Another year wiser

My dear friend Janice celebrated her birthday this weekend with a lavish dinner at her place. Janice, a single woman of a certain age, would never tell you what a wonderful cook she is. (The menu included creme brulle with fresh raspberries.) What she will tell you are the details of her latest sexploits (most of which happened during the middle 70s.)

Janice -- as if you haven't already heard -- was once spotted canoodling with a famous midget at The Rainbow Room. (Hint: He looks great in a white suit.)

Now, here's the grim bit. Prior to the party, Janice broke the heart of her off-an-on boyfriend, who has the unfortunately name "Jan" and is chronically unemployed. As this was their third breakup in three months, I suppose it was inevitable that he show his true colors and go a tad berserk. You see, shortly after she ended their relationship, he tried stealing the groceries right out of her refrigerator!

Jan, have a little dignity. Please.

So, what record album do you bring to a birthday party where the hostess keeps frowning at the extra cutlet and knocking back the booze? This!



Hilarious! You can just tell by the cover what a cut-up this one's gonna be. (And if you can't tell by the wacky expression on his face, the vest is a sure give away!

My first husband

The one that got away. That's how I think of my first husband, Roger. But how could I not pine? Just look at that smile!

Roger was what I like to call "barbecue friendly." And before he faked his own death and moved to Tampa, he was a whiz with the barbecue tongs. Frequently, he'd scour the fridge for veggies, roast them on the grill, add them to a piece of flat bread and -- a dash of tomato sauce later -- he had a perfectly acceptable alfresco pizza dinner, suitable even for our Protestant friends!

When I think of Roger, I think of one thing: skid marks. The man loved to drive fast. And that often caused laundry issues at our house. To this day, I can't pass a bottle of bleach without thinking of him.

Roger, if you're out there, please write... I-I miss you.

Gladys to the rescue

My dear friend K.S. has suffered from leg dandruff for years. As a Christian woman, it is especially embarrassing for her. (She wouldn't be caught dead in trousers, you know. She feels pants are the skirt of the Devil.) Consequently, poor K.S. has spent many a warm afternoon wearing knee socks at church. Her self-esteem couldn't be lower. You see, in college, she was known as Howler Monkey and Shit Breath, but those were for different reasons.

Still...

I mention K.S.'s leg dandruff for the following reason. I make my own mayonnaise. It's quite a treat for anyone willing to go the extra mile for a good potato salad or a special guest. When K.S. comes to lunch at my house, I make sure to let her know she's worth the effort...

2 egg yolks
1 tsp. Dijon mustard
1 cup peanut oil

Whisk the egg yolks together with the mustard. Pour the oil in slowly, whisking the whole time. The result should look like mayonnaise, just not as white.