Somewhere between Bell's Palsy and death
Sunday, October 16, 2005
“Fuck off with that coffee song.”
IMG_0017.jpgIMG_0004.jpg
[Tremendous brunettes at the Park West]

For those of you who believe that animals can tell who's cool and who isn't, it seems my boys have picked out my new boyfriend: Snidge's baby bro, who came up with her for the Mike Doughty show this weekend. As it happens usually, Rube is standoffish and glares like an insolent teen at everyone, while the Ween just hides, not to be seen unless running back under the bed after eating or using the can. But with Rlee? Rube was rubbing up against him like they were best pals, while Ween let him touch him. (Ween also nudged Snidge to pet her during the night, but he knows her well enough now.)

It was another stellar visit this weekend. The Snidge family got in about 10-ish Friday night, so what we do? Head to the land of the Hobartians so that Rlee could experience firsthand what Snidge has been telling him about for months. And it didn't fail to disappoint, either, as it never does: The people turning to stare at you as you walk in the bar because you're not indigenous to them thar parts; the near 6-hillbilly brawl out front of Rosie O'Grady's during heavy metal night; the teenagers walking around well after curfew; Benny coming up and calling me his "Irish Rose," also kissing me one too many times. Yep, all there. And he LOVED it. Also, he loved the Vodka and Red Bulls he was tossing back.

After a vile, greasy breakfast at the Flying J in Lake Station, we got back to the crib, where after a mere four hours of rest I was out the door to an early muni meeting. (The message I left on my editor's voicemail: "My mellow has been harshed," followed by something completely unintelligible about that assignment and the second one I was headed to that wouldn't have to be written up for daily unless the retirees started setting the union hall on fire in protest. Luckily, it didn't happen, because I'm getting too old for that shit.) Meanwhile, Snidge and Rlee headed off to Chicago for some tooling around and shopping, so that gave me the perfect opportunity to come home for a four-hour nap. (Don't judge me.) Both showed great restraint with their purchases, except Snidge bought this stuff from Lush that looks like olive drab gelatin, and I was quite disturbed. (Had I known there was going to a trip to Lush, I'd have told her to get me another bar of Buffy the Buttskin Slayer and another Butterball, but that's all right.) I got up, they got back, we all changed clothes and headed back downtown for the show, starting with a lovely dinner at my favorite tapas joint.

If y'all have never been to the Park West for a show, I'd highly recommend it, because it's a great setting, and one that suited my pretend rockstar boyfriend well, because he ROCKED. OUR. SOCKS. (Yes, pheNOMenal, my friend. Thank you for turning Snidgey on to him.) Opened with "Tremendous Brunettes" and stayed tight the whole show. He did this montage of "It's Raining Men" and "Firetruck" that included the riff from "Circles," but he flatly refused to perform it outright, which was cool. It's just too bad that the crowd didn't seem to be into it as much as they should've, because Doughty's got a great stage presence. Stupid trixies. Anyway, one of his encores? Kenny Rogers' "The Gambler."
You got to know when to hold 'em/Know when to fold 'em/know when to walk away and/know when to run./You never count your money/when you�re sittin� at the table./There�ll be time enough for countin� when the dealin�s done.

After we got out of the show, Snidge had a hankering for sushi, so we popped into the sushi joint next door for some tempura and California rolls, which were all right according to them, but not as good as some of the M-Town places. Since I'm not a huge sushi connoisseur, I had no reference point as to what's good or not, but the joint DID play techno music, which was kind of funny. Then it was onward home, but not before searching through the ghetto for a place that Snidge could use the toilet for the 15th time. (We ended up at a McDonald's on the state line where the toilets were in a trailer outside. At that point, she didn't care.)

And with that, notable quotables after the jump:
Posted by Broad3:52 PM
Thursday, October 13, 2005
Looking at the world (from the inside of his ass)
Once again, the cleanup has begun at Chez Broad for the impending arrival of the Snidge; this time, she's bringing along her baby brudder, and we're going to see this massive hunk o' musical genius at Park West Saturday night, to which I've never been. Save for Roger Clyne this summer, it's my first real concert in a long time, so I'm pumped. And thankfully, the crib still is in pretty good shape from when she was up here for the races in September. Could it be that I'm becoming less of a human pig?

(snicker)

In the meantime, I'm taking a break from picking up, and I check the competition's Web site to see what they've got going; it's something I do to a) see if we've been scooped and b) compare stories with the reporter I covered something with. So I scroll down to the columnist section, and I see this one columnist has a new one up about an incident that happened last Wednesday near East Chicago where this pigfucker named George Soltis made a couple homeade bombs and took his soon-to-be ex-wife Dora on the ride of her almost-death. By the grace of God, Dora was able to jump out of the moving vehicle, but not before pigfucker beat the will to live out of her with the ass-end of a .357. As well, pigfucker called Dora's son to tell him his plan to blow the two of them to kingdom come, and the boy was able to call police, who then found the two, arrested pigfucker and detonated the explosive devices.

[A side note: This all happened not more than five minutes from Chez Broad, and I DIDN'T HEAR A DAMN THING. I was home all night, too. And not drunk.]

Naturally, the event was front-page news with the requisite photos of a badly beaten Dora, so the columnist wrote about it and how yeah, it was great that Dora escaped from the pigfucker alive, but you know, she saw the signs that the guy was bad news. Why didn't she get out sooner!?? Or why did she go out for that one last dinner with him!?? And I thought to myself, "You know, [name redacted for not wanting to pimp out the competition, plus this guy's a jerk], methinks that you're spending too much time in the casinos observing people's behavior -- to which you devoted a whole column -- or you've forgotten the time you spent over in the Balkans covering the war, or you're just not getting a whole lot of real-life assignments, because you really don't have a clue, do you?"
Posted by Broad9:19 PM
She just keeps growing, and growing, and growing
My little friend Kate has now joined the blogosphere, everyone! She can be fonded here: Lookit

Watch her as she loses her youth and vitality and becomes bitter just like the rest of us! Woooo!
Posted by Broad7:47 PM
Tuesday, October 11, 2005
She’s scamming the detectives
The detective called today; said he saw Crackhead last night. And she denied it all.

Of COURSE she did.
Gee, I don't know where my cousin thought she heard my voice, but I was at home that night.

Well, yeah, I was on my way home from [] and I visited her the one night after I'd been out of jail for a few weeks, but that was the last time I was in that area.

Sure, you can come back and talk to me. I don't know how much I can help ya, but I'll do what I can.

I know I've made a lot of mistakes in my life, but I've changed.

Oh sure, she's changed. That's why she's sitting in jail now for a warrant. And that's why after my detective called and talked to my aunt to make sure she was still in the clink, a Lake County Mountie called to let them know that Crackhead was caught on camera writing a check stolen from the dude she whose crib she was squatting in. Now, the dude doesn't want to press charges -- he just wants his checkbook back -- but word is my uncle's trying to find out where this dude is so he can appeal to him to press the damn charges, because they want to keep her ass in jail.

Sigh. Anyway.

The detective thanked me for the latest info and said he'd keep in touch with whatever he hears and asked me to do the same. He also said he's not finished with her yet, but he's not going to promise me anything because of that pesky burden of proof bullshit. Still, he doesn't believe a word she said, though he did admit that she's got the script real good.
Posted by Broad2:27 PM
Monday, October 10, 2005
Another image completely blown to hell
You'd think that being in the biz I'm in, I'd be a lot more jaded and not surprised about the stuff I learn about people and their natures. But sadly, that is not the case, and I'm continously stunned.

Snidge and I spent a good portion of tonight pouring through a message board a couple friends of mine (and hers, sort of) frequent. We did this because she has somewhat of a vested interest, although after what we saw tonight? I doubt that's going to be a problem for much longer, because holy fucking shit, Batman! The crap that the one friend spewed absolutely horrified me. (The other one wasn't anywhere near as bad, but then, that friend and I have talked about his views before, so I wasn't quite as shocked. Also, he wasn't a complete jackass when espousing his views, either.) The topic they were discussing? Gay fostering.

In case I have to spell it out for y'all, here's what I think about it. Me, and me alone:

1. Homosexuality is biological.
2. There are exceptions, such as gross sexual abuse or a domineering fucktard parent that may possibly affect a person's sexuality, but they're not the rule.
3. Homosexuals do NOT wake up one day and decide, "Mmmmmmmm, sucking d!ck/eating pie sounds like fun. I think I'm going to try that today."
4. Homosexuals do NOT pass "gay cooties" to anyone, not even in prison.
5. Homosexuality in prison is NOT homosexuality, but rather an exercise in dominance and control about 95 percent* of the time.
6. It is NOT anybody's business what anyone else is doing in their bedrooms, kitchens or attics.
7. Ergo, since there's no such thing as gay cooties, there is no reason on this Godforsaken earth that a foster child should not be given to a couple who can provide him or her the love and security s/he desperately needs, be they straight, gay or asexual. Period.

My friend, in the meantime, said on this board that, among other things, he would support legislation that would make it tougher for couples to divorce when there's children involved. Now, the guy has been divorced with children already, so I can appreciate where he's going with that. However, he himself describes his current marriage as a "nightmare" a goodly portion of the time, complete with yelling and screaming and all kinds of nonsense unbecoming to a family unit. So how is having your children exposed to that kind of behavior any better than having them raised by gay people? Seriously, can someone reasonably explain that to me? (And if you're going to, have your sources ready, because "It's just WRONG" is NOT an answer.)

I'll tell you what: If you're hellbent on doing a background check on a potential trick? Get their e-mail handles and then look them up on as many BBSs as you can find. THAT'S where you'll learn the most.
Posted by Broad7:03 PM
The latest Balkan bonanza (now will you stop looking up Zook on the Internet!??)
Now, that's what you call a piece of 26 year-old ass. I thought only nerds did this kind of stuff. I didn't realize normal hot people did. At least I shaved. EVERYWHERE.

-- Mer on her first attempt at online fuckingdating
Posted by Broad12:50 PM
Sunday, October 09, 2005
I’m Ok, she’s Ok
Just got off the horn with Sammy, who shaved an hour off her time running the Chicago Marathon today. Save for the hallucinations starting before mile 11 and the need for five million ice packs, she's pleased with her performance. Of course, when asked if she was going to do it again, she said she wouldn't commit one way or the other, so my guess? She hasn't quite gotten it out of her system and will continue to make me look like fat slob for many more years to come, but what're you going to do.

I, meanwhile, survived the Republican convention in Merrillville yesterday. It wasn't a voting caucus; it was more like an all-day strategy meeting teaching the NWI Republicans how to get their message out in the state's only Democrat stronghold. Not sure if it's going to help all that much right now, but I guess they need to start somewhere. Got to talk to the Secretary of State, though; Todd and I graduated high school together. We didn't know each other back in the day, but that's because he was popular and I wasn't. (I know, can you believe it?) Anyway. So we got to talking about Patty and her bullshit, and he kind of chuckled. It was aaaallll over the Indianapolis news, he said. He also said that if y'all knew Patty, you'd know where it came from, because Patty? YOOGE Bible beater. YOOOOOGE. In fact, she resigned some of her duties as head of the health and finance committee so she could spend more time doing church stuff.

What, you're not shocked?
Posted by Broad7:45 PM
Saturday, October 08, 2005
The elephants are coming
Someone in the paper either really hated me today, or else they decided to feed my sick sense of humor, because guess what my assignment is?

The first-ever Republican fucking convention in NWI.

You better beLIEVE I'm going during lunchtime so I can snag a good meal.
Posted by Broad6:54 AM
Thursday, October 06, 2005
Ah-hah! (Said in my best Nelson voice)
Patty caved. All's well with the world.

Thanks to Mac again for spreading the good news.
Posted by Broad7:09 AM
Wednesday, October 05, 2005
Das in Effe(xor)
And thank God for Cipro, because man! is it nice not to piss fire. Just as good? A doctor who gives you a scrip with refills.

Yeah, I'm still prone to UTIs. Nothing's changed.

Alice over at finslippy posted the other day about weaning off her brain meds, which happen to be Effexor, just like I take. And lots of people wrote to comment that "weaning good, cold-turkey bad," especially with Effexor, which apparently has a hellacious withdrawal. "Apparently," I say? Well, I'm going to let y'all in on a little secret: I've never experienced it. That's not to say people don't, because obviously they do, or there wouldn't be board upon board talking about the "head sloshing" and other awfulness. I just don't have it. In fact, I can go a few days where I forget to take it, and I'm all right. Now, if I don't take it for longer than, say, a week, I start getting monster-crabby and more anxiety-ridden, but nothing seriously painful. I wonder what kind of freak that makes me? It always scares me, though, when people focus only on the withdrawal and thus judge the medicine by that and not its merits; if it weren't for Effexor, I don't know what would've become of me after Dad died. Or like B-Dubs when I saw him on the 4th of July and he asked what meds I was taking now (full disclosure: He and I are both ADHD, and we've both done the whole Ritalin/Adderall/Concerta gig). When I told him Effexor, he was like, "Oh," in that "Wow, you're seriously fucked up if you're on THAT" kind of way. And I was thinking, "Yeah, and you were on Haldol and Risperidol when you were coming down from your bullshit. What the fuck?" Anyway, my doctor says I can stay on it forever if I like, and with my propensity for anxiety and paranoia, I don't see any particular reason to ever come off.

Speaking of the gene-pool, got a call from the detective today: He's setting up an appointment to talk to Crackhead in jail Friday. This ought to be good.
Posted by Broad7:43 PM
So proud to be a Hoosier
The Republican geniuses in the Indiana gubmint are huffing the glue again, this time trying to regulate reproductive rights by banning gays and single people from pursuing in-vitro and other forms of reproduction not involving sex. Lookit. Now, interestingly enough, the bill's not up on Patty's Web site. Nevertheless, how's about we let Patty -- and all the other legislators, for that matter -- know that that ain't right?

You got your pick of the litter here: Lookit. And here's where you find Patty:

Patricia Miller
Indiana State Senator, District 32

200 W. Washington Street
Indianapolis, IN 46204

(317) 232-9400
(800) 382-9467

And? The woman has a freakin' mullet. What does THAT tell you?

[Ganked from the always lovely Mac.]
Posted by Broad6:48 AM
Monday, October 03, 2005
New rule: No Stouffer’s french breads before bed
because it's never pleasant to dream that one of your most beloved exes has been mowed down in a hail of gunfire because he didn't kowtow to the county's political party line.

Yeah. Lemme 'splain.

See, the county in which I live and breathe is exTREMEly political and therefore exTREMEly, and rather bizzarely, corrupt. Like, as in, people in high places know which way their employees vote; the person elected as the County Clerk is still working as an attorney full-time; and nepotism, nepotism nepotism to beat the band, among other various and sundry situations unbecoming to public office. Well, said ex was never one to tout the party line.

(Sighs dreamily)

About J: Met him at an 80s party that a couple of my respectable married friends held what, seven years ago (OMG). He was a deputy prosecuting attorney for the county, six years my senior and just incredibly brilliant and intense. And motherfucker could COOK -- I mean, like gourmet stylee. He could take leftovers that he had in his fridge for like weeks and turn them into restaurant food. He lived in the Miller section of Gary about 100 yeards from the beach, and I was crazy about him. My friends and I had these delusions that he and I would become this power boho couple, living by the beach and throwing interesting parties with our interesting friends, never mind that between the two of us, we wouldn't have cleared $50,000. Still! We would be witty and urbane! A power couple in the County of Lake, if you will.

That of course was before he dumped me after a month and I went all crazy pussy on him, back in the day when I was wont to try entirely too hard. He is also a non-exaggerated alcoholic, actually losing his law license for six months because of two DWIs within something like two months of each other. (The second one, he was driving home from the bar that was maybe 3/4 of a mile from his crib, and he flipped off the Gary P.D. Heh. That's my J.)

It's here that the dream picks up.
Posted by Broad11:14 AM
Saturday, October 01, 2005
No maybes on THAT baby
Confession time, although I think it's abundantly clear by nature of my location: I'm a closet gearhead. Not in an "I love cars" kind of way, and not that I'm engineering-inclined in any way, shape or form. But living 10 minutes from three different steel mills and one good-sized refinery kinda has a hand in cultivating one's taste for massive, rusty structures with fire coming out of them -- like last year when I got to watch the blast furnaces get blown up. That was some seriously cool shit.

So today, on a day when I didn't have my camera (and I bought a bigger purse last week, so I really have no excuse not to have it with me at all times), my first assignment of the day was watching a water tower extension, wherein a group of union welders blowtorched off the sphere, or head, of the water tower, lifted it up 70 feet off the ground by three giNORmous cranes and left it hanging there in mid air while another crane hoisted a new 35-foot section onto the tower's base. Lemme tell you, driving along and looking up to see this giant white bulbous thing suspended in mid air was rather disturbing. If it were the Cal City water tower, it would've been totally worse.

Know what's also disconcerting? That Amalah is now the proud ownerparent of this particular babalah. Would you get a load of the size of that guy? If you've ever seen Amalah, you know what I'm saying. He's HUGE! But perfect. Go wish them lots of joy and love.
Posted by Broad7:44 PM
Page 2 of 2 pages  <  1 2
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



/> Wanna make a bunch of money doing what you're doing right now?

Hey Webmasters! - Make $$$
The AllPosters.com Affiliates Program is a great way to make money with your website. All you have to do is place links on your site to AllPosters.com. When your site visitors click on your links and make purchases at AllPosters.com, you earn 25%-30% of the sale. Sign up today!

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].

powered by
EE Core

script assistance by
scriptygoddess

hosted by
wiredhub

This explains that large bit of type at the top.

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

image




<< chicago blogs >>



Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons License.

Page copy protected against web site content infringement by Copyscape

Support Bloggers' Rights!
Support Bloggers' Rights!






online