Dangermond.org

Sterilize Stupid People

I came to a decision last night that I am not going to underdate anymore and as a matter of fact, I am going to super date – in other words if they aren’t fabulous then talk to my hand – the one that is pointing towards the door. This came about as M was admonishing G that she had to decide between brains and braun when choosing a man and I countered sharply – WHY? – I have both – looks and brains, so why shouldn’t the man I choose have both as well? He said it doesn’t work that way.

In his world, I say.

Too many women I know, who are my age, keep telling me the same thing – “I don’t know what I want, or if I even want anyone, but I know that I could be very happy on my own.” Underdating is for pussies – enough said.

I called Marty from the road to tell him that Gary from E&G Pest Control told me that the fence had to come off the dirt because no amount of treated lumber or treating for termites would absolve the moisture that was going to come straight up that fence and make it rot within a New Orleans second – read: could be now or eighty years from now – and he wanted me to call George and find out how high the mulch was going to be and so as I was dialing the number, I looked up to see a line of stalled cars getting off an exit and a truck directly in front of me that was stopped in my lane so I slammed on the brakes, fishtailed to a roaring stop inches from the back of this truck and didn’t take a breath till I had gone a couple of car lengths and pulled off the highway to scream.

It wasn’t like the trip had started with any less portents considering that when I was finally able to get away from my desk, I had Arlene on the porch as I turned on the alarm and came out to get in Blue. When we got to the end of the brick walkway, I went to pick her up and she really doesn’t like to be picked up and started bucking like a bronco but this time it was WAY over the top bucking and pretty soon I was in the middle of the street trying to body block her against the truck so she wouldn’t jump out of my arms but I couldn’t get the door open so next thing you know she was out of my arms and ran down the side of the house and through the doggie door onto the locked screen porch. JFC escaped my mouth several times as I finally trudged back into the house, turned off the alarm, and leashed her up and brought her back to the truck where I encountered my next door neighbor – the good one – and asked could you get my paper tomorrow and he asked “what was going on? I almost came running thinking K had come back and attacked you?” I pointed at Arlene and said, “she went nuts.” And he said, “you can just stop at she – it’s something with your gender – they’re all nuts.”

Minutes later, I was walking in to Hyme Tyme off Metairie Road to get my earrings he had repaired when his weiner dog, Mojo – normally a sweet dog – lept up from the comfort of his nap and lunged to bite me then started barking at me as if I was a cat on a ledge. Is it a full moon I asked? And everyone shrugged.

As I was approaching the DisComfort Inn just now, I looked up and saw the biggest, roundest, brightest moon in the ink dark sky and said – uh huh, I knew it.

I just passed Wire Road a few miles back and shades of 1995 headed to Atlanta from New Orleans for Thanksgiving hit me like a ton of bricks. We were driving our Saab – my beloved car – and the transmission went dead and we wound up at the Torch 85. While waiting for Dumb and Dumber to come tow our car, I was perusing the paperback book rack and came upon a book called Lobster Boy – on the cover was a boy, approximately 11 years old, holding up lobster claws for hands. The woman at the counter, who I hadn’t noticed, said to me, “That’s a true story.”

I stopped in at about four motels that wouldn’t have us because I HAVE A SMALL DOG – might as well have had lobster claws for hands. Finally, got in at the Comfort Inn – a brand name that bears no resemblance to the actual place – and as I came around the scary back of the building I was accosted by twenty young teens with Cheerleader written across their tees who screamed when they saw Arlene – “Can I pet her?” “What’s his name?” “She is cuter than my dog!” one even exclaimed. But the icing on the cake was the chaperone who came out to see what the screaming was about and looked Arlene dead in the eye and said – “She has one eye that is one color, and the other eye is the other color.”

12 years later – some parts of the world never change.

The Namer clan is gathering for my nephew, Michael’s wedding this Saturday in Atlanta – and also to celebrate the 3rd birthday of Rylee – one of my great nieces. Always a fun time at the Namer Party – we even had tee shirts made one year that said Ain’t No Party Like a Namer Party – loads of dancing and laughing – just an old sweet song……

The peripheral plants are starting to go in around the house – the Queen palms down the right side, the boxwoods softening the edges of the brick, the dwarf monkey grass in the middle of the driveway strip, the tea olives by the front porch. The rest goes in Monday – hopefully – weather providing. My roses can’t go in till January due to the heat.

Last night we went to Hip Stix – finally got the name right – to have dinner – the pad thai and dragon salad is delicious, and the guava cosmopolitans can’t be beat. Then we came back for a nightcap to La Vita. I was speaking to I, one of the new young Turkish girls who has moved here, when this woman came in and G began speaking to her. She said she moved to Norfolk and that she was only here getting her kid through Sacred Heart, who has two more years of school, and then she is never coming back. She said you folks are in denial here. This city is going down.

Because it is F’s restaurant, I didn’t say immediately to get the fuck out of here. But instead I tried to give my version of the story – the one where my neighbors have purchased a riding lawn mower and they cut the grass in City Park and on the bayou – they call themselves MOWRONS – I didn’t get into how Katrina has given us all sudden wisdom, something that only years can usually give an individual, but for many of us, it became crystal clear how not to live our life and how to stop and enjoy it. I tried to explain these things to her but she became beligerent and I do not suffer fools gladly, so I said, bye bye and left and came home.

This morning, walking Arlene, I ran into B and his dog and told him about the evening and he said, I wish I would have been there because I would have started my list of all the positive things that have come from Katrina – the fact that my 7 year old son last night said he wanted to buy some plants for his teacher, who now that the school term is over with, is finally moving from her FEMA trailer into her house, and my son wants to bring her some flowers and plants for her garden.

I told him that yesterday Bud came over and hung my sign over the threshold of my house that says BE NICE OR LEAVE – the Dr. Bob sign I bought at the MidCity Art Market last weekend – he said he has a sign in his office that says “I have no time for fear or hate.”

I marvel at the arrogance of that woman – that while we are all here treading water, she wants to place her hand on our head to keep us under, bless her heart.

Bud – who also looked at the door today and the astrogal issue – writes me to tell me what was the mix of stain he used on the front door and then adds this:

“Don’t be impatient, otherwise everytime you go through that door you will see your impatience.”

Okay, I have spent hundreds of thousands of dollars to remodel and add on to and finish this house on the bayou. It is a unique, fabulous house and I’m happy to have done it all in the end. But I have been through some really shady contractors, workers, carpenters, and so when one stands out I have to sing his praises.

Marty Fears – 419.2360 – has done a fabulous job – his guys did my fences, screens under the house, brick work and stamped concrete, and painting. All of it has been done at a fair price, better than I expected, and in a timely manner.

If you are looking for a reliable contractor who does excellent work – look no further. Believe me I know. And if you are trying to stay away from morons and unreliable ones – ask me and I’ll give you the list of idiots as well.

$200 spent on the astragal for the front door – fixed I thought – and I did it mostly myself – wrong. Now the door needs to be taken off and a new astragal made that actually goes to the bottom, so the fins will have to be cut back, and the door cut shorter, and a threshold installed.

Beat my head with bricks.