Wenda rants to friends and family

In between shifts, or when the fryer is down I like to take the time and write home to friends and family. Below are some of the grease and tear stained letters for you to read. 

Wenda's Letter to Jack-Jack I wrote this to my dear friend Jack E. Jett upon hearing he was planning on going for the world's record for the longest televised broadcast.     Oh Jackie Honey!! The World's Record!!! Finally you will have earned a world record title without the words “Miss” “Tranny” or “Bukkake” in them. I am so proud! The thought of it just brings a tear to my eyes! Well I have some big news! Can you believe it? Here I am heading back home to Wetumpka Oklahoma after bein' thrown out on my ass in Hollywood when out of the blue I get the chance to set up a diner right here in Santa Fe! Well in my off time I have been trying to write for The Voice here in New Mexico. I was also asked about maybe writin' what they call a ‘blog' for my new site, which was donated by my dear friend Zsa Zsa Glamour. Well seein' as how she discovered me when my cable access feed got shot to the wrong satellite and she started airin' my cookin' show out there in San Fran how could I say no?       I did however say ‘maybe.' I wanted to look at her website, www.lavenderlounge.com first. Now, let me tell you I am no prude, and the longer George Bush is in office the more I want to rip my clothes off and run across the White House lawn screamin' “Give Me Back My Country!” however I was not quite prepared for the magic that is Lavender Lounge.       The main reason being is ever since my husband Burl got drunk and threw up on my computer keyboard I have been forced to do all of my internet browsing at the local library. (As a side note now that Big Sheriff Pete won't let me target practice by shootin' rats at the dump anymore I have instead focused that energy learnin' the computer.) Well, when I tried to pull up the site www.LavenderLounge.com I should have known something was up. I had to disable the firewall, shut down Windows Defender and hack in as an Administrator just to open the site, but I went ahead anyway. Usually Penny Patterson, our local shrew and librarian, has the content filters jacked so high you can't down load the alphabet passed the letter X so I was hopin' it was just her. Anyhoo, once I got a clear shot at the web and got into see ‘La Lounge' for myself I couldn't believe it!  You cannot imagine my shock and surprise to find a very well laid out, bright and fun gay man's porn site with some other creative, interesting tid bits to look at in between “appreciating” the pictures and videos. How refreshing. That did it for me and right then and there I decided that I would love to be the filler in Sister Zsa Zsa's porn meatloaf!     Why I would be helping socially by sharing my recipes and helpful hints to the public as well as helping physically by giving the tired members' hands a chance to uncramp while reading my writin's and such. Perfect!       Of course in my world nothin' stays perfect for long and sure enough just then all hell broke loose. I guess Penny has some kind of alarm system back there behind the check-out desk because just as I heard the sirens I looked up to see her headed my way.       Lord, God- she was scootin' down the isle so quick I was afraid a spark from the static electricity her Orthopedic Shoes were causin' would light up one of the dried out old book pages and we'd all be burnt alive, right there in the stacks! (Which, I was afraid, was Penny's plan in the first place.) Well I  switched to the decoy tab I had opened earlier featuring my dear friend Betty Butterfield. Luckily a homeless man next to me was knee deep in some Tranny-Porn and Penny got him instead. ***(note to self: call Heklina and remind her to update her site.)     Anyway, seein' as this is my first “blog,” ( I guess that's what they call them-‘Blog.' Sounds to me like when of my youngins' has a fever and comes in sayin' “Momb by nose id blogged.” I mean who thought that up? God forbid they name it somethin' purty like “e-spressions: the electronic expression”) I figure before I get to the task I have chosen to tackle with this “blog” (ugh! It's like the sound you make when you step in a sink hole) which is to bitch about the internet, (see I've started already) and maybe share a recipe or two, I figure we had better get reacquainted.     Although we haven't been in touch much in the last few years, due to my hectic family life and your alcoholism, you have to know that bein' asked to do this makes me so proud! The thought of it just brings a tear to my eyes! I think it's because I have been feelin' like a real failure lately since neither me nor my family haven't amounted to much. Burl is still truckin' and so far not one of my real kids ever got further along than Uncle Smiley's Trade-School, which I still think is a rip off to this day.     Teachin' kids how to repair old Beta-Maxs' and Garbage Disposals and passin' it off as “a steppin' stone to your dream career” to me is just blatant lies. I mean learnin' about fixin' just those two things can only come in so handy. Three years Goat went there and can't even jump start my car if I need. But oooh boy! If a fork gets caught down the drain he is Johnny-On-The-Spot! It breaks my heart to tell him a broom handle can do the same job he spent three years train' on and doesn't charge for the service.     And Darlene, my dear dumb-ass daughter Darlene. I know she got her associates degree from El Reno Junior College and was the first Watch to get ANY type of higher learnin' but since her grades were based on the sexual act she was willing to perform on her “professors” to get them [you know ‘B for Blow' ‘A for Anal'] well I just don't think that counts!     Now I do have my excuses for why you haven't heard from me in a million moons, and I have been meanin' to sit down and write you a letter several times but a couple things have gotten in my way. First and foremost is since Goat has yet to find a steady income in the Beta Max Revolution he swears is coming (do NOT mention DVD's to him AT ALL), well he has started his own tattoo parlor out under the carport and there is not an ink pen left in the house!! I tried to write you but all that was left in the house to write with was two broken crayons and a Sharpie and by the time the letter was done, well it looked like I was writin' to ya from the crazy house! (And I should know . . . I still have all of momma's letters.) The other reason is we are havin' a bit of a paper shortage around here, but I don't want to go in to that particular problem right now.     You know I don't think we've spoken since my big nationwide television debut as hostess of The Q Television Network's Hit Show “Life's A Drag.” You remember QTN? It was one of the only gay television networks ever and with the love and support of America and its never-ending desire to accept change and embrace diversity the damn thing went belly up within a year.       Actually it was just about the time I went to work there they went out of business come to think of it. Hmmmmmmmm? Odd. Anyhoo more inside dirt on that later. I only bring it up because we haven't spoken since then.     Oh! Remember the day I got discovered? Just like Lana Turner sittin' at the Schwab's Drug Store Soda Counter covered in her pale pink sweater set. (Only I was at the Cum- N-Go covered in tattoo blood and Vaseline but why split hairs?) You were hosting “The Queer Edge” at the time and found me down to the Laundromat. I was just about to drop in my Downy Ball when you came in. People like you, who've been on TV and all, what with the way they dress and have their hair done, they are different than the rest of us. I saw you and just one thought came to mind the moment I laid eyes on you: there is one big homosexual. You burst into the Cum-N-Go and was making a big stink to Lovinda the owner. Something about “the store sign was very misleading” “Tourist Trap” “False Advertising” and “the total lack of truck stops along I-40”. I don't know what all. Well you kept talking about stuff none of us understood when you said somethin about findin' Glory and the Hole in your life. Fillin' your Glory Hole or somethin' (I figured it must be one of them new Spiritual Hollywood religions) well that was enough for Lovinda (a died in the wool Charismatic Pentecostal) and off she went speakin' in tongues and rollin' around. I remember you was just about to shove a pencil under her tongue when I jumped in and grabbed your hands.     For the longest time all you could do was stare at my hands. You was admiring the yellow rubber gloves I wear to do my bleachin' and we got to talkin' and you said you thought I would be perfect for this show they were puttin' together. He was out lookin' for the average housewife (little does he know) to travel around the country and discover all of the different drag shows and styles out there.     Well I wasn't born yesterday and knew you weren't talking about the car races. I may be from a small town, but the gays pop up everywhere and if you're in a little bitty ol' town like Wetumpka and have half a brain the first thing you do when you get to town is git in your car (or Big Wheel as the case may be) and drive around until you find yourself a gay. In these smaller country towns we tend to grow ‘em skinny, blonde and nervous. You'll know ‘em when you see ‘em. Anyway best advice I can give a married woman: Pull over, introduce yourself, offer him a ride, take him for a coca cola WHATEVER. Before you know it you will have the best friend a married mother of 6 could have. Honey they LIKE to clean. They'll do your hair bettern' anyone down to The Hair Barn, they'll keep you company and help you fold clothes. They don't mind skippin' school to come spend the day with you and watch all your stories together. Them little things don't hardly eat nothin' they's so nervous all the time and FUNNY! Child I can not begin to tell you. There is a couple cautions I should give if you are going to adopt a gay. They are to 1) Hide your prescription pain pills, 2) Don't leave ‘em alone with the satellite remote as Direct TV will only write off one of them $8.99 Playgirl Movie Rentals once and 3) you are just going to have to get over not allowing smoking in the house. It is well worth it! Just put the baby in the carriage and roll 'em out on the porch. The little 'uns need the fresh air and believe me them little queer boys need them cigarettes. More shaky than a tea cup poodle.       Anyway, me and my “Bag” at the time (boy/fag: he made it up) had taken me all the way to Oklahoma City a couple of times to see the Legendary Ginger Lamar along with Kitty Bob Aimes and all those girls at The Boom. So I knew what "drag" you was talkin about. Anyway I don't know what hit me but I blurted out: “I'm gonna Criss Cross Dress America!” and you were in love. I remember I told ya “Ya know I've always said "Just because life's a drag doesn't mean it has to be ugly!” and I was hired. You said “Sandra is going to love you!” and I said “Sandra who?” You laughed and said “Sandra Bernhard of course!" She is going to be co-hosting my show with me.” Well I past out right then and there landing me smack dab in the middle of the pile of Goat's blood and ink stained AC/DC t-shirts I had hauled in there to wash.     I thought maybe you just meant for me to have a small segment on your show trying to help fill those awkward gaps when Ms. Bernhardt was off stage having her lips re-filled. I thought we might just kind of sit around and chit chat about what's goin' on at The Lazy Hooker Hot Spot and Mobile Home Court that week. You were at first concerned I may not be available what with the baby and family and all but I told you: “Trust me; I will be on that plane out to Hollywood even if Old Sammy Been Llama was drivin' the plane hisself! (P.S.-What a prick huh? Like what ol Been Llama did to all them big old buildings and poor people out there in New York wasn't horrible enough, but now thanks to him with the gas prices have gotten just too damn high! I mean it takes $42.00 just to get the LTD to start for God's sake! It's a '79 and what did we know then? Hell its gotten so bad if I need to get anywhere around town I pretty much have to tie a sheet to Little Donnie's Big Wheel and pray for wind! And before you ask: yes, thank God, I did have the foresight to hide the Big Wheel behind the Cum-N-Go before I went in. Lord! Can you imagine if a big Hollywood Homosexual type like you, Mr. Jett had seen me peddlin' down main street in a day glo Big Wheel carrying a pile of bloody rags? You might have gotten the wrong impression!     Anyway I'll fill you in on the details of my rise and fall to and from semi-notoriety in future e-spressions. (“electronic expressions” damn that's good. Its when I come up with stuff like that gets me to wonderin' just what exactly did God have in mind when he decided to plop me down in the middle of a cow field in Oklahoma. Sometimes I get so sick of it all I am ready to just call it quits and go deal black jack in Reno. I know it's a crazy dream but I think I could do it. I've been thinkin' about it a lot lately because so many things are goin' wrong around here.)     The worst part of it all is the new baby is a fussin' all the time. See Burl, (you know my husband Burl; you met him right after that embarrassing moment at last year's “Wal Marts presents your local home town “Fashion Week EXXXTRAVAGANZA” and they were just about to reveal the new Kathie Lee Gifford line of Klan Robes and Capri Pants. Remember what an awkward moment THAT was? Oh, Lord-I'll never forget the moment when they revealed her new line of “Mix-N-Match Hate-Wear” (“the only time its okay to mix colors.”) She stood there in front of God and everbody and promised it was all guaranteed 100% kiddy-sweat-shop-factory made. (Its terrible, I know, but they do git them little bitty stitches just right) and then they pulled the curtain and everyone just kind of gasped and mumbled to themselves and shifted around with their heads down and kickin' the dirt. We were all just SO shocked none of us knew what to do! I mean what was she thinking? An entire collection of Klan Robes you could buy right off the rack and there it was, my God, right in front of us all to see: not a XXXL in the lot!!!     What did she think all those XXX's were for in EXXXTRAVAGANZA anyway?? Decoration? Personally I can NOT stand the racist M.F.ers (pardon my French) we got around here but that is not the point. The point is to know your market Kathie! It's basic Economics 101. If you are going to bring a clothing line from California any further East than Arizona you might as well save the Mediums for your petite collection and start gittin' little Pepe' to stitchin' XXXX's as fast as he can. See- that's what happens when these health-nut California types come to town. Suddenly everyone's all super self conscious about how they look and they start actin' stupid like questioning takin' fourths at The Golden Corral. Its ALL you can eat people! Not AS MUCH AS YOU WOULD LIKE TO eat. Hell, if I know we're goin' Corral'n for lunch I just clear my schedule for the rest of the day. I know better. I usually leave there about as close to strokin' out as I ever hope to be and just plan on being comatose and immobile until tomorrow's breakfast at least. Yep, Californians hit town and pretty soon the next thing you know they're expectin' you to pay hard earned money for WATER! For WATER! Lord I thought I'd never see the day. Besides- Californians ain't nothin' but Oklahomans with the red dirt washed off ‘em.     Anyway, back to my husband Burl,well as you know we are on a real tight budget what with his war wound and havin' to get the prosthetic and all. See he gets to havin' one (or twelve) too many Coors and ends up passin' out all over town and forgettin' where he went and left his fake leg at! Lord after three you'd think either someone would have found one and turned it in for the reward or he would have learned to tie a rope to it when he goes out to the Shanty for Chicken Night. But oh no! No such luck for your Miss Wenda. Personally I think he's been throwin' them into Old Mullvey's Pond if you ask me. I tell you what them prosthesis thingies are NOT cheap believe you me. So we are already scrapin' by as it is but then Last Sunday I wake up not only to find he's passed out and legless again but he's gone and drank all the diaper money! So this week here I am havin' to wrap the baby in old newspapers to keep him from peein' all over everything. I'd let him just go naked but Lord that kid can pee more than a rabid cat so I wrap him in newspaper. I know that sound horrible but I did start with the better quality paper I could find around here like I always use the Parade first and the motel stationary I take whenever we go to Branson for the shows. (See this is why I was out of paper to write you –but I don't want to get into that) Well you can just imagine that the newspaper gets that poor little baby boy all red and rashy and just as mean as spit.     And then since I still have to try and save some money, by the time I get done with my coupon clippin', usually for diapers,  how's that for irony? there ain't much left to use. Lord I can hardly lift my head to get another drink of beer I'm so tired of it all. And another baby to handle! I am just not up to it. I mean do YOU think it's bad I haven't  named him yet? Its not that I don't love it, I mean him, it's just that I have got so much else to do that namin' him keeps gittin put to the bottom of the pile! Hey! Pyle! Maybe I'll call him Pyle; just like that Gilligan character on the TV. Maybe out in Hollywood I'll meet him and git his autograph and we'll hang it over his crib! Little Gilligan Pyle. . .wait, what?)     Good Lord it is funny how things work. Like the fact that you and I had known each other years before when I was first married and you were my first skinny blonde gay. Of course I didn't recognize you after all these years all cleaned up and successful.  Talkin' like this to you now makes me remember those care free days when I first met you. Member our mornin' talks when we'd sit across from one another on the steps to our adjoining' trailers with me sippin' my coffee?       I had just woke up and was still pullin' Mr. Sandman out of my eyes and you over there on your step just a shakin' and gaggin' hung over to beat the band and doin' your best to try and sip down some old white lightnin' Daddy made back before he blew himself up. I kept some around just for you and your Monday mornings, and as a drain cleaner in emergencies. I'd sit there and you'd tell me about your big weekends out to the big city and goin' to the men's bars and sleepin in park toilets and I don't know what all! Lord, I thank God every time I get down on my knees for the day I met you. (And between you and me I seem to be on my knees a lot lately. Seems I am either always scrubbin' these floors or have'n to pleasure Skeet every Saturday like clock work and then there's the crawlin' around afterward tryin' to find out where his legs rolled off to—sometimes it feels like I git on my knees and talk to God more than Jimmy Swaggard after a night with a collection plate full of money and a church van full of hookers.) I will never forget the day you pulled up next to my trailer lot in your van. Remember that old thing? It was the van you had stolen from your Daddy after he found you in bed with his favorite huntin' dog and your uncle Little Ray- Ray. You asked if you could come and stay awhile. It doesn't seem that long ago that I was barely pregnant with number three, Peggy Jean, and you were puttin' yourself through Mr. Jacquie's House of Femme Quoiffures Beauty School by blowin' hair out at the Old Folks home durin' the day and blowin'truckers off 1-40 at night. Oh the stories you'd tell! (By the way- I have been meanin' to ask you-did they ever find the b-o-d-y? Have you ever heard anything about that? I watch Unsolved Mysteries ever now and again just to see if maybe. . .) oh dear friend I have missed you. Have you missed old Wenda?       Well I'm getting weepy here so I better say goodbye. Lot 42 sure is empty without you. PLEASE WRITE SOON. Let's keep in touch here, every week. I'll update you about the goins' on in my world and as usual I got a few bones to pick as well. So we can just hem and haw all we want. I would love to get a real letter or two in the mail from you but if you need to get a hold of me quickly you can at wenda@wendawatch.com just send me an “e-spression©” any time. (Okay! Okay! I'll drop it!)       Oh! Damn it! I gotta run--the baby's just peed through the last page of my Sears Catalog and the only thing I can think of to do now is to either just go ahead and sit him in the cat box or start peelin' the labels off the canned goods. See. . .I ain't kiddin when I say “Write SOOON!” (I need the paper!) Before I go though: Honey, answer me this: How does someone get to a point in their life where they are frantically trying to find the last ink pen their convict son has yet to drain to tattoo his friends so she can write down which can of food is which because she has had to peel the labels to diaper their children? It all just snuck up so slowly its not until its all too far gone that you look up and say “Now how in the hell did I get here?”       Oh well. This new change to the Southwest may just be the charge my life needs!  Oh the baby! Damn it! Now-Where in the hell did I put down that Sharpie?? Love to you! XOXO Wenda