Our concept of Egypt is seriously outdated...

Most of us don't really give Egyptian culture much thought beyond the occasional Cleopatra costume spotted at a Halloween party and a fleeting desire to learn hieroglyphics..



"Pictured: Not much different than the Crayola 'masterpieces' of the family cats a budding renoir like yourself made for mom's fridge as a child...Except, important old people in Safari hats give a damn about the cats in THESE scribbles..."

So, Quick!! How many of you could think of nothing but THIS when you heard the word "Egypt"in the news as the first riots erupted??

How many of you supressed a giggle days after when the shock wore off and you felt an urge to do THIS in the company break room everytime the news came on?

Be honest now!

I mean, I don't blame us (Americans)..Our concept of Egypt has been almost exclusively forged by such educational programming as "Night at the Museum" and "The Mummy" w/ Brendan Fraser.. I'm sure when we actually think about it, it makes sense to picture Egyptians in a modern context-complete with Facebooks and diverse haircuts..

However, what are the very FIRST things that pop into our heads when we think..

pissed off Egyptians?...



ACTUAL pissed off Egyptians...

Our image of Egyptian women?..

ACTUAL Egyptian women...

Our initial image of Egyptian ruler Mubarak..

The ACTUAL Egyptian ruler Mubarak...

Well, screw you Anderson Cooper! How dare you shatter our highly inaccurate, romanticized image of Egypt?

Either way, I have to wonder how foreign countries who base their perception of Americans on our media probably view us..

Average Americans at leisure?..

ACTUAL average Americans at leisure...

Aaaah, Lesbian Bars...

It is in my humble opinion....That we lesbians, as a species, take ourselves entirely too seriously.There is no station wagon on earth with enough trunk space to accommodate all of our neuroses...and we should be making light of our unique culture. We should be strutting our stuff and wiping criticisms off our unusually buff shoulders..Not getting the ACLU to sue Michael Savage.

....Mmm..Lesbian bars are the only bars where you can walk in and feel welcome no matter where you may be in your walk of life. You're never too old to be at the lesbian bar. Every lesbian bar has that Ted Danson looking dyke who looks old enough to have been in the Stonewall riots. If Jon Lovitz walked into a straight bar (or even a gay guy bar) the patrons would quietly mutter to themselves and shake their collective heads in pity ..but Jon lovitz could walk into a lesbian bar dressed like Miss Chi Chi Rodriguez and no one would bat an eyelash.


and I can now cross Resolution # 435 "Include at least one reference to drag queens in my blog this year" off my list.


Yes, A lesbian bar is the only place with dykes old enough to brag about having hooked up with Virginia Woolf (she's a top from what I heard from 'The Ted Danson dyke' by the way) and yet...somehow you having hooked up with Virginia Woolf is STILL less than 6 degrees of separation. Tsk.Tsk.

Sigh. Unfortunately, lesbian bars are so sparse; even in large cities...Thankfully, the camaraderie that exists between lesbians is such an unshakable bond. We will brave shitty overpriced drinks, dim lighting, and tables that are smushed closer together than Katy Perry's tits in a push-up bra. We do this just so we can dance it up with our sisters to the same damn songs we dance to in our cars on our commute to work.

Ah, and the question on any non-lesbian mind. Why DO we enjoy playing with another woman's boobs even though we have our own.I suppose, they're like snow globes. I know we have our own, but they're all so different, and oh so fun to shake. Okay, I have to get boobs off my mind, at least for a minute. Back to the clubs..and the shitty drinks.

"Hey ;)...what are you drinking there?"

"Blue Kool aid with a little Bacardi . what's yours?"

"PURPLE kool-aid with rubbing alcohol named after a euphemism for vagina"..

"oooh. How much was it?"

"My share of the electric bill this month"

Craigslist ad I posted to offer my services as a "Sound Effect Assistant for Every Day Life"

For just 7.25/hr. ...I will follow you around with a stereo and an archive full of sound effects, ready to turn your life into an episode in a British comedy..

I will be ready to make you feel better with a "laugh track" when nobody found your ethnic joke funny because you're white.

I will be ready to play the "sad trombone" sound when you witness an epic FAIL as you're stalled in traffic throughout your morning commute.

I will be ready with an ironic "drum roll" when that relative at Thanksgiving -whom everyone already knows is gay, stands up to 'make an announcement'.

The next time you're at your child's little league game and forget you're not at home yelling at the TV..... I will have the "censor beep" ready at hand to spare the children's ears and sanitize your profanity laced tirade aimed at the referee.

I will cue the "Darth Vader" theme from Star Wars when your boss walks into the room.....

All this and more when you hire...ME...your SOUND EFFECT ASSISTANT FOR EVERYDAY LIFE!

You can hire me for a couple of hours throughout the day to make your work day a little more entretaining...OR...Make an appointment today to book me for your next: corporate event, bar mitzvah, AA meeting. Whatever. *









As long as this "whatever" is a 2 hour minimum.*

Location: Utah County

I'm curious about what kinds of responses I'll get...perhaps I'll post them in a future entry..

What the BLEEP are the 1966 Shelby Cobra and 1977 Ford Pinto doing in the same blog entry??

I love talking to my brother. He's my best friend. 2 of our favorite subjects are cars and women. Sometimes, I'll start talking about both at the same time...and I forget which of the 2 subjects I'm referring to ...entries like these ensue...
I somehow came to the conclusion that that these types of girlfriends were very much like these cars...In my usual fashion, it's blunt... you've been warned...

The 1966 Shelby Cobra:

This is the type of woman that can approach any one in the current crop of suicidal Wall Street Execs and convince them to step away from the edge of the bridge they were about to jump off of 5 minutes ago. She's smart. She can refute Stephen Hawking's theories of the universe..all while giving you the best lap dance of your life. This woman could don a janitor jumpsuit, push around a little cart full of spray bottles...and STILL look smokin' while doing it. She's witty. She could heckle Carlos Mencia off the stage and make HIM feel 'dee dee dee'.... How can she juggle all of this and still look stunning. Because she can do 0-60-mph time in 3 seconds. Reliability? That 800 Horsepower is going to stay at a respectable level.... even through the years. Even after all these decades, there is still barely a scratch on her. Too bad only 2 were ever made, right?

The 1972 Datsun 510:

You met her during a phase of 'moral balancing' in your life....When the guilt of not ever having donated ONE fuckin'dollar to those charities that let you put your name on a fun paper cut-out at the resgister compels you to volunteer to read to blind children. There she was, wearing a frumpy Christmas sweater...and it was February.

She's asymmetrical on all counts. Yet, You fall in love with her despite yourself. She may be ugly, but her value increases exponentially with time as you realize that she has so much going on inside..like a Jackson Pollock painting. Your friends may give you shit, but that Datsun sure can surprise them when her engine turns out to be a 2.0L...instead of the 1.6. She hasn't dated much, but has at least used that time to upgrade herself inside. Who cares if you have to smear your eyes with petroleum jelly to go on dates with her, "Shallow Hal" style? Even after all these years, her engine still hums sweetly, like an angel farting in tune to "Ave Maria".

The 1994 Honda Accord:

Sure ...She doesen't exactly stand out in the looks department. She's pretty all right..... but if she's white, it's hard to spot her at the Wal-Mart parking lot. At least she isn't going to be making your mother cringe as she imagines her grandchildren's faces looking like Mrs. Potato Head got hit by a construction beam. She's reliable, very reliable....and she handles herself excellently, even when the road gets rocky. Maybe it'the reason it's still one of the most stolen cars in America.

The 1977 Ford Pinto:

Oh, sure she can get hot, but not "Boom-Chicka-Wha-Wha"
hot. The kinds of fires she starts are legendary and attract the
attention of the authorities. She's neurotic..and everything is your
fault. The weather man was wrong? Definately your fault. She can't
understand her manicurist's thick Korean accent? Your fault again.....and
she'll berate you even as you buff the calluses on her feet.
Why are you still seeing this woman? She's ugly as hell and has no
structural integrity...or ANY integrity for that matter. Maybe you had
one of those dads who drilled it into your head that you're a sissy for
not being able to keep your Tequila shot down at 12. Therefore, your
confidence was shot before you even uttered your first pick-up line.
One day, you're at a party and some poor fuck is too drunk....(or nearsighted) to realize he's spitting game with Ursula from 'The Little Mermaid. Your spirit is too broken to care. You look the other way. You don't have the courage to leave her because this is the best you think you'll ever do, but every night you go to bed praying someone will recall her...and save you from that inevitable unpleasant death.

The "Ricer" :

Your Snookis of the world. Her sound system is loud and obnoxious, but you're okay with that as long as your buddies nod approvingly....You can festoon so many shiny trinkets on her that 'Flava Flav' would feel tacky if he was seen riding this....but......What good is having nice rims when even that wigger down the street who's been wearing the same wife beater for the past 3 days gets a piece when you're not looking? She's slow as hell. You're watching "30 Rock", and she asks you if Tina Fey is going to run for president again. She's high-maintenance. Eventually you start to realize that no matter how much you invest in her, she will keep leaving you stranded. Hell, she won't even hesitate to leave your hapless ass stranded and cold in the middle of Christmas. As the years pass and age takes it's toll...the body kit starts to sag..and you start to realize that no matter how much you soup up this Pinto. it's still a Pinto.

Foot-In-Mouth Syndrome Appears To Be A Chronic Illness For Me....

I've taken to watching the news in the very early morning during my
breaks. I like to get my daily dose of national and local tragedy
before anyone else does. I'm that D-bag who kindly informs everyone
on your contacts list about the latest A-list celebrity death before
you get a chance to have the satisfaction of doing it yourself.

This particular morning, I found myself overcome with the type of
giggles normally reserved for when I'm watching The Big Bang Theory.....and not because the entire cast of Glee was flattened by a steamroller earlier today.***

No, it was the ads in between the news reports. Sure, most of them
were appropriate enough for the morning edition of the news. Ads for
coffee, breakfast cereals.......depression medication (Having to
trade the warmth of one's bed during the winter in favor of being
perched over a monitor for the next 8 hours will bring ANYONE to the
brink of depression.) .

What struck me as odd it the unusual amount of ads for Vagisil Wash in between the news reports. Don't get me wrong...I'm glad the eradication of vagina funkiness has entered the public
consciousness enough to merit re-curring ads during the morning
edition of the news. It's about time us women are given equal air
time to talk about our genitals and THEIR dysfunctions through
overzealous actors! (Perhaps some sort of affirmative action ruling brought this about?)

Nevertheless, I find myself eyeing this recent development with
suspicion. When did taking additional measures in vagina cleansing become a top priority in the morning routines of American women? Why has this not been made into a PSA
(Public Service Announcement)?

"Attention American women, please remember to deodorize your vaginas
before commencing your workday today. You'll be sitting cross
legged in a cubicle all morning long..be a good cubicle neighbor and
please deodorize...."

aaaaaaaand I'm sure at this point, I could just ramble on about The
View, Lillith Fair and shoes for another 3 paragraphs and no one
would complain.It's safe to assume any menfolk who may had been
reading this entry, stopped reading a couple of paragraphs ago..]

So, I naturally wondered what scents are available for this product. It would be nice to be able to infuse the air around me with the scent of "birthday cake" or
"morning sea breeze" every time I open my legs.

<-Pictured. What I expected of my vagina after Vagisil Wash.Not Pictured. My disappointment.

I looked through the website. No such luck. The only scent available is 'Light and Clean". What the hell does that even mean? Pfft.

Before you start forwarding that the cast of Glee was steamrolled to everyone on your contacts list, I should probably inform you that............it was not.***

I saw no reason to put on pants this morning...

It's a liberating feeling, being on my own again. Going to the bathroom with the door open.... bobbing my head up and down around my apartment scratching invisible records to the tune of rap magnate Grandmaster flash with no elastic waistband to restrict my movements. Now I see why pantsless cultures always look so jolly on the National Geographic Channel. The undercarriage draft is very real and very pleasant. Many notable Americans have snubbed pants....

Okay, so they're all cartoons...but....but.........

bows head* touche...touche...

I thought about how nice it would be to have my own town...like this lady.... Seriously, This lady has her own town, all to herself.


Ah, my town would be awesome. The uniform for Pizza delivery guys would be Ninja Turtles costumes, movie theaters would have separate seating arrangements the way smokers used to have their own sections....only these seating arrangements would be divided into " Here To Actually Watch The Movie", "We're Not Even Sure What Movie's Playing...We Just Needed a Dark Place To Make Out", and "Won't Shut The Fuck Up".........and of course pants not required.

I walked into the library today and clutched a book tightly against my chest while I fantasized what it would be like for the library to invest enough faith in me to entrust one of these book things in my care again.....just kidding. I paid my fines .....I had half expected to see a sepia toned "WANTED" sign with my picture on it on the wall of the library somewhere. You see, I have been receiving several stern reminders in the mail informing me that I had overstayed my welcome at the wonderful world of Metropolis (A Superman comic being the overdue book in question )....I can't find the book.... and to a librarian, this is a crime slightly less reprehensible than genocide. I've made enough origami out of these late notice letters to fashion an entire origami dress for Lady Gaga's next VMA appearance....These letters would be so much more compelling if they were penned on Lisa Frank stationery and gave the appearance of being written by Sideshow Bob (when I think "murderous librarian" I think Sideshow Bob.)

3rd letter
" We have a large print copy of War and Peace at our disposal. It is very heavy and it has very sharp corners. it's perfect for smothering or bludgeoning. You can't stay awake forever.......We're just saying.....Please return your copy of "Chicken Soup for the Soul" within the next 30 days."

4th letter
" We know where you live you cheap bastard. We have matches and a gas can. If you value your life, and the lives of your wife and children...you will return "Chicken Soup for the Soul"or pay for it's replacement immediately. We don't give a fuck. We won't even bother wearing ski masks. We're LIBRARIANS. No jury would convict us."

Seriously though, threats of excommunication made to pedophile priests are taken more seriously than the current threat letters the library sents out.

I suppose I could buy a kindle with all the money I've spent on library fines over the years... However, I spent my formative years in South Central L.A. Here books were valued for the protection they provided as shields against shanks in addition to providing paths to enlightenment. I'll brave the paper cuts.

Hump Day Hilarity*

*Disclaimer: While every effort is made to deliver said hilarity. Hilarity is not guaranteed. Some settling of contents may occur, and amount of laughter may vary from reader to reader. Author assumes no responsibility for errands reader may procrastinate while reading this post.


So, my BK cashier of 2 months announced today that she is leaving me for another BK. Graveyard workers share a special bond. Not only will I miss our conversations about life while the rest of the world sleeps. The new guy doesen't yet posses the culinary expertise to master EVEN Jalapeno distributiuon on a Whopper. You know what I mean? There's a clusterfuck of Jalapenos on one corner, and the rest of the burger is barren. It's like navigating a Jalapeno landmine with your mouth. You take one bite and groan because you think they forgot your Jalapenos. Yet, It's too late to turn around. So you keep munching through your Whopper and taking sips of your drink in between bites. By the time you get to that last jalapeno stuffed bite...most of your drink is gone. On that surprise scalding bite, you're scrambling for your cell and getting the fire department on the phone. I'm like an R-rated Ricky Ricardo when I experience unexpected pain or delays in traffic. All kinds of Spanish swear words will pour out. I'll even make up new ones and rhyme that shit, "hijo de su....PUTA-BRON CHINGON MAMON!".

I try to avoid Fast food, but I do indulge in WHopper Wednesdays. Mostly because I hate Wednesdays, and it gives me something to look forward to on Wednesdays. I'm just glad I don't have a personal trainer I have to confess my caloric surplus sins to. I can only imagine our exchange:


"Forgive me Inge for I have sinned. I had a Whopper Value Meal on the Eve of
Wednesday the 29th."


"Your penance shall be 2 celery stalks and 50 Jumping Jacks."





<--This is what a personal trainer looks like right? All I know about personal trainers is what I saw watching exercise videos growing up. I've only seen them in captivity, who knows what they look like out in the wild.

Oh, right. I'm supposed to be blogging about my day....

'Have you ever been halfway through a home improvement project and feared ahead of time that you're setting yourself up for a Darwin award? Screw driver in my mouth, hammer in one hand. I'm grasping this wobbly table by it's 2 legs like some clown at a gay rodeo trying to put a pair of panties on a goat.

This is how i saw myself at the beginning of the project.:

This is how I saw myself halfway through :

<-but with Spanish cussing...

However, despite a few setbacks and a swollen thumb.....I'm happy to report that the table is tabling it up and the door is happy being a door again. :)