I pick up this girl Julia in my car, and I&rsquo;m doing 90 on Lincoln Avenue, you know, batting mailboxes. I&rsquo;m just shaking cause I&rsquo;m so nervous about our date, and she&rsquo;s just screaming her head off, probably because she&rsquo;s so excited but also maybe a little nervous too.&nbsp;
&nbsp;
But I don&rsquo;t have my driver&rsquo;s license anymore &mdash; I was responsible for a massive car crash that killed 7 people and their children, and I forgot my license at the hospital afterwards. So anyway, I crash the car with Julia in it as sort of an artistic homage to that crash. &ldquo;Phew, that was a close one,&rdquo; I think when I see both my legs close to being completely separated from my body.&nbsp;
&nbsp;
Now Julia&rsquo;s screaming that we need to go to the hospital, because that&rsquo;s where our date was planned; I wanted to pick up my license, and more importantly, Julia loves the food they serve at the hospital food court.
&nbsp;
I call a cab, which takes us to the nearest train station, and then from there we walk to the hospital. We sit down at Burger King, and some guy catcalls Julia. That guy finds my fist coming straight at his face, motioning in sign language how that was pretty messed up. Then I kick him in the shin. Turns out he isn&rsquo;t deaf, but instead has a black belt in taekwondo, which he pulls out and shows me before the three of us enjoy a peaceful meal together.
&nbsp;
On the walk home, I look deep into Julia&rsquo;s eyes, and I see her pupils dilating from her concussion. I get my smoochers ready, and Julia starts to lean in, but then she whispers, &ldquo;I&rsquo;m gay.&rdquo; Bummer. &ldquo;As in, like, I&rsquo;m really happy right now.&rdquo; Phew! &ldquo;As in, like, I&rsquo;m really happy being single. But you know what &mdash; let&rsquo;s just go for it.&rdquo;
&nbsp;
Her lips? Moist. Her tongue? It was there, too. Her face? Round in all the right places. Would I kiss her again? Listen pal, I haven&rsquo;t even stopped.

I pick up this girl Julia in my car, and I’m doing 90 on Lincoln Avenue, you know, batting mailboxes...

My First Kiss

Beep. Beep. Beep. 5:15 AM. I sigh.
I brew my morning coffee and catch up on the news &mdash; just drone strikes and coups. Not really my speed, if you know what I mean. I get in the car: a couple lefts, a couple rights, a couple k-turns, u-turns &mdash; I mean, who the hell even knows what they&rsquo;re doing nowadays, am I right?
NPR&rsquo;s playing a special on Donald Trump. God, what an absolute hack job that guy is. He just gets me so worked up. But I can&rsquo;t stay frustrated; I&rsquo;ve got another long day playing Santa Claus at the Freehold County Mall ahead of me.&nbsp;
I pull into my reserved parking spot just 100 yards out from the main entrance. Pretty sweet perk if you ask me. 15% off the kiosks, too. But I don&rsquo;t do it for the benefits, or even the pay; the pay isn&rsquo;t particularly good, especially now during the dead of summer. I do it because I love what I do, and not everyone can honestly say that to themselves.&nbsp;
&ldquo;What&rsquo;s up, Reggie?&rdquo; I holler at the cologne kiosk.
&ldquo;Not much, Trent! How bout you?&rdquo; Angela, from the trinket kiosk, says.
&ldquo;Oh&mdash;Oh, I was talking to R&mdash;I&rsquo;m doing well. Oh, I mean, not much! How bout y&mdash;I mean, Happy August!&rdquo;&nbsp;
Jesus. I&rsquo;m not on my game today, I think. Better step it up before I talk to these kids about Christmas and presents and, if I&rsquo;m lucky, their hopes and dreams.&nbsp;
By the time 7 AM rolls around, the mall is empty. Typical. I consider taking out my iPhone and opening up the Sudoku.com app. No, Trent, I think. You are a professional. Would Santa be playing Sudoku Trent? No. No, he wouldn&rsquo;t. I start thinking about what Santa would do if he was here when I see two parents and a gargantuan child walk up in my direction.
I really can&rsquo;t overemphasize how massive this kid is. 6 foot 5, maybe 6 foot 6, muscles up the wazoo. You&rsquo;re probably thinking of a pretty bulky twelve-year-old right now, but I want you to imagine someone three times his weight and four times as muscular, and this kid would still beat the living shit outta whoever you&rsquo;re thinking of. I&rsquo;m serious. He looked like he went to the gym three times a day to eat every patron there.
He approaches, and all I can think is that this kid is literally gonna break my knee. I&rsquo;ve got a bad knee as it is, tore my ACL playing high school ball down in Manasquan. Scouts said I had I real shot of playing D-1 before that happened, too. He sits down on my knee and I swear to God I hear a crack or two. I wince, but I keep a poker face; that&rsquo;s just life as a professional.
&ldquo;What&rsquo;s up, Dikembe?&rdquo; I say with a chuckle and a wink. This kid makes an expression that all but says &ldquo;Look old man, I do not have the first clue who Dikembe Mutombo, world famous basketballer, is.&rdquo; Damn. &ldquo;Ho, ho, ho!&rdquo; I chortle. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m sorry, Dikembe is one of my best friends up in the North Pole!&rdquo; Phew. I mean, say what you will about me, but I play a damn good Santa.&nbsp;
&ldquo;Uhmmm,&rdquo; he says, and I shit you not this kid has got the absolute deepest voice I&rsquo;ve ever heard. Like, it would truly would shake a school bus for orca whales. &ldquo;I&rsquo;d really love a well-fitting sweater,&rdquo; he says.
&ldquo;Jesus, good luck,&rdquo; I say before I can stop myself. God, Trent, are you kidding me! How could you be so god damn stupid! The boss is not gonna have this. This is unprofessionalism at its absolute fucking finest. God, what am I gonna do? I have bills to pay. Water, electricity, you name it. Oh, oh God&hellip;
&ldquo;Ok, thanks so much!&rdquo; he says with a grin and scampers off to his parents.&nbsp;

Beep. Beep. Beep. 5:15 AM. I sigh.
I brew my morning coffee and catch up on the news — just drone s...

Mall Santa

There are all types of hats, like silver or classic. But hats haven&rsquo;t always dominated our collective psyche. See, there was this guy Randolph R. Hats, and he had the last name Hats, which was super cool. But it was actually his second cousin, Greg Miller, who went to jail for selling high-grade cocaine to young children. Anyway, Randolph R. Hats invented hats.
See, Randolph was sunbathing by the pool, the skin on his face all burnt and crusty, and suddenly, a thought crossed his mind &mdash; do some dogs need glasses? After he determined there was no conceivable way dogs needed glasses, he realized humans have been exposed to sunlight for several years. So he invented sunscreen, which failed spectacularly.
Randolph had to think of something less creamy. Baseball caps were around, but they were exclusively for people who played indoor volleyball. So Randolph went to the patent office with the idea for an inclusive hat, but he forgot it was a Sunday. On Sundays, the patent officers deny patents to the Portuguese. Randolph tried again, but they still denied his patent, even though he waited seven days.
Randolph invented hats a few years later to protect himself against bear attacks. Well, that didn&rsquo;t really work since when he went hiking in the woods, he forgot to wear his hat. A few broken fibulas couldn&rsquo;t stop Randolph from inventing, though. Ever heard of bicycle helmets? Well, Randolph was wearing one when he invented the lightbulb.

There are all types of hats, like silver or classic. But hats haven’t always dominated our collectiv...

The History of Hats

I&rsquo;ve got a crazy family &mdash; two brothers, four sisters, three half-brothers, one quarter-sister, one mom, three dads, and one very racist grandchild &mdash; and I love &lsquo;em all to death.&nbsp;
The day I was born, my mother gave birth to approximately 10 other kids. My mom was pushing and pushing, then she finally got the door open and lay down on the delivery room bed. Next, my brother Ronnie came out of that vagina and was immediately arrested for public nudity. Ronnie is the real deal &mdash; big shoulders, wide hips, the whole shebang. Nowadays, Ronnie serves drinks at the Rascal Lounge, which really pisses off the bartender there.&nbsp;
Next oldest brother is Grant. There was this one classic story, where Ronnie threw Grant into a lake, and Grant was drowning pretty bad. Ronnie started to feel guilty and thought maybe he should save Grant. But he ultimately decided to keep drowning him.
Anyway, the next two out of the womb were stillbirths. The one after that was my brother Jeremy, who was a stillbirth.&nbsp;
Then came Dave &mdash; don&rsquo;t even get me started on Dave. Dave the Knave! Dave-zilla! David! He&rsquo;s a bullfighter and part-time PETA Vice President. I only found out Dave was a bullfighter at the biannual Tokyo Rodeo a few years back. &ldquo;You know, I&rsquo;m a pretty gifted bullfighter&rdquo; Dave said to me in the crowd.
I can&rsquo;t freaking wait for you to hear about Louis, though. Louis! LOUIS. Louis. Where do I even begin? Louis grew up to be a human trafficker. But this was a time when many other people were human traffickers, so Louis was arrested along with many other people.&nbsp;
And then along came Leslie, another stillbirth. Leslie actually just landed a big role in the movie &ldquo;Alien vs. Stillbirth&rdquo; as the alien.&nbsp;
Then finally, me. I was born with this birthmark covering my entire face. I&rsquo;ve since been plagued by a lifetime of being self-conscious, even though the birthmark was removed right away.&nbsp;
But of all 9 kids, I was the only one my mother kept. Why? I&rsquo;m pretty good at hula hooping. I&rsquo;m not great &mdash; occasionally I mess up and my arms get caught in the hoop and I can&rsquo;t really get them out or else I&rsquo;d risk knocking the hoop down which is just embarrassing, so I just have to stand there with my arms trapped for a couple hours. But I&rsquo;m pretty good.

I’ve got a crazy family — two brothers, four sisters, three half-brothers, one quarter-sister, one m...

James Wolfe.css-1xlpnei{margin:0px -15px 0px 6px;width:11px;vertical-align:-14px;}

James Wolfe