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I kept an extremely fancy funnybook log of my exploits in Kansas. Won’t you join me in enjoying them heartily?
(Incidentally – you can see the Surprise Lesbian there in the back of that photo. I hadn’t turned my head before I drew the picture, so the curly hair was just a guess.)
(Dear MBG: I don’t want to hear about where Peru is actually located. Love, Jessica.)
Super Suprise Prize for whoever guesses what this picture that Ian is drawing is of! (No Laurens allowed in this contest!)
Can’t wait to post the very exciting story of my journey to the heart of the midwest! Tonight, if I don’t get distracted. Meanwhile, here’s some of that hearty Kansas imagery to whet your appetite…
The single least kosher bagel in existence:
(That’s cheddar cheese and bacon. Actually, I guess if you really wanted to, you could top it with lobster salad, or something.)
And the cake I’m going to get Vivid Booby for his birthday this year:
New Year’s Eve Status Report is late, but I’ve been in Kansas for the past week or so, and they don’t get the internet there.
This was Ian’s idea, incidentally. We were nudie-ish.
(If you look closely, which I highly encourage, you can see the waistband of Ian’s underpants in the snow there. He’s the one on the right, who had the guts to put his head down, as well as his heinie.)
Anyway, I think two years in a row officially counts as a “tradition.” Woot!
ATTENTION all Kansans and surrounding Shenas! We will be infesting your living area from January 1st to January 5th! Much holiday-type fun will be attempted!
(Incredibly depressing celebration illustration via google’s Life photo searches – this is, literally, the single only photo they had for “Chanukah.”)
Speaking of Super Surprise Prize Contests that Isley ALWAYS WINS, anybody can guess who is featured in this photo, taken from a CURRENT page from a popular Kansas liberal arts college’s website, while using only adorable nicknames and nothing that actually comes close to referencing his real name, because he’s a total goober about not having scandelous references about himself on the intarnetz?
Art is everywhere! Even in Kansas!
Kansas is full of filthy graffiti, because Kansans are hoodlums.
Filthy fucking hippie hoodlums
These Kansan graffiti artists even got so bold as to tag the public library!
I made art in Kansas, too!
This is a monkey doing math. He was a present for a hipster.
This is Burzum. He was the Super Special Grand Prize Prize for Isley’s super special winning answer to the last super special contest, which all the rest of you continue to refuse to participate in, despite the fact that I am obviously giving out FUCKING AWESOME SUPER SPECIAL PRIZES, goddamnit.
This isn’t art, but it WAS in a Cracker Barrel, which is similar.
This is even more so not-art, but it was in a Cracker Barrel, too, and I just kind of wanted to share it.
It is NOT A TOY.
DO NOT ATTEMPT TO PLAY WITH SUPER HAPPY FUN BALL.
This computer has black lung. I am so sorry for your loss, ma’am.
Kansas has things you can eat in it! Come explore them with me, won’t you?
Let’s just go on ahead and start with the important stuff here: Burrito King. I’m not even going to make some lame “meat tubes when you’re drunk” joke or anything. Burrito King is an institution, and I, because I am an honest woman and not a traitor to my roots, will not trash-talk Burrito King. That stuff hits the spot come 2 am, and whether it might have caused or prevented vomiting on certain occasions is really none of your business, thank you very much.
The first time on this trip that I visited Burrito King, I sat next to a pretty hipster girl and three frat boys. One of the really great things about officially reaching your “late twenties” is that you can hunch there gnawing sideways on a burrito, stealing other people’s salsa verde and drooling what’s probably just beans, while the pretty hipster, still, unfortunately, in her “mid twenties,” feels enough pull of social convention to at least try to sit up straight and with her knees together. Anyway, I also had a lengua taco. It. Was. Delicious. Then again, I. Was. Drunk.
So I tried it again, just to make sure! Ian and I went one night when it was my turn to be DD. I tried this thing sober, just to be sure. And you know what? FUCKING AWESOME. Just GREAT. Like, flavorful and tender and saucy and yummy, while their chicken is dry and their beef is plain. Highly, highly recommended.
Also, there were more douchebags.
This guy was helpfully announcing his presence by opening and closing the window very loudly, drumming on the windowsill and calling out, “Hey! Hey, gracias! Hey, gracias! Amigo!” Look at that cocksuck in his stupid little shorts and his sandals. Please, please – someone out there tell me this smear’s name so that I can type it here and he can find this while googling for himself.
The next morning was supposed to be legendary KC dim sum, some big fancy party, but Ian felt, um, bad. So we skipped it and wandered over to Yello Sub at some point instead. This is how Ian felt all day:
Yello Sub is delicious and full of hippies trying to brainwash your children.
Also there’s muthafuxin Bully Wheat.
And muthafuxin El Mezcal.
Er…it was better than that looks.
I don’t even remember why Ian was rolling his eyes, but you see that mongo glass of margarita there in the foreground? The one he almost can’t see over? The one that’s obviously bigger than my camera and most American babies? We ordered “margaritas” and the waiter totally just didn’t even ask and slipped us the “ridiculously large margaritas” instead. Actually, I guess, at the time we were sort of annoyed. But perhaps they just remembered us?
Also…oh, sigh, I’m almost not even sure of whether I should really admit this or not. But so we ordered queso, right? And as the waiter set it down, just as he was turning away from it, the vibration from the thump of the bowl against the table…well…it started the, ah, ant that was on the bowl up from his hiding place. There was a giant black ant on the underside of the bowl which, just as the waiter let go of the bowl and turned his head, darted up and over the lip of the bowl, heading along the rim toward the cheese. Ian snatches out one hand to save the day! Grabs that thing under his thumb and spirits it away beneath the table. We both glance up, make eye contact, and we make a decision….
Fuck it.
We drank our ridiculously giant margaritas. And the queso was delicious.
Kansas sounds like this:
“Quantization and weak convergence structure and defect measures plugged into the evolution equation implies vanishing of defect measures implies strong convergence can then pass to limit in PDE.”
-Something Ian Told Me to Write Down While Driving from Topeka to Lawrence (like, right in the middle, incidentally, of a really long and interesting story that I was telling him about something, and which I’m sure he was totally paying lots of attention to, otherwise)
“I get really drunk whenever I go see this particular banjo player.”
-Chelsea
“That banjo is SO overpriced!!”
-Chelsea, though in a completely unrelated topic and totally non-related, SRSLY, really.
“He did say she cut her hair off like a whore….”
-girl at the next table to mine at La Parilla
“The most embarrassing thing happened while I was playing Trivial Pursuit last night…”
- MBG
“What’s that one really good Radcliffe joke?”
-MBG
“The bride goosed me!”
-Ian
“[It was] at least 1/2!”
“Maybe 3/4!”
“Three-pi-over-two!”
[Both together:] “Ohhhhh! That’s more than one!!!”
-David and Ian, being INSANELY NERDLY, and you’d think it was on purpose or just a joke but it’s NOT, it was FER SERIOUSLY SEROUS and not something that was pre-planned, RLY, it JUST HAPPENED!!!
“You know, George Washington got married when he was 26 years old, too.”
-David, to his bride Jen, who was wearing a long white sparkly dress, while David wore a fucking tuxedo, and they stood in front of 100 of their closest friends and family in a chapel in front of a pastor, like you do, you know, when you’re getting MARRIED, which happens, I guess, sometimes, and is fucking adorable.
And, er, incidentally, to, you know, everyone in general, just in case: I’d just like to say that if I ever, like, use your name? Or an identifying feature like a sparkly wedding dress? And quote you on something totally ADORABLE and PERSONAL and ROMANTIC that you don’t want everyone to know about? [Er...uh...alternatively, if I ever publish a picture of your balls or something....] I’ll be happy to take that down if you want me to. Incidentally.
The long-awaited Iman Food Blog is happening EVEN AS WE SPEAK!!!!! but for those of us who just can’t wait, here’s a little appetizer! Iman Breakfast Blog!
Gay pancakes!
Which Ian sort of accidentally dropped a bunch of coffee grounds into.
How hard do I have to try to make this the top image search result on google for “Iman?”
Yay! Iman visits! He had the Super Special Ian NYC Tourist Tourism Tour, which consists of, like, the best six statues in Central Park (including the totally epic Poland statue), the Empire State building, six of the eight places Ian saw Sex and the City filming, Washington Square Park, Natural History Museum, Times Square, the two awesomest board game shops in NYC, Bryant Park, the main Lion-y library branch, etc etc etc in 40 minutes, which kills the tourists and allows Ian to swing his giant balls while he slowly takes the long walk home and asks, “But don’t you want to see the Statue of Liberty?”
Also, we all went to the Union Square green market. There was a booth there today selling flavored teas: yummy-sounding spearmint-and-honey, yummy-sounding basil-and-mango, yummy-sounding applemint-and-maple syrup, and uh, ginger and jalapeño. Eight thousand totally imaginary dollars to whomever guesses which one Ian spent hard-earned money on.
TASTE TEST!!!!
(Actual photo of Chris’s reaction to the jalapeno tea did not come out on my camera for some reason – this was a fairly accurate reenactment, I assure you.)
Final verdict: totally awesome, dudes. Highly recommended. Try it!
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