shamrag

More stuff I cannot afford

2008-07-03T14:38:00.004-05:00

If you know me, you know that my wardrobe consists mostly of plain tops and denim bottoms (skirts for work, jeans for every other time).

However in my fantasy life, I imperiously stroll around in things like this:

Or this:

It's too bad really that 1) these kinds of outfits probably cost a year's wages, and 2) this is Boston, it would be wasted really.

But those Lucite heels..... To die for really.

It's almost the 4th of July

2008-07-02T12:48:00.002-05:00

Which in my neighborhood means BAM! BLAM! BAAM! POP! POP! POP! POP! BAM! BLAM! CRAAACKKKLLEEE!!!! PZZZZZZTTT! BAM! BLAM! POP! POP! POP! POP!

(You should be thinking firecrackers right about now...)

Anyway, what I think is so hilarious is that I've lived there so long that I can now mostly tell the difference between gunfire and firecrackers, while the next door "newbies" are sure it must be gunfire. Even when I point out the remnants of spent fireworks that litter the gutter in the morning.

If that much gunfire went off all night, every night, I am pretty sure that the 'hood would be in lock down and on the cover of the Herahhld every morning!

Gentlemen, Start Your Engines

2008-06-30T20:18:00.007-05:00

Yep, I was at New Hampshire Motor Speedway in lovely Loudon NH this weekend for the NASCAR Lenox Tools 301 race.

Now, before you get all judgy about what you think NASCAR is about, let me just tell you that unless you have ever been to a race, you really have no idea what you are talking about.

I will admit, I was totally expecting an ocean of daisy dukes, confederate flags, and deep-fried turkey legs.

However, I was completely unprepared for the diverse crowd NASCAR attracts. There were people of all stripes and colors, most surprising to me personally was the gaggle of Muslim women, or perhaps the many same-sex couples, strolling along the concourse.

I will admit, those are two demographics I was not expecting at a sporting event not entirely know for the diversity of the sport itself.

However, let me tell you, when you get out there, within a few feet of the track, and these beasts of race cars go thundering by you at 175 miles an hour - you FEEL it. You smell it, you hear it, and you literally feel it shaking the blood in your veins.

We had seats at one end of the track and pretty early on in the race a car veered into the wall.

(not a great angle from the driver's perspective quite frankly)

(The smoke smells like ASS. Seriously. It's like the worst dutch oven ever)

(But at least it clears quickly)

I should also mention that we camped out at Bear Brook State park

and it rained pretty much the entire weekend, except for race day when it only started raining around lap 270 or so. At that point the skies opened up and the race was called.

But it was still tons of fun.

Circa January 2004

2008-06-26T21:02:00.001-05:00

2004 - $35 of gas would fill up my car twice.

2008 - $35 of gas fills up my tank 3/4 full-ish.

It sort of doesn't really feel like summer yet

2008-06-26T20:56:00.002-05:00

I don't know what is going on here, I suspect it has to do with Mercury being in retrograde for most of the spring, but it doesn't seem like summer to me.

And July is next week.

Don't get me wrong, I love the warm weather, that there are leaves on the trees and especially that I don't have to sand, salt, or shovel anything other than what I might encounter at the beach.

But it just really doesn't quite seem like summertime to me yet.

Maybe I just need more BBQ.

Me n' My Retentive Memory

2008-06-23T16:58:00.003-05:00

Someone once told me that a guppy can only retain 2 seconds of memory. I am not entirely sure how that could be measured, but ok.

Right about now I feel like a guppy, sort of.

I know that Saturday was a beautiful day, gorgeous and warm and light for a very long time. I know this because I can look it up on the weather service and that's what it told me.

However, yesterday the weather was crap. And today more of the same. And as far as I am concerned it has been crap like FOREVER.

My hair hasn't dried straight since March, there is a low pressure system camped out in my sinus area, and I think that Spanish moss is starting to grow in my backyard.

It rains in fits and starts. There is the occasional rumble of thunder. And the birds are going friggin' BONKERS in the backyard.

Seriously, what we need is a big sneeze from the environment. It needs to lash rain, thunder & lightening like the hammers of Thor, and then it needs to dry out once and for all.

Because pretty soon sh*t's going to start to go moldy. And droopy.

It's true, drugs & sex DO sell!

2008-06-18T17:19:00.002-05:00

So I posted about these people f*cking and smoking crack behind my house the other day and it was picked up by Universal Hub.

And it got over 500 hits.

Which if you ask me is, uh, telling.

Anyway, for those that are curious, let me update you.

About 45 minutes after calling the police a friend called to tell me that he heard the call go out on the police channel. Around half an hour after that the police actually showed up.

I don't know that I would say that they were annoyed exactly at having to come out on this call, but they were clearly not thrilled about it either.

Cop 1 didn't even bother to talk to me. He looked at me when I said "hi" but then just strolled away after glancing around the scene of the "crime". I am not positive what he expected to find, I was hoping for a few baggies of crack or some used condoms, but no. No evidence whatsoever.

Cop 2 was very polite and told me that the sex part didn't interest him (!) but he wanted to know more about the drug part. I gave a description of the seller and the two buyers and he in turn told me to have a nice day and to please call immediately if I see anything happen again (yeah, right!). He then said they would drive around the neighborhood and see if they saw anyone who matched that description.

Personally I was pretty sure that by that point the drug dealer was long gone to get a sub at Stash's, while the crack ho was probably working her way through her high in some stairwell somewhere.

But hey, I don't know nothing about catching no criminals!

Monday Night Ha Ha

2008-06-16T20:39:00.002-05:00

So I watched Tootsie again tonight.

People say it is a funny movie, that it is a classic in the American Pantheon of Comedy. But really you have no frigging idea how funny it really truly is until you see it back on the big screen in a theater full of people laughing out loud.

I laughed m'balls off.

Rent it immediately, if just for the tomato scene where Michael (Dustin Hoffman) tries to explain to his agent George (Sidney Pollack) why it is illogical for a tomato to sit down.

Or to watch the hilarious Teri Garr explain that she read the Second Sex and the Cinderella Complex and that she is responsible for her own orgasms, so don't tell her you love her!

So very funny without rubbing your face in it. And worth it for the glimpses of pre-glossified New York.

What would you do if someone was smoking crack in YOUR backyard?

2008-06-16T13:41:00.005-05:00

I am off today, whoo hoo!

And so I am cleaning house a little. As I was cleaning my windows in the back I noticed a woman and a man huddling across the way, next to my neighbors jeep.

Lo and behold she was smoking crack. I sh*t you not.

Trust me, I know crack smoking when I see it.

Then the guy starts making some x-rated moves on her. Now, honestly, I cannot imagine a guy wanting to have sex with a chick who is all gangly-high on crack. She's tossing her hair weirdly and flailing her arms and legs awkwardly. It would be like trying to get it on with a meth-ed up octopus I imagine.

Anyway, I decide to call the police. The po-po for those of you who write for the Globe.

Talk about an AWKWARD conversation.

9-1-1: "State Police, what is the nature of your emergency?"

Me: "Uh there are people smoking crack and trying to have sex behind my house"

9-1-1 "Please hold while I transfer you"

So then I feel like a complete idiot for being so puritanical and putting the kibosh on the canoodle. Especially when they ask what is the nature of the emergency and you have to say sex. Quite literally it is a "f*cking emergency!" Tee hee hee hee!

Oh but then I am transfered to the BPD operator who is a major a**hole and who makes it quite clear that I am completely wasting his time.

BPD 9-1-1: "What are they wearing?"

Me: "Blue jeans, white tee-shirt, blue baseball cap"

BPD 9-1-1: " Slow down! Slow down! Ok, white jeans..."

Then after I provide all the minute details of what they are wearing, he wants to know what they are doing.

Me: "Well, she's smoking crack, he just sold some to another person, and uh now he is trying to have sex with her. Oh, and she's putting on make up in the sideview mirror of my neighbors car."

BPD 9-1-1: "What kind of sex are they having exactly?"

Ah hahahaha, no, not that last line! You'd have to pay me to get that detailed!

Instead I politely explained that by the time I gave the operator all the detailed information, plus a GPS location, and sent photos by text, they'd be long gone. Smoking crack and f*cking in the bushes really doesn't take that long.

With that the operator hung up on me.

Which means that I guess it is ok to smoke crack, sell crack, and pay to get a bl*wjob in the alley.
Who knew?!

Don't worry, next time I will definitely snap some pics!

The Truth Behind the Celts Win Last Night

2008-06-13T13:35:00.002-05:00

I haven't watched a Celts game since about 1990.

Not even this year.

Not the games, or the playoffs, or the finals.

Don't get me wrong, I think basketball is a great game and Kevin Garnett is totally hot. But it just that, eh, I dunno, it's not my game.

However, the other night (Game 3 of the Finals) I switched on the game just because I felt I ought to. And the Celts ended up LOSING!

So then last night I switched on the game again, during the end of the 1st quarter and for the 2nd quarter and they were losing again!

Hmmmm.....

But then I switched off the game thinking that the game was just going to end with a Celts loss, however guess what? As soon as I turned off the game, the Celts came back to win!

So no more Celtics games for me and all you fans can thank me when they bring home the trophy or the gold ball or whatever it is you win in basketball.

Massholes of every variety.

2008-06-13T09:06:00.002-05:00

This is a post to rant about everyone engaged in forward motion.

Seriously, Bostonians lose their mind in the heat.

Drivers: two things, when you merge you are supposed to zipper into the lane. It just makes better sense rather than trying to jam your way in. And something I noticed in Cambridge (because of the better marked bike lane) is that drivers swerve into the bike lane. If you can't get around a turning car, the bike lane is for a bike, not for impatient drivers. Please make a note!

Pedestrians: stop jumping out from between two parked cars in to cross the street. I will gladly stop for you at any crosswalk of your choice, so why test my brakes unnecessarily? Also, to the dopey guy who just had to cross against the light, the reason the cars were moving to the sides of the crosswalk was because they were trying to clear the way for an ambulance. And trying to assert your right of way against said ambulance as it was turning the corner took balls.

Cyclists: a red light isn't just for cars so you can't swear at a pedestrian using a crosswalk when you try bombing through it. The pedestrian didn't get in your way, you are being an a**hole. Also, riding on the sidewalk is really really lame. Please don't unless your bike has training wheels.

I don't know what is wrong with me with all this criticism!

Eh, it must be the heat.
Or the humidity.

Or maybe because I recently renewed my Masshole license.

To all the Helipeeers and Sneaky Poopers

2008-06-13T08:44:00.002-05:00

OK let me explain something about poop.

It's alot like B.O. - you can never quite smell your own like other people can. If you take a dump at work, you better have some kind of spray.

Don't get me wrong, pooping is a completely natural & necessary body function and sometimes you have to go in public. But please, be prepared.

There is something particularly overwhelming about walking into an overheated, humid, bathroom that stinks of poo-bomb.

Granted that a spray will only mask the smell, but at least is smells better than your poop that you can't even smell in the first place. Because seriously, your own poo always smells worse than you think it does.

Now, on to you Helipeeers. You are the ladies who hover just above the toilet seat to pee because you don't want to sit atop someone else's dried up old pee-pee.

I respect that 100%.

However I do ask that if you lay down a fine spatter of pee-pee droplets all over the seat, use a wad of toilet paper to wipe it off.

Not only is it kind of gross to look at, but then it smells like some dank cement stairwell downtown.

And that's not fun. Unless you want to be in a dank dark cement stairwell that smells like pee-pee, but then you are probably really just looking for a place to smoke crack.

8 Days! Whoops! I am the worst blogger EVAR!!!

2008-06-10T20:31:00.003-05:00

Oh but you know what? It is SH*T hot out.

Right now I am sitting here shvitzing like you would not believe and for some reason I am completely dusty, like a powdered donut.

I think it was from the half-assed weeding in the garden I did earlier.

But really I am too hot to be funny or in any way creative.

Eh, more tomorrow. The weather will break and I will feel less like a lint-covered half-sucked Lifesaver at the bottom of Nana's handbag.

So in the meantime, here is a little double hotness to take the edge off.

Burning and Firming My Way to a Slow & Painful Death

2008-06-02T18:33:00.003-05:00

I am out of shape. Woefully out of shape to be specific.

Which is why I've been going to the gym. I've been going swimming, using the elliptical, trying not to get bucked off the treadmill...

And for all my efforts I am down a size and a fistful of pounds. So I am feeling a little gym-cocky and I sign up for the Burn & Firm class.

First hint of trouble? It's an hour and fifteen minute class.

Second hint of trouble? I am the only one in it.

Things start off well enough. The petite Irish instructor is all sweet and patient and shows be how to assemble the step board. She asks me a few questions about my exercise routine, starts up the music, and we're off!

There two things you ought to know about me before I continue. Firstly I am not always entirely positive about the concept of left and right. I never ever get it right the first time. I have to make the little "L" with my thumb and pointer finger, and even then sometimes I can't tell.

Secondly I am not particularly coordinated in certain ways. I can fly a glider, but for the life of me I cannot follow along in a waltz. The step-step-slide thing, I can't do it. I look like baby Frankenstein.

Ok so picture this: the music is blaring, it's just me and the trainer, and I've never stepped before in my life when all of a sudden the sweet and nice trainer turns into a screaming banshee on me.

She's pumping away, jumping up and down and on and off this step board thingy, yelling at me "LEFT, RIGHT, RIGHT, UP, JUMP, LEFT LEG, RIGHT ARM, RIGHT LEG, LEFT, JUMP, SIDE, BOUNCE, LEFT, LEFT, BOUNCE, JUMP, TURN, LEFT, RIGHT, RIGHT, CROSS LEFT"

Huh? Only I am not thinking at this point because I just don't know what the f*ck I am doing. And the banshee won't stop screaming.

I am sweating, and gasping, and jumping, and crossing. My face and lungs are on FIRE and that is when the second member of the class strolls in.

She takes her time, puts out her mat, then her board, has some water, then jumps in on the routine and it's like she just warming up. No sweating, no panting, just hop hop jump jump.

This goes on for a body-terrorizing 45 minutes. At one point I thought I would die. Like, for real. Although in truth it could just be the allergies.

Finally we switch to the firming part of the program. Weights, balls, stretching, and lifting. It turns out that I am the unfittest person in the world. Or at least I now know exactly how that person feels.

Well fortunately it is now over. I anticipate that I will regain feeling in all the parts of my body located just below my chin aaaaany minute now.

Just in time for next week's class.

Ackkaachhskkskkaaka

2008-06-02T14:19:00.003-05:00

That is how I sound right now. Exactly as if I swallowed a fork.

It is as annoying to listen to me as it is to be feeling like this. I refuse to believe that it is anything more than allergies though. Which, as the Evil Twin pointed out, I would say in the event I broke my arm or fell off a ladder. Oh allergies! It's my standard diagnosis.

I took some Aleve and drank a ton of water and a Claritin. Possibly I will knock back a few doses of Tylenol PM before bed tonight and I am sure I will feel better in the AM.

At least I better feel better because tomorrow I am going out for oysters with two of my most favorite people ever. And anyway oysters are practically medicinal.

But today I am cooped up in the house feeling like caca-poo-poo and being bored out of my mind.

I was too restless to watch TV so I watched out the window for a while, hoping for a kerfuffle, but no dice. I did notice though that during the day there are a lot of big trucks on my street, going up and down, or occasionally parking for no discernible reason.

Also, there are a f*ck lot of birds in my backyard. Seriously, it is comical. I was on the phone with Evil Twin and the window was open and some bird was twazzling away outside and she thought it was some kind of alarm.

So when I say there are a lot, I mean like more than a bunch.

If I wasn't a bird person, it would make me nuts. But you know, I love birds.

Ok well there is the allergy medicine kicking in. Time for a nap.

Hook Heartbreak

2008-05-30T20:44:00.005-05:00

I am heartbroken that James Hook burned down. It's like a kick in the gut.

It's like when you found out that as soon as you left the house, your parents threw away all the crap from your childhood - all the hand-drawn pictures, school papers, photographs, yearbooks, medals, ribbons, mash notes into the garbage- and then converted your old bedroom into a home gym.

Let me explain.

When I was a teenager I worked here:

Which is now the Barking Crab but back then it was just a lobster pound known as Neptune Lobster. Which explains why the word "Neptune" is lettered across the side of the building, and why there is a "Neptune Lobster Parking Only" sign affixed to the wall.

At that time it was all women who worked there. The Boss Lady (my mom! yay nepotism), the Deputy Boss Lady, Kimmmmayyyyy, Me, and the Evil Twin. The only boy was the four hundred year old watchman who lived on premises in a closet who had no teeth and called himself Wally. Kimmmmmmmayyyyyy STILL cries a little when she talks or thinks about him. That's a fact.

Neptune was directly across the channel from this place:

(Note: the smaller building on the right is a newer addition)

Anyway, most afternoons and on the weekends it was me n' Kimmmmmay hanging out and waiting for the lobster boats to come in to the docks behind Neptune. Then to kill the time between customers, we would grab the grotty old binocs and scope out the BOYYYYSSSS who worked at James Hook.

The office at Neptune was where the first window is in this picture:

And from those windows we would pick out the cutest guys of the summer stock. Considering how positively disgusting we smelled by the end of the day (kind of like the Super 88 on a 100 degree day when the power goes out) the truth was that the only other people we could hit on were other people who stank like we did, ie: other lobster sellers or the lobster men themselves. A pretty tiny pool really, especially since the lobster men were old back then.

But aside from that, they were always really nice to us. I remember going into shoot the poop with them when I would get stuck on the wrong side when the bridge when it used to open regularly. Those were some really fun times in my life.

That was before the Moakley bridge, when the Northern Ave bridge was still in use for both cars AND boats.

So to see it like this:

really breaks my heart. A part of my youth has been erased because even if it is rebuilt, it will be different. And while I reluctantly understand that these things happen, it still feels like a kick in the gut.

Even more though, my heart goes out to the Hook family. Never mind the past, it's their future that has been destroyed.

(Note: None of the photos in this post are mine, they are from Flickr. Click on them for more info)

Sex-For-a-Fee in the REAL World

2008-05-29T17:02:00.002-05:00

Sometime I read a police report that really makes me laugh. Sometimes they make me shudder. Other times they make me stop and think.

Lately, with Operation Squeeze going on, I've been thinking a lot about the whole sex-for-a-fee business.

As you may or may not remember (and honestly how could you forget) the previous governor of New York was done in by a very expensive 'ho. Which I think raised more than a few hopes on both sides of this tawdry transaction. And certainly left plenty of people curious as to what exact sex acts could be had for 4 grand. I mean I am imaginative, but sorry fellas, I am not $4,000 imaginative.

However for the regular Joes, or Johns as it were, it would seem that the men of Boston price sex acts in the twenties.

Some of you who read the Herald know about the Boston firefighter arrested for offering an undercover officer $29 for a blow job. I have to know: did he really expect change?

And then I read a report today about an older gent who offered an undercover $20 to first dance naked for him before having "straight" sex with him.

I wonder if he was expecting an AARP discount maybe. I just don't get it. I mean it makes $29 for a blow job seem almost generous.

I could go on, but it starts to get boring and a little ick after a while.

I am pretty positive I would never have sex-for-a-fee. Weeelllllllll, I might for a ton of money. Literally for a ton of money. 2,000 lbs of hundreds that is. A ton of $100's.

But don't tell my folks ok. They still think I am a "good" girl.

My Dunkin Donuts Problem

2008-05-25T11:06:00.003-05:00

Listen, I hate to admit my love for Dunkies just as much as every other pretentious Masshole.

But here is the truth: not only do I love my medium iced coffee with a little cream, tweekle*, and a strawberry frosted donut**, I only LOVE it when it comes from this one Dunkies in Southie. This is not a phenomena I can explain, it's just that no where else does that combination taste as good.

Yep.

There are more than TEN (10) Dunkies within striking distance from my house*** and yet I will travel in my car to go to this one Dunkies in South Boston just for that particular chemical fix.

I AM a Masshole. Harbor water in my veins, a pot of beans for a brain.

Long live the Dunkin.

* Tweekle: means "two Equal" in my language
** Strawberry frosted donuts are alleged to be "seasonal"
*** Striking distance = a mile or less

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

2008-05-24T20:04:00.002-05:00

Let me explain something here.

This week everyone kept asking: "So any fun plans this weekend?"

And my response was: "No"

And what people mostly presumed was that while I did have plans, they weren't fun.

I should have explained that I have no plans of any kind. I was invited to go "down Cape", to go camping, sailing, zombie marching, picnicking, canoing, and while I will admit that I would have probably have said yes to oakie-noodling, I just did not want to have to do anything this whole weekend.

Period.

The luxury of my life is that I am only answerable to myself. I don't have to check in with anyone if I want to do something or go somewhere, I don't have to feed a kid or a pet, I don't feel bad if I drink the last beer or eat the last piece of toast - all things I don't mind having to do if I were in a situation that required it. But since I am not, I like to enjoy not having to.

Like right now, I am catching up on my blog and my emails and listening to Alice Cooper Nights on WZLX (the last few tunes included Dokken, Van Halen, Yardbirds...)

I got up when I woke up this morning, went to the gym, cleaned the house a little, had lunch with my sister, went shoe shopping, popped over to see the folksters, half cleaned the bathroom, purged out a desk drawer, talked to a friend for a little while, had a nap....

And you know what? I might do more of the same tomorrow. But then again I might not! Depends on how I feel.

Ah sweet nothing, I love it.

Audrey and Gretel at the Alchemist

2008-05-24T16:33:00.002-05:00

Thursday night I went to see Audrey Ryan at the Alchemist in Jamaica Plain. She was playing a double-header with Gretel.

As some of you may know I went to see Ms. Ryan at the Dolphin Striker in Portsmouth back in February. The bar was packed, the crowd was nettlesome, and still she was enchanting.

After the show I bought her CD, exchanged a few pleasantries, and that was that. However since then her album Dishes & Pills has been an integral part of my playlist.

So I was excited to see her again at the Alchemist. The best thing about her music is that she sounds so utterly like no one else I've ever heard. Granted I don't know diddley-doo-doo about the technical nuances of music, I do know that music (to me) is either sounds I like, or sounds I do not.

What I heard Thursday were sounds that thrummed joyfully across my cerebral cortex.

Ms. Ryan's set was short and unfortunately played against the backdrop of the Celtics game - which meant there were bursts of applause at odd moments. Short though it may have been, sweet it definitely was.

After her set was Gretel, who I'd never heard before. Gretel seems to be a four person band, but for some reason they had five people this time. They were great too. And even better was that even though there was less than 50 people in the place, they rocked like they were playing to 500. In a good, full, way - not in the ear piercing annoying way.

I got home I checked Gretel out online and I have to say I think preferred them live. But I am not sure about that yet.

If you get a chance to see either, I highly recommend you do so. The best part was that the show was free. We ate there and the food was excellent, but there was no cover or anything which is great.

Quite possibly one of the best things in life is good live music for free!

PS: The food and the staff were really really nice at the Alchemist. Although that place will always be Triple D's to me, where the brother of a friend got so drunk he crapped in a planter outside thinking he was in the bathroom. Now THAT is drunk.

L.o.n.g.e.s.t. W.e.e.k. E.v.a.r

2008-05-22T18:15:00.003-05:00

For some reason the week before a long weekend seems to drag its butt around the carpet like a constipated dog.

How is it possible that today is Thursday?

I feel like Thursday was two days ago (Tuesday, for those of you not stumbling along the space-time continuum) and really I should not have had to have been at work today. Or wait, and not yesterday either, I think....

Gargh! You see how this happens!

This also means that it is quite possible that I will wake up tomorrow and it will really be Monday afternoon and I will be wondering where the weekend went.

Because you know, that happens to me A LOT.
But usually on Sundays.

I predict

2008-05-20T16:59:00.002-05:00

That Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull is going to rake in a milliongazillionbillion dollars this Memorial Day weekend.

\

I further predict that I will be one of those lemmings.

Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, but, you know.

2008-05-19T16:13:00.002-05:00

I, for one, cannot wait until the BPD tries out "The Rumblah" on my car.

"The targeted drivers will hear, in addition to the conventional siren, a deep, guttural sound, then feel a vibration beneath their feet."

Yep, I am ready.

Although I am not so sure that the Shampagne Supernova would survive being "rumbled". She would probably fly apart into a hundred pieces.

Sometimes it's so pretty out.

2008-05-17T21:25:00.003-05:00

It was a lovely late afternoon today.
In case you missed it.

:)

Holy Crap! What the #&^%@ IS That?

2008-05-17T20:17:00.005-05:00

The other night there was a kerfuffle in the street.

The kind that starts with the words "B*tch!", goes on to include the words "Muthaf*cka", "Ho", "No you di-int!", and typically ends with "I'm gonna f*ck you up!" or "Oh yeah? Why don't you come here and say that sh*t to my face b*tch!"

Nothing too thrilling - no bats or knives, but there is something grotesquely intriguing about two women fighting.

It's just that two men fisticuffing is guttural and unimaginative. Two women screaming at each other is far more engaging - the verbal sewerage that comes spilling out is highly entertaining. If I knew I wouldn't die doing it, I would totally go out there with a tape recorder. When I am mad, I sputter and every great comeback line comes to me about 3 days after the fact. A handier, pre-recorded, back-pocket retort would be awesome.

So wait, where was I going with this post....

Oh yeah. So there was this kerfuffle the other night. I listened out the window for a bit and then it sounded like they were exchanging a few slaps, there was a ripping noise, then some other women stepped in and the whole thing was over.

However when I was walking down the street this afternoon I saw this:

Of course I was like, what the f*ck IS that? A dead bird?

And of course I had to take a closer look:

Ha hahhhahaha! It was the hair! From the b*tchslap fest the other night.

THAT explains the ripping sounds! Good lord, another thing to remember about high-falutin' city living: never, ever, wear fake hair when you plan on tackling your ex-man's new b*tch!