Memoirs from the Bathtub Jam

After 32 hours of cleaning, 5 hours of putting crazy crap on the wall and, 2 months of anxiety, it has all come to fruition. My first guest, the kid, bussed across the lengths of the land after a few 'parent friendly' emails wherein his mother called my party 'a program'. Fustflum is like no other seventeen year old I have ever met. He is articulate, witty, and astoundingly intelligent. (Not that I wasn't at his age) He seemed to take a shine to my lovely best friend Melissa who shall henceforth be known by her super hero name Orgasmatazz. Who wouldn't be enamored by Orgasmatazz? She is everything a man or woman could desire: funny, brilliant, well traveled, and extraordinarily beautiful. I keep her around for just such occasions.
The other noders were late as most humans are. I played the worst version of Minuet in G ever for fustflum trying to keep my fidgeting down to a minimum. I am pretty sure this is what inspired him to leave a paper trail of nodes leading to my door hoping the nodeshell rescue team would come and fill them. On a side note my neighbors apparently didn't like I like to be happy, or Jessicapierce. Both nodes were removed from the hallway, and my cat, Stumpy McSporkmouth, threw up her ingested string on Lesbians, Monkeys, SOY the following morning. Fustflum and I shouted Everything node titles from the balcony as our desperate beacon for lost noders. We actually terrified one woman away by merely screaming, "SOY!" at her. Orgasmataz did not understand our geeky Everythingisms, but I think we have a convert. Look for her under some dragonfly related handle, as her propensity to like bugs is her claim to geek fame.
I had just attached some directions to the whirlyball joint on my door, and was packing my very small party up when the Indiana representative phoned. Brainwave/he was a sweet brainy ferret-like physics coder man. Springy, and kind, he drove us immediately to the whirlyball parking lot where my good friend Clampe had been waiting for quite some time. Clampe is an entertainer extraordanaire. You wouldn't believe what this boy will do for 30 bucks. He charmed the guests with tales of thefez as a boy, and his Olympic cunnilingus gold medal joke is always a crowd pleaser. Clampe, Brainwave, and fustflum shared top secret Everything information in the lot while Melissa and I pointed at each passing plane shouting, "VOID! We were Hoping Void_Ptr, the lost half of the Holland contingent, would parachute out and kick some ass on the whirlyball court. Our hour had begun and we were still just 5. The half a whirlyball team was about to depart when Void_Ptr and her evil overlord husband came spinning around the corner. I feel like I have known Void through my low level stalking on her web cam at chernabog.imagegroup.com. She was much more animated and intensely sexy in person. She is so much more than I had known her to be and I really liked her before that night. Her husband was the Master of the whirlyball court. I swear I hit that net 3 times even if the sensors disagree. I'm glad the evil overlord was on my team. Some people thought the idea of an amalgam of lacrosse and basketball played in bumper cars was even too geeky for us, but I made believers of them all. Whirlyball was a hoot.
Nauseous and banged up we decided to leave further instructions for the ever absent nieken and whatever other random noders may show up at my door, then press on for some fine Ethiopian cuisine at NPR's supporter The Blue Nile. Clampe led us on a tour of liberal Ann Arbor and U of M's campus in some charming Michigan rain. Then we headed back to my humble apartment for some heavy drinking, music, performance pieces and a wet T-shirt contest. I really shouldn't have imbibed all that tokillya and Indianna mead, but I rather enjoyed listening to my friends new and old discuss the if questions provided, and make coding jokes that I wouldn't understand even if I weren't cocktailed. I still have no idea what a void pointer is.
I found out the next day that we kept missing nieken via his on missing the midwest bathtub jam node. He shoulda knocked at 5AM. We were up. We were intoxicated. We were seven. This was just enough to play whirlyball. Just enough for really interesting and fluid conversations, and just enough for the allotted floor space. We even managed to make fustflum forget how to do math before he shipped off at 8 am. Lets hear it for Cannibas!
The morning after was much more lethargic. The remaining survivors stormed The Broken Egg and the glorious campus much less fervently than the night before. The mischievous Void_ Ptr may never be allowed on University property again, but we were so close to taking over the world. The last of the Mohicans departed around 7pm Sunday. As for the licentious details of the evening, you will just have to use your imagination. I feel close to these people. Far be it from me to go gossiping about this intimate gathering of friends. Throw your own flesh meet, or send 30$ dollars to my PO Box for a manuscript and videotape. As for you Nieken, you don't owe me a beer. There is FAR too much alcohol left in this place. You owe me a blowjob.

The things I remember most about the bathtub jam:

the viking hat whose plastic detachable horns we used in our impressions of man, woman, and hermaphrodite.

Orgasmatazz and her orgasm ray.

Discussions about the nature of Teleportation and Telekinesis

hot grits!

the regurgitated string on Lesbians! Monkeys! Soy!

Leaving Clampe sitting outside, knocking for 10 minutes at 8am because he looked like a 50 year old homeless survey taker through the peep hole.

Stacks tag

Our endless elevator ride.

Of course, Whirlyball and the fact that I couldn't drive, throw or hit shit, but my husband, the evil overlord, discovering his heretofore unknown talent. Lucky Bastard.

Almost, but not quite, slipping to my death after trying to stomp on the U of M 'M'.

Four-braiding Orgasmatazz's hair while stoned and drunk.

Stumpy McSporkmouth's incessant licking.

The Blueberry Goop on Kendall's french toast.

The non cream cream.

And, finally, the inability of The Broken Egg's cashier to figure out how to charge us all separately.

Okay, so I missed the Bathtub Jam. Katyana didn't tell me anything about it, and I failed to read about it on E2 (somehow, I had passed it over), so I was stuck at home on the East side of Michigan, so close to the party that I could hear the "SOY" if I had lissened close enough (and not been asleep). Anyway, this is how I figure I would have fared at the E2 Midwest Bathtub Jam:

First of all, I'm ride up to the dorm in my newly rebuilt green Ford Ranger, which I'm rather proud of. Unfortuantely, it has no air conditioning, so I would be as hot and as thirsty as someone who had recently played checkers with Satan. I'd arrive at about the time Jessicapierce did, just because I figure that's when I'd show up. I'd say hello to all the noders there, and take particular intrest in this "Melissa" girl, who I would refuse to call by her super hero name, "Orgasmatazz" (because I like calling people by their real names). I'd get pissed off everytime someone would shout across the room "Hey, PaSTE!" or something like that, because I'm not used to being called "PaSTE", and I much prefer my real name, "Phil". After about an hour of getting pissed off at fellow noders and talking to Melissa about my experiences in a ska band, we'd go to Whirlyball.

Brainwave and I would start talking about physics, and we'd never get off the subject. Even while playing, we'd discuss the trajectory of the ball, the rotational force being applied to the arm by the scoop-thingy, and the coefficient of friction of the polished black floor on my rubber-soled shoes. Clampe and I would have gotten into a huge fight over weather or not cunnilingus was a sport, and we'd had to have been broken up by Katyana herself, seeing as she'd be the toughest one there. I'd retreat into the bathroom where I'd spend the next three hours nurturing my broken nose, and wondering why I was still bleeding after three hours.

I would have totally skipped out on the tour of the U of M campus in lieu of taking Melissa with me to see my old English teacher, Mr. Hanley. The next hour or so would be taken looking up his address, finding his house, then chatting with him about English stuff. Melissa would get bored out of her mind and take Mr. Hanley out for a few drinks. I think that getting piss drunk in a bar in the middle of Ann Arbor with my old English teacher isn't a good idea, so I'd leave for Katyana's place.

At about 5:00a, I'd have hit nieken with my green Ford Ranger as he crossed the parking at Kat's place. I throw his dead carcas into the bead of my truck and continue on.

Upon arival at the party, I decide to do my homework for my summer college math course. I'd have trouble on some of the computation, so I'd ask fustflum how to figure out a few things. To my surprise, he knows nothing about math, and couldn't even count the fingers on his right hand. I watch him leave, swerving down the road at about 190 MPH. I rejoin the part where I find Brainwave again and begin discussing the various effects of sending the human body at excess speeds of 190 MPH, and the force of impact against certain objects, and etc.

I don't sleep. Rather, I follow Void_Ptr to The Broken Egg. Surprisingly, due to my extensive knowledge of Greek Mythology, we together are able to successfully take over the world. The evil overloard would get ticked off, and he'd probibly have killed me right then and there, had it not been for Campus Security and an oversized bra (don't ask). I'd leave the state, knowing fully well that Void_Ptr and the evil overloard ruled the world, and I'd never sleep again, always being on the run for my life. No one questions the dead body in the back for my truck.

I die from blood loss a few weeks later due to the injuries sustained in the fight with Clampe.

So, the way I see it, it's a good thing I didn't go.