R.I.P. ACW

I’ll be missing you, ACW. I’m doing a cyber dump out right now in your memory. Here is my humble tribute to your fucking awesomeness:

====

Peace,

AngyHangy

Now With Pixchers, Hon.

Check it out.

What’s Up?

Way back in the 1990’s, ye olden tymes, there was an atrocious song called “What’s Up?” by this band called 4 Non Blondes. Perhaps some of you old-timers remember it? Someone decided to do an equally as atrocious extended dance remix of this same song and, for reasons unknown to me, the song had some kind of magickal hold on lesbians everywhere whenever it played in a club. The dykes went crazy for this song. It was so powerful that it even made the womyn wearing Tevas, jog bras, and jean shorts jorts forget all about the evils of the patriarchy and get on the dance floor. Those were magickal times indeed, but that song made me fling my freedom rings into the abyss of the dance floor and seriously consider running back into the sweet lovin’ arms of the closet.

I haven’t really written much about politics on this blog, although there is enough fodder out there to induce finger diarrhea well into January. But this election year crap is reminding me of that 4 Non Blondes “What’s Up?” remix. It’s hideous, it’s everywhere, and it feels like it won’t end. If it doesn’t end soon, be prepared to see jog-bra’d, Teva’d lesbian zombies coming out of catteries and farmers markets to a town near you.

Seriously though…are Obama and McCain really the best we can come up with as a country? Are we grading our presidential candidates on a curve or something? I feel like on election day I will be forced to choose between having syphillis or gonorrhea. I really don’t want either one, but it looks like I’m gonna get one either way. Along with stockpiling Cipro, in anticipation of the political STD we’re all about to get, I’m also stockpiling ammunition and Ambien. A girl’s got to be ready for anything.

What is Baltimore?

Baltimore is being in a hurry and getting stuck in the express lane at unSafeway behind a woman with thirty items on the belt who insists on three different transactions, in order to have ten items or less, who then pulls an Independence Card out of an LV bag, causes the register to lock up with her multiple transactions, and then gets into a fully-loaded Lexus SUV that’s double-parked in the fire lane in front of the store.

Olympicszzz…

Let’s face it – the Olympics stopped being exciting when the Cold War ended. I miss the good ol’ days of the United States versus the USSR and its “ia” republics  (Armenia, Georgia, Latvia, Estonia, Lithuania, etc.) and its BFF “ia” countries (Romania, Czechoslovakia, Bulgaria). The events were much more interesting way back when it was Good vs. Evil, Capitalism vs. Socialism, Freedom vs. Oppression, U.S. Women vs Eastern Bloc  Ladymen. The only reason to watch now is to admire international hotness, which brings me to my latest European soon-to-be girlfriend.

What is Baltimore?

Baltimore is a sweaty crackhead (in an over-sized t-shirt that says “RIP K-Swift” on the front and “Got Bail? Big Boyz Bail Bonds” on the back) patiently fixing a flat tire on a little kid’s bike.

I can’t find a way to quit this city.

I’ve been Ike Turned™ again.

motoroller scalatron

Carla von Lahnstein may be my newest European fantasy lover, but Laetitia Sadier, lead singer of Stereolab, has given me special tingles since 1992. She’s tall, dark and brainy, has an accent, and seems like she’d smell faintly of cigarettes and red wine, but not in a bad way. I’d love to sit at un café with Laetitia, both of us looking bored while sipping red wine and talking about le philosophe. If I could be her microphone for one song, I’d be totally willing to ignore the fact that she’s French and decidedly left of Lenin.

Behold Laetitia! (she’s in the black sweater):

=====
R.I.P. Mary Hansen (in the red shirt)

Recognize Anyone?

Spouse? Boyfriend? Family member? Coworker? Neighbor? Your kid’s soccer coach?