Please, Do Rain On My Parade

The stunning musical theatre hall of fame melody Don't Rain On My Parade, from Isobel Lennart's Funny Girl, featuring Barbra Streisand's spectacular voice, will make any heart want to take up a flag, march or ride on a float. If you do, I am afraid I cannot be your friend. Parades are society's worst forms of public torture and I, as a responsible citizen, will not support such cruelty.

I would rather attend a funeral any day than go to a parade. Funerals celebrate the lives of deceased loved ones with song and praise. Parades celebrate the lives of the living with hurling candy and horse droppings.

The numb bum, product of sitting uncomfortably for hours watching ancient couples polka dancing in pastel fringe on passing floats, is only one of the many negative side effects of parade goers. A sweaty brow and a cherry sunburn accompany the numb bum in the Parade Watchers Package.

If you do choose the low road and attend a parade, please keep your eyes peeled for the large balloon cartoon charaters. Though the gigantic caricature might seem colorful and a short term shade source, these monsterous choking hazards, if set free, could be devastating to migratory birds and passing aircraft.

Ms Streisand, you might have had it right when you sang about the bruising life candy and the sun being a burning ball of butter. But, please, do rain on my parade. That way I won't have to attend the inhumane community affliction of any more parades.

Sunburn: The Other Red Meat

I love meat. When the craving for a steak hits me at 2 a.m., I must bend to the urge. Perhaps it is a primal instinct to kill? A sticky iron deficiency situation? Or I could be entering the third trimester of my pregnancy? Just like many hankerings, my meat fixation is unexplainable, irrational and consuming.

This need for red meat overcame me the other day. It was coupled with a second desire: to sun bathe. In a moment ignorant of logic, I stripped down and began grilling a juicy steak. Barbecue grills are very hot metal objects, much like the molten balls of flaming gas that pop off sizzling meat. Between the heat of the beef, the BBQ and the blazing sun, my body became a roasted chunk of charred flesh.

I do not recommend BBQ-ing in the nude. I cannot endorse this act of culinary adventurism. The products of this unfortunate event were a perfectly browned tenderloin, a lobster red body, and one of the most awkward situations on a date.

My skin was beginning the annual post burn flaking process when my date asked if she could peel my skin off. I was startled, confused and shocked by her proposal and simply staring at her. She took this silence as the green light and eagerly began striping my body of its top layer of skin.

This is not socially acceptable.

I may have bizarre cravings for delicious meats and to have the tanned sun-kissed look, but peeling a person's skin on a first date is a desire that should never be shared or acted upon.

The Rapunzel Dilema

"Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down thy golden hair," has been chanted at every child's bedside by weary eyed mothers since the turn of the 18th century. Long, thick, beautiful hair has been given princess status now for over 300 years. Even pop goddess, Lady Gaga, paid tribute to the lush locks of the towered dame when she dressed as Rapunzel in her 2009 Monster Ball Tour version of "Paparazzi". My own desire to run my fingers through an entangled mane of hair follicles was completely destroyed when I saw a woman with such hair exiting a public restroom.

The little voice inside my head questioned, "What doe she do with that while she poops?"

From that moment on I became a supporter of the short female hair cut. I do not want to run my fingers through any hair that has been brushed along the backside of a toilet or has had the possibility of being dragged through fecal matter. Rapunzel, I do not care how golden thy hair may be, please, cut it!

Adopt-A-Dwarf Foundation

Thank you for calling Adopt-A-Dwarf Foundation, this is Thelma speaking. Here at Adopt-A-Dwarf, we seek to fulfill the dreams of individuals with smaller than normal statures and those average sized Americans who wish to adopt said little folk.

Today, we have three options of compact companions for your viewing pleasure.

Please press the #1 button on your telephone key pad if you are interested in our sturdy Mountain Midget.

Thank you for pressing #1. The Mountain Midget is a pocket sized champion of the hills. With sturdy legs, the Mountain Midget is perfect for long backpacking adventures and carrying heavy equipment. Backpack not included.

Please press the #2 button on your telephone key pad if you are interested in our exotic African American Midget.

Thank you for pressing #2. The African American Midget is a perfectly proportioned person built for display. With flashy or elaborate jewelry, the African American Midget is a perfect fit for those seeking a teensy-weensy conversation starter. Bling Bling not included.

Please press the #3 button on your telephone key pad if you are interested in our international Irish Midget.

Thank you for pressing #3. The Irish Midget is an undersized ginger friend for all occasions. Often mistaken for a leprechaun, the Irish Midget is known for being lucky, liking potatoes and performing traditional Riverdance routines. Jig not included.

These three options of lovable flesh nuggets can be yours by simply filling out an on-line application. Your application will be reviewed by members of the Adopt-A-Dwarf Foundation and Little People of America board members. If selected, you will become a candidate to making a little person's dreams come true.

Thank you for calling Adopt-A-Dwarf.