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

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!

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

Party ingredients

Because that's how Rikki Tikki Tavi rolls.

Oh yeah, I had a birthday last week

Forgot to share the cake that my sister RikkiTikkiTavi ordered.
Somehow my brother Rollo restrained himself from gouging the cat's eyes out but I saw his hands tighten on the knife as he hovered. . .

My sister and the ants

Baby sister RikkiTikkiTavi and I were floating in the pool on Memorial Day, catching the rays when she got out to skim the water to get out the flying ants. She couldn't relax on the raft because she thought they were landing on her. Not me, don't care.
After the third time of getting out of the pool and skimming for ants, Rikki said, "I think these are the same damn ants I got out earlier, I'm starting to recognize them."

Why I am not on FaceBook

Because I am way too cool.
Face Book is for teenagers and college kids. Older folks posting notes about taking the kids to soccer practice or going to the grocery store = kinda lame.
My blogging about me = endlessly enthralling.
You are catching on now; I like one-way communication.
My sister RikkiTikkiTavi is on Face Book and is friends with MY friends so I get the best of both worlds. She updates me on their crap but I don't have to care about the minutiae of others.

Don't make me laugh while eating

My sister RikkiTikkiTavi and I were eating ChickFilA at the mall food court today when she spied a young freak with multi-colored hair and lime green shoes. We were watching him enjoy his specialness. I noticed and commented on his quite large star-shaped tattoos centered on both elbow bones and wondered aloud what those would look like when he was sixty.
Without a beat, RikkiTikkiTavi said, "He'll never make it to sixty."

Hurricane Gustav

To all of you who inquired (and Ernest),

Folks from far and wide were evacuating through our area. Stopped by my local convenience store when I saw a caravan of cars pulling into the parking lot. I noticed that their license plates were from out of the area and they all piled out. Thinking they were lost, I lingered and waited for their approach but they didn't. And I kinda felt bad that I took this photo but it touched me.

Along with my sister Rikki Tikki Tavi and her brats, I went to Houston to accept the most gracious hospitality of Kay. The best kind of evacuation house offer? The kind where the owner isn't home! That way, you don't feel like you are in the way and they don't fuss over your every need. PLUS, you can root through their stuff before they get home! Right, people?
Houston received no rain but the brats were bored so we visited what I call the Third Tier of Hell aka The Children's Museum. THAT was the worst part of whole trip. The best part was Walter allowed me to face paint him. A nice curvy mustache and goatee. He drew the line at bushy evil eyebrows. Those stupid ass kids with butterflies and such on their faces - pansies, I tell ya.
Our home area had some wind and localized power outage of an hour or so. Happy to report that no alcoholic beverages were harmed by Gustav.
Mallys asked if I was pro-active and pre-dug my meat hole. Well, she is MUCH smarter than I because I never once considered a pre-dig! A scratch here and there but not a dig.
Someone mentioned this morning that 2 more hurricanes are out there. I don't know anything about them and ask that you not share information with me. La LA la la la.
Happy to be home,
I am,
Skitzo Leezra

You win the cute contest

Mom, Rikki Tikki Tavi and I started the Cute Contest eons ago. You meet, take a quick look at each other and decide who looks the best: head to toe, clothing and coiffure. Then you pronounce someone as the winner of the Cute Contest. You have the option of accepting graciously or deflecting and saying, "No, YOU win the cute contest, I love your shoes."

Not feeling cute? You should head off participation by loudly proclaiming, "I am not playing the Cute Contest today." You can say that on the phone before you even leave the house. "Okay, I'll meet you at the theater but I am telling you right now that I am NOT playing the cute contest . . . although I do have a fresh pedicure and my sandals are cute."

However, even if one is not feeling confident and has stated that they are not playing the Cute Contest, they may still win. "Girl, I know you are not playing but that new cute hair 'do alone wins the Cute Contest."
If all gathered have not put in an effort for attractiveness, the Cute Contest is not mentioned AT ALL.

Here's a twist on the Cute Contest. You can state that YOU win the Cute Contest, either in person or on phone but you must qualify such statement. "I win the Cute Contest today because I am wearing this sundress that hasn't fit since last summer."
AND you can tell of a Cute Contest that others weren't even aware of their participation. "I had a meeting today with the Ladies Luncheon group and I totally won the Cute Contest."

Here's hoping YOU win the cute contest!