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Birthday Berating

There have been may great philosophers in Human history; Aristotle, Socrates, Plato, and now Mooney? Many of Mooney’s exploits have already been documented, but seeing as we have already covered all the major stories, aside from the occasional epiphany, I was struck with the idea of filling in some cracks with a Mooney post. Any who better to fill a breech than Mooney?

I will start with an unfortunate fact that Mooney’s birthday is three days after mine. Most of my life I was able to avoid the obvious elephant suggested by this fact – sharing a birthday party with Mooney. In my opinion, an inconceivable event is to have to share your annual jubilee with anyone, but the gods take this opinion to mock me relentlessly. Aside from sharing a birthday close to Mooney, my grandfather’s birthday is a few days before mine, and to inject more salt on the wound I have a cousin who’s birthday is a day after mine, and another cousin who’s birthday who is two days after mine. Needless to say, long before I met Mooney I was saturated with shared birthday events, which I still feel robbed me of the enjoyment of a birthday. I am not an individual who often needs to be the center of attention, and as such the birthday is a rare occasion where I not only want to be, but I feel is my god-given right, as would apply to anyone else. I would go as far to propose that if you know anyone with a birthday in close proximity to your own, then dump them from your life immediately!


One occasion, sometime after Princeton, Mooney proposed a join birthday party at his place, on the Friday of his birthday. As with many of Mooney’s suggestions, he orated a friendly suggestion, and any response other than an angry NO was taken as an emphatic YES. So it was also on this occasion. Dan had thegawl to tell me to bring the cake and beer?! BRING BEER AND CAKE TO MY OWN BIRTHDAY PARTY!!!! ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR F*CKING MIND! Never was this going to happen, though the entirely of my response was something akin to a grunt as I was too tired to field a Mooney argument.

The night in question I had something else to do, with some other people, I think Chris or Stephanie may have been involved (it was one of those eras where Matt and Stephanie were broken-up). As we eventually made our way over the Mooney’s place for an ordinary party as far as I was concerned, I did bring a 12-pack of beer for the cause, as per normal. I did not arrive at Mooney’s place until after 10pm. Dan was upset at my tardiness, thought I was never informed of a time. His anger was soon replaced with a heightened level of anger when he saw I had ONLY brought a 12-pack and NO CAKE! How dare I! Mooney expected me, with his apparent empathic communication, to bring a keg of beer AND A CAKE!

As Mooney ran off in hysterics to salvage the night, I saw the outside yard was a zombie field of penned-up Humans comprised of “Dan’s Friends”. I skipped no beat, nor wasted no breathe as I entered the yard, made a prompt face-left (or stay there) and entered the house. I knew, as with any party – good or bad, there would be a collection of people in the kitchen. I was correct! Those who arrived with me, and a few real Humans drank my beer, and cajoled in the kitchen. the evening was highlighted when of all people, Mary arrived and gave me a gift and a birthday wish! The others present wished me well, and apologised for not remembering my birthday.

The greatest gift that night was the smug look I gave myself in response to Mooney. Wrapped in a bow would not have made it any better.

With that off my chest we enter the second Mooney tale. It was an era after Princeton, when Matt, Eric, and Ivan lived on the second floor of the typical University Heights house onWinspear . Each Saturday we drank beer and rolled literal dice in the normal gaming ritual. The difference her was Matt had only one semi-functioning working light, which is placed in the farthest corner of the gaming room given it’s absurdly short cord. This lent itself to playing Vampire. Like a good host, Matt often chose to eat as we arrived, thereby leaving us to fend for ourselves in the ritual ordering of food. A gesture that was simply rude.

Going off on a tangent here I remember how Matt’s future wife, Jessica, attended gaming here one night. Strictly forbidden, but as Matt sprung this on us at the last minute we could do nothing but stomp around the room yelling and then proceed as normal. She sat quietly (as ordered) in the corner during gaming, picker her spot, as she shot a blow to Matt at just the correct few times as to push him over the edge into one of his few-but-famous blow ups.

Back on track, one evening Matt informed us gaming would be cut short as the UB Marching Band was having their annual party at his place in a few hours. Matt informed us at the start of gaming and then ran around making invisible arrangements and telling us “I’ll be ready to start gaming in one more minute.” That time never arrived and we bullshitted until the band keg arrived.

The rest of us drank the party keg as soon as it arrived. Since we were friends of those house host (Ivan) we were granted free passage, as the Band changed non-band members $5.

How did this party for the UB Marching Band come to be hosted at Matt’s place when he nor his roommates had any musical talent? Ivan was friends with a band member, and when his friend spoke of the party, and how it needed a place to live, Ivan offered up his place (for the price of free beer for himself and his roommates).

This party story escapes from the seedy underworld of drugs! *GASP* I was inside, siting on the couch, taking to some people who like me did not care to watch the Yankee world series game that was on. My conversation pal left for the restroom and a new buddy took his seat. We engaged in some pleasant commentary on the crowd, and after a moment of silence he abruptly asked is I had any drugs! I had never been approached int his manner before, but I must have looked like a grungy dealer that night, or maybe it was Matt’s piss-poor lamp. Without hesitation I informed him the individual he wanted was Erik, and gave him a strikingly accurate description, sending him on his way in search of heightened states of awareness.

The house quickly filled up with people and Mooney, Rob, myself, and the like moved to the porch. We saw a group of five guys striding down the middle of the street past the house no doubt towards some Main Street bar. Mooney yelled at the crew, causing the rotund leader to halt and look up. Seeing an obvious party in swing he requested an invite. We told him it was $5. They proclaimed to have not money, how they were gonna get anywhere in a bar who knows. I should also mention we were told this was strictly a private band party.

“Come on up!” cried Mooney

“Tell them you are int he band!”

They all disappeared to the side of the house and five minutes later three of the five appear, beer in hand, on the porch with us! We all had a good time mocking the two left back on the ground floor, who had somehow managed to be denied access past the high security. After some time the two drooped their heads and trudged off towards Main Street.

At this time Erik appeared on the porch and spoke of a mysterious man who kept asking him for drugs, not taking no for an answer. Erik had finally ditched the guy by escaping to the porch. We all took the story in.

“I wonder how he knew to ask me?”

“I told him.” (with glee)

Rob, Mooney, and myself erupted in laughter at Erik’s situation, and I personally took joy in one of my occasional moments of Mooney-ness.

It has occurred to men this last story had more to do with Matt and Eric than Mooney, but into every tale a Mooney must ooze.

I continue with a tiny example of Mooney’s philosophy of “The Most Obvious Thing About Them”. To subscribe to this philosophy you simple point out the most obvious thing you see about a person. Be that their fat-ness, smell, what have you. His defense when the inevitable “Mooney!” was the reply (be it by the target, or more commonly a female member of the group) was always the same.

“It was the most obvious thing about her.”

Mooney touted his philosophy often, but the one that is forever stuck in my mind is when I was driving Mooney down Kenmore Ave. past Jacobi’s. Frequent readers of this blog will note, once again, that Mooney in your passenger seat is an open invite to incident. A new law had been passed days before. That being the decree that had feminists shouting from the roof-tops. A woman could walk around top-less, just like a man. Despite much struggle to get this law passed, I have only ever once seen it put into practice, and it to be this day.

As we drove up Kenmore Ave. we spotted a woman with generous proportions. Low and behold she was top-less! As single college men this was not the example we wanted to see, be that as it may I quickly turned my attention back to the road. Mooney, in all his most sincere honesty, could not avert his eyes. What he yelled as we passed her was cruelly the most obvious thing about her.


Who am I to say Mr. Mooney has issues.


16 Responses

  1. Just a couple of things here.

    First, shouldn’t the title be something other than the exact same title to a disimilar story? At least slap a deuce on the end ya lazy goit!

    Second, I was pleased to see a reference to Basic Blues in there! It strokes my ego to be quoted; albeit inappropriatly. Keep stroking!

    The beauty of Mooney’s gall is not in the making of an outrageous request, but in the anguished fury he projects when his expectations are not fulfilled. I remember him berating me harshly when unable to locate food in my desk at Goodyear after actually climbing over me to look for it. Fortunately I got wise and hid it in Knaus’s desk where even Mooney feared to tread. He also once castigated me relentlessly after stealing my last smoke at Princeton and then finding out I didn’t have a backup pack when he was ready to steal another.

    So wait, a woman was actually able to withstand being in the same room while you geeks were gaming and you put her in the corner?? I suppose she is lucky you didn’t have a burqa stashed away to hide away her offensive form while the real men overacted being vampires like a collection of adolescent goth ass waxers. Did you even check this out yet?

    I can see you being mistaken for a dealer. Your scruffy surliness can only point to irritable IT guy or drug dealer. Since you break the stereotype and actually work out, the casual observer could only assume the latter.

    All I can say is that hopefully Dan’s next date doesn’t do too thorough a background check.

  2. I changed the title.

    Jessica was all but ignored except for a few times she made a comment, at which the rest of us laughed, and Matt shushed her. She was welcomed back.

    She was not the first female to sit in on a gaming session. Mary made an appearance at least once I can remember, all part of an elaborate plan of Mooney’s to make us freak out as she fed him grapes.

    NERD-GIRL deserved a place in our blogroll.

  3. I remember the first time the band party story was told, the guy was quoted as saying “Dude, I hear you can score some really good drugs at this house.”
    Mary’s appearance was her first appearance for most of us; she appeared out of nowhere feeding Dan grapes and tolerating his most heinous behavior. Wasn’t that shortly after the Anguished 12 Hours??? It was definitely at Comstock. I call for Dan to tell the tale.

  4. YES! That was the correct quote!

    That was after the Anguished 12 Hours, which Dan supposedly has started. I also demand he post it soon.

  5. Listen you said that you would bring beer and I told you to stuff the cake. I figured that you would bring more than a 12 pack. That wasn’t enough for even one for each person. It was a party and I’ve always supplied the beer at my parties. I figured that you would bring more.

    That was also the party that Mukaballa Dan knocked a hole in the kitchen wall with a strap on dildo.

    The band party was great, as most of the band people were boring or snobs. They had a real attitude. The guys we invited up were from a punk band playing in the area, and were a lot more fun.

    And I’m writing the piece I’ve just had a bad couple of weeks. State testing is going on and it is unbeliveably stressful. But it will be up soon.

  6. I had no idea how many people would show up. I should have guessed you would have invited the usual weirdos. You never were one for details. “Bring some beer” in your mind means a half/full keg in this case because you are suppling beer for the whole party, while to me it meant bring some beer.

    A hole int he wall with a dido? That will generate some strange search terms for certain. You have to post that story!

  7. Athies – Crazy story!! I too would only have gotten a six pack, not a whole keg. And I would have expected cake to be bought by somebody else. Is Mooney Filipino or perhaps South Vietnamese or Cambodian? Because, being a Filipino American myself, when it’s your birthday, you’re supposed to have a “blow out” party and YOU (the birthday person) have to treat your friends to a restaurant. I’m not kidding. It’s always been that way with my parents and with other Filipino’s of the First Generation era. And I believe some other Southeast Asian countries go by that belief.

    By the way briefly I lived at 300 Winspear Avenue. That house was HAUNTED for sure. I’m serious, and it’s another snippet story I gotta share at some point. Suffice it to say there were SIX of us at that house (3 guys, 3 girls) and we ALL had weird experiences in it.

    Re: “I suppose she is lucky you didn’t have a burqa stashed away to hide away her offensive form while the real men overacted being vampires like a collection of adolescent goth ass waxers.” HAHAHAHA lol lol I am dying here….hahahahaha. Wolf you are really sick with the verbal acidity…hahahahaha hoo hoo hoo hee.” Burqa!! hahahaha…..”adolescent goth ass waxers” HAHAHAHAHAHA…..i have to pee now…My black cat Dibbs is looking at me like i’ve lost it…..

  8. Mooney is merely a simple, loud white man of Irish decent – hence the loud.

  9. No. He’s really Filipino, with a dash of Aztec, and a hint of Belgium

  10. If I was still holding a grudge against the paint ball incident I would say he is a mix of shit, crap, and fucker.

  11. I told you they were non-toxic. Quit whining. You sound like Andrew. He keeps going on about that time we set him on fire. Some people just can’t let anything go.

  12. How dare you compare me to Andrew! What is the story of you setting him on fire? This gives me the idea for a profile post on Andrew to go along with the series I am working on for profiles on various Comstock people, similar to your profiles series on Comstock weirdos.

  13. We were at a farm party and he kinda, somehow, in-a-manner-of-speaking got set alight during the bonfire. It was a freak accident thing.

  14. Someone almost dying in a freakishly horrible manner at Jeff Deaths? … c’mon….

  15. hahahahaha hahaha “he is a mix of shit, crap, and fucker.” DYING!!!

  16. one of dan’s friends.. Dr. eye i believe- squirted a can of lighter fluid into the bonfire- it went through/over the fire, across the ground on the other side and all over my leg.

    so as i was putting myself out (stop drop roll) and yelling they all laughed.

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