Donna Ison's Blog, page 12

Because You're Never Too Old for Santa

CHRISTMAS LIST-1976





CHRISTMAS LIST  - 2013

Dear Santa,

My name is Donna Ison. I am 45 years old. Though good is a relative term, I can say that, despite my colorful flaws, I have finally accepted my true nature as good and know I deserve good things in life. Therefore...

I want:
1) A magical writing sweater that when worn allows me to produce endless brilliance effortlessly. Any color will do, though red brings out my eyes.

2) The willpower to lose the 40 pounds I've gained over the past five years.

3) A three-toed sloth. I will take excellent care of him. And with our new property, he'll have plenty of trees to climb.

4) For every human being to feel loved and blessed and beautiful far more often than not. 

5) Which brings me to this. When the time comes, please let me die before Frank. I just don't think I could go on without him. This is probably more of a God request, huh? I'll pray about it too, but I just wanted to cover my bases.

6) Which reminds me...though I don't need one yet, and I am taking Milk Thistle, as a precaution, you might want to put an elf on the task of building me a new liver. Blood type - O Positive. 

On that note, I left you a jigger of Old Fitz to wash down the cookies. And, a carrot for Rudolph. 

You be careful out there. It's a mad, mad world. 

Love, Donna
And because you have all been good boys and girls this year, as well, Santa is giving you a kindle copy of "The Miracle of Myrtle: Saint Gone Wild" for FREE. Dec.22-26.

CLICK HERE!

Meet Myrtle

Ladies and Gentleman, if you're feeling irreverent on this Monday morning, meet Myrtle, in her own words...

Yo, yo, yo,
Never fear,
Myrtle is here.
Myrtle is ready to rock this provincial planet!
Let me hear the love…

No offense, babies, but you can bite my tit,
Cause Myrtle didn’t hear shit!
You have no idea who the hell I am, do you?

Instead of just sitting there thick as molasses,
Allow me to enlighten your happy asses.

I am Myrtle, twin sister of Mary,
Mother of the savior of mankind.
Yes, that makes me Jesus’ aunt,
Jesus’ favorite aunt, you'll find.

I was midwife at the manger,
In the swaddle, I put the swa,
Then, with Magi, had a menage a trois.
For those of you doing the mathmatics,
Dude who brought the Frankincense wasn't into chicks.

I knew John the Baptist when he was afraid of H2O.
I can even claim Jesus' first miracle, cause you know...
I’m the reason they ran out of wine at the wedding.

I was the original Auntie Mame.
When Jesus was missing from the Bible for those years,
He was traveling the world with me, learning to conquer his fears.

We went to India and Persia and Ethiopia and Tibet,
Feasting and dancing and drumming and shit.
Learning to reject dogma and embrace karma,
And say “Screw you” to the Sadducees,
“I’ll find the truth inside of me”,
Basically living life according to the Gospel of Myrtle.

I say the path to enlightenment is pleasure…
Just make the journey at your leisure,
And even if you never reach that higher plane,
You'll have enjoyed the trip just the same.

That teaching got me my own cult for a century or more,
My followers were Stevie Nicks groupie hard-core…
The Pharisees called them the Myrtle Maniacs.
They built me a temple inlaid with gold
And followed me all over the globe.

So, if I’m so fricking fabulous why have you never heard my name?
Baby, the story is always the same.

Because I wasn’t a virgin and I wasn’t a whore.
So, men didn't know just what to use me for.
See, I was somewhere between a chastity belt and crotchless panties. 
I refused to be in the kitchen barefoot or in the bedroom bare-assed.
But I did ran bare-breasted down beaches from Conde' Nast.

I did not fit neatly into verse or book,
That is why no matter how hard you look,
You won't find me.
Those Bible-writing bastards left me out.

But I am back, and ready to shout.
Tonight, I am stepping into the spotlight to reclaim my rightful place…

I am Myrtle…protector of pleasure and procurer of good times,

I am patron saint to gypsies, tramps, and thieves, and mimes,
To rock stars, surfers, poets, prophets,
Drag queens, dreamers, schemers,
And George Hamilton.

I am the voice that whispers, “Follow your bliss.”
I am disco and pink champagne and your first kiss,

Indeed, I am good weed.

I am butterflies and blue skies and a brand new pair of roller skates.
I am multiple orgasms.
I am the force that drives you to follow that dream.
If you're feeling me now, let out a scream.
I am Myrtle. 

In honor of Myrtle--whose favorite holiday is obviously Christmas, since it is after all her nephew's birthday and involves spiked eggnog and sparkle--I am offering my novel, "The Miracle of Myrtle: Saint Gone Wild," for Kindle for FREE from Dec. 22-26. 

CLICK FOR YOUR COPY. 

A-Monkey-Can-Make-It Mint Chocolate Trifle

For those of us who are baking challenged, this is not an easy time of year. But, I have a secret weapon even more powerful than any rifle…the trifle. This Mint Chocolate Trifle is festive to behold, delicious to digest, and so easy a monkey could make it.

All you need is:
Brownie Mix (and eggs, oil, whatever said mix requires)
Andes Crème de Menthe candies
8 oz. Cream Cheese (room temperature)
2 packages White Chocolate Pudding
Hard Peppermint (sticks, canes, or mints will do)
Whipped cream
Opposable thumbs

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
Make brownie batter.
Melt 13 Andes candies in a microwave safe bowl for one minute.
Pour into batter.
Bake per instructions on box. 
Eat one brownie while hot to ensure quality, and then let the rest cool.
Make pudding per package directions.
Mix pudding with 8 oz. cream cheese.
Take out all of your holiday frustrations on the peppermint by crushing approximately ½ cup with a hammer.
Mix peppermint into pudding.
Break apart cooled brownies into bite-sized pieces.
Layer brownies, pudding, brownies, pudding into Trifle Dish.

*If you don’t have a Trifle Dish, I suggest buying one. They are inexpensive, and I swear you’ll feel more sophisticated by just knowing you have one in the cupboard. But, you can use any clear glass bowl or vessel.*

Top with whipped cream and decorate with candy canes and Andes candies.

Congratulations! You have captured Christmas in a bowl. Prepare to witness the wonder.

WARNING: Transporting a trifle is a two person job. You need a driver and a carrier. I found out this the hard way today when I tried to drive while holding the above trifle between my knees. It was neither pretty nor safe.

Mary Sweeney: Wisconsin Window Smasher

The recent rash of robberies of all the grooviest local Lexington businesses reminded of one of the most fascinating historical characters. Mary Sweeney was her name, and throwing bricks was her game.

Mary Sweeney was a well-educated, middle-classed mom with a penchant for destruction. In the 1890’s, after a head injury, Mary began having manic episodes. She found the only way to calm her nerves was to take liberal amounts of cocaine (then legal) and shatter shit. So, she went around Wisconsin, Minnesota, and South Dakota throwing bricks through the windows of successful establishments. She’d hop on a train, head to a town, and wreak havoc until arrested. For her exploits, she served time in 100 different jails. It is said, she single-handedly did over $50,000 worth of damage…and remember this was in the 1800’s. Her exploits are documented in the film,  Wisconsin Death Trip . 
I think, like Mary Sweeney: The Wisconsin Window Smasher, we all have a violent streak. We just control it, but many of us are just one mule-kick-to-the-head from letting it out. I know that if mine were released, it would culminate in shin kicking. I would buy badass pointy-toed cowboy boots (like the ones pictured), and then travel the tri-state area kicking strangers in the shins. I’d just run up, smile, kick them, giggle, and run away. Donna Ison: Bluegrass Bone Bruiser…it’s got a ring to it. 

The Five Golden Rules of Gifting

You might note that, aside from this sleeping cat, beneath the tree is empty. Despite it being mid-December, it is devoid of all presents. This fact has led me to ponder the act of gifting. Here are a few thoughts.

1) When it comes to host/hostess gifts, just take one. Or, they have every right to spit in your punch.  If you show up empty handed, the effervescence in your glass will not be from champagne. 

2) There are always debates on whether or not to regift, and I'd love to hear how you feel about it. I, personally, see nothing wrong with passing on an item that you don't like to someone who would love it, on ONE condition...that it was new when it came to you. I have one relative who, I swear, just grabs things out of her closet or from a shelf, blows the dust off of it, and shoves it in a gift bag. When she gives it to you, she explains, "It's an antique. Seriously, it is real vintage. Retro is all the rage this year." No, bitch, it's a tacky figurine that you bought from a souvenir shop in Hot Springs, Arkansas in 1975. 

3) When it comes to gifts, stay away from the three A's--art, animals, and activities. 
Art is subjective. A masterpiece to one person may be just a bunch of paint splattered on a canvas to someone else. There is nothing more annoying than having to rush and grab a hammer and nails to hang a picture when the friend who gave it to you does a drop-by, so you don't hurt their feelings. I suggest just leaving a hanger on the wall. 
Animals. I love animals...all animals, but unless you are willing to pet sit at any time with no notice and pay the vet bills when Fluffy eats a poinsettia, then don't buy an animal. 
Activities - gifts should not require that the receiver has to sweat or cook or get rubbed by some stranger in order to fully take advantage of your generosity. Don't assume the only reason poor Aunt Irma has never zip lined is because she hasn't had the opportunity. Maybe she's afraid of heights or has hemorrhoids. And, if they don't use it, they feel guilty. Guilt the gift that keeps on giving. 

4) If you want to make it easy for people to buy for you, develop either a hobby (for Frank, anything BMX or boat works) or a collection. I have one friend who used to be a delight to buy for because he collected everything, including cookie jars, rubber ducks, salt and pepper shakers, decorative plates, and anything cow-themed. This made it a joy to shop for him, then he embraced minimalism. So, this Christmas, out of respect, I'm not buying him shit. 

5) Surprises are for suckers. Even Santa needs a list to make certain that all the good boys and girls get what they want. Print out a list of items in all price ranges, in large print, and pass it out to all the people who you know will feel compelled to buy you a gift. 

Or you can avoid all of the above, by getting everyone the perfect present--the gift of altruism. Although psychologists argue exactly why (check out this article, This is Your Brain on Charitable Giving), donating to worthy causes or those less fortunate makes people feel warm and happy, and that's what a gift should do. So, head on over to GoodGiving.net and purchase a gift card. You pick the amount, the recipient picks the charity, and the organization gets the money. It's a win, win, win! 

I Google, Therefore I Am...Very Disturbed.

In the crime shows, they always send out a Forensic Computer Examiner to go through a suspect’s Googling  to determine just how disturbed they might be. After looking back over recent searches, I realized that if this ever happens to me, I’m screwed.

Here are some examples of answers I’ve sought from the interweb:

Do I have rabies?
How long can a cat go without food before they will starve?
Can you get HPV from a loofah?
How many virgins did Lady Bathory actually kill? 
Do squids have penises?
What is the most powerful poison on earth? And, where can it be purchased?
Is bourbon gluten free? 
Can tornadoes cross water? 
Has anyone ever made a porn based on "The Smurfs?"
Has anyone ever published a cannibal cookbook?
What is the proper pronunciation for “kegal?”
How many bars of Irish Spring soap can a dog eat before serious consequences?
Are there any states where human taxidermy is legal?
What is the name for the sexual fetish involving arm pit hair? 

…and the one that makes me question my own motives…

In which states is human taxidermy legal?

Why I Shot Robin Thicke

As if it was not bad enough that Robin Thicke and the whole jerk meets twerk foam finger fiasco footage is STILL being shown, Frank latched onto the tune way back when and will not let it go. Throughout the day, he bursts into the chorus of “Blurred Lines.” You know how it goes…

Bluuurrrreeed Liiinnneees,
I know you want it.
I know you want it.
I know you want it.

However, he doesn’t sing the actual words. He inserts his own lyrics. Here are a few examples.

Oooaaatmeeaal,
It’s healthy for you.
You just add water.
And then you eat it.

Poosssuuumm,
Get off the highway.
Or I will hit you.
And make you road kill.

Chaaiiin Saaawww
I really want one.
Maybe for Christmas.
I’ve been a good boy.

Fuuuurrrnnaaaccce
Is making a noise.
It’s the compressor.
I’m going to fix it.

And, my personal favorite…

Drruuunnnk Wiiifffe
Fell in the bushes
Laughing my ass off
Quick, take a picture

For putting me through this unending serenade, I curse you Robin Thicke to spend twenty years in purgatory with a sober, and thus angry, Kathie Lee Gifford as your only companion.  

This One Goes Out to All the Cumberb*tches!

Today’s guest is Teresa Tomb, the Artistic Director and Owner of 
Mecca Live Studio & Gallery and co-director of Rakadu dance troupe. For the past fourteen years, Teresa has been peppering the Lexington downtown community with accessible art by facilitating community art projects, performances, and events. Local businesses, artists, musicians, and dancers have all collaborated. Mecca is regarded internationally as a place to come study cultural forms of dance. Its workshops have brought both students and renowned guest artists from around the world to Lexington. Teresa is also the Choreography Co-Director for March Madness Marching Band and the artistic director and co-founder for Stage 948, a summer camp of multiple disciplines: visual arts, music, theater, dance, creative writing.

This weekend you can see the magic that Mecca creates at 1001 Nights at Lyric Theatre featuring Mardi Love.

The Bourbonista:  Tell me about yourself in 50 words or less. At least one word must begin with the letter “X” and none can begin with the letter “S.”
Teresa: Leo, cat lover, dancer, not Xactly what you might expect, love creating participatory community art, belly dancer, writer of things, delights in tasty experiences, delectable food, prohibition era cocktails, chicken whisperer, Mecca Dance (S)tudio, easy going, often timid and reclusive, and at times hilarious.

The Bourbonista: You speak chicken? I speak duck. I have a Mallard at the lake named Cheerios. In the summer, he comes by and quacks me awake every morning. He’s like a river rooster. But I’m horrified of chickens, for good reason. Did you know the chicken is the closest living relative of the tyrannosaurus-rex? Next question, If you were a circus performer, what would you be and why?
Teresa: Lion tamer, I got this. I understand their body language.

The Bourbonista: Me, too. If they roll over and show you their belly, they want you to rub it. If they lunge at you growling with their jaws opened and drool dripping, they want to eat you. Pretty accurate? Now, what would you do if you won the lottery?
Teresa: Do some extensive traveling and take friends with me.

The Bourbonista: Ooohhhh, let's start with India and then Scotland and then Spain and then Bali...wait, am I being presumptuous? So, if you were on death row…don’t act like you don’t know who you killed to get there…what would be your last supper?
Teresa: Something I cooked myself. Not because I am such a great cook, but I would like to have the ritual of cooking as well as eating my last supper. Most likely a beef filet that was marinated for a day then broiled in butter, steamed crab legs, and sauteed greens, red wine with dinner and bourbon before and after.

The Bourbonista: I'm just beginning to really cook, but since you seem to know your way around a kitchen, can I ask you a question? Can you go blind from cutting an onion. I chopped one at breakfast and my vision is still blurry and my eyes are still watering. But since I'm already teared up, I'll ask this next question since people's response always makes me emotional. If you were to write a short “Thank You” letter to your future self for all the cool shit you’ve done twenty years from now.
Teresa:
Dear Teresa,
Thank you for your perspective on family, the one that goes beyond blood relation to include all those with whom you surround yourself. Thank you for your perspective on verbal and communicated language, the one that includes all forms of expression, body language, music, the all-consuming need to create something and be moved to tears by the stroke of a cello's bow. I am glad that you found refuge and comfort in expressing yourself outside of convention and that you would encourage others to live artistically human. I am also glad to see you still wear those sparkly earrings.
Love from, Teresa

The Bourbonista: The real day a woman dies is when she sets aside the sparkly and puts on the pearls. The fountain of youth is filled with glitter and sequins. Lastly, if you were a booze, which booze would you be and who would you want to drink you?
Teresa:  Even though I am a bourbon girl, I would be a most delectable Sambuca sipped on by Benedict Cumberbatch while he reads “Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas” aloud. Sambuca is thicker, drunk slowly, and lingers in the mouth longer than bourbon. Sticking to that deep baritone throat, the warbling vocal chords...well, just imagine! (How’s that for an incredibly girlie answer? That one goes out to all the Cumberb*tches in the world!)

This Sunday, don’t miss the 2nd Annual rendition of 1001 Nights at the Lyric Theatre featuring Mardi Love ! Mecca Studio weaves stories of fantasy, beauty, splendor and adventure through music and dance. Each year we approach 1001 Nights tales with fresh interpretations and a cast of many musicians and dancers from all over the country. This year we are ecstatic to host Mardi Love for this event. She will be joined by Lexington's Rakadu, The March Madness Marching Band, SuperKate, Aminata Cairo, Matt Elliott, Tripp Bratton, Jason Thompson, Alyssum Pohl,David Farris, Chris Sullivan, Ford Theatre Reunion and more!! The Lyric Theater & Cultural Arts Center is located at 300 E. 3rd Street in Lexington.

Doors open at 6:30pm.
Cash Bar.

Purchase tickets here: http://lexingtonlyric.tix.com/Event.asp?Event=611164

Cat Piss Can Kill You

It's Hip Tip Tuesday. I learned this next one the hard way. Recently, I fell for the hype of the Tidy Cats LightWeight Litter. It is indeed light enough to juggle, but I don't need it for a circus act, I need it to keep my boat from smelling like ass, After only one day, it needed to be changed. I dumped it in a bag and headed to the trash to get rid of it. In the meantime, the meanest cat in town, Oscar Brown decided he couldn't wait to take a piss. I know he did it out of spite. 

I grabbed a gallon of Clorox to clean it. The minute I poured, the litter box made a hissing noise and began to bubble and spew. Noxious fumes rose from the angry chemicals.

The realization struck me--cat urine is essentially ammonia. Bleach and ammonia are about as compatible as Anne Coulter and Michael Moore. The two together form ammonium chlorine, which was used as chemical warfare during World War I. Mother of God, I'd made Mustard Gas! 

My skin started to itch. My eyes burned. I couldn't breathe. I felt dizzy and nauseated. Hell, no, I was not about to go down like that. 

Holding my breath, I ran outside and looked for a place to toss the box. I couldn't dispose of the toxins in the lake. My turtles were in there. I opted to just run up the abandoned dock and leave it as far from the boat as possible. I took several deep, deep breaths to clean my lungs. Then I went straight back and Googled, "Bleach and Ammonia, help." I felt a little relieved to find hundreds of search results. If people had perished from the poison they couldn't be commenting on About.com. I found a link as to what to do if you'd been exposed. 

I’d already disposed of the chemicals and made certain to breathe fresh air. I was typing, which meant I wasn’t unconscious. That was a good sign. As instructed, I opened all the windows and washed the affected areas. I read on and found out that though death is rare, exposure can cause long term respiratory problems and massive cellular damage. As if my lifestyle hadn't already caused enough cellular damage. 

It’s been two weeks since the incident and I’m breathing easy. But, cleaning a cat box with bleach is a mistake I will never make again.


Groovy image is from Cheezburger.com.

Benevolent Overlord of Elizabethan Quarter

This Saturday, October 26, is Make A Difference Day, the largest national day of community service and a celebration of the power of people to make a difference.

On this day, millions of volunteers around the world will unite in a common mission to improve the lives of others. In honor of Make a Difference Day, today’s Tête-à-tête Thursday guest is Natalie Cunningham, former Volunteer Coordinator and current Marketing and Public Relations Coordinator for The Lexington Rescue Mission, a non-profit organization that works to meet the physical, emotional and spiritual needs of hurting people in the greater Lexington Area.

Born and raised in Versailles, KY Natalie received her BA in Public Relations & Non-Profit Leadership at Murray State before making her home in downtown Lexington. She dreams of one day owning a boarding house in Morocco where patrons can play music for their meals, make art for their lodging, and enjoy some homegrown hospitality. She also happens to be one of my favorite lake guests.

The Bourbonista: Tell me about yourself in 50 words or less. At least one word must begin with the letter “X” and none can begin with the letter “S.”
Natalie: Life is a banquet table and we are here to fill it. I’ve been accused in the past of having xenophilia, but I can’t help my love for the exotic. I love to feed people, to experiment in the kitchen, and enjoy the fullness of life a full house brings. 

The Bourbonista: I can vouch for your kitchen skills. When you visited the boat, those scotch eggs you made for breakfast were fantabulous…and, coming from me,  that’s saying something considering they didn’t actually have any scotch in them. So, if you were a circus performer, what would you be and why?
Natalie: Trapeze artist, no question. I occasionally get made fun of for being such a girl, but I am in love with beauty. To wow an audience with grace and skill, while bringing something beautiful into the world, would be an amazing gift. Not to mention the incredible body I’d have to have to pull it all off.


The Bourbonista:
                She flies through the air with the greatest of ease.
                        The girl with hair on the flying trapeze
Seriously, you and that do flying through the air would be a spectacular. So, what would you do if you won the lottery?
Natalie: I would become a benevolent overlord of some small town, or a neighborhood in a larger city. I’m not talking about just owning all of the land, I mean complete take over. Buy up every piece of land, business and building, rename it the Elizabethan Quarter (a la my middle name) and declare myself Lord of the land. All who enter must have a code or pay a toll.

Or I’d be realistic pay off debt, buy my mother the log cabin she always wanted and go into hiding for the next 15 years so people could have time to forget I ever won.

The Bourbonista: I’m kind of digging this Elizabethan Quarter idea. I’m seeing Shakespeare’s England meets New Orleans during Mardi Gras—codpieces, blues bars, jousting, and frozen daiquiri machines on every corner. Now, let's get serious, if you were on death row…don’t act like you don’t know who you killed to get there…what would be your last supper?
Natalie: Oh no, the world is full of delicious foods. I think I’d kill myself early instead of deciding. If that’s not an option I would have home food: Soup beans, corn bread, fried pork shops, followed by a trip to Shoney’s salad bar, and some delicious rare delicacy I’d never tried before, just so I could go out with something new on my tongue.

The Bourbonista: I’m not an incarceration expert or anything, but I don’t think they’ll let you leave death row to go to Shoney’s. As far as that last rare delicacy—I found an article for you on “20 Strange Foods to Try Before You Die.” I personally would go for the Cambodian Fried Spiders. Now, if you were to write a short “Thank You” letter to your future self for all the cool shit you’ve done twenty years from now, what would it say?
Natalie:
Hey lady,
Thanks for never wasting money or time on things like cable television. Thank you for taking those big leaps: couch surfing, traveling to the furthest reaches of the world, gathering the coolest stories and then for fostering those kids. You have given and received more love than you ever thought you could. Now keep bringing beauty into this world!

The Bourbonista: Would you consider fostering an aging party girl? I’m going to need someone to watch over me when I get elder and keep me from ending up going viral on YouTube dancing on a bar at ninety in nothing but a pith helmet. If you were a booze, which booze would you be and who would you want to drink you?
Natalie: I couldn’t imagine being anything but smooth bourbon, to wet the whistle of a weary traveler missing home.