Saturday, October 25, 2008

A bad day

Being dead seems to be a really awful way to start out a Saturday morning.

Seeing the dead person on the way to work is also pretty bad, albeit not as bad as actually being the dead person.

I was on my way to the theater factory this morning, sun shining down and the wind blowing the way it blows on beautiful Atlanta mornings in October, when I heard the sirens. Lots of sirens. Loud, persistent, take notice of me sirens. As I approached the City Hall East block of Ponce, I could see a goat fuck of official looking vehicles, including forty-eleven police cars, at least two crime scene investigation vans, and two ambulances. In the middle of the fray, lying face down in the middle of the center, east bound lane, was an woman. Kind of heavy-set, she was wearing black sweat pants and a white t-shirt with some sort of black slip on shoes. Amazingly, she still had on both of her shoes. The strangest thing was her back pack. It was sitting in the road, directly to her right, like she had placed it there, then decided to lie down and nap for bit. There was no blood or gore, just a woman who seemed to be resting.

I don't know who she is or how she died. I want to know. I want to know what happened to that woman. What kind of violence ends with someone face down in the middle of a busy street in my neighborhood, their back pack placed carefully beside them, as if not to spill the contents.

Friday, October 24, 2008

Sunday, October 19, 2008

I'm lovin' it!


I was late for my show call yesterday. About 30 minutes, to be exact. And for once, it was not my fault. I caught the correct bus (good 'ole number 2, remember that one?) and it actually arrived at my bus stop at the correct time. Since I was totally engrossed in whatever nonsense I was listening to on my Zen, it took me a bit to realize that the bus had been stopped in front of the McDonald's on Ponce for about 10 minutes and the bus driver was nowhere to be seen. Of course, the bus was still idling and the doors were wide open. I asked a woman seated across the aisle from me what the deal was, and she informed that apparently the driver was hungry.

After about another 15 minutes of waiting, the driver reappeared with a Happy Meal. He could have at least asked everyone else if they wanted anything or gone through the drive-thru.

No wonder MARTA has a reputation for being unreliable.

That's got to be one of the most ghetto-ass things I've ever seen.

Saturday, October 18, 2008

How far will we go?

The girl hero and I were talking yesterday about botox. It seems like it's a topic that has been coming up a lot lately, not sure why. Upon further examination, we concluded that using botulism to rid one's self of wrinkles is the equivalent of self-inflicted biological warfare. Who in the hell came up with this idea?! WTF! It is now commonplace for otherwise right thinking grrls to VOLUNTARILY have a paralyzing pathogen injected into their body, all in the name of "beauty". "What's next?" we asked ourselved. Using mustard gas to color our hair? Imagine that conversation on an all new episode of "Sex and the City". It would probably go something like this:

Miranda: Oh my god! Samantha! Your hair color looks so great today! Are you doing something different?

Samantha: Well girls, I have found THE hairdresser of the moment.

Carrie: You're not going to Raoul anymore? Two weeks ago you said you trusted him with your life!

(Notice how all the characters end every sentence with an exclamation point..but I digress..)

Samantha: Oh noooo....Raoul just wasn't up to the minute with his coloring techniques. Now I'm seeing Maxine...

Charlotte: What does she do? New product line?

Samantha: Oh yesssss....Forget that Redkin or Biolage crap. She uses mustard gas!

Carrie: Mustard gas?! But isn't that dangerous?

Samantha: Honey, EVERYTHING'S dangerous. It's all about how much something is worth to you. And being blonde is worth EVERYTHING to me.

And scene....

Gotta go. The new line of anthrax matte powder from MAC just came out and I gotta get some quick! The stuff is just FLYING off the shelves..

Sunday, October 12, 2008

Google is AWESOME!

I love Google. Everything about Google. It's the best. But this may be the one thing they release that will one day save my ass.

Can I get this as an application for my phone?

Saturday, October 4, 2008

The games we play

I don't often blog about my personal life, for a lot of reasons. I don't want a bunch o peeps up in my grill, and I really don't like the feeling of my panties showing on the internet.

But I gotta get something off my chest.

There is a game that people who are dating play. It's called "I don't like you as much as you like me". It's a great game. It allows people who are casually getting to know each other the ability to save face. To never be embarrassed. To not have to put themselves out there if they are unsure if the feelings are reciprocated.

That said, I don't like games. Have you ever played Scrabble with me? Probably not. But I, too, dear reader, am guilty of it. We all are. I mean seriously, what's a reasonable minded grrl to do? Embarrass herself over omelets? Never. I would never.

That being said, Donutorama is throwing down the gauntlet. I vow to never play that game again. If I like you, I gonna let you know. It may be in subtle ways. I mean really, how many people have I let drive the General Lee? If I let you drive my car, I consider it fairly serious. In 1984, that would have meant that we were meant to be together. But it's not 1984 (as much as I wish it were..oh wait..that would mean I was living..where?..no I really don't). It's the way I make sure that you think that I smell good when you hug me and the way that I always seem to be making sure that my eyelashes are artificially long enough when you see me; that I'm always wearing the right outfit and that my panties are always "situation appropriate".

So seriously y'all. I'm done with the games. I don't have time (got a job and shit).

The next time someone is interested in Donutorama, they should just probably tell her. I vow to throw down the score card.

Off like a prom dress..

H

Thursday, October 2, 2008

Who would Tommy Chong vote for?


Since I'm working tonight, I'll have to watch the replay of the VP debates. In the meanwhile, here's some food for thought.

Are you a liberal dem with a hardcore commitment to the Obama/Biden ticket? You might want to do a little more research on your own vice-prez candidate. Don't tase me, bro has a very interesting post about Joe Biden's history as one of America's most vehement players in the failure that is the "War on Drugs". In fact, he's the guy who coined the term "Drug Czar" and was responsible for writing the legislation that led to the incarceration of Public Enemy Number One, Tommy Chong. I know I slept better at night knowing THAT guy was locked safely away.

Let's not get bogged down with images and forget the issues.

My ears are bleeding.

There's an unspoken rule on Atlanta public transportation. It reads as follows: During rush hour, whether on a bus or train, one shall not vocalize in levels above 100 decibels. What that means, boys and girls, is SHUT THE FUCK UP. I was on the good ole number 2 this afternoon about 5.30, and I swear, there was a group of people hollerin like there was a damn emergency. Conversations that reach the level of fire engine sirens are not welcomed, let me tell you. I went to a Metallica concert in 1992 at the Omni that wasn't that loud. Seriously, I couldn't hear the music playing in my earbuds over their little tea party. The Cuban revolution wasn't that loud.

I suppose I could have taken some responsibility for myself and asked them to lower it to the level of an F-16, but surely my steely glare should have sufficed.

It didn't.

I just hope my commute home won't be quite so obnoxious.

Wednesday, October 1, 2008

Why I dislike Carrie Bradshaw.


Here Greta Christina describes most eloquently why I hate "Sex and the City". Come on gals, stop trying to pretend that you're all such uber-feminists who are breaking some kind sexual mold.

I only wish I could have expressed it so well myself.

But I still think there is nothing wrong with a great pair of expensive shoes.