Thursday, January 24, 2008
Saturday, January 19, 2008
So I'm taking metro light rail to the dentist the other day, inwardly amused at my public transportation smuggery. You know, riding with the regular folk and all, and doing a smidgen (which is half a pinch or 1/32 tsp, for anyone who gives a shit) to reduce auto emissions. Not to mention that riding a train in an urban area on a rainy day is chock full of anecdote potential. And this one didn't disappoint.
Seated across from me is a large...person. A Pat on first and second glance, wearing a C.O.P.S. baseball cap. Normally, anyone sporting marketing fodder from one of those craptacular FOX shows wouldn't rate a second look but Pat's cap seems, I don't know, out of place on his/her androgynoggin. So I look a little closer and lo and behold, Pat's not humming "Bad boys, bad boys" after all.
This C.O.P.S. stands for Christians Obediently Preaching Salvation. How's that for a forced acronym? (I almost pulled an ocular muscle avoiding eye contact; no point bringing up the dead end, albeit joyful, subject of my personal damnation.) And yet, the marriage of the seemingly divergent ideas of Preaching and Policing is as natural in our twisted reality as a Crucifix on a Klansman. They should create a spin-off where clergy tackle criminals and force them to declare Jesus Christ as their personal savior on national television. The show will look EXACTLY the same except they'll read them a sermon instead of their rights. Hey, I'm copyrighting this idea, you scumbags at FOX, and I've got at least 8 witnesses here.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Four hours in the chair. Dentist drilled out molar 19 as if trailblazing new route to China. Head hurts. Face hurts. Wallet is screaming for morphine.
Honda overheated. Must have a leak. Can't locate it. Just the thing to calm me down.
Am having a two-day hate fest. Stealth period? Or is it just that people are more irritating today than they were last week? Implausible as it seems I'm picking option b.
On the other hand, tough virago that I am, I've found myself on that damp, brittle edge of tears too many times this week to not take a hard look at option a. Fuck. It makes no difference the cause. Get out of my goddamn way, I'm going to bed.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
There are few things as comforting as a pile of good books waiting for me. Better than a stocked pantry.
I've been reading a copy of McSweeney's that my daughter gave me. Just finished Have You Ever Been to Portland, Maine? by Mary Gallagher. It's a story told in floorplans. Floorplans. Jesus, it's delightful. Reminds me that everything hasn't been done and that there are fresh ways of expressing yourself if you'd just stop whining that everything has been done. Of course, by you I mean me.
Tuesday, January 01, 2008
It's either all or nothing with me. That's just the way I roll, my peeps. [Don't I sound like a middle-aged beige woman trying out her hipster-speak? I kill myself.]
A picture of my happy place* for the day:
Dear Eight Pound, Six Ounce, Newborn Baby Jesus that is too goddamned funny.
Okay, I've met my New Year's Blasphemy Quota and I'm really ready for 2008 now.
*Hey! I saw some of you screw-up your faces in fear and (don't deny it, shitheads) disgust. Did you actually think I was going to flash a pic of MY "happy place"? Pearls before swine. I'd never do that...unless, of course, I had this on my [oops. not work safe-->] happy
For those of you who are not Violent Acres...um, fans seems like the wrong word...part of the VA coven is dark but too gendered and icky wicca. Perhaps: Members of the Violent Acres Legion of the Damned. That has a nice ring to it. Anyhow, if you don't think V is funny and offensive and completely wrong and totally right, then just skip this post.
VA has an ongoing catchphrase contest.* Here are two entries for my first go 'round. Shit. I used my first submission as the title of this post.
Violent AcresThat only leaves me with this one:
V, as in Viscerate.
Violent AcresWait. Another inspiration:
Celebrating the burr up her ass.
Violent AcresOkay, that's lame. No matter how much I enjoyed it. One more for the road and it's not original enough, so don't use it or those geniuses from marriedtothesea will block me from ever reading their site again:
Not to be confused with Violin Takers.
Violent AcresLast VA comment today
She'll fuck up your bowl of gruel, son.
A few posts ago, V toyed with her Mormon coworker. Led him to believe there was a hope of conversion (Queers get toasters for converts...I bet Mormons get crockpots...and Pampers) and then dashed his earnest hopes by saying that she had a revelation that she would be the next Mormon Prophet. Having survived Mormonism myself, I had a big laugh over that one. However, the funniest follow-up to her patriarchal blasphemy was that google ads seems to have latched on to the keyword "mormon" and her site is chock full of LDS-inspired ads. Sort of like these: mormonbridesforsale.com, funkymormonunderwear.com, meetamormonandmakebabies.com
That is perfect cybermarketing irony.
*I'm above-average tech savvy but there are cosmic holes in my cybershit. I'm supposed to link back to Violent Acres (I keep typing Virulent Acres for some strange reason) and I hope this link will suffice.
The Rude Pundit ran a little impromptu (?) haiku contest summing up 2007. I am tickled to have had two of my bastardized japanese poetry concoctions chosen. Nay, heading the list. Rude Pundit, I am honored.
If you're linkaphobic, here they are:
the year of living less freely[I can't wait for the limerick contest.]
didja see those guys
gang-bang the constitution?
election year sports
we brown folk and queers-
neocons' fav boogeymen-
sick of being used.
And cheers to more happy word abuse:
Remember the Washington Post's sometime word competition (add/change a letter in an established word and make a new one)? Well, here's an overheard in new york beauty:
JAP #1: Is he a Juddhist?and a golden one from my son about his internet-unsavvy friends:
JAP #2: A what?
JAP #1: You know, a Jew Buddhist.
JAP #2: Oh, yeah, totally.
They're so nonline.Happy 2008 people. Resist the urge this year to constantly rhyme '08 with some lame ass saying like It's Not Too Late in Aught Two Double-Oh Eight. Shit.
[Used without permission. Sorry son, it was just too good and I couldn't wait. I'll will you the gigantic frying pan. Don't tell your sister.]