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.....