03/18/2010 05:12 am ET | Updated Nov 17, 2011

It's Barmitzvazilla! For the Love of God, Run for Your Lives!

From humble beginnings as a petite, 40-something, mom of two, former attorney, sometimes yoga teacher, sometimes writer, there has emerged a monster. A scary, scary, monster that is nothing if not monomaniacal. Like Ahab to that great white whale, this terrifying monster has in mind one goal, one endgame, and nothing will get in its way. NOTHING, I tell you!!! Specifically, it has its sights set on planning the PERFECT bar mitzvah for her First Born Son (FBS), and it will stomp all over anything and anyone that gets in its way.

Behold ... it is ... Barmitzvazilla:


It has been said that Barmitzvazilla emerged out of the swampy depths of the mind of her host, the erstwhile Lauren Cahn, sometimes shortly after the invitations to the FBS's bar mitzvah were placed in the hands of the United States Postal Service. (Please read nothing into the reference to "postal"; Barmitzvazilla has never gone postal, although as a former attorney, I am required to say that prior performance cannot be considered a guarantee of future results.)

Since then, Barmitzvazilla has been stalking that evil, detestable little black box standing atop the mockingly white post at the edge of her driveway (I believe the townspeople refer to it as the "mailbox") daily, awaiting replies to FBS's bar mitzvah. And how dare the townspeople delay in replying? How dare they?! Do they not understand that Barmitzvazilla can become agitated by delays in replies? Particularly from the female invitees, who are in short supply to begin with (this IS, after all, the bar mitzvah of a 12-year-old boy who has only JUST discovered that girls are, well, pretty and funny, especially if they laugh at your jokes).

One must be careful not to agitate Barmitzvazilla. Despite her humongous, walking-lizard-like frame, Barmitzvazilla is quite fragile.

Barmitzvazilla will be posting daily updates at Barmitzvazilla: the Blog. Please stay tuned. We wouldn't want to anger her.

And can someone warn the townspeople?