Archive for the ‘Party’ Category

Wasn’t That A Party Week

Saturday, February 5th, 2011

Now that Wasn’t That A Party Week has come to a close, let’s look back and see what we learned. For The Mayor, he learned that any great party ends with someone being urinated upon. However, if you want to have an unforgetable  party, always involve a midget in some capacity. In case you’re unable to source out a midget for your next party, may I suggest Rent A Midget. Over 700 locations across the country to serve you.

And this concludes Wasn’t That A Party Week. Sure, we’re no better for it, and when you think about it we’re probably worse off in some ways; but we had a few laughs, made some friends and important business contacts, and possibly found love. And that’s what it is all about, my friends, it’s all about the love.

No get out of here and have yourself the bestest day possible.

Love,

The Mayor

Wasn’t That A Party Week

Thursday, February 3rd, 2011

Looks as if the roofie colada’s finally kicked in.

Say, and this is purely out of curiosity: what IS the average response time when the police are called to a potential crime scene?

Wasn’t That A Party Week

Wednesday, February 2nd, 2011

Stomach, you are not an ass, you are a stomach.

Add a couple of leather-clad hookers to that mix and you have the makings of a Fenris Badwulf mixer.

Wasn’t That A Party Week

Tuesday, February 1st, 2011

Just like the name of the East Indian taxi driver who took me to City Hall the other day, “Bindare Dundat.”

Who among us haven’t?

The Mayor would venture to guess if he asked a cross-section of Mitchievillian’s to tell him their best “Wasn’t that a party?” story, he’d hear some things that would make a porn star blush and an elephant puke (the elephant part doesn’t make sense, I know). And the bestest part of party war stories is that they are nearly always true. Mind you, they’re true in the mind of the person that vomited in a mailbox and peed in their own microwave that same night, but that’s good enough for The Mayor, as I really dig being lied to.

Wasn’t That A Party Week

Monday, January 31st, 2011

I’m not sure if the guy laying down is the victim or the soon to be victim.

It isn’t a party until the guy with the banjo, the guy with the large weaponry, and the guy with half a watermelon shows up. At least that’s what I read years ago in a Miss Manner’s article. I heard Miss Manner’s had to stop writing because she got knocked up by the guy that writes up the weather reports at the paper she wrote for. They weren’t married, he was just sexing her up. I wonder if they ever had a conversation like this: “Hey, weather boy, what’s the long range forecast?” “Mostly sunny today with a chance of 9″ of rain tonight. And Ithink you know exactly what I mean.”

“Ahhhh, not really, I’m Miss Manner’s, not some dirty slut from HR.”

Heyyyyyoooooo, it’s Wasn’t That A Party Week. If I was any more excited I’d take off my tie.