Scene

Well, I guess I could post an actual scene I've been working on. It's a rought draft and there are bound to be typos. I don't know if I'l really post these, I haven't decided....could be weird......

(A very slim and fit women of 35 stands in front of a circle of chairs that are filled with overweight women)

Melinda: Hello Ladies! My name is Melinda and I would like to welcome you to the first day of your new life! Who’s ready to shed pounds and rediscover themselves? There’s only one woman who can help you, and that women is Jenny Craig! Welcome to the program ladies! Woo hoo! You know, I was once just like all of you. I was once sitting in those chairs just like you. Except, I wasn’t in just one chair. No ladies. I sat in two. Yes, that’s right, I weighed an astonishing 499 lbs. I couldn’t even get out of bed. I couldn’t drive a car. I felt hopeless. Then one day after finishing off en entire birthday cake and a loaf of bread after the 700-club morning show, I saw a Jenny commercial. I picked up the phone that day ladies and made the call that saved my life. I called my husband who was in the next room and asked him to get the astro van ready. I hadn’t left the house in 15 years, not too mention I hadn’t even gotten out of that bed in 5 years. One of the pillows had molded to my back and had started growing on my skin. Ladies, do you know what its like to have stayed in the same position for 5 years? I couldn’t stand up. I couldn’t even roll over. My husband called an ambulance and with a little Crisco and a homemade pulley device, they were able to get me to my first meeting. I sat with women just like you. We shared our stories, and now I would like us to do the same. Meredith, we will start with you.

Meredith: (very quietly and embarrassed) Hello, I’m Meredith and I joined Jenny because according to my husband I’m a lard ass that resembles the Pillsbury doughboys fat older sister who they can’t show on TV because she’s so fat she repulses customers who are interested in Pillsbury’s delicious pastries. Not too mention, swimsuit season is around the corner.
Melinda: Thank you for sharing Meredith. Lets have Mary-Beth share next.

Mary-Beth: Okay, Hi. I’m Mary-Beth and I have to say I’m a little nervous. I’ve never been to a meeting like this before, well; I guess that’s not true. I use to be a sex addict and the meetings were similar. Ironically everyone there was overweight too.

Melinda: Thanks for sharing Mary-Beth. I know this is a big step and a big decision that takes a lot of courage. We here at Jenny Craig applaud your bravery and courage and embrace it. How about Linda, will you share with us Linda?

Linda: Well, I use to be anorexic, and as you can see, that backfired.
(Lights)

Claim your Bag...or else.

Airports.
I love airports. I really do. I enjoy my time spent there. One thing that has always kind of caught me off guard is baggage claim. I think baggage claim is obnoxious. Everyone stands with their knees practically touching the conveyer belt waiting for their suitcases. Everyones is a hurry, gotta go...gotta get my bag and go. Luggage comes rolling out and you always have that one jackass with the bright yellow bag with like duck tape just plastered all over it and your thinking in your mind "eh, kinda smart..at least he knows which bag is his."
But then have you noticed that that guy....is never there to claim that one bag that stands out! Thats the one bag that is always rolling around at the end. Then, how great is it when you see someone across the way grab your bag. Your black suitcase. So, instead of yelling you just throw your arms up. Thats all you can do. You just throw em up. Your thinking "Maybe if my arms go up that guy will think......oh her suitcase..whoops". Then you run over "Oh, um.....um...my suitcase...mine. Mine!" You just point. Then they get all defensive.
"No. no miss this is my black suitcase. I had the tag bent this way so I would know"
"But it has my name on it"
They check..it does. So they just drop the bag and run back to the conveyer belt fearful that someone else might have stolen their black suitcase. And that yellow bag with duck tape is still rolling around, no ones claimed it yet. Then you have that one guy who has already claimed six giant bags and he's waiting for his seventh black, swiss army bag to come around and your thinking "where the hell are you coming from that you need that much luggage"
Then there's the other guy who's muttering "Jesus christ, I knew I shouldn't have checked a bag. I knew it! Is anyone else missing luggage? Mine is not here. Anyone else?...THE ONE TIME I CHECK A BAG! Christ! No one else is missing anything?"
You know...thats where you should go if your homeless. Baggage claim, just grab some bags and head on out. No one would know. You could make a bundle reselling some of that stuff. It would be like a grab bag, you would never know what you were going to get. That makes life fun.

Sports Clips

I have a bone to pick with Sports Clips. And that bone is that Sports Clips is ridiculous.
"Welcome to Fucking Sports Clips"
God forbid you go to a haircut establishment that might make you look "foolish" like family cutters or supercuts. Screw foolishness...head on over to Sports Clips and be a man. Get a mans haircut. At sports clips your manly and sporty at the same time. We at sports clips wear Jerseys and as an added perk we give you a whistle and a complimentary water bottle filled with that cool blue liquid we use to clean combs. Fucking sports clips! You like football? Thats a perfect reason to get your hair cut. Baseball fan? Come get a cew cut and hold a bat in the barbers chair. Swimmer? We will buzz your head while wearing a speedo. Come on in. Come get your hair cut at a place that is filled with excessive amounts of testosterone all the way down to our J. Crew products. Come in today and with a shampoo purchase of $35 dollars or more we will throw in a feww jock strap. Fucking sports clips. Time to get your hair cut like a tool. For tools. By tools. Sports Clips.

An Anniversary adorned with porn

My family is very Catholic. In fact we're so Catholic, that my grandpa has gotten to the roots of our geneaology and has proudly proclaimed that we are the long lost, distant relatives of St. Anthony....yes St. Anthony. So next time your brag about your Lexus, or getting into Stanford law....I will have one up on you.
Anyways it was recently my grandparents 50th or 60th wedding anniversary. I'm not sure which one......anyways, my grandpa had planned to shower his bride of eternity with a "rare" gift. He wanted something special....something that says "we've been together a lifetime...this is a token of our love for each other" So, who else to consult when buying an anniversary gift then your local parish priest. Father suggests to my grandpa that there is this beautiful rare brazilian gem that would be perfect. My grandpa, cane in hand and with a twinkle in his eye knows that my grandmother will love this gem. Having only to go off the knowledge the parish priest has given him "brazilian gem", he logs onto their new computer and googles "brazilian gem".
whoops.
Well, brazilian gems did pop up. Naked, brazilian gems. Grandpa had stumbled upon a sea of porn while attempting to purchase a gift for my grandmother for the upcoming anniversary. Ashamed and full of Catholic guilt and blanketed with sin,he is embaressed to tell anyone but has a dilemma because they keep getting porn pop ups. Finally he breaks the news to the family at my moms birthday dinner pleading with my uncle to help him with his computer problems and solve the brazilian gem porn dilemma. In a fit of laughter, while simultaneously creeped out, we all ask if this was actually a "mistake".
My grandpa, now a little angry and ashamed, said that he had prayed many rosaries and has gone to confession even though he witnessed the images "accidentally"
My grandmother simply said, "He said it was an accident, and I believe him" and she left it at that.
Now thats 50 or 60 years worth of love and trust.

Anorexia:Abercrombie::Cocaine:

a) Kate Moss
b) Birtney Spears
c) Lindsay Lohan
d) all of the above

What's your fortune?

I recently read an article in the New York Times that talked about the fortune cookie. Apparently an extremely large supplier of fortune cookies (can't think of the companies name off hand, maybe Wonton?) is taking fortune cookies in a new direction. Instead of the upbeat and inspirational fortunes such as, "Success can only be measure in smiles", or "Wealth comes from hard work", some fortune cookies will now have crummy fortunes like, "You will die, eventually," and "You will never be successful at your job." This, in my opinion is sheer brilliance. I wonder if this Wonton company has any idea how much of a ripple affect they could cause with this new "fortune cookie strategy." It will change chinese restaurant conversation forever. Everyone knows that at the end of the meal at your local Fuji Inn, conversation stoops to this level,
"Everyone read their fortunes aloud! But wait! I heard if you can get the fortune out of the cookie without breaking it, it really will come true!"

"Oh yeah, well I heard that if you crack it in one try it comes true!"

"Oh yeah, well I heard if you crack it at a 48 degree angle, it comes true!"

"What does yours say, Susana?"

"Mine says, your future breast augmentation will go badly"

(dead silence)

"Wow, how weird if that, Susana weren't you thinking about getting breast implants?"
"Yes, yes I was. Um, I've never gotten a fortune like that before...what does everyone elses say? Lucinda?"

"Mine says, Your partner will soon grow bored with your nagging and misshaped body"

Chinese food, as if it wasn't awkward enough (what the hell is a snow pea anyways?), will now become extremely awkward! I want to propose some fortunes to Wonton and pitch some ideas. So, you know how Chinese fortunes always have a row of "lucky numbers?" Well, what if Wonton changed that to your "predicted date of death." It still follows the whole number pattern, but its still keeping with this downer attitude. Some fortunes I would propose would be,
"20,000 tredmills couldn't help you lose that baby weight"
"If I saw your face everyday, I would move out too"
"Your lucky you have a pet, that will be your only companion"
"You will become dependent on an oxygen tank"
"That PTA speech was your defining moment"
"Your child hates you, and always will"
Wonton, those are my ideas. I would be happy to be a team player in this morbid and sad new strategy. In fact, please, I urge you to allow me to be a part of your company. I love chinese food, and fortune cookies, but I especially love shitty fortunes.

Family Game Night......

Family Game Night. That pathetic attempt made by parents to bond as a family. It's that chance to get James, the eldest son who has the most potential, to refrain from his hippie pot smoking for one night. It's that attempt to have Mary Louise, the middle child with scoliosis and braces, to for once feel included. It's that oppurtunity to keep the good looking child, Mary Beth in for one night and have her keep her clothes on. It's family game night. My family tried this once. My mom originally publicised it as "family movie night", but Blockbuster, Family Video and Hollywood Video have pretty much had it out for our family for about 10 years because we have fines off the charts. Honest to god we have had Big Fat Liar, the incredible cinematic production starring noneother than Frankie Muniz, checked out for about 6 years now. So, since our family was banned from renting movies for life, my mom thought substituting a board game would increase our chances at bonding because we would be forced to converse. Let me explain something to you, my family is equivalent to a bag of gardettos. None of us look alike, we don't really get a long and we've been shoved in a bag and forced to get along and experience this rare thing known as "love." The O'Brien family owns 3 games. Monopoly, Risk and Yachtzee. My poor mom, pathetically excited that we were all together on a Friday night splurged and bought junk food. She bought bugles. Bugles? No one really buys Bugles. It's like Uncle Bens Rice, sure its advertised, but no one really seriously thinks about ingesting either of those products. So there we are, all five of us kids and my mom and dad. We take a vote and monopoly wins, but alas, the fricking board is missing. All the money is accounted for, even the houses and chance cards are in ziploc bags, but the board is gone. Yachtzee is a no go because we realize, oh right, we don't even own the game yachtzee. And Risk, well Risk just sucks and you can't play that with 7 people. The bugles are un-opened, and there we are at family game night with no game, while simultaneously being on blockbusters shit list. Family game night was a bust, and we never tried it again.

If you have yet to encounter sheer brilliance, then allow me to introduce you to Van Morrison

A brief history lesson....

The rat tail. Distinguishing the white trash from the non-white trash for over 20 years. A hair cut designed to say to the masses "look at me, I'm a giant fucking freak". A hair cut so low on the hair cut totem poll its equivalent to leprosy. You know what its like when you spot a real live rat tail on a youg boy next to the claw machine at Denny's. You think "get out of here...I need to get out of here". Have you ever sat next to someone in a movie theater with a rat tail? Torture. I haven't, but I've heard horror stories. The rat tail lightly drapes itself over the back of the movie theater chair as if it has a mind of its own. It purposely lingers close to your popcorn and coca cola slushie. I was curious as to how this hair cut could have possibly come about. Who thought, "I know! I'll shave my head and leave just a little bit in the back. That will show the kids at school!" I use to think you would honestly have to be mentally ill to WANT such an awful haircut. But, as it turns out, there is some history behind the rat tail. Apparently, the rait tail sprung from the 1980's star wars/ jedi knight phase. Apprentices becoming Jedi Knights MUST have a rat tail and then once the apprenticeship is complete, the infamous rat tail is either "burnt" or "sliced". At this point I was relieved, at least there was a reson that this hair cut had come about, but then I thought. Thats inexcusable. Everyone knows Star Wars is fiction. Fiction, you freaks. You don't take it seriously. FYI: Jedi Knights are not real, making the rat tail a fictional hair cut. This is a plea to the white trash of America. You can keep your menthol lights and you can keep your mullets. You are allowed to leave the kiddie pool out in your yard year round and I will even let you park your Bronco on the lawn, but for the love of God, rid yourselves of the rait tail. It makes you look a lot worse then you already do. The rait tail is a dangerous thing. It has a mind of its own. Its curls on its own for gods sake.

BOO

Halloween is my favorite holiday. I always get disappointed looks and sassy comments such as "What about Christmas!?" Mmm, sorry. Christmas doesn't jingle my bells. The only thing I love about Christmas are those crazy Coca Cola polar bears. In my opinion they have more christmas spirit then Jesus, Mary, Joseph and all those manger animals combined. But Halloween....now thats a holiday. Each year I go to great lengths to prepare a great costume. This year I've toiled over being Harriet Tubman (two words: underground railroad (third word-->) bitches) Then I thought I would try the whole "slut thing" for Halloween. Caddy Harron infamously said from the teenage cinema bible, Mean Girls, "Halloween is the one night a year when girls can dress like a total slut and no other girls can say anything about it." And, its true. My slut ticket was going to be a modern day Martha Washington, but then I thought thats a weird slut choice. Besides a previous marriage to George, there wasn't anything slutty about her and apparently she was really boring and was just a homemaker at Mt. Vernon. SO i abandoned that idea. Then I thought about being a pregnant prom queen. Granted, its not funny if you were the prom queen at one time while you were pregnant, but to everyone else its kind of a funny concept. So then, I thought, "why not be Veronica from the 6th station of the cross?" For those of you who aren't familiar with my homegirl Veronica, she was the charming women on the side of the road who happened to have a wash cloth handy while Jesus was burdened with carrying that cross. She essentially gave Jesus a quick sponge bath on his way up to calvary and as a thank you, Jesus left an image of his face on the washcloth. It probably became a family heirloom, or maybe she framed it? I don't know. So, I think I am going to be "station 6, Veronica wipes the face of Jesus." My costume you ask? Some biblical clothing (most likely a sheet), a painted on tear, and yes, I will be carrying a washcloth around with jesus' face on it. And i know you might be thinking to yourself, "how lame". This is not lame my friends. Lame would be if I was a hooters girl or a beer keg.