Corrections

I'd like to retract the comment I made yesterday about F-150 drivers being bad tippers. I was a little worked up, and perhaps a bit drunk, last night. You see, my job requires that I create the illusion that I am something that I am not (acting!), and this sometimes requires that I let clients buy me drinks and shit. So there was this guy who was a total prick in the audience last night, and he left $1.25 tip - all in quarters - and I saw him drive away in a F-150, and I was mad.

So yeah, not all F-150 drivers are bad tippers. I have noticed, just as Fabiola (or Mary or both) pointed out, that lesbians do tend to be some of the best tippers in my line of theatre.

The ones that have non-protest jobs, at least.

A Fly in the Ointment

I've been reading a lot about the prospective bailouts of the US auto makers and, since this is a politcal blog, I figured at some point I'd have to weight in on it. Now, I don't pretend to be a Big Expert in the economy like, obvoisuly duh, Obama! is, but I'll tell you, I'm not the bg, dumb fuck you all think I am because you are projecting your image of yourself on me. So, without further adoodie, here it is:

Fuck. Them. All.

Yeah, you heard me right. Is giving $75 billion to these idiots going to make me want to be seen tooling around town in a Cobalt SS? I don't fucking think so. A smoking hot blonde like me (bottle or otherwise) isn't going to be caught dead in anything they've even ever seen a picture of in Detroit. I mean, when was the last time you got decent tip from a F-150 driver? Right? Never? Yeah, I thought so.

Die, Detroit, Die. Like an unwanted fetus. Die.

Go to hell

You know, I do actually know it has been a while since I posted. Thank you all for emailing me, like I'm some sort of big, stupid fuckhead who can't remember to do her job. An unpaid job. You know, well, fuck you. Bitches. I'll post when I fucking want to.

Obama!

Halloqueen

I dressed as a goddess for Halloween, which to be quite honest, is not much of a stretch for me. I went to a party that the ladies downsatirs threw. I told everyone I was Terpsikhore, and when they said, "Huh?" I kicked them in the privates and danced away.

I wore a nice little white flowing number, and I walked around with a bunch of grapes while guzzling Chardonnay out of a goblet that probably wasn't Greek, but who the hell knows what the Greeks actually drank out of? It's very hard to get across the message that you're supposed to be Greek without resorting to such stupid clichés. I mean, if I was a man, I could just walk around with a boy's ass stuck on my cock, but that doesn't really work for a goddess.

Of course, the night was completely ruined by two stupid, stupid wymyn. One came as Hillary Clinton, with a rubber mask and a lime green pantsuit, and the other came as Sarah Palin, with spikey red heels, her hair up in a bun, and those horrible, horrible glasses.

I mean, what the fuck, you can't afford lasik? Maybe you should make your "fans" tip better.

Anyways, these two bitches kept making jokes about what great vice-presidents they'd be, much better than Joe Biden, and I just got incensed. Who the hell are they to go around implying Obama doesn't have excellent judgment? So I got all up in their faces and started shouting truth to power.

But, I'd had a lot of wine, so I had to lie down for a second in the middle to catch my breath, and the fucking hostessess threw me out! Oh yeah? Is that the way it's gonna be? I don't think I'll be stepping lightly upstairs at night from now on. And on Tuesday night, you can kiss my (sympathetically) black ass as Joe Biden becomes the V.P.

In. Your. Face. Bitches.