The Thin Line: There is a genre of music that teeters on the border between Cool World and Douche Bagia. They are called Urban Dance Songs and they are wonderful. Whether it is the Dougie, the Bernie, the Thizzle dance, the Jerk, or the Harlem Shake, I love them all and they make me giggle. The Hyphy movement was a magical time in my life. I witnessed rooms full of people dancing around like monkeys trying to shrug off a stun gun. They called it Getting Stupid; I don’t even have a joke for that, that’s what they actually called it.

The Harlem Shake was almost as silly but God knows I could fall asleep to those 6-year-olds in the Missy Elliot videos Harlem Shaking me all the way to Smiley Town in Dream Ville.

The Dougie annoys the sleeping sin out of me and makes me want to bump shoulders with strangers. However, nothing compares to the comedic gold that is the Bernie. It’s based on the movie Weekend at Bernie’s and people are actually doing this dance somewhere (I’m guessing the South?). Take note that there are two ways to like this kind of music: 1. You see how ridiculous it is and you can’t stop laughing AT them. 2. You are a Douche Bag and you actually like this music.

At least the afore mentioned styles of music can be useful in packing a dance floor with real live moving girls. Which may serve as an alibi for DJs. To a degree, tool-bag or not, DJs must play at least some DB music. So in order to detect douchebaggery amongst DJs one must look at the way they are dressed. Sometimes they actually look like techno.

Correspondingly if men want to dance with a lady they are forced to occasionally dance with a smile on their face to the Black Eyed Peas. In turn, not every guy on the dance floor doing the Cupid Shuffle is a D-bag. The telltale in this situation is whether or not the man is lip-syncing or singing along. That is a sure sign that he enjoys this music. Douche-o Bag-o.

At the Little Waldorf you will not find any douchebaggery amongst its employees. That is a promise. DJ Button Push will always find fun music to dance to with the bare minimum amount of DB Jams. If you do hear a DB Jam at the Wal, please don’t blame the DJ, look at the guy who requested the song and there you will find the GD DB.

* I would be chagrined to leave out a small list of musicians that are themselves card-carrying members of the Order of Douche.

Famous DB “musicians”: Rascal Flatts (they don’t make country music, they make horrible rock music), Kenny Chesney (pooka-shells and bicep implants), Nickel Back/Buck Cherry (pretty sure they are the same thing).

Music. It is the spice of life.

It can invoke or compliment emotion, soothe or repose, heighten or instigate.

There is power in melody and rhythm to entertain, bore, communicate, agitate, or arouse.

Music is spiritual.

Music is scientific.

It can also be a flagrant exposé to the soul. Now, more so then ever, music is one of the foremost telltales of one’s character.  Observation of one’s affection to musical genre is a useful tool of deduction. A brief look into one’s iPod is akin to a thorough autopsy of human caliber.

Personally being able to recognize said indications is a huge step up during the current sociological epidemic taking hold of our country. The sociological epidemic, of course, is douchebaggery.

Douche Bag= Tool bag, Cruiser, Jerry Face, Guy, Schmuck, VIP at Edge, Lloyd, Jack Wagon, Nerf Herder, Tool Shed, Johnny, V-Neck, Any Music Promoter I’ve Ever Met, Bro-Man-Dude, Ed Hardy, Sigma bro, Epic, Southern Californian, The guy who texts, “Come to the Freight House it’s crackin’!”, TAP OUT, or just DB.

The following is an overview of musical red flags that will help finger even the most reclusive of douche bags.

(Author’s note: there are plenty of other ways I could have written the previous sentence without using the 1930s slang: finger, which means to “out someone.” However, I am inherently immature and like to spin lowbrow double entendres into every aspect of my life.)

Reggaeton: For God’s sake, stop it. When it first hit the US it was acceptable to be intrigued by it as it was a fast new adrenaline filled beat plastered with images of South American bootáy bouncing around like a Flubber induced game of jai-alai. Intrigued is the keyword of that sentence as it has never been acceptable to like this music. If you liked it then or if you like it now, you sir, are a Douche Bag. The beat is annoying, the rapping is awful, the Spanish is nonsensical and mostly incorrect, and when played outside of a dance floor it is absolutely unnecessary. The only acceptable way to listen to reggaeton is if a few feet below your ears there is a vagina. No matter how terrible this music is females are genetically inclined to love it. For a woman, anything that closely resembles a rhythm must be danced to. They can’t help it and I won’t stop them.

Club Hits: This includes but is not limited to: House, Trance, Techno, KE$HA, GaGa, Far East Movement, new Usher (old Usher is the business), California Girls, and any club/techno/house remix of any song ever.  Once again, if you are a girl you are more then welcome to like this music if you are a man and you like this music you are a Tool Shed…or on E and in that case you can’t help but lick the speakers to Like a G6. If you can’t figure out why this music is horrible you probably shouldn’t be allowed to vote either. There are actually people out there who listen to House music in the car¹, they’re not dancing, just driving …and listening. Outside of the warehouse party this is not even considered music. Stop it.

¹ If it’s not a smart car, I bet it has vanity plates.

Nothing gets the bro-man-dudes movin' like Tik Tok

*This rant has been cut into 2 parts because Mikey types a lot when he’s angry and this got way too long.

Brian "Cuban" Ostrom, bar tender, Waldorf Press Secretary, Human Centipede enthusiast

The following transcript is of text messages sent from Brian “Cuban” Ostrom’s cell phone to “friend” Michael “Miggity” Geraghty. Cuban confided in Michael with the notion that a “friend” as good as Michael would never exploit his trust by publishing his inner and secret feelings on the Internet.

Please, enjoy.

cell phone. Used for text messaging. Cuban thinks it's a living Nano-pet. I've seen him try to feed it.

From: Cuban

Miggs! I met a girl! I went home w/ her on the first nite but we didnt go all the way Cuz she’s a lady. Her name is Gobbleriela??  Prob from wstrn asia by the sound of her accent.I think I like her a lot!

Nov 3, 9:37 am

Stored:

Nov 3, 11:38 am

From: Cuban

Yo, I just hung out with that girl again 2nite. She doesnt talk much bt  she loves my jokes & has an adorable/unique laugh. Dont wanna give away 2 much Dtail bt she’s way soft!

Nov 4, 10:30 pm

Stored:

Nov 4, 10:30 pm

From: Cuban

Sumthin strange happened last nite… we were havn a romantic walk thru the park and she took off into the brush. It took me 3 hrs to find her. We havent talked about it yet

Nov 6, 2:30 pm

Stored:

Nov 6, 2:31 pm

From: Cuban

We finally did it last nite! She did things I’ve never heard of. Weird thing is I had to pretend 2 b the girl. It was hot. Think we ripped the mattress…feathers everywhere!

Nov 8, 10:00 am

Stored:

Nov 8, 10:38 am

From: Cuban

Yo Im gonna b late for work. Lost track o time w/ with my lady. She loves my hands she’s been tracing them with crayon all afternoon

Nov 9, 4:00 pm

Stored:

Nov 9 4:oo pm

From: Cuban

I introduced my folks to her @ dinner. My dad says he’s ashamed of me. I guess sum pple aren’t used to interracial couples. I think my girl is sum kinda vegan hippy she only ate the corn then she pooped in the bushes

Nov 11, 11:00 pm

Stored:

Nov 11, 11:00 pm

From: Cuban

I might need 2 break things off with Gobbleriela. Think she’s hiding sumthin from me.

Nov 12, 3:00 pm

Stored:

Nov 12, 3:00 pm

From: Cuban

I just watched a special on the history channel about Thanksgiving. I saw sum shit man. Call me we need to talk.

Nov 13, 2:30 am

Stored:

Nov 13, 2:30 am

From: Cuban

I forgot u said u would never call me or talk to me outside of work so ill just txt u…I think gobbleriela is a turkey. Im pretty sure actually. It would explain a lot. Should I confront her? Just dump her? What do u think?

Nov 13, 3:30 am

Stored:

Nov 13, 3:30 am

From: MIKE GERAGHTY

Cuban. You R an idiot. C u @ work.

Nov 13, 3:31 am

Stored:

Nov 13 3:31 am

Nevada (AP)- The Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives discovered large amounts of carousal-secretions this weekend at the Little Waldorf in Reno, Nevada, said Steve Amundson, ATF spokesman.

“We found carousal-secretion residue all over the place,” said Amundson. “On the walls, the ceiling, the bar, and especially in the keg room.”

Toby Tamagni, general manager of the Wal, said he noticed the excess of residue and called the ATF to report it.

“I slipped on a puddle of it and landed right on my tookus,” he said. “It got in my hair and just wouldn’t wash out, some of it got in my mouth.”

Funk & Westergard Encyclopedia defines carousal-secretion as a physical manifestation of concentrated party only found in places where entertainment and extreme fun are present.

Ryan Kotey, PhD., Nevada’s foremost authority on secretions, said that carousal-secretion is non-toxic and incredibly rare. He said, in some studies carousal-secretion has actually helped in generating type-G swagger cells in the blood stream which can help with sexual reproduction. Further research has shown that seven out of ten people exposed to carousal have had an easier time learning how to “Dougie.”

Carousal-secretion usually appears in a jelly like substance that oozes from surfaces with long-term exposure to frivolity, said Dr. Kotey. The jelly can also be dried and cut into a fine powder and when ingested can be an affective celebratory aid, he said.

“It is a magnificent substance,” Dr. Kotey said. “It can be inhaled or spread on toast. It makes the air taste of chocolate and Animaniacs songs play continually in the mind. Plus, I can use it to barter for hand-jibbers at Burning Man.”

Amundson said according to ATF records The Wal is the only location in The Biggest Little City that carousal-secretion has been discovered.

“This just means that in comparison to the The Wal, all other bars in Reno are not nearly as fun as previously believed by the public,” said Amundson. “I’m not canvassing for the Waldorf by any means, this is a scientific fact.”

People who ignore scientific facts are stupid, said Amundson.

Tamagni said that the reason there is so much party coming out of the walls at the Waldorf is because their prices are low and they offer a larger variety of beer and booze then almost any other place in Reno.

“It might also have something to do with the fact that every one of our employees have notarized certifications in partying from both the state of Nevada and Alcoholics Anonymous,” Tamagni said. “Oh and the babes. We have lots of babes.”

I’m not sure how many of you noticed but there has been a brief lapse in Blogdorf postings. The reason being I was sent on a fact-finding mission to Chicago, Illinois.

My job: to drink at as many bars, pubs, clubs, discos, and dives that I could possibly tie one on at in a four month period.

Why Chicago? Chicago is considered one of the party capitols of the United States. With a population of over 2,896,016 mostly over weight people and covering roughly 228,443 square miles, there are literally thousands of watering holes. There are hundreds of world-class joints talked about in movies and music, awash with celebrities. Think of it as the Midwest’s down to earth version of NYC. Or a less conceited less gay cousin to LA.

Since August I’ve been simultaneously employed, both bartending and bouncing, at four different bars/clubs in four different areas of Chicago. Moreover, I have partied at well over 80 bars (seriously, I have a problem).

This is me finding facts. Fact-finding if you will.

I have wrapped up the Chicago party scene in a nutshell and in my short amount of time here have become an expert.

Bar after bar, club after club, I have come to the same exact conclusion: I WOULD RATHER BE AT THE WAL.

Yes sir, I'd rather be at the Wal.

Seriously, I took the Wal for granted when I was there. Now that I don’t have it, it is painfully clear to me how much more fun it is to party at the Waldorf.

You will not find shots, beer, cocktails, or wine for anywhere near as cheap as the Wal out here. The Chicago women are the finest in the Midwest but put them in the Wal and Cuban wouldn’t even take one home (Satter would).

Employees at my Chicago bars are nice folk but their main concern is appearance whereas my coworkers at the Wal are only concerned with having a great time. The people out here might scoff at your attire if it isn’t the latest trend, the people at the Wal say if you don’t have booze spilled on your crotch you’re not partying hard enough.

At the Wal one can come dressed up in clubbin’ clothes or dressed up in sweats and nobody bats an eye at either, every one knows that you’re there to have fun. I miss that kind of rare atmosphere.

I would rather be in the Wal singing karaoke with 15 heavy drinkers on a Tuesday night then in the busiest downtown Chicago club with Lady Gaga. It’s that much more fun in Reno.

One large concern for me is as follows: NO PENDLETON WHISKEY IN CHICAGO. None. If I was Chicago I’d be ashamed.

There are a handful of Reno folk out here that I have run into and they share the same opinion.

Dylan Krenka, UNR graduate 2007, half-Basque, half-Dirty mick, and current Chicago resident said, “The Wal would hands down be the best bar in Chicago if it were here.”

Justin Sanders, UNR graduate 2007, half-Caucasian, half-Ewok, and current Chicagoan said, “I like Chicago quite a bit but if the Wal were here I would LOVE Chicago. As a matter of fact F*#@! CHICAGO!! I WANT A GODD*#@! JIFFY BURGER!”

Nolan Kirch, former Wal manager and doorman, and current Illinois River tugboat pilot said, “Sometimes I feel like a grown up Peter Pan and the Lil Wal is my Never Never Land. The farther I spend away from it the greyer my hair gets and the harder it is to remember my happy thoughts.”

My point is that all of you believe-it-or-not lucky people still living in Reno need to take advantage of what you have and realize that it’s a whole different kind of world every where else. The general feel of the rest of the country is relatively the same. Reno is another beast all together. Live it and love it folks. Go to Lake Tahoe often, float the Truckee river and for God’s sake, party your freakin’ chonies off at the Little Waldorf. God knows I will…the second I get back to Reno.

The doorman is a misunderstood genus. Big or small, affable or hostile, muscular or sloppy-fat, they exist for one reason. Their sole purpose is to enforce their employer’s set of rules for the given establishment they are entrusted to keep in order. What many don’t realize is that underneath that bumptious mien most doormen are wrought with emotion, some more so than others.

The Little Waldorf actually funded a martial investigation in effort to kick off a Be Kind to your Doorman PR campaign. Spending the year’s remaining employee healthcare budget, the Wal hired Tom Hanks to explore a century’s worth of clues and manuscripts in regards to doormannery. His discoveries were shocking. Not only was doorman emotion confirmed but also hundreds of compositions were uncovered revealing a secret doorman-poet’s society.

Doorman Poetry Manuscripts. As secret as they are ancient.

Below are a handful of poems written by some of history’s deepest doormen.

Artist's rendition of Remington Bloke, considered the Father of Doorman Poetry

The Deepest Doorman

By: Tortuga Mendez, doorman at Nixon’s Hole, 1974

The Doorman

The ID checking, door-holding

Shaker of hands

Men look at him

Girls look his way

But no one really sees Doorman

Please hold my purse

Please hold my coat

Call me a taxi

Let go of my throat

How are you? Asks Doorman

Fine is the response

Doorman just stares

Many leagues in thought

They will never get

That Doorman actually cares

Please hold my keys

Please hold my tote

I’ll pee where I want

Let go of my throat

Favors for friends

Perhaps just a light

Importune, entreat, appeal

Some ask to cut cue

Overlook rules

No one asks Doorman to feel

Please hold my barley

Please hold my oats

I’ll farm where I want

Let go of my throat

Doorman thrives

On human contact and love

No one talks to Doorman at school

He once wanted

To paint the sky with fire

But now gets paid to sit on a stool

Footprints in the Puke

By: Mitch Angelou-Supremesky, doorman at The Fist Nugget, 1934

One night I dreamed a dream.
I was stumbling along the parking lot with the doorman. Across the dark sky flashed scenes from my night. For each scene, I noticed two sets of footprints in my puke, one belonging to me and one to my doorman. I also noticed amongst the puke was one of my earrings, a broken iphone, my ID and social security card.

When the last scene of my night shot before me I looked back at the footprints in the puke. There was only one set of footprints. I realized that this was at the lowest and saddest times of my night. This always bothered me and I questioned the doorman about my dilemma.

“Hey doorman, you told me when I decided to follow you and put my skirt back on, you would walk and talk with me all the way. But I’m aware that during the most troublesome times of my night there is only one set of footprints. I just don’t understand why, when I need you most, you leave me.”

He whispered, “Oh silly drunk floozy, you make me laugh and I will never leave you, never, ever, during your ankle rolling, obscenity screaming, and chin dribbling. When you saw only one set of footprints, it was then that I carried you…”

My-ku

By: Ang Ooo, Doorman at Dragon Face’s Saloon, 1650

Please don’t spit on me

My face didn’t deserve that

Go [lost in translation] yourself, dude.

Arm Bar My Heart Again

By: Polar Bear McKensie, doorman at Thumb Gouger Lounge, 1997

You looked like an angel,

From Heaven and then,

I asked for your number,

You said you don’t like men.

You must be a liar,

The truth has been shown,

You aren’t a lesbian,

I saw you leave with Tyrone.

Love is the spice of life,

My days need more herbs,

You arm barred my heart,

And made it bite the curb.

I’m no Richard Grieco,

I’ve seen my own mirror,

Don’t laugh at my mustache,

Or call me queer.

This is my job,

Nay my calling or art,

Beneath my large forearms,

Is a still beating heart.

My love is a leprechaun,

For me it’s just lore,

You arm barred my heart,

While I held open the door.

Arm barring my heart...if my heart was a huge black guy.

• Plagiarism is a crime. The Little Waldorf does not condone such actions. Any similarities in this blog to any poems regarding Jesus or his footsteps are completely unintentional and therefore legally acceptable.
• Just in case:

Footsteps in the Sand. Margaret Fishback Powers, 1964

Only a few days to burn before the Little Wal’s Reno’s Got Talent Show this Friday and excitement is in the air. Satter hasn’t stopped doing wind sprints, Cuban is always in the background juggling, and Jeremy is dulling up his Folklorico knives in preparation for the big day.

Sign ups to compete for the one hundred dollar cash prize are still taking place this week at the Wal and there is a free beverage in it for anyone who does.

Since last Monday there has been a few additions to the roster. The extras are as follows.

Greg is the one on the right. Greg is also the one on the left. Hmm.

Greg “DJ Buttonpush” Kolb

Outline of experience: “I hosted a break dancing competition at the board store I worked at. All one had to do was beat me at break dancing to get a free snowboard. I ended up giving away 372 snowboards that day. Turns out there is a silly amount of people in Reno that are really good at break dancing, which sort of makes me uneasy.”

Talent: “I’ve been working on deflecting bullets with my French braid.”

Plans for the $100 prize: “That depends on how many barbiturates I can get with a hundred bucks… if it’s not a lot then I’ll probably just invest it on defaulted power bonds from Galveston, Texas.”

Frau: Take my wife...please.

Michael “Frau” Frauenknecht

Outline of experience: “I was the winning contestant on MTV’s Singled Out in 113 consecutive episodes, I stood up my date every time and told Jenny McCarthy that she was stupid.”

Talent: “Ask my chiseled jaw line…wink!”

Plans for the $100 prize: “I’m going to use it to wipe my Beamer’s ass.”

If the Frau-mobile is a-rockin'

What's that movie about the attractive boxer that fights through adversity and punches through sadness to my heart's very core? Nevermind, that was just the dream I had about Ryan 3 nights ago.

Ryan “the Fourth Grader” Kotey

Outline of experience: “I’m a nationally ranked boxer for UNR and I’ve been to nationals several times. I once got punched in the head 300 times in one round! I once got punched in the head 300 times in one round!”

Talent: “I’m going to be the first boxer to win a fight against himself by a first round Knock Out. It might be a hard battle because I’m very good at boxing but hopefully I will be out of shape enough for me to win.”

Plans for the $100 prize: “I would like to use the hundred dollars to buy my own island made of punching. If there is any money left over after I buy the island I will then buy a snack. Probably a moon pie.”

July 30^th, 2010 is the official date of the first ever Little Waldorf Reno’s Got Talent talent show. Employees and customers and friends and family are all welcome to showcase their talent whatever it is. As a little incentive we will give anyone who signs up for the talent show a free beverage. Furthermore, the 1^st place prize is 100 dollars cash. That’s right 100 dollar-inos, a century’s worth of duckets, Uno-oh-oh units of cash-ola.

The following is the list of employee sign ups as of late.

Screw Cuban.

Brian “Cuban” Ostrom

Outline of Experience: “In 3^rd grade I won the school talent show by pounding an entire bottle of Hot Damn and giving myself an atomic wedgie in less then 8 seconds. That’s when my parents decided to ‘stop raising me’.”

Talent: “I plan on shape shifting into 7 penguins.”

Plans for the $100 prize: “I’m going to spend all of it on 2-dollar bills.”

Mike “Miggity” Geraghty

Outline of Experience: “ I took 2^nd place in a nation wide Viking mascot competition. I would have won but the judges said I referenced raping and pillaging an ‘uncomfortable’ amount of times.”

Talent: “I’m going to stick to what I do best: head butting Cuban. I think I can break my previous record of getting him to speak nothing but gibberish for two hours.”

Plans for the $100 prize: “I’m going to do the responsible thing and invest all of it in the Reno Big Horns D-League NBA franchise. I think there is a lot of long-term stability in that. I mean, they almost beat McQueen last year in front of an audience of 6 hobos.”

Aaron Satter aka Snake, Bar tender, Waldorf's resident Home Boy, Our dream- your nightmare, and 3-time All-American Stratego champion.

Aaron “Snake” Satter

Outline of Experience: “Bro, I played Cali Ju-Co bro. Know what I’m sayin’? Plus I learned how to walk when I was one.”

Talent: “ M’in the B bro! M’in the B homie!”

*When asked to explain what that meant Satter stated, “Bro, it’s whatevers homie. Know what I’m sayin’?”

** No one knows what he’s saying. Ever.

Plans for the $100 prize: “You know damn well I’m going to buy another fog machine.”

I didn't have a pic of Beast Master so I just used this picture of his last birthday party

John “Beast Master” Newman

Outline of Experience: “At one point I held the record in Fallon, Nevada for most Leatherman’s and keys connected to a single belt.”

*When asked how many- his response was, “All of them.”

Talent: “ I’m going to showcase my team of trained ferrets and their ability to oil my leather jacket…not my winter leather jacket…my summer leather jacket.”

Plans for the $100 prize: “It will be a respectable down payment for that Battle Star Galactica commemorative plate that the jerk-face at the pawn shop said I’d never be able to afford… I can’t wait for Dante to eat his words!”

Bloggers are spurting forth from the proverbial woodwork of the Internet at a riveting rate. It is estimated that there are over 70 million blogs in existence.

The rise in blogging increases the possibility of minority opinions being expressed and heard. However, this also increases the chance of my mother coming across something abhorrent that I have to explain in what is usually an awkward conversation.

“You see, mother, Skyperbation is actually a combination of two words, used to explain a new high school phenomena…No I didn’t do that in high school…because… well, we had dial-up.”

Most of the offensive things that I have to explain come from my blog as a matter of fact, which makes things even more awkward.

“You’re not the target demo, ma. Yes, the people that come to the Wal do think vomiting on cops is funny. Have you ever seen it happen? Well, I have and it’s hilarious… I don’t know why, ma. The same reason you laugh when the cat falls off the windowsill.”

In order to help shield our mothers from being confused and offended here are some blogging tips to help keep things appropriate.

1. Fart jokes=always funny. People who don’t think fart jokes are funny= liars. Poop jokes… those are on the edge. Avoid poop jokes.
2. Depending on how old your mother is, racist jokes may or may not be funny. Play this one safe and avoid racially charged humor. Unless you’re badmouthing the Irish. For some reason that is always hilarious. Famine jokes, east coast railroad references, sunburn slants, modest proposals, and collapsed mine larks, all need to be more present. Funniest thing to call a Celt: dirty Mick. I don’t make the rules I just acknowledge them.

McDrunk

Ex: “Here’s your raw potato on a stick and tumbler of whiskey sir and don’t try to pay me with story telling, you dirty Mick.”

3. Keep all things phallic in sculpture form. Your mother will appreciate it covered in moss but will shun it on the Internet.

4. Avoid subliminal advertising. Your mother doesn’t care that every Friday night at the Little Waldorf all drinks only cost 99 cents.

5. If you’re ever worried that something you wrote may be offensive, just put quotes around it and add a –Dr. Phil or a –Oprah¹ afterwards. Most mothers blindly listen to those fools, inattentively.

6. Avoid modern pop culture references. For example, the comment: “I think girls in their 20s think Chelsea Handler is hilarious for the same reason most African Americans voted for Obama,” will fall on def ears and your mom will think it’s a black joke.

7. Don’t talk about Twitter in your blog. Every time I do my mom calls me a pervert.

8. In order to avoid being accused of being inappropriate avoid all jokes that require an off kilter sense of humor, (i.e. violent violation, substance abuse, abortion, hobo races, ultra violet rays, strong one sided political beliefs, weak double sided religious beliefs, sexy cake, sexy toddler wear, sexy color schemes, Skokie- IL, hot rods, rock and roll music, key parties, Busta Rhymes, Mormonism, false idol worship, falsely idling warships, MTV, and Fresno.). Just stick to puns and jokes about animals wearing people clothes.

Remember bloggers, there is no good reason to go lowbrow. Even though I’ve seen my mother laugh at a man in drag, she’ll never own up to it. Please, consider the feelings of our kinder hearted readers and stop using the word anal.

¹Generally, it is a bad idea to make fun of Oprah. She can make whomever she wants be the President.

The scent of Jack Daniel’s, Copenhagen, and horse doodie is in the air. That could only mean one of two things. Either, Gardnerville exploded or the Reno Rodeo is back in town. With no mushroom clouds on the horizon it must be rodeo time.

I went undercover as the drunkest guy in Reno last Saturday night (with the help of $1.99 drinks at the Wal) to do some in-depth reporting on this annual roundup. To be fair, the words in-depth are probably not the most accurate way to describe my reporting. A better way to say it might be: I went undercover as the drunkest guy in Reno last Saturday night to do some drunken dancing and now I’m going to make fun of everyone I saw…

…In a piece I call…

Reno Rodeo Refutation.

The Jack Daniel’s Tent visits us once a year via rodeo and it is the biggest party in town. There is something about buying brand new boots, wranglers, and Stetson hats that makes a city slicker want to honky tonk. I give kudos to the handful of fellas that boot scoot year round and my condolences to the rest. New rule: if you are wearing an Affliction shirt to the Lil Wal on Thursday nights you have to wear one to the rodeo too. This will help clear up a lot of confusion for the real cowboys when they’re drinking whiskey and looking for someone to pick on. Personally, rodeo is the one time of year I try not to wear my boots, I wouldn’t want people to think I dusted them off just for the occasion. Contrarily, city slickin’ females may fake dress as cowgirls whenever they want. I don’t think anyone has a problem with that and I’m all for it (also acceptable year round attire: librarian and French maid).

Fake cowboy. Don't call him a cowboy, 'til you've seen him ride.

My favorite thing about the JD tent is partying with all the youngsters who I have taken fake IDs from on Thursday nights. I’m glad I don’t have to ruin anyone’s night at the rodeo, moreover, our city’s youth has somewhere besides Freight Box and Amendment 26 to drink illegally.

What happened to Double Mugging? My favorite rodeo event, by far, has been canceled. If you’re not a cowboy or a Hawaiian you might not be familiar with this one. This is when a roper on horseback ropes a steer and a barreled chest cowboy essentially tackles the steer to the ground. I don’t have a joke for this paragraph I just want to point out that Double Mugging is awesome and I want it back.

Here’s a pearl of advice to remember, the bouncers and security at the Reno Rodeo are in fact on and off duty Sheriffs. Aside from the cursory ID checking they do a bang up job of keeping things orderly. I realized this, as I was kindly escorted off the premises in handcuffs.

Side note: Did you know you could get arrested for face raking?

Side Note: Don’t ever laugh at a cop just because he’s smaller then you and has trouble getting you into handcuffs.

Side Note: Sheriffs work great as a team and the three-man arm bar trumps the one-man whiskey drunk nine times out ten.

Another rodeo advisement is to take a cab when leaving. I thought about stealing a horse but the last thing I need on my record is a Grand Theft Mammal and a DUI. I also discovered that cab rides are completely free as long as you vomit in the back seat and jump out of it while it’s still moving. Last year I discovered that if you whisper in the cabby’s ear, “Do you trust me?” Then blind fold him whilst screaming directions in his ear for 5 miles doesn’t get you a free ride, as a matter of fact I think you’re supposed to tip extra after that.

Reno Rodeo, I love you but I am so happy that you’re only in town once a year.