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Big Holiday Blowout!

  I experienced a holiday first this year. I spent the night in lockup at the county jail. It wasn’t so traumatic. It only added extra octane to my celebrations. I got to drink eggnog from a tin cup and harmonize “Jingle Bells” with a pickpocket Santa The jolly criminal was incarcerated because he Fleeced Navidad’ed shoppers in the mall and pulled cash from Victoria’s Secret drawers. Cellblock Santa was a merry old soul who smelled like peppermint with a base note of Hickory Farms Summer Sausage. I guess you’re wondering what happened. It’s a festive story filled with holiday splendor and action-film stunts. It happened because I’m a Christmas connoisseur– a purist when it comes to outdoor decorations. I grew up when the lights du jour were C9 bulbs. The big type that screwed into heavy cords. They got scorching hot when lit. So, you hung them on your house and shrubbery and then flipped on the power to see what you’d created. You waited for the smell of ozone to waft in the air and yo
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Christmas Mania - The Gift That Keeps On Giving

  Six weeks ago, I awoke to find myself stuck to my living room floor covered in pine sap and tinsel.  Two squirrels were giving me the stink eye and clutching their nuts. I felt shock and awe when I realized I’d ripped my neighbors pine tree out of their yard and brought it home to decorate. I’d never sleep walked before, so a major concern was my neighbors would follow the trail of dirt from the hole in their garden to the front door of my house. Several nights later, I was startled awake by the smoke alarm blaring. My head was stuck in a mixing bowl of cookie dough and there was an oven mitt on my foot. Evidently, I was baking cookies in my sleep and a timer was not part of my stupor. With singed eyebrows, I doused the fire and threw out the charcoal briquettes I’d lovingly baked. Over a mug of hot chocolate and sixteen sugar cookies, I put on my Nancy Drew thinking cap and tried to figure out what was happening. My Christmas mojo was in extreme overdrive. “I’m holiday unhinged,” I

Celebrity Skin is In

  In Hollywood, beauty is not skin deep. It’s lays on the surface where it’s been pulled, tucked, plucked, plumped and botoxed. Adoring fans don’t look at a star and say she has a kind personality. It’s more of, “look at those cheekbones and perky nipples.” Her face is a relief map of silicone and her nipples designer branded. With so many bits of epidermis nipped away each year, celebrity skin has accumulated to the point that a Frankenstein-style entertainer could be pieced together. Celebrities are a commodity so everything about them has value–– from public appearances, autographs, clothes that have touched their bodies to the extra skin they’ve discarded. Instead of disposing the by-product of a new imagined beauty, a corporation, Dermatron, has been born. This company sells the excess skin of the stars to patients in need. “There’s suddenly a huge demand for well-known flesh. We’re going to change the complexion of reconstructive surgery techniques,” advised Aretha Alopecia, CEO
San Francisco, CA – Each year everyone receives the same platitude— “Happy Birthday!” As with all humans on the planet, we’ve taken a trip through the birth canal. We’re yanked into a harsh world feeling cold, limp and definitely uncoordinated. There are no gifts or a cake with candles.  The event is our physical ‘Birthday Day.’ All years following are just the anniversaries of the day we were born. We’re never truly born again. Unless, of course, we donate to  Johnny Hallelujah’s Ministry of Mother Mary Bejesus, Son of God, Who saved Mary Magdalene from Prostitution and Hang Out with Seven Apostles, Baptist Church and Theme Park.   Then spiritually you’re born again. You’ll also receive a lifetime pass to the Escape from Sodom and Gomorrah Water Slide. If you’re not into religion, it’s now possible to reexperience your first birthday. The Welcoming Womb Rebirth Center, in San Francisco, just opened its doors ten centimeters.  Jovan Musk, Elon’s sister, is the CEO and creator of the Ce

The Worst of Times

There’s the best of times, there’s the worst of times. Mostly, it’s the worst. I’m talking Times Square. The place where the ball drops on New Year’s Eve. We all think Times Square is the place to be in NYC. Actually, it’s nothing but a brightly lit tourist trap on steroids.     Being in the center of Times Square is like being a mouse in the electronics department at Best Buy. You’re surrounded by thousands of beady eyes all fixated on the surrounding LED and Jumbotron screens while fellow rodents step on your tail trying to get a better view.    They say New York is so nice they “named it twice.” But, you won’t mention Times Square twice, unless you’re making a 911 call.    “Hello 911, how can I assist you?” “Help, I’m in Times Square.” “What’s the problem?” “I’m in Times Square.”   Around 1892 the area now known as Times Square was the center for the horse carriage industry. It was called Longacre Square. This was way before Elmo and the Naked Cowboy immigrated to Manhattan.    Evid

The Job I Didn't Know I Had

  I have several part-time jobs. Call me crazy but I don’t remember the application process or the interview. There was no offer letter or a benefits package. I work a flexible schedule. Whenever I decide to show up, I’m on the clock.   I ’m moonlighting at Shoprite, Target, Michael’s, Home Depot, Lowes, Walmart and occasionally some random store like CVS with one employee stocking shelves. It seems as if most big-box stores have decided the shopping experience should include self-checkout. I must bring my own shopping bags, peruse the store and work the registers.  They put in self-checkout lanes as if it’s a perk we’ve been denied.  Dear Shopper,   We’ve read your suggestions from our nonstop email surveys. We’re happy to say we’ve determined you don’t have enough to do navigating our stores, scanning each item with our extra savings phone app, and choreographing your aisle movements to avoid the fellow shopper who’s knocked down four store displays maneuvering a shopping cart, the s

TATTLE TALES: The Real Dirt on Snow

  This is a transcript of the interrogation of the infamous Dwarf Seven who are implicated in the disappearance and possible death of the Princess Snow White.   August 8, Once Upon a Time   Present: The Dwarf Seven: Bear, Otter, Twink, Jock, Diva, Daddy & Chub Interrogator: Constable, Jack B. Nimble Stenographer: Retta Riding Hood   Constable Jack : This is official dwarf testimony in the case of the missing Princess, Snow White. This crime was first brought to my attention when it was reported a body had been stolen from a glass casket in the Enchanted Forest. The Three Little Pig Detectives responded to the anonymous tip which lead to the residence of the Dwarf Seven.   Daddy will act as the spokes-dwarf for the group. Although, all dwarfs are encouraged to corroborate the details. I plan to separate the fact from the fiction of this tale. Please share how you came to know the Princess Snow White.   Daddy Dwarf:  The manic princess broke into our Enchanted Forest cottage. She tra