Alabama Baby Says Hallelujah!

So...Daisy ponders....what's up with all the celebrities namin' their offspring after my fair state? First it was that turd Travis Barker and his girlfriend/wife, Shanna Moakler (you know, the one with the impeccable, feminine Southern manners, like fist fighting). Now its Shooter Jennings and Drea de Matteo. De Matteo? I never met no De Matteo growin' up. Odums, yes. Murphrees, yes. Huh? Have these people ever even been to the state? How do they claim it for their own? I betcha they never had BBQ at Archibalds. I bet they never been to the Zelda Fitzgerald museum. I bet they couldn't tell you what makes a Milo's cheeseburger so special. I bet they don't even know what fine mineable product brought whitey down from Charleston either. And now when I have my trio of illegitimate children named, respectively, Cassidy, Manassas, and 'Bama Jack and we're roaming the countryside in a large four door Ford pick-up people are going to think I copied some stupid celebrity baby Alabama who gets to eat mango/pomegranate hand pressed baby food in LA and get breast implants 20 years too soon. Maybe Cassidy, Manassas, 'Bama Jack and I will just drive by their mansions and pelt hunks of cheese grits at them. At least precious little Alabama can prove my point when she licks some off her lips and goes, "What's this?" 'Bama Jack and I will think that is REAL funny. We might even have to get out the camera.

Daisy Gets Serious and Asks Big Questions

Dear Readers,

Since I was but wee, my dad has been telling me that, "Life is a shit sandwich. You just take one bite at a time." And as I grew up whenever I complained about something (which is quite frequent) he would say, "How's that bite taste?" And right now, let me tell you, the bites are pretty shite.

On a whole I'm an optimistic person. I get misty eyed at sappy songs, overjoyed at season changes, Christmas gives me goosebumps, weddings make me want to hug the world, dogs with waggy tails make me laugh uncontrollably . There is a lot to love about how life goes on. So I usually firmly disagree with the shit sandwich version of life. I prefer to think of it as a giant bowl of macaroni and cheese with an occasional fly stuck in it. Just swallow it down with more cheese (o.k. done with that metaphor).

But here is what I think is the shitty part. You have to choose. Adulthood doesn't necessarily suck but its the damn choice of what to do with your time. Someone told me that there are three areas in your life: work, family, and friends and you can only be successful in two of these arenas at a time. This is the pits.

Yesterday I realized that I had been totally neglecting work and work was severely suffering. So now I have to reel back on the friends and family time so that I can somehow save myself this semester and produce something that is not completely embarrassing. But I'm a people person. I miss the people. I can't sit in my room at this computer day in and day out chain smoking and drinking Earl Grey alone here. Especially when I know there are people out there that I love to spend time with. Especially, especially if they are having fun without me. One of my favorite people was just visiting from London and I had to go home early to do work although every fiber of my being wanted to stay there drinking with her until 3AM because I might not see her for another 6 months. Isn't this is a valid use of your time? Spending hours with people who live an ocean away?

There is this book called, "Its not how good you are, its how good you want to be" aimed at graphic designers. The idea is in the title. So I ask myself: How good do I want to be? Enough to forgo friends and family? I don't really think so. Is it true you can only either leave behind a legacy of excellent, amazing work, or a happy family? Is either one better than the other? Am I relinquished to mediocre designer for the rest of my life because I like relationships with people more? Is that terrible? OR! And here is the big or.....am I just avoiding responsibility and adulthood and its time to take a really big bite and get on with it?

Talk amongst yourselves, I'm off to work.

Why God Created Dips:

Because healthy food is HORRIBLE! Does an Extreme Cheese Dorito need a dipping sauce? (Although nacho cheese would be quite tasty) Does a gummy bear require frosting? Does macaroni and cheese require frying? Although these sauces could only add to the delicious taste of the first food, the answer is still a resounding NO! And now I query you: What would an apple or celery stick be without peanut butter? What would carrots be without hummus or guacamole? Tasteless and barely filling I tell you! Daisy is now resurrecting her every three weeks health food kick. This time in a more Daisy-friendly format. She will not cut anything out, only strive for moderation. Seeing how Daisy has no personal willpower or ability to stick to any kind of restrictions-rest assured, dear reader, this won't last long.

Daisy goes to the Oracle: A Play

Having pulled herself through yet another particularly rough weekend and while STILL suffering from minor brain fuzziness, your faithful author decided to finally seek out wisdom from the modern day oracle of our time: Google. Daisy: Dear Google. I come bearing gifts. Gifts of Excedrin, Goody's, Alka-Seltzer, one hair of the dog beer, and a cold compress for you as I type out this singular, yet profound question: Can you die from a hangover?" The Oracle responds: Daisy, although you are in the desert, an island of misery, stranded on your bed or floor with nothing to amuse you but reading book titles from across the room, needing water like a camel that has just come out of cryogenic freezing, head pounding, stomach churning -YOU WILL NOT DIE FROM A HANGOVER. Daisy: Why not, dearest Google, my daily companion? Google: Because you must suffer for your sins, Daisy. You must lay in bed praying for death as you relive moments of dancing on the bar in a cat mask while demanding more whiskey. Daisy: But the memories are bad enough, constant Google. What can I do to stave off the evil forces of hangover? Google: There is nothing to be done dumb, stupid, whiskey drinkin' Daisy. Not one god damn thing. Read through all the data that I have here that says, "nothing can be done." Now, go back to bed and suffer more. Daisy: Screw you Google! You will no longer be my oracle of choice! There are others out there. And although they are not as good and have terrible user interfaces they will provide more answers! I swear! I promise! And I'm taking back my Goody's. Daisy then huffs off to the mountain only to come down three weeks later, exhausted and wild eyed, with these (very long) commandments inscribed into bar napkins that she then posts on the front door of La Bonbonniere diner, which from this day forth, will be known as: The Oracle of Daisy, Drunk Drawler, Professional Amateur Drinker. Daisy reads them aloud: Beforehand: 1. Eat lots of meat. Eat big, raw, red steaks until your heart may burst out of your chest cavity. 2. Drink lots of water with dinner. Screw the seal- just pee your way through the evening. Once Commenced: 1. Stick to one beverage. Do not mix. Whatever way you arrange the words- liquor before beer you are equally as not in the clear as its "couldn't be sicker variation". Beer does not go with whiskey or wine or peach schnapps. And nothing EVER goes with champagne. 2. The more sugar in the drink the sicker you will feel. Forget the umbrellas and man up and order that liquor straight. And again never drink more than one sipful of Champagne- and only if you are forced to. 3. Finally, and I can't repeat myself enough: YOU WILL REGRET CHAMPAGNE IN THE MORNING. Possibly along with that strange bedfellow you brought home that has now farted up your covers and is about to turn and look at you with a face that you thought was attractive last night but now horrifies you to your core. (Daisy, of course, has never done this). 4. Be at a fun party. My brother and I discussed and agreed: The more boring/horrible the party the more you will drink to make it fun. Avoid. Back at Home: 1. Have a water buddy. This is your best bet. You and your water buddy force each other to drink at least three glasses of water. Not too much, mind you, we don't want you dying like a little raver kid, but you will probably pass out before that can happen. Take some Advil or Aspirin with your water. You won't regret it. If you don't have a water buddy-this is tricky. Try to stay awake and force those three glasses on yourself. Peruse celebrity gossip on the internet, stalk an old enemy online, whatever it takes to get those glasses down. Just remember- don't text anyone, don't call anyone, and go to bed immediately and best case scenario (unless you have a significant other) alone. Good morning! 1. If you have the usual garden variety hangover ingest immediately upon daybreak a Goody's Headache Powder. Now my little Yankees, its pretty hard to find Goody's up in these parts- but it is definitely worth your while to try. A poor man's Goody's is an Excedrin Migraine or a combination of Advil and Caffeine. But nothing stops the pain like a Goody's. Trucker's Southeast-wide swear by it and so do I. 2. Drink Gatorade or VItamin Water. Lots of it. It's best if you put this by your bed before collapsing. 3. If your hangover is more on the nausea variety- do not take Goody's. Take an Alka-Seltzer and then sip a soothing Coca-Cola. 4. Eat more meat. Bacon preferably served to you with reassuring comments, pats on the head, and a neck-rub by someone attractive and in their underoos. 5. Poop as much as decorum allows. If this means "taking a shower" to poo, by all means- go ahead. If it means "running to grab some coffee" because Starbucks, bless them, has open bathrooms- do no hesitate. Finally: Once you are mobile go to a cold, dark theater and watch a really bad horror movie while eating Nachos, gummy bears, and the biggest Coke your budget will afford you. Now Daisy, standing at the front door of La Bonbonniere in bathrobe, Cabbage Patch slippers, dirty hair flowing wildly around her shoulders, cries out, "Follow these rules my child and all will be well. All will be well. She then turns around stubs her toe on the door and curses herself for not following her own sage advice time and time again. Marco, the favoured waiter, gives her a shy smile and goes, "Coke? White toast?" Yes and yes. * Of course, you should check with your doctor before following any Oracle's advice. Your system might be more vulnerable than Google's.

Observations from My "Backyard"

So- in normal years, even the weirder climate ones of late- the leaves turn beautiful shades of yellow and red (or more recently, turn brown and die) and then fall gracefully to the ground leaving mounds of pretty piles to kick around in. And all of this happens before, during, or greatly near Halloween. Last year at this time the back patio of my next door neighbors (who I curse daily for never using what must cost about $2,000 a month in outdoor space) the leaves had already turned and fallen. Its how we know its Thanksgiving and to prepare for Christmas. This year, though, as I look out at my backyard (whose owners I have seen 1nce all year in) the leaves are not only still on the tree, but also not even begun to change colors. This, my friend, is creepy and weird. And that's the ho-hum observations of November 15th, 2007. I make no promises- but I do fervently hope something interesting will happen in my life so that I can go back to posting interesting things. Or things that at least interest me.

God Bless Chin!

One of the things I love most about New York is that you can outsource everything. For the right price you could probably pay someone to carry you in one of those Roman basket things.
During this week of uncontrollable work and unmitigating stress I would like to give a Lets Blog it Out Shout Out to the man I affectionately call Chin, of Chin's Laundry and Dry Clean. He just took in maybe 20lbs of laundry (which, for the first time included dirty underoos- I'm that desperate) with a smile. He always gets the job done, folded, and smelly fresh on time and when I don't have enough money to pay the whole ticket- he lets me pay him later (which, of course, I always do). So thank you SO MUCH Chin! You are my hero and have saved my life. Now to get a personal chef, housecleaner, masseuse, and trainer and I'll be good to go.

Q & A

Q: How much Taurine, Caffeine, and High-Fructose Corn Syrup does it take to keep one little drunk drawler working?

A: 1 coffee, 1 can of coke, 1 box of gummy bears, and 1 VitaminEnergy drink (which was disgusting) and that was all before 3PM. Look out world- nightime is approaching!

OMG! The day we all have dreamed of has come!

Dispatch from Alabama:

Forget Al Gore...the Nobel Prize for whatever involves being a  genius should go to the food scientist at Sonic who figured out how to fry (yes FRY!) macaroni and cheese into edible gobs of finger food. That's right kids. My two favorite foods 1. Macaroni and Cheese and 2.Fried have been merged together to create something that I'm sure will be a legend at Daisy's house for years to come. So grab your Pepto and get on down to worship the gods of Sonic and don't forget to mail some to me.

Observations from Whore-o-Ween

From the early days when all I cared about was the costume and the candy to early adolescence where I would pray that all my romantic fantansies culled from popular songs like "I Swear" would come true that night- Halloween has always been magical. And my dad's street in the ole AL is one of the best streets hands down for Halloween fun. Every house has an interactive theme. My house often involves massive candelabras dripping wax and my dad sitting dead still on the front porch with an ax in his lap and candy at his feet. Across the street from us the neighbors set up the entire basement as a maze made out of cardboard boxes. There are no lights, random slides and ladders and lots of corners where you could only hope that the most popular boy in 8th grade would suddenly profess his undying love for you and whisk you away- only to pass by the dark corner to see him making out with the most popular girl or worse, the girl you feel you are obviously better than, and a small child crying for their mother to come in and get them. But I digress.

Even in my most hormone charged days girls still wore normal costumes. This was the mid to late 90's. The sauciest anyone got was like a 1980's miniskirt. We were witches with big black cloaks, disco queens with heinous pants, even the "sexy" cat completely covered head to toe, the "saucy" devil fully clothed with an inviting little tail. So when did Halloween become the excuse for everyone to go out and whore it up? Are we really that self-esteem deprived as women that we need to pull all our energy into skanking it up to make the boys want to take us to the dark corner?

And while I have no problem with the girl who wants to show some skin (who doesn't every once in a while) I think all this whoring of costumes has made Halloween less fun. Now girls that put some creativity and some ingenuity into their costumes look like complete dorks when they show up as, I don't know, something with antlers, when all their female counterparts are sexy bees (which there were a lot of this year), sexy maids, sexy stewardesses, and the ubiquitous sexy cat. And while I know that I can't fully stop this trend ( I admit to being a rollerskating disco girl with short shorts!) I can only hope that we can somehow instill in small girls everywhere some better self-esteem than we ourselves were obviously given so that when they grow up they can have a fun and creative Halloween like it was meant to be, instead of desperately needing to be the sexiest one at the party. More on my hatred of Bratz to come.