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~