A Happy, Prosperous, Deranged and Hot New Year!

May you all have the very finest of luck, prosperity, good health, and leather in the coming year!

Happy New Year

Do you know what the best part of my New Year’s Eve  is?

No, not the fresh prawns (major Sale. -gurgle- mmmm Sale), Montaudon Champagne (mmmmm good friends), cheese, water crackers, phone calls to friends near and far. It was finding this picture…
of Donna Reed.

Cheers to all and don’t forget to call a cab tonight. Or as Natalie Wood said as she sailed to Catalina…. Don’t Drink and Dive *

~Miss R

*Management not responsible for bad jokes, profanity, urge to gag, erections lasting more than four hours, desire for more children, putting forks into toasters or dreams of sugar plum midgets dancing in your head

SECRETS REVEALED: The Truth behind Santa and Hanukkah Harry

First, little miss heart-as-black-as-onyx-cold-as-ice (No Styx references or I will find you and kill you) broke down and bought a Christmas turkey today. It’s only me this year (Half-A-Hebe aka my daughter, won’t be here until New Years) so that’s pretty retarded.

Note to Mensa: membership card in the mail

Also picked up cranberries from the produce section, extra butter, Mrs.Cubbisons bread cubes for stuffing, mushrooms, etc. Naturally when checking out of the store I realized the goddamned turkey was FRESH not frozen.

Good thing Hanukkah Harry comes on the 21st… Sorry Santa: no soup for you.

On the bright side I can drink champagne this Christmas Eve and not worry about the hideous Christmas morning hangover which normally throws me into heaves while slicing onions and gutting a large bird at 7:00 am Christmas morning.

I said Christmas turkey as opposed to holiday turkey. Sure, it’s not like we ate ham at Grandma Anna’s at Hanukkah, but still the turkey is considered a noble Christmas tradition.  Honestly I don’t care if you wish me Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Crazy Kwanzaa, Cool Yule or a Festive Festivus (you wouldn’t BELIEVE how great my stripper pole looks with the tinsel). It’s the time of year when we wish for magic and snow. Or in my case, growing up in Los Angeles, rain.

Seriously. Kids actually pray for RAIN on Christmas in SoCal. It’s actual weather.

Lucky Ex-Husband Number One is from Brooklyn. He couldn’t figure out how the hell kids could believe in Santa’s sleigh when there wasn’t any snow. Ever.

Of course he is Jewish, and I explained to him that keeping an oil lamp going for 8 days and nights in the middle of a barren desert pretty much fell into the same category.

Okay back to the topic: So you wanna kill your in-laws this happy holiday season!

No. That’s next week’s post.

 It’s ….Santa and Hanukkah Harry!

I got good news and bad news.

Hanukkah Harry DOES exist, as does Santa. True.

Santa brings a plethora (which is slightly more than a buttload) of gifts on one night. My friend Liqourstore Bear thinks that Santa isn’t real, but has his doubts. After all, how could our parents –constantly whining about upside-down mortgages, collection calls and no you can’t have that cereal it’s $4.99 a box- possibly provide gifts, wrapping paper, and batteries not to mention keep all of those goodies hidden from us?

As always the doubts stem from some jerk-ass kid at school whose parents are Jehovah Witness and don’t even celebrate the poor little bastard’s birthday, nevermind Christmas.

However, you will note that the stockings ARE stuffed by the chimney with care on Christmas morning.

As for Hanukkah yes we receive eight crazy nights of gifts. The problem is that we get the same shit that the Christian kids do. One night is socks, one underwear, etc, etc and hopefully on the final night you get what you REALLY wanted.

Don’t forget that one night you get gelt (the little chocolate coins) to use with your dreidal. No coincidence that gelt (for you goyim it’s Yiddish for money) sounds so much like guilt.

Don’t ask me how I know this.

So, the bottom line is this: kids get gifts at the holidays. It’s the HOLIDAY LAW. Doesn’t matter how broke your parents or grandparents (thanks for the socks grandma) are.

Logic follows (however non-linear) that Santa and Hanukkah Harry DO exist.

All you have to do is Believe…. And always use MasterCard.

~Miss R

p.s. Mom actually purchased the holiday meal. She doesn’t know yet. I have no money nor matchsticks to sell. And yes, I did use her Mastercard.


Holidays! Suicide Rates Up! Corporations Thrilled!

It’s actually a myth that suicide rates increase during the holiday season. Same type of urban myth that  insists crime goes up during a full moon.

Sounds Pagan and cool though eh?

Bummer for the Insurance conglomerates.
No more threats of paying out for medical costs until Spring. Party on Doctor Garth.

Paging Dr. Howard, Paging Doctor Fine….

It's a Wonderful Life

Here’s a cheery fucking Christmas ditty. Decided to ditch the Haiku this year.

The perfect picture
Great film and memories most dear
No lighted angel nor pine bough
No comfort this year
Maybe a bell will ring
Maybe I’ll answer
and get my wings

Cheers to all of you celebrating without loved ones; gone and remembered or far away and felt.
Let’s enjoy that tuna sandwich, dearth of lights joy and family. A new year is coming. Make it through the night.

Miss R

Corporate Dress, Magic and Drunken Santas: Part 1


santa crawl

Just another night in Reno. Move along nothing to see here.

I was invited to the Magic Underground last night to see Kalin and Jinger. Astounding show.  If you live here in Reno get tickets, and if you’re in Vegas you can also catch them. Close-up magician Jacques Simard boosted my Movado without my so much as noticing.
Here’s the weird part: That afternoon I’d taken the watch to a jeweler and had the band repaired. To say I was cognizant of that watch last night is an understatement.

Yesterday afternoon my friend ~J invites me to this show, the tickets are courtesy of his company. I couldn’t decide what the hell to do last night so I said ‘sure, sounds interesting.’
It was my understanding that we’d see the show then wander around downtown checking out the thousands of Drunken Santas, reindeer, elves and Slutty Mrs. Clauses. I thought that the tickets were a perk of ~J’s job and perhaps one of the owners couldn’t make the show and passed the tickets along. Cool.

Here’s what happened: I got dressed as usual for a night out with friends in Reno. You know; silk whalebone corset, skirt so short that when I lean over to say ‘hi’ you can see my ass cheeks, garter belt, stockings and heels. Oh, and of course my Fab 1950’s black cashmere coat with the huge fox collar. It’s fucking cold outside.

So I get to Magic Underground, it’s dark outside and cold, and have a smoke waiting for my friend to arrive. He shows up and I find that this is not actually a ‘left-over ticket’ evening. It’s the fucking Corporate Christmas Party.

You know that recurring dream? The one in which you show up to school but forgot your underwear? It was just like that except all I was wearing WAS my underwear.

Luckily these people are all geeks (it’s an IT company) and didn’t seem that phased. We all got along great. Oddly I’ve been trying to get a job there.
This seems to be a fine first impression wouldn’t you agree?

~Miss R


Shake ‘yer Booty it’s International Talk Like a Pirate Day!

Miss aRRRRR attired for Talk Like A Pirate Day

Miss aRRRRR attired for Talk Like A Pirate Day

Avast ye scurvey swine!

Happy Talk Like a Pirate Day!
Hard to believe it’s already September 19th. Arrrrrrr

It feels vaguely Fall-like here in Reno today. Windy, cloudy, and a bit of chill in the air. I’m thinking that soup may be a good choice for dinner. Not particularly reminiscent of the High Seas and Anne Bonney but comforting nonetheless.

Anyway, I’ve celebrated Talk Like a Pirate Day (TLAP) for at least six years. When Cabin Fever was still extant my employees were encouraged to dress in Pirate gear for this most amazing and special of days. Okay they were encouraged and threatened.

Cabin Fever on September 19th always featured appropriate décor (heh use your imagination and add a few cheaply acquired nautical props as well,), sales on pirate action figures, pirate flags, eyepatches and other accoutrements of the pirate life, espresso drink specials, contests (always purposely idiotic and amusing. To myself and the staff, not so much the customers) and of course there was much Talking Like Pirates.

Now that my career has careened I can only celebrate at home but I still wish to bring the joy and amazement of TLAP to you and yours.

Here are some Pirate Facts for your proverbial private pirate party enjoyment.

Let me leave you with one question though…
Is a Land Shark anything like a Land Ho?

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