Whodun the Doodee

In the spirit of Halloween and sophmoric behavior, I present: The Case of the Exorbitant Excrement.

After the Thriller competition, the four of us walked into TR's house and I headed straight to the bathroom. I noticed that the toilet lid was politely closed. For a house majority of boys, I thought Wow that's so nice. And then I lifted the lid.

Good god almighty! Who did that??

Are they hurt?

And why didn't they flush?? Wait, it's NOT flushing!!!

So I marched out to the living room intending to yell at people for giving me gag reflexes.

Halfway down the hallway, someone pulled me to the side and whispered loudly that it was left there for TR to find.

The hooplah caused the rest of the house to sit down and review the facts of the night in order to catch the culprit. TR ruled out the girls since, according to him, we wouldn't know how to turn off the toilet valve. He then proceeded to pick apart each male with reasons why they would or wouldn't be the guilty party. For 30 minutes this went on. Sharing different hypotheses, with one important question sprinkled several times throughout the investigation: "Why wasn't there any toilet paper in the toilet?"

Until finally, a decision was made based purely on gut feelings. TH had dunit. TR just knew he had and wouldn't hear of any other possibility.

We parted ways that weekend with TH still thrown into the figurative prison.

And then today. We received what might be the most important piece of evidence for the case. A drawing depicting the whereabouts of TH when the crime was committed. An alibi, if you will.

There's a pooper-non-flusher on the loose, people. Watch your commodes.

From Dirndl to Zombie...

in less than 6 hours. Ah, I love days like these. Although, if I'm completely honest with myself, that's pretty much how every day ends up: pale faced and half dead.

We piled onto the bus that would take us to the much touted "second largest oktoberfest in the nation". Hmmm... Not sure about that one. But it did have the second largest number of people chewing tobacco and wearing beer slogan t-shirts.

Can I describe how nice the day was? R and I had just come off of almost two straight weeks of rain and to walk outside into that sunshine? Divine. It was like heaven opened up to my cute dirndl dress and said, "Go on, my little bavarian child and bask in the fruits (or hops?) of the german microbreweries."

Okay. I will, I said.

But our first stop was food: brauts, potato cakes, and onion blossoms. Life was good... my cinched waist was not.

We wandered aorund the grounds, until our exhausted feet found some tables in the open air. I mean, yes we were tired. We had just spent the entire morning eating breakfast burritos, drinking blackberry "juice" and watching a marathon of It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia. Wouldn't you be?

This is me midway through a lager and conversation. If you've spent any amount of time with me on a beautiful day sipping some spirits, you know my thought process. Unfortunately, this thought process usually turns into a vocal adaptation. Here's it in a nutshell:

1. I really like hanging out with you guys
2. Isn't it beautiful out?
3. Yes, pour me a little.
4. Okay, a bit more.
5. Shouldn't we go on a trip together?
6. My parents are going to pass away someday. (This sounds like a horrible statement. But it's not intended to be. I'm only consoled when someone reminds me that 63 is the new 53.)
7. Wait, I'm going to pass away some day.
8. Are you guys going to miss me?
9. What would you say about me at the funeral?
10. Is anyone listening?
11. So back to that trip...
12. What. You don't want to go on one now? It's okay, I'm over our mortality. I promise.
13. So what have you been up-- wait. Back to me. What have I been up to? Well ... [insert 30 minutes of non-stop talking*]
14. Cackling laughter
15. Did I tell you how much I like hanging out with you?

After a few hours, I started to notice a decline in our host T. To the point where he grabbed hold of a turkey leg and pounded his phone with one digit. Next he would be dragging a woman along the ground by her hair.

Luckily we had to leave for our Thriller debut before seeing that caveman spectacle.

But I did get to see (and experience) a Big Lebowski scene with R while getting ready for Thriller. Except this time it was baby powder and not ashes.

Friends, there is absolutely one vital thing to bring along to a 12-yr old Thriller competition. Good sports of husbands. Man, they didn't complain once. They made fun of it all (and us), but never complained. Even when we asked them to do their best zombie stance.

Awesome.

This isn't the last you'll see of J & T. They're coming down for the Adventure Race next weekend. I'll probably look like a zombie in those photos as well. Need to start exercising. Stat.

*This is actually a false statement. Ever since starting this blog, I now have nothing to talk about in person (re: myself).

No, please sit down. Standing ovations embarrass us.

My friend J signed me and our husbands up to take part in a world record breaking event. With satellite locations around the world, everyone had to start the The Thriller dance at exactly the same time. www.thrilltheworld.com

Okay.

Why did the four of us bring the mean age of the Claremore, OK group up by 20 years? Oh right. Because the rest of the group was in 6th grade.

R got checked out a few times by the middle schoolers, thinking that maybe he went to the school in the next town over. Back off girls. This Ralph Macchio is mine. So what if I look like I could be his mother, lay off.

The good news of the night: I didn't have to add much powder to my hair to make it gray.

So, I'll leave you with the final product. J & I are on the left in the first and second rows. R & T are on the right in the third and fourth rows. I must warn you however that, at this point in the night, I had forgotten most of the steps... thanks to spending the previous 4 hours at the Tulsa Oktoberfest in a dirndl.

R's favorite part? The jumping high-five at the end with T.

Calculated Risk

Uh, no. Not going to walk out onto that ledge to see the waterfall, R. I mean look at it, will you. There's nothing supporting it.

Fine, go. Go look at the waterfall by yourself. I'll stand here and take photos of you while it collapses.

Don't walk out on it like you're not afraid. I know you ar- wait! Don't go all the way out to the edge, R! You're going out too far, you hear me?

Come over? Um, no. Wait, what? You'll buy me a chocolate malt later if I do? Well...

...okay, I'll just barely step onto it.

There's not a lot of weight in my big toe, is there R? Not before the chocolate malt? I heard you.

[Gasp]

How is this thing being held up?

By friggen tape???!!!

Okay, I'll take a deep breath. No, be quiet, R. I need to concentrate. One, two, and jump onto the landing.

Oh, wow. Look at that. Okay, it's not so bad. Why were you freaking out back there R?

So where's my malt?