It's a bird! It's a plane! It's SuperOreo!
This is without a doubt one of the most horrifying pictures my friends have ever taken. Worse even than the rubber water balloon slingshot turned G-string picture or the surveyor's tape photo.
Warning: Not an office-safe photo, nor suitable for viewing by children. Possibly not even suitable for viewing by adults.
Pardon me while I go scrape the image from my brain and gouge out my eyeballs
One Friday night up at RATT, R and M have disappeared from the table. Later they are spotted a couple tables over schmoozing on two members of the female persuasion. Stealthily, we observe (well, as stealthily as any table of drunk people can observe) the evil seductresses sinking their claws deeper and deeper into our inebriated friends. Finally, B decides to act. We must save our friends from the clutches of the evil temptresses. Our friends have been bewitched. They think they want to stay with the females, and keep schmoozing them.
B and I stumble over to the table to see if R and M can be saved. We're almost too late. We need to resort to stronger tactics.
B says to M: M, your wife just called. You have to go home because Stephanie's sick.
The sudden breaking of the spell sends a reverberating shock through everyone at the table.
Evil temptress 2 turns to R and says: So, are you married too?
We return to our table with R and M, still in shock, but rescued.
Another successful mission by the Paladins of the Penis.
It all begain in 1994. I was tired of living on my own in a dingy little basement apartment. Geezus was looking to move out of his parents' house and so was Oreo. So it was just natural for the three of us to get an apartment together. So we began the hunt for a reasonably priced 3 bedroom apartment near the campus area...two mutually exclusive criteria.
After much looking and checking out many apartments, we finally found one, a good sized 3 bedroom 2nd floor apartment for about $650/month. It was a fantastic location. A nice 15 minute walk to campus, and staggering distance to Whyte Ave and the Purple Onion. Close to the Farmer's Market, and we had the Fringe Festival practically in our back yard.
The MERK Chapter House, as our apartment later became known, quickly turned into the launching point and crash pad for many nights of carousing. It was a gathering place for Hooligans all over.
The collection of empty Coke cans in the corner became legendary, and proceeds from the returns funded purchases of even more cases of Coke, plus the occasional bottle of Crown (to mix with the Coke).
Eventually, the Chapter House became decorated with the spoils of our drunken wanderings. A life sized cardboard cutout of Darth Vader (obtained as a surprise after purchasing the Star Wars VHS boxed set) sat in one corner along with my bike and indoor trainer. Nobody remembers (or is willing to admit) where the street sign hanging on the wall came from. Empty bottles of Crown Royal lining the tops of the kitchen cabinets. The sandwich board sign from the Black Dog mysteriously appeared in our living room one day.
Life at the Chapter House was good, life was fun and care free and became the source of many memories. Walking into the living room to discover a naked girl prancing about. Coming home from school to discover a happening party and no signs of the roomies around. Staggering home from nights spent at the Purple Onion. Pizzas at the Funky Pickle. Drunken Hooligans scattered about the living room from the previous night. Black Creature spewing all over Oreo's futon. Geezus making a ritual sacrifice to Hoo over the porcelain altar. And who could forget the massive clumps of hair from Geezus' brush scattered about the bathroom looking like dead rodents.
Sadly, after about two years, the Chapter House was forced to close. I got a job in Detroit, and Oreo moved to North Carolina to work.
Those were fun days living in that apartment.
Congratulations to my fellow Hooligans on their upcoming arrival and as yet unplanned wedding. All my best wishes to the round headed kid and his little blonde haired girl :). I'm looking forward to the festivities!
From Hooligan.net:
Someone is pregnant!
Ok you may have heard the rumours, you may not have, either way it is still big news. Someone who shall remain nameless for the time being (not because I want to protect the innocent, nor the guilty. But because it is fun to make you guess) is now preggers. I will only reveal that this is an old dear friend of the hooligans, whom we have known for many many years and who dates back to the gleee club days. I think we all wish this leggy blonde all the best, and hope that the father of her baby will do the honourable thing and marry her. Granted a promise has been made to that effect but nothing more has been forthcoming. Why is he waiting to make plans? only hoo knows.
It started off to be a fine house boating trip. Just another pilgrimage to the house boating mecca of the Shuswap lakes. Only this time, there were womenfolk accompanying us. Food, beer and liquor were available in abundance. With the women aboard, the food was of a somewhat higher quality than the ramen and dry and canned soups of previous trips. Canned and dry goods just wouldn't do. They wanted something fancier and more elegant. Fresh meat was stocked in the fridge. And there was also shrimp among the provisions. Dinner the first few nights was good, much better than most were normally used to house boating.
The next couple of days were spent floating in on the water between several regular destinations. None of these destinations had facilities for disposing of garbage though. This wasn't something that we needed to deal with in the past. Trash from dry and canned goods compacts easily and doesn't take up much space. But this time, the trash was more organic. The trash was shrimp shells and meat packaging. So for two or three days, garbage bags accumulated on the back deck. The weather was warm and sunny. We floated around blissfully drunk, pointing the houseboat into the wind so the smell from the back deck wouldn't be blown into the main cabin. And then, one day, the wind stopped, or the smell of trash and shrimp shells baking in the sun became too overpowering. In any case, suddenly the trash needed to be disposed of. The stench from the trash was just to much to handle.
The map was consulted to find the nearest garbage disposal area. It was at the other end of the arm and would take most of a day to get there. Too late to head off for it, it would have to wait until morning. So another night was spent partying on the beach and getting loaded. There was little happening near our houseboat though. The smell was just too bad. All the action was happening up the beach.
The next morning we traveled to the Narrows and disposed of our trash. But the smell lingered. Not nearly as bad as before, but it was still there.
Shrimp was never brought on a houseboat trip again.
There we were, enjoying another sunny day on the water floating around on the houseboat. Somebody produced a bag of balloons from somewhere, which we proceeded to blow up. I think they might have been water balloons or something. So there are a few balloons floating around the inside cabin. We start off to our next destination, and then Joe starts throwing balloons out the window.
"Joe, what the heck are you doing?!" we ask.
"I'm chumming for clowns!" came his reply.
Music can be a power trigger for memories, so when I stumbled on a copy of Moxy Fruvous' Live Noise album at the local Cat's Music, I just had to have it.
Had to have it because of 2 songs: The Drinking Song and King of Spain. Two undeniably classic Houseboating songs.
Ahh, fond memories.
Over on Slashdot there's a post about some guys testing the effects of filtering cheap vodka.
A comment on the Slashdot posting reminded me of the 'Flaming Sambuca's' that were consumed on a houseboating trip one year. The Flaming Sambuca was a simple trick. Pour some Sambuca into a shot glass and light it on fire. After a second or so put your hand on the glass. The oxygen will be burned up by the flame, and the glass gets stuck to your hand by the vacuum. Then remove the glass and suck the vapours out, then down the shot.
One of my friends, in a fit of drunken creativity, created a variant of the trick where instead of using his hand, he stuck the drink to his butt. Thus was born the "Butt-buca"! Being drunk, there was much amusement in this and the round red hickeys left on their butts.
Later, after a post-houseboating house party, he was showing off the Buttbuca. This time, the trick went tragically wrong (for him). He left it on too long, the shot glass got stuck and he couldn't get it off. All of us were rolling on the ground in pain because we were laughing so hard at him running around yelling "It's stuck! It's stuck! Get it off!"
Of course none of us wanted to get close enough to his ass to help him remove the shot glass. When he did finally get it off, there was this massively red hickey that left a mark for weeks.
On the heels of one Hooligan wedding Friday (congratulations again to the round-headed kid and his blonde-haired girl...sorry I couldn't make the festivities) comes word of another wedding allegedly coming soon. Best known for going underground and vanishing for months at a time, he's surfaced once again to let me know he's gotten himself engaged and thinking of a cruise ship wedding possibly in the spring.
Someone's going to have to go along and make sure he doesn't forget his wallet.
The Great and Holy Hoo has passed onto Haysoos the 10 Hooligan Commandments! (edited for language to keep this blog rated G).
Read them, and spread them forth so that the Words of Hoo may reach everyone!
- Thou shalt harm none, and do as thou will
- Thou shalt initially honour every person met as though they deserve respect, until they prove otherwise
- Thou shalt boink who thou pleases. If everyone is consenting, the more the merrier
- Thou shalt not kill, club, poke, stab or otherwise f*** with people who aren't f***ing with you
- Thou shalt intentionally accomplish nothing one day a week. You pick which one
- Thou shalt be willing to learn. Ignorance can be cured, stupidity is forever
- Thou shalt pet the puppies and the kitties
- Thou shalt treat all water sources as if you had to drink it
- Thou shalt not trust anyone who relies on votes for his or her job
- Thou shalt not f*** with stuff that is not yours
Beer and Captain Crunch do not a tasty breakfast make. Even when you're hung over. Especially when you're hung over. But it's a combination you can only come up with when you're hung over.
Really, really hung over.
Way back a bunch of years ago, when we were all undergrads, a lot of time was spent up at RATT. Being an eclectic collection of physicist, engineering and biologist wanna-bes, it was kind of natural for us to come up with theories during our periods of inebriation. Most of these theories made perfect sense when we were developing them at the time (lots of weird things people do while drunk make sense only to them).
I bring you a number of these scientific principles resurrected from the WayBack Machine and posted here for posterity (also because Tom has taken the wiki versions of these pages down and has never put them back up).
Joe's Drunkeness Exclusion Principle
You can only know what you're doing and where you are to a finite precision.You can know what you're doing, but you won't kow where you are
OR
You can know where you are but you won't know what you're doing
OR
On the rare occasion you do know where you are and what you're doing, you won't know how you got there.
The Opgenorth Constant was derived in order to explain why the mark you received should be a 10/10. The principles are sound when drunk, but otherwise fails all tests of sober math.
If your mark is A, and the highest possible mark is B, then A*omicron = B*omicron, where omicron is the Opgenorth Constant. Thus, your mark A=B. QED.
Geezus' theory on how your stomach acts as a bouncer for the rest of your body.
Stomach: Ok, you can come in...you too. Stay out of trouble. Whoop, tequila, nope you're outta here.
Tequila: Aww man, we won't cause any trouble. We just want to have a little fun.
Stomach: Well, ok. But just one.
Tequila: Alright! Woohoo!
Tequila starts sneaking his friends in
Tequilas: Woohoo! Bang! Bang! (guns firing)
Stomach: All right, everyone out! All of you are out of here! Even you ham & eggs. I know you didn't do anything, but you're out of here!
At this point, Stomach forcibly ejects whoever is left partying.
I had lost the original version of this during a server move, so had to resurrect it from the WayBack Machine. What was stored there was incomplete, so a few of the images are missing. And of course since I was a little bit (ok, a lot) plastered at the time, I don't recall what equations were represented by the missing images. One of these days I'll have to make something up (or else get drunk again) to fill in the missing equations.
Intoxication and Beer Consumption
A while ago, the Chronicler and the Black Creature, being a couple of math and physics minded types attempted to derive a mathematical relationship between beer consumption and intoxication. The work was never completed though, because both researchers ended up getting drunk while performing experiments to test their theories.
Let Intoxication Factor be defined as 
where φ represents the amount of beer consumed,
Beer Consumption
The function 
is a complex function representing the amount of beer consumed
where
n = number of people present
α = alcohol content of beer (vector quantity)
t = time spent in the bar
= amount of food consumed
p = probability that a certain beer with alcohol content 
is chosen
To simplify things, we make the assumption that only beer is involved. If hard alcohol is included, the equation becomes more complex. Since most beers are of similar alcohol content, and people tend to stick with a single brand of beer, we can assume that α is a constant and p = 1. This equation simplifies to
image missing
Further, if blood is donated prior to beer consumption, an additional multiplicative factor (determined empirically) of
is applied.
Intoxication Factor (IF)
Intoxication factor is a rather complicated non-linear integral-differential equation incorporating beer consumption, metabolism and the complex Hooligan Factor.
Obviously, IF will depend on φ, so we'll start with that,
Now, we must include metabolic effects, which will act to decrease the amount of alcohol,
image missing
where
m = mass of the person
E(t) = energy expenditure during drinking period
E(t) takes into account whether or not the person has been dancing, moving around or wrestling in the bar. We can simplify this by assuming that the majority of time is spent sedentary. In this case, M(t) becomes a constant factor. Incorporating this, we get
image missing
Theoretically, IF can increase without bound, because of the positive exponential dependence on alcohol consumption. But, empirically, it has been observed that after a certain time, depending on the rate and amount of alcohol consumed, a critical point is reached and a phase change occurs where a violent expulsion of the person's stomach contents takes place. This critical point is represented by a rapidly decreasing exponential that dominates at high t.
av-a-tar \av-a -t;är\ n
Skt avat;ära descent, fr. avatarati he descends, fr. ava- away + tarati he crosses over -- more at UKASE, THROUGH (1784)
1: the incarnation of a Hindu deity (as Vishnu)
2a: an incarnation in human form
2b: an embodiment (as of a concept or philosophy) usu. in a person
3: a variant phase or version of a continuing basic entity
The concept of avatars is important within the Cult Of Hoo. These avatars represent certain aspects of Hoo, who show themselves in the material world by possessing the bodies of the truly faithful. The avatars are very similar to the concept of Loa in the Vodun religion, with the faithful taken control of by another entity.
Becoming of being ridden by an avatar is a great honour for any Hooligan, and the discovery of a new avatar is a great event, often accompanied by drinking sacramental Crown Royal, blessed beer or Holy Paralyzers.
Being possessed by an avatar has nothing to do with the rank of a Hooligan. Virgin Hooligans have felt the touch of an avatar, while some Grand High Hooligans have yet to be blessed.
What follows is a list of the known Avatars Of Hoo and a description of their abilities. Avatars can possess any Hooligan they want, although some are known to have a preference for specific Hooligans.
Jacques Fondue
French Canadien explorer extraordinaire, and first to discover the Ubangi and Kokanee Warriors.
Pierre Fromage
Compatriot and fellow explorer of Jacques Fondue. After Pierre was taken by gronk monsters, he was replaced by his younger brother, Richard Fromage.
Lurch
Born in the depths of Red Robin's, Lurch is capable of uttering only one sound, a low, painful sounding groan.
Jake O'Rourke
Irish ponce of ill-repute who won't go to sleep, even when threatened with violence and familial strife. Enjoys piling luggage or whatever other heavy objects are at hand on passed out drunks.
Billy McSackiw
Scottish ponce of ill-repute. Keeper of the legendary Chicken of Bristol and known for passing out when there is still work to be done. The Legendary Chicken of Bristol is actually a very pathetic life form, legendary in its uselessness. Possessing no skeleton, it is constantly flaccid and lifeless, even with outside stimulation. It lacks the ability to go anywhere or do anything productive. Some Hooligans have speculated that the Legendary Chicken of Bristol is dead from having been choked by Billy.
Captain Apathy
Captain Apathy has amazing powers of apathy, which if he cares to concentrate enough, can be projected onto others, inducing a group-wide sense of apathy.
Swallow
An uncommon avatar which rarely manifests itself, Swallow is one of two female incarnations. Swallow is very firtatious and dum as a post. Swallow enjoys chewing gum and trying to get others taste it.
The Chronicler
Usually a relatively sober Hooligan, the Chronicler is responsible for keeping a record of the nights events in order to assist other Hooligans in reconstructing the night. A side effect of the Chronicler's efforts is that no Hooligan will ever have a successful political career.
Cabin Man
Plaything of the Hooligans. The only avatar to be granted honorary female status.
Dense Man
Although low in power, Denseman is very subtle, the originator of the Holy Ritual of Mowing Lawns. His technique involves the special ability to not be able to take a hint, no matter how broadly stated. Has been known to take over more than one Hooligan, often at the same time. Denseman's ideals are upheld by the Paladins of the Penis, a brave order of knights who protect avatars from evil promiscuous influences when the avatar's host is in a weakened physical state. Paladins of the Penis are very favoured by Denseman and so devoted to his ideals that Denseman my manifest himself in a Paladin at the behest of the Paladin without the Paladin observing the proper rituals. It is this limited human control over possession that allows the Paladins of the Penis to be so effective.
DiaperMan
A randomly roaming individual with a confused sense of having lost his wallet. He is known to wander off for extended periods of time to either watch Dr. Zhivago or search for his wallet. In place of his wallet, he now carries a faux-alligator skin purse which is filled with a non-scented, petroleum based lubricant. DiaperMan will remove a quantity of the lubricant using an appendage of his choice and offer it to you while asking the question, "Does this smell like Root Beer to you?"
The DiaperMan monnicker stems from his passion for wearing any type of absorbent undergarment. He is basically harmless, unless cornered without access to absorbent like undergarments. He will then vigorously defend himself with non-sequiturs and social impropriety.
Possibly related to Denseman, Diaperman has zero concept of personal graces when it comes to directing personal questions at his victims in any social setting. DiaperMan? was first encountered somewhere on the East Coast of the lower, continental United States of Litigious America during his intense interrogation of Unambiguously Gay M. (formerly known as Ambiguously Gay M).
Spandex Ninja
Martial artist of great renown and cunning ability to avoid Wet Willies even when asleep. Customary garb of Lycra based cycling clothing offers absolutely no camoflauge unless in a crowd of other cyclists.
The Shuswap area is populated with a variety of wildlife, some harmless and a few less so.
During the course of exploring strange new wildernesses and bars, Hooligans have stumbled onto a variety of magical artifacts. Some of these are believed to have been placed here by Hoo.
Webster's dictionary defines a cult as:
cult \'kult\ n [F & L; F culte, fr. L cultus care, adoration, fr.cultus, pp. of colere to cultivate -- more at WHEEL] (1679)
1: formal religious veneration: WORSHIP
2: a system of religious beliefs and rituals; also: its body of adherents
3: a religion regarded as unorthodox or spurious;also: its body of adherents
4: a system for the cure of disease based on dogma set for by its promulgator
5a: great devotion to a person, idea, or thing; esp.: such devotion regarded as a literary or intellectual fad
5b: a usu. small circle of persons united by devotion or allegiance to an artistic or intellectual movement or figure
Members of the Cult of Hoo (also known as Hooligans) worship the great god Hoo. We believe in many things:
The title of El Presidente is currently held by Willy Nelson as a result of a unanimous coup which overthrew Jeremy the Dancing Bear, who is now Supreme Dictator for Life in Exile (and Oberkommander das poopenpakenjaeger).
The remaining titles are awarded to Hooligans based on the number of pilgrimages (houseboat trips) made to the Shuswap Lakes. Hooligans must have a minimum of 3 houseboat trips and perform some act of sacrifice to gain the attention of Hoo in order to earn the title of Hooligan. From there, each successive trip gains the Hooligan another rank.
Hooligans can usually be identified by the distinctive and colourful (some would say ugly) Hawaiian shirts they wear whenever offering libations to Hoo. This helps make fellow Hooligans easier to identify and easier to find when inebriated or otherwise mentally incapacitated. A really good Hawaiian shirt also looks really cool under black lights found at bars. Weather permitting, the preferred footwear of Hooligans are Tevas. Tevas make for functional drinking footwear because if someone spills a drink or pukes on your foot, you don't have to spend the rest of the night walking around in wet socks and shoes.
Hooligans are also allowed to do many things, often with impunity, such as:
The preferred drink of choice for any self respecting Hooligan is Crown Royal rye (the nectar of Hoo) and Coke. Actually, any drink will do, although many Hooligans seem to have a severe reaction to tequila.
Occasionally when offering libations and sacrifices and performing rituals dedicated to Hoo, Hoo himself may show his presence by taking over a Hooligan. This is usually someone who has sacrificed and spewed much in Hoo's name.
To date, there have been several avatars identified.
The ritual that defines a Hooligan is the annual pilgrimage to the grand Lakes of Shuswap where Hooligans spend time communing with and offering libations to Hoo and attempting to reach higher levels of Hooliganism. There, Hooligan cult leaders, members and recruits spend a week on a houseboat drinking and partying in the name of Hoo. During the evenings, the word of Hoo is spread to all houseboats along the beach and to all who will listen to the doctrines of Hoo. On occasion, just passing a beach has been known to send non-believers rushing to pull up their stakes in search of another beach to dock at. The following verse describes the pilgrimage quite well.
I've been gone for a week, and I've been drunk since I left
These so-called vacations will soon be my death
I'm so sick from the drink I need home for a rest
Take me home!!
from the song "Home for a Rest" by Spirit of the West
Although relatively safe, the Lakes of Shuswap can be a dangerous place, especially for newer Hooligans unfamiliar with the Shuswapian Bestiary. Even veteran Hooligans have been known to fall victim to some of the wildlife of the area.
While on the Lakes of Shuswap, there have been reported contacts with the legendary Ubangi Warriors, fierce but primitive inhabitants of the Shuswap area. Other encounters with the indigenous population and other pilgrims sometimes result in heated combat with water balloons. Mostly, these conflicts are resolved at night with each side boasting about how much they can consume and proceeding to demonstrate. Usually the person left conscious and most drunk is declared the winner. During these battles, a number of battle cries can be heard.
The following is often used by an elite group of Hooligans known as the Glee Club (say it as fast as possible):
Here's to it, for it, to do it again
If you don't get to it,
May you be brought to it, tied to it, and made to do it until you die from it!
Real Good!
Hooligans and blackout hours go together like peanut butter and jam. Blackout hours are periods of alcohol induced amnesia. Often, blackout hours are periods during which a Hooligan has been taken over by an avatar and in these instances, anything can happen. Many famous Hooligan moments have occurred during blackout periods. They can be used as a simple method of keeping score among Hooligans. Blackout hours can also be used as alibis or excuses. After all, if you can't remember what happened or what you did, then whatever evidence there may be against you is purely circumstantial.
Oddly enough, here in Canada some guys have successfully used this defense similar to this in a court of law. The laws have been changed however, to prevent this type of defense.
There are several activities which Hooligans engage in, usually inflicted upon other Hooligans.
A group of Hooligans (quorum not required) can opt to kidnap another Hooligan if
The act of mowing lawns is one of the greatest (and most amusing) Hooligan traditions. Mowing a lawn refers to interrupting or otherwise spoiling a fellow Hooligan's attempt at hitting on a female of the species. A successful mow has no save and recovery is impossible. The degree of mow can range from a push mower to a large field mower and in the case of an exceptionally good mow, a combine tractor.
One of the most successful mows went like this (names have been changed to protect the not-so-innocent):
Ed and Fred are up at RATT, talking to a couple of girls at the next table. Ted walks up and says, "Ed, your wife just called. You have to go home because Stephanie's sick." Girl #2 looks at Fred and says, "So, are you married too?"
A fine example of a critical success on the mow with no recovery at all.
An activity related to mowing lawns, Hooligans become Paladins of the Penis in order to rescue or prevent another Hooligan from falling into the clutches of one of the females of the species. This is usually done when the Hooligan in question is drunk enough to not realize what he's getting into or whenever fellow Hooligans decide someone needs to be paladined.
Recently, several Hooligans have taken to spreading the word of Hoo to other places. On a recent trip to Las Vegas, Hooligans introduced many new alcoholic beverages to the primitive natives there. The natives were so in awe of our advanced drinking technology that Hooligans were given many free drinks as a show of gratitude. The extremely primitive conditions there though made them come back (rudimentary ATM facilities, lack of late night pizza places). Future trips are in the works though.
"Every day is bean day!" There were a number of reasons why this was so, but being drunk at the time, nobody wrote them down or can remember them anymore.
An activity of great amusement and dubious value, a wet willie involves getting a finger wet with your own saliva and sticking it into an unsuspecting Hooligan's ear.
On the houseboat, when it's hot and sunny outside, and the alcohol has been flowing all morning, you can't help but get silly. When a silly break is called, everybody gets naked and jumps off the side of the boat into the water. A great deal of fun (especially when women are involved).
Jaques Fondue writes (in a bad french Canadian accent) of discovering a new creature, the Rocky Mountain Ginch Goose.
Sacre-vert! Ah 'ave at last length located de 'Ooligans in Cybairspece! Ah 'ave jest caime fram an intrepid expeditien to de remote lend of Amorous Amazons. Eht waz vera dangairous zo ah mast refrain fram inadvairdantly enfairming yew 'ave itz lacation. Owhevair, 'ah fail det et iz mah swarn ahbligaytien az ahn envaironmahntalist prezairvaitienest to raipert de descovairy ahv ehnozair beeztiarie tahpe ehntree: Ah gave yew de: Racky Mahntain Ginch Goose! Ah discovaired eet in a mast tragick feshion. De Ginch Goose iz de wan witch hez ahn ahfinite' wit de eelastick benhd evh yer ahnderwair. Ah well elaboraite en grater dehtails an' specificks eht ah layter dete'. Noat: Der' ez somezing to beh sed fer dose Dactair Dehntists longjehns ah hused te wair!
Once, a note written by Jacques Fondue was found. The note said:
Help! We are lost, have run out of rations and are forced to live on food and water! Send supplies quickly or we are doomed!
A log entry from Jacques Fondue from a Houseboat Hooligans trip
Jacques Fondue writes: Sacre Bleu Cheese Dressing! Today is a day that will live in infancy! My trusted (formerly) crew mutinied. Those illegible bastards! How dare they challenge, my penultimate authority? My decision to accept the loss of two crew members to save the greater welfare was not met well. Initially the crew had no ejections, however, upon recovery of our windward shore party (Jade and her man Chris) the two of them injected a mutiny. The result was rather a riotous result. My stuporior skills in the marital arts were to no match for their numerous numbers. I am afeared that I was overruined. They made me the target of many a jape and jest. I was farced to injure a dowsing of libations and the most haitian crime of having an adhesive material applicated to my nethermost epidermal follicles. (Kin yew say pane, boys and girls?) Fornicatiously, I was able to confiscate them by insisting that they could not reprieve me from my bondables to the railing without appallachianing. They did not regenerate until posthumously portraying mine portrait. Having been freed, I have been cautious in reassisting mine authority. These people are a turgid lot and are temperaturemental. However, I breathe a sigh of relish that this expectoration is near collusion. My chances of surrealism are good. Until next time.
During Houseboat Hooligans 4, Lizardmann became a founding member of a new organization called DSAUG, or Don't Shoot At Us Geese. This is the speech he used in an attempt to solicit funds for the cause.
I am campaigning for the D.S.A.U.G. fund. That is the "Don't Shoot At Us Geese" fund. Your worthy contribution will go to either Safeway Travel Miles and/or ballistic vests to provide the waterfowl of today a fighting chance of tomorrow. The natural goose of leisure cannot compete in today's rapidly changing world of target acquisition systems combined with proximity fuses. Thus it is necessary that we allow our feathered friends a fair fighting chance. Your cooperation will be appreciated.
On rare occasions (being exceptionally intoxicated), Geezus has managed to commune with a being known as Dagon. Little is known about Dagon aside from a few writings made by Geezus after these 'sessions'.
This is the tale of the interesting hallucination/drunken vision/daydream I had last night at the fireside. After a long and prosperous day of many beers, vodka, ammaretto and other substances too illicit to mention, I (Jesus) was sitting staring mellowly into the fire, listening to Billy Idol tunes. Slowly I became aware that each of my hairs was tipped with a tiny bloodshot cat's eye. The irises of each eye would shift in colour across the spectrum as I moved my head back and forth. There was something mildly malevolent in the gaze of these thousands of tiny eyes. But I was not scared, because it was a nice day for a white wedding. The tiny eyes were able to communicate empathically, and were able to convince me to follow them. They took me into a very large cave which was not so much illuminated as illustrated. It was a gorgeous charcoal sketch with shadows & perspectives by MC Escher. Huge stalagmites flowed organically from the ceiling and uneven stalactites jutted from the floor (This struck me as unusual, as usually those structures are found in the opposite direction of the cave). We suddenly accelerated, the eyes leading the way. They guided me at tremendous velocities, zipping in and around the limestone columns in a feat of animation that would make George Lucas and Walt Disney pee themselves in envy. Our velocity and direction would change depending on the beat of the music, flying through narrow passages and wide caverns. Eventually we came to the center of the web-like maze of caves. There, floating in the middle of the air was a tremendously large octopus. His name was Dagon, and he had the same eyes as had taken over my hair. He writhed his tentacles in greeting, mucous dripping from his enormous arms and obviously venomous beak. Dagon spoke. "Hi Jesus," he rumbled, subsonics reverberating and vibrating my balls. "Howsit going?" he asked. "Most drunkenly excellent" I slurred. "Cool" Dagon said, and then someone stepped on my hand and I woke up.
Geezus describes a visit from Dagon during Houseboat Hooligans 5
Once again, Dagon visited last night. As Chris Whitly played, I could see him riding a pink cloud in a sunset sky. This time it was my responsibility to find him, no hair guides would be provided. Climbing (with a few minutes of rations), I found a site on the forest moon of Endor. A giant white gryphon arrived, bowing his head in respect and recognition of my exalted state of consciousness. I mounted the gryphon (Har), and he lept into the air. Trees flew by at an alarming rate, screaming around obstacles until we broke from the trees over the lake. Campfires were visible below, and quickly left behind. We headed west, attempting to gain a last look at the sun. Shadows flew across the clouds below, silver and black. Wind blew back my hair. Dagon could be seen ahead - floating and waving his tentacles. He seemed less malevolent, almost happy. CCR was playing. He was attended by his servants - several black, oily, spindly creatures. They looked like a cross between a dragonfly, naeid and a salamander. Bug eyes, long whip-like tails and extrudible mandibles. They chittered to each other as we approached. Dagon wiggled a little, and said in his booming ball-rumbling voice "Howzit goin, eh. Long time no see." I just shrugged, still wondering what he wanted. "Just chill dude, let the water drip up the spout, let it go and let it all hang out." As I awoke on the forest floor, I realized he meant this as a general philosophy of life, and one I hope I can live up to. I shook the leaves and mice out of my hair, and returned to the boat.
The recent fireworks show for the new Cooper River Bridge (aka Arthur Ravenel Jr Bridge) opening and the 4th of July fireworks show reminded me of a Hooligan fireworks incident one houseboating trip.
For Hooligans, the annual houseboating trip/pilgrimage is what Mecca is to Muslims, or Jerusalem is to Christians.
For a number of years, it was an annual ritual at the end of the summer, just before school started back up. For each of the trips someone came up with a theme for a t-shirt for everyone. Many of the shirts were based on some movie poster with some suitable Hooligan touches added in.
And so I bring to you, the Houseboat Hooligans T-Shirt Project. My t-shirt collection begins with Houseboat Hooligans 2 1/2: The Smell of Beer. For some reason I'm missing the shirt for Houseboat Hooligans 7. Either I didn't make it on that trip (unimaginable), I was too drunk to remember the trip, or I've lost the shirt.
To my fellow Hooligans, help out with the project by sending a digital photo of any Houseboat shirts you might have that you don't see here. The original photos were captured as 2288x1712 TIFF images and reduced down.
Update:Thanks to Mike who reminded me that HH7 was Houseboat Hooligans: Beerheart. I know I definitely have/had that shirt. It's just a matter of digging around and finding it now.
So apparently my undead friend Oreo has communicated with the land of the living through one of my friends to say that yes, he really is getting married this time. No idea when or where. Communicating with the dead is never very reliable after all. And then there's the matter of wallets.
It was a bright sunny afternoon with most of us lying around either up on top of the houseboat or down below in a pleasant state of drunkeness. Some of the guys were out tooling around on rented jet skis. Suddenly we were all jolted out of our drunken reverie by a loud WHAAAAMMMMM! We went over to the side to see what hit us, and there in the water was a disabled jet ski and Scott floating in the water with a large red welt on his back. Strangely enough he seemed more concerned that he couldn't get the rented jet ski started back up again and how he was going to explain it to the rental place.
Later we learned he was out on the water spinning donuts a little too close to the houseboat and spun himself into the end of the houseboat pontoon. You could even see the marks left by the bolts in the large bruise on his back. He may not have been feeling any pain at the time, but he was sure feeling it later on in the day.
On my first houseboating trip (Houseboat Hooligans 2.5), one of the guys brought Wilma along. Once we got underway, a hole was punched into Wilma and her insides pulverized with a coat hanger. Then booze was poured into her.
Wilma was a watermelon. There was much drinking from Wilma done on that trip. The usual practice with Wilma was to fill her up with enough booze to get a good buzz going and then head out visiting different boats and parties. A guy carrying a watermelon and drinking from it naturally attracts a fair bit of attention, so many people ended up sampling from Wilma and pronouncing it an excellent idea. At some point while making the rounds to different parties, Wilma would run out of booze. Sometimes instead of having to head back to the boat for a refill, the current party hosts would generously offer to refill Wilma from their stocks so everyone could continue drinking from the melon. This quickly developed into a scheme to get free booze by filling Wilma with enough booze for people to get a taste before 'running out'. People, so enamoured with drinking out of a watermelon would offer to refill Wilma with some of their booze so the party could continue uninterrupted.
This went on for about 4 days before Wilma was broken. Then everybody feasted on the booze soaked rind.
You are but the buzzing of a fly to me, for I am VIGO!!!
A battlecry commonly used by Houseboat Hooligans (paraphrased from Ghostbusters 2) to challenge other houseboat dwellers (most of whom had no idea what it meant).
It was mid-week of one of the houseboat trips. Plenty of food left, but booze was getting low and we needed to restock.
We drifted up one of the arms of the lake to hit the store at the end. Joe, piloting the other houseboat pulls up to the dock and starts driving it back and forth, back and forth. We yell at him asking "Joe! What the hell are you doing?!"
Joe yells back "I'm parallel parking!"
