Memoirs of My America – Chewbacca’s Daughter

by Alexandra

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I was not a good looking kid. Not an ugly one, just one that should there be a talent scout for Models R Us hanging out at the local mall, they wouldn’t be pushing their way through a crowd to get their card to me.

My arms were just as long as my legs, and both were like sticks. And, as true today as it was back then, my feet were too big for my height. With the flat black Sponge Bob shoes my Doctor told my mother I had to wear to fix my pronated gait, I looked like a capital letter L.

I was skinny with eyes that took up half my face. The cherry thrown on top of this flamboyant creation by Mother Nature, was that I was hairy. Eyebrows that began everywhere and extended to my temples, hairy arms, hairy legs, and a hairline that begged for a Ronco at-home electrolysis kit. Had you shown me a picture of Chewbacca back then, I may have very possibly shouted, “Daddy!”  [Read more...]

Top 7 Places in US for Summer Vacation By “Victoria Jackson”

My Top Seven Favorite Places in America for Summer Vacation
By “Victoria Jackson”

by Blythe Jewell

1. Arkansas.
The men all wear shirts with the sleeves cut off, and there are, like, ZERO Muslims here!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

2. Texas.
Rick Perry’s hair is the shit! I just want to do a handstand in it! [Read more...]

A Day of the Life of Lisa B. by Jane Austen

by Lisa B.

This basically happened like I wrote it except I needed to change the dialogue to the jist of what was said. Anyway, enjoy!

Gane Austen
Jane Austen, celebrated early 19th century author, now guest blogger. 

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a lady who wishes to send off an item bartered on eBay must be in want of packaging tape. Ah, this lamentably was the state of affairs and such a deprivation could not be borne. 

Our lady, a Rubenesque spinster of three-and-thirty years, suggested to her mother a scheme of going to the shop down the way post-haste, for it was a week until Christmas and the best of couriers could not always send the required article in time. Fearing the wrath of an angry gentleman who had placed his custom and faith upon her, the lady commenced in her carriage, her good lady mother as chaperone. The mother, sullen, melancholy, and hinting  her disapprobation at her, said, ” Make certain, daughter, that you buy something sweet for the time we feel peckish.”


Our lady fresh from her visit to the Family Dollar
 
The establishment frequented by all the ton of the neighbourhood and surrounding villages was called the Family Dollar and carried sundry  items for sale. This mainly consisted of treasures imported from the orient, a plethora of genuine plastics molded into dishes and playthings for children, plus toiletries designed to cover smallpox scars and other maladies of ladies in need of the refinery. 
 
The lady’s mother had her filial daughter go inside without her guiding  hand, confident that she would find no disgrace within its doors. Nay, no disgrace indeed as our lady meandered the aisles of the store plucking up the tape, chocolate mint patties, and some sort of Christmas mint that once dissolved took on a consistency like gum. Looking at the cookies without her mother to advise which to procure, as her mother’s dark mood seemingly prevented her from issuing any hint of preference, she selected a large package of vanilla sandwich cookies with cream. 

Taking these items to the cash register, our  lady was assailed by the sounds of the music peculiar to certain sects of religion. This genre, aptly titled “Christian Pop,” seldom reached the tender regions of her soul as the lyrics and music intended. Instead of invoking all the comforts of religion, she oft, when not spared , chose to dissect the lyrics of such songs as though they were written by lovestruck poets for their would-be paramours. This song, however, was in a somewhat different strain, invoking the Lord thus:
Jesus is just all right with me, Jesus is just all right… 

La! But an older lady, finding such a ditty insufferable, called attention to the young man attending the till. “I say, boy, this music you play upon yonder radio device, is that your personal preference?” 

“Nay, madame,” said the young man. “Rather ’tis the preference of the lady proprietors.” 

“I see,” spoke the lady with consternation. “You should play something soothing.” 

“Ah, the ladies grew weary of the station that plays the Christmas music for the entirety of the season.” 

“But that’s what the customers wish to hear whilst shopping, and they should think of the customers!” punctuated that lady. 

You’d think they were playing the unexpurgated works of Eminem to hear her speak. A pretty thing this, thought our lady as she rushed from the edifice. She could not help, aversion to such music notwithstanding, how unpleasant were the manners of that lady. 


An example of a carriage
 
Later, our lady and her mother arrived at the post office, and once more the spinster was left to her own devices as her mother waited. Soon our lady was amid a bustle of humanity all converging in a final frantic bid to send parcels for arrival by Yuletide. She was waited upon by a lady who could be surly to some, but never to the spinster. “Is there anything fragile, liquid, perishable , or potentially hazardous inside, Madame?” 

“Well…” said our lady, thinking back to a most helpful posting upon the wall sometime ago listing items that were foolhardy to send via courier, “the ___ has batteries inside.”  [Read more...]