“Fine! You two just keep each other’s asses warm while I do all the work! Somebody’s gotta stay on the lookout for Carin.”
…Joann, with her pithy and also mean-to-Carin comment. (In case you didn’t know, Carin is a commenter who was mean to me once, and everyone’s been picking on her ever since. I have not discouraged this, because I’m 12.)
Send me your address, Joann, so I can get that bacon air freshener and inflatable fruitcake to you forthwith!
And thank you all for playing. You all rocked out with your comments out yesterday.
In other news, what busyness? Good gravy. I have a book due Monday, a book due Thursday, a deposition due today, and I am throwing a giant party tomorrow with my neighbor, so all morning we have been schlepping chairs and tables and food and blowup dolls and heroin and hookah pipes and go-go cages and dead horses and shovels for the cocaine and Mick Jagger and rose-petal-covered mattresses for the swinging portion of the evening.
It’s gonna be some party.
And what is with people not knowing the meaning of “RSVP”? I mean, I understand if you do not know the actual French meaning (and how much does it irk me when people write “please RSVP”? Because guess what. “RSVP” stands for “please respond” ), but could you ACTUALLY TELL ME if you are coming to my party or not?Almost no one has told me, so it’s like, do I buy 20 big bottles of Coke or two? Do I buy 80 kilos of horse or eight?
I don’t even know what “horse” is. I just know it’s a kind of drug.
Did I ever tell you about in high school when my best friend and I ended up at a burnout party somehow, and my best friend had on alligator earrings, like Izod alligator earrings, and we could not have fit in less? We were nervous, so we started talking loudly about all the drugs we were on. My best friend said, “I just took a tall boy. I am effed UP!”
We had no idea a tall boy was a beer. We thought it was a kind of pill. Did I mention her alligator earrings?
Somehow we lived, and here I am telling you about it. One other time we took a cruise on a boat, like literally a three-hour cruise, thinking it would be a great way to try to buy drinks, and it was. No one thought a couple of 17-year-olds would go on an evening dinner cruise. We were enjoying the pina coladas and thinking we were the shizz, but my best friend kept complaining about her feet. Her FEET felt funny. I ignored her, so happy was I to be drinking on a boat, even if we were jamming out to Spinning Wheel, but finally after the 12th complaint I looked down.
She had her shoes on the wrong feet.
Perhaps she had taken too many tall boys.
Okay, I have to go. I have to read 29384784283 pages before Marvin gets home, because once he does, we have to set up tents and lights for the party. Plus I have to set up the guest bedroom for The Village People.
Talk at you.