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~