Today's Musical Selection: "Birthday" by the Beatles
Howdy, folks! Guess what... it's my blogiversary! Actually, to be totally technically accurate, it was my blogiversary last week, but my social secretary neglected to inform me at the time, possibly because I don't have a social secretary. But no matter. In honor of this grand occasion, I threw a Blogiversary Bash here in my penthouse apartment on the South Face of Dot-Com Canyon. (Okay, so my apartment is actually on the second floor. Second floor, penthouse, what's the difference?) It was an invitation-only celebration, and the guest list was indeed star-studded. Uncle Millie and Aunt Beatrice were there, jetting in from an undiclosed Caribbean location. Senator Blutarsky dropped by, taking time out from his busy schedule of interviewing interns to put in an appearance. Mayor McCheese came in off the campaign trail long enough to hoist a few in my honor. Coach Beauregard "Bum" Bolbridge of Southwestern Mississippi Agricultural and Technological State University came all the way up from Bugbear, Mississippi to say hello. And Hammerin' Hank showed up too, despite not being invited. I don't know how he got past the guards.
At any rate, a good time was had by all, and I have a transcript of the event for your amusement here:
MF: Hello, everyone, and welcome to Mediocre Fred's First Annual Blogiversary Bash.
HH: Yeah, first and only!
MF: Hank, do you mind? I was kind enough not to throw you out for crashing this party. So let me talk, all right?
HH: My invitation must have got lost in the mail. I mean, after all, I've been carrying your ass for-
MF: Enough, Hank! At any rate, thank you all for coming. Even you, Hank. It's been quite a year, and each of you has helped make the year special.
HH: Especially me!
MF: Hank! Please! At any rate, I just wanted to thank you all for your help, and feel free to mingle and enjoy the festivities!
HH: Hey, where's the Smart Chick? Ain't she coming?
MF: I'm afraid that she was unable to make it due to prior commitments.
HH: Aw, man, that sucks. I wanted to check her out, if you know what I mean.
MF: Of course I know what you mean. A 3-year-old would know what you mean. Dead people would know what you mean.
HH: Well, where the hell are all the chicks? You call this a party?
UM: I did notice the relative lack of representatives of the fairer sex at this little shindig. Quite the shame, that.
SB: If you'd given me advance notice on the lack of women, Fred, I surely could have supplied-
MF: Um, thank you, Senator. Would anyone care for shrimp cocktail?
AB: Oh, yes, thank you. That would be lovely.
HH: Sure, I'll- Hey, wait a minute. If this is a cocktail, where's the booze? What a gyp!
UM: No, lad, there is no alcohol in shrimp cocktail. Alas. Fortunately, I always come prepared. Care to join me in a conference call with my associates Jamison and Bushmill?
HH: Why would I want to listen to you talk to your lawyers?
UM: No, lad, Jamison and Bushmill are brands of Irish whiskey. I'm inviting you to get drunk with me.
HH: Now you're talking! Hell, yeah!
AB: Thanks for having us here, Fred. It's really nice of you to have us all here.
MF: Thanks, Aunt Beatrice. I figured it's the least I could do.
AB: Say, who's that man over in the corner with the whistle?
MF: Come on over, I'll introduce you. Aunt Beatrice, this is Coach Bum Bolbridge. Coach, this is Aunt Beatrice, the romantic advice columnist.
AB: Nice to meet you, Mr. Bolbridge.
BB: Delighted to make your acquaintance, ma'am.
AB: So, do you coach football, Mr. Bolbridge?
BB: Ma'am, I am more than just a football coach. I'm a maker of men. I take little high-school wimps, and mold them into real men.
AB: I see. How do you do this... molding?
BB: With my fists, usually, ma'am.
MF: I'll just leave you two to get acquainted. Mayor McCheese! Welcome!
MM: How do you do, Fred? Good to see you again. Say, thank you for writing that article about me last year. It really helped to boost my standing in the polls.
MF: Well, I always like to offer help to my fellow mayors.
MM: Ah, yes. How are things going in your town?
MF: Very well, thanks. And in McDonaldland?
MM: Rebounding nicely. We've pulled out of the recession, Officer Big Mac has been staying off the Secret Sauce and we've jailed the Hamburglar on suspected terrorist activity for hanging around City McHall.
MF: Very good! And how's the urban-renewal project going in the McRib District?
MM: Well, we're still waiting for final funding authorization. I'm looking forward to seeing the work start, though. That whole area is one big grease trap, if you ask me.
SB: Is this where the political talk is going on, gentlemen? You don't mind if I cut in, do you?
MF: Certainly not, Senator. How are things in Washington?
SB: Going well. I have a whole batch of prospective interns coming in for interviews this week. It's going to be one hot summer in the city, I tell you!
MF: How's you re-election campaign going? Are the polls running your way?
SB: Well, I don't really know.
MF: How could you not know?
SB: Because I'm a theoretical example. You trot me out whenever you need a generic politician. So I won't know whether I'm even up for re-election until you say I am.
MF: Point well-taken. Will you excuse me? I need to check on the other guests. Help yourself to the refreshments.
SB: These Swedish meatballs are delicious! Care to try one, Mr. Mayor?
MM: (coldly) I'm no cannibal, Senator.
HH: So, Uncle Millie, how do you get all the chicks?
UM: Well, I tell you, lad, it's more challenging than it appears. My raffish charm and good looks definitely help a great deal. But perhaps my greatest asset is my knowledge of poetry. Women really go for a man who knows poetry.
HH: Hey, I know poetry. "There once was a man from Nantucket-"
UM: Not that sort of poetry, lad. Women do not appreciate dirty limericks. Even the particularly witty ones.
HH: Well, bullshit on that, then. Hey, thanks for the booze, man! This is some good crap!
UM: Well, I always keep it with me, lad. You never know when you might yourself in need of it.
HH: Seriously, where's the drinks at? Freddy's holding out on us!
UM: I'm not sure he has any about.
HH: What? A party without booze? What the hell is that?! F*** that!
UM: I'm sure it was an oversight on his part.
HH: Naw, he probably didn't want us getting drunk and puking all over his house. Just like the pansy that he is. What's his deal, anyway? Do you think he's a fruitcake?
UM: Oh, no, lad. I believe he enjoys the company of the ladies as much as you or I. I just think he's got an odd obsession with monogamy.
MF: Gentlemen! Can I get you anything?
HH: Booze and broads!
UM: Actually, we were wondering if you'd thought to supply any alcoholic beverages for this event.
MF: Oh, shoot, I didn't. There's juice and soda in the refrigerator, but no alcohol. Sorry about that!
UM: Never fear, lad! I have matters well in hand.
MF: Thank you, Uncle Millie.
HH: This party blows. I'm outta here.
MF: That's a pretty bold statement from someone who wasn't invited.
HH: Well, if I'd have known it would be this lame, I woldn't have bothered to crash it.
UM: Relax, lad. Come with me, won't you?
MF: Coach Bolbridge, Aunt Beatrice, how's it going?
BB: Now, the next part of the drill is what I call "Hell Time." That's when I walk on their chest with cleats on. It really toughens 'em up for-
AB: Oh, hi, Fred. That's really a fascinating, um, motivational approach, Mr. Bolbridge. I'm afraid I must circulate around and meet the other guests.
BB: But I ain't even got to the part where I make 'em castrate a bull and chew on the-
AB: Really, I must be going, Mr. Bolbridge. Fred, would you mind taking me around?
MF: Not at all. Coach, why don't you join Senator Blutarsky and Mayor McCheese over there? I'm sure the three of you could exchange thoughts on leadership styles.
BB: I believe I'll do you. Charmed to speak with you, ma'am.
AB: Likewise, I'm sure. Fred, could you show me to the kitchen?
MF: Certainly, Aunt Beatrice.
AB: Mr. Bolbridge is certainly, um, interesting.
MF: And by "interesting" you mean he's a racist, sexist, ignorant autocrat?
AB: Essentially. He certainly brings Uncle Millie's positive qualities into sharp relief.
MF: It's always nice to feel grateful that you married the right person.
AB: Well, I wouldn't go that far. It's always nice to know that you could have done worse.
MF: I suppose. Besides, you'll notice that you're the only woman here. Certainly takes away some of the anxiety, doesn't it?
AB: Well, I do appreciate that. Although I was less grateful for that when the Senator groped me on his way over to the hors d'oeuvres table.
MF: I'm sorry. I can speak to him if you'd like.
AB: That won't be necessary. My knee has already spoken to him sharply on the subject.
MF: I see. I thought his voice sounded a little higher than usual.
AB: Where is that husband of mine, by the way? I'd actually be grateful for his company about now.
MF: Well- you know, that's a good question. I left him right here with Hammerin' Hank a while ago. I don't see him.
AB: It's all right. I'll find him. Thank you for rescuing me from Coach Bull Connor over there.
MF: You're quite welcome, Aunt Beatrice. Will you excuse me? Attention, everyone! Attention, please! I wanted to take a moment and open the gifts you were all kind enough to bring me. Let's see... the first one is from Mayor McCheese. Let's see... it's a Hot Wheels Happy Meal and a "RE-ELECT McCHEESE '06" button. All right! Thank you, Mayor! You know I love the Hot Wheels.
MM: Certainly, Fred. You're quite welcome.
MF: And my next gift is from.... Hammerin' Hank! Nice of him to buy me something if he was going to crash the party. And... say, where is Hank, anyhow?
SB: He and Uncle Millie left to buy drinks.
MF: I wish they'd have told me. I'd have gladly paid for them.
SB: You did. Hank took fifty dollars out of your wallet on the way out.
MF: Really. Well, let's lay his gift aside for the end, shall we? Let's take this one instead, from you, Senator Blutarsky.
SB: I hope you enjoy it. It's the most valuable thing I could think of to give you.
MF: Really, Senator, you didn't have to do anything extravagant. Certainly nothing as fancy as... an autographed picture of yourself.
SB: You're welcome.
MF: I'm speechless.
SB: Read the inscription.
MF: "To Mediocre Fred -- Fictionally yours, Senator Blutarsky."
SB: I'd have included my first name, but you haven't given me one. Perhaps we can work on that next year, hm?
MF: Hey, Senator, you'd better get back to your district. You just developed a challenger, and he's beating you by 20 points.
SB: That's not fair!
MF: You're my creation. I can do anything that I want to. Keep talking and I'll have you caught in bed with a sheep before Election Day.
SB: All right, fine.
MF: And my next gift is from Coach Bolbridge. It's a.... bullwhip?
BB: That's right, son. Great way to keep folks in line. 'Specially the colored ones. I find they react to it more. Probably 'cause it's in their genes.
SB: I think Mayor McCheese might take exception to that.
AB: Is he black?
BB: Looks like a half-breed to me.
MM: I'm just well-tanned, all right? Besides, both my parents were fast-food sandwiches. I'm not half-anything.
MF: Could we calm down, everyone? I-
HH: We're baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack!
MF: I see that. It's a minor miracle. Very minor. Did you get the alcohol?
UM: Aye, that we did, lad.
MF: Then perhaps you could pour some for everyone else.
UM: Well, that might be a bit of a problem, lad.
MF: Why?
UM: It was a long car ride back, lad.
MF: The liquor store is only five minutes away!
HH: Less if you cut through the woods.
MF: You- but- who was driving?
UM: I was, lad. I'm a more experienced drunk driver.
MF: I can believe it. Well, at least you made it back. Have a seat.
AB: I hope you didn't wreck the rental car, Millie. You know they won't give us the collision-damage waiver anymore.
UM: There's not a scratch on our car, my love.
AB: Thank goodness for that! How did you pull that off?
HH: We took Fred's car.
MF: You what?!
HH: Well, your car keys were on your dresser next to your wallet, so I figured...
UM: Don't worry, though, lad. We managed to flee the scene before the police could arrive.
MF: Ay caramba. Well, let me open my next gift, from Uncle Millie and Aunt Beatrice. This had better be good.
AB: There are two gifts inside. One from each of us.
MF: How nice! Let's see... the first one is a hand-stiched baseball-themed wallhanging! It's beautiful.
AB: That one's from me, of course. I stitched it myself.
MF: Thank you so much, Aunt Beatrice! And the next gift is... a pint of whiskey.
UM: That was my contribution, of course. I didn't brew it myself, but I did select it from the duty-free shop myself.
MF: And it's empty.
UM: Well, it was a long ride in from the airport, lad.
MF: Gee, thanks. And that means the last gift is from Hammerin' Hank. I'm sure it's too much to hope that it might be a new car.
HH: Open it up, Freddy. You'll like it.
MF: Let's see... it's a gift certificate for a "Deluxe" Massage from the "Humpty Hump Massage Parlor."
HH: Haw haw! See, Freddy, it's perfect for you! Let the girls over there make a real man out of you!
BB: I'll show you how to make a real man outta somebody. Lemme grab that bullwhip-
MF: That's enough! Everybody out!
SB: Some host you are. It's not even 10 o'clock yet.
HH: Yeah, you suck, Freddy!
MF: Says the man who stole my money and my car to go buy booze, and drank it all before he got back.
HH: Hey, if you want that alcohol back, I think it's coming back up right now...
MF: Not on the couch!
BB: You call yourself a man?! Cain't even hold your liquor. I tell you, you ain't ever gonna play for no team of mine, boy.
SB: To hell with this, I'm gonna go get some whores. Who's with me?
BB: I'm in!
HH: Me too!
BB: Shut up, boy! It's Hell Time for your candy ass! I'll make a man of you if it's the last thing I do.
AB: Let's go, Millie.
UM: I think I'm going to follow the Senator.
AB: You would. I'll help you clean up, Fred.
MF: You don't need to, Beatrice. I'll be fine. I think you'd better corral your husband.
AB: Oh, I'm not worried about him. While he was sleeping last night, I fitted him with a chastity belt. I don't think he's going to get very far. I think I'll get back to the hotel and get some rest, though. Need a lift, Mayor?
MM: No, ma'am, my McLimo is right around the corner. But thank you for the offer. Goodbye, Fred! You deserve a break today!
MF: You can say that again.
So there you have the results of the First Annual Blogiversary Bash. For my second blogiversary, I think I'll try disappearing to a remote island instead. Also, if anyone has any couch-cleaning tips, please send them to mediocrefred1979 -at- yahoo -dot- com.
I think I need to go lie down for a while. See you tomorrow!
Posted by Fred at August 4, 2004 05:54 PM