Sardinia isn’t quite an anagram for San Diego, but I’m beginning to wonder if it should be. If you remember, Sardinia was the locale for Karen Kozlowski’s 40th birthday party. Remember, that was the one where you gave her the vanilla scented candle. And then felt embarrassed because the party featured gladiators, women in togas, Jimmy Buffet and Stoli flowing from the penis of an ice sculpture of David. Ringing a bell? The one thrown by her husband Dennis who attempted to slip half of the $2 million tab on his Tyco expense report. That didn’t work out too well and he’s in jail now. But I digress.
I went to a party last night and as soon as I hit the patio I heard the band playing a Jimmy Buffet tune. I’d have preferred some Miami Sound Machine, but I guess Jimmy more suited the business casual crowd. Next I noted a mermaid hanging from a suspended hoop. I wouldn’t even know where to go to hire a mermaid. It’s not like Bob from Accountemps is going to cut it. Another girl dressed like the ivy outfield walls at the friendly confines of Wrigley Field walked by with a streamer and decided to show me her flexibility skillz by pulling her leg back behind her head. I felt like a girls gymnastics coach and don’t know how they do it without feeling a little bit dirty. Blue margaritas flowed through taps built into blocks of ice. It was all very Tyco. I commandeered an O’Doul’s and some shrimp quesadillas and tried to find a shady spot. As I set up shop where I thought was further removed from the activities, ivy girl walked by again this time to show me that she can also pull her leg completely upside her head. As I was about to munch a quesadilla (no, that’s not a euphemism (but it should be)), I hear a guy say, “Excuse me,” politely, not like Steve Martin during his Wild and Crazy Guy days. I turn to see him wheeling a girl out on a dolly. She’s perfectly still and dressed like a statue, except without all the bird crap. That’s how I knew she really wasn’t a statue. Also, when I grabbed her boob it felt like a bag of sand and not granite. I stepped aside and he wheeled her to a pedestal where she posed and then did this goddess of water routine to some operatic music and eventually turned herself into a fountain, complete with a shower of water shooting out of her calamari hairdo.
It all seemed so wrong. I left the convention center and walked up the street to a dive bar to watch the end of the hockey game. Because there’s nothing more natural than watching hockey teams from Texas and California battle it out for a shot at the Stanley Cup.