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Friday, May 4, 2012

O Maggotfest, O Maggotfest...


[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.








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












A whole Jungle of Janes celebrating Fest '09










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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