Fat February

I am pleased to report that Synergy's Laissez les Bon Temps Roulez celebration throughout the month of February was a success. We had several hilarious entries for the Absurdly Wordly contest & the New Ahh'Leans trivia was a hoot. Ivy & I had a brief but memorable reign as King & Queen of Mardi Gras. There were no beheadings on our watch. As my alter-ego, Ruby Boobay (of the Bayou Boobays,) I hosted the Masquerade. The attendance was lower than I would have liked, but the participants were choice. The LordofMisrule was there, presiding over our Feast of Fools. Dorcas always has names that force us to research. Lord of Misrule - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia Pam showed up as Purplegal which, for some reason, fooled no one. In fact, we all guessed each other's identities after the tourney. I think it is because the regulars were all there & we just know each other too damned well. My favorite character of the evening was Ivy's Reverend_Blind_Willie. He attempted to show us the error of our heathen ways & even tried to reform the French_Quarter_Floozie (Bahb). He had his work cut out for him, that vampire cat has worked Bourbon Street for a long time.

Thanks to all who helped make our little romp with Bacchus fun.

{sidenote: speaking of fun.....I just watched a movie called Gramma's Boy that was funny as hell. Yes, it's a stupid movie & I was a bit stupid when I watched it, but I laughed about every 2 minutes. Get yourself stupid & check it out.}

Hailing AYORS

If you are ever in Ontario, Canada & you whistle for a cab, the driver that screeches up to the curb just might be our very own AYORS. She is a taxi driver & I'll bet she's got a million stories to tell. For a little mild-mannered widow, this seems a rather earthy & daring occupation to me, given the fact that she is one of the quieter players in the leagues. Her behavior in the Wordox tournaments is invariably pleasant & polite, but I suspect this gal can handle her own in many situations. I see evidence of that feisty inner core when I announce the BARNYARD RULE before tourneys. She is always the first one to meow or moo. Yes, she may be docile in word combat, but her lifestyle no doubt makes her a woman who refuses to take any guff. Her favorite game is 2-Tile No Pinks & she makes no apology about that. This is another player whose game is steadily improving. AYORS tends to disappear for weeks at a time, when she is busy shuttling humans around Waterloo. When she returns she is always a welcome sight. AYORS is an interesting person who, if you ask her nicely enough, just might share some of her stories with you. Give her a no-nonsense hip bump when you see her & wish her a Happy Birthday. (it was the 20th) You never know.....someday you might find yourself in Canada needing a ride.

AYORS is my HollyBlog PLAYER OF THE WEEK.

Pre-Dawn Delirium

I just broke one of my own basic rules for a comfortable, safe existence....I took a bite out of a PB&J sandwich while I was walking away from the kitchen. I broke the "don't walk & chew" rule. As I was rounding the corner & entering the office area, I did an involuntary mouth-breath & got some sandwich lodged in my windpipe. It wasn't as frightening as it could have been; I did have some airflow. It was just monstrously uncomfortable & probably would have become moreso as the wad of bread expanded. For 5 minutes I tried to Heimlich myself over every piece of furniture in my path until it finally yacked loose. Buckeye the cat watched the whole episode with fascination, for which he deserves an extra slap. Would it have killed him to run for help, like Lassie? This is why I stay up so late at night when the sane world is sleeping. At this hour no one sees me do things like choke on peanut butter or topple backwards out of my chair. Yes, the disadvantage is that no one is there to help in an emergency & my lifeless body would not be discovered until an hour when the decent folk begin to stir. I'm willing to risk it. Had I suffocated on that piece of sandwich, it would be karmic punishment for having made fun of Sonny Bono's "wile e. coyote death," and I would be instantly reassigned to Cloud 13, where they keep the souls who dropped a curling iron into their bubble baths. What really gives me the shivers about what might have been.....knowing that my stinky friends would be unable to stifle their laughter at my memorial service, the hyenas.