u s e y o u r h a n d s

JULY 28, 2006 (Arlington Park, Illinois)

A rowdy group of Lincoln Park douchebags made mischief at Arlington Park Race Track last Thursday. Brett Miller, the ringleader, corraled his lite beer-guzzling cohorts onto the Metra to join his father, Brett Miller, Sr., at his corporate box. They did indeed crack a few cold ones on the way to the track, but as soon as the Elder Miller passed out the group’s pink wristbands, the boozing instinct kicked into high.

“Oh, my God,” said Kelly Perkins, who attended DePaul University with Brett. “I was, like, almost drunk after my first Bud Light,” she exclaimed, tottering precariously in her cork wedge heels. Then she sneered at Brittany Bensen, Brett’s friend Paul’s ex-roommate, who was actually eating a half of a sandwich — with the bread. Brittany, too, was shod in cork heels. In fact, each of the six girls in the box wore the same footwear, plunging v-neck top, and either short-shorts or a mini-skirt.

However, it was Brett who really demonstrated his passion for fashion. With his robin’s-egg-blue Brooks Brothers shorts, navy-and-white grosgrain belt, and pink Ralph Lauren Polo shirt, he attracted the attention of all the ladies in his coterie, plus ones nearby. “Check out the douchebag smoking that stank stogie,” remarked fellow Section B patron Shylo Bisnett. “Who the? What the? I just want to throw ice at him,” she said, before exiting for the train home.

However, Ms. Bisnett couldn’t shake the Trixie and Chad crew for long. In fact, they tailed her back to the train platform. And since they had time to spare, Brett and his bro, Sean, hiked a block to a liquor store. “Reinforcements!” they exclaimed as the cracked open fresh cases of Bud Light and Miller Lite for the gang. “Fuck, yeah,” said Paul, who chugged a beer while finished some bullshit story which ended in the line, “16-year-olds of the world — watch the fuck out!”

Brett’s crew split up, half in one car, half in another, settling in the upper berth right next to Ms. Bisnett. Four teen boys and a young couple heading to the evening’s Cubs game also took note of the Miller party. Especially when the girls decided to shotgun beers. Beer shotgunning involved stabbing a beer can with a car key, and drinking out the side. Beer puddled on the floor of the car and also sprayed the mild-mannered commuters below. Then Kelly started to tell a story about how one of their married friends pounced on her in a cab. Fellow Miller partier Scott Parker praised Kelly for “being cool and not, you know, telling the dude’s wife.”

While Kelly went to the bathroom, her friend Sera asked Sean for some Skoal. She took a pinch and stuck in in her lip. Ms. Bisnett waited eagerly for the 100-pound drunk girl to heave, but Sera mimed that she was a pro. Kelly returned, and was horrified by the chew. “Swallow it, bitch!” she yelled. Sera just shook her head. The rest of the train wondered how often Sera heard that comment. The teenage boys took video.

Two stops later, Ms. Bisnett pushed past the Miller party, hitting each of them in the face with her backpack. The Miller partiers continued with their plans to go to the Hangge Uppee, get wasted, and fuck each other.

My whole body feels like houligans took bats to it. My shoulder is twitching. My calves are screaming. My jaw is clenched shut because I lost my $400 bite block. My hands constantly ache. I need a massage and a vacation.

I rode home yesterday. it was hot and I was exremely thirsty. But I kept hopping on and off my bike to take photos of street art. I’ll post those later. But I got more and more thirsty. At some point, I tried to spit, which instead of landing with a plop on the street, landed in a sticky string on my thigh. Someone should make it their business to teach girls how to spit.

And scene.

Yeah, yeah, yeah bitches. You heard mama’s ass right. The middle biatch from “Full House” Stephanie Tanner a.k.a Jodie “I was so addicted to meth that my Army husband divorced my ass” Sweetin is finally hosting “Pants Off, Dance Off” on everybody’s favorite network, FUSE. It’s like MTV for the cool. Anyway, holla at me if you knew that the Sweetin had such a big ol’ rack. A rack my friends, is not what Steffy Tanner had on FH. Maybe she strapped that shit down because the SAGET tried to cop a feel a few too many times. Whatevs. Dave Coulier still is trying to hit it with chicks by flying them to Santa Barbara on his “private” plane. Fuck face.

Anyway, check the Sweetin. Or check “Banzai” on the G4 network. There was something on tonight about “guess which grannie is in porn” and how can you not like that?

OMG MOMENT: How could Heidi Klum kick off Mulan? I loved Mulan’s silly Taiwanese/British antics.

So, Brian and I stopped for coffee at Basin-Robbins/Dunkin’ Donuts a few mornings ago. And I noticed a new ice cream called “triple play” which was a sort of baseball park-ish blend of peanuts and popcorn in a caramel base. And I thought, I should post that to my mental version of del.icio.us in my head. Because that does sound quite delicious.

That very night, we trekked back to the Baskin Robbins where I had seen the flavor. It was closed. And not just closed for the night. Closed for good. Because their license had been revoked by the health department. No wonder my tummy had hurt so badly that day.

Anyway, last night, I finally found a Baskin Robbins that had Triple Play. The flavor is billed as “peanuts and pretzels load a caramel ice cream base. Best if completed unassisted.” Oh, was I excited to take a bite. Because that blend sounds awesome, right? Right?

This ice cream tastes like sweat. With sticky, hard clumps of salty crap in it. It’s like frozen, chunky sweat. Nothing about this ice cream is a good idea. BR Triple Play felt like a war crime. Vomit.