Warning: This page contains adult (yet delightfully childish) and explicit content. Hey, it's just a joke! If you are looking for the now-retired Laredo Diary, click here.

February 26, 2007

Yes, I'm still here. Another yawn-er Academy Awards. I sure like the Golden Globes though, when everyone's drinking and it's so informal!

It wasn't totally boring, there were only a couple of things that were SupersCheese (the dancers behind the white screen and the token choir bit, of course. It wasn't spectacularly funny. First, how the hell does Jennifer Lopez even end up with a seat at these events, much less being a presenter? Cripes. I'm also pissed because they wouldn't let Sacha Baron Cohen be a presenter in Borat character, but as JB and Will and Reiley sang about--comedy doesn't blend well with the snooty Oscars.

Acting: Ouch! Did you see the look on Peter O'Toole's face?

I have to admit, I only saw Leonardo DiCaprio in Titanic prior to seeing him in a lead role. He was very good in Departed. I love crime drama stuff. I probably love melodrama even more. At least, according to those who are married to me, whose name I will not mention. ;)

When are they going to let Jerry Seinfeld host?

Finally, the cute adorable star from Little Miss Sunshine apparently had a Curious George doll with her.
That's Hollywood, baby!

Libbi

ACADEMY AWARDS W-A-R-P - UP

A: Lost: sense of enthusiasm for the most boring Academy Awards I can remember in a long damn time. Brokeback Mountain was ROBBED! Jake Gyllenhaal was ROBBED! Ang Lee ROBBED! George Clooney was good, but he didn't stay with me past the credits. Brokeback Mountain was such a poignant, gorgeous movie of struggle, prejudice and love, and wrestling with one's demons, and Crash was a movie about struggle, prejudice and wrestling with one's demons--and preaching it to us. For anyone who doesn't already know the things that Crash was preaching, open your eyes. It's everywhere. Brokeback was ROBBED I SAY! Now, as my good galpal says, we'll just have to console Jake Gyllenhaal. Doubletime. Though I have a feeling he can get all the consolation he needs. I am so happy that Reese Witherspoon won for Walk the Line. I was really hoping for Michelle Williams to win an Oscar for Best Supporting Actress. I didn't see Rachel Weisz' performance but I heard it wasn't all that earthshaking. I simply never thought about Crash again after I saw it until it started showing up for lots of awards and wondering 'why?'. Brokeback Mountain was such a groundbreaking, beautiful, heart wrenching movie--I am just sick that it wasn't given the Oscar for Best Picture. And a shout out to Joaquin who did a damn good job as Johnny Cash! There is no justice in the art world, that's for sure.

B. What was up with the lack of enthusiasm? Reese and Three 6 Mafia were about the only excited people there tonight. It was a big snoozefest. Even worse was the lack of fabulous clothes. PEOPLE! This is the Academy Awards! What's with the big fat wide ties men are wearing and the primary color dresses? Tom Hanks' hair? Of course, Helena Bonham Carter looked better than she ever has--which really means she looked like she at least tried. She really runs second only to Bjork when it comes to zero taste. Someone apparently felt pity for her and gave her a prom dress from the 80s and a hair-do at the beauty shop from the 70s.

C. Best dresses: Naomi Watts, Sandra Bullock, Uma Thurman (for once), Keira Knightley (who I can't stand by the way). My fave? Michelle Williams' dress. Every time they panned the camera across the audience she glowed like a cantaloupe in the front row. But I really loved it. That gal's got balls. I can't think of her name, but the actress from Memoirs of a Geisha had probably the most elegant dress. Her dress alone deserved an Oscar. I just happen to love cantaloupe. Especially in the midst of all the bummer attitudes.

Jake, I'll be over to comfort you anytime, sweetheart. Let me round up my, uh, posse.

Libbi
March 5, 2006
I've written in this column twice in the last year. That's quite an eye-opener.

PAGING DR. CRUISE, PSYCHO ANALYST

Is Tom Cruise such an enigmatic little dwarf that people actually buy into what he says? I’d like to bitch slap the little guy, but I’m afraid the G-force from my wind-up would just fluff up his hair and then he’d start punching me in the knees.

On the comments about Brooke Shields’ “misguided treatment” for post-partum depression and suggested “vitamins” instead, I’d like to say that for those who have never suffered from depression, it is a very serious illness that affects many. For me, a long time depressive, it is like waking up everyday and feeling like you are trying to push up through the depths of quicksand. When and if you finally break through that quicksand, you are often faced with negative thoughts about yourself all day, the inability to sleep at night and stay awake during the day, low self-esteem, a lack of energy (even though I exercise vigorously 3-4 times per week) and an urge to sleep on the couch and accomplish nothing. Even with treatment, there will be an occasional day like this. It is with great difficulty to get through these days and takes much will power, but make no mistake. Mental illness cannot be cured by will power. Sleep problems (for me) cannot be cured by melatonin, yoga, meditation, prayer or even good sleep habits. Some of us, like myself, also suffer from Bipolar as well as Obsessive Compulsive Disorder and Generalized Anxiety Disorder. I have looked carefully at my life and often blamed myself for being unable to “will” myself out of these things. I have tried strict diets of no sugar, no white flour, vegetarianism, no caffeine, exercise, going to a chiropractor, massage therapy and even followed a macrobiotic diet with vitamin supplements to no avail. These things help for a short while, such as an endorphin rush after exercise, but fade quickly. Treatment is available for OCD, teaching you to focus on the positive aspects of life. You learn to accept the obsession as a daily part of living as long as it doesn’t interfere with your life. If that doesn’t help, there is medication available to relieve anxiety. I am on the “low end” of severe OCD. I have never known what it was that I “had” but knew in the back of my mind that most people probably didn’t obsess over the ways they would die: drowning, fire, murder, etc. They didn’t obsess over auto accidents that would send me and my kids off a bridge into water with me trying to figure out who to save first and exactly how I would get them out of their car seats. This happened every time I crossed a bridge. I obsessed that my neighbor, who has a pool, wouldn’t lock their gate. My little one, while taking swimming lessons, is still unable to get out of a pool if he were to fall in. I spent last summer literally walking out of my house 6 or 7 times a day or night to make sure their gate was locked with a chain, even though they kept it locked. I knew that other people probably didn’t keep knives in the shower or under the mattress for fear of being attacked while vulnerable. I knew that most people didn’t fear taking medicine or food for fear of being poisoned and would “taste” the food first. This is different from paranoia, which is an illness with different symptoms.

Being predisposed to these illnesses from a long line of family alcoholism, at least one (I think two) great aunts in a mental institution, and a reported lobotomy on one of these aunts, I have come to accept that this is my physical makeup. This is my monkey on my back. I used to carry a lot of shame and guilt about this for not being able to cure it by myself, no matter how hard I tried. A close family member told me he would rather kill himself than take any medication for his mood swings or depression. Is this a positive way to treat him or herself?

So, Tom Cruise, you say you have “helped many people get off these drugs.” Were you there for them physically, day in and day out, when the depression, bipolar (which comes in many forms), OCD and anxiety struck, for apparently no reason? Were you in hundreds on hours of therapy with them trying to figure out ways to handle these illnesses and how to make their life right, despite the chemical imbalances, which you claim are not scientifically proven? Have you been there to hold someone’s hand when they tried to commit suicide, or when they even flirted with the idea on a regular basis? You are one of the many lucky ones. You do not and probably never will understand the many, many people that suffer from scientifically proven chemical imbalances. But you are small in many ways to decide for other people what they should and shouldn’t do unless you walk in their shoes.

I read that you don’t believe counseling would have saved your marriage to Nicole Kidman because you don’t believe in any form of psychiatric help. Being uninformed, you do not realize that counseling is not psychiatric help. It is psychological help: talking, learning to communicate, working out differences. This played a large part in saving my marriage (and making it better), but I do not discriminate against those whose marriages simply do not work; I have been in one myself prior to this marriage. You also state that Nicole Kidman, who is Catholic, has been very good about allowing your children to join the Scientology church, because she is not a bigot. Tom, take a look in the mirror. In your small realm of superstardom and self-righteousness, who is the bigot here?

I urge anyone with mental illness or anyone who needs counseling to get help as soon as possible. Even if you have no insurance, many counselors do pro bono work and there are state agencies to help. I was helped by the state of Texas when I did not have insurance or a way to pay for help. I urge anyone with mental illness, mild or debilitating, to fight and find a way to get the help you need. At the very least, do what you can to learn about your problems. Being a creative person, I always thought it would “change me,” but I feel like my real self and many years of counseling and treatment haven’t changed my personality.

PS to Katie Holmes. Read the red flags.

Libbi
May 26, 2005

IN THE “WHAT THE FUH????” CATEGORY:

I have been so bored with the lives of celebrities. No one’s really given me any good fodder since Britney married whozit. Brad and Jen—that’s the way the cookie crumbles. Brad and Angelina. If it’s not an affair yet it will be. Ben Affleck and Jennifer Garner. Nice, sweet, couple, they seem right for each other. He probably counts his blessings everyday that things didn’t go the other way for him. Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes. Creepy, for sure, but par for the course for Tom in my opinion. Beard.

Today, however, as I was ready to crawl back into bed, I booted up the computer just for a check on the comings and goings of celebrities and HOLY CRAP. Who needs coffee when your headlines are screaming at you. (Obviously I take gossip very personally). Let me borrow the phrase from George Bush: SHOCK AND AWE. Renee Zellweger marries…Kenny Chesney??!! Huh? Double take. How do you go from Jim Carrey to moody and cult-cool super talented Jack White to Irish Singer/looker Damien Rice to…Kenny Chesney??!!

3 beaus in 8 months no less. It takes six months alone to make sure you don’t shout out the wrong boyfriend’s name in bed. Maybe she has old boyfriends’ names alphabetized and categorized in such a way that she doesn’t have that problem. I guess that’s what makes the difference between us simple Texas gals and the ones that go to Hollywood and buy Carolina Herrera tampons and practice perfect pouting everyday.

While I’m sure they are both VERY NICE PEOPLE (lawyer advised disclaimer here) I just absolutely cannot see the attraction between these two people. I mean, Kenny Chesney is touring with Uncle Kracker for chrissakes, a 20 something pudgy frat boy with tattoos who looks (and sounds) like he grew up no where near the ‘hood and wouldn’t know a carjacking if it bit him in the ass. And I am certain that while people are scratching their heads over Renee’s I Do’s, legions of Kenny Chesney fans are, at this very moment, bombarding Kenny’s website and sobbing over their keyboards. Sorry, gals, there is no plea bargaining here. Too late to get into his concerts and slip backstage: the dude is sold out all over. Could the same be said for Renee or did she just grow weary of 'complicated' men?

Libbi
May 10, 2005

Hissyfit’s Oscar Dress Code Wrap-Up:

Spotted at this years Oscars:

Cate Blanchett in yellow and brown. What a crappy dress that was. Banana fudgepop, anyone? Good thing she doesn’t have taste, otherwise she’d be kicking herself in a couple of years.

Drew Barrymore shockingly (and refreshingly) elegant. LOVE the brown hair!

Julia Roberts preceded onto the stage by her enormous nursing breasts.

Renee Zellweger walking painfully primly with her pouty smile to the podium, with a long-ass red train behind her. I thought she was about to do a naughty Mrs. Claus stripper act in that red gown with the white fuzzy trim. I am so tired of that fake coy smile. Relax and show some teeth, beeotch!

Charlize? Scarlett O'Hara called and would like her undergarments back.

Halle Berry. What can I say? She always looks fabulous. Best dress of the evening, hands down. They should give a Lifetime Achievement Award for Best Dressed and she should win it. Maybe presented to her by Bjork, just for fun.

Scarlett Johansson looked great—at the nighttime ceremonies. But did you see her day ceremonies getup? She looked like a temp with that claw hairdo and that I Guess I'll Show Up outfit. (No offense to temps—hey, I was one).

Natalie Portman may have a face that could launch a thousand ships, but that 'Been There Done That' Toga dress could barely shove off a floating casino with a Bingo tournament.

Kirsten Dunst looked fabulous in her platinum bob and great dress. Adorable. Most improved.

Penelope Cruz, who I will discuss further, looked absolutely beautiful. Yellow looked great on her and her hair had a real Audrey Hepburn feel to it. Way to go!

Most Ironic: Sandy Powell, Academy Award winner for Best Costume design, wearing an apparent Peter Pan costume leftover.

Beyonce Knowles: crazy beautiful, talented, and so exuberant. But THREE songs? I’m not so keen on Minnie Driver, but they did her wrong by not letting her sing her song from Phantom of the Opera. Tsk, Tsk, Oscar. Beyonce was great, but after the second song I was almost wishing Celine Dion would show up. Or even Siegfried and Roy.

The lamest part of the show:

The “Let’s Get the Latins together for a Cute Presentation to Show how Diversified We Are.” My Inner Mexican is pissed.

For starters, Antonio, wash your hair. (And tell your wife to do the same. And while she’s at it, have her put on some decent makeup, for Chrissakes. Why does she always look like a victim?) P.S. Antonio? You don’t sing all that great. Carlos, you’re the man, but that guitar tone was not right for that song. Definitely needed something classico.

On to Penelope and Salma. Salma, that is a beautiful dress in a voluptuous body. The only problem is that you are so gorgeous and sexy that you could have done without the lift and separate part of the dress. We all know you have a body to die for, but the cleavage was too distracting. Penelope looked much more sophisticated and demure. Somehow, though, I bet her picture isn't downloaded from the internet as much as Salma's. (I’m pretty sure when Chris Rock announced the “four presenters” he was referring to Salma and Penelope’s breasts and not the actual four people.)

Hilary Swank? Except for the small mistake of putting your dress on backwards, you're the bomb. You deserved that Oscar sooo much.

My faves won tonight. Jamie Foxx was genius as Ray Charles. Lucky thing Jamie won, too. If I had to watch Leonardo DiCaprio win over Jamie Foxx I would have committed a severe act of binge eating. Maybe doubletime, because not only can Leonardo not act, but his girlfriend is Gisele Bundchen! How wrong is that? Although one could view it as charity work on his part--giving hope to boy-men across the globe. I feel kind of bad for Martin Scorsese but I'm so glad Clint Eastwood won. That is one great movie he made there.

Chris Rock made a point that I felt was especially poignant. He (and others our age) were born in a time when we got to see a lot of legends, whose numbers seem to fall shorter each year. Or maybe everyone feels that way as they get older. Watching the Johnny Carson out takes was a nice reminder of days gone by.

All the way from Seguin, Texas, in my Wal-Mart jammies eating (low-fat) ice cream, those are my comments on the Oscars. That’s entertainment, baby!

Libbi
February 27, 2005

Libbi Sez:

How extremely kick-ass is it that Loretta Lynn won a best country album Grammy for her record with Jack White? It's a great record and it almost brings tears to my eyes to see her appreciated for what she is: pure gold.

My three year old son is presently running around in his Yu-Gi-Oh underwear calling himself Captain Underpants. Carrying with him, in his left hand, is an empty bologna container, empty because he just fed the entire container of bologna to the dog.

Today is the day I work out my tax bill (hopefully it will be a refund). Our car kicked the bucket last week so we need some tranny work (not the hormone injection kind, the auto repair kind). I took some Flash animation courses all week last week and they rocked. I am now hoping to earn at least a whopping $12,000 this year as opposed to last year when my income was about $2,000. The money monster has been after me a little lately, but so far I've been able to hide in the dark shadows.

Much happiness, best wishes, and everything twang.

Libbi
February 14, 2005.
My roses still haven't arrived. Hmmmm. They must have gone to the wrong address.

Libbi Sez:

In my battle to get healthy and fit, my good intentions got sidetracked today by two handfuls of gingersnaps that kept following me around the house. I shooed and shooed them away, and pretty soon they were clinging to my ankles and dragging along the ground, begging to be put out of their misery. So, really, it was a mercy killing, of which I have proved to be an experienced and formidable combatant. I hopped onto my PC to do some googling when I found an army of spam marching my way; an endless sea of Cialis and Refinance Your Home! You've Been Approved! offers. A tiring fight with no end in sight. Alas, soon I heard sleep whispering in my ear, so instead of working, cooking, exercising and all the other things a gal should do, I took a short siesta. But, not to be lulled into non-complacency and determined to be anti-establishment, I also wore my pajamas all day. So, there goes a day when I could have been stronger, made better choices, but I don't regret it one gingersnap.

It's one of those re-evaluation times, when, not knowing what the future holds (as no one does) I am trying to decide what to do with myself. There's a chance I may not be able to sing, so I'm going down the list of hobbies I like. Marrying can be scratched off; tried it twice, the second time is keeping me busy and on my toes. I like to travel but don't have the dough. Want to speak languages but don't think there are too many jobs for interpreters in my small town (maybe if we moved closer to the border), don't think I can get investors to buy me recording equipment to produce records, and am uncertain as to whether the attention span of a gnat makes for a good writer. So, I'm trying to increase my web design skills, hustle up business, and maybe make some regular income so I can achieve mini-portions of the above. We'll see.

In the meantime, Happy New Year and oodles of prosperity.

Libbi
January 14, 2005

Libbi Sez:

Well, it's been a quick stroll through November and December. I behaved fairly well, by Bosworth standards, at Thanksgiving feast, turned 40 on November 28th (the same day Julia Roberts was kind enough to deliver her babies--see I attach myself to famous people?) and my family had a beautiful Christmas holiday, made especially sweet by the patching up of the marital problems, with lots of family visiting (not during the actual patching up of course. ahem). We live somewhat like hermits; when family comes to town they always stay at my in-laws--our house is a bit of a run-down embarrassment with our cabinet doors that have been off for two years, our cement floors, our uncovered electrical switches and drafty windows. Plus, someone told me something about housekeeping--I can't remember exactly what it was, but I'm sure it was important. And of course, we can't have a couple months go by without a voice surgery. This makes the 7th surgery to straighten out the wascallay wabbits in my vox box. I am not alone in this struggle; I recently met someone via the internet whose husband has had almost the exact same surgeries and problems I have had, and his doctor is a colleague of my doctor. The vocal cord scarring (a very hard injury to recover from) has resulted in fat injections, implants, incisions. In fact, two weeks before my surgery, he had HIS 7th surgery. Maybe things will take a turn for the better for both of us. Right now my voice sounds crazy hoarse (yuk, yuk) but it should return to normal in the next 3 or 4 weeks. Then I'll know more about the outcome of the surgery. And by the way, I made history by being the first one to have this type of surgery/injection. Cool, eh?

Even with the voice troubles, I feel very lucky to have a voice at all. And I plan to return to singing. I may have to do a different kind of singing, something quieter, gentler on the pipes, but I do plan to win the war even if I've lost some battles. And I have to give much of the credit for my determination to folks who write me and are so supportive. I am not tooting my own horn, but it just amazes me the emails I've gotten from people who want to hear me sing again, and sometimes it gets me all tuned up in bittersweet tears. Thanks from me to you.

I hope you all had a Merry Christmas and all the other politically correct holidays of which all are very valid but I am too sick of being politically correct to mention, and an upcoming joyous New Year.

If you get a chance, check out my radio show, the Hill Country Hayride on Sundays 7PM-8PM CST at www.knbtfm.com. You can listen online!

Best wishes to you all. I mean, y'all all.

Libbi
December 26, 2004

Libbi Sez:

Election 2004

After hijacking all the chocolate from my kids’ Trick or Treat bags, it all came down to bubble gum. Several varieties lay in wait for my mercury filled molars: one generic brand (running on an independent platform), and the serious contenders: Dubble Bubble and Super Bubble.

I felt it was high time the candidates undressed and expressed themselves, so I ran a taste test. Cleansing my palate with Sweethearts, I nervously unwrapped the Dubble Bubble. Gulp. The incumbent.

The test:

Dubble Bubble: Favored to win on sugar content alone, it had a few drawbacks. Tough to get your teeth into. Bad for braces. Jaw mashing intensity with a rubbery feel. Hard to swallow (if you are age 3 or 4). Giving false information to the public by implying that it’s double the bubble. Though it gave me a headache from the bright pink dye and difficult chewing, it did an excellent job blowing bubbles. Points off for the abrupt ending of sugar flow.

Again I cleansed my palate. This time with Skittles. With tender care I peeled the wrapper off the underdog bubble gum.

Super Bubble: A surprisingly easy bite, gentle on the teeth. Mellow in aroma. Melt in your mouth consistency. Sweet without being sugary. Honorable service to the bubble gum industry. Nice wad. Begs for chewing on both sides, which could be mistaken for flip flopping. Still tasted sweet after a long time of chewing. Bubble blowing weak. Points off for it’s plain, pale pink color.

I hung my hopes high. Surely Super Bubble would win, and I could say goodbye to Dubble Bubble. A fresh start. But once I tallied the score, I was crushed. Dubble Bubble once again rose to the top. A huge disappointment. The lesson? I guess you can’t fight loads of sugar and a good blow with honorable service and a nice wad.

Libbi
November 9, 2004

PS Does anyone have the first episode of Arrested Development on tape? I missed the season premiere! Also, please visit this site.

Libbi Sez:

I remember when I was growing up and listening to everything from The Archies to Donna Summer to Journey. In retrospect, were grown-ups sitting around bitching about the poor state of pop music and what happened to the good old days of The Beatles and Elvis? Because now, nearing 40, I am truly dismayed by the dismal state of pop music. Are Britney Spears and N'Sync the oldies of the future? Will my kids be listening to this crap and reminiscing over the good old days?

At least Avril plays like she means it. And I like a lot of Eminem’s work--but lip-synching Eminem? I mean, Hip Hop is not extremely melody driven, so Eminem’s range couldn’t have been a factor. What is up in the world of music? I imagine it can be very daunting to play on SNL, but it’s the crème de la crème. Experience the adrenaline.

Now I turn my bow and arrow to Milli Vanilli's runner up, Miss Ashlee Simpson. Ashlee, which of your two explanations are we supposed to believe? First you blamed it on your band starting the wrong song. Excuse me, but if my band started a wrong song I’d probably just jump right in or make light of it. One the benefits of actually playing gigs in beer joints and bars is that you learn how to wing it. Then you changed your story to having lost your voice to due acid reflux. While it’s true that severe acid reflux can do that to you, why didn’t you just say so in the first place? And what, drop too many cokes down the esophagus that day? I have a feeling that spin came from your manager. I have a feeling you lip-synch alot. One key to lip-synching: synch. And lighten your hair.

Maybe I am just getting cranky, but I miss the pop music days before Celine Dion and today’s country artists didn’t try to copy Barbra Streisand and Linda Ronstadt. I miss the days when artists worked their way up through the clubs and their raw talent brought them to the top. I miss the days when good music was what made the fans, not torn jeans and torsos. Criminy. Torso and all, even Madonna worked her way up in the clubs.

This isn’t sour grapes. I don’t want to be in Ashlee’s shoes or dating Justin Timberlake. Maybe I should do the hippie thing and burn some sage around my radio, but a U2 and Springsteen concert would really rock my soul. And I'd forget about all the punk ass, People magazine, Jennifer Lopez influenced "singers" in the process.

Pre-menstrual,

Libbi
November 1, 2004, crossing my digits for John Kerry.

PS If you haven’t seen the movie Ray, I strongly recommend it. It’s a great movie and Jamie Foxx is near brilliant. Tell your ma, tell your pa. This may be the motivation for my rant. His story.

Libbi Sez:

Do I have anything to write about? Squat. Diddly. Well, I do have an oonch of something to tell. The divorce, in honor of hurricane season, has gone from Category 5 to Tropical Depression Reconciliation, so all the girls hitting on my husband can now quit lest they get the Beeotch treatment from yours truly (by the way, read my Beeotch.com rants if you're interested). I write under the name Ho Schmo. My smidgeon of news is that, starting October 3rd, I will be hosting a one hour radio show on 92.1 KNBT Radio New Braunfels, one of the premier Americana stations in the Good Old USA. I am really, really excited about it and hope I can bring some personality to the show, but I have to admit it's hard talking to no one in particular, so I have picked the readers of this Hissyfit as my audience to talk to. I am following in the footsteps of the wonderful Bill Conner who asked me to host the show after his five year stint since he has other things in his life (like a new baby), though my format may be a little different. You can tune in at 7:30 PM Sunday nights at KNBTFM.com. Since I have nothing else and no good gossip to tell (hey, I have gossip but I'm sworn to secrecy) I'll say adios for now.

Libbi
September 27, 2004

Libbi Sez:

I was having a pickled cucumber with Lucas yesterday. Not someone named Lucas. The young latinos and latinas know what I speak of-- they made Lucas the gold standard from Laredo to Brownsville and towns you don't want to visit in between. I must admit that Lucas is quite addicting. At first it was Twang, located in the fine city of San Antonio, but I think that's for the white-bread folks now. Lucas is the man, so to speak.

Now, in your big cities in the hispanic neighborhoods you may find this as well. But in Texas, it is a huge industry. Okay, I haven't done any research but in my small town there are numerous snowcone stands that sell many wacked concoctions. By the way, Lucas is salt with lemon and you can get Lucas Acidito which, I believe, is salt, lime and chili. Up for grabs are:

• Pickled cucumber with salt, lime and chili
• Pickles, the standard for those who don't think outside the box
• Frozen pickles on a stick for....eeeew. I admit it, I even drink pickle juice myself on occasion and that sounds nasty!
• A cored pineapple on a stick with salt, lime and chili
• A grapefruit half with salt, lime and chili (breakfast time!)
• Pickle juice snowcones
• Pickle juice snowcones with chamoya, a very tart and strange-tasing tropical fruit
• Chamoya snowcones

You then have your standard variety snowcones here:

• Passion Fruit (like the cocktail)
• Mango
• Leche
• Dreamsicle
• Coffee
• Tiger's Blood (mmmmm)
• Sangria
• Margarita with salt (double mmmm)
• The Proud American (RWB)
• SpongeBob
• Hulk
• Spiderman

And so on. Any snowcone is available with the two varieties of Lucas, and the option to put a scoop of ice cream in the middle of the snowcone. I have never done this, of course (she says, lying through her teeth). These stands are also very big on selling Lucas (of course) but not it's rival, Twang. In addition, they sell rock candy like crazy, "gourmet" popcorn which is colored red, white and blue, cotton candy, and various sour candies dug up from Mexico and, of course, your common flavors of ice cream for the Yankees.

I have a lemon and lime fetish, which is probably why I am about to foot the bill for the dentist's fishing trip to Canada. For me, an hors d'oeuvre is a handful of lemon slices with salt. FYI, I spelled checked that word and Whorehouse came up as an alternative. You've seen Les Debris Sont Blancs (to quote a fabulous Phil Lee song) like myself partaking in this gruesome ritual in fine restaurants, no doubt. I have not yet sampled the Pineapple or Grapefruit fare with salt, lime and chili and Chamoya is so tart it should be on Fear Factor with Joe Rogan (speaking of snacks). Being a sour connoisseur, I cannot understand how that misfit fruit finagled it's way into this country and category of fine delicacies. Must know someone in the INS.

My recommendation is to start with the pickled cucumber with salt and lemon. Make sure the cuke is actually pickled and you don't get shortchanged with a limp and soft cucumber (ahem). Makes a big difference.

If these type of stands are not available in your city, let me know! I am thinking of franchising them, so the white folks can know what it feels like to be hispanic. Screw cheese enchiladas. The fare will make you want to sample tortas and gordita, not for the weak-hearted.

I plan to have at least one pickled cucumber today, and tomorrow I will wake up wondering why my stomach is doing the cha-cha-cha and I need a small trash can to empty it out. Enjoy!

Libbi
July 16, 2004

PS If they don't have Lucas in your town, you can get it at www.mexfoods.com, Amazon and even Ebay. The revolucion is here!

Libbi Sez:

I celebrated the 4th of July in Shiner, Texas at the local park there. There were kids everywhere and a half-decent display of lights. Of course it was accompanied by a pre-recorded medley of songs. I mashed my teeth through Celine Dion (though I must give her credit for singing about America--thanking the country that fills her checking account) and a variety of country artists who all sound the same, but all was well when I heard Ray Charles crooning. Interestingly enough, the pre-recorded music did not include our Nation's Anthem, but they did make up for it by inserting a Muzak version of Deep in the Heart Of Texas. We are in Texas, after all, and get a little self-righteous at times. Okay, all the time.

I love the fourth of July. I love this country. I don't always love (or like) the politics of our government all the way down to the corporate level, but I love this country. It's beauty, it's people, it's faults, it's strengths. I never thought much about the National Anthem until I had to sing it for a children's parade in Austin about four or five years ago. Not only is it incredibly hard to sing, but it's lyrics will blow your mind if you listen carefully. They really are incredible. So now, everytime I see fireworks, no matter how cheezy, I am able to bring the vision of those lyrics to mind.

I recall places from my childhood as huge. My elementary school was so big to me as a kid, but I recently drove by it and it's really very small. Probably the kids at the fireworks display will recall them as huge. Hopefully, they will recall what our country is going through right now, and they will debate it and take up their own opinions, but at the very least, won't forget it.

I wish our Boys and Gals were home, instead of wondering whether they'll live through the next day in Iraq.

Happy 4th of July to you all.

Libbi
July 4, 2004

Libbi Sez:

A quickie: many things to tell but the weirdest ones from today are that the Divorce Diet, which is supposed to far surpass Atkins, South Beach, Grapefruit, Stop the Insanity and Sweatin' to the Oldies, may have the opposite effect on me. I am eating like a cow. Moo. I was in a Mexican restaurant, way out of my budget, thinking f$#k it, when the waitress starting coming down the aisle and asking folks if they were together (meaning--is come cheap ass going to try to get out of $1.00 extra on the tip or was it all for one, one for all). Anyway, she got to my pitiful table and passed me by. I was in one bad mood. She's lucky she didn't ask me "Are you together?" I would have screamed "Do I look like I'm together? My mascara's running, I've got salsa on my shirt and my car is about to break down--and I'm getting divorced!" At least women have common sense enough to know when getting the evil eye...

Secondly, while driving in New Braunfels today, I saw an SUV hearse. Okay, I'm sorry to lay it out so gruesomely, but all i could think of was, don't SUVs rollover alot?

Libbi
May 25, 2004

Libbi Sez:

Many things to tell but busy, busy, busy. First: I wish I had purchased a copy of my local newspaper just to send to Jay Leno. On the FRONT cover, it said (paraphrasing): "Local assault suspect still on the Lamb." Now, being a ranching town, one might think a local assault suspect might actually be on a Lamb, riding out Highway 90 east towards Gonzales. You know, Come and Get It Gonzales. Alamo. Ass kicking and all. I'm SURE the newspaperran a spell check and Lamb came up just fine. However, the last time I looked, the sentence should have read "Assault suspect still on the lam."

Second, no gory details to spill, but when the going gets tough, the really tough go to counseling. Then the tough go to psychologists for cognitive behavior therapy. Then to psychiatrists to determine if there is a better med that will make them more accepting, easier to live with, etc. But when the going continues to get keystone cops tough, the tough (or weak) simply--get going. It won't be easy. There will be and have been many tears shed between two people who love each other but cannot get it right. Advice not requested please. My advice to you is this:

BREAKUP SONGS:

Songs NOT to listen to:

Denied, by Audrey Auld, whom I intend to bitch slap for making me cry so much;

I'd Like To, by Mike Ireland, ditto on the bitch slapping for the melody which will wrench your heart and wring it dry;

Long, Long Time, by Linda Ronstadt;

Don't Toss Us Away, Patty Loveless version;

I Don't Want to Play House; Tammy Wynette; and

If My Heart Had Windows, anyone's version, including the cat outside my window.

Songs TO listen to (hint, blast these fuckers with the windows open, even if it means being the obnoxious driver with loud music).

Running With the Devil, Van Halen

(My ultra christian retired neighbors probably think I am sacrificing live animals over here--I have had the song on repeat and the windows open and turned up to eleven);

Ain't Talking 'Bout Love, Van Halen

Anything else from the first amazing Van Halen record, one of the great rock records of all times

Intergalactic Planetary from Hello Nasty, Beastie Boys

Intergalactic Planetary has been especially interesting to listen to in the truck because of the reactions of white guys in Ford F-150s double taking at the white chick in the Ford-150 listening to -- gulp -- black music (even though they aren't black). Like a pinch on the neck from Mr. Spock...

Enough about that.

Tonight I was at the pharmacy and saw a Pat Benatar brochure next to the hearing aids. It said something like "You Sold Your Soul to Rock and Roll but didn't Know you'd lose your hearing." Feel old anyone??!!?

That's all for now. I'm soaking up the amazing Eddie Van Halen guitar genius intro to You Really Got Me. These guys were like 20 when they made this record. Unbelievable. Maybe if I can't sing anymore I'll come back as a bad-ass bass player. Rock only. No more sad shit for a while.

Nite nite.

Libbi
May 10, 2004

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