Musings from Dixie

All posts in the Musings from Dixie category

R’member?

Published July 24, 2011 by dixielongate

Sometimes I look back at the 70’s and wish that I was born just a wee bit earlier so that I could have experienced the things that I only see in old commercials that I frequently download from YouTube.  It is a riot.  Sometimes painful, but always Way Too Enjoyable to realize that some of the worst concepts in the 70’s made some people a lot of money, while it made other people just amass a collection of photos that as adults they pull out now and think, “Wow, that was a really bad idea.”

Recipe Cards.  You could order them from TV and they would come C.O.D.  for only $9.99.   In those days, everything was only $9.99.  And it came with a “attractive organizing case FREE,” because it was vitally important to sort your meal ideas by category so that you could flip right to the salad section if you were only having friends over after tennis or jump right to the heavy duty steak section if you were throwing a Key Party.   The front of the card has a picture of the finished meal while the back had the ingredients list, the preparation instructions and the cook time.  Was it a fish or was it a fried root of some kind with homemade pickled relish on it?   Who cares!  The prep time was only 20 minutes according to the card, and your mom had that amount of time between feathering her hair and picking out leg warmers for her Jazzercise class.

Sun In.   Incredible.  Meant to give you those summer-blond highlights, It was bleach in a spray can.  Ordinarily used in your laundry room, this little stroke of genius was what on-the-go teens did during beach season because the practice of foiling your hair at a salon was both expensive and unheard of.   The smart alternative?  Spray bleach directly on your head!  If you were smart enough to comb it through and not get a blistering chemical burn, you might achieve something resembling Farrah Fawcett’s iconic do, if you had a personal set of hot rollers and 4-5 hours each day to blow it all out after shampooing with Herbal Essence Shampoo. (This was of course before the “orgasaming in the shower commercials” that are their trademark today.)  But if you either didn’t own a comb or you were a brunette, watch out!!  You either achieved something that resembled a leopard after a fresh kill or  Oompah Loompa Orange which was the natural chemical reaction of bleach on brunette.

Saturday morning television was completely awesome.   A mix of toy commercials from Kenner convincing you to buy everything from Hungry Hungry Hippos to 3-inch plastic action figured that could be swallowed by an infant, but were still so engaging that it would have kept a 2nd grader with as-yet-undiagnosed A.D.D enthralled for literally months at a time, and a multitude of  shows produced by the drug-addled minds of Sid and Marty Kroft that mixed live actors like Bob Denver and Ruth Buzzy with costumed characters that would have made you run screaming if you saw them at an amusement park.  A friendly sea monster, a mad scientist with a shrink ray, Diedre Hall in orange and yellow spandex fighting off evil-doers, a sort of cross between a mushroom and a dragon that was trying keep a witch from stealing a boy’s magic flute who’s only power seemed to be to never shut the hell up.  What were the network executives thinking when they bought these shows?

But I wont completely indict the 70’s.  Like I said, if I was a little older, I would have gotten to participate in all of this craziness.

They didn’t breathe, but polyester bell-bottom pants which were so wide that walking became an event you had to practice for seemed like a challenge I would have loved to tackle.  And if you were young, they usually had a pocket sewn on them that was in the shape of a strawberry that made these sexually exciting times seem way more innocent than they actually were according to some of the movies I have seen on late-night cable.

Overalls!  Overalls!  And you didn’t even have to own a goat or live on a farm.   This was just what people wore.  Remarkable.   Of course that look was hijcked in the early 90’s by gay men who would wear them with one of the shoulders unsnapped, but sorry, the 70’s introduced that look.

But I think the coolest thing of all that will never fade from my childhood memory was the onslaught of soda commercials (or  “pop” depending on where you live in the country) that were basically people singing and dancing in show stopping musical numbers where they took over large open fields and parking lots outside of major metropolitan malls to sing out joyously about how happy they were to “Be a Pepper.”

The sheer level of refreshment that soda drinkers had in the 70’s have not been seen again.   Maybe it is because they have replaced real sugar with aspartame that then was replaced with Nutrisweet that was then replaced by Splenda only to now have real sugar re-introduced back into them.

Maybe this summer, I will shake my hair in the sun, pull off the cap to a glass bottled soda and dance on the hood of an old Pontiac.  Maybe I’ll screw off the bottle cap to find that I won a prize or I can collect the whole set or get a pair of tickets to “Corvette Summer” or whatever else the soda manufacturers promised you back in ‘78 to get you to guzzle record-breaking amounts of their caramel-colored liquid happiness and to feel like there was nothing that you couldn’t accomplish.

I wanted to “Have a Coke and a Smile.”  I longed to enjoy “The Real Thing.”  I thought the fact that Diet Pepsi came with a squeeze of lemon was more ground-breaking than the cure for Polio, and Lauren Hutton as their spokesperson sporting that gap between her teeth that she could stick the straw between was somehow sexy.  Hell, she drank soda through a straw.  How glamorous was THAT!!!

And I wanted to be 5 years old in my bell bottom pants and unable to stand up because a dozen little golden puppies were climbing all over me by a metal swing set somewhere.  I wanted to grab my friends, cover a mountain top, join hands and “Teach the World to Sing!”

What happened to those days?  All the recipe cards, Ginsu knife sets, and cases of Sun-In in the world couldn’t dissolve that lump in my throat that I used to get at the extended 60-second Coke commercial that showed nations and cultures and races all getting along simply because of a carbonated beverage.

Was it true?  Was it really that simple?  That is why I really wish I could have experienced the 70’s.  I really want to know if back then you could really open up an Igloo Cooler and peace would prevail?  And more importantly, is there any chance that we would be able to do that today?  Can love and harmony and understanding really be achieved in 16 oz. increments?

Maybe that will be my summer resolution.  Maybe that will be my entire life’s goal.  It’s an ambitious one; maybe too ambitious.  But at the end of the day, perhaps that is what I would like to be remembered for.  Maybe that is really what I’d like to do.

I’d like to teach the World to Sing,

In perfect harmony.

I’d like to buy the world a coke,

And keep it company……

Definitely while wearing overalls.

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Is that a Pinto Bean in your hair?

Published July 9, 2011 by dixielongate

– Is usually a funny statement when you are asking someone else.  However, when the universe turns it around and some handsome man in the middle of the Food Court is asking you, all of a sudden two things happen.

1) He thinks you stole pinto beans from their moderately well kept salad bar.  And

2) There is actually a pinto bean in your hair!!!!

This is both embarrassing to admit and hard to determine how it got there.  But I am going to blame it on Mexicans and their delicious food at the food court in the mall.

It was a day like any other day where I have way too much to do and not enough time to get it all done before Oprah comes on.  And now that she has ceased to rule the mid-afternoon airwaves, the precious syndicated re-runs are all I have left, but I think her advice always bares repeating, so I don’t mind watching the bra-fitting episode or anything where a has-been celebrity bursts through that paper banner in the back of the stage like a high school quarterback whose chance to lose his virginity rest upon scoring at least 2 touchdowns at the Saturday afternoon game.

God, that makes me wish I had gone to high school.   I wouldn’t really have cared about the big games themselves.  It’s all that “You did so good, Johnny.  Now let me show you how I’ve been practicing the splits” stuff that I really think I missed out on.

Anyway, back to the bean.

So I hadn’t eaten for the better part of the morning except for the Pop Tart half that I found on my bathroom sink that I hope was left there by my son, but can’t really be sure, but it’s safer to go with that story.  It was brown sugar/cinnamon, which really is on the top of the Pop Tart flavor food pyramid.  I was ready to chew my own arm off when I saw the half-dozen options for relatively unhealthy but terribly convenient fast food to tide me over till I could get back to the trailer to make myself something scrumptious.  Since I was planning on having chicken later that evening, I passed up that option, blew right past the salad place because although it was the healthiest idea, it is hard to walk and eat a salad at the same time unless you are an Olympic gymnast that can twirl a ribbon and throw those medium sized balls up in the air and catch them between your legs.  But then if you can do that, I’m sure that salad isn’t the first thing on your mind.  Chinese – No.  Curry – No.  Vegan – Hell no!

Mexican – well, since to my knowledge most of their food is made up of some combination of rice, beans, and corn, I figured I could convince myself that it was healthy.   And they had this “Jr. Burrito” which, being smaller was probably only half the calories.  So I ordered 2 of them and found a table in the food court.   There was a large glass ceiling that let the sunlight of the afternoon come streaming in which not only was beautiful, but made me sweat just a little more than I had hoped.

So there I was, “Jr. Burritos” in front of me, mild salsa for my few meager chips that came as a side dish, and a stack of napkins at the ready.   And then, it happened.  I gazed up to see this very handsome man at the “fake hair on a banana clip” kiosk that was right in front of me.   He was something else.  Forgetting the fact that he worked at a hair accessory kiosk, he was probably quite a catch.   Nice arms, curly hair, and judging by how fast his fingers were twitching on his cell phone, a sizeable data plan.  And he was showered in sunlight from the glass ceiling above him.

Now I don’t know if this happens to you, but when I look at the sun, I tend to sneeze.  Hard!  Sometimes I am lucky enough to have a bit of a warning, sometimes, not so much.  This time, I felt it coming on, but I was trying to still look adorable in case Renaldo  (that turned out to be his name) came over and wanted to color-match my hair to anything he had on his “$20 discount wall.”  I instinctively scrambled for a napkin to cover what I was sure was going to be a doozie of a sneeze.   And BLAM!  It was unleashed with so much force that the better part of the first “Jr. Burrito” launched, NASA-style into my hand.  It ricocheted and shot back at my face

The last bite of my burrito before the incident was a good-sized one, what the Snickers Company might call “Fun Sized.”  It was a pretty big mouthful, now half-chewed and mixed with saliva.

When it flew back at my face and hair, it was a collection of rice bits, sauce, and several pinto beans, that if I was at a spa with a Japanese name, would have cost me about $150 and been labeled “ a treatment.”  Today however, it was just a really horrible accident.

Apparently, the sunlit dome was also a natural amphitheater for sound.  My rocket launcher sound effect made Renaldo look up from his phone long enough to realize that he wanted to engage in conversation with the now rice-encrusted red head 20 feet in front of him.   Quickly, I started wiping off the shrapnel as effectively as I could while trying to look like nothing had happened. Which is hard to do when you are wiping your forehead and cheek and chin at the same time.

“Hello, I’m Renaldo.”

“Dixie.”  I tried to get the sunlight to reflect the greenness of my eyes.   Oh God!  Bad move.   A-CHOO!!!

This is what I learned that day. There are risks with Mexican immigration.

And all their food might be delicious after an all night goldschlager taste-test, it has consequences.

So the next time someone with sexy brown eyes and discount coupons for wiglets asks you, “Is that a pinto bean in your hair?”

Calmly look at them in the eye, reach into your hair, withdraw the pinto bean, stick it in your mouth.  And say  “Yes.”   No explanation is needed, and you seem that much more mysterious.

Naughty Girls Really Do Need Love Too.

Published April 24, 2011 by dixielongate

You know that it is going to be one hell of an Easter when the alarm goes off and on the radio is none other than Samantha Fox with a blast from the way-too-distant past singing her denim-clad buns off, exclaiming one of the most relevant truisms of all times.  “Naughty Girls Need Love Too!”  Oh, a smarter phrase was never uttered by Congress, let along an 80’s pop star who was revered enough at one time to actually get her boobs insured.   I mean, you know you have arrived when you are bold enough to get your Boobs insured.  J-Lo doesn’t have that.  Marie Osmond doesn’t either.  I mean sure, both Marie and J-Lo can totally beat Samantha in a cage match when it comes to who has the bigger hair extension collection (I think Marie might even upset Jenny from the Block in that battle), but neither of those ladies can pack the wallop that Samantha’s 36 D hooters had when she was wowing stadiums in the 80’s with her string of average but catchy hits that stay in my head to this day.

And nothing says “Jesus has Risen” like the recollection of that accompanying video where Samantha had pink hair long before “Pink” did and was intently seducing the camera in front of a graffiti-sprayed playground in the projects backed up be a gang of gay men dancing in suspender pants trying their best to look tough as they lip synched behind her this simple coming of age tale of a slutty-girl-turned-doe-eyed-lover.  I mean, we have all been there before, right?  Just ask your mom.  Of course she might not have had the back-up dancers.  Or the graffiti wall.  Or the 6 thuggish black guys who are singing 1-part harmony back-up about 30 paces away from the rest of the action, but if there is any time of year that drives this point home, it is Easter.

Remember, Jesus was hob-nobbing with Mary Magdalene, and the word around the trailer park is that she too had seen her share of episodes behind the dumpster, not unlike Miss Fox.  Mary was the devoted type by all accounts.  She was one of these gals that you might see at the back road Honky Tonk on an off night.  Singing  just a bit too loud, and definitely off-key.  She’d have a row of empty beer glasses on the table in front of her and her fringed purse slung across the back of a chair with half its contents spilling out onto the floor.  But of all the people in that bar, she would be the one you would most want to hang out with.  Sure she was kind of a wreck, but doesn’t that make you look a wee bit better?  Plus, at the end of the night, she’d be the one who would make sure you got home safely.  And she probably would have paid for the drinks to boot.

And what did she want in return?  Not much; just someone to love her in a way that she hadn’t felt during any of a host of encounters she had with the Disciples and a few random Apostles after that Pot-luck supper that ushered in some terribly dry biblical summer.  Then along comes Jesus.  He said, “Mary, I know you have a reputation, but I’m going to love you just the same.”  It wasn’t love in the way we all have grown accustomed to on some of them afternoon stories starring Susan Lucci.  It was a different kind of love.  Not physical.  Just love.  It was nice.  It made her feel more respected than anything that Joseph’s 12 brothers might have tried at a barn dance.  It was that kind of adoration that makes you feel like a little girl inside.   And so she became devoted.

Heck, she even washed Jesus’ feet with her hair at one point.  Now tell me you wouldn’t just kill to have someone that was that devoted to you.   She was there at the end of it all.   When all the Disciples had run away because they couldn’t seem to get their Big Boy Pants on in front of Jesus, there was little Mary Magdalene saying “I got your back!”  And when that famous stone rolled away Easter Morning, who was sitting at the front of that cave waiting for some good news?  Well, it wasn’t Marie Osmond, that’s for damn sure.  It was Miss Mary Magdalene. And she was probably wearing a Samantha Fox concert t-shirt.  And she probably had a basket full of Candy and Easter Eggs just ready to make old J.C. hunt for them as soon as his eyes got accustomed to the light again after being in that cave for them 3 days.

I’ve heard that phrase, “those among us that are the hardest to love are the ones that need our love the most.”  It’s true.  There is no challenge in being neighborly to those people that you like.  It is the people that you look at in disgust that really deserve another glance.  I know, some people are just assholes!  But I bet if we all take a second this Easter Sunday, no matter what you believe in, and just look for that person in your life that is the least desirable.  Look for the one that pisses you off the most, the one that you never see eye to eye with, the one who says one thing to your face and then another behind your back, the one that borrowed your Samantha Fox LP and never gave it back.  That is the person this Easter that might need a little kindness.  That is the person who will be most surprised to hear from you and you might find becomes a little more devoted to you.  That is the naughty girl who just needs a little love too.

Let today be the day that you reconnect with someone that you intentionally tried to forget about.   Share a memory with them or a laugh or maybe a colored egg.  Bite the ears off of a chocolate bunny together.  Forgive a little.  It will do all of our hearts some much needed good.

And put on your Suspender Pants!  I hear they are making a come back.

XO

Dixie

Holidays are a time for Forgiveness and Food Storage

Published December 11, 2009 by dixielongate

Happy Ho Ho Ho!!!

Can you believe the Holidays are practically sitting on our face!  I feel like it has just snuck up on me yet again, like them Jehovah’s witnesses who always appear at the window every time you are making sweet love with someone on the bedroom floor cause the bed just has too much crap on it.

But dont worry, Tupperware to the rescue.

We have lots of great gift ideas to put under your Christmas Tree or Jacana Bush or Kwan-tas Shrub.  Something for everyone.

And how about our fantastic Wine bottle opener (item 1254) for the perfect stocking stuffer.  Your kids will be delighted when they open that.  What a Christmas treat.

I am here in Mesa, AZ doing my Tupperware parties right now, handing out gift-giving advice every night, and to see people’s eyes light up from all the thoughtful suggestions that I have to make the holidays go by more smoothly, well, it is nothing short of Awe-inspiring.  I mean, at least I think that is why they are wide-eyed.

I mean it is possible that Tay from last night’s show who was sitting on the couch was wide-eyed because she found out that her friend was a lesbian.  And I know how scary that must have been for her.

But Christmas is a time of forgiveness.  So why dont we all hold virtual hands here and start packing our minds full of people that we ought to forgive around the holiday.

Your best friend for borrowing your favorite blouse and returning it with a stain that she is trying to convince you was there when she borrowed it, although you know that a little DNA testing would prove otherwise, right Monica.

Your mother for stealing that guy you had your eyes on at the gas station just the night before when you pulled in for a fill up.

Your reverend, for only filling your communion wine glass half way up when you could clearly see that you were the last one in line and his chalise was FULL.

Your baby-sitter.  She didnt plan on falling asleep with the baby sitting on top of the liquor cabinet.

Your librarian for always reminding you to return that book that she says you stole from the stacks, even though you convince her that you dont know how to read at that level so why would you have taken that book, but then she claims you took it for the pictures, and then you say that there aren’t no pictures in “The Joy of Sex” and she whips out her own dog-eared copy to show you that there is, and you think, “What the hell is she doing with a copy of that book under her desk?”

Your postman who always tries to tell you that your adult subscription never took effect for some reason, even though you swear you keep seeing her take the brown wrapper off of something every last Thursday of the month when she is standing outside your door and then immediately puts it in the inside pouch of her bag before you can push the electrician off of you long enough to get to the door to catch her in the act.

And finally The Electrician for putting on his work clothes by the time you get back from scolding the postman.

See, if we all just forgive and say a silent prayer, then I think 2010 will be a fantastic year for everyone.

I know that I for one can’t wait to see what is on the agenda for me.

I wish you all a wonderful holiday, whether you celebrate a real one, a made up one, or one that I just plumb can’t pronounce.

Smooches from the trailer

Dixie

I’m in Scotland!!!!

Published August 20, 2009 by dixielongate

Hey there,

Sorry for the long delay.  I have been traveling like a fiend for the last month in Europe.  That is actually outside of America.  I had to get a passport and everything,

I am in Scotland now doing my show for the Scotland-y people and having so much fun.  I have gotten quite good at understanding their funny language and drinking pints of beer as they call it.  It is adorable.  You have never seen anything as small as a pint in your life.  It is TINY!

And after this, I am going to do 2 shows in Rehoboth Beach Delaware on the 9th of September and then the second year of my national tour starts in Cleveland at the end of September.

For tickets and show info and cities, go to the updated website, http://www.DixiesTupperwareParty.com  and click on the list of cities on the right hand side.

Here are just a few pics from my trip here so you can see the craziness and the energy that is around here in the UK.

Hope to see y’all soon

Dixie

Me standing next to me by the theater entrance.

Me standing next to me by the theater entrance.

This is a theater called the Udderbelly.  It's a purple Cow!

This is a theater called the Udderbelly. It’s a purple Cow!

One more hour each Day!!!!

Published March 9, 2009 by dixielongate

I dont know about you, but I, for one, am so excited that I get an extra hour of daylight each night.  I mean, it doesnt really do me a lot of good personally because I am usually in the theater at night so I cant enjoy it, but it will certainly enable people to see in order to get their cars parked easier so they can come to my Tupperware Party on time and get some good creative food storage solutions.

I cant believe I have now been on the road for 7 months talking Tupperware all over the country.  And this is just the beginning.  I have been able to meet people from 6 different states and 10 different cities and I think it is safe to say that I have met someone in every town that has pissed me off.

But more importantly, I have met alot of great people too.  I have sat on more laps, taken more pictures, slugged down more cocktails, and been given more phone numbers on napkins in the parking lot of local bars than I ever though possible.  That makes me love this great country even more than I thought I possibly could.

But it is the kind comments that I get after each show that mean the most to me.  I really do love it when people come up and tell me a little bit about themselves.  Or share a story about a Tupperware party they once went to, or even that their momma used to sell Tupperware.  It always warms me in my no-no place to hear stories like that.

Of course, give me 4 minutes and some distracting hooker trying to replace a cracked bowl, and I forget all about that wonderful tale of nostalgia that someone told me moments earlier, but later on, when I am lying in bed and flipping through the enormous number of bad reality television shows providing me entertainment every night before I pass out,  sometimes I get a flash in my mind and I remember the image of someone smiling at me during the Tupperware party that night and telling me about their mom who once sold it or that they used to have a favorite piece of plastic in their kitchen or under their bed.  And I must admit, I get a little giddy.

And then, like watching a movie in fast forward, I flash through dozens of times over the past few months that people have shared similar stories and, boy, does that make me glad that I do what I do.  And the more time I sit with that every night before I go to bed…

The happier I am that I just got that extra hour.

Sleep well…

I know, I know. I’m tardy

Published January 16, 2009 by dixielongate

Well, it has been way too long since I have posted, but I am getting back up on the horse and promising to be alot more on top of things in 2009 with my blogging and my drinking.  I figure the more I do of each, the more creative I can be.

The tour is going well.  I have been in city after city and I am having a blast.  Of course some times, the audiences dont know what to make of me.  And in some rare occasions, there have been some people that have been overwhelmed by my beauty and have had to leave the show.

Sometimes they are quiet and sometimes, they are like this horrbile man in Melbourne, FLorida that made everyone painfully aware that he was having a horrible time and walked out in a huff.  Of course he waited till about 75 minutes into the show before walking out, which is longer than some of the men I have dated.  And I wonder to myself,  what the hell are you doing sitting there for so damn long.  Get out!  Stop making everyone else feel uncomfortable because you are a bastard-ass.

Am I right.

It is all about personal responsibility.  And if something makes you uncomfortable, like too many goats at someone’s wedding, or that odd kind of candy in the dish by the bed of that person that you met at the bar last night and decided to spend the night because you lost your cab fare when you were dancing next to that lady in the tube top who couldnt possibly have gotten any money out of you since she aint got no pockets, but you still have your theories anyway of what she did with it, well, then dont stay , just get up and leave.

But 2009 isnt about leaving.  it is about finding the power to stay.  It is about sticking it out even when the going gets tough.  It is about changing your attitude so that when all seems to be crumbling to crap-crackers around you, you still can hold your head up high and smile.
Cause remember, in this troubling economy – SMILING IS FREE!!!!

Well, I cant wait to love you all even more than I did in 2008.  Thanks to all y’all who have come out to see the show as I am traveling around.  And trust me, I have miles to go before I sleep.

I have a week and a half in Mesa, AZ still so come on out and see me.

After that, I will be in Ft lauderdale and Aurora, IL and North Carolina. and other points east.

Gather up your friends and lets have some fun!

Happy new year

Dixie