Just because it has a department of human resources doesn't mean it counts as human

Great news from the democracy front kids: Corporations now count as human beans! The Quintuplet of Dicks over at the Supreme Court (I've had to expand the group from the Triumvirate of Dicks to include the old Irish dude and John Roberts) ruled 5-4 that companies, being bastions of human resources, can give as much money as they want to political groups, thus overturning a long-standing precedent. Now, I thought corporations already had politicians by the balls vis a vis lobbyists, but smart people tell me it's much worse than that.

Yay! Not only is the majority of our highest court shitting on a practical judicial principle— something Wikipedia tells me is stare decisis—but they're also making my blerging life a lot easier. I've literally had a field day matching the appropriate corporation to America's brightest legislators. Get ready to see some product placement over at C-SPAN:

Sarah Palin stole my prom 'do!

I was catching up on my Oprah the other night, watching snippets of Karen Walker, Alaksa Ranger's second interview when de ja vue hit me like a bullet being fired from a helicopter above. This betch totally stole my hairstyle from A Night To Remember: Class of 2000 S----n High Prom.

Next time wear a Jessica McClintock gown when you sport that look, guv'nuh.

Should I get in the hot tub? Will it make me sweat?

Tomorrow Longtime is having surgery to fix chronic "sweet can" pain. Let's all send her healing vibes.

I just got off the phone with her and she was watching a show on Japanese snow monkeys. Personally, I find them less attractive than chimps, or as Longtime put it, "a little too Robert Duvall for your liking," but I found this clip of snow monkeys sitting in a hot spring and thought it conveyed an appropriate healing missive:



Also I think this video would be better if the monkeys were listening to James Brown:

Eddie Murphy - James Brown's Celebrity Hot Tub

Sing it with me now

(I didn't realize this song had a ten-hour keyboard into, so scroll forward to minute 4)



It's been such a loooongtime. Welcome back gal!

People, please. I'm no hero. Okay, one picture.

An afternoon story:

My wallet was stolen (again) in December, from my desk (again), by a con man posing as a student (that's a first, actually). He managed to lure me away from my desk claiming he needed my help with a fax and then swooped in and took my shit! In the process of escaping, he pushed my lovely, helpful boss, thus upgrading the offense from theft to robbery. The worst part is...he thought he would get away with it. NOT UP IN HEAH.

Anyway, a few days ago, I received a call from the detective working my case, let's call him Det. Goren (for Schoprah). There was a break in the case! He had identified my robber as a perp with a rap sheet as long as my arm. He had worked con jobs in other offices near mine. Unbelievable. I felt like Julia Roberts in the Pelican Brief (I have no idea why). Anyway, Det. Goren and his partner came to my apartment on Monday and had me pick him out of 6 pictures of offenders. No problem. Then, in his exact words, Det. Goren was "ready to hunt him down". WOW! Schoprah, your pills.

Fast forward a few drug-hazed days later (can someone tell me what day it is?). Det. G-love just called and, guess what, yep, they got him! He was arrested out in the suburbs today. He said he needs me to come down to the precinct office to pick him out of a line-up so they can charge him with the crime. I had to take a moment to orient myself to be sure I wasn't hallucinating about being on Law & Order (again). It's true though! G-thang is going to pick me up shortly (I should not be driving) so I can go identify the creep who robbed me. I'm sorry, but this is exciting.

Sometimes, people, just sometimes, the system works. I better go put some pants on.

Yesssssssssssssssss.



Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

I'm BACK!

Hello, friends. It's me, Longtime. Remember me??

Months ago I blerged about overwerking my sweet can . Turns out it was worse than we thought and now, 9 months later, I'm going under the knife to get a secret boob job it all fixed up. I'm scheduled for back surgery on Monday so please send me healing interweb vibes next week.

More importantly, though, with Schoprah's blessing, I'm taking advantage of my down time to do a little blergin'. I've been told I do my best work when I'm flat on my back. So here I go - rising like a blergalicious phoenix from the ashes of short-term disability. Did I mention I'm heavily medicated? No? Well did I mention I'm heavily medicated?

Warning: this is not a post about Haiti

In order to avoid the guilt-inducing coverage of Haiti and thus guilt (oh you all know where to go donate so I won't psych link to a site and implore you to help like a pious asshole), I was perusing the interweb's fabled gossip blogs when I came across this thing about Jennifer Aniston and her "fun, flirty weekend." I realized something really, really deep: I like Jennifer Aniston. Nay, admire her. Also: how does one acquire fun, flirty weekends? Mine can alliteratively be described as "sluggish, slovenly." I want fun, flirty weekends.

My reason? This woman is 40 years old and doesn't apologize for being single. In every interview I've seen of her, she's always like, "Dude, my life is awesome, not empty. Do you know how lucky I am? You try having good hair all the time." She seems to be enjoying it, even. I even like her bad choices in men. She's like, "Yep, had fun [Vince Vaughan]. Dated some douches [John Mayer]. Who hasn't? Whatevs. Hey, you wanna smoke a doob?"

Then I'm like, "Schoprah. Her movies are pretty bad. Except The Break-Up which I only watch on TV because it features my other favorite Vincent and Office Space which mmmmyeah I quote forty times a day. They're all these dumb romantic comedies with sad women who are looking for romance." Yet I bet Jennifer Aniston is laughing all the way to the bank. She probably strategizes and exploits her "sad lonely Jen" image in the tabloids to sell her movies, thinking that audiences will be more likely to see them if they think America's Sad Sweetheart is going to win the golden boy in the end. And I love cute kids as much as the next ovulating woman, but who wants to come home to six children under the age of six? It looks like she got the better end of the deal post-divorce. She also would be a cool fraunt, someone who'd buy you wine when you're 19 and let you dogsit her adorable pug and lend you her copy of Wide Sargasso Sea.

Full disclosure: I had this haircut mostly against my will from 1996-2002. Couldn't stop the hairdressers from layering if I wanted to.

We all fell victim.

I have one thing to say to Sarah & Bristol Palin:

"So you admit it's a choice."

I WIN!

The Bluths are back!

The rumors have been swirling around for a long time, but it appears the Arrested Development movie is happening! Side note: everyone was geeking over the ironic hipster wet dream of a meeting between George Michael and the Jersey Shore cast, "When Cera Met Snookie," but I thought he just looked smug.

Between this and the third installment of Three Men and A Little Lady, 2011 is lining up to be pretty busy. I'll help start building buzz for the movie by highlighting my favorite Bluth, or me in 50 years:

And we are still talking about Sad OWLs

The Media has yet to stop yammering about scorned ladies. New York has a cover feature about Elizabeth Edwards even though she went on Oprah like nine months ago and was like, "Yeah I hate his guts but we just built this sweet new house, so I'm gonna stay with him as long as he doesn't talk about HER and I'm resilient and did I mention I'm resilient?" Jenny Sanford, who I really want to star in a reality show called Sanford and Sons, appeared on many lists of very intriguing people, a field which seemed to include Spuds Mackenzie and my dentist.

Naturally, this annoys me. Neither of them got the prestige, honor, and attention because of what they did; they got it because of what happened to them. If J. San does run for public office, then I will salute her. If Elizabeth Edwards actually gets free mammograms going, I'll salute her too. But we're still glamorizing the wrong women for the wrong things. Witness Tiger Woods' wife. I do not need to know what brand of sunglasses she bought with Tiger's apology money or how she's losing weight.

I suppose all of this makes them relatable. Things happen to you in life sometimes: kids die, husbands cheat, taxes are raised, people are laid off, someone steps on your toe in the subway. It's a part of life, having no control over it. And it might be a small if meaningless sign of progress that we're no longer applauding them being silent. (I'm looking at you, Mrs. My Poll Numbers Skyrocketed After Monica But Redeemed Herself by Being Awesome In the Senate.) This cultural obsession with the filthy cheaters/saintly wives scenario is getting old. Maybe it's because these d-bag politicians keep providing us with ample material and in this unsteady time (really when is it ever steady?), seeing a nice, put-together white lady who gets some shit thrown at her and withstands it makes us feel better. I don't know. I guess we'll know progress when Alpha OWL Olympia Snowe gets caught sexting someone?

Either way, keep it in your pants Congress. You're boring me. Don't make me write another post in October.

What would Karen Walker say to this?

She would say, "Honey. I've heard better jingles coming from Rosario's bowels. Get me a doll to come down from that nightmare, would you Poodle?" I just caught this commercial on the real TV. It made me feel ashamed, like watching a drunk aunt awkwardly wrap Christmas presents. Can't someone give Karen Walker a book deal or something?

9 Things Sonia Sotomayor and I Have In Common

There is an article about The Highest Boricua in the Land over at the New Yorker's website. (Sidenote: I think the current Supreme Court would make an excellent musical film. Kidman could easily play John Roberts, who being half-robot does not move his face or convey emotion.) It's long piece so I took the liberty of helpfully circumscribing the parallels between the Wise Latina and myself. Yes, aside from intelligence, education, ambition, age, complexion and life experience we have a lot in common. The Puerto Rican ancestry is so obvious I won't even list it.