When I lived in New Orleans, my mom and her sister visited me for a weekend. We found ourselves at Pat O'Brien's patio bar right about the time that the business man types were breaking from happy hour. A couple friendly types start chatting us up and my mom and aunt thought their interest was amusing. They were kinda tipsy and not-at-all smooth. I had just broken up with an alcoholic so not (and still not) very patient with drunks. They ask what's your name, where do you work, where do you live? All that crap. And none of their business. My Aunt Joan says to them, "Oh, that's Leezra. She don't care 'bout nuthin'."
Mom and I laughed until we were weak. The remaining of the weekend we repeated it. And we decided that it would be on my tombstone.
Here lies Leezra. She didn't care 'bout nuthin'.
No comments:
Post a Comment