Somewhere between Bell's Palsy and death

Social comment n' shit

Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Consider this bit of advice a gift:

Calling in the middle of the night for a piece when I could just as easily be substituted with a fresh corpse or really any other inanimate object with marginal pliability does NOT turn me on. It makes me want to shit on your car.


Posted by Broad9:29 PM
Monday, December 22, 2008
Need to tell y’all about le weekend,

but before I do, I leave you with my buddy Fitz’ blog post about thrifting and how people would rather keep up appearances than admit to being smart with money: Lookit. And while you’re at it, leave her a comment of support; she rocks.


Posted by Broad8:48 AM
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Get the hell outta here!

The banks that got the bailout aren’t doing anything to fix the situation!?? And “trickling down” doesn’t work!?? STFU!

Lookit

I took Math for Poets in College, and *I* could’ve told you THAT.


Posted by Broad2:44 PM
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Turns out I don’t need Scope to turn into a jerk

A word to the ladies that I may come across in my travails, if I may: Unless you want a short, overweight woman in a faux shearling coat and fake D&G handbag to start shaking that ass whilst you give your date a lap dance during a cover of “Sympathy for the Devil” IN A RESTAURANT, you probably ought to not give him a lap dance. Then I—er, I mean SOMEONE, might not get the urge to look your date straight in the eye and give him a “Thumbs up” because he knows—AS DOES EVERYONE ELSE IN THE JOINT—that he’s going to get himself some, and though that might be his endgame, what if he doesn’t want to make it that obvious!??


Posted by Broad1:11 PM
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Peppermint martinis make me hungry, ill-mannered

Let’s hear it for my evil overlords, who’ve once again screwed up my paycheck and left me in the red during the holidays!

blank stare
Boo-urns

Rather than bitching about the inevitable, however, I’m instead going to tell you about my awesome weekend and how I should never, EVER be allowed to drink hard liquor again.

It all started Friday, when my seester came in for a quick visit. Now, as a SAHM with a hub who travels for work 50 percent of the time, she doesn’t get out much, which is fine with her most of the time. So after we got the kidlets situated, it was going be dinner, shopping and meeting one of her girlfriends out for A drink, since she had to get back home and I had to be up at the ass crack to cover the FUTURE OF NWI(tm).

Three a.m. and three glasses of Riesling later, the only thing that got Ms. WOOOOOOOOO! to leave the second bar of the night was the snow, because she had kind of a haul to get back to her dad’s. It was nice to see her relaxed and having grown-up fun, though, so I didn’t mind my head being pudding during my assignment in, oh, five hours, plus I’d had only two fluffy martinis (read: $8 sweet drinks in a fancy glass), so I was fine. Cutest moment: Earlier in the evening, my niece Lulu was doing a kind of jump-wiggle around the living room with this little satisfied grin on her face, like, “Yo, wut up.” Eight hours later, my seester was doing the same thing at the bar, same look and everything. God, I love those two. I even ended up talking to this idiot, but that was HER fault since she decided to give him a ride to the other bar.

Then Saturday, after a series of schedule changes that would’ve normally pissed me off (and kind of did until I discovered things actually worked out better), was the Bang Bang Christmas Extravaganza. The apertifs du soir: Peppermint martinis made with Ciroc, peppermint schnapps of some sort and a hit of gin, maybe? I don’t know, and SHINER BOCK! of which Ben bought by the metric shit-ton for his lady. As I was feeling rather festive (and wired since I hadn’t slept much), it was going to be martinis for me, no skimping on the sticky candy-cane rim coating, barkeep.

Sometime after the second one, I think, it was time for me to find something to eat since I hadn’t eaten since lunch, and there on the buffet was a gorgeous cheese plate—with neither tongs with which to pick it up nor plates on which to put it, as I would discover AFTER I tried to take one or two pieces of round, thinly sliced cheese but ended up having to take FIVE because cheese sticks together, and it’s not like I can just leave it there after my hands have been all over it. So I improvised and grabbed a styrofoam cup for my cheese.

Around my fourth peppermint martini, Girlie said I was quite the sight trying to carry on a conversation with Sensei Massey with my cup o’ cheese, martini (hands sticky from the rim) and candied pretzel sticking out of my pinkie; to hear her tell it, there might’ve been cheese crumbs expelled in some fashion. It was then that I switched to PBR.

The fun didn’t end there, however. It was time to head to our next destination—a place in Hammond where NASCAR lovers go to die—to catch the Leprechaun Virtuoso filling in for one of the 17 bands he plays in, but not before we hit McDonald’s for double cheeseburgers. They were mighty tasty, those cheeseburgers, but not quite as tasty as the chicken, mostaccioli and mashed potatoes Danny was eating when we got to the bar. So tasty were they, I not only ate off Danny’s plate but got up and helped myself to more, not giving any thought to the fact that he got the food from a wedding reception being held there.

It might not have gone exactly like this—the person who put up the video needs the page views so s/he disabled embedding—but close.

The NASCAR bar was too much for us, so I inhaled my ill-gotten fourth-meal and we set about our way when 1) I got the heel of my boot caught in the hem of my cashmere dress coat trying to get in the party van (I yanked it out), and 2) Girlie got pulled over, and I had to be told several times to STFU because I was rather loudly telling my sister of the night’s events. By the time we got back to the shop, the party had wound down—probably for the better.

And THAT, my friends, is why I don’t drink hard liquor as a rule. Thankfully, no one outside my crew saw how badly I was behaving.


Posted by Broad10:35 PM
Thursday, December 04, 2008
Somebody better take my temp

For those of you who haven’t been paying attention to my fb tweets, I’m currently in the market for a new smartphone since the wonderful Palm Pilot Baby Brudder bought me a couple years ago died a noisy death over the weekend. The debates have been many: Blackberry or Palm Centro? Because the Blackberry is super-cute, but all my stuff will transfer to the Palm the easiest even though it’s not as cute as the Pearl ... anyway, so I’ve been scouring eBay for a Centro, and I’ve found a couple that I wouldn’t feel bad shelling out the money for, right? (And no, I will NOT buy one from my wireless provider, deals be damned, because they won’t let me get one without a $30 data package, and as much as I would love to be attached to the Innerbunny 24-7, adding an extra $30 to my budget when I technically can’t guarantee my job from month-to-month doesn’t sound like the brightest thing in the world to do.) I go to my bank account and see that I have plenty of cash to drop around $175 for it ... but that money could ALSO go toward the other half of my rent and utilities should my check not show up tomorrow, as it’s wont to do every so often. So what’s a girl to do?

Would you believe that I closed my eBay tab and decided I would cover rent and NIPSCO first?

Who am I, again!??


Posted by Broad3:04 PM
Monday, December 01, 2008
My eyes! They burn!

How come they never tell you, when you sign up for social networking sites like fb or meatspace, the dangers of trolling through profiles and finding the first boy you ever loved (and took THREE Tylenol in an attempt to kill yourself because your mother wouldn’t let you talk to each other on the phone when you were in the 6th grade) LOOKING LIKE THE MARLBORO VERSION OF A ‘70s PR0N STAR, AND NOT IN A GOOD WAY!?? He has a big fluffy ‘stache, and it looks like he might even have a PERM! I ... just ... there ought to be a LAW, people, because that ain’t RIGHT! How does a man get away with looking like that these days!??


Posted by Broad11:28 PM
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Something wacky this way comes

Went to the eye doc today—first time in, oh, four years, because if my eyes aren’t bothering me, I just don’t give it much thought. The bad news: My frames aren’t made anymore and haven’t been for two years, which sucks because I LOVE my frames deeply and flipped at the idea of having to find new ones as cool as these. The good news, however, is that my eyes haven’t changed significantly, so new glasses aren’t necessary. But I bought some anyway, because I’m a girl who’s easily excited by the idea of having TWO pairs of glasses.

So Mother and I are sitting at dinner last week when out of the blue, she hits me with this:

Are you seeing somebody and just aren’t telling me? Because every time you pick me up, your phone’s always ringing, and I wonder if it’s a guy.

big surprise
Uh, wut!??

God knows Mother nags me about myriad things—MYRIAD things—but the one thing for which I always gave her credit was that she never harped on me about me being single and without spawn. So, after I looked at her like she’d suddenly sprouted three freakin’ heads, I showed her my received call log, which consists of Girlie, Poppy, my sister, the paper and, well, that’s really kind of it on any given day. She seemed satisfied, but I of course was kinda squicked out by the whole exchange.

No, there hasn’t been a regular male cast member in my merry band of idiots for going on three years, and save for a certain delicious interlude, I haven’t really necessarily been in the market for one. Things like the following remind me of why: Today a friend of mine got some pretty exciting news and naturally wanted to share it with her boyfriend, even though they’re pretending they’re casual. She gets him on the line, and he proceeds to tell her all about how he’s at HIS EX-GIRLFRIEND’S helping her with some sort of disaster, poor, poor pitiful him. And do you know that HIS crap all of a sudden became more important to her than her really good news!?? Yeah, I had something like that happen once. The night before Dad’s wake, the one guy (remember that asshole?), after not hearing from him the whole time Mer was in town, called and as we were talking, he started on some tangent about all the times he’s been kicked when he’s down (and there are many). Something about the conversation told me he’d just gotten fucked over by someone he was dating (yeeeeessssssss, besides me, y’all, no need to dwell), so I asked him if he’d gotten his heart broken. To his credit, at least he said “No” and wouldn’t elaborate, and he did show up at the wake the next day, which I completely didn’t expect (he never met Dad, so it’s not something I would’ve asked of him).

Anyway, I did think to myself, “Um, hi? My dad just died, and even though I’m probably not going to talk to you about it, can we at least focus on me me ME, you know, because MY DAD DIED!???” but that bit of righteous selfishness somehow turned into “Oh, he’s telling me in so many words about his failed relationship because he’s trying to take my mind off MY stuff! Wow! That’s really considerate!” (Yeah, wish I could blame that one on grief, but no. That would be me using my acute rationalization skillz.)

Yeah, I suppose I didn’t need to go into all that, but after two almost-in-a-row major relationships with possibly the two most joyless human beings outside of Tara’s ex, I’m perfectly happy with what little peace I have. I mean, if someone normal wants to come and hang, I could be down with that, sure; I’m not SO jaded that I’ve sworn off men or anything. It’s just something I really don’t think about on a daily basis. But yeah, so now I guess Mother wants me married off or some shit.


Posted by Broad8:09 PM
Monday, November 17, 2008
mmm-HMMMMMM

What’d I tell you: Lookit

Now, to m: Was I right about the soup?


Posted by Broad9:33 AM
Tuesday, November 04, 2008
STAT GIRL! (cue Batman music)

It’s official and everyone can rest easy: I have in fact done my civic duty and voted my freakin’ ass off. And you know what the best part was? Voting a big fat NO! to retaining Diane Boswell as a judge. I swear to God, I have NEVER seen such screwed up sentencing as I have from that woman, and I sincerely hope the victims who were hurt by her far outnumbered the criminals who got off with slaps on their wrists. I also completely threw caution to the wind and voted for whoever’s running against Van Til and Philpot (for the NWIers in the hizzy), even though I know NOTHING about their credentials other than they’re Republican. And I ALSO voted for our incumbent governor, if you must know. That’s a horribly unpopular choice for many Hoosiers, but love him or hate him, no one can deny he’s actually DONE stuff, and a good portion of said stuff hasn’t been detrimental to the state. If Long-Thompson gets in, however, I won’t be disappointed as long as she keeps to her word about getting rid of tax abatements for incoming companies. (They don’t NEED them!)

In other news, I will be spending my evening at Lake County Guvmint Complex reprising my role as STAT GIRL! (na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na!), which I love. Hell, since the major networks will no doubt be there in full force to see what Lake County does, you may even see me slinkin’ around. I’ll try to wear something bright and festive so you don’t miss me.


Posted by Broad11:44 AM
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Oh, Peggy

Did it not occur to you that when you yourself write a missive talking about your son, you kinda throw plum out the window the right to threaten anyone with legal action if they mention his name? I’m guessing you didn’t, because you called the paper all fired up over it, but yeah no, honey. You don’t get to do that without looking like a total nutjob. And YOU, PVT, calling me from home and stuff. Not sure what you wanted, but my story was correct: You were reprimanded, and rightfully so; I mean, just because you HAVE the influence doesn’t mean it’s appropriate to throw it around. And I know how that is—people ask me to “wield my influence” (such that it is, and believe me, all MY influence is going to get you is an eyeroll, if you’re lucky) all the time, but that doesn’t mean I do it. But you know, y’all can go ahead and hire an attorney if you like. You’ll LOSE, but whatever.

Lessee, what else ... Girlie had a pregnant Hooters waitress wait on her when she took her daughter there for lunch Sunday. She said it was pretty horrifying.


Posted by Broad8:54 PM
Monday, October 13, 2008
The one where Girlie has a Broad moment
Wait ... this might be 30 years too late, but did Lutheranism come from Luther?

-- asked while I was helping BoyGirlie study for his History quarterfinal Sunday night

Posted by Broad1:07 PM
Friday, October 10, 2008
How much y’all want to bet

that if Uncle Peepaw and Bible Spice (thanks Jez who coined the term!) lose the election, she’s going to hit the talk-show circuit/tell-all memoir circuit with a story of how she was “coerced” into making all those racist comments* and just didn’t hear those calls to kill Obama, doggoneit! because she would’ve NEVER let it all happen if she were allowed to campaign the way SHE wanted to, because she’s NOT racist, nosiree.

Just a thought (but mark my words; I give it a year).


Posted by Broad7:05 PM
Tuesday, October 07, 2008
Is that what you call it?

Ever get wind of something you know is only half the story, and you’re hugely offended and feel the need to bring your side to the table even though you’re so much better off not being involved, and anyways it’s not like your side makes a difference?

Eeeeyeah.

No, not going to share with the class, except to offer a bit of advice: In every relationship you have that goes bad, when you’re sitting there justifying your reasons to get out of it—and of course there are great reasons to get out of relationships that don’t make you happy; not saying not to—do yourself a favor and make sure you’re completely aware of YOUR part in it, if for nothing else than to not repeat the same shit* over again with the next unsuspecting schmuck.


[*And when I say “repeat the same shit,” what I mean is not subject the next unsuspecting schmuck to said shit, though the other interpretation works as well.]


Posted by Broad10:41 AM
Sunday, October 05, 2008
Time once again to get my hands on a bat

Last night, the boys and I settled in for the night with jammies and blankies and stuff when I promptly fell asleep after watching the first half of SNL (yeah, I know, missing two of the best skits, but I already caught Mary Poppins, and that one’s tons better than Lawrence Welk. I about died with that one). And then I woke up about 1:45 a.m. to what I thought was the sound of someone knocking on my sliding door.

Which leads out to my balcony.

ON THE SECOND FLOOR OF THE BUILDING.

But I wasn’t sure until I heard it a second time, and yeah, it was distinct knocking followed a few seconds later by a kick to the window, maybe? So I did what any normal person would do and FROZE THE FUCK UP ON THE COUCH FOR AN HOUR, not moving a muscle because both my phones were out of reach, and since the blinds to the balcony were open, I didn’t want who- or whatever was back there to see me. So I waited patiently for doom to fall when tired got the best of me and I got up and went to bed, where oddly enough my window was opened and I can usually hear what’s going on in back WHEN I’M AWAKE. But there was nothing, and I fell asleep after an hour of wondering if it’s illegal to get my hands on some barbed wire to wrap around the balcony railing. Oh, and wondering why, if the person didn’t know me, they would knock (unless they DO know me, in which case, I would think she’d have learned that yes, I DO call the cops on family members).

Now, I’ve got the blinds closed and everything on extra-super lockdown, which I hate because it makes me feel closed in. Seriously, though, who the hell would knock on the door of the person they’re trying to rob or worse!??


Posted by Broad7:42 PM
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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!??:



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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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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.

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