Well, when you have your neighborhood Christmas party sponsored by Abita beer and Santa happens to be one of your favorite neighbors, who happens to be a plastic surgeon, you can imagine the requests. This is a long post for me – but worth the read!!!

Let me back up here (tire screech sound effect). I have busted my proverbial butt all year long banging away at my keyboard to entertain you ala Dave Barry meets Erma Bombeck meets Greta. My goal was to gain a huge following and maybe things are starting to work (for no lack of effort). I can’t thank my readers enough for being out there in cyberland, because I do write for you (feel the warm fuzzies coming through your monitor can’t ya?).

Anyhoo, if you have been reading the past couple of months, you realize that I have had more days than not that I felt like something Chulo the Stupor Dog dragged out of the litter box (ewww). I have had many of you e-mail me wondering what the heck is going on with me (thanks for that – means so much). Well, yours truly is going under the knife January 2nd with my pre-op December 26th. Yep, those lady bits and pieces that I no longer need, have made their own decision that they need to go (sorry male readers, don’t mean to scare you off – stay please). Buhleeve you-me, I am looking forward to it – they are causing nothing but trouble.

Well, when the Princess of Positive (me) does anything, she is all about saving time and being efficient. After all, she is a professional organizer too (shameless self-promotion). Like when I bring my car in for an oil change, why not rotate the tires? I am not a vain or selfish person – I repeat – I am not a vain or selfish person. I work with what I have and whateva. My husband loves me just the way I am – gravity flaws and all (what a champ he is). So, with the pending surgery around the corner and a mother who says that as a gift she would like to pay to have a complete engine overhaul, what is the Princess of Positive to do? Do I want some lagniappe (yes I know what that word means now) while I am laying under the knife getting a necessary surgery? Jury is still out and of course that would mean dragging my neighbor/plastic surgeon to work on January 2nd.

So last night, after all the kids were done asking for Wii (which Santa so kindly told them that he was having trouble filling that request this year), the ladies took their turn on his lap. You guessed it , we all asked for boob jobs! Those in my neighborhood who don’t really know me or read me “yet” (they better because I could be blogging about them) probably thought I was drunk when I made my requests. I think I only had 3 beers in a 5 hour time span – nope – they got the real sober Greta. Here is what I asked for:

1. a boob job (just a gravity boost otherwise I’ll have to go to the Bra Genie (who lives on my block)
2. a mini tummy tuck (only a couple of extra stitches after the necessary work is done – no increased recovery time or cutting)
3. a neighborhood without blow up lawn ornaments (and yes, if you have one – I still love you)
4. another Christmas party just like this next year (this our first Christmas in Louisiana)

Things I forgot to ask Santa for:
1. world domination with my tiara and a mommy cape on
2. my own local radio or TV show
3. my own column in the Times-Picayune (who continue to ignore me-grrrrrr)
4. another year as wonderful as 2007
5. the health and happiness of all my friends and family (just found out my dad was mis-diagnosed with Alzheimers & will get better)
6. my parents to move down here

I already know I won’t be able to post on Sunday, please go back and poke around the archives. I have another party sponsored by Abita Beer tonight and will spending my Sunday at the New Life Tabernacle Church in Metairie running a Soldiers’ Angels care package drive.

Did I mention that I was the “grown-up” assigned to the neighborhood sleigh duty last night? We had a huge platform driven around the neighborhood picking up people. I was the bee-otch assigned to making the kids sit on their butts (this was last minute job). I had to pull out my old PE teacher voice to have the kiddos sing the Christmas Carols “correctly.” The irony of the Jewish girl who can’t carry a tune trying to get the kids to sing Frosty – and none of the kids knew the words!!!! Off to strangle the Laundry Fairy!