An Open Letter

To that guy in the nice suit standing behind me at the Espresso Royal Cafe cream and sugar station – either crowd in next to me and fix your damn coffee or be patient. I seriously don’t mind if your elbow touches mine while you reach for the cream pitcher. I do mind that you are too close and breathing down my neck while tapping your foot.

Also, to the guy sitting to my left at the public speaking seminar. Quit touching/rubbing my shoulders and telling me I’m doing a great job. The discomfort I feel due to your invasion into my personal space far exceeds any discomfort I would feel talking in front of a crowd. In fact – don’t even think about touching me again... and you know what? Don’t talk to me either, you creep.

Guess what! While you mull over your weighty decision for choosing a basket or a cart, please please, stand aside from the automatic doors, lady. My potato chips and champagne are calling my name and begging that I liberate them from the grocer as soon as possible - and you're thwarting me.

Halloween 2006

I promised myself that I wouldn't drink too much this year.

It's not the first time I've lied to myself.

It was a beautiful night with beautiful people. Everyone was there: The Yooper, The Vikings, The Naughty Nurse and Satin herself. The two Frankenstein Monsters looked upon one another with awkward and haughty competitiveness that is usually known only to the two women who wear the same dress to a party.

The one thing I remember hearing all night; "Another Cigarette girl?! How many are you?" It was a legitimate question. We covered more ground apart than we did together.

The only possible answer is: "Three. I'm the Hostess Cigarette girl – would you like a Twinkie? A Snow Ball? Have you had your Ding Dong today?"
My partners in crime did a great job circling the room hocking boxes of candy cigarettes. I watched them smile, shake the hip, laugh, wink, and finally - press a bubble gum cigar into a hand.

I wasn’t so successful. No one would admit that they would ever lay a finger on a Hostess Snack Cake. However - I set my tray down to get another drink and two Snow Balls were gone.

My skills came in later when the voting for best costume came around. As I helped distribute slips of paper to the guests, I spoke softly before relinquishing the pencil; "Vote 'Cigarette Girl.' Got it?"

We won second place, received a Big Boy Bobble Head Trophy and shed tears of joy.