The little devil who lives on my shoulder and tempts me to do bad things is at it again.
Do you remember the one? He looks like Richard Dawson with devil horns, and he's very, very persuasive.
Anyway, ever since I returned from vacation and settled back into the misery of my everyday routine, he just won't leave me alone. All day long he urges me to do stuff I shouldn't, nattering in my ear about how it doesn't matter anyway, life sucks and then you die so have a little fun now, blah, blah, blah and etc.
"Go on, luv," he'll whisper. "Why don't you have an extra Adderall or three, hmmmm.
"Shut up, Richard!" I'll say, covering my ears. "Get thee behind me, cockney charmer."
"You know," he'll coo, "it's okay to powder up your pill and snort it. You are still getting your medicine, it's just a different method of delivery, that's all."
"No Richard! I'm not going to abuse my medication. Survey says, Rrrrrrrnnnnk wrong answer!"
Could you resist a suave bastard like this?
If he can't tempt me with drugs he'll try a different tatic.
"Well then, why don't you grease the stripper poles at work? It'll be mad fun to watch those bitches fall on their asses."
"No Richard," I'll say. "That's wro......wait a minute, that's a pretty good idea actually."
Yeah, sometimes he succeeds. Well, what do you expect? I'm not a saint.
The other day though, he almost got me in big time trouble. This is what happened. I was out at Target with my best friend Paula Abdul, looking at the glittery body products. I had told her about the Diva book and Paula wanted to follow the Frivolous Diva Do suggestion for the week. Oh yeah, here it is in case you want to try it too.
Find some body glitter and pretend it is fairy dust. As you begin each day, make a wish or say a Diva Declaration....
1. About yourself and spruinkle it on yourself before you leave the house.
2. About your car and sprinkle it around your car.
3. About your sensuality and sprinkle it in your bed and in your lingerie drawer.
Paula and I were laughing our asses off and thinking up stupid Diva Declarations like, "Today I allow my Hello Kitty panties to sparkle with enough glitter to choke Mariah Carey, because I am a sensual goddess."
"Oh, I like that one," Paula said. She picked up a jar of Jessica Simpson's Dessert Belly Button Creme and sniffed it. "Ugh, what does this smell like to you?"
I took a whiff. It smelled like old Hostess Twinkies to me. Why does anybody buy Jessica Simpson stuff? She doesn't deserve to make any money from it. It's all crap!
It was pretty damn glittery though.
That's when Richard started whispering. "Put it in your pocket, Pru. Don't you dare pay for that. Fuck Jessica! Just take it, take, it, take it!"
I started sweating. Damn Richard! Why is he so tempting? I haven't shoplifted anything in ages - not since I used to hang out with Wynona Ryder - but I remember the rush. Oh yes! Slowly, very slowly, I eased the tub of creme into my pocket. Ha ha!
The minute we were out the door, I felt a hand on my shoulder.
"Excuse me, Miss. Can you empty your pockets for me, please?"
My heart started to pound with fear. The security guard was a tall, rusty haired, body builder type. He looked at me with eager anticipation. He'd probably been hanging around bored all day and now there was finally going to be some excitement. He'd get to frisk me and the police would be called and I'd be led away in handcuffs, all because of stoopid Jessica Simpson's sparkly belly butter that stinks like stale cupcakes. How humiliating! How un Diva-like. I cringed.
Thankfully, though, Paula was with me. She whipped out her inner diva and saved my ass.
"Are you accusing my friend of stealing or something?" she demanded. "I am Paula Abdul! I have enough money to buy everything in this entire store, including you! You're kinda cute, by the way. Are you single?"
Stammering and blushing, the guy asked her for an autograph and her phone number. He was so dazzled he forgot all about me and I quickly ditched the stank creme in the nearest trashcan. I'll never do that again! I am scared straight...probably. I hope so anyway. A true diva doesn't steal trashy items from Target. And she ignores little devils who tell her to do that kind of stuff. I should quit making fun of that book and start wearing my tiara to the grocery store like they suggest.
I was so grateful to Paula that I decided to write a poem in her honor. I read it to her last night when we were at our favorite Mexican restaurant, throwing back Margaritas and flirting with the macho, hairy chested waiters. Here it is.
Ode To a Diva
by Prunella Jones
People let me tell you about my best friend,
a super cool chick with a fine rear end.
Her name is Paula, and while she has fame
she is still one classy dame.
We love to giggle, laugh, and joke
and also guzzle rum and Coke
When I hurt my back or bump my shins,
she’ll float me some of her Vicodins.
Paula is so very nice,
she happily checked my scalp ten times for lice.
And when I nearly got arrested the other day
for stealing Jessica Simpson body spray
her quick thinking saved my tail
and kept me from shoplifter's jail.
You are a true diva, Miss Abdul.
With a fierceness that makes Ryan Seacrest drool.
They need to bring back your show, “Hey Paula” it ruled!
Paula was touched by the poem I wrote for her.
Later on when she passed out face down in her guacamole salad, I moved her head over to the side so she wouldn't get sour cream up her nose. And I didn't take a picture of her like that to sell to the tabloids, even though they would pay big bucks and I need the money. Richard was hopping up and down demanding that I do it, but I was able to ignore him. How dare he even suggest it? PAula is like a sister to me!
And I didn't even steal her bottle of Vicodin, even though it was sitting right there in her open purse.
Well......okay, I did take two pills. But the bottle was practically full. She'll never miss them.