[Hey there, kittens. Did
I tell you I’m supposedly posting these things every Thursday and Sunday?
Self-imposed deadlines might be the worst sort. Or at least the easiest to
ignore. Whoops… Anyhow, onward and upward!]
Does
everyone miss Dance Moms as much as I do? I haven’t heard Abby Lee Miller’s
rasping baritone for at least three weeks now. Since her leave of absence, I’ve
been tempted to senselessly fling insults at impressionable young girls myself.
Just for kicks. Being reduced to Glee for entertainment has been cruel and
unusual.
 |
As
some of you know, it is nearly the most magical time of the year. No, not
Chrismahanukwanzakah. That’s obvs still months away. I’m talking about
Maggotfest (AKA the biggest rugby-centric party in the greater northwest). Never
heard of Maggotfest? Simmer a minute. I’ll fill you in.
Maggotfest
is an annual rugby tournament held in Missoula, Montana. The tournament
features 36 teams (28 men’s and 8 women’s) from the U.S., Canada and usually
somewhere far, far away like France or New Zealand. Fest kicks off (literally) Thursday
afternoon and spirals wildly out of control until Sunday evening. That’s when
you find yourself exhausted, wearing some remnants of a costume, hungover and
desperate for a Mo burger. For a first-hand recount, read this: Doc the Maggot’s insider scoop.
I also recommend searching “Maggotfest, Missoula” on Youtube.
“Debauchery”
is not a strong enough term for this experience. I left my first Fest social
wearing a balloon cock ‘n balls headdress, with a beer mug in each hand and one
between my tits. Last year I gave the pre-Fest safety talk. I use the term
“safety talk” pretty loosely. Mostly I recapped my most inglorious Fest
moments, and advised the girls to avoid making the same choices. For example, napping on a stranger’s front lawn? Bad idea. Having your
designated driver take you to the wrong house because you can’t remember where
you live? Also a bad idea. I’m not going to go into much more detail because my
mom still reads these things, but I think you get the idea.
Friend
and I leave early Thursday morning. I’d like to say I’m 100% stoked on the
upcoming festivities, but I’d be lying. Because of Lefty Lopez this will be the
first of my eight consecutive Fests that I don’t play any rugby. I love a good
4-day drinking bender as much as the next girl, but the real allure of Fest for
me has always been the game. I don’t know if you guys have noticed, but
sometimes I have a hard time moderating my drinking. $5 buys you unlimited
refills of cheap beer for the entire weekend, and quite frankly I’m concerned
about my odds of actually surviving.
So
far one person has resorted to blackmail to keep me coherent, if not entirely
sober. I told her I’d rather not make any promises, but I would really like to
see her. So! Incentive.
Despite
my reservations, I’m pretty stoked to see that loveable bunch of weirdos, the
Betterside. Not to mention all of my lovely non-rugger friends who have agreed
to pace the sideline with me. The weather should be awesome, and there’s always
some sort of spectacle to keep you entertained. Experiencing Fest from an
outside perspective, I’m sure I’ll have plenty to talk about when I get back.
Or nothing at all. Sometimes what happens at Fest needs to stay at Fest.
How
about a photo montage from past Fests? Yes please.
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Happy Hoppers amateur jump rope squad! Soon to be Hungover Hoppers... 2007
That one rookie from Alaska who is having an awesome time! Little Red Riding Hood, 2008
Sometimes you have a drunk bus instead of a one-horse open sleigh. Mrs. Claus tears up the town! 2010, the year Betterside won the prestigious award "Most Honored Side"
The Far-Betterside, this is a group shot of past and present players. Our costume was Rosie the Riveter, and we were a force to be reckoned with.
Maggotfest 2012 coming soon!
Because
I’m budgeting for next weekend, I’m inordinately poor right now. Remember that
time I was trying to eat everything in my cupboards before buying groceries? That’s
still happening. Except now it’s not a challenge, just a necessity. Keep in
mind my first reaction to the thought of impending hunger is to eat every
single thing I can get my hands on. I realize how counter-intuitive this is. I apparently
don’t have the strongest survival instinct. Yesterday I finally cracked and
spent $10 on peanut butter, bread, 3 lbs of baby onions and cabbage. I’m banking on
getting to next Thursday on that. This whole process has stretched my
creative talents to the limit.
Things
I’ve learned from being dirt poor this past two weeks:
1.
There are at
least 10 different ways to combine cabbage, rice and black beans (Hint: hot
sauce makes everything better). My personal favorite so far has been
stir-frying the cabbage in a little oil with soy sauce, garlic salt and brown
sugar, throwing the beans in for the last 5-10 minutes so they get all warm and
saucy, and serving over rice. The whole mess costs about $3 to make and can
feed you for two or three meals.
2.
Freezer burn is
a myth/only makes you a little bit sick. Seriously guys, so there’s a weird
aftertaste… but I think that’s probably ok? When the last occupants of our
house moved, they left a ridiculous amount of food in the freezer. I’ve been
slowly working my way through the more edible of these bastard goods. It’s been
hit-or-miss, but really only one thing made me notably ill.
3.
Fresh fruits and
vegetables are a luxury. Seriously. Back in Missoula I used a program called
Farm to Family, which delivered an assortment of fresh fruits and vegetables to
my front door every two weeks. Those were the good old days, man. I’m telling you
that may have been my peak. Affording hand delivered vegetables.
4.
People want to
buy your used junk about as much as you want to own your used junk. So not at all.
In a last-ditch attempt to raise Maggotfest funds, I decided to put some
assorted sundry goods on craigslist. Let me tell you, the market is small for
plastic dog crates and used coffee makers.
5.
90% of your
caloric intake can come from your roommate’s leftover birthday cake, and it
won’t kill you.
Oddly enough, chocolate cake in some form or another has kept me alive more
than once. Remind me to tell you the story someday.
6. You can apply for a credit card online in 5 minutes. Literally. I did this on Wednesday, and it's in the mail.
7.
I have truly
incredible friends and family. These people are determined to help me
whether I want it or not. Historically, I have a really hard time asking for
help. Mostly this stems from a strong sense of self-reliance. I created this
life, and I’m the one who has to live with the consequences. But some people
like me enough to bully me into accepting help. Like giving me their leftovers,
even if they’re still hungry. Or buying me breakfast. Or sending me care
packages like this:
 |
| Unstained white t-shirt, wasabi peas, chocolate bunny, snack pack, book for the writing in... and a dental dam. That about covers all my bases. |
When
I first moved out of the dorms, I was gifted a box of Aunt Patsy’s barley soup
mix. Somehow this box of soup has lived with me over the past 5 years. A few
times I’ve been tempted to just chuck it, but I always stopped myself. I told
myself someday I’d be poor and hungry, and then I’d glad I kept it. That day
has finally come. And you know what? It’s not the worst thing that’s ever
happened to me. It’s totes edible and filling, and one little box made about 4
quarts of soup. Kudos, Aunt Patsy.
For
the record, I won’t be poor much longer. I get paid right after Maggotfest, and then
I’ll be totally set to buy the long, long list of groceries that’s accumulating
on my dresser. So don’t worry about me, I promise I’m going to be ok. That
means you, mom.
6 days until Missoula. God help us all.
Love you all the days!
-b
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