R15 36 Getting Buck Wild

PDBA I'm back Beavers! After a week of sunshine and Tecate, I have returned to the midwest and this blog. I hope you weren't too worried. 

Oh dear...

Hot, sweaty, and sloshing with beer, we rolled out of Manson and towards the little town of Clare. Now, I may not be getting the stops right, because, as you might recall, we had already partied our asses off in FUNda and in Manson. There will still be 3 more HUGE party stops to go, so if I am getting them out of order, please forgive me...

This is the point in the afternoon when I get a bit hot, sticky, sangry, and whiny. It was sunny and humid after all that rain and I was getting just very meh about this whole ragby thing. 

But, dutifully, I followed the rest of the team into the teensy, tiny town of Clare and put my big girl drinking pants on. There was only one place to booze in Clare. The Bucks Wild Inn or White Tail Tavern, I don't fucking know, but I handed over my ID, got stamped, and bellied up to the beer bin. 

Getting buck wild! 

We found a teeny, tiny spot in the shade under the table and contemplated the following things. 

Stripes attracted to stripes!

First, of course, Too Much made friends. The Zebra Ladies were more than happy to be stickered by that tall drink of water that is Too Much. Meow, or should I say, Neigh! What do Zebras say? Too Much also did some rug cutting...naturally. 

Let me just apply this here...

Steven did what Steven normally does which is plot how to get the microphone away from the DJ. This DJ in particular was stupendously bad, and needed the microphone snatched post haste.

Making friends!

She also got into an argument/chat with a manther at our table. I am going to have her recount the details of this discussion, but I think he was from Utah and the result was him earning the nickname "Pussy Eating Mike." 

Nice, and not the last we see of the merkins!

I'll admit, despite my grumpiness and hotness I had a pretty good time in Clare, but we couldn't figure out a way to wrestle control from the DJ and the day was getting on, so eventually, we sneaked under the police tape and returned to the bikes.

Off to Fort Dodge, right?

Wrong. Oh, so wrong.