Monday, March 22, 2004

Still more spampoetry:

• armpit boxwood courtney delhi




• bathrobe partook euphrates calculi




• bondsman starchy marquette sinai




• and, holy samolians, looka here: beef proprietor

Thursday, March 18, 2004

Yes, we're at it again. Yes, we still have tickets available. Yes, it's hilarious--with a name like Pussy on the House, how could it not be?

So, like, y'all come on down and see us, ya hear?

Saturday, March 13, 2004

So, as if my upbringing and my hand-me-down family furniture and my behavioral habits and my patterns of speech and the drawl that slips out somewhere between my second and third glass of Pernod didn't prove beyond a shadow of a goddamn doubt that I am, in fact, a product of the South, I now have confirmation: my mother (adoptive, not biological) has been committed to a loony bin.

I'm not kidding: an honest-to-god, men-in-little-white-coats loony bin.

Now, even when I was little, I could tell she was a bit...off. I mean, yes, she was always completely loving and caring and a good mother, but she was also really wacko at times. Like, flying off the handle for no good reason. Like, taking to her bed for weeks and months at a time, doped up on goofballs. Like, getting totally worked up about something--antiquing, old home tours, or B. J. Thomas concerts, for example--throwing us in the car, and driving 'till her obsession was sated. (But never more than four hours in a day--she couldn't sit for longer than that.) You begin to get the picture.

This condition has only gotten worse with age. Her genetic disposition toward schizophrenia hasn't helped matters. Neither has her drinking, nor her typically Baptist denial that she's ever touched anything stronger than creme de menthe. Three failed marriages--including her divorce from my (adoptive) father--have been the icing on the cake of her sad downward spiral. (God, I should write romance novels.)

But whatever. The fact of the matter is that these days she's using safety scissors and plastic utensils.

Curiously, her...confinement hasn't really affected me. I mean, I'm not very close to her anymore. I think I've spoken to her twice in four years (mostly because her last husband lived in a really rural part of Mississippi and didn't have a phone), and both of those occasions ended in frustration and wringing of hands and me remembering why I don't bother. Simply put, we've lost the ability to communicate. We bear no grudge; we just accept the fact that we're different people now and that we don't have much to say to one another.

If I feel anything for her, it's pity. Not guilt: she's dug into this hole all by herself, despite years of effort from my brothers and me. Not sadness, either: at least she's under supervision now--though I don't hold any hope that the doctors will be able to improve her condition. Just pity.

Monday, March 08, 2004

Just remembered over lunch: my favorite non-Strangers with Candy Amy Sedaris moment is an appearance she made on David Letterman a couple of years ago, during which she whipped out an iron, an ironing board, two pieces of white bread, and a slice of government cheese and showed Martha Stewart how to make a cheese sandwich in prison. Proving beyond a shadow of a doubt that Amy isn't just practical, she's clairvoyant.

Friday, March 05, 2004

Louisiana homos and the homo-friendly: get your asses to Baton Rouge tomorrow!

DEFENSE OF MARRIAGE RALLY

You are cordially invited to attend a Rally sponsored by the Red Stick Republicans called a "Rally for the Defense of Marriage" on Saturday, March 6th, at 1:00 PM on the steps of the State Capitol.

Please join us as we show our support for President Bush and his call for a constitutional amendment supporting traditional marriage and family values. Gene Mills with the LA Family Forum will be our key note speaker for the event. Other local and state elected officials will be in attendance. We would be honored to have you join us!

--from a Louisiana Family Forum press release

It's like the 80s all over again. Whee!

Thursday, March 04, 2004

So much beauty in my inbox:

• cultivate hereinbelow





• bateau credulity





• and the eeriest yet, nonogenarian beware

Wednesday, March 03, 2004

The one (and only?) shot of me from Carnival this year, taken at the Society of Ste. Anne Ball. But which one am I?

Um, will someone please tell me what's up with Joyce? 'Cause, like, I rilly wanna know.

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