"Ow!" Said the Pretty Blonde Girl

Zoomed through an episode of Beauty and the Geek. Hadn't planned on stopping AT ALL. The premise absolutely repulses me. But just as I was about to click away, the pretty blonde girl spoke. She was talking about how hard her challenge had been, because it required thinking and "brain stuff."

Swear to God. She called it "brain stuff." I fell off the fucking bed laughing. Best of all? Straight face. Missy has a WHOLE lot of room upstairs. It's where she keeps her "brain."

Sad to say, but I'll probably come back for more. Besides, Britney's no fun anymore. Y'all.

Rich People Don’t Wear Socks

So, I haven’t hung with the East Coast Elite in many, many years. (Okay, I’ve never hung with them. But I do stalk them from time to time. Sue me.) But I hadn’t noticed before--rich people don’t wear socks. When they are at leisure, they wear “casual attire” (which is pretty much what I call “dressing up,” i.e. long pants and a polo shirt.) They wear cute shoes. AND NO SOCKS.

Now I know what you’re thinking. Why would I, who subscribes to the “barefoot and looks pregnant” school of fashion find it at all remarkable that these conservative types (preppy in the legitimate sense) would go sockless. I live in Austin, for Christ’s sake. Flip flops are our version of dress shoes.

But in a town as buttoned up as D.C. is (guys wear ties in the gym), it just struck me as funny.

Now, I know they can afford socks. So, it must be a “I-don’t-care-if-I-stink-up-my-shoes-I’m-rich-be-otch!” kind of thing. Or maybe that’s their way of showing a little skin. A sexy come hither code that turns other rich people on. Mmmm. Ankles. HOT!

Hey, whatever turns you on. If you put your feet together, those little ankle bone bumps do sort of look like cleavage.

How Come They Make Such Stupid Decisions?

So, I’m in our nation’s capital. I figured I might as well come to the front and check out the Office of Stupid Fuckers first hand. But first, I needed caffeine, so I parked my happy ass at a small, local coffee house (I think it was called “Starbucks” or something like that) and tried to look like I wasn’t from Texas.

The first thing I noticed is that there sure are a lot of smart people here. Seriously, there are more think tanks than Starbucks. Just in the couple of blocks near our hotel, there’s enough brain power to fuel a MENSA outlet mall.

So how is it that the people in power here make such stupid fucking decisions? Then sound so fucking stupid talking about them? Maybe they’re not active listeners.

Say Wot? British Stoner Stupidity

So a Brit feller texts his buddy to see if he “wanted to buy some reefer.” Guess the dealer hadn’t made the cut to new phone. See, the buddy had changed numbers. The old number now belongs to a police officer. Like any good copper, he responded that, yeah, sure, he’d love some. Arranged to meet the guy and busted him. Wah-wah-wah-wah-waaaaaaaaah.

You know, though, it’s probably the best thing that could happen to him. If he’s that retarded in his business and discretion skills, he probably wasn’t going to get the branch manager promotion anyway. Or maybe he just enjoyed dipping into his inventory.

I feel especially bad for the guy because I have a family member (extended) who accidentally texted me a series of oddly (and poorly) coded messages about “playing basketball at midnight.” He also talked about “bringing the girls.” It had long been rumored in our family that he was pimping and dealing on a very small scale. Like so many of his “startups” this one fell by the wayside. Hard to figure out why. I, of course, being the evil bitch that I am, texted him back repeatedly, altering the plan and changing the time. Then I stopped responding altogether. I had to go to bed.

Now, I grew up in the 70’s and 80’s and really, really, truly people, there aren’t any euphemisms left that are subtle enough to escape detection, yet still be understandable. So I kind of laud the guy for just saying, “Dude, want some reefer?” and not beating around the bush.

And I also must confess that I hate texting and culture around it. So I’m secretly glad that he got busted that way.

Someone should develop a national PSA campaign around the slogan, “Stupid People Shouldn’t Deal Drugs.” We could get Ann Coulter to be the spokesperson. That’d scare a stoner.

Thank You Sir! May I Have Another?

How Did I Miss This?

In 2006, a very high-profile professional dominatrix, Leona McConnell, claimed that she had "watched George W. Bush enthusiastically and expertly perform a homosexual act on another man, one Victor Ashe" in the mid-1980s? (Radar, the source of the story, refers to this as a “bro job”—a straight guy helping a buddy out. LOVE that.) Ashe was Bush's college roommate, apparently.

Okay, first of all—EWWWWWWWWWWW! That is NOT the image I want to have in my head for the rest of the day. Second of all, when has GW ever done anything “expertly?”

Seriously, though, I can’t even begin to imagine that George would have it in him (no pun intended). Now, it could be a situation like Robert Downey, Jr.’s character in Less than Zero, where the act was fueled by drugs and alcohol. Lord knows, I’ve certainly had some alcohol motivated regrets. And I’ve known a few cocky, Republican frat boy types who loved to take a walk on the wild side now and again. So I guess it IS conceivable.

But wait . . . what was a professional dominatrix doing in the room? Did we just bury the lead here? Whether the job was blow or bro, I want to know what else happened in that room.

Stop and think about it.

It’s obvious to the entire world that GW likes being told what to do. Maybe now we can see a pattern. What if Laura is a closet dom? THAT’S an image I could giggle over all day long. Demure, librarian First Lady by day—wicked lady with a whip by night. Or maybe Dick Cheney with a leather mask on as he walks into the Oval Office.

Don’t laugh. Republicans are waaaaaaay kinkier than the Dems ever think about being. The little vestibule where Clinton kept his cigars might be George’s playpen now.

Who knows what Hillary will find when she walks back into the White House.

Fresh Squeeze

Okay, how deliciously ironic would it be if OJ wound up in prison for his recent “reacquisition” of his sports merchandise. I was one of the millions of Americans consumed with his trial. I even read a couple of the post-mortem books, including the one by disgraced, “racist” copy Mark Fuhrman. I highly recommend the book. In it, Fuhrman argues that he is not a racist, and in fact was well-liked in the black community. He also says that he had never seen a murder case with more evidence pointing to guilt and that the D.A.’s office botched the prosecution horribly.

And now . . . just the stupidest fucking thing. Busting into someone’s hotel room to “get my stuff back.” ?!?!?!? Of course, if you’ve literally gotten away with murder, you probably think you’re pretty bullet proof.

Now, he may be facing a little hard time. Stay tuned. Should be fun to watch.

Attack, Part Deux

Josie, the lesbian from season two of Top Chef (not to be confused with the Pussycat) and her friends were followed out of a bar in Sea Cliff, NY and beaten by a group of young people who were shouting anti-gay slurs. Okay, this is disturbing on so many levels. First, the whole hate crime thing. Nobody deserves to be beaten simply for having a bad haircut and being mechanically inclined.

Second, NOTE TO YOUNG STRAIGHT PEOPLE--you would have to be a dumb motherfucker to pick a fight with a lesbian. That girl will KICK YOUR ASS. I’m sure if her straight sister hadn’t been with her, she would be wearing a new cap made of straight boy foreskin.

And now that I’ve gotten the cheap laughs out of the way, I want to ask a serious rhetorical question. Where’s the threat, people? What on earth does someone’s sexuality have to do with you, much less feel like a threat? Obviously, this isn’t the Psychology 101 blog, but damn.

And don’t you love that’s it’s always a group. Even fey Tucker Carlson, with his precious bow-tie and mop of hair, after thinking he was getting hit on in a public restroom, went and got a buddy to come back in and bang the guy’s head against a stall. Because these cowards are afraid that if they go solo, they might get their ass kicked. Or more likely, find themselves enjoying the close, physical same-sex contact.