Willow's 7th Annual Ball

oh my!
   Another year gone by, a good one - at least from the view point of a squashed bug (?)

   I'm keen this year on sampling the rootbeer that I heard an old gnarly tree sprite was squeezing out of a juicy sassafras and serving up on Willow's lawn, overlooking the gentle Scioto.

   And what of the rumors of Steve Martin riding Mr. Ed bareback whilst strumming his, ahem, banjo? Here's hoping I've passed out by that hour in the inflatable yurt I'm planning to blow up and float down the river in. Pray tell, where will I wind up?

   OK, so these big froufrous  aren't my piece of cheese - I'll leave the frivolities to his majesty, Dinosaur Hand... I suspect he is the real reason I get invited to this shindig year after year. Me, I'm a big scared of all the fine lace and twirling and sword fights that tend to break out at the mansion, but the random ado gets Dino snapping...

Hey, it looks like Dinosaur Hand has asked his buddy Carl to accompany us
to the ball. Carl likes a good party and is known to tip his elbow.
Coat check?

     ...so I've left the preparations to Dinosaur Hand, just so he isn't too hung over to get up Sunday morning for church. What's that? OK, we'll skip morning services, but I won't by any chance miss out on bacon and eggs and strong coffee... oh unless we're twelve miles down the Scioto. Anybody got a map? An oar?

Dino can be a bit grabby - Is your underwear flame retardant?
 

      I think I'm dressing as Dark Helmet to commemorate the upcoming Star Wars movie... Gawd I hope it doesn't suck. Dinosaur Hand is pulling out all the stops however, and is channeling Katniss from Catching Fire.

     Beware, if any fracases break out. Dinosaur Hand is hoping the Swiss army revolver he ordered off of Craig's List will ship before the party!

Oh, and if Dinosaur Hand does get a little tipsy he'll want to tell you all about that time
he ALMOST got the part of Live Long & Prosper.
It's all bullshit, but please play along...
for my sake.

ghgh, etc.

Another visit to Willow's Annual Manor Ball

Oh my, another year is passing swiftly by - indeed, there is snow in the forecast this week. I see the American Gums are changing from green to yellow to a forest blazing orange. I'll be unpacking my long sleeve shirts and airing out some sweaters. Willow, I'm sure, has her wooly socks inventoried for the long winter.

It is time for Willow's Ball! So for tonight, hang the coats. It's tails and pearls all the way. I'm not much for dressing up, but my date this year is a bit more substantial than those legs I brought along last year. Well, I asked that lady who paints all the fancy coral florescent green and yellow at the thrift shop, but she said this was the night she normally washed her hair. A little disheartened I turned over the duty to Dinosaur Hand.

Dino is pretty damned excited; he's decided to come to the ball as Senor Wences. Of course, this isn't a costume party, but we'll let him have his fun. S'all right?

Dinosaur Hand is quite enamored by a sequined glove. A hand wants what a hand wants, so there you go. Sally, I think, is her name. Sally and Samantha. They're twins. Oh my!

why so dour? Let's to the Ball

the birds are ready for their dance





Well, then. Awesome... I'll see you today at the manor after the long drive through the woods and over the Scioto. This year I won't make the mistake of giving the wheel to Dinosaur Hand. We'll actually use the bridge!

Addendum: Dinosaur Hand found that bottle of Dom Perpignan (oh, don't make such a face, it's almost as good as the other stuff) that he and Kevin Costner dug up in the desert way back in 1985.

I noticed the bottle was a little dusty, so we stopped in at the little cigar shop that's leaning over into the river to get some paper towels.  Those were two by fours holding it up!  Why has Tess never mentioned it, and why didn't the Scioto just swallow it up during the last big rain? Anyway, we parked the red tracker and entered the shop and back in a dark corner filled with cobwebs and a creaky old card table were five shadowy figures.

potato eaters by van gogh

Dinosaur Hand crept closer and one woman crept off to refill the teapot. The others turned to us and transformed into beautiful flappers, all except Stevie Nicks who prefers black capes. The other three were Samantha Stevens, Barbara Eden, and Cher. They were playing Haiku Wars and it all looked liked some weird form of Dogs Playing Poker, mostly because they all had tiny cats sitting atop their heads and pirate booty was heaped on the table.

Long story short, Stevie Nicks is coming along as my date, but she's been shouting since the midnight hour, so don't expect her to be singing Rhiannon anytime soon. Dinosaur Hand though is known to spin a lyric or two, especially after he dips a finger into his wine glass.

See you soon!

Willow's Ball !

Really, another year has gone by and it's time for the world, no, galactically famous Willow's Ball?!

I'm sooo compelled to attend, but this always ends so badly for me. Dinosaur Hand typically gets me in trouble; all of his pinching and grabbing invariably get me slapped or thrown through a plate glass window. My dates always turn up missing...usually they're in the wine cellar getting it on with someone famous or changing into a bat or something equally icky. Last year Dino drove into the Scioto and my Tuxedo of purple ash leaves washed away and I ended up handcuffed to the banister...

Ah, memories...

Well, my date this year was easy. First I thought to ask the Love Is girl, but as she is anatomically incorrect and there wouldn't be much chance of any wicked fun after the ball, I passed. I was introduced to this perfectly gorgeous pair of legs months ago by our lovely hostess, Willow. My wonderfully quiet date couldn't really say "No," so she'll be at my side all night. Dinosaur Hand will help me keep her close. She can go all night, so please feel free to cut in. I do need to get around to all of the other lovely ladies, though with all of the masks I doubt I'll know who I'm dancing with.

I couldn't decide what to dress as this year, as willow insists on a masked ball. I've got this crazy elephant head, and the trunk is great as it will hold a wine glass and leave the hands free for other stuff...but this being an election year I thought to stay away from anything even remotely political...Drinks and politics don't mix, and Glenn is always about with a sword or muskets...

My unicorn is still at the dry cleaners...

An empty Box on wheels is always a good idea...I guess my date could pull me around and feed me drinks and cookies through a hole.

I'm not good at the costume thing, or masks. I prefer to just be a rug,

 

or wear a paper bag over my head and tell bad jokes all night long,

or just put my fingers over my eyes.

In the end I've decided to come as an Octopus...that way my many hands will confuse the multitude of guests and nobody will be able to guess which one is Dinosaur Hand. He'll like that...a lot!

Okay, we're on our way...the drive isn't too long from Ft. Wayne, the weather is nice, and we're looking forward to seeing some of our best old bloggy friends, and some new ones as well. Look out for the red Tracker, possibly floating down the Scioto again, Cheers!

Willow's Ball

Hurray, today is the day, the day some of us have waited for all year - indeed, been waiting on since the moment we woke up last year (the day after the night) in the shrubbery outside of Willow Manor. No, I could not remember how I got there, only that my date (Lady Gaga, I guess, but that may only be a vicious rumour) had left me for another, perhaps Don Knots or, wait, now I remember. It was Sir Anthony Hopkins, wearing a mask, sipping Chianti through a straw. They made such a cute couple. The scoundrel!

I believe at some point I heard there was yurt around the premises, but in my wanderings I only managed to get one pant leg soaked from wading drunkenly in the Scioto and possibly I hugged a Ginkgo tree. Don't tell anyone. Dinosaur hand must have come to the rescue and found us a nice dry spot to lay down beside the porch.

But, this year will go better, and I made Dino promise to behave himself. He has decided to come to the ball dressed as Micheal Jackson's glove. I'm fine with that, as long as he stays waaaay north of my crotch. Just to be safe, I'm bringing a pair of handcuffs and if need be, you'll find us sitting at the base of Willow's magnificent staircase. Please refill our glass often.

So, I didn't really want a repeat of last year, so this year I started looking early for a date. You know, someone who might want to hang out all night with me instead of disappearing into the wine cellar to hide behind boxes and freak out the waiters. I put an ad in the paper, then met up with some willing, perhaps desperate, dates.

I loved her long, wavy hair, too.

Somehow this blind date persuaded me to meet her at a robot convention. I guess she didn't care for my tubes.

My first real choice had a previous engagement

So, I guess I'm coming with a starlet on my arm. She wasn't too busy directing movies, and guess where I met her? An AA meeting. Ida's been clean and sober for 12 years, so I hope you've stocked up some ginger ale.

She'll be wearing technicolor and I'm in a tux made of the pressed leaves that have fallen from my Autumn Purple Ash. I'm told this is the perfect attire for a fall event. Shortly we'll be coming up the lane in my red Tracker, or fording the creek, because I told Dinosaur Hand he could drive.

The Annual Ball

Willow has graciously invited US ALL to her digs for a grand gala--

~00~

What Fun!

hope you don't mind, I'm just going to throw on my suit--after all, I've only worn it once.

Now for a date--I've looked in all the usual places...

Work, eh...maybe not a good idea.

My old circle of friends. Harvey didn't seem like the sensible pick. But he tells a good knock knock joke...

A couple of blind dates. Rolled the dice, but came up bust.

I settled on Internet dating and I guess she must be the right girl for me....Hey, we matched up, so all's good, eh?

See you at the ball, and please don't step on my date's tail!