Quick. Tell me a moment that was important to you.
Such moments should be on the tip of your tongue. No matter how long ago they happened, you remember. You remember because of a spark, a tug or because of a dream. Continue reading
From as early as I can remember I could be found in the darkness of a movie theater with a fistful of malt balls in my hand, my bottom firmly planted on a seat somewhere in the middle row of the theater, and my legs dangling over the seat’s edge, barely skimming the floor, which was covered in chewing gum and a sticky coating of Coca Cola. Continue reading
I’ve often imagined myself walking through the streets of Manhattan, a la Holly Golightly in “Breakfast at Tiffany’s,” with a cup of coffee in my hand and the refrain of “Moon River” playing over me. Or I was more like Mary Tyler Moore, tossing my Tam o’ Shanter cap in the air to the tune of, “You’re going to make it after all.” Continue reading
From an ant infestation on Sunday to Sir Paul McCartney eight days later, my birthday week ended with a bang and a whole lotta cashola spent.
Why a “Birthday Week” and not just a day, you might ask?
Because one day won’t do, no sir! You gotta have an entire week to celebrate with mirth and merriment! Here’s how the eight days went down:
Sunday: Attack of the ants. Continue reading
John, Paul, George and Ringo? Try Michael, Davy, Peter and Micky instead. Think Junior Varsity Beatles. The Beatles 2.0. I’m talking about The Monkees, the imaginary boy band/actors created by Hollywood central casting in an attempt to cash in on the sensation created by the Beatles. (I’m not joking about the central casting angle: Stephen Stills, the brilliant musician who as a member of Crosby Stills & Nash recorded some of the classic albums of the ‘70s, auditioned for the group/TV show, but was rejected as not “cute” enough. So instead they cast Peter Tork, with the goofy smile and room temperature IQ.) Continue reading
Monica's Tangled Web 