I gave $20 one time to some nice kids at the Chandler Library who were working for the same organization you work for and were trying to raise funds and who didn’t trick me into donating. It literally pains me to see you everyday during lunch, standing in the same spot, tricking people and then again after work, standing in the same spot, tricking people. At first I felt bad for you because you were old and I thought you were wearing the vest because you were slow moving and didn’t want to get hit by a car in Old Town Scottsdale while toiling long hours to raise money for the protection of animals, but now I realize it’s all part of your plan. And I don’t like it one bit. I’m not sure if there’s some sort of competition going on for the person who can gather the most donations or what, but I don’t like your tactics. I’m picturing a plaque with whatever your name is (I bet it’s Herman McJenkins) on it over and over and over because your lying ways maintain your spot as the number one donation-getter.

I don’t mean to be so, well, mean but I don’t like being duped. Good luck in your endeavors of trickery. Just wait until Thursday when you stop me (because you apparently have Alzheimer’s and never remember that I work in the building nearby and see you each day). When you tell me to STOP and tell me that I DIDN’T SEE THAT SIGN OVER THERE, I’m going to say, “Yes, I did see a sign over there and it says MERCHANTS OF TRICKERY NOT ALLOWED ON PREMISES!”

Good day, Sir.

Saturday night is the moment I’ve been anticipating for at least the last 10-15 years of my life. No more will the witticisms of Bea Arthur be contained within my television set. I will see her and her shoulderpadded sequined jacket live and in person. She will sing. She will tell jokes. She will make that face where she raises her eyebrow and sets her mouth to punctuate a sarcastic remark. I love you, Bea!

In San Antonio, we have a Ripley’s Believe It or Not! and an accompanying wax museum (located across from the Alamo, of course). My favorite part is the haunted portion of the wax museum which warns pregnant women and epileptics not to take the tour because of strobe lights and lasers and SCARY WAX FIGURES FROM 1975 REPRESENTING MOVIES THAT NOBODY EVEN REMEMBERS. Which also adds to the excellence, naturally.

We also have the oldest US amusement park built specifically for children- Kiddie Park. It has all these random outdated rides that are like Lincoln Logs compared to Xbox. For instance, metal planes with machine guns, boats that float in a dirty water tank, a bus that travels in a small circle, etc. The rides are all smushed together and there are picnic tables for birthday parties there. It’s all run down and trashy and only costs about 15 cents to get in, but it’s so great that it hasn’t been torn down and looks EXACTLY the same as it did 30, 40, etc. years ago.

For those of you who have lived here for a number of years, are there any places you used to frequent as a child that are a) still standing and open for patronage or b)partially torn down but creepy/interesting to check out or c)no longer standing but that you wish you could visit?

If there are two things I despise, they are thievery and violence. And if I’m allowed to add two more things to the list they are laziness and a lack of creativity. I also despise Andie MacDowell.

If I had low self esteem and was down on my luck and decided to take to attempting to rob people in parking lots, I’d probably try these much more creative and less violent contraptions:

Cheese grater attached to the end of a rope (I would swing the cheese grater menacingly over my head until the mere thought of a cheese grater slapping upside someone’s face would force the intended victim to drop their wallet and run.)

Darts with rubber tips (I would threaten to toss these directly at someone’s face, and even though the tips would be rubber, everyone knows it’s all fun and games until someone loses an eye. This would also be done in hopes that the intended victim would drop their wallet and run.)

Cats but real mean cats (I would pen 8 or 9 cats up together all day in a small carrier and then release them all at once upon the intended victim. Nothing is scarier than a bunch of mean cats that are real cranky and running straight at you. Hopefully, I would have trained the cats to pick up the wallet and bring it back to me after the intended victim dropped it.)

And how about the machete robber only being successful enough to get $30 and some Denny’s take-out after all that machete wielding? Moron.

For instance, Fiesta Mall ranks near the bottom, as it is filled mostly with preteen gangsters, wannabe strippers and the elderly. I can wear mismatched clothes and no makeup and shop freely. Only Arizona Mills ranks lower on the ratings scale. I mean, have you smelled the JC Penny outlet? So disappointing. Chandler Fashion Center ranks a little higher, as I feel my clothes need to match and I need a modicum of makeup that is well applied so that the ladies at the Clinique counter don’t gossip about my poor use of eyeshadow as I pass by. Scottsdale Fashion Square is higher still, where my purse must at least be coordinated with my outfit and my hair in place, else I get stared down as if I shouldn’t be within 20 feet of a Louis Vuitton. Biltmore Fashion Park guarantees that I will need to look clean and classic, as if I stepped out of a Banana Republic catalogue (because even in my comparisons I shop at the discount store instead of Prada) or appropriately funky (but not skanky funky) like Betsey Johnson.

I need to create my own mall. A mall that is comprised entirely of a giant room with piles of clothes just lumped all over everywhere and electronics stacked in pyramids and assorted kinds of makeup tossed in giant bins and shoes tossed willy-nilly. And to get in to the mall you have to change into the required uniform which is a zip up one piece grey jumpsuit and you’ll be provided with slippers and a shopping cart. And someone will sell hotdogs and soft drinks and maybe pretzels but definitely not ponytails of fake hair.