There’s Nothing Like Sharing A Bad Ass With Friends

or…

“The Adventures of the Mighty Geek, the Half-Elven Solonor, the Bitter Kat, the Whiny the Elder and the Nicknameless Lady (Who Would Have Her Own Blog If Only She Didn’t Hate To Write So Much)”

Once again, dear reader(s), the forces of truth and justice were on a mission. So, while they were busy, our wrecking crew set off to imperil the city of Orlando. I shall attempt to recap the events of last evening as accurately as possible given the limitations of the written word and the boundaries of good taste that are the hallmark of this blog (sorry about that… the air sickness bags are in the seat pocket in front of you).

Actually, there’s too much to cover with the limited web space I have available (and I have to be at work in 30 minutes). So, rather than giving a blow-by-blow account of the festivities, here are some of the highlights*

(on cell phone)
SOL: Hey! We’re almost there. Put your pants on and come down to the lobby.
G: Dammit! I’m almost done. Gimme 10 minutes.
SOL: You’d better be down there, or we’re leaving without you.
G: (muffled giggles) Shhh! I’m on the phone. OK, I’ll be there at 7pm sharp.

(wandering through the lobby looking for Kat)
SOL: Hmmm… you look vaguely Kat-like. Are you bitter?
KAT: You look tremendously nerd-like. Are you Solonor?
SOL: (not recognizing Geekman) Excuse me, sir, we’re waiting for someone. I don’t have any spare change. Sorry.
G: It’s me! Geekman!
SOL: Oh! Oh! Sorry. I didn’t recognize you without your skin condition. Besides, you’re 1 minute and 14 seconds early.
(nervous silence)
SOL: Well, um, who’s hungry?
KAT: Me!
SOL: Oh good. We decided that you’re our Entertainment Director. So, where are we going?
KAT: *sigh* This is going to be a long night, isn’t it?
G: What skin condition?

(on the road to the restaurant)
G: Well, it’s certainly nice to meet you, Whiny.
WHINY: They only bring me out for special occasions.
SOL: And you’d better start earning your keep, boy. Be funny, now, dammit!
WHINY: *sigh* Must I always perform for your friends, father?
SOL: Damn straight, kid. Until you’re 18, your mine to use as I see fit. Now, entertain us!
(thus follows a short string of hilarious banter that I just can’t reprint here for legal reasons)

Restaurant conversation centered on movie reviews (“Battlefield Earth” bad, “Ladykillers” good), Canada (“They have milk… in BAGS!”) and the fact that Kat knows where the pimps bowl.

G: I’m sorry to hear that Pepperkat wasn’t feeling well.
MRS: Yes, she really wanted to come.
G: But then we would have gotten confused… Kat, Pepperkat…
KAT: I’m changing my name. I’m going to be Saltkat.
G: No, something with more flair…
KAT: Paprika Kat?
SOL: Oregano Kat?
WHINY: Garlic Kat?
SOL: Taragon Kat?
KAT: Turmeric Kat?
(after about 15 minutes of this…)
MRS: OK, I think we’ve been through the whole spice rack…
SOL: Spice Girl Kat!

(getting ready to leave the restaurant)
SOL: Shall we wander on out now?
G: I want to sashay…
WHINY: I’ll skip!
KAT: I’m going to mosey.
SOL: How about if I flit?
MRS: I think I’ll just walk, if that’s ok?
SOL: Freak.
(Yes, G sashayed, Whiny skipped, Kat moseyed and the Mrs walked… I, however, was taken to task for refusing to flit.)

(leaving and trying to decide where to go for coffee)
KAT and MRS: Ooooh! Krispy Kreme!

We spent the next half hour driving around aimlessly looking for something to do or someplace to get dessert.

We tried the “Make-Fun-of-Every-Sign” Game, but it was boring (too easy).
We tried to play miniature golf, but the place was packed.
We tried the “Run-Over-A-Tourist” Game, but it was boring (see the sign game).

(cruising toward oblivion)
KAT: Hey! We could have bad ass…
SOL: But we’re not on OBT**
KAT: Not that kind of bad ass, moron, Bad Ass!
G: Oh, how could we resist?

And so, we went to the Bad Ass Coffee Company (pictures to follow). Naturally, being the creative geniuses we are, we spent the next hour coming up with different ways of working Bad Ass into the conversation.

“Mmmm… your Bad Ass smells terrific. Can I have a taste?”
“This coffee tastes like Bad Ass. It’s wonderful!”
“Garcon! More Ass! And make it Bad!”
“I think I’d like a little Bad Ass in the morning.”
“Did you get the extra large Bad Ass?”
“I’d like one with nonfat milk. One skinny Bad Ass coming up!”
“This danish would taste great with a Bad Ass.”
(ad nauseum)

G almost bought HoBiscuit a Bad Ass thong (I’m serious). But he feared the consequences of getting the wrong size. Too big, and it’s “What? You think my ass is huge??” Too small, and it’s “So, you want someone with a smaller ass, eh? Fine!” (Of course, that doesn’t preclude us from buying one and sending it to him with an anonymous note about what a fun time we had and how he left his Bad Ass thong in our car…)

Finally, it was time to retire.

We tearfully dumped Kat off somewhere near the drunks at Pleasure Island (her “peeps” as she called them), declaring her a member of the family and promising that we’d see her as often as possible, and went back to G’s hotel so he could “show us something”…

As scary as that sounded, it turned out to be one of his gorgeous, hand-crafted wedding invitations. We ignored the fact that he was inviting us to his wedding several months after the fact, because we so rarely get asked to go anywhere that even a really late invite is like water in the desert. (I just wanted to use dessert and desert in the same blog entry.)

So ends our tale.

If you’ve made it this far, you are either one of the participants or an obsessive stalker (oh yeah… Kat and I decided to be each other’s creepy stalker… we’re co-dependent now).

If you quit reading before this, you’re a rotten person who doesn’t deserve to live (in spite of your obvious common sense).