Hellidays - When Bad Holidays Happen To Good People

Over Christmas in 1979, our little Scottish terrier “Rags” was sick.

She just wasn’t herself. Now back then, none of us knew that chocolate was bad for a dog. And I used to take her to Baskin Robbins with me and get her her own scoop in a cup.

Little did I know I was killing “Ragsie” with Chocolate Fudge Brownie.

So, on New Year’s Eve, my mother made her usual buffet. Wearing a housedress she set out candles, shrimp with cocktail sauce, a punch bowl with Vernor’s and vanilla ice cream (called a Boston cooler, but why? Vernor’s was made in Detroit. We lived in Detroit.) Chips and dip. Assorted cold cuts. Crackers. Bread. The “works.”

Then Rags started vomiting bile. After a couple of hours, she died — at two... read more

You know how you look back into your personal history and inevitably find cringe-inducing moments? Well, here's mine. I went to my best friend's house party on New Year's Eve and within short order met the brother of a friend. Within about three seconds, we were locking lips. And continued to do so in every room, in every chair, on every sofa. We must have made out for the better part of three hours in front of all the guests. Oddly, I don't even remember the kiss at midnight. I was probably bruised and bleeding by that point. The kicker is that I went on a date with the guy about a week later and was totally turned off by his junk-ridden sub-compact car filled with fast food cartons, dirty clothes, books, tools, you name it. Ugh. How coul... read more