2004-03-21

Hey, chickens. I don't need to tell YOU that bars are a lot like amusement parks for grown ups: video games, pinball, contests, pool, and of course an inebriation level that reduces all brain functions to second grade level.

At my usual hole in the wall, they have the stuffed animal claw "game," Ye Ole Gift Shop. You may remember this insane newsbit from January regarding a similar instrument of evil sucking children into it its fat, plush belly.

Anyway, at my joint, the drunk hooligans drop .75 over and over until they commandeer some crap-ass stuffed animal, which they promptly give to their bartender (my lady friend) as a show of undying devotion.

We have a lot of stuffed animals, which come in handy to mop up spills, feed to the alligators, throw at passing cars, etc.

Anyway, I recently spotted a little gem in Ye Ole Gift Shop that made me covety (new word!). Homegirl had herself a thermal cap, thermal coveralls, some nappy hair and a pink satin bib. Our eyes met and I've thought of nothing else since.

She was recently won by some indiscriminate stuffed animal collector, and as fate would have it, I arrived just in time to sweet talk her way into my loving arms.

May I present Lillian Maxine, or Lil' Maxi to her friends:

You can't deny that maxi pad resemblance. How hard core is she? She's gonna kick your ass. Check out her mad caboose:

Awesome.