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Live at the Playboy Mansion!… (pics)

So… I gotta tell you. I didn’t know what to expect.

It was supposed to be a Rock-n-Roll night with all kinds of Rock Stars Performing.

Including Steven Tyler.

Oh Yeah.

And, god knows that if I had to “do” a Rock Star… Steven Tyler would be the number one.

I mean look at him…

Steven Tyler, you fine little thing you!

Now… I know that this is the same pic that I posted yesterday…

And, I know that I told you that he was going to kiss my hand…

I know I told you that.

But, what happened was so much better!

Eeeek!

It’s true.

So there I was amongst the crush of the audience.

And, I have to tell you that I did look divine!

I decided to go 80’s Retro Bouffant Rock Glam!

Check it out —

Gotta check out the doo!

Now I am already having a wild time even before I hit the red carpet–

I am hitting up the bar…Of course. Hello? I am at a party, right? And then in walks….

Jack Russell of Great White

Bruce Kulick of KISS

Belle with Alan White from YES!

Before you know it, I am having drinks with

Billy Sheehan of Mr. Big, Steve Vai and David Lee Roth

Belle with Rudy Sarzo of Quiet Riot and Ozzy Osbourne!

Belle with Mark Hudson Producer/Songwriter for Aerosmith and Ringo Star

Belle Karper with Kip Winger of Winger (So freaking hot on stage!)

Mark Hudson & Kip Winger on Stage at the Playboy Mansion

Mark Hudson and Kip Winger on Stage at the Playboy Mansion

Belle Karper with Vinny Appice of Black Sabbath and Dio

Vinny Appice (Black Sabbath and Dio) & Phil Soussan (Billy Idol and Osbourne) being interviewed by gal from “E”

Teddy Andreadis of Guns N’ Roses and Alice Cooper

You can always find him among the vertile bunnies!

Plus, let us not forget our Dear Steven…

Or on the stage…

Check out those lips. Come on, guess!

Come on! You can do it!

That’s right!

Steven Tyler, you silly kids.

Now I have to tell you a little story about this cute little Steven Tyler.

Yes, yes, of Aerosmith. That’s right. Now let me talk.

He was onstage, doing things that only Steven Tyler can do.

Yeah, just use your imagination, kay?

And, he come off stage and comes around the center of the audience and then behind the safety of a cluster of instrument panels.

Safety, huh?

Well, I just followed him right around… standing there drooling like everybody else, right?

Hey, I need to be honest here.

Yeah. We were drooling.

Men and Women alike.

Have we no shame?

Well… no.

No. We have no shame.

Now that we’ve got that over with.

All of a sudden this pathway opens up going right toward him.

It’s like it was calling me… “Belle! Belle!”

Well, that’s my f-ing-name, right?

So I followed it. I followed it so that I was right next to the bunny, Steven, and the other bunny and then ME!

Hell, I could take that bunny out, no problem.

But, I am a little better than that. Not much, but a little, okay?

So I lean over in front of bunny number one.

I say, “Hey Steven! I’m Belle Karper.”

And he turns and says four inches from my face. FOUR INCHES!

He says to me, “Hey Beautiful!” (Hey Beautiful is not too shabby, so I’ll take it!)

I say, “I think you’re just wonderful!”

“Thank you!” he says.

Then I say, “Hey, I want you to tell Phillip Phillips (p2) that–“

“Who?”

“Phillip Phillips of American Idol,”

“Oh yeah, Okay?”

“I want you to tell him that he has the Cougar Vote!”

He started laughing and he said, “I will!”

And, then I joke you not, he tickled my tummy!

TICKLED MY TUMMY!

I may never wash there for the rest of my life!

How’s that for an adventure!

Just like the fun little Flash-Fiction Rock-N-Roll Adverture in my New Short Story —

“Is it RED HOT LOVE? Or… RADAR LOVE?

Only $0.99 on Amazon.com for all readers.

The funfilled ride about that ellusive Song Radar Love Song by Golden Earring — The most miss-sung song in history (Say that three times fast!)

Here are some more fun pics from the Playboy Mansion of me, my friends, other entertainers and the zoo.

If you want all the pics please click here for my FACEBOOK and become a subscriber to my personal page.

You can also “LIKE” my other page and get involved on that page, too!

So BUY MY BOOK ! And be a little… OR a lot jealous that Steven Tyler called me BEAUTIFUL and that HE TICKLED MY TUMMY!

YUMMY AWESOME!

Xxoo

Belle

www.BelleKarper.com

—–

Now… go feed my fish!

They are freaking hungry, man!

—–

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Red Hot Love Or… Radar Love? Which is it?

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Writer’s Digest Awarded “E.B. White and Me.” Get your copy today!

Available for ALL DIGITAL READERS!

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: E.B. White and Me

BUY IT TODAY!

xoxo

Belle

www.BelleKarper.com

Beverly Hills Film Festival – Official Selection Finalist

Awarded Author

Fade In Awards Quarter-Finalist – still in the running!

FIRST PLACE WINNER – MOFILM Los Angeles, Next SXSW competition in Austin, then Barcelona, Spain!

A 78th Annual Writer’s Digest Award Winning Author

Finalist 2011 Top 25 Semi-Finalist Los Angeles Comedy Festival

Finalist 2011 10th FilmMakers International Screenwriting Awards (1st Round Qualifier — Still in Running)

Finalist 2011 New York City Gotham Film Festival – Final 5th Place Comedy

Finalist and 1st Runner Up Screenwriting Comp

Top 24 Finalist Los Angeles Reel Film Festival 2011

Contest Top 20 Finalist Atlanta PeachTree Film Festival 2011

Top 24 Finalist SkyFest Film Festival 2011

— Announcing “PICKLED TINK” — Screwball Comedy Screenplay! Belle Karper,

— Announcing “MAKING UP WITH MORTELLA” — Dark Comedy about Good and Evil, the magic of MakeUp and the Beauty of the Heart.

Award-Winning Author, Screenwriter, Speaker, Humor, Comedy, Suspense, Tragedy www.BelleKarper.com Email Belle@BelleKarper.com WHY THE WIDOW WEARS BLACK – An Edgy Memoir from an Outspoken Survivor Check out Belle Karper’s – Beauties and Beasts – Blog! Baby! Blog! and Belle Karper Face Book & the popular Twitter-Belle – The Ridiculous Escapades of Belle Karper on YouTube!

All on Website Save it, Baby! Count me in! BelleKarper-AuthorSpeaker7.jpg picture by bellekarper

December 10, 2010

Blog from Maui, Hawaii!

(Save it, Baby! Count me in!)

So, it goes like this . . .

Great that Jim and I are sitting here in Maui, Hawaii, while our son sits in Los Angeles in good hands with my inlaws.

We miss everyone so much.

Wish me luck, the ziplines are tomorrow!

xoxo

Belle

A 78th Annual Writer’s Digest Award Winning Author

Finalist and 1st Runner-Up in Broad Humor Film Festival Screenwriting Contest — Announcing “PICKLED TINK” — Screwball Comedy Screenplay! Belle Karper, Award-Winning Author, Screenwriter, Speaker, Humor, Comedy, Suspense, Tragedy www.BelleKarper.com Email Belle@BelleKarper.com
WHY THE WIDOW WEARS BLACK – An Edgy Memoir from an Outspoken Survivor
Check out Belle Karper’s – Beauties and Beasts – Blog! Baby! Blog!
and Belle Karper Face Book & the popular Twitter-Belle – The Ridiculous Escapades of Belle Karper on YouTube!

All on Website
Save it, Baby! Count me in!
BelleKarper-AuthorSpeaker7.jpg picture by bellekarper

May 30, 2010

Yes… It’s prom season!

(Save it, Baby! Count me in!)

So, it goes like this . . .

My daughter comes back from her second prom last night, two o’clock in the morning.

It’s tough when you look freaking amazing.

And, she had a fabulous time.

It reminds me of when I was back in high school, although I did not go to my senior prom. I had just broken up with my boyfriend, and figured that he was not worth spending an entire night with, much less a bunch of money on, just to go to prom.

No biggie.

Hmmmm.

Prom.

So did I miss anything? Isn’t it just an over glorified dance?

I don’t think I missed anything by not dancing the hoochy-koo with my ex-boyfriend in a gym filled with bad teenage decorations.

I remember watching in an Oprah show on mothers that would do anything to make sure that their daughters are able to go to prom. Because these mothers, had missed their proms and felt like their lives were lacking as a result… of missing prom.

Chill everybody… it’s just freaking prom.

It’s just a dance.

Granted, it’s a nice memory. Nothing to get your whole life worked up over.

These moms were putting ads in local newspapers, spreading the word, even paying some of these boys to take their daughters to prom. Just because they, themselves, felt like they had missed out on something that was life-changing.

Isn’t that sad?

These women… and at least their 40s, were still hanging on to the fact that they hadn’t gone to prom… and they were going to make damn sure that their daughters didn’t have that same baggage.

Frankly, I don’t think their daughters would’ve had that baggage unless that baggage was suggested to them by their own mothers.

It’s just prom. Right? Am I missing something here?

I don’t think so.

Now, I knew that all my friends were at the party having a good time.

And, I was a little blue that wasn’t there. It’s true.

And then… I got over it.

I got to spend time with my irritating brother, and my silly dad, and my good-cooking mom.

Not too bad… really. They’re great people.

So, I’m glad to say that my daughter went to her second prom. And she had a great time at each prom, but had she not had a date she would’ve gone alone… and still had a great time.

This is the beauty of the modern teenager… That in this day and age you can go to prom by yourself. You don’t have to bring in three-eyed cousin from Nebraska just to be your date.

When I was going to prom… you did not go alone. Period. End of Story. That’s it folks. No Hans Solo.

And, all those women that were on the Oprah show, I believe that they were not “socially allowed” to go alone either. That there was some stigma attached to just hang with your friends at a big dance.

Luckily, with the progression of civilization we have accepted the fact that people can have fun alone… without a date… just hanging with your friends.

Thank god we have made major strides.

Right.

Oprah moms. Get over it.

Move on, Moth-ah!

Graduate from high school.

I am here to tell you there is life after prom.

I promise.

😉

Belle

A 78th Annual Writer’s Digest Award Winning Author

Finalist in Broad Humor Film Festival Screenwriting Contest — Announcing “PICKLED TINK” — Screwball Comedy Screenplay! Belle Karper, Award-Winning Author, Screenwriter, Speaker, Humor, Comedy, Suspense, Tragedy www.BelleKarper.com
WHY THE WIDOW WEARS BLACK – An Edgy Memoir from an Outspoken Survivor
Check out Belle Karper’s – Beauties and Beasts – Blog! Baby! Blog!
and Belle Karper Face Book & the popular Twitter-Belle – The Ridiculous Escapades of Belle Karper on YouTube!

All on Website
Save it, Baby! Count me in!

March 26, 2010

YOU make plans, but LIFE has other arrangements…

(Save it, Baby! Count me in!)

So, it goes like this . . .

This last week has been another lesson in… “YOU make plans, but unknown to you, LIFE has already made other arrangements.”

Last Wednesday, right before I was to leave for a four-day conference, I and my husband took my son out for frozen yogurt. Just a little treat, a little fun, before I was to leave for four days.

So as I am standing there, I noticed something different about my son, and I mention it to him. I joke with him, that maybe he is goofing around with me, and that he should cut it out.

He swears to me that he is just eating his frozen yogurt.

So I look at him, and like I said, he seemed different to me.

We go back to the house, laughing and giggling. I disregarded the prior incident as just being “nothing.”

Then I see the problem again, with my son. “Honey, cut it out,” I say to him.

“Mom, I’m not doing anything.”

I grab him. I look at him. And I said, “Okay, we are all going to the hospital.”

That is when this difficult journey began… and also the tears.

I would like to tell you what’s going on with my son, but I know that he wants me to keep his privacy.

I’m sure that you understand.

However, we spent the entire Wednesday night into the early hours of the morning in the emergency room.

Of course, I could not go to my four-day conference. My place was with my son.

From that moment on, every single day since last Wednesday, we have spent in hospital rooms, doctors offices, labs, specialists, and we even went to a world-famous Institute that specializes with my son’s current issue.

He has had so many tests now that he is bruised from poking, and probably now glows in the dark from all of the x-rays and x-ray type machines.

Still, we have no definitive answers.

I have cried many tears over this.

I want to help him.

I want to save him.

I want this to be over.

But, like I said, I am waiting to find out what LIFE has in store for us.

I am hopeful.

Please send us your good thoughts.

P.S. — BTW, the guy that runs/owns the 4-day conference is trying to not let me have a refund even though they offer a 100% money back guarantee… I would love to tell you who this is, but I am waiting for him to do the right thing. He even talks about how his turning point in his life was when his wife got cancer… Right… no compassion.

Curious, isn’t it?

Be well,

Belle

A 78th Annual Writer’s Digest Award Winning Author

S. Belle Karper, Award-Winning Author, Screenwriter, Speaker, Humor, Comedy, Suspense, Tragedy www.BelleKarper.com
WHY THE WIDOW WEARS BLACK – An Edgy Memoir from an Outspoken Survivor
Check out S. Belle Karper’s – Beauties and Beasts – Blog! Baby! Blog!
and Belle Karper Face Book & the popular Twitter-Belle – The Ridiculous Escapades of Belle Karper on YouTube!

All on Website
Save it, Baby! Count me in!
BelleKarper-AuthorSpeaker7.jpg picture by bellekarper

January 16, 2010

My cousin just confirmed ALIVE in Haiti!

(Save it, Baby! Count me in!)

So, it goes like this . . .

My first cousin just **** confirmed ALIVE **** in Haiti! (CLICK on the link to look at the picture of the house she was staying…)

Oh my God! what a miracle.

I just had dinner with her (my son, my bro and his wife) in the summer when I was touring Indiana.

Megan (purple) with us at dinner in summer

Yikes.

We love you Megan!!

xoxo

Be well,

Belle

A 78th Annual Writer’s Digest Award Winner

S. Belle Karper, Author, Speaker www.BelleKarper.com
THE WIDOW WEARS BLACK – An Edgy Memoir from an Outspoken Survivor
Check out S. Belle Karper’s – Beauties and Beasts – Blog! Baby! Blog!
and Belle Karper Face Book & the popular Twitter-Belle – all on Website
Save it, Baby! Count me in!

January 14, 2010

Wouldja tell me where the goods are? Elementary drama.

(Save it, Baby! Count me in!)

So, it goes like this . . .

I come home from school, and I am so hungry, right?

Like that PB&J sandwich and that micro pack of Cheetos were supposed to hold me through long division in my 2nd grade life?

How many Cheetos come in those “lunch-size” packages anyway?

I mean, please.

Not many, am I right Cheeto’s doodle heads?

Yeah, don’t get me started.

Of course, I got the recycled obligatory apple. I don’t eat it, but it keeps showing up in my lunch bag.

“Hey mom?” I’m thinking, “If I’m not eating that freaking apple for four days in a row… what do you think? I am saving it up for Friday?”

Huh?

No. I am NOT saving it.

It means I don’t like freaking apples, okay?

I think this is the same apple that first appeared in my lunch at the end of 1st grade.

Yikes.

That is one squishy apple.

You trying to poison me?

And, what’s with the quarter that’s always taped to the inside of my lunch bag?

I know, I know.

For milk.

For freaking milk, man.

You trying to make me look bad?

Milk?

I’ve got an image, mama.

I need some chocolate, or a little strawberry sumpin-sumpin to mix in so that I can shake it up in all my second grade coolness. You dig?

I can’t be cool out on the schoolyard after I’ve had to stand for a carton of plain milk.

Do I look like “plain” to you?

Well?

Throw me some love, mama.

A juice box now and then would be nice, so the girl doesn’t have to spend the shivers out there with the cafeteria demon to get a little “moo juice,” Baaaaaa-by.

And, what? No cookies?

I look inside and there are no Oreos or freaking Chips-A-Hoy in sight.

Dang.

Is there a cookie shortage somewhere that I don’t know about?

I double looked in that bag, and all I saw was brown…tsk, tsk, tsk… a brown paper bag… and something left of one nasty, squishy apple.

Oh, and by the way, I threw that apple in the garbage can, mom. It should have been done long ago. Like, when I was learning addition.

That apple blows, man.

So, like I said, I walk into the kitchen from a long day of beating little Susie homemaker at hopscotch, and I’m hungry, right?

It’s hard working on that jungle gym with the diet you have me on.

And, I’m looking…

I’m looking high and low for some double stuffed sandwich cookies, or a least a fig-frigging-newton.

Yeah, I would even settle for that right about now.

What’s a girl got to do around here?

And…

Where are they?

Huh?

I’ll tell you…

Up on top of the effing freezer.

And… Who did that? Extend-O-Man?

I don’t know why you moms put the cookies in the highest possible places.

Am I wrong here?

The cookies, the candy, and desserts of any kind… in the highest possible place?

It’s a bummer.

It’s a double bummer.

It’s quadruple bummer bipolar bypass, man. I might have to call on one of my personalities to remedy the situation, man.

And trust me… you don’t want to meet Bubba.

And, I might add…

This hiding thing…

Well, it’s a breach of common courtesy.

That’s right Mrs. Please, No, Thank You, and I’m sorry I didn’t take the dog out so that he would poop in the hallway again.

Yeah. A little cookie courtesy would be appreciated around here.

I swear, have a heart.

I need a little sugar jolt after this morning’s calisthenics with Mr. Rochcocker.

AND, by the way, his PE clothes are cut just a little too short.

I didn’t really need to know that things could be hanging out on a man.

I think I went blind for about 2 minutes of jumping jacks.

I am trying to recover from Mr. Rochcocker’s inadvertent anatomy class.

I NEED SOME FREAKING SUGAR.

Relax…

Hum…

Uh, sugar needs to be on the menu, mom.

So, like I said… you moms always put the sugar goods on the fridge or in a cabinet shoved so high that you need a stinking elastic arms to get to, right?

I swear to God, do cookies come with warning labels?

“Caution — Keep out of reach of small children. The resulting sugar-letdown maybe hazardous to your health.”

Holy crap.

Man, you got a show some love for the short person.

I’m growing. I’m growing… but not if I don’t get any kind of food in me.

I can’t possibly reach those cookies without bothering you now, can I?

Huh?

Well, the answer that you’re looking for is “NO.”

And, you’ve always been telling me to stop bugging you, right?

And looky-here… Now I HAVE to bug you.

You’re setting me up to fail, man.

I’m doomed.

Doomed, I tell you.

And, all for the conservation of a few lousy cookies, that are a requirement to my growth, I might add.

So… now I have to bug you, don’t I?

It’s not what I WANT to do.

It’s not what I PLANNED to do.

But, it’s NOW what I am going to HAVE TO do.

I don’t go looking for trouble, you know. Yeah, bugging you is NOT the highlight of my day.

And now I’ve got to go begging just to get a little sugar rush… a little elementary high… and you’re blowing it for me.

Blowing it.

Sorry, but this is bigger than both of us. A girl has got to do, what a girl has got to do.

Now… where IS that freaking ladder….

__________________________________

xoxo

Be well,

Belle

A 78th Annual Writer’s Digest Award Winner

January 4, 2010

Hello Dahhhhhlings! (Pics)

(Save it, Baby! Count me in!)

So, it goes like this . . .

Why hello, Darlings!

I just wanted to wish you a happy new year and check in for a moment.

It’s been a wonderful holiday season and frankly we’ve been quite busy with all of our social philandering! You might have read the blog before this one about our holiday party… Wow, what a good time that was! I can still feel the alcoholic vapors radiating from my pores. 😉

Naaa! But it was, just such a blast!

We went away for a week to Sedona. I never really realized how many people didn’t know where Sedona was until my husband happened to mention to some of his coworkers that he was going there. Hello? What’s Sedona? Are you for real?

Let’s just say that it’s one of the most beautiful places on this earth.

The red rock formations that are sprinkled on the landscape are breathtaking. And to have been able to drag our mountain bikes with us from Los Angeles, California to Sedona, Arizona… well let’s just say that were quite lucky to be able to have peddled those paths amongst the cactus and my children’s giggles.

Yes I am quite a lucky woman indeed.

Plus, to have the luxury of my husband preparing all of the mountain biking equipment and carrying the Camelback and making sure that we have our helmets and our gloves and our sunglasses… well, I was quite pampered with the luxury of him and his thoughtfulness. Frankly, I didn’t have to think about a thing except pedal! Yes, now that’s the way I LIKE TO TRAVEL!

Then of course we got back and we all caught the flu, which mine developed into a horrible sinus infection and have been on antibiotics still today. YUCK.

So frankly, I haven’t been online too much because I have been recovering, and have been taking this time it to move great strides on my new book. Which I am totally excited about! It’s humor/suspense, and it’s great fun! I can’t wait to finish it and get it “out there!”

In the meantime, here are some pictures from the holidays…

Much love to you all, and stay away from the freaking flu. It’s a bummer.

holiday dinner

my man and our bikes

the kids

biking bell rock

great shot

beautiful cactus

sedona dirt

slick rock Momma!

snowing in sedona

catching snowflakes

fesitval of lights

our hands

the kids

my silly kids

Happy New Year, everybody!

xoxo

Be well,

Belle

A 78th Annual Writer’s Digest Award Winner

December 7, 2009

It’s My Party and I’ll Cry If I Want To… (Pics)

(Save it, Baby! Count me in!)

So, it goes like this . . .

There we were getting ready for our annual holiday ornament party. Friends had up from orange County and from various parts of southern California. My parents were here helping along with a couple that come up from Long Beach to help us run the bar and make our celebration terrific. My husband has known them for many years, and they are from the same parts of Pennsylvania.

So I climb in the shower, and I’m doing all my normal things. Which one of my friends would call the PTA.

What is the PTA?

Well somebody might think that PTA means Parent Teacher Association. And, they might be right if there were from Alabama, and NOT in the shower.

Hmmm… The PTA.

And, like I said I was in the shower doing my normal things, which included the PTA…

Puss, Tits and Ass.

Well, let’s be real… everything does need to be cleaned, right?

I have to look, smell and feel absolutely divine for my guests that are coming for the annual Christmas party… so everything gets washed including the PTA.

So, I climb out of the shower and I’m towelling off…

I am calm, because downstairs I know that everything is in place.

The Bar.

The Buffet.

The vegetable crudite display and the candles in the chandeliers were lit.

24 Christmas Trees dangling beautiful ornaments from around the globe …

Yes, now the number had grown to 24 trees. I can’t help it. They just look so beautiful… I can’t stop buying them.

It looked like a gigantic Winter Wonderland inside my house…

Sans the snow…

And, of course, no mittens or galoshes…

79 degree California weather with palm trees outside.

A giant California Winter wonderland, okay?

We Californians have got to do it our own way… I just throw a little “Alabama” in on the side from time to time — with a Y’all here, and a Y’all there! But, you understand that I do have some of the California affectations absorbed by now, and so… well, I don’t really do anything “small.”

So, yeah, I’ve got 24 Christmas trees running up my electricity bill. It’s beautiful, dang it. So get over it.

Yes, now there I am. Unusally calm with the impending knowledge that very shortly my home was going to be alive with about 80 other minds… and the fact that I was going to have to be witty, charming, and beautiful… Well, hell… I should have been freaking out.

Don’t worry…

My calm didn’t last for long.

The help was busy prepping the hot food and everything was on schedule.

So, there I was… still damp, with my PTA’s still tingling.

I had just begun to shimmy into my beaded dress because I wanted to do all my makeup and hair after I finally got my dress on.

It’s a fabulous dress, but I don’t know why I always buy such complicated clothing. Once again, not a “step in” dress… an “over the head” dress with straps going this way and that.

Just a fricking pain in the butt to get this dress on.

Holy crap, what a mess.

I am standing there contemplating just wearing the stinking thing as a partial top since it was strangulating to get the dress on over my head and wet showered hair. One arm in, one breast out.

No problem. Throw on a skirt and my left tit will be the hit of the party.

Right.

So, I finally get the frigging thing on.

Slide it down over my hips.

Thank God it still fits.

I’ve been eating my weight in turkey, brownies, fudge and cheesecake for the past two weeks. So, my ass is about the size of Oklahoma right now.

Thank God for the proverbial black dress…

… that stretches….

A silent “yay” for the creation of Spandex.

Bless this inventor, this Sultan of Elasticity. I will always display their label of honor on my expanding derriere…

So, I finally get this beautiful, god-forsaken, beaded strappy dress over my head with final authority, and slick it down the side of me.

Finally.

I need a frigging drink just to get this dress on.

Relax. Relax.

“Honey, can you get my a green apple martini from the bar?”

Yes, relax.

Help is on the way…

No sooner to I get the dress on… zipped up… looking in the mirror I turn left, and turn right… and of course, curse the size of my butt…

When all hell breaks loose. The fire alarm starts to go off at my house. It’s a loud blaring bell that is completely destructive to all your senses.

BANG, BANG, BANG.

CLANG, CLANG, CLANG.

WTF?

Aaaaaaaah! I am running down the stairs with a trail of obscenities still stabbing the air behind me. Shoeless, and bra-less. Boobs bouncing, and wet hair flopping.

80-some people are coming to laugh and schmooze in less than an hour. WHAT THE HELL AM I GOING TO DO? TELL THEM THE NOISE IS SANTA COMING…

AND COMING…

I NEED THAT ALARM OFF. PRONTO.

“What the hell is going on?” I scream.

I then begin pounding the number buttons on the alarm pad.

Pressing. Jabbing. Cursing. Screaming. But, the alarm keeps screeching.

7 minutes of this was enough to drive me out of my f-ing mind. “We’ve gone to all this trouble for this party, I need for you (the alarm) to shut the hell up! (:?sdt% qvio4$ — More obscenities) ”

I was screaming so many bad words, that I ran out of them and had to make some new ones up.

I finally pressed a series of numbers that seem to work…

Aaaaah. Sigh of relief…

Well, it worked for 10 ten seconds, and then:

BANG, BANG, BANG.

CLANG, CLANG, CLANG.

HOLY CRAP!

I have this vision of all these firetrucks pulling up elbowing my guests, “Excuse me Ma’am, but we’ve got a fire in this house to attend to.”

“A FIRE?” And, then of course my guests run screaming for their lives.

Nice.

Yeah, that’s the type of celebration I wanted to have that night. Right.

Fun. Fun. Fun.

Right.

Another 6 minutes of ear-piercing stressing-inducing mind-numbing noise enveloped my house. What the heck am I going to do?

Where is my alarm company?

“Ding-dong.”

BAM, BAM, BAM, BAM. Pounding on the door right next to where I was standing cursing and banging the alarm codes. I could feel the vibrations of the knocking.

I’m thinking, holy crap, the firetrucks are here and I am going to get a humongous bill from the City for a false fire alarm.

Shit.

I open the door, “Is everything alright here, ma’am? We got a signal at the station.”

It was a man from the alarm company dressed in a Kevlar vest and carrying a “piece.”

My eyes widen.

Double holy crap.

“Well, this alarm thing won’t go off, and in a matter of minutes I am going to be hosting a holiday party. I can’t have this thing going off! We’re supposed to be singing god-damn christmas carols! Help! I need help, man! I need this thing to stop to improve my stinking mood. I’m supposed to having fun, and I am NOT having any fun here, Sunshine.”

We finally got it to stop. “I can’t guarantee that it won’t start-up again,” he said.

Holy guaca-crapping-christmas-colored-mole.

“Well, that is the point when I will rip the freaking alarm out of the wall, sir.”

He looks at my husband. A knowing nod passes between them.

This must be male code for “and you have to live with this, huh?”

“Smile for the camera. You’re now part of this night,” I said.

So, I in barefeet and he in his kevlar, had just settled down the long alarm for a nap.

And, what to my wandering eyes should appear, but 80 familiar faces carrying ornamental reindeer.

Where up in the past the alarm rose such a clatter, and now it all behind us, it didn’t seem to matter.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, and stopped all the ringing and turned with a jerk.

Laying his hand upon the side of his Glock, I thought for a moment he was going to whip out his …

Identification.

You guys are so naughty… I just love it!

And, giving a nod, out the door he did flee, this house of freakouts and terminal glee.

He sprang to his patrol car, gave a loud call, “Have a great party, my dear! Oh, Belle of the Ball!”

But, I heard him exclaim as he drove away faster, “If is goes off again, I know a man that’s good in repairing wall plaster!”

…

The party was a great success… and, the alarm did NOT go off again.

Thank you, jeeze Louise.

We drank, and we schmoozed, and some carols we did sing.

But, the alarm stayed silent, not nearly a ring!

Here are some pics from the party!

xoxo

Be well,

Belle

A 78th Annual Writer’s Digest Award Winner

November 30, 2009

OMG…What was I thinking?

(Save it, Baby! Count me in!)

So, it goes like this . . .

Well, I just don’t know how this happened…

I don’t know what I was thinking really…

It seems tonight that I have about 80 people coming over for a parent meeting for my son’s wrestling team.

AND, I have my Annual Holiday Ornament Party Saturday as well… but which I do not know how many people are coming… quite a few.

How could I have possibly booked two large events at my home in the same week?

Am I a glutton for punishment?

Do I like stress and tranquilizers?

How many times do I really want artichoke dip?

These are the questions that I ask myself.

Well, as always, when the coach was looking for somebody to step up to the plate to offer their home for a parent meeting… nobody raised their hands.

So, it’s sort of like I was standing still and the team stepped backwards.

I get to do this by default.

Although, I have to admit that the house looks stunning in preparation for the annual ornament party.

How I can call my annual ornament party and “annual party” is beyond me, since last year I didn’t even put up one single tree… and as I go through the house, I count a mere 18 (not a typo) decorated trees in our home from 10-feet tall on down.

Not to mention all of the doo-dah on the banister and the along stairwell…

or the decorations in the den…

or the decorations in each bathroom…

or… or… or…

That’s a lot of tinsel, baby…

Well, I don’t know what I was thinking but now my brownies are burning and I have to get back to them.

Holy crap… I’ve got a lot of partying to do!

I’ll check in with you after tonight’s devastation… I mean meeting. 😉

xoxo

Be well,

Belle

A 78th Annual Writer’s Digest Award Winner

November 27, 2009

Pumpkin Goo… and The Essence of Thanksgiving! (Pics)

(Save it, Baby! Count me in!)

So, it goes like this . . .

So people want to know what my pumpkin goo is…

Well…

Pumpkin Goo is my interpretation of pumpkin pie without the crust. I bake it for 5 hours until the moisture is almost completely gone, and then I force my family to eat it with Cool Whip and tell them it’s actually pumpkin pie.

I think they bought it…

Can you believe that I got compliments?

I am a horrible cook.

I really don’t even know why I try sometimes, but my husband… my husband is incredible!

Super yum.

I would love for him to cook every single day, not only for the fact that he is an excellent cook but also for the fact that then I wouldn’t have to be in the kitchen.

Boooo-ring.

I can’t help it that I am not a Martha Stewart kind of girl.

Have you ever seen one of Martha Stewart’s television shows?

Like I would want to party with her.

It would be much like sleeping, but only awake… and on a bountiful table of sun-toasted greens and mixed hay on a a bed of sea salted crusties.

Snooze-ville.

So, yeah… my family is used to my own interpretations of many holidays.

I am not bound by tradition.

I draw outside the lines, baby.

Always have, always will.

It is not a mistake that my family loves my Pumpkin Goo since they have been raised on cripy black hot dogs, blue-box mac-and-cheese, and Albertson’s Monday Chicken Meal deals from the market.

Frankly, they crave my Pumpkin Goo since it is the closest thing to home-made food… once a year… 😉

… that is not burnt.

I’m a really great person for love, though.

Got tons of love.

Never out of love.

I am the Queen of Love.

But… cooking… how you say… not so much.

I do believe that Thanksgiving is about Food AND Love.

So… One out of two isn’t bad. A 50% success rate is not too shabby on a day that has some serious cooking in it, right?

That is the essence of Thanksgiving to me… my Pumpkin Goo, and someone else making all the rest of the great food, and lots of love.

Yeah, like ample amounts of love.

Like my mom crying when she says how much she loves us…