When you mingle with the movers and shakers the way I do, when you're an influential political figure the way I am, and when charm and graciousness oozes from your every pore the way mine oozes, well- people are drawn in to your magnetism.
In addition to numerous invitations to cotillions, bat mitzvahs and retirement parties, I find myself with frequent houseguests at Maison de Whiskey. Why, just last week I was lounging by the pool (bathtub) sipping champagne (kool-aid & gin), eating bonbons (cheetos dipped in nacho cheese) and having a highly intelligent debate about global warming (American Gladiators vs. Ninjas, who would win) with my guest (moocher)- Rob Schneider (Rob Schneider).
This past weekend I was graced with the pleasure of opening my doors and my heart to Fernando von Bakonstein, known affectionately to his friends as IHoG.
IHoG normally resides at the International House of Blogcakes with the witty and totally comfortable with his femininity McGone. IHoG showed up on McGone's doorstep at Christmas, and like most houseguests quickly overstayed his welcome and grew tiresome.
McGone and IHoG mutually decided that Fernando would embark on a tour of the world, making stops at various blogger's homes for fun, laughter...and love. IHoG was then sent off with much fanfare (stuffed into an envelope in the middle of the night) and thus his journey began.
So far, he rang in the new year, then he traveled to the bustling metropolis that is Iowa, and then he shopped, dined and saw the sights in the Windy City.
Now, he has just wound up a wild weekend in the fair capitol city of St. Paul, MN with yours truly- Whiskeymarie von Partypants.
Our weekend, in pictures:
It was a beautiful winter day when IHoG arrived. Our first stop was the Capitol building. It was a bit brisk, so I gave Fernando a jaunty red scarf to keep his jowls warm. He thanked me and proceeded to take a dump on the capitol lawn.
Fernando got into a very heated argument with a gentleman named Adolf about bratwurst vs. knockwurst. Fernando bit Adolf in the kneecap and we were then asked to leave.
We stopped at one of our local convenience stores because Fernando wanted to pick up some Coor's light, twinkies, No-Doz and condoms. He's a big boy, I didn't ask any questions.
But I did buy some Powerball tickets and asked IHoG for a good luck kiss, which he did marginally well (no tongue next time, dude).
Fernando expressed an interest in learning how to ski, being in the land of snow bunnies and all. I myself have never done it, so I figured I was perfectly suited to teach him. Those who can't do, teach- right? Other than a near-miss involving a grizzly bear and the "avalanche" incident, I think we did a smashing good job.
Back at the lodge, I got us some drinks and we settled in to warm our little trotters. We ran into an old friend of mine, Swinella Jamon. Swinella is technically "royalty"- fourth in line to the throne in the now-nonexistent country of Bolognesten. The whole crown-wearing thing is a bit much, but she sure knows how to have a good time, that girl.
The weather took a turn for the worse, so we decided to get a room and stay the night.
We settled in with martinis and the welcome company of the lovely Swinella.
A good time was had by all. I must have dozed off (passed out), and when I woke up Fernando and Swinella had spilled their drinks and nodded off (ditto.) on the floor. I tucked them into separate beds, then I curled up on the sofa and fell back asleep.
You can well imagine my surprise when I woke at 2:30 a.m. to this:
I shielded my eyes and ran out of the room.
Later, in the hotel's lounge, Fernando and I sat down, had a smoke and discussed the weekend's events. We both decided that this moral transgression needed to be absolved somehow.
Since it was Sunday, we decided to take the IHoG to get some spiritual enlightenment at the nearby Temple.
The IHoG? Buddhist? Huh- who'd have thunk it?
The happy Buddha laughed at IHoG's crazy tale from the weekend, and told him he was just a naive young porker needing moral guidance in his journey around the world.
He said he needed to get the hell away from me.
Off to Seattle to see Gretta!
Well McGone, your sweet young Fernando may have left Illinois a non-smoking, sober, Catholic, virgin boy- but he's finishing his journey as a promiscuous, hard-drinking, Buddhist, man-sized smoked ham.
Fare thee well, IHog, Fare thee well.