Dear owner of Whale of a Time Water and Theme Park,

Thank you so much for our recent stay at your Theme Park. As you well know, this was our first Christmas without my late husband. Also, being spared from watching the parade of holiday revelers as they attend my crazy bitch neighbor’s Christmas Eve Fete is a blessing. She sees me watching all of her parties with tears running down my face. She knows I’m all alone and I personally, I don’t feel that mistakenly serving my husbands medicinal brownies to her guests at last year’s x-mas festivities deserves social banishment for all eternity. I mean it was the best party EV-er. Oh, I’m laugh/crying inside just thinking of it. Her husband was totally humping the coffee table to Wu Tang Clan’s Stop the Breaks. And he did INSIST that I punch her in the face for flushing the remaining brownies down the toilet. Oh, oh, oh god, it was classic. CLASSIC! … unless of course you are a crazy bitch.

So, let it be said, that your decision to inspire hope and excellence in your other guests at Whale of a Time by having my daughter and I attend your Holiday celebrations, was a wonderful distraction for us and will undoubtedly create a ripple of good karma in the all mighty universe. The look of complete desperation on the faces of so many of your guests, no doubt at having to spend so much concentrated ‘quality family time’, melt away while in my presence warmed my heart for at least 30 seconds after departing. Well done, Whale of a Time!

That being said, I would be remiss not to give you some much needed feedback that will surely lead to the betterment of the business that you obviously began in order to make up for some painful, unfulfilled childhood dream. I mean, honestly, it is so glaringly apparent, I am a little embarrassed on your behalf. Behind every Whale Of A Time there is always a gaping chasm of juvenile misery. I can’t imagine any other fathomable logic for the vulgar overcompensation that comes with the creation of such a “resort”. I say this freely as I am certain your psychiatrist (don’t be coy we all know there is one…) has pointed it out to you on several occasions. If not, you should seriously think about making a change in analysts. If there is one thing I’ve learned from my husband’s untimely passing, it is that life is short. We must not waste it telling ourselves lies or candy coating our defects just to make us feel better. Best to own up to our shortcomings now so that we may live in the light and wisdom of the universe as the glorious beings of love that we truly are. I am a living testament to this philosophy…although I skipped the whole part about owning up to defects and shortcomings. I simply have none!

Let us begin with the front lobby. There is a variety of dust that I have, until stepping foot in your establishment, only encountered in one other place, the dilapidated manor of my Grand Mamma Du Lac in the heat of the New Orleans summer. The kind of dust that blends with extreme humidity, old people dead skin cells and a particular facial cream that keeps them guessing for all the wrong reasons. It is more of a dust paste, if you will that trust me, I know is near impossible to remove. I heard all about it from Grand Mamma’s partner, Gene, I believe was her name, or Hairy-ette or Pat, something or other. Gamma would never divulge what business it was that they were in together but my Lord, she was good to her despite her rather unfortunate taste in footwear. She looked on her with such a sparkle in her eye…so Pat, we’ll call her, she was some sort of chemical genius. She finally found, and I am imparting this wisdom to you free of charge, that a combination of lye, eucalyptus and formaldehyde worked wonders on this dust. I would have her mix you a sample but she blew up along with the shed out back that she used as her laboratory. I love that word! La-BOR-atory. It just rolls off the tongue, doesn’t it? La-Bore-atory.

Might I also request, for the love of God, without exception that men wear shirts while dining. Let’s be honest, there is enough flaccid flesh hanging about the Water Park and environs, to keep Buffalo Bill buying vats of lotion till the end of his days! “It puts the lotion on its back,” indeed!! Removing the image of great swaths of epidermis being coated in the privacy of each guest’s room with your complimentary Rosemary Body Butter makes my esophagus contract filling my mouth with bile. Your entire establishment was saturated with the smell of ripe body odor and baking focaccia bread. I should note that you do not serve focaccia bread and that the choice of herbed lotion is most unfortunate. The standard no shirt – no service rule should improve your situation at least somewhat.

The rooms were nice enough.

Let’s now assume that everyone can get their shirts on and sit down for a meal. I think it would behoove you to drop the ‘y’ at the end of all food items and perhaps serve some actual food. Case in point the ‘cheese-y’ pizza. The grilled ‘steak-y’ with ‘onion-y’ sauce. The ‘tomato-y’ pasta, the ‘broccoli-y’ broccoli. This will serve your soul but trust me the body oil infused soup cauldron called a Jacuzzi where many of your guests are under the delusion that human gas bubbles will go unnoticed, might actually become a relaxing, less toxic olfactory experience for the over stressed guest.

I liked the wave pool.

While we are discussing the water park, a witnessed a peculiar habit amongst the adults only, under the rather lovely poolside waterfall. Well it would have been lovely, had grown people, men in particular decided that standing under the waterfall with their arms stretched out to their sides and their heads poking forward, as the water cascaded over their shoulders was a substitute for a clearly much needed trip to the spa for a massage. One man in particular stood there for a good eight hours with an intense far away look in his eyes. His visage was not assisted by his thick uni-brow and close set eyes His forceful expression only modulated in intensity with the slow raising and lowering of his arms. I was about to contact security, when his wife stopped by. His expression transformed to a typical dad/father as he momentarily spoke with her about one thing or another. She left and he returned to the falls sporting the countenance of one who is attempting to part the seas while constipated. I think a simple sign asking people to not pause under the falls would be a quick fix that is greatly needed.

The sight of all the children gathering for nightly story time in the lobby wearing their soft flannels while clinging to their lovies is quite charming indeed! It is unfathomable that one should even have to set an age limit for this sort of behavior but set it you must! Grown men, with protruding bellies and sloping narrow shoulders should know better than to wear horizontally striped footy pjs at all, let alone in public. I don’t care how passive aggressively angry he might be with his wife and children for making him come on this god-awful vacation. He cannot be allowed to wander amongst the guests in such a state. This cannot be! It is a crime against humanity and stop it you must!!

So, in a word, thank you kindly proprietor. Thank you for being smart enough to have me grace Whale of a Time. It was the least I could do considering the up hill battle you have clearly faced in life. I am moved by your tenacity. What an inspiration you are! I can only imagine what sort of theme park your unending despair will dream up next and let me just say, I’ll be first in line to warm the hearts of your guests (in exchange for an all inclusive stay and a $10,000 restaurant/spa voucher.)

Are you single?

Kindly,

Super Widow

Winner of the Gwith oT Waf Aef

When I arrived home yesterday, I received the most wonderous news. I have been awared a great honor. I have been named The Greatest Widow In The History Of The World And For All Eternity Forever – or the “Gwith Ot Waf Aef” which, interesting bit of trivia, is a gaelic expression for “manly lady with short legs and broad back.” Fascinating! I am honored to receive the award but not at all surprised. I spend so much of my time endeavoring to do all that I can in order to grieve in the highest form. Since my husbands most unfortunate passing, death, gross, whatever, I have considered this grief, this unwanted, heavy mantle is not truly mine to bear. It belongs to the universe and I intend to return it to the universe as the glorious sheath of light it was always intended to be.

My guru, Pete, a most elevated man with a past so fraught with suffering that he has not once spoken of it. The only clue I have is after an evening of ‘One On One Hot Meditating’ ™, I heard him muttering in his sleep, “MY cardboard box!” Can you imagine!? A life like that! I often find him asleep on my bathroom floor. The act of prayer and intense inhalation of his most holy prayer smoke cause him to be lost in a reverie of spiritual awakening so vast and full that I find it difficult to stir him for hours to come. He is one of my greatest inspirations.

My other inspiration is my six year old daughter. Now, I am about to say something that will no doubt stir up some unpleasantness.

Some children are just better than others and I have birthed one of those exceptional children. If I have offended you, your offspring is clearly in the lesser category. I’m sorry, but don’t be mad at me. Take it up with God and then blame yourself. IQ is directly related to genetics. That being said, watching my sweet six year old Grace Bella Du Lac, navigate her way through the grief, as a swan might through the choppy waters of the park pond on a breezy day, I burst with pride. She is of me and I have done everything to ensure her success.

To help her cope with the transmutation of her father’s soul, she has a different therapist for everyday of the week.

Monday:             Talk Therapy
Tuesday:             Grief in the Circus Arts Therapy™.
Wednesday:        Decoupage Your Grief Away™.
Thursday:            Equine Grief Therapy with a Down Beat.™
Friday:                 Rage Against The Ravine, Eco Therapy.™ (Available in the Pacific NW            only.)
Saturday:            Couples Therapy For Single Children.™
Sunday:               Downward Facing God.™

And let me tell you all of her therapists say the same thing she teaches them. They feel blessed to be in her sessions.

And they aren’t alone. Not a day goes by that I am not contacted by a school begging me to permit her to attend their institution. Public or private their desire to be graced by my daughter’s presence is indiscriminate. I’m not allowed to disclose the names of any of the schools but suffice it to say that if a teacher or staff member has been laid off from your child’s school, it isn’t due to budget cuts. Schools throw money at me in the hope that my daughter will attend their establishment. If a teacher has to be fired and the class size goes up to 300, well that’s just the price of the existence of such a remarkable child in a sea of ordinary faces. What is hilarious is, well, like she’d ever attend a school with class sizes larger than 8. But, I do have to pay for all the therapy some how. You see the system is working perfectly!

At home I have set up what has been called “The most intelligent physical grief therapy room that cares for the mind body connection in the cultured world. ”  The divine inspiration for the room came to me after I read a book titled “Equipment For Intelligent Grief Therapy – Caring For The Mind Body Connection.” There were diagrams of the most wonderful apparatus, which I copied to invent the apparatus for my room. I would expect Gwith Ot Waf Aef will want photos of me in a leotard demonstrating some of my exercises.  I think perhaps the most effective installation is the ceiling system of hooks, wheels and pulleys that support the inverted thinking swing. I lay in vertical reversal for hours weeping out the negativity. When once again erect I am always stunned by the pure positive thoughts that have overtaken my being. Perhaps there will be interest in a series of videos that could be sold on HSN? Case in point! That thought came to me after a brief three-hour session. Before that particular inversion I was convinced my right breast was hanging slightly lower than my left and was in a state of near breakdown. I believe witnessing my mental/emotional transformation would prove invaluable to the public at large.

Acts of charity are also important. It is almost embarrassing how may people want to volunteer to just be near me so remarkable do they feel that I am. I always insist on compensation for their efforts. For example: my poor cleaning lady Meg. She has lost not one but 16 husbands and their lovers all due to suspicious death. She has clearly latched on to me to live vicariously through my grief, as she is incapable of expressing any emotion of her own. She will sit cross-legged in front of my fireplace, staring at the flames for hours while Ding Dong records performances of my grief poetry. (OH! Brilliant. I could sell the tapes and video together on HSN as a package.)

You, you, you, death.
Vigilant to the death.
Cold.
I am so cold.
I look up. Up.
Up.
Why?
Why?
I ask the starry sky.
Etc.

Meg applauds every time I complete my performance and for this and her outstanding talent of thoroughly disinfecting every hard surface of my house with bleach, I always have a matchbook collected from various local high-end restaurants at which she could no doubt never afford to eat. My, how she loves my offering. She runs her fingers over the embossed fonts and once I even caught her licking the matches themselves. Her profound appreciation is abundantly clear as she reaches out and kisses my hand. I am just so pleased that I can be such a positive influence on her life.

So you see, a spiritual dogma, inspiration, therapy, the mind body connection, and acts of charity. These are just some of the reasons that I was awarded the “Gwith Ot Waf Aef”  and there is so much more I am anxious to share with you. My celebrity connections. My bold and colorful experiences reentering the dating pool. Fantasies of marking my revenge against my crazy bitch neighbor by putting poisonous snakes and spiders in her bed. My personal hygiene tips. The benefits you will receive will out pace any other influence you might have in your life.

Join me in this most wonderous journey!

With most effervescent and everlasting love,

Super Widow