Wonkette
- PARTY ADVICE: Don’t show up TOO fashionably late, unless you enjoy standing in the cold! [Wonkette Inaugural Ball -- Facebook]
JESUS CHRIST
rascist, sexist, homophobic, sizeist Sonic Wall is blocking me from visiting Facebook at work. Do tell- what are the dire predictions of turnout? Will it be like a Wal-Mart stampede during the holidays or more like Hell’s Angels at Altamont?
You guys should invite some of those hoboes that are going to be stiffed by the gawking tourists come to DC to get a look-see at that there colored Prezodent.
89th anniversary of prohibition today. So drink in honor of the poor dry souls who suffered this very day.
Haha, you can keep your Facebook-based ball thingie.
I wish you would quit talking about the party that all the cool kids are going to. You’re like those kids on facebook who just become your friend so they can write on eachother’s walls stuff like, “I can’t wait for the party. It’s gonna rock so bad. A keg and then hot tubbing!!! Woo Hoo!” but you’re not invited and in fact, you are sitting in your parents’ cold basement with your dog farting under the ugly cheap desk that has the 10-year old Compaq on it that you’re reading about the cool peoples’ party on. Because I live like about 3,000 miles away, and I’m gonna be smelling that farting dog on Inaugural Night.
I am standing outside Jim’s house. It is cold, but his friendliness and godliness keeps me warm, inside. Also.
Mustang: They’ll be farts you’ll always remember, farts you tell your grandchildren about.
Mustang: I know. Punks. Some of us are in CA, broke, and have to work. Not all of us can be fancy DC bloggers, you know.
Aw they’re probably serving Bud Lite, flat Fresca and rancid Hot Buttered Groat Clusters anyway. Who would want to go to that? Snife.
space stout: what’s the difference?
Also.
Monsieur Grumpe:
Sniff you moran SNIFF!!!
What time is Ken’s holographic appearance?
Hourly casualty reports are required.
So…what qualifies as too fashionably late? The facebook thingy says it goes on til 4am…
Wonktards are social beings? Wow, I’ve got this place all wrong. I figgered everyone here hates-slash-fears others, and preferred to interact through the computer dealy. Like a snarky version of 2nd life.
Or have I just been missing the code language, and the anti-social behavior is just a cover, and what’s really going on in DC tonight is a hate-sex orgy for Furries with teh gay?
shortshortshorts: that, and the Peach Scnapps…
Whoops, schnapps….
Will there be undercover police?
I can’t come. Somebody please end every sentence with “also” for me and maybe do some injuriously clumsy yoga …
HaHa. The joke is on you guys because the new Battlestar Galactica is on tonight.
MisterLoki: Seriously, if I can’t be drinking in D.C. at least I have a new BSG.
If it’s gonna be that kind of party, then I’m gonna put my dick in the mashed potatoes. [A gold star to the person who knows the recording that statement came from.] Also.
MisterLoki: That is the one consolation. So nuts to them. We get to find out who the final cylon is. So there…
Aslo, I hear as soon as Ken gets four or five in him, he always rips down a curtain rod and everybody has to limbo, fat postmenopausal women first. And then he HUMILIATES them. aols.
Pix of sexy shenanigans, plz!
j6n: Heck, I do that every day.
I am so looking forward to the schadenfreude that will erupt among us furries out here in ‘Merka when things go horribly wrong, and Ken makes good his threat to post names and occupations connected with profiles. Don’t think we’re above turning on our own–we’re not!
Toomush Infermashun: There is always that, in my bloodstream, I mean.
Also.
My safe word for tonight is: TERRORGOOSE
Dildo Baggins: We are a Warblog, after all.
Facebook is showing 264 confirmed guests. If my Facebook math is accurate, and I think it is, that means that exactly 6 people will show.
lenorecutie: Damn straight, and don’t foget it!
I’m out looking for free hookers in the Northwest, desu.
2druk2phluq: Do you mean the Beastie Boys song that sampled it, or the original source, which was some comedy album by some sub-Rudy Ray Moore emm-effer whose name I forget completely.
I’ll be wearing enough long underwear to protect my chastity and/or sleep on a grate.
Iggy Plop: This is the hope.
Also, please to be hiring an intern for the night and paying them with drinks to liveblog the party for us uncool kids who cannot attend in person. And tell them to describe everything in graphic detail and use the word “moist” a lot. Also.
Monsieur Grumpe: Mmmmm…hot buttered Groat clusters. Heavy on the thirty-weight, Mom!
Do unspeakably filthy things to cardboard cutouts of prominent political figures too!
Breaking news: Bill Frist, along with being able to diagnose retardation from 1,000 miles away, thinks that Bush saved 10 jillion skillion lives because he fought teh AIDS.
http://www.cnn.com/2009/POLITICS/01/15/frist.bush/index.html
johnnypantalones: date rape!!!
lenorecutie: Yeah, but there’s some Inauguration Reading in Echo Park featuring Tulsa Kinney, Gordy Grundy, adn some guy, and Tulsa and Gordy are two of the drunkest human beings I know. So, there’s always that. (Unless you’re in SF or something, in which case there’s gotta be some granola something or other going on, with patchouli and whatnot. And fuck you.)
G. Friday: Wow, you got a sewer grate? Man the per-day rate on one of those things this weekend must have cost you a fortune!
Can’t someone liveblog this?
Wait, isn’t Comics Curmudgeon going to liveblog this? He was going to do something important soon, I seem to remember.
President Beeblebrox: This is the saddest thing ever. Bush the healer? Two words, “multiplier effect.” Katrina + Kandahar + Kirkuk x “multiplier effect” > 10 million african homos.
Does this mean our revered editors are going to be too drunk to post anything else tonight? If so, a liveblog or pictures of people (w/Wonkette monikers named) puking or passing out would be a nice in the interim. Thank you
Texan Bulldoggette: *gasp* they totally should drunk post. Just think of all the out of focus pictures and posts that make no sense. Pure crazy.
Well, if the editors are too drunk to do their jobs and live-blog this event…the rest of the “cool” people should immediately post pics on the Facebook page. We can live vicariously through THAT.
And Karl Rove’s Twitter account, probably.
I hope we also get a hilarious “DO’S AND DON’TS OF WONKETTE PARTYING”, with two partygoers playing the Goofus and Gallant roles.
And if there isn’t a punchbowl filled with trucknutz at this thing, you are all failures of the highest magnitude. Do it for America, you few, you happy few, you band of trucknutz.
lenorecutie: It’s in Loudoun County. That’s close by, right?
Can’t Sara K Smith drunk-dial Nate Silver?
The Red Line is going to be a shit show isn’t? Too bad I’m too fucking poor to take a cab. Walking from Union Station ftw.
I’m freezing my ass off in Ohio.
How come I moved here, anyway?
*wahhhhhhhhhhhhhh*
~
Here’s a fun game you can play at the party: Act like Bill Kristol all night! Stumble around drunk saying things that are completely and utterly wrong and stupid and demonstrate that you are completely untethered from reality, and a member of the opposite sex (or same sex, if you’re a catamite!) will engage you in the sexytimes. Hey, it got the real Bill Kristol a high-paying, high-falutin’ gig at the damn liberal rag Jew York Times, the least it can do is get you a little strange.
Man, I should have been consulted in the planning of this thing, it seems so slapdash. Where are the announcements of the Pin The Tail On The PUMA contest? Where are the offers of whore diamonds and buttsecks as door prizes? Where are the promises of cash money prizes for the partygoer who offers the best HENNNGGGGH? For shame. For shame. Such opportunities should not be squandered.
There is nobody on the site. We are highly susceptible to PUMA attacks.
j6n: I AM HERE UNTIL I AM NO LONGER HERE. The world is safe.
shortsshortsshorts: Good, b/c I will soon be too drunk to hold vigil. Plus, Battlestar Galactica is on soon…
I’m pretty sure we’re gonna see Kara Thrace in a strap-on this episode.
j6n: I may not be here through Battlestar Galactica. The second I am FREE from these legal puzzles I will flee like the jews from Egypt. I will even part the Red Sea and shit. Also.
Is the strap-on the fifth Cylon? No, don’t tell me!
j6n: Those of us under attack from evil Canadian air can keep an eye on things. It isn’t like we can go outside without freezing to death.
j6n: I am a PUMA!
Bask in my glory, while the Wonkers all celebrate the Obama child!
Hillary was robbed!
Where’s my Hillary Vodka!
Wooo!!
shortsshortsshorts: Due to the low traffic, I was thinking of adding Buttsecks to the end of every comment thread, but in reality, I am far too lazy to do all that copy/paste/clicking.
Well, since Serolf Divad won’t be there, I decided to stay home and sit on the sofa in my jammies and eat chocolate. Have a great time folks!
Liquid: Hillz, menopause, buttsecks, suck it. NEXT!
j6n: Hillary wouldn’t do buttsecks.
It’s beneath her.
He he he…
j6n: That may not catch on, but you may want to try it anyway, buttsecks. Also.
hockeymom: You know, according to the 25th amendment, if the executive is disabled, s/he is replaced by the wittiest person in the room. This could lead to some disputes among the non-party attenders, but you have to think of the greater good.
Liquid: Hon, We’ll drink with you on that. Of course, we’ll drink to anything. But really, Hill’s only mistake was to marry that pig. In fact I see a big vag-pen rapprochement in the age of Obama. Call me crazy!!! (Please–I need help with my insurance company).
I just found out that my boyfriend wants to do Sara K. Smith. Just because I said I’d do Rahm Emmanuel. Except I was kidding. I don’t think he was.
ohiogal: at least he doesn’t want to do Larry Craig.
ohiogal: also, don’t ever kid about rahm emmanuel. ever.
ohiogal: as long as he doesn’t want to do Jim Newell, you’ll be fine.
j6n: Satan.
“The source of the mashed potatoes sample — according to Adam Horovitz and courtesy of Parkey — is comedian Mantan Moreland from his album That Ain’t My Finger.”
Paul’s Boutique was the best album, though.
This blog has the aura of an awkward Sunday morning search for your underwear and keys.