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The Saga of Stormi and RIP Ford
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zorkie and ev's Ragtime Band
Diplomat extraordinaire Rodney King has managed to unite the BOOL 2 stars with their understudies to form zorkie and ev's Rag Time Band just in the nick of time for the big premiere.
Jefe (Maestro *and* first chair fiddle) -Aridog, we already voted, all the men wear kilts!
Aridog (Triangle) -Look, I'm already playing an instrument that goes "tinkle"...I'm not wearing a kilt!
Marine Momma (Flugelhorn) -We're having dessert after, right Sine?
Sine (Makeup) -Sure, Marine Momma...I'll just run over to the diner and whip up a little something. (Hmmmph, all these picky eaters too, and I'm Makeup...I don't want to multi-task). texanista! I need you over here right now!
texanista (Caterer) -Texas Bar-B-Que for a cast of thousands? AND CHOCOLATE CAKE? Today? Why, I oughta....
RayH -And stinky cheese, don't forget the stinky cheese!
Travis (Nose flute) -They like me, they really, really like me!
RC neo-Jew (banjo) -I know a little bluegrass, guys! European bluegrass! Uh, don't mention it to bigel though.
Earl (Trombone) And just how am I supposed to play bluegrass on a trombone? Jefffeeee!
Frank IBC (casaba) - This instrument is also known as the balaphone - a merimba made with casaba gourds and wooden keys struck with tire-rubber-tipped mallets. The mountainous and forested Guinea is the province of the balaphone...
Lewis (Clavicord) -zorkie, my dog plays the butt trumpet. Can he have a part?
TalkinKamel (Kazoo) -All the blood is rushing to my head, hellllp!
Lyana (Harp) -I'm sorry to take an extra chair Jefe, but I need my anchovies close to me, *slurp*.
Ed Mahmoud (alto sax) -Those *are* real breasts. Fake breasts don't splay out like that.
militarybrat (Kettle Drum) -Why are DL men so obsessed with boobs? Will this be televised?
RadioMattM (Tuning Fork) -You're asking me? You know I only do radio.
Q (Crash cymbals) -Speaking of S&M, I hear German girls like it...
packen (Tambourine) -Q! Less smut, more music! Practice, man!
Beagle (Cow bell) -I'm tired of practicing packen. I think I'd enjoy more smut.
Aisha (Wardrobe) -The ladies must wear hijab! Playing without hijab is Haraam! Aisha should know, infidels!
semite5000 (Didgeridoo) -$5000 is what they are going to have to pay me if I agree to this...
throbert (Mouth organ) -This band is *definitely* not ready for primetime! They've managed to put Rugby and Soccer off their favorite foods. They have even quit sleeping on Portia's red fishnets.
Portia (Bass fiddle) -And they expect me to play this thing with a sword in my hand? Ppppffffffft!
annie (Spoons) -How the heck do I play these Jefe? Why do I get utensils and everyone else gets an instument?
lawhawk (Second chair violin/Stage manager) -Second chair, huh? Just wait until I reach that rat-bastard agent of mine.
BigSmoke88 (Flute) -I can't believe I'm taking part in this travesty either, semite5000.
cba (Glockenspiel) -C'mon you mixers! A one and a two and a...
Dances With Typos (Bouzouki) -I just *knew* they would assign me an instrument that is tricky to spell!
monkeyweather (1st chair washboard) -It's easy DWT! B-O-O-Z-O-O-C-K-Y. Like getting scared in a zoo! Just sound it out! Yay!
zorkie (Zither) LOL!! psst, ev, let's sneak out and get a little PS2 time in...
ev (Accordion) -OK zorkie mou, but first can you move a little, I'm losing feeling in my thighs...
Mauro (Head roadie) zorkmidden! Bella mio! You are more than welcome to sit by me for awhile, rsrsrsrs!
texanista (Virginal) -Virginal? WOOHOO!!
longwhitecloud (Tour director) -Opening night is slated for New Zealand. Now..I know a fabulous B&B...
bigel (Gong) -I'm only playing in the USofA! Sheesh, the things I have to put up with.
DaveRay (English horn) -bigel, you don't know what you're talking about. Why, when I move to New Jersey...
AM42 (2nd chair washboard) -Get along you two or I'll post another picture of Theodore Tug! That is, if Frank hasn't already lifted it...
Fay (Wurlitzer organ) -Oy! You do that AM42, I will be forced to post a picture of Picnic Table Woman!
papijoe (Ukelele) -That's OK with me Fay, but no genitals...
RIP Ford (Slide Guitar) -What have I done, telling all these kvetchers how to use Photobucket? I've opened a Pandora's Box!
Thousand Sons (Tuba) -Heh heh, too late now my man. They are unleashed into the inky depths of the Crab Nebula, never to be put back again...KHAAAAN!!
jlfintx (Concertina) -Well, he didn't show me how to post them! Fay!!
roya (Harpsichord) -I have pictures too, Fay. Please give me an hour or two to go back to my blog and find them. Thank you.
floranista (Booking agent) -That's one ringy dingy...That's 2 ringy dingys...
Stormi (Bagpipes) -Cam!
Cam (Beer bottle) -Stormah!
KianB (Dutch traverso) -Heh, I knew they would have a big part for me, dude! (Dutch traverso, WTH?!?)
lady redhawk (Tin whistle) -I love the tin whistle, but this Southern Belle ain't too crazy about wearing a used beige tutu that's been on Parson's head and who knows where else! Lah-di-dah!
gutterfiend (Scenery) -I know what you mean lady redhawk. Can you believe they gave me an Etch-a-Sketch for the scenery?
parson (Psaltery) -Oh my, this could get out of hand...DLers, open your hymnals to page 312, we will sing all 7 verses...
Jauhara (1st Soprano) -At last! A starring role!
FloridaHeat (Castanets) -I do a mean flamenco! Someone finally assigned an appropriate instrument...
Albertanator (Marimba) -No dancing! Unless I get to perform the "Funky Chicken", that is...
Michael (Nehiloth) -Hey! I said I wasn't going to be in BOOL2 let alone this band! This is lame. Although my instrument is kind of cool...
Pete (Alois) (Finger cymbals) -Cmon Michael, it'll be fun! Yeah, that's the ticket!
Smug Monkey (Props) -Props? What kind of job is that? Props? I'd rather play the virginal...
Spiny Norman (Advertising) -Our posters won't be ready until tomorrow? And to think I left LGF for this gig.
Sojourner (Bass fiddle) -TS lovie, help me move this thing, it weighs a ton...HAH!! LAST!!
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Olivah Stonah Presents Dress Rehearsals For:
"THE NOT EVEN CLOSE TO READY FOR BOOL2 TIME PLAYERS"
Marine Momma: (practicing her high kick) "Hey, have any of you losers seen my frilly taupe tu-tu?"
Spiney Norman: "The last time I saw that old rag, the Parson had it on his head. (patting his butt cheeks) Do I look fat in these tights?"
Jauhara: "Yes, you idiot! You look positively bovine!"
RC Neo-Jew: "It's no wonder zorkie didn't want you stinkin' up her extravaganza, you cow!"
Dave Ray: "I have a theory. It's a conspiracy."
Longwhitecloud: "Chill out, you second-rate Liars! We musn't blame each other for our obvious lack of theatrical talent."
Dave Ray: "Speak for yourself, Kiwi breath!"
Marine Momma: "Parson stole my panties! Give 'em back, you cuckoo!"
The Parson: (adopting a scratchy devil voice) " No. They're mine."
Lawhawk: "Now, if we look at this logically....." (daintily applying mascara.)
Florida Heat: "Oh, shaddup. Er, lawhawk, mascara is applied to the eyelashes, not your......"
Lady Redhawk: "OMG, look what lawhawk did with that mascara......" (running away in fright.)
Semite 5000: "Dave Ray is right. It's a conspiracy."
Jlfintx: "You're damn straight! I should've been the leading man! I'm big, strong, and handsome! I have a cleft chin! I made the cover of Rolling Stone!"
BigSmoke-88: "Er, that was Jack White...."
Smug Monkey: " Jlf, the orange silk muscle shirt with the chartreuse lycra biker shorts....."(covers his eyes)....."Dude!"
Lyana: "We need a gay guy. This is pathetic. Somebody call Frank!"
Q: "Hmmph. Frank's a star now. He doesn't return our phone calls anymore." (sulking in a corner).
[ Suddenly, the room erupts in screams and unearthly wailing.]
Beagle: "Portia! It's Portia!"
Albertanator: (falling to knees and blubbering incoherently). "Portia! Portia!"
Texanista: "Yoo hoo! Portia! Remember me? 1969? The commune outside of Frisco?" (waving and jumping up and down.)
[ Onto the rehearsal stage steps a gorgeous woman dressed in nothing but red fishnet stockings and 6 inch stilletto heels.]
Portia: "Oh, you silly little people...." ( she titters seductively and flicks her wrist in silent dismissal of the sobbing, adoring mass of wanna-bes at her feet.)
Olivah Stonah: " CUT!"
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An Interview With Portia of BOOL
Portia, the elusive actress of Bloggies Of Our Lives Fame, agreed to receive us in her penthouse suite at the Too Expensive For The Likes Of You hotel in downtown Internet Ville.
She opens the door wearing her stunning waist length auburn hair, a translucent peignoir, fishnet stockings and ten-inch-stilleto heel bedroom slippers with pink pompons. When she tosses her hair we get a bird’s eye view of what she modestly calls "My front mounted radar emplacements."
"I wasn’t always this glamorous, you know," she says, in a husky voice tinged by an accent she swears is European – while refusing to tell us where in Europe, exactly, she grew up. "I was very mousy before BOOL. In fact," she blushes. "My other public persona still is very mousy. And demure."
"We hear a lot about your public persona, Portia," I say. "There’s speculation you live in ... well, the White House."
She titters. "Oh, not live there. Although, of course, I go there a lot." She looks down. "The job, you know."
I am dutifully impressed. "You mean, you are..."
"Yes. And I still haven’t decided if I will run for president."
"But... you don’t look a thing like..."
She looks at us with her bottomless green eyes.
"Of course not, you silly. Zorkie gives me some magical olives which change my appearance to ... transform me into Portia."
"Um," I say. "Pardon me, but I have a hard time believing anyone in Bloggie could pursue this administration's recent policies towards Israel and–"
She laughs and covers her mouth with a hand ornamented with many, many rings. "Oh, my dear. It’s all a ruse you just haven’t got yet."
She sighs. "Portia, please. It’s my name in this persona."
"So, Portia, what can you tell us about Evariste’s pregnancy?"
She purses her lips. "I always suspected Ayahuasca. Note how he disappeared, lest he be forced to pay support."
"Fired early. He couldn’t remember his lines."
"And your own, private life?"
"Oh, I have none. I live in absolute chastity."
Just at that moment, a crash sounds from her bedroom, the door to which opens from this living room. A handsome young man looks out. "Portia?" he says. "Are you coming back?"
I look back at her and she blushes delicately. "Oh, that’s just Dances With Typos. It’s not like that. I just suck him."
While we stare in horror, she says, "No, not that way. I suck his blood. He drinks coffee and alcohol."
Before we can find anything appropriate to answer, another man shoves DWT aside, "Portia? I’ll run down Europe for you. Just come on back. I’ll let you play nuke Germany!"
Portia looks distinctly flushed. "That’s just Bigel. We.... Play destroy Europe together."
From the bedroom, comes yet another male voice. "Portia, my pups are lonely."
"It’s Aridog," she says, in mounting desperation. "We go to obedience class together."
Two other male voices come from within. "Portia, Throbert is playing with your fishnet stockings!" And "Am not. I was just trying to show Frank..."
"Those are Throbert and Frank IBC. They’re gay, for heavens sake. You know that–"
"Portia, the Hurricane is coming!"
"That’s Ed. He’s just our weather person, he–"
"He’s Rugby," Portia said, and blushed. "He’s just a rat."
And thus we left Portia's suite. As you can tell, BOOL's influence is so corrupting, even SHE is not safe.
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B! Blogtainment Special Edition With Dr. Phil
zorkie: Dr. Phil, I’d just like to thank you for coming to Bloggie today to help us through the end of the first season. We’ve really had some, uhhh… issues come up.
Dr. Phil: My pleasure, zorkie. I appreciate every opportunity I get to self promote..I mean to help people.
evariste: Alright then, let’s get on with it.
Dr. Phil: evariste-is it OK if I call you ‘ev’? Great. ev-let’s talk about your little problem…
evariste: Me? Problem? zorkie-what’s he talking about?
zorkie: It’s OK ev, you can let it go, let it out. The first step is admitting you have a problem.
Dr. Phil: Well, well, well….if it isn’t a classic case of denial. Do you want to hear what I think?
[audience goes wild, clapping, whistling]
Dr. Phil: I said DO YOU WANT TO KNOW WHAT I THINK?
[audience screams, women start fainting…]
Dr. Phil: I say-it’s time to bring out the pros. evariste-you are going to Boot Camp. Yes, I have two hulking female guards standing in the green room waiting to take you to Emoticons E-nonymous.
evariste: Nooooooooooooooooooooo! I don’t have a problem…they’re just cute…they make me happy.
Dr. Phil: OK ladies, take him away.
Cut to commercial:
Rugby the Rat sings: If you are feeling grumpy, or just a little frumpy, I can give you potion, and shmear a little lotion/Come to Salon Rugbatta today.
Voice over: Special this week on eyebrow threading only $4.99.
Cut back to broadcast:
Dr. Phil: OK, Weeeeeeeeeeee’re back. So, zorkie, can you tell me some of the other "issues" that have crept up in this season?
zorkie: The usual, you know, love, hate, sex, revenge, assassinations, the secret service, secret crushes, crushing secrets, crushing crushes, food-lots of food, euthanasia, south-east Asia-it’s been very busy.
Dr. Phil: Well, your mother and grandmother think you are working too hard.
zorkie: Me? Mommy-is that true?
Mamma of zorkie: I told you to take it easy… you spending too much time on the computer-not enough time learning proper Greek cooking. What is a bloggie compared to good spanakopita technique? Why you no take up embroidery? Fishing? I sign you up for curling lessons… wonderful sport-brooms, ice, matching shirts-that’s what you need… no more silly bloggie.
Dr. Phil: zorkie, Mamma of zorkie, do you want to know what I think?
[audience goes wild]
Dr. Phil, grinning satanically to audience: I said: DO YOU WANT TO KNOW WHAT I THINK???
Dr. Phil: You are going on an all expense paid DE-PROGRAMMING vacation. No computers, no internet, no cell phones, no alcohol and no laughing allowed. You’re heading to the lovely Nebbishe Shlumpher Shlemazel Resort in the beautiful Catskill Mountains. You’ll be having a low-sodium experience that will change your life forever…
zorkie: Nooooooooooo! (she wails as she is carried off the stage)…Phil-you’re a malaka!!!! You stinker-you tricked meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.
Dr. Phil: Well, that’s about all the time we have left for today. I’m so glad I was able to stick my nose into ev’s and zorkie’s business, and come up with some absolutely dreadful experiences that I will eventually turn into another farkakteh self-help book that will put my balding, smug face smack on the cover of Newsweek for another few years. Tune in next season to Bloggies of Our Lives. I’m Dr. Phil for B!
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