Kathy, Nice try, but didn’t that all happen? I mean, I seem to remember events unfolding exactly as you say…except, of course, for the OBVIOUSLY fictional part – palm trees in New Jersey!

Sheri, You’re one wild and crazy chick! Love it!

Dawn, You’re right, as usual

Killa, Hmmm…it *could* happen. I have no fear of using an AK-47, but I am terrified of cockroaches. LOL

Thomas, aka Sr Bridgette. I knew your wit would not disappoint! You’re one wild and crazy chick just like Sheri I really did choke on a Corona at the “slutty grandmother … Original Teeth Jim” line. O.M.G.

Mother Superior, Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa!

Carol, thanks! Another Adams fan!

Denise, getting older is a bitch but as long as you hang out with people older than you, you’ll always feel young.

Diane, I don’t think I’d be dancing after the Grouse Grind! I may “only” be 42, but I might require CPR by the end if I don’t get in better shape!

Jasia, my Polish princess – LOL! Great one! I DEFINITELY will if you will.

But oh man, you gave him his just desserts when you clocked him with your beach bag! I still remember laughing so hard I felt like I was going to be ill. You are my champion Donna!

The best part of that day though was when I dared you to get a tattoo of the Polish Eagle on your ankle and you waltzed right in to the tatt parlor and said, “I will if you will!” We both walked out with matching Polish flags on one ankle and Polish eagles on the other. What a pair we were… a pair of Polish princesses!

We fit right in when we went to dinner at the Polish Palace on the beach. Pierogi, kielbasa, kapusta, and nalishniki… what a feast! And toasted with good Polish vodka of course! Absolutely divine!

Sto Lat moja Polska siostra!

Happy birthday Donna and many happy returns!

Of course, we took the gondola down – no sense wasting all our energy getting fit – but then, remember, we put on our silver dancing shoes and headed off to the Gastown clubs for the night. Those were the days, eh?

Happy 42nd!

Just wanted to let you know that I have received your request for help.

What Sister Bridget failed to mention was that they had been with me earlier that evening at Jack’s Rodeo Bar and Grill. You’d have been proud of the way Sister Donna held on to that mechanical bull. Sure, she was dressed like a slutty grandmother, but man oh man, she can ride like a cowboy!

When Sister Bridget finished her 6th glass of wine, she gave it a go as well. Like me, she had her ass handed to her by that bull also.

It’s because I am a good Catholic girl, I am enclosing 3 “Get out of Hell Free” cards for you to use as you see fit.

Praise the Lord, that the Pope has sanction the use of “indulgencies” once again for those of us who have a hard time following the rules.

Hugs and Kisses to all the Sista’s back home.
XXXXXX OOOOOOO

How do you solve a problem like bailing Sister Donna Matrix out of jail?

First, I want to confess that going out for a night of “living” was not my idea. You simply said to tag-along with Sisters Bea Attitude and Delta Goodhand as they went out to dinner for Donna’s birthday. And so I did.

Second, how was I to know she wasn’t going to wear her habit? No one told me it was Casual Friday and didn’t I feel like a fool! But at least I was dressed decent – not like Sister Donna. She looked like someone’s slutty grandmother from Boca Raton – it was an outfit only a “woman of a certain age” would wear to Unlimited Shrimp Night at Red Lobster in the hopes that she could eat all she wanted and still get noticed by Original-Teeth Jim.

Third, I had no idea that was a police officer. Nor did Sister Donna. We had stopped at In N Out Burger, not far from the best little convent in Texas, and we were eating while parked in the Rambler (the one with the bumper sticker that says “Honk if you live in quiet desperation” not the “Kiss me, I’m a nun” sticker). Sister Bea swore she saw a Peeping Tom in the bushes so I told Sister Donna, “Show him your cross!” So Sister Donna said, “Stop or I’ll shoot your _____s off!” and in front of her was a gun! A nun with a gun!

Fourth, the police officer in the bushes didn’t think it was funny, obviously. He also thought we were coming home from some fancy dress ball, since I, of course, still had my nun drag on (again, no one told me).

So there you have it Mother. I was finally able to convince the guard at the jail that I was truly one of the Holy Sisters so she let me write this missive which I hope finds its way to you in time. If you can’t rustle up the money for bail, please contact one Sheri Fenley – I’ve been told she still has some “get out of jail” free cards or something like that.

Yours truly,

Sister Bridgette of Madison County

It had started in this seedy little outdoor excuse for a watering hole. No drinks with umbrellas for us. No, we were hardened (make that crusty) journalists, and rock gut had been the making of many a journalist. So we drank the rock gut. The first one tasted like the inside of a dirty toilet, but by the sixth they were beginning to grow on us. Well something was growing on us. God, was that hair on our chests.

It was midnight and still 112 degrees. Five short hours before we were to take off in an air conditioned tank, one each. Just us and four sweaty men in uniform. It couldn’t be all bad, and we would be the first. The first women to be embedded with the troops in an armed conflict.

We dragged our sorry butts back to our rooms. What a dump! The newspapers had sprung for deluxe accommodations. Donner was packin’ an AK47 for shooting the cockroaches off the ceiling. She never missed. The rancid corpses of yesterday’s cockroaches littered the floor, that and chunks of the ceiling.

Donner had left the TV on. From the tiny black black box Gene Kelly was Singin’ In The Rain. Yes, singing twenty-four hours a day, continuous loop, on the local station. Donner didn’t seem to mind.

I said goodnight and headed for my room to get what little sleep I could in the time left. It had been a great night! The best! I dozed off to the sounds of gunfire from Donner’s room.

The next thing I heard was that annoying demanding ringing noise. Damn, the alarm already!

I banged on Donner’s door (blog). Wake up Donner, it’s your birthday wish!

Happy Birthday from Killa.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU, HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR DONNNAAA, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!