Friday, September 24, 2010

Live Blog #9 - Another Really, Really Live Blog - Final Version

  And we’re off. I posted on Facebook that we are ready, willing and able to take suggested topics and fully dissect them.

  That was 30 minutes ago. Right now, tumbleweeds are blowing through with nary a response. There’s been a little nibble from Brawn Flambee, hinting that he might suggest something, but so far this has not happened.

  We might be on the failblog here, and I will be forced to come up with topics on my own. This makes me sad. Perhaps if I drink enough, I will emotionally stabilize.

  Wait, one just came in.

Piza Bitsock: Rush hour traffic, Lady GaGa and people who eat at McDonalds.... GO

  Me: Um. That makes my brain hurt. Well, people sitting in rush hour shouldn’t be listening to Lady Gaga, because they won’t be able to drive fast enough to match the beat, and this will lead to emotional devastation. However, they can pull into a McDonald’s for something overly-sugared to eat and find their happy place once again.

  Apiphany: Rush hour traffic makes me want to contemplate taking my own life.

  Apiphany: About Gaga, I am nothing but excited about going to her concert. But I am not wearing meat of any kind.

  Sage: Make sure you have a clean change of underwear. (Sage is very hygiene-focused.)

  Me:  I’m thinking people are not really trying to combine the three. It’s so hard trying to wrangle people who are sucking down beer. No one loves me or wants to satisfy me. I should be used to this by now, but it still causes me pain.

 Suctionetta:  Apiphany WILL wear meat. I love double-cheeseburgers while stuck in traffic. This makes me special. Lady Gaga is queen.

  Apiphany: Do people really understand what they are eating when they eat at McDonald’s? Read the labels, people. This might be the real reason we’re in a recession. Wait, is that a mirror over there?

Brawn Flambee: Sexting everywhere you are.

  Me: I must be very unhip, because I’m really not sure what this means. Sexting? I really don’t want to do anything sexual with my phone. Does this make me shallow?

  Sage: Oh my God! (Um, perhaps Sage has secrets that shouldn’t really be revealed right now. Or he has a gas bubble. He IS eating chicken-fried steak. Things happen.)

  Apiphany:  Don’t do it! DON’T DO IT! Whatever you do, do NOT send naked pictures of yourself across the airwaves. Because the minute things go south, your ass is going to be on Facebook, MySpace, Twitter and National Geographic. Your booty isn’t so cute when Uncle Walter can see it when he checks his retirement emails.

  Sage: Man up or woman up. Sexting is so cheap. (I still think he has secrets. Just a hunch.)

  Tex:  Do I need to do it or what? I’m all for it.

  Bitsy:  As long as it’s good, honey.

  Kathee: No wonder Tex likes sexting. It rhymes.

Soara Popespan:  Am I too late for happy hour?

  Me: Happy hour? Why do people think we’re at happy hour? Just because we’re in a bar with frosty mugs sitting before us doesn’t necessarily mean that we are drinking. This could merely be research for our Sociology PHD. God, people judge so quickly.

  Me:  Okay, we’re drinking.

  Apiphany:  Ohhh, I wish Soara lived here. I miss her. Even though we’ve never actually met. We have touched and shared across the social network of life and we’ve…. What was the question again? Oh, happy hour can start at any time. Let’s go to Paris. It’s always happy hour there. That’s what I want to believe, anyway. Otherwise, I made a fool of myself in Paris.

  Sage:  It’s never too late for happy hour. Soara, you’re with us virtually. Right at this very minute I’m spilling a drink on you. Can you feel it?

Soara Popespan:  Order me a Bloody Mary with pepper vodka and wasabe, and pickled beans. TYVM

  Me: That is SO many kinds of wrong. I’m not sharing that one, because people won’t understand and I’m too tired to explain anything right now.

Brawn Flambee:  I think it has just begun....:)

  Me: I think he’s still talking about happy hour, but since he’s a horndog about the sexting, he could actually be talking about anything. I hope he’s wearing protection. Or at least taking names, because this will prove useful when the lawsuit happens after his junk appears on “Oprah”.

Brawn Flambee:  I will take a Martini while sexting mmm

  Me: See? Brawn is a whore. Said with love.

Piza Bitsock:  Patron.... what can I say, it's payday.

  Me:  One, apparently Piza gets paid very well, because that Patron is expensive. But she IS showing amazing style and refinement by indulging in such. Which shouldn’t be surprising, because everyone in this conversation shoots culture out their ass, sayin. And two, what the hell does “Patron” really mean. Is it just a name, or is it an old Spanish word meaning “drink me and you will feel amazingly sexy and limber”.

  Kathee:  Patron means a big, good-looking man.

  Me:  What dictionary is Kathee looking at? I might need to borrow it.

Soara Popeman:  (I'm actually sitting here with a big glass of ice water and popcorn - exciting, huh?)

  Me:  Soara, don’t destroy the illusion I have of you being a totally refined socialite who swills cocktails whilst directing servants to arrange the canapés to your liking. I can’t bear it if this isn’t true.

Brawn Flambee:  Anything you like no limits i take it here....LOL

  Me:  “No limits” only begins to describe the number of restraining orders that will be in place before this evening is over.

Soara Popespan:  Ron - I guess they are chewing on Piza's exciting suggestions. She's forcing me to bring my A game.

  Me: Chewing? Sexting? Patron? Is everything about sex these days? Or is it just me?

Brawn Flambee:  you could have made something up LOL laura laura laura bad girl....he he

  Me:  Why does everything coming out of Brawn’s mouth sound sexual? I’m beginning to think he’s either completely over-sexed or a total liar.

Soara Popespan:  If Bri-Bri is picking up the tab, I want to try that $1,000 Ice Cream Sundae made with gold leaf and stuff...

  Me:  Where in the world does Soara order takeout? Tiffany’s?

Piza Bitsock:  News Flash: My happy hour started around 4, at this point I feel a glowing warmth and am impressed I can still type, no A game required.

  Me: Awww. I want to go on a trip with Piza to a Greek island where buff, barely-clad attendants do everything they can to make us happy. This really isn’t too much to ask. I pay my taxes on time and try to be civil with people that I really can’t stand. I should be rewarded, yes?

  Editor’s Note:  I really am trying to get the other folks at the table to participate in the responses, but none of them seem very invested in fulfilling their duties. This shouldn’t surprise me, but it still hurts. I must drink more, it’s the only answer.

  And then some of our field correspondents get a little snippy with one another…

Soara Popespan:  Ron - how can I be bad? I haven't typed anything yet? just sense "the vibe", huh?

  Me: Soara hasn’t type anything yet? What’s in that popcorn she’s eating? She’s been typing with a frenzy that hasn’t been seen since the Hanging Chad incident some time back. And why the protests about being considered “bad”? There’s nothing wrong with that. Embrace your true nature, even if it means certain Christians can no longer speak to you.

  Jessica Rabbit (Apiphany):  Soara’s not bad, she’s just drawn that way.

  Me: She’s bad. I have critical evidence that I shall reveal at the appropriate moment.

Brawn Flambee:  yep the vibe is there im feeling it from here

  Me: Can’t help it, have to go there: Brawn, get you hands out of your pants. Seriously, this sexting thing has gone too far.

Soara Popespan: must be a Scorpio too.

  Me: What the hell is going on here? Why are we now talking about desert creatures that will take your life if you step in the wrong place while slipping away to take a pee break? I really don’t get it. (Hey, Suctionetta, can I get another beer? What do you mean I’ve already had 10? I have not. I can count. Do you want a tip or not?)

Brawn Flambee:  nope leo....we tend to be on the wild side....mmm

  Me:  Again with Brawn on a desperate mission to prove that he is some overpowering sexual being who rules the planet. I think we have some validation issues.

  Apiphany:  I, too, like Prawn, have validation issues. I don’t understand why the people of this world do not accept my talents in a worshipful manner. When can I sing?

Soara Popespan:  Leo's and Scorpio's are a dangerous combination. Let the games begin... ;-)

  Me: Um, I’m thinking that this whole blog is slipping away from being about ME, and into something that only concerns other people. We can’t have this. Besides, “Leo’s and Scorpio’s” sounds like something that got cut out of “West Side Story”. They cut it for a reason. Let it go.

  Apiphany:  I’m still not singing. I don’t understand.

Soara Popespan:  I think we've lost Bri-Bri.

  Me: Bri-Bri was lost a long time ago. Along about the age of ten, when he realized that Charlie’s Angels did nothing for him, but the concept of an unseen man who loved him over the phone was very appealing. Issues developed from there.

  Apiphany: I wanted to be Jill on Charlie‘s Angels. Coincidentally, my alter ego is now named Jill. She only comes out when I do shots. Or want to bang the UPS delivery guy, sweating in his shorts in the Texas heat. Nothing can soothe that itch.

  Bitsy, to Apiphany:  You ARE Farrah Fawcett. You’re so sweet and beautiful. (Then Bitsy realizes that she doesn’t know where she is or what she’s doing. She gets quiet.)

  Kathee:  There was a bird outside that I tried to feed bread to but he didn’t want it so I threw it in the trash.

  Me:  Calgon, take me away.

  Bitsy:  Good for you. Who are you, again?

Tribeca Quartz:  I love Leo's. Too bad your a dude, Brawn. But life's like that.

  Me: Tribeca, just say no. We’ve already proven that Brawn has connection issues, making love over the airwaves with his cell phone, and that just can’t be right.

  Blinda:  Maybe he’ll be wearing a kilt!

  Me:  What?

  Apiphany:  Are you a midnight toker?

  Tex:  Well, it just depends on the night. I could be a toker, then a sinner, but probably the sinner is going to come first.

  Kathee:  Dirty, sinner, lover.

  Me: Things really aren’t right here. Do I know these people?

Soara Popespan:  Leo's are vain, arrogant, and exhibitionistic. And they usually have the goods to back it all up, unfortunately. :-(

  Me:  What does this mean? Do Leo’s have big pee-pees? Brawn?

  Apiphany:  Yo, Soara. Has something untoward happened in your past with a Leo? Talk to me, girl.

Prawn Flambee:  we have lost bri bri brian where are you? lol

  Me:  Why is everybody concerned about me NOW? I’m really not believing your concern right at the moment. But I’m not bitter. I just have issues with accessorizing and everything falls apart after that.

Soara Popespan:  Told you. Apiphany is probably wondering what is snoring on her foot under the table

  Me: I am NOT snoring. God. Oh wait, maybe I am. It’s been a long day.

  Apiphany:  I am SO glad that Soara cleared this up for me. I was about to call Animal Control. Or the local fire station to see if any bored men who slide down poles might want to branch out with their life experiences. I’m a giver.

Soara Popespan:  I'm going to go click on the side banner flaunting the dinosaur with 15 horns. Will be back...

  Me:  What in gay hell?

  Apiphany:  They say the fried-beer booth smelled like ass.

  Me:  I can only hope that Apip’s comment has something to do with Lolo and Wild Jenno wandering up, after having spent the day at the Texas State Fair. Otherwise, I’m kind of scared.

Brawn Flambee:  Goods what goods :) ?

  Me: No idea.

Soara Popespan:  The TASTY goods. BTW, the dinosaur is called a Kosmoceratops, and its horns served the same purpose as colorful foliage - like what Leo's use.

  Me: See, this is what happens with Soara. She knows things. Intimate, perceptive details that no one else has been able to retain. She’s WAY smart. I can only hope that if the Apocalypse happens tomorrow, Soara will work her way to my bunker in the now-devastated desert of Dallas, and teach me how to make tuna casserole out of three rocks and a roll of toilet paper. I’m sure that she can do it.

  Apiphany:  God, tuna casserole rawks my world. But not in the slap and tickle sense. More in the “I really love shoving things in my mouth where there’s no relationship commitment” kind of way. I love everybody. But when it comes to bedroom lovin’, I really hope there’s a sausage for the second course.

Brawn Flambee:  I am still single girls :(

  Me: So.

  Apiphany:  Brawn, there is nothing wrong with being single. You can do whatever you want, whenever you want. Like sexting.

Brawn Flambee:  I have been compared to dinosaurs OMG what the

  Me:  So.

  Apiphany:  Are you one of the dinosaurs with really big horns? Have we met? I like horns. Especially big ones. Call me.

Editor’s Note:  Brief break while we… I don’t know. Pretend to be responsible adults or some crap like that. 

  And we’re back. No surprise, Apiphany makes it all about her:

  Apiphany: I CAN SING. Carry on.

  Me:  This has never been proven, despite Apiphany’s firm belief that the world is simply waiting for her to warble a tune so that Jesus can return and bring us all closer to puffy clouds where angels do the lambada.

Tribeca Quartz:  Apiphany can sing!! Someone get me a seat as close as possible! I mean it!

  Me:  Oh, somebody is going to be disappointed in a few moments.

  Apiphany:  I am not taking requests, because anything I can possibly warble will be the most stunning thing that you little people have ever heard. Sit back, drink your cocktails, and bask in my magnificence. It’s okay if you cry, I’m used to people doing that. Praise me.

Apiphany:  Bex these conditions are just horrible. No one will get me a microphone.

  Me: Because they would greatly appreciate the opportunity to live to see another day. Is that so wrong? I don’t think so. Speak with your therapist.

Soara Popespan:  I can't find the blog. Am I BLIND?

  Me:  Yes. The blog is right there. Quit being difficult.

Soara Popespan;  Or maybe it's just Brawn's horns getting in the way...

  Me: I can’t really speak to this, but I’m sure that Brawn’s horn is a very admirable thing. After all, he’s been sexting his horn from one end of the planet to another, even while he’s driving, so one has to assume that his spank-monster is worthy of tribute. Because if it’s not, then, well, the whole situation is really kind of sad.

  Me:  Am I really typing things pertaining to horn status? How low can I sink?

Tribeca Quartz:  No worries Apiphany...I'm on it! *interrupting dragging a chair closer to find a serviceable microphone*

  Me:  Okay, Tribe, you really need to quit trying to appease Apiphany. Her needs are very specific. She requires  total praise without any possible fluctuation in the worship ceremony. It’s very nice that you have decided to move furniture, but really, Apiphany doesn’t care. She wants pomp and circumstance. Her needs are very complicated.

Tribeca Quartz:  I think I'm about to have a bit of an...emotional outbreak. I just want to hear Apiphany sing. Oh, and have a couple of beers. And now Soara is BLIND! WTF?

  Me:  Really, folks, I cannot stress enough that listening to Apiphany sing is really not the good time that you think it might be. Let’s stop investing so much energy in that avenue. Dead end street. There are people serving jail time for lesser offenses.

  Me: Now, as for Soara’s blindness, well, I can’t really speak to that. It’s shocking and sad, but no one forced her to do whatever it was that led to the Helen Keller tribute. Soara is a grown woman, and must take responsibility for her own actions.

Bitsy, to me:  Are you okay to drive?

  Me: Drive? Who said anything about driving? We can’t sleep here?

  Kathee:  But we have to go back to your house. I need to take stock of my hairspray inventory. I might need to expedite a shipment overnight.

  Sage:  Hairspray? You mean like what happens when you don’t trim? Hate that.

  Lolo:  I love that movie! The one with John… what’s his name? Can’t remember. Is this my shrimp? Wait. He was in the “Grease” movie. Where the hot dogs danced on the movie screen? That one.

  Wild Jenno, to Lolo:  I really can’t take you anywhere. What happened to you? And quit talking to the silverware. It can’t hear you.

  Suctionetta:  Does anybody want to touch my ass in these Wranglers? Go ahead. I don’t judge.

  Apiphany:  Why are we not talking about me?

  Me:  I always lose control of this crowd. Always.

And that, dear friends, seems like a good place to end things. Sweet dreams.

1 comment:

  1. all I'm sayin is I can sing. I mean, *cough* apiphany can sing. yeah....thats what I meant.