My poor nephew Zach. Last year he stumbled upon a video of Santa being shot on Christmas Eve, and here he is discovering that his gingerbread house has gone into foreclosure. I fear if Santa doesn't get him that Playstation he's dying for, the only bailout he'll need is from jail. Here's wishing everybody a Mele Kalikimaka!

Me showin' some ass. I was reading through a travel journal I kept on a trip around the country my family took when I was 10 and thought I'd share a few excerpts: "We went to McDonald's for breakfast. I had hotcakes & sausage." "We went to a nearby KOA campground to their drug store and I got a lot of comics." "The Grand Canyon was beautiful. The shades of rock were pretty colors. The length could make you sick." "The Petrified Forest was nothing like we expected. All it was was wood everywhere, no forest or trees." "We were right next to a waterslide. We went on it ...

I thought the following story was kind of funny in a twisted sort of way. If this law had been in effect when I was younger, there's no question I would have spent my teen years as a ward of the state: Nine siblings are among 11 children as old as 17 who were left at Omaha hospitals Wednesday under Nebraska's unique and new safe haven law, which allows caregivers to abandon babies and teenagers alike at hospitals without fear of prosecution. (Full story)

I know it's a little late to be sharing yuletide tales and I usually avoid second-hand stories, but I love these too much not to put them in print. The first one occurred on Christmas Eve as I was en route to my sister's house for the holidays. She was busy preparing for Christmas and her two kids were a bit rambunctious so she went to the NORAD website where they track Santa's travels and set the computer to play videos of the various places he'd already visited that night. A little while later, terrified Zach, 6, ran into the kitchen and cried, "They shot Santa!" My sister asked him ...

If I'm ever asked whether I want to live or die and I can't give a decipherable answer, put me down. I don't care if someone thinks the fact that I winked when George Clooney was on the tv is a sign, if I can't say or write "I wanna live!", pull the plug, hold a pillow over my face, stick a little sumpin' sumpin' in my IV - just let me go.

My mom wants to create a "Where's Waldo" book for my nephew by scanning an actual Waldo page then digitally superimposing my nephew as Waldo. But she's concerned she could get in trouble for copyright infringement. While I respect the high moralities of my parents, they're both retired now and I say it's time to live on the edge a little bit and finally throw caution to the wind: light up a doobie, give a cop the finger, go to a swingers party, get arrested, tell their younger daughter to "fuck off." You know, do all the things they've probably always wanted to do. When you reach a point in life where your actions can't really screw your future, why play ...

I have a good relationship with my parents but one area of discord over the years has revolved around Mom's annual Christmas card. It's always a time-consuming creative endeavor that's sent to everybody who has voluntarily (and sometimes not) provided my parents with their home address. The problem I have is that the little blurb on me never seems to portray me accurately, or at least, not in the best light possible. For example, one year when I'd traveled overseas to entertain military troops and was writing for a national magazine, my portion only mentioned that I'd bartended for Wolfgang Puck. Last year's card said that I made frequent trips to Arizona to see my nephews (i.e. Jenée has no life ...

This is the first Christmas I've missed with my nephews and I'm pretty bummed. The older one, Zach, and I always track Santa's travels on the Norad website then leave cookies and carrots for Santa and his reindeer. I'm worried he won't believe in Santa much longer because he's closing in on the wise old age of five and has a lot of questions. Last year he wondered how big fat Santa gets down the chimney. This year Zach was anxious to sit on Santa's lap at school but his dad refused to wait in line so he said they could head over to the mall and meet Santa. Most kids his age would accept that without question, but young ...

I had lunch with Dad yesterday and he mentioned he had to pick Mom up from the hospital later in the afternoon. "Mom's in the hospital?" I asked. He answered, "Oh, thought I told everybody. She's been in since we got back from our trip." Nice to know how easily I'm forgotten in the information loop. It reminds me of the Curb Your Enthusiasm episode where Larry's mom died and nobody notified him because they didn't want to ruin his trip to New York. Then they told him how great the funeral was! Hilarious. Whether Dad not telling me was accidental or intentional, I really can't blame him. The last time Mom was in the hospital I didn't know about it for several ...

Today started out kind of stressful for me when I read the headline that there had been a serious earthquake in Beijing. Mom emailed us yesterday saying she and Dad are where else? Beijing. That's about right. Two native Los Angelinos visit China and within 24 hours the area experiences its worst earthquake in 50 years. It actually wasn't an enormous quake. At 5.7 on the Richter scale, people in L.A. probably wouldn't even stop what they're doing, but it caused quite a lot of damage over there, even collapsing some buildings. Knowing Mom's track record of injuries in foreign countries, I knew it was quite possible a little jolt could send her hurling to the pavement. I spent about half ...

I'm such a dumbass. I didn't realize until last night that today's Thanksgiving. The thing is, I don't live by a calendar so I never know what day it is. I can keep track of the holidays that always fall on a specific day but not the ones that fall on some randomly determined day to suit the Holiday Decider's vacation schedule. I'm usually clued into the irregular holidays by the fact that the bank's closed or I didn't get mail or traffic in Hollywood was particularly busy late the night before. Though sometimes several days have passed before I wonder, "Did I miss President's Day?" Thanksgiving's always been easy to remember because the family gets together and there are various phone calls ...

The folks are vacationing in Asia right now and they send email recaps of their days. What a difference those recaps are from the ones I receive from friends on vacation. My parents are up at the crack of dawn while my friends go to bed at the crack of dawn. My parents visit botanical gardens while my friends visit beer gardens. My parents vomit from local viral infections while my friends vomit from local, well, beer gardens. Mom and Dad's remedy for illness is to skip the day's tours and rest while my friends' remedy is to switch to weed for the day. Very different trips indeed. Most of the pictures my parents send are scenery shots. I don't know why ...

My four-year-old nephew got a Power Rangers costume for Halloween that he's been wearing for the last month or so. He has no idea how fortunate he is to have a costume he can enjoy for more than one night. When I was a kid, Dad used to take us to Thrifty's where we had about 10 minutes to decide which $1.99 piece of splendor it would be that year. I don't even know if they still make those costumes, the ones with the hard plastic mask and painted apron. Those costumes brought a lot of excitement to Halloween. Would this be the year I suffocate trying to breathe out the pin-sized hole? Would the slightest spark to the apron ...