Monday, May 17, 2010


Dear Diary,

My older sista and I were talking the other night and and she brought up the delicate subject of flashers. Not the ones on your car but the ones that used to display their naked bodies in public to unsuspecting females. Not as an expression of youth as the streakers did but to make a statement as in showing you my pecker really gets me off.

We shared a similar experience of this sort in the spring of 1974. She was in college at Mississippi State and I was a junior at S.D. Lee High. Below is my recollection:

A friend of mine and I were in the Lee High parking lot at the beginning of 5th period. She was off that hour and I should have been in French but was stalling because we had a test that day and I had forgotten to study (or some similar excuse). We were talking when we noticed a vehicle come cruising slowly into the parking lot. I looked to see who it was as the car drove by. The guy looked to be about 23 or so and I don't know how he was able to reach the gas pedal with his foot or maneuver the turns because he was in an awkward driving position. One hand was on the steering wheel and the other he was using to grease his piston.

My eyes were as big a saucers because I had never been exposed to the like. I asked my friend if she saw what I saw. She said no so I said look now - here he comes around again. He was driving pretty slow so we virgins got an eyeful. A spontaneous thought popped into my head. Laugh Marion, I said. He won't be expecting that. Marion and I tossed our heads back and laughed like mad men. We slapped our knees as we chuckled and all but rolled on the concrete. I have often thought back to that occasion and wondered how I knew about this particular psychology. Was it instinct?

He didn't come back around for a third time but luckily I now had a witness to back up my story if it should come to that - and it did. Minutes later a teacher came out and asked us why we were hanging out in the parking lot. We didn't say why but launched into the exciting event we had just witnessed. Mrs. quickly ushered us to the office and the police were called. Unfortunately, my friend and I had been checking the exhibitor out so intently that we had failed to get the license plate and make of the car so the perpetrator was never found. The principal and sweet Mrs. Quinn were so sure we were traumatized by the event that we got to hang out in the office until our Mamas picked us up!

Sista Lucy's experience was entirely different but she is so sure that it was the same guy. Put her on a witness stand and she could convince a jury it was the same guy. I'm not convinced though. I told her I needed to do a little background research to ascertain just what the average number of flashers there was per capita for that area in 1974. Plus the mode of exhibition was entirely different. She was thirty miles away on a college campus in her dorm room when she was approached - indoors and no car. But thirty six years later she is still so sure they were the same guy even though she only heard my account of the story.

I will tell this as best I can second hand: Sista Lucy was packing in her dorm room when she heard screams in the hall. She looked up and there was a naked man! He paused in her doorway to give her the full effect, then ran away. Not thinking of her own safety, she ran out of the room. In the hallway, she met up with the other traumatized co-eds. Let's get him! she yelled. I think she had grabbed a weapon of some sort from her room but don't remember for sure. Some of the girls were probably carrying torches, sticks and stones. They were rallying behind her, their fearless leader. He was nowhere to be seen in the hall so they bravely checked the bathroom and just like in the movies Lucy forcefully kicked each stall open but alas they were all empty. She has often wondered what they would have done if they had found him.

A few years later I was in front of the Army Recruiters office on Hwy 45. A young man pulled in and asked for directions. As I approached the car, I noticed he was sans pants. This time I did get the license plate number and complete car description. Lucky for him but unfortunate for me, he was from Alabama and the Columbus City Police were not interested in following up on my lead. I insisted that they find him and arrest him immediately but they assured me that he was probably out of their jurisdiction by the time I made the call. "Ms. Moore, it's not like you see on TV." This made me pause and wonder, Why not?

Tuesday, May 11, 2010

Special Guest Writer

Dear Diary,

From time to time it is good to remind myself that my memories are very one sided. Some times it is good to hear the other side of the story. This can be fun especially is you are not in a court of law. Below I respectfully submit Kathy's memory of our trip:

Being Kathy from Mississippi, I must share some of my memories.

To say he had buck teeth is slightly embellished. The few yellow rotten teeth remaining in his mouth were sticking out in all directions. He could have never eaten even one carrot stick.

Lisa forgot to tell about my attempting to steal a rock. One was only supposed to take one rock with a gold flick and I took two rocks. I was collecting rocks so I thought that would be OK but "Buck" said I could only have one rock.

The "Gift Shop" was an overstatement. To keep Lisa's children (my son was a perfect angel) from whining all the way to the gold mine, Lisa promised gifts from the gift shop and there were no gifts or souvenirs of any type. The only available "gifts" were just old dusty candy bars and expensive rocks for sale.

When Lisa and I meet in Sedona in June, I am sure that my self acclaimed best friend and I will have more delightful stories.

Indeed we will Kathy!

Sunday, May 9, 2010

Get him to show you his teeth!

Dear Diary,

I got to see one of my good friends last week when I was in Mississippi. In fact she is such a good friend that it is recorded in a legal document in the Lowndes County Court House that I am her self- acclaimed best friend. She told me about her new favorite drink - Sweet Tea flavored vodka. She said to add water and lemonade to it and a spig of mint. How refreshing it sounded.

Tonight, after taking a hiatus from alcohol for six months or so I decided to try one of these. I went to Fry's and checked out the Vodka aisle. There were three different Sweet Tea Vodkas but none of them were SKYY (My vodka of choice). I buzzed her to find out which one she used but she couldn't recall, but then passed on some great advise. She said, "Buy the most expensive one because you don't want to have one of those Gawd Awful headaches in the morning!" No kidding!

I got home and fixed my drink and was sipping it and thinking of her when a field trip she and I took our children on when she visited us one summer came to mind( Please note that we are studying similes and descriptive language in school).

The long bumpy road seemed to go on forever. Dust rolled like fog over the windshield. Whose idea was it to visit a gold mine?

From the backseat came the wail of a hyena in heat. I reached back to swat whichever child I could reach and still keep the wheels between the ditches. My hand collided with something wet and sticky. It's a good thing we were in Frank's new truck! I don't want that stuff on my car seats! Where was the turn. We had to be close.

Up ahead in the distance was a sign too difficult to read what with the shimmering heat waves and the mirages. We slowed to a halt like a dehydrated snake. Gold Mine Next Left.

A pack of wild animals that curiously resembled Kathy and me stampeded from the vehicle. They ran hither and yon from the parking lot to what looked like a grazing field/out door theater.

Kathy and I were the adults here and were in total control. We looked around, our eyes surveying the area. Up ahead we spied what looked like the entrance to the gold mine. There were two men besides us on the premises. One was dressed like what anyone would think a gold miner slash prospector slash dry goods employee (aka Mr. Drucker) would wear. The other looked and dressed like he was taking a mental health day off from Honeywell or General Dynamics.

The kids stopped rolling in the grass long enough to notice the goldmine/gift shop entrance. They rushed to it like deranged leprechauns and screeched to a halt in front of the sign "Miners under 12 must be accompanied by an adult". We were quickly summoned. The gold miner slash prospector slash dry goods store slash gift shop employee sauntered into the store and gave Kathy and me a smile. If we needed a bottle opener we had just found one. I say this not because I would make fun of someone with buck teeth ( I had buck teeth for a good part of my development years) but because it is relevant to the story.

The set up and design of the gold mine were perfect. The owner must have gotten the idea from Disneyland. All guest had to enter and exit the gold mine from the gift shop. The tunnel of the goldmine made a half turn and after an extremely short wind you were at a dead end. There blocking progress was a miniature rail road car full of ore. A sign suggested that we search through the pile of rubble for gold.

Our new friend, the dry goods store slash gold prospector helped our children find a nugget with a speck of gold. They left quickly, following the light at the end of the mega short tunnel to the souvenir shop. I picked through the rocks and immediately found my fortune in gold but Kathy was having a more difficult time. Our new friend, let's call him Mr. Drucker, was very attentive toward Kathy. She was getting all ruffled and pissy because every rock she picked up was a rock. No gold. Mr. Drucker patiently shifted through the ore and found her a golden nugget. She didn't like that one so they pawed through them till she found one that suited her.

After spending way too long in the gift shop with the children, we made it back out into the fresh air. The corporate looking guy (Dilbert) joined Mr. Drucker in chatting us up. Dilbert owned the gold mine and the property for as far as we could see. He had really big plans for developing his spread, like adding an out door theater, or amphitheater as they are sometimes called.

Kathy and I were trying to round up the wild mustangs and corral them into the truck when Dilbert told us about one last feature we shouldn't pass up. He had just acquired a mule. Dilbert said that Mr. Drucker would take us down there to see it and while we were there we should get him to show us his teeth. Kathy and I looked at each other with dropped jaws. Sure the guy had bad teeth but why call attention to them like that. We had both been trying not to focus directly on his teeth during the whole gold mine experience. Mr. Drucker grabbed some carrots seemingly unphased by Dilbert's rudeness. Our large party followed Drucker to the pasture. There was the mule. When he saw the carrots that Mr. Drucker had he tilted his head in the air and ruffled up his lips proudly showing us his teeth. My faith in mankind had once again been restored. Dilbert just wanted us to see his mules new trick.

Saturday, May 8, 2010

Rusty Pickle Class with Lance

Dear Diary,

This is Lance of Rusty Pickle. I took a class of his at Mystic Paper. It was from 8:00 pm until 11:00 pm! I could not believe I could even think of staying out and awake that long w/o alcohol being involved but I did! The class was fun and the teacher was fun - You can tell by his smile in this picture. I learned a new tactic. When the going gets tough - go to the bathroom. I excused myself to go to the potty and he picked up my project and started working on it - using it as an example. Lance would work on my Paradise book every time I left to go to the bathroom. He did a great job on it. I love it! I recommend you take a class from him. He is very entertaining.