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Monday, October 15, 2007

A WEEKEND IN HELEN, orFETCH ME MY HANDBASKET

When it’s Fall and the autumnal air smells like an indefinable something
That might be woodsmoke, or falling leaves, or maybe the aroma of the frost on the pumpking
That’s when the Blown-eyed Blodgers assemble in Helen at the Chalet Kristy
To swap stories, hang out, and consume ridiculous amounts of Chatham Artillery Punch and get moderately pisty.

It’s the only place I know where a middle-aged man will stand in a parking lot and shimmy into a dirndl
That fits him reasonably well, although it would fit him better if he were wearing a girndl,
And which makes his Lady Friend wonder, no doubt, if it’s he, not she, who is saddled with a bunch of Key Issues,
But meanwhile, everyone else is laughing so hard that they need to wipe their faces with tissues.

Some people drive Miles to generate smiles and Perverse Sheepish Forms of Amusement
By bringing devices that call to mind Vices and various types of Self-Abusement.
His lovely wife (Holder) is a rara avis, by which I mean an unusual creature,
Who combines Bloggy Talent with the personally rewarding and yet extremely difficult task of being a Science Teacher.
With them came a friend, one Michelle, who is involved in the Performing Arts as both an actress and director,
And if you want someone to party with who can, incidentally, schlep a cripple up a flight of stairs, well, you’d do good to select ’er.

Did someone say cripple? Yes, we had one with us who claims to be both Elderly and Grouchy,
Who, when we started carrying him down the cabin’s staircase, we dumped unceremoniously on his back, where he lay in a sort of Fetal Crouchy.

Those two Manly Men (I mean Jimbo and Ken), who hail from the state of New Jersey,
Drove down so that Jim could play his Git-Box and regale us with a few Choons, even though it meant taking a break from blogging from the Place Alongside the Highway Where You Pee.

Zonker showed up, sans mullet and tats,
And, for that matter, sans blog, which at least means no posts about Recipes and Cats.

Joan of Argghh came up in her cargghh, bringing along the Legendary Jolly Roger and a bag full of amusing devices,
And Catfish arrived with a truckload of shrimp and several handy sacks of Shrimp-Boiling Spices.

It’s fair to say that there is one couple without whom no visit to Helen is complete:
Yes, that would be Ricondo 32 and Miss Georgia, who apparently has a “thing” for Monkeys, as evidenced by her actions at both this and the last blogmeet.

Sam and Barbie trundled in from North Carolina in order to make their appearance.
Barbie took about 800 photos, some of which are likely to show up on the Internet regardless of whether or not their subjects have granted them advance clearance.

RSM dropped by on both Friday and Saturday evenings, and even showed up uniformed and camoed,
Attentive to duty as he was, he didn’t drink much, preferring to hang out and watch everyone else get hammoed.

Driving up in his trailer from Florida was GuyK and the lovely Sweetthing, along with their brace of poodles and a Coleman stove for food-warming,
It’s easy to see why the Bloggy World at large thinks this guy is Charming, Just Charming.

Taking a break from Talledega were Kelly and the Senior Chief, who showed up Saturday just in time for dining and Adult Libation.
Good thing we didn’t eat Indian food, or Kelly would’ve had an entirely different (and much more unpleasant) Restroom Revelation.

John Cox brought his sketchbook and proceeded to create a series of Visual Impressions,
And the bloggers he made them impressions of will soon be paying their Head-Shrinkers for an seemingly endless series of Therapeutic Sessions.

Dax came in his leather hat and serape, causing several random passers-by on the streets of Helen to hum, under their breath, the Mexican Hat Dance.
Listening to him tell the story of the Glass-Eye Girl’s job interview is about the most fun you can have while wearing pants.

Leslie flew all the way from Chicago, just so she could be with the rest of us -
And I’m still trying to figure out if she would have been better off simply driving her Omnibus.

The Wiseass Jooette did not miss the festivities, managing to get all the way from Brooklyn to Helen just in time for Shabbos:
“What’s a nice Brooklyn girl doing in a place like this?” “Getting shikker with all the Blown-Eyed Bloggos.”

Eric, the Straight White Guy, came down from Tennessee with his lovely bride Fiona,
Only to play half-rubber under the influence of Chatham Artillery Punch and nearly give himself a hionia.

Elisson and SWMBO arrived Friday evening, too early for dinner but well past the hour for lunch,
And he was armed with five gallons of that most deadly beverage, the aforementioned Chatham Artillery Punch.
That punch is good stuff, but if one drinks too much of it, one might possibly have a complaint,
And that complaint is, that Elisson may have had some of it too, and is now regaling everybody with poems about Warheads and Taint.

[Apologies to Ogden Knish]

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