The Nail Bag

I think I can say with confidence that our New Year's party was a smashing success. There was music, drink, a shit ton of food, laughter and conversation.

At one point, we even took an informal poll of our guests to see who they would rather nail: Aunt Jemima or Bea Arthur? Surprisingly, most people (regardless of gender and/or sexual preference) went with Aunt Jemima. I found this disturbing on a number of levels, not the least of which was that several of those polled described Aunt Jemima in terms of the bottle of syrup. Also, she was fictional, so what does that say about my friends that they would rather have sexual relations with a bottle of fake maple syrup than a real person?

Mind you, their preference for Aunt Jemima might be influenced by the fact that Bea Arthur's been dead for a couple of months now. Neverthless, she still gets my vote, because I figure we could always sing show tunes together, maybe achieve our simultaneous climax with "Hello, Dolly!" or something. And I could always roll off of her at the end, sighing, "That old compromisin', enterprisin', anything but tranquilizing, right-on-Maude!"

On the other hand, as one friend pointed out, Aunt Jemima would probably make you breakfast in the morning.