As you can probably guess, Melissa (I call her Snoops) and I like to drink beer. She's my co-founder for the Tacoma Beer Society, and obviously open to having a beer no matter what time of day. Every so often, when one of us is having a really shitty day, we call the other and say:Let's do lunch today. That means Meet me at the Powerhouse and order a beer for me if you get there first.And of course, I always eventually visit the bathroom. This time I do so with camera in hand.
Something about the Powerhouse bathroom reminds me of an old college bar I used to frequent back in the day. It was in College Station, Texas, and it was called The Tap. Although, I look at the Web site now and it's been totally redone.I'm sure my friends and I personally funded the remodel with our consumption of Bud Light pitchers. I'm also sure everyone has college drinking stories, and a memory of that certain crazy friend that freaked everyone else out, but you found captivatingly hilarious.
Mine is Aimee Pee-sha-loo.
I refuse to spell her name correctly in fear that this story will become Google-able. And I'm most certain she's capable of murder. We liked her last name, as it was easy to make into other names like Aimee Picklenose, or Aimee Peeshalooser. We found it entertaining to mail her huge envelopes filled with perishables (usually chopped apples or bananas, sometimes used maxi-pads) and address it to Aimee Peesha-douche.
The grossness of the mail had no effect on her, as she would just file it. They had no garbage can. They had a huge office-like metal filing cabinet right smack dab in the middle of the living room. Any trash would be filed in the file cabinet. I think they even had each drawer as a category of trash. At parties she would visit the person's restroom and scrub her vagina with their toothbrush. Sometimes after she vomited in their toilet she would use their toothbrush to brush her teeth before she did the vagina swipe. Yet strangely, she got laid like a mofo. They guys were clueless to her immature and gross tomfoolery.
Oh, and when she sneezed, she didn't cover her mouth, she aimed it at someone.
The ashtray was the couch. It was tradition to extinguish your smokes directly onto the cushion. This ashtray couch was also a sleeper sofa. Her little friend Fug(I still to this day have no idea what his real name is) would fold up into the sleeper sofa and wait for someone to sit on the couch. You can only imagine what hilarity ensued. Fug is the same guy that convinced Aimee to help him steal a wheelchair from the hospital just for the handicap parking privileges. They actually visited a Louisiana casino boat in said wheelchair. It was on the way down the ramp to the boat that Aimee pushed him then let him go. Again, the look on people's faces as they watched him sail down out of control, hit the edge of the grass, go flying into the air, finally to be sprawled across the lawn. The funniest part to me was the little orange bike flag they had on the back of the wheelchair. It just flapped and flapped and flapped. It was going so fast down the hill you could hear it slapping against itself.
Remember, this is early 1990s, Aimee and Fug were pioneers in the Jackass movement.
So of course I can't help but reminisce about the ol'e college days at The Tap when I see the exposed brick, feel the hardwood floors, and smell the awesome burgers and brew. I have plenty of college stories that could fill a moderately-sized book, but as my Christmas gift to you I will stop here. Although, remind me to tell you about the Dixie Chicken, my two roommates Firecrotch and Churchlady, and how I got the nickname Roni.
On the other hand, buy me a beer and I'll tell you Any. Thing. You. Want.
Guaranteed.¬" Steph DeRosa
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