Milwaukee - 2008

Way back in 2006 I took on a new identity. No longer Jennifer Weiner, I was dubbed Jenny-pooh, kind of like Madonna but a little less glamorous. It happened in Galena, standing under a sign that read "Poopsies", and followed a weekend and a stretch of getting to know my newly discovered friends During which times I spent many a hour held up in the bathroom with a magazine.



The first of many girls' trips (I should expect) seemed a fluke. We headed to a no-name place, with no real plan. And wound up with stories that will be told to our kids- even the ones that think their dad's first name is Uncle, Pookie, or Nephew. And seemingly we were on a roll. Milwaukee did not disappoint. Though many may beg the same question as on our Iowa adventure – why here? While we claimed it was the freedom to smoke in bars, really we knew our formula couldn't fail – road trip to anywhere + my girls = nowhere I'd rather be.



Now everyone still thought my nickname was funny (and quite fitting), which I won't deny. But it wasn't long before they too realized it all comes back to pooh. I know you're thinking, "can we talk about something else?" and out of respect I must mention, even Chachi can't handle farts, snots, puke, penis, or sex either. At least not before she has that life saving ice tea. So please make sure you've got a cold glass in front of you before continuing on. Cause when it all boils down a hotel room of five girls is no different than a hotel room of five guys, who when you turn around are half naked, ahem Stacy, and they don't realize a batter for the other team, ahem, may just be among them.



But I'm getting ahead of myself.



It all started on a snowy day in February, the first in 2008 – a day that may have daunted weaker spirits. The smell of horseshit envel – oped the car. Um, I mean… the smell of horseshit enveloped the car. Burning plastic sweated us out of our jackets, as Amanda's car became a spec before us, then vanished. Not quite feeling like our selves, an unsettling conversation arose. The election, our educational philosophy, our bodily functions??? Hold on … How old are we again? When did we get so serious? Cut and fast forward…



We put the politics aside and listened to some jams. A familiar song spun in the CD player and clicked and scratched and melted its way through the speaker. Baby, you really ARE the right kind of wrong, I thought as we sang along. And please don't let me know that you're just to good to be true. Why can't I take my eyes off of you? Maybe it's the way you Back that Ass Up. I don't know, but whatever we were feeling – constipation maybe- set the tone for the weekend ahead.











Checked into the hotel, hot tub next to the bed? What are we swingers? Can't open your beer, just use the doorjamb. Wanna look nice, don't sweat it, none of us do. Bored waiting for the shuttle? Try luggage cart surfing. All you risk is flying through some plate glass, and breaking your elbow. Chachi took the latter of the two.



Looking forward to a night of gambling ahead. Don't hold your breath you'll be lucky if you find an open slot at Pottawattamie. On second thought, do hold your breath, the stench in there is something to fear, the all consuming smoke, and the oldies blowing their social security. So much for worrying about what were wore. Maybe we should have down played our call-girl qualities. Like we can help it if we're the hottest girls around... So what if I have a bottom boob.



Remember piling into cabs? Nuh uh, not in Milwaukee. But the cabby won't forget the only customer who hopped in the cab after losing $11,000. Who buys that crap anyway, better question who makes up that crap? And who gets embarrassed by the joke?



So the casino was a bust, we found a better way to party, Tequila Rita's. Well some of us were off our game. Especially the guys playing beer pong. Taking a beer pong ball to the face doesn't feel so great, thank you very much. Plus some people are just mean; at least that was the locals' opinion of Amanda. I'm the easy one, when it comes to cigarettes anyway. So was that her boyfriend or what, Stacy?



Now Bar Louie that's the place to be, if you wanna party with Debbie downer, who's only interested in looking for another Debbie to make out with. At least the tunes were good. No I haven't lost "That Lovin' Feelin'". Too bad the guests in 318 lost the love for us. What is it with people trying to get us kicked out of hotels? I mean seriously is it too much to ask to be able to scream like we're being murdered. It's not like we can control it when we're being knocked off the air mattress, Nelly, or watching Amanda draped over the toilet, or feeling Stacy moving her hand up our legs while we sleep. We didn't even get a chance to have the packman tournament!



But everything was brighter in the morning, the sun came up, we found a Starbucks, Abbie discovered she doesn't like caramel macchiottos. Amanda went home, beckoned by her boss. Hey doesn't your boss text you like crazy? And wait I thought the CEO was the boss… Regardless duty called and so did the shopping mall, and Stacy's bowels. So we passed on one last stop in "Rainbow", may I say the classiest store in the joint, high tailed it home, spread to the open bathrooms around the hotel and satisfied our needs.



Speaking of needs, do your other needs involve peeing too? They do for some people. Or is it just the sensation? Speaking of sensation, does ours have the same sensation as the guys? Well I'll tell you, at least it's the same color when it dries… wow too much info. But that seemed to be a trend. Sex talks can go that way I suppose. Anyone hungry? Well we're going to Applebee's, even if they have the worst artichoke dip ever.



Lakefront brewery we go. We're going to do one thing we planned even if Rand McNelly's compass was broken. Somehow we made it. Just in the nick of time. Thank goodness we didn't wait in the car. I wouldn't have wanted to be that girl holding the sold out sign, that's for sure. Plus we met Larry Curly and Moe, learned about hops and barley from a funny little man, drank some beer better than Miller that got Nelly wasted, discovered my jeans were totally "out", Sang to Lavern and Shirley, found a bung for Stacy's hole… thank you lakefront brewery, at least that should slow down the poop talk for now… and got a preview of Nelly's wedding reception. Let's not forget the cool glasses, they ran out of, and the strange birthday invitation. Does anyone even know those girls' names? Abbie, you still have their card?





Girl gift time, probably one of my favorites. Love the pics, loved the gifts, loved the laughs, loved the collage. Loved that I'm not in anyone else's frame. Just kidding Abbie, I understand. But how about the other art? The dotted line by far the best, or maybe the tire mark in the bathroom, or is it grass? What did you see in the squiggly lines? Can you analyze the composition, what elements did the artist implement? Would you say they looked balanced? What feeling does that color invoke? Wait wait wait. Again, how old are we? When did we get so serious? If we use it all up now what are we going to talk about when we're forty. Lets save the art debate for then, the year 2020 or something.



Eventually the debate ended and being the out of towners that we were, accepting the strange birthday invite seemed like the best way to start to the night. Even if we wound up being stared at by stuffed animals, touched by weird girls, and standing in peanut shells. At least we got to dance, design our perfect man and woman, match funny couples, hug a live bear, get dollar drinks, and dance to some live tunes. All before we found out what goes on at "black clubs". Yes, Chach, they do exist. Yet I don't think any of us still quite know what they are… but then again that info came from a cabby who thought the guy that flipped his car was a good driver.



And the rest of the night will live in infamy because we wont soon forget, the Guinness racers, the failed bachelor party bus, the dancing queen, the traveling masseuse (oh yeah orgasm faces), and McTender (hopefully someone tells him he's hot everyday), the bitchy bride, the WT groom, the torn jeans, the mysteriously missing man in the corner the slippery nipples, the foursomes, the three times we tried to leave, and closing down McGillycuddy's. And even though I had to abort mission: jenny make out with strangers, we had a pretty wild night. Even if I had to sleep alone, thanks Nelly!



While I may have slept alone, I didn't soak in the Jacuzzi alone. Feared by Stacy Abbie and Nelly, Chachi and I poured on the bubbles. Though it was short lived and we dripped water everywhere, my plot from the beginning came to fruition. I made it in the tub and that's all that matters, even if I did lose a contact in there.



The next morning came with more talk of gas and bathroom business and Chachi's pleading for it to end as we began to debate our breakfast options. Since we struck out at Denny's before we figured Perkins was our safest bet. It didn't take long to agree, but unfortunately it didn't take long to violate the terms of Chachi's breakfast rules either. And despite the rejuvenating ice tea the food left something to be desired. We cold have smoke 3 cigarettes by the time the food came and I do believe those red dots were supposed to be blueberries.



It was all over too soon. One quick hunt for cheese and cigarettes and we were back in Illinois. Back to no smoking in bars, no McTender, no discussion of the man with the magic hands. Another one for the books. Another trip to a place with no name that surpassed our expectations. All I can say is where to next ?!