Legal Advice

Look out for the dog bone!



Dear SJG,

I'm seriously considering taking my pooch to court, after I went boom in the kitchen, on an account of his dumb ol' doggy bone.  One minute I was up, the next I was down.  Splat!  I'm pretty sure he left it on the floor, just to eff with me.  If Mr. Don't-Look-At-Me doesn't apologize by this afternoon, I plan to take action.  Can you recommend a good attorney? 

Thanks,

Klutzy in Sherman Oaks 

Dear Klutzy,

I hear the law firm of Barker, Barker & Woofstein is excellent. 

You're welcome,

the SJG

Oh, so it's my fault? 

What Old Friends Talk About

"Mean people live longer than nice people."  This was just one of many topics we covered at lunch yesterday.  The six of us, friends since junior high, got together to celebrate the birthday of Lucy.  (All the names have been changed to protect the daughter-in-laws who still have a few issues to sort out.) When we were young, we used to talk about guys.  Now that we're older, naturally, we talk about death.

The Hang

Last night, hubby and I watched "Troubadours," a new documentary custom-made for old music fans who never tire of nostalgia.  It's all about the 70's music scene at Doug Weston's infamous club on Santa Monica Blvd.  I had a lump in my throat, a tear in my eye, a crazy flashback to that tender time when I fell head-over-heels in love with the music of Carole King and JT, Elton John and Joni Mitchell, Jackson Browne and Laura Nyro, Loggins and Messina and Tom Waits.  And of course, Mr. Bob Dylan. "Troubadours" sent me on a sentimental journey.

The Royal Yarmulke

Put the hammer down, Charles.  It's all good!

With the Royal Wedding ever-so-soon, the SJG is proud to announce two important hires:  my sons will carry my veil, whether they like it or not, as I walk down the aisle to the special throne reserved just for me.  I fully expect to be seated between Elton John and Kanye.  If not, I may throw a royal tantrum.  You have no idea how hard it's been teaching Prince William a bissel Yiddish.  His "ch" and "ts" sounds are a shanda, people.  Nothing but tsouris for the SJG.  Plus, groomy's a little sensitive about his receding hairline and bald spot.  Quite the touchy subject among those of us intimately involved in the Big Freakin' Day, or BFD, as we insiders like to call it.  Not to worry.  Once again, the SJG has solved another royal headache.  Found a handsome yarmulke to boost his pride, cover his keppy, and signal his conversion to Judaism with subtly and grace.

Winning: The Cologne

Jimmy Fallon as You-Know-Who.  Winning.  Duh.

Make Me A Match

Dear SJG,
Some crazy dude on TV keeps ranting about tiger blood, fire-breathing fists and healing himself in an hour.  He lives in a big mansion and has lots of cars.  Does the newly-formed SJG Internet Dating Service have this man in its octagon?  I'm dying to become his third goddess.  Can you arrange?
Just curious,
Witchy
Dear Witchy,
No eff'n way.
You're welcome,
the SJG

Parental Advisory

This morning's press release from Santa Cruz: "In a shocking turn of events, The K.I.D.S. have decided to change their name to Golden Age due to concerns over originality. The EP is coming later today on mediafire and will be available via Facebook. I think you'll like the artwork! Loving you! Your son, the rapper"