PARTY FLUFFERS INC., LLC.

I threw a party for FRANKIERIO last week. Frank is an original member of my poker buddies and has lived in Las Vegas for the last 13 years. We visited him this past June (see my "VACATION - 2009" blog). The night we got in, he was kind enough to drop everything and show us around. The following morning, he picked us up at our hotel in his new 1977 AMC Pacer and gave us the thirteen-hour, royal tourist treatment. Nice touch, his car had a giant fake Band-Aid with the letters "O-U-C-H" covering one of the dents. DESPITE THE 102 DEGREE VEGAS TEMPERATURES, FRANK'S PACER HAD MANUAL WINDOWS WHICH EASILY OVER SHADOWED ITS LACK OF AIR-CONDITIONING.

To honor the ever-popular Frank during his vacation in South Jersey, we brought together the old core of poker players along with other mutual friends. I think the main fear when mixing people who don't normally socialize...is that the lack of chemistry that might cause splinter groups instead of a single cohesive unit.

FRANK'S "GOING-AWAY" MEMORIAL POKER GAME, (SEPTEMBER '96). THAT WAS NO ORDINARY RUBBER CHICKEN GAG GIFT...IT HAD WARM, UNDULATING BODY CAVITIES. ERGO, HE GOT YEARS OF PRACTICAL USE OUT OF IT.

To combat factions and ultimately a dull party, I fantasized about inventing a business that could subliminally manipulate the attendees...and either directly or indirectly force them to have a good time...together. The idea I came up with would be called, "PARTY FLUFFERS."

First, a successful party fluffer must operate in a covert manner. Guests should not feel like they are being coerced into fun. So a fluffer would casually initiate apt and/or funny conversation. Of course an individual might come-off like a buffoon in this role so I envision better flexibility by using a team of two. And to further mask their true goal...I feel an inter-racial couple would be perfect. Remember the comedy-drama film from 1971, "THE SKIN GAME." Set in the resurrection-period south, the genius of the plot was...nobody suspected an inter-racial con-man team, (James Garner and Lou Gossett Jr).

For Frank's party I had two such folks in mind to be my fluffers. They are real people but I doubt any of my readers know them both.

For best results, the host (me) would program them early in the festivities to prep or "fluff-up" the party-goers.

On a broader level, if unwanted people stray into sacred parts of the house...like your bedroom that are "out-of-bounds," you can send your "people" in. To get the undesirables out, the fluffers can stand over the bed and proclaim to the horny couple that they are "next." If that doesn't shoo them away, the fluffers could have a carefully scripted, obnoxious argument to root out the hormonally explosive duo. Trust me, its always a sticky matter to get in the way of lovers doing their thing. However with this system, if the timing is right, you can prevent the splatter of precious bodily fluids on your new comforter. That's why when you hire PARTY FLUFFERS; the crap never stains the host's hands.

Another easy way for the host to save face involves discouraging a guest from over-indulging on shrimp cocktail, alcohol, crack-cocaine, etc. Just send the fluffers in and have them sing (poorly) the blues, scat or urban poetry. When done in the professional PARTY FLUFFER way, you might score the added bonus of having that slob or substance abuser leave the premises of their own free will.

To me, no party is complete without annoying your despicable neighbors. You know the ones who keep you from doing your yard work because they smoke those disgusting, smelly, cheap, sweet cigars. Or try to intimidate your visitors who park within 15 feet of their vaunted sprinkler heads. Or pile their lawn trash like a great wall separating your properties. Or scare your kid by threatening to kill your dog...even if she only thinks about peeing on his lawn. Or the BOOB who causes an effrontery to your eardrums and tender sensitivities by blaring the whiniest, twangiest and worst Country-Western music...EVER! Then I say, fight back. Once your big event is proceeding well inside, send your PARTY FLUFFER associates outside.

Payback is a bitch...once outside, a loud, droning non-stop dissertation concerning the female fluffer's connections, accomplishments, health issues and possessions will surely keep your unsavories next-door awake, uneasy and teetering on calling 9-1-1.

Luckily Frankierio's party was a big success and I saved big bucks by not renting the imaginary PARTY FLUFFERS...because if I'm going to run such an outfit, its going to be real expensive.

THE CORE OF ORIGINAL POKER BUDDIES AUGUST 6, 2009. DUE TO "WITNESS PROTECTION PROGRAM" DIFFICULTIES, MIKE123, TOOK THE ABOVE PICTURE RATHER THAN GIVE AWAY HIS WHEREABOUTS.

During his party, Frank's only regret came from admitting that he lost the rubber chicken we gave him in 1996, to a one-legged ballroom dance instructor from his new Vegas poker buddies.

I HAD NO IDEA ABOUT HIM LOSING THE RUBBER CHICKEN...BUT AT LEAST I GAVE HIM A "CHUBBY" THAT HE'LL DEFINITELY HAVE FOREVER.

I wish Frank well. And I hope he remembers that wherever he goes and whatever he does, he'll always have a friend in me.

He drove his Pacer off into the western sunset last night. I would have felt better if he had a spare tire, those donuts aren't designed for the long haul. If he gets in trouble, at least he'll have the warm memories of that old rubber chicken, my party and the chubby I gave him...to carry him through the 3000 miles home.