Peggy is at home in Venice, of course. Enjoying her fine art collection.
www.guggenheim-venice.it/
Perhaps she knew Dee? Some Portuguese people were loking for Dee on my cell number for over a year. When I visited Boston last time I called my old cell number, and some guy picked up. I asked for Dee, nothing cleverer came to my mind. They guy said I TOLD YOU this is the wrong number! i guess he hasn't found Dee either...
Let's see what Sloganizer has to say about that:
Hehehe
I put in BVT.
"The President buys BlueVeinedThrobber."
And
"Keep going well, keep going BlueVeinedThrobber."
(That sloganizer may need it's own thread)
It's definitely my friend Peggy Stewart. We rode together
through the Wild West
CalamityJane wrote:It's definitely my friend Peggy Stewart. We rode together
through the Wild West
This is how I imagine Boomerang. No-nonsense, denim clad, and a pistol-packin' momma.
OK, on reflection that looks more like wool, but you get what I mean.
i myself have never spoken to Desperately-Seeking-Peggy.
i rue the day i pick up the receiver and here the 3 words that will undoubtedly chill me to the bone:
"is Peggy thay-uh?"
DrewDad, I think I love you.
Peggy is a very nasty telemarketer who tries to bilk elderly women out of
their Social Security and pensions.
Well, the old gals have organized and are going after her. Their
organization is called the Blue Rinse Alliance (BRA). The BRA is an
uplifting structure based on mutual support. No longer will these matters
be allowed to just hang on; the BRA will bring them to the the forefront.
Jespah's caller is especially eager to support "the girls", as she calls
them. This has given her direction and purpose. "My cup runneth over,"
she declares.
So, you think when she's referring to me as "deah", she really means D as in cup, or is it Dee as in the former owner of Dag's old cel phone number?
Is the BRA clasped together in the front or in the back? Is it fast-moving, or just under a wire?
Inquiring minds want to know, and I feel Peggy is at the bottom of all of this.
The title of this thread brings to mind a poem by Charles Causley, which I share here (at the risk of straying off topic):
What Has Happened To Lulu?
What has happened to Lulu, mother?
What has happened to Lu?
There's nothing in her bed but an old rag-doll
And by its side a shoe.
Why is her window wide, mother,
The curtain flapping free,
And only a circle on the dusty shelf
Where her money-box used to be?
Why do you turn your head, mother,
And why do tear drops fall?
And why do you crumple that note on the fire
And say it is nothing at all?
I woke to voices late last night,
I heard an engine roar.
Why do you tell me the things I heard
Were a dream and nothing more?
I heard somebody cry, mother,
In anger or in pain,
But now I ask you why, mother,
You say it was a gust of rain.
Why do you wander about as though
You don't know what to do?
What has happened to Lulu, mother?
What has happened to Lu?
Peggy didn't heed my warnings and failed to study for her med-school exams and is now working at an IHOP in Quincy, she shares a 3 room portion of basement with a woman named Barb who has a cool collection of cats and dogs. It's along that Parkway near the Quincy Medical Center where she currently goes 5 times a week as part of her community service for selling crack from the aforementioned basement unit.
(You asked, I never said it was gonna be a happy story)
Now I feel sad for Peggy. And Lulu. And Dee. And Barb.
So, since it's a 3-roomer, is one of them homeless, or do they double up, or does someone maybe work nights?
I fear one of them may have fallen into a very bad way, turning tricks in Lynn or something.
When you find Peggy, ask her if she knows where Alfredo is. He apparently used to have my cell phone number and now so do his creditors. Some of them get all sarcastic like I'm hiding him. If she doesn't know him, maybe she knows Dr. Rankel, whose patients keep leaving requests for prescription refills on my answering machine.
Dang, it's even worse than I thought! Peggy's practicing medicine without a license! With a Fettucine guy! Or, um, something like that.
Peggy needs a hobby. Something wholesome. Maybe we can sign her up for surfing lessons.
