Monday, April 07, 2008
One For the Hall of Fame
I thought about publishing a list of all the names of people who misbehaved Saturday night at the Jell Shot Queen's birthday bash, but I don't have the time or bandwidth to support a list of that size.
It was a great party, with relatively little property damage. There was the unfortunate affair of the ceramic parrot, may peace be upon him in his time of eternal rest, and a close call between my foot and Rocket Man Sam's ukulele, but those were just blips on the radar screen.
On the plus side, several drunks, aided by my Binford 475D Super-Charged Handheld Blacklight Scorpion Detector, were able to determine that none of the little armor-plated bastards had penetrated the security of the Goat and Queen's backyard. The Goat politely informed ne that he already knew that, and that there have been no scorpions in Scottsdale for many years. Scottsdale is way too exclusive to allow any such thing. Which reminds me of a story:
TFMCD and I grabbed a motel room nearby so as to avoid the long drive home late at night. When we headed out to our car Sunday morning, there was an obviously upset lady in the parking lot, standing behind an SUV with its side window busted into a gazillion itty-bitty pieces. Everything ad been stolen from inside. I saw she had Montana plates, and immediately felt badly for her. Probably from some small town where you don't even need to lock your car. We told her we were sorry something like that happened to her while visiting Scottsdale.
She commented angrily that she had come here to look at real estate in the Scottsdale area, and never expected such a thing to happen here. She had one of those "WELL, I NEVER!" self righteously indignant attitudes that replaced my "sorry this happened to you" interest with more of a "hey, it sure sucks to be you" apathy. "I'm calling my realtor and cancelling!" she griped, "I'm not going to live any place where this sort of thing can happen!"
"Where are you from?" TFMCD asked her.
"Chicago."
It was a rental car.
We just rolled our eyes, got in our own car, and left without another word. Don't let the saguaro hit you in your ignorant ass on the way out, and have a good life in crime-free Chicago.
Hey, nothing against the great city of Chicago. Love it there. It's a beautiful, fun, vibrant city I will visit again. But that particular inhabitant was an idiot. They can keep her.
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It was a great party, with relatively little property damage. There was the unfortunate affair of the ceramic parrot, may peace be upon him in his time of eternal rest, and a close call between my foot and Rocket Man Sam's ukulele, but those were just blips on the radar screen.
On the plus side, several drunks, aided by my Binford 475D Super-Charged Handheld Blacklight Scorpion Detector, were able to determine that none of the little armor-plated bastards had penetrated the security of the Goat and Queen's backyard. The Goat politely informed ne that he already knew that, and that there have been no scorpions in Scottsdale for many years. Scottsdale is way too exclusive to allow any such thing. Which reminds me of a story:
TFMCD and I grabbed a motel room nearby so as to avoid the long drive home late at night. When we headed out to our car Sunday morning, there was an obviously upset lady in the parking lot, standing behind an SUV with its side window busted into a gazillion itty-bitty pieces. Everything ad been stolen from inside. I saw she had Montana plates, and immediately felt badly for her. Probably from some small town where you don't even need to lock your car. We told her we were sorry something like that happened to her while visiting Scottsdale.
She commented angrily that she had come here to look at real estate in the Scottsdale area, and never expected such a thing to happen here. She had one of those "WELL, I NEVER!" self righteously indignant attitudes that replaced my "sorry this happened to you" interest with more of a "hey, it sure sucks to be you" apathy. "I'm calling my realtor and cancelling!" she griped, "I'm not going to live any place where this sort of thing can happen!"
"Where are you from?" TFMCD asked her.
"Chicago."
It was a rental car.
We just rolled our eyes, got in our own car, and left without another word. Don't let the saguaro hit you in your ignorant ass on the way out, and have a good life in crime-free Chicago.
Hey, nothing against the great city of Chicago. Love it there. It's a beautiful, fun, vibrant city I will visit again. But that particular inhabitant was an idiot. They can keep her.
