Monday, December 30, 2019


You've finally realized that the time has come to rethink the holiday and family routine. Your frightful cousins from Long Island came out for Christmas, with their bratty kids, and all ten of them stayed with you for nearly two weeks. They were unbearable. Except for the sixteen year-old, who discovered your pot stash, and spent her entire visit under the bathroom sink giggling.

The dog ran off the first day. You've got flyers all over the neighborhood. ShihTzu, answers to the name Poopoopoo. Please call if found. And you are SO glad that you didn't go with the first name you thought of, Runny Poo.

Your first hound choice was a mastiff, but your girlfriend at the time put her foot down. And then you realized that you would have to be the person behind the beast with a baggie. Little Poopoopoo is probably crapping on every lawn in the neighborhood.

The dog is missing. The grass is gone. And several of your plates are broken, because the youngest kid put them in the dishwasher.
All of your sheets smell of Long Islander.
And Amici's East Coast pizza.

Thank heavens for cigars and convenience stores. Everyday you've been having a smoke under the freeway overpass and a ham sandwich from Marcel's Liquors for lunch. Quiet time. Private time. Mental health.

You're planning a long trip next year. Right around the holidays.
Someplace that your relatives don't know about.
Sublet the house first.

Too many people are finding excuses to visit California. The scenery. The wine country. The museums. The bridges. The marijuana.

Your spacious abode with all those rooms.
Conveniently located.

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