Success Includes Cucumber Sandwiches

This post finds us back at the Escape Goat's for a decadent swaray. Fuck Paris! The Escape Goat's extravagant and lavish salons rival those of the literary expatriates of the Modernist period.







This particular party was dedicated to the Mayor of Moneytown and Sassy upon the announcement of their engagement. Congratulations, Mayor and Sassy! The Escape Goat knows how to set the scene, and what a scene it was. Below, the guest of honor displays her proud party dress while munching a delicious cucumber sandwich.





Here were some of the many delights at the Escape Goat's snack bar...





This spiky guy traveled a long way by backpack to get here; he presided over the feast. He is a famous flower known as the rare and beautiful Crown of Unicorn Horns. There are only three forests in all of North America in which this species of flower calls home. Enjoy it's breathtaking beauty, as it is unlikely you will see another of its kind in your lifetime.





The Mayor and I became nostalgic as the Escape Goat demonstrated proper usage of the Emergency Corkscrew of 2006; we broke the Amazingly Weak Corkscrew of 2005 on a bottle of South African wine. A special thanks to Buckles, who saved the day by supplying us with the Emergency Corkscrew of 2006.





So far, the Emergency Corkscrew of 2006 has gotten good mileage. Since its purchase--in the winter of 2006--it has opened an estimated 6,660, 999 bottles of wine and performed three transorbital lobotomies (at the hands of M'Arcy Webber). I would like to take this opportunity to pay homage to the Emergency Corkscrew of 2006. When it expires, I publicly vow to immortalize its likeness in fine art. Escape Goat, you will write the epitaph on its tombstone, and Mayor you will write the obituary. And--although he is sure to ask for an unreasonably high fee--Dryfus can dig the hole.





Below, the Mayor responds to titillating gossip with a look of scandalized abhorrence...





I knew a waitress named Cupcake. That's the back of a bowling alley chair for you.





The Mayor looks mean in yellow and green.





Buckles enjoys a beer as the sun begins to set and the crowd arrives.





Here, the Mayor cops her classic attitude with a bit of posturing. Many will recognize this stance as the dirty winking anus: arms splayed like flying buttresses, beverage in hand, crooked sneer, icy glare. This is also the look she gave Kim Jong Il when she beat him in arm wrestling.

Along with the dirty winking anus, The Mayor is also known for the sour akimbo, another stance she has popularized. The sour akimbo was demonstrated several times throughout the course of the evening, and will appear later in this post. Watch for it...

But for now, let's go through some of the choice cameos; characters came out in droves to celebrate and share in delightful company. Everyone was in high spirits, and the Mayor and Sassy were on their best behavior. Speaking of the Mayor's better half, you should really get acquainted with dear brave Sassy. There he is enjoying a laugh with the Mayor. In true form, Sassy was full of his signature sass, and the Mayor paraded around, especially pleased to be the honorary party guest.

Readers, be aware that Sassy's appearance is a rare jewel indeed. Sassy has long shunned my blog (for ethical reasons no doubt), but he graciously agreed to be included in this post. He was drunk, so I hope I don't hear from his attorney in the form of a subpoena. Sassy is modeling a choice Transformer t-shirt, which was--of course--a hit with me.





The Minx's long awaited arrival is documented as well. Minx, you look poised to enjoy yourself! We placed bets on the brand of rail liquor and / or hooch the Minx would bring. Usually, she successfully parlays a bottle of Yellow Tail after everyone is too inebriated to notice. She does this with the secret intent of killing buzzes and causing migraines. 50% of the time she is successful. In this case she brought a bottle of Red Bicyclette. The Minx was in luck, because we happened to have a Red Bicyclette expert on our hands. No. Really.





And there she is, the Red Bicyclette expert! Can you guess which one? That's right, the woman on the left. Her name is Josie, and to have secured her title as a true Red Bicyclette expert she entered an essay writing contest. The contest was orchestrated by Red Bicyclette. The object of the contest was to write an essay involving Red Bicyclette wine, while "describing (your) passion for the French countryside." So masterful was the essay Josie penned, that Red Bicyclette awarded her with an all expense paid trip to Paris--complete with red bicycles to tour the city. Truly, no one knows more about Red Bicyclette...not even the loved and loathed Alpana Singh.





There's the Crafty Weasel, looking more like Harry Potter than ever. It is undeniable; the resemblance is uncanny. Can anyone tell the difference? For those of you who are stumped, below is Harry Potter. (Or is it soft porn?)





And here...is the Crafty Weasel. (Or is it soft porn?) Note the Weasel's art as he slinks around attempting to beat the Minx to choice sweet treats like cupcakes, hummus, fruit kabobs, meats, and cheeses. He was actually sniffing the air and accusing the Escape Goat of hiding a turducken.





M'Arcy Webber and Helmut made cameo appearances as well. DeLorian was waiting outside. Here Buckles the Fickle Feather and M'Arcy Webber sift through meager remnants left by the Minx and the Weasel.





And let's not forget Prêt-à-Porter, who arrived with his entire entourage in tow. Below, Prêt-à-Porter scorns a tragic pattern worn by an individual whose identity is being protected. After looking into the belly of the beast, mouth agape, Prêt-à-Porter needed to be taken outside and revived with smelling salts. There was initial concern that he had lapsed into anaphylactic shock, but he proved resilient.

As the Escape Goat disappears into the night, the Mayor chats up the Red Bicyclette expert and companion.





Incase you're wondering where the Escape Goat was off to, wonder no more! She was off to chat up more characters, and stepped outside to visit Prêt-à-Porter's entourage, Ray Gun and Adonis. Just look at Adonis absorbing the hot gossip. Have you ever seen someone so enthralled with a good trash-talking? Look how he leans forward and clutches the seat of his chair, and note how the Escape Goat is especially enjoying the undivided attention (sans community theater background).





There were plenty of characters outside, and--as you can see--the Minx is at the center of the character universe. Go, Minx! Rawk the house unabashedly. (Just don't brand anyone with that cigarette. The Escape Goat does not want a miniature crop circle seared into her left forearm. She has no plans to audition for the role of an extra in M. Night Shyamalan's Signs II: an Ace of Base Opera.)





Here, Ray Gun scouts the crowd for a formidable Mah Jongg challenger. Seeing nothing but dullards and chuckleheads, she turns her attention to the camera. As I snapped this shot she sneered, "I could take all of these suckers down in under twenty seconds. Maybe ten."





Back inside, the Mayor and Sassy fleeced the crowd like seasoned pick pockets...





Below, the Weasel is telling his favorite party story. Many of you who know and love the Weasel are perfectly aware that he worked in a poultry processing plant in Thailand as a high school foreign exchange student. During this time, his thumbs were accidentally hacked off while deboning the breast of a Phoenix. Consequently, they were replaced by the toes of an organ donor. However, this particular organ donor happened to be a criminal who donated his body to science. So the Weasel's thumbs are actually the toes of a criminal mastermind--not just any mastermind--a genius safecracker who was so good he could crack a safe with his toes! Sometimes the Weasel's mysterious "thumbs" seem to have a mind of their own. He can crack a safe blindfolded, but each time he does, he donates the money to a Romanian orphanage.





Ray Gun! You won't find the Mah Jongg board in here! It's well hidden because the Escape Goat is afraid of your superior skills.





Oh no, Escape Goat, don't run yourself ragged! Even the Get 'Cha Some Ferry has commented on your effortless hostess skills. Just look at the happy conversation in the foreground.





Only a couple more hours to go, Escape Goat, and victorious success is yours! If only we could arrange for a ball to fall from the top of the Sears Tower at the stroke of midnight. This would dually signal your glory and commemorate the moment. Yes! Success includes cucumber sandwiches!





Prêt-à-Porter tries his hand with the sturdy Emergency Corkscrew of 2006. Don't sweat it, Prêt-à-Porter, you will find that the Emergency Corkscrew of 2006 does all the work for you.





In the words of the immortal Freddie Mercury, "Another one bites the dust." Flawless execution, Prêt-à-Porter. You deserve a victory lap. Observe how the Mayor and Escape Goat completely missed that amazing rally on your part! Bystanders! Fortunately, it has been digitally documented and reproduced exclusively on this blog.






You will note that ever since the Minx cracked her bottle of Red Bicyclette she did not move one centimeter from the seat you see her in below; few pictures of her taken this evening deviated from said stance. She strategically arrived early enough to hit the buffet and retire in a choice sunbeam on the back porch.





The best part was that the Minx was so afraid of giving up her prime seat, that every time a friendly face appeared to be making for the kitchen she waved her empty wine glass aloft and clamored for a beverage refill. She was waving her glass around like a baby with an empty bottle. Shameless.





A recap of the conversation in the below photograph:

Attractive Stranger: Haven't I seen you around; you look familiar?
Prêt-à-Porter: You don't know me, but I'm sure you recognize my work.
Attractive Stranger: Oh yeah?
Prêt-à-Porter: I'm Sam Champion's wardrobe man.
Attractive Stranger: Sam Champion? Of course! The gayest weatherman to grace the airwaves? Is he really building a love nest on the Jersey coastline with Mike Piazza?
Prêt-à-Porter: Well, that's actually part of a larger conspiracy. Queers plan to takeover the Jersey shoreline at a rate rivaling Mexico's plan to gradually infiltrate the country through our porous borders and expand Mexican territory by populating the southwestern states.
Attractive Stranger: Yeah, they never did get over that messy Alamo incident. So Jersey? Huh. Maybe I should sell my house on the coast now while the getting's good. Who knew?
Prêt-à-Porter: You know how it is--we got sick of San Francisco, the Keys, and Broadway. Malibu's too expensive. So--Jersey'll do.
Attractive Stranger: Wow. Well, Sam's a great dresser. You do a wonderful job.
Prêt-à-Porter: Thanks. So can I borrow that scarf? It will make a lovely ascot for Sam's new velvet smoking jacket.
Attractive Stranger: Okay, but only if he does the weather in it!
Prêt-à-Porter: Of course! He always does the weather in velvet smoking jackets!







Below, Sassy demonstrates good citizenry as he gives a couple of lost Belgium tourists instructions back to the Blue Line. They wandered into our event and we welcomed them like family. As noted, Sassy and the Mayor were impeccably behaved; there was not one report of their special fiery brand of mercucian drama. The Mayor even resisted the urge to make her way through the Wendy's drive though (on foot) and demand Biggie fries and a Biggie frosty "for dipping the fries," while Sassy tossed his hands heavenward and screamed, "Welcome to my world!"






Below, the Mayor demonstrates the aforementioned sour akimbo, a deadly stance indeed. If this man didn't pay for their conversation with his life, he has the luck of the Irish.






Rarely have I witnessed such a melancholy visage. Just look! Can anyone spare a smile? One glance at Prêt-à-Porter, and I knew he needed a good crime spree. Unfortunately, house arrest has inhibited his mercenary business. As we sat on the steps of the Escape Goat's magnificent balcony, we looked out onto the alley and contemplated legal alternatives. Suddenly, we knew success was ours for the plucking. Behold, a Trixie and a Chad were carting down two perfectly good chairs meant for an ill-fated encounter with the dumpster. Dare we intervene and trick fate? To those chairs we whispered, "Chairs, you two guys have a date with destiny." What followed pushed us very close to eclipsing the Escape Goat's gold star for the night.





We both knew what we had to do. The chairs would be ours, and they would make their new home in the Escape Goat's abode. We knew exactly where to put them. Obscured by palm fronds, we watched and waited. The Trixie, too feeble and winded to lift the chair into the dumpster, set the pace by positioning the chair beside the dumpster. The Chad followed suit, and sat his chair beside hers. He dusted his palms, put his hands on his hips, and gestured up and down the alley. The Trixie's response was gleeful; she giggled and caressed his arm. No doubt they were sharing a laugh about the possibility of their chairs being retrieved from the trash before the first rays of sun. Little did they know how accurate this astute Chad's prediction would prove. Once they retreated into the shadows to commit atrocious acts of accounting fraud, we made our move.





Predictably, the chairs were ours. We each hoisted a chair and returned to the Escape Goat's with our bounty. We were met with thunderous applause and a hero's welcome. The Escape Goat--on the other hand--twitched her left eye and nervously furrowed her brows when she saw us. Like two mutated snails on growth hormones, we carted the chairs on our backs. We triumphantly staked out the ideal real-estate for them, and enjoyed their spoils.

Prêt-à-Porter and I shared a moment of serenity after our drunken alley pillaging. The result of our booze fueled reconnaissance efforts secured the below items. Indeed, many looked upon our finds with envy and resentment, but we were not stingy. We know how to share and be fair, a lesson for the greedy youth culture of today.






Finally, after hard work and toil, our hopes came to fruition. Let that be a lesson to all of you daydreamers! See Minx! Follow your dreams! You can colonize all of North America with pandas--all you have to do is build a climate controlled air bubble to house the continent (or just enlist the services of Dubai's Sheikh Mohammed bin Rashid al-Maktoum, who will accomplish this charming task in between tending to his encapsulated downhill ski resort and the Burj Dubai). As Emily Dickinson wrote, "Hope is a thing with feathers" (but so is a chicken before it becomes a McNugget).





Since the chairs' abandonment, kidnapping, and subsequent adoption into the Escape Goat's household, the Escape Goat reports that she has "been unable to look at them." She is clearly in a period of rejection. Her true feelings can be read on her scandalous blog of ill repute. Indeed, the 20/20 vision of sobriety revealed suspicious stains on the cushions and the formidable odor of Trixie on one, and Chad on the other. As a result, we named the chairs Chad and Trixie. Maybe the chairs aren't the most sanitary. True, advanced mold spores in the crevices of one cushion show evidence supporting Darwin's theory of evolution; the fabled "Missing Link" is formed in silhouette. We advised the Escape Goat to auction the cushion off on E-Bay. (Ever since the Crafty Weasel auctioned off his left kidney on E-Bay, he has been able to afford travel to Samoa, Tanzania, and Helsinki.)






The chairs provided an excellent vantage point. For instance, are his feet seriously on the table? Are you kidding me? And a buffet at that. Who is he? Kubla Khan? What is this? His palatial pleasure dome? Someone needs to read Tiffany's Table Manners for Teens. Only Jesus Christ can answer the question, "Were you born in a barn?" with an affirmative, "Yes," not this guy! Georaffe, shame, shame, you know your name...





Quick, Ray-Gun poise your lens to the right and you'll find Georaffe's feet propped in a bowl of gourmet jelly beans on the buffet table.





At this point, the crowd was thinning and only the stragglers remained. Finally, a moment of respite for the Escape Goat. Below the Mayor and Escape Goat share a beverage while reminiscing over the highlights of the evening: a live performance by the Ditty Bops, the addition of two amazing chairs, a congratulatory phone call from Wolfie (of The Wolfie Report fame), and a notable lack of drama. What a perfect engagement party!





Gin (short for Gin and Tonic), to the left of the Escape Goat, was awarded the Most Valuable Partier award. This MVP exhibited stamina, good humor, a jolly disposition, and a particularly nimble sense of flexibility when faced with the Dour Couple (who I dare not mention further). Below, she graciously accepts her due accolades with a warm grin.





Below is the portable Mayor / Sassy flip-book! You can cut out each picture, reproduce several times, staple together, and flip through! I hope Sassy will especially enjoy the flip-book as he is engaged in numerous academic distractions and might need a little break! Enjoy, Sassy! Here is Flip 1 (in which the Mayor pulls out all of her anti-PDA spunk for the camera, and Sassy's signature sass gets the best of him):





Here is Flip 2 (in which the Mayor looks snarly and Sassy is being devilish):





Here is Flip 3 (in which the Mayor puts on a brave face and strategically obscures the Transformer logo clashing with her garment):





Here is Flip 4 (in which the happy couple is on uncharacteristically good behavior):





The Mayor was pleased to showboat her hip party dress...





But I like this picture better because of the faint glow of a tiki torch in the background...





As this blog has noted, thanks to his youthful looks and resemblance to Harry Potter, the Crafty Weasel is a hit with sprightly teenagers. But I don't think I have pointed out his cult following of gay men. This too, is due to the Weasel's youthful looks and resemblance to Harry Potter. In short, the Weasel has legions of fans, but he always keeps it real for their sake. Below, he shares a relaxing moment with Sassy. It's precious time with friends--like this special event--that really help a cult figure like the Weasel decompress. He is truly in his element when he can unwind away from the strobe lights and disco balls of the dance floor. Sure, his nimble limbs just gotta dance, but his mind is restless and and full of big dreams.





The Weasel is getting ready to slink out into the night. Back to Hogwarts with you, Crafty Weasel. Perhaps the Weasel's greatest contribution to the festivities were his investigative skills. In front of the Escape Goat's--accompanied by the Minx--he inquired unto a passerby as to the devastation of the Escape Goat's iron gate. This had long remained a mystery and was the topic of heated debate on the bloggosphere. The passerby denied any involvement, but claimed that an attempted hit and run murder had occurred. The attempt was unsuccessful and the iron gate paid with its life. To the iron gate, I bid you farewell, sir, and note that such is the price of stagnancy resulting from a fixed root system.





Look what I saw while peeking through the knothole in Pepper's wooden leg; A beast of burden on the Mayor's brain.





Buckles and Gin share a laugh at the Weasel's expense. Once again, his "thumbs" went awry. Crafty Weasel! He folded sixteen cocktail napkins into origami swans and dismantled them all in under two minutes. Oh, to have bionic thumbs!





Below, the Mayor eats the last of the delicious fruit kabobs. Ray Gun spent ninety hours in a searing desert oasis cutting up fruit for the kabobs. Then she transported it--on foot--back to the thriving metropolis of Chicago (at which point she collapsed and handed the fruits off to me). I impaled all of the fruit with skewers (which was really fun). M'Arcy Webber commented that "the kiwi next to the banana was pure genius." I told her I was partial to the strawberry next to the pineapple, but she rejected that idea.





Below, Buckles is modeling a wonderful lion's head door-knocker earring. The magic of the earring can be seen if you tug on the ring and knock on Buckles's neck three times. A portal to the land of Rainbow Bright will open inside of his mouth. There you will find only peace and harmony. There you will find a table--in the middle of a plush meadow--where all of the representatives of the United Nations have gathered to vote on Kofi Annan's noble successor and drink Crystal Lite.





The next set of pictures is primarily designed to document Trixie and Chad's popularity. Below we see the Mayor lounging with Chad. What this picture does not show is the velvet rope and burly doorman checking identification for the line of people waiting to sit on Chad or Trixie.




Everyone has their favorite. Chad is popular with the ladies and gay men. He believes in tough love, and is easy on the eyes. When asked to describe his most loathsome quality, he's quick to confess, "I'm not one to bathe on a regular basis, but if that's what you want you've come to the wrong place." Chad's favorite music is Frank Sinatra, Barry White, and Al Greene. Chad's fear of commitment makes him compatible with all of you social butterflies. Sit a spell and move on, he's not one to kiss and tell. He is no stranger to rough riders or quickies--he loves the abuse--and if you only hang around for a few minutes, Chad won't mind. For all of you gay men eyeing Chad, he's obviously a bottom, and he's not one to discriminate.

Trixie has intimacy issues, and this makes her the perfect dominatrix. In fact, her name is a shortened version of the word. She's not as dirty as Chad, but her mold spots actually have teeth and bite. (If you prefer they'll have a conversation with you. In French.) She's also not as soft as Chad. If your ass is sensitive and inclined towards a cushion with a lot of give, look elsewhere. Trixie will refuse to conform to your ass.





Bathed in yellow, Prêt-à-Porter models the golden lion's head door knocker earring. Incase you are wondering how he acquired it, he kicked Buckles's ass in a butter knife fight. But more importantly--what's that I see in the background of the photograph? Despite her better judgment and protestations, the Escape Goat is spotted warming up to Chad and Trixie. Below, she is seen sitting on Trixie's face. Contrary to popular belief, Prêt-à-Porter is not seen sitting on Chad's face. Who is enjoying Chad's company?





Adonis! Even Adonis could not resist the magnetic charm of a musty alley chair. I don't understand why the Escape Goat has had such a difficult time warming up to Chad and Trixie. A little Fabreeze and a Lysol douche--Vwalah!--success!





Even the Mayor and Sassy enjoyed time alone with Chad and Trixie.





Happy times, Mayor! With a winning smile like that you could charm the hood off of a cobra! This party was your time to shine, and from the dress to the guests you rocked it like a magic kiss! Congratulations, Mayor!





Congratulations Sassy! I know your dirty side secretly enjoyed my very inappropriate toast! Cheers and Success! Until I have the pleasure of seeing you slink around in your sass-pants again, I will count off the days to a rendezvous at Carol's Country Bar. I will expect to see you in brown leather chaps and a matching Stetson. At which point, I remain hopeful that your famously luscious locks will have grown back.






Below, Prêt-à-Porter presides over the final moments with the iron fist of Mao Tse-Tung. Beware all; in this court, he is judge, jury, and executioner. He points accusingly at Sassy and shouts, "GUILTY AS CHARGED! ON ALL COUNTS! Count One, of being in possession of a tight ass in sassy pants! Count two; for honoring the Transformers before G.I. Joe's Cobra Commander. All Your Snakes Are Belong to Us! Count Three; for shaving off your luscious locks! As a penalty I declare 5 million hours of community service for Locks of Love! Court is adjourned!"

"FIRST!" shouts the Mayor, "Let me get my sweet massage on!"





Deciding that he had been defied and foiled, Prêt-à-Porter imploded into his left ear. Needless to say, it was not a pretty sight. Sassy ran for cover, and the Mayor--who stood her ground--had to solemnly look away and hold her breath.





That was a close call, Prêt-à-Porter. Glad to see you materialized with all of your parts in the right place. Just look at Adonis! Not only is he beautiful, but he also stands like Superman! Is he looking for a phone booth? Someone! Throw a kryptonite snowball--let's test his mettle! I can tell by their expressions that these two just want to get home and stick pins in their Project Runway Jeffrey doll.





All that remained when the fun swept through:





Prêt-à-Porter is on the verge of collapsing into a dish of hummus; it must be getting late. Time to go!






The Escape Goat has plenty to smile about! Fun was--indeed--on the agenda. Once again, the Escape Goat has earned the title of the hostess with the mostess. Congratulations, on another successful event at your digs! And this time, what happier cause for festivities than on behalf of the Mayor and Sassy! Escape Goat, you are a conduit of fun!