So, here's the hard-boiled situation, all you cats and alligators. I'm Hannah Hart and I'm taking the keyboard for a bit here. Ms. Devore is sleeping one off, I'm pretty sure. Well, as far as I know. Last I saw her she was face down and chassis up on the deck of a Mission Bay yacht and sea gulls were using her Blackberry to take embarrassing pictures of her and sending them to friends in Australia. What a Dumb Dora. I told her to take it easy on the Manhattans; she's a lightweight, clearly. I also told her to wear a longer dress to the party; it's Christmas, not Slutmas. You modern girls are so weak. You can't handle whiskey or your panties like we used to. Pathetic.

Ah, applesauce! Sorry, you'd dig some more details about me, right? Easy peasy. I'm a ghost. Pretty simple. I died in 1934 and since then have lived a sparkly, splendid, Sidecar-infused eternity at San Diego's spiffy Hotel del Coronado. How did I die? You know what, dolls? I'm doing a little writing for a geek-culture site called goodtobeageek.com. Look for my bio under "Miss Hannah Hart" in Meet the Geeks (third from the top) and, mitt me, kids! ... my inaugural piece made Featured Posts: Home for the Holidays: Stale Pecans, Dial-up & Girlie Martinis.

Hopefully Jen will be back to writing soon. I got a ringy-dingy from her phone, but I think it was a crank from one of those sea gulls. Those goons are bonkers, I tell ya, bonkers!

Abyssinia, guys and dolls!