Saturday Morning Beauty Shop Satire Only In The South.

MyMaddRemi blogs are generally geared for the conservative Southern reader. I’ve never had success making a liberal Yankee blush. Picture



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Mrs Mots has been old and nosy as long as I can remember. That is not just my opinion, ask any local patron at the salon. We all hold our breath, in hopes she doesn’t “corner us up”. 

She is the CFO, CEO and HBIC of our local professional women’s gossip organization. These ladies are well studied in the school of business. Particularly, the business of others. Spending so much of their time researching like a passionate journalist, the lives of anyone who may be walking a less than perfect physical, mental, emotional, financial, or spiritual path at the moment. 

Mrs. Mots is that lady who will not shut up without hearing the unnecessary details of a complete strangerunspoken prayer request.

Seriously, what matter is it of hers: the occupation of the subjects maternal grandfather, in the 1950s. It never fails she always takes the prize, compliments of Beltone. Call today for a free trial.

The Mrs Mots of the world do their homework. Running over anything in their path to meet with the other ladies (who unfortunately are in her civic group), and share the latest findings of others misfortune. The majority of these women are truly focused on volunteering regularly in the community, voting for yard of the month and having coffee with fresh pound cake for brunch twice a week with dear friends. I would be willing to bet the sweet ladies of our local auxiliary wish they could recant ever voting Mrs. Mots in the club. 

The following is the latest beauty shop misfortune involving a poor soul who had no idea who Mrs. Mots was or what she was capable of! 

It as a typical Saturday morning at the salon when the new girl in town drew the short straw, that of being seated next to Mrs. Mots at the shampoo bowl. Motsoverheard (common occurance for Mrs MouthOfTheSouth)the lady ask where the restroom was, and also briefly telling her stylist of the 27 phone calls and texts she purposely declined over the past two hours from her soon to be ex husband. The young lady was obviously shaken from missing the call that came through from her 12 year old son whom she had left home alone for that morning. After all, she was assured that Magnolia Way was one of the safest streets in town). The poor thing couldn’t break away fast enough to call him back. She hung on to every word as her son’s squeaky voice inquired about changing his lunch request. 

“Instead of a BigMac with a small fry can I have a BigMac, large fry, and a Coke? Followed by the sweetest,how much longer are you going to be? Momma, I walked way down the street but then I thought of how I did not want that big dog to spot me. I’m back inside, on your bed, with all the doors locked. Safe and sound. 


Oh, and mama, do you care if I ask that pretty girl down the street to come over when you get home? She is really sweet I promise you will like her. Please mama!”

Since wearing hearing aids during the shampoo/shimmer lights process isn’t advised, along beside 14 blaring hair dryers, and the memory of a mouse, the stressors involved in Mrs. Motsrendition of the whole story, were obviously three or four more than she needed. She knew her group of ladies would be in disbelief. Mrs. Motsstarted her latest tale with the discretion of the young ladys dismal appearance that Mrs. Mots so graciously emphasized. (Down here,walking out of your bedroom for that 1st cup of coffee, is done with the same eagerness, zest, attire, hairstyle and make up as heading out the door for a fine dining experience. Mama says you never know who you might meet, see, or more importantly need….once you walk out of the comfort of your home).

It took all of three days, 72 hours, for this story to emerge. Thanks to what we refer to as, the Mouth Of The South (Mrs.Mots)…It went something like this.

“Y’all know that new lady in town. I believe she’s the third teller at the branch bank on main street. That tinythang came in the beauty shopSaturday mornin‘ (obviously a good 4-5 weeks late on her color), in those real tight stretchy workout pants, with not a stitch of lipstick on, and yall ain’tgonnabelieve what I heard come out of her mouth. Obviously, that woman left a house key for Dr Michael Day. Yes, him of all people! Now I know we all thought him one of the best Christian men in town, but just so everyone knows, he is quite the man of low morals and short patience. See,I told y’all this was gonna be good!! 

Ok, so, sitting right next to meSaturday mornin‘ while I waiting for June Kathryn to ranse my hair, I watched her phone go off over A HUNDRED and 27 times. It was him, Michael Day! When she finally answered, he changed his voice (incase someone could overhear. Of course,you know how they do) and said……


“I am here, inside, safe and sound. I walked a good long ways down the street, so no one would spot me. Now I am lying on your bed with all the doors locked. I think I’m in love with you, hot mama. I cannot wait to look into your big eyes and do a quart of coke. Oh, and before I forget, do you care if we invite that really cute girl down the street over to join us when you get home? Please pretty mama? I promise you will like her.

Picture

Picture

This younger generation amazes me at what they are willing to tolerate. When I say, that lady never batted an eye, y’all she rwas all but wearing a smile. She even sounded excited about the other girl coming over when she got home. 

I think I’m going to move my church membership. I’ve been thinking about it “This younger generation amazes me as to what 




since the music minister rearranged our seats. I can’t see what the preachers wife has on from where I sit now. You can bet your bottom dollar around these parts, Minister or not, you just don’t come in and start rearranging seats in a Baptist Church. That’s why we have committees.

All I can say is “Thank You Lord” for hairdressers. Without them and a few other non-bias witnesses, Dr. Day would still be in dreading his first marriage session. Not to mention, that poor new lady (who really did need her roots touched up) would still be under investigation by the DHS.
Not to be born and raised, but rather relocated, to this town is tough. To be seated by Mrs Mots on your first Saturday at the salon, even tougher! It is critical to know who to keep your mouth shut in front of when you get your hair colored. With that being said I really hope this new lady has a pair, a big pair! She is going to need them. I personally have a 12 x 14 walk-in closet specifically for big girl panties. I’m truly sorry, but even southern hospitality does not allow the sharing of my underwear.

If I knew Mrs. Mots read blogs, I might just write one. A blog geared for her enthusiasm in gossip. You see people that are excited to hear of another’s misfortune, are covering up what we like to call “a multitude of sin”!

I would no doubt place a warning label across the blogs header. One that encourages those who are sensitive, too serious or have too much pride to admit a hiccup in their past to please take their meds prior to reading. If they are lucky I will protect names but only of the innocent. I’m kidding. I’ll protect the Mrs. Mots of the world too. We all know who they are anyway. All of you Mrs. Mots think you have covered up your filthy past. Thatyou have lived your life green with envy of someone else in this town’s past, so we ask for someone to please pass you instead of collards at the dinner table.
The blog would be educational for those who don’t know her. I would give definitions. Such as Whoyababiesdaddy? Some may be ignorant enough to think it only defined in the “Urban Dictionary”,which happens to have it all wrong. Around here, when that term is used it’s generally referring to – a married lady and the one and only time, she has ever, in the entirety of her life, kept a secret. Also generally pertaining to the subject of a married man. Here’s some new lingo for ya, MrsMots……TRIFLING. Yes ma’am, feel free to complete the comment section below. No doubt being referred to as unimportant and/or trivial in this town, will get a response out of you. It certainly won’t get you Grand Marshal of the Christmas parade for the 4th year in a row.

I urge the ladies of this category to get a new prescription of provision bifocals and to take their heart medication first thing. Reminding them of their dementia and nerve pills seems pointless. No pun intended. So pour yourself a big cup of coffee, maybe even treat yourself to a tbsp of sugar and connect to Wi-Fi, pick a blog and open it up. I will be glad for you to learn something and laugh at my expense. It’s all fun, games and shimmering lights until the reason behind all your animosity is exposed. I can’t wait to find out who the subject is, of Beauty Shop Gossip next week! In the South, will it only be found, people who write about the people, who talk about others. I’m certain there lays a story somewhere for someone to tell.

I feel as if I am wearing a disclaimer indicating my repetitive perseverance in impulsive, unrestrained, lack of control for now going on 36 years.
I’m not a fan of my past but if people can blog about their climb to success I suppose my freefall to rock bottom (where I broke both ankles trying to use a shovel), would be worth someone’s time. I’ve not been gosh awful, but just because I haven’t killed someone doesn’t make me proud. Lord knows, it doesn’t my mother.
You can bet your bottom dollar when it’s my time to be gossiped about, it won’t be due to heart failure or death. Down here you just mention my name, wait for it, yep it’s generally followed by…….I know I just heard, Bless Her Heart.
glad the 8 years I did hair no one was truly a Mrs Mots. I could put 5 or 6 together and those ladies might be pretty close to her category. Bless their sweetheart’s over half of them are now dead.
One in particular, she caught the pneumonia at the Christmas Parade. JK

Go now to my Mississippi Mustache page! Help a girl out, please! I want to use you.

(I bet that made you jump right over there)


Seriously it’s gonna be a FUN!!!



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Meticulously  fabricated by: Mandi Lee Hargrove



Picture

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

MrsMotshas been old and nosy as long as I can remember. That is not just my opinion, ask any local patron at the salon. We all hold our breath, in hopes she doesn’t “corner us up”. 



Picture

MrsMotshas been old and nosy as long as I can remember. That is not just my opinion, ask any local patron at the salon. We all hold our breath, in hopes she doesn’t “corner us up”. 

She is the CFO, CEO and HBIC of our local professional women’s gossip organization. These ladies are well studied in the school of business. Particularly, the business of others. Spending so much of their time researching like a passionate journalist, the lives of anyone who may be walking a less than perfect physical, mental, emotional, financial, or spiritual path at the moment. 

Mrs. Mots is that lady who will not shut up without hearing the unnecessary details of a complete strangerunspoken prayer request.

Seriously, what matter is it of hers: the occupation of the subjects maternal grandfather, in the 1950s. It never fails she always takes the prize, compliments of Beltone. Call today for a free trial.

The Mrs Mots of the world do their homework. Running over anything in their path to meet with the other ladies (who unfortunately are in her civic group), and share the latest findings of others misfortune. The majority of these women are truly focused on volunteering regularly in the community, voting for yard of the month and having coffee with fresh pound cake for brunch twice a week with dear friends. I would be willing to bet the sweet ladies of our local auxiliary wish they could recant ever voting Mrs. Mots in the club. 

The following is the latest beauty shop misfortune involving a poor soul who had no idea who Mrs. Mots was or what she was capable of! 

It as a typical Saturday morning at the salon when the new girl in town drew the short straw, that of being seated next to Mrs. Mots at the shampoo bowl. Motsoverheard (common occurance for Mrs MouthOfTheSouth)the lady ask where the restroom was, and also briefly telling her stylist of the 27 phone calls and texts she purposely declined over the past two hours from her soon to be ex husband. The young lady was obviously shaken from missing the call that came through from her 12 year old son whom she had left home alone for that morning. After all, she was assured that Magnolia Way was one of the safest streets in town). The poor thing couldn’t break away fast enough to call him back. She hung on to every word as her son’s squeaky voice inquired about changing his lunch request. 

“Instead of a BigMac with a small fry can I have a BigMac, large fry, and a Coke? Followed by the sweetest,how much longer are you going to be? Momma, I walked way down the street but then I thought of how I did not want that big dog to spot me. I’m back inside, on your bed, with all the doors locked. Safe and sound. 


Oh, and mama, do you care if I ask that pretty girl down the street to come over when you get home? She is really sweet I promise you will like her. Please mama!”

Since wearing hearing aids during the shampoo/shimmer lights process isn’t advised, along beside 14 blaring hair dryers, and the memory of a mouse, the stressors involved in Mrs. Motsrendition of the whole story, were obviously three or four more than she needed. She knew her group of ladies would be in disbelief. Mrs. Motsstarted her latest tale with the discretion of the young ladys dismal appearance that Mrs. Mots so graciously emphasized. (Down here,walking out of your bedroom for that 1st cup of coffee, is done with the same eagerness, zest, attire, hairstyle and make up as heading out the door for a fine dining experience. Mama says you never know who you might meet, see, or more importantly need….once you walk out of the comfort of your home).

It took all of three days, 72 hours, for this story to emerge. Thanks to what we refer to as, the Mouth Of The South (Mrs.Mots)…It went something like this.

“Y’all know that new lady in town. I believe she’s the third teller at the branch bank on main street. That tinythang came in the beauty shopSaturday mornin‘ (obviously a good 4-5 weeks late on her color), in those real tight stretchy workout pants, with not a stitch of lipstick on, and yall ain’tgonnabelieve what I heard come out of her mouth. Obviously, that woman left a house key for Dr Michael Day. Yes, him of all people! Now I know we all thought him one of the best Christian men in town, but just so everyone knows, he is quite the man of low morals and short patience. See,I told y’all this was gonna be good!! 

Ok, so, sitting right next to meSaturday mornin‘ while I waiting for June Kathryn to ranse my hair, I watched her phone go off over A HUNDRED and 27 times. It was him, Michael Day! When she finally answered, he changed his voice (incase someone could overhear. Of course,you know how they do) and said……


“I am here, inside, safe and sound. I walked a good long ways down the street, so no one would spot me. Now I am lying on your bed with all the doors locked. I think I’m in love with you, hot mama. I cannot wait to look into your big eyes and do a quart of coke. Oh, and before I forget, do you care if we invite that really cute girl down the street over to join us when you get home? Please pretty mama? I promise you will like her.


 




Picture

Picture

This younger generation amazes me at what they are willing to tolerate. When I say, that lady never batted an eye, y’all she rwas all but wearing a smile. She even sounded excited about the other girl coming over when she got home. 

I think I’m going to move my church membership. I’ve been thinking about it “This younger generation amazes me as to what 




since the music minister rearranged our seats. I can’t see what the preachers wife has on from where I sit now. You can bet your bottom dollar around these parts, Minister or not, you just don’t come in and start rearranging seats in a Baptist Church. That’s why we have committees.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

D

 






 





 











 






 



All I can say is “Thank You Lord” for hairdressers. Without them and a few other non-bias witnesses, Dr. Day would still be in dreading his first marriage session. Not to mention, that poor new lady (who really did need her roots touched up) would still be under investigation by the DHS.
Not to be born and raised, but rather relocated, to this town is tough. To be seated by Mrs Mots on your first Saturday at the salon, even tougher! It is critical to know who to keep your mouth shut in front of when you get your hair colored. With that being said I really hope this new lady has a pair, a big pair! She is going to need them. I personally have a 12 x 14 walk-in closet specifically for big girl panties. I’m truly sorry, but even southern hospitality does not allow the sharing of my underwear.

If I knew Mrs. Mots read blogs, I might just write one. A blog geared for her enthusiasm in gossip. You see people that are excited to hear of another’s misfortune, are covering up what we like to call “a multitude of sin”!

I would no doubt place a warning label across the blogs header. One that encourages those who are sensitive, too serious or have too much pride to admit a hiccup in their past to please take their meds prior to reading. If they are lucky I will protect names but only of the innocent. I’m kidding. I’ll protect the Mrs. Mots of the world too. We all know who they are anyway. All of you Mrs. Mots think you have covered up your filthy past. Thatyou have lived your life green with envy of someone else in this town’s past, so we ask for someone to please pass you instead of collards at the dinner table.
The blog would be educational for those who don’t know her. I would give definitions. Such as Whoyababiesdaddy? Some may be ignorant enough to think it only defined in the “Urban Dictionary”,which happens to have it all wrong. Around here, when that term is used it’s generally referring to – a married lady and the one and only time, she has ever, in the entirety of her life, kept a secret. Also generally pertaining to the subject of a married man. Here’s some new lingo for ya, MrsMots……TRIFLING. Yes ma’am, feel free to complete the comment section below. No doubt being referred to as unimportant and/or trivial in this town, will get a response out of you. It certainly won’t get you Grand Marshal of the Christmas parade for the 4th year in a row.

I urge the ladies of this category to get a new prescription of provision bifocals and to take their heart medication first thing. Reminding them of their dementia and nerve pills seems pointless. No pun intended. So pour yourself a big cup of coffee, maybe even treat yourself to a tbsp of sugar and connect to Wi-Fi, pick a blog and open it up. I will be glad for you to learn something and laugh at my expense. It’s all fun, games and shimmering lights until the reason behind all your animosity is exposed. I can’t wait to find out who the subject is, of Beauty Shop Gossip next week! In the South, will it only be found, people who write about the people, who talk about others. I’m certain there lays a story somewhere for someone to tell.


I feel as if I am wearing a disclaimer indicating my repetitive perseverance in impulsive, unrestrained, lack of control for now going on 36 years.
I’m not a fan of my past but if people can blog about their climb to success I suppose my freefall to rock bottom (where I broke both ankles trying to use a shovel), would be worth someone’s time. I’ve not been gosh awful, but just because I haven’t killed someone doesn’t make me proud. Lord knows, it doesn’t my mother.
You can bet your bottom dollar when it’s my time to be gossiped about, it won’t be due to heart failure or death. Down here you just mention my name, wait for it, yep it’s generally followed by…….I know I just heard, Bless Her Heart.
glad the 8 years I did hair no one was truly a Mrs Mots. I could put 5 or 6 together and those ladies might be pretty close to her category. Bless their sweetheart’s over half of them are now dead.
One in particular, she caught the pneumonia at the Christmas Parade. JK






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