Snake and Eggs

Spring has sprung, y’all!

I KNOW! It’s beautiful outside, huh?

Yesterday, Mama said the Earth is “born again,” but I’m not super sure she knows what she’s talking about. I mean, as far as I can tell, the Earth is a bit of a hippie. I just can’t see her, with all those flowers in her hair and all that bluegrass in her arm pits, fitting in at the First Baptist Church Twice Removed Easter brunch.

But, I started thinking about Springtime and about how the Earth does seem to be re-born every year, and  about how Easter eggs and the commemoration St. Patrick’s snakes always come right at the same time, and about how sexual that all seems, and about how pretty all these little buds of flowers are, and about how I was once just a bud of a flower myself, and, oddly enough, so was Gomez, and these were all good, if sometimes confusing thoughts.

But then I started thinking about before my time as a bud of a flower (it was probably the Drambuie), and about how I was once in Mama’s belly, just a little shrimp of a thing. And, as if that weren’t creepy enough, I then found myself contemplating the fact that before I was a shrimp, I was just a tiny little zygote. Y’all know what a zygote is? Well, it’s barely anything at all! It’s just a clump of egg! Egg scrambled with upstream-swimming, salmon-like sperm. Without the toasted sesame seed bagel and dill cream cheese, you can’t even call it breakfast! Oy! I had to shake up three more Drambuie-mosas before I could shake my thoughts away from the horror of being a clump of nothing and back to the horror of being the clump of something I am now.

Today, I’m thinking about none of that. In honor of the second day of Springtime, I’m dyeing chicken eggs red, and hiding them from Gomez. I hid them so well, I’m sure he’ll pass over every single one. Especially if he never stops playing angry birds and actually starts looking for them.

Do y’all think Gomez has a hate-crush on me?

To Sag or Not to Sag

Hello, lovelies!

Hey, y’all may not know this, but the movie actors have a union and it’s called, of all things, SAG.


Now, the folks at Mean Mama Dog have had to decide what to do about SAG with regards to making this movie about my life (which is so going to totally rock, by the way). They wanted to know what I thought about SAG. They are in favor of it, but I’m against it, y’all. Real-real.

I’ve grappled with a debilitating gravity allergy my whole life, and I’ve been able to keep the gravity pretty much at bay. So far. So I’ll be darned if I’m going to let anyone force me to sag.

Screen acting celebrities like Nancy Grace, and Oprah Winfrey, and Christian Bale may have the luxury of sitting around sagging all day, what with every plastic surgeon and Tai-Bo instructor in L.A. at their becks and their calls, but not me. I can’t afford a Brazilian Wax (see?), much less a facelift, or a tummy tuck, or even botox. I simply must remain tight and high all on my own. Drambuie-tinis help with the high part, so I’m half way there.


Anyway, lovelies, take it from me. The Gild Sue Rosenstern Computer Internet Show movie is well under way, and there’s not one bit of sagging in it.


Stay tuned for updates, y’all. And spread the word!


Reid Stegall Joins Team Gilda!

Y’all, I couldn’t be tickled any pinker! (I’ve tried. Can’t be done!) Mean Mama Dog Productions starts shooting the movie about my life NEXT WEEK! I KNOW! It’s a dream come true, in so many ways. It’s actually my life’s dream to have a movie about my life. And the life that the movie is about, is that dream life come true. I KNOW! Crazy!

The BIG NEWS is that we actually have a guy to hold the camera and push the record button now, which even if you’ve never made a movie about your life you know is a thing that just damn rocks! Every movie ever made has to have that guy, and now that we have one — and not just ANY guy to hold the camera and push the record button, but THE RIGHT guy to hold the camera and push the record button — we can get rolling. So we raise a glass of Drambuie and Diet Sprite to Reid! Cheers! And as they’ve said since movies began, “ROLL ‘EM!”

Oh, P.S. If you want to rock as hard as Reid does, you can start by going HERE and helping us out by giving us some of your hard-earned, easily-lost cash! XO!



Here’s something new and different!

Starting September 7th, I’ll be appearing LIVE every other Wednesday night at Jerry Farber’s Side Door in Atlanta. 8:30 PM, and it’s just $5! God really wants you to be there. And by “God,” of course, I mean Woden, the Great Norse God of Wednesdays.

So mark your calenders, cause it’s totally gonna damn ROCK! I’ll be sharing the stage with all kinds of great entertainment, not the least of which is Jerry Farber, himself (when he’s in town). But musicians, comics, clowns, Indian Chiefs. . .Who knows!? 1st and 3rd Wednesdays of every month. (We’ll deal with that 5th Wednesday when we get there. Oy!)

Jerry Farber’s Side Door is at the corner of Roswell Rd and Piedmont, and it’s behind The Landmark Diner which is real-real special because when you walk in, you are somehow immediately transported to Astoria, Queens in New York. It probably has something to do with the tower of layer cakes at the entrance. This diner is owned by Greek folks who totally know how to bake some desserts, but they have loads of other kinds of food, too. My bobeshi would love it! She loves Greeks, in general, really, much to my Zeyde’s chagrin.

I’ll bet they even have Drambuie. (They’d better!) Anyway, come check it out. We’re gonna have so much fun, and you should be a part of it! Bring pals!


-Gilda Sue

It’s Gilda Sue’s Mail Bag! "Free Bird!"

Hello, lovelies.

This week’s Gilda Sue’s Mail Bag query is from someone called The Love of Pete. But don’t be fooled by the “Pete” part. There’s no way this was written by a man. Oy!

The Love of Pete writes:

“Gilda Sue, my brother needs me to help him with his marriage, but I’m too busy with my own marriage and my kids to help. How do I tell him to stop drinking and get a damn job already without hurting his feelings?!”

Hon, though the truth can be real-real hurtful, sometimes we just need to say it. “The truth shall set them free,” as Lynyrd Skynyrd says.

There’s an old adage that tells us, “if you can’t say something nice, then don’t say anything at all.” But my bobeshi taught me that that is for suckers. She always told me, “if you can’t say what you mean and mean what you say, then don’t say anything at all.”

And Pete, here’s something that only you (and maybe Sherlock Holmes, or even Dr. Phil) can ever know for sure, but it’s worth investigating: Is it possible that your concern over hurting your brother’s feelings is just a disguise for your fear of being vilified by him, or being disliked? Being disliked isn’t as bad as you might think, by the way. I find it’s often way better than the alternative, especially if that alternative involves keeping my mouth shut (as you might well imagine). And, anyway, to quote another great Skynyrd tune, you might ask that schmendrik brother of yours, “what have you done for me lately?”

Now, shouldn’t you be changing a diaper, Sherlock Holmes-ing what the heck your family wants for supper, or Dr. Phil-ing the corn out of someone’s nose? Pour yourself a double tall Drambuie-tini (light on the vermouth, heavy on the tini). Block/hide that brother on your facebook. Then text him to stop drinking and get a damn job, already.

Thanks for you letters, y’all. Keep them coming! You can find me here, or on the facebook!


Gilda Sue’s Mail Bag! "Saved by The Bell"

Hello, lovelies! This is the first non-video* installment of Gilda Sue’s Mail Bag, which will be a part of The Bleu Stockings (The Rogue Woman’s Guide to Unperfection) blog. Viewers and readers can ask me anything they want. Anything at all. (I KNOW!)

Our first missive is from Father Patrick Fitzpatrick of The Sister Mary Frances School for Underage and Guileless Boys in Pawhuska, Oklahoma. The father writes:

I’ve been following your advice with regard to dealing with uncomfortable feelings, and I’ve just been pushing them deep, deep down. It almost works. But not really. I fear there will come a day when I will actually have to face my demons. And if what all these Protestants are saying is true, that day is fast approaching. Judgement Day could be as close as next Saturday, May 21st! What do you think?

Oh, well, I guess I should’ve gotten to that a tad sooner. Sorry, Father.

Oy! OK.

A) I assume, when you say “these protestants” you mean this guy that I found on this CNN site, right?

So then, B) What I think is, no, I don’t believe this Judgement Day thing is going to happen, hon. At least it isn’t going to happen last Saturday. And if that Rob Bell is to be believed, it won’t really matter if it does happen last Saturday. Or any Saturday, for that matter. And they write articles about him in Time Magazine and stuff! (I KNOW!)

But more important, hon, is thirdly, or C) If those uncomfortable feelings keep bubbling up to the surface, you do need to deal with them. And you may need to admit you need help, which is sometimes real-real hard for folks. I find that a hot Drambuie-tini with a chocolate-caramel swirl garnish always helps me.

Bottoms up, Father Pat! (And by that, I just mean “cheers,” okay? Oy! )

Keep your questions coming, folks. Leave a comment below or send a private query HERE! I look forward to hearing from you!

Bye, now.

*Click HERE for the Gilda Sue’s Mail Bag episode on The Computer Internet Show, y’all.