my mother recently told me that she has planned a trip to egypt and my first question was not “are you going to see the pyramids, the sphinx, or king tut’s tomb?” not “are you traveling by camels and goats, and are you aware just how much they hate americans there?” not “when do you leave & can you read hieroglyphics?” no, my first question was, “but what are the restrooms like there?” i could only imagine my mother squatting over shallowly dug sandy pits in the middle of the desert lacking any tp, much like those seen in slumdog millionaire. and that, my friends,  is where the difference between men & women is most pronounced (besides the penis/vagina thing of course): how peeing & the places we do it in dictate much of a woman’s life.

living La Vida Sentada, the seated life, presents it’s own distinct set of challenges of which men have little idea, interest, or care. for instance, we have to constantly be aware of our liquid intake based upon when the next Emptying Of The Bladders will be (no, thanks. i better pass on that second ice tea.). we must make travel arrangements based on when we can pee next (is there a restroom there or should i go now?). we get dressed based upon the imagined effort it will take to remove said clothes for peeing (i am so not wearing pantyhose!” and remember the bride? do you know how many people it takes to help her pee so she doesn’t yellow that giant white dress?) and there is the always the question of cleanliness (oh no! it’s a gas station. forget it. i’ll wait. i can hold it for another 50 miles” and btw – what is up with those giant key chains they always have for gas stations? and do we really even need to lock up these pits of filth? who are they keeping out? i mean who the hell is sneaking in there that they need security? ). we alter our social life around peeing, “a THREE hour movie? no thanks.” and, “it won 72 tonys but there is NO intermisson? i’ll pass.” in fact, i am sure this is exactly why that genius device, the DVR, was invented and had to have been done so by a woman.

in addition to carrying this enormous burden, we are saddled with being the primary Trainers Of The Pee Release which means most of us are stocking purell like squirrels do acorns. all you hear in the ladies’ room is mothers frantically screaming, “DON’T TOUCH ANYTHING.” and “WAIT UNTIL I PUT PAPER DOWN.” young girls are indoctrinated early on about Layering & taught to master the muscle control required to do The Squat (an advanced move that saves time by not having to put paper down but can be very messy if not executed perfectly). and how in the world are we supposed to train boys to pee standing up when we can’t even do it ourselves? no wonder why men just pee anywhere they please – how can we teach them any differently as young boys? moms of boys must  give up after being sprayed enough times and finally say, “just go pee on that wall instead of my shoes.”

and due to this woeful, seated life, i have more than once, thought about how much easier it might be if i had been armed with the invaluable information of a Pee Pee Guidebook i could consult before ever leaving the house – a line of travel books marketed solely to women written by women about ladies’ rooms across the world. i would hire an army of female travelers to urinate across the globe documenting facilities to create an all encompassing peeing library. it would be broken down into state & country specific volumes with a gratis map tics app that rivals triple A’s so one could choose travel destinations based on places to void the bladder. this encyclopedia of piss would list all the restrooms at main points of interest, tourist attractions, museums, hotels, camp sites, etc. and rate said restrooms  from 1 to 5 toilet paper rolls: 1 being the worst and 5 being the best. ratings would be based on cleanliness, ease of use, location, amount of stalls, which way the door opens (we have all gotten trapped inside more than once when the door opened in), functionality of locks should they even exist, decor, price (yes, i said price: those backwardass europeans charge you to pee & the price has nothing to do with the quality of the place), availability & quality of tp/soap, papertowels/dryer, & family-friendliness.

not only would these books arm chicks with toilette rankings, but they would also include handy tips for acquiring the life skills so important to successful peeing like how to properly feign pregnancy or nausea to skip the line entirely without fear of retribution and make it back for halftime. or how to navigate ancient theaters with hidden stairways that lead to secret restrooms and be able to make it back to your seat within 15 minutes for act 2. which countries to avoid traveling to altogether that have no restrooms of any kind. “you want to go on safari out in the bush? where do i pee? you don’t know? no thanks. i can watch the antelope get mauled by the lion on animal planet. in fact, i’m pretty sure that is why hi-def tv was invented.”

so here is a sneek peek at the  P.P. Patrol Library coming to a kindle near you soon:

Intro to Colllege Bar Restrooms of America 101:

let’s face facts: there has always been an entirely other kind of learning occurring on american college campuses – the learning of how to hold your liquor. sometimes in this endeavor, young co-eds must also learn to hold the pee, not only because of ridiculous drinking games that demand it, but due to the unsanitary conditions of said bars which worsen as on the night wears. in addition to ranking the filth of bathrooms among college campuses by state perhaps even aiding in the college of choice decision, this overpriced text book & class syllabus will cover:

*The Breaking of the Seal: when is it best to break the the proverbial seal? weighing the consequences of ruining the game by giving in to The Urge way before midnight before all the tp is gone or risking peeing on a bar stool which we all know isn’t very sexy.

*Overused & Overflowed: what to do when you find yourself ankle deep in contaminated water (which also includes the sub-topic Bar Shoes).

*Line Cutting Without Injury: negotiating lines without getting beat up so you can  get in there before the way too drunk girl hurls all over the last clean roll of toilet paper.

*Making Doo: how to wipe with a cardboard tube should it become necessary or worse – drip drying!

*Pee Pee Etiquette - avoid being the inconsiderate bitch who tucks, zips, & buckles her belt inside the stall. and for god sakes, this is not the time or place to poop!

and bonus sections:

* Frat House Fun: yes, you are being watched. yes, you will find your name written on the walls along with horrid details about what you look like naked & who saw you that way and why. DO NOT PEE HERE unless you have no issues with future employers finding you on youtube.

* Off the Peeing Path: how to pull those cute little panties aside & pee behind a dumpster when all else fails without getting busted by the campus po po.

* The Dorms’ Dirty Little Secret: what your RA doesn’t want you to know about co-ed bathrooms.

The Road Less Peed

a series of travel companions especially useful for the pregnant, those with potty training children, or just those with pea sized bladders which would cover all rest stops on major highways in each state describing such things as:

*The Last Resort: pit stops that haven’t been updated since route 66 opened in 1926 and still have that filthy rotating towel thing upon which to dry your hands.

* Bagging the Elusive White Whale: where to find the dying breed of restrooms that have that plastic rotating seat cover or any seat covers at all.

* when it’s necessary to pack a gas mask  to survive the toxic bursts of automatic air freshener.

* how to disable the automatic flushing mechanism that scares the crap outta your kids. literally.

* where to find the hidden pit stops which are less traveled, slightly out of the way, but far cleaner.

* what rest stops to avoid completely that double as prostitution service for truckers, drug rings, or contain “mysterious” holes in the stalls.

* what to do when peeing along side of the highway is just unavoidable.

* No Dogs Allowed: the best way to secretly scoop up rover’s calling cards before you jet.

the intro would be entitled “The History of the American Rest Stop”

sample entries will include personal experiences of the writers:

Hawaii: Maui: The Road to Hana: The Seven Sacred Pools at Haleakela National Park: hands down, the most disgusting bathroom i have ever encountered in my life. giant multi-user johnny on the spot bench seat with holes to sess pool below. no sanitary facilities of any kind. you must hold your nose or you will most likley barf from the odor of the mountains of decomposing feces below your ass. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, DO NOT PEE HERE.

-5 rolls

Trains, Planes, & Automobiles: Domestic & Abroad

what girl can  forget the horror, shock, & awe that she felt The First Time….she encountered a mobile restroom? who hasn’t peed all over herself because she doesn’t have “sea legs” while sucking in the pleasant aroma of tuna in The Head of a boat? who doesn’t remember realizing that the hole in the bottom of the train bathroom actually allowed you to pee on the tracks thus explaining the sign demanding you not use the restrooms while the train is in the station. it’s not just the pee destination you need to know about beforehand, but also the restroom that gets you there! important tips would include:

* bacterial parts per 1000 of surfaces in mass transit restrooms.

* what to do when you absolutely have to pee when the “stay seated” light is on.

* sneaking into “first class” facilities.

* how to be sure the “occupado” light is illuminated while your pants are around your ankles.

* what do if you must “go greyhound.”

* the pros and cons of travel potties and the effect they have on our nation’s youth.

Port Authority Bus Station, NYC: squatting will be necessary to avoid excrement covered seat thanks to wino that was in there before you. barf from the strongest odor of urine you have ever smelled in your life on the homeless person living in there thus contributing to the terrible humanity. no paper, no soap. run out as fast as possible vowing never to return to this place or the city that spawned it which smells entirely of warm piss itself  and most fragrant in august after a drought.

-8 rolls.

Peter Pan Busline, USA:  loose 20 pounds before the trip so you can actually fit in the tiny lav*  CAUTION: do not look down into blue pool of human waste – you can never unsee it and the nightmare will haunt you forever. board early to avoid sitting in last 15 rows of bus closest to the lav. also, it is recommended you dehydrate 3 days prior to bus travel to rule out the use of it at all.

* advisable for airplane lavatories as well

1/2 roll

Shoppeeing, Eating, & Entertainment

a comprehensive set of guides for the family, elderly, or bladder challenged that would cover any retail area, dining establishment, & entertainment venue by town & state. also available in a mini version with a handy clip that can attach to the stroller or fit in a purse.

this guide includes:

* the hidden bathrooms in all retail locations “they” don’t want you to know about.

* the last remodel date of the bathroom:  avoiding those restrooms with shag carpet from 1973.

* sneaking into the “employee only” bathroom.

enjoy a master thesis included in this tome called, the family restroom of america- does it really exist & it’s social ramifications.

sample entry:

Nordstrom, Freehold, NJ: uber clean restroom.*  facilities well maintained. plenty of paper. hooks & shelves for belongings. child friendly. stroller friendly. baby changing area with private nursing facilities. soap & paper towels always available.

*not applicable to cafe facility.

5 tp rolls

Renaissance Fair, Anywhere, USA: rows and rows of filthy porta-potties complete with dirty footprints on floor covered in mystery sludge. bring your own tp & clothespin for your nostrils. prepare to wait on line in 102 degree sun & hope you drank enough mead to forget the experience altogether.

-3 rolls

Hotels & Motels of America:

once the road trip guide gets you there, where do you pee? this tome explores many important issue germane to today’s vactioners:

* the differences between 1 & 5 star lodgings’ facilities.

* how to calculate the pee to chlorine ratio based on the star system.

* tp folding & what it means to your family.

* the sanitary strip: its’ actually inversely proportional to the quality of the inn.

sample entries:

Ritz Carlton, Naples, Florida: numerous pristine facilities featuring high end decor & priceless artwork and full floor to ceiling stall partitions. pima cotton 800 thread count hand towels, 6 ply quilted paper, spa quality soap. will ruin all future restrooms for you. forever.

10 luxurious rolls

Motel 6, Bismark, North Dakota: sanitary paper strip applied to seat but do not use a black light to test the soundness of that inspection. cancer causing red heat lamps from 1964 create a certain coziness. 1 ply tp but artfully folded into a triangle. clean enough for a night or a few hours…

2 rolls

Europeein

have you longed to travel abroad but haven’t because of the hygienic horror stories you have heard? and rightly so, because they are true! this series of books will outline the country specific survival skills necessary to pee outside of the US or at the very least, prepare the reader to be less horrified by her first encounter with a parisian bathroom. (i use the term, bathroom, very loosely since there is not much bathing happening in that country at all*).

sample entries:

Italy, The Riveira: a wooden shack with a hole in the floor that has outlines around it for your feet for proper squatting position leaving you to wonder where does the stuff actually go? no paper. no facilities for hand washing. DO NOT POOP here. female child’s use not recommended. there is a fee of  2 euros that is much too high when you convert the euros to USD. i can’t believe anyone even has to pay to piss here.

-2 rolls

Italy, Venice: elusive restroom done up in subway decor complete with turnstiles located at top of winding hill past the virgin mary statue. doesn’t matter which virgin mary since it may be the only restroom on the island as signs lead you there from every single part of the place. pay 1 euro to enter the turnstile for privilege of holding your breath because bathroom attendant’s BO is unbearable to american noses. tp & hand washing available, but no provisions for hand drying. try not to overhear attendant laughing at how much money they make for charging people for a human function. also try not to notice the stench of urine around the entire city from exasperated travelers that gave up looking for the potty & dropped trou when they just couldn’t hold it anymore. not for those who are pregnant, have heart conditions, or are in poor health. bring water & snack for the journey.

1 roll

Paris, France: Jacques on Le Spot in middle of street, with no paper, a major stench undetectable to french nostrils and with a core temperature of 108 degrees inside during summer. requires a complicated amount of coins you will not have and for which not one snot ass vendor will give you change since you never paid attention in 8 years of french and thus still can’t speak that useless language; so you must ask the asshole with the canadian flag on his pack to get for you. he will then think you owe him some & follow you around the city until you shake him at the l’ouvre. as you exit the restroom, be prepared to be hit on the ass with a rolled up newspaper because the filthy old french man you walked by on the bench thinks you’re cute…for an americain. ask yourself why you came here in first place.

-2 rolls

*included with this set of guides would be a free smart phone app called the BOI – the Body Odor Index – it’s like the UV index but far more useful: “the recent water shortage & 14 day heat wave in venice has caused the BOI to reach a 9 out of a possible 10. stay indoors today or superglue your nostrils shut. it’s gonna be a stanky one out there today!”

also available for purchase with the books will be a companion PP Survival Kit which includes:

* ass wipes – they’re not just for kids anymore

* disposable toilet seat covers

* 6 pack of hand sanitizer

* brawny extra thirsty paper towels

* disposable baby changing pads or a disposable baby

* emergency coin holder (for abroad versions)

* face mask

* haz mat suit

* rubber gloves

* directions to nearest decontamination stations

* packed in a handy anti-bacterial travel case in your choice of pink or blue

with these books, i imagine a peeing utopia for women across the globe where we will all be united in our bladder freedom.

pee on sistas!

so, here is the eagerly-awaited vacation post*. settle in because it’s loooonnnnng…

so, last week, charles in charge took the girls to disney with his mommy & daddy. his mommy actually came over the week before to pack & shop for the girls because mr. i want full custody couldn’t handle such a taxing proposition. but i digress. the reason i share this is that i am a huge opportunist & i saw my chance to grab a simultaneous vacation of my own. after much arranging, i decided to visit my cousins in LA & sandwich in a vegas weekend.

i used to love traveling: my parents took us away a lot. for many years my chanukah present was to visit said cousins on my own over x-mas break. after college, i backpacked through europe for 6 weeks, 3 of which, were on my own. the mental patient and i used to travel a lot until the babies came and even then we did our fair share. but unfortunately, i eventually learned that there are 2 kinds of travelers: the happy, laid back, excited to be going anywhere traveler = good traveling companion & the uptight, anxiety-ridden, miserable, generally nasty traveler = horrific companion. guess which one of us was which? enough miserable vacations over 16 years dulled my taste for travel & i came to dislike it. i no longer wanted to go anywhere. then, after the worst vacation i was ever on with the eternally whiny traveler, i finally realized it wasn’t travel i hated, but the companion. and it struck me, if a person can not be happy on vacation, he can not be happy anywhere.

i dig traveling. what i abhor are all the things you have to do before you can actually do it: making the plans, running all your last minute pre-travel day errands (my to-do lists are endless & in no way achievable. see chronoptomist in urban dictionary), putting the house on lock-down, major shopping, pre-trip grooming (it’s thorough and i wonder, “why do i feel the need to be waxed, pedi-ed, mani-ed, colored, cut, & generally fabulous for other travelers/vacationers i will never see again?”). but what i hate most is the packing. i despise it for one reason: i am a bit of clothes-horse/wanna-be fashionista and get antsy when separated from my closet. packing gives me anxiety because i need wardrobe options. how can i know what i want to wear for dinner 3 days from the day i am choosing outfits to bring? i normally dress on a whim. i put on & take off 27 different articles of clothing before settling on one outfit. i do that several times a day. i need to be dressed just exactly right for the venue/activity to promote optimal self-confidence (unless i am hooked up to a vodka drip). i need a plane outfit too. i want to be all glam like those asian chicks in the dresses & heels at the airport, but i just can’t. comfort wins & i look like a barely fashionable slob. don’t even get me started on the agony of choosing a finite selection of shoes. so the obvious remedy? O V E R P A C K. i packed enough for a month, several different climates, 2 time zones, & any haberdashery caprice i might have. i was leaving for 5 days for 1 climate. i schlepped that bulging suitcase to my car with only minor damage to the sheetrock. miraculously the suitcase came in under the 50lb limit. barely.

then after all of this intense, heart-wrenching packing you have to be prepared to never see your beautiful, perfectly planned outfits (with options), again if you are planning on checking the bag. basic physics dictated that i was not getting that giant suitcase under the seat in front of me. it had to be checked. so i said a little prayer to gloria vanderbilt, the patron saint of checked luggage, and hoped for the best. i usually say, “goodbye clothes, until we meet again. you have served me well. hope to see you again, perfect outfits.” i am sure this is what shakespeare meant when he wrote that, “parting is such sweet sorrow.” if you truly love something, set it free right? and giving them that bag is so final. all your faith is in that tag they stick on your luggage, the hope that you kissed the bag checker-inner’s ass well enough, and the kindness of strangers behind the scenes to ensure your bag will join you on the other side. i have had my bag lost several times. there is no more naked a feeling than when you are the last person standing there still optimistic after 90 minutes and no more bags are coming out of the chute. you defeatedly trod over to the lost luggage counter to fill out the paperwork knowing they don’t really care if you are ever reunited with your shoes again…

there is the “getting to the airport” routine which is an experience in of itself because it requires figuring out a precise time line in which you must derive the exact moment you need to be at the gate. it takes a degree in quantum physics. once you get that settled, you must decide the mode in which you shall transport yourself to the airport. will you drive & chose a parking option: long term, short term, off premise, monorail, shuttle, or pack-mule? should you just get a car to drive you? this is cool when you return because you have your very own driver to whom you can say, “home james.” i grew up with a dad that was “the early guy.” we always got there hours before & he had ants in his pants until we boarded, but he was never nasty. i remember the good ol’ days when you only had to be there 1 hour before your flight. then one day some assholes flew some planes into the WTC & now you have to be there 3 hours before to get through security. maybe you are one of those last minute people that are sprinting into the airport to make it on board in time. helpful hint: never have one of these people drop you off, or as my pop called it “the dump & run.” all that aside, getting to the airport is generally the easy part. it’s actually getting on the plane that is the challenge…

after waiting for all the clueless people in front of you to figure out the nearly useless e-ticket machine, it’s onto the horror show called (cue ominous music) security. you know i have to bitch about airport security. no airline travel rant can overlook that hot mess. can someone tell me why i still have to take my gd shoes off to go through security? is shoe-smuggling still a major threat to the country? are there roaming violent packs of 5’0 women wearing platforms diverting planes to nordstrom’s? do toddlers really need to be put through that torture? as far as a 3 year old knows, she is never getting her shoes back & that warrants a colossal melt-down. now the airport smells like feet & is just a giant case of athlete’s foot waiting to happen. there are podiatrists opening up offices in the terminals. and oh, god, the fucking liquids. i threw a full size bottle of saline into my carry on meaning to transfer it to my suitcase but forgot it was even in there. needless to say i caused a stir at the x-ray machine & narrowly escaped a full cavity search because apparently, it is common for most terrorists to wear contacts that dry out on the plane. ummm, TSA? just a thought, but perhaps, once you uncover a terrorist plot involving shoes & liquids, they have moved on to bigger ideas. do you think the terrorists got together & said, “we use 3oz bottles & higher for the liquid TNT. got that, habib? nothing under 3oz – let those dirty americans have their travel size toiletries to carry-on, but that’s it.” but, you sure can check all the liquid you want. you can pack a keg of nitroglycerin in your suitcase & that’s not a problem at all as long as you pay the oversize baggage fee. makes no sense to me. i suppose the terrorists don’t check bags. seems to me someone could be making a lot of money on efficient airline security technology.

after you barley make it out alive from security, there is the boarding adventure. this where you get stuck behind the family with 4 children & 15 carry-ons because they didn’t want to pay the extra ransom of $15 per checked bag (each way). there is no way all that stuff fits overhead but they are determined to do it even if they hold up the entire boarding process. when i finally find my seat, i heave a sigh of relief that someone else isn’t already sitting in it. its like airplane roulette. will they have randomly given my seat to someone else even though it was promised to me more than once? (this why my dad made us get there uber early & race down the jetway like it was the last stretch of the NYC marathon as soon as they let us. that was before the days of boarding you in numerical order. don’t even think of trying to pull that shit now.) if my seat is actually vacant, i always get stuck in the middle between 2 giant people that feel they can spread out in the extra space around me. w r o n g. i may be small, but i overpaid for this seat & i want every centimeter of it to myself. god forbid i should even think about asking mr. aisle seat to get up so i can pee after holding it in for 2.5 hours. he is visibly annoyed. perhaps you didn’t realize having the aisle seat means 2 other people are trapped next to you & are at your mercy for bladder relief. gawd. or should you dare to try to pee too soon after take-off, you are met with the major disapproval of the flight attendants akin to catholic school nuns. i promise i will never ever again say to my kids, “but, you just went,” or “i told you to go before we left, now you have to wait.” i now know how infuriating that is. apparently, you are only allowed to empty your bladder when you are perfectly horizontal to gravity. i actually found myself asking permission. i paid 600 bux to sit in this sardine can & i am asking the snarky male flight attendant if i can go potty? fuck yeah, i can go. if he says no i will pee on his shoes.

but i do love the airplane honor code. the code states you can leave anything in your seat or under the seat in front of you when you go to the lav & no one else will touch it. it’s a strict honor code that is never messed with. you could leave a wad of cash when you get up to use that tiny loo & it will be there when you return. you could get sucked out that super jet propulsion toilet into space when you flush it & never return & your stuff will still be there. you’re all in this together while the plane is in the sky. but before or after its survival of the fittest.

next you have to sit through that whole asinine “turn off your electronic devices.” rant. this is a huge farce. the plane is not going to crash if we all have our ipods & cells on. they just realized no one pays attention to the safety speil anymore which is generally a ridiculous video now. they want to hold you captive & force you to pay attention to the life vest/oxygen mask/seat as a flotation device demo you have seen 400 times and will completely forget how to do should the unthinkable happen & the plane has a “water landing (i.e. crashes into the ocean at a zillion mph).” forget the life vest & squeeze the charmin, because if that happens, i am gonna shit my pants. and they are so pushy about the electronic lock-down. don’t even have your earbuds in place because they will make you show them that your ipod is indeed black-screened. ditto on trying to recline a millimeter before takeoff or landing, because the 180 degree position the seat is in is unnatural to any biped with a spine. they will forcibly push your seat forward while reprimanding you loudly in front of your fellow passengers like your first grade teacher. when did the flight staff get so surly even though they “realize i have many choices for air travel?”

after you listen to the safety rant, you have to listen to the captain do his schtick. how come they all sound the same & are unintelligible? they introduce themselves & then babble about flight coordinates & wind sheer like we care. our main concern as passengers is not dying in a crash. basically, please don’t kill us. that’s all we want to know from you. then just as you are nodding off the captain comes on to tell you about the turbulence. really? no shit. is that why my internal organs are trying to exit my body all at once? or they want to point out shit to look at like we are on a tauk tour. shut up & fly the fucking plane. tell me when we’re there. but i will probably figure that out on my own anyway when we bounce off the pavement at 1000 mile per hour during your smooth landing, cap’n crunch.

all that’s left is to sit there & fly armed with the knowledge that we do not belong up in the sky in the first place & could plummet out of it at any minute. to take your mind off of that haunting vision, there are distractions provided to you: drink, food, A/V, & in seat shopping courtesy of skymall. first you get a drink. you have to beg for a whole can & they are not pleased with your greediness. just because you paid over 800 clams to sit in coach does not mean you can have an entire 50 cent can of soda. the best part of the whole damn thing is when you get a plane where each seat has its own tv. that is flying nirvana. then what follows is the presentation of a loose confederation of molecules they claim to be food. we all know how repulsive it usually is. it’s palatability is rated on a scale of horrible to not that bad. after you’re done eating, the flight crew is very particular about how you give them your trash. they are really bitchy if you don’t do it properly. and then i live for “sky mall.” where else can you buy a $300 portable microwave or hot dog toaster? learn 59 languages while asleep or buy a set of stairs for your stupid mutt? it all seems brilliant in the sky but on the ground not so much.

finally it is time to land & get out of that tinder box. what is it about travel that makes you look like you have just been released from a work camp? i always look like hell when the plane lands. i try to freshen up before landing, but i wind up settling for looking “mildly disheveled.” then, its basically the reverse schtick as boarding, except now you have to pee, your legs are cramped and you have to wait for the same idiots who stuffed all that crap overhead to get it out. but you have made it. another safe flight, thank god.

i met my aunt at the baggage claim. she almost fainted at the sight of my 49.5 pound suitcase, but i assured her i could handle it. i am small but mighty, like the little ceasar dog. i inhaled the familiar smog of LAX, stepped into the bright california sun, caught sight of the gently swaying palm trees, made a mental note to go blond, & smiled. i was back in my old stomping ground, LA. without kids & free from dreadful travel companions. i was ready to party…

this post & all those that precede or follow it are for entertainment purposes. it does not represent any real people, living, dead, or zombies, or events. it represents the OPINIONS of the author & is based on a compilation of events, stories, & personas.

so suck it, whiners.