The Travels of Anita Duchee’

The Duchee’ name has been associated with a nice warm summer eve in the hills and on the lakes of Tennessee.  I am part of the Duchee’ family of Paris, Tennessee, catfish capital of the world.  It’s something about that summers eve and catfish; I really do not get the connection here.  But anyway, I digest, I mean digress.  I am now claiming my new home as The Trose De Le Mont of Houston…. (for those that do not yet speak Montrosian, that would be The Montrose Area of Houston, right dead in the center of the city. As I was traveling around the Trose, strolling along, and I look in utter amazement at the plethora of architecture, so unlike my own in the woods of Tennessee, and I wander on.  Some gentlemen waved at me, and being the nice genteel southern lady that I am, well, I decided to wave back, and feeling a bit feisty, I did pull my skirt up, above the knee, and I felt so cheap, and superfluous.  In my journey into the Trose, I came upon a nice lil green bar, seeming to be close the middle of the entire city.  I Glided in with a small grand entrance, “I’m HERE!” I graciously said.  The gentleman behind the bar was quite genteel, and very pleasant.  I smelled the wonderful aroma of Coffee, must be fresh made, and I took the liberty of introducing myself to this wonderful man named MS period Jones.  What a name, and I was instantly endeared to him.  (By the way, He/She, whatever, does make a wonderful cup of coffee).  I did inquire (you know, enquiring minds want to always know), if MS Period Jones would know (since it was a Sunday), where the spiritual world of the Trose would be located.  Of course, MS Period Jones, graciously, with all the aplomb of kind southern gentleman, pointed right behind him, and I did see so many spirits, I actually felt the vapors come over me.  I had found the spirits of the Trose.  After a brief conversation, I ventured onward to another venue I had passed on the way to George.  That Big Brown building on the other corner, you know, the Cord De La Rip (that would be the Ripcord, or the Drawstring, as I have heard this venue spoken of before).  As I ventured into this Venue, I noticed that there were some of the butchest (yeah, right Blanche) men I had ever seen in my life.  There was this nice bartender there, very nice.  There were posters and drawings all over the place, and I imbibed in a bloody mary.  I was finally finding more sprits of the Trose, oh what a joy.  I also was told, and observed that this venue is where the butch of the butchest hang out, on those sultry summer eves.  There we go again, that connection between the Duchee’ name and those wonderful evenings.  I did notice, and I heard gossip, of my organizations that gather at this venue, so I was told, to imbibe in various activities, of a hedonistic nature, and other various things.  There was a conversation going on, and you know me, I never listen in on other people’s dialectic exchanges, but I did overhear that, and I quote, “There is no drama in Space!”  Well Well Well, that just doesn’t make any sense to me, so, being the kind genteel woman, of very high (and low) breeding, yes, I have been bred before, I listened further, and did find out there is something very special about to happen in the Trose…I thought they might be talking about my time in the trauma, I mean pshchia, ah ah, Time in the Drama Ward…I guess I’ll find out more later……

After a few wonderful libations at the Cord de la Rip, I decided to venture onward, to a nice little place I saw, when I entered that establishment that MS Period Jones was the bartendress…or is that bartender…..I believe the place is called Barnaby’s.  What a wonderful name, as I did have a beau in the backwoods, named Bubba Barnaby, and well, that’s a whole story until itself….but anyway, the nice waiter recommended the wonderful pesto chicken salad sandwich, without the bread.  I thought that would be a wonderful thing, and I ordered it.  This wonderful thing was served, and I gasped, a sharp intake of breath, and the gentleman I was with, laughingly said, those are Bodacious Tattas……. And well, I thought, there I go thinking again, and that can be dangerous, in certain circumstances.  But anyway, after a wonderful repast, we went back to see MS Period Jones, and further explore the spirits of the Trose…..TATA!


You Wandering Vagabond.

Anita Duchee’ (that’s with a double e, accent ague)


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