Happy New Year

Christmas Blitzkrieg

One particular Christmas, while we were visiting our grandparents in New York, it snowed. My brother and I were still little kids and we had heard songs about white Christmases, but we had yet to experience one. Since I was the only granddaughter at the time, Christmas was always a bit of a let down because my grandparents and aunts and uncles Santa insisted on giving me girly gifts. No matter how good I was all year, Santa never listened to me when I confessed my innermost Toys-R-Us desires. Instead of the cool Star Wars actions figures, I’d always get the bitch ones like Princess Leia, Yoda, C-3PO, and Walrus Man. And instead of getting the Millennium Falcon and an X-Wing Fighter, like my little brother, I got Lite Brite and a Holly Hobbie sleeping bag.

Someone forgot to tell Santa that the bulb was not included with Lite Brite and, even though I was an imaginative kid, Lite Brite without the Lite pretty much sucked. Having the Holly Hobbie sleeping bag mock me with the “Sweet Dreams Grow in a Happy Heart” platitude stitched on the front made me the most pissed off first-grader in the tri-state area. Sweet dreams may very well grow in a happy heart, but they certainly weren’t enough to make the Holly Hobbie sleeping bag grow because the sumbitch stopped at my armpits. So on this particular Christmas, snow was just the distraction I needed.

Merry Christmas

Christmas Knees

It’s funny how the holiday season forces so many of us to revisit childhood traumas.

Just before one particular Christmas arrived, when I was seven and my brother was four, my mom got us these hideous bright yellow Winnie the Poo pajamas - complete with bright red cuffs around the sleeves and ankles. I don’t know why we had these pajamas because neither one of us really gave a shit about that bitch-ass bear. We were all Star Wars all the time. I think the reason my mom humiliated us in this way was to take a bit of the pre-Christmas ADHD fight out of us, but really it just had the opposite effect. We had to overcompensate with rowdiness in order to cancel out the wholesome pajamas.

I’m digressing.

Eat the cake, Anna Mae.

Ike Turner, one of the world’s most famous wife beaters, died today. It’s too bad he had to be such a bastard because the guy really was a genius. No one likes a wife beater though and I’m fairly confident Saint Peter is waiting at the Pearly Gates winding up his pimp hand and getting ready to greet Ike with a bitch-slap from on high.

Good luck with that, Ike.

R.I.P anyway.

Sweet Inspiration
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Forty Years Ago…

Otis Redding was killed in a plane crash on December 10, 1967. He was only 26 years-old.

That voice…there’s really not much else to say.

Can’t Turn You Loose
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Beltway Blues

I commute from Baltimore to Bethesda once a week, which is entirely too much. Every time I merge onto the Capital Beltway, I feel myself aging rapidly. This is why I don’t accept job offers in DC or the DC Metro area. No amount of money is enough. I’d rather spend the rest of my days watching The L Word in a loop with no laugh tracks. No thanks.

Recently, I’ve noticed a pattern among certain types of drivers once I hit the Capital Beltway. The biggest douche bag drivers all seem to have liberal/politically correct bumper stickers plastered on their cars. Is it just me or is there some kind of irony in someone side-swiping other drivers while sporting WAR IS NOT THE ANSWER and PEACE IS PATRIOTIC bumper stickers? I especially love the HATE IS NOT A FAMILY VALUE bumper sticker. What they conveniently leave off of the end of that sticker is BUT VEHICULAR HOMICIDE IS. I’ve lost count of how many people have taken a ride on my ass in their massive luxury SUVs, while I’m doing 85 mph, and then swerved around me leaving a political bumper sticker wake of HILLARY ‘08 and NO WAR FOR OIL. Are you serious? You’re in an SUV and you’re saying NO WAR FOR OIL? I don’t get that. That’s like saying you’re a vegan when everyone knows you eat pussy.

During yesterday’s drive back to Baltimore, an OWL (Older Wiser Lesbian) driving a, what else, forest green Subaru Outback, ablaze in HRC and LET FREEDOM RING rainbow bumper stickers, would not let me merge from Old Georgetown Road onto 495. Traffic was moving 8 mph and I had my blinker on for days. Figures. Gay hate crimes committed by other gays - it’s a shame, but it happens. Of course, she did have 800 pounds of kibble and kitty litter in her Peace Mobile. Perhaps her PetSmart inertia was too great to risk slowing to 6 mph to allow a fellow Sapphic sister in. Whatever. So much for celebrating diversity, you hypocritical, Birkenstocked bitch.

I can always tell when I get closer to the sweet loving arms of the Baltimore Beltway because the bumper stickers are much more honest and a lot less pretentious. Among my favorites are: WORK HARDER. MILLIONS OF PEOPLE ON WELFARE DEPEND ON YOU and the Dale Earnhardt #3 sticker with angel wings on it that either says GONE TO RACE IN A BETTER PLACE or BECAUSE GOD NEEDED A DRIVER. Other favorites of mine include: LESS TALKING MORE SUCKING and DON’T BLAME ME. I VOTED FOR EHRLICH.

Don’t get me wrong here - the drivers on 695 are just as bad as the ones on 495, but I’ll take my road rage neat. Hold the hypocrisy. Thanks.

Just What the World Needs

Another Irish cop.

My cousin just found out he’s been accepted to the AACOPD academy!!

I couldn’t be more proud of him because he’s one of the good guys and he’s worked his ass off to get there. I think this makes a total four generations of police officers in the family over the years. Talk about stereotypes.

Congratulations, cuz!!!