...do as the Romans and when in South Bend...well, go the local Demolition Derby. Yea baby, nothing like the smell of fire and oil to bring the kids out for this week's family affair.
Having a grand ol' time out here in Indiana and taking full advantage of all that that the area has to offer...btw, in case you were wondering, the star of the show last night at the Derby was a 14 year old kid (who looked not a day older than 12). He lasted until the final heat and cemented his status as the fan favorite (and true winner) as he climbed out of the opening where his station wagon's windshield used to be to jump up and down on the hood of his car...
Having a grand ol' time out here in Indiana and taking full advantage of all that that the area has to offer...btw, in case you were wondering, the star of the show last night at the Derby was a 14 year old kid (who looked not a day older than 12). He lasted until the final heat and cemented his status as the fan favorite (and true winner) as he climbed out of the opening where his station wagon's windshield used to be to jump up and down on the hood of his car...
Nothing like a jumbo corn dog and fifth row seats to the best that the St. Joe's 4H County Fair has to offer. Pretty embarrassing moment actually when I went to order that Jumbo sized corn encrusted foot long hot dog..."so, how do people usually eat these things?", I ask the girl at the window who kindly served us...you know, like standard ketchup/mustard or is there something even cooler made specifically for corndogs that I don't know about...is what I was thinking...in case you were wondering, there's not and what I thought was a legitimate question turned out to be just the opposite: Her mouth went straight to the floor, she looked me dead in the eyes and asked, "Wait, you mean you've never had a corn dog???" Thankfully, Emily has gotten pretty good at apologizing for her boyfriend and shoved me in the direction of the condiment stand before any further embarrassment...the corndog, for any other CD virgins out there, turned out to be damn good too with nothing more than a little yellow mustard.
When we're not getting down with the locals at the county fair, it's college as usual...last week, after gutting through a double final Friday, it was about time to host the first house party of the summer and I was proud to offer up 109 N. St. Peter St as the spot. Went out, bought a keg, enlisted some help for food (lights out buffalo chicken dip from Martha Malinowski), and picked up some ping pong balls...I'm going colllllleggggge all the way baby...keg stands and beer pong until 4am!!! So I send out the invitation through facebook - party starts at 9pm...first guest shows up at 9:30 with the classic look of fear that any first-to-arrive guest usually has: "Oh man, did I miss the party??" he says as he looks back at his car (the only one on the street) hoping for an easy out...Nope, you're the lucky one!...come onnnn in and help yourself to some buffalo dip and a beer (or about 25 because I'm not so sure anyone else is going to show)…. As luck would have it, he was the first of about 50 and it turned out to be a decent little shindig. Not much beer pong (or keg stands for that matter...disappointing, I know) but we did drum up a rowdy game of flip cup on the back deck… for about 10 minutes or so, until the party was officially christened an authentic Colllleggge house party when, from inside the house, I hear. "Oh, $hit. Where's Brian?!...the cops are here and they want to talk to whoever lives here". Certainly not unfamiliar words for a college kid, but as I find my way outside, thoughts of my brother's somewhat harrowing experience hearing those same words run through my mind (as a 20 year old, he bravely answered to a similar request in Chestnut Hill, only to find out that the Boston PD has a real ballbusting policy for honest kids who take responsibility for the cowardice of drunk and incoherent roommates who actually threw the party in the first place...but I digress). Anyway, without any roommates to dump this one on, I am introduced to Officer Kelly who promptly asks for identification...he takes a peek at the Jersey license and after finding the birth date, we all notice his face drop just a bit, "Damn, this guy’s 26 years old. Not the underage bust we were hoping for as we listened from the street. Better make up something about the neighbors calling in a noise distrubance"...he tells us to move it inside and keep it down. "No problem, nice to meet you Officer Kelly, looking forward to seeing you again soon..." 1 party, 1 visit from the cops...what a badass (just don't mind the white chinos and purple golf shirt ensemble while I obediently act on the SBPD demands)... after the run-in with officer Krupkie, errr I mean Kelly, the crowd slowly thins…ahhh, NOW it's starting to feel more like college again…
Indiana’s not so bad after all…We’re making do with what we got…Next party, it’s definitely buffalo dip AND corndogs.
When we're not getting down with the locals at the county fair, it's college as usual...last week, after gutting through a double final Friday, it was about time to host the first house party of the summer and I was proud to offer up 109 N. St. Peter St as the spot. Went out, bought a keg, enlisted some help for food (lights out buffalo chicken dip from Martha Malinowski), and picked up some ping pong balls...I'm going colllllleggggge all the way baby...keg stands and beer pong until 4am!!! So I send out the invitation through facebook - party starts at 9pm...first guest shows up at 9:30 with the classic look of fear that any first-to-arrive guest usually has: "Oh man, did I miss the party??" he says as he looks back at his car (the only one on the street) hoping for an easy out...Nope, you're the lucky one!...come onnnn in and help yourself to some buffalo dip and a beer (or about 25 because I'm not so sure anyone else is going to show)…. As luck would have it, he was the first of about 50 and it turned out to be a decent little shindig. Not much beer pong (or keg stands for that matter...disappointing, I know) but we did drum up a rowdy game of flip cup on the back deck… for about 10 minutes or so, until the party was officially christened an authentic Colllleggge house party when, from inside the house, I hear. "Oh, $hit. Where's Brian?!...the cops are here and they want to talk to whoever lives here". Certainly not unfamiliar words for a college kid, but as I find my way outside, thoughts of my brother's somewhat harrowing experience hearing those same words run through my mind (as a 20 year old, he bravely answered to a similar request in Chestnut Hill, only to find out that the Boston PD has a real ballbusting policy for honest kids who take responsibility for the cowardice of drunk and incoherent roommates who actually threw the party in the first place...but I digress). Anyway, without any roommates to dump this one on, I am introduced to Officer Kelly who promptly asks for identification...he takes a peek at the Jersey license and after finding the birth date, we all notice his face drop just a bit, "Damn, this guy’s 26 years old. Not the underage bust we were hoping for as we listened from the street. Better make up something about the neighbors calling in a noise distrubance"...he tells us to move it inside and keep it down. "No problem, nice to meet you Officer Kelly, looking forward to seeing you again soon..." 1 party, 1 visit from the cops...what a badass (just don't mind the white chinos and purple golf shirt ensemble while I obediently act on the SBPD demands)... after the run-in with officer Krupkie, errr I mean Kelly, the crowd slowly thins…ahhh, NOW it's starting to feel more like college again…
Indiana’s not so bad after all…We’re making do with what we got…Next party, it’s definitely buffalo dip AND corndogs.
Great Krupkie reference...well played
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