Special Sauce

A mish-mash of twisted thoughts from a fevered ego. Updated when the spirit moves me, contents vary and may have settled during shipping. Do not open towards eyes. Caution: Ingestion of Special Sauce may cause hair loss, halitosis, and a burning sensation while urinating.


get'chya' drink on.

Or something like that.

G. Monkey and I went out for our "one in a blue moon drinkathon" last night. Too bad it ended really, really early. G. Monkey must have started before I got to her house, because she can normally drink my ass under the table with her liver tied behind her back. This time she got riiiiiiiiiiiipped, and fast.

Lucky for us, she's a funny drunk.

A funny drunk wearing really slippy shoes.

A funny drunk wearing really slippy shoes who fell off her barstool.

A funny drunk wearing really slippy shoes who fell off her barstool and very nearly got us kicked out of the gay bar after she spilled her beer.

Oh, and refused to use a fork on her hash browns at the Waffle House. And kept stealing bites of Stoltzfus's burger, after she finished her own.

And kept. Losing. Her. Shoes.


Good times last night. A bit of shameless flirting too, because I could, damnit, and (if I do say so) my hair was feckin' perfect, and stuff. Heh.

Before we got to the falling off seats stage, G. Monkey told me that, apparently, FBD was on NPR yesterday morning. We both missed it, but her friend Doc (yes, a real doctor) caught it. Doc called her and said "damn. I knew you said she was crazy, but I had no idea! That woman's clinically disturbed. Seriously." heh.

See, FBD taped an episode of Desert Island Discs waaaaaaaaay back in November. (For those not in the know, DID is a show where they interview someone moderately interesting, or at least breathing, and ask them what music they'd like to have with them, were they to be marooned for an indefinite period of time on a deserted isle.) I don't know if they changed format because she was on, or not, but apparently, they also asked FBD "What book would you take?"

Now. One would THINK that this woman would take something interesting. Or she'd take that stupid "Life of Pi" book that she raved about for months (ok, everybody's raving. I thought it sucked, hard.) No. What does my former benevolent dictator take with her on a desert island?

"Well, my aunt gave me this golden book of fairy tales when I was a very little girl. I do believe I'd take that with me."

The hostess of the show couldn't help herself, apparently. "You're the director of a literary guild. Don't you want to take SOMETHING TO READ????" (Sure, a kids book is a nice sentimental idea, but c'mon!) She also said she'd ask for the New York Times to be delivered to her every day. (You're stranded on a desert island. WHY the NYT, and frankly, if they're delivering, you're not stranded. Freak.)

We're going to try to get a copy of the show, to listen to, because apparently the woman sounds like a total weirdo- they couldn't even edit it to make her sound like less of a doofus. Hee!

In other news, FBD thinks I stole her "Secretarial procedures" manual, the night that I was in there "Looking at the guild's financial information with (my boss), before the open house." That's the latest one she came up with for G. Monkey.

It took me a while to wrap my head around that one, for oh, so many reasons. G. Monkey DID set her straight, though. Including:

1. I was there, FOR FREE, because FBD asked me to go over quickbooks with the ACCOUNTANT.
2. (My Boss) wasn't there at all that night. The person the volunteer saw was the accountant, and even introduced herself as such.
3. We couldn't even get Quickbooks to open, because the program wouldn't work.
4. I had no need to steal her procedural manual because I. Wrote. It. Myself. And the information in it? Is in my head.



Post a Comment

Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]

<< Home