Y.T.O. H.Y.T.O. (heretofore known as "Hy") has been teaching Accounting for roughly 34 years, and also owns a very successful business in Baltimore. Although he was never my teacher, he knew my name and would always call out "Hello" to me in the hallway; now, he affectionately calls me "BOO!" all the time, referring to the first syllable of my last name.

Hy is a millionaire. No, really, he is legitimately a millionaire who needs his teaching paycheck less than a fish needs a bicycle; nonetheless, he LOVES teaching, and comes back for more every year. He is also known for throwing a huge bash every year in his "purple house" in Reisterstown; in addition to the purple house (yes, it really is purple), he owns the Grateful Dead bus that my friends and I took to Preakness this year (I promised you a picture, and I'll be sure to post it when the scanner is fixed).

Last year, if you'll remember, I spent the evening alternately sucking down beer and orange-flavored vodka, then trying to drink nasty water from the cooler. I also broke a chair and passed out on the bus, only to wake up fifteen minutes later, announce to everyone making out or sleeping on the bus that I had to pee, and then ceremoniously dropping my drawers right outside the windows and relieving myself very audibly to the delight of the listening audience. Not only did I astound them with the tinkling sounds of my urine, but then I managed to entertain the crowd for another 45 minutes by retching up everything I had either been drinking or eating for the previous 43 hours. GOOD TIMES that night; HELL the next day. Oof.

Determined to not be the H.Y.T.O.Fest whipping girl this year, I resolved to ONLY drink beer and in moderation; Josh was to be my look-out for any ridiculous or deviant behavior.

Sorry to say, dear readers, that I did not disappoint in quickly becoming H.Y.T.O.Fest Legend for 2003.

It started innocently enough, oh sure. It always does. Doug offered me a beer. Doug offered me lots of beer as we were in the greenhouse trying to escape the impending rain. I drank heartily, talking up some of the Booster Club parents and schmoozing with some teacher buds I hadn't seen in a while.

Then there was more beer (DeGroan's...only Baltimore's Finest for us, Hon!) and talk of Shotgunning.

Now, I'm the last person to turn down a challenge. Brettski eyed me from a line-up of my male teacher friends and said, "You know guys, Ms. Biensoul needs to show her stuff here. C'mon Jess, grab a brew and Josh'll key it up for you." KP (he of the extremely hot math teacher fame and a terrific dancer, btw) slapped my hand with a beer and waited patiently as Josh yielded a hole in the bottom of the can.

On KP's command, we all went. The Ka-Gush of the tab and the subsequent pouring of Miller Lite down my throat was easy enough, until KP lost control of his and gave up, causing me to laugh and dowsing everyone within a ten feet radius with suds. KP took it in stride though, and crouched in front of me, pretending to suck the beer from my shirt. Several of my girlfriends gave me the evil eye (jealousy prevails!).

The cafeteria ladies watching me were appalled.

The afternoon continued in a beer shot-gunning vein, and then CNET arrived. He brought our cd (oh, more on the cd we've birthed together later) and made everyone listen to it.

Now, I don't pretend for a second to make good judgements while drinking, but I can tell usually when I'm about to do something catastrophic or incredibly stupid, and I go ahead and do it anyway. To wit, Brettski started employing the people around him into helping with the keg stands. "Jess, come on and do a keg stand," he cried, as I watched Becky come down from hers.

"Nah, well, what the hell, but hold me and don't drop me! I've never done this befor--" I didn't get to finish my sentence as three pairs of arms lifted my legs. Intent on keeping my arms straight, I grasped the top of the keg for all I was worth. Amazingly, my handlers were able to lift my body to a completely vertical position, a veritable Olympic handstand...unfortunately for everyone involved, I'm a bit more top heavy than anyone realized. As fast as I had gone up, I was flipping over the keg as if it were a horse in a vaulting competition. The last thing I saw before I felt my legs start to swing over my head was Josh with the tap in his hands, ready to put it in my mouth. The next thing I saw was the pane glass of the greenhouse roof and one lone arm of Josh's extending from under my torso. My handlers KP, Becky, and Brettski lay in a crumpled heap on the other side of the showplace area.

Thank God I was so drunk when it happened, otherwise I might have really been hurt!

With talk of my Keg Stand still circulating the greenhouse, nature called, and I decided to use the ladies' room, perched in the top floor of house which shares room with his office atop a very steep and foreboding set of outdoor stairs.

After breaking the seal, I heard the unmistakable beat of Jurassic 5's "The Thin Line" blaring from the cd player, and, in my haste to sing the Nelly Furtado part to CNET's rap, ran down the stairs in my flipflops, silently saying a prayer to not fall face down them. My prayers answered, I grew cocky of my invincibility and SPRINTED (get a good picture of this: fat, REALLY DRUNK, flip-flopped chick lumbering towards a greenhouse across a dirt/grass/gravel parking lot with the grace of a former soccer player) towards the greenhouse. I was making decent time in my 50 yd. dash, too, and almost made it, until my flip flop caught on a rock and I sprawled out head first in a baseball player's slide; no umpire called "SAFE!" but knowing full well everyone had just seen my colossal fumble, I flipped over and just laid there, listening for laughter.

No one saw! It was dark and I was outside the greenhouse; no one saw me and I got up, ready to drink another beer and pretend nothing had happened.

Well, better said than done because a) in the actual motion of sliding headfirst in a bunch of rocks, I managed to get myself fucked up quite well, the limp I had acquired being the least visible of my injuries, b) a thin line of blood was streaming down my arm from my elbow, c) the entire LEFT side of my GB Athletics polo (a really nice one, too) was COMPLETELY covered in the telltale signs of combination grass stain and gravel dust from top to navel (apparently, my left boob absorbed the brunt of the upper-impact; showering the next day, I found a HUGE bruise waiting underneath my bra...and which doesn't fully explain section d); and d) my adorable flare jeans that I love suffered a great injury in the form of a HUGE FREAKING HOLE in the knee of my RIGHT leg (are you following? Left boob; Right knee...I have NO idea how that happened) which revealed a nasty full-knee cut, the likes of which have not graced my knees since elementary school and were usually the result of my tomboy ways climbing trees, jumping off swings, and playing Ghostbusters on the playground. Needless to say, everyone had ANOTHER hearty laugh at my expense.

The scabs are healing slowly. Thanks for asking.

Hy shouted, "Boo! What the hell happened?" After my explanation (met with more raucous laughter and much head-shaking from the crowd), Hy said, "Send me the bill for your jeans."

I spent the rest of the evening chatting up CNET and dancing in the gravel with KP...mmmmmmm. It was far too cold (damn you, Maryland weather!) for a crash on the bus this year, so I opted for a place on the office floor next to Brettski, then for the warmth of the front seat of Josh's Gulf (much more comfy, believe or not).

It was a blast. The party was an intimate affair, only having 24 teachers at its peak; the 12 stalwarts ending up kicking TWO kegs, so you can imagine our headaches the next day.

The next day, Saturday, was the full faculty Luau at a trashy Pasadena bar; it passed without incident but with a wicked hangover by a chunk of teachers involved in the reindeer games from the night before. The heavens opened to torrential downpours and kind of left the day subdued. Exhausted, I vowed to pass out on Saturday night but fully embrace Sunday as Potter Reading Day. I will, at a later time, revisit my predictions from January about the fifth book and count which ones were right and which were silly, but I want to give some people a bit of time to finish up the book, you know? (And, I'm lazy.)

Tuesday night I had the wonderful pleasure of dining with the incomparable Mr. SlowMotionRiot. If you're not reading his diary, you really are missing out on something special. I am always blown away by his candor, his talent, and his just plain amazingness (yes, I know it's not a word, but damn, he's smooth). We went to Sputnik (again!) and had a fantastic evening of conversation.

He's a little more liberal-minded than I am, but he's not pushy or pigheaded about his views. He just wants people to know where he's coming from, and appreciate his point of view. He's also the most down-to-earth person I've ever met; he has NO EGO, which makes us a dynamic dinner date because I'm ALL EGO. My mother LOVES him because he can sing Johnny Mathis songs really, really well.

I took him driving through Bay Ridge, and we enjoyed the punk emanating from his mix tapes and called the evening a success on all fronts.

Wednesday was New York City with Mom, the delectable Spanklin's territory. Mom and I saw Billy Joel's Movin' Out. Wow. Words cannot do it justice because it transcended anything I've seen in a long time as far as vision, concept, and execution are concerned. I've been a Billy Joel fan since I could walk, and to see his songs form a somewhat cohesive story with the aid of phenomenal dancing was incredible to say the least. My favorite moments were "She's Got A Way", "Goodnight Saigon", and "Captain Jack" by far. If you get the chance, do make the trip; you'll be mesmerized.

I spent all day Thursday cleaning my classroom, and I STILL have to go back to school to finish work. Ack.

Wow. If you've read this far, perhaps you get a cookie. More later, BEER PONG TOURNAMENT AT MY HOUSE ON SATURDAY and WAX STORY to follow.