I think that’s going to be a new sitcom on FOX next year. “Oh, Condi!”
Condi is being awfully remiss about not answering invitations promptly. I wonder if she’s going to all these royal weddings and funerals? I hereby request that important people stop dying or getting married until after the slumber party.
Oh. And don’t be declaring any more wars either.
Condi would be a lot happier if she could take a nothing day and suddenly make it all seem worthwhile. She has a headstart (she just needs her own theme song).
Working with Dick Cheney? It’s like having Mr. Grant in the next office. “Condi?!? I HATE spunk!”
George W. and Laura are Condi’s Not-So-Bright Ted and wife Georgette. Well, if Georgette was a chain smoker.
Colin Powell used to be her sensible coworker Murray. I wonder if Colin is working a cruise ship now?
Any ideas on who in CondiWorld fills the roles of Best Pal Rhoda, Slutty Sue Ann, and Bitter Phyllis?
It’s official. One week of silence from Condi. C’mon… CHEETOS™!
Rejected, possibly damaged for life or until my next obsession commences, I went ahead and got a pedicure.
Still no response from Condi about the slumber party. I think she has that sour expression because they keep her so busy in Washington. I’ll probably hear from her the next time she has a day off. I’m upping the ante and adding Cheetos™ to the mix.
It was suggested that we could crank call Janet Reno at the slumber party. I say, why not just invite Janet, too? Now there’s a gal who had a tough time in Washington. AND was part of losing two elections to Condi’s
husband boss and his brother. A little Cheetos™ dust and maybe doing a slam book together could fix some hurt feelings.
Now I can’t stop thinking about Condi. You know what I think she needs? A good slumber party. So I’m officially inviting Condi to my house for an old-fashioned slumber party. (Note to Condi: You don’t have to bring the Secret Service. There are ALWAYS “phone trucks” on my street, and I know what that’s all about.)
Me, Condi, and a few friends. (Note to Readers: Feel free to invite yourselves.) Queso and chips, plenty of Keebler cookies, popcorn, pink sponge rollers, those little thingies you fit between your toes when you give each other pedicures, a Ouija board to commune with Bob Dole and Newt Gingrich… What; they’re not dead? Whatever.
I believe a slumber party could make Condi smile. It’s just a shame that *69 and Caller I.D. have ruined the world of crank calling. I’ll bet Condi knows a LOT of good numbers.
I don’t know.
Maybe it had something to do with
But there is no truth to the rumor that Timothy J. Lambert is the secret brother of Chastity and Elijah Blue. Timothy has a lovely set of parents in Maine. I’ve never actually met them, but I’ve seen pictures. And everyone knows a picture tells only the truth, right?
Yep, here I am, being a big ol’ Survivor geek again. I’ve created my private tribe in the fantasy league and sent out invitations to other tribes to join me. Let the games begin!
Actually, I have no idea if we’ll see the sun today or not. Still too early. But it FEELS like the sun is shining. I feel rested and energetic. Madonna is singing. Nag champa is burning. All’s better with the world.
Last year I kept them. I need some new ones. Other than determining that I want to make sure I own every R.E.M. CD before this year’s over, especially replacing the cassette tapes I got rid of.
R.E.M. will be my first official obsession of the new year. Many more to come.