GAG ME WITH YOUR DIRTY WATER!

I just got back from the mall with my youngest teenage daughter.  I told her to meet me at the exit at the front of the mall.  I had time to kill so I went into a Williams-Sonoma store looking for something free to drink.  I've never been in this store because I don't care about cooking or anything else related to it, but I spotted a coffee machine.  I asked the sales clerk if they had samples of coffee to drink and she preceded to tell me all about the New Starbucks Coffee Maker?....Coffee Expresso Maker?.....Whatever it was I didn't care because I don't like Starbucks Coffee, it taste OLD to me.  So the sales clerk is demonstrating how to make my latte'.  When she turned on the spout to clear out the thing a ma gig, I wanted to punk.  It was like looking at dirty water splash into a trough that hadn't been clean in years.   I had a Flashback of when I took my daughters to the Waterpark and I saw a dirty floating band-aid, I left at that point and never went back.  It's like a Vietnam Fash Back, that dirty floating band-aid Haunts Me.  After the sales clerk cleared the spout she puts a small pack of milk in the machine so it would froth?....Is that the right word?....Froth?....After the milk was froth???... She added a small container of coffee.  It was all coming out of the machine that had a dirty trough.  I was beyond grossed out.  She hands me my latte' and shows me wear the Commune Sugar and the Commune Creamer was located.  Again, I was grossed out of the thought of the public all using the Commune Sugar and the Commune Creamer.  They had plastic spoons for the public but the used spoons had to go into the Commune Trash.   Dirty Spoons touching other Dirty Spoons....GROSS GROSS GROSS   Flashback.... I hate Picadilly.   The food taste like melamim trays and the forks, spoons, and knives taste & smell like dirty bleachy water.   If I knew what really goes on in the kitchen of restaurants, I'd probably never eat out again in this lifetime.  One last thing I noticed.....The Mall Massage Chair...... OMG.... GROSS GROSS GROSS....There's something to be said about the smell of a spa, relaxing music and PRIVATE I might add, it all adds up to a Soothing Experience that a Mall Massage Chair CAN'T...  Am I the only person that has these thoughts?  I just read this blog to my family.  I guess I AM the only person that thinks this way.....GAG ME WITH YOUR DIRTY WATER AND KEEP YOUR MALL MASSAGE CHAIR TO YOURSELF!

His Dad Had A Missing Leg!

"I can't date him!!!".... Why you ask?... "Well, his dad had a missing leg."  That's all that I could think about when I was 19 years old.   My dad would say, "Desiree, what's wrong with this boy, Does he have a crooked nose?"   Well dad, I can honestly say I married a boy with a crooked nose 25 years ago and bonus, he was and still is.... POOR.  I don't know what I was thinking when I was 19, only that I couldn't date this boy who's dad had a missing leg.   I just couldn't wrap my pea brain around the fact that his dad had a missing leg.  I would think to myself, "What does his dad do all day???... Does he sit on the porch and watch cars go by?".... "Did I think the dad's missing leg would somehow rub off on me?...Did I think missing leg = poor?"... I was so particular back then.  I remember another boy I dated when I was 17 years old.  We went to the movies then we came back to my house.  I say dated, I shoud say it ended with the first date.   We were in my living room when this boy asked if he could get comfortable and take off his shoes.....TAKE OFF YOUR SHOES????..."This was our first date, you've got to be kidding me"... I thought.....TAKE OFF YOUR SHOES????...   I had spent 2 hours getting a "Farrah Flip" and my date wanted to take off his shoes.  Nope, No Way.... I never saw that boy again.  Let me tell you how much my taste in men have change.  I think Si from the tv show DUCK DYNASTY to be Good Looking.  And 30 years later I can now tell you that money & success turns me off.  If I want to hear a story, I want to hear the story of the beggar off the interstate that holds a sign that says, "Will Work For Food".  I have no desire to hear about your white collar acquistions or your white collar homes or your white collar cars or your white collar vacations.  YOU BORE ME!!!....I wonder what happened to the boy who's dad had the missing leg?"

Jesus Boy!

I had the car radio blarring to my alternative rock music one day when I changed stations for a second and heard "Age Of Seventeen" by Stevie Nicks... Pop.... There go's me into memory lane.  I was about 19 or 20 when I dated Jesus Boy.  I was working as a cashier at a grocery store when I first noticed Jesus Boy.  Jesus Boy came to my lane one Sunday, with a beautiful white smile that I like to call "The Pearly Gates".  He had dark hair with an olive complextion and his voice was kinda of Twangy.   One of my fellow cashiers went to church with Jesus Boy and said, "You know his daddy is the pastor at Assembly Of God, Do you want me to fix you up?"... I thought, "Would You?.... He's So Cute". That was as  far as my mind would go at 19 or 20.... "Is he Cute?".... I don't remember how Jesus Boy and I finally meet.  I think he called me on the house phone, attached to the wall in the kitchen with a long cord. Not much privacy in those days.  Jesus Boy either came to my registar at the grocery store or he just called me and invited me to his church.  Not only was this church his daddys, Jesus Boy was the choir director.  He could sing really well and his Jesus moves were pretty good too.  He was a real good entertainer as I recall.   I would try to imagine him being a rock singer the few times I went to his church.  That's was kept me infatuated.  What I thought was odd was that he was going to Louisiana State University as a theater major.  "Was he planning to leaving the church and do Broadway shows in New York?", I thought to myself.  When we were half ass dating, I only seen him on weekens.  Another thing that impressed me about Jesus Boy was that he was the DJ (Disco Jesus) at a Christian Radion Station.  I remember I was trying to watch Love Boat one Friday night on tv.  Jesus boy had to work at the station and wanted me to listen in.  I really don't like that kind of music so when Love Boat came to a commerical, I would run to the radio that was in another room, listen to him for about a minute until Love Boat came back on air.  We also couldn't be together on Saturday nights because Jesus Boy went to the bars and handed out leaflets damning them all to HELL for listening to rock n' roll. (This must have been a phone relationship too now that I write this). When Sunday rolled around I would go to his church.  I was always the bad catholic, you know, praying in silence, mumbling wrong words to prayers, and kneeling at the wrong times.  At the Assembly Of God Church, it's members would talk in tongues, sway from side to side, and pray out loud.  It made me so uncomfortable that I thought it wouldn't be so bad to be a nun, they are so quiet and stoic (I still like that 30 years later come to think about it).  After church we would go to his house and watch slap stick comedy.  I remember he laugh and laugh at The Three Stogies.  I mean I did too, when I was an infant.   Then it was time to go back to church for the night service.  I don't remember going to his church more than twice, so this relationship must have been a two weeker.  Last story about Jesus Boy.  MTV had just started and I was MEZMORIZED.  I loved watching Music Videos. I had just started college when it came on the scene.  There were days I wanted just to stay in my dorm and watch Music Videos all day. Just like I said before, I saw Jesus Boy just on weekens.  I would leave campus on Friday and drive 25 minutes home, so I would be at my dad & step-mother's house and stay there until Sunday to work my cashiering job.  We were sitting in the living room watching tv when the music video Stand Back by Stevie Nicks came on.  Jesus Boy starting laughing and said, "Oh, My God, She Can't Sing"....I was shy back then and just nodded, but I wanted to throw a Bible at his head to be honest.  I loved Stevie Nicks.  I so loved the way she dressed, the way her clothes moved in the wind, I just loved everything about her.  I coudn't believe Jesus Boy thought she couldn't sing.  As I type this I try to remember how we broke up.  My 2 weeker was coming to an end.   I don't remember if he broke up with me or visa versa.  All I remember is "Just like a white-winged dove sings a song, sounds like she singing ooo, ooo, ooo.....and Just like that I sang.... "goodbye you, goodbye you, goodbye you..."   The end, Amen

Ticketmaster or ACT?

Wow, How did I use to buy concert tickets?... Phone?...Buying concert tickets through Ticketmaster is grueling and makes me so nervous.  Just today, all I wanted was 2 tickets and OMG... What a nighmare.  I didn't realize I had an account with them, so there was no way I could remember my password.  Ready, Set, Go..... Tick, Tick, Tick, Tick....Why do they time the entire process?... I choke under pressure.  First I made sure I had the right Venu and City.  Wait before that I got an email saying I could buy tickets presale.  I thought I was "special" but soon realized it was just another gimmick.  So I had my email account opened, then from there it went to Tickmaster which gave me a "special" password... SHUMCK.... I started and the top, 2 Tickets, Best Seats, Tick
Tick Tick Tick... OMG... I typed in SHUMCK, Got it wrong, OMG, is it shumck?... OMG, What am I doing wrong?... Is it "SHUMCK"...OMG is it 'SHUMCK'?.....OMG... What am I doing wrong?...Tick Tick Tick Tick....Ahhhh Presale, 2 tickets, Best Seats then SHUMCK... Got It!... OMG they have my old Visa Card, that's an old one, Tick Tick Tick Tick, Type Peck Type Peck ... OMG time is running out.....What did I forget?... OMG... 3 Digits behind credit card.... Got It!... OMG type in What Does That Spell?.... Got Damn It!.. I can't make out the smushed up letters... OMG.... Tick Tick Tick Tick... Is that a B or an 8?.... Got Damn It....I'm getting so flustered....What is it?..... Tick Tick Tick Tick.... Let's go with B... Got It!.... "Where are these seats?" I say to myself...Tick Tick Tick Tick....I don't understand where the seats or located, Is it for Disney on Ice?.....NO, NO, NO, It's Shinedown, Three Days Grace, and P.OD....There's no seating chart, I don't see it.... OMG... OMG.... I'll take these, I'll take these.... Tick Tick Tick Tick.... Do I want to Print my tickets?... I don't trust my printer?.... How much to mail them to me, OMG....$29.95!!!!... OMG I'm gunna just print them... OMG Where is the Print Button?....Tick Tick Tick Tick.... OMG that's the receipt, it says, This Is Not Your Tickets, OMG... What do I do?....Wait, there it is.... Print> SHUMCKS TICKETS<...... Ahhhhhh......The printer is printing...ALLELIUH!!!...... I compare this experience to taking the ACT that I took 32 years ago.  The end~

Country Boy Put Pine-Sol On His Wing Wang

I just got out of college and I was sent to Baton Rouge to start as a Manager Trainee for Winn-Dixie.   I started working at Winn-Dixie in highschool and my cashering put me through college.  I decided to stay with Winn-Dixe and enter the fast track of becoming a store manager , district manager and eventually to the main office. (My "Pipe Dreams")  I had to work in all of the departments in order run a store.  Fresh out of college and a new city, DAY 1... the present store manager who wasn't a nice man told me to go unload the milk truck.  It was June, the 80's, BIG HAIR, SHOULDER PADS, and for Desiree COSMOPOLITAN MAKE-UP. The guy from the grocery truck would sling milk grates to me, the milk would splash all over me, sweat would drip from my face, and my 80's BIG HAIR drooped.  I remember it like it was yesterday, but it was 28 years ago.  I called my dad who was a prinicpal of a middle school crying.  I told him Cry Cry,  I was quiting Cry Cry, because my job Cry Cry was gross, I had Cry Cry a college degree Cry Cry, I shouldn't Cry Cry, have to unload Cry Cry, milk trucks.  My dad yells at me saying I make more money than his teachers and his teachers would be happy to unload milk trucks during the summer.  I finally went to the bathroom to clean myself up the best I could, but the milk funk still lingered for another 3 months.  I survived that summer and many more years.  The next department I was assigned was Produce.  All day long young men would tell me dirty jokes and school me on life.  Remind me to tell you about how I almost lost my left finger cutting a watermelon and all the store manager wanted to know was if I was going to ice down and clean up the department before 10:00pm.  Getting back my crude and funny male employees.  As I was washing green beans, Country Boy decided to school me on what goes on living on a farm.  I'm not going to write about the goat, but I will tell you about Pine-Sol.  It seems when Country Boy got a sexually trasmitted disease from the "Sea" he used Pine-Sol to rid them.  All I remember from that conversation was him saying, "It burned like a Motherf@#er!!!"....Now how and I'm suppose to end this blog?.....Do goats say Baaaaaa?.... I guess it depends on the farm.

From Lavender to the DEAD SEA!

I needed a face lift, that's when a 49 year old woman gets their eyebrows waxed when the can't even SEE their eyebrows.  I stop at the nearest Wing Wang Woo Woolaxing Nail Salon.  I opened the door and thought, "Wow..... Nice.... and it Smells like a Spa.... LOVE LAVENDER.  Drag Queen takes me to the back of the salon, I was hoping he was going to wax my eyebrows because his looked AWESOME...but Brittney (I really don't think that was her name, but that's what her name tag said) would do the honors.  I thought to myself, 'WHAT IS THAT SMELL?" like Seinfeld would say.  It smelled like Dead Hermit Crabs.  I mean it smelled like Lavender when I first walked in  then in 2 seconds it turned into the DEAD SEA...Maybe they sell shwimp out the back door or they where shucking oysters on the side, who knows but I was completly turned off.  I though, "Desiree this will take 5 minutes, you can old your breath that long or even Longer since the holidays are making you depressed anyway."  So Brittney tries to make small talk, but her English was so bad, poor thing, I would just nod. I made the mistake of saying I had 4 daughters and I guess she saw $$$$.  Not only did I get the DEAD SEA EYEBROW WAXING, I got the DEAD SEA FACIAL MASSAGE.  Nobody has EVER massaged my face for a simple Eyebrow Waxing.  There was Britteny massaging the Dead Hermit Crab Aroma up my nostrils, around my eyes, behind my ears, down my throat.  My paranoia & anxiety kicked in, and I thought to myself, "Is she fixing to Kung Foo Me, Put Me To Sleep, Then Sell Me From Back Door Into The Sex Slave Industry?"...."DESIREE, YOU ARE WATCHING WAY  TOO MANY DOCUMENTARIES, PLUS HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN YOUR AGE?...YOU ARE LIKE 35 YEARS TO LATE FOR THAT THERE SEX SLAVE INDUSTRY"..... "That's right I said to myself", I will talk to my Psychiatrist next week and tell him my paranio is out of control again......Can you imagine the conversation. "Brittney try to Kung Foo Me, Put Me To Sleep and Sell Me As A Sex Slave After I Shucked Oysters..Dr Blanche." ...He will say, "We no longer do Shock Therapy, but I can give you the names of a couple of Doctors that do, in the mean time we can increase your Seroquel".....I will say, "Thank Woo Dr. Blanche, Scratch Off THE DEAD SEA Off My Buket List....I'VE BEEN THERE AND LIVED TO WRITE ABOUT IT"...The End~

A Sea Of White People

A Sea Of White People is what I observed at a Louisiana Cross Country Meet Today.  Who would have knew?... Certainely not me,  I never thought about it really.  This is what I observed.  #1.  99 perecent of the runners are white.  #2.  The Private Schools had matchy match uniforms with matchy match aidias bags where the public schools wore basketball uniforms and carried Wal Mart bags.  #2.  Th Private Schools had Classy Embriodered Colorful Tents, the public school runners stood under a tree.  #3.  The Private Schools had Icey Ice Water in Brand New Coolers, the public school Runners drank from a water hose.  #4.  The Private Schools times were recorded in Brand New Apple Computers, the public school recorded their times on old yellow tablets.  #5.  The Private Schools handed out Single Roses from a Fancy Schmacy Florist and gave it to the parents of Seniors, while the public school took mums from a local cemetary and gave it to their parents.  #6. The Private School Parents had Pure Bred Furry Dogs on 14 Karat Gold Leashes Feeding Them Beggin Strips, the public school parents had mutts with a rope tied around their precious pooches feeding them dried roadkill.  and Finally ...#7. The Private School Runners hopped on a Brand New School Buses and went to a Restaurant of their choice while the public schools hopped on raggedy rag school buses and ate Egg Salad Sandwiches prepared by the public school lunchroom ladies....The end but not before I give the public schools my pen.

I Wanted To Be A Belly Dancer

Yes, I wanted to be a Belly Dancer.  Not No Midlife Crisis I want to be a Belly Dancer, this goes all the way back since I was like 8 or 9.  I remember it was Halloween.  All day long I kept thinking I coudn't wait for nightime so that I could be a Belly Dancer.  In my 7 or 8 year old mind I would imagine a Belly Dancer that I saw on tv or I would think of Cher.  So my mind would flip flop from a Belly Dancer to a Gypsie.  All I knew is I wanted to be an exotic dancer, not no Cinderella or Snow White, a Belly Dancer or a Gypsie.  How I loved scarves, jewlery, baubles and bling.  Which reminds me the time I put a button on my nostril and it went up my nose or when I super-glued a sequin to the middle of my forhead.  That's another blog and another day,  Getting back Gypsies, Tramps, & Thieves.....I didn't have much at home to dress up like my desired belly dancer & gypsie that I would imagine, but I did the best I could, I then had to tell the neighbors what I was because I probably looked like a dishelved "Hobo", my father's favorite word.  I now tell him I think you mean to say "Homeless"..... He's 73 years old and says, "No, I mean to say "Hobo".  Fastforward 25 years I hear Sting sing Desert Rose.  I'm so hooked on that song.  I play it over and over and over thinking I really should look into belly dancing classes.   Fastforward 13 years and I have a craft booth at an Arts Fair.  I was so excited because my booth was right next to the bandstand.  The excitement wore off soon.  I forgot I was in Cajun Culture and the only bands playing were country & western or like I call it, jankety jank music.  Sorry, I'm a Cajun Gal but I do not like the music of my heritage.  This fair was all day Saturday and all day Sunday.  Low and behold I see Belly Dancers.  They were going to perform on the stage.  Lets see, you had the young beautiful girls showing their midriffs, then there was the middle-aged gals like myself wearing a leotard to cover up their middle-aged stomachs.  I thought to myself... "So what's the point?"  I stepped away from my booth to watch the Belly Dancers perform.  They start the music.  I thought, "Oh, Wow, I love this music."  I started to sway and move my hands to the music.  Tick Tick Tick Ticking Of Time, I realized wait a minute, this music is starting to get annoying.  I would have to practice endless hours to this music.  Then the imcee would get the audience involved with that trill that Arabic women do with their tongue.  Guess what I learned?... Arabic women cover their mouth when they do the trill so?.....so?.... so?..... so their false teeth don't fall out?..... so their tooth don't fly out?.....DESIREE THAT'S MEAN.....Come now I needed something funny, I would say the same joke about Old Cajun Gals too, or should I say tooth?  Where does the time go?... The chances of me being an Exotic Belly Dancer or like my 84 year old best friend calls them "whores" her favorie word.... "whores"....in her little old cajun accent it comes out like whohers.....oh, and her other favorite words, "When are they bringing me the Eucharist?" ....Chances of me being a Exotic Belly Dancer?......Zero to None.......YiYiYiYiYiYiYiYiYi ... The end~

I almost lost a TOE, so my moma could Sew!

When I was 5 years old I was sitting basically at my mother's feet while she was trying to sew.  She was sitting in a small utility room with not much space.  My oldest sister and my playmate was at school and I was bored. My mother was not a very good sewer because she seldom sewed.  She would get a whim or an idea and would quit.  I on the other have have lots of whims & ideas but I've always been persisstant & I'm  basically DRIVEN TO MADNESS...llike I always say. My mother was Bi Polar but nobody knew anything in the 1960's & 70's until her nervous breakdown at age 33.  I recently found her commitment papers from April 16th, 1973 (my oldest sister's birthday was the the next day, the 17th that caught my eye)  The Psychiatrist wrote on the commiment papers that she suffered Mania and when she did, she was anorexic.  It also said she felt hopeless and worthlessness but denied sucidal thoughts.  I'm rambling.  I gotta go back to the title.  I kept bugging my moma for attention, so when she scooted back her chair she got my baby toe.  In my 5 year old mind I would say it was hanging by a thread.  That's a Pun right?  I start crying, and she gets mad.  So she brings me to the bathtub, rinses the blood off my toe (that is hanging by a thread) and tells me to go Run & Play.  Maybe that's why I have a high tolerance for pain and I'm not very good with sick people.  I will do anything for my daughters if there were sick, my husband knows not to even come to me unless he had his own death certificate in his hands.  I CAN'T HANDLE NO BABY BOO BOO HUSBAND cuz Desiree HAS ALWAYS TAKEN CARE OF HER BABY BOO BOO DAMN SELF.  I say if I can come within one hour of almost bleeding to death from a miscarriage gone bad, I am ONE TOUGH COOKIE.  Fastforward a week and my moma is trying to take a nap.  I had just finished watching Dark Shadows (what the hell kinda show was that, For God's Sake?)  I had a stash of fabric and I kept asking my Moma to sew me some Barbie Doll Clothes. I kept saying, "Moma, Moma, Moma, Make Me Some Barbie Doll Clothes".... She would say, "Desiree take a nap, No Desiree leave me alone I'm tired, Later Desiree, Later Desiree".... I would say Come on Moma, Make Me Some Barbie Doll Clothes Moma, Moma, Moma, Moma.... Finally she grabs the scraps and takes 2 stitches and gives it back to me.  I thought to myself, "This doesn't look like Barbie Clothes, not even close.".....It was like she was giving me rags to dress my Barbie.   My sister finally gets off the school bus, then off to outside we play till dark......Fastforward to middle school where I was in the choir.... Why I was in the choir, I have no clue..... I have the worst voice imaginable, but I can dance to anything.  Our choir was going to a local competition and I needed a Royal Blue V Neck Shift Shirt, Zipper In The Back With a Gold Capital A that was made of felt on the front for the name of our school....Armstrong.  I remember all the little girls getting on the bus with their Perfect Royal Blue V Neck Shift Shirts with their Perfect Gold Appliqued A on the front,  There was Desiree with a bunched up Royal Blue Shit Shirt with a Crooked Gold Appliqued Capital A.  I was Humilated.... Maybe that is why I've learned to sew......  Was that a Freudian Thing You Think?......... or...... Maybe just a Gift I was Born  With?.... Who knows..... Maybe it was Simply a TOE Thing....The End~

I Have A Restless Soul!

I was talking to my dad today, who I like to call Felix Unger because he reminds me of him in EVERYWAY.  I said, "Felix" do you know I have a Restless Soul, and I'm never satisfied with life?  He said, "Well that's good daughter, it's good to be restless and never satisfied because that means you have Drive."..... That could also mean I suffer Depression too, but "Felix" tells me when I feel down go mow the grass and clip hedges.  Even though 2 of his daughters suffer mental illness he can't quiet seem to grasp that concept.  Then I said, "Felix, I don't forgive, forget, and I burn a lot of bridges.  I also said, "I don't have many friends and I constanly delete friends & family members from facebook simply for not responding if I asked a  question, so I don't think a lot of people will be at your funeral."  He said, "DESIREE YOU NEED TO GO TALK TO A PRIEST.  I said I did and the priest told me to say the rosary.  I told the priest I look at rosaries and think to myself, "I can make these and sell them at a craft show".  Has my father forgotten what I wrote in my memoir?..... I had my finger in the face of a traveling catholic monk telling him that his Relaxing CD's didn't do SHIT for me, and I was STILL SICK.  I probably didn't say that exactly in my memoir, I probaby "sugar coated" that incident in 2010.  You know you are incorrigable when a Priest says, "You might want to talk to a Professional as in a Psychiatrist.",,,, Then "Felix" says go talk to that nun you like so much...... Well I did.  She told me to write a testimony and bring it to her personally.  It seems other things I have given the Nunnery don't quite get to the nun.  So I type a letter called Love, Laughter, and The Lord.  I thought it was hilarious. I know my nun as a great sense of humor she will get it, she will get it (I really thought she would)..... But not thoses Phony Balonys working for her will..... Guess what happened after I hand delivered my funny Testimony?....NOTHING....I saw were the Nunnery was having a Barn Dance to raise money....WOW, I didn't know Jesus danced and besides that Bridge Is Now Burned....REJECTION REJECTION REJECTION BAD LUCK BAD LUCK BAD LUCK.....My Deep Seeded Depression is so BAD my Psychiatrist has me on a Mood Stablizer which seems to work about Half A Day then I go back to being PISSY.  So lets go through this again.  I Have A Restless Soul, I'm Never Satisfied, I Don't Forgive, I Don't Forget, I Burn Bridges, I Tell Off A Catholic Monks and I'm PISSY!......See you later I'm going to Mow the F@#kin Grass!

Would You Like A Slice Of Mold?

I HATE TO COOK & I HATE TO BAKE, so me going to STATE for a DEMONSTRATION in COOKING for 4-H is hard to believe.  I was a junior in high school when I won 1st place in the Bread & Cereal or The Bread & Nuts or The Bread & Whatever Category for the Parish where I grew up.  If I said Parish you know I'm from Louisiana.  It was a hard time for me and my brother & sister.  You the know the common story, divorced parents and a step parent who really doesn't want a bunch of kids. I loved my High School English Teacher.  I would have done anything for her.  She was a really good teacher.  Teacher if you are reading this blog, I'm sorry for all grammatical & puntcuation errors, I like to write like I talk (it's my excuse that I am using these days.)  She was in charge of all of us 4-H'ers in High School (Poor Thing).  She needed someone to do a demonstration so I volunteered.  The 4-H Coordinator for the Parish came to my house and helped me write my demonstration,  The item she choose for me to demonstrate was PINEAPPLE & CARROT QUICK BREAD..... YUCK!!!....  I was too shy to tell her I didn't like the recipe (imagine that).  I would practice and  practice and practice and practice.  I had a knack for total memorization, but I couldn't in a MILLION years EVER talk "off the cuff" as they say.  To my surprise I won 1st place.  If you won 1st place that meant you were off to STATE to compete with everyone in Louisiana in that catagory.  Getting back to my home life, it was miserable.  My step parent didn't want to be bothered with getting the ingredients I needed and really never wanted us near the kitchen to be honest.  We were to stay in our bedrooms mostly.  Outta sight, Outta mind I guess.  Well I knew STATE was getting near so I baked the Quick Carrot & Pineapple an ENTIRE WEEK (unrefrigerated) before STATE because that was the only time I could get my ingredients and get into the kitchen.  My dad brings me to Crowley, Louisiana where the school bus was being loaded with a bunch of teenagers headed to Baton Rouge, Louisiana for the STATE competition.  All the parents were happy & giddy, making sure their child had EVERYTHING except for me.  When I arrived in Baton Rouge I realized that a lot of the girls that I was competing with had their mothers.  Their mother's made sure their child had access to a kitchen for their "prized recipe".  I remember one girl in particular had a chef hat on, a matching apron, and SHE WAS MAKING PIZZA.  But there is Desiree with her 1 week old (not refrigerated) PINEAPPLE & CARROT QUICK BREAD...YUCK!!!  I didn't have the right ingredients neither.  My step parent wouldn't go buy me some baking powder, so I used Flour.  My demonstration was not the 1st one to be seen for competition that week.  My demonstration doesn't take place until 3 days later making my PINEAPPLE & CARROT QUICK BREAD...YUCK!!!...10 DAYS OLD.... Finally it was my turn to do my demonstration.  I "Nailed It"... using my fake "baking powder".  The judges wanted to taste my "Creation".... I PANICKED... I might lack common sense, but I knew enough to know that my "Creation" had molded.  With shaking hands, I slice my "PINEAPLLE & CARROT QUICK BREAD..YUCK, YUCK, YUCK!!! and gave it to the judges.  I saw the look on their faces.  The judges looked at each other and mouthed, "it's spoiled".  So they then tell me to go to the kitchen and bake what I just demonstrated.   I shyly left the room, found the dorm kitchen and baked my "Creation" that lacked baking powder.  It didn't rise at all, it actually deflated.  I then went back to the judges and gave them a Good Ole' Slice of Desiree's "Creation".....Now I was doubeley MORTIFIED..... No, I didn't win 1st place, I didn't even place 20th...... but the Pizza Girl did....... SHE WON 1st PLACE!... Since then I have stayed away from combining Carrots & Pineapples..... NEVER to be eaten TOGETHER again, especially in a BREAD.....YUCK!!!

TAKE A CHILL PILL PARENTS!

I say Hooray for the lady trying to start a movement for kids to play unsupervised.  If you were looking at a pendulum as a measure of parenting, I would say it's gone way to the right. I would say the way I was raised in the 1960's the pendulum was way to the left. When I say left, I mean Fishsticks, Jello, and Tang for supper.  I say ENOUGH with the Helicopter parents.  You know the parents, they obsessively check their childs grade, they make the child play with whom they want, they know too much what is going on at school and among their friends.   My 4 daughters seem to be succeeding with my reverse psychology.  I tell them to tell their teacher not to send me emails about school work.  I say, "I've already gone to school and I'm not going to school for you."  With my two college kids I had no preconceived notions or fields of study that I wanted them in.  I always told them, "Do what you love and try to find a way to support yourself, and if it means living in a 500 sq ft studio apartment for the rest of your life, so be it." (How many of us secretly want to live in a 500 sq ft studio apartment?).  Let me give you an example.   I had to go to this Catholic School to take care of some business (I forgot my 3rd daughter was suppose to make her confirmation last year, afterall the running around I did, she decided she didn't want to hassle with it this year because her plate was full already, Cross Country Running, ACT Prep, and Tanning).  So I told her when she gets married she will have to go the Justice Of The Peace and get married like I did, in back of a subdivison, in a den, in front a broken fireplace with her heels getting caught in some 1972 shag carpet soiled from home schooled kids.  Just as well, we have no money for a "fancy"  wedding or even enough money to tip the Porter at a Drive Through Elvis Chapel.  As I was walking through the courtyard of this Catholic School, I see this kid that may have drank too many Kool-Aids and eaten too many Airheads.  I'm not writing about something I don't know, my oldest daughter growing up looked like she drank too many Kool- Aids too. I never said anything but my Grandma surely did.   Grandma to Oldest Daughter, "Why you a fat little girl aren't you?".... It's all good now, she went to college, her freshman dorm mates got her hooked on Vyvannese, she dropped 30 lbs, and now has her on prescription.  I still get this daughter telling me weekly, "Why did you let me get fat & not say anything?".... Well, I guess cuz I'm overweight myself, so that would make me one big old hypocrite with a capital E.   Getting back to Catholic Boy, Camelot, Kingston, Edwardian, Lexington, Baron, or Napoleon (one of those uppety names) walked up to the water fountain and started hyperventilating over a FLY.  He started crying, shaking, sweating, and getting red in the face.  This OTHER little boy walked up to Camelot, Kingston, Edwardian, Lexington, Baron, or Napoleon and said, "It's okay, everything is going to be alright."  I thought, "Did this kid really have a problem? or Did his parents cause him to become a Hypercondriac?... Did he suffer from true Panic Attacks?..... Or was he just a Crybaby?.....I have a daughter that suffers Panic Attacks, we got her on Zoloft which cured about 95% of her Panic Attacks.  When she has a Panic Attack she calls me and I say,  "It's okay, everything is going to be alright(Crybaby)."  Camelot, Kingston, Edwardian, Lexington, Baron, Napoleon looked like a kid seeking attention, so I gave him attention.  I invited him to come to my house to watch a taped commericial of little African children with FLIES ALL OVER THERE FACE, where these kids don't even FLINCH when the fly lands on their eyeballs.   I will then tell him to go back to school, open the bible, and KEEP READING cuz Jesus is coming soon, and he's not taking Crybabies with him!!!....The End~

YOU CALL THAT TOILET CLEAN?..THAT'S HALF ASS!

   More stories about "Felix" is what I get daily.  So here we go... "Felix" was in public education for 42 years.  He was first a teacher, then a guidance counselor, then an assistant principal, finally a principal.. He could have been on the school board but he said he wasn't Kissing Anyone's Ass, so he retired from being a principal.  His school was in the Ghetto.  I went to this school in the 70's but didn't realize it was in the Ghetto.  All I remember was my bus would pass in front of the Projects then we would turn on this road.  I never looked at street signs so I don't know if the road was called Martin Luther King Dr. always or was it renamed.  "Felix" took pride in his Ghetto school.  He never once called it a Ghetto school but a childhood friend told me we went to school in the Ghetto.  Maybe that is why I love Elvis Presley's song, "In The Ghetto", because it's my Alma Mater.  "Felix" ran his Ghetto school like a Navy Man would say, "A Tight Ship".  He walked those Ghetto halls all day long.  He would check on his teachers, the kids, the cafeteria, and finally the janitors.  I know he wanted to fire the teacher's that were doing a Half Ass job, but he couldn't because they had tenure.  He had some good teachers and he made sure I got them.  I still begrudge him for that one year he put me with the dummies.  The cool smart kids went to the English Teacher that slept during class.  ARE YOU KIDDING ME?..I WANTED TO BE IN THAT CLASS!!!... I'm in Middle School, Do you think I'm worried about a descent education?...I was more worried about.. "What was for lunch in the cafeteria?... Was the spinach in the cafeteria that days mowed grass?...Will I smell like the cafeteria all day?....I can't actually eat in the cafeteria, only the poor kids do that, not the cool kids.  I wish my moma would buy me some "Love's Baby Soft perfume so I wouldn't smell like chicken, mash potatoes, bleach water and cafeteria plates".... I must have been a poor kid because I ate in the cafeteria all the way through school.  Eating in the cafeteria as a Senior was the WORST.  That's another issue I begrudge against my father, "Felix".   The only person that could hide from "Felix" was the janitor.  It made him crazy.  I remember a funny story how "Felix" walked into the bathrooms and smelled Pine-Sol.  Most principals would say, "smells clean therefore the toilets must be clean"..  "Felix took it one step futher and inspected those toilets"... RING AROUND THE TOILETS????.....UNACCEPTABLE!!!... There goes Felix on a mission to find the guilty janitor who might be in the broom closet taking a nap.  Up and Down, Up and Down, Felix looking for his janitor.  He finally finds him smoking a cigarette in his car.  "Felix" leads the janitor to the Pine-Sol bathroom and lifts the lid from the Ring Around Toilet and says to the janitor, "YOU CALL THAT TOILET CLEAN?.. THAT'S HALF ASS!!!.... You can't just throw Pine-Sol in the toilet and swish it around, THAT'S NOT CLEAN, You Must Use A Pulmic Stone, GET IN THERE WITH BOTH HANDS & SCRUBB!!!.....THAT'S HALF ASS... THAT'S HALF ASS.... THAT'S HALF ASS..... is all I heard growing up... On "Felix's" Tombstone... It will read "Felix" Born September 9, 1939~Died ?......From Heaven I hear...."My Tombstone Wasn't Even Finished... Figures...............It was done HALF ASS!"

THEY CALLED HIM WHAT?

My dad, "Felix Unger" just called to report another distant cousin or distant great uncle's death.  The way my dad approached death has become almost comical.  Last week he called to tell me the last of the uncles has died.  He then tells me their age, their aliment, and how we are related when I've met this uncle maybe twice in my lifetime.  "Felix" emailed me a few days ago to tell me his cousin they called "Choker" died. There were a bunch of boys all borned around 1939, he prides himself on be the Last One Standing.  Then there was "Shine" awhile back.  He himself is called "Buddy".  Wow, I don't see "Buddy" at all.  I look at my dad and I see Felix Unger. He described the funeral today.  There was a lot of people he says.  Now remember, "I want to be cremated or ya'll can donate my body to science or even better than that, put me in a field and let the Buzzards get me (that's if I have totally gone Senile)......Can you believe they want $10,000 for a coffin???.. For God's Sake that's what I paid for my first house in 1966.  I'll show those Funeral Directors a thing or two.  Speaking of two, Can you believe people pay two thousand maybe even more to bury their pet?.....Better yet send my body to a pet cementary, the cheapest way is the only way I say.".......After he has desensitized me towards death, I go on to ask him what did the nicknames mean.  "Well"....  he said, "Choker" was a football player. He was this Big Guy, he could  choke you so we called him "Choker".  I then ask him what about "Buddy", well "Buddy" was more like brother, his brother & sister called him that.   I ask the final question, "Dad, what the heck did "Shine" stand far?.... He then proceeded to tell me in his always politically incorrect way.....   "Well.... "Shine" was very dark and he had a shine to him so we called him "Shine".... Actually he was the best looking of all us, he always got the girls....It's "Felix's" 73rd birthday tomorrow.  May he continue to live another 20 years and never never succumb to Political Correctness....My stories wouldn't be as funny, you know deep down, I'm right....Ain't that right "Shine"!

She Drank Boo Boo Juice!

What am I suppose to say, my 18 year old daugher drank Booze on her Birthday and ended up in the Emergency Room?... Here' the story.  I had a group of girls at my house all giddy and getting ready to go out for my daughter's 18th Birthday.  I would walk into the bedroom and say to the girls, "It's kinda getting late, I hate that it's almost 10:00pm and ya'll not even out the door."  The reponse was, "Moma you don't remember being young?....Things don't start happening to at least 11:00pm."... My reply was, "I was NEVER young,  studying, school, housework, and working is all I ever knew."  Grant it I didn't have to walk 20 miles in 6 feet of Snow in Louisiana like my father, but pretty close to it.   Getting back to Birthday Girl....  She had a Sash Saying, "It's My Birthday...Kiss Me.... or Kiss and You Buy Me Booze" (I was't paying attention I thought it just said Birthday Girl) and a Crown that I didn't really see until the Emergency Visit.  Her older sisters were bringing these seniors to some college bars and if I'm not mistaken some girls looked like they had Fake ID's, I'm not sure, but when I looked at there drivers license, these American girls had Oriental features.  They told me Driver's license pictures have the worse lighting and you really never look like yourself.  It's not like a Bouncer would allow Beautiful Girls into a Bar Under Age.  Things like that NEVER happen.  I take my nightly cocktail of Ambien and Seroquel (Bi Polars Gotta Take Their Meds) and was just about to go to sleep when I get a call from an Ambulance Driver at about Midnight (A mother's WORSE NIGHTMARE) telling me my daughter will be find but needs to go to the emergency room because "someone" but something in her drink.  My oldest daughter gets on the phone and ask to speak to her dad.  He SCREAMS, "PUT HER ASS IN THE CAR AND BRING HER HOME"...I was SHOCKED, I said somebody put something in her Coke.  I then said, "I'm going to the emergency room NOW, I threw on my clothes and drove to the hospital with lots of  adreline pumping through my veins.  That Ambien & Seroquel didn't even have a chance of working....When it comes to my daughters, NOTHING stops me.  My husband on the other hand rolled over and went back to sleep.  This is typical.... I have FIGHT, what the Professionals call the "FIGHT OR FLIGHT RESPONSE"...I've always been a FIGHTER....My husband on the other hand avoids Conflict at all Cost, he takes Flight...I'm driving to the hospital with my mind racing with all kinds of terrible thoughts.  I arrive at the hospital, I see my oldest daughter and Birthday Girl's friends... I got in their face and yelled.... "I'M TELLING ALL YOUR MOMAS YA'LL HAVE FAKE ID'S!!!"....I went to the back and saw Birthday Girl in the bed with the nurses fussing over her.  She looks up at me and says..."Have You Come To Beat Me?".....I thought no silly child, "I'm gunna Beat you at home when nobody is watching"...I did like any mother would do, I wiped her smeared mascara and lipstick and said, "it's gunna be alright"... She then crys out to the nurses, "I need to leave, my daddy can't afford this right now, we are broke.".... Well, I couldn't argue that, but I lied and said, don't worry, insurance pays for this after we meet our $10,000 deductible...Then the nurses started poking her arm to get some blood work... They couldn't find a vein.... I kept saying to myself..... "POKE HER.... POKE HER.... POKE HER.."  Then Birthday Girl crys out to me and says, "EVERYTHING YOU'VE SAID, sniff, sniff,  ABOUT LIFE sniff, sniff IS RIGHT, snif, sniff,  I'VE SHOULD HAVE LISTENED TO YOU, sniff, sniff, BETTER"....."Hmmm... There Is A God", I say to myself..... I help Birthday to the bathroom to get a urine sample, after all, she was "drugged" by "someone".... They tell Birthday Girl to be quiet they had a serious problem behind the other curtain.....My ears perk up, all I understood was..."How many piercing do you have?... It's gunna be hard to get them all out, This is gunna tear, It's gunna hurt, WOW, I've never seen this before, and Are you seeking help for this problem?...The writer in me needs pencil & paper... My sister said (after I called her the next day), "Desiree I can't believe you didn't peek through the curtain and pretend you were lost and you had the wrong room & STARE"... God she knows me so well.....After our 4 hour wait, I had dozed off holding my daughter's precious hand, while she peacefully slept.  Then the doctor walks in to tell me the results....."Your daughter had a blood alcohol level of  .009? or 1.009? or & 1.90?" ... I just said, "I don't understand what you are saying?"... "Your daughter was Drunk", he said.....I was stunned... I thought.... "NO WAY.....She doesn't Drink.".....Next day, I get the REAL STORY.... Guys in College Town saw her Birthday Sash and said, "All Birthday Girls Drink SHOTS"....She said she didn't like alcohol, but they kept saying, "But That's What ALL Birthday Girls Do, They Drink SHOTS"....I guess because she's the 3rd daughter out of 4, it's my fault because I didn't give her enought Attention.... All is well now, Birthday Girl has learned her Lesson...She doesn't drink anymore and she doens't like people that do either.....She went from The Birthday Girl to The Self Righteous Girl..... I couldn't be more Prouder!

Here We Go Again.....

Another Hurricane I survived in Louisiana....I can't get lower than I was for Hurricane Katrina where I was one signature away from the Looney Bin....This time the hurricane spared my mind & my house, but I saw a giant roach today in my kitchen, so I'm ready to move....Roaches give me the "Freesons" a feeling only us Cajuns would know.  I take off for the grocery store today, a day after the hurricane... "Oh, no, Here We Go Again....Major intersection with no lights working, cars & trucks in every lane coming and going....Is it your turn?... Is it my turn?....Are you waving at me?.... Are you waving to the car to my right?....Who is going 1st?...The person with the largest vehicle?...No way, I'm not going, I'm going to get TBoned...Remind me to pick up some TBones for supper.... Let's start again..... IS THAT Bit@# TEXTING IN THE LEFT LANE???...Wait, let me honk at her and shoot her the finger......Remind me to get some Butterfingers for tonight...Let's start again....That Bit@#  has phone service!!!..... But... But..But... the lights to this intersection ain't working?.....Figures.....What did you say?...Go Now?....Go Now?...You?.... Me?......LOOK AT THAT CRAZED MOFO OVER THERE!!!...... He must be looking for some gas for his generator.....He needs to sweat like all the rest of the poor people... THAT JACK@#$... Is that a siren?.... I hear it but I don't see it.......Pull over?... Pull over where?....Go in the ditch you think?....No, I can't pull over to the other side, it's under contruction, that's like a 6ft drop..... Do I run over the orange cone?.....Wait, I still hear sirens ,but I  don't see anything... Quickly what month are we in?.... Let's see... August.... Wait, there's no parades in August....Wait, the siren is coming closer.... Relax it's not a firetruck or an ambulance.... It's the Police.... Uh, Oh.... Do I have my driver's license?.....Got it!.... Car inspected?.... WOW, it expired 2 years ago and it looks like I needed to change my oil 50,000 miles ago..... Tags on license plates?......By the way how do you get those?.....Car Insurance?.....Well what happened was my husband told me to put it in my car but I never got around to it, it's somewhere under a stack of bills I've been meaning to pay when I hit the lottery.....Relax the Po Po passed me, I'm off the hook today..... Today?.... What is Today?.... Is it Wed.?.... Thurs.?... Fri.?... Sat.?..... Gosh I really need to get my depression looked at....That's a warning sign that you are into the thros of depression....or is it the throws of depression?... Throws... Throws.....Throws remind of Mardi Gras....I wonder if I will be happy enough for Mardi Gras this year?.... Here We Go Again... Is it your turn or my turn?......

Might Be Mildy Retarded?

My father who I will call Felix Unger to protect his innocence (search my name, in less than 2 minutes you would know who he is) has an opinion and a name for everything & everyone he meets.  Starting with me, I'm Bi Polar but to him I'm WISHY WASHY.  People who are homeless are HOBO'S.  Kids who act up in class are HOODLUMS.  People who I thought were funny growing up, Lucille Ball, Carol Burnette, Jerry Lewis, Red Skeleton were SO DAMN SILLY.  People who were tight with their money were JEWS (including himself, even though he is a practicing Catholic), Ann Margaret, his favorite actress & all pretty women in general (WHOA TIGERS), Elvis Presley his idol until HE LET HIMSELF GO, My Music (NOISE), Naps (FOR LAZY PEOPLE), Messy Houses (LAZY LAZY PEOPLE), Dirty Cars (PEOPLE WITH NO PRIDE), Un Cut Grass (AGAIN, PEOPLE WITH NO PRIDE),  People with Dementia (SENILE), The Denist Who put who put braces on his Brown Teeth (He always said he was Born With Brown Teeth)~~~(THE TOWN DRUNK) ....A person who Squanders their Money (WHEN THEY DON'T EVEN HAVE A POT TO PEE IN)....Then there's the SNOOTY PEOPLE WITH THERE NOSES IN THE AIR, Talking Politics.... All Republican Presidents (GREEDY & HEARTLESS ) ....President Nixon (A HUNCHED- OVER CROOK WHO THOUGH HE WAS HIP BY WAVING THE  PEACE SIGN), President George W Bush (A PUPPET), Dick Cheney & Donald Rumsfield (SHADY),  The Country in General (HEADED FOR A TRIPLE DEPRESSION MIXED WITH A TRIPLE RECESSION TOPPED OFF WITH TRIPLE INFLATION  caused by all former Republican Presidents), The World in General (FIXIN TO COME TO AN END), An Atheist (THEY ARE PROBABLY RIGHT), and finally my favorite anyone who makes small talk or simple chit chat, the quiet & reserved, oh, and ANYONE that is HAPPY all the time (ALL MILDY RETARDED)

WHO'S SMOKING WEED IN MY GOT DAMN HOUSE!

Here it is midnight and I'm all up into Scott Weiland's Memoir....Not Dead & Not For Sale...Lead singer of my beloved band Stone Temple Pilots.  All of a sudden I smell weed.  WHAT?....IN MY HOUSE?... I joke about it all the time, but I'm too Rigid & Self-Righteous when it comes to recreational drugs, which include alcohol in my book.  Having to get drunk on an airplane to fly once in a decade does not constitute drinking.  Yes, it is true after cancer I had someone bring me some marijuana to my bedroom because I was so sick.... Don't worry  I couldn't keep the damn thing lit, futhermore I don't even know how to inhale smoke......Kinda like Clinton or Bush when they said, "aaye tried it but I didn't inhale or have sexual relations according to the United States Constitution"..... I walked out of my bedroom and yelled...."WHO'S SMOKING WEED IN MY GOT DAMN HOUSE?"........I have 4 daughters 3 are 18 and older, there's always a bunch of girls sleeping in my house in given night.... My 2 youngest ran into my room, "HAVE YOU GONE PSYCHOTIC MOM?....They yelled, "WE KNOW BETTER THAN THAT, NONE OF US DO DRUGS"..... I sneerly said, "Don't lie to me, I don't trust none of you teenagers"....So we all started  sniffing around my bedroom... My girls smelled it too.... The older daughter said, "Did you leave your hair straightner on?"...."She's acting all innocent" I said to myself, cuz I know a guilty look when I see it after taken Seroquel and Ambien to sleep.... "Listen here" I said, I know weed when I smell it.  It smells like long matted homeless hair burning on a large night light (that I failed to notice).  Wow, who would have thunk it, my burned hairbonds smell like weed.

How I learned To Sew!

I think some people are just born with creativity but like with everything, to get good at something it takes perserverance, determination, and practice.  People always ask me how did I learn to sew?  I remember I was about 9 years old I made my doll a dress with some fabric stash that I had found.  What stands out is I somehow added beads & jewels (shocker, not really, the people that know me lol).  I joined 4-H around 4th grade and I had to make an apron.  My mom was very, very sick and not in the home.  I got help from a neighbor.  I think I got a certificate for participation.  I joined sewing again in 7th grade and I had to make a skirt.  I placed 1st, I think because it was long and I looked like a "Walton" Girl, instead of a short & sassy skirt that the "Brady" girls wore.  I could never wear a "Brady' skirt, I never had the legs for it.  Fastforward to junior year in highschool.  I impulsively decided to make my own prom dress. I bought this pink gingham check material at TG &Y.  I cried and cried, the pattern was too hard but I was brought up to never give up.  I place 3rd in the 4-H competition.  There was 3 of us.  My prom date, a distant cousin thought my dress was pretty, he said I looked like Ellie Mae Clampett.  Fastforward 20 years, I pregnant with my 4th daughter and I see some embriodered work that was done on a machine.  I was mesmerized when I found out a machine could do all of that with a touch of a button.  I was hooked.  My husband surprised me with a small embriodery machine Christmas of 1999.  That following Easter season I had a small booth at a craft show.  Did I make money?... Nope, never did or will make any money in all my endeavors in the future. LOL.... After I got my embriodery machine I decided to start sewing again.  I read every sewing book out on the market.  I would watch Sewing With Nancy, Sandra Betzina, Marth Pullen and Susan Kalje.  I like easy sewing.  Having four girls maybe is  probably why I like making little girl clothes.  I like simple patterns and simple instructions.  I tend to make the same thing over and over because I don't like to be challenge too much with a pattern in which I spend a lot of time ripping.  I also love sewing or crocheting baby blankets.  I joined the ASG in Baton Rouge around 2000 or 2001.  I have learned so much from the members over the years. I would say I learned more from the members than all the tv shows & books about sewing combined.  The Quilt Show in Houston and the Sewing Retreats I've been to are some of my fondest memories.  I encourage all young people to get a hobby, it's good for the soul.  Happy Sewing~Desiree Dugas

I Peed On The Plane!

I'm beyond terrified to fly.  I'm 49 years old, my husband and I never got on a plane and left our 4 daughters in 22 years.  We were invited to a wedding in San Francisco, my husband's good friend's only child, a daughter was getting married.  We tossed around the idea to go to San Francisco for an entire year.  Three weeks before the wedding I suprised my husband and said, "I booked us a flight, pack your bags, we are going to San Francisco!"....Well the day came for me to board the plane.  I thought I would face my fear and not take anything to relax on the plane.  When I saw the plane through the window I panicked.  I found the bar, bought a glass of wine and downed my xanax.  I'm not a drinker, 4 glasses of wine a year to me wouldn't qualify me as a drinker.  My anxiety heightened as I was boarding the plane.  Up close to me the plane almost looked like a toy plane.  My husband and I found 2 empty seats. I then decided to go to the "Mile High Bathroom" in front of the plane.  Who walks out of the Camper Bathroom?....A 6ft 2 nice looking pilot that I kept eying, making sure I didn't see any twitching or anything.  As I was Hovering over the Wasteland  Toilet, I noticed my sandals were getting wet, then I could feel my leg getting wet, then I felt my Maxi Dress getting.... that's when I realized the seat was down and I just peed on myself.  I was so zonked, I didn't even notice the seat was down.  I mean what public restroom ever has the toilet seat down?  I then spent the next 5 minutes trying to clean the 3 square inches of floor with paper towels.  I hurried outta there and apologized to the passenger for smelling like pee.  I told then I just got of a mental institution.  Okay the last 2 lines are jokes, I really just hurried myself to my seat, hung my head low and thought to myself, "I'm 49 years old,I'm stuck on a plane, and I just peed on myself."

"YOU SLOW AS F@#K BRO!!"

I just got back from a 6 hour wait in the Emergency Room in Baton Rouge, Louisiana.  I checked in at 11:30am and was released at 5:30pm.  I knew it was going to be bad when I couldn't find a parking place.  I see what I thought was a good parking spot, but a bitchy girl pararmedic said I couldn't park there because that's where the amubulances park.  There were 8 empty spots for the ambulances, I saw the sign. But where I was going to park there was no sign.  I snapped at the bitchy girl paramedic and said, "I see all the spots that are marked AMBULANCES ONLY, but this spot has no markings, therefore I can park here, I then said if I don't park here then where am I suppose to park?"   She snapped right back and said, "I don't know(in her mind said, I don't give a rat's ass you High Class bit@#, I've been on call now for 24 hours) but you can't park there."  So I kept circling the parking lot until someone  left, which was about 30 minutes.  There was a lot of construction going on because they are enlarging this Emergency Room.... To accomodate more peole that will spend more HOURS moaning, waiting, and complaining. The first thing I noticed was that I was the only white person there in a sea of African Americans.  I'm not being a racist, people that know me know that I write what I see, and I write what I hear.  I checked in at the front desk and headed to the vending machines where I knew I would be eating lunch and dinner.  I'm called to the back after an hour wait to explain why I was there.  Let me start by saying I've had some hard knocks in life.  I'm Bi Polar with paranoid thoughts, diagnosed and misdiagnosed 25 years now, I had Thyroid Cancer 7 years ago during Huricane Katrina, feeling like SHIT for 7 years on and off , and I had 2 discs replaced in my neck, 2 summers ago.  That's just the highlights, I have no desire to write another book right now.  Getting back to the Emergency Room visit.  The condescending not too attractive woman doctor wanted to know why I was there TODAY complaining about right arm pain, if it had been going on for 2 months now.  I said, "Look!... I am Bi Polar with paranoid thoughts, I am worried that the pinch nerve that I think I  have in my neck might paralyze me TODAY and I'll have to type with a straw."  I then added, "Don't worry I'm not here seeking pain meds, I don't take them."  I could have swore she said, "Figures" under her breath.  She then sent me back to the waiting room with orders for a CT Scan.  I knew to bring a book because it's ALWAYS a long wait in every emergency room  that I've ever been in. Some people brought their bedspreads from home to cover with.  That's what made me notice the social economic differences between them and me.  I was sitting there in pretty dress, jewlery, high heels, with an up swept hairdo.  It seems everyone in  the Emergency Room moves in slow motion, including the 2 security guards drinking coffee & reading the newspaper in the lobby.  I sometimes think doctors, nurses, and techs are all in the back watching a movie and come to  check on us during intermission.  Come on now, we smell the microwave popcorn.  They finally call my name, led me somewhere, I think to the Triage Room..... NOW LET THE CRAZINESS BEGIN.  To my right was an African American BAT SHIT CRAZY LADY who barked oders, followed by weird giggles and mad laughter (which my daughters & sister say that I do all the time)... She knew that emergency room like it was her own living room.  She shouted out, "LOOK AT THAT DOCTOR WITH BLOODY GLOVES, SHE GUNNA CONTAMINATE US ALL, SHE AIN'T SUPPOSE TO WALK AROUND LIKE THAT".... Then she said, "LOOK THAT PREGNANT LADY, SHE CAN'T HAVE NO XRAY, THAT GUNNA FRY HER FETUS" always followed by her weird giggles & mad laughter.... Then she stood up, left the Triage Room went to the nurses' station, reached over the counter and helped herself to the nurses' phone.  She must have been a "regular" cuz nobody got nervous but ME, not the Doctors, not the PA's, not the Nurses, not even the SECURITY GUARDS....NOBODY!....Another person that stood out was Gangta Man(very good looking I might add)..... He answers his cell phone many times throughout the 6 hours, the one line that catches my attention was "this nigga is a chillen with my 10 toes down"( I thought to myself , WOW, that could be the title of a rap song)....I could see he was getting more agitated by the hour.  He was leaning to the right with his hand on his face half sleeping/half lalert, then all of a sudden he hollers, "YOU SLOW AS F@#K BRO!!!"....to no one inparticular, then puts his hands in his big baggy pants, half on, half off where they stay for the next 4 hours. Then there was a young white boy with a broken nose, after his 5 hour wait he asked the BAT SHIT CRAZY LADY, "What would happened if I just left?"....BAT SHIT CRAZY LADY  said , "Nothin, they don't give F@#k about you, heee heeee"....  So white boy gets up and says," F@#k THIS SHIT, I'M OUTTA HERE.".....The more we wait, the more we ALL curse like "F@#king Sailors" (I take it we are all Bi Polar Mother@#king "Sailors")....  Now it was my turn for a CT Scan.  They come to get me pushing  a wheelchair, which makes my anxiety go through the roof.  Like, what's that's suppose to mean.  Then I start my rambling.  "Do you think maybe they gunna find a brain tumor?... Do you think maybe I have a brain aneurism?.... Do you think I might have a stroke or somethin?"... The wheelchair guide said, "maam, I'm just Transport".  The CT Scan room brings flashbacks to my terrified cancer days, a place I never want to go back.  The room is sterile and gives me the creeps.  I asked the tech/nurse/i don't know person if I will hear the knocking noise during the CT Scan.  She said, "no, this will only take a couple of minutes."..."Yeah I thought....of RADIATION!".... I had to remove my earrings, my necklace and my headband.  I closed my eyes for safe meaures and began to pray....yeah, like that has helped me in the past. I take that back...... SOME of my prayers get answered, but I like to focus on the THOUSANDS of prayers that DON'T..... My CT Scan is over and it was back to the wheelchair then back to the Triage Room for results.  During my 5 hour wait, there were 2 people that came to see me, one was to make sure my forms were correct.  What popped out at me was I did not state a religion and I was listed as Non Hispanic. "What?"... I thought.  The register said that's what they put for all white people....  Huh?.....  Then another girl came to make sure of what I told the doctor was right, which all seemed so repeative really.  Finally, after 6 hours a PA comes to get me with the results.  They took me to another room to explain the results which also scares the SHIT out of me too.  Another room, what's that's suppose to mean?  I'm always  thinking the worst. The results came back that I needed physical therapy on my right arm, if that didn't work the PA said I might need a nerve conductive test, and finally I was to follow up with my Neurologist.  I was given a perscription of musle relaxers and an inflamatory, I was assured I wouldn't OD with my everyday prescriptionss of Seroquel, Ambien, Xanax, and Synthroid.  One last thing I noticed.  All 5 of us in Triage had somehow bonded.  As we left Triage  we would wave good-bye to each other.  Kinda like saying I'm Finally Outta Here Motherf@#kers!

Have You Ever Been Mellow?

I was changing the channel of my car radio when I heard Olivia Newton John's song, Have You Ever Been Mellow?... My first reaction was to Cringe, I use to like that music, not so much anymore.  The last Mellow concert I went to was Josh Groban in 2004...Need I say more.  Have I ever been mellow is what Olivia sings?... My answer... "NO!"... I was born intense, with a very old soul.  The biggest risk I ever took was when I was driving at night without my glasses, leaving a dance/night club, at age 23, and not knowing how to use the defroster on my car.  My bestfriend at the time screamed, "YOU ARE DRIVING ON THE MEDIAN!!!"... Truth be told, I have night blindness, the Median & the Boulevard was such a blur, I guess I was too stupid notice and hear the hump that my car made when I jumped the boulevard onto the grassy part (I scored a 17 on my ACT, forgive me) with my muffler screeching against the pavement.  It's like I don't notice stuff like that, but human behavior, I'm 100% focused and there.   And other truth to be told, I didn't know how to use the defroster in that car or any other ones I have had since.  I never know when it's cold on the inside of the car, do I put the defroster on cold or hot?  I still remember this story like it was yesterday.  My bestfriend, again at the time, couldn't stop laughing that an "educated" person like myself could lack such common sense. I was driving on the median, sober, fogged up windows, with nightblindness singing a 1980's Madonna Song, now that's RISKY!!!.....  You would think being Bi Polar I would have more risky stories to tell, but I don't have too many (maybe).... Bi Polar people are known for Risky & Impulsive Behavior.  Risky is not me, but Impulsiveness, YES, mainly with my mouth which keeps me in trouble daily.  For instance this weeken my husband and I went down the street to visit HIS friends (I've pretty much cut everybody out of my life, my standards for family & friends is just so Damn high and I don't know why) and have a cocktail.  My cocktail was 5 sips of some kinda of berry beer that I held onto for like 4 hours.  When I'm socializing (which at this point consist of me talking to total strangers) I like deep conversation, subjects like history, psychology, philosophy, religion, social issues or even lighter subjects like music & art.  I don't care about the score on the lastest ballgame, nor do I enjoy watching people getting drunk and performing soft porn in my face.  If I wanted to see that, I would go home, turn the tv on, flip the channel to HBO and watch Cathouse or simply type the letter P on my computer.  This drunk couple was so gross, the only thing I could think of was the girl had dirty feet & her toenails were unpainted, which is a NO NO in my book.  The steroid, I gotta a short man syndrome complex (that I didn't understand until someone pointed it out to me, one boogie night out) would drink & drag his cigarette, drink & drag, drink and drag.... As they were approaching their 2 case limit each, the conversations got more weirder, I couldn't figure out what Dirty Debbie Dallas was doing with her legs.  She would slouch in her chair, turn sideways, crisscross her legs, stretch, pick up her dirty feet, point her toes.... I thought to myself, what is she doing?... Is that some kinda of mating ritual?   Is this some suppose to be sexy moves to attract her ape in public?  Does she eat his fleas too?   Did she have a ticking problem and simply couldn't sit up straight like an adult?   Then I remembered, I've seen such behavior~~~~~~yeah, when I watched Tarzan as a child, the chimpanzees had the same behavior, or did I see such behavior on Planet Of The Apes.  I don't know, but it was one of those shows or perhaps both.  The steroid man, I gotta short man syndrome complex would stand up, cross over everyone,  to the other side of the coffee table, and lick his girlfriend's face, which is better than I guess licking her dirty feet.  I could tell Dirty Debbie Dallas was doing all of this just to plan annoy me. I was enjoying the music, saying, "hey I like this song, I love Nickelback"....But Dirty Debbie Dallas would yell out, "put the IPod on Pornstar" a song I never heard of~~~ and I listen to a lot of music. I wouldn't be surprised if Dirty Debbie Dallas had a strip pole in her bedroom, living room, bathroom, kitchen, basement, attic or maybe she just had ropes in her trees so she and her lover could swing on them and do their thang in PUBLIC. I tried to be the bigger person, bite my tongue, and try my hardest to engage in conversation with Dirty Debbie Dallas, but all she did was giggle & tongues kiss her beer bottle.  The entire scene kept getting more weirder by the minute. My first thought was, "Are all these people Swingers and I'm the last naive person to know?"... "Or these people into wife & husband swapping?"... again, I'm the last naive person to know... Then I start my analyzing/judging The Planet Of The Apes.  My conclusion.... I don't like these people. Before I could retreat to my safe home, becoming more unsocial than I already am, I had to have the last say.   I got in Dirty Debbie Dallas' face and sang, "They tried to get me to go to Rehab and I said, NO, NO, NO"  followed by a burst of Mad Laughter (yeah, I admit I have that).... that's when my husband took his que and quickly lead me out of the door before I say even more~ OOH OOH AAH AAH~The End.

I AIN'T GOT NO TAPE!~"But this is Hobby Lobby"

"Well beat me with a stick, I'm so sorry you are Spanish and having to work on Cinco De Mayo Day another made up Holiday for an excuse to drink in my bitchy nondrinker judgemental depression opinion."  Wait a minute, I drink maybe 2 glasses of wine a year so I'm not a total nondrinker, but a total judgemental bitch?.. yeah that pretty much decribes me now these days (let me blame  it on  MEANapause)....  I personally work 7 days a week, I don't even rest the day God & Jesus tell me too, however my psychiatrist and I are working very hard on the word Relaxation, I guess  it doesn't have to mean YOUR LAZY, UNPRODUCTIVE, or HUNG OVER (which seems to be 90% of the population, again my bitchy nondrinker judgemental I have no facts depression opinion).   Getting back to the cashier/I hate my job.....  I drive across town to Hobby Lobby to get a specific item. I had exactly 6 one dollar bills.  I said, "great my item is only $5.00 & I don't have to pull out the old credit card which is about one dollar off from being"Maxed Out", not really, I have about $500.00 left on that card and not really again, I only have one credit card.   There was no waiting really, I get to the front of the store and put my item on the counter for the "Employee of the Month".  I smile politely and start counting my one dollar bills. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, & Rip.  I tore the last dollar bill.  I ask politley to Miss Honduras, "Can I have some tape?"... With a Sneer & Surley voice she said, "I AIN'T GOT NO TAPE!"... I said, "what?"... She said, 'I AIN'T GOT NO TAPE!".. I said, "but this is a Hobby Lobby."... She yells to the Front End manager, "DO WE TAKE TORE UP MONIES?".... The Front End mangaer says, "yes, just tape it." .... Here we go with the attitude, Miss Belize who obviously needed a cigarette break says, "that will be $4.98." (I guess I hit a sale that day)...As I was giving her the 5 one dollar bills (I kept the torn one dollar bill so that I can frame it later as a reminder of how poor I really was in 2012 & the sheer obsession I had about a lousy one dollar bill) I finally realized why she didn't have tape.  It seems she had used it to tape her 3 inch Long Cinco De Mayo Painted Nails that were so detailed, they actually told a story.  Starting with the Maya Indians.  Since blogs are suppose to be short, I'll end it now.  Hasta la bista!

The Day The Music Died.....

Everyone knows that I love to dance.  I can dance to anything.  I will go as far as to say I can dance to running water.  I'm disappointed that I can't do the moves that I wanna do, it's there in my mind but that's where it will stay until the afterlife~~~ where I hope to be a Solid Gold Dancer.   Well this particular night I was ready to go dancing.  I was feeling good and my nerves where in check.  "Looking good tonight I thought to myself, the wig(pre hair bond days), the makeup, the false eyelashes, the dress, my sassy high heels".... "Farout" as Greg Brady would say. My husband begrudgingly tagged along knowing this bar had a tv and he could at lease watch some kinda ballgame. I can picture it now, he with a Crown & 7 staring at the tv, thinking of ways he could catch a smoke and not let Desiree see.  My husband went from smoking a cigar once in a while playing golf with his buddies, to?... to?.... to?... well I really don't know, he tries to "hide" it from me.  I told him if he dies from lung cancer, I was not putting in the paper, "He died of natural causes"... I will say, "He died from lung cancer, my wife told me to quit, try Chantix, and I simply didn't listen."  Do you know what friends say?.... "Desiree that's his only VICE, he has to put up with YOU and four girls, For God's Sake let the man be."  Getting back to ME, my favorite subject to talk about.  The bands starts and Desiree is on the floor dancing, she dances with anyone and everyone.  If I spot a good dancer I will dance my way to you and dance along imitating your moves and cheer you on.  I saw me a good dancer this Saturday Night Fever.  I like to call him a Four-Eyed Feather Duster/Douchbag.  He looked like Steve Urkel but not as cute and pale pale sickley white.  So I started dancing by the Four-Eyed Feather Duster/Douchbag singing with the band having myself a good-ole' time, when Four-Eyed Feather Duster/Douchbag turned around, he did a 150, a 160, half a circle, let's see..... that would be 360 devided by 2, 2 into 3, 1 time, carry down 1, then 6, let's see.... devide 2 into 16 that would be 8 bring down the 0, so let's see that would be let me go get a calculator~~~~~~~~~Okay he did a 180!!.... He Looked and ME and turned completely around.  So he did another 180 or it might have been a 360 all together, but he totally DISKED ME.  What? ...I'm a 47 year old Solid Gold Dancer, and he just DISKED ME.... I, I, I've, NEVER DISKED ANYBODY..... EVER!!! .... So I grabbed my purse, signaled to the KOOL man and said, "it's time to go".... I never went dancing again......That's The Day The Music Died~~~~~~ Well to a bar that is, cuz this American Pie will DANCE TO THE DAY THAT I DIE!!! ....PS I am also a Four- Eye... But an Engima....Now let me go Google that word.....

The Birds & The Birds!

This story is to be added to my last blog~Hooray, My Prom Date Was Gay!...... I really never heard the story~~"The Birds & The Bees"~~  I just assumed the Bird represented a Male.  The first time I heard "The Facts Of Life" was on a School Bus when I was in 3rd grade.  This big girl who smelled of egg salad and looked like she might be the daughter of Nanny McPhee explained the entire story in detail using really foul laungage.  Hooray for Public Schools!....Fastforward 8 years I am attending a community college the summer before my senior year of highschool.  I wasn't smart or anything, but my dad "Felix Unger" who's facial features really look like a cross between Dan Rather & Mike Wallace.  I call him "Felix Unger" because he's a neat freak like Felix(The Odd Couple) and it just plain makes me laugh. Well "Felix Unger" hated the word RELAXTION and forced us kids to spend our summers in Trade School, Working, or Taking College courses.  I did all three. When I was at community college that summer of my junior year there was this guy, I like to call Captain Dapper Dan.  This was the summer of 1980.  Captain Dapper Dan was only 20 attending this community college, but he looked like he was 40.  He would wear a navy blue blazer, a pink shirt, white pants and white shoes.  He always looked like he just stepped off his Yacht.  He kept asking me for a date that entire summer.  I finally said yes because I didn't know what else to do, and I just hate to hurt people's feelings.  Well Captain Dapper Dan comes to my house driving a sports car.  He brings me a dozen long stemmed red roses.  He opens the car door.  He takes me to a nice restaurant and dancing.  Captain Dapper Dan returns me home safely by 11:00pm.  The next day a dozen peach SILK roses in a brass vase is delivered to my house.  "Felix Unger" can't understand why I refused to go on another date with Captain Dapper Dan.  I said, "Felix, he's Gay".  "Felix says, "that's good because with that kinda of exhuburance for life, he will go far".  I honestly don't think "Felix" knew what Gay meant. Let me rephrase that, he and his generation and like generations before, all knew, but so repressed the idea, that they thought they could just WILL it away.  "Out of sight, Out of mind" kinda thing. "Sweep iIt Under The Rug" I always say.   I finally said, "Dad, this situtation will never be about the "Birds & The Bees.... It will only be about The Birds & The Birds"... The End

Hooray, My Prom Date Was Gay!

It's my 3rd daughters' Prom tonight.  Which got me thinking about my own Prom.  My daughter's dress cost $450.00 with a $30.00 dollar alteration bill.  I made my Prom dress for $15.00 Bucks.  My daughter went to a nail salon.  I was banging nails into an old shed as part of my chores that day.  Her boyfriend is So Sweet, Kind, Caring, Thoughtful, Gracious, and Loves her Very, Very Much, My date was Gay!~~~~~I am not implying my date wasn't all the above, but if I were to say, "He just that into you"... sounds kinda  gross when talking about Highschool Proms.

THE PEE PEE TREE!

I've been riding my bike around the LSU lakes for awhile now and I thought to myself, "when is the last time I did sit ups, leg lifts, or used arm weights?.... I would say like 20 years..... I noticed that the LSU lakes, the "beach" area has what I thought was a jungle gym for children.  I did not realize until today, it was a jungle gym for adults. The entire area was under a soft cushion of some sort. It had two planks set at two different angles, I guess for sit ups, pull ups, depending where your head is.  There were two sets of  bars for lifting yourself up, chin ups, hangman whateva it's called, then there were 3 post set at different heights, I guess to make up whateva excersise you desired.  I watched this girl use it to balance herself.  I saw a guy use it to stretch his hamstrings.  I , myself,  incorporated into part of my dance moves.  The spring weather was so nice today I thought I would do my sit ups, leg lifts, & arm weights (that I brought with me from home) in the GRASS under the beautiful OAK tree. The smell of the Fresh Spring Green Grass was so invigorating.   I like doing my own thing, making up rules as I go through life.  I was enjoying my workout under the SHADE of the OAK tree, while watching the adults use the jungle gym in the SUN.  After I completed my routine, I laid on my back, looked up at the clear blue sky and watched a jet in a far distance.  I was thinking, "Wow, This Is The Good Life!!!"....I was getting myself up from the Fresh Spring Green Grass when 2 women with their 2 dogs on leashes went up to MY OAK tree and tied their dogs to it, so they could use the jungle gym for adults in the SUN.  The first thing the dogs did was to Pee under MY OAK Tree. A lightbulb went off in my head, like always in my life..... Way To Late... People bring their dogs to that area......  DUH?, DUH?, DUH?.....Reminds me of a song...."Tie A Yellow Ribbon Around The Old Oak Tree..... Your Spring Green Grass Is Under THE PEE PEE TREE!!!"

Ledbetter at OneTrueMedia.com

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Please Tell Me He's Not The Unibomber!

I am looking at my calendar for this week, it seems it's time for the 4 Month Mental Check-Up.  I hope I haven't blogged this story before, I've looked through my disorganization of papers, it looks like I haven't yet. I must blog about my last Psychiatric visit. I was Chatty Cathy that day. I must have been excited about somethin that lasted probably a day or so which is the norm, then I return to my pissy hating everything and everyone.  I guess tomorrow's visit, we will talk about my little breakdown & the 911 call I had about 6 weeks ago, hoping TMZ doesn't get their hands on it and release it to the public....Ain't that right Harvey?.... Getting back to my last visit, I sat in the lobby of my Psychiatrist's office for 4 HOURS (this is Baton Rouge, Louisiana, you are lucky to SEE a Psychiatrist, And Good Luck finding a Bed at a Psych Hospital when you WIG OUT, there are NONE, so enjoy JAIL or a LONG STAY IN THE EMERGENCY ROOM, ask for Green Jello it helps calm the nerves) plenty of time to make friends with 2 Schizophrenics, one that took his meds, the other did not because his moma told me he though he's meds were poisonous..... "Hmmm figures", I said to myself... A Bi Polar like myself, and the Unibomber.  No, I didn't really talk to the Unibomber, but I kept my eye on him for 4 LONG HOURS.  There were a group of people surrounding the Unibomber.  To me it looked like they were trying a family intervention.  Every 15 minutes, the Unibomber dressed in a hoodie & sunglasses would leave the lobby, go outside, pace and smoke his cigs.  Then he would come back inside mubble a few words to his family, rock back & forth, ooops up again, he would get up, go outside again, pace, smoke his cigs, come back inside, sit down, rock back & forth and mumble with his family, ooops out the door again. This went on the entire time I was in the lobby.  Everytime the Unibomber came back inside my thought would be....."Oh, My, GOD, DOES HE HAVE A BOMB THIS TIME?"... He scared me the most.  The guy with Schizophrenia that didn't take his meds just kept scratching his head like he had lice. The guy with Schizophrenia that took his meds would stand up, go to the Receptionist every 15 minutes and say, "Is it my turn yet?...Is it my turn yet?.....Is it my turn yet?.....Is it my turn yet?....... After 4 hours of waiting it was MY turn to tell the doctor of my Grandiose Delusional Ideas in 15 MINUTES~~~ "Yadda Yadda Yadda Yadda Yadda... So what do you think Doc, Are we increasing Meds this Month?".....As I was leaving the Unibomber was STILL there a rocking and a mumbling... I shouted...."TRY GREEN JELLO, IT CALMS THE NERVES, & DIFFUSES BOMBS!".... Then Ran!

That's A Poor Purple Barney!

I just read a post from a classmate of mind which reminded of Poor Purple Barney.  "I Love You, You Love Me"....is what I heard Over and Over and Over in the 1990's the decade of me raising 4 daughters.  That was also the decade I went ALL  OUT on birthday parties.  This was ALL BEFORE CANCER AND BEFORE like Viola Davis says in the HELP......"The Devil done planted a bitter seed in me"...  My youngest daughter who is now 12 is lucky to get a  gift placed neatly in a Birthday Bag WITH TISSUE..  Nowadays it's mostly a Wal Mart plastic bag maybe with fruit next to the gift.  Getting back to Poor Purple Barney..If you have read my memoir there is a story about the Cinderella cake that I made from looking at a photo in a magazine, before Pinterest.  Let's just say, I put a LIVE goldfish in the middle of the cake which was suppose to be I guess, Cinderella's Looking Glass Pond Whateva.  Total disaster.... The goldfish kept splashing water all over the icing... Sounds delicious right? .....Fastforward 7 years my youngest was turning the precious age of 2.  So Mommy ME wanted this birthday special, this was before I had cancer, had entergy, and felt good ALWAYS (gotta read my memoir)....  First was the outfit.  I hand painted a cute Barney picture on a little white Tshirt dress and made a matching bow.  I then called to see if I could get a "Real" Barney to come to my house.  I looked in the yellow pages an found Spoiled Kids Are Us, sure enough, they had a "Real" Barney. I booked it and was all set for the party three weeks later.  That Friday I  called Spoiled Kids Are Us to verify that Barney was indeed coming to my house the next day because EVERYTHING was about Purple Barney.. I had Purple Balloons, Purple Plates, Purple Cake, Purple Candy, Purple Kool- Aide, I guess you can call it a Purple Paradise for Spoiled Toddlers.  The lady at Spoiled Kids Are Us said she hasn't seen Barney in about 2 weeks, and she had no way of contacting him, all she knew was that he was on probation for something.  My mind went Manic, I, screamed, WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DON'T KNOW WHERE BARNEY IS AT THE MOMENT?, I'M HAVING A BARNEY PARTY TOMORROW, IT'S ALL ABOUT PURPLE BARNEY".  I then thought fast and said, "what can I rent besides a circus?"...   "Well she said", I have an Inflatable Bouncy Thing (with a slide) and I have a Mock Donald Ball Pit."  I screamed, "I'LL TAKE IT, I'LL TAKE IT". Of course my older 3 girls have never let me forget that I never went that far with their Birthday Parties. I now reply, "Well, she's is my favorite, go talk to your therapist about it."  The next day is Purple Party Day, the kids arrived to their Purple Paradise, minus the Purple Barney, and start jumping in the Inflatable Bouncy Thing (with a slide) and play in the Mock Donald Ball Bit.  I am looking from my driveway when I see this jalopy looking car pull up close to my house. Guess who it is?... A drunk man stumbles out of the car and precedes to put on his Worn Down Rugged Thrift Store Used & Abused St Vincent De Paul Costume of Barney, followed by his 8 year old daughter who was the MC for the party.  I screamed..."OH, MY, GOD....BARNEY IS HERE!!!"....The little girl guides her drunk daddy who can't see not because of the beer buzz but because of the Giant Barney Head to the backyard.  She plays the boom box while her daddy has to dance with the rich kids.  My 7 year old looks at Poor Purple Barney and says, "Barney why you got holes everywhere, I see your toesies"... Let me tell you, I never felt so ashamed in my life.  I kept offering the little working girl cake, candy,  ice cream, kool-aide, but she kept shaking her head no, "she was there to work only." I think I called "Cut" after 20 minutes of seeing the dichotomy between the working little girl and the party going girls.  It's been over a decade, I've never planned another Birthday Party again.  The end.

Kayaking LSU Lakes!

I've been biking around LSU lakes off and on for about 25 years.  I often see people kayaking and thought to myself, "boy I would love to do that".  My first time to kayak was in the Pacific Ocean in La Jolla, California at the age of 46.  The entire story is published in my memoir, the whole story about me not wearing anything under my wetsuit because it made me look fat is pretty much the sum of that story.  This story is again me, by myself, instead of the ocean, I am in a 4ft murky swampy lake.  I was ridding my bike yesterday when I spotted the sign RIDE ME... As I got closer to the sign I realized it read RENT ME... I got off my bike to inquire about the Kayaks.  $10.00 for 30 minutes I thought, that ain't bad and preceded to sign up my family for the following day on a Sunday.  Well Sunday rolls around, nobody in my family is interested kayaking in a ft swampy lake, my husband is tall & thin and has never had to fight his weight like I have for over 28 years..... Two of my daughters are in college and doing there own thing and the two remaining daughters at home are pretty much doing there own thing too.  I cannot lie, I love my FREEDDOM, I pushed those baby strollers long enough.  I actually look forward to the TOTAL Empty Nest Syndrome.... Are you kidding me?... Not having to worry about chaufeuring, cooking, laundery that I kinda slacked off after having cancer in 2005, but when they all finally leave home, I won't feel guilty  about NOT doing all of that anymore. So I head off to the LSU lakes in a breezy 74 degree weather.  My bike is in the back of my Suburban which I hate to say I drive, but it is paid for and I can't afford another vehicle until I'm deceased. I gather all my things, IPOD, phone, camera, and water and I lock my Suburban with my keys still in the ignition.  "Oh, Sh@#!!!", I said to myself,  I'm not about to call home and say I locked my keys in the car.  Thank God I left my sun roof barely opened.  My  Surburban was next to a railing that I climb onto, I then slivered up to the roof where I looked like Lucille Ball with my legs dangleling on the outside, my arms inside, trying to swipe and get my keys.  I was 2 inches two short, but damn determinded to get those keys, and I GOT THEM!  I then proceded to sign in for kayaking.  What I like most about this adventure is I didn't have to wear a life jacket, I just had too have one stored in the kayak.  They pushed me off and I started paddeling. I thought, "OMG this is so easy and fun".  I paddle across the lake not really afraid until I got under the I 10 Interstate bridge where it was dark and loud from the sound of cars & trucks driving probably 60 mph on steel.  I looked up, and I see something dangleing from the bridge.  I don't know if it's part of the bridge that I am under, or what I find out later was a small EMPTY SUITCASE.  I finally paddle away from the GHOST BRIDGE when it's time to turn around.  Guess What?... Paddling was easy BECAUSE I WAS GOING WITH THE CURRENT. It never dawned on me that was why  paddeling was so easy.  Now I had to go agaisnt the current with a small breeze.  I thought how am I going to get back within my one hour time limit?  Will they come get me if I lost strength?.... All I could do what up the music on my IPOD and start a paddeling.  It was like paddeling through MUD.   I made it back with 10 minutes to spare, because I am one Crazy, Driven, Independent Kayaking MAD DOG!~~~~  The end.

Samples Of My Work: Samples Of My Work: Testing 123

Samples Of My Work: Samples Of My Work: Testing 123: Samples Of My Work: Testing 123

Samples Of My Work: Water Skiing In Alligator Swamp!

Samples Of My Work: Water Skiing In Alligator Swamp!: I was driving from Baton Rouge, Louisiana to Acadia Parish area yesterday when a lighting bug with off in my head.  I have driven this route...

Water Skiing In Alligator Swamp!

I was driving from Baton Rouge, Louisiana to Acadia Parish area yesterday when a lighting bug with off in my head.  I have driven this route many of times but ever since watching Swamp People, Swamp Loggers, and Swamp Big Foot did I realize I went water skiing with the Alligators.  About 25 years ago when I was thin and attractive my best friend from college took me on a boating adventure.  I was to learn how to water ski for the very first time.  Even though I grew up in South Louisiana, nobody in my family had access to a boat.  Nobody in my family ever fished, hunted, or "lived off the land", well if you call growing cucumbers as "living off the land", then we qualified. My best friend's boyfriend drove the boat and we put in somewhere in the Atchafalaya Basin. I just remember, "wow, we are boating under Interstate 10".  My best friend told me it was my turn to get into the murky water and try to learn to water ski. It never occured to me what might be in the murky water, all I could think about was my big thighs in a bathing suit. After they threw me over board, followed by the waterskis, & rope, I was told to get ready to ski.  I straddled the skis at first cuz I couldn't put them on my feet. After they yelled at me a dozen or so times, I attached the skis to my feet, probably backwards because I never could get up out of the water, not even close.... As soon as the boat would start, I would immediately scream..."ARE YA'LL COMING BACK TO GET ME?".... They did eventually come get me 5 hours later, when they got tired of boating and water skiing.  The Alligators never came to chomp on my big thighs, and I lived to tell about it.  The end.