Third day at Oktoberfest was our last.  Le boo.

Anne and I tried to get our shit together and wake up early so that we could walk around and pretend that we saw at least *some* of Munich outside of the beer tents.  We gave ourselves a solid 60 minutes of walking around time.  More than enough to see a giant city with no map, right?  Here is what I look like in the morning – puffy eyes galore.  Annie is the cutest.

Being extremely resourceful (read: stuck without a map and no data roaming on our iPhones), we stumbled down a random alleyway into a small courtyard in the middle of the deserted city.  Where we found this:

What is this, you ask?  I have no fucking idea.  It looked like a giant community of German folk bands all standing together in the middle of nowhere, looking at each other.  You would *think* they would play their instruments at some point, you know, having instruments in their hands and all, but Annie and I stood there waiting for over 30 minutes waiting for something to happen.  And they just stood there shuffling slightly to the left or right.

Finally, we decided to go into the adjacent Starbucks and get a coffee so that we had something to do while waiting for SOMETHING *BIG* TO HAPPEN with the German folk bands.  I went to the washroom, too.  DID YOU KNOW that washrooms at Starbucks’ in downtown Munich are like, in super fucking cool underground CAVES?  Where you have to go into what looks like a haunted cellar door, then into the basement of a fucking underground LAIR?  YEAH  IT WAS PRETTY COOL.

Finally the bands played like three bars of music then they stopped and started looking around again so we we left to walk around some more.

See all the Police?  What is going on you say?

Two things became quickly apparent:

1. It was a national holiday in Germany and there were police EVERYWHERE to prevent drunk German mob-fighting; and
2. In order to be a female police officer in Germany you have to be tall, blond, and smoking hot.

What with all the underground washroom caves, the blond policewomen, and the instrument-holding-stand-around mob, it was shaping up to be a fabulous day.

On to the tent we booked for day three: Hippodrom.

As you can see, we welcomed the morning with another huge log of cheese paste and salted turnips.

Hippodrom was supposedly the “exclusive” tent that was really “hard to get into”, not unlike a “hot, hot club”… so of course I was automatically a bit skeptical.  I like my beer tents “trashy and non-exclusive”.

There WERE a larger proportion of ladies with fake tits… and we saw two ladies with fake breasticles doing a line of coke on the table next to us… so yeah, very similar to a “hot, hot club”.

However, the tent was beautiful, they had an all-day live band and the beer was delicious.  So I was happy.

The other main difference between this tent and the others is that this one served alcohol *other* than beer.  Two of the girls in my group (I feel the need to clarify that neither one is me…), are not partial to beer… for them, the first two days were not as enjoyable as they could have been, alcohol-wise… so this was a way for them to get drunk with a bit more comfort.

The two non-beer ladies chose to order Champagne.  Two bottles.  So like, one bottle each.  You is some cra-zhy guys!

Things started a bit slow.  I mean, everyone looks just like, sober and normal.

Apparently, I decided that on day three I was going to try really hard to look like a transvestite man, as you can see below.

 This picture is only *sorta* getting a little sloppy… Travis is pulling the fart eyes down there in the corner.

…and then Sarah drank a whole bottle of Champagne to herself…

…and then other people started acting like idiots.

Awwwww, look how nice the picture below is:

You would never know that this was the picture taken immediately before it:

The transvestite man is unhappy about something and decided to shout her/his disapproval in a low baritone:

At some point we left the tent.  I remember walking slowly in the sun aimlessly.  Then I remember sitting outside at another tent.  Which tent? I have no idea.

What I DO remember is that there were no places to sit on the outdoor patio, and they don’t serve you delicious beer unless you are sitting down.  We then noticed a table for eight with only four people seated at it.  The waitress said to us “Seat?  Seat?  Seat over there! THERE!” …and ushered us to this table.

Unbeknownst to us, these four men had been belligerent all day… had broken several glasses on the table, and were so out of their minds incomprehensible drunk that the waitress couldn’t even speak to them to kick them out.  She thought if we sat down they would get the picture and get up and leave.

But no.  They befriended us.  They really liked me and my low-cut dress.  One man made me sit on his lap as a “toll” for us to sit at the table.  So yeah, vomit in my mouth.  They were all Eastern European and REALLY liked that I am Croatian.  Oh yeah.  They liked me.  They liked me a lot.

The Serbian gentleman pictured below has no teeth (he also stole my hat):

The gentleman pictured below sat in this position for about two hours straight speaking to no one:

At some point we all realized that we should probably leave… some people threw up… some people cried… it was a clusterfuck, really.

This part got a little fuzzy – I seem to remember three of us girls having SERIOUS trouble figuring out how to get back to the hotel for the following reasons:

1. Walking was out of the question due to drunken fatigue and no sense of direction;
2. We had no idea where the subway was; and
3. There were no cabs.

I have this vision of us walking around for the Oktoberfest gate for 30 minutes… wailing to each other in drunken loud obnoxious girl voices “HOWWWW  are we going to get bAAAACK”…

…while walking in circles around a Rickshaw.  Like OVER AND OVER AND OVER:

All of a sudden, it was like we had been standing next to the rickshaw for twenty minutes wailing, when we turned around and were all like “THERE’S A RICKSHAW!!!” Like we had invented the idea of a rickshaw.

Please see below for a shot of Tomas, our rickshaw (to make it extra German you have to put emphasis on the “mas”, like To-MAS).  PLEASE NOTE HOW MANY RICKSHAWS THERE ARE AROUND HIM THAT WE DID NOT SEE.

Drunnnnk ladiiiieeesss, takin’ pictuuuuures!  Every drunk lady thinks pictures are a great idea.  It’s science.

Oh To-MAS, you so crazy.

Then we went to Pizza Hut.  End of day.

Incidentally, since posting about the two first days, I have come across some additional pictures.

From day two – Here we are sitting with the table of German people next to us for a photo.  Please note how “familiar” the gentleman in the lower right-hand corner is being with Anne…

But Anne doesn’t seem to mind.

Agnes is *very* happy about the fact that cotton candy cost the equivalent of 30 cents.  She kept yelling “DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH THIS COST?  DO YOU?  THIRTY CENTS!  I LOVE EUROPE!”

And then from day one below… some pictures of me sitting with a table of guys from Holland.  I do not remember this occuring at all.  Let’s also note that I am holding a cookie necklace that is not mine, and I have clearly crushed it with my overzealous man-hands.  The man sitting directly across from me is pretty upset with me – look at his kill-eyes.

Also – WHEN did my hair get French braided?  By whom?  These are still mysteries.

But award for best candid photo is the one below, where I am obviously trying to steal cigarettes from Holland Jared Leto while giving him my digits as a distraction.  I can just imagine myself being like

“…uh yeah… 1-1-3-2-4-5-6-2-24-4-2-3–6-4-3… but like, that number might not work in Holland.”

Next post is about my one-day adventure in Vienna, then off to Prague!

So the next day at Oktoberfest was my birthday.  Truth.  Birthday at Oktoberfest like a piiiiiimp.  I was pretty excited, because it gave me an excuse to do the following things on my birthday without being seen as a “self indulgent weirdo”:

1. Dress in costume;
2. Drink copious amounts of beer; and
3. Demand attention from old German men.

As you can see, the day had all the ingredients to be amazing.  We had reservations at the Schottenhamel Tent and we got started early.

So, apparently there is this thing at Oktoberfest where you buy people you “like” cookies that have various German sayings on them.  Since my friends are completely awesome, they all pitched in to buy me a HUGE (and expensive) German necklace cookie that said “Happi Borsdai”.  It was like two feet across and like ten pounds.  

We started the day with some ‘cheese paste’ and turnips with salt on them.  You know, the good stuff.

They really like their salted turnips.  Trust me.  Look how drunk I am already:

Alright, let’s get down to the nuts.

There’s this thing at Oktoberfest called “chugging”.  If you haven’t heard of it before, it’s when you “chug” the contents of your beer down your throat all fast-like.  Since the steins at Oktoberfest are a full litre, it’s understandably a big deal when you chug your stein.  There is this tradition around it and everyone goes MENTAL when you chug.  ESPECIALLY if you are a girl.  So the deal is this:

1. Stand up on your table
2. Chug your beer to the insane drunk cheers of your thousands of new European friends

If you succeed in chugging your whole beer, you get to revel in the idolatry of inebriated old German men while sunlight shines down on you like in the beginning of The Lion King when Moufasa holds Simba up in the air.  If you fail, you get simultaneously pelted with pieces of old pretzels by hundreds of people.

So… it was my birthday…

And… I can chug a tidy beer…

And… I had on my giant birthday cookie of confidence.

So I decided that today was the day that I was going to stand on my table and chug a litre of beer. 

Let me preface this story by saying I intentionally traded in my “half full” stein of beer for a “totally full” stein of beer before I started chugging because I didn’t want to be a “giant pussy”.

Let’s view the video below to see how things went:

YEAH.  I was about 2/3rd of the way through my LITRE of beer, when the German security guard stopped me.

WHY??? You ask?

BECAUSE APPARENTLY, girls aren’t “allowed” to chug full steins.  GIRLS AREN’T ALLOWED.  That’s what the guy told me after. 

Now, I can understand that this rule is *probably* based on past experience they’ve gathered from years of girls trying to chug full steins then projectile barfing all over everyone.  However.  THOSE GIRLS AREN’T NATALIE.  Natalie can chug a litre of beer then ace a Physics exam.

At least I can take comfort in the fact that the whole tent of drunk people was on my side and booed the security guard then threw a bunch of pretzels at him.

The thesis of this story, as you can probably tell by my previous displays of awesomeness, is that I AM TOO HARDCORE FOR OKTOBERFEST.

Anyways, I was happy that I worked up the nerve to even try.   Incidentally, should you ever try to chug a litre stein, here is a tip – make sure you take a deep fucking breath, because it’s not the beer that’ll get ‘cha, it’s the fact that your nose and mouth are fucking sealed off in a glass with no oxygen for like a minute. 

Personally, I was *SO* nervous that I was breathing like an overweight Texan, so it was ten times worse.  Here is an artist’s rendition:

The table next to us was full of nice German people, and they took a liking to us, probably because we were playing Uno, which is apparently the United Nations of card games. 

They were SO nice that they even gave us their desserts, which were the most fucking delicious apple crisp things with apple sauce on the side EVER.

In the afternoon we decided to walk around the fairgrounds and go on roller coasters and drink more beer.  This roller coaster is called the Munchen Pooping, and it was in the shape of the Olympic rings. 

Since Munich hosted the Olympic games in 1972, and since there is no real other reason for it to be in the shape of the Olympic rings OTHER than the fact that it was built for the Olympics, that makes this roller coaster (that gets torn down and rebuilt every year by carnies) FORTY YEARS OLD.  I did not ride it.  I chose to stay back and drink more beer in the sun with my giant cookie.

That night, we went to an amazing dinner at a German restaurant and I ate  more ‘cheese paste’ and salted turnips.  IT WAS AMAZING. 

I also was instructed to bring my giant cookie to ensure my embarrassment would be as prolonged as possible, which was also amazing. 

Plus, the restaurant was so wonderful and nice that they gave me a free ceramic birthday stein. 

Incidentally, with my toque and my weird cookie and my cup everyone thought I looked like a homeless person and we were so drunk that it was hilarious to everyone.

Best Oktoberfest birthday ever.  Despite lack of full chug.  Here is an arty picture I took while we walked home drunk:

Tomorrow, my last day at Oktoberfest , but then on to more European adventures…  stay tuned.

Alright.  Time to get your fall wardrobe filled out.   Almost the whole summer has gone by with no sale, and I know you’re thinking,

 ”Natalie – WTF?  I thought we were pals.”  And so now, I’m like,

“Simmer down.  We’re having a sale this Saturday.”  And you’re all like,

“About frigging time.”

You too can be as happy-go-lucky as Sarah in 100% Shoebox Vintage.  Just saying.

Yes.  It’s true.  Mega-Hyper-Explosion-Super-Duper Fall Sale is occuring this Saturday.  I was looking through my closet yesterday to try to pull some things out that I haven’t worn in a while (or haven’t worn EVER, with the PRICES still attached because I am a crazy person who has a disease), and I was all like,

“Holy balls we’ll have so much stuff to sell.”

So seriously.  You should get your bunsicle in gear and make it down here.  Prices so low you’ll think we’ve gone cray-cray.  Here are the details:

WHAT: A vintage and pre-owned clothing sale
WHEN: Saturday, September 15
TIME: 11 - 5
WHERE: 102 Bellwoods Ave (east of Trinity Bellwoods, between Queen W and Dundas)
WHO: YOU

Please bring cash. 

WHAT will we be selling?

• Oh, you know… amazing vintage numbers from both high-end designers like PRADA, MISSONI, YVES SAINT LAURENT, CHRISTIAN DIOR… you know, NO BIG DEAL.
• Cool, more laid-back vintagey stuff from Levi’s, Pendleton, Wrangler, etc….
• Leather jackets, leather skirts, jeans, silky dresses, maxi skirts, mini skirts, wicked-cool plaid, jackets and coats, boots, shoes… basically any kind of clothing that exists, we’ll be selling version of it.
• Pre-owned clothing from brands like Bench, Banana Republic, Club Monaco, Aritzia, Zara, J Brand, Madewell, J Crew, Urban Outfitters, etc., etc.

STILL not enough reason to come?  You are a tough sell, woman.  Prices will be LOW LOW LOW.  Lower than Britney Spears’ self-esteem.  Lower than Christina Aguilera’s jeans in the “Genie in a Bottle” video.  Lower than… well… you get the picture.

I decided that for fall I am going to be Michelle Phillips in the 70′s.  Why?  SEE PICTURE ABOVE.  She is mega-cool.  Jeez.  Floral maxi dress with blazer?  Oh yes.  Big ol’ heeled boots?   Uh, yes.  HAIR IN BRAIDED GERMAN BUNS????  So many kinds of unadulterated yesses.  For additional coolness evidence, please see the picture below:

YEAH WHATEVER.  Just like some kind of cool Girl Scout leader or some shit being all cool and 70′s.  At first I thought maybe she was chewing on a bean in this photo but that seems somewhat unlikely, so I’m going to go with super-cool hand-rolled cigarette.

NO BIG DEAL.

I shall leave you with this:

WHATEVER JUST WEARING A BROCADE SUIT AND EATING A BANANA THEN I DECIDE TO TRANSPORT A FIRE HYDRANT AND HOLD A GIANT GLOBE WHILE ALSO HOLDING AND EATING THE BANANA.

Coolest.  Ever.

 One of my friends turned 30 last week, and since his wife is totally awesome, she organized a pirate party on a boat.  Not sure if you’ve noticed, but I pretty much salivate at the mouth anytime I have the opportunity to wear a costume, so I went all out.

The sad/amazing thing about my costume is that I already owned almost all of it.  The only thing I had to go out an procure was the WICKED AWESOME hat. 

We were all speculating as to the sweatiness level inside the plastic hook-hand…

Travis, the birthday boy,  looked appropriately piratey.

There was also a Somali pirate.

Time to drink.

And drink we did. 

See below for a picture of me when I am incandescently happy, even though my head appears to be resting on some sort of uncomfortable-looking metal access-door.  Sun, beer, and costumes!!!

So, as mentioned previously, I’m heading to Europe at the end of September and I’m starting to get preeeetty excited.  Here is the schedule:

• 4 days in Munich during Oktoberfest
• 2 days in Vienna bein’ bad-ass
• 6 days in Prague  ballin’ large

Being in Munich during Oktoberfest is going to be figgin’ amazing, not just because I’ll get to be part of such an iconic event, but also because me and the four other girls on our “travel squad” have decided to be one with the locals and buy “Dirndls” (i.e. German Wench Dress Thing) so that we can get drunk in costume, which is infinitely better than getting drunk in your regular-person clothes. 

SO.  With that in mind, please help me pick my amazing German Dirndl (PLEASE NOTE that I will not be wearing a circa 1999 steam-punk choker with stars and suns hanging from it as shown in the photo):

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Option 1: Red

Option 2: Light Blue

Option 3: Dark Blue

… a really fucking awesome one.

Yes.  They. Are. Mine.