Mama D

So-
Every so often, there will be a news report about some deluded individual who sees either The Virgin Mary or Jesus in a potato chip, a pizza pan or an egg sandwich. (For some reason, these people never see Moses or Elijah.) The blessed item will often be placed under a glass pie cover to respect and preserve it. Citizens of the hamlet where this miraculous sighting took place will gather 'round it, bearing witness to religious history. (These sightings never happen in large cities, presumably because people are too busy to notice such things.)

Well, it's happened again.

This time the lucky visionary is Mary Jo Coady of Methuen, Massachusetts, who discovered the face of Jesus on her iron. (See above photo)

Now, maybe I'm not as sophisticated as Mary Jo Coady, but I don't see it. And I've really tried. But all I see is a burnt iron, and I worry about what happened to the clothes she was ironing.

Then I tried to picture the timeline of this miraculous event. Since I wasn't there, I have to fill in the details from my imagination. So I figured the timeline might go something like this:

9:30am: Mary Jo Coady finishes a hearty breakfast, in which for a thrilling moment she thinks she's seen the Virgin Mary in her Eggo Waffle, but ultimately concludes that she was mistaken. She sighs.


9:45am: Mary Jo Coady goes to the laundry room, wearily piling up the clothes she has to iron. She puts on the Adult Contemporary radio station ("The Greatest Hits of Yesterday and Today!") to put a little kick in her step. 


10:00am: Mary Jo Coady begins ironing. 


10:15am: Mary Jo Coady gets distracted while reminiscing about her exciting and educational trip to Colonial Williamsburg two years ago. The result is that she burns her favorite Quaker Factory sweatshirt.


10:17am: After a brief moment of grief, Mary Jo Coady turns that frown upside down. Because she examines her iron which reveals...the face of Jesus. 


10:25am: Mary Jo Coady calls up some friends and tells them about the Heavenly Glory in her laundry room. 


11:00am: Mary Jo Coady's coffee klatch descends upon her house to inspect the Blessed Burnt Iron.


11:30am: Over a cup of Maxwell House and pie, one of her friends (the wacky, crazy, fun gal--she's a hoot!) throws out the idea that they should contact the local news station. 


11:40am: More coffee.


12:00pm: Amped up on Maxwell House, Mary Jo Coady calls the local news station. The Assignment Desk is enthralled by her tale of religious imagery in domestic drudgery, and they send a reporter to her house.


Thus, Mary Jo Coady has cemented her place in local news lore...

The Peon Confidential hiatus is over, just in time for me to assist you with your Black Friday shopping questions.
And in particular, your porn shop questions...Okay, it's really just the answer to one porn shop question.
You see, I went out with some pals recently and learned the answer to a mystery that's been haunting me for far too long.

So, a couple years back a former CNN peon and myself had tickets to a concert at Madison Square Garden. We get there and find that it's been cancelled. Devasted but still in search of fun, we popped into a porn shop around the corner. Within this porn shop we found the usual merchandise: blow up dolls, DVDs, vibrators and those weird plastic pussies that truly creep me out.
You know what I'm talking about? They're just these cooters that come in a box. They aren't even attached to a plastic woman. I hate to think about tragic, lonely men pounding away at these things, then rinsing them out and putting them away in their Kmart dressers for use later.

I do not know what I would do if I were dating someone, opened their dresser drawer and found one of these pathetic fake snatches. I suspect the reaction would be the same as when I found a massive roach in my New Orleans bathroom. It was crawling on my toothbrush. Then when I tried to throw out the toothbrush with roach attached...the motherfucker flew at me. I ran out of there so fast that I slipped and banged my head on the wall. Then I called for backup. I'm a tough woman but I have my limits.

Okay. So. Back to the point...
There we were in the porn store.

And in the midst of all these seedy sundries, we see three massive stacks of...Delta Burke's book entitled,
"Delta Style: Eve Wasn't A Size 6 And Neither Am I."


We could not figure this out. Who would buy this book here? Does Delta Burke have an audience we don't know about? Do perverts read uplifting celebrity accounts about learning to accept their fat thighs? But mostly it was just an overwhelming thought of...why?

Well,  I finally got my answer the other night.

Turns out that in certain places, there is a 70-30 law. Meaning that at least 30% of the merchandise in a porn shop needs to be non-porn related. So Delta Burke and her uplifting book were helping these porn purveyors uphold the law!

Mystery solved.
And with that, I'm off to slice a piece of pie for breakfast.

Happy first official day of the Holiday Season to all of you!

Hello Peons!
Just checking in with you to tell you I'm not dead. Neither is the blog. What's dead is my computer. But it's with the nerds at the Mac store, where I can only hope they are treating it with as much love as I do. I cannot tell you how forlorn my desk looks now, with only a cookie crumb infested keyboard on it.

Until my computer and I are reunited, I'd just like to leave you with this bit of information: Southern Cooking Personality Paula Deen was smacked in the face with a ham yesterday.

Back soon with more of the useless shit you've come to expect from this blog...

-VJDutton