“Martha Stewart Move Over–I Can Whip Up Rice Pilaf While Tap Dancing and Dodging a Flying Brassiere”

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It’s been “Hell Week” for me…trying to leave town to head for my old stomping grounds in the Chicago area. Everything seemed crammed into this last week and pushed me to my breaking point…well, I DID break a nail, so give me some “cred” there. But my hair held up beautifully, if I do say so myself.
There were Press Releases to format and send for Mesa Encore Theatre…as, just this past week, I was offered the position of Director of Public Relations and a seat on the Board of Directors. These fine folks are turning me loose on the media…imagine that? I’m brimming with excitement at the possibilities and trying to formulate sentences omitting the “F” word as an adjective, noun, or verb. So yes, there ARE challenges to meet, but I’m fuckin’ up to it…fuckin’ “A”! And speaking of challenges…The dinner party My Mother the Parrot and I threw went fabulous, but was not without incident. As my friends know, I am a perfectionist and detail-oriented. I was so slammed this past week, but still had to squeeze in the dinner with Mom’s “posse” (a great time was had by all!). I love these ladies and always enjoy their company…such a hoot! So, onward and upward…

I had carefully planned the menu for this little soiree. My gastronomic offering consisted of Baked Mahi Mahi Alaskan, Green Beans Almondine, Rice Pilaf and a Pistachio Parfait for dessert. And copious amounts of vino. Well, I had prepared the rice and also the topping for the Mahi Mahi and both were out in separate bowls on the counter. Well, I’m TRYING to have a few minutes to myself for a quick “fluff ‘n buff” when my Mother the Parrot inquires as to what I put in the rice pilaf? I asked “Why?”. She said she didn’t like it at all–NOT AT ALL! Horrors! Guests were arriving in an hour. I was so pissed. I stomped into the kitchen, exhaling loudly, muttering expletives about “being a freakin’ Cinderella” and grabbed a box of sodium rich Rice-a-Roni to create something for the parrot’s obviously more refined palate.

The Parrot strolls in and her eyes get real wide (I’m schlepping at the stove and my “t” zone is getting shiny, fer shizzle) and she announces that she had mixed up the fish topping with the rice pilaf!!! No wonder the rice was “tangy”!

Feel my pain. She was all “up in my grill” and got a little Chef Ramsay on my azz.

But I was “committed” now and said that we would be “pushing” the rice pilaf tonight as an appetizer, main course, and dessert. Then I called JB and asked if he had his gun…and if he could load it for me.

Dinner was faboo regardless and me and my oily “t” zone were apparently also the “floor” show as it was requested that I also entertain my guests. Shit, I was now like one of those kids with the bottle caps on the bottom of their shoes that tap dance for tourists in the French Quarter (but they make money so that makes me REAL pathetic). I tried to strike a deal (always going for the “close”) that “Liberace the Parrot” tickle the ivories a bit first and THEN I would “rock” out–but “Libby” was NOT budging on that one…I guess she’d have to “charge” us or some crap like that. Oh, and there was that additional demand of only the blue “M ‘n M’s” and white roses on the piano. But after all she IS “Gone With the Wind” fabulous.

Taking a quick inventory of the atheists in the crowd, I decided to perform “One of Us” by Joan Osborne. The “posse” was well lubricated (that sounds bad) from consumption of the grape and I think someone threw their bra at me (OMG…I hope it WASN’T my mother!!!! Years on a psychiatrist’s couch for moi!). Some even offered to be my “groupies”…yes, the crowd was nicely “loosened” up and although I do like to give the people what they want, I was faithful to JB and remained undefiled.

I autographed a breast and my “peeps” rolled out, and I cleaned and douched the entire house…to the sounds of my mother JAMMING on the piano like she was the headliner on “Diva’s Live”…go figure.

Well, I’m going to have some lunch and plan my wardrobe for my trip to the Windy City tomorrow. We’re serving Rice Pilaf.

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