Somewhere between Bell's Palsy and death
Saturday, December 18, 2004
You’ll burn your eye out
Remind me to never, NEVER go out to eat with Greta, her sister and niece again unless its a restaurant that we all like, because Christ on a cracker! I've never seen two more whiny people in my life! I mean, yeah, Don Pablo's isn't real Mexican food, but can't you just enjoy it for what it is!?!? And then Greta's niece ... (shudders). Greta's sister just found out she's pregnant, so already the little twerp is clinging and being even more annoying than she already is. The whining and the not listening -- Goddamn. I've said it before, and I'll say it again: It takes a special person to be a parent, and I'm not one. Who needs kids when you have cats, anyways?

Oh, and I get to be up at the buttcrack tomorrow to take Greta into the city for her Lasik surgery. At least it's close to Nordstrom, so I can go masturbate in its shoe department. (Just kidding. Sort of.)
Posted by Broad2:18 AM • (0) Trackbacks
Friday, December 17, 2004
Have I mentioned how much I love her lately?
That's all I would've needed was to have had to file a incident report because some kid in my 7th period swallowed his tongue. -- Mer on teaching her freshmen the book Ordinary People.

Posted by Broad7:20 PM • (0) Trackbacks
A little social cheer for y’all
Sent to me from my friend Lynne, aka Lurlene, the Trailer Court Queen (anyone into the rockabilly scene who doesn't know Lurlene needs a kick to the head) and sung to the tune of "Angels We Have Heard on High":
Posted by Broad2:00 PM • (0) Trackbacks
Thursday, December 16, 2004
Rolling in the green
So, did anyone happen to catch that raise Ms. Kaffy got? That would be 17 percent, bitches. While you're congratulating her, flip her the bird o' jealousy, too. I mean, sheeeeee-it.

Oh, and for those who were actively wondering, no, I'm NOT the first contestant on Fox's new reality nightmare, "Who's Your Daddy?" although I must admit I laughed out loud when I heard the premise. Wait ... why am I laughing? I should be suing for freakin' royalties.
Posted by Broad2:06 AM • (0) Trackbacks
Tuesday, December 14, 2004
Designs on scamming me out my money
While I'm bitching, I just sent the dude over at Designs on the White House a rather terse note telling him to refund me the $25 I gave to them for a t-shirt. In AUGUST. Yeah, I know the election's over, but I didn't choose a Kerry shirt; I chose this one. You know, because it would be appropriate and shit. The last I heard from the dude, he said he'd get back to me after Thanksgiving. Well, guess what, Mike Everett-Lane? It's freakin' THREE WEEKS after Thanksgiving. What the hell kind of operation do you have going over there!?!?

Makes me wonder where the money actually went, if you know what I mean. Oh, and if I don't get an answer soon, I will report it to the BBB.
Posted by Broad1:27 AM • (0) Trackbacks
Monday, December 13, 2004
Serves you right
I just got done sending my e-mail list of pals a note that I got off my reporter newsletter about how those Godforsaken ribbon magnets that everyone is so jacked up about putting on their vehicles can actually maul the paint job if you leave them stuck in one spot for any length of time. And to that I say, "Heh."

You want to do something to support the troops? Use the $5 you pay for the stupid thing and buy some beef jerky or toilet paper or smokes or just use the money for postage and give it to an organization who's sending stuff to the troops already overseas. After all, the soldiers can't see your smarmy self-importance when they're dodging bullets in Iraq. Fer fuck's sake.

And before anyone gets all pissy that I'm not patriotic, I covered a Christmas party at one of our National Guard Armories yesterday in which 376th Battalion is leaving this week. Believe me, they don't need you to ruin your fucking cars on some hollow sentiment. They need your prayers.

P.S. Same goes for breast cancer.
Posted by Broad1:39 PM • (0) Trackbacks
Sunday, December 12, 2004
Comes in 3’s
Horked from the lovely Joelle, goddess of all that is design-y:
Posted by Broad5:55 AM • (1) Trackbacks
Friday, December 10, 2004
Hot piss
Nothing like going to the doctor for a UTI and finding out that you've gained six pounds in a year. Even though that's supposedly about average, it's not when you've gained as much as I have since I left Chicago. Drat.
Posted by Broad8:13 PM • (0) Trackbacks
Can’t catch a break sometimes
What, I write about the strip club, and all I got is two separate commenters? Was it not pervy enough for y'all? What? WHAT!?!?

Yesterday totally sucked ass; I had a run-in with this batshitcrazy administrator of this transportation department I sometimes cover, and it just threw me into somewhat of a funk today. I mean, seriously, this guy's nuts. And even though my editor was satisfied with my story once I turned it in, it's like, I don't need to be putting up with that kind of abuse. And he wasn't even yelling; he was all menacing and all Hannibal Lector-like. Just sucked. And then, my cool story from yesterday, the PIO for the governmental agency involved called me and said the executive director was misquoted. Well, as we know, that's never a good thing, but the PIO returned my call at the end of the day, and it wasn't a misquote. Instead, the E.D. says she moved the worker involved, not that the worker requested the move. Well, that's not how she said it yesterday when I interviewed her, but I'm not going to quibble over it. And it's a good story, nevertheless. Lookit:
Posted by Broad2:03 AM • (0) Trackbacks
Wednesday, December 08, 2004
Going to a strip club, everybody
Before I launch into my first strip club experience, I think we should all take this moment to commemorate Dec. 7, the day which will live in infamy but for a completely different reason. It's a little-known event as far as history goes (well, until NOW), but on this day, not only did the Japanese invade American soil, but 19 years ago, the Germans invaded the (cough) "Virgin Islands."

(And when I say that, what I really mean is, "My cherry got popped, yo." You know, just in case I was being too historical for you and shit.)

Not much to tell there. My 21 year-old Air Force boyfriend took my virginity in the back of his white 1980 Mustang. It hurt. The end. Oh, and I had on these turquoise (!) and white zebra-striped panties that were too tight, because I thought they were sexy. I was 15. The end.

Anyway, the strip club (and we have the lovely Whitters to thank for this):
Posted by Broad12:43 AM • (0) Trackbacks
Tuesday, December 07, 2004
Days off are nice
Be back tomorrow with tales about my first trip to a strip club.
Posted by Broad3:08 AM • (0) Trackbacks
Monday, December 06, 2004
House won’t be a home
Looks like my any apprehension I had about getting a new crib may have been answered Saturday night: I found out that John, Jill's fiance, still has a mortgage on the house, which wouldn't be bad iff'n Miller didn't get butt-raped in the great property tax fiasco of 2004 (tm). I don't know what his taxes are, but I did hear him tell someone we were talking to that one of the reasons he and Jill are moving is because he was insulted by the taxes. (History: This year, because of a long history of lawsuits by big industry and this dude that I'm surprised hasn't been killed in a drive-by yet, the state of Indiana decided that Lake County should be assessed by an independent firm, because it was the only county not using a fair-market formula. When that happened, many homeowners' property taxes more than doubled and, in many cases in Miller, went from like $6,000 to $22,000 -- kind of like going from 0-60 in 30 seconds without a crash helmet.) So, unless his mortgage is, like, $200 a month, I can't imagine him renting it to me for anything less than $700 or $800 to cover the tax bill, and I can't afford it. Again, things could change between now and a year, but I'm not going to hold my breath. Of course, I found out all this after Jill and I decided that I would paint the kitchen apple green to stand out with the white cabinetry and appliances. Crap.

Meanwhile, the one guy made an appearance Friday night/Saturday morning, drunk and all fired up about something or other. (He was also exhausted, because he'd been up since he got off work at some ungodly hour.) One thing he talked about was going after the "insurmountable challenge," because even if it doesn't work out -- and it very rarely, if ever, does -- the one time that it does will be worth it. Mm-hmmm. Make of that what you will; I've already drawn my own conslusions. Anyway, Saturday I spent the afternoon with Jill at Customs, and then we went to a Christmas carole sing-along at the Gallery, where much wine and even some tequila (heh -- it was Patron, which is smoooooooove) was consumed. I begged off early, though, because I was tired.

Today was spent taking Mother to the mall, which didn't suck nearly as bad as it could've. She bought her Christmas present (for which I'll give her money when I get paid Thursday): a short, pink leather jacket, which I'm sure I'll have to borrow for dress-up.
Posted by Broad12:36 AM • (0) Trackbacks
Friday, December 03, 2004
Ever have one of those days …
where nothing less than explosive diarrhea will make you feel better? No, seriously.
Posted by Broad5:42 PM • (0) Trackbacks
I didn’t eat anything before bed. Why do you ask?
This morning, I dreamt that BFKAS and I were taking classes at my elementary school that was really my high school (!?), and that she and I were arguing about my confronting her about her giving me up. So then the next day, Crazy Aunt (BFKAS's sister) calls me and tells me that BFKAS called Quickly, a section in the Post that allows readers to call in and sound off about their bullshit, and left a comment clearly directed at me -- you know, because it's all about me, especially in my dreams -- that went like this: "Your mother told you the man who raised you wasn't your father, and now you're bothering me about it? How dare you!"

I'm guessing that while the meds have put my anxiety back in check, not so much on the unresolved anger -- which, of course, they're not supposed to do anyway, but I can pretend, right?

Meanwhile, I'm having a somewhat of a dilemna before there's even reason to have one. Remember when I crashed over at Jill's and her fiance's a few weeks ago? And I talked about how Jill's been trying to convince me to buy the house when they move? Ok, so there's no way that even if I did get a mortgage, I'd be able to afford it, so I jokingly asked last week if they'd consider a "rent to own" deal, and Jill was like, "Yeah, I think that could be arranged."

Now, we haven't talked figures yet, so I don't know if I could even afford to do it. My problem, though? I love my crib.

Yeah, I know that everyone says you're supposed to own property and that why would you pay someone's mortgage for them when you could pay your own. But this the first place I ever lived outside my folks', and as far as they come, it's an awesome place: Quiet neighborhood mostly, right near major arteries so I can get to where I'm going easily (provided there's no rotten construction, of course) and near tons of fast food. The house, on the other hand, is a great house (three bedroom, two deck, giant yard and a fireplace) in a neighborhood I've always aspired to live in, but the neighborhood is also off the beaten path, about 20 minutes from where I am now.

Again, none of this is going to happen for at least another eight months to a year, and it may not happen at all if I can't afford it. But what if I can?
Posted by Broad2:30 PM • (0) Trackbacks
Wednesday, December 01, 2004
True dis
Courtesy of the lovely Snidge:
Posted by Broad10:53 PM • (0) Trackbacks
Page 2 of 3 pages  <  1 2 3 >
It is the job of a good person to be honest. To be self-aware. To deliberately explore the fault lines of your character and try desperately to not inflict suffering in this strange, ghost-ridden world of worked and fabricated objects. Sometimes the jobs of writer and good person coincide. But more often they don’t. There are way more writers in the world than there are good people.

100 things
Info meme #1
Typelogic says I'm an INFP.
Check my weekly astrological groove here.

Give it to me, baby.

Pssst ... My birthday's Feb. 3, and I want this, and this, and this ...

The Make-Believe Oral Cancer Foundation (M-BOCF) is now accepting donations on my behalf. Won't you please help those of us who jump to hideous conclusions regarding our oral health and help me get a root canal or two!??:

Save the Net Now

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Broad said: Like I said, my feelings are complicated on the matter, so ... I’m interested, however, in Her Highness’ thoughts on… ...[go].

Caterina said: ARGH!!! Not to deny you your goddess-given right of reflections and wishing what might-have-beens, but this guy was straight up… ...[go].

Wholovesya? said: By the by, guess who was most nasty about the charitable giving?  The frigging church.  My church and my mom’s… ...[go].

Wholovesya? said: By the by, I’m not the only one I know.  I have friends who work at soup kitchens because they’re… ...[go].

Wholovesya? said: As you know, I was a voyeur to the beginning of this, and I was loving your comment!  I have… ...[go].

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Tagline by Ben F'in Mollin, talking about those times you wake up still drunk from the night before.


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