Meet Debbie. She’s living that yacht life in 1982. She’s a divorcé making the most of her financial independence. Her yacht is named “Baker Street” so you could say her sax life is pretty good. 😎🎷 Debbie loves the smooth sounds of Steely Dan, and worships at the altar of Christopher Cross. She prefers to snort her coke in the galley to the sweet sound of Ambrosia, and limits herself to smoking 15 Virginia Slims a day - she’s come a long way, baby. Debbie is an absolute sucker for a skinny, tan man in a captain’s hat, aviators and a shirt unbuttoned dangerously far. Only short shorts will do - legs nicely toned from days spent on the racquetball court. The best that she can do is fall in love. Debbie is setting sail on her love boat with her lead deckhand tomorrow…make a wish, baby. TAKE HER HOME!
Meet Candi. She has been telling everybody since October 15th (casually, in passing, to everybody she comes in contact with) that she is done with her Christmas shopping. It’s almost as if she doesn’t realize that this will elicit praise and envy…almost. But the little sniff she makes at the end of her sentence is her poker tell. It gives her away that she’s just knowingly bragged and is anticipating a wave of self-satisfaction as the recipient dutifully gushes over Candi and her superior life choices.
Meet Mrs. Claws. You’re much more acquainted with her husband, of course, with his miraculous trip to each child on earth every Christmas. His distribution of that perfect gift that was exactly what was requested - the delight contained in the stockings Christmas morning. Oh, isn’t he exalted!
Meet Tina. She gets triggered easily, but she means well. Lately she’s been trying to clean up her language - for the kids. She’s learning how unsatisfying “gosh” and “darn” are. “Rats” is just completely off the table, and she’s on the fence about whether or not it’s ok to say “crap”.
