beulahbondo's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- How I came to be; plus ping-pong, pork, panelling Well, in typical Beulah fashion I've put the cart far ahead of the horse with this diary and assumed that readers know who I am. So here's a proper introduction: I'm Beulah, a character spun off from kittybukkake.diaryland.com. I'm Kitty's sidekick! What I lack in design sense I make up for with verbosity. While Kitty has esoteric interests and a vigorous sex life, I use a lot more commas. My real name is Beulah Haggerty-Solanas, but for the diary I've adopted the name Beulah Bondo, the given name of Beulah Bondi, who played Jimmy Stewart's mother in It's a Wonderful Life. I won't wear animal prints or anything asymmetrical, and deep down I believe that most people think about more interesting things than they talk about. People also love to read about themselves, just as they are transfixed by their image in a photo or on a Radio Shack video monitor. When some of the people at the party I just left heard that I kept a Web diary, they got all skittish about how they'd be portrayed, but you know they're delighted. I know I love to see myself in Kitty's diary. It's late enough that I'm going to be puffy and cranky tomorrow, so I'll keep this short, yet try to satisfy tonight's readers of tomorrow. Mr. Ron Coe of East Cambridge hosted a small drinks-and-ping-pong party at his home tonight. Ping-pong, for Ron Coe, is not an ironic pursuit but a true pastime. He's good. And I was pleased to be his partner in an undefeated string of doubles games. We beat the wiry yet erratic Night Train (the shorter of the two tall architects) and his lovely partner, who seemed to be crippled by her enormous platform sandals; we beat the wiry yet erratic Sgt. Donna Puma and her lovely partner, who seemed to be crippled by some confusion over doubles rules. Ron Coe served pork roast, green beans, and peas, as well as an assortment of dry snacks. Pretty posh! I still haven't reported on the going-away party for Al Bradley, but I think I'm going to construct that as a blonk session with Kitty, so it'll be livelier. Nutshell: It was swell! Al, I'm gonna miss ya! (I'm sorry I blabbed that you fired me from Checkout Time. But really. You fired me with a message on my answering machine when you knew I was in Cuba. It was 1993, for cry-sakes; you think I'd have gotten over it by now.) The post-party at the Palace of Panelling went on till 3, with Al Bradley in bon-mot overdrive while Night Train (the shorter of the two tall architects), Alias Smith and Jones, Don Diner, and I just sat back and fielded the quips. Tomorrow: An update on my employment trajectory and thoughts on same; a comparison chart (nah, who am I fooling?) of my employment, Al Bradley's, and Harry the Greek's over the years. Unless you weigh in with some guestbook suggestions, that is. 12:26 a.m. - 2002-10-22 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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