So, my last two entries were about New Orleans and shit. Would it surprise you that I actually have a story that combines the two? Actually I have a couple. But I'm afraid if I tell the other one you may never return to this blog. So, the tame one follows...
I have been to New Orleans many times and with many different people, consequently I have been on about 4 or 5 swamp tours over the years. Good thing I like them.
Many, many years ago I went to N'awlins with an old friend and we had a few swamp tour options to pick from and we decided to go with the one that offered a free lunch from Miss Mary Mary, the With Doctor of the Bayou. Who wouldn't, right?
It was a really hot day out on the swamp and when we approached Miss Mary Mary's place she ran out of her front door and met us at the dock and protested through a very thick Cajun accent, "I dint know y'all had a tour comin' on through today."
The tour operator shrugged and since there were only six of us (the other four were college girls) Miss Mary Mary waved us in, "It's alright. I can whip somethin' up."
Miss Mary Mary was a craggy old lady with long grey braids, leathery skin and a tattered frock with holes sewn up in large stitchings patterns. She assumed the very stereotype my friend and I laughed about the night before over a few Hurricanes in the French Quarter. My mind quickly thought about what ghastly rituals we were interupting in that dank and run-down decades-old shack that butted up against the murky waters of the Bayou infested with hungry gators.
But she came across as rather nice, not witchy at all. She sat us at a couple of tables in her stifling enclosed front porch to witch which she offered an apology, "Sorry about this here heat kids, had I known y'alls was comin' I'da cut on the cooler."
She disappeared into the house and the six of us shot around get me the the F outta here looks at one another, as you'd expect. Then after about ten minutes Miss Mary Mary came back with a large bowl in her hands, "Fer startin' y'all are gittin' my famous Bayou Pickle Salad."
Oh dear. I don't liked pickled anything. So I passed on it but the others seemed to enjoy it. A little later she re-appeared with another large bowl, "I jus threw a buncha stuff in a pot and came up with this concoction. Y'all gone love it."
Of course I whispered in my friends ear, "Hmm see, a witches brew." She cut him a sharp glance when he chuck'led. I took two bites and I just couldn't - and again I passed on it. Good thing I had a Granola bar in my fanny pack. That's right, I was rocking a fanny pack. Don't act like you've never had one.
Miss Mary Mary, concerned about her hospitality, asked me a couple times if I was alright to witch which I lied and told her that I wasn't feeling well. I thought better of possibly upsetting a witch doctor. Who knows what type of voodoo curse she might conjure on me in her house of fright after we left.
When we were finished and about to leave she returned one last time with a couple of jelly jars filled with dirt. She explained with a flair for sales, "This is sacred gardenin' dirt that I fertilized with a special Miss Mary Mary blessin'. This dirt has a Miss Mary Mary guarantee of great plantin' success. And fer you kind folk I'll sell you a jar fer only 10 dollers."
Everyone politely and very tentatively declined. And we were off.
Back on the boat we all volleyed jokes around about our strange Miss Mary Mary experience. Finally one of the college girls laughed, "Can you believe that old dumb witch wanted us to buy some dirt for ten dollars?!"
Another girl reminded her with a fake-ironic tone, "Yea, but she fertilized it with a blessing!"
I rolled my eyes, "Please, that ten dollar dirt was fertilized with a big old steaming blessing of Miss Mary Mary's shit."
As a laugh erupted over the boat a sudden and alarming pain zapped my heart like I was a helpless ragdoll being stabbed deep and hard by a giant pin... trick.
I have featured this guy in previous blog posts before. And, here he is again. I just ran into him at happy hour. If you remember previous photos then you know that that mini skirt he's stretching is hiked up so far that you can see his g-string.
Today I noticed that the little pouch containing his privates actually had a word on it so I asked him what it said to which he replied, "Oh. It used to say 'Hot Stuff' but some of the letters have fallen off..." He looked down to see what letters remained then he looked up and said, "Now it just says 'O Uff'."
We all laughed and then I scream to everyones delight, "Bitch, your junk is just like that Wheel of Fortune." And as if that wasn't funny enough I kicked it up a notch, "Pat, I'd like to solve the puzzle please."
This morning I took my dog for a walk on Hollywood Blvd - I wanted to see them setting up for the Oscars on Sunday. I took a lot of cool photos which I'll share with you Saturday.
As we passed the Chinese Theater I noticed that the woman who has spent years dressed as Marilyn Monroe was the White Swan today. I was impressed that she switched things up to work The Black Swan angle. Tho her costume was a bit tattered as the zipper was broken in the back and held together precariously by three safety-pins. A wardrobe malfunction was surely in the offing.
When I see her (usually as Marilyn) I always give her a dollar because she really pulls at my heartstrings. I hear she is homeless and bless her for trying to make a few bucks. And I was genuinely impressed that she was going to spend the afternoon on-point. I mean, one really must appreciate that she came out today to weeeerk.
I stopped to watch her twirl and when she saw my dog in my arms she halted her performance to come over and give her a big kiss. My dog seemed to really like the taste of her lipstick as a gross mini make-out session ensued. I wasn't happy that all this kissing was happening and after a few seconds I pulled her away. I really don't want my dog licking the homeless theatre people.
We chatted for a minute (she's always really sweet) and then I handed her a dollar and said, punctuating the rhyme, "You go twirl, girl."
A woman standing near us who had watched our encounter turned to me and said, "Don't be surprised if you end up at the vet this afternoon."
Confused I asked, "What? Why?"
She replied, "No telling what deceases your dog lapped up off her lips."
Zorro (I think) overheard this, pulled his sword out and waved it at the woman defending the White Swan's honor, "Madam, I shall cut your vemonus tongue from your vile mouth."
So, for the last week or so I have been helping this company pack and move their 'dead files' into a storage room that is really an office/apartment in the building next door. On a daily basis I have encountered the man who lives in the room adjacent to the one I am engorging with bankers boxes and he quite simply gives me the creeps.
There is a constant Eastern European odor that permeates the entire building that originates from his place and when I see him he is always in a trench-coat that engulfs him a he is a shrivelled old man. I have entertained many thoughts of him being a hit man for the Russian Mafia or something similarly sinister... One thing is for sure - he has definitely killed before.
The other day I had just entered the storage room when I heard quite clearly through the paper-thin walls an angry mob-type voice yell, "You don't fucking think I couldn't have killed you and your entire fucking family anytime I wanted to?!"
A chill charged the length of my spine as I stopped in my tracks paralyzed by panic. By now I knew the floorboards yelped with every step and I didn't want him to realize a witness to his murder was in the next room.
In a flash a series of thoughts raced through my brain:
1. I'm not in the mood to be on the evening news playing the part of the innocent 'wrong place/wrong time' shooting victim in a run down building in the heart of West Hollywood. A story sure to be sandwiched between a "What Bugs You" segment and "your local weather" brought you by an aging orange-skinned queen fiddling with his Doppler.
2. I don't want to enter the witness protection program because they tend to relocate people to awful places like Bismark, North Dakota and Billings, Montana. Hell, the scenario in #1 is actually more preferable to the life that would await me in Bismark or Billings.
3. I should reach for thephone in my pocket and quietly dial 411 and just let them listen and GPS my location. Yea, I actually was thinking 411. I'm a total goner.
4. Oh my poor mother. What on earth is she going to think of my porn collection (tho small compared to some people I know) when she goes to clean out my apartment? Note to self: if I survive this ordeal - get Edwin a key to my place. Now.
I slowly turned around and saw that I had left the door open. If the killer flees and sees this he would surely know that there was a witness to be dealt with... Just as I was about to tip-toe over to close the door I heard a bit of dramatic music swell and then I made out the distinctive voice of the Progressive Insurance commercial gal.
Earlier this morning I went to the 99 Cents Store. You know how much I love the cast of characters down there and today did not disappoint.
While waiting on line for the cashier I found myself behind the cutest old lady. She was so frail and slow but she was rockin' a bangin' wig - a bob-type number with smart bangs!
She seemed to be having a tough time standing on one leg for too long and kept switching her weight from one to the other. It caused me to ponder, sadly, life as an old person. Just as I was losing myself in the idea she looked at me and asked in a tiny voice, "Do you mind if I leave my place in line to go get a battery?"
I smiled warmly and answered, "Not at all."
She explained, "I wouldn't bother holding you up but there is a very important appliance at home that needs new batteries. Yes. It just can't go without batteries - not another day longer."
As she finished that sentence she did that weight-shifting move which made it appear as though she added a little bit of a pelvis thrust for emphasis. Which made the queen behind me giggle under his breath.
When she was out of earshot the queen squeeled, "Eeeewweee, don't chu just know it's for her vibrator."
I feigned shock and said, "Now that's not nice." Then I adopted a stupid look on my face and confessed, "But you know that's what I was thinkin' too."
Today I took a friend to a doctor's appointment in Beverly Hills. At one point I got restless waiting for her in the lobby so I took a walk outside looking for a few good photo ops.
While I was concentrating on taking a particular photo of an interesting cloud-cluster a homeless guy wandered up to me and began to chat, "Hey man, I think you're gettin' a good shot there."
I thanked him and then he continued nonsensically for a bit before arriving at his shtick, "You know I am the heir to the Ritz-Carlton hotels. Yea, my dad bought the Ritz-Carlton chain back in the 70's for two dollars."
I faked a little excitement but really wanted him to go away so that I could continue getting the picture he had interrupted. And plus, he stunk.
At this point he held out his left hand and said, "Ten bucks and I can get you into the Ritz-Carlton family." Then he took the index finger of his right hand and tapped it on the palm of his left and demanded, "But I'm gonna need that ten bucks 'Johnny on the spot'."
Photo: It's not the photo he interrupted but I did take it five minutes earlier.
The other day a woman freaked out at my local West Hollywood Target - she went on a violent rampage and stabbed four people. I have long held that Target is a very intense house of retail and I shop it each and every time using extreme caution.
Today I had to go to that very Target for a few things and yes, I kept a very keen eye on my surroundings. When I went through the checkout I said to the cashier in a knowing manner, "I heard you guys had some excitement here the other day."
She replied rather dramatically, "Oh, yea. The stabbing. It was very scary."
I joked, "Well, you know those end-caps are some serious business. I've nearly had to cut some bitches myself."
She gasped, "Hey, it wasn't funny." Then she touched her hand to her heart, "I coulda been killed."
I thought that maybe she was an eyewitness to the crime or something and asked, "Did you see anything?"