Beach Time: Birthday Bonanza at the Beef House

WAHOO!  A wonderful weekend recapped in pictures.

Our trip to Surfside began on Friday in October with a looooong drive down to the Texas coastline. 

Bad Ass Beach Casa.

Photo credit: MKT

She's a real beaut!
Photo credit: SRT

The weekend had a long and colorful cast of characters:



Tiny Birthday Girl

Photo Credit: MKT

Dirty D.  The birthday girl's other half.

Photo Credit: MKT

MKT and the Captain.

Wee Show Pony and JoJo Killer.

Photo credit: MKT

Sweets, aka Cake Boss.

Photo credit: MKT

Supernova Surprise.

Photo credit: MKT

Mrs. Crawfish and Homer.

Stolen from facebook.

The Golden Boy and Uncle Supernova (again.).

Photo Credit: Jojo

The Kid.  She's kind of magical.

Photo credit: SRT and stolen from Facebook.

JS.

Photo credit: MKT

Friday Night Lights.

Photo Credit: MKT

One Gator.  Toasted.

Photo Credit: SRT

 

The Little Queen.

Photo credit: Jojo

And last but not least: A family of Squidbillies.

Photo credit: MKT

Our Friday night began with BIG burgers and booze.

 

Photo credit: Jojo

Captain almost burned the cottage down with his bonfire on the grill however, the magnificent burgers were well worth it.  JS was a great grilling supervisor and sidekick until Dirty D arrived.  Then the two of them bravely kept the Cap company next to his roaring flames.  We also enjoyed a fair amount of cold wind and delicious cupcakes...

Photo credit: Jojo



Photo Credit: Cake Boss

And there were snacks galore.

Unsanctioned snack activities.
Photo Credit: Jojo

Saturday found me awake bright and early to enjoy a special morning moment with Cap.  He actually said, "Good morning," instead of making his usual grunting noises like in the past when I have suggested that indeed the morning was fine.    

Sunrise at Surfside, TX.

I laced up my sneakers and took a long jog toward South America (according to Cap's directions) and Cap positioned his beach chairs and poles for a little fishing.  I made it down to Surfside proper before I realized my goal of reaching South America by foot in one morning was likely unobtainable.  After cursing my early morning ambition that found me so far from home, I re-jogged my path back to the house at a much slower pace.     

I got home just in time for a delightful breakfast feast of savory sausage balls and eggs, after which my newest friend Cap and I began sharing a mornin' drank.  A game of horse shoes quickly ensued.

Photo Credit: SRT

A guest arrived midday, much to the birthday girl's surprise.

Surprise!

Photo credit: MKT

Supernova scared the ever lovin' shiz out of us.  Or at least myself.  I suffered a small stroke and perhaps a tiny tinkle when he leapt from the dunes.

After Tiny's Supernova Surprise we wound down the day lounging atop the hot tub, creating punkin master pieces, shooting the breeze and awaiting the promise of crawfish pies.

There was a general theme throughout the evening that involved lots of dancing:

Lots of forced love and affection:

Pumpkin Carving:

Bottoms up:

And a wee bit of gayness:

Jojo made the most magnificent margaritas that left us all goofy and giggly.   

Photo Credit: Jojo

The deadly Jo-Ritas and a few shots of Grand Marnier inspired this fantastical afternoon pattern combination.

Photo credit: Jojo

Don't judge me.  Plaid, polka dot and floral are in, bitches.  Did I mention the Jo-Ritas were deadly?

Do work son.

Photo Credit: Jojo

Next up, about dark 30, Mrs. Crawfish whipped us up some fine eats.  There was great concern (on my part) that she was never going to cook dinner but it was well worth the wait.  She made some amazingly delicious cheesy crawfish concoction, and then folded it all up into a pastry crust and baked 'em.  She fittingly calls these little delights crawfish pies. 

OMG people.  You CAN'T.  EVEN.  IMAGINE.  How freaking amazing these things are.  I told Homer to watch his back (her husband).  I would like very much to live with this woman for the rest of my LIFE.  I ate like 10 crawfish pies by my ownself...  And I didn't want to share any food with Friday Night Lights, thus I became a hostile (still somewhat intoxicated) crazy crawfish pie guarding lunatic, when those poor boys arrived.  They arrived mid-feast and I'm pretty sure I told the biggest one that his football scholarship to Harvard was lame...  I could ABSOLUTELY die of shame.  My sincere apologies.  I shall forever blame it on the insanity that was my crawfish pie and Grand Marnier addled brain.  I'm not going to lie.  I was roughly, two very small sips away from Mexico-swimming-pool-wrestling level of intoxication.  For all the members of JS's family that were there for that little incident, (Hi, Momma of JS!) you can imagine what state I was in.  Heh.

Moving on...  Oh the SHAME!!!  For real this time.  Sorry T.  You kind of rock and we are all SO PROUD OF YOU.  Annnnd I'm over it...

Later that same evening there was a significant amount of dancing in the dark, hot tub tomfoolery and general drunk and disorderly conduct.  I passed out roughly around 10 pm and missed the most spectacular pieces, thus all of those little secrets are safe from the blog-o-sphere.  And a collective sigh of relief is heard around the world.

Unfortunately, I did not go to bed before the following was captured:

Sexy lobster dancing. 

Photo credit:  MKT

Proof that I don't really detest the Captain. 

At least not after a full bottle of Grand Marnier ;)

Photo credit: MKT

     

Surprisingly, Sunday morning I woke feeling exactly like wholly hammered dog shiz and thus decided I should indeed take a quick little jog to Florida.  It was just what the doctor ordered.  I probably sweated out the Grang Marnier and deadly Jo-Rita's 'round about mile four, but the crawfish pie was not to be shaken.  I arrived back at the beach house to find the hot tub junkies at it again.  True story:  Brown hot tub bubbles did not slow this group down even a little, and thus had me questioning if anyone was actually sober.  

Whatevs.  To each their own.  We wrapped up our marvelous celebratory weekend with a quick clean and dash.  MKT is THE hostess with the MOSTEST, and she is welcome to come clean stay at my home anytime she likes!  Why must good times always come to an end, friends?

This weekend made me realize that I may love Texas beaches as much as any foreign beach I've ever visited and thus the search for a beachy home begins.  Let's work that into my 5 year plan.  Stat.   

Now then.

Let's make this trip happen again next year.  Better yet.  Let's do it again next month.  Life needs more festivus.

Happy 30th Birthday Tiny!  You did it up RIGHT. 

Parting Shots:

Rampant beach graffiti

Such a pretty kitty. 

You should always sleep with one eye open.



Float and Talk

Sorry about the tardiness of this post friends.  I forgot that I hadn't finished it.  My bad.  Senility is a real biotch. 

July 2011 found us rockin' it old school at the Goosinheimer Haus.... Or maybe it was the Waffle Haus... Oh look, it actually says:

 

Photo Credit: MKT

Riiiight, anyways:

I joined the infamous Tinsley-Gardner Clam (plus friends) in New Braunfels for a weekend of merrymaking.  MKT found us this fab little German Haus (sleeps roughly 80) and we did it up right.  Bonus track:  We had our very own bar a mere 10 feet up our driveway AND our Haus came equipped with critter pens.  Next time we shall properly prepare by bringing our own livestock.



Riley's is the place. 

Photo Credit:  MKT


Brother Juan and I were the first to arrive on that glorious Friday.  Juanito had found himself earlier in the day held in the lap of a lovely lady at the Yellow Rose Cantina.  Thus he was starry eyed and boozy when I slid my bar stool up next to his at Riley's.  We busied ourselves before the rest of of our crew arrived by exploring the Haus, chatting up the locals, quenching our parched throats and dining on the local fare.  We devoured some bad ass burgers from this place:



Happy Cow indeed.  I'm sad to say we missed

the Belt Sander Races but the fare was fine.



Juanito shares some smooches at the Hog Haus.





Nap time for young Harry Potter.  That's a legit claw foot tub y'all!

Annnnd I'm pretty sure it came with it's own ghost.  *shivers*



Dancing Juan.  Disturbed.

Photo Credit:  STR





Fabulous hair piece.  Frightful dancing.





Haus of Chicken. 

Photo Credit:  MKT




Perhaps a safer option than it's indoor haunted counterpart. 

Photo Credit:  MKT




Always an admirable endeavor. 

Photo Credit:  MKT



No Farm Haus is complete without it's very own windmill.

Photo Credit:  MKT



The neighbors.  Come and knock on our door... 

We'll be waiting for yooouuuu! 

Photo Credit:  MKT


Juanito and I were napping off our early afternoon booze fest when the rest of the gang started trickling in.  We had 12 people total and procured not one single group shot.  Shame.  As with all Tinsley-Gardner shindigs we partook of  the traditional shooting of the shit, washer olympics and general making of merryness.

For this particular trip, chalk art was also in order.

Photo and Art Credit:  MKT

Half Baked Gator illustrated by Gator

Photo Credit: MKT

Squatch Country:  Before the Addition of Genitalia.
Illustrated by JG

Photo Credit:  MKT

All sermons were held here.

Photo Credit:  MKT

Supernova doing work.  He took a time-out from washers
 to model his Crazy Bird.

Photo Credit: STR

Juanito steals a bike.

Photo Credit:  MKT

The Tinsley Clam

Photo Credit:  Dirty D

Do you guys hear that train? 

The Clam in action.

The Roberts

Photo Credit: MKT

Juanito and Supernova at rest between washer matches.

Photo Credit:  MKT

Just a swangin'

Photo Credit:  MKT

Saturday found me and Tiny Tinsley up rather early and ready to get our Crossfit WOD on. 

...Warning:  Mother, just go ahead and quit reading.  Skip on down past this next paragraph.... 

But first we took a death defying bike ride down a logging road.  I was jammin' to my ipod in preparation for the Girl Talk concert later the same day while simultaneously trying NOT to crap my pants every time an eighteen wheeler rolled by.  After our ride Tiny said she couldn't tell if I was singing or screaming out in fear.  I told her it was most certainly a good combination of both.

Post Crossfit WOD our group scampered about the Haus too long on Saturday and we kind of blew our opportunity to float, as it's a very timely endeavor.  Thus we decided to kick it riverside instead.



Horseshoe hotties.

Photo Credit:  SRT 



The Cap at work.

Photo Credit:  SRT



Which was probably for the best.  Floating the river makes for a long day of drinking.  There is simply nothing else to do when you are trapped for hours in an inner tube.  Besides pee on yourself.  True story.   

Lounging riverside allowed for us to chillax, keep an eye on a large number of drunkards and collect stray beers that escaped less fortunate floaters.  There must have been a decent set of rapids above us on the Whitewater Horse Shoe as Dirty D, Supernova and The Cap collected at least a 6 pack of assorted cold beers and a flask of whiskey.  MKT was super pumped about the whiskey and who can blame her?

After we got cleaned up, (read:  We changed in our cars and most definitely flashed some folks.  You're welcome)  we waited in line like forever to secure front row spots for Girl Talk.




Front row, bitches!

Photo Credit:  SRT

Lemme just point out the obvious.  If you are not a person that is fond of drunk people in their pre-20's elbowing and jostling all the good right out of your soul, then you've got no business on the front row of any concert...  Unless it's like a Stevie Nix show or something.  Or Cher...  Celine Dion might also be safe.  But then again, I reckon even those broads have a few hardcore fans of their own.

Can you picture Pops Tinsley elbowing his way to the front of a Fleetwood Mac concert rocking his ZZ Top beard?  Yes.  Yes you can.

Back to my point.  I'm not sure why it takes all of us several repeat front row attempts before it's realized once again that we're all getting too old for this shiz, man.  Not too old to enjoy a really great concert, but much too old to take crap from a drunk baby and then not give that same baby a well deserved black eye. 

The bleachers were made for people like us.  People with short fuses and an innately low tolerance for stupid shenanigans other than our own.




Bright Light Social Hour.

Photo Credit:  SRT 




Spitting image of Jesus rockin' short, shorts.

Photo Credit:  SRT





Greg aka Girl Talk.  He was stoked about being outside in "Austin."

Photo Credit:  SRT



Mesmerized by a glow stick, brought to you by Red Bull and Vodka.

Photo Credit: SRT





Magical confetti drop.

Photo Credit: SRT



This is completely normal. 

Another side effect of living life on the front row.

Photo Credit: SRT





Raptor Dancing, another Tinsley Clam Ritual. 

Inspired by good times and good music.

Photo Credit: MKT

 
All in all, Float and Talk was another smashing success!

And y'all be sure to stay tuned folks.  Little Tiny Tinsley celebrates her Big 3-0 in less than 10 days and the Tinsley-Gardner Clam will be burning it down at the beach house.

Now then!  If you haven't already done so, join the 21st Century and download your free Girl Talk tunes HERE.

Parting shot:

Incredible detail, Cap.  Incredible.

Photo Credit:  MKT