Thanksgiving's Full Moon

Things have been mighty busy around here. And a little sad.
There's talk that Chicago might survive without its O, but I'm skeptical.
And 47-year-old Demi Moore showed up on the cover of W looking like this:
Image credit: Huffington Post
(Or did she?)
I tried to remedy things with Gretchen's decadent mashed potatoes recipe, loaded with butter and grated white cheddar cheese. But alas, I skimped on the sage.
Senior moment begat senior moment as I began weighing my options for the new year: start a cupcake business or audition for the Real Housewives of Muskogee?
What better way to settle this debate, I thought, than crash the White House State Dinner? The Prez could give me tips on cupcakes and being on reality TV.
Image credit: Samantha Appleton/White House
Things were really coming together.
The Secret Service turned our car away initially, but I was undeterred. My determination unmatched by any crasher in recent history, I hopped out of the car, waved to Brian Williams, and brazenly blended into a line of black-tie pedestrians.
Mandel Ngan/Agence France-Presse � Getty Images
My sari dazzled even the coldest of those uniformed SS men. Girl friends, I was in!
Exhausted from a night of hobnobbing with Obama and that crazy pit-bull Rahm, I hopped into my trusty Escalade to take a drive, to clear my head. Except it was 2:25 AM.

BAM! Damn! I hit a fire hydrant, followed by the neighbor's tree.
And ever since, the troopers have been knocking. But I'm not talking. No way.

Labels: Random