Thank you, Dopers, for not having me banned in order to spare you my incessant ramblings and ungraceful scenes over the last year or so. This is an incredible place.
I hereby plant a big ol’ smooch on the teeth of … nope, not gonna name names, you know who you are.
A lightswitch clicks on in a large ballroom in a swank hotel in Vail, Colorado. The room is flooded in the soft glow of hundreds of chandelier candle lights. Clad in tux & tails with a Boston t-shirt and red carnation corsage, **Inigo Montoya ** enters the room rolling two kegs of Single Track ale in front of him. He is followed by half a dozen Chippendales, each carrying 2 kegs of various brands of local brews. A huge mountain of ice in one corner of the ballroom awaits the beer, and in moments 14 shiny steel circles adorn the face of a near-perfect chipped ice replica of the Rocky Mountain Front Range. A series of troughs drain the melting ice into a common channel of rushing ice-cold water. There are little red & pink toy sailboats floating in the river. Within minutes The Swedish bikini team has set up the bar in the oposite corner, and Emeril arrives and starts giving commands to his crew to set up a makeshift kitchen. He begins shopping and boiling and “BAM”-ing with such fury that one imagines God in his own kitchen eons ago preparing the primordial Earth.
The band arrives. It’s Cake, of course. The chippendales have finished flexing and setting up the kegs and have now taken up positions at the entrance to greet the guests…somewhere in the room, a goat bleats.
Thanks for the party Inigo. Could we please not have a repeat of that unfortunate Hallowe’en Party fiasco involving two of the Chippendales, the goat, a vat of mango chutney and that Fandango dancer. If not, can we please get it on video this time?
I’m glad you haven’t been banned, Inigo Montoya - you make me laugh. Happy Valentine’s to you, too - and to everyone. And Happy Anniversary to me & Mr. Wanna.
Did someone say mimosas and pink cupcakes? Woo-hoo!
Doug sidles up in best tux, slightly disheveled, with red carnation in lapel and nth martini in hand begins singing obscure Irving Berlin tune You’re lonely and I’m lonely,
So why can’t we be lonely together?..
Two lonely hearts beating as one
Can be miserable and still have a lot of fun.
