"But Shit, Woman, it is Cold as Fuck Up Here"
I don’t suppose it’s a coincidence that just when I was about to post today about the hilarious, politically incorrect and brilliantly executed Old Negro Space Program
mockumentary, I decided to check my e-mail first and discovered this from someone calling her/himself "peaceofmind":“It is obvious that you are jealous of Patti LaBelle. I read your
post about the Nobel Peace Prize concert. You completely misinterpreted what was going on. I will not waste any more of my time on you. But as a Patti LaBelle fan I say grow up.”
Then, this one from someone called "madbee" that said simply:
Both from AOL accounts.
Well, I don’t think
I’m jealous of Ms. LaBelle -- suppose it’s possible. I mean, anything’s possible, right? Why, they finally caught the ol’ chupacabra
, didn’t they? Most thought that an impossible task, so hell, maybe I am
jealous and I just can’t face it at this point in time. Perhaps when I grow up, become a real
woman with elaborate head dressings of my own, I will seriously contemplate my sick jealousy with a clinical, lash-fluttering eye.
Until that glorious day, a day I don’t anticipate breaking until the year 2035, I shall remain blissfully ignorant whilst posting inappropriate things about folks I am subconsciously jealous of.
And holy crackers, before I receive e-mails from outraged African-American individuals of a certain age, I will admit here and now, to all the world and its children, that it is
possible I am pathologically jealous of old negroes, and I will do my best to correct this serious personality flaw when I finally do grow up.
And Now a Word From One Pissed-Off Mother
I give not one whit whether you’re a Democrat, Republican, Independent, or Hari Krishna, common sense should prevail, justice should prevail, and all
information regarding our public servants should be known in order for us to make wise, informed and rational decisions regarding who will speak on our behalf, who will represent our
goals, hopes, beliefs for a strong, united, righteous
Tell me I’m wrong. Go ahead, I dare you.
Most sane, competent individuals would, of course, not disagree, and I believe that the majority of Americans are sane and competent -- however blind some of them may be. None of us should be in the dark as regards to our government. Ever. Nor should we be silent, afraid of dissent, complacent when it comes to the future of our children, our grandchildren.
I am not a politician, an no lobbyist or paid mouthpiece; I am only a concerned citizen who is scared out of her unusually intelligent mind of what our great and beautiful country is becoming. Hence this plea to you: Exercise your democratic right to KNOW.
Be informed. Be an active participant, and never take anything
for granted. Behaving otherwise is like signing away your civil rights, baby.
So why am I babbling on here? John Roberts will be appointed to the Supreme Court because Bush wants him there, and there ain’t nothing you can do about it, so nyah, nyah.
The following is excerpted from an article written by Senator Ted Kennedy in the August 19 edition
of the Washington Post:
“He [John Roberts] repeatedly advanced narrow interpretations that would have undermined landmark and hard-won laws Congress passed to prohibit discrimination.
(my italics) As a young lawyer, Roberts advised the White House to delay fair-housing legislation.
[my italics) He urged the Justice Department not to intervene in a pending case and opposed a claim of gender discrimination, even though the assistant attorney general for civil rights, William Bradford Reynolds, believed the claim was based on "a very strong record" of gender discrimination….”
“…during his tenure in the Reagan Justice Department, Roberts tried to limit the scope of Title IX, which prohibits discrimination against women in educational institutions receiving federal funds.
“This is why it is so important for the Senate to receive the documents requested about the 16 cases he worked on in the solicitor general's office.
For example, the Senate has requested information about Franklin v. Gwinnett, in which the Supreme Court unanimously rejected Roberts's argument to limit remedies available under Title IX to a teenage girl who had suffered flagrant sexual abuse. “
What is this administration hiding? Why not just pony up the info? I’ll tell you why -- Roberts, although attractive, young, seemingly pleasant, full of good humor and love for his family, is a man whose past record indicates extreme
rightwing views. He is a man who, I will admit, probably believes his views are best for America, for his own family,. I’m positive he’s sincere. But anyone who values equality for all
citizens, whether you condone a certain lifestyle or not, will take the current administration to task for attempting to bulldoze this Roberts character into a lifelong position which carries the power to either uphold justice or negate it altogether.
Make your Freedom of Information Act request here
Like Hair on a Monkey's Testicles
1) When was the last time you went to the bathroom outside?
Ah, I remember it well…It was summertime, 1992, and we were camping in the Adirondacks, just me and Lar. Bliss.
2) When was the last time you saw one of your parents?
My father passed on in 1981, but I saw him last month. He’s doing well. Saw my mom last month, too -- she’s doing very
well considering she hasn’t passed on yet.
3) Which family member do you most resemble?
I have my father’s light hair and skin, my Grandma Spinelli’s bone structure.
4) Do you wear cologne/perfume?
Jovan Musk Oil, for over twenty-five years now. I wear nothing else. Ever.
5) Do you wear deodorant?
No, I prefer stank, thank you very much. Actually, I like Secret Invisible Solid, powder scent.
6) Do you 'clean up nice'?
7) When was the last time you tripped and fell?
Fell? Well, tripping is commonplace for me, as my “Gettin’ Jiggy” post reveals, but…Uh…Oh! It was around 1980-something, and I tripped over a sidewalk crack in the middle of downtown Rochester. Fell flat on my stupid face. No one stopped to ask if I was okay, just sort of eyed me with disdain, so I picked myself up, casually looked back at the crack (see aforementioned post) and ran weeping to the bus terminal.
8) Where was the last place you slept besides your home?
Heh. My mom’s. See my “Sodomized by Captain Morgan!”
post for the hideous details.
9) What are you listening to right now?
The wall fan in my office as it sucks clouds of dangerous smoke into the fresh summery outdoors.
10) Have you ever started an uncontrollable fire?
11) Ever run out of gas on the road?
I don’t drive.
12) Would you rather cut the grass or rake the leaves?
Rake leaves! I’m terrified of gas-powered machines (see above).
13) Your name spelled backwards?
14) What is the last thing you downloaded onto your computer?
A fabulous “mockumentary,“ which I shall link to in the near future.
15) Last time you swam in a pool?
Sometime in the late eighties.
16) Have you ever been in a school play?
Ninth grade drama class. I was a dancing puppet in the spectacularly embarrassing production of “Pinocchio.” The puppets (all girls) had to wear shorts, and at the end of our retarded puppet jig, we were to bend over at the waist and stay that way till the conclusion of the scene. Guess who was eyeing us from behind as he lurked in the wings? Yes, our perverted drama teacher, Mr. FatandGross. My buttocks still bear the scar of his fiery hot leer.
17) How many kids do you want?
Six. But I’m getting old now, and I haven’t the money for a nanny, so four is enough, I guess.
18) Type of music you dislike most?
Whiny-ass pop-pseudo punk-staccato lyric “You are my girlfriend/I am your boyfriend/We eat at Denny’s/And it will never end” shit.
19) You registered to vote?
20) You have cable?
21) Ever prank call anybody?
Lord, yes. I must write a post sometime about the pranks my brother Dan and I did back in the day. They were super sophisticated, no silly “Prince Albert” giggly crap there. We recorded them, even. Had one poor couple terrified that they had somehow stumbled upon a government sting. Most excellent.
22) Best friends?
Refer to post below. ‘Nuff said.
23) Would you go bungee jumping or sky diving?
Sure, and I’ll eat cat poop while I’m at it.
24) Do you have a garden?
I do! It’s soooo pretty. And it’s home to gigantic alien toads and space mold.
25) What's your favorite comic strip?
Haven’t read them in years, but I used to enjoy Blondie and Peanuts.
26) Bath or Shower, morning or night?
Shower, morning, bath, when I’m lucky.
27) Best movie you've seen in the past month?
28) Favorite pizza topping?
Cheeeeeeese! Then more cheese on top of that.
29) Chips or popcorn?
Gimme some Lays and some onion dip, and I’m good.
30) What color lipstick do you usually wear?
Revlon’s Mirrored Mauve. It’s sassy!
31) Have you ever smoked peanut shells?
32) Orange Juice or apple?
Neither, but orange goes well with vodka, so orange it is.
33) Favorite type of chocolate bar?
Hershey’s Almond, the giant size, please. And York Peppermint Patties. And Reece’s Peanut Butter Cups. And 100 Grand. And Kit-Kats. And…
34) When was the last time you voted at the polls?
Last year. Didn’t do much good, though, but I tried.
35) Last time you ate a homegrown tomato?
36) Are you a good cook?
37) Ever order anything from an infomercial?
This is so embarrassing to admit, but in the nineties, I decided that I wanted very long, and I mean to the middle of my back long, hair. Problem was, I had a short, spiky ‘do at the time. One day, I was watching an infomercial for hair extensions -- Luxurious Hair, I think? -- and the ladies all looked so pretty with their shimmering, soft, LUXURIOUS locks flowing about, and I wanted to be pretty, too, so I ordered a buttload of hair. Unfortunately, my Luxurious Hair resembled pubic hair, SIMIAN pubic hair. I was not pretty. Well, pretty for an ape, I suppose.
38) Sprite or 7-Up?
39) Have you ever had to wear a uniform to work?
Sort of. Are pasties considered a uniform?
40) Ever thrown up in public?
Yes. I hated myself for it.
41) Would you prefer being a millionaire or find true love?
I want to be cherished AND rich. I want it all, baby.
42) Do you believe in love at first sight?
Lust, yes, true love, no.
43) Can ex's be friends?
Yes. But I’d want to go to bed with them, so I stay away from my exes.
44) Who was the last person you visited in a hospital?
45) Did you have a lot of hair as a baby?
Tons of bright cardinal red hair.
46) What message is on your answering machine?
I don’t have an answering machine.
47) What do you think about most?
How did it all begin? Who created God? Does my ass look fat in these jeans?
48) Favorite form of travel?
49) Ever drink rotten milk?
Surely you jest.
50) What do you think of the person who posted this ahead of you?
I love his bright fuchsia lips and the wiggle in his walk…No, seriously, Bill’s
a great guy, and a wonderful writer. He’ll be appearing in Best of Borderlands
with me. (Check out that link, will ya? Cover looks awesomely awesome.)
Crying in My Coffee
Thank you, Nic, for the beautiful nod. You have no idea how much I needed this
Let it be known to all and sundry that I, Ms. Lori Funklesteinheimerschmidt, believe that you, Ms. W. Olivia Rammsteinalallyhoo Jones, are the bravest, strongest, most admirable human being I know. And that's a fact.
Argh. Fingers still hurt. Difficult to type.
But I can still DRINK
! Oh, lawd, do I love to drink. And goodness gracious, thanks to my impossibly adorable friend (who shall remain nameless due to her political aspirations), I needn't drink alone (not that I would
, you understand. I'm no lush. Perhaps a lushette. A lush-lite?).
She and I, accompanied by three others who will also remain nameless for reasons I shouldn't even intimate (Christ, the scandal
I could cause!), went out to a hole-in-the-wall after a town meeting thing, and we got hammered, y'all. Do you realize how long it's been since I visited a hole-in-the-wall? No, of course you don't. Well, I'm here to tell you it's been years -- years
Oh, the night was magical.
I laughed, I flirted, I never had to open my wallet -- and I tripped down some stairs Jerry Lewis-like, though I did prevent a fall by whirring my arms wildly, my fancy-shmancy Italian gem-studded sandals all aglitter as my feet did an Irish jig across the bar room floor. I finally skidded to a stop in front of a gaggle of dart players, one of which had his lethal weapon poised mid-air, look of pure disgust creasing his otherwise handsome face.
Good thing I was hammered or I would’ve really
So I casually looked back at the stair I'd just tripped on, as many of us are wont to do when we trip in front of strangers (why do we do this? As if looking at the stair, crack in the sidewalk, slippery rug, whatever, will somehow alleviate the humiliation, as if the offending trip-maker will rise up and bellow IT'S MY
FAULT SHE TRIPPED, FOLKS! SHE IS NOT A GRACELESS BOOB, NOR IS SHE A DRUNKEN ASS! NOTHING TO SEE HERE! GO ABOUT YOUR BUSINESS IMMEDIATELY OR I SHALL SNEAK IN FRONT OF YOUR
FEET NEXT!) then walked, head high, proudly and without much shame, to the ladies' room.
Anyway. My jiggy trip, besides inspiring hatred among dart players, also inspired love -- an older gentleman with bologna breath, a man who is a successful caterer here in town, began to follow me about the room. And outside the room. Couldn't even have a freaking smoke without bologna man creeping up behind me, asking me questions, trembling with lust...
I finally had to tell him this: "Sir, your breath is like a package of Oscar Mayer bologna that has been opened and left out in the steaming Rochester sun for thirty-two hours. No, I do not wish your company."
Aw, let's change the subject now...Got some great
news last night regarding my brother, Dan
. Ready? He landed a beautiful position at a law firm in Flushing, corner office, everything -- and they'll be paying for his bar exam. You make me so damn proud, bro'.
Satan, Remove Your Disgusting Ben Affleck-Like Teeth From My Hands
My hands, dear God Almighty, my hands
! They blew up Sunday night, just blew up to the size of catcher's mitts, yes they did. Woke up around two a.m. to the most unholy pain imaginable, a shooting, throbbing, caught-in-a-vice, crushed-under-the-wheels-of-a-tractor trailer kind of pain, and upon stumbling into the light, saw that both hands, fingers included, were HUGE.
I wept, I cursed, I took forty Advil, I punched Lar in the head, but nothing eased my torment. And still, although somewhat better (at least I can move my fingers), the swelling and pain (unholy, demonic, supernaturally bad) remain. As do the fiery red 666's that appeared across the knuckles of my left hand.
Now, I've had similar occurrences, especially this year, but I've noticed that these episodes are becoming more frequent, are lasting longer, and are increasingly more painful. I did go to the doc about this, oh, around three, four years ago, but he just shook his head and said, "Well, Devil Woman, x-rays show nothing abnormal. You are destined to bear the mark of the beast until the end of your days."
Or something to that effect.
In other news, I purchased a new whore. She's real nice. Too bad I can't screw around with her as much as I'd like. Soon, though. Very soon...
Congratulations to a Magnificent Bastard
Hearty congratulations to Tony Hines
(the man who helped me birth this very blog -- thank you, Tony, for not making me feel stupid, even though I am) on his recent book deal
! May the novel sell like big-ass hotcakes.
Read all about this dream come true here.
Mr. Hines, I bow before your chocolatey goodness...