Manhattan Transfer

Just to be totes effin clear, the birthday bash described below was not mine. It was my brother, Overserved, who is living in D.C. for his sins.

My birthday is at the end of this month. There will be a massive, booze-soaked party on Saturday, February 5th. If I know you, you are invited. Even if you are my arch-enemy. Mark your mutha effin calendars.

And, since I've been neglecting the blog lately, I'm going to have to do this hizzy up hit and run style.

They Don't Make Jews Like Jesus Anymore: But somehow they made one like Kinky Friedman. Kinkster is a man, a myth and a Texan. Also an old friend of the Manhattan Transfer tribe. He's running to become the governator of Texas. Someone call Neil Pollack and get Neil to be to be Kink's running-mate. Bernie get your Texans out working for Kink, STAT.

Arranged Marriage Blogging is the New Black: My favorite arranged marriage blogger is back as Bridal Beer. Not sure why she abandoned her old blog. But the new one is hot. Check it.

When I was a child, I imagined death as being a collective experience. As the lion roared for one last time and the monsoon clouds ripped their chests for the last July shower, we would suddenly drop to the ground, hands extended, tongues out. Dead.

As a young adult, death seems too trivial an encounter. What casts shadows of fear is life. Especially if you are on the verge of an impending engagement with a guy you don't particularly want to kiss-and never have. (Assuming you are a woman. Or a man.)

He was "26 yrs computer professional, Brahmin, 5' 10'', Ivy-educated looking for family values working girl bride of reputed North Indian family, no dowry, willing to settle in US". Soon he will father my children and be the financer of my groceries. We will share toothpaste and possibly memories.

In an arranged marriage, the premise is that you kiss a frog on the first night(and for the first time)- to convert him into a notional prince.

Which reminds me of a video about illegal activities between a woman and two frogs. Can I bring my ex-boyfriend's porn collection as dowry? I stole them when we broke up and I'm too sentimental to E-bay away those romantic Tuesday nights.

We're Totes Crushing Out on Writers Bloc: I'm not even sure I can explain this one. I know what you're thinking--girl, dating misadventures, loneliness--been there, done that. But the WB is different. Uhm, read her misfortunes on this date and see if you agree. Unfortes, fellas, she's on a dating hiatus so we'll have to move along, nothing to see here.

The Bestest Thing That Could Ever Happen: Scroll backadaeffup to Thursday's Gratuitous Hot Woman. We have Brother Lawrence to thank for repeatedly posting pictures of his friend Kristin. And as if the pic-a-boos weren't enough, he tells the story of how she managed to accidentally climb naked into be with a middle-aged neighbor. When he woke up in the morning and found this beautiful stranger beside him, he threatened to call the cops. Not so bright.

Too Much, Too Little: I've got a backlog of tales of woe and wonder I need to get out soon. The big day at the village Tavern. Mistakes at Misshapes. Dinner at Porcupine. Revelry in the Beauty Bar. Bar fights at Mars Bar. I swear I'm going to get around to this stuff soon. Stay tuned. Same MT Time, Same MT Channel.