The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe...

…is a great movie. My brother and I had free, sneak preview tickets to see the movie last night, which I am sure you all know, is based on the C.S. Lewis series, The Chronicles of Narnia.

We came prepared with contraband (Cokes and snacks), smuggled in by using our large pockets of our coats (for geeks like us, it is almost like stealing from the theatre). Anyway, the nice thing was that people of all ages were there, and most of them seemed to enjoy themselves. Now, I know a free movie is a hell of a lot better than one that cost $8.75, but that aside, I really liked it. We both concurred the story has a strong religious overtone to it; quite possible, since C.S. Lewis wrote a number of religious books (see The Screwtape Letters – highly recommended). They did a nice job with the casting, the special effects were impressive, and there was a good mixture of fighting scenes, humor, and old-fashioned good vs. evil to make for a good storyline….unless you are one of those evil bastards/biddies who would enjoy watching a movie where cute, little, dentally-challenged British kids and their Cockney-accented animal friends get killed; if you are one of those loathsome, offensive brutes, you will NOT enjoy this movie.

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*I heard this at Hofbrauhaus, in Newport, KY, by a couple of accordion playing maniacs; only later did I realize Homer Simpson sang it as well.

The Sound of Homer

Dough, the stuff that buys me beer
Ray, the guy who sells me beer
Me, the guy who's drinking beer
Far, a long way to go for beer
So, I'll have another beer
La, I'll have another beer
Tea, no thanks, I'm having beer
that will bring us back to

D'oh!

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‘Tis the season to be jolly, and to make fun of people.

Demented “Dear Santa” letters

deer santa:
I wud like a kool toy space ranjur fer Xmas. Iv ben a gud boy all yeer.
Yer Frend,
BiLLy

Dear Billy,
Nice spelling. You're on your way to a career in lawn care. How about I
send you a frigging book so you can learn to read and write? I'm giving
your older brother the space ranger. At least HE can spell!
Santa
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Dear Santa,
I have been a good girl all year, and the only thing I ask for is peace and joy in the world for everybody!
Love,
Sarah

Dear Sarah,
Your parents smoked pot when they had you, didn't they?
Santa
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Dear Santa,
I don't know if you can do this, but for Christmas, I'd like for my
mommy and daddy to get back together. Please see what you can do.
Love,
Teddy

Dear Teddy,
Look, your dad's banging the babysitter like a screen door in a
hurricane. Do you think he's gonna give that up to come back to your
frigid, fat mom, who rides his ass constantly? It's time to give up that
dream. Let me get you some nice Legos instead. Maybe you can build
yourself a family with those?
Santa
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Dear Santa,
I left milk and cookies for you under the tree, and I left carrots for
your reindeer outside the back door.
Love,
Susan

Dear Susan,
Milk gives me the shits and carrots make the deer fart in my face when
riding in the sleigh. You want to do me a favor? Two words, Jim Beam.
Santa
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Dear Santa,
What do you do the other 364 days of the year? Are you busy making toys?
Your friend,
Thomas

Dear Thomas,
All the toys are made by little kids like you in China and EVERY year I give them a slice of bread as a Christmas bonus. I have a condo in Vegas, where I spend most of my time making low-budget porno films. I unwind by drinking myself silly and squeezing the asses of cocktail waitresses while losing money at the craps table.



P.S. Tell your mom she got the part.

Santa “Long Dong” Claus
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Dear Santa,
Do you see us when we're sleeping, do you really know when we're awake, like in the song?
Love,
Jessica

Dear Jessica,
Are you really that gullible? Good luck in whatever you do. I'm skipping your house.
Santa
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Dear Santa,
I really, really want a puppy this year. Please, please, please, PLEASE, PLEASE could I have one?
Timmy

Timmy,

That whiny, begging shit may work with your folks, but that crap doesn't work with me. You're getting an ugly sweater again.
Santa
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Dearest Santa,
We don't have a chimney in our house, how do you get into our home?
Love,
Marky

Mark,
First, stop calling yourself "Marky", that's why you're getting your ass kicked at school. Second, you don't live in a house; you live in a low-rent, ghetto apartment complex. Third, I get inside your pad just like all the burglars do, through your bedroom window.
Sweet Dreams,
Santa

And, finally, back to Queens and Crescents….

It was the Christmas/New Year’s in late 90’s, and, for the umpteenth time, I had just dumped (or been dumped by) another woman I had been dating. I had always been somewhat of a writer, what, with writing short stories and the like, but now I felt the urge to do more; the claustrophobic, “shit or get off the pot” feeling that only comes with a poor self-evaluation. I pulled out that photograph from Susan – the one with “We’ll always have New Orleans” written on it. Her perfume still lingered on it ever so slightly. Then, like a kick to the head, it came to me - the storyline about a guy who falls knee-deep for a woman in New Orleans – a beautiful, troubled woman; a woman who is engaged to be married to a dangerous, hot-tempered crime boss from New York. So, before Christmas that year I began doing research on New Orleans and the Queens borough of New York City. But, I soon realized that it is very difficult to write about a place you have never seen, so I went with Cincinnati (nicknamed “The Queen City”) instead of Queens. On January 3^rd of the New Year, I began to write – by hand. I started with a working outline, and then wrote five actual pages that day; then, four the next. After that, I wrote five more, then seven, then twelve. After it was all said and done, I only missed one day of writing in close to five months. Most importantly, I had finished it. I put the written manuscript away in a safe place and didn’t look at it for close to a year.

Have a good week and be sure to check back Sunday for some great photos! Per request from a lost beachgirl (http://lostbeachgirl.blogspot.com/), I have dug up some mid-80’s pics of myself proudly sporting the sweet mullet. For a good history lesson, click here. Thank God I got a job that required short hair….if you still sport the always fresh-looking hockey hair, you may need to pick this up:

See you next week.