Y'all can imagine my suprise at goin to bed in my own lil shack and waken up on the dusty and cold ratty-assed rue de' what d' f**k?!. I don't know who threw the juju on me but this ain't my bayou.

Cold rain was a spittin and my new black shemeez was gettin muddy so I ran to the nearest cover. A bar.

I open up the door and its nothing but pure dee weirdness in that road house. A pretty young thing done up as a fortune teller complete with black cat rushed past me without so much as a by your leave.

I brushed off the bits of sleet on my skirt and dug in my pocket for my purse. Now where did I put my purse? Oh no she...didn't...! That little tramp at the door better not have lifted my $7.99 sequined Wal-Mart purse. I would open up a fresh can of whup-ass just for her. I dug in my other pocket and was relieved to find it.

I walked up to the bar and got someone's attention and said in my politest sunday-go-to-meeting voice "Y'all got a phone here?"

Y'all know what that bouli mamma did? Well, she stared at me like I'd just peeled my face off and asked to borrow her last tampon.

"What are you drinkin'?" was all she said.