This weekend, the ruckus was decidedly brought.

Friday:

Due to a major fuck-up on my part, Miles and Sean were back in town. You see, last Saturday, at the Of Montreal show in Atlanta, I told Miles that we would be celebrating Chandler's birthday the following weekend, and that he should come down from Berry, picking up Sean at SCADA, and then make his way down to Auburn to join in the festivities.

Unfortunately, due to a scheduling conflict, the venue at which the party was to be held was unavailable. However, I didn't hear about it until Friday morning at around 2 AM. Even more unfortunate was the fact that I forgot to call Miles to tell him of said changes. So, when Miles called me at around 8 o'clock on Friday night, and I told him of the mix up he said, and I'm quoting:

"God Dammit, Rivers! Sean and I both curse your name!"

That made me chuckle.

After I got off work at around 9, and headed back to the house. Really the only notable thing about Friday night was the drinking game, or should I say "revolution," we started. A joint collaboration between Richard and myself resulted in the creation of the most intense drinking game known to man: The Drive-By Truckers Drinking Game.

Basically, you just put on a Drive-By Truckers album, preferably The Dirty South, but it really doesn't matter which one, and prepare for some potentially deadly fun. Anytime that the song mentions Alabama, kinfolk, drinking/alcohol, death, or a break-up take a shot. In our case we just took shots of beer; but there is a reason. Just check out the amount of drinking to be had right from the get-go:

"Where the Devil Don't Stay"

My Daddy played poker on a stump in the woods back in his younger days
Prohibition was the talk, but the rich folks walked to the woods where my Daddy stayed
Jugs and jars from shiners, these old boys here, they ain't miners
They came from the twenty-niners
It didn't take a hole in the ground to put the bottom in their face

Back in the thirties when the dust bowl dried
And the woods in Alabama didn't see no light
My Daddy played poker by a hard wood fire
Squeezing all his luck from a hot copper wire
Scrap like a wildcat fights till the end
Trap a wildcat and take his skin
Deal from the bottom, put the ace in the hole
One hand on the jug but you never do know

Son come running
You better come quick
This rotgut moonshine is making me sick
Your Mama called the law and they're gonna take me away
Down so far even the Devil won't stay
Where I call to the Lord with all my soul
I can hear him rattling the chains on the door
He couldn't get in I could see he tried
Through the shadows of the cage around the forty watt light

Daddy tell me another story
Tell me about the lows and the highs
Tell me how to tell the difference between what they tell me is the truth or a lie
Tell me why the ones who have so much make the ones who don't go mad
With the same skin stretched over their white bones and the same jug in their hand

My Daddy played poker on a stump in the woods back when the world was gray
Before black and white went and chose up sides and gave a little bit of both their way
The only blood that's any cleaner is the blood that's blue or greener
Without either you just get meaner and the blood you gave gives you away

That's twelve fuckin' shots just in one song. If we'd been doing that with liquor for the entire CD... well the funeral would've probably been today, or at least the visitation.

Saturday:

Saturday was a very strange day, to say the least. I had to wake up at 11 AM to go to work for the next nine hours; and after a long night of DBT Drinking Game... yeah, exactly.

Fortunately, since Howie's was pretty dead by 7, I managed to weasel my way out of the last hour or so of work.

I came home, and shortly thereafter the whole fuckin' bunch showed up. I noticed that Rollie and Conor were wearing identical Grand Buffet t-shirts. That was really cute.

Right from the start, Conor and I began a first rate poke-fest on Miles' abdomen. The whole time Conor was shouting such memorable phrases as "Wu Tang Clan ain't nothin' to fuck with!" and "Bring the ruckus!" The harassment went on for hours.

During a break in the action, I went into my room to burn some CD's for Sean. I went into my room and pulled the door to, but did not shut it. I sat down and began working on the CD's. Not two minutes later, I heard Miles, Conor, and Rollie organizing a retaliation against me. I didn't know what they were planning to do, but I had my shit straight. I got up from my seat and grabbed two plastic clothes hangers and stood next to the door.

Miles was the first fool to cross the threshold. I whacked him a good one across the back. Then I went after Conor and Rollie; mercilessly beating them with the hangers, and fragmenting both in the process.



One particularly viscous blow resulted in this welt on Conor's back. After giving the Grand Buffet brothers their due, I once again turned my attention to Buggy Wuggy. I really laid it into him. All the while, I failed to notice Conor and Rollie locking themselves in my room. I aborted the beat-down on Miles and headed back to my room. I just so happened to have my keys on me, so opening the locked door wasn't a problem. The problem was that Rollie had his foot wedged up against the door, so entry was pretty difficult. I could only manage to squeeze my head and right arm into the room. I wasted no time in ripping a license plate off the wall, and throwing it like a ninja star directly at Conor's face. Not wasting a moment, I pulled a move out of the Ric Flair handbook, and punched Rollie in the balls. Using the moment of weakness, I squeezed the rest of my body through the door, and reclaimed my turf.

Oh, but it didn't end there.

About thirty minutes later, as I was finishing up the last of the CD's, Heard something that could've only been one thing. Someone was pissing on my window. I pulled back the blinds, and there was Rollie... pissing on my window.

I quickly walked to the living room, got a mouthful of sweet tea, went outside, and spat it on him. Rollie responded in kind by sloshing his beer on me. So, I did what any rational person would do, and picked up a triangular piece of wood and began striking Rollie, and at this point, Conor, with it. Rollie sloshed more beer, and I went inside, filled up a pitcher full of water, and slung the contents back on him. Rollie was ready for me, however, and he hit me with a bag full of garbage.

I retreated inside once again, and turned on the sink. As soon as Rollie came through the door, I sprayed him with the dishwashing hose sprayer thing.

This is where the whole thing just turned into the beginning of the hottest scene in a softcore gay porn. Rollie and I were both at the sink, holding on to the dishwasher hose for dear life, and trying to spray one another with it. After Rollie ripped the shirt that I was wearing, the action completely ceased, and the affair turned into a wet stalemate.





Somehow, during the whole thing, I ended up with a busted knuckle, and a six inch laceration on the back of my neck.



Eventually, we both realized the ridiculousness of the situation, and called a ceasefire.



It was about then that Rollie and I realized that Conor was too dry, and too smiley.





We quickly knocked him down, grabbed his feet and hands, and performed, basically, a double jackknife powerbomb... twice.



Conor was okay after we put him in his place.



The kitchen was pretty much wrecked, but we got it cleaned up quickly.



Sean reminded us all who the real enemy was: the fuckin' man, and to fight the power.



I swear, man, every time I take pictures of Sean with the nighttime portrait setting they come out looking really ethereal. I like that.



Also, I found a "Panorama Assist" mode on my new camera. Thought it was worth sharing.



Bugg.

Sunday:

I woke up, ate BBQ, and did the show.

After the show, I went to Kroger.





Has anyone else seen this? It's no surprise that I've never noticed it since I've never owned a dog, but is this a new development? "Disney's Old Yeller" brand dog food?

That's fuckin' funny.