One year my daughter asked Santa for a “My Size Barbie” for Christmas. For those of you who don’t know, a “My Size Barbie” is a Barbie doll that has been fed huge amounts of hormones at the factory causing her to become the size of Daryl Hannah.  Pre-hormonal Barbie
 Post-hormonal Barbie
To insure that “My Size Barbie” would be in stock, I went to the toy store early in December. I approached the Barbie isle and was about to ask where I might find The Big One, when I tripped over a humongous box containing “My Size Barbie” nearly breaking “My Size Arm.”
The adrenaline rush I experienced from the fall enabled me to heft the package containing The Incredible Babs onto my cart, but not being Arnold Schwarzenegger (or even Maria Shriver); I wasn’t strong enough to maneuver the box so that I could see the price tag.
I inched my Barbie-burdened cart to the checkout stand where it took four of us to hoist The Giant Gal onto the scanner, and I mentally noted that perhaps some low-fat Barbie cuisine would make an apropos stocking stuffer. Being an alert consumer, I had estimated the price at around $40, $50 or maybe even $60. “Do you know how much this is?” I asked the clerk. “I’ll let you know in a sec, Hon,” she said and fired up the Jaws of Life to help her run Buxom Barb over the scanner. As I waited for the price to appear, I recalled a Christmas of long ago when I had received a Barbie Dream House. My mother had lovingly assembled it all by herself. It had taken her the better part of the Kennedy administration.
Barbie’s Swingin’ Cardboard Pad That had been my favorite Christmas, and I owed it all to my mother and to my Barbie. How ironic that on this Christmas, I was giving my daughter The Mother of All Barbies.
“Excuse, me, Ma’am? The “My Size Barbie” is $128. Did you still want it?" One-hundred and twenty-eight dollars! Suddenly everything began to move in slow motion I could feel myself turning white . . . then red . . . then green . . . Like an aluminum Christmas tree on a rotating stand.
I looked at the clerk and then back at the 20 or so people waiting in line behind me. They were all staring at me and sighing a lot. Maybe they were thinking that I shouldn’t let my daughter down for a few lousy bucks and that I should forget the expense because, after all, it was Christmas. Finally a gentleman from the back of the line offered his advice. “Move it lady!” “Cool! A My Size Barbie,” shouted the clerk from the next checkout stand. “My niece has one of those and they share the same clothes.” Then just to bring-it-on-home, she added, “I think she comes with an entire wardrobe."
Hey, isn’t that Barbie’s? The clerk and I quickly tried to figure out how many outfits were included but that information was on the opposite side of the box and somebody else was using the forklift. I paid with a check so big it would have made “My Size Barbie” proud. And as the crane lowered The Ultimate Barbie onto the roof of my car, I knew in my heart I had made the right decision.
Christmas morning when my little girl opened her special present, the wonder and joy that is Christmas was captured again for one brief shining moment. I say brief because the day after Christmas I made “My Size Barbie” go out and get a job . |
“A little to the left.” 
What Came in the MailItem 1I got a letter from the cable company today and these words were emblazoned across the envelope: Look Inside to See What’s Waiting for You I don’t know about you, but I’d prefer not to have anything “waiting for me inside”. Maybe it’s going to jump out and scare me. And besides, what if it’s not waiting anymore. What if it got tired of waiting . . . and now it’s lurking . . . I don’t want to look inside if something is lurking in there for me.
"Bwahaha" Then again, it could just be that the cable company wants me to look inside to see what’s waiting for me because they think I’m expecting them to send me an empty envelope. Perhaps they imagine the following scenario:
“Honey, we got another envelope from the cable company today. What should I do?” “Hmmm. . . that's a tough one. Does it say ‘look inside to see what’s waiting for you?’”
“No.” “Then don’t look inside, just throw it away.” "Okie-doke"
Item 2 Our Auto Insurance Coverage Summary finally arrived. (And here you were about to give up. Oh ye of little faith.) Inside “waiting/lurking” was the “Declarations Page.” They would have called it the Declaration’s Page but apostrophes are so expensive nowadays and using one would have caused our auto insurance rates to skyrocket. The “Declarations Page” goes on to declare that:
Our policy information has change Effective June 7, 2007. Shhh . . . don’t mention that it’s a little late for this news. The Declarations Page takes itself very seriously and you’ll only cause a fight. Item 3 An offer for a Nokia phone came in. It said: Hello Linda Vernon, (Note the use of the comma instead of a colon which means they consider me a friend; in fact they might even be falling in love.) It goes on to say: You’ve been such a great customer; you deserve something special from us. Ok, flattery will get you everywhere. What is it? Get your free camera phone with free delivery! Ah shucks, you shouldn’t have. It’s yours free after a $50 mail-in rebate debit card with a two-year service agreement. Ok, now I’m tearing up. It has the largest digital voice and data network in American covering 273 million people and it’s growing all the time. You had me at hello.
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Revenge of the PhonebotsThank you for calling. We appreciate your business. This call may be monitored or recorded for quality assurance. Please hold for one of our Quality Assurance Customer Care Representatives. There will be a short survey at the end of this call for quality assurance purposes. There is currently a 2 minute wait for your Quality Assurance Care Representative. In order to properly route your call to better serve you, please enter your account number followed by the pound key.
We’re sorry we didn’t get that. Please enter your account number followed by the pound key.
A bit of an attitude has been detected in the way you entered your account number followed by the pound key.
We are only asking for your account number for quality assurance purposes so that we may better serve you.
For quality assurance purposes, please hold while we transfer you to a short survey about why you had an attitude when entering your account number followed by the pound key.
If you do not wish to take the short survey, please press 1 followed by the pound key. You will be asked to take a short survey for quality assurance purposes about your pressing 1 just now. If you didn’t want to take the short survey, you should have said so sooner. We have already wasted precious minutes that could have been used in pursuit of quality assurance so that we may better serve you. 
We must insist that you press 0 followed by the pound key immediately. Our systems have detected a serious problem with the way you pressed 0 followed by the pound key. Perhaps this would be a good time to remind you that this call is being monitored AND recorded. Hold for a supervisor.
There is currently a 2 minute wait for a supervisor. While you are holding for a supervisor, you will be asked to take a short survey about your 2 minutes on hold -- which you will take if you know what’s good for you -- for quality assurance purposes. We are currently experiencing a large volume of swearing on your part. Please keep in mind that the short survey we are asking you to take is designed to better serve you and in return we are receiving a higher than normal volume of attitude. Since you insist on pushing all the keys on your phone at once, it has become clear that you will be requiring a visit to the address listed on your billing statement from our Quality Assurance Customer Care Specialist, Paulie. 
Rest assured that we are absolutely certain you will be filling out a short survey about your visit from Paulie for quality assurance purposes in order to better serve you once you have regained feeling in your arms. Thank you for calling. You may hang up now.
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Things look pretty when it rains. The grass is a true-blue green. The flowers are gorgeous; the trees sublime. Let’s face it, everything looks better through waterlogged eyes the way Cybil Sheppard looks better through gauze. Taken during worst gauze shortage in over a hundred years. Once about a trillion years ago, give or take a week, it rained oceans. Really. I remember it well. I was an amoeba at the time. Me and my amoeba buddies were just hanging around trying to figure out how to evolve when it started to rain. You should have seen it. It was like Seattle! Me and my top eight amoebas A couple oceans later, the sun finally came out. First thing we did was put on sunglasses. (But amoebas don’t wear sunglasses, you’re thinking. Oh yeah? . . . by then we had evolved into dinosaurs – so there!) “Fo’shizzle!” Next thing you know, it started snowing – the biggest snowflakes we ever saw. Somebody said each one was unique and we tried to verify that, but by the time we got two flakes positioned on the slide and the microscope in focus, they were a drink of water. Then it was cold for a really long time. The world was quiet. Nobody went out except for this one guy who kept insisting on hiking over the Alps in his shorts. One day he got lost, and they found him thousands of years later perfectly preserved in a perfectly round puddle of perfectly melted snow. From studying the clothes he wore, and the items he was carrying in a crudely fashioned satchel, scientists were able to conclude the following: a) He was a hunter/gatherer. b) He was born sometime before the Bronze Age c) He wasn’t very good at crudely fashioning satchels.
As exciting as the Ice Age wasn’t, I still preferred it to the rain. Part of the reason is because nobody had the wherewithal to invent an umbrella until the seventeenth century when it was simultaneously invented by an English Aristocrat named William Shakespeare and, clear across the great Atlantic Ocean in America, by a man named Thomas Edison --- both of whom have since drowned. (I know your thinking this sounds a little fishy and you’re wondering if I have my facts straight . . . ok, ok, it might have been the eighteenth century;- happy?) I’m not exactly sure what the gang and I had evolved into by this time. My memory is hazy. We were either peasants in France or pheasants in pants. Until the government releases the infamous "Pheasants in Pants" photos– this one will have to suffice I do remember that by the time we had evolved opposable thumbs, France was heavily into a revolution. You see, the French Revolution was established as just a fun way to teach French nobility how to divide. What would be the size of the fraction, they wondered, if they were to divide, say, Henry the VIII by Louie the XIV’s guillotine? They might have found out too if that dimwitted Marie Antoinette wouldn’t have wandered into the way of the experiment. Say what you will, but the gal had a head for fractions. |
Rainy Reminiscences
Not so freshly fallen snow 
Died hailing a cab 
William Shakespeare 
California Droolin'Yesterday, my daughter, Nikki, and I decided to do some exploring around the California Gold Country. Our plan was to stop and explore the first town we came to. So we gassed up the car and headed out on Highway 49. 
Me and Nikki It wasn’t long before we found ourselves in a darling little Gold Rush community. We weren’t exactly sure which darling little Gold Rush community however, since we didn’t have a map and the voice of our GPS kept repeating “you are not on a digitized road.” 
We found a parking spot on Main Street, and immediately set out to find somewhere to eat. We were hoping for a place with good food served up by someone on the order of, say, Aunt Bea, who would regale us with little known stories of the Gold Rush days. 
Just thinking about it was enough to register 10 on the warm and fuzzy meter. So nobody was as surprised as we were to discover that everybody in town was a fresh- out-of-the-grave, flesh- eating, foot-shuffling Zombie. I mean, what are the odds of that? 
Our warm and fuzzy meter immediately nose-dived to cold and scratchy.
Nevertheless, we took a collective gulp (well not actually a collective gulp – more like Nikki gulped, and then I gulped shortly thereafter) and bravely forged onward in the true spirit of exploration; plus we were starving. We decided to duck into a deli that looked pretty normal from the outside, but lurking inside was a Zombie version of Norman Bates. Before we could figure out a way to politely scream bloody murder and run out the door, he intimidated us into ordering by saying, “Can I take you’re order?” (We intimidate pretty easy). 
Imagine this guy as a re-animated corpse wearing a chef’s hat and that’s pretty much the guy who took our order.
Soon a zombie-by-night/waitress-by-day kind of gal shuffled over, arms outstretched, with a death grip on two Caesar salads. She had apparently misplaced her pencil judging by the severed finger she had tucked behind her ear. When we asked about the gray, clearly uncooked substance that was strewn haphazardly on top of our salads, we were told that it was chicken. But this didn’t look like any chicken one would commonly find on planet earth.
When I politely inquired whether the chicken (it never hurts to humor these types) had been cooked, she became agitated and shouted, “Fire Bad!” then bashed through the wall into the kitchen. Not wanting to draw any unnecessary attention to ourselves at this point, Nikki and I pretended to eat by pushing our salads around for approximately 12 seconds and then, lingered, casual-like, for another napkin-dabbing 11 seconds before bolting for the door. On our way out of town, we decided to stop at Walmart. By now we had grown accustom to unfriendly Zombies, so we were pleasantly surprised when our checker turned out to be a very friendly sort of fellow who actually had some color in his face. 
As he cheerfully bagged up our wooden stakes, he bid us adieu and flashed us a winning smile that sent our warm and fuzzy meter soaring to a solid 9 +. So even though our little Gold Country excursion didn’t turn out exactly as we had envisioned, we did learn a good lesson. Aside from being undead -- and with the exception of the fleshing eating, the foot shuffling and the dirty fingernails -- in their heart of hearts (if they have one), Zombies are really no different than you and I. |
A Cold Chill Winter's Day
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Febreze Scents That Looked Promising But in the End Were RejectedThe Scent: Egg Salad Serenity The Febreze Scent Story: A burst of bouquet that harkens back to a time of serenity when you were a child in front of the television set watching Leave It to Beaver while Mom mixed up a delicious batch of egg salad. Just one whiff and you’ll be asking: 
“Hey Ma! Is that egg salad I smell?”
The Scent: Pet Shop Potpourri The Febreze Scent Story: Febreze has triumphantly brought you the wonder and excitement of the pet shop via your olfactory senses with Pet Shop Potpourri Scented Febreze. We’ve managed to combine the aromas of hamster shavings, birdcages, and pet dander so effectively that a single sniff will instantly transport you to Precious Pet Land. Spray it generously to bring out the “animal” in your home, and we’re confident you’ll have guests asking, “What’s that smell?” 
"Watch Your Step!"
The Scent: Afternoon at the DMV The Febreze Scent Story: Bring the exhilaration of spending the entire afternoon at the DMV with 475 fellow line-standers into your very own home with Afternoon at the DMV Scented Febreze. We’ve ingeniously included every single smell of the huddled masses from around the corner to around the world in order to offer you a truly diversified smelling experience. So the next time you’re in the mood for an international experience of a different kind, pick up a bottle of Afternoon at the DMV Scented Febreze. 
"People with Common (and Uncommon!) Scents"
The Scent: Elementary School Serenade The Febreze Scent Story: Frankly, capturing the essence of 600 children aged 5 through 12 enclosed in an unventilated space wasn’t easy. But we here at Febreze are nothing if not committed to bringing back the carefree days of childhood. Just one spray and you’re back in second grade. From the cafeteria’s hamburger gravy to the pungent fragrance of freshly exercised children in a small space on a damp, warm afternoon, we’ve managed to successfully encapsulate each and every odor in a single bottle for your smelling pleasure. 
The Scent Little Boy’s Bedroom Bouquet The Febreze Scent Story: Every time you breathe in this heart-warming scent, you’ll be whisked away to the fascinating world of a little boy's room. From the bologna sandwich he’s been carrying around in his backpack all year, to the aroma that can only be produced by wearing the same soccer uniform both night and day for a full week (including knee-socks and shin-guards!) this scent delivers it all. We can’t predict whether you’ll be laughing or crying-; but we can guarantee it will make your eyes water. 
"He never takes it off !"
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Ask Dottie(Go ahead . . . ask her!)Dear Dottie: Can you think of any legal way I can make this irritating man in my life go away? I would appreciate any suggestions you may have. Please keep in mind that I wouldn’t be interested in any remedy in which I could end up on death row. Chronically Peeved in Pendleton Dear Chronically Peeved, Listen, Toots, if a particularly pesky person is pestering you purple, simply do what I do. Multiply that person by zero. I know you are probably asking yourself is Dottie daffy? But trust me, Toots, this really works and here’s how: Multiply seven times zero and what do you come up with? You got it, Toots, -- zero! You made the seven go away didn’t you? Let’s say you want to multiply seven oranges by zero. Uh oh! Look out! Now you have zero oranges. Where did all the oranges go? Do you see where I’m going with this? Tonight, just before you fall asleep, think of the person like this: Irritating Man x 0 = 0 and viola! Tomorrow morning Mr. Annoying will be gone. Gone where? I don’t know. But he’s probably eating all your oranges so don’t feel too guilty about it, Toots. Dear Dottie: My husband has an annoying habit of retelling entire plots of movies. If this isn’t bad enough, they are always movies we have seen together. When I try to politely point this out to him, he just ignores me and keeps talking. He also wants to invest our retirement savings in a line of thinking caps for chess players. What is wrong with him and how shall I handle it? Frustrated in Fresno Dear Frustrated, Does he like oranges, Toots? (If so, see above.) Dear Dottie: I’ve never seen this problem anywhere before, and I hesitate to bring it up but I don’t know who else to turn to. You see, I’m obsessed with the guy on my computer who says “printing started” and “printing complete.” Yesterday, when he said, “Please load paper in the auto sheet feeder,” I fell hopelessly, head-over-heels in love. Anywho, long story short, can you hook us up?” Swooning in Salt Lake City Dear Swooning, Send me $500, Toots, and I’ll see what I can do. By the way, are you by any chance a chess player? |
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Our Hamsters Ourselves 
"The total came to $213.17!"
"The manifestation of pure evil or 'Lucy' for short."
Ode to the Brain "Eww!" Oh little brain we love you so For thinking up the things we know From your hemispheres to your thalamuses You know the times of all the buses Your skull cap’s skewed so jauntily You’ve hit a spinal chord with me! And furthermore let’s be quite placid (Because of your amino acid) We do not sail this synapse sea As hairy as a chimpanzee
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A Day at the Thrift Store
I finally got around to cleaning out my clutter and dropping it off at the thrift store yesterday. Of course, I just had to go inside and have a quick look around, Thrift Store Junky that I am. This was an especially bountiful day at the store. Forsaken falderal was piled high and wide, and the atmosphere exuded the same quiet concentration one might experience while sitting in a room full of people taking an important exam; which could only mean one thing. The Hard Core Collectors were here. I snapped to attention and quickly grabbed a shopping cart. Even though I needed nothing, wanted nothing and had absolutely no idea what I was looking for, that didn’t mean I was going to let somebody else get their hands on it before I did! Guiding my cart on pure instinct, I tarried not at the book shelves, by-passed the knick knacks and hardly acknowledged the exercise equipment. I was making a beeline for the shelves marked “collectibles,” when I suddenly ran head on into another cart operated by a woman who could best be described as a human Fruit Loop. She wore bright blue sweats, tangerine lipstick, and her ruby red hair was tucked behind ears that resembled dried apricots.
We momentarily locked carts. I quickly perused her cart, and she quickly perused mine. Atop her mountain of frippery sat a pink, Beanie Baby Flamingo that had a price tag that said $1.50. Dang! I may not be a sophisticated collector, but I was pretty sure it must have been worth more than that. Ten dollars at least!
I inquired sweetly where she had found the Beanie Baby. I kept my voice calm and tried to affect a tone that conveyed the sentiment that it was not for me but for my adorable little granddaughter who would dearly love it for her collection and who, by the way, might even happen to be blind or something. Ok, Ok, I don’t actually have any grandchildren, but she didn’t know that. For all she knew I might have had ten grandchildren, each and every one of them blind as a bat. So I was a little put off when she simply glared at me, shoved her Beanie Baby farther down into her cart and marched off. Well! Apparently that dried apricot thing she had going on extended all the way down to her heart. The Internal Organs of Someone Who Shall Remain Nameless It wasn’t long before I had wormed my way to the collectibles and spied a set of dishes that were clearly from the 1950’s atomic era. They were calling to me in a voice I recognized as Dwight D. Eisenhower’s. "Buy those dishes. I implore you!"" The pattern featured boomerangs intermixed with A-bomb mushroom clouds interspersed with random dots of nuclear waste. I simply had to have them! I rushed to find a clerk who could give me a price. The woman I found to help me wasn’t technically a clerk; it seems she was just hanging around the store in order to burn off a few community service hours, but she was very friendly and quite helpful all the same.
And when she said she would let me have the entire set of dishes for $15, I nearly fell over backwards onto-- guess what? -- A huge pile of Beanie Babies! Needless to say, I acquired the dishes, along with a few other thrift shop must- haves, and the Community Service Lady was even kind enough to help me out to my car with my purchases. They wouldn’t all fit in the trunk, but we managed to squeeze the rest of the stuff into the back seat. As I drove away I was filled with an unparalleled sense of satisfaction and accomplishment. After all, there’s really nothing that can compare with finally getting rid of one’s old, worn out, useless clutter unless, of course, it’s replacing it with NEW worn out useless clutter. |
Fruit Loop Lady and Her Ilk
Who could resist?
"How can I help you?"
"Do These Pants Make Me Look Fat?" |
"Well . . . hmm . . . uh . . .," he finally managed to inarticulate. 
(It doesn't matter to me that you're fat, really!) 
(You're fat but so what?) 
(Don't make me hurt your feelings)
Things I Learned as a Waitress I learned that when you carry drinks on a tray, you won’t spill them if you don’t look at the liquid.
I learned that it is possible to poke your head in the refrigerator under the pretense of looking for a bottle of ketchup and eat a big piece of cheesecake without anyone being the wiser.
I learned that it is possible to make enough money in tips to pay your light bill in small change. "If this isn’t enough, there’s more out in my car."
I learned that you should be a little suspicious when the temporary waitress who was hired to help out on Christmas day rushes to clear off all your tables and is as surprised as you are that not one single person left a tip.
I learned that if a customer gets so frustrated with you that he gets up out of his chair and shakes you, you can be pretty sure he won’t be leaving a tip. .
I learned that when you spill an entire plate of food on the birthday girl’s dress, you should offer to pay to have it drycleaned or shoot yourself in the head – whichever they would prefer. Happy birthday . . . to . . . ah, forget it!
And finally, I learned that some restaurant managers will sneak into the lounge at 8:00 in the morning and go behind the bar and take the liquor nozzle and spray it directly into their mouths and then wander around muttering incoherently and wearing a brown curly wig until the police come and take them away.
"You can’t fire me. . . I quit!" |
"Cheesecake? What cheesecake?" 
“Guess I’ll go home now.”
"Voted least likely to leave a tip."
A message brought to you by the makers of Plathamath, the lastest Wonder Drug Do you suffer from Skin Jogging Syndrome?Like millions of Americans, Sharon was unaware that she suffered 24/7 from a skin disorder so debilitating she didn't even know she had it. Poor ol' Sharon Then one day Sharon read about Skin Jogging Syndrome or SJS. SJS is a syndrome so insidious, so sneaky, and so downright underhanded that there is absolutely no way to tell if you have it. Sharon closed her eyes and thought about what it would feel like if her skin was jogging. And guess what? The longer she thought about it, the more she thought she could feel her skin jogging; just a little at first . . . and then -- yes! She was sure of it. Her skin was definitely jogging. Well no wonder her life was such a mess . . . So imagine Sharon's joy when she found out there was a pill for that! It's called Plathamath! And the makers of Plathamath believe that no one should suffer from Skin Jogging Syndrome simply because they don't know they have it. Plathamath taken just twice in the morning, twice at lunch, twice in the afternoon, twice after dinner and then every five minutes until bedtime -- will prevent your skin from jogging for a full six hours! Just this many for a full six hours of relief! Taken as directed, Plathamath will not only relieve you of your annoying skin jogging sensations, it will relieve you of all your sensations period! That's right! Not comma, not semi-colon, but PERIOD! Now millions of people can enjoy life again just like they did before they ever heard of Skin Jogging Syndrome. "Thank you Plathamath for giving me back my life!" So talk to your doctor about Plathamath. (Go ahead, call him right now . . . it's not that late . . . he won't mind, really!) Important Safety Information for Plathamath Stop taking Plathamath if you suddenly experience difficulty warbling, sneezing or churning butter. Plathamath is not recommended for people who have a history of uncontrollable whittling, elbows that bend both ways, or who are overly interested in France. Tell your doctor immediately should you slip into a coma lasting longer than seven or eight months. If you have a tendency to explode without warning, talk to your doctor about whether Plathamath is right for you. Studies have shown that combining Plathamath with certain types of other medications such as Cyanide Capsules, Lethal Injections or Arsenic could lead to death and/or indigestion therefore is not recommended. If this happens to you and you're not saluting the flag or singing Ava Maria . . . . . . call 911 Discontinue Plathamath altogether if you experience an uncontrollable urge to pull over to the side of the road before getting out of bed in the morning. "Aren't you going to put on your blinker?" "No, I thought you were driving." In rare cases Plathamath has been known to severely affect judgement concerning lint or lint related issues. "This is lint is it not?" If this happens, go to the emergency room immediately and please, PLEASE do not operate any heavy machinery on the way there. PlathamathGiving you back the quality of life you never knew was missing!
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How To Be An Effective Parent Using Only The Word "Bingo"Kid:"I want a new skateboard!" Parent:"Bingo!" Kid:"So can I have $80?" Parent:"Bingo!" Kid:"Do you want me to clean my room first or something?" Parent:"Bingo!" Kid:"Ok, I cleaned my room. Can I have the money now?" Parent:"Bingo!" Kid:"Ok, you want me to get your purse?" Parent:"Bingo!" Kid:"So where's the money? Don't you have $80?" Parent:"Bingo!" Kid:"Well, you should have said so in the first place because I wouldn't have cleaned my room if I would have known you didn't have any money." Parent:"Bingo!" Kid:"Thanks for nothing. Remind me never to ask you for any money again." Parent:"Bingo!" |