Bodacious Boomer

It’s Fat Tuesday, the culmination of the Mardi Gras celebration. Tonight won’t be so bad for me. I’m painting at a nice Cajun restaurant in Houston that has heaters outside where I’ll be. Also, everyone will be keeping their clothes on. Believe me when I tell you, that’s not always the case.

Many years ago I got used to painting boobs. Since I paint feathers and swirls on everything, I just moved my face paintings down. Also, I got a minimum of $25 for painting ta-tas. It took me less than 5 minutes so I was happy. I did draw the line at glittering the nipples though. I’d shake the glitter on so they’d sparkle. However, if they wanted it put directly on the nipples by hand, I’d give them some glitter and they could go to town. Also, whenever you paint boobs, it always draws a big crowd so you get more paintings.

What was funny was when young guys would come up and say “Honey can you paint this? They thought they would shock me by grabbing their crotch while they said it. They were the ones who were shocked when I said “OK. Come on over.” or “Sorry, I didn’t bring my eyeliner brush.” Still occasionally there were brave ones who tried. (The cops draw the line at male frontal nudity.) One guy in his forties dropped his pants so I could put a lightning bolt on his tush. (This was pre- Harry Potter.) When I finished I told him to be careful, the painting was still wet. He said “Blow on it.” I told him no, that my job was done. So there he stood, bent over with his backside exposed to the world while his girlfriend blew on his fanny. I got $35 for that lightning bolt. It took less than 60 seconds. I do have a photo, but have decided to spare you that. (You’re welcome.)

Over time when I worked at Mardi Gras on the streets I learned to drink as little liquid as possible. You don’t want to have to take bathroom breaks. (When you’re not panting, you’re losing money, and at Mardi Gras that was as much as $150 per hour.) My first year I’d not made prior arrangements to use a private bathroom. I painted continuously for 9 hours. Finally at 6pm and with a long line in front of me, I could wait no longer. I told the crowd, that I just HAD to “go.” The woman next in line said her husband and RV was parked a couple of blocks away and that I could go there. So I ran right over and threw the door open. Her husband was sitting there in the BVD’s. I ran in, used their facilities and ran out, all in under two minutes without saying a word to him. (She had said don’t bother to speak to him.)

Probably the grossest thing I saw happened late one night. Our booth was in a parking lot. So were some porta-potties (thankfully 30 ft. away from us). We heard a ruckus coming from the PP. All of a sudden the door came open and there was a couple in there- an undressed couple. She was leaning over with her head near the seat of the PP. This PP had been used all day by a group of folks who were progressively drunker and drunker. Not to mention, it was overflowing, literally. Everyone in our booth let out a collective gasp when we saw what was going on and worse where it was going on.  They seemed quite unaware they they were in full view. (Funny what too much alcohol can do to a person.)  I’m no prude but…

There are a lot more tales from Mardi Gras, but I figure I’ve reminisced enough for one day. Laissez Les Bon Temps Rouler!

The Houston Police Department recently announced that they are training some police officers to be able to draw blood on people that they suspect of DUI. I have never driven drunk. I’ve ridden tipsy or worse a few times. Drunk drivers scare the beejeebees out of me. When people get drunk, they get stupid. I will illustrate.

About 10 years ago, my friends and I went to a bar in Galveston while out husbands set up our face painting booth. Mardi Gras was going to start the next day. The men had decided that they could do without our help or even our suggestions so we went on across the street. Typically the day we leave home to go set up is crazy busy. I usually don’t eat that day til we’re set up. Since I really don’t like the taste of booze I ordered a Long Island Iced Tea. It has vodka, gin, rum, tequila and triple sec in it. Strangely however, it doesn’t taste alcoholic. Anyway, I had one and felt great. Then had one more, then one more. I really don’t recall what my friends were drinking or very much of what went on the rest of the night. I did wind up with a questionable tat though.

After a few hours at the bar we were lucky enough to make it back across the street to our spouses. (Thank God the street was closed already). I do remember hugging tightly a 55 gal. trash can as I deposited some of the liquor I had consumed into it.  I’m sure I looked like quite the lady. I remember holding my head out the car window and barfing on the way to the beach house.  I think I actually wet my pants at the same time. How Doug got me up those stairs I have no idea, but he did.

When I woke up the next morning I politely asked Doug to shoot me, which he declined. I thought about throwing myself down the stairs. However, I figured that with with my luck, I wouldn’t have died, but just gotten really screwed up instead. We had to go to the Walmart for some last minute supplies on the way to the booth. Upon entering the store I walked by McDonald’s and all the breakfast smells were spilling out into the store. I had to walk directly through them. It was nauseating. I tried a bite of crackers remembering that’s what I ate with morning sickness- no luck. I tried a piece of banana- no go. It felt like a steel drum group from Jamaica was playing in my head. I’m not asking for sympathy. I got what I deserved. Later, when Mensa heard about the incident they revoked my membership since I had lost so many brain cells.

By the time we got to the booth I had the shakes (tremors, not milk.) Not to mention all the bands had their speakers up to max volume. Helen Keller could’ve heard them. I sat there for 12 hours having to deal with obnoxious drunks; painting  whatever they put in front of me- faces, boobs, etc. (In my defense, I’ve never been called an obnoxious or mean drunk). After that night I didn’t touch a drop of booze for at least 5 years. I’m probably lucky I didn’t die from alcohol poisoning.  I did make 1 good choice that night though. I didn’t go to eat seafood with our friends. They told me that next day that they’d both blown scallops out their noses when they were “indisposed” at the beach house. At least I didn’t waste $20 on a good dinner.

Knowing what stupid things drunks can do I’m a fan of this new policy by the HPD. I know most people won’t be. (The whole “big brother” thing and all). I think though whatever can be done to help cut the death rate from drunk drivers should be done. Every holiday on TV you hear- “In a sad story tonight a family was killed when a drunk driver ran into their car”. It  seems too that usually the drunk driver lives through the wreck.  “It was  Mr. X’s third DUI offense”. I not saying don’t drink. Just don’t drive. Doug’s such a zealot he won’t drive even if he’s had just one beer.

Anyway, I’d heard about this clip awhile back and saw it on YouTube. Remember- friends don’t let friends drive La-Z-Boys drunk.

Many years ago Doug and I had a beer booth at the Galveston Mardi Gras. The celebration in Galveston was held on two consecutive weekends with nothing going on during the week. For whatever reason the beer distributors showed up on Friday night with our initial order. I can’t begin to tell you how many cases of beer that was. However, it was a ton. Anyway, we didn’t really want to leave all that beer on the street all night unguarded, so we hired a friend of a friend to “Guard it” so to speak from 12am- 9 am the next day, when we would arrive. The guy was going to get $40 for his time. We just thought if someone was in the booth with it nobody would try to back up there truck and make off with it in the middle of the night.

We got there the next day and discovered our “guard” was falling down drunk. Not just tipsy, but completely blotto. On the plus side almost of the beer was still there.  Anyway, it was a learning experience for us. I saw the following clip on the Today show this morning. Apparently this distillery in Russia had not learned this lesson yet. Their losses were estimated to be between $150,000.

Remember: Never let a drunk drive a forklift. Today’s trivia answer-the swan.

She was SOOOO drunk

For many, many years the fall was always our busiest time for festivals.They were fun and we made a lot of money over the years. However, after working at events for over 20 years, the thrill is gone. Besides, I’m tired of watching other people have a good time. (All the face painting has given me arthritis in my right shoulder and carpal tunnel in my hand too). So now, I only do face and body painting infrequently. Most of the time the paintings have been on faces.

However, I’ve done more than my share on shoulders, chests and legs. When you’ve painted at Mardi Gras as long as I did, you’ve painted everything. Invariably 20-something guys would come up and ask “Hey, can you paint this?”, while simultaneously grabbing their crotch. (They thought they were going to shock me). Invariably I would say “Let’s do it”. Now 99% of the time, the guys would freak out and run away, with his friends hassling him for being a chicken.

Occasionally, though one would step up to the plate, so to speak. Before I’d  start I’d make a big deal of having to find my “eyeliner” brush. Everyone gets a big laugh out of that. The last time I painted “that very special part of a man’s body” I put a tiny lightning bolt on it- an easy $35.00 for about 15 seconds work. After telling him he was done, he said, “But wait, I’m still wet.” I told him that I realized that. He said “Blow on it”. I said, “No my work here is done. You should’ve planned ahead”. I’ve got a photo of it somewhere. However, I think I’ll keep that one to myself.

I painted on Bourbon Street in New Orleans the Mardi Gras before Katrina hit. A black couple in their late 40’s wanted a body painting.  She opened her shirt and I painted feathers and swirls all over her boobs, finishing with glitter. They were thrilled. Her husband looked at her and said “Let’s go to the hotel and get jiggy with it”. (I wasn’t really sure what that meant, assuming though that it had something to do with having a good time. It did I later found out).

When I was still painting at TRF I had a couple in their 80’s come to me one day to get painted. They’d never been painted before and were visiting the festival with their large extended family.They told me to go wild! (That can be a dangerous thing to tell a face painter).By the time I was done, they were almost unrecognizable. When I showed them their faces in the mirror they were thrilled. I told them how to remove the paint and never gave them another thought- til the next weekend. All of a sudden I looked up and there they were again ready for a painting. The little old woman leaned over to me and whispered “Honey, can you do that again? It was like being with a stranger!” I almost fell off  the stool. She said they’d been married 60 years. Good for her. You’re never too old to try something new I thought. Today’s trivia answer- Pompeii in the 1st century. It said “I don’t want to sell my husband”.

Painted at the Zanibar- Austin 9/2009