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12:05 p.m. - 2010-09-01
Back in Chatterbox Mode

Love and Tabasco Sauce- The Memoir of An Ordinary Girl With A Spicy Life

Not long after I moved to Texas I was warned never to go out for Mexican food and then follow it up with oral sex.

This, and finding out my sociology professor loved bacon but hated the way the house smelled after cooking it so she kept an electric skillet out in her garage just for making bacon and her nosy neighbors thought she had a moonshine still in her garage because she'd be out there before dawn doing strange things that made smoke come out the windows, were the only amusing things I ever learned in Texas.

Okay, the Snake Farm was fun.

And I had to take pictures of the Piggly Wiggly across the street from my apartment and mail them home before anyone back in NY believed me that such a place existed. Not only that, but the Piggly Wiggly carried Kaboom cereal, which as everyone knows, was the BEST cereal ever yet was somehow not available back home anymore. I don't know, some bullshit about how the dyes gave you cancer or some such nonsense. In any case you could buy Kaboom in Texas because every Texan carries a gun and a Bible and if you weren't converted by being bludgeoned with a Revised New Testament then they'd shoot you dead, so your odds of living long enough to get Kaboom cancer were slim to none anyhow so you could eat all the Kaboom you wanted worry-free.

Other than that Texas sucked.


During my recent net-less exile (which I swear to you seemed to take as long as the 7 years I spent in Texas, hey, I had no Kaboom to ease my pain) I farted around with my new Shark Steam Mop. The best thing about the Shark Steam Mop? When you're using it the house smells like ironing. It doesn't get much better, at least as far as smells go.

Of course I'm a bit of a nutter because I like housework odors in general. Cleansers, polishes, laundry soaps, they make me happy. Companies work very hard to make their products smell just right too. Once when I was a teenager a woman with a table full of dish soap samples offered me a lottery ticket if I'd lend her my nose and offer up my opinion as to which of her products smelled the best. A pretty good deal because even back then I had some firm ideas about what cleaning products should smell like. My sister Drusilla was with me and she was plenty ticked off when the lady wouldn't let her sniff things too. The lady explained she could only let legal adults sniff things because of the whole lottery ticket angle and that it was probably illegal to solicit the olfactory opinions of minors. See, what really honked Drusilla off was that she was 17 and I was only 14, but by then I'd sniffed and had my lottery ticket so there wasn't much anyone could do. Well, I laughed my butt off because this wasn't the first time I'd gotten goodies for being 'an adult' while she'd been snagged out as still being a kid. Mostly having to do with buying beer and being let into bars. And what I didn't twig to at the time but Dru had, at least when it came to getting into bars, was that I was gorgeous and she had the sour puss of the veteran complainer and she had an ass as wide as a 4-lane highway. No bouncer in his right mind was going to NOT let me in, whereas Dru with her pissed off expression and stumpy-legged fat ass bod just wasn't good for business or the club's rep as a known babe watering hole.

Harsh? Maybe. But stone truth, and sometimes the truth is hard. Anyway like I said, I didn't know it back then. I didn't even think my looks had anything to do with how I was treated, except of course the groping and drooling by teachers and cops and other men in positions of authority who had the slimy character to abuse it. You know how humiliating it was to have your science teacher cop a feel? Or have the assistant principal you complained to lick his lips and suggest you discuss the matter with him after school at his house where we'd, ah, have more privacy?

Not everything about being a pretty 14 year old with big tits was lottery tickets and free beer. Not in 1977 it wasn't.

Anyhoodle those days are long behind me. Nobody wants to feel me up except Mick and today's young women are taken seriously when they're preyed upon, so it's all fine.


So is being back online. Mwah! ~LA

3 Wanna talk about it!

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