Sunday, August 1, 2010

Live Blog #5 - Discourse, A New Gang Member, and a Bit of Pain

4:35p  And here we go again at Tierney’s. It appears that Suctionetta might be our server, since he immediately appeared with a beer, but it’s not clear.

4:36p  Lola wanders up, offers greetings, and then confesses that she hasn’t read the blog yet, even though she had a featured role during the last session. I tell her that she apparently doesn’t love me, and we laugh, but really, come on girl, what up?

4:41p  An older couple comes in and stakes a claim at the bar. She’s wearing Capri pants, and she shouldn’t be. And he just shouldn’t. Period.

4:47p  Tex just arrived. I am no longer sitting all by myself at the massive table, looking forlorn and unwanted. Not that anybody cares.

4:48p  Tex informs me that Bitsy will not be joining us. I burst into tears and need severe consoling, because I will miss her and it‘s fun to be overly emotional at random moments. People continue to not care.

4:49p  Delta Jo’s here.

5:01p  Delta Jo:  “At least I got a parking place that I’m fairly confident that I can get out of.”

5:04p  Suctionneta, without needing to be summoned,  rushes up with Delta Jo’s approved drink already carefully modulated and prepared. (She does a Jack and water thing.) I think this is quite amazing and applaud appropriately. Delta Jo is not quite as enthusiastic, thanking him for this initial effort, but strongly advising that future deliveries should arrive with the components separate, as she prefers to do the mixing.

5:05p  Suctionetta pauses, wondering if he should utter something catty. But then a Lady Gaga lyric goes through his head, one that hasn’t done so in at least twenty minutes, and he rushes off to perform a line dance in the kitchen.

5:06p  Lolo and Wild Jenno waltz in the door. It’s going to be a good crowd tonight.

5:08p  Long discussion starts about household repairs. The details are not incredibly important or interesting, but everyone at the table is very invested. Things get a bit heated, opinions vary wildly, and physical violence is very possible. I order another beer.

5:14p  No one has said a word about my cute new tennis shoes, even though I am taking every opportunity to lift my legs over my head.

5:17p  Tex is discussing the “Bath Crashers” TV show where we watched them install a toilet with the tank hidden in the wall. He has dreamed of having one ever since.

5:22p  Delta Jo: “You can get the molds that you actually have to shift around.”

5:23p  I having been paying attention and don’t know if I’m supposed to respond to this. I choose to gaze out the window pensively, as if pondering how much grain to order for the livestock that I don’t really have.

5:24p  Some woman at the bar is cackling hysterically. If she could only understand how close to death she is right now.

5:25p  Delta Jo: “Beware of clay-colored cement.”

5:26p  Lola: “You can stick your foot in it like the Lucy episode.”

5:27p  Apiphany is here. This results in a massive restructuring of the seating arrangements. (Wild Jenno: “I’ve been demoted to the end of the table!”) Bitter rivalries are established that may never be resolved.

5:28p  Apiphany: “Mellie Jo wanted me to tell you and Tex that she’s sitting in the Tiki bar and drinking Kronenberg as we speak.” I believe this is a reference to our vacay in Paris. Or it might be a cry for help. I don’t care either way.

5:31p  Tex: “Screw the hybrid, I want the mid-life crisis car.”

5:32p  He’s only assuming that he’s in the middle of his life. If he doesn’t straighten up and act right, there may be delivery people knocking on the door with sympathy flowers. Where this random nasty thought comes from, I don’t know, so I order another beer as punishment.

5:35p  Nachos arrive. Silence descends, with occasional grunting.

5:37p  Apiphany and Wild Jenno race off to the jukebox. I wonder if we should warn the innocent?

5:42p  The song selection is really bad so far. Three people have been carried out on stretchers.

5:43p  Now we have Lady Gaga, with “Bad Romance”. Redemption for Apip and Wild Jenno is on the horizon, but they will have to work for it. At least I have the remaining nachos to console me.

5:45p  A family just walked in the door which should resolve the Theory of Evolution debate once and for all. If those people didn’t come from apes, nothing did.

5:46p  A bolt of lightning strikes the chair next to me.

5:47p  The conversation moves on to the latest “American Idol” announcements: Ellen quit, Kara was fired, Jennifer Lopez and Steven Tyler are the new judges.

5:48p  Crickets chirp.

5:49p  Suctionetta: “I’m padding your tab.” Whatev.

5:50p  Lolo: “Whatever your body does, it sort of, like, fits in it.”

5:51p  Blinda arrives, carrying something mysterious in a sack. No further details are known.

5:53p  Delta Jo: “It’s called diminishing returns.” What, the Texas Republican party?

5:54p  Apiphany: “Do you know what army grease is?” Then she spills nacho drippings on herself.  Class just shoots out of her ass.

5:57p  For those who are keeping track of such things, the paper towel dispenser in the bathroom is still malicious. I believe I spied drops of blood on the floor, so who knows what hellish event took place before my visit.

6:04p  Pop Tart and her sister, Twishkas, arrive. More of the shifting and realignment.

6:08p  Delta Jo: “I asked Gunter to run away with me the other night. I guess it didn’t work out, because we’re still here.”

6:11p  Apiphany: “Jesus was in that bread.”

6:14p  Discussion ensues wherein we try to determine blog names for Pop Tart and Twishkas. This proves to be very confusing and disruptive. There’s a bit of shouting. They decide they will get back to me.

615p  Side note: Twishkas totally cracks me up with her witty commentary during the name-choosing ceremony. There may have to be a change in the social rankings at the table.

6:17p  Suctionetta arrives with a tray containing at least 15 beverages. God, we’re drunks.

6:18p  Apiphany: “OMG, Shark Week is coming up. I’ve got to watch that!”

6:20p  I sit there in total amazement as half the table has small orgasms about this Shark Week thing. I’m clearly missing out on a social movement of some kind.

6:21p  Apiphany:  “Holy cow, this table needs an off button.”

6:24p  Delta Jo: “Are you sure we shouldn’t just say ‘duck on crack’?”

6:26p  Apiphany: “I normally don’t make people sleep in the wet spot.”

6:27p  To be fair, Apiphany’s comment is actually inspired by some moisture on our end of the table, not because she actually has sex. That hasn’t happened in decades. Apip hollers for Suctionetta to bring a few napkins. He brings out an entire shipment of such, which cracks me up. Apiphany is not amused. Screw her.

6:39p  There is a tremendous amount of activity at the other end of the table, with the rabble-rousing apparently being led by Twishkas. I suppose I could find out what’s going on, but I’m having Twitter issues. And really, I don’t have the strength to lean over and try to hear.

6:41p  Delta Jo: “If you blog THAT, you’re a dead man.”

6:42p  No idea, so whatever it was, she’s safe.

6:49p  Some issue with the distribution of the recently-arrived sweet potato fries. Somebody pulls out a knife.

6:50p  Me: “So she has a baby. She can’t click on the Internet?”

6:52p  It’s very loud in here, with wailing and screeching songs on the jukebox. Delta Jo is not impressed, and makes disparaging comments.

6:58p  It really IS too loud in here. The headache that I’ve been fighting for a week threatens to return. I might have to take a life.

7:01p  What is that child doing with that ketchup?

7:02p  Apiphany: “We didn’t get along until she died.”

7:05p  Delta Jo appears to be AWOL. She had asked me previously if I wanted to go outside, but this did not appeal to me at all, since it’s 103 degrees out there in the barren Texas wasteland. Why would anyone go out there unless under a court order?

7:07p  Twishkas: “And she combs his hair, his long hair. It’s weird.”

7:09p  Delta Jo returns. No travel itinerary is provided.

7:11p  I nearly get burned by a flailing arm holding a lit cigarette. I shall not name names at this point, but I reserve the right for eventual revenge.

7:14p  Apiphany: “I just want to cut someone.”

7:16p  I believe I just agreed to attend a cooking school in Italy.

7:18p  Seriously, headache getting worse. I may have to bail out early, which could affect my social standing. I must proceed cautiously.

7:26p  Okay, made a run outside to the car, desperately needing some Sudafed. On my way there and back, I encountered several species of wildlife melted to the blistering pavement. And that was just the citizens of Lewisville, Texas. For some inexplicable reason, Delta Jo followed me out there so she could have a smoke in the Fires of Hell. (Even though we can smoke in the bar.) I did not tarry and try to offer comfort or companionship, racing back inside, leaving her nearly comatose from heat exhaustion and leaning against the building. You have to save yourself in these situations.

7:33p  Some stupid fool just gave that ketchup baby a maraca, and he is now pounding the table with enough force that he’ll be in China shortly. Yet every single one of the hillbillies gazing upon him with total lack of discipline does not see an issue. This is why genocide was invented. (Shout out to Mellie Jo.)

7:42p  Wild Jenno is clutching at her breasts like they might escape and start making S’mores.

7:43p  Oh God, she’s coming this way. Hide the chocolate.

7:46p  Me to Suctionetta: “I’d castrate you, but… too late.”

7:47p  Pop Tart, Twishkas and Delta Jo all decide to leave at the same moment, rushing out the door in a mad scramble of disappointment and abandonment. Twishkas hollers: “I will check out your blog and critique it.” Me: “Go for it. Tell me what I’m doing wrong.” Twishkas: “Oh, I will.” Then she cackles with evil intensity.

7:48p  Did we become enemies at some point? I don’t know if I should be really excited about some potential positive feedback or afraid that there will be emotional devastation.

7:53p  Blinda is telling some story involving surprise seizures, Best Buy, and hooker shoes. It sounds very moving, but I can’t really hear because Elton John wants Tiny Dancer to hold his hand.

8:02p  Apiphany does something odd and then wants to know if it’s going in the blog. Attention whore. No, it’s not. Well, not really.

8:05p  Blinda: “They don’t HAVE agnostic food.”

8:07p  Blinda: “We’ll need to get our drunk-on on Saturday, so we can be normal on Sunday.”

8:13p  Still with the headache. Totally not enjoying that angle.

8:22p  I think I need shrimp.

8:23p  Blinda: “You can’t put your foot on the brake. DON’T put your foot on the brake.”

8:24p  Wild Jenno stands up and makes diva hand movements. Something about physical violence toward people of lesser social significance.

8:29p  I tried ordering some shrimp from Suctionetta, but he just sort of laughed and ran to do the can-can with some traveling gypsies who happened to stop by.

8:32p  Apiphany tries to have a serious discussion about my headache. Should I be wearing my glasses while I’m trying to type? Oh. Well, probably not the glasses that I have, because I haven’t had my eyes checked since 1947. But she has a point. I may be shutting down shortly. Thanks, Apiphany, for reminding me that my body is falling apart as we sit here.

8:37p  Karl Marx just walked by. With children.

8:38p  Blinda suddenly yells at someone in a pink top. Confusion ensues.

8:46p  I finally make Suctionetta understand that I was serious about the shrimp. We’ll see.

8:47p  Some thumping beat on the jukebox is inspiring Wild Jenno to thrust body parts and look around for a stripper pole.

8:51p  Some guy in the bathroom, locked in the stall, is hollering for someone named “Pop Tart”. I don’t think it’s “our” Pop Tart, because she left hours ago, but you never know. I run, since that seems wise.

9:11p  Seriously, the headache is too much, and I’ve got to see if it’s being partially caused by staring at the tiny screen of this netbook in a dimly-lit, smoke-filled bar where random people often block all available light by insisting on spontaneous interpretive dance. This means, dear reader, that you will not have a full account of this evening’s inanities. I trust that you can use your imaginations. Until next time…

End Trans.

1 comment:

  1. I dont know about you but I want to be friends with these people.