Not Lolla.

Alright, I didn't go to Lollapalooza last weekend.
I had work, deadlines, that kinda stuff, plus I hate crowds and I was scared of running into the guy in the picture above.

Yikes.

But just because I didn't spend a couple days in Grant Park with a few thousand sweaty weirdos doesn't mean I didn't have a swell weekend. Well, I had one swell night, and another spent in enervated recuperation. Things got a little rough.

Friday afternoon began with some good news. Two dudes, Incrediboy and Wonderbread, had recently had their internships upgraded to bigboy jobs. Celebrations were in order, and these guys were apt to throw around some cheese in lieu of their newfound careers as white-collar party animals.

To begin, we hit up our favorite midtown hot-spot (actually, more like lukewarm spot) Don & Millie's.



Here we chowed a burger and quenched our sturdy thirst with a class Don & Millie's one-two punch: the $1.49 longneck and the 99 cent margarita.



From here we headed up the road to Wonderbread's new house. All summer we have watched this house (an alleged former meth factory) get gutted and redone. Approaching the house felt kind of like the closing minutes of an episode of Extreme Home Makeover, except we were toting 30-packs of Natural Light, not our fragile hopes and dreams for our future.

One quick aside: not sure if the guy in the below picture is the host of Extreme Home Makeover, or a very deserving special little guy who just got a new playroom. Either way, I'm glad he wasn't there on Friday.



We got inside and the new digs are looking spiffy. A full rennovation job. One rooms even has carpet. Carpet, in a house where a bunch of ruggish college-types live. If you ever see carpet in a a college rental, it's gross. But this was new, and presumably clean. So, not wanting to waste an opportunity, a few of us stretched out on the new plush and enjoyed a few minutes of repose. It's the little things in life. Also, college has done strange things to my brain. So, we got about 3/4 hammered and headed downtown.



For some reason, downtown is rarely memorable while we are inside the bars. This night, there was one meager exception. We wandered into some type of odd Jersey Shore knockoff type tavern with an awkward dancefloor. This was a semi-saving grace, as me, Wonderbread and longtime associate P402 broke out our classic "rain, thunder, lightning, rainbow" dance, inspired the sausage commercial screenshot below.



Following our shutting down of the dance floor/getting kicked off the dance floor we began our weekly walk home. Once again, this passed with only a few moments engendering much consideration.

First: I don't know what got into our systems, but people were puking.

Someone puked behind a sign. Not this sign, but one similar in construction.


Someone puked inside a bush. Not behind it or on it. Inside of it, precariously perched among its various branches and boughs.



Someone puked down a storm drain. This was a feat worthy of mention because extra effort was made to get to a storm drain so vomit did not stain the sidewalke. I wanted to shout, "Keep Omaha Beautiful!"



Outside all the barfing, the only other incident worth committing to posterity is that, at one of the many intersections, while we waited for the "Walk" signal to light up (safety) we made strange eye-contact with a guy stopped at the red. In a Chrysler LeBaron convertible. With the top down. At 2:30 am. I guarantee this guy was on an adventure.



Some people just never stop partying, I guess.