Nov 29, 2009
Blublockers jauntily pushed back on his shaved, tanned head,
dressed in the following:
Khaki cargo shorts,
A denim shirt, sleeves rolled up,
the better to show off
A collection of 5 or so Kenneth Jay Lane bangles.
Nov 28, 2009
Breast cancer awareness cutlery.
Bacon chocolate bar.
(which at first thought seems wonderful, and at second....well...doesn't. )
Ed Hardy candles
(For those who want their homes to smell like Axe Body Spray and Rohypnol)
"same titled songs which are not the same", and "things that could only possibly ever interest me".
Compare and contrast:
"supercool dude, 'cross the room, diggin on me..."
"Than Howud HUGHES had MUHnay...."
Nov 26, 2009
Nov 25, 2009
Two years ago I met Lucifer himself.
He gave me a tv.
He came to me in the form of Pat Robertson.
I didn't even have electricity. How's that for irony? (That's how Lucifer works, by the way) so it sat in my room unused.
Until it was stolen by the migrant workers setting up the trailers we work in now.
He and his host of dark powers had seen fit to grace our devastated school with gifts.
One day, just before Thanksgiving break, two of his minions, a middle aged, midwestern, corn fed, blond couple....eyes wild with Jesus, burst into my classroom, bearing frozen turkeys in their hands...and frozen smiles on their faces.
They bounded into my room like two golden retrievers, smiling maniacally, eagerly offering a frozen turkey at me...while I'm in the middle of a sentence.
Nothing irritates me quite as much as being interrupted in the middle of class. I can get kind of pissy at times, yeah, believe it or not.
"Here's a turkey for yah!!!!" They both exclaim, wild eyed with Jesus.
"Blessed Thanksgiving to yah, brother!"
"Ummm...thanks," I responded.
"Can you put that in the freezer for me." I smiled back stiffly and refused to take it from the husband's outstretched hands. I think I may have waved them off.
"Oh no, brother, this is for you!!!!!!!!!!!!!" he insisted, still smiling and thrust it further towards me. They would not take no for an answer.
"Now, what the hell am I going to do with a frozen turkey at 11 am?" I thought.
Typically, when the school had given us turkeys (our holiday "bonus")in the past, I'd given mine to the food drive, which we always had at the same time. I planned to do the same, but the scary Christians weren't having that.
So I took the frozen turkey and let them smile their way on out. It was the only way they'd leave.
It sat on my classroom floor, next to the 1920's radiator until 4 pm.
It stayed in my mother's freezer for a year. Last year she insisted on cooking it. Waste not, want not, right?
We didn't die, so I guess there is a God or something.
Nov 24, 2009
I just returned from taking myself to see "An Education". I was the sole person in the theater.
Kind of sad actually, since it really is a lovely movie. I thoroughly enjoyed it.
See it if you can.
I do intend to use the line:
"You want them to think you're un jeune homme sérieux, not a Teddy Boy, do you?" somehow in daily conversation.
I just have to think of an occasion. Maybe I'll tell it to my mother.
Oh, and go to the dog races.
Anyway, why couldn't Peter Sarsgaard (sporting a British accent no less) rescue me from the drudgery of conjugating Latin verbs when I was 16 and whisk me off to 1961 Paris?
That's what I want to know.
Hell, I'll even drive.
Nov 23, 2009
It's never too early to get started on the holiday decorations. As you can see, I've been working hard on my tampon turkey here. Isn't he lovely?
It's both cute....and handy especially when those nasty cranberry sauce spills occur.
More clever tampon crafts here
Nov 22, 2009
It's always nice to see huge vats of boiling grease for frying shrimp on the sidewalks.
There were lots of people. Among others, I ran into my former landlord with his much much younger, very handsome
It was a bit chilly out. I was too dazzled by those nipples to get a picture. Sorry.
Oak is rapidly gentrifying, but it's still pretty old school, thankfully.
Garçon avec des canapés a la poboy? Or something like that.
The photo I'd taken of my own meal, a delicous poboy from Emerils, of fried green tomatoes, shrimp remoulade and bacon, unfortunately disappeared. I don't know what happened. I dropped the camera somewhere in the art market and, poof, there it went.
Even sadder is when I went to get a fried bread pudding poboy which Dennis said was great, they had run out. Bummer.
I had to settle for gelato.
Nov 21, 2009
I couldn't round up anyone else, so I went to see a showing of "Gone With the Wind" today by myself. I'd never seen it on the big screen, and it was well worth it.
I stupidly love the movie, no matter how politically incorrect it may be or how creaky it may seem. It's one of my favorite of all time. I sat there in my seat saying all the lines along with the characters. I wasn't alone.
Maybe they should start staging a Rocky Horror style production. I just need to sew myself up a green picnic at Twelve Oaks dress. I'd better start putting buttermilk on my shoulders right now though.
(Ok, ok so maybe more likely, I should just get myself a red head kerchief.)
Anyway, one could throw radishes at the screen. Think of how much fun that would be.
Today it was miserable, rainy and cold, the perfect day for a long movie.
I was nestled between two uptown matrons who chatted throughout the film about the good old days of
Two large diet cokes and five bathroom breaks later, I'm home, trying to think of something to do with the rest of my Saturday night. Another movie is out of the question, since it would suffer by comparison, and because my movie sitting patience quota for this month is already expended.
I think I'll just spend the rest of the night perfecting my "fiddle dee dee's" and "great balls of fire!" I'm almost there.
So. yet again, my scintillating Friday night was spent in a Big Lots.
Anyway, not once, but twice, I got this question:
"Excuse me, sir, do you work here?"
"Oh, no," I smiled...thinking all the while,
"Excuse me bitch, do I look that white trash?"
(don't answer that)
Nov 20, 2009
As you've no doubt heard, today came the announcement that Oprah's 25 years of screaming celebrities' names (as gawker cleverly puts it) comes to an end.
In a year.
So that means a whole year of Oprah this and Oprah that. Non- stop Oprah media saturation. I've managed to safely put her away in the far reaches of my mind for the past 15 or so years. Now, however, (media genius that she is) she'll bully her way front and center again. I don't know if I can take it.
I don't know how you feel, but I can't stand her...haven't been able to for at least a decade or more. Of course, I have to admit you can't really hate someone without having loved them first. But that's long in the past.
Anyway, now that she's leaving a huge vacuum, I'm hoping for a triumphant return of "The Newlywed Game", "Press Your Luck" and even maybe "Match Game" that she dethroned so long ago! How great would that be?
Nov 19, 2009
Last night I got four hours of bad sleep total. I was up late with Michael and his friend Laura, listening to the (suprisingly loud for a twee Scottish band) but completely wonderful Camera Obscura at Tipitina's.
They were great, but then I knew they would be.
And there was a good crowd for a Wednesday night, but I fear I'm getting way too old for such things. Ok, so I've always been too old for such things. Now time is just catching up, you know?
I'd practically lost my voice the day before, a very sexy cold sore was on its way...and the late night meal of a two inch thick hamburger from the Port of Call and a baked potato that must have had a half a stick of butter on it pushed me over the edge.
Oh, but it was so good.
I came out dazed and confused, mute...and a now nearly deaf, one and a half steps away from Helen Keller-hood.
All things considered, I held up pretty well today at work...I didn't die or anything. Now however it's time to pay the piper. I'm even skipping the finale of Project Runway, practically the only tv I watch. It's been kind of boring anyway, and I can read about it tomorrow, right? Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going put myself into a Robitussin coma, and try to sleep away the cold sore.
Nov 18, 2009
This is my little christmas tree...well, not so little. It's almost 7 feet tall, but I put it on a table, to make it taller. It looks kind of like a big pipe cleaner, but I like it.
I bought it a few weeks ago when Target first put it out, because it was on sale. I I liked that it was so slender...and what they call "champagne" colored...kind of a slightly tarnished silver. There's no good reason for me to have wasted money on it, since no one will probably ever see it...no one ever visits really...but it cheers the place up for me at least.
My place is so small that I needed something thin. I've moved it everywhere I could think of in the place, but it didn't look quite right anywhere, so it's ended up in the corner....in a time out.
I've decorated it with just my old silver ornaments and a few white ones. I'd thought of buying new green and blue ones, but decided not to. Partially because I have no money left, and partially because it would probably be too busy. I have put all the blown glass icicles that I've stolen from my mother, however. We used to use them on the tree when I was a kid. They look like fancy swizzle sticks.
Once I brave her attic again, who knows what kind of stuff I may recover up there.
Nov 15, 2009
Nov 14, 2009
I think she's the person in the world I most admire.
She was a saint...seriously. I mean no hyperbole. If she's not in heaven, then there shouldn't be one. Everyone who ever met her (even her daughters-in-law, even my grandfather's later wives) had to admit it. No one could argue it.
She was a simple country woman. When I lived with her for a summer at age 9 or so she taught me all sorts of things: how to collect eggs, how to make pickles, how to kill a chicken ( you wring its neck and then stand back aghast as it flaps about without its head) and how to snort snuff.
It was practically like Colonial Williamsburg.
That summer, isolated and far away from my native suburbs, surrounded by unfamiliar foods, I ate nothing but tomatoes. She had a large store from her garden. She wasn't used to purchasing things from the store, but she made a point of buying Campbells tomato soup, just for me. I still can't not think of her when I eat it.
I've always loved the fans and the cowboy fabric (in blue). I wouldn't doubt she'd made a dress of one for herself and a shirt for my father or my uncles with the other.
I'm not sure how it even ended up with us. It's been with us ever since I can remember. My mother can't remember either. (It's a miracle if she can remember what my name is half the time) I speculate that on one of our many trips to visit the piney woods, maybe when I was but a baby, my grandmother must have sent it with us, probably to help protect something fragile. I remember more than a few nights sleeping on it as a makeshift sleeping bag. I used to study the fabrics as I drifted off to sleep.