December 30th 5:15pm - Last Saturday's Mystery

All that is known: this occurred sometime in the forty minutes the electricity was out. Also during that time another male friend removed his own clothes and remained nude.
Forty minute electric black-out = inexplainable torn jeans + nakedness

December 29, 2008 5:15pm - December 22nd

This year my birthday comprised of naked boys in Christmas aprons (friends... though strippers would have been a reasonable guess as well), wine, Vodka, and beer, a bar with beer pong tables, raw eggs cooked on a stove-tops’ open flame, and cops. Four times.

December 27, 2008 4:23pm – Birthday Report

My birthday was on December 22nd.
Twenty-three years ago I managed to insert myself into this world two months before my due date. As her first child disembarking two months early, my mom was deprived of normality – aka Lamaze classes, a baby shower… essentially any and all customary preparation.
My seven-months-pregnant mom and my slightly inebriated dad returned home from a holiday party whereupon they both submerged to bed. My mom awoke my dad hours later professing she was having the baby. My dad’s response: “No you’re not, go back to sleep,” coupled with his body rotating away. My mom shrugged, rationalized he was probably right, and attempted to harness sleep. Later, she again determined she was going give birth. She re-woke my dad to the same reaction. She ascended from bed and called the hospital, who adamantly insisted she come in. After another unresponsive reception from her husband, she packed what she unknowingly judged crucial birth-items, and equipped herself for the hospital. She roused my dad, who, once he comprehended she might actually have the child, supported her to the car and drove her to the hospital.
My dad jubilantly called his sister from the hospital at four-thirty in the morning.
My dad: “Hey! Guess where I am right now?”
My aunt: “Jail?”
I was born three hours later.

December 26th 8:31pm - Licensing Foreigners

A couple years ago the Extended Family visited my grandma’s house for Thanksgiving dinner. As is custom, kid table (ages 17-23) and adult table subsisted. Allowing illegal aliens to secure driver’s licenses was a prevalent topic at the time. Following a charming, hands-linked, heads-bowed, exuding gratitude prayer, we assembled ourselves properly, grandma overseeing her offspring and family. Everyone gracefully reposed and commenced consuming food. Within minutes the topic transformed to licensing foreigners.
The adult table (kids table’s focus: champagne):
* “Illegals don’t deserve licenses. We have enough legal foreigners who don’t know how to drive as it is.”
* “If they can’t legally live here, they shouldn’t be allowed to legally drive here.”
* “And the problem isn’t just with one kind of foreigner.”
* “Asians go so slow and are such bad drivers because they can’t see. Their eyes are slits.”
* “Well, shit, the blacks are always speeding because they are racing to get away from the cops.”
* Laughter. “Leaving a TV or two behind in their escape down the road, huh?”
* “I’m serious. They’re always running from something. Maybe from a girlfriend pregnant for the third time...”
And the conversation persisted. The following day a cousin informed the family that as a college class assignment she had recorded the dinner conversation and was writing a paper on it. Grandma almost plunged to the ground.

December 25th 11:56pm - Christmas Dinner

My brother gains incessant gratification from procuring eccentric gifts. One year he bequeathed me a “Sister to Sister” card, signed with (naturally) his first and last names. Another year: no card, no present. This year: a book entitled, “My Horizontal Life. A Collection of Stories: One Night Stands.” I wasn’t exceptionally enthusiastic, consequence of any insinuation. Brother harassed me with assurance the book was supposed to be hilarious.
He acquired another book for my nineteen-year-old sister. She opened to an arbitrary page, read a paragraph, and, open-mouthed, passed off book. I read, snickered, and distributed to Brother, who sequentially perused the passage, and despite Mom’s appeal to examine section, closed and returned the book to the youngest child in our family.
Christmas dinner topics of conversation (evidently instigated by Brother’s gifts): romance novels (i.e. detailed, intense porn), sex, and celebrities.

December 23rd 6:58pm – Last Night. Birthday Dinner Conversation.

Two families. Eight people. Prime rib. Five wine bottles. Dinner conversation:

* A blacked-out cousin getting arrested in Santa Barbara on Halloween and waking the next morning in a hospital bed with a split lip, throbbing jaw, catheter in his penis, and no recollection past drinking at a friend’s house. The police report included assault against an officer, resisting arrest, drunk in public, underage drinking, and damage to a bystanding car.
* In younger years, a girlfriend getting hit on by an unknown man, girlfriend tells boyfriend, and boyfriend + friend tipping Unknown’s car on it’s side.
* Same man, also younger years: instigating a fight with another unknown, getting hit by a policeman’s riot stick and restrained by Policeman while Unknown sucker-punched him. He and friend ultimately concluded the night in jail.
* Same couple, woman, family in tow, visited not two or three, but seven or eight Christmas tree lots investigating for the flawless tree. After extended deliberation, she returned with family to Lot #5, and Almost-Perfect Tree was already purchased. Obliged by not-so-ecstatic family to select a tree, she did so and returned home to find tree was cut with a slant. Requiring a straight-cut tree, she appealed to Husband to mend it, and in response he subsided on the couch and slept. Not amused, she called the tree lot and requested they send someone to cut the tree properly. They did, and Husband awoke to a roaring chain saw wielded by a stranger in his living room.

December 21st 11:58pm - Elf Party Message

In the holiday spirit, just wanted to share some Elf hilariousness aka one of many messages I received regarding the much-discussed infamous Elf Party. See below:

Dear Santa-

I can't wait to see you and your elves at the North Pole (aka Broadway Studios) on Saturday starting at 8pm. I know it's a $10 cover for charity and am SOOO excited that I will see Mrs. Claus, Frosty the Snowman, Ebenezer Scrooge, the Gingerbread Man, Rudolph, and especially Tony the Elf! I have learned to get there EARLY and kick-off the fun with some Xmas Cosmos, Reindeer Pee (bud light), and Peppermint shots!

I have learned my lesson and will at least come dressed with an elf hat.
Tiny Tim

Dearest Tiny Tim:

I see you are still on my "Nice List." After our party on Saturday, this won't be the case! Ho Ho Ho!

My entourage of elves can't wait for you and your friends to play flip cup games in the back room and dance in the front room...the North Pole is huge! I hear Mrs. Claus and her Candy Cane Strippers are ready to party! That's strippers not stripers, young Tim. Ho Ho Ho!

You are right, don't worry about the guest list too much, if you are dressed up, you will get into the party! Invite all your friends!!

Saturday. 8pm. Be There.
Kris Kringle
I deem that excellent advertisement!

December 20th 9:09pm - Bum Molestation

Last night a friend and I journeyed (aka drove twenty minutes) to downtown San Francisco for dinner before presenting ourselves at another friend’s Christmas party. We determined driving was an absolute necessity (as opposed to employing public transit) to avoid the crazies and conserve transport time. Upon street parking a few blocks from our destination, three insanity-infested homeless people instantaneously enveloped us. The woman immediately gravitated toward my red-Google-embroidered-beanie-clad friend and nestled under his arm, enclosing him in a hug-like embrace. On the opposite side of the car’s sidewalk, I giggled. As the shorter man tottered to the woman, the taller of the two men informed me: “Yo, that man jus out of jail. They married,” he added with a wave of his arm and a triumphant nod. My friend awkwardly removed the woman’s arms from around him and marched to me. “You all married?” Tall Man questioned us. To our “No,” he replied, “You brother and sister?” Again, “No.” Tall Man’s face echoed perplexity. His concentration on me, my friend’s head and eyes frenziedly motioned to go as Molester Woman assaulted his head, seizing red-Google-embroidered-beanie and staggering away with it. My friend’s distressed reaction prompted Convict to approach his “woman.” He wrestled it from her grasp, returned with the beanie, and punctually demanded payment and the words, “That was no easy thing.” I laughed. My friend pocketed treasured beanie as Molester Woman resumed her assault on him. He extracted her arms, and she, at the apparent lack of back-pocket-wallet, again snatched beloved beanie and slipped away to his “God Damnit!” I found this highly amusing and rewarded my entertainment with $2 conveniently dispensed to Convict, as he was closest to me and his “woman” currently had possession of Friend’s hat. Convict eagerly deposited money and then targeted the beanie, ceremoniously returning it, again, to Friend. When Molester Woman almost commenced molestation for the third time, Convict Husband enlightened her as to my generosity. She flung herself at me, beseeching me for $1 of the $2. I replied: up to husband, and darted away with Beanie Friend and my life intact. As we dodged cars, Tall Man reassured me, “I’ll watch your car.”

December 16th 6:43pm - Sex is Healthy

A conversation I had recently... actually, a one-sided dialogue I listened to. In a restaurant. With an elderly impressionable gentleman sporting a top hat at the next table. He may have had a cane.
“Laughter” denotes my contribution to the conversation.

“When I had sex with him my crotch broke.”
“I was just out of practice.”
“Sex is healthy but you need to stay in practice. Otherwise your crotch breaks.”
Choking Laughter.
“But really, sex cures all. I had Strep Throat and I swear he fucked it out of me.”
Gagging Laughter.

December 15th 3:26pm – Elf Party: 3rd Annual Continued

The car Boozy Reindeer was forced into contained two exceedingly sober male friends. Sober Reindeer lobbed Boozy into the backseat to front seat objections and inquiries if she was going to join them in the Boozy-Reindeer-Home-Expedition. She begrudgingly entered the car and situated herself next to Boozy.
Boozy opened the car window and repeatedly shrieked, “Merry Christmas!” sprinkled with laughter. Sober Boys did not find this continued act amusing. Driver shut and child-locked window. Displeased Boozy Reindeer began spitting into car’s backseat and floor. Spurting sounds stopped Sober Driver’s hearing. He asked if Boozy Reindeer was spitting in his car. Sober Reindeer’s reply, “Uuhhhh?”. Boozy spat on car floor. It alighted in Driver’s baseball hat. Sober Reindeer inescapably emitted a gasp and snatched baseball hat from ground.
“Did she just spit in my hat?” Driver demanded.
“Uuhhhh?” Sober Reindeer replied as she endeavored to polish the spit into the hat with part of Boozy’s costume.

December 14th 8:46pm – Elf Party: 3rd Annual

As mentioned on December 7th’s entry:
The Annual Elf Party generally encompasses costuming ourselves in Christmas attire, consuming copious amounts of alcohol, and exhibiting irrational decisions.

The following transpired at the 3rd Annual Elf Party:
Mini-skirts, felt reindeer antlers that exploded with colored lights at the tap of a button, brown sparkling scandalous stockings, and Ugg boots (doubling as reindeer hooves) embraced our bodies. We were equipped, organized, and inebriated. We – six females – entered the Elf Party.
Two hours later revealed one incomprehensible reindeer seated on the sidewalk outside the bar with two reindeer and a scantily clad Mrs. Clause convened around her. Two Reindeers and Mrs. Clause ineffectually endeavored to entice Boozy Reindeer to rejoin the party. Boozy’s greatest contribution to rejoining consciousness: crooning Christmas carols. A bewildered homeless man lurched past, orbited back to Reindeer and Mrs. Clause, and united his voice with theirs in song.
Reindeers and Mrs. Clause surrendered party idea and adopted a get-Boozy-home strategy. Boozy vehemently rejected that proposal and instead insisted on rocketing to her feet and darting down the street. Sober Reindeer raced after her, followed shortly by an inebriated Mrs. Clause and another reindeer. Spectators watched as Boozy snaked down the sidewalk pursued by reindeer, hobbling Mrs. Clause (recovering from knee surgery), and reindeer.
A Travelodge complete with un-costumed male drunkards assembled on second story balconies appealed to Boozy Reindeer. She sprinted into Travelodge’s parking lot and up the stairs. Sober Reindeer penetrated the lot to see Boozy Reindeer lean over the railing howling, “Merry Christmas!” Sober watched as Boozy virtually tilted too far and almost plummeted to the concrete below. She rushed upstairs to cajole Boozy to return to ground (safety) and home. Boozy laughed and shouted, “Merry Christmas!” to cheers from the men. Mrs. Clause crossly clomped up the stairs and ordered Boozy to a waiting car. Boozy giggled. Mrs. Clause repeated the command. Boozy giggled. Mrs. Clause angrily hit Boozy Reindeer in the head. Boozy giggled and hit Mrs. Clause back in the head. Hits repeated. And again: livid Mrs. Clause and laughing Boozy Reindeer striking each other in the heads. Watching men on balconies robustly applauded the continued Christmas character’s clash. Sober Reindeer thrashed between Mrs. Clause and Boozy to thoughts of: this is some bullshit, and, after much exertion, powered Boozy downstairs. Boozy Reindeer escaped and ascended the stairs again to laughter and ovation. The same commotion ensued, and the tussle concluded with Boozy being wrestled into a car.

December 11th 11:33pm - Jokes!

* What do Walmart and Michael Jackson have in common?
- They both have junior pants half off.
* Why are New Yorkers afraid to die?
- The light at the end of the tunnel is New Jersey.
* The big difference between sex for money and sex for free is that sex for money usually costs a lot less.
* Definition of a Transvestite: A guy who likes to eat, drink and be Mary
* What do you call a dog with no legs?
- Doesn't matter what you call him, he ain't gonna come.

And, compliments of Ellen DeGeneres:
* Normal is getting dressed in clothes that you buy for work and driving through traffic in a car that you are still paying for - in order to get to the job you need to pay for the clothes and the car, and the house you leave vacant all day so you can afford to live in it.


December 10th, 2008 11:12pm – Deforestation Internet Porn

My 6th grade teacher assigned the class varying group environmental project topics. She allotted my group deforestation. This having transpired over a decade ago, the Internet was still moderately novel, my researching skills obtuse, and computers sparse in individual households. Our house boasted one computer, located in my parents’ room. As concerns my embryonic computer skill level, even composing an e-mail proved an unsolicited challenge. Thus, researching attempts included typing into the Internet address bar. Myself in the foremost seat, four friends sat around me inscribing notes when woman-on-woman sexual exploits embraced the screen. I shrieked and clicked the exit button. Pop-up after pop-up surfaced. To my hitting the red x once, four – five vulgar images materialized. Man-woman, woman-woman, man-women, men-woman... my 6th grade mind staggered. My mom elected this incomparable moment in my childhood to ascend the stairs. I heard her approaching. Steps away from her room, despite my attempts to exit the porn, the screen froze. I couldn’t force it to deviate from the vulgar pictures. Oh, and the unwanted videos. Somehow the screen would not alter, but the videos still managed to play. My mom entered. Panicked eyes, I heaved myself in front of the screen. My mom forced me to move. She found four petrified 6th graders and a screen occupied with oral, masturbation, anal, and activities I can’t name to this day. We tore downstairs accompanied by battling hearts and thunderous screeches. Time and explanation later, a disbelieving mom was finally a believer. I blame

December 8th 5:42pm - London Corruption – Night 9 Description

Evidently the male dorms were not as heavily supervised as the female. Whereas the girls had to break open a window, craft a ladder, and imperil their lives, the intoxicated boys loped through a ground-level door to escape. Night nine after much booze and towering spirits, several of our male counterparts fled the dorms with the always-inventive-streaking-intention. The campus housing us renegades was an exquisite aged masterpiece complete with cascading fountains, stunning polo fields, and striking wrought-iron fences. The males disbanded into two separate groups in attempts to avoid detection. The bulk of these two clusters wore nothing but cleats. Some, however, were entirely exposed, feet included. A mammoth iron fence barricaded the boys from the pristine polo fields. They resolved to ascend it to cavort across perfection, a.k.a. grass. In efforts to scale the fence, one nude boy stepped down upon an iron decorative spike, thus impaling his foot. He hopped, naked, to the infirmary at 2:45am. The nurse had to be roused. While fastening a bandage around his foot, she was absolutely astounded to acquire another nude damaged American soccer player. This one had successfully attained entrance to grass glory, but had gouged his right foot’s toes into a spiked sprinkler head.

December 7th 11:43pm - Elf Party: You Know You're Drunk When...

Saturday night my friends and I attended the infamous 6th Annual Elf Party. This notorious event generally encompasses costuming ourselves in Christmas attire, consuming copious amounts of alcohol, and exhibiting irrational decisions. The following transpired last night:

You Know You’re Drunk When:
* You forget you have your friend’s license and debit card in your purse. You never go to the party. She sneaks in.
* You pay $20 for a $10 cover and stagger away without obtaining change.
* You pass out in a chair on stage. Your friend exits the party and returns you to her house. You share her bed, snore like a three hundred pound man, and are the cause of her misery, awake for hours.
* You dance into the street and molest a car detained by a red stoplight with your ass. A cop car arrives and you ultimately conclude the encounter held against a wall by a screaming cop’s riot stick. You know it was a bad decision when his partner gets out of the car.
* Necessity requires you and your friend to urinate. You walk around the corner and up five steps, squat alongside each other, and release your pee. It streams down the steps onto the sidewalk. A male passer-by stops to observe, you warn him he will be urinated on, he doesn’t move, and your joint pee splatters on him.
* You throw up in a cab, in your roommate’s bed, and in the shower.
* You determine it logical to consume two more bottles of wine after returning home past 3am.
* You attempt to cook a frozen pizza. You place it on the rack. While extracting it from the oven you burn your arm on the rack. It is undercooked. You eat it anyway.
* You return home with a roommate and four visiting friends. Neither of you have your house keys. One of the friends batters the door in with her ass.

December 4th 11:58pm – London Corruption - Night 8 Depiction

While I was cavorting with other girls in another dorm room (per curfew commands), the three I shared a room with intellectually resolved to escape the dormitory confines to mingle with the aforementioned beer-bent English chaps. Bolts dissuading like-minded dorm occupants exhibited little resistance to three resolute fifteen-year-olds. This trip transpired in the weed-transporting, knife-wielding days before 9/11. One of the girls had traveled complete with Swiss Army Knife. Swiss Army Knife became screwdriver in the remove-window-bolts-quest. After little knife laboring, the bolted windows were no longer fastened, and the girls could communicate with their English male counterparts. The only obstacle: three stories’ height. The joint decision: knot all bed sheets together and descend to the ground. Inevitable inspiration: movies. The girls undressed the beds, secured the sheets, tied one end to a bedpost, lobbed the sheets out the window, and dismounted, embracing fabric with hands and wall with feet. From their opinions the following day, dismounting three stories using sheets is treacherous and strenuous and not recommended.
They were individually referred to as “Spiderwoman” the remainder of the trip.

December 3rd 11:56pm - London Corruption – Soccer Trip

The English are eminently recognized for their fanatical soccer passion.

It was a soccer trip to London. Four reputable coaches, two parent chaperones, fifteen boys between fourteen and eighteen years, fourteen girls aged fifteen to seventeen. The girls would compete at the professional level, the boys at the semi-pro. Practices run by English coaches for a week and a half, we would train English-fashion, compete at premier levels, and absorb English athletics, culture, and history.
My parents deemed the trip a good idea.
Day 2: Four raucous English teenage males exhibited their beer aptitudes. Seven raw American teenagers observed two English boys’ gnawing knacks. They expertly removed beer bottle caps with their teeth inside seconds. We, untrained Americans, despite manifold efforts and shouted counsel, were not so skilled.
Day 3: The same riotous Englishmen revealed veritable beer-bottle proficiency. One striking, refined gentleman demonstrated his expertise: strike top of beer bottle with palm and bottle’s bottom plunges to ground.
Day 4: The male team’s solitary goalie attempted to attain the standard situated by the previous night’s Englishman. He struck the top of a beer bottle with his hand, the bottle’s neck broke, and he unintentionally powered his naked palm into jagged glass.
Day 4: Late Afternoon: Genius Goalie’s mom (female chaperone) dashed son to the hospital. He couldn’t compete for the remainder of the trip.
Bonus Material: Genius Goalie is currently a Navy Seal.
Day 5: A curfew was instituted on the American representatives in our entirety.
Night 6: Inebriated teenage girls, abiding by curfew decree, draped ourselves on open window ledges and harassed all who passed. Our four esteemed coaches staggered by, embellished with our beer-expert English friends’ bicycles. Chuckling coaches disassembled bikes and rolled, flung, and hurled the innumerable elements into bushes, trees, and sidewalks.
Night 7: The two male seniors on the expedition assailed two coaches, capsizing twenty-gallon containers on them. A chase ensued. A elementary-aged Chinese group also residing on campus was not amused.
Night 8: All Americans on campus: Lockdown. Three of our female teammates Spider-Womaned down the dorm-building wall to join English Beermen.
Night 9: Two male teammates separately concluded their nights in the infirmary attributable to streaking injuries.

December 2nd 3:25pm – Pepper Sprayed

In 8th grade my mom resurrected her working-world life and suited up as a real estate agent. Simultaneous with her Agent resolve was pepper spray. Mom immediately procured Mace for protection against the crazies, zanies, and insane she was confident she would encounter in her new profession. For easy accessibility, she situated the spray on her keys.
It was logical: easier to locate her keys, simple to grab if her safety was compromised.
My mom, my sister, a friend and I were in a sandwich shop one blistering afternoon. I was contentedly perusing the menu when abruptly a scorching, fiery sensation molested my mouth and nostrils. My eyes streamed and my vision curled. I staggered and coughed. Incomprehensible sounds emanated from my throat as I clutched my scorched tongue in one hand and my blazing eyes in another. My sister bowled herself to the ground. My friend blindly darted away, gagging and wailing.
My mom said later when the three children surrounding her began behaving like burn victims with cries and screams charging the air, others in the store bestowed horrified and perplexed expressions on her. She elected to discard the pepper spray that day.

December 1st 11:40pm - My Inbox

These texts concerning pre-schoolers (4-year-olds):

* "One of my students brought a condom to school today."
* "One of my kids got a haircut and now has a marijuana leaf shaved into the back of his head."

This concerning Thanksgiving weekend:

* "I injured myself last night while force-feeding a boy salami and cheese."
"He liked it."

And this from a department store's display window in San Francisco: