It looks like you found me.
Not that it was hard, I invited you here. But I bet you’re still wondering…
Where is the rum?
Where is the milkshake?
Who is this writing this and what did they do with Rebecca?
Don’t fret, it’s still me and the spirit of “Someone Put Rum In My Milkshake” will continue but after some introspection, and self-discovery over the past month or two I decided that perhaps a new name was necessary.
“Someone Put Rum In My Milkshake” was created and named after I tendered the submission below to become Milwaukee Magazine’s newest columnist, a gig that would require me to drink my way through Milwaukee while writing about my various experiences. Getting paid for something I was already doing? Yes please.
Milwaukee Magazine Bar Time Columnist Submission
July 28, 2010
I had recently moved back into the area when a friend from college informed she was planning a trip to visit. In an attempt to ensure she would be entertained I commissioned a former co-worker and Milwaukee enthusiast to create a young adult’s guide to the city. He included brewery tours, places to get the best fish fry and of course a slew of bars and their infamous cocktails and happy hour specials. Amongst those was At Random, a bar in Bay View (2501 S. Delaware Ave.) known for their creative menu featuring inventive concoctions including rum spiked milkshakes and fish bowls containing almost lethal doses of tropical liquors. Beer and wine aren’t anywhere on the bill of fare so I was skeptical but finally gave into my morbid curiosity and set out to Bay View.
We arrived outside of At Random and remained in the car speculating on the legitimacy of this operation because of the seemingly creepy exterior of the building and its awkward location in a quiet residential neighborhood. Finally gathering the courage to approach the door we were ushered in by an elderly man dressed in what appeared to be the outfit of a street performer. I half expected him to conjure an organ and a monkey on a chain but the lights were so dim I could barely make out the floor at my feet. He summoned an equally old waitress who offered her guiding hand before leading us into an even darker dining area. The little décor I was able to make out on the way to our table was reminiscent of a 50’s diner and it would seem that the help had been around just as long.
We were seated, given a chance to let our eyes adjust and subsequently peruse our menus. The drinks were as imaginative as described and priced moderately. My companion kept insisting that it was dark enough in the dining area to consume her drink sans pants and kept threatening to remove them. We ordered our drinks, mine a Strawberry Shortcake milkshake and hers a raspberry flavored ice cream cocktail. While we waited for the waitress to return to our table I was able to examine our fellow patrons and immediately felt as though I was on the Tunnel of Love ride at the carnival. Couples were huddled together in the dark embracing their secret rendezvous while the centerpiece, resembling a pink version of Avatar’s tree of souls, basked them in a romantic glow.
My friend and I, accepting the fact that we looked as if we were on a hot date, devoured our drinks, both excellent in taste and alcohol levels. We then scrambled to come up with the money to cover our tab as we both prefer plastic and At Random only accepts hard cash.
At Random definitely held up to its name providing a memorable moment in our evening but it’s definitely geared towards the aphrodisiac-seeking crowd. Although, not being the pretentious type, I’m not sure I would return, even if I were in the company of an actual date.
I won the contest and spent the next year or so being a self-proclaimed "professional drunk." My resume' reads "columnist" but to my less-professional contacts I rarely sugar-coated it. I wrote for the magazine in an official capacity and published more risque' stories of drunken debauchery on my personal blog.
Then I went and got pregnant. And since most people don’t take too kindly to drunk pregnant women, I resigned from my post. After some major life changes, one of which you all know by the name of Rinn, my blog endured but the content made a shift from Tucker Max-esque to mom blogger.
Now, almost a decade later, I retire “Someone Put Rum In My Milkshake”.
While it has served me well for the last nine years, the chances of me actually getting rum in a milkshake these days are few and far between. I drink wine more than anything else and it never really ends in anything interesting unless you are fascinated by a 35-year-old woman watching Deal or No Deal in bed next to her husband. But if that’s what you’re into, I might have an opportunity for you. Call me.
After some contemplation, re-evaluation, and focusing my energy inward I am happy to share with you...
Why wild ‘n free you ask?
Let me remind of the time when we were deciding whether to mainstream Rinn's education; when asked if he wanted to homeschool or attend a brick-and-mortar school for first grade his response was "I JUST WANT TO LIVE IN THE WILD AND BE FREE."
Also there was the time I was telling Travis that I think it would be awesome if the human species could poop out of the bottom of their foot, he said “YOU REALLY SHOULD LIVE IN THE WILD AND BE FREE.” (I mean think about it, wherever you are, you pop your shoe off, stick your leg behind a bush and take care of business. Afterwards you wipe your foot off on the surrounding grass and go on your way. No more lines for the ladies room. No more wrestling with skinny jeans. No more toilet waste. So maybe it’s not for everyone but still, it should be an option. Like, where do you want your butthole? Check the applicable box.)
Those two stories were definitely catalysts in my decision to make this transition but the more insightful reasons are my indisputable connection to the universe, the fact that I am never more at home than when I’m outside, and more often than not, sunshine, fresh air and a little dirt can bring my soul a tremendous amount of peace.
So there you have it.
I’m still me.
And I’m still writing comical stories about motherhood, being an Elvi wife and life in general.
I just happen to have realized that I don’t know when the last time I actually drank rum was and if I’m being really honest with myself, I’m lactose intolerant so milkshakes kind of make me miserable for at least 24 hours.
So here’s to being wild ‘n free.