We all knew Las Vegas was looming in our hazy future.

…and we have finally made the trip, readers, to the reveler’s paradise that is Sin City.

A Wench and Boozehound original. There we were, readers.

So for the month of May we present a play in two parts, documenting that bleary experience. We learned some things, saw quite a few other things, became close to a slot machine or two and tramped across the whole of the city, from our poolside bucket of Tecate to deep into a celebrity chef’s meaty heart.

Enjoy the Before the After, otherwise known as Part 1, here. Part 2 is on the horizon.

Tally-ho, boozers.

Ever behind the times: this may perhaps be the moment when we incorporate hashtags into our everyday vernacular.

April finds the Wench and the Boozehound conducting a meta-interview between themselves, reflecting on 2012 through the personal embrace of technological advancements.

The OG #latergram.

Ah, meta-interviews, the distant and inebriated cousin of the more standard-issue “conversation.” Read here, readers. Optimized for smart-phone and LCD-screen performance, as is the fashion in dear old 2013.

In which we start the year, fresh, and late, but well before what can possibly be considered “springtime.”

Hello, readers.

Readers readers readers readers.

That is the distant echo of our small voice down the rows of the now-empty metaphor of a lecture hall, which was once, long ago, filled with the legions of drinkers and followers of the duo still currently known as the Wench and the Boozehound.

But here we are yet, venturing back in front of a dusty podium on a deserted stage, jabbing a be-PBRed hand into the void and hoping the sound of a freshly cracked beer will be heard in the hearts of our devoted fans.

And we shall start, anew, with some terrific advice from Boozey:

“Before rushing off to the 99¢ section of the supermarket, consider getting a passport.”

Read the rest of this short missive here. There is even a vocal recording! So future.

Cheers, fellow spirited ones, and bookmark us once again. We feel good about 2013: good times, shirtless men, and one too many of your (our) favorite beverage(s) await.

A game for your weekend amusement.

“Amusement,” in those potential quotation marks, depending on players and points. Do you have a boyfriend? Are you not sure? The 14 questions you never thought you’d need to ask, now available as the newest edition of On the Barstool.

Read away, readers. Disclosure of points received encouraged in the comments. We’re all in this together, after all.

To clarify, the gentleman is removing his shirt here, not putting it on.

The story of Boozey’s spring break.

There are things to be learned from venturing out into the culture of the all-inclusive tropical resort. In this slowest of slumbering winters, Boozey went to Jamaica and tread on previously unknown territory to ye olde barstool drinkers: the Bob Marley shot, here to challenge our assumption that we’d never meet a drink we didn’t like.

And there it is, friends.

Read it here, legions.

Mildly jealous of the tan Boozey surely has,

Until the next round,

Which will be nothing so layered nor technicolored as the feature of this post,

I think we all know the can of beer that is the glint in my eye,

Wench

In anticipation of the impending weekend.

Oh, Dolly Parton. If only you would come to Portland and sit next to us on our favorite barstools, we’d do shots of cheap whiskey all night and whoop it up looking at those fine men in their painted-on jeans before taking one or two of them home.

Keep it real, Dolly. Keep it real.

Hello, breakfast.

“Breakfast” being interpretable in a variety of ways, obviously.

That shirt, those eggs, that stance. Yep.

This is a small post, only a tangentially meaningful one, meant to stave off the tedium of March rainouts and the endless hours of work that are preventing us from drinking enough and writing more. Hang with us, friends.

Of Eagles and Bingo cards

Bingo. That innocuous game of chance played by congenial cotton-tops and pre-adolescent school children still too innocent to prefer spin-the-bottle.

Or is it?

Nothing comes for free. Even Bingo has its price.

Initially searching for cheap thrills and cheaper beer, the Boozehound has found herself in the vicious underworld that is Bingo Night every Tuesday evening at the Fraternal Order of Eagles (password not required).

She searches in vain for the good cards, hoping there’s still space at the lucky table; entrenched in the minutiae, she absent0mindedly strokes the good luck pouch holding her weekly allotment of Bingo quarters.

Though they play the six-pack pattern, this is not all fun and games and PBR. What began as a good-hearted adventure has become a weekly routine of desire, anxiety, and – ultimately – failure. But also a place for inter-generational community in a world of people who prefer bowling alone. Read on, friends.

This should improve your Monday.

So let’s go over this again: Marley’s round is on us, and Wanda Jackson has got. Our. Number. When she talks about some tall, fine gentlemen in uniform.

We’ll be over there, looking forward to happy hour.

Forget the light listening, read this.

Well, we’ve always been better at tossing ’em back than figuring out the nuances of HTML code. Wanda Jackson’s bad-girl anthem will have to wait.

So in the meantime, let’s turn our attention to one of our other favorite things: dudes.

Yes.

The newest addition to On the Barstool is like the thinking man’s version of the less-popular-than-ever-these-days video meme, Shit [Certain People] Say. It’s a canon that, in our less-than-humble opinion, has not yet properly skewered the one particularly large demographic that is young men.

Enjoy here, tipplers. As usual, it’s best enjoyed in the company of your favorite libation and your preferred drinking buddy.

Tally-ho, until next time,

Wench and Boozey