Perez Hilton...he's quite the schlub

This is why I love Southern Women. And Drag Queens.



Sing it, Sista!!!

Party Chit Chat

I met a very interesting woman today. We were at a luncheon and were seated across from one another at a long table. She introduced herself to me and we began chatting. Suddenly, things got weird:

Her: This egg salad sandwich is YUMMY.

Me: Mine, too! There must be relish in here....

Her: Speaking of eggs, I have endometriosis.

Me: Oh man, that sucks. I have a couple of girlfriends who have it, too. (the men at the table are now slowly scooting their chairs away from us while I bat my eyes at them, silently imploring "PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME HERE BY MYSELF!")

Her: It's VERY painful. I had cysts on my uterus AND cervix. I also have boils taken out from time-to-time. It really sucks.

Me: Ummm...yah, I'd imagine. Oh! Not to change the subject or anything, but did you SEE the cake over there!!! Wow!!

Her: I like cake. It reminds me of my ovaries.

Me: ......eh.... So...I hate to change the subject again, but I'm dying to know: what do you do for a living??

Her: I'm a Matron.

Me: Is that like a Patron, but a chick?

Her: No, that's like a Matron. As in a Prison Matron.

Me: [some unintelligible noise leaves the bottom of my throat as I look at her with curious horror, knowing that I'll never be able to stop her from telling further horrible truths about her life.]

Her: Yep, I do full body cavity searches on female prisoners for a living.

Me: Cavity searches...that means that... [and then silence as I automatically begin imagining the women I've seen on the TV show 'Cops' naked with their cavities exposed. Suddenly the egg sandwich was slowly rising in my throat, inexplicably trying to return to my mouth.]

Parties are kind of overrated.

Jabba can suck it.

On my way to drop my kids off at the local elementary school this morning there was a police officer who was directing traffic. I was behind 5 other cars that he had stopped so that another line of traffic could go. We had been sitting there for about 30 seconds when the truck behind me beeped his horn. I glanced in the rear view mirror thinking, "Hey, Einstein. I'm not stopped here because I love the way the beater Chevy in front of me feeds poisonous gases into my car. Open your fucking eyes and see that we either have to stop or run a cop over while our kids are in the car."

But I kept my acerbic and witty comments to myself as I had wee ones in the car. Because I have self control.

Anyway, as we entered the drop off zone I stopped the car (because that's what I typically do when SMALL CHILDREN need to get out of the fucking car) and my two daughters picked up their bags and hopped out. As my second grader was closing the door she said, "I love you, Mommy." At this very moment the jackass behind me laid on his horn again, causing my sweet little second grader to nearly jump out of her skin.

My self control slid into my penny loafers as I felt a murderous rage boiling up inside me. WHY are some people such complete and utter tools?! I stopped the car and stared my poisonous gas-fueled hairy eye at him. He was fat. He was bald. He was sweaty. You could just tell that he had offensive body odor. It looked as though Jabba the Hut had somehow managed to grow two little patches of hair above his ears and squeeze himself into a large Ford pickup truck.

What a miserable, disgusting man. He probably didn't even mean to beep. It was probably an errant roll on his flab-a-lanche of a stomach that unexpectedly reared up and hit the horn. Fat fucking asshole. I hope that he chokes on the raw rodent that he will undoubtedly scarf down for lunch.