Finally!

See front cover of Rolling Stone magazine!  Justin Beiber actually revealed he has a forehead!

"Black Widow Spiders Web-It Ain't What You Think"

There comes a time in every single woman’s life when she feels like a complete and utter failure to attract members of the opposite sex. Or the other scenario, has lost interest in having sex. (God forbid.) This is followed by a lack of grooming rituals such as giving up shaving her legs and the ever popular brazilian bikini wax.  She says to herself “FU#%$^ IT, men don’t deserve my time and energy anymore, I’ve had it”.  So the little landing strip between her legs now slowly grows and grows, into a chia pet with an afro that grows into a black widow spiders web. From the spider web grows a medium length, unidentified, hanging string, of unbraided Barbie doll pubic hair.  Which leads me to the following story:

A co-worker of mine stopped shaving her private area during her pregnancy and after giving birth to her first child.  One morning she stepped out of the shower while her husband was shaving in the mirror.  He happened to turn around and look at her, jumped back, screamed, dropped his razor, and pointed to her crotch yelling, ”What the hell is that?”  “That my dear is what my “Kooka” looks like without a Brazilian bikini wax.”  “Where do you go to have it done?”  he yelled frantically.  “Starlight Salon & Day spa.”  “What’s their phone number?”  “Its in my cell phone under the letter “S”.” He runs naked out of the bathroom.  She hears him say, “Hello is this the starlight spa?”  “Ok good” “I have an emergency!  I need an appointment for my wife to have a, honey what’s it called again?, he yells. “A BRAZILIAN BIKINI WAX!”  “Yeah a brazilian bikini wax. What exactly is that by the way?  Wow, that sounds painful, expensive too!!  She does all that for me?  I had no idea!  Yeah Tuesday @ 3:45pm is great.  Book it under the name Harrison.  You have services like that for men too?  What’s that called?  “The Crown Jewels special.” the spa receptionist replied.   No that’s ok, I’m sticking with Santa, let it grow, let it grow, gotta go!!!!

"Woman's Dilemma: Lose The Belly=Lose The Boobs"

Ever wonder how Victoria’s Secret supermodels are skinny as a toothpick, have tight flat as a board stomachs, but have big breasts?.  Hello implants!!!!  I personally, am 5ft 2in and went from a size 4 to a size 10 within the last year.  I now have an unwanted “Kanga Pouch” (my belly) but my natural boobs (no implants for me thank you) are now boob-alicious.  Quite a wonderful handful now I must say, but when I bend over I get quite upset.  I did not ask for the “Pooch, Pouch, whatever the hell you want to call it.”  So my dilemma is do I lose the weight I gained to get rid of my “Pouch”, or keep it on to maintain my lovely moonbeams?  I’ll let the gentlemen decide......Hash it out boys……

"Chillin' Wid Pimp Daddy Ole Sain' Nick - HOLLA!!!!"

Well its Christmas Eve and the bookstore is booming. College kids are home doing last minute shopping, the phones are ringing off the hook, theres a huge line at both the upstairs and downstairs registers, and the charity for the ASPCA’s dogs is in christmas attire with reindeer alters on that jingle, wishing he could bite his owner in the ass and get the hell out of there. The requests and types of customers are vast and endless.  A man in cowboy boots is asking for a “biography” on “The Hells Angels” which wound up being in the “true crime” section.  A college age guy is wearing a black and white t-shirt with a slogan on the back saying:  “Whats the best pick-up line ever? Text 542542 now!”  A middle aged woman behind him is furious that we didn’t have the “Animal House” and “Fast Times At Ridgemont High” DVD’s in stock. Two adults in goth attire are in the metaphysical, tarot card section. When in walk two white college age guys asking me for “The Wu Tang Clan” auto biography.  So I find

the book in Pop/Rock books,  and I ask the guys if Wu Tang Clan are like hip hop/rappers and the guys  say “Hells Yea!!! fa’shizzle ”  I said I think I’ve heard one of their songs but I

cant remember which one, what do they sound like?  So he starts to sing one called “Duck Season” and the lyrics went like this:

“What up, he made a move, try to assist it

Listen kid yo, you was born to be a pawn but I'm a bishop

Back to the novel, you Son, it's logical

How you figure God, what, flow on the track, flip the obstacle

Now my proposal, it's the global

From California to courts, it's over God, so taste the tofu

Remember baggy jeans, the Timberlands in November

Shorty called me Santa in December

But guess what, my Wally's got messed up....”

So I try to act all fly for a white girl with some flavor and I say “Yo homes that was dope, totally pimposterous, poppin’ fresh, damn your toy soldier’s got mojo!”, I said to the non-rapping white guy. “DOUBLE.......SWEET!!!!!!!!!  We all laugh hysterically, and I ask them where they go to school whereupon they told me the University of Vermont.  I said “ohhh.. must be a lot of snow bunnies up there”. “Hells yeah thats why we wanted to go there.”  “You don’t even have to ask Hugh Hefner for an invite to the playboy mansion, you got the hook up yourself.  Have fun, and have a merry christmas.  Thanks for your help they reply as I catch them staring at my ladylumps and my badinkadinkdink as I walk my way back to the info desk. 

As I get to the desk I start to fantasize that Santa has just had his sleigh

 transformed by Mad Mike and Xzibit on the MTV show “Pimp My Ride”.  His reindeer are “chillin like villians” and his christmas bunny pimpettes have hooked him up with

some Crystal in a pimp cup given to him as a gift by the rapper “Lil Jon”.   He has just piled on gold gansta bling over his red and white santa suit and is now partying with P Diddy at a Sean John fashion show after party at Cipriani’s in New York City.  His cell phone goes off and the name “Mrs Claus” comes up on his I-Phone screen,

“Aawwww Damn!!!” he blurts out as the snow bunnies surround him in the VIP lounge “It’s my ole lady”...”   

"From Garbo To GTL & Grenades"

Just had a conversation with my Mom (born in 1930, a feisty, cultured, beautiful, former professional actress, and intellectual eighty year old) about college students.  She seems to think all they do  when they get into trouble is drink and make out or have sex.  I said no the girls lie down on top of bars and have guys do shots off their navels, the girls kiss other girls to show off to the guys, they have sex on the beach, pee on the side of public buildings, get into bar, nightclub, and street fights, resist arrest, get their wallets stolen while watching women flash their breasts on balconies wearing mardi gras beads, smoke pot, do drugs and overdose, pass out from alcohol poisoning, have tailgate parties, hazing rituals that are illegal, have cops arrest them for underage drinking, public intoxication, back talking police officers, jay walking while drunk, slipping roofies into girls drinks resulting in date rape, noise disturbances from partying, trespassing.

Have threesomes of all variations, hookup with random people without even knowing their names, have sex with MILF’s & Cougars, develop STDs, have abortions, wind up in rehab and walk out, get addicted to internet porn, frequent strip clubs, drive while drunk or high, speed and have car races while drunk or high, cheat on their girlfriends/boyfriends by signing up on internet dating sites, clubbing, bar hopping, going to other campus’ kegger’s, Facebook, Twitter, instant messaging, video chatting, e-mailing, texting, hire strippers and call girls for frat parties, have sex in bar/club bathrooms with random people using no protection, and challenge each other as to who can do the craziest most immoral acts on the planet to get into or stay in a fraternity or sorority.

I say Mom, you need to watch MTV’s “Jersey Shore” and G4’s “Campus PD” with me. Then you’ll understand what I’m talking about. I dared myself to read Tucker Max’s book “I Hope They Serve Beer In Hell” whereupon this generations women totally validated Dave Chappelle’s statement in his Washington DC “Killin’ Them Softly” stand up routine that “Chivalry Is Dead And Women Killed It. “Its quite scary and sad that theres no morals and values anymore,” I told my mom.

 (Although I must admit Jersey Shore is my guilty pleasure, Pauly D is a hunk, and yes I will be tuning in for Season 3 on Thursday, January 6th 2011!) Cant wait to see the “grenade horn” that “Mike, The Situation” blows on top of the roof having Pauly D laughing till his six pack hurts.  But if I had younger kids would I let them watch the show? No, I would not.

My Mom asked me what would you do if your kids were college age and did something you just told me about.  I said “Tough Hard As Nails Love.” What do you mean?”, she asked.  No more college tuition, no more paying off campus rent, closed bank account and credit cards (if my name is involved) changed locks on the front doors at home, telling local police my son or daughter is not allowed in the house again till they’ve straightened up.  My tough love part two would be for them to do some of the following:  Become an EMT, (Emergency Medical Technician), college campus counselor, volunteer at a local hospital emergency room, participate in safe rides, and/or visit prisons to hear the inmates stories to prevent them from winding up in jail.

“And this is what parents pay for when they pay for college?  Twenty something hedonism, and debauchery?”  (I told you my Mom’s a crossword puzzle verbiage whiz.) “Yes Mom,” I replied, “But if you raise them with good morals and values that’s the best ammunition they can bring with them to protect themselves and stay on track.”  “When you have college age kids I’ll pray for you,” she replied.  “Thanks”, I responded.  “I’m sure as hell going to need it.”

"College At Forty & The Wall Street Crash of 2008"

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"Help Mariah Help!!!"

For the past two weeks I’ve worked 28 hours a week.  Today I clock in and look at next week’s schedule.  My jaw drops!  I’m only scheduled for 8 hours. I panic.  Immediately, I think I’ve done something wrong, and frantically try to find one of my managers.  I find the head manager, Sally, and ask what happened.  She says we went over by 145 hours last week and that her district manager told her she must cut back.  She tells me it has nothing to do with me personally and that other workers hours were cut as well.  She says, “But don’t worry, I’ll call you this week for more hours.”  I smile and say, “So, I guess I’ll be “On Call”…….. I start dreaming I’m Mariah Carey wearing Gucci heels singing my way out of my predicament.  But, instead, a stack of books falls off the register counter, which I have to bend over and pick up.  I heave the stack of books back onto the counter and thank God I’m on unemployment.  Damn….this recession is a bitch!