Jumping on the Nude Bandwagon

It appears that my dear friends are getting a great deal of joy out of the naked lockout incident, and it has spawned inventive holiday gifts this year. One pal gave me a rain poncho, adorable rubber boots, and a key keeper for my birthday, with the instructions to keep said items in the shed out back in case of emergency. For Christmas, I received scented garbage bags (yes, Virginia, there are scented garbage bags) in rose, white, and pale blue colors as a complete "Spring Wardrobe" and a roll of "50% wider" plastic wrap as "Lingerie." It tickles me that I am the source of much amusement. Next: a garbage bag fashion show!

The Holidays Suck

People are so tense. Every day is a head-up-the-butt day on the roads and in parking lots. While I was walking across a parking lot today, a car stopped to allow me to cross, while another pulled around to pass the first car, almost hitting me. I gave the driver the furry eyeball and mouthed something along the lines of, "Why do you think people are stopping?" He rolled down his window, called me a bitch, and said that I was in the middle of the road causing problems. After I walked to my car, I began developing this elaborate fantasy, where I was an undercover cop who would suddenly turn to him, flash my badge and say, "Watch your mouth and watch your temper. First of all, let's get a few things straight. This is a parking lot, not a road, and you do not have right of way in this situation. Do you and your small penis wish to get a road rage ticket? I didn't think so. So, relax. Chill out. And don't ever call me, or any other woman, a bitch, ever again. Are we clear?"

In my daydream, the look on his face is priceless.

Camp Songs

"Great green gobs of greasy, grimy gopher guts; marinated monkey's feet; chopped-up baby parakeet; miles and miles of mooshy, mashy moose manure...and I forgot my spoon."

Ah, memories. Odd, what sticks and what doesn't. Like the first time I went to summer camp and discovered I was allergic to watermelon. There's this great shot of me in a bikini with a neck that looks like a goiter. I had blond hair then. Wow.

Under Pressure

Blah, blah, blog sheet, have you any words? Yes sir, yes m'am, three megs full. I was chastized recently by a girlfriend because I hadn't updated my blog in a very long time. Honestly, I feel I should be allowed to coast for a month or two on my naked story, because it's so damn funny, even more so because it's true.

QUestion Of the Day: How do mermaids have sex? And, perhaps as importantly, how did I get to be 40 years old without wondering about this? With all the depictions of them as a solid from the waist down, mermaid reproduction must be accomplished in an alternate fashion. I wonder if they get goose bumps on their scales when they come.

I shaved my head as a rite of passage for my 40th (last Wed, 12/7). So far, the most common response I get from women is, "I wish I had the courage to do that." Men just stare. Except for my yoga instructor, who rubbed my head like it was a good luck charm. I just hope my publisher doesn't ask for any publicity photos any time soon.