Podcast appearances and mentions of julia sugarbaker

Ah, the age-old fun-house version that's not so “fun” - that's what we were facing this season with Ms. Julia Sugarbaker. Her condescension was at an all-time high throughout the season and the runner of the tension between her and Mary Jo wasn't our favorite part of the season. HOWEVER, there were some high points, so let's chat about it. And come back later this week for the second installment of the “Sweet Tea & TV Book Club” - we're talking all things Dixie Carter's 1996 book, “Trying to Get To Heaven: Opinions of a Tennessee Talker.”

Sometimes the best tales are the ones that go in a different direction than you expect, as with this story of an ingenious and optimistic young woman (channeling her inner Julia Sugarbaker!) who makes her dream come true, but on her terms. Based on The Swineherd by Hans Christian Andersen. Free, thanks to our friends at enVypillow.com and SierraSil.com. Drift is free, thanks to our wonderful sponsors: enVy Pillow and SierraSil. Both of them have been generous enough to offer 10% off all online purchases when you use the code drift.

It's time we revisit our “Extra Sugar” all about Dixie Carter! By the time we'd done this, we'd done segments about the lives and careers of  LBT, Annie Potts, Meschach Taylor, Delta Burke, and Jean Smart, but we owed you – and ourselves – a Dixie Carter deep-dive. This episode is where we pay up. We're finally talking about Ms. Julia Sugarbaker herself, THE Dixie Carter. P.S. If we sound punch drunk, we kind of were thanks to copious amounts of sherbert punch leading up to the segment. 

6 - 11 - 24 JULIA SUGARBAKER PHONE by Maine's Coast 93.1

Julia's hilariously unconventional parenting techniques had us cracking open our etiquette books and asking WWAVD? That is, what would the “arbiter of manners” and the “authority on etiquette” Amy Vanderbilt do?  We'll talk about it. But look: Ms. Vanderbilt has a fascinating story all her own – so we're going to talk about her, too. We'll wrap up with a chat about modern etiquette because someone has got to teach people how to be polite in social media comments. Sheesh.

SHOW NOTES The longest cold open in Fullcast history Dabo does his very best Julia Sugarbaker, which isn't as good as Holly's Julia Sugarbaker, but we're sure he tried his best For a rich guy Dabo sure is sensitive about money! Let's find some other 53-year-olds, for scientific comparison Okay so who CAN we rely on, looking at the back third of the schedule Let's check in with Michigan, having another normal one Visit sunny preownedairboats.com! Subscribe to Vacation Bible School and Channel 6 and Buried Treasure! Listen to We're Not All Like This and DNF! Sign your name away in full faith to Shutdown Fullbooks! Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

SHOW NOTES The longest cold open in Fullcast history Dabo does his very best Julia Sugarbaker, which isn't as good as Holly's Julia Sugarbaker, but we're sure he tried his best For a rich guy Dabo sure is sensitive about money! Let's find some other 53-year-olds, for scientific comparison Okay so who CAN we rely on, looking at the back third of the schedule Let's check in with Michigan, having another normal one Visit sunny preownedairboats.com! Subscribe to Vacation Bible School and Channel 6 and Buried Treasure! Listen to We're Not All Like This and DNF! Sign your name away in full faith to Shutdown Fullbooks! Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Yesterday was a challenge -- by about 8 a.m., I was already ready to read people to filth, Julia Sugarbaker-style. But today's been a better day! --- Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/imcoopedup/support

We've done segments about the lives and careers of  LBT, Meschach Taylor, Delta Burke, and Jean Smart, but we owe you a Dixie Carter deep-dive. Today's the day we pay up. We're finally talking about Ms. Julia Sugarbaker herself, THE Dixie Carter.

Sometimes the best tales are the ones that go in a different direction than you expect, as with this story of an ingenious and optimistic young woman (channeling her inner Julia Sugarbaker!) who makes her dream come true, but on her terms. Based on The Swineherd by Hans Christian Andersen.

God goes full Julia Sugarbaker on this week's episode of Gay With a Bible. Listen along as Dan and Rachael try to make sense of one of the most complicated peace negotiations in the history of the world. But hey, silver lining here? Your two favorite gays get to learn all about the Passover holiday! Chag Sameach! Show Notes: The New Oxford Annotated Bible - https://www.pagesbkshop.com/book/9780190276072 (purchase through independent book stores!) https://www.biblegateway.com/versions/New-International-Version-NIV-Bible/ Designing Women clip: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FOllz6eGbXI Michael David Lukas, Sympathy for the Pharaoh, Slate https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FOllz6eGbXI --- Send in a voice message: https://anchor.fm/gaywithabible/message

We continue our journey through the TV of decades past this week on the podcast, heading down to Atlanta to spend some time with Designing Women. The hair, the shoulder pads, and of course, those Julia Sugarbaker rants! Before the DVD Shelf, though, we have a full week in TV to discuss. First we look at the comedies, including the worst called it ever on The Amber Ruffin Show, a relatable Last Week Tonight, and a surprising The Unicorn. Then Kate teases RuPaul’s Drag Race UK and we go long on season 13’s Snatch Game. Over in drama and genre, Kate catches up with Queen Sugar and Wynonna Earp before we talk The Flash and Barry’s new speed-thinking, Kate spoils Noel on the latest developments on Black Lightning, and we round out the week with the finale of WandaVision. Take a listen, then reach out with your thoughts on Designing Women, WandaVision, and the rest of the week’s TV! DVD Shelf: Designing Women (1:04:04) Our Week in Comedy and Reality The Amber Ruffin Show (8:54) Last Week Tonight with John Oliver (11:55) The Unicorn (18:52) RuPaul’s Drag Race UK (21:50) RuPaul’s Drag Race (22:30) Our Week in Drama and Genre Queen Sugar (39:38) Wynonna Earp (41:00) The Flash (42:01) Black Lightning (47:11) WandaVision finale (52:15) Music Featured:  “Fascinated” by Company B; “Working Man’s Blues” by Johnny Copeland

We continue our journey through the TV of decades past this week on the podcast, heading down to Atlanta to spend some time with Designing Women. The hair, the shoulder pads, and of course, those Julia Sugarbaker rants! Before the DVD Shelf, though, we have a full week in TV to discuss. First we look at the comedies, including the worst called it ever on The Amber Ruffin Show, a relatable Last Week Tonight, and a surprising The Unicorn. Then Kate teases RuPaul’s Drag Race UK and we go long on season 13’s Snatch Game. Over in drama and genre, Kate catches up with Queen Sugar and Wynonna Earp before we talk The Flash and Barry’s new speed-thinking, Kate spoils Noel on the latest developments on Black Lightning, and we round out the week with the finale of WandaVision. Take a listen, then reach out with your thoughts on Designing Women, WandaVision, and the rest of the week’s TV!DVD Shelf: Designing Women (1:04:04)Our Week in Comedy and Reality The Amber Ruffin Show (8:54) Last Week Tonight with John Oliver (11:55) The Unicorn (18:52) RuPaul’s Drag Race UK (21:50) RuPaul’s Drag Race (22:30)Our Week in Drama and Genre Queen Sugar (39:38) Wynonna Earp (41:00) The Flash (42:01) Black Lightning (47:11) WandaVision finale (52:15)Music Featured: “Fascinated” by Company B; “Working Man’s Blues” by Johnny Copeland

Please enjoy one of our classic episodes from the archives this week!Interior designer and TV personality Lauren Makk grew up in the south, fluffing other people’s pillows, painting murals on train cars under cover of darkness, and rolling with her car crew Ill-usion. As a little girl, Julia Sugarbaker on TV’s Designing Women was Lauren’s career role model. Years later, she is also a designer on TV! She’s made her mark on Trading Spaces, FABLife, and Home Made Simple. She’s building an empire, leaving a legacy, and dreaming of giving the White House a “Makk-over.”Images and more from our guest!Please say Hi on social! Twitter, Instagram and Facebook - @CleverPodcast, @amydevers, @designmilkIf you enjoy Clever we could use your support! Please consider leaving a review, making a donation, becoming a sponsor, or introducing us to your friends! We love and appreciate you!Clever is created, hosted and produced by Amy Devers and Jaime Derringer, aka 2VDE Media, with music from El Ten Eleven and editing by Jennie Josephson.Clever is proudly distributed by Design Milk. Support this show http://supporter.acast.com/clever. See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

“A Toe in the Water” (September 23, 1991) What is Designing Women minus Delta Burke and Jean Smart but plus Julia Duffy and Jan Hooks? An interesting beast that is different than the Suzanne/Charlene years, yeah, but still pretty damn interesting. This episode is a showcase for Duffy’s anti-Diane Chambers, Allison Sugarbaker, who only lasted a season but it wasn’t her fault? Jonathan Bradley Welch makes his second GEE turn to talk Sugarbakers and his new podcast with Stonewall Democrats. Listen to our previous Designing Women episodes, Julia Sugarbaker Plans a Gay Funeral and Suzanne Sugarbaker Accidentally Dates a Lesbian, as well as Jonathan’s first GEE episode, Roy Biggins Has a Big Gay Son. Check out Jonathan’s queer politics podcast, The Read Down: YouTube • Twitter • iTunes • Website Listen to Drew’s new 80s music podcast, Deep Cuts and Superficial Wounds: Mixcloud • iTunes • Stitcher • Libsyn • more to come! Read Rembert Browne’s Grantland article on Delta Burke’s exit from Designing Women. And read the L.A Times article on Jean Smart’s far-less dramatic exit. Listen to Gayish’s episode on bisexuals. The Slate article on the political affiliation of various TV characters. Shop for Gayest Episode Ever shirts, totes and more on our TeePublic page. Buy Glen’s movie, Being Frank. Support us on Patreon! Follow: GEE on Twitter • Drew on Twitter • Glen on Twitter Listen: iTunes • Spotify • Stitcher • Google Play • Google Podcasts • Himalaya • TuneIn • SoundCloud And yes, we do have an official website! And we even have episode transcripts courtesy of Sarah Neal. Our logo was designed by Rob Wilson. This is a TableCakes podcast. This episode’s outro song is “In the Evening” by Sheryl Lee Ralph: Apple Music • Amazon Music • Spotify

In this episode, I'm joined by postcard entrepreneur Kate Wiggins of Sugar & Kiki. We talk about her postcard store, postcard designing, the joy of writing postcards, and Julia Sugarbaker (the Sugar of Sugar & Kiki).  Sugar and Kiki Sugar and Kiki Blog 18 Million Thanks

Julia Sugarbaker takes on her most formidable opponent yet: the U.S. Constitution! Is pornography protected under free speech? Is it obscenity, or capitalism, or both? And what does TROOP BEVERLY HILLS have to do with any of this? Join your hosts, the women of Sugarbaker and Associates, Anthony, and a very aggrieved newsman in our Season 3 finale to find out! Show: DESIGNING WOMEN “Julia Drives Over the First Amendment,” Season 3, Episode 22 Air Date: May 22, 1989 Find it: on Hulu Snack: Trader Joe’s Peanut Butter Filled Pretzel Nuggets Further Reading: Joe Coulombe, Who Founded Trader Joe’s, Dies at 89 | New York Times Miller v. California | Wikipedia Pornography has deeply troubling effects on young people, but there are ways we can minimise the harm | The Conversation How to be an ethical porn consumer in nine easy steps | Independent 7 Things the First Amendment Doesn’t Protect

Ahhh, yes. Time to finally delve into a movie about mutants! “Days of Future Past,” you ask? Nah, been done already. “First Class,” maybe? Pffft, it was just okay… “Logan,” you wonder? Please, don’t be rude. This week the hosts talk about what was clearly the, uh, *best* mutant movie, “X-Men Origins: Wolverine.” Uh huh! James and Giselle jump in and discuss what made the 2009 superhero flick so… special… along with semi-rewriting the movie in the process. In other words Julia Sugarbaker should have been in it. Listen and you’ll understand.

In this first podcast, Sharon Brown Keith will introduce herself and discuss the importance of manners in our society and the need to teach etiquette to the younger generation. Come listen and join the Re-Belle-ian!!!

Our Sugarbaker journey continues! This week, David and Jonathan welcome the incomparable Susanna Lee (she's given a TED talk and she's phenomenal) to discuss the season 1 episode "Monette" and the one time Julia Sugarbaker got it all wrong. If you like us, leave us a rate and review! Follow us on social media: IG - @aspecialpresentationpod Twitter - @asppodcast

Happy Rex Manning Day! This week, Ashley welcomes you to the dollhouse and asks who killed Laura Palmer. Check the results of West Beverly’s senior poll and enjoy a classic Julia Sugarbaker rant! TIDBITS AND TRIVIA TO MAKE YOUR DAYS MORE TOLERABLE. Find On This Day Entertainment on… facebook.com/onthisdayent instagram.com/onthisdayentertainment www.OnThisDayEntertainment.com Shop: Rockin Robin US […]

  I'm with the amazing Sheila Walsh with one of the most impactful shows we have ever done. We dive into mental health, healing, and rising above what the world throws at you. I think this is a show you will listen to and immediately send it to five friends. It's that important! Grab a tissue, and a notepad, and get ready to have your life changed with this one!    In this episode we discuss: 1. The importance of taking care of our mental health 2. Why taking care of ourselves is so important for raising the next generation 3.The journey of dealing with buried pain and long-time struggles   Favorite quotes: 1. To love God when you don't understand His ways is a greater miracle than an instantaneous healing. 2. Some of God's most precious gifts comes in packages that make your hands bleed when you open them but inside there something you been longing for your whole life. 3. I think that we as the church have not done a great job in helping us struggling with mental illness sometimes it's been purely out of ignorance that we don't understand the process. 4. It's totally to struggle. It doesn't mean you love God less. It's okay to be angry with God doesn't mean you don't trust Him. It means you think He's big enough to handle it.   In this episode I answer these questions: 1. How do you handle differences with all your kids? (42:21) 2.  How should I handle fasting as someone who has a tendency to have an eating disorder? (45:57) 3. What's the best way to promote products without spamming people? (49:26)   Links to great things we discussed: 1. Shelia Walsh ; Facebook ; Twitter ; Instagram 2. It's Okay Not to Be Okay 3. Lauren Daigel: Still Rolling Stones 4. Curtis Zackery: Soul Rest- 5. Color Wow Dream Coat 6. Creed 7. Bethel: Raise a Hallelujah 8. Julia Sugarbaker at her finest 9. Blissdom       http://www.alliworthington.com/podcast/sheilawalsh  

Episode #134: Designing Women - "Julia Runs Over the First Amendment" Release Date: January 22, 2019 Patrick and Kat dip into the world of Designing Women, which was a fun comedy the Tiffany Network blessed us with in the 80s and 90s. It was the story of a crew of southern belles, who ran a interior decorating business, and the gals often participated in HOT issues of the time. This week, the series hero, Julia Sugarbaker tackles the porn industry, when a nearby newsstand decides to sell SMUT. Plus, we dish about GOOP, MacGyver, and why the Tanner family from ALF is awful.  We have some great stuff coming up, so don't forget to subscribe, rate, and review our HOT PODCAST on Apple Podcasts. Official Website: http://www.averyspecialpodcast.com

Interior designer and TV personality Lauren Makk grew up in the south, fluffing other people’s pillows, painting murals on train cars under cover of darkness, and rolling with her car crew Ill-usion. As a little girl, Julia Sugarbaker on TV’s Designing Women was Lauren’s career role model. Years later, she is also a designer on TV! She’s made her mark on Trading Spaces, FABLife, and Home Made Simple. She’s building an empire, leaving a legacy, and dreaming of giving the White House a “Makk-over.” Images and more from our guest! Please say Hi on social! Twitter, Instagram and Facebook - @CleverPodcast, @amydevers, @designmilk If you enjoy Clever we could use your support! Please consider leaving a review, making a donation, becoming a sponsor, or introducing us to your friends! We love and appreciate you! Clever is created, hosted and produced by Amy Devers and Jaime Derringer, aka 2VDE Media, with music from El Ten Eleven and editing by Jennie Josephson. Clever is proudly distributed by Design Milk.

"Killing All the Right People" (October 5, 1987) In one of the most devastating sitcom installments ever aired, Sugarbaker & Associates plans the funeral of a young gay man dying of AIDS. This is *VERY* *SAD* episode, and we want you to know that it might choke you up, should you be the type who listens at the gym. That said, there's a lot to learn from this episode of Designing Women, both in what a TV show had to do in 1987 to make straight audiences pay attention to AIDS and how TV has evolved in the past 30 years in the way it features more complex, more nuanced LGBT characters. But yeah, tears. So many tears. Support us on Patreon! Follow: GEE on Twitter • Drew on Twitter • Glen on Twitter Listen: iTunes • Spotify • Stitcher • Google Play • Google Podcasts • Himalaya • TuneIn  And yes, we do have an official website! And we even have episode transcripts courtesy of Sarah Neal. Our logo was designed by Rob Wilson. This is a TableCakes podcast.

It's Horns and Humpday here on Wednesday.  Jason Mankey's "Raise the Horns Radio"  is Paganism in all of her glory. It's history, practice, ritual, and more. Followed each week by Pop Culture Pagan Trends, Music, Books, etc.   "Pammit's Porch" with Pamela Kelly.Join Pamela and guests as we talk about music, books, festivals, conventions, tattoos, mead...  Tonight 7pm    Jason recovers from PSG.  Please enjoy this replay of Jason's Top Ten Things he loves about Paganism which originally aired July 2016 8pm Pammit pours the tea and kicks back on the porch with Dorothy Morrison, Tony Kail, and Star Bustamonte as we talk about a brand new Pagan Gathering in the South.  Get the low down on the first Mystic South: Theory, Practice and Play July 21-23, 2017, Atlanta, GA Dubbed by Publishers Weekly as “a witch to watch,” Dorothy Morrison is the award-winning author of numerous books on the Ancient Arts and their application to modern life. She's won several awards for her writing, and has become a favorite of readers and critics from all walks of life. Some say it's because of the easily appreciated conversational tone she applies to her work. Others say it's her down-to-earth and humorous approach to the subject matter. But regardless of the debate, all agree on one thing:  Whether in her writing or her interaction with the public, it's Morrison's personal style that makes her memorable.  And it's that same sort of charm and grace that has some folks calling her “The Julia Sugarbaker of Paganism.” Tony Kail is an ethnographer and writer of "A Secret History of Memphis Hoodoo: Rootworkers, Conjurers & Spirituals" https://mystic-south.com/

Have you ever found yourself in a stressful or dangerous situation and had a complete stranger offer assistance? As if they’d been placed there, by fate, or impossible coincidence, miraculously timed to step in and help … And then, just as mysteriously, disappeared? Maybe looking back it seems like the Universe was using this ordinary person as a divine messenger for you — an ordinary vessel, but with a supernatural role and unbelievable timing. But have you ever experienced this phenomenon in such a way it left you wondering if these helpful strangers were even human beings at all? ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED AS: Stranger Angels - Part 1 Stranger Angels - Part 2 The Paranormal Memoirs Are you new to podcasts? How to subscribe to my podcast free HOST LINKS sladeroberson.com Get an intuitive reading with Slade Download a free ebook and meditation Automatic Intuition Patreon.com Support this Show TRANSCRIPT Have you ever found yourself in a stressful or dangerous situation and had a complete stranger offer assistance?  As if they’d been placed there, by fate, or impossible coincidence, miraculously timed to step in and help…And then, just as mysteriously, disappear? Maybe looking back it seems like the Universe was using this ordinary person as a divine messenger for you. An ordinary vessel, but with a supernatural role and unbelievable timing. But have you ever experienced this phenomenon in such a way it left you wondering if these helpful strangers were even human beings at all? My name is Slade Roberson.  For over ten years, I’ve been a professional intuitive counselor and the author of the blog Shift Your Spirits, where I try to write about spirituality with fewer hearts and flowers than most New Age blather.  I also mentor emerging intuitives, psychics, and healers in a program called Automatic Intuition. Now a quick FYI before we go further — I’ve added a new feature to the show. For years now, before I send out a blog post, I try to tune in and listen for something that will speak directly to you, that will serve as a message. Like an oracle. And I get email replies, every week, with tons of you saying the post was a direct answer to a question you had. This is a really popular phenomenon -  for both of us - and I want to bring that to the podcast… So At the very end of this episode, after my final links and credits, I have a channeled message for you.  Be thinking about a question or concern you have. It may be answered by the show itself. But hold it in your mind and I’ll come back on at the end and leave you with something extra… OK So,  Back to the show.  Today, I want to share one of my own experiences with what I call stranger angels… (although I would never have used that terminology at the time…) In January 1992, when I was twenty-two years old, I traveled to Europe.  I flew to London with a small group of friends and stayed for a few days before splitting off from them to go meet up with another friend Allison who was waiting for me in Paris. We had arranged to connect at a specific hotel between the Latin Quarter of the 5th Arrondissement and the 13th Arrondissement on a Saturday morning — but the only trains I could take required that I arrive either half a day early or half a day late. So, I opted to travel in the wee hours of Friday night/ really early Saturday morning which would put me in Paris at 1 am. We were going to share a room, but I figured I could splurge and check into my own room for one night at the same hotel and sleep for awhile until Allison woke up. I only had a little bit of British cash when I left London, but I wasn’t concerned — all the train stations I’d ever been to in large cities like New York and London were always bustling with activity at all hours, even in the middle of the night. So I figured I could go to a money exchange when I arrived in Paris and turn in some American traveler’s checks for francs.  After the Channel boat crossing, which was actually pretty crowded, there were only four other people in the car on the train with me — two girls from New Jersey, Joanna and Julie, an Australian guy who eventually introduced himself as James, and a nondescript man in a khaki-colored trench coat who remained several rows away, never joined in our conversation, but nevertheless seemed to always be staring and closely watching us whenever I glanced over at him. The Jersey girls made entertaining companions, they were chatty and easy to be with; James from Australia was shy and although he moved closer to sit near us, he mostly just listened to the conversation. I was unprepared when I arrived at the Gare du Nord train station in Paris to find it an absolute ghost town — every kiosk, cafe, ticket booth, and bank was dark, locked up with those roll-down gates like you see on the front of mall stores when they’re closed. This was a Friday night in Paris; I thought there would be people everywhere. The Jersey girls yelled a cheery goodbye and snatched one of the only waiting taxis, and James melted away into the streets with the small crowd who exited our train from other cars. I wandered around in an awkward circle, looking for signs of activity, and quickly realizing I was not going to find any. This was a really ill-planned arrival. I had been so comfortable in London — I was traveling with friends from the US; staying in the apartment of British nationals; there was no language barrier; not to mention a kind of “past-life” familiarity that was at least partially supported by recognizable landmarks from years of studying English literature. Now I was alone in an abandoned metropolis with just enough high school French to read signs and grunt nouns and adjectives and to possibly butcher a verb conjugation or two, in a pinch. I was an obvious tourist carrying everything I had in an enormous pack; an easy target for a mugging. I was actually thankful there was a freezing fog everywhere to ensure the streets were emptier than they might otherwise have been. There was only one other person anywhere nearby that I could appeal to for directions. And he was watching me. The man in the khaki-colored trench coat, who had been staring at me on the train, was lingering, lurking at a casual distance. At least he was a familiar face, and if he had just arrived from England then chances were good he spoke my language. Feeling like a child who’d lost his mom in the mall, I walked up to him and began babbling about my circumstances — where I was trying to get to in the city, where I might find a money exchange… Why was Paris of all places shut down like this on a Friday night? I felt no sense of danger from him. Honestly, I suspected he might be cruising me, and I was more than willing to play along with that a little bit in exchange for crucial information. I was confident I could politely fend off any sexual advances, if that was his motive. As I talked to him, I realized there was something vaguely off about him. In the back of my mind I was cataloguing the details of his manner and appearance. He introduced himself simply as “Uh… John” and something about the way he said it sounded like a lie made up on the spot. When he spoke, his voice was soft and polite, yet he made no facial expressions. He was absolutely emotionless. He spoke English, yet I could detect no traceable accent — it wasn’t British, or American, or Australian. I can picture his face clearly and I would immediately recognize him if he walked into the room right now— but I can’t really describe much about him that would be identifiable or unique. His eyes were an unusual icy blue, but other than that… He could have been thirty… or he could have been forty or even fifty. His hair might have been a dirty blond… or maybe a light brown, or even silvery-gray. He was dressed from head to toe in monochrome — his pants and shirt were the same colorless beige. Only his shoes were a different color (and I noticed that, despite the cold, he wasn't wearing any socks). His clothes had creases in them, as if they had been taken directly out of packages. I felt like if I could have checked inside his collar I’d find price tags still attached. It reminded me of when I’d worked in retail stores, the way the body forms we dressed for the window displays appeared before the clothes had been steamed. That was it — he looked like a living mannequin. He looked too new, too perfect — yet totally unremarkable. He had absolutely no body hair — zero -  no stubble, no shadow, no hair on his wrists — not even the faint down that a woman or a child might have. He gave off an anonymous perfume that smelled exactly like… unscented dryer sheets. Even his breath was like a warm load of clean towels. John was… supernaturally ordinary. He offered to informally exchange the small handful of British pocket money I had on me — I handed him what amounted to less than five bucks, and turning away from me for a moment (probably to keep me from seeing into his wallet, I suppose) he produced a bill that, although still a modest amount, was at least quadruple the value of what I’d given him. “But it’s not enough for a taxi all the way from here,” he said. “You’ll need to walk quite a way first, as far as you can.” Using a rail map posted on a wall for reference, he showed me where I was and where I was headed. “Once you are in view of Notre Dame, or come to the Seine, you should be close enough to hail a driver to take you the rest of the way to your exact destination”  He hesitated for a second and then offered to walk with me. I told him that wouldn’t be necessary — I appreciated his kindness but I anticipated it might be more difficult to get rid of him later if I needed to. Before we parted ways outside the station he also warned me about the dangers of walking through this part of Paris in the middle of the night. He ominously advised me to “Be invisible,”  As far as ensuring that my path was relatively deserted, the weather was probably a blessing; but the grace of the cover it provided me came at a price — it was miserably freezing cold. The moisture in the air was just light enough to remain a dense fog, but it soaked me as well as any steady drizzle might have… It was a long, harrowing (shitty) night. I would need another thousand words here to itemize the petty trials of that night’s walk. My feet were blistered and swollen for days… I could not get warm the entire week that I spent in Paris… But to simplify the story, I can’t recall many times that I have felt that physically vulnerable. Had I been a crow, I could’ve kept moving directly south, but the streets were a crooked, uncooperative labyrinth that required constant course correction. I expended a lot of energy “being invisible” as I had been instructed. I encountered very few people — a handful of prostitutes propositioned me from the caves of doorways and shopfront awnings; I constantly crossed and recrossed streets to avoid anyone on the sidewalk; I ducked into phone booths from time to time to collect myself and maintain my bubble of cloaked energy. It didn't take me long to realize that John was following me. He remained a block or two behind me, and stopped when I stopped. Who has nowhere to be and nothing better to do than to follow me through the streets of Paris at 3 am in the middle of January? A serial killer? But I have to admit maybe I was a little comforted by his strange yet at least somewhat familiar presence over the alternative of being completely alone. Hours later — after walking and walking for hours — I spotted the recognizable architecture of Notre Dame. Soon after that, I was across the Seine and in the Latin Quarter. Thinking surely I was close enough to afford a cab the rest of the way, I stopped a driver and spluttered my destination.  He laughed at me and pointed — to the street I was seeking, which was about a few hundred feet away. I walked up and down that street for another hour — not only was the hotel not there, the very street number itself did not exist. After pacing back and forth and carefully tracking the building numbers to convince myself I wasn’t hallucinating, I was literally in tears. In frustration, I sat on a bench and surrendered to having arrived at being finally and totally lost. That’s when I saw John again, across a square formed by a jumbled intersection of streets. I was just pissed off enough and desperate enough at this point to walk right up to him and demand to know why in the Hell he was stalking me. He disappeared down a side street that looked like an alley and I followed him. But it wasn’t an alley at all — It was an improbable, completely eccentric continuation of the street I had been pacing up and down. The numbers picked up and continued. No sign of John, but there was the hotel. That Monday, a few days later, I was with my traveling companion Allison and her friend Natalie. We were walking from the Champs-Elysees headed to the Eiffel Tower when someone waved at me from the window of a restaurant. It was Jersey Joanna and Julie, smiling and waving excitedly at me. it was such an unexpected joy, the unlikely synchronicity of seeing these familiar faces.There were two men sitting with the girls who turned around to see who they were waving at. One of them was James the Australian guy — and I thought Wow! They ran into him again too? That’s kind of cool. What are the chances? And then I made eye contact with the Other guy. It was John. Why would he be with them? They never even spoke on the train… Allison was like “Do you know those people?” She was looking at me like — How is it even possible that you would just run into someone Here? I was kind of too overwhelmed in the moment just trying to process the coincidence to explain how huge it actually was, so I just said. “Yeah. They came over with me on the train from London.” But that wasn’t the last time I saw John while I was in Europe. I saw him again, a few weeks later, on the day I was mugged at gun point in Amsterdam. My time in Paris was… difficult. I felt stressed, distracted, uneasy, but also mute and invisible. I’m someone who talks a lot, but because my roommate Allison was fluent in French, she did all my talking for me. Her friend Natalie was a French national, and although I’m sure they didn’t purposefully exclude me, they chattered away with me along as a silent third wheel, just listening, catching only about fifty percent of what they said. They dragged me through two full days of the Louvre… Madonna-and-Child, Madonna-and-Child, Madonna-and-Child — “Oh, look, the Mona Lisa; neato” — Madonna-and-Child, Madonna-and-Child… Endless palatial corridors of Madonna-and-Child.  I felt like I was stuck in some virtual reality walk-through of a really tedious Art History textbook. I told Allison “If I don’t see something painted after 1890, I’m going to lose my mind.” So I ducked out and went for some amazing (much needed) inspiration from the modern art collection at the Pompidou Centre — without the girls. When Allison and I were finally alone in our room that night and she switched back to English, my voice came out thick from lack of use. And when we spoke, we bickered. She kept asking me. “What are you looking at?” I was standing by the window — again — peering out through a gap in the curtains, not really conscious of what I was doing or that it was even noticeable until she pointed it out. She accused me of acting paranoid, day after day — constantly looking back behind us when we were walking, checking and re-checking the lock on the door, and lurking near the window watching the street. She said “You’re making me nervous. It’s like we’re being followed.” I couldn’t explain myself so I let her believe I was just being a pill; that I was miserable being in Paris with her. (Which I kinda was.) I told her I was going to cut my stay short and go to Amsterdam alone. She didn’t protest; I’m sure she was relieved to spend her remaining days with Natalie without having to be my translator.  Maybe France simply did not agree with me.  Arriving in Amsterdam I immediately regained the better mood and sense of comfort I’d had when I began my trip in the UK. I met a couple my age from San Francisco, Marty and David, who were staying in my hotel. They had been in Amsterdam for most of the previous week, their last three days coincided with my first three; they were able to show me around to all the “best” places nearby they’d discovered to hang out and eat, reasonably inexpensive ones that weren’t such tourist traps. We went out to some great clubs every night and, best of all, I could participate fully in conversation again. I had exactly the kind of traveling experience I had hoped to have. I became attached to Marty and David pretty quickly, and when they departed, their absence was palpable. I had little expectation of achieving that same sense of joy or meeting other strangers I could click with so effortlessly.  Truly, my intuition said “Might as well go ahead and leave” — but there were a few sites I wanted to see while I had the chance and they seemed appropriate for that lonely, invisible state I had fallen back into. The first day on my own, I went to the Anne Frank House (a profound adventure that deserves its own story sometime) and then I came back to my hotel room and watched the flocks of thousands of birds that would wheel out into the sky each evening at dusk above the Centraal Station just across the canal from my window, moving together like an enormous tornado or a computer-animated coming swarm in a killer bee movie. They would hover in a shifting cloud for close to half an hour, as if they knew they were performing for an audience. The next day I chose to walk across town to the Van Gogh Museum. It was a fortunate serendipity on some levels — there was a special temporary traveling exhibit on Mackintosh Art Nouveau, which is absolutely my favorite art history design period ever. The entire upstairs of the museum was converted into complete rooms that replicated Art Nouveau interiors, and there was a small movie theater playing a documentary on the period. Although there were a half-dozen other people in the theater with me, I felt like the installation existed at that time and place just for me — like I had successfully manifested it… and I had more of these intense past-life memories that had made my time in England feel so electric. When the credits scrolled across the screen and the lights came on, I pulled myself up with a satisfied sigh and headed reluctantly toward the exit. I’m sure if you’d been there watching me, you would have seen the smile on my face MELT when I saw ….  JOHN sitting in the back row. Part of me was like Are you kidding me? But my physical response was fear — I didn’t even look at him, I just kind of weirdly acted like I hadn’t seen him — like you do when you see someone you don’t want to run into— and I just fled the museum. The wind that channeled between the buildings was the only thing that kept me from running all the way back to my hotel — I would round a corner and find the signs and traffic lights swinging wildly, and I’d have to lean into the force of the wind as if I was hiking uphill. It created that horrible sensation you have when you’re being hunted in dreams, your body stuck in slow motion, your limbs lagging behind the directions of your mind. It’s easy for me now to look back and wonder about the questions that must have been going through my mind — Who is this guy? Why would he be following me like this? Is he a stalker, a serial killer — maybe he’s some kind of cop who mistakenly thinks I’m a serial killer? Why would anyone want to tail me? And you know How is it even possible that he can keep up with me from one city to the next? At the time — honestly — I did not care. I wasn’t thinking anything except "I want to go home.” I hurried from the museum as if the United States was just a few miles away, and if I could move fast enough and push myself, I might reach it before I ran out of breath. I’d been abroad for about a month at that point — maybe I just wasn’t as “worldly” as I would’ve fancied myself to be; maybe all these enormous gray winter cities were smoothing away the edges of my personality… maybe I was just incredibly homesick and this was what that felt like. But more than anything, I felt threatened. I felt unsafe. I felt like I was in danger… and the stranger behind me, who I couldn’t seem to shake, corresponded with this atmosphere of fear. Fear often turns into anger (especially for me) and the anger gets directed at the person you blame for making you feel afraid. (Regardless if that’s appropriate or not) But at some I wasn’t just running away anymore, I was also fuming, and I knew it was building up ( and like, God help him if he actually caught up to me) – which, I kinda wanted to happen. I may have looked like I was moving away from him, but I was really marching toward the break where I would turn around and just RAGE. I heard a voice in my head (a man’s voice, not my own) say: You are powerful. And I answered back: I AM powerful. You are protected, the voice said.  And that slowed me down a little bit. You are fine, the voice assured me. Now, I was out of breath. There was a stitch in my side. I’d dropped into a slower pace of determined, sustainable endurance, and the words I was hearing rearranged themselves in a sing-song affirmation in time to my foot falls: I am powerful, I’m protected, I am fine / I am powerful, I’m protected, I am fine / It became a mantra, a chant that helped me maintain my speed, it pulled me along, but also calmed me, put me into an altered state. I came face to face with this man with dreadlocks who was standing right in my path. I ducked to the side to go around him and he matched the movement in what seemed like one of those awkward “Excuse me, after you” kind of dances But Dreadlocks wasn’t trying to pass me, he was shadowing me, mirroring me, “guarding” me like a basketball player. When I just stopped, he walked right into me as if he were going to embrace me with one arm and shake my hand with the other. He grabbed me and held me close him, and shoved a gun against my belly. At least, a pocket full of something meant to feel like the nose of a handgun. “Money,” he said to me in English. “Come on.” Two things flip my switch: being assaulted or bullied being in the presence of someone I care about who is being assaulted or bullied When I was in my twenties, I had virtually no ability to manage defensive anger and my temper turned on and up in one direction – full-on, unbridled, absolutely ape shit. No warning, no ratcheting up by degrees… And it came with a loud, hateful, free-style narration. My Daddy used to say that I had The Kind of Lip That Will Get You Killed in The Wrong Circumstances. My friends in college were amused by my tongue-lashings and called this aspect of my personality “Julia Sugarbaker.” I doubt Dreadlocks would have ever predicted the manner in which I responded. He had no way of knowing just how pumped up on anger and fear I already was. I probably looked like someone running away, which his instincts identified as prey – but what he ran right into was Royally Pissed. When my words came out, I screamed them, berating the pedestrians who passively walking by as much as my mugger, and on some level, I was screaming at John. “You have got to be fucking kidding me. You’re going to mug me, in broad daylight, two o’clock in the afternoon, in the middle of the damn street? And you expect me to believe you’ve got a gun and you’re going to shoot me with it in front of all these people for spare change? You know, it’s no shock to me that every fucking piece of shit would-be thug in America actually does carry a gun because our whole society prides itself on the fact, but in the Netherlands, man, really? That’s a pretty big deal for you to be carrying here, isn’t it? I mean, you’re either a serious hard core criminal or you’re faking it. You’re obviously small time, because why else would you be holding me up for a handful of cash that won’t even buy you a cup of coffee? What is that in your pocket anyway, a plastic cigarette lighter?” Dreadlocks glanced around nervously at the crowd I was drawing and said under his breath “Man, cool down. Just give me some money, that’s all I want.” I shoved my hand into my pocket and pulled out some Dutch coins and the crumpled, sweaty French bill that John had given me that night at the Gare du Nord. I’d never spent it. I had continued to carry it around like a talisman. I was even a little bit pissed to be giving up something I’d come to think of as a souvenir. Dreadlocks-man held out his hand between us and I slammed the money onto his palm, slapping it hard enough that the coins leapt and pinged off a grate in the sidewalk. He held onto the French bill, looked at it quickly, and shook his head like he was disappointed with me. “Man, come on,” he said, as if he were trying to say “I can’t do anything with this…” “No? Cause you said all you wanted was money; that’s all I got; that’s all you’re getting. Would you rather have some traveler’s checks you can’t possibly exchange without an ID and a really good forgery? If so, you’ll need to walk me back to my hotel and let me get them out of my room safe for ya, you wanna do that?” He looked at the French bill again like he was trying to decide whether or not to just give it back to me. “Come on,“ he pleaded one more time. I saw him look over my shoulder and his eyes re-focused. I knew exactly who he was looking at. In a much lower, confidential, whisper I said to him. “You see that man behind me, the one in the trench coat? …Yeah, I can see that you do… You’ll notice I also don’t even need to look because I know he’s back there. He’s been following me for two weeks. He’s some kind of cop, or some kind of detective, I don’t know who or what he is, but he’s watching me, and now he’s watching you too. You just got that guy for a witness.” It really wasn’t a bluff; and maybe the authenticity of my confession gave it power. At any rate, the doubt and confusion played out quickly. The Dreadlocks guy backed away slowly at first, clearly keeping his eyes on John, and then he turned and ran. I was so jacked up on the adrenalin of the situation, I swiveled around with the full intention of finally laying into this “stranger” John who was following me. I was mad enough to punch him.  Of course he was there, just as I knew he would be, keeping to his minimum fifty-foot distance. John just opened his hands and held out his palms, slightly shaking his head. He grinned with a kind of lop-sided, regretful smile. He looked, more than anything, sad and… apologetic. As if to say, “Sorry that it had to be like this.” And then he just walked away, back in the direction we’d come from. He was just swallowed by the crowd. I’ve attempted to relate this story without interpretation, because at the time it happened, and for many years after, it was just an odd mystery that became one of those “the time I was held up at gun point” stories. Knowing what I speak about and write about these days, of course, you’re gonna infer some paranormal or spiritual significance... Honestly, it may not even compare that well to the more profound angelic intervention stories you might have heard — it just happens to be one that happened to me. And I’m sharing it with you because it’s an event that came up again a decade later. This is just a Prologue. In 2002, ten years later, I met a man named Jesse — who somehow already knew these events had happened to me — and he’s the one told me What It All Meant. So... thanks for listening and stay tuned to the next episode of the Shift Your Spirits podcast… For show notes, links, and all the past episodes please visit shiftyourspirits.com You can subscribe to this podcast in iTunes or Stitcher or whatever app you use to access podcasts. If you’re new to podcasts, it’s that purple button on your iPhone. Click it, search Shift Your Spirits and hit Subscribe - then all the episodes will be there for you, automatically. And you can take them with you to the gym or listen in your car … that’s what I love about podcasts. Also, if you want to support the show, it would really help me out if you’d leave a rating and a review in iTunes, and share it with some friends you think would be into it. If you’d like to get an intuitive reading with me, or download a free ebook and meditation to help you connect with your guides please go to sladeroberson.com and If you’re interested in my professional intuitive training program, check out automaticintuition.com BEFORE I GO I promised to leave you a message in answer to a concern or question you may have. So take a moment to think about that—hold it in your mind or speak it out loud—I’ll pause for just a few seconds….right…NOW MESSAGE Your situation needs some forgiveness. You need to let go of any past anger you’re holding onto. It’s holding you back. You either need to forgive someone else…OR You need to forgive yourself... For placing unrealistic expectations on this situation.  I'LL TALK TO YOU LATER

Camille Sanzone is on a rant in this episode, but, mostly, a light-hearted one, sort of a monologue of things that drive her crazy, things she raves about, things she saves & savors, & things that are among her favorites. If you want to get away from your troubles, & out from under the troublesome events of the world, at least for a little while, take the time to listen to and laugh with this one. Included are rants from Julia Sugarbaker & the Liberal Redneck, and a few musical interludes.This show is broadcast live on Wednesday's at 1PM ET on W4WN Radio – The Women 4 Women Network (www.w4wn.com) part of Talk 4 Radio (http://www.talk4radio.com/) on the Talk 4 Media Network (http://www.talk4media.com/).

On this week's LadyWatch agenda: Ryan and Jason discuss the Lady implications of our empty Supreme Court Justice seat (and what that could mean for Cicely Tyson types everywhere), Meryl talking about Africa and Rosie talking about autism and both of them getting the hot water, Leslie Uggams' monster hit 'Deadpool' and the Ladies on parade in 'Zoolander 2, Laurie Metcalf's stunning work on 'Horace and Pete', Buzzfeed's profile of the Queen of Late Night Schmaltz Delilah, Roseanne's new medicinal enterprise, Sarah Ferguson's philanthropic parenting, Mavis Staples' new hipster record, Sally Kirkland's lost and found (and found and found) love, Julia Sugarbaker rises again thanks to Linda Bloodworth Thomason, Glenda Jackson steals a role from Kathleen Turner and pulls back a stump, plus what Suzanne Somers might have to do with Florence Henderson's sex drive, and much much more!

Season 7 of Friends continues this week, with the 17th and 18th episode. In 'The One With the Cheap Wedding Dress' Monica battles for the perfect dress and Chandler's desire for a swing band. Joey and Ross date Gabriel Union. In 'The One With Joey's Award' Joeyis up for a soapie, but needs his greatful loser face. Phoebe and Rachel plan a last minute Shower for Monica. Unfortunelatly, they forget to invite Monica. We have an Almond Joy Martini. (It has Nuts) There is a calorie showdown. Melissa offers wedding dress advice. True stories from Swing Dance Lessons. How to Fight Nazi's with Swing Dancing. We pull a big ole Faith Hill.  You can tweet to @JoshSolbach and @MelissaSolbach call 316-361-6081 email to theonewithpodcast@gmail.com Please be as awesome as 25 other listeners and rate and review the podcast on iTunes. Thanks. 

We're kickin' it old skool here! Our podcast equipment wasn't working right, so we just recorded into RJ's laptop again. We're working on getting it corrected. Just remember, you get what you pay for.   Baseball, the TV show Lost, and more are discussed.   So sad that Dixie Carted passed away at the age of 70, but who was the better southern belle, Julia Sugarbaker or Blanche Deveraux?   Joyce called in and left us 3 voicemails! Thanks, Joyce!   If you'd like to call in, we'd love to hear from you! Call our Listener Line at 815-408-0757. Or email us at acupoffreshhell@gmail.com.   Here's the video of Brak - Don't Touch Me   [youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qyUnSuYYs18&hl=en_US&fs=1&]   Music in this episode: Kim Zolciak "Tardy for the Party" (mp3) from "Tardy for the Party - THE REMIXES" (Ferosh Records) Buy at iTunes Music Store Buy at Amazon MP3 More On This Album