Wanda Sykes

To A Hammer Everything Is A Nail

IF you haven’t had an apple cider donut or a fire in your fireplace or bought a pumpkin or thought about a Halloween costume or slept in socks yet this fall, I am sad for you because you are missing out and I recommend you remedy that pronto. Unless you live in the tropics in which case, we’ll be in touch in February. We are excellent houseguests.

IF you haven’t had a flu shot, speaking of February, please get one. For all of us. But mostly for the wives, because nothing says, “Oh Hellz to the No” like a husband with the flu.

IF you find that you are thinking quite often in song lyrics, it’s probably time to lighten up and spend more time playing with kids or puppies or eating marshmallows and watching tv.

IF you despair that your kids aren’t going to grow up and be normal, functional members of society, SHHHHH….yes they will. Love on them. Talk to them like they’re people, not puppies, or plants, or idiots, and get them real help if they need it. Don’t forget that they aren’t you. If they don’t go to Harvard, nobody cares. Most people don’t go to Harvard. Or Princeton. Or Yale. Most people are fine and don’t give a flying Wallenda where anyone else went to college.

IF you haven’t laughed so hard that your face hurt this week, you are doing it wrong and should call somebody up doublequick who is guaranteed to give you the jollies.

IF you haven’t cleaned out the bottom of your desk drawers, you know, under the folders and stuff? You should. I did this morning and oh my goodness the garbage and junk and crap and detrititus and refuse of past years and lives even. Good riddance. Sweet liberty.

IF you aren’t paying attention to how hateful our politics have become, you must, because you are otherwise guilty by association.

IF you are paying too careful attention to how hateful our politics have become, you mustn’t because otherwise you will become toxic by association.

IF you get bogged down in the details of your daily life, as my daughter said yesterday, out of the mouths of babes, “Sometimes doing the same thing every day gets, I don’t know SO THE SAME-ISH and not exciting and I don’t look forward to it,” then perhaps you need to try to find something that is a little not the same-ish.

IF you forget that the world is a good place, look around more carefully. There is evidence everywhere.

IF you think that everybody has it better than you, and, coincidentally, you don’t like most of that “everybody,” chances are the problem isn’t with “everybody.” You might just need a better mirror. I’m not much (snort) of a bible girl, but, you know, it says, “Judge not lest you be judged”, not, “Go ahead and judge because everybody’s a big jerk and you’re better than they are anyway and it’s the fault of the (gays/poor people/rich people/black people/illegal aliens/white people/jerks who live next door/women/alcoholics/bloggers/blondes/people who watch Jersey Shore*) that your life sucks.” Get off the cross, we could use the wood.

IF you know Wanda Sykes, could you please bring her to my house for spaghetti?

BONUS TRACK

IF you don’t know why this is here, I don’t know what to tell you…

gratutious Werth.

*This doesn’t apply to crazy mean haters in my book, by the way. Open season on Glenn Beck.

Famous People Who Want To Be My Neighbor

Catchy title, huh?

Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful. And clever with titles.

Brendan Fraser would love to be my neighbor. I just typed “neighbro” by accident, which sort of works, because I can imagine having a sibling-kind of relationship with him. I cannot explain WHY he would want to be my neighbor other than that. I think we’d get along. He’d like my family. He’d hang out on the back porch. He and my husband would help each other trim tree branches and paint stuff. He would like my cooking and frequently filch cookies from the counter before they’ve cooled.

Heather Graham would also love to be my neighbor. My husband thinks this is an excellent idea, by the way, but I suspect his reasons are different from my own. As my friend JennRuss would say, AHEM. Heather would constantly be barging in the back door at all hours of the day and night. At three a.m. she’d show up and ask, “Did I wake you? OH MY GOD! I’m so sorry!!!” And it would be impossible to be annoyed with her because she’s freaking adorable and fun and so Heather Graham-y. Plus she’s be holding a bottle of Vicodin and asking, “I think my dog ate a bunch of these. Is that bad?” Or she’d show up at nine on a Sunday in a sequined mini dress from the night before, asking if she could just sleep for a few hours because she’s locked out again. But could she first borrow some bandaids or maybe some gauze because she tried to break in but cut her thumb. Then we’d end up in the Emergency Room. Heather would often need to borrow a plunger. She’d be a regular last minute Thanksgiving dinner guest.

Joe Scarborough would LOOOOOOVVVEEE to be my neighbor. I, on the other hand, would hate it. He would love it because he would get a huge charge out of coming to my house every damn day and trying to convince me that he’s smarter than I am and that he’s right and I’m wrong. Every once in a while we’d agree on something and I’d think I’d be safe for a while, but he’d only be encouraged and come back with some ridiculous statement about immigration or Rahm Emmanuel and we’d be yelling again and I’d be waving my arms and rolling my eyes so far back in my head that I’d get a migraine and TWGH would just sigh and go in the house (smarter than both of us by miles). Scarborough’s wife would call him on his iphone, “Get the hell home for dinner, Joe. Leave the Dunnings ALONE.” Eventually, he’d just be like Mr. Roper. Always around and making noise, but a familiar presence.

Angelina and Brad. But only because kids love to play at my house and theirs would just roll on in and make themselves at home while Brangelina jet off to make movies somewhere. Hello free babysitting.

Wanda Sykes practically IS my neighbor. And is my goal to get her to Wednesday Spaghetti. Hello Wanda??!! We’ve got a big one coming up! Call me! Wanda and I would be best buddies. She would drop in all the time just to say hi and to drop off her kids when she needed some “me” time. I would do the same with my kids. Soon, my kids would call her “Aunt Wanda,” and tell outrageous stories about the nutty stuff “Aunt Wanda” does. They wouldn’t even know that she’s a big star, because she’s grounded and real and shops at the Acme just like we do. Wanda would come over and just hang out, and before we knew it, it would be midnight and we’d have killed a few bottles of red wine and our stomachs would hurt from laughing so much. I know I could count on Wanda to pick my kids up if I’m running late, and she knows that if she’s out of town on business, and her pipes burst, I’ll make sure the plumber comes and everything is fixed up by the time she gets home. Because that’s what neighbors do.

This is only Part the First of my list, because I can’t finish it now. I left my wallet at Target and have to go retrieve it. I’m blaming adult onset ADD. Or dementia. Or the fact that I’m back at work after the best summer ever and am so depressed about it that I’m contemplating taking the dog’s sedatives to get through the day.