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."

This

I pulled up to my parking spot and saw my co-worker do the same. Her car door opened and music blared out. She stepped out in high-heeled pumps, fingers snapping and held above her head. Erasure sang "Chains of Love" with the off-key and off-beat beeping reminder of the car key in ignition. She danced in a little circle and smiled. I stood in the sunshine and laughed. Hope I am that carefree when I am her age, I thought. Hope I still listen to the end of the song and feel unembarrassed to break in a little dance.

The carefree and fun moment stuck in my mind when I saw her pull up to her parking place a week later and slump over her steering wheel in heaving sobs. Just days after the parking lot floor show, her son died in a tragic drug binge induced pedestrian hit and run.

She danced and later she sobbed on the very same pavement.
That was 14 years ago.

Last month, I saw long lost friends on the evening of their oldest child's senior prom. My friends were older but still smiling and beautiful. Married for close to 20 years, I could tell they were still in love. Sipping on a drive thru daiquiri, she pointed out her pretty daughter. We laughed and remininsced for a few minutes. Then they walked across the lawn to take photos.

Today, they buried their 17 year old son. He fell asleep while driving.

I thought about how happy and beautiful his parents were last month. And I thought of my co-worker 14 years ago.
And I remembered the sermon my pastor once shared with the words that will make a happy man sad and sad man happy:
This too shall pass

It get worse.
It gets better.

Enjoy the hell out of the better before it gets worse. Dance to it. Crank it until it blows your mother fucking speakers. Smile until it makes little crinkles around your eyes.

Pissing away the time

Thank you, vivid dream of searching for clean restroom. Vivid dream, you woke me when my alarm clock didn't.

If it weren't for the increasing pressure on my pee pouch, pretty sure I'd never get out of bed or off the couch.
Worse thing that could ever happen is incontinence. Why bother getting up?

Urine my thoughts, good people!

How Lady Gaga ruined my make-up

And made my morning.

My typical morning commute includes Howard Stern on Sirius radio. Lady Gaga explained her song "On the Edge of Glory" before performing it. By the time I pulled into my parking place at work, my mascara had become watery puddles on my cheek.

Listen to the story here. Stop at 2:33 and watch her live performance at the link at the bottom.

Watch the performance here.

In case you missed it

Just re-read an old comment on my rant regarding Nadya Suleman (Octomom):

If she were a mama dog, her children would be sold in the parking lot of a WalMart.

Hanging out

Yesterday afternoon, the 7 year old nephew Gregory and I were floating in the pool when he said, "Look at your hands."

I held up my water shriveled fingers and said, "Yeah, they wrinkly from the water."

"No, look at the other side. It's wrinkly too. You have OLD LADY HANDS!"

I laughed so hard I began to hack like a water deprived cat.

Then I had to make sure Gregory understood others may not react with laughter if they heard the same.

Typing this with crow-like hands,
I am,
Skitzo Leezra

Really?

Same person.
One weekend.
Stoopid quotes:

"Life is too short for crushed ice."

"I've never been to Sonic drive-in before. I'm a Sonic virgin." (then ordered nothing)

"Ribs? Oh, no, none for me. I've never eaten anything off the bone. No! Never. Really. Okay, yes, if you remove the meat from the bone, I'll eat it."

Okay, let's play a fun interactive game and please leave a comment to guess the age, gender or particulars of the above idiot.

Overheard

One salesperson to another:
"Sometimes I think when people say they're 'retired', they really mean 'retarded'."

Repressed thoughts

No, I didn't watch a minute of Okrah's departure and if you did, is your pathetic life is sad that you couldn't find the remote control?

Am I the only one who cannot wait for some serious dirt on her? And while we're at it, here's hoping squeaky clean Will Smith and Jay Leno are soon revealed with disturbing indiscretions. I am so not buying their milquetoast personaes.

I didn't seriously dislike Okrah until the "Hermes incident". If you don't remember, click the link above. Okrah pulled a celebrity hissy fit after being turned away from the closed Parisian luxury goods store.

As a former retail dog and a current salesperson, Okrah's arrogance pissed me off. She pulled the race card but I just chalk it up as general assholery. When Okrah demanded service after store hours, she basically said her time was more important than the employees who worked a full day and on their way home. It is the height of hubris and arrogance. Pull that shit in a restaurant just minutes from closing and then wonder why your food doesn't taste quite right.

As you may recall, I sell plumbing faucets and fixtures. I gotta tell ya, when a customer comes in and proudly tells me they want oil rubbed bronze faucets, it takes everything I have not to roll my eyes. Ugh, so OVER brown faucets. It has been done to death and it's so very fake. Mark my words, oil rubbed bronze is the antique brass of yesterday.

Nasty and nasty.

So enjoying the drought. You should see my tan!

Future comic

My youngest nephew (7 years old) said something and included the word "butt" in it except it didn't elicit the reaction he expected.

"You know, Gregory, just because you say 'butt' doesn't mean it's funny. You can't just say 'butt' and think people will laugh," I told him.

"At school, they do," Gregory replied.

Going for the laugh, even in first grade, the little wisenheimer is on his way to class clown.

NOsama

Here's hoping Osama was met with his promised 72 virgins and everyone of them into "scat play". Have fun, Asshole!

How I almost got my ass kicked

That title could be used for so many Skitzo Leezra stories. Just ask my sister Rikki Tikki Tavi. She says I've been so close to many a deserved ass kicking that when it finally happens, she won't even pretend to protect me. My wisenheimer mouth gets me really close to the invisible line of retaliation but my quick wit (or else a quick retreat) always keeps me safe. Believe it or not, I've never been physically assaulted.

Anywho, yesterday I was driving through the meandering streets near my neighborhood, coming a stop sign and preparing to turn right. A vehicle approached from my right. It was turning left but did a cross-the-lane turn. Y'know, the kind of left hand turn you do when no other cars are present? Because your vehicle would prevent another from turning?

#2 blue car is me. #1 yellow car is The Dick.

The other vehicle's careless turn came within inches of removing my driver side front bumper.

"What a dick," I thought as I did a fake-out veer. (My mom taught me that trick. Slide your hand along the steering wheel as if you are turning but don't.)

The Dick saw the fake veer and apparently believed it to be real because he braked and stopped. I hesitated at the stop sign. He didn't roll down the window or communicate so I drove on but what did I soon see in my rear view mirror? Yep, The Dick was following me.

I slowed to a stop, rolled down the window, let The Dick pull even with me and asked "Do you have something you need to say to me?"
(Nooooo, I didn't honestly expect an apology but was curious about The Dick's message.)

He yelled, "What's up with turning toward my lane? Were you trying to hit me?"

"No, I wasn't trying to hit you but it got your attention, didn't it?" And I gotta admit, even though road rage was showing its very ugly and reddening face and I was just seconds from a pummeling by an angry white guy, I kinda smirked.

"Well, you better change your cunt attitude or someone is going to run you over!"

I couldn't help myself. I laughed out loud and it seemed to piss him off more. He released the clutch enough to drive away but not before I yelled in my loudest and proudest sorority girl voice "You tooooooooooooooo!"

He popped the clutch and sped away.

And I snorted while laughing.

Really, Dick? You drive like a jackhole, follow a lone white female driver to yell at her and when she laughs at you, you speed away?

Still snickering and a little glad not to be shot in the face, I see him pull into a driveway. Cell phone out. I pretend to take his photo while he pretended not to see me but manoshevitz, his body language was some kind of angry.

My brother Rollo came by later and I told him the story. He wished I had driven to his house so The Dick would've confronted me there. And the we laughed because if there is anything that is NOT gonna change, it's my cunt attitude.

Have a blessed day, Dick!

It don't make no sense

Devil's food cake.
What the hell is it, really?
It's not chocolate but it's brown. A better name might be Devil's Asshole.
Okay, next.
Red Velvet Cake: also stoopid. Guess what it's made of? Devil's Food cake and red food coloring.
The only good use of Red Velvet Cake is a bleeding armadillo a la the Steel Magnolia's groom cake.


And for the record, carrot cake should not taste like a spice cake.
And coconut should not be hidden. Coconut should be announced with the icing or cake embellishment. I do not enjoy biting into a cake and spitting out the devil's toenails. But I will.

Oscars 2011

“Why didn’t I lose that twenty pounds?” –Robert Stromberg

Which Academy genius suggested Kurt Douglas as presenter? Why not have Dick Clark join him as a co-presenter? Oh, my gosh, you’re breaking the first rule of show biz: leave them wanting more.

Best supporting presenting actress Melissa Leo - loved her genuine surprise, awkwardness and her live television F-bomb.

Justin Timberlake isn’t nearly as cute as he thinks he is. Not even close.

Why are Josh Brolin and Javier Bardem presenting together in matching ecru tuxedos? The look seems too unique to be accidental.

Randy Newman – witty, as usual.

2001: first win after nominated 15 times. "I don't need your pity".

2011: 20 nominations, second win. "Not a good percentage."

The “In Memoriam” montage with Celine Dion singing “Smile” was bearable because it avoided the awkward lulls of applause when a less famous face appeared.

Amusing speech by The King’s Speech director Tom Hooper which blended the appreciation of his mother and reference to his “triangle of man love” with Geoffrey Rush and Colin Firth.

Anne Hathaway – enjoyed her many wardrobe changes but there’s no need to ask her back as an Oscar host. Her behavior better fit hosting “Saturday Night Live”.

Colin Firth’s speech was the usual self deprecating witty British repartee you’d expect. Wonder if it was rehearsed or truly off-the-cuff?

The finale of school children singing “Somewhere Over The Rainbow” with the award winners was touching.

To wrap up: good movies with weak hosting by Anne Hathaway and James Franco.

Again I say, no need for the musical presentations.

Looking forward to watching this week’s episode of “Fashion Police” with Joan Rivers.

Good night, good people out there in The Intranet.

A surprising realization

It's Carnival season in Louisiana, I've been invited to many balls and parties and nothing about it appeals to me. While I love fashion, enjoy looking at formal wear and love shopping for a pretty evening bag and shoes, it took me thirty years to realize I don't enjoy dressing up.

A few years ago, Ernest and Eileen opted for a black tie wedding and Ernest informed his oldest friends he fully expected us to fulfill the example set by Carnival krewe requirements. When adhering to the black tie and formal gown decree, it means gowns to the floor. In this neck of the South, we've all heard the stories of ladies being being turned away from a ball because their dress was not a gown.
So, c'mon, Ernest, no cocktail dresses? No. But you know some women will show up in a short cute cocktail dress? Ernest stood firm, "no friend of his didn't understand the dress code". I enjoyed the evening and loved seeing our friends in their finery but it was that night I realized I never wanted to wear a formal gown again. As part girly girl and part tomboy, it was a disappointment and a shock to finally be truthful to myself. I liked helping sis Rikki Tikki Tavi select her formal accessories but the closest I want to get to the formals is staying home in my pjs to watch the Oscar pre-show and fashion recaps with Joan Rivers.

When I heard guys say they don't like wearing a tux, I used to chalk them up as socially inept or redneck but I get it now.

Watching the Oscars in pj pants and T-shirt,
and judging other's coiffure and garb,
I am,
Skitzo Leezra

Puh-lease

Elizabeth and I decided today to hate pretentious women who call the room adjoining their kitchen "keeping rooms".
We love a butler's pantry, we dig gift wrap rooms and we both have a craft room/studio.

However.

Suburban chicks do not equal estate ladies.

While Elizabeth and I can totally admit to being snobby bitches, pretentious we are not. Nevuh.
Now don't you go thinking I approve of the term "den". Just no. Animals reside in dens.

Blogged from my hovel/pre-hoarder house,
I am,
Skitzo Leezra

Dawn's Rant of the Day

Why is it considered a compliment for someone to tell you you've lost a "ton" of weight? All that communicates is that, at some point in the past, the person weighed more than a ton. What's wrong with "wow, you're looking terrific"? Specifics are not at all necessary in compliments.

And on that note, one shouldn't assume because a person goes to the gym every day that they are trying to lose weight. What if they're exactly where they want to be and trying to maintain?

Here's my advice for a pat response to "you look like you're losing weight" - -

"Really?!!! I'd better go see my doctor then. Golly, I hope I don't have cancer".

Then just walk away.

"Who's been writing on my banana?"

That was the voice of my Boss calling out from his office.

Huh?

"It says 'I'm not ready yet'. Which one of you is writing on my banana?"

The very mousy and very unassuming office manager piped up, "It was me. I didn't want you to eat a green banana."

(Who even knew she had a sense of humor?)

A couple days later, I hear The Boss call out, "My banana says 'Maybe tomorrow. Check back with me'. Is this a banana or a Magic 8-Ball?"

But, yesterday a little Coca~Cola came out my nose when I heard him read aloud, "My banana says 'Eat me now'."

Sure it does, Boss, sure it does.

This image was stolen

from Hey Lola's blog.

Unfiltered crap outta my head

If I hear of advertising sponsors canceling their spots for an upcoming television show, it's pretty much an automatic I'll check it out. Like NYPD Blue, back in the day. Sure, it might be marketing ploy but it gets my attention. The new MTV show Skins is a knock-off of the racy British teen series and begs the question: are sexy teenage story lines bad but slutty pregnant teens on 16 And Pregnant good? Like I tell my breeder friends: if I'm not invited to watch the conception, I don't wanna watch the delivery.


Once considered myself to be a semi-bad teen, what with the underage drinking, random and planned vandalism and smart ass mouthery but the older I become, the more I realize, compared to today's yout's, I was a model fucking citizen. Nary a one pregnancy, nor abortions, no rehab, no tattoos, no jail time, no experimentation with drugs, no school time shoot'em-ups.

Teachers should be a little nervous and wary of vengeful gun toting students. While most teachers are decent, we all know at least one power tripping horrible teacher who needed a serious ass kicking or at least a good scare.

And if you're a teacher or an educator, quit bitching about your pay.
You weren't drafted into the job, it's no secret your colleagues aren't paid well so stop acting like you just became aware of how little you earn. Amongst the academia on college campus, the education department is the least respected. If that is a new realization, sorry. Please, go pay more to your powerful and competent teacher's union because it makes lots of sense to pay into a system which has done absolutely zero for you. In fact, why not increase your union dues and watch for even better results? To hear a teacher gripe about their salary is my cue to question their intelligence and awareness.

Awesome customer service at Talbot's recently. Seriously, I was treated so courteously by their super helpful employees, it gave me faith in the revitalization of American economic system.

Leaving it on a positive note for today,
I am,
Skitzo Leezra

In case you needed a reminder . . .

St.Elmo's Fire still sucks.
Why, oh, why did I watch it again after 25 years?
Not one sympathetic character, shit acting and who the fuck would even consider getting engaged for Chrysler LeBaron? Even if it were a convertible?
Not even gonna enumerate the weak characters because it's a further waste of my time but hoping to save you the angst of . . . well . . .

~~You're welcome~~

Word of the day

makes the 13 year old girl in my head giggle.

Crampon - I know it means metal spike attached to hiking footwear but my immaturity blends the words "cramps" and "tampon" then wonders why any man would wear them on their feet.

Rock on?
Hell to the no!
Crampon with your bad self.
Y'heard?