The devil's frequent flier mile account is INSANE.

I've lived in Arizona for... sixteen years now. That first year it hit 122 degrees and the airport shut down because the tarmac was melting and the landing gear kept getting stuck. The devil was vacationing in Scottsdale at the time but when it got too hot to walk barefoot by the pool he kicked a baby in the face and shipped out to Key West. (The devil is surprisingly tenderfooted.)

My parents have coped with the searing heat (and the wrenching pain of having been ripped from BeachFront PerfectTown and dropped into the godforsaken desert because of a job that would inevitably have my father gumming baby food at three in the morning for his ulcer, putting company payroll on his AmEx, and generally begging for a sweet merciful stroke) by taking every possible opportunity to announce how warm we are at all times. They have found this to be a particularly hilarious game this time of year, and have been known to actually get in the pool in January so that Mom can call the relatives with a hypothermic hand and announce in a weak, shaky (yet victorious and haughty) voice that they're swimming.

Until recently I was of the opinion that these condescending weather jokes weren't funny. That we all have our highs and lows, as it were, and it just wasn't that sporting to rub someone else's "low" nose in our "high".

But I've changed my mind. It was 81 degrees here on Christmas Day. And if it wasn't 81 degrees where you are, I'm sorry, that's fucking funny. Please see the following list of weather jokes for proof that Arizona winters are inherently comical, and that my parents, ulcers and all, were right all along.

1) Q: "How many Minnesotans does it take to plug in a car to keep the engine from freezing into a giant block of worthless ice?"
A: "What?"

2) "Knock knock."
"Who's there?"
"Tank top."
"That's awesome."

3) Q: "Is it hot in here to you? Do you mind if I turn on the air?"
A: "Oh my god, please."

4) Q: "What's long, made out of yarn, and you wear it around your neck to keep warm?"
A: "Flip flops!"

If you don't think these are funny it's only because you're freezing right now and you can't see humor through the pain. Maybe reread in like August when you've thawed out and when the devil is at the Phoenician sucking back a margarita in his Tevas and when I'm lying on my stomach on a bed of ice, praying for death.

It's A Foolproof Plan If There Aren't Any Cops Around.

I went into this organic co-op yesterday because I had $73 on me and a hankering to buy a bunch of shit I don't need and won't eat, and also because I was wearing a pair of pants that are too long and sort of "spare utility" looking, and I hate to waste that social bling at the Safeway. So I tote my cart full of organic lotion (made with pure bark! seed! oil. extract. um, gland.) and magic homeopathic water up to the cashier, and after the cashier has made up prices for everything and ripped the cash money from my hand, he looks at all my shit at the end of the counter and he looks back at me and asks casually, "Oh, do you need a bag?" And it's made very clear here by the cashier's raised eyebrow hooks that the only people who actually accept the offer of the bag are weak Escalade drivers who leave all of their bathroom faucets running while they shop and who throw dirty styrofoam and lit cigarettes into National forests on their way home.

"Noooooo," I admonish. A bag? Kill a panda? What? "I'll just..." (and I start to gather up my roots and twigs and shit) "I've got all these pockets, I can just... sort of... wait!" It hit me. Like a genius brick. "I AM ON A BIKE."

"Ohhhh!" Eyebrow hooks nod and wobble in understanding and acceptance. A bike! A bike trumps everything. You could run over a baby on a bike and everything's cool because that baby was probably just going to grow up eating meat and voting against the legalization of marijuana anyway.

"Here you go!" And he tosses me a bag. I emptied fourteen pockets of crap into my bag and walked outside... head held high, car keys smartly hidden, smiling at Begging Dreadlock Kid, nodding at "Hey, We Told You To Keep It Outside" Tarot Music Loud Singing Lady, just enjoying my cool pants and my two dollars and my bag, and then I stole some dude's bike and rode home.

I know I would.

If everyone’s sitting around telling semi-embarrassing stories (the time you had to run naked through the hotel lobby to get to the bar... the time your mom asked you- in front of company- to please rinse out the tub the next time you decide to razor-bald your privates), and you spontaneously decide to blurt out that your husband once pecked a man on the lips? Maybe think that through. Because if the reason your husband did that was to get you and another girl to make out topless? He’ll probably give that up.

Happy Holidays, everybody!

This holiday season, my office is different from every other office in America in that we've decided to-- get this-- collect food and necessities for the less fortunate. It's an astounding concept, I know. Luckily I work with philanthropic, creative genius, "think outside the parallel lines" kind of people. So while you and your office folk are sitting around shredding cash and denting canned goods, we're making shit happen.

That's a big box, people. And it's almost one-fifth full. It's only been sitting in the breakroom for three weeks... Imagine the wounds we could salve if we let it sit there for seven or eight years!

Oh yes. That's right. Benadryl. And Zantac. Those are vendor display size, bitch, and they're bigger than any pussy "stomach pumpable overdose" size they sell at Costco. In addition to the do-it-yourself meth lab, please note the marshmallow-flavored microwave popcorn. Does the church still appoint saints? Because goddamn.

I know you can't tell what the thirty million tiny tubes are full of, but I'm happy to report that it's none other than Gold Bond Powder Lotion. And it's SPF 15, as if you needed that additional kick in the face. Anyone with a sample-sized body part that's both itchy AND burn prone? Oh, you can get up off your knees, my friend. (There used to be five cans of edible food in the bottom of the box, but we had a pot luck hit a bean snag.)

Not JUST Chapstick... that's the MOISTURIZING FORMULA! My original intention here was to take a picture of the broken multi-pack from which someone had snagged some tubes, but unfortunately by the time I got there that particular pack had just been stolen in its entirety. Moisturizing, though. It's hard to throw stones.

In other news, I won the office Chili Cookoff today. And with the nineteen dollars and seventy-six cents that I won from the "Angel Tree" pool, I treated myself to an okay bottle of wine.

Oh, "K" as in "Knight"!

I just listened to a voicemail from this woman was trying to spell a name, and she goes, "Last name is 'Korte', 'K' as in... 'Karol'?... no, wait... 'K' as in what? (long pause)... I guess 'K' as in 'Kathy'."

Very helpful. Thank you.