Another Crazy Vegas Party

Last night, i went to the b-day party of one of my Vegas pals. She's a great woman who had an interesting career as a showgirl at the Stardust years ago. I went to the party mainly to support her, but also, I knew, I would encounter fodder for this blog. As usual, a Vegas party is a breeding ground for people behaving badly.

First, let me start off with the lone Republican at the party. Let's call her Babs. Babs tore into another guest, "Charlie," who simply made the comment that if a world-wide election were held, we'd be the most unpopular nation. "I am so tired of your godless atheist talk," Babs said,

"What did I say?" Charlie asked, all innocent.

"You just want to throw your godless talk in my face," she said. She had a nearly drained glass of cabernet in her hand. It was not her first.

"Where's the bar?" I asked, trying to change the subject. They ignored me as they went for each other's throats.

Then there was the woman I like to think of as the token demon. People seem to like her. I never have got it because she is so clearly a minion of Beelzebub, but hell, what do I know. Even hubby thinks she's sweat. I think she's a chubby little monster. I spoke to her when I arrived and she turned sharply on her heels and walked away. Later, I went up to a group of people who were talking, she was among them, and I said something, to which she rolled her eyes. Clearly, she doesn't like me. Then, before people had stopped eating, she started putting food away. Okay, I get it, she's clean, but it WAS NOT HER HOUSE.

Then there was our token rich divorcee friend. She didn't feel so well because she had just gotten back from Southern Cal, where her doctor had injected her lips with collagen. Her mouth looked swollen, and I thought, sexy. Behind her back, unfortunately, people were talking. Namely, the token Demon that everyone likes.

It may not rival the post Oscar parties that will go on tonight, but my little microcosm of people behaving badly I think stands up well against most. By the way, the people who went to the party are probably talking about me today. I evidently started the fight between Babs and Charlie simply by asking her what she thought of his ideas, plus, I hit on a gay guy in front of Hubby. But that's nothing new.

It's the End of the World as we Know It

The headline may be an overstatement, but the REM song keeps going through my head as I peruse the news this morning. While Anna Nicole's death was sad, as any death like that would be, I'm surprised at the number of people I've heard say, "God, I just loved her." What? Did you forget her slurring, "Do you love my body?" or her TV show? While I always found Anna Nicole to be someone that the rest of us poor shlubs could, ahem, make fun of so that we felt better about our lives, there is someone living, on the edge of a breakdown (edge? Please, she may be there) who can fill Anna's size 11s. You know whom I'm talking about. Just look at that mug.



That's no alien, my friend. That's Britney Spears, hairless as Yoda - actually he had more hair.

If you can navigate your way through You Tube, there is also a delightful video of Grande dame Sharon Stone acting uber bizarre at a German auction.

Of course, Gawker.com always have good stories of stars behaving badly. So happy Sunday, your life may be boring, but we have celebs to amuse

I’ve Got the Babies on a Plane Blues

Actually, what I’ve got is yet another cold. I blame it on the inspiration for my last post, Babies on a Plane, as I am sure some kid got me sick while flying last week. I hate kids, have I ever mentioned that? I think Bill Maher does, too. So since I’m too ill and feeling too dull to either write about Anna Nicole, or the recent senate debate on whether or not to send yet even more troops to Iraq, or even my hatred of babies on a plane, I’m going to suggest you read this funny article by Mr. Maher.

Babies on a Plane

I have spent the last week flying from Vegas to NYC and back, then Vegas to Savannah and back, and I learned something interesting: it is a Federal Aviation REQUIREMENT that babies and other small children be seated in the row beside me, or in front or behind me. If I am in an aisle seat, the baby may sit in the seat across from mine. There are more rules and regulations to this requirement:
1. Babies on the Plane must spend the entire trip screaming, wailing, crying or babbling at the top of their lungs incoherently.
2. In case the plane hits turbulence, the babies on the plane must erupt ear-splitting screeches.
3. Babies on the plane MUST soil their diapers during take-off or in cases of extreme turbulence when their mothers cannot attend to their needs. The stench must be strong enough to reach my nose.
4. Babies, and/or small children seated behind me must kick the back of my seat often. Under no circumstances are their parental unit to scold or admonish them. A gentle shush to show that they really don't mean it is permissible but not required.
5. Toddlers and small children seated in front of me are required to turn around and stare at me, wave pointlessly, and pester me by saying, "hey," throughout the trip. If I am not annoyed, if my blood pressure has not risen, the child is required to take things up a notch. Try throwing up on me.
6. Toddlers and small children seated behind me are required to reach over the top of the back of my chair and pull my hair. Pull it hard or it does not count.
7. Again, and this is extremely important, parental units of babies, toddlers, and small children must NEVER, EVER, UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES admonish or scold the children. A gentle shush is permissible but by no means required.
8. Flight Attendance witnessing babies on the plane and/or children and/or toddlers doing any of the above must gush over how cute the children are then give me a dirty looking for passively yet aggressively complaining to myself aloud.
9. Parental Units must say loud enough for me to hear them, after I have groused out loud about their child unit, that some people just simply don't like children and isn't it a shame.
10. Babies on a plane are not allowed to sleep peacefully, behave, act right, or give hope to the rest of us that the human race will turn out okay.
11. AGAIN, and this is of utmost importance, parental units of babies, toddlers, and children behaving badly must do absolutely nothing. Act helpless, act cute, and above all, ignore the fact that planes are a bad place for small children as they disrupt the flights of those who have paid hard-earned, sometimes large sums of money to take that flight. You are also required to ignore the fact that having a baby means your life has changed, in the same way your life would change if you were sent to prison, and your freedom is limited. Instead, book your next flight with your bratty child as soon as possible, but first check with my travel agent to make sure that I am on that flight, and request a seat right next to mine.

Bad Lablogda, Bad, Bad, Lablogda

I've been awful about blogging lately. It's been two weeks, and in that time, five million more democrats entered the presidential race, W is still making excuses for Iraq, New Orleans is, as usual, still a huge mess, and I had a smackdown with the office tramp -- again. On the sad side (as if the above were not sad enough) Molly Ivans passed. It's been a hard time for Good Texas Women.

I'm going to continue being remiss about blogging for at least another week, maybe two. I am off to NYC to take a bite out of the frozen apple, then home for a couple days where I will hopefully get to enjoy the 70+ temperatures the cheesy weather guy on TV promised, then, off to Savannah, where I hope there is enough Southern left in me to translate for my Yankee husband when we get asked the question, "Whey yawl frum," which, of course, means "where are you all from?"

So, let me leave you with a picture. Remember, a picture is worth a thousand words, so that should cover me for my two weeks that I'm taking a break.