BEAUTY SHOP TALK

by

Vicki Charmaine Bunch

I hate Lulu Crenshaw and it's not just because she gave me the finger in the car pool line at school the other day. It's the elegant theme parties she throws for her stuck-up daughter Morgana--"A Night in Polyester," "Hey, Gals, Let's Macrame!" and "Bowling for Burritos."

How can my pitiful Destinee compete?

God knows I try.

Last October the invitations to Destinee's Mud Pie Extravaganza were already in the mail when Lulu announced that a local band called Pimpledelic would perform at Morgana's party the same night. The only kid who showed up at our party was Hannah Wheat whose parents don't believe in rock and roll.

Destinee has never recovered from the blow.

The other mothers hate Lulu too. Thanks to her, we have to pitch in and pay for a limousine to drive our girls to skating parties so they won't feel like white trash when Morgana shows up in one of those trucks with big tires. What next? Breast implants and nose jobs?

Last month I spent the beer money on monogrammed boxer shorts for Destinee and was Sonny ever mad. But what do you do when your own flesh and blood is standing there bellowing like a castrated calf?

I'll tell you what you do. You sweep up customers' hair off the beauty shop floor and sell it to wig manufacturers in Puerto Rico. You work nights at Musty's Fish 'n More "swabbing the deck." You hock your own mother's wheelchair. All so your pathetic offspring, who was born to you through no fault of her own, can have a virtual pet cemetery full of giga-animals to rival Morgana Crenshaw's.

Now, to top it all, Lulu has opened a tea room for pre-pubescent social climbers. Teatime for Pre-Teens was an instant sensation, and not because they teach manners and serve cucumber sandwiches. More likely it's because the Crenshaws keep a caged alligator on the premises.

Jasper is begging me to sign him up.

I know the boy could use some etiquette. When he licks his plate, he always gets his hat in the margarine tub. But Jasper doesn't even like tea.

And if he's going to study deportment, I want him to learn the Bunch family manners that have been passed down for generations. Like--always turn your head to spit. And give company the first choice of toenail clippers. I couldn't care less if he never learns to say, "Please pass the mayonnaise."

It just burns me up. All of a sudden Lulu's as popular as a dog in heat. Teatime for Pre-Teens has been featured on cable access. And the Axel Rattler ran a color picture of Lulu serving petit fours to the mayor's secretary and Sheriff Dickey's wife Linda.

Lulu and I bumped into each other at the grocery store yesterday. When I accidentally ran over her big toe with my shopping cart, she uttered the most unladylike expression. In fact, she said it so loud, I backed into a fishing lure display and got hung up on a Bass Assassin.

And wouldn't you know it? Lulu didn't even say, "Excuse me."