mychai's Diaryland Diary

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Even more fun from Picayune, Mississippi

Yeah, I'm still alive.

Having a pretty good time in the Pic on this trip. I'm hanging out with a lot of old friends. I don't feel too pulled by the parents. And I'm eating more seafood than you can shake a stick at.

So, times aren't bad at all.

Although I do kind of miss my comfortable bed. And I miss being able to watch TV in my undies. And I would love to go somewhere and not see anyone I know. It's nice at first, but sheesh. I'm tired of smilin'.

I was at my mom's church this past Sunday because she brought up on Saturday that she is singing in the church's Christmas concert thingie.

This was the first time I'd been in an actual church in quite a long while.

I walked in as nonchalantly as possible. Sat there as still as I could. I did enjoy the music -- it was a collection of pieces from Handal's Messiah.

It wasn't the whole composition. That would take approx. 8 hours to finish.

But when it was over, I went to find my mom so we could get the hell outta the church. The church makes me nervous. Tons of really bad memories from there.

But on my way to find Mom, I must have run into at LEAST 15 Gray Hairs.

Gray Hair: any form of old Southern Baptist woman who are too perky yet judgemental for their -- or anyone else's -- own good.

So, all of these Gray Hairs wanted to "come here and hug my neck." I accidentally hugged one neck a bit too tight. Just got word from the hospital that she's gonna pull through.

There is this one Gray Hair who I have **NO** clue what her name is. But I remember her from waaaay back. She's always been a little -- no, strike that. She's always been WAY too rough in her hugging and cheek-pinching.

I saw her coming, and I thought, "Oh, shit." But by the time I had turned half-way around, I heard this Gray Hair say, "Well, looka there! There's my honey-buddy!" I knew I was doomed.

So, I backed into a wall and braced myself. I clenched my jaws, tightened my muscles, and waited for impact.

This Gray Hair ran at me with more fervor and intent than your average fleeing Taliban soldier. Her first move is a right arm head-lock hug. Followed by a left arm pile drive attempt.

Thank God she's a 90 lb. Gray Hair and I'm a 200 lb. well-fed chef. Days like this when I'm proud of being overweight.

Did I mention she likes to get her lips as close to your face when she tells you -- and everyone around you -- how wonderful she thinks you are and how often she thinks about you?

It's like she wants to make out. Which is gross.

Damn. If I only knew this woman, maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

Afterwards, my mom and I went to Copelands to eat. For those of you who aren't from near New Orleans, Copelands is a cajun-style resturaunt chain around these parts. It is damn tasty.

Usually a little too spicy for my wussy-assed taste buds. But it's usually so good, I just ignore the spice.

I got "Shrimp Ducky." It was shrimp and duck (yeah, no shit) cooked in a burgandy wine sauce, all on top of noodles. Served with a Pino Noir.

For dessert, I had bannanas foster. But it was a Copelands version, served on a hard biscuit.

Jeez. After a meal like that, I had to go clean out my drawers.

The friend I went out to eat with the other night came over and we watched "Blow." The movie with Pee-Wee Herman playing some big druggie.

I know the character isn't Pee-Wee, but every time I saw him, I was all, "Look! Pee-Wee's smoking weed!" and "Look! Pee-Wee's snorting coke!"

Kewlllll!

I tell ya, though. I'm ready to get back home so I can watch my Sopranos reruns. At my sister's wedding (pictures and stories to come), I wore my suit, which makes me look suspiciously similar to one of the Sopranos.

Coincidence? Nope.

For the wedding, I even slicked the hair and sprayed it down. Good Friend Kourtney said I looked "beautiful."

That's what you say to guys who wear mafia clothes.

Y'know... so ya don't get whacked and all.

That's it from the JP camp. I have many more stories to tell. I'll continue tomorrow.

(PS: My mom has been living alone for too long. "Shut the fucking door when you pee, mom!")