Dear Wendy

Dear Wendy,


I am doing ALOT of drugs now so I need to know is Heidi staying at your house or not? I didn’t cheat on her with that “girl” so TELL HER THAT!!!!!! Don’t make this personal (like you always do). You and me broke up a long time ago get over it already. And if you remember I cheated on you ONE time and I felt really bad aka BROKEN HEARTED but you can’t forgive a man… But I am different now and Heidi is my one and only 4LIFE but I cant wait 4EVER. Fuck bitches. All bitches do is make me take ALOT of drugs. I dont give a fuck. Hey Wendy do you think that Heidi will take me back? If she says no then do you want to kick it?  Rob told me you went on a diet and got FINE. Is it true that you are not fat anymore? If yes then how come you waited until we broke up to get FINE?  That is fucked up but its cool tho Im not mad at you baby. If Heidi isn’t staying with you do you want me to come over? I can come stay with you if you want. I got fired from my job so I have lots of time to do “stuff” to you if you know what I mean. I know you remember the good times!! Lets have some more good times!!! Alright? Ill just come over later.

 Love you honeyheart, Matt


Rules For Nana

Dear Stan,

I left this note on the refrigerator because you always eat. Get it? Haha. I understand that youre mom stroked and now she will live here even if she HATES!!! me. You think that is not true but it is. It is sad losing a parent as you KNOW I know. So you can see I am not a bitch and untolerant. But I live here too(!!!) and there must be rules for Nana. Or else… (you already know!!!) I know its too hard for you to make rules so I did it for you. When you get back from the hospital please give them to her and read them into her good ear TWICE!!!

Love, Sharon



Rules For Nana

 By: Sharon M.


1.No smoking in or over our bed (like last time)

2.Must keep wheelchair noise to medium/low (and not squeaky on the tiles just to bother ME!!!)

3.Must eat food Sharon (ME!!!) makes

4.No singing loudly or scarring the kids

5.Can only talk to Timmy and Johnny if she says good things about ME no jokes about my RELIGION or my FANTASIES!!!

6.Be polite to visitors (not rude!!!)

-a.k.a. not cursing or throwing 

7….WELCOME to our home!!!

Career Opportunities


Yvonne tried to warn Diego that his car would not make a good ice cream truck but Diego would not listen. He was determined. And an idiot. He went to Pavilions and spent all of his money on ice cream. Ice cream was more expensive than he had thought and that meant he would have to steal it. With a car full of ice cream, Diego was ready to sell. He drove to Beverly Hills, rolled down his window and yelled “Ice cream, ice cream, it’s hot out and you want ice cream.” He was discouraged when no one came over to his car. So he yelled louder. After four hours of driving around and yelling, Diego discovered that even though he had the air conditioning on in his car, all of the ice cream in his trunk had melted.

Diego went home feeling like a failure. He stuffed as much of the melted ice cream in the freezer as possible and tried to ignore Yvonne’s judging eyes. She was pissed because she and the kids would have to eat melted ice cream for dinner and ice cream that was not in its most frozen state really put Yvonne on edge. Diego buried his head in a pillow and thought about suicide. What else could he do? After being fired from Tony’s Pizza & Fish due to the bad economy, it had been impossible for Diego to find work. Everything had gone to shit. People were getting shot right in front of his house and the cops never did anything about it. 

There was absolutely positively no hope. Or was there? Diego had an idea. He would start a security patrol service from his car! He would protect the people that donated to his service and then he would feed his family more than ice cream. Maybe the elevated crime was a good thing after all. Within no time Diego was collecting dues from his neighbors, driving a town car with tinted windows and speaking Italian. Despite the occasional gunshot wound and trip to the emergency room, Diego and his family lived happily ever after.

Clap if You Believe

I remember watching the Mary Martin version of Peter Pan repeatedly as a child. There is a part in the movie where Tinkerbell is dying and the only way to save her is to show your belief in fairies by clapping really hard. At this part of the movie, they break the fourth wall and ask the viewers to clap if they believe. I used to clap until my hands were sore. Tinkerbell’s light would be blinking out and then due to my clapping it would grow brighter and brighter. If my mom was around, I would bring her over to the t.v. and make her clap too. 
With both of my parents in the movie business, I understood at a young age that once something was recorded onto a tape, it was the same every time you watched it. There was just something about the “what if” that pushed me to clap. What if this movie was different? Could I really risk killing Tinkerbell? She was a bitch but she didn’t deserve to die. As I grew older I became more skeptical and I knew it was silly to clap. No matter what I did, Tinkerbell was going to survive. I knew that. But I never stopped clapping. 
A few months ago I saw “He’s Just Not That Into You” and was disturbed by whatever plastic surgery it was that Jennnifer Aniston had done to her face. It looked like she had a nose job and her face looked swollen from collagen. I saw the movie again last week and the first thing I thought when I saw Jennifer Aniston was: why hasn’t the swelling gone down yet? It had been a few months. Surely she could not still be swollen. And why didn’t she change her nose back to the way it was? Surely she doesn’t like what she has done to her face. And then of course I thought: duh. It’s a movie and it won’t change. I knew that was the reality but I couldn’t stop myself from wishing before all of her scenes that she would look normal again. Maybe if I tried clapping…

Venice Beach After Dark

I have lived in L.A. for most of my life and last week was the first time I had ever been to Venice Beach at night. It was delightful. Below is a list of things you might hear if you are listening from the second story window of a cheap hotel on Venice Beach at night:

  1. “It’s not my pee.”

  2. “You’re fuckin’ dead, man! Don’t forget your bag.”

  3. “Yesterday this year or yesterday last year?”

  4. “It has a blanket on it but it’s still my duffel bag.”

  5. “Not after nine. No. I don’t do ‘after nine’.”
  6. “This is my office.”
  7. “Shit. He’s in my sleeping bag again.”

  8. “You want all my money? No.”

  9. “I can’t eat a paper shredder!”

  10. “There is so much clean food in this trash can!”

  11. “Eew. A lingerie party for old people? When?”

  1. “I’m sick of sand.”

  2. “I hope I wake up tomorrow.”


Yeah. I hope I wake up tomorrow too.

Seven Eleven


One of the times I was held hostage inside of a Seven Eleven, I found that my fear of dying wore off rather quickly and was replaced by my fear of getting hungry and then dying. After a few minutes of lying face down on the cold tile floor, I began to crave one of the chocolate peanut butter Balance bars on the shelf in front of me. I wasn’t exactly hungry yet but I knew that with the adrenaline rush I was having, I would be shortly and I would be glad to have that Balance bar. What if we were taken to a different location? Somewhere where there was no food. What if he tied us up? It could be hours before my next meal or my death. I needed that bar. Maybe even two. I decided it was worth the risk of getting shot.
I waited for the right moment to take action. The man with the gun was near the counter, yelling at an older man who was having difficulty laying face down on the floor. To our captor’s dismay, shoving the old man with his machine gun did not make him more agile. I took advantage of this distraction and slowly inched my hand over to the shelf. I did my best to ignore the glares shot at me by the other captives. I silently grabbed two of the bars and laid back down on the floor. As I was about to put them in my purse, I realized that they were the chocolate chip cookie dough bars and not the chocolate peanut butter ones. Yuk. Momentarily forgetting my situation, I tossed the bars back and peered into the box. They were ALL chocolate chip cookie dough. I started to get angry. I removed the mislabeled box and reached for an unopened box on the back of the shelf. After making sure this box was filled with the right bars, I slipped it into my bag and laid down. Victory!
Our kidnapper was busy loading up baskets full of disposable cameras and batteries. As I laid on the ground, proud of myself for thinking ahead, another thought entered my mind. Just Balance bars? This could be my last meal and all I had was a box of Balance bars? I at least needed something salty to go with the sweet. Potato chips! Shoot. They were in the next aisle. This was going to be difficult. I would have to climb over all the hostages. I trusted my own ability to move silently but could I trust theirs? I would have to.
I slid my way over to the other hostages. I placed my hand on one of the arms of the man next to me and he remained silent. I was off to a good start. However, when I placed my knee on the small of his back and shifted my weight onto him, he said “oof” and even though I shushed him, he continued to groan. I glanced up and saw that the kidnapper was looking right at me.
”What are you doing!!?? he roared, “I have locked all the doors! You can’t escape.” “I know. I just… I just wanted some potato chips.” He reached over and grabbed a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos and threw them at me. “There. Now lay down and shut up!” Those were not my favorite chips. So I said “These are not my favorite chips.” I thought about handing them back to him but decided not to make a fuss. I put them in my purse and laid back down. “Aren’t you going to eat them?” he asked. “No. No. They’re for later. If there is a later,” I said smiling. He did not smile back. “Alright! Nobody move! Don’t move! Nobody!” With the machine gun in one hand and the shopping baskets in the other, the man walked backwards over to the front door. He set his baskets down and fiddled with the keys. Now that he was leaving, I wondered if I would get to keep the food that was in my purse. This all happened much faster than I had imagined and I had been looking forward to eating those bars. I decided to open one of the Balance bars and eat it just in case they wanted to take it back. I figured that whatever food I ate during my captivity would be free.
I was wrong. As soon as the kidnapper left, the clerk, who had locked himself behind the bulletproof counter came out and told me I owed him $1.75 for the bar I had eaten and if I didn’t put the other stuff back he was going to call the cops.

Free Relationship Advice From Amanda

1. Don’t even bother with guys named Chris who look around nervously while eating their mushroom chicken at the Olive Garden in Pomona. They have been fucking Stacy, the hostess, behind your back for eleven months.

2. Sears models named Jordan have Hepatitis.

3. If your boyfriend Kenny wants to play Twister, just say no. His feet smell like popcorn.

4. David’s face makes babies cry so…  obviously no future there.

5. Decline all invitations to eat at Steven’s house because the food isn’t that good and after you eat it he will ask you to put in for half of the grocery bill.

6. It doesn’t  matter that Albert’s mother is an adult film star but it might bother you that he has posters of her in his bedroom. I don’t know. Your call.

7. Don’t go for guys named Justin, Peter or Carl. They think Guitar Hero is a date.

8. If he wears tight sweaters and has strong arms and seems perfect, he probably is. Unless his name is Harold, in which case he is a jerk and will call you chunky in front of your whole family at Christmas.

9. Athlete’s foot takes a while to cure so you might want to let Hector take care of it before you date him and your feet start itching because you forgot to wear your flip-flops in his shower.

10. Don’t let Larry use your toothbrush. He will want to so you might have to hide it but trust me don’t even let him touch it. It will taste like garlic. Actually, don’t date Larry. He keeps food in his briefcase and lies about it and then gets mad at me when I ask what that smell is.


She seemed normal enough. Well, she was the only one behind the counter and I needed my super-fit makeup so she would have to do. She matched my color on the first try and I forgave her for wearing blue eye shadow and red lipstick. She recommended a good face wash for me and complimented my skin. Her name was Melissa.
It was only upon checkout that we started to chat and things got out of hand. I told her I was a painter and that I had an art show coming up. I showed her a flyer with a painting of mine. She said “Oh that’s nice but could you change that fish to a rat? I have two rats. Do you think you could paint them for me?”
Up until this point my mother was standing beside me picking at her nails, gazing absentmindedly around the department store. I did not even think she was listening to us but before I could respond to Melissa’s question my mom whipped her head around and yelled “rats!” and then a little softer “rats? like rats?”
“Oh yes” answered Melissa, “they are like mice but smarter.” Trying to compensate for the about to vomit look on my mother’s face, I quickly added “they’re not sewer rats mom; she got them at a store.” Melissa nodded in agreement as my mom shook her head in disbelief. “You paid for rats? Why?” I stared down at the floor and tried to hold back my laughter as Melissa explained why rats made for great company to my mom, whose opinion of rats is greatly influenced by the black plague.
By the time we left the store, Melissa was offended, my mom was disgusted and I was just happy to get out of there. We went to drop our things off at the car to continue shopping. It was not until a few hours later that I checked my purchase and saw that Melissa had given me the wrong color foundation and I would have to go back. Rats! (That’s right. I went there.)

Of Course I Have a Boyfriend

I was almost asleep. If he had waited even one minute longer I never would have heard him and we never would have spoken. But he did not wait and my peaceful rest was interrupted by a faint smacking noise. I tried to ignore it and ease into the uncomfortable seat. It continued to get louder and the smack smack smacking was this time followed by a “psst, hey!”
Slowly, I opened my right eye to see the man in the window seat smacking his forearm muscles with his palms. I turned my head slightly towards him out of curiosity. “You got muscles?” he asked me as he reached accross the empty seat between us and squeezed my arm. Oblivious to the expression of sheer horror on my face, he continued to point out the different muscles on his own arms.
“So what do you think?” He asked with raised eyebrows. When I did not answer, he continued. “What? You got a boyfriend?” Instinctively I blurted out “of course!” For a moment I was sure I had offended this stranger – but only for a moment. He looked at me nodding his head and said “We can figure something out.”
At that point my head was spinning and I looked at my phone to check the time. Oh boy. This was only the beginning. We still had four more hours to go. Luckily, the food came and he was distracted. After eating I checked the time again. Only seven minutes had passed. Damn. I ate too fast.
I told him I was tired and hoped he would get the hint. Instead, he pulled up the arm rests between us and told me to lay accross the seats with my head in his lap. I graciously declined, muttering something about not being able to sleep lying down. I put my arm rest back down, clutched my purse to my chest, and squeezed my eyes shut.
Smack, smack, smack. This time I kept my eyes shut.

Never Cry Wolverine


Evan and Robert were ninety-two year old twin brothers who had been at each other´s throats ever since Rhonda, the seventy-eight year old hottie, moved into their convalescent home. Robert, who had recently become aware of the fact that he was not getting any younger, felt the need to take action. One day, while flipping through an X-Men comic their grandson left on his last visit, a plan to win Rhonda over formed in Robert’s mind.

“Evan, Rhonda is going to fall in love with me today.” 

“Oh really, why?”

“I’m Wolverine.”

Evan sighed. “You’re not Wolverine.”

“Oh no? Then how do you explain all of this beef that is chopped up right here in front of your face?”

Evan glanced down at the steak knife in Robert’s right hand. 

Robert looked at the knife. “Oh that? You think this little thing did all that? This is just my cover.”

“Ok. Show me your claws then.”

“Obviously I can’t. I’m undercover.”

“So if I cut you with this knife you will heal immediately?”

“Yeah but don’t. I’m undercover and someone might see me healing super fast.”

Evan took the knife from Robert’s hand and stabbed him in the thigh. Robert yelled out in pain and then fainted. Several minutes later, he regained consciousness. His leg had been bandaged and the nurses were rushing him off to the emergency ward. From a distance, he heard Evan shouting “this is not the end! She is my destiny!” Robert mustered up the strength to ask what was going to happen to his brother. The nurses told him not to worry; Evan had been sent to live alone in a padded room. 

Having disposed of his major competitor, Robert easily won Rhonda over. They enjoyed three erotic months together until one day when Robert, along with many residents of the home, died unexpectedly from the swine flu. Rhonda, who had been washing her hands thoroughly and wearing her surgical mask as suggested, remained uninfected. Evan, having had no contact with the outside world, also remained unharmed. Even though the swine flu epidemic had passed, the residents of the convalescent home were ordered to stay inside. Evan was allowed to return to his normal life in the home and as he had known all along that he and Rhonda were meant to be together, he was not surprised when she took an instant liking to him. They lived the rest of their days together happily in quarantine.