What did I just say?

Y'know how your family or group uses words with a funny back story? Or you purposely mispronounce?

Example: Beyonce' proudly showed MTV Cribs her place and said "As you can see, I like dramatical things". Well, thank you, Beyonce' for that little gem.

Or, instead of saying it correctly, my New Orleans pals call our favorite St. Charles bar the "Col-youmns".

Anywho, the immature 12 year boy in my head laughs each time I hear "beef stroganoff" because my friend Fergie always pronouncs it "beef stroking off" (euphenism for male masturbation). Sure, mildly funny but Fergie was once a college-aged child nursery employee when a mom asked what the daily lunch was, Fergie answered "beef stroking off" and she didn't realize her gaffe until the mom's face registered shock.

Hoping your daily lunch special is dramatical,
I am,
Skitzo Leezra

Don't wanna

If you check out my craft blog at Skitzo Leezra Studio, you'll see baby gifts lovingly handmade by me but what you won't hear from me is how much fun I had at a baby shower because this bitch doesn't go to baby showers. The too-honest personality in my head frankly tells new mothers that I'd rather take an ass beating than to hang with a bunch of yentas telling their horrifying delivery stories. The breeder ladies usually let me off the hook when I promise a cute gift.

"But you would love it!" is usually a cue of the opposite.

Years ago, my friends wanted me to join them in for a male stripper shows. If you really knew me, you'd know I find it morally reprehensible, tacky and besides, I way too cheap to give money to gyrating greasy men. Sex toy parties? No way. Lingerie bridal shower? Don't look for me there. Just because I have a sailor mouth doesn't mean I enjoy tawdry activities, ya skanks.

Alternately, have received pressure to attend an activity of zero interest, be it a pottery party or paint studio party. Being crafty doesn't mean I want to paint-by-the-numbers crap. "I can't attend" becomes "that's not my thing" when met with resistance. Why? Is my rejection a lack of validation for other's good time? Am I such fun that a good time can't be had if I'm not there? Probably.

Let's respect our differences.
Don't wanna go.
Don't make me hurt your feelings.

I had a blind date last night

Say those words and watch everyone's ears prick up. Prick up? Maybe it's "perk" up. Yes. Perk up. That sounds better. Anywho, heads swing toward your blow hole because no one is immune to the curiosity of your first date pronouncement. While you may suppose it is primarily chick talk, married dudes lean in too, I tell ya. Single guys pretend not too listen except they do.

Years ago, a few friends and I attended a New Orleans singles party hosted by the weekly publication Gambit. The party admission required submission of a free classified ad to promote their new dating section. After a few drinks, we composed somewhat amusing postings and they provided a month's entertainment as we listened to the incoming phone responses and compared notes. One guy left an amazing recording with insight, humor and sensitivity then we realized the very same message was left on each of our accounts. We met and even went out with some of our suitors and we compared notes again.

Agreed: most guys lied about their height, everyone thinks themselves to be "somewhat attractive" and most guys say they'll call when they don't know what else to say.

My red headed New Orleans friend told the most amusing stories about her dating adventures with horrible table manners or awkward first kisses. It became habit for her friends and family to expect an interesting anecdote but when she found a true contender for love, it was difficult for her to resign from the dating story business. Her folks wanted to hear about the embarrassing details but she wanted to cherish and enjoy her new beau.

Rarely do my sister RikkiTikkiTavi and I ever disagree but when she blabbed that I've recently begun dating, a boundary was crossed. Her happiness for me is one thing but my privacy is another althoooooough I'm a super hypocrite because who doesn't love hearing about the entertaining and sometimes amusing trials and tribulations of a single girl dating HOWEVER (comma) I don't like it when it's me. In other words, my life ain't a chick flick.

The questions are from every angle -
Where does he work?
How much money does he make?
How did ya'll meet?
Is he a Christian?
How many times has he been married?

None of your damned business and shut up.

Okay, that said, you don't have my permission to ask about my dating schedule HOWEVER, since you stuck with me this far, I will share a recent story.

You're welcome~~

You don't get to know his name, where he works or how we met.

We had a great first date where we met at a bar, had a couple drinks and attended a nearby musical performance. We held hands, laughed and shared short kiss at the end of the night. He held the doors and texted me later to make sure I made it home. He said he enjoyed the evening and wanted to get together the same weekend. A few days went by. No call. Sure, I could've texted him but the more time went by, the more I wondered if he was actually interested. Apparently not. Five weeks went by. Then I saw him at my work place. He said his "phone got jacked" thus, he no longer had my cell phone number and couldn't reach me. (Mind you, he knew where I worked.)

"Call my cell number so I'll have your number again," he asked.

Okaaaaay.

Then, "Let's get together this weekend. How about dinner? Do you like Mexican?"

And I never heard from him again.

Dating fucking sucks.

Do you really want to ask me about my dating life? Do you really want to see my disappointment in the one guy I liked who didn't call but the other guys in whom I have no interest but they can't get enough of Skitzo Leezra? It's the same story since junior high.

The concept of arranged marriage has a certain appeal.

Dating sucks.
Like shit through a straw.

Living the glamorous life of a single girl,
I am,
Skitzo Leezra

You've got mail

Or maybe not.
Spied this amazing bit of Cajun engineering on my way to the bank . . .
What do you suppose the story was behind the dangling-from-a-rope mailbox?

Say my name

Watching "Something to Talk About" movie tonight and noticed the Julia Roberts character (Grace) propose the Junior League ladies use their own name in their cookbook instead of their husband's names. My volunteer group dropped the practice as late as 1982. It seems so ancient that a woman was known as Mrs. John Thibodeaux instead of Marie Boudreaux Thibodeaux. And to think a second wife would also be Mrs. John Thibodeaux?
My high school reunion committee easily located the guys but the women were more difficult to find because their names changed. As I reached a "certain age", I realized it would be silly to change my name were I to ever marry. (Ha.)
While I am not declaring a lady should keep her maiden name, being Mrs. John Thibodeaux is just plain ol' stoopid.
And when the hell did I stop being "Miss" and become "Ms"? I dislike both.
I am,
(just plain ol') Skitzo Leezra.

Who's happy?

Found a note in my old email bin about Louisiana being at the top of the most happy states.
My response was ~~
I live in Louisiana and I'm pretty happy. When The Great State of Louisiana hits the bottom and top of so many lists (illiteracy, unmarried moms, welfare recipients, obesity, incarceration rates, uninsured drivers, convicted politicians, etc.), it lessens our stress levels along with our expectations so we can get to the more important things like going to our local drive-thru daiquiri stands, drinking said beverage while driving, buying toxic made-in-China Mardi Gras beads and eating polluted water crawfish.
Laissez les temps rouler, ya'll!

Need a ride, doll?

If YOU had a ton of dolls that didn't go away with the garage sale, would you line them up along the street? Because maybe someone would like to pick up a used, unclothed and somewhat filthy doll baby?
OR~~~ perhaps a lone individual would pick up every single last one? Yep, all of 'em gone in one single abduction.

A different story from 9/11

Perhaps one you haven't seen yet.

A bit heavy on the drama music but a beautiful message all the same.


(Thanks to Keri Spice for the link.)

Overheard

Sitting at a bar as the large screen television flashes a news story of a hockey mom who had sex with her son's teenaged team mates.
All eyes watched the screen as the music and conversation quieted just enough so the entire bar overheard a female voice exclaim, "What? Is there something wrong with that? No, really, is it wrong to have sex with a teenage boy? REally?! Oh, okay, good to know."

Then, the guy next to me piped up with "I didn't play hockey but something similar happened with my friend's mom."

Hello, conversation starter!

Overheard

one female to another:
"Look, I had sex with the last guy just because he sent me a random text every five days or so . . . so YOU KNOW I have no problem giving it up to my new guy if I thought I'd get an Iphone or a bigger TV out of him."