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December 15, 2004

Comments

Misspentlife

It is cold outside.

stephenesque

I am here, and I am most certainly NOT wearing a pink cumberbund as you suggested I might in the comments on your last post. Anyone who would wear any kind of cumberbund at all should be whipped and beaten.
And where's the bloody pineapple wrapped in bacon on a stick? They might be passe, but I like 'em.

Mr. Peperium

Misspent...it's warm inside. But don't think for a moment that I'm venturing out there to fetch you. Without going into details, let's just say that of the two outfits Mrs. P laid out for me this morning, I chose the kilt.

Mrs. Peperium

There are scallops en brochette (wrapped in bacon) being passed by the portly blonde waiter Stephenesque. I'm glad you're not wearing pink - it might clash with the little Christmas present we have for you.
Mr. P, I'm back. The children's ears are well. I'm changing and will be down in a while. Entertain our guests please and send a blanket out to Misspent. Tell him to stop pressing his nose up against the windows -you just had them cleaned

Cardinal

I didn't realize Stephenesque was a "portly blonde waiter." I suppose I'll find a good many surprises as I move about your open house. (Hopefully no pink cumberbunds.)

This apple toddy thing that Mrs. Vanderholt recommended is very nice but a tad sweet for my taste. I would recommend the same recipe with about two or three shots of vodka added. Or, as Misspent might suggest, drink the vodka and toss the rest of it in the sink.

Is that Misspent's mom I see across the room? Looks like she's in a Cosmopolitan race with Marupa. I guess Cosmos must be considered medicinal for broken legs in Bolivia. (Better than spending the afternoon with Ernest and Julia, eh Marupa?)

I see the jazz quartet has turned into a trio thanks to our keyboard man starting a bit too early with the Guinness and scotch. (A "Soiled Kilt" I believe Monty called it. And, sure enough, the fellow looks like he probably soiled his kilt.)

I suppose I should slip outside and give Misspent one of those hot chocolate and schnapps concoctions he's so fond of, but if he gets cold enough I'm sure he'll find his way in here. (And ask some dreadfully emabarrassing and inappropriate questions no doubt.)

Well, if you'll excuse me for a moment, I'm going to slip downstairs to the cellar and see if little Bertie needs anything. Mrs. P likes to keep him tied up in the play pen during her parties so that he won't wander upstairs and find himself scandalized by inappropriate behavior.

Pardon me, the phone is ringing. Hello? Yes, one moment please. Mrs. P? Mrs. P?
Bernie Kerik is on the phone.

Misspent

I made a snowman to keep me company.
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Misspent

He melted, but I fixed him.

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Misspent

Why won't he work?! Sob, sob, sob.

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Mrs. Peperium

I left out the comma when typing waiter, Stephenesque. Don't blame me, it was the yam-yam typing.
Misspent, trustfund Santas never work.

Misspent

Trustfund Santas?

Outer Life

Sorry I'm late, had to run home and remove my cummerbund before a certain snooty someone saw it.

I noticed Misspent intently peering into your bedroom window. I hope no one was changing at the time.

I will now grab a libation, smile at all, and proceed to disappear into a dark corner of the room, staring into space while trying to think of something to post tomorrow.

the Cardinal's wife

Misspent, the snowman's terrific. But stay away from the yellow snow. That's were little Bertie has marked his private turf.

Mr. Peperium

Yes, "trust fund Santa". Our crack team of decrytion experts are putting in double holiday overtime right now on the problem. We've figured out that "Santas" should really be "snow men", but "Trustfund" still has us baffled. Perhaps it really is the yam-yam typing. If so, I'm ordering another case immediately. Anything that can make trustfunds come into existence where no trustfund was before is a thing worth having plenty of handy.

Elder Outer Life

Mrs. P, thank you for inviting me, so few do these days. Hostesses rarely forgive and forget, if you know what I mean, so I savor the few invites I still manage to wangle.

Reserving the vintage champagne for a vintage guest, what a grand gesture! Let's grab a couple of glasses and, err, take a house tour while Mr. P is running his errand.

Mr. Peperium

Cardinal's Wife...No, that's where I spilled my Bacardi Gold a little earlier while taking out the first bag of party trash. (I refer, of course, to soiled napkins, kilts and other such rubbish.)

There's a sprightly game of cards on in my study if any of the gentlemen care to join. I don't play myself, but I enjoy watching others risk sizeable sums on the turn of a piece of laminated, colored paper. With any luck someone will be caught cheating, a challenge will ensue and I'll finally get to see that brace of pistols Mrs. P gave me last Christmas in action. The sound of shots should also flush Misspent from his cover behind the birdbath.

Misspent

The discarded bones from the lambchops are very good, I can only imagine that the actual meat is just as good. Oh, the sauce from other dishes is very good as well, at least that which I can get off the paper napkins.

Cardinal

Outer Life, how nice to see you. Didn't I tell you Mrs. P looks like Nigella Lawson. And cooks like her too. Perhaps if you can get Mr. P to step outside for a moment and build a snowman with Misspent, well, who knows, you might be able to make a move on our hostess. But don't say I suggested anything. All I'm doing is listening to a little jazz and drinking a. . .what is this I have now? Smells like apricots. Oh, of course, this terrible thing Michael suggested: Port and Apricot Brandy. Perhaps instead of a winner for this Web Grog contest we should just select someone to be keel-hauled.

Mrs. Peperium

I am not Judith Reagan.

Cardinal

Not to put the rush on things, Outer Life, but I think your old man is beating your time. If you're planning on making a move, you'd best do it now.

the Cardinal's wife

Sorry, Mrs. P, Bernie Kerik isn't looking for you, evidently he wants to speak with Marupa. I understand he needs a new housekeeper.

Misspent

It looks like you are having a good time? Where did Stephenesque go? Thanks for the drink, Mr. P.

Your neighbor's dog is awfully friendly...

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Mrs. Peperium

Cardinal, you naughty man, I am in the conservatory having a tete a tete with Mr. Soames. He has brought his silver tipped walking stick with him and has promised to vanquish anyone who makes attempts upon my virtue. We have both seen Elder Outer Life peeking through the potted palms but one wave of Mr. Soames stick and he was off.
The portly waiter has informed us Elder Outer Life was last seen discussing prejudices with the very buxom blonde from the Crack Young Staff.
Outer Life and Stephenesque are playing cards for lots of money. Stephenesque is also partaking of the alphabet soup I made especially for him. Outer life has called for sandwiches.

Cardinal

Perhaps you could introduce me to the buxom blonde from the Young Staff on Crack. Mrs. Cardinal has slipped downstairs to check on young Bertie and I'm feeling very lonely.

Mr. Peperium

Misspent, where did you learn the Fine Art of what we might call Keyboard Origami?

Speaking for myself, I am very impressed. But your mom just asked if that's what all that money she spent on your college education went for.

Cardinal

By the way, am I the only one who's noticed that Mr. P isn't around? He's not really sweeping out the garage, is he? Perhaps taking another bag of garbage out to Misspent?

Yes, my dear, don't mind if I do. A double scotch up. And none of that headache liquor Mr. P tries to pawn off after everyone's had a few. That bottle of Lagavulin will do.

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