Monthly Archives: December 2011

All She Wanted For Christmas Was To Meet The Beatles

When I was my daughter Savannah’s age, all I wanted for Christmas was white go go boots.

My steely, Irish Catholic mother, however, wasn’t about to have a 6-year-old Nancy Sinatra in the house.  My Rachel Zoe-like obsession with the ultimate 70s fashion accessory was enough to throw her into a chain-smoking fit.   “You know, Santa might not have go go boots in stock,” she’d say, puffing away on her Raleigh non-filters.

In retrospect, she had it easy.  Yesterday, I dug Savannah’s Christmas list out of her freezer where she keeps it hidden and she had no less than 22 items listed and clearly has no intent on stopping.

I quickly skimmed the list to see what was feasible on my single mom budget.  DS, Shake It Up Video, Clothes, Tap Shoes.  Okay….check, check, check, check.

Then, written ever-so-neatly at the bottom in the baby sitter’s handwriting was meet the Beatles.

Two months ago she came dancing in the door from her father’s Jose’s house, singing “Yellow Submarine.” Having just discovered the Beatles, you would have thought she found a drinking fountain that sprouted chocolate syrup.  “Mom, do you know these guys name John, Paul, Ringo and George?” she asked between bars.

The offshoot of custody and child support battles is that there are endless attempts – subconscious and otherwise – by parents to position the other as the “bad guy.” Thanks to my conniving ex not only do I get a whopping $2.89 a month for child support, but I’ve now been tasked with impossible: produce four living rock legends, two of whom are dead, for Christmas.

Hand me the Raleigh nonfilters, please.

My Dirty Little Secret

Men will go to great lengths to hide their porn collection.  My dirty little secret?  I’m believe in  astrology.  More to the point I am constantly trying to manuever the conversation with dates so they’ll unknowingly cough up their birthday and I can find out if our signs are compatible.  (Take that eHarmony!)

Like any addict, I’m insatiable and not content simply knowing the astrological sign.  I also want to know the moon and rising, so will coyly ask:  “You wouldn’t happen to know what time you were born?”

It’s such moments that would make Sydney Omarr and Susan Miller proud.

Word of Caution: Never Take Dating Advice From The Single Gals

Dating is a solo effort.  Yet, the mistake most women make, myself included, is we make it a team sport and use our single friends – yes, the same ones that have failed miserably at finding love, who can’t get laid, and are in and out of divorce court – our dating coaches.

Seeking relationship advice from your single friends is comparable to asking a hillbilly mechanic with broken down cars on his lot to check out “that tinkering noise” under the hood of your Cadillac.  Before he can spit out his tobacco he’ll start with the hustle, telling you you’re low on oil and then try to sell you a bottle of Crisco.

Your single friends, though they operate under the guise of “meaning well,” are not that much different.  Saddled with their own bad relationship history, they have a warped view concerning matters of the heart. They’ll advise you to do stupid things like e-mail or call a guy who only showed half-hearted interest on a date, while downplaying the positive. “He didn’t send you flowers on your two month anniversary?”

For good sound relationship advice that is going to guarantee a trip down the aisle, best bet is to ask your boring married friends or a little old Jewish lady in Queens, preferably one with a big rock on her hand.