Monday, December 31, 2007

More Father Time Than Baby New Year

Hmm, I had big plans to drive up to Austin and join my Big Sis, her partner and all her partner's family and lovers-in-law for dinner, then I decided I'd rather spend New Year's Eve in my cozy little home.
I don't like being away from home on Amateur Night--too many nitwits outdoors, not just driving but out being crazy in general. A friend of mine caught a bullet in the head one New Year's Eve while she was in the back yard of another friend's house. The bullet fell straight down out of the sky--some asshole from up to three miles away shot his gun in the air to "celebrate."
Last night was a New Year's Eve-Eve party at the local lesbian cultural center.
I skipped that this year, too. I went last year and had to smile at and chit chat with a lot of people I didn't like, drink cheap wine and listen to amateurish live music provided by some kind of local lesbians with guitars band. Ugh.
I make a lousy lesbian.
I only like the sexual part of homosexuality--the social part makes me want to scream. I can't relate. Just the haircuts alone make me want to run screaming from the room.
I found out recently one of my ex's from a few years ago and the oafish, loud, obnoxious, pretentious asshole she ended up with broke up a few months ago. I had to chuckle. They are both control freaks and notoriously selfish, so I knew they'd eventually be at each others' throats.
I just wondered who'd dump who first, but I always gave the edge to my ex. She likes to empty people out, then dump them unceremoniously without so much as a glance back.
My ex was one of the obnoxious one's patients before they started fucking. I love a professional with integrity, don't you? Heh, heh, heh.
Anyway, I have made better use of my time tonight.
I am baking a pan of cheesy grits- my latest passion. Later on I'll have them with some thin slices of hickory smoked ham and a little salad. Mmm.
Then at midnight, I'll put on my bullet resistant Kevlar helmet and go outside to observe my lawless neighborhood's annual fireworks extravaganza. Seriously, these monster truck driving motherfuckers spend entire paychecks on arsenals of weapons grade fireworks. I'm talking those enormous chrysanthemum explosions that light up four square blocks. I may take pictures just to prove it.
My kitties kind of like the explosions. See, they love to jump up on stuff and topple it to the floor and make loud booms. So the explosions outside make them envious that they aren't making the noise.

I am so thrilled 2007 is almost over. My thick black cloud of depression is slowly lifting and I just know 2008 has to be 100 percent better.

Well, I may be a lousy lesbian but I still love a gay show tune, so I'll close with this one. Happy New Year, my dear friends and readers. All the best to you.

The sun will come out, tomorrow
Bet your bottom dollar that tomorrow, there'll be sun
Just thinking about, tomorrow
Clears away the cobwebs and the sorrow,
Til there's none.

When I'm stuck with the day, that's grey and lonely,
I Just stick out my chin and grin and say,

The sun will come out, tomorrow
So you gotta hang on til tomorrow,
Come what may,
Tomorrow, tomorrow, I love ya, tomorrow
You're only a day away

The sun'll come out, tomorrow,
So you gotta hang on til tomorrow,
Come what may,
Tomorrow, tomorrow, I love ya, tomorrow,
You're always a day away,
Tomorrow, tomorrow, I love ya, tomorrow,
You're only a day away.

Tomorrow, tomorrow, I love ya, tomorrow,
You're only a day-a-way!!!

Friday, December 28, 2007

Final Rant o' the Year

It's been, as Queen Elizabeth once said, an annum horibilis for me, especially the last three months.

Between the scorching resentments I still have toward my ex-boss the Devil Wears Payless and that Pussy of a Mormon, no-nuts havin' CEO, and my sweet Mama passing away three days after that debacle ended, I feel as raw as a bug sprayed with RAID.
I am so depressed and easily annoyed right now, virtually everything (besides my siblings) I encounter outside my front door bothers me.
To wit:
-Turkeys should not be fried. It's wrong and I want it stopped.
-Those fucking renters next door have installed a regulation sized basketball hoop next to the tin garage doors about 12 feet from my office window. The BANGS, the screaming, the smack talking and the hip-hop on the boom box- sometimes as late as 11 p.m.- are driving me insane.
-I went mall walking this afternoon before meeting a friend for an early movie. The stores were all very messy, especially Burlington Coat Factory, with shoes scattered all over the place and a bunch of lazy, fat employees standing around ignoring the mess and gossiping about the hickies they got last night from their felonious slacker baby daddies.
-All the Christmas shit everywhere was half price but you can tell they jacked up the original prices before they halved them. Crooked bastards!
-The theater we went to used to serve these fabulous burgers and fries for about 7 bucks. Now they jacked the price up to $7.62 and replaced the delicious fries with a miniscule bag o' chips. A Diet Coke was $3.21. What's with the odd prices? What kind of fuckery is this?
-I went to a holiday dinner last night at the local AA/Al-Anon joint (I'm sort of in Al-Anon) and those fucking recovering drunks showed up all dirty and unshaved and ate like pigs. My chair was jostled about five times by enormous stinky people as I tried to eat. I left the nanosecond I was finished, still chewing on the way out to my car.
-Clerks in convenient stores are either rude Indians, chattering Pakistanis or stupid gang banger chicks with their eyebrows drawn in with Sharpies. It took one of them about 60 full seconds to figure out how to give me 92 cents in change tonight. I wanted to tell her to stop talking to her stupid coworker and just give me my fucking change, but I thought she might come over the counter and punch me.
-I hate those new diamond "journey" necklaces that start with a small diamond and end with a big one in a little swivel. What a gimmick. "If you really loved me, you'd give me a journey necklace." People fall for that shit. It's the diamond tennis bracelet of the 2000s. Cliche, mass marketed jewelry equals a mediocre romantic mind to me.
-Retail stores are getting out of hand with the mailed Christmas catalogs and e-mail offers. This season I received a pile of catalogs about four feet high- all from the same three or four retailers. Hey LL Bean, Eddie Bauer, J. Crew, Land's End and Coldwater Creek-- I knew your entire inventory back in October, so there was no reason to send me 20 variations of each catalog every fucking week.
-If people have children, they should not be allowed to take them out in public unless they have first trained them not to issue blood curdling screams whenever they feel like it. It's not cute, it's not funny and something is wrong with anyone who thinks it's okay.
-Big pick-up trucks do not need extra high tires, and anyone who thinks he needs them has a 3" penis and parakeet balls. It's called over-compensation, needle dicks.
-What was Benizar Bhutto thinking exposing herself to that throng of madmen?
-The only thing worse than holiday music is Country Holiday Music. Toby Keith can suck that little drummer boy!

Whew. I feel a little better.

Now I will mention the people and things I loved best this year.
-My big sister and brother and my other sister have all been very gentle with me (and each other) since Mama died. They have been such a comfort.
-Big Sis bought me my dream boots for Christmas and they fit like Mr. Lucchese descended from Heaven just to customize them for me. I love them!
-I had my first taste of cheesy grits with mild jalapenos last night and I swear they are my new favorite food. I plan to get the recipe and make a bathtub full of them, then jump in with a big spoon.
-My brother got me a remote control helicopter for Christmas and my kitties went berserk. Nick the baby was so excited, his teeth were chattering like when he sees a squirrel outside the window.
-Amy Winehouse's Back to Black CD has prevented me from possibly driving off a cliff this year. She's a lot crazier than me, and I found that comforting.

Now let's all go have a happy fucking New Year.

Monday, December 24, 2007

My New Column for 2008

What to Tell Your Teens About Jamie Lynn's Pregnancy

Dear Parents of Teenagers,

Many of you have allegedly written to me to ask, "What should I tell my teen about Jamie Lynn Spears's pregnancy?"

That's very simple.
Jamie Lynn is a millionaire who has her own popular television show on Nickelodeon TV. She makes more than your teen's mommy and daddy--and their bosses--combined.
When Jamie has her baby, she can hire a nanny to take care of the baby. She can even afford 'round the clock registered nurses to babysit.
She can still go out and party, afford the finest clothes and accessories, live in a swanky house with a nursery and have a maid keep the place clean.
She can hire a wet nurse to feed the baby so she can still drink and do cocaine to her heart's content.
Basically, Jamie Lynn can use her baby in photo ops and only play with her when the media is watching, like Paris does with her Chihuahua.
So, tell your teen when she makes the kind of money Jamie Lynn makes, go ahead and get knocked up at age 16. And don't forget to remind your teen to create the baby's trust fund!

Sunday, December 23, 2007

Merry Christmas to All

I didn't put out Christmas decorations this year. Nick my cat is only two and he still cannot resist messing with lights or shiny things. He would have a Christmas tree totally dismantled in fewer than 10 minutes, then he'd drag the tinsel & broken ornaments to my bed sheets and want to be rewarded for his hard work.
So instead I offer one of my Holy Rollers- hubcaps I've turned into religious icons.
This one one of the few I've kept in my collection.
Tomorrow night begins The Official Events- dinner at one of my sisters' houses for Christmas Eve, then up to the Hill Country to my brother's house for Christmas Day, then finally home to try to get my glucose levels back to normal until New Year's Eve.
Like the orphans we are, my siblings and I have apparently gone overboard buying gifts for each other this year, which is always a good thing.
I hope you can all forget about Bush and his band of criminals for just a few days and enjoy your holidays.
What are your plans?

Wednesday, December 19, 2007

Jesus, Give Me a Break

I read a story on AOL tonight that said many high-end hotels no longer stock guest rooms with Bibles.
I have to say, I'm not a Bible reader. I don't own a Bible and have only basic familiarity with parts of it, like a psalm here or a nutty story there.
I have never needed one when I've stayed at a hotel or motel, nor has any companion I've known needed one.
The story to me reflected an understanding that the Bible is not every person's book of faith, and that the better hotels are more likely to offer hospitality to an international clientele of varying religious faiths. No problem.

The problem started with the comments section under the story. So many tight-assed "Christians" said they wouldn't stay in a hotel that lacked the requisite Bible, and from then on they'd ask before they made reservations.
1. If they are that hot for the Bible, wouldn't they carry their own?
2. Do these narrow-minded hillbillies even stay in 5 Star hotels?
3. As long as Motel 6 and La Quinta still have Bibles in every room, what's the problem?

As a lapsed Catholic, I have to say I've had a lot of fun in various hotels with a Jew or two. Did they bitch because the room lacked a Torah? Uhh, no.

Hotels are good for two things: traveling and sex.
If God wanted us to read the Bible in a hotel room, they'd remove the beds and install pews or rocking chairs. Then after a good long session of reading scripture, guests can turn on Fox News or AM Radio featuring Rush Limbaugh.

Monday, December 17, 2007

Dale and Jack Sittin' In a Tree

How delighted I was to find that Dale from last season's Top Chef and Jack, who left Project Runway early because of a contagious staph infection, are a couple now.
The infection is all cleared up.

Aren't they cute together?

Tuesday, December 11, 2007

My Lucchese Boots

In response to Lulu Maude's request, here's a pic of my less spectacular than my all time favorite Lucchese boots. Well, it's just one boot but you get the idea.

Monday, December 10, 2007

While Christmas Shopping Online

'Tis the season for giving, so naturally as I carefully sifted through dozens of websites searching for gifts for my loved ones, what do I spy but my all-time favorite color and style of Lucchese cowgirl boots? Yes, with their tan suede rough-out bottoms and perky turquoise shafts, they just scream authentic, rodeo goin' Texas girl.
Not that I am an authentic cowgirl who attends rodeos, but if I were these would be the only boots I'd ever need.
Lucchese boots, as you may not know, are hand-crafted in Texas. So carefully are they crafted, the moment you slide them on they take on the shape of your foot and Become One with you. They fit snugly around the instep for stability, with a little bit of room for the heel to move, whether bronco busting or busting a move at your local saloon.
But wait, there's more.
When I was a mere girl of 18, I worked the summer before college as a classified ad taker for the San Antonio Express News. One day, a charming older man with a soft Italian accent called to place a help wanted ad. His name was Mr. Lucchese and he owned a local boot-making business.
Shocked that I did not recognize his name or his company, he patiently told me the story of how for decades he'd carefully and lovingly crafted his boots, for real cowboys as well as presidents and kings throughout the world. He described the lushness of the leather, the delicate hand stitching and the hand-rubbed patina on each and every pair.
He was so sweet and I remember years later when he died how kindly he explained his life's passion to me.
Of course I couldn't afford a pair back then; in fact I didn't even see any of them up close until about five years ago when I discovered a Lucchese boutique in an ultra fancy shopping center. In I walked to a leather scented wonderland of the most gorgeous collection of cowboy boots imaginable. Some cost upwards of $10,000, but most fell into the $500 to $1,000 range.
Last year, I finally ponied up the money for my first pair- an on sale, smooth medium brown leather pair with rather plain stitching up the shafts. They were not my first choice, but they were affordable and beautiful, so I settled.
My first choice is pictured above. Were it not the season for giving and had I not just quit my job, I'd buy them immediately and never look back.
But I have my dreams, and maybe one day I'll be strutting around town in my own pair of turquoise and brown rough-out leather Lucchese boots.

Wednesday, December 05, 2007


Thursday, 7 p.m. CST Survivor CBS (yes, our manipulative, deliciously devious diva Todd Herzog is still in the game)
Thursday, 8 p.m. CST Top Chef Holiday Challenge Bravo (featuring favorite chefs from previous seasons battling it out for holiday cuisine supremacy)

Don't anyone bother calling me tomorrow evening. Thank you.

Monday, December 03, 2007

A Very Uplifting Story

Today I read about Brad Pitt's new plans to help rebuild the Lower 9th Ward of New Orleans. I was uplifted when I read the plans and visited the site and I want to share it with you.
For those of you who haven't had the good fortune of visiting New Orleans, it's like stepping into an early European village, filled with gorgeous architecture and historical significance.
Like most cities in the Deep South, there is a large African American population and most are poor. They comprise a large part of the service industry and they uniformly show great hospitality, warmth and charm- without being obsequious or disingenuous.
The lower 9th Ward is not a tourist destination. It is where the poor of NOLA live and as such, has been a very low priority for post-Katrina FEMA.
Brad Pitt has worked with several architects, designers and environmentally conscious organizations to create The Pink Project, which describes a master plan to enlist Americans' help in creating a beautiful new 9th Ward that will become an inspiration for rebuilding ghettos and barrios throughout America. Be sure and check out the various architectural drawings for proposed homes. Incredible.

Saturday, December 01, 2007

Ho Ho Ho, Y'all

This antler chandelier is just one more item I do not want for Christmas, but tomorrow off I go to meet my favorite cousins and Big Sis in a little town called Fredericksburg, where this beauty is for sale.
The town is a large German settlement, meaning there's a micro-brewery and a bakery on every block, along with a zillion little shops that feature the same Texas-themed tzachkes.
I love taking out-of-state guests there just to see their faces when they see how many things can be made with cowhide and deer antlers. Seriously, you can buy a damn coffee mug wrapped in cowhide with a deer antler handle.
Also, because the state flower is the bluebonnet, you can also buy virtually anything that belongs in or around a house with bluebonnets painted on it. They even sell old hand-saws with bluebonnets painted on the blades.
The coolest place to visit there is an antique store where they sell old, 1940s cowboy fabrics like Roy Rogers or Dale Evans would like. I don't have any use for them, but I like to pretend I have a lake house decorated in 1940s Texas kitsch, with big leather couches and chairs, deerhide throw rugs, cowboy fabric throw pillows and a big old antler chandelier.
Hell, I may wear my Lucchese boots tomorrow.