Back in the day, I remember singing lyrics to, This is the Day, by The The?:
Well you didn’t wake up this morning ’cause you didn’t go to bed You were watching the whites of your eyes turn red The calendar on your wall was ticking the days off You’ve been reading some old letters You smile and think how much you’ve changed All the money in the world couldn’t buy back those days
…life was sweet.
Always loved the song, but many years ago, when I listened to that CD over and over again, I was so happy with the moment that I was in. I had no idea that I was changing, or ever would. I had a leather jacket that I swore I would probably go with me to my cremation. Everything seemed perfect … down to the leftover carry-out food that was in my refrigerator. […]
This year, I resolve to stop fucking with people, not to fall asleep in public, and to be a lady. (Deep Breath) This will require that I stop yelling to my favorite bartender, “Hey, fat black man, bring me another!” (He actually enjoys this. His name is Anthony, and everyone tells him he looks like the fat black guy from SNL.)
I will end my ruse of pretending to be an actress. So, I’ll have to stop LYING and claiming that my most recent role is the Emmy-winning scene where I portray a sad lady, walking across a bridge in an Alzheimer’s commercial.
I will not engage all the people who email with promises of wiring me money. I will stop giving these people a contact number so that I can negotiate my terms … and that I plan to fly in to wherever the money is. I won’t tell them I’m gluten-free, so they better have proper […]
The night that my father died, I had a dream that I was having a verbal arm wrestle with Keith Richards. It didn’t make any sense that my Dad, Kevin James Butler was gone and Keith was hanging out stoned off his gourd. In the dream, I was in Keith’s kitchen, watching him prepare bangers-and-mash. I was like, “Keith, you have such a polluted body! Why on earth are you still alive?”
He shrugged his shoulders in a “you bore me” kind of way, and continued to cook. Cockroach!
My Dad may never have been a Rolling Stone, but he sure did instill the value of a good party. He loved his cigarettes, whiskey, and Guinness. He played his music loud, drove his Corvette fast and sought out taco shacks like he was looking for gold. He was a jock, a hippie, politically well voiced … to the point of being sometimes rowdy! He loved to cook (and […]
I was raised with the motto: “We’ll be fine as long as we have each other and our snacks“. Yes, I have high cholesterol, but that won’t stop me from making my life more delicious! I’m going to blame this all on my DNA. I simply can’t stop my cheese and cracker cravings because my body requires them to stay alive. To think, there are people who HATE CHEESE. These folks probably eat boring, nutritious things like apples. I can’t change my addiction. Frankly, it’s an illness.
Gather around in a circle, pour a glass of wine and I’ll confess. I’ve spoiled my appetite … skipped dinner and grazed on a triple cream wedge of brie. It’s true that I’ve left cheese unrefrigerated overnight and decided it would be just fine to eat the next day. I’ve overdosed on free cheese samples at the grocery store.
Big surprise, I’ve dropped cheese […]
Sitting on a curb in front of the elegant driveway at the Park Hyatt in Chicago, I waited for the valet attendant to fetch my jalopy. I was driving an old beat up Ford Escort and clearly didn’t fit in with the chic hotel clientele. The attendant had probably parked my car illegally outside Cabrini Green, realizing he wasn’t getting a tip. Judging by the time it was taking to deliver my old Betsy, I was going to be loafing around a long while.
Yvette Dostatni catches me on the fly.
It was early on a Saturday morning and I had just finished a side gig—styling for Shape magazine. I was tired, holding a tool box that had an IN-N-OUT bumper sticker on the lid, perched next to my professional clothing steamer. A few snobs raised their high brows and looked at me with suspicion. All except for one, who was clearly […]
My friend, John Wagner and I where hanging out at some dive bar in Chicago when we had an ahh-ha moment! Together, we were dreaming big. Although I had no clear direction in life, John had focus. He was making some tall cash as a photographer. So while he bought all my drinks and bragged about his sexy life, I realized that I was pathetic and if it weren’t for my big boobs, he probably would have kicked me off the bar stool. I was 25 years old and felt like retiring.
We considered my options…Gold digging was out…right up there with prostitution. I had no mechanical skills, so I knew I’d never make it as a boat repairman. I’m afraid of heights, so I couldn’t wash windows. I have stage fright, so I couldn’t become an understudy to Susan Lucci. Guns scare me so bank robbery was out. Digging a […]