It’s Must Have Monday when I’ll reveal some of my favorite products on the planet…and since now I am living in less than 700 square feet with two dogs, two cats, and one Frank, an item has to be pretty cool to make it into our space. This particular prize came to me for my birthday this past summer.
Now, in the past, I have gotten some snazzy gifts including:
An Etch-a-Sketch portrait of my favorite childhood photo.
A cooking class on how to make salads…seems a little oxymoronic, but it was great.
My complete astrological chart.
A donkey…and not just any donkey, but a retired basketball playing donkey.
But my absolute favorite is the tool set that Frank bought me when I turned 45. It wasn’t one of those condescending pink ones specifically made for women that contain little more than a worthless miniature hammer, dainty Phillips screwdriver, and flimsy tape measure. Nothing is more annoying than when halfway through the job, your tape measure goes all limp and worhless…except perhaps when a penis does it. This was a real three drawer Kobalt tool chest filled with goodies. I'll be honest...I don't even know what some of the tools are for. But, I plan to find out. I vow, within the next year, to use everything in those drawers.
I may not be able to build an actual house, but I bet I could build one hell of a birdhouse.The sharp scissors will come in handy if I temporarily lose my mind again and decide I need to cut bangs. And, I can use the level to hang some art, even though it’s a little difficult to use on a rocking boat. And, the box cutter will serve as a great weapon if I ever need to defend myself against Burgin’s criminal element. And I can use my channel locks and screw to open a wine bottle. And, one day, I am going to ratchet the hell out of whatever it is you ratchet. In my book, a Kobalt portable tool chest is a Must Have.
Come this time of year, when the temperature drops below sixty degrees for even a minute, the debate begins.
Frank: It’s chili weather!
Me: No, no it’s not.
Frank: How can you tell?
Me: It’s not quite cold enough and (sniffing all around me) the full fall smell isn’t there yet.
Frank: Then, when? When will it be chili weather?
Me: Soon. I’ll let you know.
I walked outside this morning, felt the nip in the air, breathed in the subtle scent of changing leaves, and declared, “Now, this is chili weather” …which is very anticlimactic since last week I gave into Frank’s whining and let him make a pot.
It went something like this:
Frank: Greg’s coming tomorrow. Can I make chili, pleeeeeaaaassse?
Me: It’s not time. No good can come of it.
Me: All right, you can make chili tomorrow.
Frank: Can you go to the store for me today?
Me: It just doesn’t feel right, yet. But, I guess.
I carefully follow his list and get all the ingredients. The minute he gets home from work, he runs to the fridge and pantry to make sure I procured everything. Panic fills his face.
Frank: You only got one pound of beef? On no, I need, at least, two pounds of beef.
Me: Don't cry, just get up tomorrow and go to the store and get some.
Frank: But I wanted to start prepping tonight. I was going to brown it off.
Me: Prepping tonight for chili tomorrow night? You are insane.
I watched while he cut up the mushrooms, banana peppers, red onions, and jalapenos and carefully place them in individual Tupperware. He then lined up all the cans of ingredients he was going to use. Next, he browned the one pound of meat, tossing me mean looks the whole time. He was too excited to wait..
Frank: Can I start it tonight, pleeeaaassse?
Me: What about the missing meat?
Frank: I'll just add it in the morning.
Me: Sure, weirdo. go ahead.
His eyes lit up and he squealed. I think he had a full blown chiligasm.
Being a Granny on the inside, Franks always cooks as if we are feeding a mob of farm hands. So, he climbed into the hull to get the industrial-sized crockpot that I bought him on eBay. He also prefers to slow cook things for an average of 16 hours. He started the chili around 9pm. At midnight and again at 3am, I hear him up banging around the boat. Like a fretful parent who must periodically check to make certain their child is still breathing, he must check the chili to make sure it is still simmering.
At 5am, he is leaning over the bed with a ladle.
Me: What in the hell are you doing?
Frank: Taste it.
Me: No, I’ll have to brush my teeth again.
Frank: Taste it, pleeeaaassse.
Me: Alright. Give me the spoon.
Frank: Isn’t that the best chili you’ve ever had?
Me: I don’t know. My taste buds aren't awake yet.
Frank: Come on. It’s good, right? I think it’s my best pot yet.
Me: Yes, it’s your best pot yet. Now, go to sleep!
Even after giving a bowl to everyone on the dock and bringing some to Kyle (my new Lexington roomie), I still wound up eating chili nearly every day last week and there is still more left.
Now, we begin the battle over potato soup.
Today's guest for Tête-à-Tête Thursday is the whimsical and winsome Zine Queen, Michelle Aiello.
Michelle is the publisher of Indigo Zine and founder of Ephemera Festival. When not interviewing & photographing cool people in Lexington and helping small businesses with marketing and design, she adores cooking & baking, mixology, living room karaoke parties, collecting (read: hoarding) vintage and unusual fashions, candy-colored cosmetics, sky-high shoes and printed material of every variety. She lives in a 200-year old apartment in downtown with her fiancé Scott and an impudent yet affectionate cat named Basil.
The Bourbonista: Before we start, can I ask a favor? Mama is quite hung over today, so instead of the usual rowdy Bourbonista Banter, can we whisper? Thank you. 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.”
Michelle: I’m a Chicago native, now enamored with Lexington and its merry cast of freaks. By day, I’m the editor of skirt! magazine and Project Manager for Bourbon & Beans. By night, a maker of zines (xeroxed DIY magazines), petter of cats, and lover of glamorous, magical, trashy and phantasmagoric things.
The Bourbonista: You used an "s" word...you must suffer the consequences, You must come to my home and read me whatever
bedtime story I want as many times as I want to hear it while dressed as a kangaroo. That is your punishment. Now, if you were a circus performer, what would you be and why?
Michelle: As much as I’d love be the backstage circus stylist (you know, moustache groomer, feather fluffer, etc.), I know myself too well, and I need more spotlight than that. I would be the snake charmer because I’ve always loved the look and feel of reptiles, and I’ve never been afraid of them, like certain fiancés out there. I’d enjoy watching everyone cringe as I let the snakes slither around on me.
The Bourbonista: I used to have a Ball Python named Rhiannon. Every morning, I'd wrap her around my arm while I ate breakfast. One day, I completely forgot her and went about my business. I was loudly reminded by the cashier at Kroger. He screamed like a little girl. It was hilarious...at least, for me. So, what would you do if you won the lottery?
Michelle: At this point, I’d probably blow through it all in a matter of hours. Debt is a bitch. But let’s just say I won enough to pay off all my student loans and to ensure my family is taken care of for the rest of their lives. After that, I’d be really, really good at being rich. I’d buy a castle in Scotland and a distillery, and apartments in various Great Cities of the world. I’d divide my time between traveling, learning to homestead and running a foundation that helps young women in developing countries to become self-publishers.
The Bourbonista: Did you say distillery? I approve. Furthermore, I would be willing to volunteer my tasting services and be your Whiskey Wench. Moving on, 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?
Michelle: I don’t have an all-time favorite dish; it changes all the time. But for the past year or so, I’ve been obsessed with this Tomato Cobbler with Gruyere Biscuits. Who said vegetarian food has to be boring?
The Bourbonista: I am so going to make this...okay, I'm lying, I'm not...I'm intimidated by any recipe with more than six ingredients. But, I will totally come to your place for dinner if you make it. I'll bring wine. Next Thursday. It's a date. Thanks for asking. If you were to write a “Thank You” letter to your future self for all the cool shit you’ve done twenty years from now, what would it say?
Dear Future Mish,
Thank you for never being afraid to be your weird-ass self, from wearing a full-on tuxedo to your 8th grade graduation to sharing the most personal details of your life in print for the last two decades. Thank you for being bold enough to ask for the relationships you’ve desired, and the self-realization to know when they’re over.
And by God, thank you for dancing with that long-haired stranger that one night at The Continental; for having the (albeit drunken) hunch that you stumbled upon one of the world’s most beautiful people, and for accepting that fifth drink and a ride home from him. Thank you for having the guts to leave the only city you’ve known behind to start a new life in Kentucky. You did all right, kid, but the best is yet to come.
A Friendly Yet Ghostly Enigma from the Past
The Bourbonista: That was inspiring. I'm a big fan of true love and fifth drinks. Last question, if you were a booze, which booze would you be and who would you want to drink you?
Michelle: I love this question! I would be something out of a 19th century apothecary -- a medicinal tonic made by monks living on some secluded mountainside. Floral and herbal, but with plenty of bite. Who would drink me? Adventurous types searching for a thrilling concoction to soothe the soul.
Stop by her table and see Michelle tomorrow evening at The Night Market on Bryan Ave, Between North Lime and Loudon from 7-11PM.
According to their facebook page, “The Night Market is a collaboration between the NoLi CDC and Kentucky for Kentucky. The event will feature booths by local makers and creatives with a huge selection of art and handmade goods.
The Night Market is about highlighting creativity, changing perceptions, and bringing people together by throwing a late-night celebration centered on strengthening community ties.
NoLi CDC is a non-profit organization that works to ensure long term vibrancy in the North Limestone neighborhood by facilitating programming and development that aids in making it a creative, sustainable, and affordable place to live.”
North Limestone Coffee and Donuts
Thai Orchid Cafe
Crank and Boom Craft Ice Cream
Beer from West Sixth Brewing
FEATURED ARTISTS, MAKERS, AND NONPROFITS:
WRFL 88.1 FM Radio Free Lexington
Kentucky For Kentucky
Broke Spoke Community Bike Shop
Lexington Rescue Mission
Charmed Life Tattoo
Maui Crane Designs Presents
Fleet Street Hair Shoppe
Kentuckians for the Commonwealth
Bluegrass Greensource Zero Waste Initiative
It’s Hip Tip Tuesday up in here, when I will pass on little nuggets of knowledge that will make your life easier and more enjoyable. One thing that I think makes life more enjoyable is a wonderful meal with a glass of wine…who am I kidding?...bottle of wine.
Hell, why not two bottles, even the renowned scientist Louis Pasteur declared that “Wine is the most healthful and most hygienic of beverages.” To assist in your drinking pleasure, here are three life hacks for winos :
1) Your neighborhood liquor store didn’t have your favorite Pinot Grigio chilled and you need a glass now. Don’t panic. Just keep frozen grapes for such an emergency. Fill the glass half full and chill your white wine without watering it down.
2) Here’s an even bigger emergency. You start to open the bottle and break your corkscrew or have gone to someone’s house who, for some absurd reason, doesn’t have one. Ask for a regular screw and either pliers or a wrench. Twist the screw in, leaving enough to grip at the top, clamp, and pull out. Cheers.
3) Now that you have the bottle open, the real trouble can start. While attempting to demonstrate the Charleston, you spill red wine on your white shirt. To remove the damage all you need is club soda and salt. Blot up as much of the wine as possible. Blot, not scrub. Saturate the stain with club soda. Cover in a layer of salt until the red is no longer visible. Wait one hour. Scrape off the salt and the stain goes with it.
I leave you with a quote from Alexander Fleming, “Penicillin cures, but wine makes people happy.” Cheers!
When in doubt, turn to TED Talks where they have archived videos of the most amazing minds of our time talking on most any topic you can imagine. If you do not already take advantage of this groovy resource, follow this LINK and start now…well, after you’ve finished this blog of course.
Some of my favorite talks are by the brilliant Brene’ Brown and cover the topics of vulnerability and shame. On the topic of guilt verses shame, she essentially points out, guilt is ‘I did bad.’ shame is ‘I am bad,’ and points out, “Shame is a straight jacket. Unlike the paralyzing effects of shame, guilt often prompts us to make amends or change our behavior.”
It has taken me years to personally separate shame and guilt. Last week, an anonymous reader gave me a completely unintended but beautiful gift when they began sending me venomous messages through my Contact Form. One had assertions such as “you do resemble a very unattractive drag queen” and “His indiscretions are nothing more than KARMA biting a chunk off of that big fat ass.” Another included the following statements. Of course, I had to clean up the spelling and grammar but…
“The drugs and alcohol. The mental disorder you've had, but refuse to admit. Your dad was a drunk. Your mom was a pill head.”
This is just a small sampling. In the past, these accusations would have sent me spiraling into a cesspool of shame because they are all factually true. However, instead I sat with these comments, let them absorb deep within me, and then realized that I did not feel shame. I felt ownership. My parent’s addictions were an integral part of what made me who I am. My past bouts with mental illness…I once got locked up for a long weekend and spent Memorial Day in the madhouse…are also an important part of my complex story. Though my drinking could be considered excessive, it’s not like I try to hide it. Afterall, you’re reading the Bourbonista blog. I have been mistaken for a drag queen on more than one occasion. But seeing how many of the drag queens I know are stunning, I’ll accept it. My ass is large, and round, and very appealing to a certain segment of the population, including my husband.
Do I feel guilt for some of the thoughtless and even cruel things that I have done throughout my life? Absolutely. And, for most, I have done my best to make amends.
But, I am finally secure enough in my worth that even the kind of hatred spewed above cannot sway me off course. I will continue to make mistakes and then do whatever I can to remedy them. I will inadvertently disappoint and upset people, but vow to heal more than I hurt. I will say and do really stupid things, but learn from them. I will fail, and then I will get up and try again. I will be the fullest version of myself, and I will not apologize for that.
One message also asserted, “You want to fit in with the multifarious. You want to be liked,” as if that were an insult. Yes, I want to be surrounded with and appreciated by a vastly diverse sea of people from all walks of life. And yes, I do want to be liked. Furthermore, I want to be loved. Everyone deserves to be. And, there is no shame in that!
So, to the masked messenger, thanks for the vitriol and giving me the opportunity to know that the hard work I have put into living a life that is not shame-based has not been in vain.
Welcome to Tête-à-tête Thursday with the incomparable Haddie Isolde Rae. Everybody give me zagharoot!
Haddie Rae came to Kentucky 11 years ago to attend graduate school and found many much better things. She is a professional tribal fusion belly dancer, fire performer, yoga instructor and ameteur slam poet. You can see her in action tomorrow night at the Wild Women of Poetry Slam.
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.”
Haddie: I am a fire twirling, belly dancing, Appalachian clogging, circus freak, Xena Warrior Princess wannabe.
The Bourbonista: Ooohhh, I love me some clogging. Can you "wring the chicken?" You know when you get your leg twirling like a windmill. I used to do it as a party trick. I retired it after I kicked this expensive Murano glass ashtray off somebody's coffee table. I bet you keep your chicken under control...tight. If you were a circus performer, what would you be and why?
Haddie: I feel like I already have been a circus performer with some of the things I've done in my life over the last 11 years but if I were to *actually* join the circus for real I would probably be part of the sideshow as a fire eater/some crazy performer involving a chain saw or (in the old days) doing the hootchie cooch...because the sideshow freaks were always my favorites and I feel like a kindred spirit with them.
The Bourbonista: Freaks unite. I just purchased my first chainsaw. Seriously, I did. You can borrow it anytime. Now, what would you do if you won the lottery?
Haddie: Pay off every bill I owe, every bill my mother owes, hire her a personal driver for her and all the art supplies she will ever need for the rest of her life. Buy a house and remodel it to suit a performance artist's life style (complete with a dance studio, art studio, large backyard with fire pit, spare bedrooms for visiting artists)
The Bourbonista: You are one good daughter. Your mama must be so proud. Would I classify as a visiting artist now that I live at the lake? I wanna' come get all creative and roast marshmallows in your fire pit. Roast marshmallows in your fire pit...why does that sound like a double entendre? Moving along, 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?
Haddie: My mother's macaroni casserole (seriously...it's the shit!") and I mean, 8 or 9 bowls of it. 5)
The Bourbonista: Recipe, please. Or better yet, could we get you mother make us some and ship it on dry ice? Or maybe road trip right to the source. I need a bowl of this magic macaroni! Okay, here's my favorite, write a short “Thank You” letter to your future self for all the cool shit you’ve done twenty years from now.
Haddie: To the 62 year old Haddie... I want to thank you for being brave enough to move 1,000 miles away from home to pursue a life that you had no idea what you were in store for. You danced, wrote poetry and played with fire. You made wonderful friends, supported yourself and fulfilled childhood dreams. You made it to 62, not unscathed but mostly happy. Your mother and grandfather would be proud
The Bourbonista: Lexington is lucky to have you and not about to let you leave, so don't try. Seriously, we'll hunt you down and lure you back with sparkly skirts, horror films, and Sidebar Grill swag and gift certificates. Speaking of Sidebar, if you were a booze, which booze would you be and who would you want to drink you?
Haddie: I would be vodka... Light, refreshing and packing a punch... Anyone who would want to remember how that punch can sneak up on ya would drink me.
The Kentucky Women Writers Conference and WRFL’s Boomslang Festival join forces to present an evening of high-energy spoken word poetry competition, featuring award winning performance poet and activist Sonya Renee Taylor at the Wild Women of Poetry Slam. Poets will compete for a panel of judges – including a very special celebrity judge, esteemed poet and alternative hip hop artist Saul Williams – for the $500 Faith A. Smith poetry prize. Second prize is $300.
Emceed by Bianca Spriggs
Opening entertainment by Sisters of the Sacred Drum
What: Competitive spoken word poetry by women performance poets from across the country
Where: Carrick Theatre, Transylvania University
When: Doors at 6:30 p.m., free admission, all ages ***Content may not be appropriate for children***
Presented by WRFL’s Boomslang and the Kentucky Women Writers Conference, this official after-party for the Wild Women of Poetry Slam will feature local DJs, a poetry open mic and a spoken word performance by esteemed poet and alternative hip hop artist Saul Williams. Open mic sign-ups start at 10 p.m.
Open mic emceed by Joy Priest
Doors at 9:45 p.m., free admission
Me: (On a full-blown rant about art and responsibility and liability) If the cost of entertaining a hundred people is offending one or two, I am totally willing to pay that price. Look at people like Chelsea Handler and Jon Stewart. How many people do you think they offend on a daily basis? I can only dream of building a platform that will let me piss that many people off.
Frank grabs a tee shirt from the clean laundry basket and pulls it over my head.
Me: (muffled under the 100% cotton) What the hell are you doing?
Frank: I saw it on “Gator Boys.” If you wrap an alligator’s head in a towel, it calms them down. I just thought it might work on you.
You can save yourself from heartbreak; embarrassment; years of bland sex and strained conversation; and thousands of dollars in marriage counseling
( or eventually alimony) simply by taking this quick and easy test.
Before you commit to anyone, you should be able to look that person in the eye and mean every single word of at least one of the songs below, preferably all three. If you cannot, end the relationship immediately. Throughout the union, repeat this test to see if counseling is in order.
*If you have songs to be added to the list, please comment*
1) Let’s Stay Together Al Green
2) By Your Side Sade
And, last, but certainly not least...
3) I Wanna Grow Old With You Adam Sandler
For today’s Tête-à-Tête Thursday, I am thrilled to welcome Affrilachian Poet and Cave Canem Fellow, Bianca Spriggs. Bianca is a multidisciplinary artist who was named as one of the Top 30 Performance Poets by The Root. She is the recipient of a 2013 Al Smith Individual Artist Fellowship in Poetry, along with multiple grants from the Kentucky Foundation for Women and is a Pushcart Prize Nominee. In partnership with the Kentucky Domestic Violence Association, she is the creator of The SwallowTale Project a creative writing workshop designed for incarcerated women.
Bianca is also the creator and Artistic Director of the Wild Women of Poetry Slam featured annually at the Kentucky Women Writers Conference. This Sunday, she will be hosting Women of the Word, at which I will be reading. I can’t wait to take to the stage again...and I can’t wait to begin this interview, so without further adieu...
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.”
Bianca: I’m a writer and multidisciplinary artist (kind of) from Kentucky. In my downtime, I’m a late-sleeper, blanket fort enthusiast, and an aspiring lucid dreamer. Little known fact: I was a decent xylophonist in high-school marching band. At my apex, I could play with four mallets.
The Bourbonista: In my quest for a simpler and saner lifestyle, I might try the old blanket fort. I was considering a tree house, but a blanket fort would be much more mobile. If you feel like moving, you just fold up your home and go. And think of all the available colors, patterns, and plushes…Ms. Bianca Spriggs, you are brilliant. Now, if you were a circus performer, what would you be and why?
Bianca: Ringmaster. Or the bearded lady. Ringmaster because I excel at bossing people around. Bearded lady because she just seems to work smarter, not harder.
The Bourbonista: Again, brilliant. On the unusual hair topic, I’ve always wanted to just stop shaving the back on my ankles and grow out feathers like a Clydesdale just to see if it might catch on. Ready for a fun one? What would you do if you won the lottery?
Bianca: After the boring stuff like, pay off my car and student loans and like, go to Greece? I would buy that castle on Versailles Road and turn it into a giant artist sanctuary where me and my friends and other interesting, crazy people could hang out together and have adventures like the Muppets. And then I’d blow the rest to send a time capsule into space.
The Bourbonista: Sign me up! Now. I so want to reside in your Big Bohemian Palace where I can be surrounded with Creatives and burst into spontaneous song and dance numbers from time to time. It sounds even more exciting than living in a blanket fort. Now, this is a hard one. 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?
Bianca: I’d have to go with a really shmancy cheese plate with all the little fixins...olives and preserves and stuff. And a really expensive Prosecco served in a mason jar. Just to remind me to stay humble.
The Bourbonista: Death by cheese is pretty much how I want to go. And, I think Prosecco in a Mason Jar should be the name of a poem…or anthology…or a song. Yes, you should write a song with a xylophone accompaniment. I will totally run your Kickstarter campaign for the video. This next question is my favorite. If you were to write a “Thank You” letter to the future Bianca Spriggs for all the cool shit you’ve done twenty years from now, what would it say?
Bianca: Dear Future Self,
Thanks for hanging in there with me. I am not easy to live with. I nag. I fret. I have a lot of ego and self-doubt. But you didn’t let any of that distract you from what’s really important: laughter, imagination, and stalking contacting enough people to finally take your rightful place as a member of Jim Henson’s Creature Shop.
The Bourbonista: I see a Muppet theme emerging. Frank is begging me to make him a Sweetums costume for Halloween. And, while we’re on the topic of Halloween, I’ll put out a public plea. Hendrick Floyd, please let your amazing wife Bianca Spriggs, who I am sure seldom asks for anything, dress you up as a Klingon. There, how was that for peer pressure? So, last question, if you were a booze, which booze would you be and who would you want to drink you?
Bianca: I’d be Jameson Rarest Vintage Reserve 2007. This might be too existential of a question, but, is it possible to drink myself? If not, I’d want the hardest working but most impoverished poet on the planet to drink me on a front porch, near a lake, in early autumn, at sunset, in a rocking chair, with few to no mosquitoes or flies, lots of Coltrane playing, Nag Champa burning somewhere close, and all the time in the world to write.
Don't miss an amazing line-up of writers and writing enthusiasts at Women of the Word as we celebrate our favorite women writers as a teaser event to the Wild Women of Poetry Slam! Sunday, September 15. 6:30-9:30PM. The Green Lantern Bar, 497 W. 3rd St. Lexington, Kentucky. Suggested donation: $5
Musical Guests: Julia Curiel & Misc. Jones
Jaria Gordon, Mark Royse, Karah Stokes, Haddie Rae, Donna Ison, Phoenyx Fyre, Devine Carama, Elizabeth Beck, Adam Ross, Liz Prather, Michelle Knickerbocker, Victoria Sullivan
Elizabeth Kilcoyne, April Fallon, Ashley Ruderman, Hap Houlihan, Katerina Stoykova-Klemer
and Robin LaMer Rahija
Hosted by: Bianca Spriggs
After I put up this picture as my new profile on Facebook, a very sweet friend from Middle School posted a comment that made my toes curl, blood curdle, and sent me running to change it.
She said the following: "You look so much like your mama in this pic!!!"
I think the rant below from the Sisters Provocateur show, “Nightmares in Negligee” will explain. Let me set the scene. We are reenacting the game “Bloody Mary” where you close your eyes, turn around three times saying “Bloody Mary,” then you open them and look in a mirror. The vision of Mary Worth, a witch who was disfigured and then burned at the stake will be staring back. I turn three times, look in the mirror, and scream like I’ve been stabbed in the eye with a hot poker.
Sunny: What happened? Did you see Bloody Mary?
I saw my mother.
Her name is also Mary
And it was fucking scary.
She keeps showing up in the glass
And terrorizing my ass.
At first I assumed I was being haunted...
But that couldn't be...Mom is not dead.
She’s living in a retirement community in Florida instead.
So, why is SHE
Staring back at me?
It hits me like a ten ton stone,
That reflection is my own!
I have become a middle-aged crone.
When did I go from ravishing to ravaged?
From sexy to savage.
Dark circles beneath the eyes,
Cellulite on my thighs.
Upper arms wagging.
Crows feet reaching toward graying temples,
Both ass cheeks covered in dimples.
I know that I am supposed to age with grace,
Accept each wrinkle on my face,
This petrifying process.
But if you want the truth,
I would kill to get back my youth.
I would take Lady Bathory’s path,
And pour virgin’s blood into my bath,
If it would flatten this stomach and smooth this skin,
And let me look like twenty-six again.
I know it's pathetic,
But, I don’t care.
So, don’t you dare,
Let your chaste and pure daughters out in the dark.
For I will snatch them and drain them dead,
Then, pour their liquid red,
Into my tub and soak in it like Calgon.
But instead of asking it to “Take me away,”
I’ll beg it to “Take me back.”
the bourbonistA, Promoting Debauchery and stamping out political-correctness one blog at a time.