Monthly Archives: December 2012

Paul Revere and the Super Bowl

And for my final retrospective repost, I will finish with a great party at Paul’s house. Sure, it’s last year’s teams, but sub in your favorites to go to the Super Bowl this year and let’s all toast to good times and no Palins. Happy New Year!

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Yay! It’s time for the Super Bowl, and two good teams are playing this year. Sure, I was rooting for San Francisco or New Orleans, but hey, I actually like the Patriots and the Giants.  And yes, Paul is a Patriots fan, of course!  Now that I got my rah rah Super Bowl moment out of the way, on to Paul and his party.

We’ve noticed lately that Paul is definitely a ladies’ man. He likes the babes and is not shy about pursuing them. So it comes as no surprise that he invited the entire sorority, Phi Beta Cutie, over to his place for food, football, and fun. And yeah, he invited a few of his guy buddies too. Let the wild rumpus begin!

The party is in full swing at Paul’s place.

Paul’s hot tub is popular.

The game is starting.

Paul’s gun and bell in the corner. Ring ring!! Blam blam!! And there is his guitar. Strum strum!!

Ouija board for later.

Food, friends, and fun. (oh wait…that was supposed to be faith, family, and freedom. oops.)

KO explains something to blonde barbie and angry gingerbread man.

Paul’s dog Spot is keeping an eye on the food.

Paul’s tanning bed is popular with the ladies.

So is Paul.

Spot guards more food.

Anonymous loves football.

Angry gingerbread man argues with alien.

The ladies ignore angry gingerbread man.

Spot continues to guard the food.

Everybody seems to be having a great time.

Tanning lady is cooked enough and wants to watch the game.

Redhead is popular.

It must be almost halftime. Spot is hoping for lunch.

The ladies continue to ignore angry gingerbread man.

Grayhair likes Redhead. (Or maybe Anonymous)

Paul is having a blast.

Spot is still hoping for lunch.

Tanning lady watches Tom Brady.

Spot gets his lunch.

And Spot rejoices. Much rejoicing.

Behind the scenes:

I take a step back so you can see the entire table.

Here it is at the beginning.

Ring ring!! Blam blam!!

Perils Cat spots the feather grass.

Perils Cat chews on feather grass, sending wine glasses flying.

It started as a conga line…

…and evolved from there. How many familiar faces can you spot?

I’m just about out of retrospective posts, just in time to usher in the new year.

Have you seen Tawd? Dang!

Our retrospective is almost done, but we can’t leave out the Wasilla Weenie.

My super-secret, feet-on-the-ground-in-Alaska investigator was out and about one night and spied a familiar figure. Dodging behind a dumpster, my investigator was able to snap a few pictures.

Wigging out in Wasilla

As Sarah continues her downward spiral into the muck of the mocked, her “hair” continues to be her best asset, at least in the sense that it keeps people talking about her. We have all taken turns imagining the dialogue and hissy-fittery that occurs every time her “hair” has to get ready to go on tv. In this episode, we have Sarah’s “hair” trying to get ready for various appearances.

Here is a quick look at Sarah’s own hair last summer, around the time she had “jury duty.”

Things are not improving for Sarah’s hair only a few months later.

Sarah’s hair doctor put in some implants, but they died on Sarah’s toxic Red Bull scalp the way a seedling dies in a drought.

Sarah is waiting for Bristle to bring her wigs.

“I don’t have all day, people. Move it with the flippin’ wigs!”

“I’m going to fire that hair doctor and then destroy his career.”

“What about this one?”

Bristle: “Too blonde. People will think you are dumb.”

“I think blonde is a good color for me. I like this long look.”

Bristle: “You look like a hippie.”

Sarah: “Watch your flippin’ tone, young lady.”

“This one doesn’t have enough hair. Willow took some of my best wigs. She’s up to something.”

“I’m a stunning redhead.”

“Flippin’ Kathy Griffin is a fake redhead.”

Bristle: “This one is pure nylon, mom. Nobody can tell it from your real hair.”

“Where’s my curling iron? Piper better not have stolen it like my water bra. She ruined the flippin’ bra for some science project.”

“This looks just like my real hair.”

“Can’t find my flippin’ Star of David. I’ll just have to go with the Catholics.”

“Lower light. Looking great, I am, you betcha.”

“I think bein’ blonde with some red highlights looks sexy on me.”

“Like my councilwoman look, back there, when I was blonde and the hottest councilwoman.”

Bristle: “Yes mom. Hot.”

Behind the scenes:

Desktop studio.

Sister Perils Cat.

Sister Perils is very interested in Sarah’s “hair.”

Nothing like a pile of fuzzy things.

Let sleeping Perils Cat pictures lie.

 

This is The Weasel

Perils Cat

Perils Cat and Sister Perils Cat

Sister Perils Cat

Sarah Palin: Fashion Icon

Now that Christmas is over, I continue my countdown to no more Palins.

Sarah’s penchant for butt-ugly shoes has become a bloggy bone of contention, and I couldn’t help but notice that our dear Sarah has once again appeared in public wearing the latest in WTF.  Different venue, same drivelous speechifying, yet another round of shoe-puke.  Perhaps Sarah should become the spokeperson for expensive ugly shoes. She is actually an expert in that field. Imagine that.

Given that the Purchasing Department has made sure I have plenty of disgusting Sarah shoes, this post begged to be done.  I would have spent a little more time setting up with such accessories as Sarah’s famous jewelry, but I’m getting ready to leave town for a week or so, and I am rather busy.

First we have Conehead Sarah, who looks like she borrowed Piper’s clothes. Sarah’s Red Bull butt is too skinny for borrowing clothes from Bristle or Willow, so she has taken to raiding Piper’s clothes.

Yeah, tacky as hell.

Then we have one of Sarah’s favorite casual looks for meetin’ people when she “accidentally” shows up in high traffic zones.

Two Blackberries. Check. The Belmont Twins. Check.

Sparkly shoes that don’t match the casual jeans. Check.

If people pay Sarah the big bucks for a nice word salad rant, she will sometimes get out the fancy duds.

Yes, I know. The shoes never match and are typically uglier than the outfit.

Tacky hair. Check. Tacky outfit. Check. Blackberries. Oops, missing one. Tacky shoes. Check.

Back to casual.  Tacky hair. Check. Belmont Twins. Check. Overly casual for the event. Check.

Shoes don’t fit. Check.

Almost forgot the flag pin. Got it! Check. Piper must have the other Blackberry. Ordering new clothes no doubt.

I think Piper overfilled the Twins.

More speechifying. Time to look like a ho’ in some Hobaks.

Shiny polyester. Check. Short short skirt. Check. Ugly, poorly-fitting shoes. Check. Sloppy hair. Check.

You paid how much for those things?

Time for some rightwing speechifying. Flag pin. Check. Short short skirt for the guys. Check. Tall, tall heels for the guys. Check. Got that Blackberry back from Piper. Check. Darn! The Belmont Twins don’t fit under this blouse without some deflating. Half mast will have to do.

Forget the 3am phone call. Let’s just imagine that Sarah is speechifying in NY City one night, in this ridiculous getup, when a surprise visitor comes calling. I’d love to see her run in those things she calls shoes.

Troll rehab

First group therapy session for new patients.

Reading material.  Leave your laptop on the table during the session.

Welcome everybody. I’m Marilyn, and I will be facilitating your group therapy sessions.

I realize that most of you aren’t here willingly, either having been sent here by a judge or by your families, but I’m hoping that you will take responsibility for your own recovery and really work on your addiction.

Scary troll text: This lady is full of shit.

Marilyn: Excuse me scary troll. You know that blackberries aren’t allowed during therapy.

Scary Troll text: Eat shit.

Purple Troll text: You’re just jealous, Scary.

Scary Troll text: And you’re an immature hater.

Marilyn: Purple Troll stop it. Both of you stop it now.

Marilyn: Put the Blackberries down NOW. ALL of you. What is the matter with you?

Troll texts: What a lame hater…You are fucking ignorant…LOL witless…You must be paid to spew…You are so immature…Fucking bitch….Get a life….Asswipe….Bwwhahahaha…You’re a troll, get lost…Pot calling kettle black, troll…I pity your family….You’re too ugly to have family…I hope you off yourself….eat shit and die…Immature haters…

Marilyn: You are all going to lose computer privileges.

Mini and Purple texts: Nobody tells us what to do.

Marilyn: Put away those computers!

Marilyn: Stop it! Stop it!

Troll texts: This place is lame…I’m telling everybody on the Internet what a suck ass place this is…

Fighting Trolls: Don’t tell me what to do, you retard!…Takes one to know one, Santorum…Oh I’m so Romney, NOT….ouch, you all suck…Get off my face!

Marilyn: You people are insane!

Marilyn: You are all going to end up in isolation!

Fighting Trolls: Grunt…ow…stop that bitch…get off my face!

Marilyn: That’s it! I’m done with this!

Marilyn: Somebody else can run these damn therapy sessions!

Fighting Trolls: Gurgle…snarl…bitch…LOL…retard…immature…ow!

Marilyn: They don’t pay me nearly enough for this kind of crap.

Marilyn: I quit. I’d rather teach Middle School.

Little Blue troll text: Bwahahahaha! Don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out. Buh Bye!

A Christmas Story

On a warm morning in late September, a bouncing baby boy barbie was born. Mary and Joseph, the happy parents, had had to stop at an old grotto barn in the Judean Hills  because Mary’s water broke before they got to Bethlehem for the Carpentry Conference. The baby wasn’t due for a couple of weeks, and Bethlehem wasn’t far from home, so the couple thought they could fit in the conference. Baby boy barbie had other plans. Mary was going to miss the annual Carpenters’ Wives Potluck, and, as president of the CWA, her usual rousing speech would be missed. Joseph would be missing the windowsill workshop he had been looking forward to, but babies come when they decide to, and the hospital in Bethlehem was kind of scruffy anyway.

Lucky for them, Mary and Joseph encountered Myrrhy along the road to Bethlehem, and he told them his old barn and his new business were just around the bend. He also mentioned that he used to be a midwife, and that the barn was clean and comfy. Then he lent Joseph his cell phone so that Joseph could call Paul Revere and tell him that the time and location of the Birth Dinner would have to be changed. Paul was in charge of communications and security for PlasticLand, and he worked out of his mobile command center (red convertible). He promised to let the caterer know the new time and place.

Myrrhy got the couple settled in the barn, got some water boiling at his burger stand, and then coached Mary as she huffed and puffed and looked at her focal point. Joseph put some clean straw in the manger to use as a bed for the baby and coordinated a few more details on the phone with Paul while watching Mary push.  Little boy barbie popped out and the couple rejoiced. Myrrhy rejoiced. Much rejoicing.

Paul arrived and rejoiced. He brought his favorite wench from 1775 and she rejoiced too. Just then, Erma One Hand, the senior partner of Three Chefs Catering, arrived with the food truck, the play tent for the kids, and some coconut water to hydrate the new mom. Erma  had the tent up and the food out in no time. She got permission from Myrrhy to set up the bar at the burger stand, where it would be out of reach of the kids.

Tired new mom and dad brought little boy barbie out to enjoy the warm day and watch the party plans unfold. Their PlasticLand friends began to arrive, bringing more food and some presents. The sun was warm. Bees buzzed and birds twittered. The mood was festive as people welcomed the newest member of PlasticLand.

Little boy barbie looks around at the world.

Rin Tin Tin is impressed with baby boy barbie.

Erma finishes the kid’s tent.

Spot guards the food.

I think the wench is doing what is known as a “chest thrust.”

Erma has her act together.

Spot takes his job seriously.

Mom and dad relax in the sun.

Spot still guarding the food.

Paul arrived in his command car. Ring ring!! Blam blam!!

Erma is ready for a drink, if she can get past the chest thrust.

Erma admires little boy barbie.

Guests begin to arrive.

Dad takes little boy barbie so Mom can settle on her pillows and rest.

“Sit and rest, hon. Erma has some coconut water for you.”

Get a room!

Redhead is impressed with what Erma did in such a short time.  She wants to hire the Three Chefs for her parents’ 50th anniversary.

Spot guards the french fries.

Mom gets comfy.

Little boy barbie gets tucked into the manger.

Mom, Dad, and little boy barbie.

More guests arrive and want to see the baby.

What is Paul up to now?

Proud Dad shows off the baby.

The men talk about manly things.

Erma gets complimented on her nice spread.

Rin Tin Tin guards the food.

More guests, more congratulations, more kids.

The kids gather in the kid tent.

The party is really hopping now.

Guests continue to arrive.

KO arrives.

Rin Tin Tin plays with the kids.

KO tells a good story.

Everybody had something to eat. The desserts still beckon. Spot guards them.

KO talks to the ladies.

Rin Tin Tin helps Spot with guard duty.

The party is in full swing.

when up on the roof there arose such a clatter…

Aliens we have heard on high…

Paul heard from the alien on high, that those pesky British were annoyingly nigh…

Paul left little boy barbie’s present with the wench while he dashed off to chase away the British.

“Hurry back, Paul!”

“I’ll be back in a flash, wench!”

And sure enough, Paul ditched the pesky British and returned to give his gift to little boy barbie.

Mom showed off little boy barbie in his new hat.

What a handsome little boy barbie!

And the citizens of PlasticLand rejoiced.

Much rejoicing.

More rejoicing.

Lots of rejoicing.

Woohoo!!

Hooray for little boy barbie!

Little boy barbie is impressed with the rejoicing. He wants to grow up to be a good rejoicer.

Spot claims shotgun for the ride home.

And so it came to be that another citizen of PlasticLand was born and was rejoiced. And Peace descended upon the land.

Good luck, good friends, good health, good cheer, I’m wishing to you for the coming year!

Away in a manger, no cap for his head
The little boy Barbie turns blue and not red
The Paul Revere doll looked over and cried
“The British are coming! The baby must hide!

I’ll ring my bell loudly to lead them astray!
Blam blam and ring ring will keep them away!
My fine steed is lowing, whatever that is
Warning & ringing is always my biz!

So I’ll jump in my command car
And with wind in my hair
I’ll lead those dang British
From here out to there!

Now that I’ve made such a rapturous noise
The angels on high will look after this boy
A hat for his head is what he needs most,
Angels don’t sew, yet miracles they boast!”

The Brits & their hounds soon thunder away
Blind to boy Barbie all snuggled in hay
Paul Revere cheers & knits a blue cap
To do so, the angels did find him an app!