News from the (snowed-in) BAT Cave
January 2010
Hi, Batfans!
Boy, do we miss you all! December 6 was a long time ago, especially in dog years. And we won’t see you again until our next Natasha’s gig on March 6…big ol’ bummer. Plus our skin is dry, our pants are tight, our heels are chapped, we’ve lost our mittens, our bathrobes are worn out, we’re sick of our furniture, our dogs look at us and whine, we can’t afford new Spanx, there’s still tinsel wound around the jets in the dishwasher (don’t ask), nobody invites us out anymore, our knees are tight, there’s mold in the shower, the dryer ate six socks, HI1N1 is coming back, Sting is not our lover, UK lost to somebody, and we’ve got gas.
On the bright side, our very own Marianne has recovered beautifully from some scary surgery, and has been officially pronounced cured of her endometrial cancer stage 1B. No chemo or radiation called for, hooray! We are grateful and thrilled that she’ll be back to her old feisty self by the time March rolls around. In fact, she says she’ll be more “feisty” than ever (that’s a euphemism for “irritable”), due to the instant menopause brought on by her surgery. We say, “So what, punk? You got nothin’ on the rest of us! We can out-feisty you any day of the week.” Knowing Marianne, she’s spent her down time writing songs; can’t wait to see what she’s found to rhyme with “feisty.”
Let’s see…what else is new? Some of you know that Jim Gleason is now Dr. Jim, since he defended his dissertation and was awarded his Ph.D. from UK in early December. Very big deal, and we’re all so proud. Now he has no excuse not to help out more around the house. We’ll just call him Dr. Rock as he sweeps the kitchen or clips the poodles’ toenails. And Melanie is about to become a monster-in-law! Daughter Allie is getting hitched. All we can say is, that fiancé better watch his p’s and q’s. We know how Melanie is about those daughters of hers. She’s like a pit bull with a T-bone. Oh, wait. Mel’s a vegetarian. She’s more like a rabid rabbit with a Brussels sprout and some Hollandaise: healthy, but equipped with a generous supply of Beano.
In the fake news department, Marilyn shocked her friends and relatives (but not us) when she announced that she was departing for 3 months to attend boot camp at a kibbutz in Jackson, Mississippi, in preparation for a coup des tatas, during which she intends to unseat Sweet Potato Queen Jill Conner Brown and uslurp her kingdom of…um…sweet taters. Husband Art is showing his support by eating his weight in yams and Marshmallow Fluff every other day. On the off days, he drinks. A lot.
Susan plans to spend her time before March 6 visiting family in Wagner’s The Ring Cycle. She hasn’t seen the Valkyries (on her mother’s side) in a waschbar’s age, and time has not been kind to them. Brunhilde has had to put Woton into a nursing home, but he complains bitterly that Siegmund and Sieglinde, the twins, are too busy carrying on their incestuous schtumping to visit. After all, he’s only der vader! And don’t even mention Fafner and Fasolt to Susan. After they screwed up the granite countertops at Valhalla and ate every golden apple in the kitchen, she’s not speaking to them. The Three Norns are a different matter; they’re a barrel of fun, especially after they’ve chugged a couple of gloggs. Susan says she’ll be glad to get back home as soon as the world burns down, the gods are destroyed, and the Rhinemaidens once again possess their gold. Which should take about 4 operas or 17 hours, whichever comes first. Hang in there, Susan!
Harold and Craig have formed a limited partnership based on their mutual respect and admiration for each other. They’re trying to develop a business model on which to build a company that showcases their vast and various talents without making them slaves to The Man. Craig, as you may know, is a wonderful cook; Harold, as you’ve no doubt heard, likes cowboy hats. Craig loves to watch football; Harold is a fan of Marco Polo in the pool at the Y. Craig says “tomato;” Harold says “I’m allergic.” We just hope these two crazy kids can work something out. With the right small business loan and legislative approval of medical marijuana, we know they will. Cheers, boys! Let us know when you schedule the ribbon-cutting ceremony so we can invite Gatewood!
As for Missy, well…hmm…’nuff said. She’s exhausted from making all this stuff up. Can you believe she used “stuff” instead of “sh*t?” What’s up with that?
Speaking of stuff, how about telling us some of yours? We’d love to hear from you on our FaceBook page, The Bats KY. We need more friends, obviously, so we don’t have to sit around on a Friday night writing Batmail. You can also follow us on Twitter at BatsKY. Melanie, our FaceBook/Twitter maven, has all kinds of plans for us, including getting us on Ellen, and we need an army of FaceBook Friends to help us make that happen. Is she crazy? Let’s find out! It’ll be a good way to kill some time before March 6, when we can all get together in person, like people used to do when they had front porches, sitting parlors, and calling cards. You know, like when we were kids in 1900.
Marshmallow Fluff sounds pretty good about now. It comes in chocolate, right?
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