Your Drunk Bridgetown Update #2

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I'm actually pretty sober right now, and I'll tell you why: The 45 minutes cooling off in line as we waited for Competitive Erotic Fan fiction to belatedly start, followed by a long show in a very crowded room of NO CHAIRS where getting a beer just seemed like more trouble than it was worth. I really like sitting down. So much.

Ian Karmel is once again Portland's reigning Erotic Fan Fiction champ. Does Ian have to win EVERYTHING?

Just kidding Ian, I think you're just the best, and I really liked your fan fiction about nailing the anti-Semitic ghost of Helen Keller. But when Kurt Braunohler provided detailed instructions on how to fuck a fetus out of Golden Girl, it was inspired AND instructional. He got my loudest claps.

Didn't get a drink at the Tanker's open mic, 'cause the wonderful Ron Lynch was hogging all the whiskey. Richard Bain's buttonhole? Anybody else see it? Bain took off his pants then turned toward the window to deliver a set to (at?) passers-by. That's not not on the internet already.

Andy Dick is around, apparently. (This is totally an unconfirmed rumor I saw on the internet.) So, you know... hide your cocaine or whatever.

Here's my notes from David Huntsberger's early set at the Eagles Lodge, my favorite festival venue. They're entirely accurate. He's so good. (Do you think Martin the Eagle was offended that Laura Kightlinger kept calling it an Elks Lodge?)

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