Tampax have just brought out a new design for xmas....





using tinsell instead of string..........

This is an article submitted to a 1999 Louisville Sentinel contest to find out who had the wildest Christmas dinner. It won first prize.

As a joke, my brother used to hang a pair of panty hose over his fireplace before Christmas. He said all he wanted was for Santa to fill them.

What they say about Santa checking the list twice must be true because
every Christmas morning, although Jay's kids' stockings were overflowed,
his poor pantyhose hung sadly empty.

One year I decided to make his dream come true. I put on sunglasses and
went in search of an inflatable love doll. They don't sell those things at
Wal-Mart. I had to go to an adult bookstore downtown. If you've never
been in a X-rated store, don't go. You'll only confuse yourself. I was
there an hour saying things like, "What does this do?" "You're kidding me!"
"Who would buy that?" Finally, I made it to the inflatable doll section. I
wanted to buy a standard, uncomplicated doll that could also substitute as
a passenger in my truck so I could use the car pool lane during rush hour.

Finding what I wanted was difficult. Love dolls come in many different
models. The top of the line, according to the side of the box, could do
things I'd only seen in a book on animal husbandry. I settled for "Lovable
Louise." She was at the bottom of the price scale. To call Louise a "doll"
took a huge leap of imagination.

On Christmas Eve, with the help of an old bicycle pump, Louise came to
life. My sister-in-law was in on the plan and let me in during the wee
morning hours. Long after Santa had come and gone, I filled the dangling
pantyhose with Louise's pliant legs and bottom. I also ate some cookies
and drank what remained of a glass of milk on a nearby tray. I went home,
and giggled for a couple of hours.

The next morning my brother called to say that Santa had been to his house
and left a present that had made him VERY happy but had left the dog
confused. She would bark, start to walk away, then come back and bark some
more. We all agreed that Louise should remain in her panty hose so the
rest of the family could admire her when they came over for the traditional
Christmas dinner.

My grandmother noticed Louise the moment she walked in the door. "What the
hell is that?" she asked. My brother quickly explained, "It's a doll."
"Who would play with something like that?" Granny snapped. I had several
candidates in mind, but kept my mouth shut. "Where are her clothes?" Granny
continued. "Boy, that turkey sure smells nice, Gran," Jay said, trying to
steer her into the dining room. But Granny was relentless. "Why doesn't
she have any teeth?" Again, I could have answered, but why would I? It was
Christmas and no one wanted to ride in the back of the ambulance saying,
"Hang on Granny Hang on!"

My grandfather, a delightful old man with poor eyesight, sidled up to me
and said, "Hey, who's the naked gal by the fireplace?" I told him she was
Jay's friend. A few minutes later I noticed Grandpa by the mantel, talking
to Louise. Not just talking, but actually flirting. It was then that we
realized this might be Grandpa's last Christmas at home.

The dinner went well. We made the usual small talk about who had died, who
was dying, and who should be killed, when suddenly Louise made a noise that
sounded a lot like my father in the bathroom in the morning. Then she
lurched from the panty hose, flew around the room twice, and fell in a heap
in front of the sofa. The cat screamed. I passed cranberry sauce through
my nose, and Grandpa ran across the room, fell to his knees, and began
administering mouth to mouth resuscitation. My brother fell back over his
chair and wet his pants and Granny threw down her napkin, stomped out of
the room, and sat in the car.

It was indeed a Christmas to treasure and remember. Later in my brother's
garage, we conducted a thorough examination to decide the cause of Louise's
collapse. We discovered that Louise had suffered from a hot ember to the
back of her right thigh. Fortunately, thanks to a wonder drug called duct
tape, we restored her to perfect health.

Louise went on to star in several bachelor party movies. I think Grandpa
still calls her whenever he can get out of the house.

CHRISTMAS CHANGES

The recent announcement that Donner and Blitzen have elected to take the early reindeer retirement package has triggered a good deal of concern about whether they will be replaced, and about other restructuring decisions at the North Pole. Streamlining is due to the North Pole's loss of dominance in the season's gift distribution business. Home Shopping TV channels and mail order catalogues have diminished Santa's market share. He and the Board could not sit idly by and permit further erosion of the profit picture.

The reindeer downsizing was made possible through purchase of a late model Japanese sled for the CEO's annual trip. Improved productivity from Dasher and Dancer, who summered at the Harvard Business School, is anticipated. Reduction in the reindeer will also lessen airborne environmental emissions for which the North Pole has received unfavourable press (gas and solid waste).

We're pleased to inform you that Rudolph's role will not be disturbed. Tradition still counts for something at the North Pole!

Management denies, in the strongest possible language, the earlier leak that Rudolph's nose get red, not from the cold, but from substance abuse. Calling Rudolph "a lush who was into the sauce and never did pull his share of the load" was an unfortunate comment, made by one of Santa's helpers and taken out of context at a time of the year when they are known to be under 'executive stress'.

As for further restructuring, today's global challenges require the North Pole to continue to look for better, more competitive steps. Effective immediately, the following economy measures are to take place in the "Twelve Days of Christmas" music subsidiary:

1. The partridge will be retained, but the pear tree, which never produced the cash crop forecastered, will be replaced by a plastic hanging plant, providing considerable savings in maintenance.

2. Two turtle doves represent a redundancy that is simply not cost effective. In addition, their romance during working hours could not be condoned. The positions are, therefore, eliminated.

3. The three French hens will remain intact. After all, everyone loves the French.

4. The four calling birds will be replaced by an automated voice mail system, with a call waiting option. An analysis is underway to determine who the birds have been calling, how often and how long they talked.

5. The five golden rings have been put on hold by the Board of Directors. Maintaining a portfolio based on one commodity could have negative implications for institutional investors. Diversification into other precious metals, as ell as a mix of T-Bills and high technology stocks, appear to be in order.

6. The six geese-a-laying constitutes a luxury which can no longer be afforded. It has long been felt that the production rate of one egg per goose per day was an example of the general decline in productivity. Three geese will be let go, and an upgrading in the selection procedure by personnel will assure management that, from now on, every goose it gets will be a good one.

7. The seven swans-a-swimming is obviously a number chosen in better times. The function is primarily decorative. Mechanical swans are on order. The current swans will be retrained to learn some new strokes, thereby enhancing their outplacement.

8. As you know, the eight maids-a-milking concept has been under heavy scrutiny by the EEOC. A male/female balance in the workforce is being sought. The more militant maids consider this a dead-end job with no upward mobility. Automation of the process may permit the maids to try a-mending, a-mentorin or a-mulching.

9. Nine ladies dancing has always been an odd number. This function will be phased out as these individuals grow older and can no longer do the steps.

10. Ten Lords-a-leaping is overkill. The high cost of Lords, plus the expense of international air travel, prompted the Compensation Committee to suggest replacing this group with ten out-of-work congressmen. While leaping ability may be somewhat sacrificed, the savings are significant as we expect an oversupply of unemployed congressmen this year.

11. Eleven pipers piping and twelve drummers drumming is a simple case of the band getting too big. A substitution with a string quartet, a cutback on new music, and no uniforms, will produce savings which will drop right to the bottom line.

Overall we can expect a substantial reduction in assorted people, fowl, animals and related expenses. Though incomplete, studies indicate that stretching deliveries over twelve days is inefficient. If we can drop ship in one day, service levels will be improved.

Regarding the lawsuit filed by the attorney's association seeking expansion to include the legal profession ("thirteen lawyers-a-suing", a decision is pending.

Deeper cuts may be necessary in the future to remain competitive. Should that happen, the Board will request management to scrutinise the Snow White Division to see if seven dwarfs is the right number.

If a man has enough "horse sense" to treat his wife like a thoroughbred, she will never be an old nag.

I will not stick my paw into any container to see if there is something in it. If I do, I will not hiss and scratch when my human has to shave me to get the rubber cement out of my fur.

If I bite the cactus, it will bite back.

It is not a good idea to try to lap up the powdered creamer before it dissolves in boiling coffee.

Just because I hear voices in my head, I do not have to answer them.

When I am chasing my tail and catch my back leg instead, I will not bite own on my foot. This hurts, and my scream scares my human.

When it rains, it will be raining on all sides of the house. It is not necessary to have my human open every door so I can check.

Birds do not come from the bird feeder. I will not knock it down and try to open it up to get the birds out.

I will not stuff my rather large self into the rather small bird feeder (with my tail hanging out one side) and expect the birds to just fly in.

I will not teach the parrot to meow in a loud and raucous manner.

The dog can see me coming when I stalk her. She can see me and will move out of the way when I pounce, letting me smash into floors and walls. That does not mean I should take it as a personal insult when my humans sit there and laugh.

Yes, there are still two very large dogs in the backyard. There have been for several years. I don't have to act as if I've just discovered the Demon Horror of the Universe each time one of them appears in my window.

I will not play "dead cat on the stairs" while people are trying to bring in groceries or laundry, or else one of these days, it will really come true.

When the humans play darts, I will not leap into the air and attempt to catch them.

I will cease my obsession with the box my humans keep their condoms in This box is not for me. I will not knock it on the ground, I will not sit on it, I will not try to scratch it open. Especially when my humans are using the condoms.

I will not swat my human's head repeatedly when she's on the family room floor trying to do sit ups.

When my human is typing at the computer, her forearms are *not* a hammock.

Computer and TV screens do not exist to back light my lovely tail.

I am a walking static generator. My human doesn't need my help installing a new board in her computer.

I will not bring the city police to the front door by stepping on the speaker phone button and then the automatic 911 dial button.

I will not speed dial the overseas numbers.

Cat Resolutions part 1

I will not run through the house with a condom wrapper in my mouth, especially when my human's grandmother is over.

My human will never let me eat her pet rat, and I am at peace with that.

I will not leap into my human's chair which she has temporarily vacated, and then bite my human on the bum when she sits back down.

I will not puff my entire body to twice its size for no reason after my human has finished watching a horror movie.

I will not sniff at my male human's feet after he takes his shoes off, freeze my mouth open in disgust and then sniff my private parts to compare odors. My female human might find it amusing, but my male human does not appreciate it, especially in front of company.

I will not slurp fish food from the surface of the aquarium.

I must not help myself to Q-tips, and I must certainly not proceed to stuff them down the sink's drain.

I will not bite my human on the rear while she is sitting on the Big White Drinking Bowl.

I will not eat large numbers of assorted bugs, then come home and puke them up so my humans can see that I'm getting plenty of roughage.

I will not lean way over to drink out of the tub, fall in, and then pelt right for the box of clumping cat litter. (It took FOREVER to get the stuff out of my fur. )

I will not stand on the bathroom counter, stare down the hall, and growl at NOTHING after my human has finished watching The X-Files.

When my human is taking a bubble bath, the two pinkish-brown things sticking up out of the bubbles in her chest region are NOT to be played with!

I will not fish out my human's partial plate from the glass so that the dog can "wear" it and pretend to be my human. (It is somewhat unnerving to wake up, roll over in bed, and see the dog grinning at you with your own teeth.

I will not use the bathtub to store live mice for late-night snacks.

I will not drag dirty socks up from the hamper in the middle of the night, deposit them on the bed and yell at the top of my lungs (Bengal LOUD yowling) so that my human can admire my "kill."

I will not knead my male human's groin at 2 a.m. with claws extended. It seems to cause him some discomfort and he wakes up all grumpy.

I will not perch on my human's chest in the middle of the night and stare into her eyes until she wakes up.

I will not play Herd of Thundering Wildebeests Stampeding Across the Plains of the Serengeti over my humans' bed while they're trying to sleep.

Screaming at the can of food will not make it open itself.

I am a (neutered) cat, not a peacock, and prancing around with my tail fluffed up will not make my balls grow back.

I cannot leap through closed windows to catch birds outside. If I forget this and bonk my head on the window and fall behind the couch in my attempt, I will not get up and do the same thing again.

I will not assume the patio door is open when I race outside to chase leaves.

I will not back up off the front porch and fall into the bushes just as my human is explaining to his girlfriend how graceful I am.

I will not complain that my butt is wet and that I am thirsty after sitting in my water bowl.

I will not intrude on my human's candlelit bubble bath and singe my butt off.

part 2 posted soon.

Cat Bathing as a Martial Art

Some people say cats never have to be bathed. They say cats lick themselves clean. They say cats have a special enzyme of some sort in their saliva that works like new, improved Wisk - dislodging the dirt where it hides and whisking it away. I've spent most of my life believing this folklore. Like most blind believers, I've been able to discount all the facts to the contrary - the kitty odors that lurk in the corners of the garage and dirt smudges that cling to the throw rug by the fireplace.

The time comes, however, when a man must face reality; when he must look squarely in the face of massive public sentiment to the contrary and announce: "This cat smells like a port-a-potty on a hot day in Juarez."

When that day arrives at your house, as it has in mine, I have some advice you might consider as you place your feline friend under you arm and head for the bathtub:

Know that although the cat has the advantage of quickness and lack of concern for human life, you have the advantage of intelligence (hopefully).
Capitalize on that advantage by selecting the battlefield wisely. Don't try to bathe him in an open area where he can force you to chase him. Pick a very small bathroom. If your bathroom is more than four feet square, I recommend that you get in the tub with the cat and close the sliding-glass doors. (A simple shower curtain will not do. A berserk cat can shred a three-ply rubber shower curtain quicker than a politician can shift positions.)

Know that a cat has claws and will not hesitate to remove all the skin from your body. Your advantage here is that you are smart and know how to dress to protect yourself. I recommend canvas overalls tucked into high-top construction boots, a pair of steel-mesh gloves, an army helmet, a hockey face mask and a long-sleeve flak jacket.

Prepare everything in advance. There is no time to go out for a towel when you have a cat digging a hole in your flak jacket. Draw the water. Make sure the bottle of kitty shampoo is inside the glass enclosure. Make sure the towel can be reached, even if you are lying on your back in the water.

Use the element of surprise. Pick up your cat nonchalantly, as if to simply carry him to his supper dish. (Cats will not usually notice your strange attire. They have little or no interest in fashion as a rule. If he does notice your garb, calmly explain that you are taking part in a product-testing experiment for J.C. Penney.)

Once you are inside the bathroom, speed is essential to survival. In a single liquid motion, shut the bathroom door, step into the tub enclosure, slide the glass door shut, dip the cat in the water and squirt him with shampoo. You have begun one of the wildest 45 seconds of your life.

Cats have no handles. Add the fact that he now has soapy fur, and the problem is radically compounded. Do not expect to hold on to him for more that two or three seconds at a time. When you have him, however, you must remember to give him another squirt of shampoo and rub like crazy. He'll then spring free and fall back into the water, thereby rinsing himself off. (The national record is - for cats - three latherings, so don't expect too much.)

Next, the cat must be dried. Novice cat bathers always assume this part will be the most difficult, for humans generally are worn out at this point and the cat is just getting really determined. In fact, the drying is simple compared to what you have just been through. That's because by now the cat is semipermanently affixed to your right leg. You simply pop the drain plug with your foot, reach for your towel and wait. (Occasionally, however, the cat will end up clinging to the top of your army helmet. If this happens, the best thing you can do is to shake him loose and to encourage him toward your leg.) After all the water is drained from the tub, it is a simple matter to just reach down and dry the cat.

In a few days the cat will relax enough to be removed from your leg. He will usually have nothing to say for about three weeks and will spend a lot of time sitting with his back to you. He might even become psychoceramic and develop the fixed stare of a plaster figurine.

You will be tempted to assume he is angry. This isn't usually the case. As a rule he is simply plotting ways to get through your defenses and injure you for life the next time you decide to give him a bath. But, at least now he smells a lot better.

Giving Pills to Pets
How to give a cat a pill
Pick up cat and cradle it in the crook of your left arm as if holding a baby. Position right forefinger and thumb on either side of cat's mouth and gently apply pressure to cheeks while holding pill in right hand. As cat opens mouth pop pill into mouth. Allow cat to close mouth and swallow.
Retrieve pill from floor and cat from behind sofa. Cradle cat in left arm and repeat process.
Retrieve cat from bedroom, and throw soggy pill away.
Take new pill from foil wrap, cradle cat in left arm holding rear paws tightly with left hand. Force jaws open and push pill to back of mouth with right fore-finger. Hold mouth shut for a count of ten.
Retrieve pill from goldfish bowl and cat from top of wardrobe. Call spouse in from garden.
Kneel on floor with cat wedged firmly between knees, hold front and rear paws. Ignore low growls emitted by cat. Get spouse to hold head firmly with one hand while forcing wooden ruler into mouth. Drop pill down ruler and rub cat's throat vigorously.
Retrieve cat from curtain rail, get another pill from foil wrap. Make note to buy new ruler and repair curtains. Carefully sweep shattered figurines and vases from hearth and set to one side for gluing later.
Wrap cat in large towel and get spouse to lie on cat with head just visible from below armpit. Put pill in end of drinking straw, force mouth open with pencil and blow down the straw.
Check label to make sure pill not harmful to humans, drink glass of water to take taste away. Apply band-aid to spouse's forearm and remove blood from carpet with cold water and soap.
Retrieve cat from neighbor's shed. Get another pill. Place cat in cupboard and close door onto neck to leave head showing. Force mouth open with dessert spoon. Flick pill down throat with elastic band.
Fetch screwdriver from garage and put cupboard door back on hinges. Apply cold compress to cheek and check records for date of last tetanus jab. Throw Tee-shirt away and fetch new one from bedroom.
Ring fire brigade to retrieve cat from tree across road. Apologize to neighbor who crashed into fence while swerving to avoid cat. Take last pill from foil wrap.
Tie cat's front paws to rear paws with garden twine and bind tightly to leg of dining table, find heavy duty pruning gloves from shed. Push pill into mouth followed by large piece of fillet steak. Hold head vertically and pour two pints of water down throat to wash pill down.
Get spouse to drive you to the emergency room, sit quietly while doctor stitches fingers and forearm and remove pill remnants from right eye. Call furniture shop on way home to order new table.
Arrange for RSPCA to collect cat and ring local pet shop to see if they have any hamsters.

How to give a dog a pill
Wrap it in bacon.

No man ever made love to a woman because the house was spotless.

This is allegedly a true story, told by the driver at his first AA meeting, according to the newspaper account.

From Herb Caen's column in the San Francisco Chronicle:

A motorist was unknowingly caught in an automated speed trap that measured his speed using radar and photographed his car. He later received in the mail a ticket for $40, and a photo of his car.

Instead of payment, he sent the police department a photograph of $40.

Several days later, he received a letter from the police department that contained another picture - of handcuffs.