Sunday, December 26, 2010
Not one Christmas season passes by without a "World Peace" card in the mail.
It's bullshit, I tell ya.
There's no way I'm wasting my one wish on world peace. No, while in the third grade I figured out my one granted wish from a genie would be a magic purse with never ending cash.
But world peace is not attainable.
It can't be.
All nations at peace means no war, no fighting and also no change. No change can mean an oppressed people. I mean, show me a couple married for 50 years and I'll bet one of them ate shit at some point or the other cannot live alone.
Whirled peas are over rated anyway.
Thursday, December 23, 2010
THIS is what I found.
Mallys had struck back.
What was in said box?
Only the best thing ever!!!
A frickin' SHUT UP candle!!
Did you even know there was such a thing?
It's already burning in my foyer.
There to alert all visitors.
Thank you, Mallys!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Monday, December 20, 2010
- a bone (it's a card folding tool, Leezra knows what it is.)
- a package of clothespins (I don't know where to get them)
in no particular order
- a bottle of Riesling wine, there is a really tall bottle at Walgreen's
- maybe a jug of Southern Comfort
- a squirrel trap
- a new pair of Crocs, size 10, black or brown
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Christmas has snuck up on me and I still have no sense of urgency to finish my shopping. The last minute rush apparently is my habit.
Cell phones cannot withstand wash and rinse cycles in the washer. Trust me on this.
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
A church member told me her ladies group gathered clothing and shoes for the victims and a little boy selected shoes when he really wanted the brand new red cowboy boots. When asked why he passed on the boots, he said he needed shoes to go to church. Another old timer told me he never fished again after pulling dead bodies from the water.
Yeah, yeah, I know you've read hurricane stories here before but this is the harrowing tale of loss and survival during the 1957 Hurricane Audrey and you will cry your eyes out. Watch it to develop an attitude of gratitude and count your many blessings.
One by one.
It aired on Louisiana Public Television and I hope you'll get a chance to see it.
Thursday, December 09, 2010
Thursday, December 02, 2010
"Hey girl! Guess what? I'm not going to prison! Yeah, I got three years probation. What? YEAH, that's good! Probation is nuthin'. You would think it was good if you knew what I really did. You got any food at your house? No, huh, well, I'll call ya later."
Dials another number.
"Yeah, I called her and told her I got probation and did she have any food and she gave me a no but what she doesn't know is I really want to get with her sister. I bet her sister has some groceries. I'm calling her next."
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Saturday, November 27, 2010
How many bastard factories and illegitimate children before abortion becomes fashionable again?
Just in time for swimsuit season.
It's the new black.
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Monday, November 22, 2010
Friday, November 12, 2010
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Monday, November 01, 2010
The quiet guy walked in and to engage him, I asked "Hey Quiet Guy, if this were a zoo, would I be the animal or would it be the folks on the other side of the glass?"
Quiet Guy lived up to his name with his silence but finally said, "Guess it depends on who's picking up the shit."
Monday, October 25, 2010
And there I was Wednesday night, doing party assistance as a volunteer helper, wondering which old crone was gonna receive my kick to her hip to propel her out of my damn way so I could replenish the party tray.
"Oh hello dear, I seem to be in your way, don't I? You know, folks always seem to congregate in the kitchen. Hi there Samantha, how are you? How's your mother? I saw her last week . . . "
Yep, the old bitch didn't move. Just kept on blathering. I was so tempted to jam the party tray in her rapidly deteriorating osteoporosis ridden bones but instead I bit the inside of my mouth and counted to way the fuck over 10.
Another withering ancient further blocked me, AFTER glancing at my party tray.
FINALLY, I said "Ladies, I need to get by you to refill the platter."
Did they move?
I was halfway hoping my high heel might have nicked one of them while I silently rehearsed my best Gordon Ramsay* impression.
On the way back, the hired help was attempting to open the freezer door while 3 ladies refused to cede her the swing space.
"What are you looking for, Miss Help?" the most pleasant Wheel of Fortune fan asked.
"Ice," said the barely terse hired.
"Oh, look in the freezer."
That's when my now unhinged smart mouth reached its self editing limit and blurted "Oh, is that where it should be? Miss Help, do you see ice IN THE FREEZER? How wonderful! Yes, you can hand it to me since you don't have enough room to turn around."
Those of you who find yourselves in the kitchen at the next party, take a look and have some self awareness. Did anyone need to open a drawer you are leaning against? Did the party host decorate and clean her whole MonkeyFighting house for your inspection and enjoyment? Are you blocking the refrigerator?
Strike all that, I don't give a damn about the answers.
Get the fuck out of the kitchen.
You are in the way.
I don't care if you are more comfortable in the kitchen.
You are being rude.
And I dislike you immensely.
Have a blessed day, y'hear?
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Monday, October 11, 2010
Enough of the John Lennon death anniversary angst already. He was insecure heroin snorter and marital cheater who enabled the awfulness that is Yoko's "career". I heard a recording of her once and it sounded like an orgy of violent feline fornication.
Sometimes the most merciful thing to happen to a celebrity is an early death. Marilyn, Elvis, James Dean, Cobain, Heath. I mean, c'mon, had they not passed, imagine their star fading with each sad and pathetic appearance on Hollywood Squares and American Idol. Elizabeth Taylor is a perfect example of hanging around too long. We can barely remember her as young and beautiful when we witness her putrefaction with our very own eyes.
Leave a pretty corpse.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
He opened the microwave oven door to see the interior splattered with what looked like the exploded contents of a can of ravioli. A fresh string of expletives spewed from his mouth as he grabbed the mop from his rolling mop bucket. Microwave oven still ajar, he jammed the wet and dripping mop head into the microwave and repeatedly slammed it around. Gray murky water splashed, puddled on the counter and ran down the cabinet.
The violent metallic echoes brought a co-worker from his cubicle. He and Ann stood in the doorway with mouths agape while cleaning dude continued his mop rape of the microwave.
(Ann and her office mate made a pact to only tell their bestest office buddies.)
Think about that while you heat your Hot Pocket in the company break room, you "son a bitch".
Monday, September 20, 2010
My sister's friend is an event organizer for a casino (or "casina" if you are Edwin Edwards) and says the instant a promoter utters the word "classy", it is both a cue and guarantee the event will be anything but.
So when I read this sentence on "Stuff Christian Culture Likes" blog, I had to steal it for your reading rumination.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Friday, September 10, 2010
In a second, I completed the exercise and had my answer. Sales in the decorative plumbing industry, with a fabulous employee discount while working 2-3 hours a day*. My last 11 working years have been somewhat easy but boring to the point of draining. Maybe I was due for a change.
With no plan or goal, the "what would you do for free" question stuck in my head.
Not even a month later, I was picking up a repair part at a local business and offered a job on the spot: doing the very thing I did in the past, which was, selling pretty shiny plumbing stuff!
Much angst, many sleepless nights with the oh-shit-did-I-really-quit-my-job panic attacks have occurred. The last 5 weeks have been muy stressful.
NOT knowing how the hell to access the hopelessly idiotic DOS quotation and inventory computer system, I told my new boss I wish I could spend 5 minutes with the guy that designed it.
"Do you really think you could learn it from him in only 5 minutes?"
"Fuck no!" I say, "I just want 5 minutes with the asshole because the guy who wrote this cumbersome and retarded piece of shit system is someone I KNOW I can take. I am confident I could beat the shit outta him."
The boss thinks I am funny. I'm glad he does but I wasn't joking. Please, mother fucker that is making my life miserable, please visit our location soon. I'll smile and be professional and when heads are turned, I'll do a 4" thick product catalog karate chop right into his pencil neck and then I'll perform a #6 on him, that's where I go a-ridin' into town, a whompin' and stompin' every livin' thing that moves within an inch of its life.
But I digress.
New job stress level is sometimes likened to a move or divorce and although I knew the transition would be tough, my time is not my own and I am still struggling to find my rhythm and mojo. The once welcome outlet of volunteer work is weighing heavily upon me and I am eager to be rid of some tasks. Earlier mornings and longer commutes are encroaching on my craft room time and ME time.
It has taken 5 weeks to feel a degree of contribution but fulfillment? Got plenty of that.
Helping folks select shiny stuff for their new house or remodel? That's like getting paid to spend other people's money. Which is what I would do for free.
*2 out 3 ain't bad.
Monday, August 23, 2010
I've been on my own for so long, if a dude changed a lightbulb for me, I'd probably pleasure him while he were still on the ladder.
Then she and I went down the grass-always-greener route when Chrysanthemum declared if a man afforded her the lifestyle of staying home all day, she would gladly bestow him with a blow job every single day upon his arrival home. I snorted and supposed aloud she would kick in her time management skills to cap fellatio time to less than 4 minutes to completion.
"Heck yeah! I would record a porno mix tape for him to listen to on the ride home so when he walked in the door, we would already have wood," she proudly exclaimed.
Friday, August 20, 2010
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Dawn's man Sam was all hepped up to see the Mother Truckers at Tip's the night before Mardi Gras (Lundi Gras). The band was good but the music was much too loud and the room entirely too smoky so Dawn and I left Sam inside and tripped outdoors to hang out on the picnic tables to talk and catch up.
An inebriated frat boy type stumbled onto our area and drunkenly slurred a question. I could tell it was a question by the way his voice went up at the end but in no way could I translate his garbled request. Drunk boy repeated himself.
Oooohhh, you want tickets to the show?
The show has already begun so you can get in free now. Just go to that door and walk in, I say.
He is so excited. Free?
He walks off in that drunk spaghetti leg fashion that we've all done at some point of our drunken careers.
"You know that's the backstage door, right?" Dawn asked.
"Shit yeah, I know. I just wanted to see if he'd do it", I answer.
Dawn smokes her cigarette and I drink my beer as we watch Drunk Boy open the backstage door only to get pushed back and yelled at by the bouncer. The bouncer points toward the ticket window and entry door and shuts the door.
Drunk Boy apparently doesn't have enough energy to walk toward the ticket window and returns to us.
"They wouldn't let me in. I think I had the wrong door," he slurs.
"Hell no, son! They don't know who you are. Go to that door. Act like you own the joint and walk in. If you act as if you know where you're going, they'll let you through," I instruct him.
"Sssssshure, I can't wait to sssshhhee THE MOTHER TRUCKERS!!! I LOVE THEM, MAN!"
"I don't know . . . ." heard from Dawn.
This time, he rips the door open so hard, it bounces off the outside wall, hits him in the back and sends him flying smack dab into the already aggravated bouncer. Dawn and I are laughing so hard we're crying but we feel the need to muffle ourselves so we're not thought to be in cohoots with the rabblerouser.
The bouncer is pissed. The door opens and a blast of sound comes with it. We can't hear the bouncer's words but we see his index finger hitting Drunk Boy's chest many times as instructions are repeated to go to the ticket window.
Drunk Boy actually gets to the ticket window and pulls out his pockets to find not enough funds. He is dejected and of course, comes back to our picnic table.
"I lost some money. I had lots of cash earlier but I don't have it now. Damn! I really want to see the show."
In a moment of tenderness, Dawn asks where he is from.
(I forget, one of those four letter states beginning with a vowel.)
Where are your friends?
I don't know.
Where are you staying?
At some guy's house.
Do you know where?
You don't know the address?
How will you get back there tonight?
I'll find it. I was real messed up last night and found it so tonight's no problem.
He walks off toward the entry door and is gone awhile. They must have let him in, how about that, I think only to see him coming back with a beer in his hand.
Drunk Boy tells us he ordered a beer at the bar but when they noticed his lack of a wristband, he's thrown out.
"I'm gonna go see that band", he avows as he stands up and looks toward the backstage door.
"I wouldn't . . ." Dawn attempts to warn.
He gives her the shut-up-arm wave and ambles toward the door and opens it.
The light and sound streaks out on the sidewalk and the bouncer is on him. The bouncer grips Drunk Boy's shirt but Drunk Boy is headed inside like a cow returning to the barn. With a couple heaves, the bouncer gets Drunk Boy outside and shouts toward the entry door for assistance. No one hears him over the din of the Mother Trucker's 18 minute guitar ride and Drunk Boy detaches himself from the bouncer hug. I'm laughing so hard, beer comes out my nose.
Guess where he heads?
You got it.
The bouncer now has the attention of the uniformed but off-patrol NOPD officer sitting at the front door.
"Get the hell out of here NOW!" we both tell Drunk Boy, "They're gonna take you in."
"They can't arressss' me. I didn't get to see the Mother Truckerssssss!"
The bouncer sees Drunk Boy and points the cop toward us. Here comes the fuzz.
"Go!" we hiss with clenched teeth.
All the sudden, Drunk Boy catches a snap and bolts down Napoleon Avenue like a sprint runner. A cab passes him, brakes and we hear a car door open and slam. Drunk Boy escaped!
New Orleans Finest approaches and asks, "He's gone?"
We shrug. Seems so.
Drunk Boy, wherever you are, we hope you made it back to whatever vowel letter state you're from. We hope you had a good time in New Orleans and a fun Mardi Gras. We wondered if you were the tourist that woke up in an ice-filled bathtub, without a kidney. We want you to know your antics still make us laugh when Dawn and I get together. That was some Funny Ass Shit.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Back when I was working in chilly Gentilly, in the early 1990's, a co-worker mentioned passing by Fats Domino's neighborhood at lunchtime. He told me where to find it and I planned to surprise my mom and aunt with a scenic tour during their upcoming weekend visit.
When I turned the car around, the milling characters in the street took notice. Aunt Jan rolled down her window and pointed the camera towards Fats Domino's childhood home when a voice asked, "You ladies need some help with that camera?" Yikes! Fats Domino's music is in the soundtrack of my childhood but photo or not, we scrammed.
-check back tomorrow for page 2 of music and NOLA-
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Dark and sarcastic, me likey!
And I knew I recognized the Mayhem actor as Tommy Gaven's (dead cop) brother from Rescue Me (Dean Winters)!
Here's another for your viewing pleasure.
Monday, August 09, 2010
My mom says men with thin lips are cruel.
"He's got wife beating lips," she'll opine.
Mind you, my dad doesn't have thin lips but I admit Mom's words have biased my thinking. I kinda believe it.
Physiognomy (nature + interpretation) is the ancient science of face reading still practiced by the Chinese and phrenology (mind + knowledge) was a hot trend in the early 1900's and thought to determine personality based on skull shape. A current decor trend is use of antique phrenology busts or their less expensive reproductions.
"He did it," my mom would say.
"How do you know for sure?" I once asked.
"Look at that face. If he didn't commit the particular crime they're reporting, he definitely did something wrong in his lifetime. You can tell by looking at him that he's guilty of something."
All the above information stored in my somewhat lumpy and bumpy noggin came to me today when I spied this news article.
PAYSON, Ariz. -- A 94-year-old Payson man was arrested last Thursday after being charged with public sexual indecency, aggravated assault and the molestation of several children. The investigation began three weeks ago after a public indecency report was filed. Police said Dale Warren Graham was found in someone else’s garage with a running vacuum cleaner attached to the front of his pants.
Friday, August 06, 2010
Thursday, August 05, 2010
He says hi.
I say hi.
And he says, and I shit you not, "Well, things aren't too good. They better get it together up there in New York, y'know. If they let those people build a mosque at Ground Zero. Well, that's not right. It's not right. They do it all the time. No, it's happened before. When Spain won a war, they built a mosque there too. And other places. But if they let it happen, well, it's just gonna go down real quick in this country . . . ." On and on.
I nod but don't acknowledge his apparent craziness. Unlock the door, start the ignition and when he finally took a breath, I let out an "Uh huh" and throw it in reverse.
Then I was mad at myself for playing the "nice girl" and tolerating his bullshit by showing him more consideration than he was showing me.
What I wanted to say was, "Really, dude? I've never met you before and the very second I say hi, you go off on a political tangent that I may or may not care about? How's about shut the fuck up? How about that, dude?"
Wednesday, August 04, 2010
One day, a brown Rolls Royce pulled to the opposite pump. A dapper man got out and proceeded to fill his tank. And of course, my big mouth had to say something.
"That's a good way to stay humble . . . pump your own gas."
The matching brown colored man smiled and laughed.
"That's about right," he said.
As I drove away, I read his vanity license plate. PIANO
In the months and years ahead, we often found ourselves at the same gas pumps and trading hellos. He'd ask if I lived in the neighborhood and I would point across the bayou to Moss Street. I would ask if he enjoyed the recent Jazz Fest.
After I moved from New Orleans to live in Houston for a year and a half, I returned to my favorite Mid City neighborhood and found myself at the Esplanade Shell once again. And who pulls up to the pump but Mr. Toussaint! I was happy to see my famous gas station acquaintance.
"Haven't seen you in awhile. Where've you been?" he asked.
Gotta love that.
Be sure to catch Austin City Limits featuring Allen Toussaint, full episode HERE. Watch his post-Rita thoughts at the end of the show.
Monday, August 02, 2010
Before the even more retarded dog moved in next door, the other neighbor's little yappy dog irritated me with his incessant barking. After a few weeks of the new puppy's unnecessary noise, I told the neighbor dude, "Y'know, I grew up with dogs and adore them but for the first time in my life, I finally understand those stories about an unhappy neighbor poisoning the barking dog."
He stood there for a minute, trying to figure out if I was pulling his leg, bent over to pick up his incredibly stoopid Dachsund and said, "Wow, that's cold, Leezra."
"I didn't say I would poison a dog, Tommy, I'm just saying I understand it. And besides, poisoning would be more efficient than locating and cutting out a dog's voice box. I have a weak stomach, y'know."
His dog hasn't been in my yard for weeks now.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
No. 1 Laziest State: Louisiana
Time sleeping: 8 hours, 44 minutes
Time watching TV: 3 hours, 5 minutes
Time relaxing and thinking: 29 minutes
Time socializing: 54 minutes
Time working (ages 15 and older): 2 hours, 41 minutes
Median age: 35.1
Obesity ranking: No. 5 (31.2 percent)
We aren't trying to beat up on Louisiana. Goodness knows, between Hurricane Katrina and the Gulf Oil Spill, the state has been through some tough times in recent years. But the statistics speak for themselves: Residents of the state (which happens to be the country's third-poorest) watch more television per day than any other Americans except South Carolinians. They also rank third for being the most social, which includes entertaining and talking with friends, family, and other acquaintances. The average time spent working among all Louisianans is shorter than all other states, according to the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics.
(Data compiled before the Gulf Oil Spill so does not reflect recent spill-related layoffs.)
First, it's hot as a crotch in July and twice as muggy.
For dudes, that means bat wings.
For chicks, it's crotch pot cookin'.
Plus, we're tired.
Tired from picking up roof shingles from the damned hurricanes.
Tired of waiting for the insurance adjuster.
Entitlement-sapped from picking up our FEMA checks.
Spent from picking up our BP checks.
Achy from picking up sacks of crawfish.
Bloated from eating MREs.
Pooped out from evacuating from storms and such.
Done from collecting ice from the nice military boys.
Fatigued from unloading and reloading the refrigerator.
Sweaty from digging our meat holes.
Bored over hating on dolls.
Exhausted from partying.
Dog ass weary from parading.
It takes a lot of energy to rant, bitch, hate and judge. Think your day is long? Try living with multiple personalities in your head and all of them pushing their own agenda.
But hey, we're also thinking and socializing and planning the next crawfish boil and parade so give us credit for pacing ourselves.
Business Weekly should give Louisiana a major fucking break. I'd kick their ass but that would mean getting off the sofa . . . and the ice in my adult beverage is melting . . .
so I'll catch ya on the flipside, Biz Weak.
Monday, July 26, 2010
Y'know, every once in a while, my smart mouth serves me well, like the time an unidentified male caller asked for "Laqueesha" to which I informed "there is no one here by that name". He then asked my name and said I "sounded cute".
"You want to know my name?"
So, I said, in a low tone at a volume just above a whisper, "I'm your worst nightmare."
A long pause followed by a "sorry, wrong number" was the response, along with a dial tone.
Freakin' out the phone perv? One of my proudest moments.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
All I could say was, "Dude."
The counter guy noticed and said, "Yeah, it's even got a rib spreader."
"I'm sure it's very handy to have but it's kinda, um, well, gory", I reply.
He shakes his head in assent, "Oh yeah, definitely. It's basically a serial killer trunk set."
Monday, July 19, 2010
"Hey Gregory, be sure to scream this time," I instructed.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
Thinking the worst thing I ever said was to the alcoholic ass boyfriend. During a particularly frustrating weekend of arguments, I told him I didn't understand how he could sleep with both eyes shut.
"What does that mean?" he slurred.
"I just don't understand how you shut both your eyes and sleep, knowing how much I hate you right now. And knowing there's an loaded gun in the house. Knowing those two things proves you're not as smart as you think you are."
I should probably feel ashamed but I don't. Besides, he probably didn't remember hearing it.
As my pastor once asked, what good is suffering? What can come from it?
For me, it is empathy.
I understand why folks can scream hateful words or fantasize about shooting their spouse in the face.
Friday, July 16, 2010
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Saturday, July 10, 2010
Friday, July 09, 2010
become an "octomom
Suleman, 34, acknowledged she put the sign on her door partly for the money but added her support of PETA is sincere.
"I love animals and I do believe they should be spayed or neutered," she said. "Humans of course are much different."
Wednesday, July 07, 2010
Should you describe the size of a tumor or any other gross medical mass, PLEASE, for the love of ME, would you NOT compare it to a fruit but instead use sports balls?
The conjured visual of tumors and food is unsettling.
And while we're at it, can we NOT say someone was "fingered for the crime"? It seems to provoke a clenching sensation.
Monday, July 05, 2010
My birthday gift arrived right on time with news of Al Gore's unwanted sexual advances upon a hired masseuse.
I want to believe it.
I hope her saved pants from their encounter really do have traces of his "DNA".
I'd like to start a new catch phrase ~~
"I got your global warming right here!"
(Must be paired with the requisite crotch grab.)
Please do your part by performing this phrase (with the grab) at least 3 times a day for the next week and let's see if it catches on.
Thanking you in advance,
Sunday, July 04, 2010
Yes, I know BP is responsible for the damage but many volunteer groups are participating and you can help.
Craft Hope is distributing cloths to several institutions, including the Institute for Marine Mammal Studies in Gulfport, Mississippi but now need financial help to store, distribute and ship the cloths.
~~OR~~ send directly to the IMMS at 10801 Dolphin Lane, Gulfport, MS 39503. Package up your cloths and label package with cloth specifications and quantity to aid quick dispersal. Want to do more? Throw in a bottle of Dawn dishwashing liquid. (Why Dawn?)
The IMMS website wish list indicates towels (any size) but Craft Hope specifications indicated wash cloth and hand towel size to be helpful. Larger towels are unwieldy for cleaning and handling animals. Get out your scissors and cut 10" X 10" squares or 14" X 27" rectangles. Think absorbent and think throwaway. If it is soft enough to wipe your skin, it's good. Cut up your towels, sheets, wash cloths, whatever. Loose threads could snag on animals so if you can sew, zigzag or serge those raw edges.
T-shirts are perfect because they don't fray nor require edge finishing. Don't include the printed portions of the T-shirts as they aren't absorbent. Cut off the short sleeves and leave as is; a gloved hand fits perfectly into it.
Here is link to more details about cloth specifications.
Get your friends and family involved, combine your contributions, send a big box of cloths and know that you are part of the solution. Plus, you probably de-cluttered your t-shirt stash and linen closet!
But what you don't know is the numerous reports of police officers stopping and questioning roving groups of suspicious dudes and the alarming trend the law enforcement now know. The cops asked where the group members were going and where they've been. More often than not, the dudes would say they've been seeking pigs in heat.
Be careful out there, y'hear?
Saturday, July 03, 2010
Mel Gibson tells his whore/baby mama, "I am going to come and burn the fucking house down... but you will blow me first."
What would be my retort?
"Dude, you'll need to rearrange your list with the first priority of making damn sure you pull out all my teeth!"
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Monday, June 07, 2010
What would the BP oil spill do to your neck of the woods? Click on THIS LINK to see the impact to your neighborhood, county and state.
Thursday, June 03, 2010
Yesterday, my radio boyfriend Jay Thomas described the current events about the British Petroleum oil leak, the multitudes of lawyers soliciting along the Gulf Coast and payout deals being made here in Louisiana to fishermen and other related tradespeople by BP for lost but anticipated income. The problem is, more than a few of those folks were under reporting their income to IRS but over-estimating missed income to BP and will now be hit with higher income taxes on the compensation and perhaps an unwelcome audit.
To sum it up, Jay said, "Louisiana, it's just like Appalachia . . . but with crawfish."
Wednesday, June 02, 2010
Tuesday, June 01, 2010
Sunday, May 30, 2010
My life partner TiVo found a PBS documentary about the New Orleans Vietnamese community and their struggle before, during and after hurricane Katrina called "Independent Lens:A Village Called Versailles".
Culturally, their work ethic and self-sufficiency served them well in rebuilding after the hurricane but their quiet flying-beneath-the-radar way of life made them targets of a proposed land grab and an "emergency" landfill. Watch the documentary to see the best and worst of what America has to offer and a unique perspective of immigrant culture.
Here's a short youtube clip.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
For a split second, I was confused but an instant later, I got it.
"They look like they all have rickets, right?" I asked.
Monday, May 24, 2010
Kittie Howard, over at The Block, awarded a few blog awards last March and offered an opportunity to vie for a gift card. It was the same week I learned of many local struggling non-profits in my area so instead of competing to win an unexpected gift for reading her great blog which is a gift in itself, I dropped out of the game by suggesting a contribution to a non-profit. Before you think me to be completely selfless and wonderful, you should know that Kittie gave a Salvation Army donation last December; $1 for each of her followers so it just natural that I would think of a gift to serve many instead of one.
And wouldn't you know it, the idea caught on. Kittie opened the forum to voting and her readers went for it. Not one reader whined for a gift card for themselves.
Fast forward to last week when Kittie's blog reached 100 followers which became a perfect time to announce her contribution to a Louisiana animal shelter and she included me in the explanation.
What a nice example Kittie is! The word my mom would use is "a jewel". It fits Kittie.
So, here's my challenge to you. While you might not have $106 to spare, non-profits of every ilk are suffering in our new economy and even the smallest contribution can help. My local food bank or homeless shelter can always use jars of peanut butter, cans of tuna and even tubes of toothpaste. Throw an extra item in your grocery cart when you can and drop it by your local mission or food bank.
Here is a list of items that any animal shelter would gladly accept:
Kitchen Garbage Bags
55 Gallon Garbage Bags
33 Gallon Garbage Bags
Purina Cat Chow
Purina Puppy Chow
Toilet Bowl Cleaner
Windex Glass Cleaner
Plastic Spray Bottles
I provide the list to illustrate that every little bit helps.
Some folks volunteer.
Some folks write big checks.
Some folks share their blessings.
All can make a difference.
Just a little
Saturday, May 22, 2010
Here's a word that I hear mispronounced so often I looked it up to make sure I wasn't the dumb ass.
How do you say "realtor"?
- Does it sound like reel-ugh-ter?
- Or real-ter?
- Or re-uhl-ter?
- None of the above
When I first moved to Houston, I gave my boss an address on Bissonnet Avenue but being from Louisiana, I articulated it with a French pronunciation: Bis-so-nay. She corrected me and imperiously stated "here in Texas, we pronounce all the letters in words". Huh, how about that? She was taking me task for sounding like a rube while she and the rest of Houston mangled FRENCH with their "Bis-son-net"(yep, with a "t" at the end). Thanks for correcting me, putain.
So, just for kicks, I just Googled "commonly mispronounced words" for you good people and found a list of 100 at pbs.com
Well, butter my butt and call me a biscuit, I've been saying "Bacchus" incorrectly all this time plus "pathos". Feeling superior to me yet? Check out the list and I'll bet you'll be surprised at a few. Having a hard time saying "Bak-us" instead of "Bahk-us", which incidentally, is the name of huge New Orleans Carnival krewe and their parade. New Orleans folks saying it wrong all these years? For true?
Monday, May 17, 2010
On her radio show, Dr Laura Schlessinger said that, as an observant Orthodox Jew, homosexuality is an abomination according to Leviticus 18:22 and cannot be condoned under any circumstance. The following response is an open letter to Dr. Laura posted on the Internet. It's funny, as well as informative.
Dear Dr. Laura:
Thank you for doing so much to educate people regarding God's Law. I have learned a great deal from your show, and try to share that knowledge with as many people as I can. When someone tries to defend the homosexual lifestyle, for example, I simply remind them that Leviticus 18:22 clearly states it to be an abomination ... End of debate.
I do need some advice from you, however, regarding some other elements of God's Laws and how to follow them.
1. Leviticus 25:44 states that I may possess slaves, both male and female, provided they are purchased from neighboring nations. A friend of mine claims that this applies to Mexicans, but not Canadians. Can you clarify? Why can't I own Canadians?
2. I would like to sell my daughter into slavery, as sanctioned in Exodus 21:7. In this day and age, what do you think would be a fair price for her?
3. I know that I am allowed no contact with a woman while she is in her period of Menstrual uncleanliness - Lev.15: 19-24. The problem is how do I tell? I have tried asking, but most women take offense.
4. When I burn a bull on the altar as a sacrifice, I know it creates a pleasing odor for the Lord - Lev.1:9. The problem is my neighbors. They claim the odor is not pleasing to them. Should I smite them?
5. I have a neighbor who insists on working on the Sabbath. Exodus 35:2 clearly states he should be put to death. Am I morally obligated to kill him myself, or should I ask the police to do it?
6. A friend of mine feels that even though eating shellfish is an abomination, Lev. 11:10, it is a lesser abomination than homosexuality. I don't agree. Can you settle this? Are there 'degrees' of abomination?
7. Lev. 21:20 states that I may not approach the altar of God if I have a defect in my sight. I have to admit that I wear reading glasses. Does my vision have to be 20/20, or is there some wiggle-room here?
8. Most of my male friends get their hair trimmed, including the hair around their temples, even though this is expressly forbidden by Lev. 19:27. How should they die?
9. I know from Lev. 11:6-8 that touching the skin of a dead pig makes me unclean, but may I still play football if I wear gloves?
10. My uncle has a farm. He violates Lev.19:19 by planting two different crops in the same field, as does his wife by wearing garments made of two different kinds of thread (cotton/polyester blend). He also tends to curse and blaspheme a lot. Is it really necessary that we go to all the trouble of getting the whole town together to stone them? Lev.24:10-16. Couldn't we just burn them to death at a private family affair, like we do with people who sleep with their in-laws? (Lev. 20:14)
I know you have studied these things extensively and thus enjoy considerable expertise in such matters, so I'm confident you can help. Thank you again for reminding us that God's word is eternal and unchanging. Your adoring fan.
PS It would be a damn shame if we couldn't own a Canadian.