Episode IV: The Curse of the Dog Next Door

The next page in the Adventurous Adventures of Sir Poo-a-lot comes from the recent past, lastnight as a matter of fact.

After a nice dinner on the back patio with my lovely wife, we finished our drinks (I had a Carona and my wife had a strawberry-banana margarita) and decided to open a bottle of wine and just enjoy talking and being outside on a cool, early summer's evening. I'm kind of partial to red wines, but my wife prefers white, so that's what we decided on. I selected a 2002 Columbia Crest Chardonnay.

It was a nice wine I must say. Light golden in color, mineral and pear on the nose, and on the palate: apricot, a little spice, nice balance of oak with small hints of tabacco. I'd give it 4 out of 5 tikis ;) ahh, but I digress...

After an evening of chatting, petting the dogs, and listening to exotica in the background, my wife decided that it was time for her to hit the sack. Ok, she was wasted and had to get up to go to work in the morning. However I did not! Hell, the night was young so after she went to bed, I jumped in the spa, finished the bottle of wine, and rocked out to Stan Getz, Bossa Nova. Awesome album by the way, 5 out of 5 tikis...

Around midnight I decided to head to bed. At around 3:30 am the neighbor's dog starts barking.

And doesn't stop for an hour.

This morning I felt like a got hit by a freight train. And nothing to eat breakfast-wise in the entire house, so I cooked up a couple of hot dogs. Hell yeah. Hewbrew National beef franks: breakfast of champions.

I don't know what this dog next door's problem is. I poked my head over the fence this morning to try to get a picture of the little cocksucker, but he wasn't available for comment. Anyway, my wife was all worried this morning that all of our neigbors were going to think that it was one of our dogs barking all night, and that we were the ones going to end up having a nasty note on our door. Well, thankfully no note, but I rue the day that those people and their hell hound moved in.

Never before has the following rang so true:
Fucking dog. Zero tikis for you.

Tiki Bar TV Recipe Review #1: Trader Woody's Drink

I thought I'd start with a drink from an older episode. Trader Woody's Drink is a pretty serious rum concoction for all you folks that might prefer a sweeter, more mellow cocktail. But while it was maybe a bit on the strong side, it certainly wasn't too strong. The one thing that I thought was overpowering about it though was the Amaretto. Next time I make it, I'll use 1/2 oz. of it instead of 1 oz. as per the recipe. For me, the Amaretto was just too overpowering, and tended to dominate the taste of the drink. Overall, not a bad start for our tiki drinks. I give Trader Woody's Drink a solid 3 out of 5 tikis.

New Instalment: Tiki Bar TV Recipe Reviews!

Little by little I've been building up my liquor cabinet. And if you've ever attempted to get a decent home bar going, you know that things can start to add up pretty quickly. For years, I've always had the basic ingedients that I've needed to make whatever I liked, but I never really had a killer arsonal of booze, capable of mixing anything under the sun, and ready to go at a moments notice. However, it has begun.

So, what better excuse to buy even more booze than making the cocktails seen on the greatest show in the world, Tiki Bar TV. Now, I don't have the complete and ultimate TBTV bar setup yet, but I'm getting close. I'm just missing a few of the ingredients that are a little more obscure. They will probably come last, but they are still needed for the drinks to taste right.

I am going to tell you what I think about the drinks seen on the show and give you my opinion of them. I'll recommend the drinks I think that are good, and point out the drinks that I think are so-so or bad. It has, and will take more money and "research" to reach the point of tiki bar supremacy, but hopefully something constructive will come out of it besides getting tore up. I'll rate each drink on a scale of 1 - 5 tikis, 5 tikis of course being superb. Enjoy, and I look forward to your reviews and comments as well.

So, up to this point what do you need to have in your liquor collection to match what Johnny Johnny wields in the show? See all the recipes here.

Here's a shopping list for you that I've complied of everything you will need to make the drinks yourself.

• Gold Tequila
• White Tequila
• Vodka
• Orange Vodka
• Gin
• Bourbon
• Rye
  
• Brandy
• Cherry Brandy
• Scotch
• Dark Rum
• Gold Rum
• 151 Rum
• White Rum
• Spiced Rum
• Cuban Rum or Puerto Rican Gold Rum
• Newfoundland Screech
• Southern Comfort
• Ameretto
• Chambord
• Banana Liqueur
• Melon Liqueur
• Apple Liqueur
  
• Sloe Gin
• Triple Sec
• Orange Curacao
• Champagne

• Ice
  
• Roses Lime Juice
  
• Limes
• Margarita Salt
• Ginger Ale
• Mint Sprigs
• Orange Juice
• Grapefruit Juice
• Lychee Juice
• Guava juice
• Mango Juice
• Soda Water
• Lemonade
• Pineapple Juice
• Grenadine
• Cranberry Juice
• Sour Mix
• Cherries
• Maple Syrup
• Simple Syrup
• Bananas
• Milk
• Bitters
• Coconut Cream

Episode III: My First Trip to Tijuana

In Celebration of the forthcoming holiday, Cino De Mayo….

So after boot camp, which was a big heaping helping of no-fun, you further your ass-kicking abilities by going to combat training, where you continue to hone your skills at becoming an efficient killing machine. Ok, so I never killed anyone – but I could tell you a million ways that I could kill something if I ever had to….

Well, during my short stint in Marine Combat Training was where I really had my first revelation to being out on my own and partying my ass off. For many people, this comes at a time when they are away for college and live in the dorm, or when they get their first apartment with their buddies, but not me. As a matter of fact, the combat training part of the Marines is pretty bogus as far as partying time is goes; we only got the weekends off, and even then you weren’t supposed to go anywhere too far away from base.

So one weekend my pals and I were sitting around considering what the hell to do with ourselves. I can’t remember what it is we exactly decided to do, but it must have been something semi-cool because I do remember that we found ourselves waiting for the bus to get off-base. Yeah that’s right, I said the bus. The loser cruiser, as it was so often deemed, but hell, none of us youngsters had a car with us on base so soon after getting out of boot camp. It was a real drag.

Anyway, we were sitting at the bus stop waiting for the loser cruiser to arrive when this little car slows down and pulls over to the side of the road and then started backing up towards us. It was two older marines who had obviously been in for a while. Thinking we were probably going to get harassed by these guys, I was ready to just forget the whole thing.

The passenger rolls down the window and asked, “Where you guys goin?” To which we replied, “Just going into town”.

“You guys want to go to Tijuana?” We just kind of looked at each other and shrugged.

“When you coming back?” my friend asked.

“Tonight or tomorrow,” he said. “Don’t worry, you’ll be back in time for roll call.”

“Sure we’ll go,” my buddy replied, and we jumped in the car.

Now kids, don’t try this at home. When two complete strangers roll up and ask you to go to Mexico with them, Tijuana of all places – the Mos Eisley of Mexico, don’t just hop in the car and hope for the best. Odds are you’re not getting out of it alive.

I couldn’t believe we were going to TJ. I had never been there before, and as we were driving, the two older marines told us tales of 2 for 1 Mexican beers, clubs packed with women, hookers and donkeys, and a disregard for the legal drinking age. Sounded like nirvana if you ask me, we were stoked!

After a long drive to the border, we finally arrived at our destination. We parked the car on the US side of the border and went across on foot because “It will be a lot easier than driving the car back through the border on our way back,” the two guys explained. They must have done this a few times before.

We crossed the border and were immediately bombarded by taxi cab drivers and little kids selling Chicklets, hand woven blankets, and giant ceramic sculptures of hamburgers. We weaved our way though the throng and finally made it past all of the people, sliding by all the cab drivers - skipping the cab ride to the clubs, because apparently they were easy to get to on foot. The two marines then led us to some poorly lit back streets explaining that this was the best way to get to the heart of TJ and to the clubs on Revolution Street. Aye carumba, I was just waiting for one of these guys to make a move on me, or even some crazed Mexican bandito to come jumping out from nowhere to mug us.

But we pulled though it. Through the back alleys and secret places of Tijuana and out onto the brightly lit Revolucion Street. If you’ve never been there, Revolution is quite the party. Clubs line the streets on both sides, while dance music bumps out the doors and balconies to mingle with the pounding rhythms spewed forth from neighboring nightclubs.

We proceeded past most of them and went right to Red Square, a club toward the end of the strip where social deviants hung out. Our two tour guides had explained to us that this was the cool place to go – meaning that they played cool music and not the same old club crap you hear in all the other places. Fine by me, just get me there already, I was getting thirsty.

We walked in the place, and it was pretty cool I must say. There was a communist Russian theme going on in there, you know the good ‘ol USSR, a real place for rebels such as ourselves go to hang out. As far as square footage went, it was pretty small, but it was two, maybe three stories tall inside, and there were people hanging out in balconies above the main floor moving their heads to the thundering music. I can’t remember what was playing. I think It like Nine Inch Nails or something like that. You know, music wannabe rebels listen to.

We took a table toward the back. One of my friends took a seat with me while the other fellas went up to the bar to get the beers. Some guy did a stage dive – or really it was more of a balcony dive – from one of the upper levels and smashed into a giant speaker on the way down. It was good stuff.

Well, we were just hanging out shooting the breeze, when suddenly this guy a few feet away from us gets thrown into a table and chairs Clint Eastwood style by some huge guy who looked really pissed off. The big guy must have been pretty upset, because he walked right over to that poor sucker and smashed him over the head with a chair like it was a professional wrestling match. It was awesome.

All hell started breaking loose in Red Square. Fists were flying, people were running around, the guy that got smashed over the head was bleeding, and we were still sitting at the table in disbelief with eyes as wide as a kid who had just caught his parents going at it hot and heavy.

Then one of the older marines that had brought us there came back running to the table and told us we had to get the hell out of there. And get the hell out of there we did. We collected our beers and headed for the door, never looking back. Mexican police are not known for their understanding. Unfortunately Red Square closed down some time later. I guess it had a reputation for being quite the rough joint. Red Square? Yeah, I partied there.

Tales of Apple Woe

As you guys might know, recently Costco has had some old G5s and G4 MacMinis for sale at really good prices. I saw these computers for sale a few weeks ago and decided to pass. What the hell am I going to do with another computer, especially a mac? I'm in business and I'm a gamer, PCs are the way to go for sure.

But I don't know if it's the urge to try something new, or from talking to all you mac freaks on the tiki forums, or from getting pounded by Leo Laporte and his buddies on their 10 zillion podcasts I listen to, but the other day I decided to go back to Costco and get one. Yes, a diehard windows guy decided to take the leap and buy a Mac mini. The thing came preloaded with a bunch of stuff, a keyboard, and a mouse, why the hell not give it a try and see what all the fuss is about.

So I go back to Costco. They're sold out. I go to another Costco. Sold out. I go to another one. Sold the fuck out. Damnit, how is a guy supposed to buy a mac mini for a good price, even after he finally decides to bite the bullet and just do it?! I swear the cards are stacked against me. Ahhhh well, I tried.

Episode II: Out of the Frying Pan and into the Toaster Oven

The following story is not so much a boozing adventure per se, but rather a framework for future adventures.

I grew up in a small town in the midwest, went to a private high school, and was basicly sheltered for the first part of my existance on the planet. Enter booze: Suddenly the world becomes a much more interesting place.

But the real party didn't start until after I graduated high school. I went to community college, and took some really meanigful classes like painting and golf, but found it hard to attend class most of the time because the weather was really nice that winter. So I continued to spin my wheels for a couple of years.

Now, Dave's Dad had been in the Marines during Vietnam, and was a war hero of sorts, so naturally Dave wanted to make his big career move to the Marines as well. He would always try to talk me into joining the Marines with him, but I didn't want to have anything to do with it. "Heeeeeeell no," I would say. "The last thing that I want to do was to join the military and have my ass get shot off in some foreign country for a cause I don't believe in or even care about." (Hey, that's pretty good reasoning for a punk ass kid now that I look back on it.)

But that didn't stop him from pestering me, and in a moment of weakness I agreed to go down to talk to the recruiter with him. And sign up I did. We were both going into the Marines and shipping out together! Buddies, pals, childhood friends - Oh the good times we'll have partying and kicking ass.

There was only one problem. Dave got held back from going to boot camp on the same day as me because of some administrative screw up. Great. Now I was going to boot camp by myself because my buddy, who had initailly talked me into the whole mess, had to stay back because some paper pusher didn't know his head from his ass. Dave shipped out a few weeks later, but ended up getting kicked out of the Marines anyway because he popped on the piss test. Fucker.

Oh well. More fun for me. Here's to ya Dave, cheers.

So for me, the Marines ended up being a launching platform to adventure and excitment. I've seen a lot of cool places that I probably never would have gotten to see, all for FREE, and all with a bunch of buddies that I made along the way. We're gonna visit a lot of cool places all around the world in my travels, as well as a few adventures outside of the military. Boozing adventures of course.

Episode I: The Phantom Boozing Menace

Since this blog is to record my wild boozing adventures, we better get down to it. By no means is this an attempt to sequentially go through all my adventures, but it will probably be more like a series of memoirs, kind of all heaped together with no specific order - cause frankly I'm just gonna spit 'em out as I think of them.

So if there were a place to begin, I would have to say that the best place to start is probably at the beginning and then go from there.

I was a teenager at the time. Sixteen or seventeen - I can't remember for sure, but you get the idea. Yeah yeah yeah, late bloomer right? Anyhow, I had a buddy down the street from my house whose name was Dave. I grew up with Dave ever since I was a little kid, and we were always hanging out, getting in trouble, and having a good time.

Ever since we were little, we would spend friday or saturday night at each other's houses on the weekends, giving each other's parents a week off in between the chaos of having the neigbor kids over for a sleep over. In fact Dave and his little brother, Mikey, who was my brother's best friend, were such troublemakers that after a while, my Mom would only allow one of them to sleep over at a time. Anyway, it was Dave's week to sleep over, and that is the weekend that Dave and I planned to get WASTED!

Now, both of us have had a beer or two up to this point, but niether of us had ever gotten seriously fucked up. So we came up with a plan, and Dave was able to get his hands on some booze. And boy oh boy, he did not disappoint. That night he showed up at my house with: 1) a case of Michalob Golden Draft, 2) a bottle of Bacardi 151, and 3) a bum-sized bottle of Mad Dog 20/20. All for two kids who have never really gotten drunk before.

My bedroom was in the basement, so the odds of us getting caught by my Mom were next to nil, but if we would have gotten caught, holy cats - I shiver at the thought. Mom wasn't known to be the most lenient of parents. In fact, my brother often refered to her as "Jesus's Daughter".

So we commenced to drinkin', and now that I think back, we put back quite a bit of alcohol for a couple of n00bs. Of course we didn't know our limits and ended up drinking way too much. I can't believe that we didn't get busted. We were pretty loud. Dave got sick and went home in the middle of the night, leaving me to explain to my mom in the morning that Dave must have caught the flu.

That morning I felt absolutly horrible. I had to go to work, but there was no way in hell that I was going to go. I was to hungover and dry heaving. Good times. My mom never seemed to know what the hell was going on though. She had to have smelled the booze on me, but she never said anything. Maybe she figured I learned my lesson, but I never asked her about it. Dave and I were pretty proud of having pulled off a mini party right in my basement while my Mom was upstairs, and as far as we were concerned it was mission accomplished.