Saturday, January 20, 2007

Mrs. Clinton goes to Washington.

And this time she wants the big desk. What a shame it would be for "feminists" if she were to be elected. The first female president should not be a calculating shrew who got there on her husband's jock and her willingness to sell out her ultra liberal base in order to appear centrist and moderate.
I live in a liberal enclave, and even here I am not hearing excitement about this bitch's candidacy. Maybe the excitement over Amy Klobuchar is overwhelming the potential enthusiasm over Hilary. Or maybe even all these folks who still have John Kerry stickers on their bumpers recognize an elitist, carpet-bagging poser when they see one.

Monday, January 15, 2007

How F***ing weird is this.

I was going to start a new blog, with a link to & from this one so my mom could find me again. (Recently the Shtrib said most blogs have less than one reader, and I am pretty sure my mom reads mine & my sister's, hence our almost one reader each). Anyway, since the Scrib also said that there were something like 1 billion blogs already, and I do believe in the 3 Rs whenever possible, I decided to reuse my old blog.

The name I'd planned for the new one would have been either Madonna's African Baby, or Your African Baby- something like that. Another reason to recycle- the Madonna's African baby story is pretty O.N. and far be it from me to keep commenting on something everyone on the face of the earth is sick of hearing about, including Madonna's African not-quite-an-orphan. Besides, I'll get my chance when the kid is seven & some little friend of his shows him pictures of his hairy-ass butt naked white mama.

I'm also done with schooling (for now) (yea me) so I am slowly regaining my familiarity with reading for choice, not thesis material. And I've made another discovery.

I like to drink.

I am not talking, cirrhosis, kids in foster care, 8th DUI type drink. I mean that I am finally accepting that I like to have a cocktail every now and again like a grownup. Beer, mixed, fermented, whatever. It's almost all good.

So, here I am, 2pm on MLK's day, kids parked in front of the TV playing a rowdy version of Scene It involving dives on & off the furniture, apparently, Cosmo in hand & writing what is basically a note to my mom.

More efficient than email, if you ask me.