Category Archives: Thoughts

And the Nominees Are…

I’m a little upset with the Democratic Party of South Carolina. After all, they did kill democracy. OK, maybe not democracy, but those South Cackalacky Dems sure killed any chance of hilarity in the ’08 election when they kicked Stephen Colbert out of the race.

What, were they afraid letting a comedian run would destroy the integrity of American politics? Of course. Remind me; what was that Mark Foley thing again? Something about underage boys, I think. Then there was that messy Scooter Libby/Karl Rove/CIA leak incident, but I’m sure that was just a big misunderstanding. And it’s really not a big deal that my state is run by a guy who got famous by playing a ‘roided-up cyborg assassin and a pregnant dude. Let’s not get sidetracked here. We’re talking about preserving the dignity of the American political process.

Even though Colbert can’t run for President, I have not given up hope for a candidate who will make me smile through the tears in the upcoming election.

I Nominate…

Miss Teen South Carolina

Oh yeah, South Carolina? Maybe you’d like a different ambassador for your state. Consider Miss Teen SC’s stellar reasoning on why Americans can’t seem to find their own country on a map: “I personally believe that US Americans are unable to do so because, uh, some people out there in our nation don’t have maps, and, uh, I believe that our education like such as in South Africa and, uh, the Iraq everywhere like, such as and I believe that they should, our education over here in the US should help the US, er, should help South Africa and should help the Iraq and the Asian countries, so we will be able to build up our future for our children.” Bless her heart, she’s not the waxiest crayon in the box, but she sure would look good in those photo ops. And we won’t have to worry about her invading any countries because, Lord knows, she won’t be able to find them.

Hilarity Factor:


A toss-up between hilarious and a sad commentary on our culture, but we’ll go with the former.

Kanye West

Ever since Kanye’s “George Bush doesn’t care about black people” on-air rant, I’ve been dying to hear more. Can you imagine what he would say during the debates? He would rip everyone a new one, from Romney to Obama. Finally, a candidate who is honest to the point of Tourette’s. Plus, he has a P. Diddy-like adoration for himself that can only lead to fantastic sound bites. The dude said in one interview that if the Bible had been written today, he would be important enough to be included in it. Wow. Now that’s self-confidence.

Hilarity Factor:


Unbelievable but true.

Britney Spears

Poor Brit. It’s kind of like shooting fish in a barrel to make fun of her at this point, but it has to be done. With the no-panty-wearing nights on the town and the court-ordered drug tests and the criminal driving record, she has “Presidential” written all over her (or is that just a tattoo she got while wasted in Vegas?). She may not be up for the Mommy of the Year award, but she’s still our down-home Southern girl. Voters like plain-spoken, down-to-earth candidates, right? Plus, she’s a musician (just go with me here). America loved when Bill Clinton played his sax. Imagine what a pelvic thrust and a body roll or two could do for patriotism.

Hilarity Factor:


It makes you feel a little dirty, but you laugh anyway.

New Orleans Mayor Ray Nagin

I’m not sure how much is attributable to Katrina aftermath and how much is simply a lack of an internal monologue, but I’m fairly certain that Ray Nagin is insane. The “chocolate city” comment was classic, but even better was the way he tried to explain it: “You take dark chocolate, you mix it with white milk, and it becomes a delicious drink. That is the chocolate I am talking about.” Oh, like Ovaltine! I love Ovaltine. Thanks for clearing that up, Ray. He also said the hurricanes in New Orleans were a sign that God is mad at America for invading Iraq. He’s like a walking, talking episode of “Kids Say the Darndest Things.” I can’t wait to hear his campaign speeches. Maybe he’ll tell us Ann Coulter is our punishment from God for allowing FOX News on the air.

Hilarity Factor:


So bad, but so, so good.

Tom Cruise

Next stop: Crazy Town. Population: 1. There’s so much potential for greatness here, I get a little giddy just thinking about it. First, there’s the Scientology. Maybe I’m not in touch with my “thetan” or can’t properly understand my “dianetic reading,” but I just can’t take anyone seriously who believes Xenu the Alien Ruler brought people to Earth millions of years ago. Then, there’s the Katie Holmes thing. One minute, she was our lovable, angsty, half-smirking-half-frowning Capeside teen. The next, she was knocked up and under house arrest by Old Man Cruise. I fear Tommy may use his eerie powers of persuasion to brainwash voters, but it’d be worth it if he does another couch rant dance.

Hilarity Factor:


Funny, in a bone-chilling, sweet Jesus, that’s scary kind of way.


Uncle Sam, It’s Time for a Chat


So we got some shitty news last week. Actually, “shitty” doesn’t really do it justice. Awful, heinous, fucking ridiculous– take your pick. The Navy wants to send Brian on an eight-month deployment to Iraq. Yes, the Navy. Like the one that is supposed to stay in the water. That was the only thing it had going for it. Way to screw that up, guys. Kind of like how the only good thing about Nicole Richie was that she hadn’t procreated. And now…you tell me where the silver lining is.

Being the outraged liberal that I am, I decided to take action. I cried for three days straight, then I wrote a few strongly-worded letters.

What I actually wrote:

Dear Senators Boxer and Feinstein:

My boyfriend is an officer in the Navy, and he recently returned home after a nine-month deployment in the Persian Gulf, in which his ship transported Marines between the U.S. and Iraq. Because the Marines’ tour in Iraq was extended twice, his ship was also extended; a six-month deployment became nine months long. When he came home, we were relieved to know he would not deploy again until June 2008.

Last week, we found out he will most likely be sent on an IA (Individual Augmentee) assignment to Iraq. If this becomes official, he will leave in January for four months of training in the U.S. and then spend eight months in Kuwait and Iraq. We know very little about what he will be doing there, except that he will be there to support Marine and Army forces in this “global war on terror.”

Earlier this year, President Bush sent a surge of 30,000 additional troops to “secure” Iraq. He announced last month that he would immediately begin to reduce the number of U.S. troops in Iraq by 20,000. If we are actually reducing our forces there, why then are we sending in Navy personnel? This disastrous and deceitful war has gone on long enough, and we have lost enough American lives.

I am worried for my boyfriend’s safety and frustrated at the additional time we must spend apart, but most of all, I am angry that our country is still putting our armed forces in danger for a war based on lies and manipulation.

Please support legislation to prevent us from sending any more troops to Iraq and to start bringing our citizens home. Thank you.

What I wanted to write:

Dear George, Dick, Don, Robert, Condi, etc.

This letter applies to too many of you to list, so I’d be much obliged if you could just forward it along to the others. Thanks, gang.

Now don’t take this the wrong way, but what the hell is wrong with you? You invaded Iraq four years ago because you swore up and down that it had “weapons of mass destruction.” Of course you never found those WMDs, but don’t worry your pretty little heads about that. I’m sure you wouldn’t knowingly deceive or manipulate Americans into supporting a bogus war. Oh, no. You were just trying to protect us from the terrorists. Anyone who says differently is obviously not a patriot.

No, I don’t want to beat a dead horse and ask why we started this war to begin with. It was bullshit from the get go, but let’s focus on what’s happening right now. George, you said last month you would immediately start reducing the numbers of troops in Iraq by 20,000. Now I’m no math major, but I’m awfully perplexed about why we’re sending the Navy in if we’re cutting down on troops. Do you really think if we keep sending over more and more people, this situation will actually stop being a total disaster? Oh, sure. And Larry Craig was just reaching for some toilet paper.

I know y’all are a little slow, so let me be clear: it’s time to admit that you screwed up. Just come clean, and start making this right. Stop spending $8 billion a month fighting a war you can’t win; stop sending our men and women into harm’s way; stop destroying my personal mental health. Just stop, and listen to reason for once in your lives.

I hope this doesn’t get in the way of our friendship. Let’s do lunch.



Hipster Olympics

Many of you know of my profound distaste for hipsters. I lived among them for a year in the Mission (apparently San Francisco’s version of Williamsburg), dodging them as they wheeled their bicycles languidly through crowded sidewalks, trying not to listen to their purposely loud accounts of how hard they partied the night before. Oh my GOD, I feel like shit today. I must have had, like, ten beers last night. Are my eyes still dilated? I can’t even take my sunglasses off inside; it hurts too much.

Hipsters perplex me. I just have so many questions. How do all the tools know to congregate in one particular area? Is there a hipster version of a bat signal? How can a person possibly wear that many accessories at once? How long does it really take them to achieve that “I just rolled out of bed and haven’t bathed in days” look? Does it hurt to be too cool for school? If I started to cut my own hair and wear skinny jeans and smoke a pack a day, would I become one of them, or would they sniff me out as an impostor?

One of my SF co-workers sent me this video today, and while I laughed heartily at the expense of my stylish, trust-funded peers, I also realized something disturbing. I kind of miss the hipsters. San Diego has surf bums and aging hippies and blonde Valley Girls with fake tans and faker boobs, but no hipsters spouting their pseudo-intellectual analysis of the latest indie band you’ve never heard of. Where am I supposed to direct all my snarky commentary if there’s no malnourished, velvet-blazer-wearing, PBR-drinking “artist” at my neighborhood coffee shop? The SoCal sorostitutes are far too easy (in every sense of the word). Must. Mock. Something. Help!

Two Years Later

Chalmette, LA

I used to love telling people I lived in New Orleans. I’d come home for Christmas break or visit friends at other schools and watch people’s reactions when I’d say, “I go to school in New Orleans.”

“Oh man! Is it crazy?”
“How is Mardi Gras? I hear you can drink in the streets!”
“Is it really like ‘Girls Gone Wild’?”

I’ll be honest; I loved that people were jealous of me for living in such a cool city. I’m sure UC Davis has its subtle charms, but it probably can’t compete with Dunbar’s fried chicken or Ms. Mae’s one dollar well drinks. And in response to everyone’s questions:

“Yes, it is crazy. Strangers say ‘hello’ to you when you pass them in the street. They put the emphasis on weird syllables. UMbrella. TUlane. INsurance. They eat crawdads…I mean…crawfish.”
“Mardi Gras is kickass. It goes on for weeks, and the parades just get bigger as Mardi Gras Day gets closer. People will cut you for blinking beads or painted coconuts. Costumes are encouraged, if not mandatory. And of course you can drink in the streets; you can do that every day.”
“No, you fool. Only dumb, drunk frat boys from Ole Miss act like it’s ‘Girls Gone Wild.'”

Since Katrina, the reactions have obviously been a little different. Instead of envy, I get pity or concern or, my least favorite, morbid curiosity. I was patient with people’s questions in the months following the storm. I understood that, as a New Orleans evacuee, I could offer a perspective people might not get from watching the coverage on Fox News.

Two years later, I’m tired of talking about how quickly the storm came down on us and how I threw three days’ worth of clothes and my camera in a backpack and left the city that Saturday afternoon. I’m tired of recounting how we were all on the phone to our friends and families, making sure everyone was safe, then watching hours and hours of CNN footage (when we had power, that is). I’m tired of talking about the evacuation to well-intentioned people because, well, it doesn’t matter. I was lucky. I had the means to get out of the city early; I had friends kind enough to let me sleep on their floor for five days; I had a home somewhere else to go to.

Instead, let’s talk about the mind-numbing incompetence with which Katrina was handled. Let’s talk about why Louisiana has to fight tooth and nail for more relief assistance, while we’re throwing money into Iraq like it’s goin’ out of style. Let’s talk about why half of New Orleans’ population is still displaced and parts of the city look like the aftermath of the blitzkrieg.

I may be living 2,000 miles from New Orleans right now, but my thoughts are with y’all today. I’ll be the one rocking the fleur-de-lys necklace, drinking an Abita Amber on my balcony and pissing off my neighbors by singing the Jazz Vipers and Cowboy Mouth at the top of my lungs.

What’s in a name?

That Bitch

I’ve been thinking a lot about hurricanes lately, for obvious reasons. We’re deep in the bowels of hurricane season, and even though I now live two thousand miles away from the Danger Zone, I still follow the storms with stalkerish obsession. Dean. Erin. Flossie. I watch their behavior closely to see if I can predict who is going to screw me over this year.

It’s been almost two years since I evacuated from New Orleans for Katrina, and I still can’t hear that name without wanting to throttle, maim or give a strongly-worded lecture to whoever owns it (all you Katrinas out there, I suggest you go by Kat or Katie or even Trina).

Maybe that sounds silly to you, but let me explain. You know how you hate the name Mandy because of that bitch in junior high who watched “The Craft” too many times and spread the rumor that you were a witch and were trying to spike the basketball team’s Gatorade with a potion to fall in love with you? Yeah, since then, you’ve hated every Mandy you’ve met. Well, imagine she also flooded your city, destroyed your friends’ childhood homes and closed your favorite red beans and rice and fried chicken restaurant. Now who’s being silly?

It sucks because I used to kinda like the name Katrina. Except for that Katrina and the Waves “Walking on Sunshine” fiasco, it had never done anything to me. But now, it’s ruined for life, and I have to cross it off the list of my future children’s names.

To avoid this situation in the future, I propose we name all future storms after people we already hate (“we” meaning me, of course). I’ll start us off; if it were up to me to name the 2007 roster of storms, they would be:

1. Ann. She told a disabled Vietnam vet, “People like you caused us to lose that war.” She has no soul. She’d probably go off course and hit California just to destroy all the liberals.
2. Bill. Most of the time, he’s just so ridiculous, he’s kind of entertaining. Then he comes out with something really insane, like recommending that al Qaeda blow up San Francisco, and it gets personal.
3. Carmen. What exactly does she do, except hook up with formerly cool rock stars and take her clothes off? She’d probably wreak havoc just for the publicity.
4. Dick. I think the name says it all. I hold him responsible for the mess we’re in. And he shot a dude in the face.
5. Eminem. So much anger. Such a nasal voice. I don’t care if you’re the real Slim Shady, and I don’t care if you’re back.
6. Fergie. OK, I’ll admit it: I liked “London Bridge.” It’s catchy; don’t judge me. But “My Humps”? “You love my lady lumps?” That is unforgivable.
7. George. Oh, George, where do I begin? You know what you did. Let’s not make this uglier than it has to be.
8. Hannity. He’s Faux News’ other golden boy, after “Papa Bear” Bill O’Reilly, of course. He’d destroy every blue state in his path because we hate freedom and America.
9. Imus. It’s not his fault he looks like Skeletor, but it is his choice to chug that Haterade every day.
10. Jerry. Yes, I know he’s dead, and maybe this is in poor taste, but the man said AIDS is God’s punishment for homosexuality. He’s not exactly up for sainthood.
11. Karl/K-Fed. It’s a toss-up. The former is often referred to as “Bush’s Brain,” which is both frightening and oxymoronic. The latter subjected us to “PopoZao” and allowed Britney to procreate. You be the judge.

I’ll stop at “K” because I hope to God we don’t need more than that. Pray for November 30 to come quickly.