Somewhere between Bell's Palsy and death
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
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Anyone low on kittens?

Because I may have just inadvertently given one a death sentence, and I need to find her a home.

I was heading to my dye job this afternoon when, in somewhat of a déjà-vu* moment, I heard loud mewing coming from the bushes. So I psssssspsssspssssssssed, and a pretty little brown and cream calico – one that looked suspiciously like one of my other downstairs neighbor’s kittens that she got in the fall – ran out of the bushes and gave me tummy. She wasn’t malnourished, but her lower back was all ragged and full of dander. She kept following me to my car and crisscrossing my legs as I walked, and I was just heartbroken and outraged because I thought I saw this kitten out a week or so ago, and if this was Pixie, I was going to have to hurt a bitch because I TOLD this heifer that I would look in on the kittens since she’s not home a lot, and now she’s just kicking one OUT THE HOUSE!?? Aw HELL NAW.  But I had to make my appointment, so thinking it’s no-kill, I called Animal Control to come get her, right? Well, I just found out from Girlie that my town’s animal control is NOT necessarily no-kill, so now I’m even MORE heartbroken than I already was. She’s really pretty and very friendly; if anyone’s interested, hit me up. I would take her in a HEARTBEAT iff’n I didn’t think the boys would go ape.

Now for a complete digression, does anyone else think Taylor Swift looks like a stuck-up ferret? Discuss.

Here’s another digression: Suppose you were chatting with a gentleman you fancy, smiling and generally being cute (or as cute as someone like you can be), and when you said something makes you excited, the gentleman pulls back your jacket to, ahem, GAUGE said excitement. Would you consider that getting hit on or playful banter? Whatever it was, it got ME all tingly – so tingly that I completely blocked out that AFTER we got done talking with my gentleman crush, I slid on a patch of ice and fell flat on my ass.

[UPDATE 2/18: Got a call from the animal control lady—she didn’t get the kitten, and when I called for her in the bushes a minute ago, I heard her, so she’s still here, and I can now get her someplace safe.]


Posted by Broad4:01 AM
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
All I’m sayin’ is

if Michael Phelps can get his Wheaties revoked for hitting a bong, punk-ass bitch Chris Brown better lose his endorsement for hitting a girl. Who’s with me!??


Posted by Broad2:37 AM
Saturday, February 07, 2009
Another Friday night

Here’s an exciting moment in my rockstar life: I’m sitting here on the couch, and I WAS thrilled to have my oldest lying on the pillows next to me, but now he’s gotta be all up in my grill, which entails sitting on the laptop. Oh, and now he needs to take a bath, leg up. You want to be me now, don’t you?

Yesterday, the sibs and I wandered the city while my sister took shots of homeless people for her Web site (that’s back under construction but will be fabulous and show all her spectacular work when it’s done), and we had a blast—B-Dubs took us on a wild goose chase to find all the homeless he used to encounter when he worked downtown and passed out candy bars to those we did find. The day would’ve been absolutely perfect were it not for the wind trying to eat my face off. But let me ask you something, and I know I’ve talked before about this, but why don’t people understand that there’s no such thing as privacy on the Innerbunny!?? I don’t know, maybe I’m not the best person to ask since I’m published, but when you put something on the Web, I don’t care if you have your Myspace or Facebook set to private. YOU PUT IT ON THE INTERNET. IT’S NOT PRIVATE. If you want something to BE private, DON’T PUT IT ON THE INTERNET. PERIOD. (Now, to me, e-mail is a different critter because you’re sending something specifically to someone, but I know some would disagree with me on that.) Anyway, I wish my youngest sister would get that instead of railing against the world with her perceived injustices. Lord, that gets tedious.

My birthday was excellent, filled with happy wishes, good cheer and great swag from my peeps. Was kinda crabby for the Super Bowl, but three Absolut 7 and Roses Limes, three shots of Rumple and two 16-oz Buds in penis bottles will do that.


Posted by Broad3:49 AM
Tuesday, February 03, 2009
It’s my damn birthday

Could my cousin PLEASE stop blowing up my phone about the story I’m doing!?? I GOT IT! Jeez.

More on my birthday tomfoolery later—just had to get that out.


Posted by Broad5:39 PM
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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