HOLIDAY

Pardon me, Gentle Readers, but I'm going on holiday (that's my faux British speak for taking a vacation). I'll return soon with great and amusing photos because everything I shall encounter will be great and amusing.

Infinities of love,

Lola

CALL ME SISTER STEVIE

Gentle Readers,

The very nice homeless gentleman who said I look exactly like Stevie Nicks and that I'm gorgeous and all that

(see  CALL ME STEVIE)

would no longer recognize me.

Previously, Stevie and I probably had two things in common: our golden tresses and mid-life weight gain.

We are down to one thing now because I got my hair cut. It (my hair) is in a plastic bag on my dining room table so I can donate it to Locks of Love. If you have at least eight inches of hair you can live without, and I'm not talkin' pubes, please consider getting it whacked like Tony Soprano getting rid of an enema enemy and donate the hair to Locks of Love. Click on the link above to learn how to donate.

But don't be concerned. I am not bald. I had plenty to give away and I have plenty left. Just not Stevie tresses anymore.

So now since I'm entering a convent,

see  CANCELLATION TRIALS & TRIBULATIONS

I prefer to be known as Sister Stevie, or perhaps Sister Sledge.

Sing with me Sister Bloggers: We are family! I've got all my sisters and me!

Infinities of love,

Lola

WELCOME SANDRA

Gentle Readers,

Those of you who follow my followers, and I know that means all of you, have noticed by now that a seventh follower has joined us. Thus, I now have two followers named Sandra. How ever shall I distinguish between them? I guess they will be Sandra 1 and Sandra 2.

I was delighted to discover that Sandra #2 (no implications by the number two, Sandra) writes an absolutely hilarious blog entitled Absolutely Narcissism. I read a few posts and found myself chuckling, then chortling, and then laughing uncontrollably. So I became one of Sandra's followers; however, she has scabs scads of hangers on and won't even notice your poor little Lola.

My favorite post so far is Don't Get Your Weiner Wet on March 22nd. It brought back so many happy memories of the days when I could torture my children and they couldn't get in cars and simply drive away. They were trapped with me.

You may not believe that your Lola could be so cruel, but I used to punish Favorite Young Man by singing in public. If he misbehaved, if he t'was obnoxious, I sang out loud and clear. Someone I love and I would sing while the three of us were bowling or as we perused the aisles of the grocery store. If he had been really bad, we also danced.

Someone I love, who was a mere seven years old, made up new lyrics to Copacabana that went His name was Rico, he had a vagina. Now isn't that just about the funniest damn thing you've ever heard, especially coming from a seven year old? I still laugh about that lyric and it was two years ago that someone I love made that up.

I still try to torture Favorite Young Man, but he simply says, Now that's just about enough of that -- something I seem to remember I used to say before breaking into the punishment songs. But Favorite Young Man doesn't bother to try to punish me by singing. He knows I'd just sing along.

So welcome, welcome, welcome to Sandra and Absolutely Narcissism. Sandra, should we ever find ourselves in a car together, of course I will sing Band on the Run with you. And when I don't know the actual lyrics to songs, I make them up, because what you think you hear is always so much funnier than what people actually say.

Infinities of love,

Lola