Notes from the Holiday Office Party

As overheard by Janice, the painfully shy receptionist at Fatty's Health Book Distributor

Ok, so now who'd like to make toast about me? Anyone? Hello? (Mr. Warbanks, CEO)

I'm not going to drink. Remember what happened last year? (Grace, sales)

No, my name is Pauline. PAULINE! (Pauline, HR)

Which one of you lovely ladies wants to show me their boobs? (Jake, bookkeeping)

Ok, who ate all the guacamole? (Lucy, advertising)

It's so big! (Tamara, marketing)

I got a taco! (James, sales)

C'mon! Their raising Roger's underwear up the flagpole! (Kevin, HR)

Can I please have my underwear back? And my pants? C'mon guys! (Roger, marketing)

Damn, Roger! (Sally, payroll)

Sweet! Grace is doing her pole dance again! (Jake, bookkeeping)

Ow! Not so hard! (Peg, accounting)

Alright, who's bra is this? (Julie, assistant)

Does anyone have a match? (Eddie, sales)

I'd like to make a toast... to Sally's tits. Good job, keep it up. (Jake, bookkeeping)

My eye! (Stan, accounting)

Once again, folks, the fruit is PLASTIC! Do NOT eat it! (Lucy, advertising)

That's my ASS, Jake! (Pauline, HR)

Ok, who threw the used condom in the punch bowl? (Sally, payroll)

A toast to my employees, without you I'd be a hellova lot richer! (Mr. Warbanks, CEO)

Who wants to play spin the bottle? Hey! Where's everyone going? *hic* (Grace, sales)

Ok, nobody go in THERE. Woo! (Ralph, purchasing)

It feels like my pants are on fire! (Eddie, sales)

Faker! (Greg, bully)

When the chips are down, make lemonade. That's what I always say. (Kevin, HR)

You got Cheetos in my HAIR! (Tamara, marketing)

Is that what I think it is? Please kindly remove it from my ear, Jake. (Pauline, HR)

Ok, ladies! It's Naked Twister time! Ladies? (Jake, bookkeeping)

Hey, I'll play! (Roger, marketing)

Here's to another year of record profits and no pay raises! Cheers! (Mr. Warbanks, CEO)

My Christmas Wish List

by Jasper Mackay, esq.,

Dear Santa,

How are you? I know you're not actually real, which is sad, but I know this letter will reach you anyway (thank you Canada Post!), which is confusing. I just wanted to let you know that I, Jasper Mackay, was a really good boy this year so I'm hoping that you'll bring me EVERYTHING on my list. I know what you're thinking, "But Jasper, you're a very wealthy man with a nice house, a beautiful wife and plenty of material possesions, what else could you possibly need?" Well, first of all you sound just like my wife, and although she is beautiful to look at, I don't need to hear her squawking all the time (perhaps you can do something about that?), and secondly I DON'T have everything I need, that's why I sent you this letter. I mean, get it together old man.

Anyway, below is my list. I've checked twice so you don't have to!

Argyle Socks - you know, the pattern is now en vogue. I'd like 12 pair, please. Plus the same in underwear.

A new, complete wardrobe. The one I have currently is about 4 months old. It's time for a change.

Classic Masters of the Universe action figures.

Koi pond, minus Koi fish.

Room full of hot ladies - you know how it is, there are certain needs a wife alone just cannot meet. Also, throw in a lama.

A Transmogrifier - then perhaps I can get rid of Mr Muscles, Blaze Lightning Brogh, and Molly will be all mine.

Condoms

Automatic Mojito maker, or an Automatic Cocktail maker. Either one is fine, thanks.

A larger SUV (preferrably a luxury model) than my neighbors SUV.

An elf. Preferrably one that looks like Will Ferrell, but not as funny.

The Badonkadonk Tank - I will surely become the envy of the neighborhood chugging around in this hearty tank. If you could please add a rocket launcher and a machine gun and we should be all set (say goodbye to your precious roses, Mr. Twister!). I've been without ground transportation since poor Pearl crapped out on me a few months back.

Bacon and eggs for breakfast.

I think that's it for now. If I have anything more to add I'll just send you another letter. I have one request I'm hoping you'll be able to fill: you see, my neighbors are really bad people who are always trying to one-up me. I'd like you to please skip their house this year. They haven't been particularly good, therefore they deserve nothing. Please don't let me walk outside on Christmas morning to see that woman unwrapping a giant present of some sort like last year. That is one incident I would like erased from memory! Thanks Santa!

Love,
Jasper Mackay, esp.

Notes from Kathy's Diary

Choice excerpts from Kathy's daily journal, aged 17.

Ugh. Fish again. Sometimes I hate that my Dad had that heart attack.

Don't feed the dog Spaghetti-O's under the table anymore. She won't eat them.

Michaels sure is cute, but his dad is even cuter.

Mom stuffed herself full of doughnuts again. Make sure to plug your ears before bed.

Didn't I used to have a cat? Hmmm...

I had two crackers for lunch and now I'm ready to hurl. God I'm a pig!

Bethany totally flashed her tits at the football team. I'm planning to forget to wear panties at next week's game.

Bethany has the hugest zit on her nose! I dared Billy to pop it and he did! Slut!

Mom and Dad are so strict! I still refuse to eat peas. The bastards!

I saw Franklin's wee-wee. It made me sad. Mostly because I can't stop calling it a wee-wee. Poor guy.

Bethany totally ate concrete today. I'll try not to trip her again tomorrow. No guarantees though.

Bethany got so fat over break! She must have gained, like, 3 pounds.

Bethany borrowed my sweater and stretched it out, so I borrowed her boyfriend and stretched him out.

Bethany totally wants to be me. Too bad she's fat! God!

Jenn is a dyke. I found out when she tried to tongue me today. As if! She's not even blonde!!

Mom ate the whole bucket of fried chicken tonight. Dad had a heart attack. I missed a whole night of programming on the CW! God! Thanks parents!

I totally caught Maggie and Duke making out today. She got embarrassed and ran away, so I made out with Duke too.

Bethany eats her weight in M & M's everyday. God! At least it seems like it. Gross!

Bethany is SO not prettier than me! I hate you Brad! HATE!

Bethany thinks her car is totally hot. It's totally not! Time to get the groceries, bitch!

Duke gave me a ride in his convertible last night. My ass still hurts! Stupid stick shift! God!

Mom ate my entire birthday cake. It wasn't chocolate, so I'm ok with that.

Dad was totally hitting on Mrs. Larsen. I can't wait to tell Bethany! She'll be so pissed!

I'm so itchy down there!

Bethany's dad made a pass at me, so I punched him in the gut. It was funny. He's so old!

Mom ate the Oscar-Meyer Weiner Mobile. Seriously.

It's so sad what happened to Mr. Douglas, but he shouldn't have flunked me. Jerk!

Bethany is coming over tonight. I hope Mom gets to our food before she does! Fatty!

I'm thinking about joining Youth Group at my church. The pastor is so hot! Yum!

Leslie said I was going to hell. Now her jaw is wired shut. NOW who's going to hell, bitch?!?

My Mom is like a whale, but I love that about her.

Mrs McKenny totally has the hots for Mr Marshall. Too bad he's gay! Dumb ass!

A Show That Changed My Life

Back in September of 1985 a magical thing happened to television that changed me forever. I'm speaking, of course, about The Golden Girls. Those lovable old hags who loved, lost, fought, entertained, and ate cheesecake all while living in sun-drenched Miami. I found myself closely identifying with the geriatric foursome even though I was just a small boy at the time.

Rose was my favorite. Always the Dumb One of the group, Rose was actually quite witty and a little mischievous, if needed. Especially earlier in the series. Like me, Rose had a sunny personality, a keen fashion sense, white/blonde hair and big boobs. Her endless stories of home life in St Olaf provided hours of entertainment for the rest of the girls, and provided me with a much-needed back-story when we moved at the age of 10. Her hopelessly optimistic outlook always cheered the other girls up in their time of need, as well as showing me you never need to face reality when you have optimism on your side! Rose was surely the "happy" one of the group.

Now, Blanche was also very happy, but in a different way. She was the Slutty One, having romantic flings with a number of men, sometimes within the same evening! At least according to her. Like me, Blanche used sex to cover up her serious daddy issues, she then used humor to cover up the sex. Her fashions were always cutting-edge, and I can still recall the click-clack of her pumps across the floor as she moved about the house. Secretly, she was my favorite. Just don't tell Mother! Blanche could always be found in the elated afterglow of a one-night stand, or in the kitchen eating them out of house and home because her date didn't feel like bedding her that night. Although never really discussed on the show, I always suspected Blanche had weight issues as well, that's why she needed to delude herself into thinking she was the most beautiful, most thin girl of them all, when everyone knew that title went to Dorothy.

Making sure to mask her beauty behind a hideous hairdo and heavy clothes, Dorothy was known as the Angry One. Her biting sarcasm, lanky body, and manly jaw line always reminded me of my father. I always loved how in the credits she bit her hand to prevent herself from using it to slap Rose, or punch Blanche in the face, or strangle her mother to death. Like me, Dorothy hid her emotions behind angry words, a slap on the hand, or other violent and hurtful ways. Not to be out done by the other girls, her fashions were always ahead of their time. In fact, I believe her fashion sense hasn't even made it into the social consciousness yet! I have faith that one day we'll all be wearing bathrobes with gigantic collars and a flower broach to the latest charity ball. The series was centered around Dorothy and once she decided to get married and flee the house, the series ended.

Finally we come to Sophia, Dorothy's mother and the Old One, which is funny because she was actually the youngest of them all! Like me, Sophia had a rough life growing up in the Mafia infested island of Sicily. She always had a witty retort and an honest, if not particularly welcome, take on the goings-on within the house. Her salty language heightening the already tense drama. Sophia used her old age to her advantage by conveniently forgetting anything that was said to her. Sophia was not so into fashion, but she did have one item she could not live without: a wooden bead purse. She even had duplicates in case anything ever happened. That purse was practically attached to her arm as it probably contained either contraband, or dirty little secrets. Probably both.

Yes, these four lovely ladies and their (mis)adventures in America's heartland brought joy and happiness to countless millions each week for seven seasons. And this small boy from the other side of the country was one of them. They were like grandmother's to me even though they never even knew I existed. They changed my life forever by being true to themselves, even if the continuity fairy completely deserted the show. Each week I learned a lesson, bonded with the ladies, and became a man in the process. Thank you for that.

The Best Thanksgiving EVER!

Well, it's that time of year again: stuff the turkey, open a can of cranberry sauce, layout the relish tray, and enjoy a thick slice of pumpkin pie (possibly from the one you carved just a few weeks ago!). That's right boys and girls, it's Thanksgiving time once again! We never actually had the traditional Thanksgiving in my family, Mother usually fried up some chicken legs and made her famous mackerel pudding, but I can remember the year we had the best Thanksgiving ever.

I was in elementary school at the time, Sissy was just starting Junior High. Mother, for reasons that are still unclear, decided to go visit an aunt we'd never met (or even heard of, actually) for the holiday and left Dad in charge. Dad decided that Thanksgiving was for the birds and suggested we make up our own dinner. He gave us a pen and paper and told us to jot down a grocery list. He sat on the couch swilling his special medicine while Sissy and I rooted through the kitchen. We planned the whole thing out: there would be pancakes and bacon, wheat toast with jelly, french fries in cheese and chili, marshmallow salad with chocolate sauce dressing, Coco Puffs stuffing, mashed ice cream with caramel gravy, Pepsi-Cola served in Mother's wine glasses, cherry pie for dessert, applesauce, grapes, and pickles.

Excited that our list was finally complete, we hopped on the couch rousting Dad from his drunken stupor. He drove us to the market and we gleefully filled up the basket. We couldn't believe what an awesome Thanksgiving we were about to have. Sissy was yammering non-stop while I fantasized about how my classmates would react as I recounted my awesome holiday dinner. After all the boring, traditional stories about what everyone had for dinner, I'd get up and recount our elaborate spread. Mouths would drop open, sighs of jealousy would permeate the air, Georgia would reach over and take my hand in hers. The whole school would be envious of me and my sugar-filled dinner. Just as Georgia and I were about to make out in the coat closet, I heard a beleaguered "Uh-oh" from Dad.

It seems Mother cleaned out his wallet before she left, leaving him with just $10. Our Thanksgiving would be ruined! Sissy started throwing her famous tantrum as Dad paid for pancake batter and a six-pack of Schlitz. Dad wearily drank his beer as Sissy continued screaming all the way home. I was just sad. It now appeared that I wouldn't be the envy of the school and I wouldn't be making out with Georgia any time soon. A single tear fell from my eye and splashed to my clasped hands below.

When we arrived home, Dad disappeared into the kitchen as Sissy disappeared to her room. I found my way to the TV and zoned out. I imagined Georgia and I in the coat closet, doing to her what I once saw Dad do to Mother. Twenty minutes later I heard Dad calling from the kitchen. He undoubtedly had bowls of cereal waiting for our consumption. Sissy lumbered downstairs and we both somberly tromped into the kitchen.

"Buck up, you little shits, Dad's got a surprise for you," he said, his speech slightly slurred, "Dinner is served!" He plopped down two huge stacks of fluffy, hot pancakes. There were blueberry, banana, cinnamon and just plain-old regular. Sissy and I stared at each other, wide-eyed. "Eat up before they get cold!" he demanded. Sissy and I hungrily dove in. "How'd you learn how to make pancakes, Dad?" I asked between mouthfuls, "You don't know how to cook!" He turned and gave me the same look I get just before a hefty thumping, "What do you mean, Dimbulb? I can cook! Now shut up and eat your dinner!" I heartily complied.

Later, after Dad finished off another bottle of "dinner," and Sissy and I were full to bursting with pancakes, plates stacked in the sink waiting for Mother's return, I witnessed something I'd never seen before, and never since: Sissy said, "Thanks Dad, I love you," and kissed him on the cheek. He belched his reply as she skipped out of the house, gearing up for playtime with Bobby Walker from down the street. "yeah, thanks Dad," I said as I made to peck his cheek. He swatted me away and growled "don't you kiss me, you little girl. Now go grab me another beer!"

As I went to grab him another beer my heart filled with love and joy. This was truly the best Thanksgiving ever. Dad made us delicious pancakes, Sissy was in a good mood, and I actually got to bring Dad a beer--the first of many as it turns out. I was sorry Mother missed the whole thing, but when she got home she didn't seem to mind. Although her trip was "exhausting," she certainly looked refreshed and revived. So maybe it was the best Thanksgiving for everyone.

A Horror-Musical with Heart

If you're anything like me then your love of pirates goes beyond simply wearing an eye patch and yelling "AAARGH Matey!" to passersby. You probably dress like a pirate every day. Recently I enjoyed the horror-musical spectacular with the ingenious and cleverly thought-out name The Pirate Movie. This film is filled with scary pirates, young lovers, ineffectual policmen, rich daddies and wonderful songs. Based on the Gilbert & Sullivan musical, The Pirates of Penzance, but without all those messy plot details.

Our tale begins in the present day when a hot pirate named Fred, played by the mulit-talented Christopher Atkins, is putting on a sword fight show for his beautiful young admirers. This scene gives you the first scream-out-loud moment when ugly-duckling Kristi McNichol lumbers into the frame, face all twisted up into a hungry grimace, sniffing out her next meal. Somehow Fred falls for the brainless zombie and invites her and her hot under-age friends to his private island, where he's hoping to put his pocket sword to good use. They leave without her, because she's an ugly zombie, but proving she's more than just a brain eater, she rents her own sailboat to chase after them. On the way she encounters some choppy seas, is knocked out of the boat, unconcious. Moments later she wakes washed ashore on a lonely strip of beach. She's gloriously transformed into a beautiful island princess, complete with headband. She decides to stroll the beach and sing a song about love.

Meanwhile, a plucky young Fred is aboard the Good Ship Lollipop. He's tired of the rape and pillage lifestyle and needs a change. You see, he's been a pirate since birth and all he wants is to find love. He sings a song of hope and yearning. Luckily the rest of the pirates make him walk the plank. Just when you thought he was gone for good, he pops back into the frame. Unfortunately, this becomes a recurring theme throughout the picture.

In a nutshell, the pirates need to get laid, so they head towards Hot Kristi and her 50 sisters who are dancing and singing in skimpy beachwear. The details are a little fuzzy, but basically the pirates want sex, Head Pirate wants the loot from the girls Rich Daddy, Fred wants Hot Kristi, and Hot Kristi wants to be a man. Fred decides to help Rich Daddy fight the pirates so he can marry Hot Kristi. Head Pirate wants Fred back because he now realizes he's without a cabin boy. This puts Fred into a tough spot: marry Hot Kristi, or contiune being Head Pirates butt boy? He is understandably torn between the two. At this point he decides a poorly written song is in order.

Will the young lovers get together? Will Head Pirate rape and pillage Rich Daddy? Will the pirates reveal their true nature in the full moon? Will Zombie Kristy finally find a worthy brain to feast on? With sword fights filled with homo-erotic imagery, Hot Kristi parading around in next to nothing, wussy-boy policemen, kick ass pirates, intense action sequences sandwiched between mind-numbing expository scenes, and songs that make you want to tear your ears off, this movie will answer all your questions and leave you hungering for more. Sharp song-writing, stellar vocals, inventive casting, clever dialogue, more screams per minute than Scream, and an over-abundance of the soft focus complete this timeless masterpiece. I give this movie a solid B-.

The Case of the Missing Halloween Candy

Once again it's time to don our witch's hat or vampire fangs and parade about the neighborhood collecting treats from the freindly neighbors, and playing tricks on the not-so-friendly ones. This year, as in all previous years, I have made my costume. I am a partially-chewed bog bone, inspired by my late labrador's love of bones from the butcher, of which Mother still buys and Sissy still gnaws on from time to time (usually when she's on a diet and she desperately needs protien. And blood). Tonight I shall fiercely guard my loot so as not to repeat the incident last Halloween which has bewildered me, and my detective alter-ego Mr. Detective, for the last 365 days. I speak of the Great Candy Caper, or the Case of the Missing Halloween Candy. I shall start from the beginning...

2005 saw perhaps my finest costume design: an Imperial AT-AT from The Empire Strikes Back. Unfortunately it was so big and heavy I had to leave it at home and use Sissy's old bat costume. My best friend Pete and I wandered the neighborhood, filling our pillowcases with Snickers, SweetTarts, M & M's, and other Halloween favorites. After a few hours and countless houses (including old Granny McCracken's, who once again provided us each with a penny and some crayons), we decided to call it quits for the evening. I lugged my sack home feeling the weight of the fruits of my labor. Dad was passed out in front of the TV, some B-grade horror flick quietly screaming in the background. Mother, eying my pillowcase hungrily, welcomed me home. Sissy wandered down from her room with Bobby Walker (from down the street) in tow and made a snide comment regarding my costume. To be fair, the black leggings had become a couple sizes two small since I'd last worn the costume. None the less, I returned the comment with one of my own regarding the musky stench of sex and pot emanating from her body. This is the freeze-frame moment. All suspects are present in this scene, each with their own motive for stealing the lime-green and yellow-striped pillow case filled with treats.

I had gone to my room, pillowcase in hand, to count and separate each piece by size, kind, color and age. I remember setting the candy next to my dresser as I undressed for bed. When I awoke the next morning, ready for a breakfast of Almond Joys and Starburst, the candy was missing, my door was ajar and my window was open. A ransom note saying simply "Thanks," was found next to my pillow.

Dad: perhaps when he awoke, with a hangover and a headache, he ate some candy trying to soak up the alcohol. Problem is, Dad rarely eats and candy is probably the last thing he'd put in his mouth. Generally his meals are of the liquid variety. The only reason he'd have to steal my candy would be to teach me some non-lesson about personal property.

Mother: overweight and always hungry (much like dear departed Kitty), she could eat the entire sack in just one sitting. She was my prime suspect for a long time until she confessed. Mother NEVER confesses her crimes, choosing to mask her guilt with half-baked excuses and horribly inept lying. She's now at the bottom of the list.

Sissy: my prime suspect, she's forever looking for ways to push my buttons and make my life a living hell. She'd steal my candy and flush it down the toilet piece by piece just for a laugh (I know because that's what she did three years ago. I was left with stale Bit O Honey's and, of course, Granny M's crayons). Problem is, she does evil things to my face, not behind my back. Also, I don't have a shread of evidence against her, no matter how hard I've tried to plant some.

Bobby Walker (from down the street): he's merely a suspect based on being present at the time of the crime. I have no reason to believe he is involved in the heist, except I saw him munching on a Milky Way when he left that night and I don't know where he could have gotten it. According to Sissy that's not the only thing he munched on. Based on her statement he remains a top suspect.

Years of intense CSI viewing has taught me that things are not always what they seem. Perhaps the candy theft was not an inside job as I orginally suspected. Clues leading to another suspect altogether would be my open bedroom window, a trail of candy wrappers leading into the woods, small as-yet-unidentified fibers, fingerprints and DNA from Sissy's bed, Pete's suddenly doubled Halloween haul, and the ransom note found sitting on my pillow. So far they have yielded no leads. I did end up recovering the pillowcase, empty besides the crayons crushed to pieces, under the trampoline in the back yard. Sadly, this case, along with all the others, has found it's way to the Cold files where it sits today. I may never find out who stole the candy, but Mr. Detective never gives up. And in a bold move I decided that tonight I will give my sack to Pete for safe keeping. Tomorrow morning I shall have a breakfast of Reese's Pieces and Butterfingers.

My First Bicycle

I remember when I received my first bike. It was Christmas Day, 1985. Santa had once again forgotten to stop by. Mother said it was because he couldn't remember where we lived. Dad said it was because he was drunk. I think Santa must have been drunk because I wrote him every year and always put our address in big bold letters on the envelope. I always suspected my Dad took him to the bar whenever he showed up and got him so liquored up he forgot to leave the presents. Either that or his elves didn't update his database properly. I kind of hate those little green buttholes.

Anyway, the stockings were still hung by the chimney with care, deflated and sad looking. Sissy shouted something obscene at Dad and ran to her room crying. Dad huffed and took a swig of his "special medicine." Mother shook her head and and bit into her morning drumstick. I felt confused, but remained hopeful that next year Santa would finally come. That's when Dad looked out the window and said, "What the fuck?"

A small bicycle was laying on the lawn. I squealed with delight. A brand new bike, just for me! Santa really did remember! I ran outside, still clad in my Superman footy pajamas, to get a closer look. It was old and rusted, with deflated tires, a broken bell and no chain. The handlebars had no handles, the seat was just a pole. It was beautiful. Dad cursed the neighbors as I hugged my new bike tightly.

Dad tried to throw the bike over the fence, but I insisted Santa left it for me. Dad grumbled an agreement and went into the garage to see what he could do. He found some old bike tubes, took the chain and banana seat off of Sissy's bike (who was standing in the doorway looking huffy) and affixed them to Rusti (that's what I named her). I was ready to go. Dad spent the day teaching me how to ride. He held onto the seat as I peddled with gusto. Soon, I could peddle on my own as Dad sprawled out on the lawn, his bottle of special medicine close at hand.

This was the best Christmas I ever had. Even better than the one when the cops came. Don't feel bad for Sissy, Mother said she got "VD" from Bobby Walker down the street, so at least she got something.

The Apocalypse Will Happen at an Old Hotel

At least that's what my dreams tell me. Evidently the world will be strewn with dirty laundry and lots of litter, where everyone except the Men in Charge will have to hide during the twilight hours. There are people who are "immune," but you must not mingle with them. Plus, you must be inside by 10 pm because it's curfew.

Other things to note:

If you are forced to sleep outside, because you no longer have a home or a family, make sure you are with a group of people and you're all disguised as piles of dirty laundry, that way the Men in Charge won't see you and take you away. That doesn't mean they won't poke at the piles of laundry and find you there, though.

Try to find a place to rest indoors, preferrably with a group of people. You don't have to disguise yourself as well indoors, but make sure you're as inconspicuous as possible. Try tucking yourself into small, uncomfortable spaces.

Your dog may love you, but she loves the Man in Charge more and will go with his lackeys if asked. He is, after all, the Man in Charge.

Being alone is ill-advised, but you may have to be from time to time, as most people don't want to leave the relative safety of their rooms. But your incurable curiosity will prevent you from staying in one place for too long.

Don't wear a T-Shirt that broadcasts the company you work for, it may gain you a few more enemies. But you may be able to offer the T-Shirt to them and sneak out the back door.

If you make it to the old, maze-like hotel, make sure you avoid skeevy-looking people. They will get you. They like to roam the halls, jump off balconies, and chase you. Sometimes their girlfriends will apologize for them. Sometimes the girlfriends are the skeevy ones.

The hotel is beautiful, dark and OLD. It pre-dates even your grandparents. The hotel is a hub of activity, most of it hidden. It has a power all its own. It has lots of doors, hallways and staircases, so you can easily lose someone in the maze--the better to outrun your persuers.

There are people who reside in the hotel, but that is ill-advised as the Men in Charge will find you and get you. They believe the hotel is theirs, even though it belongs to no one.

If the Man in Charge, who looks suspiciously like Clancy Brown, wants YOU, don't try to out run him. He will always catch you.

And lastly, if you are cutting pie for your family and friends and then pass it around, make sure you leave a slice for yourself. Otherwise no one will care that you didn't get a piece.

The Hills are Alive with the Sound of Laughter

I recently watched one of the funniest comedies I have ever seen. It's called Silent Hill. Full of slapstick, witty banter, and funny monsters, this movie will engage, enlighten, and entertain even the most stoic of persons.

Rose Saliva has a problem. Her daughter, Sharon has taken to sleepwalking to a cliff every night. Instead of simply locking her doors, or setting up some kind of alarm system, she decides the best course of action would be to take Share to the sleepy little town that's been giving her nightmares: Silent Hill. Just before the turn off for Silent Hill, Rose decides to stop off at a dank Rest Station to ask for directions. A hot lesbian cop tries hitting on Rose and although you can see her momentarily mull the offer, she decides to head for Silent Hill at a break neck speed, with Copper hot on her tail. This becomes a theme throughout the picture.

Before arriving in town, Rose sees a ghostly figure in the road way. Since she's going nearly 90 MPH, she decides to slam on the brakes and jerk the steering wheel causing the Jeep to skid out of control and into a barrier, knocking herself unconsciouss. She wakes to a beautiful ashy, smokey morning and finds Share is missing. She wanders into town pushing old bag ladies around in search of her daughter.

Rose slowly learns that Silent Hill is not a normal town. Something she apparently already learned as she surfed the net before she left, but somehow forgot in transit. The town alternates between daylight and darkness, the darkness brought on by wailing air raid sirens and strange, lonely creatures looking for love in all the wrong places. Rose is so closed minded she screams in the poor creatures faces and runs away. She encounters small babies that she kicks away, a janitor with broken legs tied up to his head, a man with a pyramid for a head that's looking to take a wife, and so on.

With Copper's help they track Share to an old church where they meet the nice lady dictator who enjoys burning people alive. This is because her minions so enjoy it. When the people demand it, you must deliver. That's what I always say. Anyway, as Rose goes to meet a tiny demon in hopes of exchanging her soul for her daughter, Dictator decides Copper would make a nice lunch and burns her at the stake. This makes the dirty townspeople whoop it up. It's been such a long time since they had a little roast pig.

Oh yeah, in a subplot that is highly memorable, Rose's husband, Mr. Rose, is searching for his wife--never mind his daughter--in Silent Hill. Only, this Silent Hill is very different: no smokey, ashy air, no dirty townspeople. Just Rose's Jeep and a shady cop who knows more than he's willing to share. Probably because he doesn't really know, he just thinks he does.

Anyway, Rose encounters some Nurses who want to cut her then suture her up again and a tiny, childish demon who wants the Dictator to be her mother. I won't spoil the ending, but sufficed to say mother is reunited with daughter and demon is reunited with Dictator all in the name of gore and violence.

I give this movie a B+ for hilarious banter between Rose and various characters (particularly a scene involving Rose, Copper, Ron Howard's Daughter and a randomly placed swinging vine), great special effects (you mean, the old bag lady is really beautiful Deborah Kara Unger?? No way!), and a demon who looks like a child (and acts like it too, the spoiled brat!).

Assault!

Today as Mother and I did some grocery shopping, I found myself assaulted by a rather large woman. I spotted her in the frozen foods pondering which frozen pizza's offered the best deal. Her blue, yellow and green checked muumuu billowing out as she opened and closed various doors. Her hair was the color of copper wiring, and just as natural looking, done up in a massive bun atop her head. Her five chins hid a bevy of gold and silver necklaces, all with large, swaying pendants. Her eye shadow was the color of limes, her lips the color of fresh salmon. I was intrigued with the old whale. I needed a closer look so I told Mother that I needed to pick out a pizza of my own.

I dashed over as non-chalantly as I could. I sidled up next to her pretending to be vastly curious in the myriad selection of pizzas. I glanced up at her, her face scrunched into a ball of indecision as she pondered which of two brands she should purchase. Her globs of lipstick bunching together as she pursed her lips. As I silently voiced my own opinion, my nostrils became assaulted by a monstrous smell. There was a mixture of Chanel, onions, and Ben-Gay, with a strong under current of sweat within our immediate vicinity. Before I knew what was happening, I let out a loud "Peeeeyewww!"

"Excuse me, young man?" she exhaled.
"Oh, sorry" I said, searching wildly for an excuse, "I just farted."
After momentarily gathering her thoughts she exclaimed, "Well, that is just RUDE!"
"Sorry, ma'am," I said, "but it smells as though you're in need of a shower."
"Well!" She huffed, her face beginning to boil. "Where is your Mother, young man?!?"
I couldn't let Mother find out, so I pointed to a frail lady picking out concentrated juices at the opposite end of the aisle. With much effort, as it was practically over flowing with foods, she turned her cart and stomped along behind it yelling "Excuse me? Excuse ME!" as she approached the old woman. That's when I made my exit.
I found Mother in Produce sniffing oranges. "God, I could just smell these all day. It's heaven!" she breathed as I approached. I let out a huge sigh of relief.

Just as I was thinking I was saved I heard a booming voice bellow "There you are!" My heart sank as I turned to look. There, next to the bananas, was the fat lady, looking like a red bull ready to charge. I gasped.
"Are you that little shit's Mother?" she yelled as she passed the potatoes. A couple rolled off the display and plopped to the floor. One hand was pushing the cart, as the other was balled into a fist swirling around her head. Mother dropped her orange.

"Are you speaking to me?" she asked. The woman finally approached and screeched to a halt.
"Do you KNOW what your little brat said to me?" She fumed.
"Uh, no, sorry." Mother was clearly perplexed. She turned to me asking, "did you say something to the... uh... nice lady?"
"ME?" I questioned "Never!" I put on the puppy eyes. That always gets Mother.
"Why you lying little mouse turd!" Old Fats was really fuming now.
"OK," I admitted, "I maybe, perhaps, sorta mentioned something about a horrible stench emanating from her body. But it was the truth!" That's the precise moment the woman took the opportunity to start bashing me over the head with her purse. Luckily I was wearing my blue crash helmet. I wear it to ward off angry fat old ladies.

It took a while to subdue the old whale. Three employees of the store and a security guard were needed to wrestle her to the ground. They dragged her off to a holding cell, all the while kicking and screaming and calling me names like "shithead," "asshat," and "tard boy." Mother gave me a disapproving look, but soon forgot as she continued to sniff oranges.

On our way home, Mother said, "She really did stink." In that moment I loved Mother just a little bit more.

Delicious Dinner

Every once in a while, Mother likes to dig out her old recipe cards and whip up something special for dinner. Tonight is one of those extra-special occasions. We're celebrating Mother's recent weight loss (10 pounds in 2 days! It really pays to get the stomach flu when you're morbidly obese, just ask Mother!). I am so excited, I can't wait to be let out of my room!

Mother likes to have a full course meal when celebrating any sort of weight loss. Our meal will begin with scrumptious Fish Balls and a Chilled Celery Log for appetizers. Once we've had our fill of balls and logs we'll move on to the Jellied Tomato Refreshers (my favorite YUM!), which are quite good. We don't have brandy snifters, so we just use Dad's beer mugs. I like to pretend I'm getting drunk, which usually elicits a laugh from Sissy and a hearty thumpin' from Dad. After we've drained our mugs of the jellied tomatoes, with much fanfare Mother delivers the main course to the table: Liver Pate en Masque, Mmmmmmm! I usually have two helpings of this 'cause it's my very favorite of all meals Mother cooks (besides the Chef's Surprise, which is usually all leftovers thrown into a pan and baked at 350 for 30 minutes. Oh my god, my mouth is salivating!). Of course, the best is always saved for last: dessert! Tonight is gonna be a surprise, but I sincerely hope it's the Fluffy Mackerel Pudding! Mother usually makes an extra cup just for me, as it's my favoritest of all desserts in the whole wide world! I am so happy right now I could just... oh. I just did. Well, I must change my underpants now!

A Ground-Shaking Good Time

This weekend I watched the most delightful movie about ravenous earth monsters with a blood lust for humans that I've ever seen. It's called Tremors. The story goes like this: in a desolate Nevada town named Perfection, probably since it's nestled in a water-starved valley between mountains and a cliff, the local residents start dying one by one. Considering the entire population is around 10 people, this becomes quite alarming. Now, you'd think that perhaps the local bigot finally blew his lid due to the extreme isolation, but no. Actually the increasingly violent and gruesome deaths are caused by huge, blind, stinky worms that live underground. They can sense vibrations as the towns people run about to and fro. They also have cognitive learning abilities, something the regular towns people seem to have been born without. So as the towns people learn they must get off the ground, the earth monsters (or Graboids, as they are lovingly called) learn how to destroy whatever it is the delicious humans have climbed upon, thus securing one more meal in their quest for constant food. They also have multiple tentacles with grabby mouths that snake out of the gapping hole in their heads.

Luckily, the towns people have Valentine and Earl (Kevin Bacon and Fred Ward), the local gay handymen who live, work and travel together to help solve the Mystery of the Graboid. Luckily for them, they stumble upon a plucky 45 year old geology student, Rhonda, spending her days and nights researching and analyzing the perplexing Mystery of the Seismograph. Then there's Burt and Heather, the local gun enthusiasts, who have a difficult time listening, but can wield a gun like no other. The rest of the cast who isn't dead early on includes Walter, the Chinese shop owner (and only businessowner in town, I'm guessing), Melvin, the local teen bully who has neither parents nor peers to bully, Nancy, the mother of pogo-sticking Mindy, Miguel, the token Hispanic dude, and Nestor, the town dumb ass.

Besides roll-in-the-aisles-with-laughter banter between the stressed-out towns people, the movie is loaded with intense action sequences featuring some of the finest puppetry and animatronic effects ever captured on film, balanced by sweet and tender love scenes featuring one hot threesome between Val, Earl and Rhonda as they're stranded on a rock outcrop over night. Luckily Rhonda finds some poles nearby and they vault their way to freedom (much to the delight of Val and Earl). In another scene after a Graboid makes for a game of Grabass with Rhonda, but grabs only her pleated pants, Val stares lovingly at her panties while sloppily applying gore makeup to her legs. These scenes show that even in a time of crisis, fun can be had at the expense of all.

I won't give away the farm (they all live, except poor, poor Walter) and spoil the fun for you (they kill the last of 4 by running it off a cliff), but I highly recommend investing 96 minutes of your time into a family friendly tale about love, loss, diversity, tolerance and humongous earth worms. A-

Crash Helmet

As I was primping in front of the mirror this morning I decided my helmet was looking a little too plain. Normally I won't wear my green helmet with brown slacks, usually the orange one adds a nice contrast in color, but today I was feeling a little frisky in the clothes department. At first I liked the smooth, shiny surface of the helmet, but today isn't a reserved sort of day, I needed something with a little pizazz, a little flair, something with a bit of sartorial charm. I tried using markers to paint pretty pictures, but firstly the color choices are few and far between because I so often use markers I tend to run out of ink (well, that and I chew on the ends, which Mother just despises), and secondly the marker just rubbed off when I touched the helmet. With that plan gone I decided to actually paint pretty pictures with my water colors. Well, as I'm sure you've already guessed, the colors just ran off. That's when the light bulb blew. Not because I had an idea, but because after two months it finally burnt out. But it did illuminate one alternative: stickers. Usually, Mother doesn't allow me to have any stickers because of the refrigerator incident. And the car incident. And the dog incident (I still maintain my innocence, Mother!). But I know where she keeps them. After rooting through multiple drawers in Mother's dresser, and trying on a strange black lace number, I finally found my stickers. Then came the quandary of the day: which stickers do I affix to my helmet? Superman? Scooby-Doo? The Princess Collection? So many choices, but ultimately I knew there was only one that would do my Army green helmet justice: The Princess Collection. Now I'm looking pretty cool. You should have seen the looks on the faces of each passers-by as I walked to the comic book store. Man, did I turn heads or what?!? Sure, Mother will be upset (especially when she sees what I did to her black lacy garment), but I feel complete. I'm thinking tomorrow I might go the rebel route and wear jeans with the black helmet. That ALWAYS gets the girls. Especially when I wear the purple jeans.

S.O.S. | Save Our Segway

I just found out from a dear friend that Colorado is not a Segway friendly state. There is pending legislation to ban the offending motor vehicles from the sidewalks. I need my Segway. How can I be expected to walk from my car to my office everyday? That's almost two whole blocks each way! By the time I reach the office I'm nearly out of breath, with spots floating in front of my eyes. Without my Segway, I'd just be a puddle of sweat on the sidewalk that some poor shmo whould have to mop up. We must stop this madness! I will not be told I have to walk, when clearly walking is highly overrated. And tiring. It makes me tired just thinking about it. I must (pant pant) take a rest (pant pant).

Love the Segway? Read about my adventures with Pearl HERE.