As my esteemed colleague Black Bart so eloquently put it, hello and welcome to Puglypaloosa. I hope it turns out to be everything you've dreamed of, assuming for once you didn't ingest massive amounts of Taco Bell prior to turning in.
At this point you're probably wondering just what Puglypaloosa is all about, and if you took too much of a gamble in remaining so noncommittal in all other aspects of your hellishly anticipatory existence. Heck if I know.
However I would rather take a stab at justification of your sacrifice than curse (and possibly belittle) your darkness. So allow me to whip out my Bic, and hope there is little methane remaining in that dreary cave of yours.
Now as most of you well know, I'd originally intended to kick off this shindig last summer; as that is the preferred season for topless behavior. Especially for the ladies. You know who you are. And if you qualify (man-boobs do not).
But alas, forces conspired against me.
So now here we are, summer long gone and in the cruel grip of a brutal winter. Except for Australia, apparently, because "heaven forbid" you wankers conform with the civilized rest of the planet. Nonetheless I find my disposition strangely benevolent toward our kangaroo cousins; mostly traceable to my fondness for AC/DC, "Friday On My Mind", Crocodile Dundee, Nicole Kidman* (* especially "Dead Calm" and "Bewitched" vintage Nicole), our beloved Dianne, and - of course - because Australia has been unfairly disparaged as the "Alabama of the World".
No one accuses ANYONE of being Alabama and gets away with it. Not even Alabama should be victimized by such derision. Not on my watch, anyway. I am a champion of the underdog.
Anyhoo, it is indeed winter for most of us. Serena in particular has been getting hammered with snow (and Lord knows what else ... booze and men readily come to mind). And aside from Lamby, who probably believes it's just punishment for our debauchery, we probably all feel that we are long overdue for a respite.
And so - submitted for your mild amusement - I humbly submit the 1st Annual Puglypaloosa.
ALL are welcome, except for YOU, you recent blight of anonymous commenting sons of bitches* (* excluding my past "secret admirers" who albeit rarely :-( do comment anonymously. Maybe you have good reason: fear of public scorn, risk of bowling league expulsion, threat to sham marriage, risk of Pug tracking down home number, or perhaps even the potentially jarring shift in sexual paradigm).
Here at Puglypaloosa, you have to be somebody, even if you're a nobody.
Hell, you could be anybody. But if generic praise is your game, then THIS Pug ain't a-buyin'. Unless it's after we've consummated our relationship. However, even then it would be nice if you were specific. "Dear Previous Occupant" is not only distant; it also deflatingly means that my deposit is non-refundable.
So what, pray tell, IS Puglypaloosa? Well that is for each of you to determine as it unfolds, envelopes, adheres and constricts. Some shall likely find it nurturing. Enlightening. Others: exhilarating. For many it may prove suffocating. A few will discover it to be nauseating.
In the end, all entrants tread their own unique path through Puglypaloosa in quest for truth and search for exit.