Kings of Leon? Incredible. Douchebag in Corduroy? Not So Much.

Last night was one of many in my past when I stood in a crowd of the most randomly diverse group of people whose one common thread was the band of four dudes on stage.

From awkward lesbian lovers to the girl running through the crowd wreaking of disaster who most certainly pooped her pants, everyone had no choice but to cheer with the same vigor for the musicians who spent their youth traveling the country with their notorious former evangelist father. So much pent-up angst to share with the world, and so many who come together to watch have to fondly appreciate, under vodka-induced pontification of course, that shared love of a band.

This would be the point in the story where the music stops... and the records violently screech. And to be fair, the girl pooping her pants could have qualified for this reaction earlier just as easily.

Unfortunately, she was topped by the random douchebag in corduroy who legitimately shoved me out of his way and subsequently cut in front of me in the bar line I had been standing in for no less than ten minutes.

So, to you, Mr. Corduroy, I say please be a dear and go fuck yourself. Certainly under normal circumstances it might be no big deal to have to wait for an extra few minutes, but Jackie O has had one long-ass week of work, hadn't eaten all day, and was patiently waiting on her third much-needed double vodka/Red Bull. Without food? I'm cranky. Without alcohol? I'm a headcase. And when a dude seriously shoves a girl without a second look? I take a picture of what I hope to be a one-of-a-kind item.

I know what some of you may be thinking... that I turned into a complete vagina for not snatching his ass back into line behind me. To be fair, there was a very complex sequence of events that led to my decision, specifically based on the logistics of the ceiling fans, as well as proximity to the restrooms, as well as the unfortunate location of the dirty hookers seventeen feet to the southwest of his right shoulder... it just wasn't ideal.

Or I was a complete vagina. I think I'm okay with that, though. A fact of which I was certain as soon as I finally had vodka/mouth contact...

One thing I also had was impeccable hearing, so thank you & your tab, Mr. Corduroy, for that drink as well as my next two. You can shove me any time, baby.

Who's Down with JWP, Yeah You Know Me

An excerpt from the always-entertaining johnwileyprice.com:

John Wiley Price's brand of advocacy and activism can be summed up in this way: John Wiley Price addresses real issues, advances real change, and achieves real results. He has earned the full respect of the constituents within his district and in the County at-large. Additionally, he has placed himself in the vanguard for those who have been historically locked out, especially for African-Americans. He campaigned initially as “Our Man Downtown”, and has proven himself as such over the years.

So... where do I begin. This man has always been and always will be a cartoon character to me. So much so that I think when some of the funniest of funny got bored in Dallas one day, they created the enigma that is John Wiley Price. The first few times I sat through some of the meetings where, quite frankly, popcorn should be served to accompany the show, I was kicking myself for not thinking of him first. And it is only fitting that his bobble-head was just released & can be yours for the paltry amount of $24.95, as FrontBurner & City Hall Blog both recently reported.

What I also want to express is how grateful this city is to finally see "real change & real results" from one of our political figures who has earned the "full respect" of his constituents. Dang it... my bullshit-o-meter is beeping at me again... I thought I took the batteries out of that thing last time I posted...

Oh well. I guess let's take a look at how that should read:

John Wiley Price's brand of pent-up hatred & Go F yourself approach to the political arena can be summed up in this way: John Wiley Price finds a way to screw up real issues, underachieves on most issues in general, while guising bottom of the barrel priorities, likeKwanzaaFest as a revolutionary success, and advances change in the form of disorderly toddler-tantrum-esque conduct on a weekly basis. He has made most who voted for him lose all respect for their own political & personal judgment, while fervently striving for the Political Dumbass of the Year award distracting most in every meeting with more over-acted, poorly-scripted drama in five minutes than an entire season of The Hills. Additionally, he has placed himself in the vanguard for those who have been historically locked out, and to be politically correct will throw in the caveat of "especially for African-Americans," when what he really means is "the white man can go fuck himself." He campaigned initially as “Our Man Downtown”, and has irreparably damaged our district's confidence in the political system, as well as the overall hope of the County at-large that Dallas isn't actually run by a bunch of retards who shouldn't be allowed to cross the street, much less run a city.

You're welcome to the JWP campaign manager - you can use that copy free of charge because, gosh darnit, that's just the kind of unselfish, generous vanguard for advancing real change in our community that I am.

Carry on.

Where Has All the Funny Gone...

No, assclowns... I'm not talking about my lack of posting lately - and when I have found a few spare moments to post it has been an utter waste of your time to read. I get it. Fuck off... in the most loving way possible, of course. I'm one busy bitch.

Anyway, I myself find it odd that this is my second post out of only 100 or so that covers the topic of greeting cards, but I have recently discovered what a large source of stress and anguish this topic is in my personal life, and I’m guessing it’s no different for any of you.

On a recent trip to the Walgreen’s on Oak Lawn, after charging my way through the sea of “I need some spare change to take a cab to the bus to my car that ran out of gas 96 miles away from here where my dying mother-in-law is waiting for me to drive her to the emergency room because she is paralyzed… and so is my puppy” requests, I proceeded to the card aisle in need of a folded piece of birthday-centric paper for a friend.

The whole idea of cards is still 100% asinine to me, but whatever. Even though none of us would never again miss receiving a card on special occasions if we stopped that practice altogether, everyone is afraid to be the asshole who stops first. So, back to shopping for my shitty waste of $3.25.

Something witty would be ideal, even though people tend to fly through greeting cards with the same disinterest & lack of attention to detail Tony Romo likely throws his hotdog down Jessica Simpson’s proverbial hall. But unfortunately for Hallmark, witty is no longer in their vocabulary & their proverbial hotdog rarely touches a side. Their best days of the funny came Circa 2006… and they are still schlepping those same cards in convenient stores across America hoping people either forget they gave that same card last year, or that it’s just funny enough to give twice. "Pay no attention to Stephanie," or the "Obey the birthday monkey" card, or the "You’re a legend in your own mind" have all be gifted, and re-gifted by me multiple times.

Now, I just need a new friggin' card I'm not completely mortified to give to a friend. Doesn’t even have to be funny. Slightly amusing will do. And one would hope that for a company whose job it is to write a couple of funny one-liners ONCE A YEAR, this request would not be too much to ask.

Apparently, it is.

It seems as though instead of spending these past couple of years dedicated to coming up with that one great idea, that one unforgettable series of cards, Hallmark has gone down an entirely different path.

This path is one I would LOVE to have sat in the ideation meetings on... it reminds me of some of the piece of shit ideas my company comes up with on a daily basis, many of which are now full-fledged products because someone sucked the correct dick at some point. This product extension from Hallmark, one that has repeatedly given me the urge to jump out of a window, seems to have birthed from the same scenario.

Music & motion cards. Both equally cheesy. Both horrifically stupid and unfunny. Both sucking up an entire row in Walgreen’s that could have contained cards actually worth purchasing. Both equally embarrassing for the observer & receiver. Both a complete waste of time, effort & money.

These cards are the Sarah Palin of the Republican ticket, the message of Change for the Democratic ticket… they are all meant to take advantage of the initial positive response we give to bright lights & flashy sounds, but for Hallmark the distance from selection to checkout is much shorter. The amount of time one has to spend in a stupor of stupidity is so brief that the likelihood of a purchase made on over-eager excitement & false pretense is much, much greater.

Maybe they know it sucks. Maybe they are aware these cards are likely the foundation of many a contemplated suicide. But maybe they also have figured out that the average time-to-checkout with a card still leaves them with a lovely profit. It's like marketing the 19-burrito deal at the Taco Cabana located next to the "tobacco" shop... until you have eaten the burritos, and subsequently regurgitated them, everybody is happy - everybody wins.

So, with that said, if someone could point me to the Libertarian birthday card section, that would be awesome, because if I hear the .wav version of Hannah Montana singing Happy Birthday again or Lucille Ball's monologue of Vitametavegamin (well actually, to be certain, I Love Lucy kicks a lot of ass... just not in the form of an audio birthday card),
I may have to move to a country where birthday cards don’t exist at all… and homeless men don’t have to beg for spare change to buy their precious elbow grease – they can even afford the flavored kind, and frankly that warms my heart.

God Bless America.

Dirty Pirate Hookers Heart Jackie O

Well, thanks to a tidbit I posted last year post-Halloween, my site has been getting an increasing amount of peculiar traffic that is a direct result of Google searches. What have they been looking for, you ask? "Dirty pirate hooker halloween costumes." Over 100 people have been searching for that, to be exact.

It poses the question, what on earth would prompt you to search for not only a pirate hooker, as if that isn't a shameful enough costume on its own, but a dirty pirate hooker at that?
What, the peg leg, eye patch, and corset making those small Bs look like full Ds isn't enough? You have to add the dirty, guaranteeing the inclusion of super-glued nipple patches & crotchless pirate booty-branded undies.

You people truly crack my ass up... as I'm sure you will experience yourself in the literal sense this hallowed of Halloweens. Enjoy.

Vacation, Beetches.

Just took one. It was wonderful. Hence my absence. Breathed in fresh air. Baked some cookies. De-stressed my foggy head. Got some exercise. And watched my stocks plummet more steeply than the likely trajectory of knees to floor for these ladies, who bless their little hearts, obviously both forgot pants at Dolce’s recent closing.

Ginkgo Biloba, ladies. I swear by it. And I’m sure it has saved me from many an embarrassing moment such as this one was for you. My heart goes out to you since I myself am also embarrassed easily. But hey, look at the bright side… you will look back on this someday and laugh. Laughter, my sweet dears, is healing for the soul. And thanks to your pic as well as my recent vaca, my soul is the picture of perfect health.