Margarita and Boogers

I promise you that this post will read nothing like the title eludes to.

I confess that I stray from shabby chic yumminess when the job calls for it.  I do beach cottage, many faux finishes and other looks as well.  This was the case Sunday, when my HGIC (head girlfriend in charge) texted me to tell me there was a dresser loose on a street close to her.  I ordered her to “Get it!” as I was busy at the warehouse and decided to make her my immediate employee that I would repay by way of dog sitting or taking her to her car dealer to drop off her Jeep for an oil change that would otherwise hold her hostage in the “Customer Lounge” all day.  BTW, why do they call it a lounge?  I have never seen a lizard or a cocktail come out of there…. Liars….

At any rate, my friend dropped off the dresser while I was away.  It wasn’t what I expected.  I had expected a very french ornate deal.  I got a faux bamboo number.  It was jacked up with thick shiny/gloppy paint and hand prints from the owners younguns on top as well as lots of grime.  Inside, (and I know you like to know what was left behind) there was a little Minnie Mouse sweatshirt.  I assume it was outgrown… I removed it with my drawer tongs and disposed of it.  The inside was as clean as could be.  The drawers were all turned around. The good news was that was all that was wrong.  They were not on their tracks  Once put in the right places and on correct tracks, all drawers opened like buttah!

The top had to be stripped to the original finish, which was in perfect shape.  The rest got painted in white with gray dry brushing and the lyrics to the beginning of a Jimmy Buffett song…or so I thought.  I had gone through life thinking that these were the words:

Livin off Sponge cake,  Watchin the Sun bake……..  Wasting away again in Margaritaville.

I awoke the next day with the instant thought to go to www.lyrics.com to look up the real lyrics.  “Nibblin on Sponge cake….. Wasted away again in Margaritaville.”  Now that was different!  I had to repaint and reword the dresser.  Jimmy would be ashamed of me, for sure.  Besides, how can someone live off sponge cake and waste away at the same time?  It cannot be done.  I know, I’ve tried.  Here is before and after of “Margarita”

Now…BOOGERS.  This has nothing to do with Margarita..but it was and has been on my mind today.  Raised in the south, we have many uses for the word booger, none of them what you think.  Here’s how I was taught the word that I detest but probably often say:

Booger- defined

1.  Man, that storm was a BOOGER!  (meaning it tore down a single-wide and Bubba’s front porch coke machine)

2.  “Boy, you better get outta that old truck bed, a BOOGER will jump on ya!” (a southern parenting technique to get children off of or away from dangerous places or situations, inferring a spider, roach or snake attack.)

3.  “Honey, I saw Gerdine down to the Piggly Wiggly and her hair looked like a WOOLY-BOOGER!”  (Even this is a variation on the term, it means a heinous hairdo and assumes the woman resembled a drunken Teamster.)

4.  “I love you, BOOGER.”  (A term of endearment usually meant for children.  This probably confuses them.  Refer to #2.)

I hope this clears up BOOGER CONFUSION.  It is common here in the central part of Florida.  You’re welcome  🙂

Here is a picture of a little corner of the Vintage Warehouse!

-Dana

Mystery Disease

where good stuff lives..

Lots of cool stuff happening here at Shabby Chic Addiction!  Did I tell you I was asked for a radio interview about how I got started in the yummy decor and goodie business?  (Only a hundred times?!?!?) Well now, you must hear it for yourself!  You’ll find my interview segment starting at minute 20:10. Que it up so you won’t have to listen to people who have nothing to say about junk or shabby chicness or decorating. http://view.liveindexer.com/ViewIndexSessionSL.aspx?indexPointSKU=5L82bV9S4UfAZgwaEY0%2fmQ%3d%3d

That interview was fun and I learned something about myself un the process!  I had it in my head that I have always been a junker, a shabby magnet, if you will.  The interviewer said she had watched me over just the last year after I proclaimed to her that I was going to change my house to a romantic shabby chic look.  And it all started with my headboard!

Speaking of headboards…  look at the picture of one of our vignettes at the warehouse!  This is just a tiny corner of the joint!  I can’t share any more than this pic because we haven’t finished sorting, staging or preparing for our sale.  Our plan is to make it a monthly junk purge set to the tune of  the Sanford & Son’s TV theme song.  April 20, 21 and 22 will be the first. But enough of this shameless self-promotion!

And on to a more serious topic:  The MYSTERY Disease. First, let me tell you what it’s not:

Not Snookie-Preggers  (the kind of pregnant when you ALREADY feel sorry for the baby)

Not the Sundrop Dance disease (where you dress and dance like you never wish to get laid again…ever.)  www.sundrop.com  see the “Drop it like it’s hot commercial”  Hot, yes…hot mess!

Not Middle Aged Zumba-itis (Where you are 40+ and insist on going to zumba classes with full-on head to toe zumba logo embellished clothing.  It’s sad..Don’t.

These are the true symptoms of the MYSTERY disease:

1.  You wake up with an idea to find old shutters and paint them in a haphazard manner to use them as a corner accent in your home.

2.  You drive 46 miles around your town on the hunt for abandoned shutters to paint.

3.  You are excited for garbage day in the historic district in hopes to get good junk before the city hauls it away.

4.  You learn to breathe through your mouth so you don’t notice the musty smells of old things.

5.  You start calling dust and rust “patina” and consider everything with it much more attractive and valuable.

6.  The bright lights of the discount mega stores begin to hurt your eyes and sensibilities. (I call it Junk Vampirism).

7.  You happily trade your only day available to sleep in late for an early rise to go “pick” at yard sales and flea markets.

8.  You consider used layers of lace and denim with cowgirl boots as appropriate garb to wear to the grocery, a flea market or even an evening out.

Ladies:  If you have identified with any of the 8 symptoms above you may be at risk for the mystery disease.  Unfortunately there is no cure.  Victims with a severe case can expect to experience frustrated husbands who are constantly asked to move furniture, fix old junk and endure mismatched pillowcases and frilly bed linens.   This disease may alienate you from friends who are creeped out by patina.  The good news about your disease is that you will be very happy with your treasures, you will make new girlfriends who love patina and you will crave the thrill and adventure of a dumpster full of vintage furniture and finds.

Oh, and it’s contagious, and I have it..so with computer viruses and such..Get Well Soon!  🙂

Pause

The above video is the theme song to my drive-bys, pick ups and midnight junk runs.

This is a song we Zumba to. (Zumba:  a dance class for crazy people who think they look like Usher and Janet Jackson dancing when they really look like Cee Lo on meth.)

At any rate… This is the song I hear in my head when I am on a curbside furniture rescue. I prefer to call it rescue and NOT theft.

It’s sometimes a surprise as to what is lurking in the forgotten corners of abandoned or thrift purchased furniture. Just this week I came across these tidbits:

1.)  In a set of 1950’s french provincial night stands:  1 pair of tweezers and a pair of cuticle snips, a lace hanky and a picture of someones ass. Literally, a picture of someone’s ass~ circa 1960.

2.)  In a dresser:  A fake fingernail and  2 hits of acid on stamped paper.

3.)  In a roadside rescue dresser:  A crayon,  a nickel, a twenty-dollar bill, all wadded up and stuck between drawers… and  a tooth.

4.)  In a cabinet: A shoe lace,  cassette tape of David Bowie, a chicken foot and a  cowboy boot.

So, with these little details I have assumed that many people who I cosmically or financially transact my furniture from are an eclectic group of  highly groomed, drug addic,t voo doo enthusiasts with a flair for country western?  Also, I figure I am up $20.05 , two hits of acid and an ass picture.  Surely the street value of the latter two would be worth at least a ten spot.  (KIDDING…..I WOULD NEVER SELL THEM ON THE STREET!  That’s what Craigslist is for…)

It does take some doing to figure outl what all is left behind in a piece of furniture.  You see, it shifts in transit and things become visible again when once they were hidden.  The tooth and the fingernail, both gag-worthy items, came rolling out at me like marbles when I pulled out the drawers.  I handled them with tongs that I have rigged up with spongy grip so I don’t have to touch them.  The single tooth did help me understand the mystery of so many toothless people in my county.  (Evidently the tooth fairy is heinous and just yanks and stashes teeth in furniture so that her quota doesn’t go over… something like that.)  I imagine the press-on nail became a resident of the night stand on a drunken evening when lady and her man were having a squabble about which youngun pulled up all the onions she was growing in the yard and chucked them into the above ground pool.  I imagine that the argument grew hotter and in the midst of her finger-waving monologue about how there. “Won’t gonna be no damned onion rings at Skeeter Mae’s birfday party!” that the one nail flew off and hid in the drawer next to her Lucky Strikes and Vaseline.

So, I am replacing the song, “Pause” by Pitbull (Video attached) with a shout out to my boy David Bowie as I blare the cassette (turned MP3) song “Let’s Dance”  and deem it my new FAS (Furniture Acquisition Song).

Anybody want to buy a cowboy boot?  Size 10. Mens.

My pulls were once knotted telephone cords