Very few people can pull off gold lamé. Fortunately for me (and my date, the lovely Miss Kate Beckinsale), I am one of them.
We're having a superlative time over here at the Second Annual Willow Manor Ball, having just arrived via the private luxury jet that Richard Branson lost to me in a recent poker game. (I cracked his aces with a set of kings and took him to the proverbial cleaners. Sorry, Mr. Moneybags, but I know when I've got a monster hand, and no self-important gasbag pom is gonna push me off it no matter how much you raise the pot.)
The party is just getting started over here, so drop what you're doing, pack a bag and get moving. For a most unreasonable fee, I have secured the services of the Playaz Jet for your transportation needs. I am of course sticking Mr. Branson with the bill. He was hoping to get away with simply offering y'all Virgin Atlantic standby vouchers, but neither I nor Kate would hear of it.
Tuesday, October 13
Unmellow Yellow
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15 bounces:
Oh baby! You look sharp!! C'mon and have a puff from my funny cigarette. Let's get on the dance floor, shall we? Isn't that Otis Redding the band is playing?
You are off the chain in that gold Mr.!!!
The gold lame is blinding me with its glory!
You will certainly not be overlooked in the melee!
Oh, gosh, I just can't keep my hands off all that cold lame! Kate won't mind will she? Let's dance!!
Wow! That's all I can say! Wow!
So where are you at this thing? I'm in the men's room with Phil and the guys.
My dear Hammer,
You are absolutely splendiferous. I tried to catch your attention, so that we could cut a rug, but that Kate person and all your other admirers, I didn't stand a chance. I am bereft.
With undying love,
Your Secret Admirer
Anyone who has those cards deserves all the luck he can get his hands on. Glad to know there are lucky fellows around.
I, myself kind sir (and thank you for the invite), are having some very indelicate difficulties with dedicated and diligent dickwads. Frankly, I expected better of the personnel for Playaz Air. Shall I talk with mr. frampton ... err, branson?
Help me! I'm stuck in Salt Lake City!
Reya: I'll gladly join you on the dance floor, but my capacity to identify what the band is playing appears to be inversely proportional to the number of puffs I take from your funny cigarette.
Yoli: Why thank you. Someone must carry on the proud traditions of people like Elvis and Morris Day - might as well be me.
Leah: My outfit is like an eclipse - you shouldn't look directly at it unless you have special glasses or one of those improvised pinhole projectors.
Willow: Of course! You're the host, by God! Kate may not like it, but she'll understand.
Betsy: Wait 'til you try what Reya brought. Talk about "wow." I had an out-of-body experience where I rose up into the sky and circled the ball three times. And now? Now I want tater tots. LOTS of tater tots.
Cube: Where am I? Keeping a safe distance, that's where. When Kate found out you were here, she bristled right up said she'd cut you if you got anywhere near me. Y'all got a beef I should know about?
Sandra: Kate appears to be armed and dangerous, not to mention a little tipsy. It's probably for the best.
Lakeviewer: Indeed. A flopped set and a date with Kate in the same week? My cup runneth over.
Tater tots, tater tors, tater tots. WHERE ARE THE DAMN TATER TOTS!!!
Zed: The Playaz customer service hotline appears to be disconnected (or nonexistent - I'm not sure.) I will look into the matter immediately. As for your current dilemma, there's an association for folks who share your feelings. I think it's called "everyone who lives in Salt Lake City." I recommend that you start drinking immediately. And heavily.
I was locked in the wine cellar all night, dreaming of Cary Grant and Claude Rains Nazis. Where's the Buffet and the caffeine? Next year I travel with you. I never did find Reya and her funny cigarettes, but I think I danced with Phil and the Playazs Drug Lord over that Kenny Rogers project in South America. He kept calling me "Choo" instead of "Cube."
Uggh...I hate when I go on a 72 hour coke binge and wake up not knowing where I am?
Is this the Playboy Mansion?
Where am I?
Haha..LOVE IT! :) Great gold jacket. :)
Cube: As I recall, there was a ruckus in the parking area involving the authorities, your date, and his "little friend." I must say, you do keep some interesting company.
Phil: Only a 72-hour binge? Man, you know the economy's tough when even the Playaz are cutting back.
Sophia: Sadly, the jacket is already gone. Cash4gold made me an offer I couldn't refuse.
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