the cheese stands alone

Bloggy Dodgeball

Now, of course I realize that by the very definition, a "club" is a selective group, exclusive to its members, a group of chosen few.

I am sure I am in a club defined by exclusion; those possibly reviewed, found wanting, and cast aside.
I speak of those of us fine, gentle flowers of femininity not selected to be included in Madfish Willie's "Corner of the Bar Babes".

Goddammit.

But it's okay. Really it is. I'm not upset. I'm not perturbed. I'm not jealous or distressed or envious or crying myself to sleep every night, pounding the pillow and screaming "why, god, why?" until I drop exhausted into soggy slumber, to dream of the day Willie crooks his great bartending finger at me and thunders from atop his barstool "YOU! YES, YOU, O BEAUTIOUS GUZZLER, WOMAN OF WHO NONE CAN SAY SHE DID NOT BELCH AS WELL AS ANY! COME, JOIN MY HAREM AND CAVORT MERRILY! HERE IS YOUR SOUVENIR BUDWEISER T-SHIRT, PRE-WETTED!"
Really, I could care less.

It's not on my own behalf that I now do what must be done. It's on behalf of my also-excluded sisters, those fine females who toil unsung and un-babed.
Those of us who are just as pulchrituded and bloggy and who can drink their own body weight in dirty martinis before most women even get past spiking their morning coffee with Bailey's.

It is on my neglected commradesses's behalf that I must do this:
No more cheeseballs for Madfish Willie's Cyber Saloon.
All deliveries will cease until my our demands are met.
And you know, the holidays are almost upon us. What self-respecting saloon would dare open its doors without the confidence of a full stock of cheeseball goodness... sharp cheddar and port wine and mellow muenster, all in their crushed-nuts goodness?

Yes, that's it, Madfish Willie, hear me well and tremble there with your naked crackers. No more cheeseballs. No more cheeseballs.
NO MORE CHEESEBALLS! ***
Not until you admit that we, the Un-Corner-Of-The-Bar-Babes, are just as esteemed in your barkeep's olive-studded heart as your chosen few, as well-deserving as they are. We don't want to crash your club. We just want recognition and free pickled hardboiled eggs.
That's all we want.

We just want a little love, too, you know.
And extended Happy Hour. That would be nice.
Oh, and free buffet between 4 and 7? And would it kill you to get some clean towels in the ladies' room once in a while? How many times can I dry my hands on my t-shirt, fergoshsakes. It's wet enough as it is.

let me just say for the record that I am KIDDING, so you won't send me flaming emails and horsie heads in my bed and all that, you staunch and loyal defenders of the Madfish. Kidding. Joke. Stop calling my mom and complaining I am the bad seed. She already knows that.

***I just like saying "cheeseballs".

Posted by LeeAnn at October 25, 2003 08:19 AM