Many nights after I have slipped into slumber, Frank will have his very own one-man Bacchanalian Bash. I somehow sleep through his private parties, often held in the same room where I sleep, and then have to go all Sherlock Holmes the next morning to try and deduce exactly what went down. This AM, I awoke to find the bedside table laden with the following:
1) A dozen pink and red foil Hershey wrappers from the Valentine's mini chocolate bars he bought for me and vowed not to eat.
2) A jar of Pear Honey that we bought from a roadside stand two summers ago.
3) A stack of BMX videos from the late 80's--we don't even have a VCR.
4) A shot glass with the sticky remnants of what could only be Jaggermeister.
5) A plate with dried mustard and mayo alongside bacon grease.
6) A wooden pipe--I suppose now that we've gone country, he is smoking his tobacky the rustic way...wink.
7) Three rolls of toilet paper.
8) One of those wooden games you get at the Cracker Barrel that determines whether you're a genius or an "Ignaramoose."
and something I could not even begin to explain...
Me (pointing): What is that white liquid?
Frank: Milk. Just milk.
Me: But why is there milk in my favorite flower vase?
Frank: Sorry. I just thought it was a really big glass.
Me: And you need that game to tell you that you're ignorant.
When the wife's away asleep, the husband will creep...but I just thank my lucky stars that, instead of to strip clubs or casinos, Frank only sneaks off to the refrigerator.
It’s Tete-a-Tete Thursday, beautiful people, which means we are going to have a little Bourbonista banter with another groovy gal from the blogosphere. This week’s guest is the charismatic Christy Stucker, former Mrs. Kentucky America (2009) and Mrs.U.S. of A Globe (2005); a passionate and educated Fashionista (Bachelor of Science in Fashion Merchandising); Adventure Traveler; wife & mother; and blogger on the new and improved The Mother Stucker.
The Bourbonista: Tell me about yourself in 50 words or less. At least one word must begin with the letter “X” and none can begin with the letter “S.”
Christy: Former beauty queen with a current Ron White meets Daniel Tosh narration at all times in my head. I’m the MotherStucker. Other nicknames include TT, Mom, Flash (as in warm, not naked), and X-tina (Christina) despite the issue of the t being redundant. X-ina leaves much to be desired.
The Bourbonista: From now on you will TT Flashina to me, which makes the perfect circus name so, tell me, if you were a circus performer, what would you be and why?
Christy: The Girl with Glitter in Her Veins! Not to be confused with the girl who farts glitter – that is a different circus entirely.
The Bourbonista: I would be the woman with whiskey in her bloodstream, though I’m not sure why anyone would buy a ticket to see that when they just have to catch me after 6pm on any given night. I really need to find a marketable talent. Moving on, what would you do if you won the lottery?
Christy: That depends…$1000 (Scratch off lottery) - Last minute cruise and a suitcase full of new, brightly colored, tiny bikinis OR $100,000,000 (Powerball) - See above. Rinse. Repeat.
The Bourbonista: Forget the suitcase. If I had a body like yours, my bikinis would be so small that I could carry ten of them in a make-up bag. Envy aside, if you were on death row…don’t act like you don’t know who you killed to get there…what would be your last supper?
Christy: A pitcher of Margaritas on the rocks (with salt), chips, salsa and queso from a dive Mexican restaurant where you can order by number. #187 for instance. Betcha didn’t see that coming! He didn’t either…
The Bourbonista: No, guacamole? Come on, you gotta’ have guac. Now, let’s get serious, if you were to write a short “Thank You” letter to your future self for all the cool shit you’ve done twenty years from now, what would it say?
First, way to go on the aggressive anti-aging regimen you started way back. It worked.
Raising 2 daughters and a husband wasn’t an easy task but you made it seem effortless. The entire world assumes you have spent the last 20 years lovingly encouraging your family to their respective successes. We (I?) realize it was all accomplished through mad elbow grease and consistently threatening to lose your shit.
As you now know, your long awaited novel and subsequent book tour were made possible (not so much) by your God given talent and (definitely) by finally manipulating the right people(s) to be bitch (es).
Congratulations MotherStucker. You deserve it (and then some).
The Bourbonista: I’ll be your future bitch…exactly what does it entail? Last, but not least, if you were a booze, which booze would you be and who would you want to drink you?
Christy: Wine. Specifically, wine with a spout (I aim to please!) attractively packaged in cardboard -- always fresh and ready for fun -- Who wouldn’t want to drink me?
After much internal debate and such about the VanZant Rant (which conveniently rhymes), and what was the appropriate action to take, I decided to use my own words as the weapon in my defense. And the Herald-Leader did in fact publish my response in a Letter to the Editor today. You can read it here, below:
This is in response to Molly VanZant’s, January 5, Letter to the Editor. Based on my humorous depiction of a self-tanning incident that first appeared in my Bourbonista Blog, Ms. VanZant declared I was “horrified that I became less white” and compared me to Strom Thurmond. She snatched phrases completely out of context to validate her vitriol. And, since she chose to not question the logic or validity of these statements, I will.
If I find those of “Latin and African background” inferior and have an anti-feminist, narrow-minded view of beauty then…
1) Why was I married to Juan Carlos Rodriguez, a man of Dominican descent, for over a decade?
2) Why have I been awarded two grants from the Kentucky Foundation for Women based on my work to break down beauty stereotypes and promote “Body Love” to females of all sizes, ages, and races?
3) Why, as editor of skirt! Magazine, did I profile 30+ amazing individuals who were of rich backgrounds other than Caucasian?
4) Why did I choose to buy and live in a home in North Downtown, one of the city’s most ethnically diverse neighborhoods?
5) And, finally, if I find darker skin less attractive, why in the hell was I self-tanning in the first place?
Think about it, Ms. VanZant. Actually, for a change, just think before you write. And now that this ugliness if finished, I can return my full focus to work that is empowering, encouraging, and especially, entertaining.
And just as I promised, I will now get back to finding the funny in life's little disasters and sharing the undiluted details of my many misadventures and warped world view.
Thank you all for all of your support throughout this little ordeal.
So, yesterday morning I drove into town with no greater concern than being taken to a mental facility if for some reason pulled over. As I climbed in the car, Frank pointed out, “You look insane.” I was wearing a full set of fuzzy zebra striped pajamas, fringed moccasins, and a skull scarf. My hair was sticking up in all directions like I was a lost member of the Doodlebops. I thought of how I would explain my appearance to the arresting officer, “You see, sir. I live on a boat and we don’t have any running water right now. The otters are responsible. I’m driving into town for a bath. Oh…and, my hair. One of my cats likes to lick my head when he’s nervous. He groomed me all night. Kind of punk rock though isn’t it?”
I did not get arrested, but that is about the only thing that hasn’t happened to me over the last week or so.
The Friday after Christmas, after bragging that I never get sick, I came down with a horrible case of the flu. I have coughed so hard that I have pissed myself on at least one occasion every day since. It has been a miserable reminder to get the shot next year and to do more kegals.
On New Year’ Eve, we attended a wedding at Talon Winery and…drum roll, please…it was dry. Yes, you read that right. We went to a wedding at a vineyard on the biggest drinking night of the year where they didn’t serve alcohol. Luckily, I knew this going in or when the twelve year old at “the bar” offered “coffee, water, or unsweetened tea,” I would have passed out cold. The only thing stranger than the lack of libations was that, just prior to us going, someone stole all of Frank’s trousers from his closet and replaced them with pants of a smaller size. Forty five minutes before the ceremony, he was tearing through Walmart, the only place opened, to find a pair of britches that would fit. In the end, the wedding was gorgeous and so was Frank.
I had my last day of work on Tuesday. They gave a gallon of Maker’s Mark, a pound of fancy coffee, and a mug. I suppose the mug was for the coffee which was for the hangover which was from the booze. I’m just drinking the whiskey from the mug and saving the coffee for guests.
We finally did it and actually moved all of our possessions including dogs, cats, and my multitude of shoes (though I downsized by 50 or so pairs) onto the boats where we will live for a year. I plan on writing about the experience, so don’t expect to hear about it here. I want to give you a reason to buy the book. But, don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll have plenty else to blog about.
And lastly, apparently now I’m a racist…at least according to Molly VanZant in her Letter to the Editor, which you can read HERE. I am stunned that the Herald-Leader (who owns skirt!) would repay my loyalty with lies in the form of publishing this scathing attack on my character less than one week after I departed. Especially since they know that I am passionate about representing diversity and empowering women of all races and have done so consistently both as editor and in all areas of my work . I am torn between writing my own Letter to the Editor defending myself or saying “Fuck them. I will not do one more thing to encourage anyone to read that skinny rag that masquerades as a newspaper.” I’ll be thinking on it, praying about it, and talking to an attorney.
On a happy note, I think I cried my flu away. I feel better than I have in years. And, now after surviving my most vicious public attack to date, I am ready to be bolder and bawdier that ever. If people thought I was offensive before, now they better bar the damn door!
Sharing All I KNOW about the fine art of voluptuating. here's to living the lush life.