Riding the Coattails

It's kinda hot and I'm doing the blog equivalent of sprawling on a hammock and letting someone fan me with palm fronds.

Look what Donna found.

And, y'know... she's a hell of a hammock fanner.

Fireworks!

Actually, I'm irritated in an old geezer you-kids-get-off-my-lawn way about blown-up-in-my-backyard fireworks right now.†

Huh. I've already digressed and I haven't even started talking yet.‡

There are three great things I saw this weekend that I wish to share, plus a bonus of two happy things that happened:

1. I landed home Saturday afternoon and flipped on the TiVi.§ There was a baseball game right in front of me, which I was just about to turn off, when I noticed the player up to bat was Angel Pagan.¶ I wish I could have kids so I could name one of them Angel Pagan.
2. Driving to Jerusalem Restaurant for a very patriotic Third of July dinner, I passed the giant convent/Catholic convalescence home in the 'hood. There was a Barbie-pink scooter waiting at the giant gate to make a left onto 29th. "Wish I had a camera," I thought. "This would be a great blog bit." Then the scooter pulled in behind me and it was a bearded guy in aviator sunglasses and that made it all the better.
3. On the same drive, I was at a red light and across from me were two of the whitest, yuppiest, Chanel sunglass-wearing, designer polo shirt-clad 30-something dinks# ever seen, playing a vuvuzela and waving a South African flag out of the sunroof on their BMW. I'm not saying they *couldn't* be South African, but if they are, they're on the wrong side of the popular political tracks and maybe shouldn't be displaying the equivalent of one of us wearing a loin cloth and a feathered headdress and doing the Tomahawk Chop out of the windows of our BMWs.

Then I got to Jerusalem and the ever-so-adorable chicklet who took my order asked what my shirt meant.

"Rock-paper-scissors... lizard-spock," I replied to a peal of delighted laughter.

Then she cooed and exclaimed over my emergency wallet.††

It was a good day.

And that was a totally elegant segue into a package% from my not-so-secret-pal Jo.‡‡ Because my emergency wallet looks like this:




And Jo, not knowing a thing about my emergency wallet,§§ sent me this soap:




Which was an adjunct to that month's subject prize, the washcloth¶¶:




And came with a bonus soap dish:




And totally bath-related pirate cupcake set##:




So thank you, Jo, both for your patience and for the lovely gifts.

Give me another two months and I should be caught up.


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): But real fireworks, performed by professionals, are one of my favourite things.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): That may be a record. Lyda's going to be so proud when she sees.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): As one does.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): I took Spanish, so I know it's pronounced "ON-hell pa-GONE," but he'll always be Angel Pagan to me. Plus? If you Google "Angel Pagan" (even without the quotation marks), you don't get a single religious reference for pages.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): And I mean both in terms of "Jebus Cats, what a couple of dinks" and "Double Income No Kids."

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): The wallet that goes in my pocket in which I keep my driver's license, debit card and a small chunk of cash to hold me over when I leave my purse somewhere three times out of ten. Usually home, mind you, but one should have the necessities with one. If that one has juvenile onset Alzheimer's like this one does.

%FOOTNOTE (percented): I'm smooth like peanut butter. Note how I not only tied it all together with the Cute as Hell theme, I managed to not let on that this package arrived two months ago and I'm just getting to it now.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Who just revealed herself to me per the terms of our year-long swap agreement, in which I was totally wishy-washy and said, "Oh, let's be secret for six months, then not-secret for six months." I am fair, if indecisive.

§§FOOTNOTE (sssupposedly): I think.

¶¶FOOTNOTE (two heads better than one): Which was hard to photograph adequately, but does, indeed, have a black skull motif rampant on a black background.

##FOOTNOTE (that's the symbol for shock): Why? Where do you eat your cupcakes?

p.s. -

Responsible bloggers don't drink and blog.

Aren't you glad I *pffffft* in the face of responsibility?

We Interrupt Our Blog Schedule†...

I'm puttering‡ through a handful of blogposts, including:

• Pole dancing
  
• The many wonderful things my year-long now-not-so-secret pal§ has sent me
• The many wonderful things Nintendo has sent me
• Stupid sparkly handspun¶ and an executive tiara#

In the meantime, let me amuse myself by telling you - quickly - that Hans

[our Hans]

went to see

[brace yourself]

the latest STUPID SPARKLY VAMPIRE MOVIE

[in IMAX††]

on opening night.‡‡

Take a moment.§§


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): BWAHAHAHA! Because I'm sure you're setting your watch by my blog these days. Schedule... BWA!

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Because puttering is the order of the day here at Chez Barfly.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): All will be explained in due time. Perhaps now would be a good time for another "BWAHAHAHA!"

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Gods, I love my friends. How else would someone be browsing a wool festival and go, "Sparkly. Purple, grey. Foggy, atmospheric, sparkly... stupid sparkly... vampire. Marin"?

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): If you don't think executives should have tiaras, you're not familiar with the insecurity of executiveship. If I can confess right here, nothing in my life (not boys, not college, not spandex, not yearbook pictures) has made me more insecure than being an executive.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Possibly in 3D.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Bought the tickets *in advance*.

§§FOOTNOTE (turn it around): Because we love Hans, and in all fairness, he's the best of best boyfriends; his girlfriend is out of touch with her Twilight contingency, so Hans wanted her to see the movie. AND he decided that she spent a lot of time doing what he wanted to do, so maybe he should do something she wants. If more men were like Hans, there would be no sit-coms.

NOTE: It made me feel better, and may make you feel better, that Hans did not like stupid sparkly vampires.

ALSO NOTE: He told me. He didn't tell his girlfriend. In the land where sit-coms don't mean anything.