RE: Pregger Tweet


Something similar once happened to me, only it was the morning of Obama’s inauguration, and I was trying to visit my son’s father in a DC hospital.  He had a collapsed lung, and it would have been impossible to drive in that day.

I was visibly pregnant, and there wasn’t even enough room to sit on the floor.

I wasn’t about to ask someone to give up their seat (because: pride), but after about an hour, the woman who’d been leading the incessant chants of “OBAMA! OBAMA!” finally insisted that someone (anyone, male or female) needed to give up their seat for me.

Not one person was willing — presumably because I’d refused to join in the chanting, even after being prompted to do so by multiple people.

The woman was visibly embarrassed, and she went from chanting about Obama to vocalizing her disgust with everyone who was seated.  Which was kind of her.  She even insisted I take her only bottle of water.

I think she was trying to make their behavior into a feminist issue, but the reality was, those people were simply assholes.

I is Soviet Bot


I’ve been accused of a lot of things in my time, but pushing a socialist agenda has never been one of them.

Until now.

It all started when I posted the following image in a thread about a critic of capitalism who had obviously never bothered to look the word ‘capitalism’ up in the dictionary:

The image (which I sadly cannot take credit for) proved popular, raking in several dozen ‘likes’ in a matter of hours — not surprising, given that this thread was in fact the comments section of a publication known for its support of free markets. But there’s always one nimrod who just doesn’t get it.

One particular nimrod REALLY did not get it.

Not only did he accuse me of trespassing onto the thread to promote my anti-capitalist agenda, he also held me accountable for the popularity of the meme, insisting he had seen me seeding it all over teh Internetz under a variety of fake identities.

Pause for a moment to let that sink in.

Sadly, he deleted the comment before it occurred to me to take a screen shot, but here was my initial reply:

Case closed, right? Only not so much:

I was going to include step 3 (GOMI), but I didn’t want to come across as impolite.

It takes all kinds of crazies to make an Internetz, but at least this one didn’t accuse me of pushing a pro-life agenda. Or of being a misogynist. Or a Russian bot. Or invite me to kill myself. Because that shit’s just getting old.

FACEBOOK: Umbrella Sticker


Last night we saw a truck parked outside CVS that was sporting an Umbrella sticker.

My initial thought was, “Gee, it sure does warm the heart to know that there are still like-minded individuals out there doing their part to spread awareness about the [bio]hazards of B.O.W. development” — until •••• raised the possibility of the vehicle being owned by a (former?) Umbrella Inc. operative. That’s when I realized there was something distinctly UBCSish about that truck (big… black… shiny… red & white umbrella), and for it to have been parked outside a PHARMACY after DARK? Very suspicious indeed

FACEBOOK: Hour of the Spider


It was like something out of a nightmare.  Woke up last night to pee, looked in the mirror and ran my hand through my hair, when suddenly there appeared a glossy-black spider approximately the size of my thumbnail, scurrying down my hand.

I shrieked, slapped my hand against my leg and ripped off all my clothes, which are still in a pile just outside the bathroom door.  I then spent the next half-hour obsessively brushing my hair to make sure there weren’t any more spiders in there.  When I finally felt comfortable enough for clothes, I combed through my closet and drawers looking for something light-colored, but there wasn’t a goddamned thing to be found.

Murderous spider (black widow?) yet at large.

FACEBOOK: Dreamcatcher That Couldn’t


Grandpa has been donating money to some Native American elementary school for years, and every Christmas without fail they send him some token of appreciation, handcrafted by the (ridiculously talented, Jesus Christ!) children, whom I of course long ago dubbed The Little Injuns That Could.  (Grandpa says I’m an asshole.)

This year they sent Grandpa a dreamcatcher keychain, which he in turn gave to ••••.  When •• showed it to me last night, I smiled and replied, “What a coincidence!” (vocab word), and I raised my shirt a bit to let him see that I happened to be wearing a dreamcatcher navel ring.

A few minutes later, I hear frustrated noises coming from the living room and walk in to discover my son attempting to hook the damned thing onto his own belly button, totally bewildered as to “WHY WON’T IT STAY??

Did it Hurt? Hell Yeah!


I was at the mall with my kid earlier, and while we were walking back to the car a gaggle of the most geeky-looking teenage boys pulled up alongside us and asked, “Excuse me, did it hurt when you fell from Heaven?”

I kept a straight face, raised my skirt high enough for them to see my scars (from knee to hip) and replied, “Yeah, it did.  In fact, I hit the ground so hard that I shattered my femur and needed total leg reconstruction from the knee up.”

The looks on their faces were priceless.