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

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

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

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)

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

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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

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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...

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...

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?

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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Who's Down with JWP, Yeah You Know Me

An excerpt from the always-entertaining johnwileyprice.com:

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

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

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

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

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

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

Carry on.

Where Has All the Funny Gone...

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

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

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

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

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

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

Apparently, it is.

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

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

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

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

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

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

God Bless America.