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March 24, 2004

RETURN OF THE BLOG

Okay, I know what you’re thinking. Where the ding dang has this bimbo been for almost a month? What the heck has she been doing? Why the hell haven’t we been enthralled, nay, entranced with her every single solitary movement? Could it be she doesn’t love us anymore? Did she move to Omaha and forget to tell us? Has she fallen down and can’t get up? Actually possums, it’s none of the aforementioned, although I have tripped a couple times and THOUGHT I was in Omaha. Regrettably, I’ve just been in a stressful, cloudy, freaked-out-when-am-I-EVER-GOING-TO-GET-A-STUPID-JBO state of writer’s block. Well, let’s suffice it to say I couldn’t get motivated enough to concentrate for more than a few seconds at the keyboard. Oh, who am I kidding….I’ve just been damn lazy. Okay, okay, stop torturing me! I’ll talk! I’ll spill my guts! I’ve been DE-PRESSED!!! There! Are you happy now!? You got it out of me! Boy, that truth serum’s good stuff man…

The good news is, I may have finally found some unsuspecting victim to hire me. CAN YOU BELIEVE IT???!!!! Can you say, “IT’S ABOUT FRIGGIN’ TIME??!!” Can you say, “GEEZ MUFFY, IT TOOK YOU LONG ENOUGH??!!!!!” Ugh, it’s been a long haul, kids. I won’t go into all the gory details, in case I jinx this somehow. Let’s say it’s a long-term temp job that is almost certainly going to turn into a permanent one, and leave it at that. So maybe, just maybe, after interviewing with almost every dorky company in the entire town of Fresberg, someone’s going to put me out of my misery. But theirs is only beginning….cackle, cackle….

In any event, here’s what’s been happening in my wacky world recently….in no particular order….missing brain cells, you know:

a) The usual suspects gather to watch “Flaming Ass Girl” turn the Big 40. The semi-swanky dinner is held at a fabulous sake palace known as “Edo-Ya”, where rice, meat and veggies are tossed and flamed to the delight of all onlookers. No eyebrows are singed, and we adjourn to the Casa Cornell for chocolate/raspberry Mickey Mouse cake, and many glasses of bubbly.

b) The “BOP” girls (sans Double Debbi) revisit the scene of a previous crime, and make a cameo appearance at “Mike’s Pizza”, the “Longhorn”, and the ever-popular, Karoke-laden “Hollywood”. More blueballs are consumed, and yours truly tears up the dance floor with a cowboy named “Ed”, who appears to be the flossing poster child for dentists everywhere.

c) Kelly and Jim blast down to Fresberg to toast the soon-to-be official closure of the tired chapter in my employment-search book, called, “You Got Your Health, What Do You Want With a Job?” (see: “Raising Arizona”). The Dude survives yet another visit to “Toledo’s” for fine Mexican cuisine and killer Margos, but the Ficklin Port almost drives him over the edge. He joins the Hunter clan for a jaunt down the glorious “Blossom Trail” where there are, in fact, no blossoms. The wayward travelers meander the streets of the fine town of Reedley, where Frank plays tour guide by showing off the 47 different houses he inhabited during his willful youth.


d) Kellage joins Margaret, Dot, Ferd and moi for the dulcet tones of a Sarah Brightman concert; many Valley-Ites mistake it for a night at the opera, and show up in sequins, feather boas, and clear vinyl slides. Yeesh. If the vino glasses had actually BEEN glass, they would have shattered into tiny little shards during the hit-that-note octave extravaganza Miss Brightman belted. Although Margaret despised the dancing “harem girls” (I believe the phrase was, “my granddaughter’s dance troupe could do better”), Kelly and I enjoyed their exuberant enthusiasm, I-Dream-of-Jeannie ensembles, and hair tossing. Hey, we had to watch SOMETHING during Sarah’s many costume changes.

e) The "BOP" Girls (sans Ethel) discover the hidden pleasures of “Nick’s”, a not-too-dark establishment with all the essentials; a jukebox, pool tables, leather-padded bar, and a couple of chatty, shot-swilling bartenders. The crazy regulars include a scary Roseanne-in-“She-Devil” look-alike (moles and all), a loud-as-a-bullhorn/tattoo-laden/tank-top-wearing/trailer-trash mama, and an “I’m-as-crazy-as-a-loon” obscenity-spouting, freaked out homophobic guy. Ummm, interesting.

Our "BOP" Girls gather arm in arm for the precarious stroll back to Double Debbi’s dwelling, thereby prompting the following awards…..the envelopes please:

The “Filet O’ Flopping Fish” Award goes to Kerry Greer, for her fine performance as a spawning salmon attempting to swim upstream on a sea of wet grass. And setting a precedent, she receives a secondary honor, The “Olga Korbut Balance Beam” Award, for the ability to stay standing at 2:00 a.m., while being pelted by the fire-hose-like spray of the Casa Cornell shower head.

The “Don’t Try This at Home, I’m a Professional” Award is given to Jill Hunter, for having the iron clad stomach and steely nerves, to ingest several alcoholic beverages the day afterward.

The “Black and Blue Purple Heart” Award is graciously being accepted by none other than myself, for the many bruises and battle scars inflicted upon all four limbs…my right wrist may never recover. Satan’s puppy, “Big Mac”, remains primarily responsible for these injuries.

And now that I’ve left you with WAY too much information to ponder, I promise not to leave you again for so long. Until the Fat Lady (that would be me ) sings, and the cows come home….good-bye, Mr. Bond…………..

Posted by Wendy at 7:13 AM | Comments (4)