Lost In Translation

I found passion for writing at an early age. Whether or not I’m any good at it isn’t for me to decide…but, I enjoy it. 

I give full credit to Mr. Miller…my fourth grade teacher.  Mr. Miller often sent letters and notices home to my parents and, in order to save him unnecessary embarrassment which could potentially befall someone charged with the daunting task of shaping young minds, I’d return his notes before delivering them.

Mr. Miller was about 147 years old-- which presents an abundance of clarity as to why he smelled funny.  He also went to the bathroom a lot and often fell asleep at his desk with false teeth dangling from his mouth in a puddle of drool. 

I now understand that this was a primary reason as to why Mr. Miller was always so grumpy. 

I often highlighted spelling errors and offered helpful wording and/or sentence structure recommendations on his notes because I felt that his unfavorable assessments of me would carry more weight with my mom and dad if they were a bit more polished.**

**Note: Hats off to my 3rd grade teacher, Ms. Hanner.  She was an excellent teacher in the area of English composition.

Neither Mr. Miller nor the school principal seemed to find my recommendations helpful at all.  In fact, my dad held even stronger feelings on the subject. 

As I recall, my father was buddies with the school principal, Mr. Granstaff.  Dad often asked if I knew exactly how and why my antics at school made things difficult for him.  I astutely and, I believe correctly, replied: 

"Because it likely made things uncomfortable for the two of them when he and Mr. G. got drunk every weekend watching football." 

This is about the same time frame that my dad threatened to send me away to the local military academy.

Many of us seem to take “getting to the point“ as offensive or curt…especially when it’s presented in written form. Then again, perhaps it depends on the topic.

Examples:

 Dear Jim,

I loved that story about the ways people quit their jobs…especially your resignation letter. Just wanted to drop you a quick note and let you know.

Love your writing dude!

Doug

Dear Mr. Patrick,

Our client, Chase Bank, has turned this account over to our office in order to take legal avenues to collect the $10, 872.50 owed. 

So that we might collect  full payment on your balance due without legal action, please call our office immediately.

Admittedly, I realize that my written words might be taken in a way in which they were not intended.  It goes without saying that my SPOKEN words have the aforementioned effect.   

I began my writing "Road to Recovery" by practicing on a friend of mine with a Happy Birthday sentiment on her Facebook page.

I believe that it was a strong and positive exercise in getting to the point without creating an awkward or odd aura associated with conveying my point.  

As the corporate mantra, from my former employer, goes, perhaps "Less IS more."   

Hey there...Hope you’re having a great day!

I had a slight problem in securing your birthday present.

It was not an elaborate gift idea but I thought you’d like it. It’s a rather long story, so I shall give you the short version.

My friend, Chris, visits South America every other year. Did you know that South America is the 4th largest continent in the world? They also broke off ties with the West (super continent-- Gondwanaland) around 135 million years ago.

It had something to do with health care reform, I suspect, but I can’t seem to substantiate this theory.  Rush Limbaugh is working dilligently to confirm it, so I will sleep better, taking great comfort in the knowledge that he is on the case.

Anyway, Chris left for his trip, along with his buddy Phillip, last month for a guided expedition. I concluded that it would be great to seize this unique opportunity by having Chris capture and bring back a Collared Peccary.

Since you're a lover of animals, I just KNEW that this would be the perfect little pet!

Peccaries are cute little hoofed mammals (12-16inches) and eat berries, nuts, insects and roots.**

**(Note: Not the kind of “nuts” who live in New Orleans...or my ex-girlfriend)

Of course, because of their tendency to overeat, they also devour entire South American crops…which is why farmers use the Peccary for target practice.

Funny, I’ve never seen or heard of PETA jumping all over THAT bandwagon.

I’ve never seen Pam Anderson, the rocket scientist that she is, pose in the nude as a form of silent protest on a PETA billboard with a caption which reads…

“Save the Peccary!!!”

Anyway, Chris managed to secure a Peccary! Of course he somehow also secured a sexually transmitted disease from an overnight stay in a tiny mountain village…but that’s a LONG, crazy story!

Due to the fact that Chris allowed Phillip to book the trip this year, Phillip cut corners and hired a crazy, alcoholic expedition guide who also only had one foot.  He was missing his left eye as well.  He also showed up 2 hours late...slurring and reeking of alcohol. 

The guide was, supposedly, from Brazil, yet he couldn't even speak Portuguese!!!!  THAT should have been their first warning sign. 

Allow me to point out the obvious here…There are some things one simply should NOT book through Travelocity.com.

They were lost in the Andean mountain territory for 3-weeks thanks to Phillip’s thriftiness in not choosing an experienced guide.

After a couple of weeks in the wild, food became a major issue, as did the burning sensation in Chris’ pee pee area. They were tired of eating tree limbs, leaves and insects, however, the Peccary was in culinary heaven!

This must have been hell on earth, as Chris and Phillip are avid meat eaters. So, as these things go, the Peccary became a delicious prospect to the guys.

Sadly, I’m now able to report that Peccary tastes a little like Buffalo…according to Chris.

The guys DID manage to save a tooth from the Peccary, which I commissioned a local artist to affix within a lovely little necklace. I’ll drop by and leave it on your doorstep.

If you’re home, I MUST come in and tell you the strangest story I’ve ever heard which happened to a buddy of mine the other day!

I hope you have a Happy Birthday!

Regards,

Jim

I’ve NEVER understood why American Greetings or Hallmark won’t entertain the idea of me working on their writing staff.

After learning that I was working on this piece, a girl I know thought it to be a good idea to share a recent text message conversation between she and a gentleman she’d recently met. 

I was pleased to learn that I'm not the only person whose words become lost in translation: 

Veronica:
You would be a fantastic “sub”

Sean:
What?

Let's pause for a second.  As the recipient of her initial text, the proper response from this gentleman should have been:

a) Thank you, but I have a bad back…and my knees are fairly weak. Plus, I don’t own a “gimp“ suit or a “gag-ball.” Thanks anyway!!

b) Absolutely! I’ll be over in 15-minutes!! Should I bring my "gimp" suit?  Xoxo

It will all make sense as you read on…We’ll call this little conversation:

THE CONFUSED “SUB”

Sean:
Who is this?  What am I a good sub for? This is an odd message

Veronica:
You’d be a good sub for a Domme

Sean:
Yeah? No clue what that means, who is Domme? Is he/she with you? Can you be more specific?

Veronica:
Sub= submissive. Domme= dominatrix

Sean:
Ah. Who has come to this conclusion?

Veronica:
I have

Sean:
Ah. Yet I don’t have a name associated to this telephone number. How can I domme someone when their name is a mystery to me?

Veronica:
You can’t Domme.

Sean:
Why?

Veronica:
a) You’re not a girl
b) YOU would be the sub

BTW, I’m Veronica…we met about two hours ago and talked for about an hour.  You gave me your number dumb ass! xo

Sean:
Ah…Well, I appreciate the compliment but I am on the wank right now and I’m too far away for anyone.  Anyway, I don't think Shannon would be the "sub" type. LOL!

Veronica:
I think you may possibly be confused, but that could just be the wank. Come back to the bar tonight and we’ll talk then.

Sean:
I am really tired and I don’t know if I want to risk driving back that far. Is there no middle ground we can meet at??  What am I confused about by the way??

Sean:
I take your silence as a bad thing?

Sean:
I would love to continue this convo, but must sleep now. Tomorrow perhaps??

Sean:
U still there????

Meanwhile...the the following day:

Veronica:
I went to sleep last night after our last text…No, Silence isn’t bad. Come out tonight.  I promise you'll have fun!

Sean:
So, what is going on there? Some kinda concert or something like that?

Veronica:
Yeah, something like that.

Sean:
Doesn’t look like I am heading out.

Veronica
That sucks. I be sad. :(

Sean:
Sorry to disappoint, I apparently have that affect on women…LOL!!

Veronica:
I was going to fix that.

Sean:
I appreciate the sentiment but I don't believe you're my type.

Veronica
I don't think so either.

Sean:
Gas is getting too expensive for me to get out anyway…and I have to drive to campus 3 times a week as it is. BTW, I am curious as to how the discussion of me being a good sub came about? Can you elaborate?

Veronica
On second thought, you ask way too many questions to be a sub.




And so, young Sean will never receive the answers he so desperately seeks…all because of rising fuel prices!!

Unfortunately, in the instantaneous society in which we live, communicating with my friends via instant message or text is, as I’ve been told, a disaster waiting to happen.

I’m not sure what that means, but it prompted me to take a closer look at who I associate with via social networks.  Mr. Miller...where are you when I NEED you???  Oh, you're dead.  I forgot.

I glanced at my “friend” folder last week and realized that I didn’t know several people on the list. These are people who I can’t recall EVER having a conversation with, much less email or message exchanges.

Who is Cynthia Hobbs???? Wait a second…she’s pretty cute.

Via Facebook Email
From: Jim

Hey Cynthia,

I noticed that you’re on my Facebook friends page. I’ve been sorting through this page in order to clean it up a bit and, while I’m not quite sure how we know one another, I glanced at your photo albums.

Judging by the visual content in numerous pictures within your online albums, I strongly suspect that you would look STUNNING without clothes-- as especially evidenced by the photo of you wearing that revealing bikini at the lake in your album titled “Chillin’ Wit Da' Peeps/ Summer 2010.”
　
In the high hopes that I might see more revealing photos of you in the future (either posted to your Facebook page or by personal correspondence) You'll be pleased to know that I have decided NOT to “De-Friend” you.

Instead, I thought I’d send you this email and “Poke” you. Um, not literally-- I meant “poke” in Facebook vernacular. (I.e. Subtly saying hello.)

I hope that this email and the news of my delaying "De-Friending" finds you well and in good spirits.

Regards,

Jim

Via Facebook
From: Cynthia Hobbs

Uh…WTF??? I’m your Realtor. I sold you a house 7-years ago.

With that…I suppose it’s time for me to be quiet.  Perhaps Mr. Miller was correct after all. (sigh)

copyright Pontchartrain Press 2011

Author's Note: For our national and international readers..."Wank" is New Orleans slang for West Bank.  It's an area of the metro which prides itself on nothing in particular.  Several of it's citizens routinely enjoy a dozen alcoholic libations and drive home across the bridge, usually crashing into the guardrail.  It is home to several wonderful establishments such as Target. And, for a TRUE New Orleans dining experience, you'll also find a Taco Bell, The Texas Roadhouse, McDonalds AND a brand new TGI Friday's!!  Those crazy "wankers." 

Kick My (mail) Sack!!

It’s been a long time since I’ve kicked the mail sack. It‘s not that I don‘t enjoy interaction with the readers, I love it actually. I’ve just been traveling a bit over the past few weeks and, after being stranded by a snow storm in the Mid South for a short time, my mind has been preoccupied with Global WarmingÒ research.

I even sent a letter to Al Gore Ô , hoping that he might be able to better enlighten me. In addition to Global WarmingÒ questions, I alerted him to the fact that I'd found a photo of him which made him appear as though he were an angry blow-up doll.  I then offered to give him a hug. 

Two very polite gentlemen from the Secret Service paid me a visit not long after that.  They provided valuable writing critique as it pertains to sending correspondence to former Vice Presidents/Presidential candidates. 

We begin with a helpful pointer for the website.

From: Eric C.

Philadelphia, PA

While I'm very much a fan of your writing and your blog... How can I put this delicately? It pisses me off.

Granted, I'm completely bat sh*t crazy, and silly things are what chap my ass and set me off. That doesn't make me any less of a person so don’t judge me!

OK, maybe it does, but stay with me on this.

The color scheme, it's all wrong. When I try to read (TRY, being the operative word) it makes me want to book an airline ticket to New Orleans, find you and kill you.

As a result of my dyslexia, poor education, and your f**ked up color scheme, my eyes start going all crazy when I read your website.

They actually go in and out of focus to the point where I feel the need to do that weird thing you only see in bad films and/or cartoons where they shake their head from side to side and then rub their eyes with the sides of their balled up fists as if they were cleaning the lenses of binoculars… all for the sake of being wacky.

That being said, I am a creature of habit, and I don't do well when it comes to adjusting to change. On those grounds, correcting your f**ked up color scheme would probably trigger a multi-state killing spree.

So, keep up the good work…and don't change your sh**ty color scheme!

From: Jim

That may be the nicest, most sincere compliment I’ve ever received! I now fully realize what the "City of Brotherly Love" truly means!! 

Your missive reminds me of the methods which my mother and father employed to coach and encourage me to excel.  They'd often shower me with positive guidance by informing me that the other kids were far better than I and that I was an accident. 

Oddly, now that I think about it, it's reminiscent of pillow talk with my last girlfriend.  She was such a positive influence in my life. 

Sorry about your dyslexia…In keeping with strict adherence to the American’s With Disabilities Act, I’m considering the following design for my new background color. I think you'll find it helpful...

P.S. Thansk for reading my Bolg! Ooops…Blog.

From: Andy
Mission Viejo, CA
I notice that you goof on Nickelback sometimes. I think they TOTALLY sold out! What do you think?

From Jim:
Well, Andy, I’m not sure that they ever bought in. But, I certainly don’t want to gratuitously bash Nickelback.

Let’s substantiate your hypothesis by applying mathematical perspective, in order to lend credibility or disprove your assertion .

We‘ll do so in the form of a “word problem.”

The scenario:
Thomas gives Julie $22.75 which he cashed in at the Coin Star machine, using the pocket change he'd amassed over the past month.**

**Thomas has never had sex with an actual woman and he is a huge fan of CSI Miami.  He also collects Star Wars action figures 

Julie spends $6.50 on a McDonald’s number 4 extra value meal (hold the pickles). She then gives Thomas $4.25 so that he might get the number 2 value meal. **

**Julie is a greedy, high maintenance, colossal drama queen/diva and always feels the need to purchase the most expensive items-- whether it be at a restaurant or a store. 

She often runs out of money, leaving Thomas to foot her bill at the bar or nightclub. 

As these things go, she flirts with Thomas just enough to receive free drinks, going home for the evening with a much better looking, more confident man while Thomas goes home alone to the studio apartment behind his grandmother's house...often contemplating suicide as he reels in massive disappointment with himself for being so gullible.

Julie then spends $12.00 on Itunes, downloading good music from real rock bands (as she waits for Thomas to bring her a double top-shelf margarita from the bar)   

Question:  Does Nickelback suck?
Answer: Yes.

From: Cheryl
Astoria, NY
Do you know much about birth control methods? My friend was telling me about the “Plan B” drug, but I don’t know much about it.

From: Jim
Let me thank you for placing your trust in me for planned parenthood advice. It is an admirable testament to you being sexually irresponsible.

That being said, I employ “Plan A,” which usually includes me mentally undressing my 6th grade teacher, Ms. Watson. When I’m tempted, this not only curbs my appetite for unprotected sexual relations, it also makes me throw up in my mouth a little bit.

Of course, I sometimes employ Plans “C” and “D.” While it’s the long way around the block for abstinence, it involves four shots of Irish whiskey and a trip to the Taco Bell Drive-thru.

I find that, after getting drunk and puking up Taco Bell, it is doubtful that anyone will be having “relations” with me. Except for the drive-thru window girl perhaps…which would likely just be angry sex.

Plan "E" also works from time to time.  It's a combination, stemming from the sex policies of two U.S. Surgeon's General, C. Everett Koop and Joycelyn Elders.  The "Koop" advocated abstinence, while Elders recommended self satisfaction as the BEST method.

You'll have to decide which works most effectively for you.




I just threw up in my mouth a little bit...again.



From: Messaay
Riyadh, Saudi Arabia

"ارتداء الجوارب جعل كرات بلدي الحارة. وأنها تجعلني تبدو جميلة

From: Jim
Yes! I totally agree. Except for that last part.

From: Melody
Helena, MT
Hey, can I send you a recent photo of myself? It’s actually from 2002. Is that still considered to be recent? I use it on E-Harmony and other dating sites and seem to get better results.

From: Jim

Sure thing Melody. I used the following photo of myself (circa age 5) on a dating site when I was researching a story at my former news room job. It was quite effective, as I received several very nice responses.

GIGANTIC DORK!

Had I been in the market to pick up 60 year old ladies or male pedophiles, I’d say that I hit the jackpot.  Don't judge me!!! 

From: Julia

Lexington, KY

As a writer, you probably smoke. What is the most dangerous cigarette?

From: Jim

The one which falls between your legs and rolls under the car seat while you’re traveling at 75mph down the Interstate in a hard-driving rain storm after leaving the 2-for-1 happy hour.

From: Robert
Chicago, IL
Hey man…my best friend Larry told my wife that you wrote about me in one of your stories. It's weird that he didn't tell ME since we watch football together all the freakin' time!  Anyway, would you send me an autographed copy? You can send it collect…I don’t care. Thanks!

From: Jim
Yes indeed...I remember writing about this a few weeks ago.  It stemmed from a letter that I received from your friend Larry:

Dear Jim,

There’s really no way to fully express this without being brutally honest. I hang out and watch football A LOT with a buddy of mine. His name is Robert. (Go Bears!)

Anyway, my feelings have become quite conflicted over the past few months and it‘s finally reached a point where I need to act upon them.

Sure, it’s fun sitting in the man-cave watching hours and hours of football with Robert, but I can’t go on living behind this wall which has simply become a thin facade of emotional denial.  I think that it's time for Robert to know the truth!

It all started last football season. I noticed a quick glance here and there, a slight brush of the hand on my shoulder once in a while, but I discounted it to an overly active imagination. Surely these weren’t seductive advances!!  I have never had sexual thoughts like THIS...I mean, Robert is my BEST FRIEND for God's sake!

One night it finally happened! Robert and I passed out on the futon in the man-cave after we drank 3 cases of beer and I, being somewhat of an alcoholic, woke up and decided to have another beer while watching Sports Center.  I wanted to wake him and tell him of my feelings, but he seemed to be sleeping so peacefully.

So, I went to the kitchen and there she was…Robert’s wife was standing there, drinking a Mike’s Hard Lemonade. She was completely naked…well, with the exception of a pair of over-sized fuzzy house slippers which were fashioned after Garfield the Cat.  Now that I think about it, she also had a Chicago Bears hair scrunchy in her hair. Finally, she made the first move! The glances WEREN’T my imagination after all!

We had dirty, sloppy, amateur porno sex, much like that of two retarded Wildebeests. All of the rapid motion, combined with the 30 beers and the jar of salsa and bag of Tostitos which I’d consumed, caused me to throw up all over Robert’s wife.

She took me upstairs and cleaned me off and that’s when I knew it! That’s when we both knew that we were destined to be together.  We both fully understood that this could only mean one thing...we must devise a plan to kill Robert.

So, my question to you is, do you think the Bears have a chance at going to the Super Bowl this year?

Thanks,
Larry

From: Steve
Houston, TX
Hey, how would you describe your writings? I tried to tell a co-worker today and then I paused for a moment, trying to find the right words. I finally admitted that I didn’t know how to describe it. I sure hope YOU know! Haha.

From: Jim
I’d describe it as a cross between a life insurance policy narrative and an assembly manual for a home entertainment system…written in Esperanto by a drunken, attention deficit disorder suffering, manic-depressive vagrant.

From: Chris
Seattle, WA
Pleeeeease do me a favor.  Let everyone know that it DOESN'T RAIN IN SEATTLE EVERY DAY!

From: Jim
FIVE DAY FORECAST:

From: Ayame
Naha, Okinawa
私はあなたの文章が大好きです。私はあなたの本当の長時間
uh, suckie suckieをさせていただきたいと思います

From: Jim
Will you marry me???

From: Alisha
San Francisco, CA

I love you!

From: Jim
I would remind you that written communication is a direct violation of the restraining order.  It's over Alisha...move on.

From: Jeremy
Boston, MA

I do not like your writings.  That is all.

From: Jim
Yeah, I don't care for them too much myself Jeremy.  Thanks for lending validation to my suspicions.

Yes indeed...the mail sack is always interesting, but I wouldn't expect anything less from the Pontch Press maniacs. 

I’m happy to say that since I last shared the Pontchartrain Press mail sack, we’ve picked up over 10-thousand readers on six continents.

Special thanks to the "official" followers who have been with me from the beginning, including my friend Eric.  I invite you to check his blog at:

Glazedreality.blogspot.com. 

And for those who do not "publicly" follow on Blogger, that's okay.  It will likely keep you off of the FBI watch-list.  Hehehe.  Plus, voyers are sexy!

After reading these letters and the reader statistics, a powerful, heartwarming and telling story is illustrated…


...The world is doomed.


As a side note-- the moment that someone teaches polar bears how to read, I feel pretty good about my chances of gaining an Antarctica audience.

copyright Pontchartrain Press 2011

Drive Thru Window...Open LATE

"Dad always thought laughter was the best medicine, which I guess is why several of us died of tuberculosis."

                                     

                                                                            ~Jack Handey
　
　
It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to surmise that I, typically, do not write anything profoundly deep or earth shattering. Of course, with the recent dismantling of several NASA projects, there are a lot of rocket scientists out of work. It now appears that it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to be a rocket scientist.
　
I’ve been abundantly fortunate in that, for most of my life, I have been surrounded by people who search for the positive.  They always find humor and downright absurdity in the worst of situations.

I tried this out the other day as I walked down a neighborhood street in Uptown New Orleans.  I saw a pigeon squashed almost beyond recognition.  This is a creature that can soar as high as the clouds, yet chooses to run when people or vehicles approach.  Rather than fly.

This is why pigeons (and Mike) are stupid and will NEVER form a central government and take over the world...this is a positive.

On a recent afternoon I found myself lounging around in the dumpster of self pity and loathing which sometimes accompany a deadline driven work schedule or negative feelings brought about by someone being rude.

Even though my thoughts tend to skew toward the melancholy around the holidays, I still try my best during trying times to adopt an attitude of optimism-- steering away from the winding and dark path of temptation toward cynicism.  I must admit that...

**(The previous sentence could not be completed as it is tied up in red tape, awaiting disbursement of emergency funding from the multi-billion dollar BP oil spill and Katrina relief programs) 

Finding the positives hidden amongst the negatives…a sadistic little Easter Egg hunt if you ask me. In the grand scheme, I suppose it all depends upon attitude and outlook.

Let’s pull back the curtain on an ongoing highly scientific study, also known as...typical interaction with my friends.

Usually when I write or conduct research, my instant messenger is on and minimized in the background. Which reminds me, I need to create a fake identity so that my friends would have better success in solving the JFK assassination than to spot me online.

They’ll usually instant message me when I’m doing extremely important things, such as wanting to be left alone. With no such luck, I found myself sucked into the three following conversations…simultaneously.

I wish that I were making up the following conversations, as it would effectively showcase writing ability.

Incoming conversation from
Lynn:
I’m so fed up with people and many things in general.

Jim:
Could you be a little more vague?  "People" and "things" are far too specific for me, generally speaking of course. 

Lynn:
I'm being serious. 

Jim:
Trying to lighten the moment with something stupid...much like the way when Ryan Seacrest tries to conduct a serious interview.  Let's have lunch this afternoon and you can fill me in.  I promise not to do "things" which are irritating but I can't guarantee that we won't encounter "people" who might further perpetuate your feelings of being fed up.

Incoming conversation from
Mr. M:
HEY...Have you seen this latest McDonald's french fry commercial? Brilliant!!

Me:
The fry falling under the car seat into a parallel universe where the Medieval villagers living in the carpet are celebrating their prayers being answered because they're starving and the giant fry is embraced by the oppressed, toiling masses?

Mr. M:
Yes! Cool huh??

Me:
I haven’t seen it, only heard about it…I’m waiting for the Broadway musical version...don‘t spoil the ending for me.  

Mr. M:
Hahaha.  Smartass!  Btw, would YOU eat a french fry after it falls between the seat on the floorboard?

Me:
Seeing how whatever might be hidden within the carpet of my floorboard is likely healthier than a fast food french fry...absolutely. 

Incoming conversation from
Lynn:
Sometimes I wonder why I go out of my way to do anything nice, only to have people dump all over me.  My work is piling up and I want to have time to enjoy the rest of the holiday!  Everyone took off for the weekend and stuck me with this mess.

Me:
Hang on, I’m talking with a friend who apparently is in love with a McDonald's TV ad. Which reminds me, I feel positive that I’m the only person on the planet right now who’s engaged in a conversation which involves critiquing a french fry commercial.  This is a sad commentary on my life.  Even worse...now I'm craving McDonald's french fries!

Mr. M:
One time I dropped a lit cigarette under the passenger seat in my friend’s car. Smoke began to rise from under the seat!! Good thing I was drinking. I poured my beer on it and it went out.

Me:
I’m sure that will be a hilarious story to share at an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting years from now.

Lynn:
OK, just message me when you're free.

Incoming conversation from Chris:
Hey man...Good seeing you the other night.

Me:
Good seeing you too.

Chris:
Hey, I went out with that girl you introduced me to, Haylee. I'm kinda iffy bout that chick.  She‘s as crazy as the day is long!

Me:
She is indeed. However, we’re only slightly past the Winter Solstice, so the days are pretty short right now. This can actually be viewed as a positive from an astronomical perspective.  Especially if you're just looking for a "quickie."  Proof positive:

                    Just make sure you change your cell phone number
Chris:
LOL!!! Funny.

Me:
Good luck.

Incoming conversation from
Lynn:
I’m gonna take my cold medicine and sleep. I wish people knew how badly they are stressing me out this week. I truly believe NO ONE understands a day in my life right now! I'm sick, overworked, alone on New Years miles from my family...Urgh!!!

Jim:
Let me know if you’d like some perspective…I’d rather not send it unsolicited, but since I’m now free from two earth stopping conversations about fast food and a crazy woman, I find myself with undivided attention just for you.

Lynn:
Shoot!

Jim:
You have pleasant, yet high maintenance people in your world to be sure. We all do I suppose.  You’re also sick with a bad cold which, understandably, lowers emotional tolerance.

It’s difficult sometimes, and I realize that it’s easy for me to sit back from across town and offer my words like some sage atop an unrealistic mountainside. But, I’m not a sage and I’d never live on a mountainside anyway…I’m scared of goats. And rednecks with guns.

Consider this, when you see someone who always appears happy and well put together, it’s not always as easy as they make it appear; it takes work. Ultimately, it’s about being about as happy as you want to be. 

We all get dumped on at some point, we all make bad decisions at some point, but we, hopefully, learn and move forward.  Except for me...at least today. 

I decided to complete the circle of bad dietary decisions yesterday and eat fried chicken from the convenience store on Canal Street.  I suppose I'll never learn that lesson.

In all seriousness, I absolutely want to throw my hands in the air and give up some days, just as you.

I miss my mom for some odd reason more than ever today…perhaps it’s a New Years day thing. For that matter, I miss my father and the rest of my family.

We’d sit and play cards or a board game and enjoy immeasurable fun on New Years Day. It was the type of fun that a 12-year old takes for granted…until he or she reaches their 30's and realizes that people do not live forever.

Today is a tough day for you, but it will pass. Even with people in your world who seem to be trying their best to derail you, remember, there are more people in your world who do the opposite.

I find myself in a small writer’s studio on this holiday with a scared little homeless cat who probably felt as though the world had passed her by.

We’re in the middle of a city which embraces death by way of celebrating life IN death. That’s powerful perspective if you ask me.

You, me, many of our friends & colleagues, complete strangers and the scared little cat will find ourselves on difficult footing from time to time.  There’s no magic phrase that I can write to change that byproduct of life, but I wish there were.

I plan to greet the new year by writing myself into a coma today for a project which will not pay a single penny.

Seeing how I am not independently wealthy, I shall then look forward to work this week with a satisfied feeling of good fortune knowing that MANY people do not love what they do. You love your job, as do I, and I wish everyone could experience that feeling.


I'd say that puts us one step ahead in the game.


There have been numerous times in my chosen career where I had no idea how I could possibly pay the next rent check, much less provide some semblance of a “quality of life.” Yet, I managed…and somehow still do.

This is a boat which is not unfamiliar to you and now is a good time for you to draw strength from those memories.

I’m not a holy roller, but I pray every day. It’s not a practice which brings comfort to everyone nor do I impose it, but it works for me. 

Usually I pray that I won't be sent to Hell for my sense of humor. Hehe.  But then I realize that I will probably be sent there for laughing at people who fall off bicycles. 

I try to meet each day with proportionate realism. I’m not blind to the absurd, nor to the injustices and acts of inconsideration which are lobbed by acquaintances and strangers alike.

I remember these things in order to not relinquish control of my values, outlook or wellbeing to those who have no respect for others, much less for themselves.

If nothing else, these people serve as a user's manual to better guide me in understanding how NOT to behave.

I also find something for which to be thankful every day. Today, I’m thankful for Gummie Lifesavers.  Why?  Because they taste so damn good!

I'm also thankful that I didn’t have to take a friend of mine to Wal Mart, as I greatly dislike venturing into a Wal Mart. Malls and large department stores make me want to move to a remote island where my only social interaction is with a volley ball named "Wilson" after a terrible cargo plane crash...surviving only on tree bark and small woodland creatures.

Even when I find myself at extreme low points in life and just when I feel that everything I do is for nothing…I’m reminded of the love, encouragement and support shown to me by great friends such as yourself.

A treasure indeed.

While I can certainly take self-loathing to Olympic proportions, good people such as yourself provide a moment of pause. A flash of levity which takes the wheel from my hand and firmly places me back on a healthy road.

Take deserved time today to feel the "blahs" and to pout...it's healthy so long as it's got an expiration time and date.

And so, until we meet for food later, I happily write today.  But, as with the events which inspired the story “Chariots of Fire“, I believe you were made for a purpose.  I believe I was made for a purpose.  Sometimes I'm not sure what it is, but, I know one thing...

...When I write, I feel pleasure...especially when it's a "cheer up soon" note to a friend.

Amen.

Lynn:
Amen.

Jim:
By the way, since I’m working for free today and my cell phone provider has no noticeable interest in waiving my current bill as a kind holiday gesture, may I pass the offering plate and count you in for a donation?  Hehehe.

Lynn:
Nice try. I feel better though.

Jim:
Hahahahaha!  Some guy just spilled on his bicycle in front of my window on the sidewalk!  Awesome!!!!

Lynn:
WHAT is wrong with you???

Jim:
Why do people always ask me that??

Lynn:
Hey, this latest McDonald's french fry commercial IS really good.

Jim:
User Jim is currently offline


         "When people are laughing, they're generally not killing each other."
                                                       
                                                                           ~Alan Alda


copyright Pontchartrain Press 2011

Whats Next??

…Now is the accepted time to make your regular annual good resolutions. Next week you can begin paving hell with them as usual.

                                                                   -- Mark Twain


The hustle and bustle of Christmas is but a fleeting memory in our mind’s photo album as we stare down the foggy path into the future.  Preparations to traverse a threshold that is a brand new year punctuate the energy and excitement of the holidays.

I love the year-end retrospectives and predictions which permeate television and print media at this time of the year. They’re helpful reminders of where we’ve been and what’s to come...even though we're about to careen from the media proclaimed "Fiscal Cliff."   

As an added bonus, year-end reviews are so much more meaningful and deep when hosted by Al Roker or Ryan Seacrest.  

Past is, indeed, prologue.

I hope that the new year unlocks the door to pressing unknowns in this crazy, fast paced world…such as:

a) WHO will be the next American Idol??????

b) Did I pay my bar tab last night?

c) HOW is South Beach Tow a real television program?

d) How are there absolutely NO nude photos of Jessica Alba on the Internet.  I'll settle for photoshop fakes!!

e) Will I ever, EVER successfully make it through the traffic signal at the intersection near my house??

I had but one obligation on Christmas day this year…it involved laying on my couch eating a tuna wrap and Fritos, bouncing between a Star Wars marathon and “A Christmas Story“, then the NFL Network special edition football game.

Each Christmas morning I usually call my buddy Todd to verify that the “Santa” presents are being unwrapped by his kid and that he's still married. 

I wait for an additional hour (usually the amount of time that it takes for his kid to break all of the “Santa” presents and for Todd and his wife to wage a full scale argument.)  I then swoop in and rescue him by taking him out for about three shots of whiskey as his wife blows up his cell phone.

For the record, Todd usually stashes a sexual toy in Melissa's stocking.  This year his in-laws stayed over and Melissa opened "The Eager Beaver" right in front of mom and dad.  Hahahaha!  Todd is a hopeless romantic I suppose.

Somehow, I got blamed for it??!! 

Todd is a political thriller and history author.  When he's not writing, he's usually making up a story as to how I've kept him out late in order to avoid trouble at home. 

Todd usually gives me a book for Christmas and this year he presented me with my very own copy of a Time Life book titled:

"Twenty Largest Disasters In World History"

Nothing says Happy Holidays quite like a front row seat to death, destruction, mayhem and suffering. The only thing which would have made my gift complete is if he’d punched me directly in the head as hard as possible and then lit me on fire.

Another part of the preparation process for greeting the new year is dismantling the Christmas decorations.

Folklore has it that it’s bad luck to enter a new year with decorations still in place.  It appears that it’s bad luck to put up decorations in the first place; as proven by a close friend who fell and broke his arm this year while situating a star atop his 20-foot Christmas tree. 

I only taped Christmas cards to my kitchen entryway this year. I also placed a beautiful poinsettia on my front porch...which I lifted from the lobby of the Ritz-Carlton downtown. 

I received many cards this season and appreciate each one. However, in retrospect, I wish my friends would have just given me the $131.00 which they collectively spent on this pile of cards so that I might pay my parking fines to the city of New Orleans. 

I don't mind paying fines and city taxes to the New Orleans Municipal Government, as it goes toward important services such as:

• Filling the same pothole in front of my house 197 times per year
• Repairing crime cameras after criminals either shoot them or dismantle them with ball bats

As I stored my greeting cards today,  I was reminded of the time when I wrote some samples for a small, boutique card company.

Writers sometimes freelance and I figured this would be a PERFECT independent  project for me. Some of my sample submissions included:

Father’s Day

Even though my dad is dead, I wish you a happy father's day.

Bereavement

In your time of mourning, please know that our thoughts are with you. And, everyone wishes that it had been you instead.

Love

On this Valentines Day, I realize that many of your co-workers will receive masses of flowers and fancy balloon deliveries. Don't be envious...just remember, I have a huge penis!

Grandson/Birthday

To the BESTEST grandson in the whole wide world**

**Please give this card and enclosed money to your brother…Oh, and Happy Birthday!

Missing You

I miss you very much.  So, I've engaged in a large amount of promiscuous sex in order to allay my feelings of loneliness, neediness and low self esteem.

Boss’ Day

F%*k You Mike!!

Just Married

WHY??????? 

Engagement

Congratulations on your engagement. As you spend this blissful time before the big day, keep in mind that there’s still time to find someone much better!

Get Well/Male Child

Sorry about your boo boo.  If you had a stronger male role model in your life you wouldn't be such a sissy.

Baby Daddy/ Father's Day

To: _____________________________
Insert name(s) here

HAPPY FATHER'S DAY! 

I never got the job. I suppose my stuff was a little too outside the box for their taste.

My published writing and blog silliness is just that…silliness. As I reflect at the end of 2010, I'm reminded of a reader email which I recently received: 

Love reading your stuff from the middle of nowhere Iraq.  I could tell you where I'm stationed, but then I'd have to kill ya.  Haha!  It must be fun to be in your head for a day...I'm curious, do you EVER write serious stuff?  If you do, I'd love to read it.  Have a great New Year!

Let me refocus your attention to, what I believe to be, a very serious issue about which I wrote earlier in this piece...

WHY are there no nude photos of Jessica Alba??  WHY?

Serious stuff huh?  Okay, here goes...

While I believe in the importance of assisting impoverished regions throughout the world, it’s important to note that we live in the world's wealthiest nation. Yet 13 percent of people living in the United States live in poverty.  It's not my fault, nor yours...but it's a fact.

Nearly one in four children live in households that struggle to put food on the table. The number attached to that percentage translates to 16.7 million children.

Between Iraq and Afghanistan, over 180-thousand soldiers put their lives on the line each day.

Whether or not you believe in the foundation for these wars, that statistic is real and represents real people--such as the soldier who sent the above email.  They greatly deserve our support and honor.

Between 6 and 8 million animals end up in shelters each year, with the exception of one little needy cat and a scruffy little dog who have recently found a happy home in the tiny offices of Pontchartrain Press.

Of the above number, 3-4 million of these animals are euthanized yearly.

The numbers go on and on and on, representing the good, the bad and the ugly.  Oddly, I still find myself concentrating on the numbers which represent "good." 

Such as:

The number of people who volunteer for a higher cause, the number of people who make the world a brighter place and the number of people who I encounter on a daily basis who offer something as simple as a warm and genuine smile. 

Those are the people who generally make me not want to throw them or myself into an oncoming bus.  And...that represents the good.

Don't mistake my sentiments...I'm not going left wing or soft...so as not to anger Rush Limbaugh.

I do, indeed, act like a child most of the time, so I recently reached out to a close writer friend of mine for deeper perspective. As an historical note, I typically do not engage in conversation of a serious nature when I call Amanda because I'm usually undressing her with my eyes, but she sums up selflessness and friendship much better than I:

Anytime I'm at a red light and someone is standing there with a sign, I give them the 72 cents in the ashtray. I know these people aren't gonna spend it on food. It's not like they're one hot meal away from turning it all around.


In fact, I hope they spend it on booze or drugs or whatever's gonna get them through one more night. At least I know where I’ll be sleeping tonight, and it won't be in an abandoned warehouse where the very attempt at staying warm may very well kill me.

I don't know how to help you make your point in this article, except to tell you MY point of view on it...

Give when you can, whatever you can, to whomever needs it. Start at home. Take care of the people you know and love. Don't let anyone in your realm be hungry, homeless or lonely if there's a way for you to help.

A healthy perspective indeed Amanda.  I'm still trying to figure out how she knows that there is precisely 72 cents in the car ashtray.  Then again, Amanda remembers each and every time I've been incorrect about something or did something dumb for the past 6 years. 

From the streets of America to a village in Africa; another enlightening perspective from Pete:

An acquaintance who served briefly as a missionary in Africa told me about the most interesting observation she made while there:

The Americans had brought some non-perishable food items and they had fun teaching the kids to bake a cake from a Betty Crocker mix. But, the kids had the most fun with the BOX. They'd never seen one, had no concept of waste and no word for "trash."
 
 Who needs a word for trash?  A picture is worth a thousand words...

Of course, I'm KIDDING!  I know trash when I see it...

I really have no clever way to make my exit from this piece other than to offer my wishes for peace, love and prosperity to you in the new year.

This has certainly been an enlightening year.  A year filled with ups, downs, in betweens, gratuitous nudity, laughter, tears, a weird football season, the ONE time I finally beat Todd at a game of pool and some random guy who pulled his pants down on the St. Charles streetcar line while singing a Fats Domino song...but I wouldn't have it any other way. 

Life is much more interesting that way.

Here's to the new year...and many more!!  Now, back to my quest for Jessica Alba photos.

                                               HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!

For last year's words belong to last year's language
And next year's words await another voice.
And to make an end is to make a beginning.

                                       ~T.S. Eliot


coyright Pontchartrain Press 2010

Can I Get A Ho Ho Ho? Or Just a Ho?

I’ve kept somewhat of a low profile lately as I recovered from a terrible cold.

When I catch a cold, I do what most rational minded people do...I rack my brain to figure out WHO gave me the cold so I can assign blame and then hunt them down and destroy them.  Sort of like the president vs. the terrorists policy only more effective.

I must admit, I could get used to sleeping for 12 to 16-hours per day. Unfortunately, I’m not a bass guitar player. Plus, my debtors do not accept pleasant telephone conversation or poetry as a form of payment.

Men tend to act like little kids when they're sick.  I’m proud to say that I’m NOT a big baby when I catch cold.  I simply bite the bullet, stare down the cold, keep a stiff upper lip and then I cry uncontrollably.

Much of the time I lie in a corner in the fetal position screaming for my mommy. I become quite irritable and I beg for hot sponge baths…even from total strangers.

After a full recovery, a few of my writer friends insisted that it was time for our annual Christmas get-together.  They also informed me that it would skew a little differently this year. This season it would be a night out on the town for, what they called:

                                  “Trailer Park Christmas”

I’ve never heard of a trailer park Christmas, so I quickly informed them that I do not own a wife-beater or jean shorts.  Apparently it’s an evening filled with simple fun, mischief and inappropriateness…ala Uncle Eddie from National Lampoon’s Vacation.

Translation: A bunch of misbehaving writers could potentially be kicked out of several establishments on this particular December evening.

The culprits in attendance for our outing included me, Amanda, Rich, Todd and Marie.

As a side note, before anyone dispatches an irate email accusing me of holding stereotypical preconceptions toward trailer parks, it’s important to note that I did NOT coin the title of our night on the town.

I’ve known many fine people who lived in trailer parks and do not subscribe to blanket notions toward the many, based on the actions of a select few.  (As seen on the award winning television program, Cops.)

For that matter, I hold absolutely no opinion toward anyone who has relations with their first cousin or those who suffer from multiple dentifrice anomalies. I’m also quite empathetic to people who scrape by on a budget yet have three satellite dishes and habitual gambling problems.

In all honesty, I’m envious of the 155-inch plasma television parked in the living room of some trailers-- the television costs more than the trailer and weighs more than any of their grown children, who subsequently also live in the trailer.**

**Note: Presumably a double wide

Now that I think about it, anyone who has a television which weighs enough to practically tip over their residence while living under the exhilarating potentiality that they might be annihilated at any moment by a tornado are my kind of people!  Plus, they usually have a lot of beer.

Back to Trailer Park Christmas…Our first stop came at 4:30pm.  Dinner at the Texas Cattle Corral. Rich and Amanda, admittedly, LOVE this joint for one reason only…they love the hot dinner rolls and cinnamon butter.

I politely pointed out that I love Taco Supremes and Gorditas but I don‘t care to host a Christmas get together at Taco Bell. Rich quickly reminded me that no one in our circle is normal. Touché.

This reminded me that I’ve been putting off adding an item to my New Year’s Resolution list for far too long..."Move to a remote cave in Afghanistan."

Fast FUN FACT…

Question: WHO eats dinner at 4:30pm??
Answer: About 500 people at the Texas Cattle Corral.

We stepped into an atmosphere filled with blaring country music, crying babies, obnoxious little kids, walkers, tank tops, several women who forgot their bras, flip flop adorned feet and some guy wearing a t-shirt with a giant candy cane emblazoned across the front with the following caption:

                                  “Jolly Old Saint Lick”

He further accessorized this snappy/smart outfit by looking like a serial sex offender and he wore a camouflage Santa hat.

Since reservations are not required at the Screaming Baby, Dinner Roll Emporium & Cattle Corral, it took us only 37-minutes to be seated.

While we waited, I observed a teenage guy and girl who served as host & hostess. Judging by, what they likely thought to be, subtle co-worker interaction, these two crazy kids clearly could not wait to run to the back room on their break and have unbridled teenage animal sex.**

**Note: You'd be amazed at how many search engine keyword “hits” my site receives simply by my using a term such as “animal sex.” I’m sure Jolly Saint Lick will bring in some hits as well.

Since I’d never visited the Texas Capital Punishment, Slaughter House, Dinner Roll Factory & Pistol Firing Range, I put my trust in Rich and Amanda’s appetizer suggestions.

Knowing that I was about to eat an entire cow, I was pleasantly surprised to hear that the appetizer list offered a selection of fresh veggies.

The platter overflowed with an abundance of garden delights…all encrusted in about 15-layers of deep-fried batter with several bowls of ranch dressing and melted cheese.

After dinner, we shared a table full of desserts when the inevitable conversation shift occurred... initiated by (no surprise) one of the girls.

Marie: So, what’s everyone’s favorite Christmas memory?

This is a prime example as to why Marie never keeps a boyfriend.  I thought we were simply going to eat, drink, act like children and throw-up at the end of an inappropriate evening. 

If Marie or Amanda became drunk enough to reveal a pair of candy cane striped thongs after a few drinks, I'd consider it a shining star atop the proverbial Christmas tree!

Conducting a Martha Stewart/Hallmark Channel memory lane flashback was nowhere on my agenda.  Nonetheless, Rich, who was already drunk, chimed in first:

Rich: Waking up when I was 9 years old to the brand new bike that I'd wanted forever!

Me: Shut up.  All of you, please shut up...I'm begging.

Marie: Awww. That’s sweet Rich….Jim, don't be a f#*%^ng Grinch!

Amanda: Mine was when I was in college. Before we’d all go our separate ways for the holiday; me and my girlfriends would always open a few bottles of wine and do a sleep-over the week before Christmas and exchange gifts.

Todd: (interrupting) Was there any nudity or confused college girl bi-sexual experimentation?

Amanda: Do you EVER have sex Todd?

Todd: I'm married...what do YOU think?

Me: I think Todd poses a valid question. Is there something more that you're hiding from us in your Christmas memory?  Most importantly, do you possess any pictures of your thinly disguised college Christmas "get together?"

Marie: Todd, what’s YOUR favorite Christmas memory?

Todd: Sitting around the fireplace as a family.  We’d sip hot chocolate and listen to old Christmas records while playing Monopoly until mom and dad tucked us into bed as we anxiously waited for Santa Claus. (longing sigh) Those were the days!

Awkward silence/skepticism among the table

Todd: (breaks into hysterical laughter) I’m kidding! I had crazy sex all night on Christmas eve a few years ago before I married Melissa.

Amanda: THAT’S your fondest memory??

Todd: Absolutely! Oh, we DID have a Joe Cocker Christmas CD on in the background.  And, I video taped the entire night!

Me: He's telling the truth...I've seen it.

Rich: Was it with Melissa?

Todd: Of course not. I don’t want to participate in a sex tape involving Melissa.  I can see her naked anytime.

Amanda: Yet, I'll bet you still don't.

Me: How, exactly, are you still married?

Todd: She loves my charm.

My favorite Christmas memory was when I got my first car.  Primarily because I could slip away from get togethers with crazy distant relatives anytime I wanted. 

After dinner I'd politely excuse myself and drive away as though I'd just pulled a bank heist.

My dad used to become irritated, specifically because I didn't take him with me.

In retrospect, my experience at the Cattle Corral was very good.  I enjoyed my steak and, as an added bonus, we were served by a friendly young woman named Holly.

Amanda and Marie didn’t like Holly too much but I can’t remember when I’ve received such outstanding service in a restaurant.  Todd and Rich agree with me on this.

I filled out three comment cards praising Holly’s outstanding server abilities, her winning attitude and cheerful smile.  I snapped a cell phone picture of her:

Holly!  Such a lovely smile and The BESTEST server in the world!!

After dinner, we pulled the trailer park Christmas train into Wal Mart where Rich suggested that we spread out and purchase “Secret Santa” gifts to exchange at the end of the evening.

This reminds me of when I was a kid and my redneck uncles used to exchange gifts at the family gathering on Christmas day. They’d give one another, and I’m not making this up, a carton of cigarettes which they'd purchased en route to the family gathering.

Nothing says Happy Holidays quite like giving the gift of emphysema. Plus, it’s especially meaningful to receive a gift with a personal message from the Surgeon General plastered across the side.

Venturing in separate directions, once inside the Wal Mart, I headed for the obvious aisle...the liquor section.

I suppose that since the fine folks at Wal Mart figured that the Greater New Orleans area lacked adequate alcohol availability in its 5-thousand bars, a gigantic discount liquor section was needed.

I purchased a bottle of vodka, a 12-pack of Miller High Life, Gummie Lifesavers and a Santa hat before meeting our group back at the front door.

Next stop…something festive. We decided that we would include a traditional holiday stop on our night out, so we visited City Park.

For those who are unfamiliar, in addition to being a prime rendezvous point for those who connect on Craig's List "Casual Encounters," City Park is home to an enormous, self guided, tour of Christmas lights and decorations. It’s called Celebration In The Oaks.

Because it's New Orleans, obviously, alcohol is readily available for purchase.  We simply brought our own...trailer park style! 

Now that I think about it, I suppose they don't call it "Christmas In The Oaks" because attaching a title with religious connotations to a large public event would incite several public "watch-dog" groups who might line the park's board of directors against a wall and summarily execute them.**

**The preceding was a paid 527(s ) political action committee announcement for Pat Robertson

Among the elaborate decorations, you’ll find hundreds of thousands of breathtaking lights carefully strung from the majestic hundred year-old oak trees.  The magical twinkling light show looms high above as young couples, children, families and five drunken writers stroll beneath.

We decided it best not to defile Unmentionable Holiday/Celebration In The Oaks with our “trailer park” outing. That is, until I spotted a highly inebriated gentleman standing in front of the park wearing a t-shirt with a Confederate flag sprawled across the front and a message which read:

                        “Git Er’ Done!!”

As an added holiday bonus, he was singing a Styx song to himself.

We gave him a beer and invited him to join us for a stroll through the Christmas display and soon talked him into climbing one of the trees while wearing my Santa hat.  I requested that, once he reached his perch on a lower branch, he should loudly belt out the timeless holiday classic...“Oh, Christmas Tree.”

We quickly discovered that City Park officials apparently do not enjoy this song as much as we do since they firmly suggested that we leave.

I find myself wondering how our new friend got down from that tree? Most importantly, I lost my Santa hat!  We took the kiddie train toward the entrance, guzzling down our Miller High Life along the way as we sang a selection from the Nutcracker.

Next destination…Our final stop for the evening.  We unanimously figured that the best place to exchange our Trailer Park Christmas Extravaganza Secret Santa gifts was West Virginia.  Since none of us could scrape together $4-thousand dollars for cab fare, we settled on a seedy little bar/pool hall in a fringe area of New Orleans East.

This was a good idea for about 6-minutes.  It seems that not everyone in our group understood seedy pool hall/bar protocol as it relates to open discussion of certain topics. 

As Amanda and I ordered a round of drinks for the table, all attention in the bar rapidly focused on Rich, Marie and Todd, who were engaged in animated disagreement about a musical number in the Broadway production of "Camelot." 

I believe Rich was belting out a few lines from one of the musical numbers. 

After assuring the skeptical, no-nonsense patrons that Rich and Todd, in fact, have numerous sexual encounters (with women) attention slowly drifted away from our little group.  

We began filling the bar table with our Secret Santa gifts which included:

• An assortment of nail polish
• A three pack of lipstick
• Gummie Lifesavers
• A Chia Pet
• A New Orleans Saints Snuggie
• A package of Trojan Condoms

Marie quickly pointed out that there were six items on the table, I quickly pointed out the most important observation...in looking at the items, it's clear that everyone at our table is clinically insane.

Before going to the bar to order a round, Rich snatched the condoms away and placed them in his bag.  He'd accidentally tossed his personal purchase on the table. 

I was asked to give a toast as the five of us lifted our shots high:

"Here's to Rich's safe sex choices and to good friends and good times.  Through laughter, tears and joy, we're all in this complicated, yet simple world together...until I can figure out how to kill each of you and get away with it."

It decidedly was NOT your traditional Christmas party, but it was time well spent with friends...my extended, dysfunctional family.  A gift which can't be purchased...not even at Wal Mart.

Wherever this holiday finds you, I wish you a peaceful, safe and Happy Christmas!

Author's Note: Transportation was provided by several Pakistani cab drivers and the New Orleans public transportation system.  Drinking and driving is not our style...it's more fun to be drunk in front of an audience.  Hehehe...I mean, Ho Ho Ho. (no offense to Marie)

copyright Pontchartrain Press 2010