My name is Jamie Kelly. You probably know me better as THE DOGG ZZONE 9000’s Jamie “Cut That” Kelly. I’ve officially turned ambiguously old… and I’m on a mission. The perfect drunken night. And because I’m such an awesome friend, I’ll be putting the tenuous weight of responsibility of a perfect night’s libations squarely on the shoulders of my friends. A few days before my birthday, I put a feeler out on the 1900HOTDOG Slack, and slowly but surely I compiled a list of birthday cheer. Cheer is alcohol. You knew that. But where does one drink under such specialized circumstances? No question, a horror themed tiki punk rock bar on the bad side of town in North Las Vegas! Let’s raise the odds of danger, that way if’n I die, my friends will feel especially awesome knowing that they, in no small part, helped to contribute to my sad, frustrating end! To help my chances of survival. I tugged on the shoulder of a local friend and long time producer of countless indignities featuring yours truly, my good buddy, Penny Petals. Before we could head out, it was imperative that we observed the time honored tradition of the professionally broke, the dirtiest of bags, scummiest of fucks… The Pregame.
What follows is a ranking of 1900HOTDOG’s most solemnly suggested birthday libations, as well as my thoughts about how these drinks reflect on those who suggested them to me.
The time is 7pm, (as far as I know.) 1900HOTDOG’S amazing tech support, layout wrangler, store post author, and incredible podcast roundup artist, Thomas Lockmaster, (actual full legal name) suggested our first drink of the night. Thomas is obviously not punk rock and has missed the assignment completely. Raspberry Lemonade. RASPBERRY LEMONADE. Oh hey, Thomas… the phone, it’s for you… guy on the line says it’s AMATEUR HOUR and you were the first on his emergency contact list.
Ok. Let’s be fair. Thomas is a gentle soul. An actual real life adult perhaps. Maybe, just maybe he does get the assignment and wants absolutely nothing to do with it. OR, maybe he meta gets the assignment and, being the first suggestion, is watching out for my safety by starting me off with delicious birthday hydration. Good man. I think I might marry Thomas. Lucky guy.
What’s this!? Our first real entry, (stop crying, Lockmaster, this is no way to start our courtship) we’re easing our way into a night of what no doubt will be total slaughter and unfathomable debauchery… I’d expect nothing less from everyone’s favorite punch hunk supreme and fluffy family man, Seanbaby! Sean is an experienced party demon from way back and knows the rules in legally binding order. Beer. Caffeine/alcohol shot. Sippin’ drink. A three part act I call “Seanbaby’s Orgy.” But I don’t play by ANY ORGY’S rules, so I’m splitting this up. Two for the pregame and a third for the bar. It’s called edging. Look into it.
I’m gonna be honest, I don’t dig on the energy drinks. I stopped playing videogames in 1995. Never developed a taste for the stuff, BUT at the risk of being fired, I’m going to go ahead and choke down god’s very own horse piss/liquified PEZ recipe. The vodka takes the edge off, things are going to be ok.
NOW we’re talking. Robert Brockway comes in clutch as the very backbone of 1900HOTDOG with a drink that’s all spine. Simple. Effective. No jokes. Just like Brockway. A drink after my own heart. It’s perfectly brunette, it’s room temperature, it will potentially make you call your ex in large enough quantities. Just like Brockway.
I’m feeling it. I’m not sloshed, but I’m feeling it. Where’s Thomas? He should be here for this… everything’s so happy… it’s like raspberry lemonade, just like… fun, you know? I love you Thomas. I’mma tell my mom about you. Where’s my phone?
What happens when one of the hottest girls on social media suggests a drink? I wouldn’t know, I wasn’t giving recommendations. Merritt K, lovely as she is, gave me a choice: Dirty martini OR sazerac. I ordered the sazerac… and my bartender said if I’m gonna drop Star Wars slurs, I could get the fuck out. If you want to get a butch lesbian to make soft eyes at you, try ordering a sazerac at a Las Vegas dive bar, and then softly whispering “dirty martini” when she shuts you down. The dirty martini was strong. Merritt K strong. She’s getting into combat sports and firearms, and that’s exactly what her drink tastes like. I had to spend some time with it. Bonus, it came with vegetables! Look at me, I’m getting in shape!
I’m tagging back into Seanbaby’s Orgy and flying in with a Shooting Star Press, just like I do at every orgy. This time I’m landing elbow deep into a big ol’ mug of moscow mule, instead of a Jeep salesman named Brad. Fittingly, this is Sean’s finishing move and I was knocked flat… but not down for the count! I’m distracted by the band, and I don’t even realize there’s a boss battle on the horizon…
I’m a bit embarrassed listing out all these ingredients to a bartender who already thinks I’m a space racist. Luckily I’m blitzed and talking to an ashtray. By some birthday miracle I am handed my drink. Fancy! I don’t have more than a passing acquaintance with Alex Schmidt, (an absolute hero of mine from way back in the Cracked days) so to be able to imbibe this classy amalgamation of spirits-
Scotch. The bitch gave me scotch. Now I’m stuck drinking Europe’s Pinesol.
Anyway, I’m calling this drink “Schmidty The Clam.” It’s scotch.
I’m tagging Penny in… she’s gonna take a few sips of my Pinesol and point me to the cigarettes. This part’s real: Having overheard a private conversation, I used my 30 years experience as a working musician to talk a band of young’uns out of taking a non paying, no soundman gig right in front of the creepy venue owner who was obviously perving on a fresh batch of disaffected youth. Am I the greatest American hero? No, that’s William Katt. But he’s probably dead, so yes.
Finally, the night is winding down. Alex’s bog tea took some time to wrassle, but I put her down. Shooting Star Press, works every time. Now I find myself looking forward to the recommendation of a trusted friend, my other podcast boss, David Bell. I’m to order something called a Dark & Stormy. Sounds ominous. Something a lighthouse keeper would slug back while watching the clouds roll in. It’s- OH! Would you look at that! Is that rum? Ginger beer? THIS is a queer drink! Finally somebody gets the mission. Thank you, David Bell, for suggesting this: the queerest possible drink to end a night. Where’s Thomas Lockmaster? Baby, you are retroactively buying me this Dark & Stormy.
Brockway said I should eat some chickens… but he said it like, dinosaurs. Like chicken in a dinosaur way. Words are whatever, man. Words are just burps you tune with your lips. Did I order the chicken yet? Yes. YES! My spicy dinosaurs are on the way. Doordash guy… you look like a Thomas. You got a Thomas face. I think I’m gonna have the shits tomorrow. I love you. Happy birthday to you. NO. No, to me. Happy birthday to ME. Did you guys see this motherfucker just try to steal my birthday?
This column is dedicated to the memory of William Katt, who is still alive.
*Special thanks to everyone at 1900HOTDOG as well as all the fans for being so gracious <3
This article was brought to you by our fine sponsor and Hot Dog Supreme: Dean Costello, who agrees with Thomas that a raspberry lemonade is delicious, and a smart way to start the evening! Stay hydrated out there.
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