So Dallas

How the hell are ya.

2011-05-05T22:54:00.001-05:00

Been asleep for awhile... Did I miss anything?

Time to get back in the blogging saddle. The fancy shmancies are comin' ta town, and the world has a right to finally know what a bunch of pretentious assholes we really are.

Get your party pants on, people... Party. Pants.

Good God. Why don't I go to Arlington more often?

2010-09-30T01:15:00.003-05:00

Why does this make my heart oh-so-happy?

2010-01-04T18:38:00.003-06:00

I just simply can't get enough of John Wiley Price and his crazy-ass self. Thank you, JWP, for making my first Monday of 2010 just that much better. Check out the full story on FrontBurner here.

(And btw FB, I assume this pic is fair game since a reader sent it in, but if my bitch-ass is wrong, then please feel free to RickRoll me into submission. Thanks. Smooches.)

Barbie Carpenter, class is in session.

2009-11-25T00:51:00.006-06:00

Oh. My. Shit.

Oh, for crying out loud.

2009-11-03T23:00:00.009-06:00

Well, I figure I should hurry if I have any intention of commenting on the hookers constituting MyStyle Network's piss poor excuse for a reality show cast of the all-new, can't be canceled soon enough, Dallas Divas & Daughters.

There is oh so much to say, but it's been a long day, so I'll stick to the highlights of just one embarrassing duo for today.

To kick off this big bubbly bucket of "lower middle class posing as high-society Dallas, whatever that is..." fun, Jacky and her "If I stare, she might melt" Mom, Patricia, are an utter train wreck. Clearly, not the Berkshire/Burlington Northern kind... more so like the Trinity Railway Express Irving to North Richland Hills route pre-2001.

For starters, I nearly fell out of my chair when Patricia, the private parts of whom I'm not 100% convinced are female, appeared on screen with the Halloween mask she seems intent on freaking us out with year-round. What the hell is wrong with this woman's face?? Maybe she can't help it, but that begs the question - was the casting director BLIND? Maybe his/her vision is hiding somewhere far, far away along with Patty's elusive eyebrows.

And Jacky, with a Y... it's great that the other Parkies are jealous of your "natural tan" and rarely seen Latino heritage within HP's city limits... I will avoid the urge to add the obligatory inappropriate [insert obligatory inappropriate hispanic manual labor joke here] bracket. Oops.

But back to Jacky... with a Y. Because it's all about Jacky... with a Y, isn't it? You've accomplished quite a bit in your short 17 years, haven't you? I've got almost a decade on you and am still working on sarcasm as biting as yours and a tan that looks as effortless. But while your peers also may be jealous of your tan, as you say, ya know what they aren't going to be jealous of? The embarrassment you are causing yourself by parading the University of North Motherfucking Texas as some prestigious private college of the south on national television. That's similar to touting Baylor as the premier football powerhouse of the Big 12... or Texas A&M as a well-balanced, not over-loaded with douchebaggery institution... in the mountains... that is also good at football. It's like opposite day with overpriced accessories.

Don't get me wrong - it could be worse. You could have chosen... UTA. Or DBU. Maybe ITT Tech. But in the socialite-stuffed, money-obsessed world of Dallas where the expensive private school parking sticker on the back of your car can make or break your wait in the valet line, this choice is of the utmost importance. And even if for some really ingenious reason your mom is driving a Benz and wearing couture clothes while unable to afford a fancy private school, at least have the intelligence to understand that anything associated with Denton, Texas has never been, nor will it ever be, high society. Other, of course, than Rudy's BBQ.

With all of that said, I feel bad with you two being first up on my list... but to be completely honest, you are the least ridiculous mom/daughter couple on this show.

Next up? Freshman fifteen in waiting and her mom, Pamela. I'm surprised Hannah, who has never worked a day in her life, can even manage to find her way across the street, much less get her diploma. At least Jacky with a Y has plans to attend college - or at least get wasted, make some bad decisions and skip class as most of her peers likely will do. I'm sure we will get more information on both girls than ever desired as the groundbreaking drama unfolds this season on the show that has officially given Houston full rights to talk crazy shit to Dallas until at least the spring of 2010.

Until next time, my dears.

All my love,
Jackie O

A'Rundus Among Us

2009-09-30T23:32:00.007-05:00

I really don't have an official comment on this story, other than I "officially" wanted to write that headline.

Blame the mediocre-at-best college copy editor in me, but it just had my favorite journalism professor's A+ written all over it... kinda like the time I was super hungover and forgot about my Advanced Editing class assignment to write headlines, and literally on my way to class wrote one titled "Feng Shui Your Way to a Casual Work Environment." Swear to God, I didn't know Shui was pronounced "Schway" and thus didn't know I was creating a witty rhyme. I got an A+.

Thereafter I was the class pet of my overly-critical professor who RARELY gave out As, much less A+s, and would detail out how rare it was every time he did. On your paper. Everyone hated me. I giggled often. But, I digress. Here's the article I couldn't give two shits about. See below.

Judge Has Finally Told Darrel Rundus What To Do With His Religious Tracts at the State Fair

By Robert Wilonsky
Wed., Sep. 30 2009 @ 11:28AM

Darrel Rundus

I'd forgotten all about Darrel Rundus till I took a peek at the agenda for tomorrow's Park and Recreation Board meeting, during which the board will go behind closed doors to discuss the 3-year-old federal lawsuit in which the preacher sued the city of Dallas and the State Fair of Texas for violating his First Amendment rights. For those needing a refresher course, we wrote all about this back in October of '06, but the short version is:

For years, Rundus -- who's apparently some kind of marketing genius? -- tried to pass out religious literature inside the fairgrounds during the Fair. But each time he was stopped by Dallas police officers and Fair officials, who said, sure, he could do his thing outside the Fair (like, on the public sidewalks), but not inside -- not unless he rented an exhibit space and stayed put. To which Rundus said: Federal lawsuit! And the thing worked its way through U.S. Magistrate Jeff Kaplan's court for three long years -- until September 16.

At that point, Kaplan had enough and ruled in the city and Fair's favor, as evidenced by the memorandum order and opinion you'll find below. (The brief judgment follows after the jump, as does the City Attorney's Office official position filed with the court last November.) As far as Kaplan's concerned, the city's got nothing to do with setting State Fair policy -- it is, after all, a private entity (since 1886!) that takes control of the fairgrounds for a few weeks each year -- and rules is rules.

Another reason the City of Arlington should be lit on fire... repeatedly.

2009-09-17T01:18:00.006-05:00

Cowboys Stadium shakes up life for nearby homeowners

ARLINGTON – The Wolfenbergers are fans of their newest neighbors but could live without the accompanying palatial home towering over north Arlington.

The retired couple – they have lived in the same house for 49 years – are among the hundreds of residents now sharing their neighborhood and lives with the Dallas Cowboys. Reactions so far have been all over the field, from open hostility to cautious optimism, as residents wrestle with traffic woes as well as the future of their neighborhoods.

"I don't know if the traffic could get any worse," said Boone Wolfenberger about the roadways around his subdivision north of Cowboys Stadium...

Not all the residents adjacent to the $1.15 billion venue, the world's largest domed stadium, are that negative.

But most have been affected in some way.

Since June, Cowboys owner Jerry Jones' new neighbors have lived through eight major events – from concerts to Cowboys preseason football to the largest crowd ever to watch a soccer match in Texas.

----

Okay, I have to stop this madness here. I can't do it any longer. Even my drunkass is sobering up while reading this big pile of news-agnostic poop. And the entire time I'm reading this article, the same thought is running through my head...

"TGI Friday's potato skins will still be there tomorrow, you dumb high-risk heart-attack hooker. If Cowboys traffic EIGHT TIMES IN FOUR MONTHS has somehow truly changed your life in an overwhelmingly negative way, then what alternate reality were you in when you CHOSE to move to the City of Arlington in the first place? Holy shit, you might even want to say thank you for this stadium possibly adding a few years to your life thanks to involuntary prevention of your fat Arlington ass not lumbering its way up to any token chain grease-laden restaurant of the week. And for the 67th time, NO cheese sticks are NOT a good source of slimming protein."

Alrighty. I will get off my soap box for now, but let me reiterate to Arlington residents, the new stadium is most definitely THE single most exciting thing that will ever happen in your piece of shit city, so enjoy it.

And if you disagree? No problem. Just send me a note at gofuckyourself@sodallas.com and I will be happy to respond at my earliest convenience.

Nightie night,
Jackie O

$100,000 here and there... also known as FIFTY PERCENT, bitch.

2009-09-15T00:12:00.009-05:00

By RUDOLPH BUSH / The Dallas Morning News
rbush@dallasnews.com
(Link to full absurdity here)

An agreement by most of the Dallas City Council to substantially trim its own costs appears to be unraveling, even as City Hall undergoes its deepest service cuts in decades.

In a memo signed by 11 members of the council last week, council member Angela Hunt proposed saving more than $426,000 in expenses stemming from the operation of City Council offices.

But even before the memo went public, the apparent savings began to evaporate.

Hunt and others on the council acknowledged this week that key elements of the savings plan either have come undone or were based on faulty figures to begin with.

It's unclear exactly what the council's cuts will save City Hall when a final budget is approved on Sept. 23.

"I think the numbers will drop, maybe $100,000 here and there," Mayor Pro Tem Dwaine Caraway said.
------
At this point in the conversation, kiddies, I'm going to pause for a tequila shot break and hope that when I come back the quote listed above by the Mayor Pro Tem doesn't sound as fucking ridiculous as what I just read.

Sometimes Dallas City Hall treats its citizens with the same level of ironic stupidity that a Neiman Marcus sales rep treats an "average" consumer... anyone who might balk at overspending gets treated like shit, while it's all you can do to not yell at the top of your lungs "YOU WORK AT NEIMAN'S FOR $12/HOUR YOU TWO-BIT HOOKER."

That is all. Carry on.

Aeromexico plane gets hijacked, and I'm dicking around on someecards.com

2009-09-09T15:25:00.005-05:00

And to be clear, it doesn't promise anything about "dirty pirate hooker."

Let There Be No Doubt.

2009-09-02T14:23:00.010-05:00

If I ever really do jump out of my office window, it was more than justified. And now you also know why I'm too busy this week to placate you people with mediocre-at-best writing. However, if you happen to be available next Monday between 10am and go fuck yourself, I might be able to squeeze you in.

Hugs & smoochies,
Jackie O

Ego-Boobsters

2009-08-19T13:49:00.004-05:00

For those of you ladies feeling a little down in the dumps about not making the cut for this year's Ten Most Beautiful Women contest courtesy of DMagazine, let me put your mind at ease.

This year's crop of contestants gives a little transparency into just how much D has been hurting from its recent layoffs. Last year when I read the profiles of each girl chosen as a candidate, it left me feeling quite shallow, selfish and uncaring about my community. It inspired me to drink more and forget about how poorly I stacked up against those noble women.

This year when I perused the candidate lineup, the visual appeal of which is littered with hints of "We got hot retarded wasted, then made our final selections," I was left feeling like the bright and shiny others-centered ideal role model in a sinner-laden city in need of a lemondrop martini toting savior.

A few gem excerpts from this year's cream of the Dallas crop:

Candidate #2 -Charity Beaver: "This woman deserves votes for her name alone... She divides her time between Cooper, the Dallas Country Club, and Equinox, but this lady isn’t all work and no play. “I’m a wino,” she says, laughing. “And I love cheeseboards. I have one at least once a week.”

I too think she deserves votes for her name alone, but not her first name. And what WOULD we do without the great work she is doing in the community at the three most expensive places to workout and/or breathe in Dallas. However, 2 Beaver points for Charity thanks to the wino quote.

Candidate #3 - Christina Campfield: "This former Miss Dallas USA is more than just a pretty face."

You sure about that DMag? The whopping 99 words you dedicated to explain why she's a finalist speaks for itself. Or may-be you need-ed 2 keep it sim-ple so the can-di-dates would-n't(not) get over-whelmed when read-ing their own pro-files.

Candidate #7 - Bee Lee: "She participates in charity runs and does yoga and then mixes things up at the Ritz, PM Lounge, and Mi Cocina."

So, in the application when you said note their various volunteer efforts and contributions within the community, you actually meant remove the world volunteer... and replace it with over-priced bar hopping and/or binge drinking? Fuck me for not applying. I would've been a shoe-in.

Candidate #10 - Lisa Medlen: "...She’s never felt the need to pull up stakes and move elsewhere. “There’s so much to do here,” she says. “We don’t have the ocean or mountains, but we have great exhibits at the Nasher, shopping, and restaurants.”"

Sooo... concrete. We have concrete.

Candidate #14 - Merlene Phillips: "She has a successful business that allows her to counsel people who have serious issues with food including teenagers battling an eating disorder."

Marlene, please see candidates #1, 3, 10, 17, and 18.

Candidate #16 - Victoria Snee: The SMU grad made her way to Dallas as soon as she could, and save for a brief stint at a television station in Wichita Falls, she hasn’t left."

Holy shit, if the only city I had ever lived in other than Dallas was Wichita Falls, I'd get back as fast as I could too.

Candidate #18 - Kameron Westcott: "When she’s not importing fabrics from Brazil or sketching a trench coat for Fido, she spends time with her new husband, Court (owner of upscale nail salon Polished in Plano)."

So many things wrong with this sentence. My nausea overfloweth, just like the feeling "Court" likely gets every time he is forced to stick his pee-pee in anything other than a pooh-pooh.

Candidate #19 - Kinsey Wilton: "They were talking about when you are destined to meet someone... like... you know... like 'You've Got Mail' I guess... I mean, what's that word? (interviewer: "soulmate?") Yeah... soulmate."

Kinsey, I love you. I really do. Thank God you are pretty enough to make up for comments like that. Unfortunately for your competitors, between Big Nose Magee and Drunk Goggles Gilda, they are not. This lineup is harder on the eyes and ears than any man has ever gotten after viewing.

I need a drink... DMag, can I get some of whatever you had? Or please, please humor me and tell me this is the wittiest piece of work your magazine has ever published. If that is true, and I know you have it in you, you will find me Standing. Clapping. Martini in hand.

All my love,
Jackie O

Nice comeback, Houston. I guess we're officially in a prank war? HTown: 1 Me: 0

2009-08-04T22:55:00.002-05:00

Because that's what I do when I'm bored... YouTube a video of my apartment.

DISD Is Doing A Great Job...

2009-07-29T00:53:00.002-05:00

Why Won't You People Go Away

2009-07-24T02:18:00.003-05:00

Your repeat visits to my public-facing, used to be updated 3+ times per week blog that imply your continued expectation for "new content" since you last sashayed through my virtual door are stressing me out.

We have gone over this.

#1 - I'm lazy.
#2 - I write when I feel like it.
#3 - I like my vodka tonic with lemon... LEMON people, not lime. How hard is it?

Overall, I'd like to ensure I'm underpromising and underdelivering in every aspect of your virtual content expectation. If I'm exceeding, then I'm failing. So, please. For the love of Bajoses. Go away. I'd like to start writing again.

All my love,
Jackie O

On the Serious Tip...

2009-06-24T13:14:00.002-05:00

Below is what I posted at DMN's Dallas City Hall Blog re: the below Turner issue. Yes, I do have a serious bone in my body - who knew? But don't get too comfortable. I'll be tossing out inappropriate jokes again before you know it.

"No earmuffs necessary" version below:

Usually, I would use repetitive foul language and sarcastic childish insults to address an idea as asinine as this, and I have done so on my SoDallas blog, but for this post I'll be serious for once. Don't get used to it.

As someone who could directly benefit from this development based on proximity, I still could not be more opposed to it.

First of all, I have to question any proposal which involves us modeling something that replicates any part of the god-forsaken city of San Antonio. Good grief - I'd move us even further away if I could.

Second, it is grossly negligible for any businessperson in Dallas to throw out a concept like this who clearly has zero insight, nor did he seek out insight from the authorities who do have it, with regard to the economic impact for the airline industry, as well as global economy, this could have based on the costs associated with this change.

When making proposal with as wide-reaching of an impact as this, it is not just smart, but also your responsibility to point out the negative aspects that could impact the average citizen who at the end of the day will live with this decision. And if your case is a solid one, transparency regarding the negatives will only help in proving your case. Frankly, it is reckless to not do so.

Southwest Airlines is a cornerstone of the economic environment within the aviation industry, an industry which has more power than almost any other in terms of revenue generated globally. Turner is carelessly tossing this idea out there and positioning it as though moving is Southwest's only other option.

News flash. Based on the costs this could easily drive for them, costs that exist outside of the juvenile box of travel industry understanding from which Turner is clearly operating based on his proposal, Southwest would be gone in a heartbeat. And either way - whether moving to South Dallas or another city - they lose because all either option offers Southwest is a monstrosity of costs in operations, distribution and labor back-filling. And when Southwest loses, thus does the city of Dallas, the travel industry, and the global economy as a whole.

Do some research, Turner, before recklessly proposing ideas with a level of complexity you could not even begin to understand.

And lastly, I nary trust any company without the foresight to hire a graphic designer for its proposals or its website. Bad taste is bad taste, but maybe that explains San Antonio.

Whatever Randall Turner is smoking, while shooting it up his arm, while snorting it up his nose, I want some.

2009-06-23T22:11:00.006-05:00

Holy Bajoses, Turner. Please tell me you just pulled off the biggest practical joke of your life today when telling Dallas that it should CLOSE Love Field, while keeping a straight face the whole time. Bravo.

Quick question, though: what the FUCK were you thinking?

That's like me telling Christ Almighty that "Ehhh, you know how you have been positioning this whole "heaven" place as our eternal "home" and all? Well, I'm sure you will agree once you see these revenue projections that moving it over to the left & down a smidge would be no biggie. Your angels DO fly, right? Whip up some pearly gates for that Purgatory place, and no one will ever know the difference!"

And when you so thoughtfully stated how you "see no negatives whatsoever" in creating a monstrosity of ridiculous costs to move to Oak Cliff the only airline in this great nation still within reach, albeit a Dirk Nowitzki-length reach, of profitability and replace it with the shittiest performing industry in Dallas right now - residential motherfucking real estate?

Per this statement on your website, and I use the term website generously, "When we learn of a potential opportunity, our team immediately investigates it, putting together budgetary projections and an in-depth analysis to determine if the project meets our standards for profitability or not."

That's great, Randy-Rand. Sounds like this project meets your standards. But here's something to save for later when your abacus is handy and your head is not up your ass - Southwest traffics 11 BILLION DOLLARS of air segment revenue through this fair city every year. Why I have a hunch that Dallas makes more on that $11B than the shitty 100 million you project your project will bring in, not including the ancillary revenue that is generated by travelers, I'm not sure... not to mention to the price pressure Southwest's existence puts on AA, impacting the ENTIRE ECONOMIC CLIMATE you ruh-tard.

And next thing you know, John Wiley Price & his crazy-lovin' ass will be all over this idea. Then, Randall, you can take a backseat, enjoy the JWP show, and tippy-toe-tap-dance off into the sea, or Bachman Lake in this case. Pitter pat amongst goodie-goodie gumdrops where people travel via unicorn, magic carpet & fairy-dust, where the dirty pirate hookers who work for you are actually pretty pink princesses with pixie dust and glass slippers, and where heaven is now just a hop-skip and a fiery jump away thanks to your ability to convince the Lord of Heaven and Earth that the infinity zip code was no longer, in the words of Dallas commercial real estate Douchebagology, at Main & Main.

Go suck on a cap rate.

3EB's Stephan Jenkins Officially Out of Closet

2009-06-09T11:12:00.004-05:00

Okay, maybe not "officially," but after some of his not-so-subtle comments last night, any female counterpart in his life currently should be aware that a strap-on will likely be required at some point. I'm just sayin.

Overall, the show was incredible as usual - other than the dumb bitch from Houston who was oh-so-shocked when Jenkins mentioned her city & everyone booed. Her quick-witted & never heard before $30,000 millionaire retort left all of us deeply wounded soon after.

Not to mention that she consciously chose to wear 4-inch high heels to a standing-only concert. Sweetheart, I hate to break the news, but secret's out. Your fat ass legs don't look less disgusting by lifting your calves up a few inches - get on a treadmill. Or just sit outside in the sauna that is your shitty city for a few minutes each day.

To be sure, though, if there is one city on the planet that deserves to be booed, it's Houston. The only shittier city in this great nation is Orlando, and at least they have a few roller coasters.

So, Houston, please be a dear, and eat a huge dick. But if you wait patiently until tonight, Stephan Jenkins just might do it for you. Enjoy.

Somewhere Gerard Arpey Just Asked "What?! We have a website? On the intertubes?"

2009-05-18T16:29:00.002-05:00

Dustin Curtis took it upon himself to spend a "couple hours" redesigning AA.com, and explains why here.

My favorite excerpt?

"Fire your entire design team, if you have one. Hire an outside design firm on an emergency timetable to design your online experience, and build it as quickly as possible. Your in-house team is obviously incapable of building a good experience. Get outside help."

A local shop-owner responded soon after with this weak excuse for a signed, sealed & delivered lip-glossified ass kiss.

Aha Shake Heartbreak

2009-05-11T10:25:00.000-05:00

Hey District 13, Check Your Mailbox.

2009-04-29T14:09:00.006-05:00

When Life Gives You Lemons, You Paint That Shit Gold.

2009-04-20T14:11:00.004-05:00

Oh, Central Expressway. I heart you so.

Vote RYAN: He Drive Fast, Tie Huge Bows

2009-04-17T01:03:00.008-05:00

Clever, Mr. Ryan... If I had 16 opportunities over the last 10 years to snap a few glamour shots for my campaign while I was being pulled over by a cop after traveling an average of 30 MPH over the speed limit, soon to be followed by my asinine declaration of innocence as you did...
"I'm innocent until proven guilty. If I felt like I was doing something wrong, I would have paid the tickets."
Then maybe I really am qualified to weasel Dallas out of its re-fucking-diculous deficit, a descriptor one might also use to refer to the bows you put in your daughters' hair for these staged photos... the likes of which they will be snorting coke off of in their late teens/early twenties, wishing their childhood had been filled with memories other than their father selecting his "power suspenders" of the day, then rolling around in a vat of cash.

But, to be fair, rolling around in piles of cash did work for Bobby Tilton... and at this point, beggars can't be choosers in this fair city... so show me where to park the getaway Lambo, Brint-Brint, and we'll re-build this city on much more than late 80's rock & roll.

Now, if you could just show me where exactly it is we go to vote... you know... that government building... where you go... when you vote... in all those elections you participated in... with that stellar voting record of yours... when you gave a shit about the community... the place where you bubble in your vote with pencil... not pen... the large building with the signs VOTE HERE outside... that place you never actually went to pay your tickets... that building that has frequently processed your arrest warrants based on your unpaid speeding tickets... you know... where we VOTE?! I swear to God I'm going to vote for you... just as long as my sweet-ass million dollar tax corporation, whose job is to steal every possible penny it can from the government in tax dollars for those large corporations you common folk hate... those same taxes we steal for those companies that you subsequently end up paying for in your own individual taxes... that, Brint Ryan, is the only reason I could possibly think of that might get in the way of me showing up to vote for you on May 9th.

Bitch gotta eat, you know?

Debauchery Isn't Recession-Proof

2009-04-13T11:33:00.003-05:00

The rumor mill, she's a churnin.

Heard a few interesting things over the weekend about a few of our beloved sanctuaries o' fornication, Suite & Ghost Bar.

Apparently, Suite has some sort of new investor/ownership as Giese makes his move toward the ventures he originally set out to tackle in this hallowed city of Dallas. The original plan included Giese & Co's continued involvement in the day-to-day operations of the club.

However, rumors have recently surfaced surrounding facts that the new partner in this venture has seen face time a few years ago on the show How to Catch a Predator. And based on the number of underage dirty pirate hookers that jiggle their goods on the stripper poles each week, this investment was one that has likely piqued much more than his interest. Lame jokes aside, Giese is supposedly pulling his crew back from any association with the new ownership - and from the looks of the newly launched Suite web presence/shittiest website I have ever seen/my 4 year-old niece could throw-up on a keyboard with Dreamweaver open & create something better, it seem these rumors may be true.

And in other news that no intelligent person should give a shit about, Ghost Bar is rumored to be closing soon. The hundreds of drunk screams from $500 table service-mooching skanks that echo throughout Uptown every weekend evening as I try to pass out/fall asleep... beg to differ.

Feel free to let me know that my info is from shitty sources in the comments section below. I'm making a task reminder in Outlook now to completely ignore you.

Clearly, Angela Hunt's Husband Does Not Get Laid

2009-03-24T13:00:00.009-05:00

Any hooker who is up at 3am furiously thumbing through her thesaurus to construct annoying-ass paragraphs like "The notion that the Trinity Toll Road either secures funds for the Trinity River Corridor Project or that its demise will eliminate or jeopardize funding for other aspects of the plan, is factually incorrect. While this premise has been central to the strategy used by toll road advocates (”Don’t send a billion dollars down the river…”), you do a disservice to your readers and this project by continuing to espouse untruths that are belied by the facts." obviously has a husband who hasn't seen poon-tang in quite some time.

Yeesh - and as I reread that paragraph, I just realized that the phrase 'espouse untruths' gives me the same gag reflex reaction that her husband likely had during his first few homo rendezvous on Katy Trail.

Aside from all of that, this discussion on the Trinity Toll Road between Angela Hunt (seen above, in case you missed her Glamour Shots photo circa 1993) & Wick Allison is an interesting read, and also one that likely makes most males in Dallas thrilled they don't have to beg to throw their hotdog down that hallway on a regular basis. She would probably call out Laura Miller's name during sex anyway, and who really wants the mental image of them scissoring? I can just see the thick-fabric, shoulder-padded skirt suits flying now. Yeesh, yeesh, yeesh.

Anyway, did I mention Wick Allison is my hero? The reason behind which can be seen simply by reading the opening line to his closing argument... "You are retailing once again the same arguments you wholesaled in 2007." The dorky writer in me smiles at such ingenuity.

So, get some beauty rest, Hunt. Spewing ugly all day out of three pounds of that Alexa Conomos-red lipstick simply has to get tiring.

I'd Be Lying

2009-03-17T13:00:00.006-05:00

If I told you this concert was anything but fabulous. For those of you who haven't heard of Greg Laswell, which likely will be all of you, you should check him out.
Started listening to him a few years back, and was pleasantly surprised that I only had to pay $10 to see him in the coziest & one of my new favorite venues in Dallas, The Prophet Bar in Deep Ellum (formerly part of Gypsy). The bartender, who left half of the drinks we ordered off of our tab, informed me that Erykah Badu's band plays there regularly & she stops by to sing with them every so often - most recently a couple of weeks ago. Did I mention this is my new favorite place?

On another unrelated note, or 100% related, I'm so, so very hungover. Apparently, there is no gray area for me, and the term moderation means very little. Maybe one day when I am in my thirties I will stop drinking with the responsibility level of a high school freshman. Or not.

That's It, Assclowns. I'm Running for Office.

2009-03-04T11:44:00.004-06:00

Belo won't let me embed, so here's the link to the video clip.

Let's Call a Basted Witch a Basted Witch.

2009-03-02T17:43:00.008-06:00

I only slightly recall the last time I got in a cab & couldn't remember a damn thing to save my life, let alone my precious BlackBerry... it's called Stupid Wasted Bitch Drunk. Also known as precisely the category into which this SMUer would have fallen when she was allegedly robbed at gunpoint by her cab driver.

I mean, really, SMU Spokesperson Gary Shultz? It would have been less amusing to me had you not actually provided information that supported the antithesis of your argument:

When she reported the incident, she was unable to give a description of the driver and the cab.

Gary Shultz, a spokesman for the university, said the student, who has not been identified, is new and unfamiliar with the area.

“That’s why she was vague on the details,” he said.

That, of course, and the 9 shots of vodka doing the happy dance in her tummy awaiting their 4am curtain call at the Porcelain God Aqua Theatre in her Village apartment bathroom.

More importantly, in a world where 1+1 tends to equal 2, how the hell does a person being unfamiliar with her geographic location have any impact on her ability to describe a PERSON or A CAB?

I was 19 sheets to the wind at The Killers concert, actually tripped & fell in the grass, then rolled down the hill and into my cab that I was still able to identify the next day, once I realized my BlackBerry had gone missing. I had to cancel meetings until 2pm solely with the intent of ensuring I wouldn't puke on someone at the office... and was pulled over twice to yak on my way to work by my stomach reminding me never to drink again... and with all of that, you are telling me this basted witch couldn't remember YELLOW or BLUE covering the massive moving piece of metal that carried her home because she was from Scottsdale instead of Dallas?

Even with all of that, the most tell-tale piece of evidence was simply the fact that she was robbed at all. No cab driver in his right mind is going to pull a gun on a sober passenger in a marked cab with his driver's license, cab ID number, cab company name & phone number displayed in 176 pt. font for all the world to see, remember & use to send his ass to Cancun, where life as a cabbie is much less pleasant & much more basted witch-intensive. The plain & simple fact is that she was tee-tee consuelad, people, and likely doesn't have a case with legs that will ever hold up in a court of law. Class dismissed.

But what have we learned here, kiddos... it's situations like this that help mold the decisions one makes in the future. The next time she or another SMUer is in this situation, they will remember what happened, and do things differently. Who knew you actually had to give an SMU female a good reason to take a guy home with her at closing time?

100th Post: Jackie is Just Speeding Away... Thought She was James Dean for a Day

2009-02-10T23:19:00.005-06:00

Thanks Lou Reed... and Brandon Flowers. I knew you always had a special place in your heart for me, and I for you. BTW, how did you know I drive like a 6 year-old who just snorted three giant blue Pixy Sticks?

Anyway, I find it only fitting that this is my 100th post on SoDallas as I pay homage to my precious Killers whose influence has shaped many a post in the past, including my very first. And frankly, this 'accomplishment' is great & depressing all at the same time - did it seriously take me almost a year and a half to write 100 posts? Fucking lame is what that is, but so it goes.

So, back to The Killers.

The concert, as it always is, was awesome. I'm not sure if that was in part thanks to the margaritas combined with three double vodka tonics or not, but the lights sure shined brighter, the music sounded sweeter and the drunk trainwreck that was me leaving my BlackBerry in a cab didn't cause a worry in the world until the next morning.

Unfortunately, I was momentarily depressed as many of the douchebags, who are so eager to spend 3X face value for a pit ticket, couldn't recognize the song Smile Like You Mean It even if their asshole had whistled the tune every time they took a shit in the last year & the lyrics were printed on the toilet paper. Mr. Flowers started in to that song, my most beloved of beloved, and everyone in the pit starred at him silently and blankly. Yet when their shitty musical response to Sam's Town criticism from people who shouldn't be allowed to pass 7th grade band class, much less be called music journalists, starts playing (also known as their most mainstream bull-shit song since Somebody Told Me), everyone goes wild. Kill me now, Mr. Flowers. Or just play for a few minutes longer & let my poor drinking judgment do the dirty work for you. Either way.

Thank God I was too wasted to notice, or care for that matter, whether Shadowplay was well-received. Nail in my coffin that most certainly could have been.

All-in-all, it was a magical Wednesday evening & I will always be a dedicated fan... especially if you keep writing lyrics including a 'Jackie' who is a hooker. If you had added 'dirty pirate', I might just think you fancied me. Flattery, my friend, will get you everywhere... and for your sake, I hope you receive the same from your critics so you can start making good music once again.

The soundtrack of my life is patiently waiting.

Jackie O Has A Girl Crush

2009-02-03T01:01:00.005-06:00

I'll admit... since '05 she has been my comedic saving grace. And since I've been too busy this year so far to consistently be yours, I'll tide you over with a few of my Wiig favs.

And my newest favorite character:

Now it's off to bed for a cozy 4 hours of sleep before yet another day of joyous bliss in Corporate America.

Tootaloo, bitches.

Dallas Private Schools Are Awesome

2009-01-22T16:51:00.004-06:00

Assuming, of course, you want your kids to grow up to be huge vaginas.Today, DallasNews.com reported this story about how The Covenant School's varsity girls basketball team defeated Dallas Academy 100-0 in district play, and subsequently delivered a personal apology to Dallas Academy for the Covenant team's "embarrassing" display of "unsportsmanlike" conduct stating "a victory without honor is a great loss." The school also posted a public statement on its website stating "this clearly does not reflect a Christ-like and honorable approach to competition."

You know what I'm about to say, don't you... the contents of which forced me to start a new paragraph so that the big C-word wouldn't have to share a paragraph with my question of "are you fucking kidding me??" No seriously, are you?

Believe me, I get it. I get that it's a stuffy, WASPY private school in Dallas where athletics and education are emphatically secondary to religion during the week, while 16 year-olds are drinking, smoking out & losing their virginity on the weekend. I attended one just like it. And I understand it's an awkward moral dilemma for an athletically gifted teenager capable of putting 100 points on the board against a school that literally did arrive at the gym in a short bus. I was that teenager, on that team. Yet, as I walked out of the gym past the scoreboard showing 102-4, I wasn't thinking about how bad I felt or questioning my moral compass. Instead, I was thinking how Texas School for the Deaf never knew what hit them, but my points-per-game & assist rankings in the Dallas Morning News next week sure would. Jackpot.

More perplexing, though, is the statement that "this clearly does not reflect a Christ-like or honorable approach to competition." This is kind of like saying something clearly does not reflect Bush-like & intelligent approach to incredible public speaking. It just leaves you scratching your head & singing "which one of these things does not belong?"

Whatever the case, I just can't wait to be a manager one day when I'm in my thirties, and these kids are a part of my new graduate applicant pool who now, thanks to stories like this, are not only entitled morons, but uncompetitive, entitled morons. Yippee. I can't wait.

So, thanks Covenant board members, Head of School Kyle Queal and Athletic Director Brice Helton. I applaud your aspirations to be Christ-like as you throw your varsity girls basketball team under the bus & put them on public display in the Metroplex media as "shameful" and "embarrassing" without having the adults responsible for the decisions made in a game held accountable... matter of fact, who exactly hired the coach who made such "shameful" & "embarrassing" decisions? Mayyybeee..... the athletic director? Who was hired by the head of school? Who was hired by the board? The board who creates the rules including the likes of those that require students to obey their teachers, and likely references Biblical passages like "Obey your leaders and submit to their authority. They keep watch over you as men who must give an account." Hebrews 13:17? Interesting.

But don't worry, I'm sure the message you intended to send through this debacle was well-received. Because really, let's be honest, in the private sector John 8:32 rarely applies... the truth most certainly does not set you free. Those talented athletes, whose freedom to perform to the best of their ability you just killed, understand it's their fault for being talented within the tiny 2A district your school has chosen to "compete" in. I'm guessing this is a lesson they will remember as they grow into adulthood, and it will likely influence the way they view leadership, sports & competition in the future... well done, great private educators of Dallas, well done.

Yet another example of why Dallas private schools are awesome. I mean, shit, muthafucka, look how great I turned out?

UPDATE: Once Mark Cuban heard about this story today, he extended an invitation to the Dallas Academy players to watch a game in his suite & meet the team. So, either misery loves company, or Cuban has finally found a team the Mavs can consistently dominate.

Dear Meester President,

2009-01-06T11:51:00.004-06:00

I recently read this, which left me scratching my head once I Google-mapped your new Dallas residence. An un-gated street doesn't really seem to be your issue. Secluded cul de sacs are fabulous, no doubt. But I hate to break the news that not everyone in Dallas throws like Tony Romo and/or my 6 year-old niece. 200 meters is not very far, so now it's time to play "Think like a criminal (without making a statement that might be misinterpreted as illegal by a bored FBI computer analyst on a slow day)."

Frankly, if I were a criminal, I can't imagine a better scenario than one in which I had a target within arm-launching distance off of a 55mph Tollway, where the nearest entrance for any secret service agent is at least 1.5 miles up the road with multiple lights to meander through. Also, since we are playing this game, I would totally sport brass knuckles. Who doesn't look awesome when wearing those? No one, my friend. No one.

Anyway, I'm sure there is no need to worry and that you have not misunderestimated the ability of your security team. At least you didn't piss off too many people in office, and Texans are awwlll reeelly classy peoples who are awwll reeelly weyll edumucated & understaynd yer policies'n that thar awfice and awpreciate the sacrofice youz made for those thar past eyt.. ate... aw fuck, 8 yeers. At least youz got thats goin fer ya... that and your fence, of course.

All my Simon David Preston Hollow love,
Jackie O

New Year's Resolutions Are Fucking Retarded

2009-01-05T18:03:00.002-06:00

According to About.com, here are the "Top 10 New Year's Resolutions" and, of course, my heartfelt thoughts on each.

1. Spend more time with family & friends. I'll try and not get struck down by lighting on the very first one, so I'll vagina out on this one and say "Aww, that's sweet."

2. Fit in fitness. Hang on a sec - were they trying to be as fucking gay as possible when they wrote this list? "Fit in fitness." Cute. Really. I think "work out more" would have sufficed and not made me want to throw up everywhere. Regardless, this one would require me to actually get up from my desk, or off of my couch, or away from the bar. The answer is D, bitch. None of the above.

3. Tame the bulge. Okay, pardon me, but this is a family show people. Keep it clean. Either this is the exact same thing as #2, or we just entered into some female uptowner's amusingly nasty way of saying she is going to do her best to make all kinds of things disappear in 2009, and I don't mean her beer belly. Tame the bulge, sweetie. Tame it.

4. Quit smoking. Oh yeah? Go fuck yourself! Ahemm.... oops...... sorry. :( Knee-jerk.

5. Enjoy life more. Check & check. Annnddd....my liver just threw up all over my small intestine out of fear. Awesome.

6. Quit drinking. Alriiiggght, alright. I'm not THAT naive. You crazy jokers got me, silly kids. Golly geez. Where is that hidden camera anyway - you totally had me fooled. But that split second I thought you were serious almost gave me a heart attack - I need a martini to calm my nerves, por favor. Sugar on the rim.

7. Learn something new. Well, let's see. 4&6 being legitimately listed both just taught me some people really are as dumb as they sound. Who knew.

8. Get organized. I'd say that has about as good of a chance of happening as Wade Phillips shtooping Jessica Simpson without shouting "Wull, gawwlly geee" mid-coitus.

9. Get out of debt. Please refer to #6, also known as the reason this ain't gonna happen when my favorite drink is a $12 lemondrop martini. Believe me, it's worth it.

10. Help others. www.sodallas.com. Done.

And here's a card from me to you, Dallas, you sweet soul-less city, you. Happy New Year!

Way to Go, Dallas. You Just Pissed Off Your Crankiest Citizens.

2008-12-10T16:01:00.006-06:00

The Dallas City Council today voted to expand the smoking ban. It now includes all smoking in Dallas bars & near business entrances as a part of that ban.

So, let's review. What we really have here are a few new problems.

First, smokers at any company who already get an extra two weeks of vaca by smoking 3X a day for 10 minutes each time have now doubled that. Add the hike they now will have to put in to get within a legally far enough distance from their business entrance to comply, and we are looking at four extra weeks of vacation. I mean, holy shit! Get me to the nearest 7-11. Time to take up smoking.

Second, you have just sent Dallas club owners through the roof. Let's be honest - being a Dallas bouncer at most locations isn't exactly rocket science. But you have made it exactly that, and a friggin MBA is going to be a necessary qualification. Now every night at every club there is going to have to be a secondary line for those who already made it through the first by kissing ass & dropping names, but stepped outside for a quick smoke break or six. Figuring out how many people are actually in your club at any given time will be an act of Congress - and ironically may create a fire hazzard. Add the fourth douchebag, divide by 972, carry the one hundredth bitch in a skanky Forever 21 dress... and you have yourself a motherfucking logistical nightmare.

Third, you have officially set The Loon up for utter embarrassment.
The little guy has been truckin' along for so many years... so proud of his strong drinks and crowded, yet cozy spaces. Never really embarrassed by the gift of smell he sends every patron home with each and every night... the only gift, other than an STD, that keeps on giving with the same gusto as it originally had. And frankly, on any given night, you might come away with both.

But now, now you have taken away the variable that excused the wretched scent that could always be attributed to the cigs. And I am 100% confident that The Loon's walls, carpet, chairs, couches and concrete will all carry on the torch of disgustingness long after the new ban is passed... leaving him awkward and embarrassed for many years to come. Maybe they will compensate with stronger drinks? I do heart me some liver damage. Yummy.

Finally, what are all of the single "social smoker" bitches going to do now? When they get to the point of drunk rage when they HAVE to have a cigarrette - which also means they are too tee-tee gonzalezed to remember it's illegal when you tell them they can't... and will inevitably end the evening in utter shame & disaster, without the comforting taste of stale cig breath the next morning to remind them how drunk they were, subsequently excusing them of their other ridiculously inappropriate & embarassing behaviors. What are THEY going to do, Dallas? Did you think about that?

Again, hundreds of people all over the city are impacted every day by what you people vote on in positions of power such as yours. You are changing lives, making horrible habits that much more difficult to continue, putting ugly girls in awkward positions at bars without a cig to keep them company, and keeping alcohol - bless his little heart - all alone in the big bad world of legal late-night vices.

Thanks for nothin, assholes... or a few extra years of my life for all the second hand smoke I will now avoid. Whatever. Who really wants to live to 86 versus 82 anyways?

Thank You Dallas, My Love, for Keeping Me Entertained Even on Mondays

2008-12-08T13:13:00.017-06:00

Isn't this kind of like me asking for an NCAA football national championship from Baylor this year? Or for John Wiley Price to give a speech at an upcoming Klan rally? Or for Ash & Marge (featured below) to 1) exercise via jogging versus purging and 2) come away from said jog without bruises all over their chin & stomach?

Seems slightly re-God-damn-diculous to me, Dallas.

Almost as ridiculous as this story about SMU's new 36-point plan to basically buy a "culture shift" to combat the recent OD deaths that just seem do gosh-darn peculiar to the administration. Flabbergasted, they are. Darn-it-all-to-heck. I'm just stumped silly as well. Aw-shucksy.

Here's a tip. Why don't we start by not creating a 36-POINT PLAN that any average SMU student will be forced to snort 100mg of addy just to make it past point seven? And seriously, what would SMU's b-school entrepreneurship program be without weekend basement coke deals at Suite? It's the foundation of Cox's notorious success, to be sure - not to mention the reason commerce is alive and well in this great city amidst a pitiful economy.

Don't kill that entrepreneurial spirit (and the future dollars that go along with it) that has built establishments like Urban Taco and Campisi's on foundations of white powder just to save a few lives, SMU... where do you think that $750M is going to come from?

And what a waste... what a waste. Because, damn it, that coke isn't going to snort itself.

Giving Thanks for a Comfort, a Constant in Times of Worldwide Turmoil: Dumb Bitches

2008-11-25T02:21:00.012-06:00

The economy is collapsing... an election of historic proportion has just concluded... yet, Ash & Marge are still finding their center, their chi if you will, in the mundane, in the everyday others-centered events in life that have not changed for them... those that give them deep, really deep, extremely deep (assuming the hotdog down their hallway hits a side) peace.
Way to go, ladies. You are setting an example for all of us to look at the bright side of things in the crazy world we live in today... to cheer "Yay for boobies! #3" as you so eloquently have labeled this pic... to know that there is more to this life as the "#3" gives us just that much more hope knowing there are also a #1 and #2 out there somewhere... to remember that habitual behavior-dependent careers like stripping don't ride the same waves as the economy. You are truly an inspiration... and a staunch reminder that the upper arm squeeze on already over-sized tits is actually more blinding than helpful.

So yes, ladies. We DO appreciate you & the entertainment you are - as you must have already assumed based on posting your fake goods all over Facebook for the world to see. And you are soooo right, Marge. We can't HANDLE it.

Thank God some things never change.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Dear Jackie O, (Week 11)

2008-11-20T17:11:00.009-06:00

A weekly (or not so weekly) installment answering your most pressing questions.

Dear Jackie O,
Capitalism works better from every perspective when the economic decision makers are forced to share power with those who will be affected by those decisions.

Hangin’ Like a Chad,
Your BF for Life

Dear Barney Frank,
Gosh darnit, Barney. I want to believe you. I want to put faith in your vision, in your intelligence. I want to know that you are so concerned with the good of the economy that you no longer leave time for personal grooming and/or hygiene.

But let’s be honest here. How the hell am I supposed to have confidence in a man whose appearance is one malt liquor-in-a-paper-bag away from homeless with the voice of a lung cancer-ridden Tweety Bird.

All my love,
Jackie O

-----

Dear Jackie O,
Did you hear about my genius appointment of Larry Throm, former CFO for Austin ISD, as the new CFO for DISD? Take THAT, Austin bitches.

This guy, he’s a game-changer, a revolutionary, a man who thinks outside of the box, someone who really knows how to innovate while facilitating the evolution of a truly collaborative environment, a leader who can take us from good to great, someone who can really get us to YES!

Feel free to pat me on my back and/or blow me at your earliest convenience.

Reveling in my own intelligenciosity,
Mikey H.

Dear DISD Superintendent Michael Hinojosa,
After you put down your rousing copy of Annoying, Overused & Completely Bull Shit Business Phrases to Make You Feel Sthmart, let’s revisit the idea that this man is leaving AUSTIN to move to DALLAS.

This, my friend, should give you some insight into the kind of mind-numbingly awful decision-making abilities he is about to put to good use with the DISD. God knows the only way to go is up. Hell, maybe even throw caution to the wind & go left. You are game-changers, right?

All my love,
Jackie O

-----

Dear Jackie O,
Tee-hee. Did you see how saweet we wewra to stwuggling home ownas fowa tha howidays? Don’t you just wanna snuggle up wid uws on a big puffy cloud fiwled wid gingaw-bwead houses and candy canes? Tee-hee. Oopsie! Time fowa weeeecess… and animal cwackas! Yay!! TTFN.

Bestie Bwo & Sis Foweva,
Fannie & Freddie

Dear Fannie Mae & Freddie Mac,
Awesome. Now Americans can commit suicide over the holidays in the comfort of their own homes while you choose between a giwaffe owa a whino.

Biting off the head is always the hardest part… for some reason, though, you don’t strike me as though you struggle with that – more so troubling is likely your competitions to see who can fit more in their tummy without puking. Oops. You both lost.

All my love,
Jackie O

I Just Realized How Addicted I Am to FrontBurner...

2008-11-17T14:07:00.002-06:00

I went there this weekend, only to find the annoying two words you all have probably also seen over the past few days of "Hello world!!" Then today, as it has now become a part of my workflow basically every hour, I have checked it at least seven times... hoping each time that they have finally fixed whatever is wrong with it.

I get to work, log in, check FB. Go to annoying meeting number 1 where long-winded boss will yammer on about nothing to pretend his job is one worth existing to begin with, then finally give us "the gift of time" by ending said pointless meeting early, never realizing that the gift of time line was old after the first time he used it, and now has simply become a running joke along with him & his existence in general.

Then, scurry back to desk, check FB, run off to another meeting.

Check FB on BB mid-meeting.

Run down to lunch, grab food, run back to desk to check FB & read while cramming sandwich down the hatch.

Run to next meeting, hop on conference call at desk, check FB while on conference call... and now here I am.

And no... it's still not working... and now I don't know what to do with myself. I even Googled FrontBurner in many different phrases to see if someone else had posted about what is wrong with my baby, but alas, nothing.

I miss you, FrontBurner. Truly. Hurry back, or I might actually get some work done.

I Thought It Was Kinda Funny...

2008-11-12T13:35:00.002-06:00

Unfortunately, my co-workers who ironically did get laid off didn't see quite the same level of humor I did when I sent many of them this e-card before things were announced.

Get pissed, guys. But really, I'm the one who should be pissed that I am so underpaid when compared to my peers I'm worth keeping. And now, once again, I get the dirty looks every survivor experiences in these lovely scenarios. Second time this year I've gone through this - I'm developing a thick skin, bitches. So, seriously, I dare you, push me too far and I might just have to make fun of you, loudly, the day your ID badge stops working. Or schedule a plethora of meetings every Friday afternoon from now until the day your unemployed ass is escorted out the door.

Am I insensitive? Maybe.

Jealous, however, is much more likely an accurate descriptor. Jigga, please. I could only wish I was unproductive enough & so incredibly untalented in the areas of maintaining an unnoticeable salary in addition to major ass kissing slash office politics to get handed a pink slip and a phat six months worth of severance pay, knowing full well once I returned from my six month jaunt across Asia-Pac, there would be another job ready and waiting.

So, Corporate America, come on and make my day. No, seriously... please do. Everyone hates a company that plays favorites.

Twelve-oh-Two, what, what?

2008-11-04T15:25:00.000-06:00

Jackie O just voted, and it took me approximately two minutes to park and walk in, 15 seconds to sign in, 30 seconds to vote, and two minutes to walk back to my car.

So, thank you, I say, to all of you lazy-ass SMU kids who likely weren't forward-thinking enough to early vote, and (based on extremely slow precinct turnout today) whose right to vote ranks right up there in priority of importance with where Maria the maid gets her uniform or what kind of stamp your parents use when mailing your monthly Rover payment.

Whatever the case, thanks. Your indifference has given me the gift of time this afternoon, and also afforded me the luxury to tediously draw perfectly-shaped hearts over the I's on my write-in vote for none other than myself.

Jackie O-Eight.

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

2008-10-30T12:55:00.006-05:00

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

2008-10-21T17:06:00.014-05:00

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...

2008-10-20T15:10:00.009-05:00

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

2008-10-07T12:14:00.004-05:00

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.

2008-10-02T16:22:00.001-05:00

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.

The House Financial Committee Is Overworked; Should Demand Overtime Pay, Hairbrushes

2008-09-24T16:15:00.012-05:00

5:17pm. Holy shit. I actually stood & applauded as I watched those precious minutes tick by... as House Financial Committee Chairman Barney Frank (shown above) pressed on into the wee minutes of post-5:15pm work because the American people, gosh darnit, deserve it. They deserve for those extra couple of painstaking minutes to be put in, discussing one of the most monumental decisions that will ever be made about the U.S. economy & one that will impact our children & their children for many years after we are all long gone. I mean, look at him - he even skipped brushing his hair this morning likely to give those additional precious minutes to the current economic plight of the American people. What would we do with out you, Mr. Frank. What would we do.

And monumental this decision is. I wish I could just give everyone in that room a big squishy hug for the hard work & long hours they are putting in to make this thing happen, while stocks in just about every sector crash and/or bottom out while we await their decision. Sure, I may have lost 45% of my securities' worth today. But small price to pay for those dedicated members of our government to truly work through this plan & give it their all. I know they will get a solution in place as quickly as they are possibly able.

And just think... if they continue to put in those extra minutes every darn day, we just might have a decision reached by early 2023. Reason #913 I love my country.

Thank you, House Committee, for leading by example. It's leadership like yours that truly makes my 65 hour weeks all worth it - because I know you are working just as hard to make my life just that much better... and because you, my comrades, lead by example.

One thing though. After listening to your oh-so-eloquent committee members stumble over their words & not actually form complete and/or coherent sentences all day long - many of which were laughed at by Paulson & Bernanke for being so fucking stupid slash the classic example of state representatives looking for their 15-minutes of fame on CSPAN - I believe it is my duty to request that you don't actually let anyone speak tomorrow, or maybe even get within 500 yards of the building, who falls into this category... or who isn't capable of using proper grammar. Is that too much to ask?

I mean, call me crazy, but I would hope that the people making decisions about my financial future don't actually use the word (and I use the term 'word' loosely) "Yous" when intending to say "You." Or I might expect that they would know Paulson & Bernanke already know the most fundamental investment principal about diversifying risk - but those viewers out there that are under the age of 9 thank you for teaching them something new today while listening to yourself talk in circles, Congressman Meeks. When all of you finally get kicked off of Capitol Hill, you would make an excellent Economics 101 teaching assistant at Brookhaven or Northlake... but then we get back to that whole issue of knowing what the hell you are talking about, and sometimes they require that of professors. Not always, but sometimes. We can still hope for the best, right?

Okay, time to go throw up all over my portfolio losses for the day. But you guys go get some rest, you will need it for your marathon of a FULL EIGHT hour day tomorrow. Drink some fluids, no sugar after 8pm... and be sure to eat a good, hearty breakfast. You'll need your strength.

And as that notorious hour of 3pm approaches... far enough away from lunch for you to see the light at the end of the tunnel, but still so far away from 5:15pm you want to jump out a window... here is an inspirational quote to carry you through:

"Endurance is one of the most difficult disciplines, but it is to the one who endures that the final victory comes."

Good luck and Godspeed, my friends. Godspeed.

Dallas Layoffs?

2008-09-18T12:54:00.003-05:00

Today I’m too F’ing busy to try and be even slightly amusing – so I’ll cut to the chase in light of the one topic that is so near and dear to my heart… cold, hard cash.

Since no one in the media is so much as mentioning this topic, other than the Biz Journal, I’m curious where all of the Dallasites are who have been impacted or know someone impacted by the numerous cut-throat layoffs I have been hearing about across the Metroplex over this past week?

Even my shady-ass company announced its 917th hiring & promotion freeze yesterday, sending yet another wave of rumors around our campus about more pink slips.

I say bring it on, bitches. I’d love to see any one of the lazy-ass middle managers or VPs at my company try and figure out how to even work my computer, much less do my job. They are lucky if they hunt and peck fast enough to respond to more than 5 emails in a day, so frankly, with the amount of work I cram into my 60 hour weeks, I think I’m as safe from being let go as an intelligent thought is from Josh Howard's mouth.

But really, I’m more so annoyed that no one is reporting on all of these occurrences in our city that is supposedly ranked as the #3 “Hot City for Jobs” this year. I have four friends from grad school who have already received notices this week from four different large Dallas corporations… so, what are you all hearing?

I'm Not Investing Anymore... I'm Saving Money for the Important Stuff, Like Wiping My Ass.

2008-09-15T15:16:00.005-05:00

... which would be a much better use of it today than what is happening to the money I really do have invested. In other news, AMR is giving someone in HR one awesome blow job:

DFW/American Too Closely Resembling Hell; Satan Responds, Ups '09 Fire Spend

2008-09-10T12:37:00.016-05:00

Leave it to the geniuses who were originally designing the interior décor of DFW International Airport to somehow find a way to make a concrete-ridden, visually drab city even drabber.
I’m not sure if we were going for the visual illusion of making people feel like they were completely surrounded by concrete no matter whether they were inside or outside… but if so, A+. I've been inside of insane asylums with more appeal. Grey tile, grey walls, grey holes into the abyss of what today is home to the most frequently tardy airline in the world… which really is the point of Jackie O’s crankiness today.

My business trip this week to the one city that is even more disgusting weather-wise than Dallas showed me nothing different than what I usually experience… delayed flights, both ways, due to mechanical failures… and pilots whose announcements sound something like a 3 year-old apologizing for pooping his pants – just less sincerely.

“Hey folks… well, we sorta apologize for the delay… this plane was late getting here because we had to put duct tape on the engine to ensure it didn’t fall off on the way to Dallas… and we could figure out where the darn tape began. Don’t you hate that?... Well, it worked just barely enough to get us here, so that was good. Damn it... has anyone seen my Funions?

Anyway, where was I… Oh, now we are just waiting for another roll of tape since our piece of shit operations team can’t seem to figure out what the hell it means to keep planes in the air. Johnny Mechanic just ran to Home Depot and should be back any minute.

BUT because we are such an incredible airline and you are honored to even be sitting on this plane, we are going to hand out headphones for FREE and put on a FREE movie, which should more than make up for our complete inability to do the one thing you pay us an astronomical amount to do – fly. Instead, here are some headphones that usually are sold at a 2,000% markup in-flight. Crazy thing is, it actually costs us more in fuel to haul these things around on our plane than the sweatshops in China charge us at 8 cents a pop – but we will certainly take every opportunity to swindle your sorry ass even more so than our gate attendants did on your $15 baggage fee.

You can, however, thank us for giving you the experience of a lifetime – not many people can say they know what it feels like to get raped – you, however, have been granted that priceless opportunity. Wait a few days, however, and we will start charging you for that as well. Because at American Airlines, we know why you fly.”

So, thanks American. Hugs & kisses. And you can, in the most loving way possible, eat a dick for all of the work I now have to catch up on thanks to your scheduling & mechanical ineptitude that seem to resemble a retard trying to conquer a Rubik’s Cube.

Can't wait for next week.

Maybe We Should Encourage Teenage Sex...

2008-09-03T14:14:00.007-05:00

For those still hanging on to the abstinence message, I'd like to direct your attention to the video below.

This is like playing a game of Would You Rather... like would you rather lay down in a container full of snakes or be raped... or would you rather eat a meal off of the floor of The Slip Inn bathroom or live in the suburbs for the rest of your life... or would you rather have kids that are having premature sex or are attending the Dallas Anime fest & doing this shit:

I rest my case.

Are We Really This Bored?

2008-08-25T15:21:00.004-05:00

Why every time I sit down to write the first word that comes to mind is ‘Seriously?’ I’m not sure… but if anyone is to blame I would have to place it on the idiocy that sometimes is the Dallas club scene.Flocking from new club opening to new club opening are the skinny jean knee-deep in debt CLS550 drivers, flaunting those ‘unique’ black rims, of course. Hopping out with beetches in tow, they float through the velvet rope, weed smoke & residue not far behind, and shake hands with the doorman whose weekly coke supply said driver likely dropped off that morning... and disappear into a sea of lights, smoke & bass.

This weekend at Joyce was no different, and for anyone to describe it as ‘getting the cream from Suite’ would be setting some trusting reader up for a severe letdown. Emphasis on severe.

The chandeliers in this place are worth a second look – but that would be the only thing that is, other than , of course, the fake IDs of the rampant jail bait throughout this place on Saturday. This is basically the ‘classier’ version of a Walrus crowd, the owner’s former endeavor… and is also the nightlife representation of putting lipstick on a pig.

Call me crazy, call me biased, but while numerous mediocre bar owners in Dallas try and move into the club scene with the hope of capitalizing on the wave of success Mr. Giese has seen with his endeavor just a couple of Octobers ago, they continue to create the end result of what it might look like if Dallas itself got a tummy ache and puked up Affliction tees, silver chains & Fedoras all over the place… hmm, I may have just stumbled upon the next shitty club name… Affilvora. Nice.

The crazy thing is, there is a market for this place. Its over-capacity crowd of douchebaggery & Forever 21-clad, parentally-funded vagina/Future Jobless of America proved that fairly soundly. However, if you compare it to any place that put a little more effort into ambiance than cheap-ass white curtains, chandeliers and pink lights, then you might need to get your Deep-V Clubdar checked.

"Happy Monday!" - Love, Corporate America

2008-08-18T16:11:00.005-05:00

And for those of you who would also like to make your own awesomely awesome Monday artwork, this site rocks for doing so.

Leave It to Dallas to Make Communism Look Good

2008-08-11T13:05:00.013-05:00

Mainly because of things like this.While Christians in China are fighting simply for the right to worship freely after so many years of not being able to do so underneath a communist regime, us big-rig driving Texans are showing our intellectual & religious prowess by painting big words on the side of a truck reminding all who pass by that "Jesus Christ is Lord... not a swear word."

Really? That's your message? That's the one thing above all else you wanted everyone who sees this truck to remember? Not that He walked the earth as the Son of God performing miracles and healing the sick, or that He died on the cross to save us all. Nope, your message is that 'Jeeysuys Chriyyst is Lawrd... nawt a swaayer wurd' yews crayyzy heeethuns.

And as I watched you pass by, my mouth hanging wide open at the hilarity of what was in front of me, you proceeded to blatantly run a red light, and then another, and finally a third... almost hitting a pedestrian who too was blinded by your truck. Thank God for China's sake that they are as far removed from this country as possible, because I have a feeling if they observed our version of religion a little more closely, communism wouldn't look so bad.

For Christ's sake.

UPDATE 9.03.08: Apparently, there is a fleet of these trucks rollin' all over the country this summer... because this blogger saw the same thing I did, except it was in a different font on a different truck... as was this one. And this Dirty Catholic also had the pleasure of viewing one of these rolling pieces of eye-candy as it was being pulled over by an officer. Keep up the good work.

SURVIVORBITCH, Part 2: Ode to the Millennials

2008-08-05T12:42:00.005-05:00

So, I’ve finally found it. The rare species of Gen Y employee is sparse within my company, and for the past twelve months I have meandered through this territory believing I was the single youngest person on my side of the jungle… the lone Millennial survivor amidst layoffs, cutbacks and the occasional sexual harassment suit just to keep it interesting.

But today, I found it. There is finally one younger than I… and apparently more where that came from. A survivor, no doubt. But a dumbass, nonetheless. As I sat through the two-hour meeting, calmly observing, I noticed the tendencies that are likely the catalyst to put the final nail in the coffin of my generation’s promotion-potential in a corporate world that is so very un-Gen Y, no matter how many corporate training programs are put in place to combat that theory. So below, my ode to my sweet, cuddly, ‘just wanna pinch your little spoiled cheeks’ Gen Y who make me look bad every damn day.

The simple fact is, we haven’t learned to fake it yet… fake intelligence, fake respect, fake listening, fake everything necessary to survive in corporate America, just as other survivors before us have learned and have succeeded because of… and frankly we don’t see the need because we are who we are – and adjusting to others is not what we do – that is what they do for us. Our parents taught us that fact by verbally abusing coaches, teachers and whomever else might hold back or discipline their precious future professional athlete or Harvard graduate, and we have yet to see that theory proven wrong in any capacity of our short lives.

We like to boldly proclaim our independence through the use of colorful Blackberry covers that shout “I couldn’t possibly do any serious business on this phone” and smiley faces, l8rs, & BFNs in emails… through our trendy style of work clothes that no longer need a day/night variation. They scream club, 24/7.

And nightlife is now not only part of the weekend, but also part of the week. So don’t you dare give us 2 much work on Friday – we are hung over, and our friends taking their 6^th & 7^th college victory laps on their parents’ dimes don’t have class on Fridays, so go F yourself.

We don’t seem 2 think that smacking gum during meetings is annoying or inappropriate… or that propping our feet up on a conference table is slightly disrespectful because, well, we want 2.

We believe that despite what salary.com says about the overpaid nature of our current positions that we are grossly undervalued and underpaid… and that the people before us who paid their dues for years and years are simply not nearly as talented as our pinky was at the mere age of 13. The waiting line for us is non-existent. Our parents showed us that. We deserve the world, and if we want it, we will have it, so fuck U if U tell us otherwise, because U are obviously a moron.

We believe we are entitled 2 a job we don’t just sorta like, but that entertains us nonstop – and if we become slightly disinterested with a position in a couple of months, we deserve to move on to the next, and the next, and the next and the next. But don’t U dare ask me if I have trouble committing 2 something… I didn’t like those jobs. They were stupid and the people managing me were stupid and U are stupid, stupid.

We believe that emails are the best possible form of communication because honestly, we are terrified to talk to you over the phone, and Holy Moses we will never approach U in person. Our people skills are at true shit levels, but we are incredible at confrontation and/or pissing U off via the written word.

We are certain we are geniuses in the gr8est nation in the world, and the old skool workforce that came b4 us is simply inept. Globalization is the key 2 the future, only second 2 us. But don’t U dare ask us if we speak more than one language because that would have required effort, and our parents taught us that effort is indeed unnecessary. Plus, what the hell? U move to America, U learn 2 speak our language or else I’m not doing biz with U b/c I don’t have 2, so there.

Lastly, we deserve. Deserve what, U might ask? U name it. Our parents taught us exactly how special we are and exactly how U other idiots in the world will try and bring us down, but we know the truth. We know U need us. We know we are a superior generation and the systems set in place b4 us that have made companies billions over the past 100 years are simply shit. The world is changing and we are on the cutting edge of, well, everything.

We know this may piss U off, which is fine. Whatev. But U just don’t get how hard we have worked 2 get where we R 2day. We actually had to get up in the morning and drive 2 class (in a car our parents paid for) at college (that our parents paid for) every once in awhile. And these days? Shit. We wake up B4 8am to get ready and go to work, which is ridic. You honestly have no idea what we go thru and what our gen has 2 put up w/… don’t even get us started on actually having 2 physically go pick up our adderall prescription at the doc’s office every month.

N E Wayz, if U have a problem with the harsh realities of the workforce these days & my generations’ future dominance, suck it. B/c guess what… U treat me badly or don’t give me the promotion I want? I’m telling my parents.

Enjoy getting fired & the prospect of a less-than-luxurious nursing home.

How ya like me now, geezer bitches? GEN Y RULZ!

Now, someone get me a match so I can see where that gas smell is coming from.

Fort Worth woman accused of beating husband with meat tenderizer

2008-08-01T10:44:00.004-05:00

I'm sorry, come again?

I love it when someone else does my job for me... what's the point of trying to write a funny headline on purpose when The Dallas Morning News can write this on accident? Here's to hoping they accidentally start doing some other things just as well... like reporting... or circulation statistic compilation... or simply not sucking in general.

Winner Winner, Vodka Dinner

2008-07-31T11:23:00.004-05:00

If you haven't found this little slice of heaven where the ring/hook game resides, as did my drunkass on Wednesday night, you are an unfortunate soul in an even more unfortunate city. How a ring, a hook, and four vodka tonics keep me sane during the work-week, I'll never know. But I'm grateful... hungover, but grateful.

SURVIVORBITCH

2008-07-21T12:07:00.005-05:00

The natives stare at me like I’m the most evil thing that has ever graced this jungle… like just seeing me has ruined their day. Now I know how the neon lights on the Hunt Building feel.

My blind ambition and can-do attitude in this here forest of printer paper, politicking and penny-pinching executives were likely refreshing at some point… and assuredly reminded each of my cube neighbors of the same day they had walked in the door many years, or decades ago.

Now here I sit, with a bulls-eye on my forehead, typing furiously to keep up with the four jobs that have been piled on my sole plate. Cost maintenance, they call it – not layoffs like the rest of the world. I call it the demise of the high-potential, Gen Y employee & shitty management.

I’ve been given a laptop, an unlimited supply of Diet Sunkist, headphones, and a customer support team nine worlds away from me to survive. I tried to fashion a surrender flag out of the Sunkist label, but no one seems to get it… or just too frantic themselves to acknowledge it. Plus, it's sort of orange. That can be confusing. Regardless, my office humor these days seems not nearly as humorous to those who share this jungle with me.

They are all too busy looking for a job… or figuring out a way to screw up their transition documents so badly I can’t help but fail. Based on what I have seen so far, I’m confident it’s the latter. My dog could have eaten an ink cartridge and shit out clearer instructions onto paper than what these people are leaving behind. So it goes.

Back to the jungle, for now. More to come.

It's the Little Things

2008-07-17T13:24:00.004-05:00

Lately, I have noticed, people in Dallas are mildly surprising me. Whether in good, bad or re-damn-diculous ways, it’s still the unexpected in a monotonous week I can’t help but appreciate.

1) To the guy in the Jeep on the other side of 35, thanks for flashing your lights repeatedly, thus saving me from a ticket & a possible physical attack against a cop amidst my deferred adjudication probationary period.

2) To the waitress at Idle Rich who didn’t laugh out loud at me on Wednesday as I ordered a Mexican Martini, of all things, thank you – and you are a better woman than I ever aspire to be.

3) To the friend who accompanied me to said bar & blindly encouraged drinks 4 & 5, thus leading me to one miserable, headache & nausea-filled day of segmentation analysis meetings, you suck… in a loving way, of course.

4) To the bitch in the grey Lexus who cut me off today out of nowhere, go fuck yourself. And your car is ugly. No argument necessary, just ugly.

5) To my neighbors whose trashy friends forced my apartment complex to start limiting the number of guests allowed at our pool on the weekends, I repeat, get a job, and maybe some professional help.

6) To these people, stop making me look bad. I like being lazy – love it, actually. This is the only job I have that doesn’t involve, well, work. Let’s keep it that way.

7) Last, but certainly not least, to sweet little pasta bowl lady at Eatzi’s with lipstick so perfectly applied even Mary Kay herself would be in awe, you rock my world – and my tummy. Your culinary prowess scared my hangover off so fast I was actually able to enjoy my afternoon nap in the health room at work.

That Credit Limit Isn't Going to Spend Itself

2008-07-11T10:18:00.012-05:00

Not sure what is more incredible: 1) These dumbasses believing that having the 2nd generation iPhone the second it is released actually adds to their quality of life somehow & is worth losing a night of sleep & a day of work over 2) The fact that they are probably using their 1st gen iPhone, still working just fine, to text & chat while waiting to buy the 2nd one. "But it's a deal at $200!" they claim... OR 3) Me wasting 3 seconds of my life snapping this picture.

What is it, guys... do you really think you have outsmarted Apple? That they are the morons for selling such a fine piece of equipment for a measely $200? Or is it that they are pure geniuses who held on to their high price point for just long enough to where they have fooled you into believing not only is it a good idea, but a steal at $200.

Even funnier is the anger they exhibit as you snap their photo... with a BlackBerry. "What the fuck are you doing?" the angry Apple-lovers ask. Laughing at your bitch-asses, I think to myself. No, buddy, I'm not emailing this to your boss to whom you will be calling in your sick day tomorrow (from my MacBook Pro, no less, that I bought for a steal at $3,000 - on which I've already had to replace the logic board... twice. Thank goodness for the deal that is AppleCare @ a chintcy $300. I use coupons at Whole Foods & avoid McKinney Ave. gas stations so I can wipe my Apple-loving ass with $300. And so do you, apparently). I know you need that job to pay those credit card bills for all of those necessities you purchase... those items of true need versus want.

Hope 3G is everything you dreamed - and if not, I'm sure Apple will have your next need ready & waiting for a deal... thank the Good Lord for consumers like you, without whom I would not be employed.

UPDATE: I'm sorry, but what? When did free time become as worthless as a guest list as Suite?

Lung Cancer Never Looked So Good

2008-07-07T15:06:00.011-05:00

There's a very good reason this man was so relaxed at board meetings:

While this man looks like he's about to crap his pants 24/7:
Alright, fair enough. They both look like they are about to crap their pants - I think Herb just legitimately might have been constipated.

Nevertheless, when interviewed recently, Gerard Arpey (pictured above), CEO of American Airlines, was quoted discussing increasing flight fees & costs stating he does not think we (AMR) necessarily have done a good job in explaining the impact of high oil prices.

He then went on to explain how 1+1 usually equals 2, that swimming within an hour of eating is bad for your tummy, that Tila Tequila is a dirty pirate hooker and that the earth really is round.

"Holy shit, I had no idea," no one was quoted after reading the interview.

$4.83 & counting, kids. Bankruptcy filing ETA: Aug 31, 2008. Sunday, Bloody Sunday.

Any takers?

Damn. The Jig is Up.

2008-07-02T15:54:00.005-05:00

This makes me smile. Those rampant Dallas street girls? Not so much.

C.O.V. - E.R.T. That Spells Covert, Rah-Rah Ree!

2008-06-30T14:19:00.007-05:00

Every morning, as I begrudgingly roll out of my comfy bed and stumble to turn on Good Morning America, I half-deliriously wonder what little bit of news genius I'm about to experience... whether their 109th story of the year somehow relating to breast cancer & Robin Roberts, or something I won't go to hell for making fun of like the story on teens conspiring to get pregnant at the same time for fun. Also known as VH1's next reality show.

Either way, I find some semblance of comfort knowing I'm not the only idiot up this early... until, of course, we cut to Greg Fields, WFAA weatherman, whose voice cracking every time he uses descriptors like "a leeeeetle bit cloudy today" or "a tiiiinnnny bit of sunshine peeking through" make me want to punch my TV, and whatever God-awful hue of lipstick Alexa Conomos is wearing that day, a leeeeetle bit too aggressively.

Regardless, today was different. Today we were talking about covert ops. The coolest two-word phrase you can ever use - and one that will get heads turning and ears perked no matter what environment you use it in.

Today, I was suckered in. Then, as I stood there and listened, perplexed, Good Morning America reported on how the U.S. is increasing its investment & efforts on covert ops in Iran. Really turning up the volume over there - so shhhhh, America. This is top secret stuff.

So, I apologize for my ignorance on political affairs, but by their nature, aren't covert ops supposed to be, well, covert?

My natural inclination is to believe yes, they are. And an increase in their breadth & depth in Iran would also be classified information if those same operations were actually REAL and/or CURRENT. Don't make me feel like a casino security extra in Ocean's Eleven, bitches.

So, my next thought naturally turned to annoyance, and then anger. No, not out of disgust for my soon-to-be ridiculously & inappropriately long jaunt from my humble abode to the highway, thanks to what has to be a conspiracy by civil engineers to take as long as God-damn possible to finish the road construction between Maple & 35 on Oak Lawn. No, not angry because of that.

My anger stems from the fact that we, unfortunately, are complete dumbasses. At least that is what news outlets like this have to assume for this story to be worth telling. And the fact that it is fed to us as though we are being told the truth is even more embarrassing.

The dollar may be down, the economy may be in the crapper, but one thing is for certain - it will take a lot more than a few shitty days on the stock market for the general population to all of a sudden get the truth, on-time, and in-context. Opposite-day in a DISD budget meeting this most certainly is not.

And it will likely take even more for our government & propagators of its public relations efforts to stop using network news as a soap box and/or indirect communication channel when all other channels have already been destroyed by us, or the more likely culprit - Alexa Conomos's favorite shade of lipstick.

Yeesh.

Keep Up The Good Work, D-Town.

2008-06-26T12:51:00.005-05:00

Hope you all are enjoying my lifetime savings. Here are a few additional words of encouragement for you... you cute, cuddly P/E ratios. Just wanna pinch your lil' cheeks.

- You’re on the right track now!
- You’ve got it made.
- SUPER!
- That’s right!
- That’s good.
- You’re really working hard today.
- You are very good at that.
- That’s coming along nicely.
- GOOD WORK!
- I’m happy to see you working like that.
- That’s much, much better!
- Exactly right.
- I’m proud of the way you worked today
- You're doing that much better today.
- You’ve just about got it.
- That’s the best you’ve ever done.
- You’re doing a good job.
- THAT’S IT!
- Now you’ve figured it out.
- That’s quite an improvement.
- GREAT!
- I knew you could do it.
- Congratulations!
- Not bad.
- Keep working on it.
- You’re improving.
- Now you have it!
- You are learning fast.
- Good for you!
- Couldn’t have done it better myself.
- Aren’t you proud of yourself?
- One more time and you’ll have it.
- You really make my job fun.
- That’s the right way to do it.
- You’re getting better every day.
- You did it that time!
- That’s not half bad.

Why is my initial reaction to almost all of these "Ehhh, go F yourself"? Corporate America & stocks that do what these are doing today might have something to do with it. Happy Thursday.

I'd Use My Hoe for More Than This

2008-06-23T13:55:00.003-05:00

Guys, seriously. If you go to the trouble to steal a backhoe, of all things, smash it into a store, and steal something – wouldn’t you like to have taken more than just a pack of smokes & some Natty Light?

Regardless, cheers to you for style points.

The more perplexing thing to me, however, is this line:

“When officers arrived, two men fled – one in the backhoe and one in a car, police said.”

Last time I saw someone travel at a speed in a backhoe that could be defined by policemen in cars that travel up to 140 MPH as 'fleeing', I had just finishing bathing my unicorn in the sea of goody goody gumdrops. She gets sooo dirty sometimes.

Kudos, though, to the DPD for those cat-like reflexes and their lightning-quick speed. I'll be sure and remember that next time I need a handle of Kettle One.

My Dad Is A Fat, Lazy Bastard

2008-06-16T11:31:00.006-05:00

Or apparently that’s what Hallmark thinks.

While this isn't exactly Dallas-specific, this city has bored me lately, so as I trolled through my token holiday card default store this past week, my alter-ego Cruella was in full mental swing.
She is the “evil” part of me that can turn any pure, innocent idea into something monetizable - like Father's Day, and she's also the part of me that can go from calm to headcase in about 3 seconds if someone is wasting my time.

Nevertheless, my big money idea this day wasn’t genius – couldn’t possibly be unique or even that profitable, but where the hell are the cards for the dads who aren’t lazy sons of bitches... the dads whose idea of a Father’s Day isn't to sit in a recliner with a beer, belly peeking out of a too-small T-shirt while getting off on having control of the precious remote for one day of the year.

I spent 45 friggin' minutes looking for the one card that actually had my father in mind. I didn’t find it. Because you don't make one, assclowns. So, I did your fucking job for you & wrote my own card.

Maybe I’m naïve, but I have a hard time believing that 98% of dads in this world have raised successful, ambitious children by scratching themselves while napping in a velvet, Coors-stained recliner with the flicker of a football game in the background... or that the majority of daughters purchasing a card for their fathers can find humor in a joke about credit card bills or asking for money.

Hell, Hallmark, maybe I've been wrong for all these years. Maybe there's no better way to say Happy Father's Day than "Thanks for never teaching me to stand on my own two feet, or never conveying the value of a dollar & a hard day's work, or never correcting my idea that credit card bills really don't get paid by the credit card fairy."

Call me crazy, but I needed a card thanking my white collar, non beer-drinking father for his dedication to showing up for thousands of sporting events throughout my childhood, for pushing me by asking “What happened to those three points?” when I brought home a 97 instead of 100, for challenging me to dream big and to dedicate all of myself to my passion in life, for teaching me that this is very much a run-on sentence, for giving me the tools I needed to make it in my career, in this money-washed & value-stripped city, in this life.

He is not a man of transparent connections, or of schmoozing, or of ass-kissing. He is a big thinker, a tough negotiator and a competitive sonuvabitch. He is an entrepreneur – a man whose every minute is precious and who gave many more of them to my family than he ever did to a beer or a recliner.

So, Hallmark – who the hell raised you? I want my 45 minutes back. And you are welcome for purchasing the blank card & doing your job for you – that’ll be $225. Yeah… I forgot to mention, I’m not free. And my hourly rate increases for morons. Daddy didn’t raise no fool.

Great STDs Think Alike

2008-06-12T16:04:00.002-05:00

I'm guessing by now you have already seen this tidbit over @ Frontburner. So, thanks Kidd, for being here no longer than a few months and already finding your very own dirty pirate hooker to screw up what little hopes this city has at any kind of sporting championship in the next ten years.

And based on this wholesome pic and the myriad of strange you have left behind in your hayday, your game's synonymity to Magic's likely doesn't stop at the court.

To each his own, however. All I really need is to get a few more good years out of you... so, Vitamin C, my friend. Vitamin C.

Dear Jackie O, (Week 10)

2008-06-09T12:55:00.010-05:00

A weekly (or not so weekly) installment answering your most pressing questions.

Dear Jackie O,
Did you see my sexy new headshots? They are H.O.T. Black Noir magazine, here I come.

Sluttin It Up While Layin It Down,
Pool-Party Patty

Dear Random Barely-Clothed Girl In My Pool Yesterday,
Sweet Lord Almighty. I’m not sure what was worse – you on all fours on the limestone waterfall while I tried to keep my dinner down, or the fact that I am 100% officially not stepping foot in my pool for the rest of the summer.

And I know you were hot on the trail of finding them, but the keys to the shame box surprisingly were not near your crotch – as your hands suggested many times. I’d check with the guy who convinced you to pose first, actually.

All my love,
Jackie O

-----

Dear Jackie O,
We stand firmly behind our recent decision to charge $15 per bag. Not to mention, we are quoting all over the press that this change “would affect fewer than one in four customers this summer and won't lengthen lines at boarding gates.”
So, nothing to worry about!

Pack Light,
Blanket ‘AA Representative' Not Actually Naming Any Real Person to Avoid Responsibility

Dear AA PR Department,
We aren’t that stupid. Seriously. Give me a little credit. The wait times won’t increase? Oh really.
Soo… more people will be carrying on bags now than previously, correct? And even before your piss-poor attempt at getting the entire industry to instate these new fees, it took for frickin’ ever to board a plane thanks to the slow-ass people in front of me trying to fit a circle into a overhead compartment square.

"It doesn’t fit, assclowns!" Keep moving. Yet they keep trying. And wasting my time.

So, where was I… Anyway, your assumption must be that if the lines don’t get longer, then people would have to get smarter.

Somehow, thanks to random aspiring-models who taint my pool & pictures like this, I don’t see that coming… ironically, though, this picture shows our world may be much more genius than we ever might have thought. The pool bitch, however? Still in the shame box.

All my love,
Jackie O

-----

Dear Jackie O,
Did you hear our computers were down all morning? We couldn’t check for warrants, previous tickets, or any gosh-darn thing. Sounds like a morning off to me! Thank God I don’t need navigation to make it to the Burger King on Lemmon.

Havin' It My Way,
Po-Po

Dear Thorns in My Side,
I’m aware. And you’re welcome. I was running a little late. And I’m on probation - as you know. To make it on time I needed to go 94 – and as Officer Philips so bluntly told me in May, you tend to not like that. If I have to get a little creative to snag a few extra minutes of sleep – damnit, I will. See you on my way home, beetches.

All my love,
Jackie O

Get a J.O.B.

2008-06-02T13:52:00.005-05:00

Recent college graduates/pre-“I’m taking a year off to travel Europe & really find myself slash avoid getting a real job” ladies reveling in the summer sun, SMU 6th-Years struggling to get by on their measly 1K/month tax-free allowances forcing the Coors Light versus Fat Tire purchase, and chain-necklace-wearing fraternity meatheads grime-ifying up my pool with their spray-on tan residue.

This is the scene I was so pleasantly able to witness on Friday as I worked from home – kicking myself for having chosen a unit so damn close to the pool. As I tried to hide in my closet while presenting my new strategic plan via conference call to VP of my department, my ability to muffle the spring break-ish noise from his ears was somewhat lacking.

“What is that?” he asked. “Are you in a stadium or something?”

“Uhhm.. Hahhaha. Um, that is just the groundskeeper’s kids. He brings them with him on Fridays and they tend to be a bit rambunctious,” I lie, hoping he isn’t thinking I’m supplementing my Friday of working from home with a little Miami Vice cocktail & pool action myself.

As I hang up the phone, my first inclination is to open my balcony door, and scream expletives including “Get a ?#@*ing JOB & get the ?#@* out of my pool, assclowns.”

Then I realized the folly in my plan. I would be saving them a great deal of thought & time in deciding where to target a barrage of raw eggs.

The issue here, really, is who the hell are these people? Homeless people with access to Trina Turk swimwear? Recently laid off sales people? Or are they simply 25-year-olds still managing to suck college education money out of their parents who they have convinced an undergrad degree takes 8 years. Who knows, but the syphilis remnants likely left floating in my pool are the only telltale sign of any kind of activity involving hard jobs. Pun intended.

So as my day began to wind to an end, and I was so glad to have made it through yet another week of hellishly-busy work disallowing me from even thinking about blogging recently, I came across yet another sight to behold in my parking garage.
‘Is that girl …?’ I thought to myself. No. Couldn’t be.

As I got closer, and watched the puddle grow, her drunkass friend walked toward me on a cell phone complaining about being lost on the property, in the big bad scary world of McMansion apartments.

I sat there. Shocked. And what I thought couldn’t possibly be true, was. That bitch had just peed in my parking garage – not ten feet from my car.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I asked. Her lazy drunk eyes communicated her disinterest in me or my question, as she pulled her bikini bottoms back up and stumbled toward her friend.

At that point, I threw my hands in the air and called it a day.
And as I drove off to pick up my Potbelly Wreck, hold the oil, I thought about the lucky recruiters all over Dallas who are probably dealing with candidates like the Parking Lot Pee Bandit I had just encountered. What a treat.

Get excited, Dallas corporations. We are training up leaders here in this fine city. Elite education, I think they call it. True game-changers. Your HR departments have a lot to look forward to in the coming year, so Pony Up. Coors Light, 50K graduation-present cars & $1,000 allowances just ain’t cutting it any more.

Jackie O is So Friggin' Lame

2008-05-28T12:46:00.003-05:00

that she has actually spent the past week "working" at her so-called "job." I mean, seriously, who knew you actually had to be productive at some point. I can vouch for 98% of those who work around me that they didn't get that memo.

Let's take for instance the 28-year-old manager who sits next to me. He rolls in to his perfectly hidden cube most days around 10:15am without making so much as a peep, pretends he is going to work verrry very late, makes overt comments about how huge his pile of work is that he has to get done that evening, but rolls out about five minutes after the last person who can ever have a hand in deciding his fate leaves. Genius.

Maybe this is all just telling me I'm a huge idiot. That basically 98% of the people at my company are much, much smarter than I, because my dumbass is actually working. In theory, though, that would make the board much, much dumber than I, becuase that means they are paying 98% more in operating costs than what it takes to actually run the company.

Whatever. All I know is that work is a royal beating. And Eve's conniving bitchass can suck it.

I'll be back soon. De-lame-ified.

My Last Post About Austin

2008-05-20T10:59:00.009-05:00

I swear.

All I'm asking is for Uchi to ScUchi its way up to the DF-Dub. Gotta love those horribly cheesy Tuesday morning puns. Clever obviously hasn't quite kicked in yet for the week, or the year for that matter.

Regardless, I need this restaurant in Dallas, please. This old house has turned in to one of the top restaurants in Austin, and I fell in love right away. I promise it would thrive. We have plenty of pretentious people in Dallas willing to pay $16 for an appetizer requiring you to cook your own beef. Hell, charge us $20. We'll gladly pay it and snicker at the bill while whispering to one another about how cheap our night out was.
So what are you waiting for? Rolling hills? Gorgeous trees? An actual scene that wasn't created by concrete & credit limits? All the things that enticed you open your doors in Austin in the first place? Hmm. Well... I hear DeSoto has some property for quite a deal. Or maybe Grand Prairie? And are you sure you really need trees? I could fashion you one out of concrete if this really is a deal breaker...

Update on Austin's Coolness: First Pics of Kate Hudson & Lance Armstrong @ Hula Hut

2008-05-17T18:30:00.011-05:00

Kate Hudson and Lance Armstrong just walked in to Hula Hut (around 6:15pm) with his kids in tow... A few pics to follow.

UPDATE: Pics below. Blurry, yes. But I didn't major in photography, assclowns, and I hope Perez Hilton & every other celeb blog out there won't care while they rip off my pics. Oh, I feel so used. (Use me, please. Use me.)

That bitch can move. Fast. She has perfected the art of flying by a camera at 100mph so the final shot looks like, well, this. And as the ladies behind me snapped a shot as well when the crew walked in, she mouthed a sweet little "WTF" to her new beau, Lance. I mean, really, Kate? Let's see. You choose maybe the most popular spot to dine in Austin on the Saturday of the UT's graduation ceremony and are shocked when someone snaps your picture upon arrival? Yes, we read celebrity gossip in Texas, too. And no, we haven't forgotten how loudly you cheered AGAINST the Mavericks in last year's short-lived playoff run. So you are lucky I didn't bum-rush your ass on the spot.

Kate seemed to be kissing ass like it was her job with Lance's kids, as she patted them on the head while helping them to some of Hula Hut's famous salsa & chips. Cheers to the soon-to-be former happy couple.

Why Can't Dallas Be...

2008-05-17T17:42:00.003-05:00

Austin.

At hula hut, teetee guadaluped, wondering why the hell my zip code sends my mail to the concrete jungle instead of A-town.

Even the fact that I, of all people, just called it A- town proves my point. Good Lord Almighty.

Dear Jackie O, (Week 9)

2008-05-13T11:51:00.012-05:00

A weekly (or not so weekly) installment answering your most pressing questions.

Dear Jackie O,
My stock is soaring so, so high!! Tee hee. Can’t you just feel the excitement all the way from up here in Plano? I heart HP. Tee hee.

Eee-mailin,
E to tha D to tha S

Dear EDS/Worst & Most-Overpriced Tech Support Provider in this Great State,
Does this mean HP will take over our IT support? Thank GOD. Now pack up your shit and get the hell out.

All my love,
Jackie O

-----

Dear Jackie O,
I heard you calling us a nasty word that rhymes with duckers behind us as we got on the plane this weekend. Totally unnecessary, and we had every right to be there. Just so you know.

Cheatin,
Big Huge Giant Seat Stealers

Dear Annoying Identically-Dressed Couple from My Southwest Flight Home Sunday,
Let me explain. B18 is B18. Not B1. I’m sure you probably missed the 8. I get it. Really, I do. Like when I get a tab for $18, sometimes I accidentally only pay $1. Or when I turned 18, I thought my mom screwed up on the cake and was celebrating my first birthday. Totally understandable. But for someone like myself who woke up early on a Sunday to check in online, and beat your ass to the punch, I find it ridiculous of you to think everyone was dumb enough not to notice, other, of course, than the gate agent scanning your ticket whose only job IS actually to notice. Thanks, Southwest. Me and B3-C60 who rode in the biotch seat all the way home ‘preciate it.

All my love,
Jackie O

-----

Dear Jackie O,
So, when are you quitting your job to have behbies? I mean, I know you aren’t married or anything, and obviously will need countless hours of help not sucking at being a mom, but I’m perfect in every way, so I’ll gladly help you out.

Rock-a-bye,
Behby

Dear Most Annoying Girl in My Bunco Group (yes, I play bunco. I like to drink, so suck it.),

#1 In the words of Whitney Houston, Hell-to-the-No

#2 If you so much as think about bringing up different sizes for breast pumps you tried last week or other ridiculously gross topics such as what your placenta looked like, I will, without a doubt, punch you in the face. And after that, I’ll gladly entertain you with a single gal’s version of that convo.

“So I gave this awesome blow job last week. Did you know there is something called the R Spot on a guy?”

All my love,
Jackie O

Thanks for the Heads Up. I'll Duck Next Time.

2008-05-09T00:55:00.006-05:00

Click here for video.

Thank you, Channel 8, for a riveting story about a plane that "could" have had a safety issue based on your expert who actually used the phrase "Good heavens." To that, I respond "Bless his little heart." Regardless, though, what I wonder immediately when I read your headline & watch this video is what the hell happened to this huge-ass metal panel that fell out of the sky from about 20,000 feet? No concerns there? Uh-uh? None? Nope? Mmkay.

Whatever the case, it's late and I don't really care all that much. But thank you for confirming for me I'm not crazy for being nervous living directly underneath Love Field's flight path. It's those warm fuzzies that keep me all snuggle-bunnied in bed at night, as I secretly hope I'm not killed the next day in some freak accident thanks to your airline, or any other carrier, being too damn cheap to put that plane back on the ground.

Just for craps & giggles, I hope one day God decides to change up the jet stream on your asses, then back the next day, then back again, then throws a stink bomb where your reservation systems are housed, then creates an even greater air traffic system that flies higher and loses metal panels that land on your planes instead of me.

So much fun, so little time. Oh, and wave to the camera, kids. Thanks to that last paragraph, we just hit a few keywords to entice an FBI'er or two to pass by the site. Ha row!

& Nite nite.

Pulling a Costanza

2008-05-05T17:10:00.004-05:00

So, I have no idea what the hell just happened, but somehow I just set a little So Dallas record today thanks to posting about hockey, of all things. Who woulda thunk it… the first day Jackie O breaks 100 unique visitors is due to posting about the thing I know the least about in Dallas… well, okay, in all fairness, the second least. Non-alcoholic beverages win that race by a nose.

I think I’m on to something here... the whole George Costanza theory of doing the opposite of your instincts just may very well be true... so, Coming Up on sodallas.com, a discussion of fruit juice smoothies and virgin daiquiris. Watch the traffic come pouring in as quickly as vodka typically enters my system on any given Friday or Saturday (or Sunday or Monday or Tuesday or Wednesday or Thursday) night.

Anyway, to all of you random Canadians who thought you were linking to a hockey blog, sorry ‘bout that. But here’s my effort to make you feel at home. Have a fruit smoothie, form a flying V, pull a Triple Deak or two, and stay awhile.

I Don't Really Like Hockey

2008-05-05T00:15:00.002-05:00

So why am I still awake at this late hour with an early morning call looming, watching the suspiciously well-tanned FSN Southwest sportscasters pontificate the upcoming 3rd OT of the Stars & San Jose?

As we all know way too well, the Stars, every year, always seem to make the world right for my city... they are the reason many sports fans, like myself, refrain from pulling the suicide trigger after a mind-numbing Mavs playoff series, and pretty much the reason the world doesn't seem to have come off its axis completely each May.

And there's also something oddly comforting about watching replays with Pantera in the background of dudes slamming each other into a wall.

Wait... this just in... suspiciously tan sportscaster just made worst pun-filled joke ever about a hole on the Trinity River bridge causing 30 to be closed both ways... but the Stars and Sharks can't find any holes here tonight. Wow. On that note... I'll set my sleep timer on the TV and hope for the best.

Later skaters.

Cox Suckers

2008-05-01T10:37:00.009-05:00

On my way to work this morning, as my brain was on cruise-control while wishing today was Friday instead of Thursday, I was rudely brought out of my stupor when I heard a Creepy Old Man on the radio loudly say a word many of us use for male genitalia. And I remembered I have heard him say it before, many times actually. This morning, however, after a Wednesday night of too much vodka, it was especially annoying.

Then I realized what it was. Of course. Yet another puffed-up, ridiculously pretentious-sounding SMU Cox School of Business MBA advertisement. And fortunately for me, it is always laced with a bit of ironic humor as I think about how some stuffy, 50-year-old director of marketing at SMU likely wrote these ads, and even more likely implored Mr. Creepy in the recording studio to over-emphasize the “powerfulness” of the name SMU Cox, ignorant to the genius comedy he or she was producing for the rest of the Metroplex that very day. And powerful it certainly is. Yikes. Like nails on a chalkboard.

But that isn’t even the entertaining part to me. As I continue to listen to exaggerated statements about how powerful this education is, and how it is the only place where the “Dallas Business Elite” have gone to obtain their MBAs, I'd say my CEO of a $5B company would disagree, and I have to wonder just how “elite” the likely 20-30% of those who graduated last May feel as they continue to search for that elusively prestigious, high-paying job they were promised upon acceptance.

I can just see it now, as each one of them received their acceptance letters many months or years ago, so excited about the promise their careers held as Creepy had conveyed to them on the radio before they accidentally stumbled into a 670+ GMAT score. Then came the whirlwind of Harvard case studies, lectures from professors with no real-world experience all day, and adderall-induced dreams of future CEO fast-tracking all night.

And then, Creepy surprised me. He finally, at the end of the ad, spoke truth. He let his listeners know that the kind of education you choose says a lot about who you are as a person. And he is so very right.

And those are the exact same sentiments I might have to assume the CEO of my company had when choosing his MBA… SMU = $85,000? Or almost any other public school in Texas, one just 15 miles up Central Expressway, for half the price and a better ranking?

I’m not sure what the latter decision might do for me during a chat over cocktails at Fearings, but I do know what the former would do for me as a CEO one day whose decision to spend twice as much on something I could have gotten for half the price would likely send me into retirement by my board much earlier than anticipated.

So, yes, Mr. Creepy Old Man. The education you choose does say a lot about you. And for your non-scholarshipped graduates, it boldly proclaims their proud foray into the wonderful world of Dallas Debt, in an effort to actually monetize & purchase social status and business acumen.

I guess I’m just not so sure that is a selling point you want to over-emphasize… maybe just stick to the male genitalia line. That at least woke me up this morning more than coffee ever could. And I’d pay a lot more than $85K over my lifetime for that to happen each day… mainly because I’m debt-free, so I can, Coxsuckers.

It Was All A Dream…

2008-04-28T14:12:00.004-05:00

I used to read Word Up magazine, Salt N’ Peppa & Heavy D up in the limousine… As the voice of the late Notorious B.I.G floated throughout the pulsating room, whose thick velvet drapes have seen more interesting things in under two years than many of those entering those doors will see in a lifetime, I couldn’t help but smile.

It’s a rare night indeed if Parker’s MacBook Pro doesn’t find its way to this classic song… and it’s always my bass-intensive signal that it’s about time to put the drink down and get the hell out. But of course, I stay… and watch in amazement as many of those bleach blondes & token light-blue striped, un-tucked buttondowns in attendance only know this song, that was likely released when they were pre-teens, because they have heard it here, amidst the smoke and lights and core-shaking bass. Amidst a world perfectly and specifically manufactured for us.

And this is typically the point in the evening when I realize where I am, and who I have become. A sell out.

Many years ago, I was called the same. On a college campus, joining a left-wing group of satirical-writing individuals in their crusade… I sat in the haze and in the lights back then, just as I was now, taking tequila shots while wearing the uniform. Back then it was thrift-store t-shirts and punk attire that were the antithesis of what my private-preppy school’s MO so emphatically was. These days it was high heels, dark eyeliner, tan legs and, of course, my gold clutch purse. The antithesis of who I really am. But the drug… the drug will get you every time.

And instead of the Crack Music Kanye so geniusly pontificated, this is a crack lifestyle. A crack state-of-being. A theoretical drug I have tried to wean myself off of this year… I tried to accept that as I continue to climb the corporate ladder, I will conversely continue to step down from the list of people you expect to see out until 2am every time, and even sooner my body will no longer be able to handle these kinds of weekends preceding and following 60 hour work weeks.

Yet this weekend, as I sat perched in observation, sipping my vodka tonic with a lemon, not a lime, I realized I had taken another hit of the drug. And my dealer, Mr. Giese, sat nearby, likely checking his bank account’s growing sum via iPhone throughout the evening.

As I glanced over, I had to mentally applaud. He has found a way to strategically manufacture a business filled with smooches on the cheek, name-dropping, bill-slipping and effervescent tonic bubbles that go on for almost as long as my hangover. A hell-centric heaven of sorts where sex in a bathroom is a little more acceptable, where connections to your drug of choice are a little more easily accessible, where local celebrities come to feed their egos. ‘Tis a crack lifestyle, my friends. A crack state-of-being.

Yet over time, as more and more get addicted and capacity remains the same, as the matches get cheaper and the drinks slightly weaker, as the guy:girl ratio rule continues to be one of the smarter myths the doormen perpetuate, there is a method to the madness, and I can’t help but respect that.

And as Biggie & Parker let us all know every weekend around 1:40am, it really is all a dream, just not our own... One created for us. One we pay for. One we love. One we crave. One we are retarded for not thinking of first.

See you next weekend, Mr. Giese. And happy early birthday. I’ll be the one in pink.

Dear Jackie O, (Week 8)

2008-04-21T17:40:00.008-05:00

A weekly (or not so weekly) installment answering your most pressing questions.

Dear Jackie O,
You? Me? Green Papaya? Cheap Viet hippie food is so urban-chic. You know you want it. I’m so hot you’d be lucky to be seen in public with me.

Slummin’ it on Oak Lawn,
Ponied Up

Dear SMU’er Driving Parentally-Purchased Rover w/ “2 Long” Plates,
First of all, who lied and told you it was cool to not only have an SMU sticker on your car, but to also purchase custom SMU vanity plates… setting aside for just a moment the vanity plate lettering that you should be punched in the ovaries for.

That’s right. The ovaries.

It’s the same feeling I get when I see the ghetto-ass letters all over the back of a car spelling out a last name, or a fine community group like Ride 'R Dirty as you can see here. Someone, at some point, in some social circle had to imply that last names in the shape of a half-moon were not only socially acceptable, but also something worth paying for. Your group’s influencer has apparently done the same thing, and I’d like to punch him or her in the ovaries as well.

Now, all you need is a Lake Kiowa sticker and a glove compartment full of AAC platinum parking passes to round out the “I make up for my deep insecurities from my childhood days, when popularity wasn’t based on my parents' checkbook, by flaunting said checkbook to which I contribute nothing... not a damn thing” superfecta. Go get ‘em, tiger.

All my love,
Jackie O

-----

Dear Jackie O,
You gonna watch me on that there color box this Wednesday? It’s going to be the least politically-motivated manifestation of an agenda you will have ever laid your eyes on!

Makin’ Waves,
Tom Tom

Dear Mayor Tom Leppert,
I saw the press release. Looks interesting. But riddle me this… I know in those looks-to-good-to-be-true downtown development renderings it’s a piece of cake,
but how do you Photoshop out all the drunk hobo SWAG & underage Purgatory regulars (the more shameful of the two I’m not sure) in a tv show?

All my love,
Jackie O

-----

Dear Jackie O,
Whaaa…what happened? Why am I in jail?

Dizzy in Dallas,
3-to-Fiver

Dear This Guy,
Because not only did you drive drunk, but you were dumb enough to subsequently slam into a building and injure some SMU chick whose dad is likely a partner at any one of the illustrious law firms in this great city. The funny thing is, I’d put a ten-spot on the fact that you yourself also attended SMU. And if you had been fortunate enough for some older jackass of a drunk driver to pin you to a wall & sue the pants off of him when you were a sophomore, you would likely have never ended up a depressed 24-year-old working for the family biz, realizing you actually don’t have an ambitious bone in your body, & getting so bored you were forced to get tee-tee gonzalezed and slam into an apartment. Orrrr… you were just simply wasted. It happens.

All my love,
Jackie O

-----

Dear Jackie O,

You hear about our new Tony Hawk ride opening in May? Come on out & I'll give you a free season pass!

Still Dancin',
Weirdest Choice for a Brand Icon Ever

Dear Six Flags' Creepy Old Dancing Man,
Unfortunately for me and my dorky self, I already have a season pass for this year. So, no thanks. And until your park, the childhood memories of which were so very different, stops smelling like pee & attracting the most white trash crowd of overweight, sweaty, creepy...

Okay, okay... fine. You got me. Here's the truth. Rides make me nauseous. Bottom line. Used to not be that way. Now it is. Sue me. I'm a realist these days. I respect gravity. And as long as thin cables and tiny bolts are the glue holding some of those rides together, I fear they will always create a little nausea party in my tummy.

So... to answer your question two paragraphs later... no. Freestyle skateboarding while moving 40mph & spinning upside down simply ain't my cup of tea.

But Mini-Mine Train? I'm rowdy rowdy, 'bout it 'bout it.

All my love,
Jackie O

tee-tee gonzalezed

2008-04-18T21:41:00.003-05:00

By 9:41pm, jackie o is well on her way. What happened to me... What happened to the days when 7 margs was a start and not a finish. More to come...

Update: Made it home safely that evening, but of course not without a few tequila shots, a visit to Suite (obviously on the wrong night) and well-deserved, tequila-centric hangover. How this translates into a restful weekend, I'll never know. But nevertheless, I press the repeat button every weekend like clockwork.

Yet Another Reason I Don't Live in Addison

2008-04-17T16:36:00.000-05:00

26 Toilets? 26X the Fun.

2008-04-17T16:24:00.002-05:00

I'm not sure what this lady is concerned about... my best guess is that she need not worry about maximum occupancies in a 10 million dollar mansion in Connecticut the same way the Dallas Housing Authority does in a 1-bedroom apartment. I'm guessing this wise man built his house upon the sand... the white powdery kind, and 26 bathrooms is just his way of creating the home of his dreams.

However, I do understand her concerns... especially if she starts seeing suspicious activity like this.

Early Bird Gets the Worm

2008-04-17T14:20:00.003-05:00

SO many things wrong with this story, but the fact that I have my Halloween '08 costume already picked out is just oh so right.

Betrayed by the Slurpee.

2008-04-14T13:03:00.006-05:00

Oh Jimbo… Jimmy… Jim... James, is it?

I’ve sat tight. Made ninja jokes. Sat tighter. Truly, squeezing ass cheeks every time I read about your next moves. But no more. I don’t have it in me to watch Blockbuster out-punt its coverage any longer.

And with the recent Circuit City maneuver, I’m… at a loss… for words. When I bought your adorable little stock at $6.50 way back when, I was sure it was a great purchase with you and your 7-11 comrades soon to take the helm.
But oh how wrong a Coke Slurpee can lead one astray, while bringing utter happiness and joy out of a plastic cup all at the same time.

The neon colored spoon-straws? Genius. The see-thru large cups? They make my Slurpee look so much jucier and bigger all at once. (Mark.) Maybe you could craft a colossally giant see-thru Slurpee cup and build it around the Blockbuster HQ… or even the stock itself…

You see, the evolution of the Slurpee hasn’t been drastic, but it certainly has been successful and has always embodied exactly what it means to have a true competitive advantage within a highly-competitive industry… the antithesis of what it seems Blockbuster’s MO has so emphatically and destructively been in the 21st century.

And what we have now is a perfect merge of a once-great Blockbuster with the historically and forever-will-be (pardon me) shitty Circuit City. The breadth and depth of my dislike for this ridiculously and irreparably retarded company somehow outweighs my annoyance of your stock’s continual and unrelenting plummet. Frankly, how the hell do you expect for this to be your saving grace? I never saw the railroads putting offers on rickshaw companies in the 50’s to compete with the auto industry. Yet, here we are.

I have held out with faith for oh so long, watching in bewilderment – wondering what you have up your sleeve. Now, I’m hedging my bets by betting in pools on when you file for bankruptcy, just as Circuit City has contemplated repeatedly for so very long. And while I watch, almost with amusement now, I will sip away on my large Coke Slurpee… every last drop… just as someday my children, and my children’s children will. The irony, however, lies in the fact that if I calculate just how much I have spent over the years on Slurpees (Ages 7-18, 330 days per year, $1.29 each), it still pales in comparison to how much I have lost on Blockbuster stock in the last twelve months.

So, Jimmy Keyes, do me a favor. Send your cute little paperwork over to the SEC by July 3, take Circuit City down with you, and my forgiveness you shall have. I’d pay a lot more than what I did for your stock to never have to be visually harassed, sexually harassed, not offered any help whatsoever or forced to wait in a customer service line for 20 minutes to check out again at that God-forsaken miserable excuse for an electronics store you are so very eager to purchase.

Now, let's go grab a delicious frozen Coke Judas, and forget about our troubles... forget about our cares.

All my love,
Jackie O

Launching Today...

2008-04-14T00:22:00.001-05:00

sodallas.com

Monday's Bitter Pill

2008-04-11T10:15:00.003-05:00

4.14.08 might kinda sorta maybe be a good day for sodallas.com. Check back to see, if ya want. Actually, don't. I don't want to go getting your hopes all up and then you check, and it's nothing new, and then you check again, and it's still nothing new. It gives me a complex. So, it's official. Simply DO NOT visit sodallas.com on Monday because you will be utterly disappointed in the most gray-scaled way possible.

Phew. I need a drink. A 10:30am martini, perhaps.

All my love,
Jackie O

Dear Jackie O, (Week 7)

2008-04-07T14:22:00.010-05:00

A weekly (yet not so weekly) installment answering your most pressing questions.

Dear Jackie O,

This bad press in Dallas is so annoying. No way we could have foreseen this decline in Hummer sales due to fuel concerns… The segment five years ago was very strong. I don’t think anyone could have foreseen all these shifts.

Packin' for my eminent vaca,
87 Octane Cures Cancer

Dear Martin Walsh, General Manager of Hummer Division,
Really? You didn’t notice any one of the 1,030 articles I was able to just pull up from 2003 involving Hummers and their fuel economy?
Hmm. I guess it’s possible you were busy bathing your unicorn, so I understand. I know those little guys get so dirty sometimes.

All my love,
Jackie O

-----

Dear Jackie O,
Please stop stalking us about accepting Microsoft’s offer. Seriously. We want a better one. And when they use words like “deadline” and “hostile takeover,” we laugh over here. It’s comical really. Hmph. Hah. Ahemm. Haha.

Come 'N get me,
Yahooooooooo!

Dear Yahoo CEO Jerry Yang,
Isn’t your company demanding a better offer slightly synonymous with a mouse who has been living in a snake cage crossing his arms at feeding time, staring the snake in the eye, and demanding he spray a little Binaca before dining?

All my love,
Jackie O

-----

Dear Jackie O,
I guess you saw the news… Rasanksy’s vote is out. My quest for bad-assness seems to be close to its end. Not to mention, I smell like freaking tires & gasoline after this weekend. Sheesh.

Lonely on the South Side,
DCC

Dear Dallas Convention Center,
Wait, you don’t love the smell of gas? I do… but more importantly, you have nothing to worry about. An old sewage field was turned into Victory Park, so just think how much more potential you have! Hobos galore, an exterior made of gorgeous, top-of-the-line concrete, and an underground tunnel that makes even me pee my pants out of fear in the middle of the day – your aura just screams fancy hotels and expensive restaurants based on this city's standards... so don't you worry your pretty little head.

All my love,
Jackie O

-----

Dear Jackie O,
If you were a few years younger and a few condo developments short of a tanking housing market, I’d have used my religiously-blessed charm to woo you to my fabulous compound in Eldorado. We could have had a baker’s dozen of children and I could have grown old by your side as I tried to sexually assault at least four of them. It could have been heavenly.

Awaiting My Fate,
Jeffy-Jeff

Dear Warren Jeffs, Former Polygamist Compound Leader & Accused Rapist,
Please literally go F yourself, although I’m hoping a very large man named Tiny is keeping that part of your anatomy thoroughly occupied in your cell in AZ.

Every part of your story disgusts me, but the little town of Waco & the creepy old man in the trailer who spends every fall chasing off the curious new freshman class at Baylor University did want me to pass along this to you & the town of Eldorado:

“Thank Yer, and Gawd Bless.”

They also sent me a few pre-emptive nicknames to help move along the transition:

Eldoraging Crazy-o's
Eldo, Eldo, Eldo-wanna-polygamy-here-anymore
And the age-old classic, Eldowacko

All my love,
Jackie O

One Stop Shop

2008-04-04T14:36:00.004-05:00

For all of your saw and/or knife needs.
I had always wondered where one might go in Dallas to find a good saw... now, I no longer have to wonder.

How Jackie O Spends April Fool's Day

2008-04-01T16:54:00.004-05:00

9:15am: Stroll into work. Attempt to slip into my desk without the VP (who arrives @ 6:45am & sits within 4 yards of me) noticing.

9:16am: Clunky bracelet makes full contact with my desk announcing my "late" yet regularly-scheduled arrival.

9:17am: Mumble something about traffic.

9:18am - 9:30am: Coffee break.

9:31am - 9:34am: Work.

9:35am: Grow bored with work.

9:35am - 10:15am: Craft an email 'from' my company's HR department announcing our new cost-cutting initiative by limiting restroom usage to once every four hours, along w/ the new BYOR policy. (R=roll)

10:15am - 10:30am: Amused with myself while thinking of another prank.

10:33am: Receive super-secret text letting me know there is poison in my coffee, and further instructions to follow.

10:35am - 11:00am: Experience pranker's block

11:00am - 3:00pm: Work. Again.

3:05pm: Colleague steals my computer out of the restroom. (No, my office is not in the restroom, but if it were, that would be so much cooler of a story.)

3:05pm - 3:07pm: Wonder who the heck would want my computer in a place filled with computers.

3:08pm: Get excited thinking no computer = no work.

3:09pm: Greeted in the hall by giggling colleague with computer in-hand.

3:10pm - Now: Friggin' workin.

Sheesh. What a disappointment. April Fool's used to be so much cooler. So did foiling.

Atmospheric Pressure

2008-03-31T12:06:00.006-05:00

As I recently made some crucial budgeting decisions, including how to go from roommate to living alone and how to pay for that new car I finally don't have to worry about a rear-view mirror falling off of, I decided going out to eat was one area I could easily cut back on.

The one small thing I forgot when making that decision was the fact that I approach meals, not just special meals, but any meal involving a decision-making element as one that has significant impact on my life and could make or break my week. I attribute much of that philosophy to a mindset perpetuated by a city that, at times, offers very little in the way of free entertainment outside of the jittery coke fiend @ the 35 & Commerce exit. And to be honest, his girations are so entertaining, I usually leave a tip - so that isn't really free either. Sadly, though, when someone asks me what there is to do in Dallas, the first three things that come to my mind are, and in this order, 1) Drink, 2) Eat & 3) Shop, and if you are really going out on a limb, you will do all three at the same time. That's what Kona's regular & reverse happy hours are for.

It's a sad truth that is guised by many who would argue Katy Trail's glory, to which I would respond, I could lay a 17-mile slab of concrete in just about any random place in the US, and it would likely be prettier than our beloved trail. I'm talking blindfolded, spun around, and pushpinning any random-ass place on a map. Seriously.

We all know it's true. I can see it in the eyes of every disappointed newcomer trying to imagine they are in any other city than Dallas while running on the Trail. That cost of living index doesn't seem so appealing now, does it?

But, it's all we have. That and bright white concrete. And I can't complain too much, because it's also the reason my love of food hasn't translated into a bigger jean-size over the years. But back to the real problem, here.

Food, as I said, I love. A good cocktail, I adore. But atmosphere? Atmosphere is always the catalyst for a mulligan on any of the prior two elements, and can magically convince me that the meal really didn't taste like dirt, or that my drink really wasn't the worst I have tasted in 2008. And as my bank account let me know today as I sheepishly checked the damage I did this weekend, I love atmosphere way, way too much. It also reminded me that I'm quite an idiot. I need a new pair of low-heeled, dark-brown pumps for work thanks to my innate ability to ruin pointy-toed shoes as quickly as Oak Lawn ruins my good mood in the mornings. They cost a mere $80. I haven't bought them yet. Why? Because that's a lot for boring work-shoes that I will probably wear so much I pay about 50 cents per use, when instead, I could spend that kind of cash on my next trip to the restroom. It's crass, I know. But true.

So many in this town are just as stupid as I am - and we are all, like it or not, taking the most expensive proverbial "dumps" every day all for the love atmosphere. We don't have it outdoors, so we cling to the havens commercially crafted for us indoors where we consume, and as you can see below, go broke in the process.

Thursday Night: Half-Shells - $46.00
Friday Night: Bellinis - $56.06
Saturday: Taverna (Brunch) - $34.00
Saturday Night: MiCo - $80.00
Sunday Night: The Porch - $109.00

Looks like I bought almost four pairs of edible shoes this weekend. And if that is sadly par for my course, then I need to find a new course to play on, because as I was recently informed today while paying my April rent, my landlord doesn't accept 'atmosphere' as a form of payment.

Dear Jackie O, (Week 6)

2008-03-25T17:44:00.013-05:00

A weekly (yet not so weekly) installment answering your most pressing questions.

Dear Jackie O,
It’s 2 cute that you try and pretend you know what is going on in Dallas, but commenting on the social elite is hard 2 do when you are obviously so far from it. If you ever decide you really want 2 know what’s happening in this city’s social scene and actually get 2 be a part of the who’s who of the Metroplex, you should join the diamond tiara of Dallas’s proverbial hair accessory collection: The Junior League of Dallas.

Philanthropically Yours,
JLDer4Life
Sent via BlackBerry by AT&T

Dear JLD (insert meaningless title here)Chair,
First of all, thank you for reminding me again why people who respond to emails via BlackBerry and, in the process, emphatically butcher the English language make me want to, in true Jackie O fashion, punch myself in the face... multiple times.

Secondly, I hate to break the news, but your beloved social society has actually started to not suck at life as much these past few years, in spite of itself. I even heard you started accepting members whose occupation wasn’t stay-at-home wife? The audacity. You better do something… fast… or else the JLD might actually do something for this city other than offer the most affluent slash best gosh-darn invite list for Botox parties I have ever seen.

All my love,
Jackie O

-----

Dear JaCkEEE o,
I tHouGht u MiTE b InTurEsTed ‘N tHis ‘lil ArTiKLE AyE fOUnd. A’iNt ‘dat KoOL?

EnOnyMussLee URS,
ENoNeMuSS

Dear Dr. John Lilley, Baylor president,

Seriously, you have to get better at your sneaky skills. Not even the dumbest of dumb spells “cool” like the cigarette brand. Not exactly believable. And aye instead of I? Really?

Nevertheless, let’s get down to this issue. That headline is reminiscent to me of the time many years ago when your fine institution started a “diversity campaign” to broaden Baylor’s demographic. It was adorable. Then, to go hand in hand with those goals, the geniusly-oblivious decision was made to instate a flat tuition rate that is now approaching the neighborhood of about 30K per year, give or take? It’s incredible to watch – like a fat kid trying to lose weight who secretly crams his well-hidden candy bars into his mouth every night like it's his job. It’s what you might call a losing battle.

I would never dare cross any lines with you, Dr. Lilley, or make false accusations, but if I were ever to dream of doing so, it might certainly look something like this little formula.

(a + b) + (c + d) = e therefore, A + B = C hence, C = D

a = Lack of diversity
b = WASPY & spoiled student body
c = Horrific sports history*
d = Even more horrific sports facilities
e = Crappy recruiting classes
A = Dr. Lilley gets a bright idea
B = Embarrassing sports could certainly usher in early/overdue Big 12 expulsion
C = Press release shamelessly selling Baylor's 'diversity' guised in an article about old-skool hymns
D = Dr. Lilley struck down by God via lightning.

And for the record, who can blame the fat kid for eating the candy bars? Someone had to drive him to the store.

*The dudes, not the chicks.

All my love,
Jackie O

-----

Dear Jackie O,
Wanna go to the museum? Or to the park? Or to Six Flags? Or maybe to the club to find some strange? I need a friend.

Lonely in the Lone Star State,
Ho-Balla

Dear Josh Howard,
Devin is gone. Buy-bye. Has been for awhile now. Stop moping. Start playing. And yes, I’ll help you find some strange if you can help me find a team worth paying to watch.

Do Work.

All my love,
Jackie O

-----

Dear Jackie O,
I’m innocent, I swear. Can you come bail me out? Preferably with crispy one-spots?

Hurry,
Seriously.

Dear This Guy,

No, I won’t. But look at the bright side, at least you didn’t win the award for “Worst Captain Obvious Quote by a Cop, Ever” like your buddy Police Chief Dan Trelka did.

And next time, lesson learned: Don’t take your weed money to deposit at the bank when it wreaks of, well, weed.

All my love,
Jackie O

Two Points for Honesty: JSim Strikes Again

2008-03-18T23:22:00.004-05:00

Lakers & Mavs. Tony & Jessica. 102 & 100.

Can you guess which of the three were a losing combination for Dallas tonight? The shorter list would be which weren't.

Jess, hun, if you ever get as close again to section 101 or my Mavericks as you were tonight with your evil sports-voodoo, the pretzel you felt bounce off of your blonde locks will gladly evolve into a plastic AAC-friendly beer bottle. And the 6 year-old sitting next to me? For whatever blessing from heaven and/or well-timed brainwashing by his mother, his hatred for you runs deeper than mine, and his bouncy ADD antics may just finally have found their calling if you continue to make Mavs appearances. Just as he asked me last week, ever seen a Chinese Star? He never leaves his home without one, and those scars can't be healed by Proactiv, my dear.

STAY AWAY FROM MY DALLAS SPORTS TEAMS, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD.

Oh, Patty.

2008-03-18T14:09:00.006-05:00

The hat that afforded me an open-container opportunity all day:

The shoes that show how over-the-top excited a straight man can get about an alcohol-centered holiday:

The table that sent me well on my way to mid-afternoon shambles:

The aftermath that tricked me into thinking it's okay for girls to use the men's room if the need is great enough:

The only reason I made it home:

Hope your St. Patty's was as memorably forgettable as mine.

Come Again?

2008-03-13T13:33:00.004-05:00

This:

"DallasNews.com Religion Blog Question of the Day: Would an affair have been worse than hiring a prostitute?"

is the prime example why the link on my sidebar goes to the Observer's Bible Girl versus DMN's "Religion" blog. It's like asking the question "Would you rather be kicked in the junk or be punched in the face?"

I guess the more baffling thing is how exactly this falls under the blog category of religion versus the Affairs/Prostitutes Are Pretty Commonly Accepted These Days, So Any Idea Otherwise Must Somehow Fall Under Religion Blog or possibly the I Obviously Couldn't Think of Anything Better to Blog About Today Blog, exactly as this post most likely would.

Cost-Cutting Initiatives

2008-03-10T16:32:00.005-05:00

"A climate of economic uncertainty" is a phrase I continue to hear and read in every one of my company's inter-HQ communication pieces, and cost-cutting initiatives are apparently one of the "strategies we are employing" to tackle such "uncertainty." Well, I do what I can to help out wherever I'm able, and recently, after a botched flight home on the one day of the year DFW sees snow, I had the opportunity to take part in one of those cost-cutting moves.

Here you will see Chateau Jackie O, compliments of Denver International Airport. I could have been curled up at the Hyatt in a cozy bed via corporate AMEX, but no. I decided those hotel rates for just 5 hours of sleep were a waste, which turned out to be the worst decision ever. And as I deliriously stared at the oddly tent-shaped ceiling of a strangely quiet and deserted airport around 2:47am, I wondered if this was what Stephen King did right before he wrote the book The Langoliers. It's creepy - no doubt. And wandering around to find your place of rest is even creepier.

However, as I finally came to the conclusion that the front of the ticket line in a dark corridor on a cold marble floor was my best bet for snagging a standby seat on the 6am flight out, I was gently reminded that Homeland Security had recently raised the threat level to orange and that any bags left unattended to should be immediately reported to security. And thanks to that reminder by a repeating message every 15 minutes, I was certain that leaving my post at the front of the line sans baggage would soon result in me watching security tote off my "abandoned" luggage @ 3am. So, I stayed, wrapped my head up in a coat, and waited until the counter was to open @ 4:15am.

When I got up to compose myself and wait for the ticketing agent, I realized 35 people had formed in a line behind me with the very same idea. For once, I was there first, and for once, I was certain I would get on the plane having outsmarted my other stranded travelers. As I zipped up my last bag while the agent started up the computers, a wave of satisfaction came over me. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the line for first-class starting to fill up. People who I had seen in the airport yesterday, looking much more well-rested than myself, as though the Hyatt shuttle had just dropped them off when the ticketing line was to open. And they were there, waiting to take my standby spot that I had slept in the freaking airport the night before to secure.

All I could do was sit there, watch them put their name on MY standby list, and wish with all my might that a Langolier would come out of nowhere and eat them alive. And my best guess is that one was well on its way, and only retreated once it saw the terrifying creature standing next to the first-class line, sleep-deprived, hair a mess, and shoes missing... it must have been obvious a much scarier creature had beaten him to the punch.

Duped, Compliments of Dallas.

2008-03-06T12:05:00.001-06:00

Jackie O is reporting to you live from San Francisco (Always wanted to say that). This will be short since I am still a D-team level blackberry typist. But bottom line, we Dallasites have been duped. I went to a fabulous restaurant last night called The Slanted Door where I could see the bay bridge from where I enjoyed my lemon drop martini... And then another.

I had heard how expensive things are here, but I had already braced myself for the high prices... So much so that I thought my bill was wrong when I got it. Ten bucks for a drink? In Dallas that is typical, and sadly I have paid much worse at any one of N9ne Group's overpriced eateries. But this was a very nice, very trendy spot right on the bay. I expected a 100 percent markup on the view alone. Unfortunately all that price did was make me angry at how stupid we have all been for quite awhile when it comes to paying way too much for way too little... And how I certainly will think every time I order a drink in Dallas how I am paying for a view of what exactly... Shiny new concrete? A higher percentage of fake boobs than all but one other city in the US? Ugly blue lights on the new Hunt building?

I'm baffled. Baffled and duped all at the same time. But at least the next time I have those same thoughts I'll hopefully be well on my way to drunk.

Here We Hoe Again

2008-02-29T16:37:00.008-06:00

As I was browsing through "party pics" recently I came across one which made me wish I had been a fly on the wall during the decision-making process to purchase the dress on the right. And wouldn't you love it if for once everyone really said what they were thinking when shopping? For example:

"Hey are you going to buy something not on sale today, preferably more than one item so I can make a decent commission? Or will helping you be a complete waste of my time?" the salesperson asks.

"Well, I tend to spend money I don't have - and my parents pay for most of what I spend even though I'm 25, so I'm going to pretend to look at all of the stuff not on sale to look like I can afford it, but then "conveniently" find just what I'm looking for on the sale rack. Then I'll tell you how much great stuff you have on sale, and you will pretend to agree, while silently resenting me even entering your store to begin with." the shopper says.

"Okay awesome. Well I'm going to look for a customer with more money than you, but I'll pretend to look your way every now and then. If you really need something, though, please don't ask me. It annoys the shit out of me when I have to go to the back to get a different size, and if you seriously ask me to call another store to see if they have something, I will mentally be giving you the finger while smiling and saying 'Of course,'" says the salesperson.

"That's fine. I'm looking for something to go out in - so it needs to be fairly skanky, make my boobs look a great deal better than they would with me naked, and just barely cover my ass. Part of me is embarrassed to be shopping for something like that, so I'd prefer you not help me anyways. I typically find most of my personal validation in degrading comments and/or looks made to me by men at bars/clubs, so I need an outfit that will get me the most attention in that regard so that my night out will have been worth the effort. Your judging comments while I check out will be plenty to make me feel like an idiot on my way out the door without you having to pretend to comment on how the red in this dress really contrasts well with my dark hair," says the shopper.

The salesperson looks up from the magazine she is flipping through and says, "Did you say something? I'm not sorry I wasn't listening, but I was busy thinking about how my parents paid six figures for a college degree and I'm making $13.50/hour selling ugly dresses to people like you. If you were asking me for help, please remember how I said it annoys the shit out of me, mmkay?"

And thanks to it being Friday, my guess is that there is a many a dress being shimmied into whose level of risque' could make that one pale in comparison. Sheesh. Since when did wearing a legwarmer as a dress become fashionable? I must have been home sick for longer than I thought.

Happy Friday.

The Truth.

2008-02-29T14:24:00.010-06:00

For a few short moments, all the world was right. As I snapped the photo of him standing there, as I had also done 12 years prior, just in a different location where legroom came free with your moderately-expensive game ticket, when logos weren't chosen based on what will sell the most jerseys, and when team owners didn't have entourages whose existence was defined by yelling at refs in unison while wearing coordinating outfits. It was a very different era... and certainly a simpler time.

I had to imagine what was going through his head... Kidd, that is... as he stood at the top of the key, watching Jason "JET" Terry prepare to shoot free throws, and actually heard the announcer say "JET Terry, approaching the runway, for two shots."

The Dallas this Jason Kidd left many years ago was a simple one, and terrible team or not, basketball was still the focus. Now he was standing in a world full of grandiose, money-making fluff with a team known across the league for its ridiculous attempts at constant, annoying and expensive entertainment that our ticket prices alert us we are paying for in the most undiscreet manner possible. Kidd's only reminder that he really had gotten on the right plane to return to Dallas was likely the flash of the cowboy hat on the sideline as Don Carter would stand to cheer on the return of a player he had hand-selected so many years ago.

What he won't recognize is all the entitlement this town seems to feel with regard to an NBA championship. And before he even gets out of a hotel and into a real home, the assumption that "If it doesn't happen this year, the trade was a failure" will have permeated every radio station and local sportscaster's evening chat just as over-priced, unimpressive restaurants have saturated Victory Park for the past two years.

And just as we saw last night and today, in a culture engrossed with blame in a city even more engrossed with problem admiration, aka whining, someone always has to be to blame when things don't go our way. Currently, it is Avery. Next week it will be whoever is the next easiest person to blame. And because of that endearing entitled personality, we will cut every single one of our fingers and toes off to cure the arthritis until we can no longer walk or feed ourselves. Par for this city's course, I'd say.

I mean this in the most loving way possible... but get over yourself, Dallas. Just because you can become a local celebrity by lip-syncing the words to a song at a Mavs game, or get ladies in bed by saying you work for Cuban - or by being him - doesn't mean that anyone in this town knows what it means to truly be a basketball fan. Football? Yes sir. We have seen the highs and lows. Committed Cowboys fans exist all over this town... good or bad... exciting or boring. They are there every game, sweating it out each year in a crappy stadium that often houses a crappy team. And fans those certainly are.

The Mavs? I'm not sure most of this city knew we even had a basketball team until the AA Center opened. And just for the record, you used to not be able to buy a margarita at a Mavs game. Shocking, ladies... I know. Freshen's Yogurt and beer were the two most exciting things on the menu. But these days your social status is defined by how many ushers you have to show your ticket to reach your seat, and whether or not your name is actually the one on the ticket owning the bonds.

Just as much as the next guy, I want to see this team win a championship. Believe me. There is nothing I want more. But as soon as it happens - I hope Dirk & Kidd both retire and this team takes a nose dive. I hope it becomes UNtrendy to love the Mavs, and I hope we can all once again be reminded of the pureness of this sport and why any of us were willing to sit through that first decade of the Mavs existence and bite the bullet.

Until then, though, I couldn't be more content watching the new #2 make everyone in attendance regret the 2.5 years they had this phenom in their backyard for about 25% of what they pay today for a ticket, and they never even knew it.

And no matter what happens this spring or summer, all I know is that I'm glad I saved my old Kidd jerseys. I'm sure they will be the new hot fashion item to wear to the Mavs games for quite awhile, and personally I don't think there is anything wrong with capitalizing on the vanity of this city... and I'm sure as soon as he gets over the shock of it all, neither will Jason Kidd.

An Open Letter to the City of Dallas, Part Two

2008-02-25T14:53:00.010-06:00

A few more things.
Sweetie... Cutie pie... Baby cakes... There's no need for us to fight. I can tell that lately, well, lately you have been upset with me. The potholes seem much deeper and the asphalt-mended parts of the road much more aggressively bumpy. You know I'm trying to stop dropping F-bombs on such a regular basis, and those darn bumps that bottom my car out get me every time. I know you obviously aren't happy with what I said in my last letter... and I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you.

The abruptly violent weather changes? I know those haven't been accidents... and the evil strain of the flu that your crazy weather patterns have been fostering? Baby, you certainly didn't fall off the tip of the topographer's pencil yesterday. I know it's a cry for help. And I'm here. I'm listening. I know you have needs too, and it's not all your fault.

You've gotten the shaft for way too long 'round these parts. From the beautiful old homes that keep being ripped out of your ground and replaced with the definition of "hideously unoriginal," to the blame that is placed on you for cursing good sports teams that just can't seem to finish... I know the beating you have taken is awful. Worse even than the one I felt after paying a huge tab @ Nove on Saturday riddled with memories of horrible service and a $12 dessert way too small for its own good. You just don't deserve it.

It's time to make it right, Dallas. I want to do right by you. I feel your face, like the Little Engine that Could pasted on the front of the Chase Tower, looking down over all of this nonsense with a tear streaming down your face. Baby, I'd tattoo one on my own in your honor if my vanity wasn't so important. I would. I really would.

Maybe I could take you out for a night on the... well... "you" sometime soon. Maybe we could even take a little jaunt over to Fort Worth, to get away from it all... to remember what a real downtown used to feel like. To remember how it used to be in the good 'ole days when the streets didn't stink of hobo pee and where the potholes don't remind you of a Harry Hines hooker's vagina. To reminisce about the days when life was much simpler, when greasy hair gel was in much greater supply at the local store, when SMU kids knew what Greenville was... and stayed over there, when Uptown snobbery didn't exist and Turtle Creek was a rare, unspoiled nugget to be cherished. I know you miss it... I do too.

I want to help you get your identity back... I know it's been lost for awhile. Maybe some new clothes would help... J Lindeberg has one of those understated logos that screams "Please casually recognize this logo and validate my existence in doing so because I spent way too much on this ugly shirt." I think you would find yourself getting lots of attention from the ladies with that attire... but maybe not the kind of attention you want. Or if you want to stay on the cutting edge, you might do even better at Matthew Giese's new place, Centre. I saw a beanie there by We Are the Superlative Conspiracy and immediately thought of you.

Then again, I know you are on a tight budget. And I wouldn't want you redefining yourself by doing exactly what everyone in this town has done that has turned you in to what you are today... and is the reason the "D" in Big D now stands for debt.

It's time to start fresh... time to ask for help when you need it and to take a stand when you think something isn't right. Time to change your bad habits and to make a new life for yourself. Time to undo what has been done... to start saving instead of spending... to start exercising instead of ruining your immune system... to start giving back instead of just consuming.

Meet me at MiCo West Vil @ 6 for a few Mambos and we can discuss it more in-depth.

All my love Big D,
Jackie O

Welcome Home.

2008-02-19T13:51:00.003-06:00

Minus stinky old Reunion Arena and practice facilities in God-awful Farmers Branch. And plus the biggest bunch of trend-following, fairweather fans, 99.8% of whom never had a clue you played in Dallas to begin with... or drove a silver Mercedes... or dated Spinderella... or had a stalker named Jackie O...

Now, let's go win a championship.

In the Words of Tim Gunn, Cuban...

2008-02-15T14:50:00.002-06:00

Make it work.

And below is yet another example of how people in this city have way too much time on their hands... thank God for low cost of living indices.

And nothing says I love the Mavs & Jason Kidd like a song in the background proclaiming "Shut up, bitch, swallow."