Childhood Memories (Installment #3: Chrstmas)

Ahhh, to be home at 118 E. Pasadena Rd. The peanut butter balls are just a pudgy arm's-length away; the ham grizzle/pork loin rests in its grease-ridden, braising pan; and Emily's famous, extra-lard-laden bread beckons me like smack does to a new junkie.

We finished dinner and after the usual, Rickman/Johnson conversation, began beating each other with anything we could get our hands on. Auntie did something completely out of character for the Christmas season; she removed her lower partials and proceeded to stomp them into dust. Becky Jo grabbed the antique candle snuffer and commenced to smash the rescued, animal shelter dog, T-Boy, about the paws and face.

Tommy, having barely recovered from life altering surgery, had enough of the yule tide and danced about as he doused the dining room drapes with 12 year old Scotch. He laughed; his head thrown back with tiny beads of sweat and phlegm glowing under his nose. Then the whole house went up.



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Childhood Memories (Installment #2: The Letter)

The Letter

Dear John,

Sorry it's been a coon's age since I've written. There's been trouble with a capital "T" down at the plant. Rosa was brought up on charges of money laundering, credit card scams and, the dreaded, grand theft auto. She skipped town and is now on-the-lamb. Pedro is fairing well after the accident. The "hand" looks pretty gruesome, but he really knows how to work it! We were forced to put him in the back, though, so he wouldn't scare the other workers.



I've been hitting the sauce again. It's got a real hold on me, they say. So I don't get the shakes at work, I keep a flask stuffed down my pants filled with gin. I haven't been caught yet. Oh, Lenny has finally left me. I knew it was just a matter of time. I tried hanging myself one afternoon right before he got home from work. No such luck! Lenny got there just as the shower rod ripped out of the friggin' wall and I cracked my head open on the toilet. Boy, did he have a good laugh. He said he was tiring of my suicide attempts and the next time I should just ask him and he would blow my head off for me. Maybe he secretly does care.

Well, there is some good news. Tiny had puppies...thirty of them! It's supposed to be written up in The Guinness Book of World Records. We ended up losing most of them, sadly. It seems Tiny was going through some sort of post-pardem depression and ate most of the litter. The remaining pups are doing fine. We've sent the cajoined ones off with Lenny's cousin who claims to know circus folk.

Gosh, I do rattle on about nothing. Please write soon and send any money you can spare...or you can just send booze...whatever is easier for you and mother.

Eternally grateful and probably damned to hell,

Jean

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Ballet Flats

Now I’m no expert on fashion, but there’s one thing that I do know, and that’s what looks good and what looks like shit.

Ballet Flat

You should wear ballet flats if you’re A) a ballerina B) a tween C) you’re eff’ing long-legged and skinny. If you’re under 5’6 and thick-thighed, (like myself, during the winter months) you should NEVER wear the round, snub-nosed ballet flat! It cuts off your leg like at the ankle like a hobbled, amputated stump.



There’s nothing worse that emulating a dumpy, southern housewife with the ass widening, mom jeans, bad perm, thin lips and white Ked sneaker. At least the tennis shoe adds a bit of a leg extender. With the ballet slipper, your hacked-off legs accentuate the wide load you’re carrying around above it.

This Plus

This

equals...

This!

If you insist on working the skinny-legged jean and you’ve got a booty like a rap video hoochie (e.g. baby got back, junk in the trunk, caked-up), do yourself a favor and add a substantial boot or elongating shoe to the look.

Silence & Noise Twig Jean
http://www.urbanoutfitters.com/urban/index.jsp

Sponsored by TIMEBANDITS Watches.

www.timebanditswatches.com

The Original Sweatband Watch!