Somewhere between Bell's Palsy and death

Wait ... what!?!?

Wednesday, February 25, 2009
What’s with all the bawl-bustin’!? Damn

Evidently, I’ve been doing my job right this week, because damn people all butt-hurt and telling me how to do my damn job. Jesus. Look, lady, I didn’t stay for “the whole meeting” because my deadline is 9 p.m., and it takes me a half-hour or so to write up a story. Therefore, since I left at 8:45, surely you can see the dilemma, right? As for how I cover a story and what I end up writing about it, my job is to provide readers with the newest information humanly possible, and I hate to tell you this, but the people in the crowd were NOT SAYING ANYTHING NEW. I know you think they were, but between the nutjob who had his son refigure the study numbers, the Rush-wannabe wingnut accusing the board of entertaining real estate offers and HIS mother getting up and talking about how her father was the first union president, really, they weren’t. In fact, the only parent who offered anything remotely reasonable was the woman who asked what improvements would be made with the money that would be saved. And no, no one on EITHER SIDE gave any viable solutions, either, so tell you what: When the parents CAN say anything I haven’t heard ad nauseum since November, I’ll stop acting like I have better things to do. ‘k?

THAT one wasn’t even the best one, either. Behold the atrocity I got over the weekend; my comments are obviously italicized. [WARNING: It’s SUPER long.]

Posted by Broad3:37 AM
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Get out yer longjohns, folks, because Hell HAS frozen over

Tomorrow—or today, whichever you want to call it at this point—as y’all gorge yourselves on everything that’s wonderful about the holidays, I’ll be doing the same, only unlike you, I might well be balled up in the corner with the first bottle of whatever I can find. See, while y’all enjoy your family, *I’ll* be spending Thanksgiving with BOTH MY MOTHERS.



I know, I know: What a blessing to be amongst those who love me, etc. etc. I get it. But people, complete bizarreness of my situation aside, think about it—TWO MOTHERS. Not a mother and a stepmother, or a mother and a mother-in-law; those are your run-of-the-mill dynamics. I will have TWO MOTHERS who love to—what else?—MOTHER in the same house, mothers who will either fawn all over me or point out every flaw I have as if I don’t know what they are. And if Mother’s in one of her moods, I’ll be inflicting her on completely unsuspecting people. I mean, she seemed in decent spirits when I talked to her earlier, but that was hours ago—who knows WHAT will happen between then and when we’re supposed to get there that’ll set her off!??

I’m a little freaked out here, people. Please send alcohol.

Posted by Broad5:57 AM
Friday, October 10, 2008
If it’s right, why does it feel so wrong?

So I did something Wednesday that I haven’t done in, oh, something like two years, I think. Ready?

I am now the proud owner of a current valid drivers license.

This comes as no shock to my crew, who’ve had to haul my ass around and hold their breaths while I get carded since I finally admitted my lack of license (don’t worry—I may not look like I’m approaching 40, but I’m still not cute enough to pass as under the age at which it’s appropriate to card), but it shouldn’t come as a surprise to any of y’all, either, because truth be told, I’m kind of an asshole when it comes to stuff. Here’s what happened: I got dinged for speeding in late February or early March 2006 (twice within a week, as I recall); paid my tickets and was told I needed to go to defensive driving. Thing about that was, having gone through DD before several years ago during my last spate of speeding infractions, I seemed to recall the cost as being something like $90, which I didn’t have at the time. And then I forgot to sign up, and then I forgot I forgot and so on and so forth until my license was suspended (and yes, they DO send out the paperwork). Fast forward to April, I was heading down to my accountant’s for the annual buttrapemy taxes when I got pulled over. And the officer discovered my suspended license. Said officer was kind enough to NOT impound my car and wrote me a ticket far less than my actual speed. But did that prompt me to reinstate my license? Of COURSE not, because now that it was suspended, I figured the fee was MUCH more than $90 and I had to prepare for that kind of coin.

Then my first court date in August came and went—it was deferred since I was still a scofflaw—and I decided I’d better take care of this nonsense, so I called downstate to find out what I needed to do to become legal again. The lovely gentleman told me all I had to do was take the DD course I’d put off. “Really? That’s IT!??” I said in utter shock. “Yep, should cost you no more than $50.” Well, hot PISS! I thought, I can do this right quick!

Except I didn’t and deferred two more court dates before sitting my ass down at the computer to TAKE THE COURSE. Hey, I told y’all I was an asshole about this stuff.

In what has to be my punishment for being such a dick, y’all can rest assured that the picture is horRENdous—my face is too small for my head and my hair is HUGE on one side because I made the mistake of pulling it outside my collar (first mistake: wearing a collared shirt in the first place) without benefit of a mirror. None of that, however, compares with my Peter Griffin butt-chin, which is more prominent than I’ve seen it in forever. But you know, now that I have my license back, I kind of feel all out of sorts, like it’s not normal to not be a scofflaw. Is that weird?

Next up: getting my license plate renewed. Then I’ll be COMPLETELY legal (It was due in August.). The question, however, is will I still be the exciting, mysterious rebel I’ve become by having a suspended license all this time? Only time will tell, I reckon ...

Posted by Broad8:21 AM
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Hope you got what you wanted, because it’ll NEVER happen again

Last year during BUS DEMOLITION! season, I volunteered to contribute to the drinkage supply, and having just been introduced to the nectar of my people, I wanted to, ahem, share my cultural heritage with them. And lo, it was wondrous and painful, with throats burning and heads hurting, and threats of further wretching this year at the mere suggestion of Serbian Moonshine gracing the cottage table. But LFitz forgot to pack the leftovers, so that was that. We thought we were safe.

But then another among us—as payback for the burning or just as a lark, I’ve not a clue—brought his own spirit concoction he’d concocted: Bacon. Vodka. Yes, bacon vodka. I just kind of looked at him like, “Huh. Whodathunk?” He said that he put bacon in the vodka (yes, COOKED bacon, lest he run the risk of trich) and stuck it in the freezer for some amount of time, then removed the bacon and strained the liquid through a coffee filter to, gulp, remove the fat sick from the liquid. Afterward, he threw in a jalapeno—you know, to give it more flavor. He insisted I take a shot.

My friends, I’m here to tell you that I’ve now been bested, because that. shit. BURNED. worse than ANYTHING. EVER. Not even the shljivovitca comes close. But if it weren’t for the burning, I can’t say it was ... horrible, exactly, though I do kinda wonder how it got a GREEN hue to it. The homies said it made for fantastic morning Bloody Marys, though.

Posted by Broad4:15 AM
Saturday, May 24, 2008
Comedy already, and it’s not even Sat. night yet

Ok, so as Girlie, Curlie and Li’l Holly and I were standing at the ghe-TTO flea market waiting for our rib tibs, a seagull shit on my head.

I’ve heard somewhere that it’s supposed to be good luck when that happens, but so far, the only thing lucky about it was that Girlie had baby wipes on her.

Posted by Broad7:59 PM
Thursday, May 01, 2008
It is SO freakin’ nice outside

I just might be inspired to fire up the ol’ iPod and get out and take a walk, like, RIGHT NOW.

Life is good, yo.

Posted by Broad2:07 PM
Friday, April 11, 2008
Stupid rain

making want to sleep instead of meeting up with all the reporters so we can piss and moan about the man and drink our faces off.

Posted by Broad12:52 AM
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Ok, y’all?

It’s snowing AND thunderstorming out here right now.

Figure THAT one out.

Posted by Broad10:57 PM
Monday, March 17, 2008
Have y’all seen “Life After People”

on the History Channel? Whoa, is all I’m sayin’. Just ... whoa. The stuff about the domestic animals almost made me cry.

Posted by Broad2:23 AM
Saturday, March 08, 2008
“Like he’s homping someting, mayn”

Any of you who were thinking about sitting through all those episodes of “Gone Country” you put on your DVR, Girlie and I (armed with a bottle of champers) spared you the trouble last night. Ima spoil it for you.


1) “Save a horse/ride a cowboy”—sorry, John Rich, not when you’re wearing the skins of defenseless animals and rhinestones on your pants. Urban country my ass—you look like a Liberace grape-peeler reject. And get rid of the porno mustache, because that ain’t gonna be good for NOTHIN’.

2) Bobby Brown (he of unconstipating Whitney Houston fame) has other scatological issues: He pees in random places when he sleepwalks. Isn’t there a pill for that?

3) “She’s about three steps away from being the crazy bag lady”—Girlie on Maureen “Marcia Marcia MARCIA!” McCormick, who’s turned into this bizarre amalgamation of Christian Soccer Mom and haggard barfly without the booze. Not that we didn’t dig her, because we did, but wooooooo! Girl focused on the wrong issues when she visited Dr. Phil. And these are the types of issues that are going to get her involved with freakin’ Bobby Brown even moreso than she was on “Gone Country,” so please please PLEASE, Mo, get help. And if you and Bobby are dating, Ima be pissed, because then Girlie and I are going to get roped into watching THAT trainwreck of a show, and we already saw a leeeeetle too much of Bobby Brown without pants last night.

4) Has Michael McDonald ever played Dee Snider on “MadTv?” Or better, has Dee ever played Stuart? Because THAT could be funny.

5) Carnie rocked as she always does.

But you know why the whole thing was a total waste? Because John Rich made this whole big deal about wanting to pick the song that “had the most country appeal,” and then who does he pick? Fuckin’ Julio Iglesias Jr., who could barely sing ENGLISH, never mind reach out of his Latin love-song genre. If all he wanted was to find the biggest challenge with whom to produce a song, why get the hopes up of all the other performers!?? He should’ve just devoted the whole show to turning Julio into a country star. Sheesh.

PS I’ve been ordered by Girlie to tell y’all that the champers we imbibed last night was won during Bingo. For the class factor and stuff.

Posted by Broad5:18 PM
Sunday, March 02, 2008
The weedleeee is hard to capture

Lessons learned while trying to videotape guitar sensei Jeff Massey in action when he and the band play blues favorite “Mean Old World” (originally done by Little Walter as far as I can tell, but with the blues, who really knows who originated what?):

-- No matter where you’re trying to shoot, some stupid fat guy with slicked-back hair is going to get in the shot and dance. Badly.

-- Blues songs are typically at least 15 to 20 minutes long, so your battery pack and SD card should accommodate more than five minutes.

Alas, we didn’t capture Jeff doing his “weedleeweedleeweedleeweedleeweedlee!” this time, but now that we know what song it is, we’ll be prepared the next time.

Prior to catching the band, however, I was tricked—TRICKED, I tell you!—into attending another sex-toy party. I say “tricked” because when Girlie presented the option to me, she said, “So, you want to go to Doris’ surprise party?” Here’s the conversation that ensued when we left:

Me: You know, when you said “surprise party,” I didn’t realize that’s the name of the sex-toy company.
Girlie (looking at me like I have three heads before busting out laughing): What, did you think I was inviting you to a surprise party for a person you didn’t know!??
Me: Well, YEAH. Because that’s kinda how we do it.

And that IS true: As I allow people into my inner sanctum, they just sort of become part of this big collective where I work under the impression that everyone knows each other and hangs out like one big happy. Girlie works the same way, so since we each know a shit-ton of people (and that’s seriously not an exaggeration), assuming she’d be inviting me to a surprise party is NOT a huge stretch, so no laughing.

Posted by Broad10:20 PM
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
A word about “The law of attraction,” though

Girlie and I were having a discussion about the dumbasses who have kids for which they can’t provide the other day, and she brought up the Duggars and how even though they might be batshit crazy, they at least provide for their 37 spawn. So what’s on TLC right now? “On the Road with 16 Children, all wearing red shirts and granny boots with stupid hair and insipid grins on their insipid faces.” (I made part of that last part up; they really ARE wearing red shirts and granny boots, at least the girls are. And while I can’t really speak to their insipidness, I didn’t know were so many names starting with ‘j.’ )

I’m thinking there’s got to be better things Girlie and I could be putting out in the universe.

Posted by Broad3:09 AM
Monday, February 18, 2008
I probably shouldn’t find this funny

and this is the kind of stuff that you only hear about (at least I have, I don’t know about y’all), but don’t you wish you could actually see it in action: Lookit?

[via Jezebel, natch]

Posted by Broad3:56 PM
Friday, February 15, 2008

Why does my hair look like someone cut it with a bowl in pictures? I swear it doesn’t look like that IRL.

Posted by Broad2:36 AM
Monday, February 11, 2008
Driving the neighbors crazy, one song at a time

You know how I was talking about nipple clamps the other day in random conversation? Ok, the universe is apparently trying to turn me completely off to the idea of nipple play, because here’s this—Lookit—and I’m just like, “That’s it, I’m out.” I can’t imagine that it’s a real procedure, but I mean, I don’t know about y’all, but many strippers, with their fake hair and nail-art painted nails, are already walking, breathing fire hazards. Do they really need to be more combustible? That’s what I’m saying.

Today’s new song obsession is Slade’s “Run Runaway.” Ask me how many times I’ve played it. Go on, ask me! ZILLIONS. Over and over and over. Fiddles, crunchy guitars, simple lyrics sung by ugly Scottish men in kilts—what’s more fun than that?

Posted by Broad10:19 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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