Live Blog #7 - A Lost Dialogue

Note: I found this while digging through some old draft blogs. Date unknown. Best I can tell, I never posted it. So here’s a little treasure from those days when this blog was “live” from Tierney’s in Lewisville, TX…


4:20p Well, back in the saddle at Tierney’s again. It’s just me at the moment.

4:20p And I totally despise the people sitting at “our” regular table. I really don’t understand this. There’s just two of them, they aren’t eating, and they look boring. Why didn’t any of our dedicated servers do something to stop this?

4:23p Gin-and-Tonika just got here. Yay!

4:25p OMG, the horrid people at “our” table must have sensed my outrage, because they just left. Gin-and-Tonika and I nearly break our necks leaping over to claim the table, knocking down new patrons who have just wandered in. I’m happy now, despite the fact that the departed guests were apparent pigs. Good God, how many Sweet n Low packets can a person possibly use?

4:30p Suctionetta thought it would be cute to steal my lighter and skip away. Hate him.

4:31p Gin-and-Tonika is very animated, discussing her day and the amazing things she encountered. I’m trying to type as well, so I’m not really catching everything, but I obviously don’t have much of a life. Fun things happen to other people. I just blog.

4:35p Gin-and-Tonika is talking about something called “Slingbox”. Never heard of it, but the name alone has me enraptured.

4:37p Beer two, already. Oopsie.

4:39p Sage just walked in, so I try to act like I can’t see anything while he and Gin-and-Tonika basically have sex instead of simply greet one another. Wowza.

4:41p Discussion begins concerning the pros and cons of Netflix. We had this service years ago (way before they delivered it to your desktop and we had to use snail mail). We had to cancel after a while because the discs would pile up on the coffee table and sit there for months. We had them long enough to give them pet names.

4:48p Sage: “You made me spew, man.”

4:49p We move on to “Big Brother”. We hate everybody on the show and it’s boring. But we still all tune in. Because we have addiction issues.

4:52p Sage and Gin-and-Tonika are now sharing lewd texts that they have received throughout the day. Again, I’m totally missing out on life. I get texts like “We’re out of bread” and “Hi.”

4:54p Sage, temporarily not impressed with Gin-and-Tonika: “God, you take a good conversation and run it into the ground..”

4:55p Gin-and-Tonika: “You ask me what I want and then you bitch.”

4:57p Me: “What in the hell is wrong with this ketchup bottle?”

4:58p One of the servers, Ray-Wow, appears to be stomping about in a bad mood. I suppose I should inquire and find out what might be the issue, but it was really hot on the drive out here and I’m worn out. Plus, I don’t really care.

5:01p Gin-and-Tonika shares a story that Donald Duck is being sued for molestation. The mind boggles.

5:02p Apiphany stomps in the door and throws her 37 critical electronic accessories on the table, and immediately begins texting everyone she has ever known.

5:07p Sage: “I took his rat!”

5:08p Gin-and-Tonika: “I don’t recognize that ass OR those hands.”

5:10p Blinda waltzes in the door.

5:12p Blinda immediately shares a story that her can opener died.

5:15p Blinda: “I have my hormones back in place this week!”

5:18p Bathroom Condition Status: There were little gnats flying around my business as I DID my business. Not really impressed with that.

5:20p Delta Jo just made an appearance.

5:21p Apiphany: “So the tiny little screw fell out of my 3-dollar sunglasses today.”

5:22p Apiphany: “And then he proceeds to tell me that he had a vasectomy 10 years ago.”

5:25p Delta Jo: “Well, I wasn’t going to come, but I walked in the door at home and one of the cats had thrown up on the floor. I really couldn’t deal with it so I slammed the door and got back in the car.”

5:26p Delta Jo, totally different story, we‘re assuming: “He had a stack of porn and a bottle of vodka.”

5:30p Apiphany decides that she’s going to hit the jukebox, and takes donations. Everyone throws cash at her so she’ll go away and stop talking about it.

5:34p Taking a break. Nachos are in our midst. Enough said.

5:45p I venture outside to retrieve the requisite Zantax, Gas-X and Excedrin from the car. We’re high-maintenance at our age. But I almost died during the 20 seconds I was out there, which would have made my medication run pointless. Life is full of risks.

5:50p Apiphany, speaking of Delta Jo: “She does a clean and tidy on her kitties.”

6:03p Sage: “We had our own games at the house, man. We use to watch ‘Password’ and cover the answer with a piece of paper.”

6:04p Delta Jo: “You were really poor, weren’t you?”

6:07p Blinda: “I was the baby, I was a brat, and I still am.”

6:48p There has been a tremendous gap as I receive counseling from Apiphany about exactly what I should be doing with my life.

7:38p Still totally ignoring the live blog, lots going on as my peeps try to get my bio and profile pic set up for a website that has graciously asked me to contribute some posts.


And it ends there. The rest of the evening is apparently shrouded in beer-drenched mystery. I can confirm that I wasn’t arrested at any point. Other than that, well, who knows…

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? Hahahaha...you 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 ....lol 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:  Hahahaha...you 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 F...K....lol

  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.

Live Blog #8 - A Really, Really Live Blog - The Final Version

The Set-Up:  At Tierney’s once again, about to start the Live Blog, but we’re doing things a bit differently this time. I’ve posted a Facebook status asking for conversation topics. This could be fun, or it could hit the failblog with a loud smack. We’ll see. (The questions posted in Facebook are in bold, and the contributors have been given cute little anonymous names...)

Grieve Pushlett: “Selfishness.”

Me: “Hmmm. Not really sure what this word means. Everything I have ever done in my entire life has been completely selfless. Except for the times when I’m awake. (Hey, Suctionetta, can I get another beer over here?)

Havilland: “Everybody else is selfish. But not I.”

Blinda: “I know Havilland is telling the truth because she used to work for me. And she used to wear skirts this long.” (Fingers are held up that are about 2 millimeters apart.) “And then there’s the story about the turkey baster.”

Apiphany: “I don’t wanna talk about selfishness on a Friday night.”

Grieve Pushlett: “How people justify what they know is wrong, in life but I will be forgiven anyway.”

Me: “Is Grieve drunk?”

Blinda: “Because they’re selfish.”

Sage: “There’s two sides to every story.” (Well, yeah. The right side and the wrong side. Is Sage drunk?)

Apiphany: “I brought cards!”

Bettina Filler-Jerky: “Clowns.”

Me: “To the left of me, jokers to the right, here I am. Stuck in the middle with goo.”

Blinda: “Is somebody going to send them in now?”

Blinda: “I think a stripper clown would be good.” (Well, they actually had such on the second season of “Reaper”. Seriously.)

Lolo: “I know clowns scare people.”

Sage: “Why do some women have a fetish for clowns.” (I didn’t know about such a thing. I’m fairly sure that I don’t want to know any more.)

Pompous Roams: “Beer.”

Me: “I’m an expert. What question do you have?”

Sage: “All I know is that if anybody touches my beer, there’s gonna be a rumble.”

Lolo: “Woo-hoo, beer!”

Tex: “More, please.”

Me: “I’m thinking there won’t be much of meaty substance with this one.”

Bob Florist-toe: “ ‘How I lost my virginity’. And go…”

Me: “This is dangerous territory Mine took place on my parents’ waterbed, even though the activity was severely limited due to the AC unit being on the fritz and we didn‘t get very far. (OMG, my mom reads this blog. This is going to be an awkward Thanksgiving.)

Apiphany: “I’m not gonna touch that.”

Tex: “Let me assure you that no cattle were involved. No farm animals were harmed.”

Lolo: “I’m not gonna tell.”

Tex: “Per court order, I can’t talk about it. Those records are sealed.”

Sage: “It all started with a gag order.” Then he laughs maniacally. This makes me very scared.

Bonnie Borden Kegister: “How about ice cream?”

Me: “Ice cream is proof that there IS a higher power.”

Blinda: “We all scream about ice cream. Actually, we just scream. Life is hard. And then you die.”

Tex: “Refer to the previous post.”

Apipany: “Don’t get me wrong, I’ll eat it, but there are issues.” (The mind boggles, right?)

(Side Note:  Some of the folks at the table have started playing Spades. Immediately there is anger in the air and caustic discourse. I might lose these people. We’ll see.)

Pleaza Da FooFoo Spinach: “Marriage and Civil Partnership!”

Me: “It completely mystifies me that we are still having a debate about this. In the 21st century. Seriously?”

Blinda: “The House of Civil Partnership?” (Um, perhaps I need to speak more clearly. Or maybe Blinda needs to slow down with the raspberry vodka.)

Apiphany: “I believe in the sanctity of marriage. I just don’t know if I’m ever going to partake in it.” (I think Apiphany is watching a different program than we are.)

(Side Note: One of the servers just mentioned that one of our party has been cut off from further beer intake. We don’t know if he’s actually being serious, but everyone at the table feels guilty and pretends to study their shoes.)

Sage, quoting from a movie: “If you blow chunks and she comes back, she’s yours. If you spew and she bolts, it was never meant to be.” (Then Sage chuckles and babbles about “Wayne’s World”. I’ve never seen that one. And I feel cleaner for it.)

Grieve Plushett: “Clowns beer and lost my virginity and then ice cream, glad that wasn’t all in one.”

Me: Still thinking Grieve has tippled a bit. Or has some tremendous insight that has escaped the rest of us.

Blinda: “I lost my virginity to a beer-drinking clown while eating ice cream.”

Sage: “One clown says to the other, can I get a courtesy flush?”

Apiphany: “I had a dream. I could not see his face.”

Piza Bitsock: “Ham sandwich, ugly shoes and beards.”

Me: “That’s exactly what I said on my first same-sex date.”

Blinda: “Are we in Missouri?”

Apiphany: “Isn’t that what happened to Mama Cass?”

Sage: “Welcome to the cheap seats at Dodger’s Stadium. (Gotta love those Dodgers.)”

Tribeca Quartz: “LOL @ Steve… I’m sure Brian can blend it all nicely.”

Me:  Awww. Me loves Tribeca. We tight.

Tribeca Quartz: “To whit: If you could star in any action movie, which one would you choose?”

Me: “Action movie implies having to run around and do things. I’m really not invested in that. If I can just push a button, I’m all for it. Otherwise, just say no.”

Lolo: “Terminator.”

Apiphany: “Out of Bounds. I wanna be in a trunk with George Clooney.”

Blinda: “Die Hard. I just think it would be fun.”

Tex: “Gone in 60 Seconds.”

Blinda: “I used to date him, Gone in 60 seconds.”

Sage: “Under Siege with Steven Segall. The chef goes crazy and kills all the bad guys.”

Stranger passing by: “”Do you know where the bathroom is?”

Grieve Plushett: “Movie - One Million Years BC with Raquel Welch.”

Me: “So Grieve likes scantily-clad women running around wearing bits of fur and a nice suntan. Got it.”

Blinda: “I hope to be plasticized.” (Blinda has had a few cocktails.) “Wait, was the Geico caveman alive then?” (Blinda’s eyes roll back in her head at this thought. Apparently she finds him sexy. We all have special needs.) “I like hairy men. Just not the back.”

Tribeca Quartz: “Oooohh… Raquel Welch…” 

Me: “Tribeca does love the strong women who hunt and gather, and look sweaty yet sexy while doing so. This is admirable.”

Sage: “She had a pair of bongos that would go on for days. Hawt!” (I really don’t want to know any more about Sage’s infatuation with 60’s nymphets who dashed about while sporting pendulous body parts. Then Sage suddenly has to leave for the evening. I don’t even dare ask why he needs to be alone right now.)

Grieve Plushett: “You said action movie, LOL.”

Me: Yes, Tribeca did, Grieve. Don’t worry. You haven’t violated any laws or legal directives. Wait, let me qualify that. You haven’t acted illegally during this blog. What you do on your own time, well, that’s your own issue. I wasn’t there and can’t have your back.

Tribeca Quartz: “LOL! *ahem* Yes, I did.”

Me: Tribe, don’t encourage Grieve. He’s already having questionable fantasies about slinky female movie stars who stand on hilltops and vanquish dinosaurs. I really don’t think this is healthy. Then again, it’s all in the perspective, right?

Apiphany: “Non-virgin Clowns drinking beer selfishly?”

Me: I have a brief consultation with Apiphany, wherein I explain that she’s not really supposed to comment on the Facebook post. Because she’s sitting right here with us in Tierney’s. She’s supposed to make her comments to ME, and I will add them to the blog. Tiffany gives me a look that clearly explains it doesn’t matter what MY needs might be, she’s going to do what she wants, screw everybody.

Grieve Plushett: “Now that is an action movie.”

Me: He’s referring to Apiphany’s comment. In another dimensional plan, Grieve and Apiphany could get along famously. In this world, they will never speak to one another unless directed by authorities to do so.

Tribeca Quartz: “*scooping up a blowhorn* Aaaaannnndddd...ACTION!”

Me: First, Tribeca is really serious about this action stuff. She wants things to blow up, and she wants to catch the beautiful heroine as she tumbles out of a window and nearly plummets to her death. Second, have you noticed that all my counterparts here at Tierney’s have stopped responding? I’m really trying to keep them invested, but it’s a lot of work.

Havilland: “Talking to ppl while ur doing #2 in the other stall.”

Me: “Um, what?”

Apiphany: “I’m kind of busy right now.”

Apiphany: “This is really weird, but you look like Jeff Probst.”

Me: Why are none of my friends sober? And why won’t any of them help me with the response to Havilland’s comment. Come on, the girl was just here. Have you forgotten her that quickly?

Me, hours later: Anybody?

Me: Fine. Well, Havilland, I guess it’s up to me. Completely agree that people need to shut the hell up when finding themselves in communal stalls. People are occupied. Commentary is not necessary. If you really need to discourse while recycling, we probably don’t have much else in common. And really, I’m too tired to kill you. So just exit the building and never come back. Thank you.

Grieve Plushett: “Havilland, that is so wrong and so funny on every level. Men don’t talk, but we try to out noise each other, what the heck is there to talk about, do tell.”

Me: Havilland is no longer here. Let me speculate and theorize, from the male perspective. Yep, there seems to be some type of animalistic competition in the men’s room. The grunting and noxious explosions emitting from the stalls is akin to the shocking mustard-gas experiments in World War I. On a personal level, I really don’t understand why anyone speaks while in public facilities. Do your business and go.

Apiphany: “*CUT*! Tribeca, they gave me the wrong mike… helllpppp.”

Me: Translation - Apiphany does not do well when the spotlight is not on her. This makes her want to hurt people. Do not take this personally. Especially since she couldn’t care less what happens to you, as long as her own needs are met.

Havilland: “Paying for ur gas with $15 in pennies and nickels.”

Me (and have you noticed that my peeps around me at Tierney’s are no longer contributing ANYTHING?) : Havilland briefly referenced the above statement as she raced out the door so she couldn’t be associated with us in any way. Apparently she had a horrifying experience at a gas-purchasing establishment, and some trollop chose to pay for her wares with sticky coinage found in a couch. They were in line for hours while somebody used an abacus to complete the transaction.

Tribeca Quartz: “*scrambling and cursing* Good LORD, good help is hard to find!”

Me: By “help”, I believe Tribeca is referring to domestic nymphets that can descend upon her dwelling and make things nicely sapphic. But that’s just a guess.”

Crate Sodd: “Roller derby… kick some ass!”

Me: I knew Crate back in the day, when we attended a college smack in the midst of crazed conservatives who looked askance at anyone who dared to think in a progressive manner. Needles to say, we chafed under the yoke. But we bonded, and we survived.

  So the roller derby angle does not surprise me at all. The thought of Crate cheering on helmeted people as they skate in a circle and beat the hell out of each other seems somehow fitting.

Tribeca Quartz: “*running up to Apiphany with the proper mic and thrusting it at her* Here, here… take it and use it well.”

Me:  Tribeca, do you really think it’s a good idea to hand Apiphany a phallic object and encourage her to use it well?

Apiphany: “I’ll have a beer while I wait. OMG! There’s a clown behind that mirror. Eeek!”

Me: Trying a bit hard, aren’t we, Apip?

Grieve Plushett: “and two of them are heading to the bath room stall, wonder what clowns talk about together doing number 2. If there both girl clowns, and there are nothing but stalls, how do you know the other one is doing number 2 so you know you can talk to them? The questions of life?”

Me: This appears to be a sexual fantasy that I shouldn’t touch with a 10-foot pole. Although I have a feeling that somebody in this Live Blog believes that they have such a weapon. I hope the clowns are prepared.

Tribeca Quartz: “Hey, now, I’m just in charge of the sound equipment…”

Me: Doesn’t this sound like a guilty statement to everybody else? What is Tribeca trying to hide? Say, where was she on the night that thing happened? Hmmm.

Editor’s Note:  At this point I look up from my trusty netbook, and realize that nearly everyone has abandoned me. Some have sauntered off for the evening, others are being brazen hussies and trolling the bar for potential playmates. (And that’s just the guys.) Those who are still sitting at our special table are doing everything they can to look incredibly busy and occupied when I start with another round of “Okay, the next topic posted in Facebook is…” If I try to be obnoxious and make them pay attention, they all look at me as if my immediate death would still not be satisfactory punishment.


  My, how things twist in an evil way so quickly. This was all delightful fun a few hours ago. Everybody couldn’t wait to contribute a comment. Now there is hatred and dissatisfaction. (To be fair, Lolo and Tex really couldn’t hear what was going on, sitting way at the other end of the table and basically in another county.) Well, fine. Run off and play. I’ll just finish these on my own…

Ban Winter: “Where is Tierney’s Café & Tavern? (Or Cavern?)”


And 


Tribeca Quartz: “Somewhere in Dallas, I’m guessing. I’m Mapquesting so I can go and crash the party.”

Me: Ban and Tribe: We’re actually in Lewisville, a wee bit to the northwest of Dallas. But if you’ve ever been to the DFW metroplex, town names actually mean very little. It’s really one big-ass, extremely spread-out gigantor mix of people. The only way you can possibly know that you’ve crossed a border is that the street signs look a little different or the police car in your rearview mirror suddenly has different colors. And come on down, Tribe. Even if you drive all the way from Canada, we’ll probably still be here. Some of us don’t understand that it’s time to go until they turn out the lights. It’s not unusual for us to still be sitting here in the morning, asking if anybody has seen our server lately..

Ban Winter: “Oh… I can’t, since I’m in New Yawk, but I will be there in spirit. Cheers!!!!”

Me: Thanks, Ban. In tribute to your support, I took the remains of someone’s Caribbean Madness salad, and used the pieces of fruit to create a cute little figurine that looks exactly like your profile pic. Sadly, your strawberry head fell off when someone bumped the table, but that happens a lot around here.

Soara Popespan: “I presume by now that Bri-Bri & Co. have by now come up with a lengthy list of topics, so I will just respond to Tribe’s question: I didn’t star in it, but I was invited to a corporate party at the president’s home in Beverly Hills one year and told we were to dress as our favorite actor.

  Monty Hall (Let’s Make a Deal) dropped by to say hello and to ‘judge’ the winner. I didn’t ‘win’. I dressed as Ripley from Aliens and proceeded to reenact the ‘meal scene’ by jumping up in the middle of dinner, grabbing my chest, flopping on the table and screaming while unzipping my flight suit (thank you Army/Navy surplus) and allowing the rubber alien attached to the t-shirt underneath to ‘pop out’. Half the people were laughing like crazy, the other half who had never seen the film were frantically dailling 911. It took a while to live that one down…”

Me: Um, there is silence at the table after having just read your words, as we now realize that anything we are doing at Tierney’s has suddenly become pointless and meaningless. Until just a few seconds ago, we were very satisfied with our lives, thinking they had some worth. Now we realize that they do not, because we have never had the joy of reenacting anything while using discount costumes.

  Even the time I dressed up as “Karen Silkwood” for Halloween can’t even begin to compare. Sigh.

Bewetta Flaylor:  “Why your Granny cannot live in your back yard in a tent!”

Me: Oh God. It’s Mom again with her incessant need to distance herself from her own mother. This has been an ongoing discussion, one of those extended, never-ending family discourses wherein everybody truly does love one another, but living arrangements are constantly brought up for review, fingers are pointed, and guilt is served in large, fat-dripping portions.

Soara Popespan: “Hmmm… I didn’t know Bri-Bri Had a 10-foot pole…”

Me: “Well, things just happen sometimes, so don’t be jealous. You can’t always get what you want. But if you try sometimes, you just might find, that somebody else will pick up the tab and your hangover in the morning will at least be financially-solvent….


And THAT, dear friends, seems as good a place as any to wrap things up. Thanks to everyone who participated. Truly. Can’t wait to do it again. I think…

10 Totally Astonishing Things That Are Happening Around Me Right Now

Setting the scene: I’m at Tierney’s Café and Tavern. (This being a Friday night, no one should be the slightest bit shocked.) At the threat of physical violence and dismemberment, I have been banned from doing a Live Blog due to the sudden arrival of several co-workers who have made it very clear that their actions will NOT be captured for posterity. Fine. Plan B: Some commentary about what I’m seeing as I sit here, creatively restricted, but unable to fully contain myself…


1. The apparent Day Care facility that has been incorporated into the area around the pool table.
There are two highly-frenetic children who are bouncing off the walls. They are firmly convinced that nothing is worth saying unless you can scream it at the top of your lungs. As an added embellishment, they also feel that anything they do, at all, should be accompanied by the flinging about of any loose object they can find. I instantly hate them.

I stop our server. Perhaps he could share some details about why the urchins are leaping about down yonder. Well, it seems that these heathens belong to the cook. Everybody loves the cook. She makes incredible delicacies and she shows up to work on time. Ergo, it’s okay with management if the offspring frolic until secondary child-care arrangements are made. Okay, then.

Then the munchkins discover a pair of hula hoops. Where in the HELL did they find those in this place? Seriously. Why would drunken people need large plastic rings? Anyway, there they go, whirling and grinding and gyrating. Screaming with joy the entire time. Why is energy wasted on the clueless young, and withheld from the older folks who actually need it just to get out of bed?

2. Everybody wants to be an interior designer.
So this troupe of low-rent Junior League types clatters in the door, all fake-baked and sporting enough jewelry to fund a mid-range corporate takeover. High-heels clicking, they wander all over the main seating area of the bar, trying to determine which of the many table options will satisfy their needs. Apparently none of them.

So the trollops throw down their purses, roll up their sleeves, and then start shoving furniture left and right. Chairs fly through the air and table condiments skitter across the floor. We have huffing and puffing and designer silk shirts becoming moist and clingy. Finally, the city officials leave after having signed the construction permit, and the Design Star wannabes sit their asses down.
For roughly three seconds.

Then one of them glances out the enormous floor-to-ceiling windows, that have been there this entire time, and discover that there is patio seating available. So off they go, thundering out the door, where they immediately start pulling up paver stones and uprooting the shrubbery. I race to the patio door and throw the lock. Then pull the curtains closed.

3. The ceiling fans are not on. None of them.
It’s 98 degrees outside, and the front door keeps flopping open as people rush inside for draft beer, meaning blasts of Texas heat wash across the room every three seconds. I don’t know who is responsible for this oversight, but that person must die.

4. Lewisville, Texas has some butt-ugly people.
I really don’t know how such a high concentration of mirror-challenged citizens could populate one area. And we’re not talking “oh, she could be a little cuter with a nice rinse job”. No, we have ventured into “you poor thing, you will never marry” territory. The only real career path these people could have is volunteering to be a replacement bait if the chum runs out on the fishing boats.

Holy cow, did lightning just strike nearby? Wonder what that’s all about?

5. No matter where you go, some men are homophobic in the restroom.
Okay, here’s the deal. I just want to pee. I’m not in the bathroom for entertainment or dating opportunities. I don’t want to see your business. Don’t thrust your crotch against the urinal so that the danglies aren’t open for interpretation. Don’t scream and run into a stall, slamming the door and triple-locking the access. And the most irritating thing? Most of these guys who are so intent on hiding the jewels from predators firmly belong in Entry Number 4 above. Your tackle does not even remotely interest me.

6. Karaoke is scary.
I understand that alcohol emboldens some people who would otherwise simply eat their salad and leave. Sadly, alcohol also convinces completely untalented people that they should get on a stage and bellow like the Love Boat is setting sail. And what songs do they pick? Songs that I previously praised and loved. It’s totally demoralizing and life-altering to have something you used to sing along with on the radio turned into a mating call for chimpanzees.

It’s hard to go on after this happens.

Oh, and don’t get me started on the evil clapping. If someone staggers on the stage, vomits out a song while doing hideous dance moves inspired by some ill-advised hookup with Satan, and then manages to fall down and shove the microphone through their mouth and out the back of their head, this person should not be rewarded. Do NOT applaud and encourage. It’s cruel. Especially for me, because they might sing again. We should hear crickets chirping, not adoration.

7. Really efficient servers can be deadly.
It’s very nice that my nearly-depleted beer is immediately replaced with a fresh frosty. Great attention to detail. But this leads to confusion and mayhem. Before you know it, the constant flow has lead to over-exuberance in the social spectrum. You love everybody. You mistakenly believe that everybody loves you. Random sex could potentially take place. And we all know, after a certain age, that spontaneous couplings lead to degradation and shame-filled clothing retrieval in the morning.

8. People disappear for inordinate amounts of time.
How is it that your friends, who were just sitting at your table and conversing about pointless but amusing things, can suddenly wander off and not be seen for three hours? What activities are taking place in the shadowy nether regions of this bar that people get sucked in and apparently enter an alternate universe? They finally stumble back to your table around Last Call, eyes aglow with adventure and satisfaction, and you realize that something is truly missing from your life.

9. Despite all rumors and news reports, Tammy Wynette is not dead.
She just walked in the front door. Five of her. There was an immediate altercation concerning the use of mascara, hairspray, and big-hair zoning regulations. Nobody stood by their man, and fake eyelashes were found in the most surprising places.

10. The mystifying synchronicity of people watching the sports games on the various TV’s.
This never fails to get my attention. No one in the entire bar is paying the tiniest bit of attention to what’s happening on the TV’s, but at the absolute second that a team or player does something extraordinary, like score or put something in a hole, 74% of the bar will erupt in a frenzy of maddened worship and celebration. How do these people know something has happened? They can’t even say their own names at this point, but some base instinct has been triggered. I guess I’m missing that gene. And I am truly thankful that such is the case. Word.

10.5 Did I order this?

Live Blog #6 - Here Comes the Rain Again

5:16p  And here we go, sitting at Tierney’s with netbook ready…

5:17p  Delta Jo expresses fear that one of her long-time acquaintances might show up here one day and terrorize the planet. Something about “mean drunk”. We all gaze briefly out the window, searching for signs of impending doom and excessive alcohol.

5:18p  And we discover that it’s pouring down rain again. Why does it never rain in this state unless I’m sitting in Tierney’s? This needs to be studied.

5:21p  Apiphany is greatly agitated about a social invitation she has received. Not certain of the details, but there was a disturbance in the past concerning the abduction of a purse and car theft. Apiphany lives on the edge.

5:24p  Delta Jo announces that her house is only 5 minutes away. She suggests that perhaps one day we should sally forth and view her estate. I have known Delta Jo for twenty years and I have never been invited to her abode. This is a pivotal moment. I wipe away a tear.

5:25p  Apiphany: “Bunny does a reach around.”

5:25p  Apipahny: “I wanted him to bring me a big one.”

5:27p  It’s rather crowded in here for this early in the evening. This could be either a good thing or a bad thing. I’ll keep you posted.

5:29p  Delta Jo: “He ate all this cabbage and put himself in a wet suit.”

5:29p  Mikala joins us at the table. He’s waiting for some folks to show for some adventure he is planning which involves them marching out into the wilderness and hitting some other bars. Not sure. All I know is that I’m not going anywhere for a while. Pass.

5:32p  Apiphany: “What are we listening to?”

5:32p  I’m guessing it’s country. There’s wailing and acoustic guitars. No mention yet of anybody leaving somebody, but I’m sure it’s coming.

5:35p  Delta Jo: “I made a puddle.”

5:36p  Delta Jo: “You’ll have to tell me about that wet spot thing.”

5:37p  Delta Jo: “Have you ever watched that Bill Cosby thing where people try to walk like they’re not drunk?”

5:37p  Delta Jo is getting featured far too prominently. Other people need to start speaking and not just sitting there, pining for catfish strips and staring at the rain like they’ve never seen things falling from the sky.

5:39p  There is some type of disturbance near the jukebox involving people standing and pointing. Apiphany’s still at our table, and her clothes are on, so she’s not the source of the disruption.

5:40p  In an amazing display of coordination and talent, I manage to drop a dollop of tartar sauce directly on top of my wi-fi stick. That thing is about two millimeters wide. How in the hell?

5:42p  Ray-Wow is behind me, babbling about the technical difficulties of some device that is giving her trouble. She needs Apiphany’s assistance. They put their heads together and whisper strategy. The world trembles in fear.

5:45p  Another server comes and inquires on the blog thing. We inform her that she must select an alias so we can mention her in the blog. She’s not really interested in that. Instead, she has some procedural questions. Like how do you get people to find and follow your blog.

5:46p  Honey, if I knew THAT, I sure as hell wouldn’t be sitting HERE.

5:54p  Delta Jo: “Being a team lead sucked the life out of me.” I hear ya, sister. Total suckage. The remembered pain brings more tears, so it looks like this is going to be a very emotional evening. It’s wet outside, we might as well be wet in here.

5:56p  Delta Jo notices some people banging around with some equipment on the other side of the room. “When old people set up speakers it makes me nervous.”

5:58p Apiphany: “Why not do it until somebody gets hurt?”

6:00p  Delta Jo: “If it weren’t for her nose and her eyelashes, her face would be flat.”

6:01p  Delta Jo: “This is fascinating. I can’t wait to see what happens here.”

6:03p  Delta Jo: “There could be a rufie in that for all we know. It’s part of his evil plan.”

6:04p  Blinda makes an appearance. Two seconds later, Sage and Gin-and-Tonika waltz up as well. Hayyyy.

6:05p  General mayhem and the sounds of construction as we manipulate seating arrangements and thereby establish the social groupings for the evening.

6:07p  Blinda squirts ketchup on a plate. Yet she doesn’t have any food. Interesting.

6:08p  Mikala returns from navigating the room and handing out business cards. He’s up to something, but none of this is clear.

6:10p  Brief discussion that Suctionetta has spent $750 on THREE Lady Gaga tickets. Good God.

6:11p  I think that I might already be on my fourth beer. Perhaps I should eat something to soak up a bit of this. Like a futon.

6:17p  Blinda: “Whose fish is this?”

6:18p  Apiphany: “I’m hot. And I don’t mean in the cute way.”

6:18p  Apiphany: “It looks like I’m lactating.”

6:19p  Delta Jo to Apiphany: “You are blog fodder.”

6:20p  Taking a short break. Need to check the blog stats and offer worship and praise to those who have found my tiny corner of the world.

6:34p  Blinda: “Look at what cocaine did for Edgar Allen Poe!”

6:36p  And then we have a tragedy, which I’m sure that Delta Jo fervently hopes that I’m not capturing, but of course I am. In some spastic, uncontrolled movement, she manages to whack my beer glass and splash brew all over my HTC HD2. Panic and mayhem ensue. Delta Jo goes in the bathroom and cries. I’ll let her stew a bit, and then we’ll have makeup sex later. Or something like that.

6:40p  Delta Jo: “Hand and eye coordination are the first things to go.”

6:41p  Apiphany: “If I didn’t have to go to work I’d just do it.”

6:46p  Gin-and-Tonika: “I get my braces off in two more months! Then we’ll have a party. And I’ll probably fall and bust my teeth out.”

6:47p  Gin-and-Tonika and I began a very detailed discussion about how much we love our Nooks from Barnes and Noble. We exchange rapturous words and create secret hand signals for our new club.

6:54p  Apiphany is applying makeup, because that’s so important in a place like this.

6:59p  Delta Jo: “Mark Knopfler is freaking ugly!”

7:00p  Finally, the old people setting up the equipment at the other end of the room start singing. Let’s just say I am transported back to 1970’s Oklahoma, with good ole boys drinking beer and driving down dusty roads while shooting at slow things.

7:04p  Tammy Wynette just walked by, which is troubling on so many levels.

7:07p  Sage is insisting on slapping my questionably-defined butt every time I leave the table to visit the facilities. Not really sure what to think about that. But everybody seems to be having a good time with it, so I play along and dance about accordingly.

7:10p  The old people playing music are actually pretty good. I’ve liked the songs so far, and right now they are doing “Drift Away”, with half the bar singing along. This is one of those times when simple things result in immense love and respect for shared experiences with your fellow man. I’m sure that within minutes the racism and general hatred will bubble to the surface again.

7:12p  I have to yell at Blinda to quit banging the table in enthusiasm for the beat of the song. Troubled glaring follows.

7:18p  Corky and Dancewell just walked in. Details to follow.

7:22p  Apiphany: “People just have class, and then they don’t.”

7:23p  Delta Jo: “I am NOT proud.”

7:32p  Apiphany: “Who the hell is Sloopy? Why does he need to hang on? Does my ass look big in this song?”

7:33p  Apiphany: “This reminds me of the Big Wheel that I lost in my childhood. And my name is not Mary.”

7:34p  Apiphany has serious issues that may never be resolved. But her lip gloss is sparkly.

7:35p  Delta Jo: “I just saw two chickens and a rooster outside.”

7:36p  It’s Texas, DJ. There was probably also an armadillo, somebody making barbeque, an oversized truck that’s never been actually used to haul anything, at least three women with hair jacked to Jesus, a Republican with reality issues, and a Church Female Auxiliary that is waving bibles and condemning us to Hell. Did you bother to look around?

7:38p  Apiphany: “I used to do that until I puked.”

7:39p  Extended discussion concerning the infamous “Sit-n-Spin” from our distant childhoods.

7:43p  Ray-Wow makes another appearance. Her conversation with Apiphany is severely distorted. I’m assuming that if anything of importance was discussed, there will be a memo.

7:48p  Me to Apiphany: “Do I mean ANYTHING to you? I mean, ever?”

7:54p  The ancient band is singing “Hotel California”, and most of the bar is attempting to holler the words as well. The phrase “wild banshees wailing in pain as they are beaten with ugly sticks” comes to mind. Delta Jo screams and runs outside to escape and have a chance at survival. The rest of us are immobilized by the fear.

7:55p  Three people die.

7:57p  Delta Jo comes back in before the song is over. What the hell? She had her chance. If she folded it’s not my fault. During the extended musical bridge of the song, the Tierney’s patrons are under the impression that howling is some form of compliment.

7:59p  Apiphany: “We could just wear Depends, and we wouldn’t have to get up to go to the bathroom.”

8:00p  I turn to Apiphany: “Has it EVER crossed your mind that everything is NOT about you? God, woman, turn that yammer off and try to have some decency for three seconds.”

8:01p  Apiphany: “I have class shooting out of my ass.”

8:02p  Delta Jo: “I’m not featured favorably in this blog, am I?”

8:03p  Sage and Gin-and-Tonika throw in the towel and head for the hills. There are vague promises that Sage will be back after Gin is safely ensconced at the house. We’ll see.

8:06p  Who invited Boy George to sing on the stage?

8:09p  Suctionetta just screamed at a Dancewell. This can’t lead to anything good.

8:10p  Wait, are they seriously showing figure skating on one of the TV’s? In HERE? Really?

8:13p  Shrek and Fiona just walked in the door, and are standing in the entry foyer, completely ignored. I guess this is what happens when they don’t plan to make any more sequels.

8:20p  Tex arrives!

8:21p  Apiphany races to the other end of the table, and immediately she and Tex are conspiring and gossiping. We won’t hear from them for hours.

8:34p  Now Delta Jo is striking the table. What is it with these people and their need for wood-based violence?

8:35p  Something tells me that I should switch to water. But the senior citizens on the stage just launched into another classic song that they will proceed to decimate. I can’t deal with two issues at once.

8:38p  Blinda: “Who ARE these people in here?”

8:39p Exactly. Just hunker down and pray for daylight.

8:40p  Taking another short break. Can. Not. Deal. With. The. Noise. And. The. Sheer. Human. Stupidity.

8:57p  Delta: “Oh, look at the girl grooving at herself in the window. That’s precious.”

8:59p Attila is at the table, talking to Apiphany. This can lead to no good whatsoever.

9:01p  The senior crowd just sang “Happy Birthday” to someone in their midst. Such things are much more important when you’re closest friend is Metamucil. But they really need to be careful. Sudden noises at THAT age, well…

9:20p  Have I really had 36 beers? Can we get a recount? This can’t be right. Oh look, I have ten fingers!

9:23p  The Senior Knickerbocker Review is now asking us “Who wrote the book of love?” I really don’t care. I’m guessing it wasn’t Ann Coulter or Rush Limbaugh.

9:25p  Suctionetta just inquired if I was done live-blogging. I politely explained that no, I’m still capturing the mayhem. Would you like me to add something about you? (Thinking I’m being totally sweet.) Suckie has a coronary, appalled that he hasn’t earned a shout-out yet. He threatens physical violence. I cough in his direction and his challenged body falls to the ground amid wails of outrage and persecution. While he is writhing, I ask if he can bring me another beer.

9:43p  There was a bit of chaos for a while. My battery was dying, so Ray-Wow scrambled to find an extension cord. Then the Senior Knickerbocker guy decided to sing “Sweet Caroline”, and frankly, one of these cowboys should have put him out of his misery. THEN, Corky comes up to the table, bellowing along to the horrid song that is playing. When will the madness stop?

9:53p  Several twelve-year-olds just walked into the bar. Something is terribly wrong. Okay, maybe they’re in high school, but still.

9:54p  Apiphany is very concerned that her belongings appear to be covered in Crisco.

9:55p  I didn’t do it. That’s all I know. I can’t speak for anyone else at this table. Including Apiphany. Or Suctioneta, because I understand that he orders this cooking aid by the gross.

10:20p  Blinda: “I may be drunk, but I have my dignity.”

10:21p  Yes, there was a rather large gap in the reporting with no explanation given. It’s best that you not know what happened in the interim. Suffice it to say that I’m still a virgin, but just barely.

10:27p  Me: “Where’s the epitaphs?”

10:41p  And we’re aiming for a shutdown here. I’m no longer certain what any of these people around me want, but I’m fairly confident that I don’t want to give it to them. Sayin.


End Trans.

Live Blog #1 - And So It Begins…

Okay, folks, we’re trying a new experiment. I thought it might be fun to “blog live” while joining my friends for a few drinks. For this particular piece of performance art, we are gathering at Tierney’s, a bar and grill in Lewisville, Texas. I’m going to keep a running timeline of the mayhem. This has “failblog” written all over it, because it’s probably going to be messy, but here we go.


Names have been changed to prevent social outcasting and/or the issuance of restraining orders…

3:50  I pull into the parking lot. There are no other cars in sight. What’s that all about? Well, at least I should be able to back into a parking slot without killing anyone. Normally, I would never attempt this if there were living beings within a 500-foot radius. Three tries later, I finally manage to park decently enough that drunk people won’t care.

3:57  I study a large, dangerous pothole in the middle of the parking lot. There’s a flag sticking out of the middle of it, one of those wiry things they use to mark off underground utility lines. I stare at it for a while, wondering if they are serious with this primitive warning device. Are people really going to see that? Especially me a few hours from now?

4:05 Where are my peeps? I drove all the way from the other side of the metroplex, through tons of traffic and hordes of idiots. My peeps live just down the street and they are nowhere in sight.

4:07  Apiphany and Blinda roll up. It’s nice to see them, but it’s very hot outside and the AC in the car has FINALLY reached a reasonable temperature. I contemplate just driving home. I have beer there, and it’s quiet.

4:09  I load all my blogging gear, shoving things in my pockets and such. I feel very hip and assume that people will be jealous of my professionalism as I head toward the door. Right then, I trip over nothing in the parking lot and nearly meet Jesus.

4:11  We are the only people here. The few staff people come running up, full of worship for Apiphany and Blinda. They are here all the time and everybody knows them. They are complete drunks.

4:15  We order draft beers because they’re cheap and electric bills are high.

4:18  I reach into my pocket, digging for one of my netbook accessories, and somehow manage to cut my thumb on something in there. Great. We’ve been here 15 minutes and I’m bleeding. I try to get Apiphany to pay attention and help me, but she’s already flirting with anything that will move and trying to take pictures of things that don’t make sense. Finally, she grabs some silverware from somewhere, rips the paper napkin off of it, and throws it in my direction.

4:20  Delta Jo arrives. Hurray! She hardly ever shows up. (We’re not sure if it’s because she secretly hates us, doesn’t find drinking in public to be of interest, or just has an aversion to other people drinking in public who have lost all motor skills and couth.) Delta Jo hasn’t had anything to drink for months. She immediately orders Jack Daniels straight. This should be fun.

4:33  Apiphany, Blinda and Delta Jo have been babbling non-stop, having a tremendous amount of fun dissecting various acquaintances and making fun of people who live in Odessa, Texas, because it’s easy to do and you don’t have to dig very far to find something to ridicule. I can’t really join in the conversation, because I’m trying to do this live blog thing, as well as keep blood off the keyboard. Starting to rethink the wisdom of this experiment, because it’s also cutting into my drinking. We need an adjustment.

4:37  Delta Jo is whining about searching for the perfect pod in Florida. I have no idea.

4:39  We are still the only people in this establishment. Have the emergency authorities already alerted the population to stay off the streets while we’re in town?

4:40  Delta Jo just said “I’m effectively banished from the house” as part of some story she’s sharing. This post might just become “Odd Quotes from Delta Jo”.

4:42  Why are they showing golf on all the TV’s? Oh my God, is this a Sports Bar? This could ruin me socially, especially if a Gay Pride parade marches by outside, and that could happen at any time around here. Is there a back door to this place?

4:46  Our server, Suctionetta,  is clearly gay, meaning this place has rainbow approval. Social devastation has been avoided. Suctionetta is quite impressive with his extraordinary serving artistry. You barely wipe the foam off your lips and another beer is plunked  before you.

4:47  Apiphany: “My eyes are so bad, I can’t read my tess messages.” Already with the slurring? She’s only had one beer. It’s going to be a long night.

4:48  Delta Jo is showing us pictures of her friend that keeps electric eels in a tank. Perhaps this is why she stopped drinking for a while.

4:50  Apiphany: “Answer the question. What kind of fish is Dory?”

4:50  Blinda: “She’s an Ellen fish.”

4:50  Now accepting applications for new friends.

4:54  The girls are now talking about jewelry. This does not interest me in any way. This is a perfect opportunity to visit the facilities, since I’ve already had two drafts, and something tells me we’ll soon be in the double digits. If I have any chance of surviving the night, I’d better keep things flowing.

4:58  Well, then. Apparently there is something amiss with the automatic paper-towel dispenser in the restroom. It kept beeping and dispensing the entire time I was in there, even when I tried to hold perfectly still. By the time I had completed my duties, there was a wad of rolled-up paper on the floor that could be used as a weapon. I frantically shoved the whole mess in the trash can like the IRS was coming for my receipts.

5:00  Delta Jo: “I have to go home and clean out underneath my sink.” Okay. Do what you need to do. But I guess she doesn’t intend to do that right NOW, because she suddenly races off to join Apiphany at the jukebox. They start playing songs that I don’t know. This is where I fall into the cultural void.

5:03  Someone else finally wanders in, but she sits way at the other end of the bar, hiding behind one of the pretend gambling machines. That settles it. The word is officially out. This town is in some type of lock-down until we have been properly confined.

5:06  Delta Jo, returning from the restroom,  has an issue with a step that really isn’t there.

5:07  One of the female servers has a really rough voice. Can you say Marlboro? Or possibly late night domestic situations where there’s lots of yelling and people from Child Protective Services have to make decisions about paternity and custody. Just guessing.

5:12  One of the servers (these people really LOVE Apiphany and Blinda) just brought us a sample of bubble-gum flavored vodka. Never knew such a thing existed. After tasting it, perhaps I should have remained in ignorance and denial. Just say no.

5:15  Blinda has ordered nachos. Yet another server wanders up with plates. Everyone else gets a porcelain plate. Mine is plastic. If I really ponder this, I could probably detect a conspiracy with profound implications.

5:19  Pink Floyd’s “Comfortably Numb” is playing on the jukebox. I’m expecting the servers to get out their lighters, but this doesn’t immediately happen.

5:25  Delta Jo is singing in French while eating nachos.

5:47  People disappeared for a while. Something about the jukebox. I just kept eating nachos and working on my blogs. People stared at me, because the concept of literary endeavors in a bar and grill is just not something you see every day. I feel slightly popular. Then I realize that there is greasy cheese on my chin and a bloody napkin on the table. Nope, they’re not gazing at the writer in admiration, they’re staring in horror at the messy pig with hemophilia.

5:49  Delta Jo suddenly decided to compliment one of my blog stories. But then she called it “Willage of the Damned”, and the luster faded quickly. Am I ever going to get any serious validation?

5:57  The table is now discussing shopping at huge outlet malls where your humanity is sucked out of you while rude people fight over designer jock straps. For some reason, this inspires me to order appetizers of fried pickles and chicken strips.

5:59  Lolo and Wild Jenno arrive. We have now officially become a group where the tip will be automatically added to the bill. Service could become risky, the staff no longer has to angle for a healthy cut of the tab, and it’s every man or woman for himself.

6:08  Delta Jo: “How do you find the balls?”

6:08  Cleary, I haven’t been paying attention to the conversation, because this startles me, but I’m afraid to learn any more. I listen briefly, and apparently the balls in question glow in the dark. I immediately make a life choice to avoid any more information.

6:19  Delta Jo: “Resveritrol Defiency.”

6:20  I question her, because I’m not sure if she’s speaking Vulcan or what. Delta Jo swears that this is a real thing that happens to real people, and she is suffering from it. Since this is not directly about me, I just let it go.

6:25  Wild Jenno is wailing about somebody named Jeff. Or Jim. Or maybe Jack. It’s really not clear, but this male person did something that was not appreciated.

6:26  Delta Jo: “Flourish!”

6:26  Now wondering if I should devote an entire website to random babblings from Delta Jo. Surely people will pay tremendous amounts of money to peruse this while they sit in their lonely houses, stroking one of their 17 cats and continuing to deny that they have interaction issues.

6:29  Delta Jo: “He’s not green, but he’s puce.”

6:29  See what I mean?

6:40  Blinda:  “Todd has become porkless.”

6:40 Okay, we might suddenly have a diva catfight over who can spew the strangest crap.

6:41  Lolo: “Cook it for an hour until it’s crisp.”

6:41  I think I’ve lost all control. Can my fingers move fast enough to capture all this?

6:42  Delta Jo:  “You skewer it and you do what with it?”

6:43  Apiphany, returning from the facilities: “I hate when you sit on the toilet and it slides around and you bang into things. That’s why I have bruises on my ass.”

6:44  Flamboyant server: “Salt on the rim?”

6:48  Delta Jo: “I picked TODAY to wear a skirt?”

6:49 Things are getting completely wacky, and we haven’t even been here three hours. I make an announcement that I need to leave by eight o’clock. The rest of the table looks at me like I’m speaking Swahili. It’s still daylight. What is this talk about leaving?

6:52 An odd sound erupts from the direction of the kitchen, a startling noise that can only indicate the discovery of a body in the margarita machine. Then more nachos arrive and we no longer care about the fate of the kitchen staff. We’ve got our food.

6:53  Me: “I don’t thing ‘naïve’ is the word. I think ‘don’t care’ is a better fit.”

6:53  Thank God I finally got something in, hopefully disproving the rumor that my friends are much more interesting than I am.

6:55  Who is this bald guy who just walked up to the table and is scrunching his face while he spits out the word “karaoke”?

7:00  Delta Jo is sharing an experience wherein she watched a special on PBS and had an epiphany about how people interpret music. I’m thinking the earth didn’t really move under her feet, but perhaps the Jack Daniels did.

7:02  Apiphany:  “Everything I know I learned from movies.”

7:06  Delta Jo: “I don’t know what the name of it was, but it was some big set for an opera.”

7:09  Lolo:  “But when you see it, the dancing is incredible.”

7:10  Everyone is sharing saltine crackers. No explanation is given. I decline.

7:34  Apiphany: “Have you seen ‘American Psycho’?”

7:37  Blinda:  “Isn’t the queso supposed to be green?”

7:37  Where the hell did SHE grow up? Was there a lot of spoilage in her youth?

7:46  Blinda:  “We can NOT mix the sweet potato fries with the salsa chips!”

7:48  Somebody at the bar is yelling at Apiphany. There’s some type of issue with the condition of the empty beer glasses that were just retrieved from our table.

7:49  Delta Jo: “I’ll give them a dollar to shut the hell up.”

7:51  Apiphany:  “Did it just get ugly in here?”

7:52  Delta Jo pontificates on exactly what is and is not considered appropriate behavior when it comes to wait staff attending to their customers. The Lord’s name is used in vain, and something is slammed.

7:53  Probably enabled by the alcohol, I briefly burst into tears of fear. Unlike the 80’s musical group with a similar name, I do not immediately produce a hit single or pose for publicity photographs. But I do order another round.

8:01  Delta Jo, pondering the current musical selection from the jukebox:  “This is the same song they were playing in ‘Silence of the Lambs’.”

8:02  What? Why would she know the soundtrack for that movie?

8:05  Apiphany: “I’ve been a bad girl in this bar before.”

8:06  Brian:  “She’s going after that chicken wing like it’s CSI.”

8:07  Apiphany:  “It’s so hot in here.”

8:09  Delta Jo:  “Oh dear GOD what is that on the jukebox?”

8:09  Apiphany:  “I thought you liked them?”

8:09  Delta Jo:  “I like ‘Sweet Child O’ Mine’, not everything they’ve ever done. What is wrong with you?”

8:11  Apiphany: “I’m sorry, were you talking to me?”

8:14  Blinda, sensing that Apiphany is getting more attention, whips out her lipstick and proceeds to apply it for at least twenty minutes.

8:15  Apiphany, sensing that Blinda is trying to get more attention, makes fun of the size of the compact mirror that Blinda is using, asking her if she gets the signal for ‘True Blood’ on that thing.”

8:17  Lolo:  “You have to comb it just right.”

8:18  Wild Jenno:  “I can French braid my own hair!”

8:22  People are using their phones to take pictures of  Wild Jenno’s braiding technique. This is a sign of the Apocalypse.

8:31 Suctionetta comes over, quizzing Apiphany about whether or not he’s going to appear in the blog. This is very important to him.

8:32  Suctionetta, determined to at least have one shout-out in the live blog, suddenly arrives sporting a new outfit. Clearly, Lady Gaga must be hiding in the kitchen and the two of them have had a fashion consultation. Suctionetta performs a nice dance routine as he buses the table, including several high kicks while swapping out the ashtrays.

8:39  Why is it that people in the bathroom can’t flush? WHY?

8:41  Delta Jo makes agonizing noises of pain as she watches the golfers on TV. I had no idea  this was something she was invested in.

8:42  I don’t recall ordering the catfish that is sitting on a plate in front of me. Am I at the right table?

8:43  Three people suddenly burst into loud, raucous laughter, something gets knocked over, and a chair is nearly broken. Yep, this is the right table.

8:44  Blinda:  “Harold is setting up outside.”

8:45  Me:  “Who the hell is Harold? What is this development and why do we care?”

8:56  Everyone else at the table decides that we’re going out on the patio to hear this Harold person sing. In case I don’t survive the sudden migration, I am posting this as my last words so that the police can investigate my final whereabouts:  We’re headed to the patio. Help me….

…..

…..

11:13  Where’s my car?

11:14  What the hell does that pink flag mean over there?

11:15  Are we still in Texas?


End Trans.