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January 22, 2004

You Say “Ca-Stay-Ick”, I Say "Ca-Stay-Ay-Yeck"

Greetings from the Betty Ford Center, where I’ve taken up residence in a small dark room painted all beige (that’s right Kleb, more beige than Eva Marie Saint in “The Sandpiper”). The nice people here in the white coats thought it would be a calm, soothing color for my stay in detox. As they’re not allowing me any phone calls or access to carrier pigeons, I’m forced to relay last weekend’s decadent, drunken debauchery via blog entry. But first, a cast of questionable characters:

Jeff & Jill: Inhabitants of the Casa Cornell, where most of our story takes place
Suzy & Katie: Along with Jill, they form the “Triad”, which is just a nice way of saying 3 scary chicks with a penchant for Coors Lite and Ho-Hos
Vicki: Katie’s next door neighbor who has a laugh that’s eerily reminiscent of Phyllis Diller
Yours Truly: Merely a hapless bystander…uh, maybe not…

Our adventure opens on Friday afternoon, when the Triad and I (or The Triad+1) meandered over to Plaza Ventana for appetizers and beverages. Miss Suzy had schlepped all the way down from the outskirts of Redding for a long overdue visit, so it seemed appropriate the dining and drinking should begin immediately. The margos flowed, the quesadillas were a cheesy treat, and we saluted the Plus Size store on our way across the parking lot. After a short respite at the Casa Cornell, we met up with Vicki at Tahoe Joe’s, where they have moose heads on the wall, scary-mullet-sporting-dudes the size of Oak trees, and gigantic beers on the bar. Yikes. Lucky for me, the girlie-girls know the bartender in the biblical sense, and we had about 47 cocktails on a $20 bar tab. We like that. After following the bread crumbs back to Jill’s cozy living room, the “shag of the evening” (see: Jane Fonda in “Barefoot in the Park”) was spent consuming various alcoholic concoctions, exchanging loud banter, and chowing down on the aforementioned chocolate Hostess treats.

On Saturday, I remained in a hibernated state under the covers, while the Triad spent the better part of the morning wrestling Katie’s cats to the vet. Watch them claws! Later in the afternoon, I accompanied Jill and Jeff to the lovely and attractive Sequoia Brewery, located in the Tower District. There we found some mighty tasty brew, pepperoni pizza, and some very underdone chicken wings…um, not good. But we also found an extremely talkative bicyclist, Kurt, who took quite a shine to Miss Jill. He regaled us with anecdotes of dodging traffic around town, we shared his basket of YUMMY deep fried artichoke hearts, and Jeff just about had us all falling off our barstools with tales of his misguided youth. Apparently when he and his friends were scruffy teenagers bored out of their skulls, they’d get some sucker to buy them beer, head for the Laundromat to get ripped out of their socks, then take “dryer rides”. Just use your imagination. Not too bright, but it does make for some hilarious conversation. After bidding Kurt a fond farewell, we wandered down Olive Ave. to peruse a row of hot Harleys lined up on the street, one with a spiked Nazi helmet reading, “Don’t Be a Dick”. Wise words.

We soon returned to the Casa Cornell, where we found the rest of the Triad and Vicki, happily soaking up the warmth of the bonfire-on-wheels in the backyard. I would now like to point out some helpful hints to those of you who may find yourself in a similar situation:

1) Appetizers do not satisfy the munchie cravings of a cerveza-influenced chef; pizza MUST be ordered and NOW.
2) It is not a good idea to carry a hot-coal-filled shovel into your house for fireplace purposes. Especially after many cervezas.
3) Do not entertain the idea of sending a couple Triad members to the liquor store for a spur-of-the-moment Triple Sec run. They may accomplish their mission, but you’ll also be stuck with some Colt 45 and a magazine of X-Rated XXL Girls, with names like Casey Cleavage.
4) Keep dragboat-racing-cigar-chomping-mechanics away from anything resembling a 4-wheeled barstool at 10:00 p.m. Especially after many cervezas.
5) Raspberries and blackberries soaked in a vat of vodka for a week make one kick ass potion; but make sure you have enough Triple Sec.

And Sunday? What can be said about Sunday? Jeff the chef rocks!!! Fried eggs, pancakes, Tylenol, sausage, coffee, Gatorade, bacon, bacon, and more bacon. I would mention the scary bed-heads, obnoxious belching, and “pop-farts”, but some of you may have just eaten. I apologize for any nausea you may experience. But hey, don’t you wish YOU were there? Hmmm, didn’t think so……

*Castaic: A small town near Valencia where the Triad once spent a weekend watching boat drags, drooling over cute boys, and drinking their body weight in Coors Lite. It’s pronunciation spawned great debate and is still yet to be determined. So Katie Stefani, how WILL you spell your new last name? Note: Jerry Reynolds, a late Santa Clarita historian, once wrote that the name "Castaic" had been spelled various ways through the years but the area was originally called "Kashtuk", an Indian word meaning "eyes".

Posted by Wendy at 9:48 PM | Comments (9)

January 13, 2004

ODDS AND ENDS

Well, to use a term that’s frequently thrown around our casa, “it’s a whole new ball game”. And kids, it’s called the Year 2004. But what does it hold for those of us who can’t seem to find a playing field of our own? I feel like the pudgy little nose-picking kid who never got selected for one lousy game....doesn’t anyone want ME on their side? Can’t someone just HIRE me already? I’m a pretty good pitcher (for a southpaw), I can hit the ball more than 3 feet, and my sunflower seed spitting skills (try saying THAT after a couple cocktails) are unparalleled. Oh, and I can type 75 wpm, am able to blow off pesky sales calls with unbridled sassiness, and can even change the toner in your crappy color printer. Put me in coach, I’m ready to play!!!!! Although the following blurb has nothing to do with my seemingly unending unemployment, it DOES have to do with sports…a favorite bit from Seinfeld when Elaine tries to “turn” a gay guy:
Elaine: “But WE have a good team, why can’t he play for us?”
Jerry: “Well, they’re more familiar with their OWN equipment.”
Or something like that, let’s just call it paraphrasing and move on.

Even though it’s a bit late, welcome to the New Year, my friends, I hope it brings you much joy. I’m just hoping it brings me a steady paycheck, so keep your pointed toes crossed. I rung in a “crabby” 2004 with my favorite people (just don’t tell THEM that), which would be my family and close friends, down at the Club 6019, where Margaret was the bartending proprietress. We feasted on chicken wings, fresh crab, salad, French bread, vino, and more melted butter than those Happy California cows EVER helped produce. We had vats of butter for our shellfish, bowls of butter for bread, and what we didn’t eat, "Flaming Ass Girl" and I applied directly to our expanding thighs. We figured, what the heck, it was going straight there anyway, why not help it along? For dessert, voila! The ever popular flaming volcanoes served with a side helping of bubbly…always a good choice. One of the better New Year’s celebrations I’ve had in awhile…cheers!

So this past Wednesday evening, I joined up with some of the “BOP” girls and my Madre to attend a “Stars on Ice” show. Now, I know what you’re thinking – this does NOT sound like something yours truly would be dragged kicking and screaming to, but sometimes I just like to live life on the edge. We dined at the Black Angus beforehand, and I can honestly declare the décor looks EXACTLY like it did the last time I darkened its doorstep…say, circa 1984. Oh those were reckless times people, when Long Island Ice Teas were all the rage, and the dance floor was packed with Calvin Klein jeans, permed hair, and tacky pick-up lines…”hey babe, what’s your sign?” Sorry dude, I don’t date outside my species. But back to the ice show, I couldn’t really tell you any of the names, because I don’t follow the sport as religiously as others. I CAN tell you that the music rocked, the skaters were good, and those GORGEOUS men in their tight skivvies were waaayyyy too much for us to handle. Whew…Kerry and I were having some serious hot flashes, and I wanted to take that tall, long-haired blonde home with me and show him a few fancy double axles of my own! Hot toddies, anyone?

And now for a little something I like to call, “Goofy Things My Mother Says”. >#1: Just after dinner tonight, my mother informed us the reason her eyes were bothering her so much yesterday, was because one of her contacts was bent. That’s right, BENT. Hmmm, that’s gotta smart. I’m not quite sure why it took her an eternity to figure that out, but consider the source. The whole thought of wearing contacts freaks me out anyway, so just thinking about something sitting sideways and digging into my eye makes me nauseous. Almost as stomach curdling as last night’s episode of “Fear Factor”, where men dove face first into huge clear bowls of filthy, writhing, squirming, six-inch long worms. Their mission was to toss these slimy creatures by the mouthful into a plexi-glass box onto their wife/girlfriend’s head, as she sat and sucked air through a tube and tried to not completely lose her lunch. Truly disgusting, and television at it’s finest! Goofy Item #2: My wacky mom only heats up a half cup of water for her “Sleepy Time Tea”, because she likes to add some cold water, thereby making it easier to drink faster. She claims it makes her “nervous” to wait around for it to cool. Ummmmm……where do I START?! I tried (without success) to convince her that sipping tea was, in fact, a relaxing activity, and that maybe the whole “SLEEPY TIME” theme had somehow eluded her. It was a losing battle…heavy sigh. Stay tuned, there’s no end to the goofiness…..

Posted by Wendy at 9:40 PM | Comments (4)

January 4, 2004

Bye Bye Bizzy

This is a very short, thrown together little blurb about a good friend of mine. A dog I knew was hit and killed over the weekend, and is now whizzing on all the bushes in that great backyard in the sky. His name was "Bizzy", and he belonged to my great pal Susan (Margaret)...we already miss him dearly. I would just like to say that thanks to some kind heartedness by the people who either hit and/or found him, that he was taken to the SPCA and passed away where it was warm and safe. Kudos to those Good Samaritans. You rock. Ruff!

Oh Bizzy dog, we loved you well
Your sometimes odiferous smell
Your bushy brows, your happy smile
Your shaggy hairdo, saucy style

You liked you biscuits, toys and bones
That outdoor house, you called your own
The sweater that you proudly wore
Was XMAS red, and nothing more

You loved a tummy rub or scratch
But didn’t care to fetch or catch
Your bark was firm and known to all
It said, I’m BIG and tough and TALL!”

And as we mentioned at the start
You loved your “people food” at heart
It gave you gas and silent air
It was almost than we could bear

But we’ll remember you, my friend
Your life is gone, but will not end
For you’ll live on, in stories told
Of Bizzy dog, the brave, the bold

For Margaret, mom of Bizzy Dog
11/4/04

Posted by Wendy at 9:45 PM | Comments (2)