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Party like a Texas-Country Star

Apr 8, 2009, 10:08 am by Paul Stiverson

Stoney and the brisketI have a clear memory of the following, but should the accuracy of any of the following come into question my fellow blogger, John, can be contacted for corroboration: he was there and reliably sober.

Prelude

For those who are unaware, an event by the name of Chilifest occurred last weekend. Chilifest is a fairly large 2-day Texas-Country music festival, probably about 12 bands played, 70,000 fans watched, and each of them averaged about a 24 pack of beer. It’s a pretty big deal for this area, this year I elected to stay home and not get irreparably sunburned, and I’m certain I didn’t miss too terribly much. A fair number of local businesses try very hard to cash in on the obvious cash cow that is Chilifest, and The Hall is no exception. Each year they throw an after-party to ensnare the group of people that didn’t quite get enough excitement—or that hate their livers a little more than most. This year The Hall brought in a great act, The Doug Moreland Show. The show was outstanding, but poorly attended because about three quarters of the standard demographic for the hall had collapsed from exhaustion at this point. This post is not about Chilifest, The Hall, or The Dough Moreland Show, but rather the events that unfolded after the after-party. The names have not been changed: fuck the innocent.

The Doug Moreland Show

Doug Moreland is probably one of my favorite Texas Country Acts, John, my fellow blogger, is also a fan. As you may know from reading this blog John lives in Houston, but he comes in whenever there is something cool happening, and the night in question was no exception. When he comes to town he stays with a common friend and dance partner, Mallory: an energetic, outgoing, and generally pretty fun gal, who joined us on this magical night. During Doug’s show we notice a small entourage in a nearby area, and one of us recognizes that Stoney Larue, a fairly prominent character on the Texas-Country scene, and his band are that entourage. Occasionally we would see them perk up their ears as John and Mallory would start putting on their Jitterbug routine, and we agreed that it was pretty cool that the performers were enjoying our performances.

After Doug finished up the show we resolved that it was time to go home, John went to close the bar-tab, I went to greet Doug and his band, and Mallory vanished like a fart in the wind. When John and I approach the empty table we both notice a distinct absence of Mallory and set out to find her, I find that she left her phone at the table leaving us incommunicado. I track down one of the other girls in our party and get her to check the bathrooms, no Mal is forthcoming, at this point I am a little worried. I asked the bartender, he has no idea. I decide that she must have gone out to the car, not there; at this point I realize that John is now missing too, I am very worried. The last place that hasn’t been checked is Stoney Larue’s tour bus, which is sitting in the parking lot.

The Tour Bus

I snatch open the door to the bus and poke my head in to see Mal and Stoney’s bass player, Jesse, siting on the couch chatting, they notice me and invite me in where I find John sitting on the opposite couch. At this point my phone buzzes at me with a new text message from John: “In stoney’s bus” (1:50AM). Gee, thanks for the update. I sit next to John and we start in with some mindless banter. Stoney and his band are sponsored by Shiner, so Jesse offered us each a beer which we gladly accepted. There was general coolness going on as some of Doug’s band-mates and Doug himself came and went from the bus, aslo a couple groupie-type girls came on the bus and started pouring (horribly mixed) shots. Eventually Stoney himself emerged from the bowels of the bus and joined us.

There was a disposable pan on the counter that held about half a brisket—apparently donated by a fan—that Stoney was intermittently munching on and offering to the 6 of us on the bus (it is not an exaggeration when I say this is the best 2AM brisket I have ever had). At some point Stoney inexplicably took off his shirt (I think one of the groupie-type girls asked to see his tattoos or something stereotypical like that). While getting some more brisket Stoney impales the whole thing with the knife holds it up while making a pirate noise, it was pretty hilarious, but you could tell he was doing it to please himself (he was not looking at us, but rather the darkened window which was giving a small reflection). We continued talking about nonsense for a while; Stoney disappeared and re-emerged still topless but with a guitar. Now, I am not really a fan of Stoney’s music, I like it but I’m not going to go out of my way to hear it, but when he turned down the lights on the bus and started jamming out I really enjoyed it. It doesn’t come out in his stage shows, but Stoney is fairly talented on the guitar.

The Brisket

Toward the end of Stoney’s solo jam he hits the wrong fret and everybody’s ear cringe, Jesse calls him out and the two of them start joshing with each other, Jesse takes off his shirt and they—while on all fours—start circling each other like dogs trying to sniff each others asses. The pair stand up—in the process Jesse’s pants fell down, and, not one to be outdone, Stoney loses his pants too. Stoney grabs the brisket and throws it at Jesse, hitting him solidly on the chest and falling to the ground. Jesse laughs it off and hugs Stoney, the both of them are now greased up, and Stoney picks up the brisket. I though he was going to put it back in the pan, but he has a different idea: throw it at the mirror (you can see the mirror in question in the picture at the top of the post, pre brisket stain). Stoney picks up the brisket a third time, I thought one of the other people in the room was going to get a brisket to the chest, but instead he takes a bite, tearing it like a lion. One of the groupie-type girls thought this was pretty gross considering the circumstances, but everybody else saw no problem with the consumption and Stoney held it in front of everybody (one at a time) to allow us to tear a chunk off with our faces. Shortly after partaking in the brisket, Stoney passed around the salsa (which can also be seen in the image above) for everybody to take a swig from, only Stoney, Jesse, John and I were manly enough to drink it though. Also John, then later Mallory licked the brisket spot on the mirror.

Soon after the brisket incident everybody calmed down and we parted ways at about 4AM. Waking up the next morning I realized that it was not all a dream because of the chunk of brisket that was on my glasses. I can honestly say that this night was one of the strangest and most unexpected events of my life, and walking away from it I will forever be a Stoney Larue fan.
Stoney being pensive

you're definitely doing it way wrong

Feb 27, 2009, 6:06 pm by Trey

BBBOOOOOCCCKKKK!!!!!!to kind of lighten up the mood of the blog for a change; i came across this motivational poster while i was being bored on the internet today.
it pertains in two ways:
a. you're doing it wrong
b. i like chickens

it made me giggle, thoughts?

Próspero Año

Jan 1, 2009, 9:39 pm by Lew

Happy New Year y'all. 2008 was quite a year it had big ups and downs but the ups were truly great and the downs manageable. 2009 will be guaranteed to be awesome as I get married this year. The fiancee and I enjoyed drinks and fireworks for new year's eve. We had noodles for dinner tonight as a tip of the hat to chinese new year, long new noodles long life. I took a swim in Barton Springs pool to start the new year and it was glorious. I skipped (slept through) the morning dunk most swimmers take and went after dark. There were only a couple people there, the water was crystal clear even in the darkness. I could see some large-ish fish swimming and all the plants on the bottom. There were stars out (almost as much as the east austin sky), the zilker tree was still up, and the towers were glowing across the river. I put on a pot of black-eyed peas and ate a small bowl of them when I got home. I don't know the origin of that new years tradition but as long as I remember I have had them every new years. Should be a lucky and prosperous year amiright?

Burger Tex

Oct 24, 2008, 12:42 pm by John

http://www.lonestarcorvairs.com/gallery/main.php?gi'm one of those people that loves to eat at local places. when ever i visit a new place i refuse to eat at fast food joints unless absolutely necessary. so one day, my buddy asked me if i wanted to go to a local burger joint and the obvious answer was yes.

my buddy and i roll up to "burger tex" and i looked at the parking lot and found that 2 of every 3 vehicles in the parking lot are trucks. this place must be good. as we walked inside i immediately noticed something about this place was different. all the workers are asian.

for the record i have no problem with asian people (i call them asian because i don't want to insult them by trying to guess their country of origin) and since i work for a japanese company i work with other races all the time. that being said, i found this very unusual for a texas burger joint.

all fears about these guys being able to make a good burger were doused when i saw that, not only did they cook their burgers fresh from real ground beef, but that they bake their own buns fresh each day! once i got my burger i made my way over to the buffet of toppings and realized this place also had melted cheese...this is going to be delicious.

from the first bite to the last, this had to be one of the best burgers i'd had anywhere! so if you're ever in the northwest houston area and are looking for one of the best burgers you'll ever have, look up "burger tex," it's worth it

Number 48, your order is *OUCH*

Sep 18, 2008, 11:06 am by Paul Stiverson

look at dat fukken order numberEvery time I go to Jason’s Deli—or any other establishment that gives out numbers on big sticks—I feel like thwacking the crap out of somebody with my order number stick.

The only way Jason’s could give us a better weapon (without ruining all functionality as an order number indicator) would be to make the red part razor sharp. I propose that we all get together at Jason’s Deli and take hostages with our numbers.

Oaxacan Conspiraleo

Sep 5, 2008, 2:05 pm by Lew

we bet a gentlemanI had a fascinating lunch yesterday. My coworker and I had a delicious lunch at oaxacan tamaleo. It is a oaxacan restaurant on hwy 71 west of Bastrop. They make tamales in banana leaves. The name tamaleo is a combination of tamale and leo, the name of owner of the restaurant. Anyway we have lunch there every couple weeks, the food is delicious and the place is interesting. They sell biodiesel, have a pacman machine, the occasional lion hunting dog wandering by (rip lion dog) and I learned they have awesome conspiracy theories. The younger guy in the picture believes that if barack obama becomes president that Alaska will leave the union, the government will cause a great depression and Obama will convince everyone to work for the government for less than minimum wage. The waiter from tamaleo plans on running away to mexico before this new order is established. He admits he has crazy conspiracy theories. So it was more entertaining than crazy, but still pretty crazy. We now have a bet riding on the establishment of the new order, the wager is a favor. If he wins I have to do him a favor and vice-versa. It could be anything. He said I may be in the border patrol in the new order and I would have to get him into mexico. If I when he said he would cook my thanksgiving dinner. These are just examples though. It could be anything. We have a gentleman’s agreement. So we will have to agree when the bet is over. I am pretty sure I am going to win (should Obama be elected). What should my favor be?

posts taste like internet

Aug 19, 2008, 10:19 pm by Lew

I try to enjoy the fine things in life, rather I try to enjoy things finely. Not necessarily the expensive or the rare, just the fine. I just try to enjoy things for what they are. To enjoy the essence, the spirit of a thing. Anything one does for pleasure has a spirit, the thing that is motivating you to partake. I am making a concerted effort to enjoy things purely with an undiluted spirit. With a build up like this you are surely wondering what I am getting at. Liquor and coffee, that is the subject of my musings. Liquor should taste like liquor. Not like a slurpy with booze. A cocktail is liquor with flavors, usually served very cold. The alcohol brings its own flavor and heightens the taste of the ingredients. A cocktail is an experience, a powerful and unique culinary experience. Yes culinary. Cocktails are a great way to experience flavors because many aromatics are soluble in alcohol. It wasn't until I had homemade cocktails that I experienced what a drink can be. A margarita at a tex-mex place is tasty and happiness inducing, but an experience it is not. When I had this revelation admit I started kind of looking down my nose at people who couldn't handle a real drink (by my definition). Then I realized what a hypocrite I am. I drink coffee all day, but with more milk and sugar than a snickers bar. Coffee should taste like coffee, not like candy. I learned to drink coffee at starbucks, where they make coffee flavored milk shakes. Coffee is great for getting you wired, but it is also a flavor experience to savor. I am trying to cut out the sugar and use just a touch of milk. I am enjoying it, my coffee tastes like coffee! Imagine that!

Mark’s Wedding

Aug 11, 2008, 11:20 am by Paul Stiverson

This past weekend I travelled to Dallas for Mark’s (a fellow contributor to this bloog) wedding, and boy howdy, it was a blast.

The Rehearsal Dinner

Everybody meets up at the church and we proceed to have a pretty elaborate rehearsal for the wedding… rather than just remember where we were supposed to stand we put pins in the carpet to mark our locations. The planner did a really great job at being prepared, but sometimes it is best to just step back and let the magic happen. On an interesting side-note, I got matched up with the best looking bridesmaid. One thing that struck me as kinda odd was that the bride didn’t participate in the rehearsal at all, she was there, but she just sat there in the pew. Apparently the planner wanted her to shoot from the hip on the big day. Anyway, after the rehearsal we all went to dinner at a ridiculous restaurant in Dallas (I can’t remember the name, Mark?). We get there and the first thing they do is start pouring us some pretty damn tasty wine, so far so good. The food they delivered was abso-fucking-lutely amazing, but unfortunately I was seated across the table from one of the less good looking bridesmaids (thanks Mark). Then came the gift giving part. Mark had everybody in the room leaking like a sieve with his emotionally charged descriptions of his relationship with everybody in the room (thanks Mark).

Post Rehearsal Dinner Drunkfest

After the rehearsal dinner we all retired to the hotel (which Mark’s parents were gracious enough to provide for us) and promptly got fucked up and retold some old corps stories. The fellow with whom I was sharing a room ended up getting a little too drunk though, and the night ended with him wandering around the room naked looking for his cellphone/underwear (well it really ended with me leaving the room after he started vomiting, but that isn’t as funny as the drunken nakedness).

Pre-Wedding Shenanigans

About an hour and fifteen minutes before we were supposed to be at the church (for preparations and pictures and shit) we decided to make a trip down to the amusement center which was conveniently located directly adjacent to the hotel to ride some go-carts. I have to admit that I wasn’t too keen on the plan, but I went so as not to be a wet-blanket. This was the right decision, I can’t remember the last time I had that much fun. Needless to say we were all about 15 minutes late to the church, and the groom was about 30 minutes late; no biggie.

Wedding Boringness

Once we are all there and dressed we commence the waiting around part of the day. We all sat around for at least 30 minutes waiting for the photographer to show up, and after the elderly couple with the camera and weird umbrella thing showed up we all wanted to kill them. They were easily the most irritating people within a two-mile radius.

The wedding went off without a hitch; credit should go to the thorough preparation by the wedding planner I’m sure.

Immediately after the wedding there were more pictures to be taken. If I had a crowbar I would have taken to each of those camera toting dorks with a fury that cannot be adequately described.

Reception

The reception was pretty awesome (I submit that Jim and Jamie’s was still awesomer but that is neither here nor there). At one point the DJ brought the entire wedding party out on the dance floor to do a wedding party dance, this was the definition of a poorly executed great idea. First problem, the dance floor was about two sizes too small for the number of people on it. Second problem, the song that was selected was entirely too fast (3rd gear and seventeen, but Aaron Watson). Third problem, I’m a natural showoff. Those three things equal my dance parter and me in a compromising position on the ground, goddamn I’m a loose cannon sometimes. Oh well, nobody got hurt, but it did so happen that the cameraman got the whole incident on film (thanks Mark, I expect you to edit that out (and put it on youtube or some shit)).

Those who know me best are aware that I love to waltz, this being the case I bugged the crap out of Mark (before the wedding) to make sure that the DJ played some waltzes, and then I bugged the crap out of the DJ to play some waltzes. Unfortunately only one waltz was played, and it was only for the married couples. I asked the DJ to spin another and he said, “Sure thing chief, the next song will be a waltz”. As it happened the next song was “The Chair”, by George Strait; at the time I thought, hmm not a waltz, but a good song never-the-less. I went back and bugged the DJ, “I though you were going to play a waltz”, the person behind the booth replied “‘The Chair’ is a waltz”. I was once again reaching for my crowbar. A lesson for the rest of you: when hiring a DJ bring along a boom-box and ask them to classify a few songs by the type of dance that is to be done to them, if they can’t determine what a waltz is then hire somebody else. This wasn’t a huge deal, but I didn’t get to waltz with Mandy or Mallory.

Post Reception Drunkfest

After the reception we all retired to the hotel once again, and we got drunk(er) once again; but this time we had some intelligence and we went back to the go-carts, it was slightly less fun this time because the place was a bit more crowded, but still pretty damn fun.

Sunnyvale

Jul 9, 2008, 11:22 pm by Paul Stiverson

Typically we go to dinner in downtown Mountain View, which is about a mile from the base here, but today—on a whim—we went to Sunnyvale for dinner. We had a bit of trouble finding the ‘Downtown’ area, but when we finally got there we were greeted by a freaking kick-ass street festival, they had a live Zydeco band and everything. I thought that I had somehow traveled back to East Texas until I tasted the fried fish to find that it was cod instead of catfish. It was really awesome never-the-less.

Roomate Lulz

Jul 7, 2008, 11:45 pm by Paul Stiverson

On Mondays we usually make a run to the supermarket after supper, and today was no exception. This week I happened to notice that the limes were right by the coconuts, and—like the rest of you—I immediately thought of the song and laughed. The gal who was there beside me (who happens to be Indian and had never heard the song) asked what was so funny, and I explained that just about every American would spout off that song when presented with a lime and a coconut. I proved this shortly after by showing that very combination to another intern who promptly sang the song. Anywho, we decided that it would be fun to buy and eat a coconut.

Well, we get back to the dorm and break out the coconut, puncture the top and try the milk… not too good, in fact, pretty dang bad. We decide that we should open it up and see what the coconut itself tastes like. When I cracked it open everything looked fine, we decide to taste it. HORRIBLE. At this point my roommate, Marco—remember, he is Italian—walks up and asks if he can try some; we give him fair warning that it tastes bad and he disregards the warning and tosses a bit in his mouth. A few moments of contemplation later he looks up at us, arms by his sides, shoulders kinda slumped and says, “Am I going to die?” I almost fell over the railing on the balcony I was laughing so hard.

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