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Excerpt: "Tom Snyder and The Late-Night Phat Cat" 

This essay (Chapter 1) was written two years ago. With Tom Snyder's passing last week, I was encouraged to finally release it. Enjoy!

... I, on the other hand, was much more fascinated with some of Tom's other guests - all of whom he took quite seriously. One night he'd interview a transvestite in a mannequin-stiff wig; a few shows later, a transsexual who loved lesbians. Perhaps he'd book Killer and me somewhere between the two...

"Welcome to the program, Miss French," Tom Snyder would say in that famous, thunderous voice. "And thank you, I think, for bringing... um, your unusual pet." (Tom has, of course, been coached not to say my jaguar's name. Because Killer responds quite dangerously upon hearing it.)

"Thanks, Tom. Great to be here," I'd respond, petting the massive head of my treacherous companion, who's sprawled out on the stage, lapping at my vintage go-go boots.

Always intense and to the point, my favorite talk show host would give me the once over. Though still young and flat-chested, I'd be wearing a slinky psychedelic halter-top, billowy bell-bottoms, and big, round mirrored shades. Snyder would ignore my hot London Look and go right for the jugular.

"That's one outrageous hair-do you have," he'd say, chuckling to the point of coughing phlegm. Tom Snyder smoked more cigarettes on-camera than even Johnny Carson. "Purple with silver flecks, is it?" he'd ask, his wild eyebrows twitching.

"Yes," I'd say, tossing my head so my bangs gapped sexily. "It's actually blue-violet, Tom. There are several beauticians in my family and one of them concocted the color. Just for me."

"I see. This 'manimal' you're known for walking around St. Louis, it's garnered you tremendous accolades for bravery and tons of media attention, which you must use responsibly. Now, I want you to look right into camera two and tell America, our vast viewing audience, why you're here tonight..."

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Videos: "Tomorrow With Tom Snyder" 

Tom Snyder's was the best talk show EVER. To this day, there's nothing on TV quite like it.

Chapter Titles 

"Daddy's Gonna Buy That Baby A Jaguar" delves into everything from ghosts and Picasso to kiddy make-outs, gender-blending, radical groups and more.

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• Tom Snyder and My Late-Night Phat Cat
  
• So Long, Seal-skin Kid
  
• Haints-R-Us
  
• Leave It to Leonard
  
• Mississippi Backward
  
• Poupee Galore
  
• Narrow Passages
  
• Boxing In the Garden Blue
  
• Les Demoiselles d'Anderson
  
• Chronic Card Disorder
  
• The King of Hearts
  
• Blah
  
• Hunka-Chunka Churning Love
  
• Warp Speed
  
• Petals in the Wind
  
• Mardi Gras Faux Pas
  
• Eighteen-inch Sway
  
• MOVE to T.S.O.P
  
• Midnight Snack
  
• Babushka
  
• Lay It Out in Lavender
  
• Bonus: Chapter 1 - Fired Up, A Suspense Novel

Links to Places and Things In the Memoir 

M.O.V.E. of Philadelphia

When I left St. Louis for college, I settled on Drexel University in Philadelphia. My dorm was right around the corner from the original M.O.V.E. compound, where Philly's former Mayor Frank Rizzo and his law enforcement team engaged in a bizarre shoot-out with the fringe group.

Catacombs - A Legendary After-hours Club In Philly

I "partied hearty" in Philadelphia, having a blast at many of the best clubs. But nothing was like Catacombs, a primarily gay after-hours spot with the best sound system and DJs for disco and house music. I touch on my scandalous nights out at Catacombs and more in "Midnight Snack."

King Tut - My First Love (Well, Sort Of...)

In "Warp Speed," I write about the most gorgeous guy I've ever seen. It was probably my hyper teen libido at play, but he looked "golden" to me, radiant like King Tut. I'm feeling warm just writing about him right now...

St. Louis Gateway Arch: TRAPPED!

You may have heard on the news a week or two ago that hundreds of tourists were trapped inside our beloved St. Louis Gateway Arch. I'm glad everyone's okay, but I find this funny as heck! You see, the Arch and I go back -- waaay back. The essay "Eighteen-inch Sway" is about the Arch.

Purchase the eBook or Read more free excerpts

I've been "sitting" on this manuscript for two years; it took the death of Tom Snyder to make me get off the pot, as I'd featured him so prominently and affectionately in the first chapter.

When he died last week, I wanted to express my sorrow that Tom had lost his battle with cancer. I couldn't think of a better way to honor all that he'd given me and countless others than to finally release what I'd written, celebrating his work and stature in pop culture reporting.

So with Tom Snyder as my inspiration, I now give this work to the universe. Hope you enjoy it and God bless!

"Books" @ Del.icio.us 

Excerpt: "Babushka" 

Remember the movie "The Bad Seed?" Well, that kid had nothing on the eerie, possessed one I baby-sat in college...

...I'd been rooming at their dismal, West Philadelphia row home about a month when I got my first dose of four-year-old Jasmin's darker, attention-grabbing tactics. Her soft-spoken mother, Aziza, had asked me to watch Jasmin briefly while she went to the supermarket. I'd been at the dining room table, laboring over an art project for school, but had no problem keeping an eye on too cute, bubbly "Jazz" while I worked.

But who could get much work done with the child so relentlessly demanding complete attention? I gave up a while. I played with Jazz and Barbie so long that I wanted to crawl in that Dream House and gag. And I'd watched her color enough cows green, grass red, and snow purple that I might have been having an acid flashback.

Now needing to transition to a slightly more pressing art project, I asked Jasmin to play with her fake oven and sink set, which her mom kept in their kitchen. She'd just be in the next room, a thin wall away.

Jasmin cried heart-wrenching tears: I was killing her by trying to get my assignment done. I promised to talk to her while I worked; I stuck my head in periodically and observed her tinker with her toy.

Meanwhile, we communicated between the rooms this way: "What are you cooking?" I'd ask playfully.

"I make you breakfast!" she'd chime.

"Well, it's pretty late for breakfast, Jazz. Why don't you make me dinner?"

"Nope. I make breakfast!!!"

"Oh, alright," I'd say. "But you'd better hurry. I'll be there soon, okay?"

"Okay," she says sweetly. What a big girl, I thought. She's doing so well, is as quiet as a mouse now.

I soon hear Aziza's key turning in the door and think, Thank God. Maybe I can truly concentrate on my project now. I honestly enjoyed little Jasmin, but this just wasn't a good time for the distraction.

On entering the living room, Aziza lovingly calls out to her precious toddler, "Where's my babushka?"

"Mommy!!!" Jasmin cries, and out she runs - looking like the damned Pillsbury Dough-baby! Shockingly covered in flour - all over her face, her hair, her clothes - and tracking it everywhere she ran on the rust-colored carpet, around her mother in circles.

She'd loosened her ponytail and now her springy mop of hair fell to her elbows and down her back, toward her tiny rump. She looked like Cousin It from the "Addams Family." But an all-white, glistening, two-foot high version of It -- prepped to be deep-fried in a vat... (cont'd.)

Meet Us In St. Louie, Louie 

I attended college in Philadelphia and now live in Chicago, but half of the memoir is set in my hometown of St. Louis, where many entertainment legends were either born or raised. We're the coolest characters, very nice and often free-spirited. Oh, alright: We're a wild, wild bunch!

Tina Turner Chingy Vincent Price Nelly Ralphie May Phyllis Diller Redd Foxx Joesephine Baker