Kibitz ‘n Bits

posted by Brandy on Nov 7

My sister and her girlfriend had a Halloween party recently where everyone was required to come in costume. In the spirit, Dave and I dressed up as “Brad and Angelina”, and with four dolls in tow (one white and the other three black) we ventured over to the soirée.

The evening started off with some singing on the “Scary-oke” machine and of course, excess amounts of wine, whiskey and rum, all the while staring at the stream of costume clad people flowing in.

Then she appeared. A husky woman, with streaks of gray winding through her coal black hair. She was wearing gold bands that were hugging her wrists, shiny blue briefs speckled with stars, a satin red top that revealed aged bosoms and a gold tiara type headband. She was dressed as Wonder Woman.

…but not the Wonder Woman we all remember from our younger days with Lynda Carter, but rather an aged Wonder Woman, with sagging skin, bulging hips, jelly belly and a years supply of junk in her trunk.

Given that I had been chugging wine and was now belting out a horrible rendition of Hotel California on the karaoke machine, I glance over, see Wonder Woman saunter into the party and I blurt out (on the microphone, mind you), “Hey everyone, check it out! It’s OLD, FAT WONDER WOMAN! What a GREAT costume! That’s Hilarious. I mean LOOK at her!!!

The music seemed to immediately stop! I swear I heard the screeching of a record player needle scratch its way across an old LP. Then the room became quiet. “Old Fat Wonder Woman” looked at me with shock and disgust then “matter of factly” stated that she didn’t intend to dress up as Old, Fat Wonder Woman, but rather JUST Wonder Woman.

Apparently her gray streaked hair is natural and since her carefree days of youth are long gone, she has put on a “little” weight.

Damn me and my mouth. I politely apologized for the rude assumption and, as any wild party-goer would do, I blamed my verbal indiscretion on the wine (and the whiskey and the rum)…

I meandered away from the microphone to the food table in hopes that I would blend into the wall. Trying to hide from the crowd, I felt a tap on my shoulder and a bitter voice behind me asking, “SO, what are YOU dressed up ass??? Old Fat Angelina?”

I didn’t have to turn around to realize that it was the portly amazon. The bitch…