The Question:
Why do white women typically receive more adequate treatment for heart conditions than black women?
The Answer:
Because there are still so many racist fuckwads in the world!
Well reading that article did a great job of pissing me off. Almost as much as the one about the black woman who was told that she could have a white prosthetic limb at no cost to her, but that to have one that matched her skin color would cost nearly five thousand dollars.
Will this kind of discrimination ever end or is it just going to be the bane of civilization for another few hundred years? What is the deal?
You know, the problem is that there are still so many old farts on this planet who were alive back when blacks were even MORE oppressed, and they still agree with that way of thinking. You know what makes me angrier than anything? People who claim that black people need to get over thinking that people are discriminating against them, as if it is no longer an issue. People who say "slavery was over a long time ago, why are they still hanging on to it?" Well I'll tell you why. Because the slaves may be free, but discrimination and racism are still alive and well. And man, it wasn't that freakin long ago either!
I just hope all these old racist bastards hit the earth soon so that we can slowly start reforming society and doing something to provide REAL equality.
Mountains O' Things
Tracy Chapman
The life I've always wanted
I guess I'll never have
I'll be working for somebody else
Until I'm in my grave
I'll be dreaming of a life of ease
And mountains
Oh mountains o' things
To have a big expensive car
Drag my furs on the ground
And have a maid that I can tell
To bring me anything
Everyone will look at me with envy and with greed
I'll revel in their attention
And mountains
Oh mountains o' things
Sweet lazy life
Champagne and caviar
I hope you'll come and find me
Cause you know who we are
Those who deserve the best in life
And know what money's worth
And those whose sole misfortune
Was having mountains o' nothing at birth
Oh they tell me
There's still time to save my soul
They tell me
Renounce all
Renounce all those material things you gained by
Exploiting other human beings
Consume more than you need
This is the dream
Make you pauper
Or make you queen
I won't die lonely
I'll have it all prearranged
A grave that's deep and wide enough
For me and all my mountains o' things
Mostly I feel lonely
Good good people are
Good people are only
My stepping stones
It's gonna take all my mountains o' things
To surround me
Keep all my enemies away
Keep my sadness and loneliness at bay
I'll be dreaming, dreaming...
Dreaming...
This is my last week at work before my two week vacation to Oregon. I am still in pain with the stupid herniated disk and just trying to cope with the final four days commuting on the miserable train and sitting at my desk (which is not so bad - nothing compared to the train). The pain is no longer reaching all the way down my leg, so that's a comfort, but now my whole back feels sore like I worked out all day everyday for a week, probably from all the strain that has been placed on it for the past two+ weeks. I was completely crooked for awhile there. My hips looked deformed, with one jutting way out and the other compensating by dropping way down, but that's gone and I have my shape back. Seems like now that my spine and hips are lined up again, my muscles are in a spasm. I can't wait to sit on an airplane for 8 hours on Saturday. NOT. I am really not much for prescription pain medication, but if I'm still achey like this on Saturday I am going to break down and resort to taking the pills I have set aside. Throughout this whole ordeal I have taken nothing except Aspirin and Advil, and I'm very proud of myself for not going in and demanding a vicoden prescription, but the airplane may be too much for me.
So for now I am just passing the time. I'm not that busy at work because one of my attorneys is on vacation, another is in his own hectic world of big tobacco litigation meetings and conference calls, the last one is leaving me alone for now. I'm listening to Eddie Murphy. I don't think that any other single human being has made me laugh so much throughout my life. That man has been making me laugh until my whole body hurts since I was 9 years old. You know who else is reaaaal funny, who I saw on Comedy Central recently? (Do tell?) Mitchell Hedberg. Check him out. He will make you pee pee in your underoos.
It's cold in my office and I just fixed myself a hot cup of Hazelnut coffee to warm me up. That smell always reminds me of something and I can't put my finger on it. I don't drink Hazelnut coffee very often. I have to be in the mood. I don't know what put me in the mood this morning, but it sure does taste yummy. Oh now comes Tracy Chapman with an all time favorite. I love my radio station. It brings me so many moments of joy and nostalgia. In fact, music brings such a wide range of emotions, that with each song that plays, I seem to drift into a different mood. For example, if Tracy plays I feel sad and wistful because it brings up so many memories and I just feel like looking out the window and brooding about the past. If Twista comes on with Rock Ya'll Spot, I seriously have to use restraint not to hop out of my seat and start busting a fucking move. That song really does that to me. Makes me need to dance. "Hey hey, oh suki-suki now, look here now, what's cookin' now shook it shook it, child, shake it down, let's boogie now..." OKAY!
(Dork-a-sau-rus)
At first when I was reading this list of Reality tv lawsuits, I could sympathize with a couple of the plaintiffs. I mean, if Ashton Kutcher planted a dead body in my hotel room and profitted (and derived joy) from my humiliation and terror, it's possible I might be a little pissed off too.
Or what about the girl who ran off screaming into the desert after "Scare Tactics" orchestrated a prank in which the girl thought she was headed to a Hollywood party when the car she was riding in stalled and aliens appeared and abducted her companions, who were really actors from Scare Tactics? She claims she has been left with permanent physical and emotional scars. She needs to admit that that is just classic. I would be amazed if someone pulled a prank like that on me and I highly doubt I would file a lawsuit. But who knows? Maybe she was really emotionally harmed. It would be pretty shocking. But more hilarious than anything.
What really floored me were the ones where CBS sues Fox for every little fucking molehill that they've built into a mountain. And then Fox sues CBS back for whatever they can scrounge together. Can't we all just get along?
Between the people suing the networks, the networks suing eachother and the sadists, voyeurs, lunatics and idiots who make reality tv such good drama in the first place, it's like a virtual circus. Makes for endless "entertainment."
Like a teenager, listening to Frontin' over and over, watching the video over and over, swooning like a silly, silly little girl. My boyfriend has already ordered me to stop sighing every time I start daydreaming about Pharrell. I'm sorry, I can't help it. Me and many thousands of other women and girls across the country who cannot get enough of this sexy, SEXY motherfucker. I'm grown, for sure, but this guy makes me want to be fourteen again so that I can gather every available photo of him and plaster them all over the walls of my bedroom and blow kisses to them before I fall asleep at night. I am going to refrain from doing that so don't worry about me yet. I've read some interviews and articles about him and he has such a great personality and a unique outlook on life. It's nice to see people who are original making great music and contributing their talent to a business that is so saturated with bullshit.
For those slightly less familiar with the latest slang, "tear your ass up" is not a reference to violent anal sex, but rather, another way of saying "I'm going to turn you out" or "I'm going to give it to you like you never got it before," etc. I am explaining because the other day, Kathleen (once again having no idea how hilarious she is) said quite innocently (while the song was playing on the radio), "oh my god, he's going to tear her ass up! That's terrible! Why would he say that?" I explained to her that he is not talking about violently sodomizing anyone, but just about having incredible sex. She was still a little unnerved by it and just couldn't understand how tearing one's ass up was a good thing. Hahaaaaaa! She really kills me.
Don't wanna sound full of myself or rude
But you ain't looking at no other dudes cause you love me
(I'm sorry but... so sexy)
So you think I got a chance
You find yourself trying to do my dance
Maybe cause you love me (Uh, you do it well)
So then we tried - ain't feeling this love now
Because you weren't used to how fast we touched (fast we touched)
Then we locked eyes - and I knew I was in there
And I was gon' tear ya ass up (tear ya ass up)
I know that I'm carrying on, nevermind if I'm showing off
I was just frontin (you know I want ya babe)
I'm ready to bet it all, unless you don't care at all
But you know I want ya (you should stop frontin babe)
Trying to be the best girlfriend you could be
But still you sneak and look at me, and girl I love it
Then you give your other girl a shove
Tell her you gon' call her ass how it was
And she's gon love it (whoa-oh whoa, yeah yeah)
So then we tried - ain't feeling this love now
Because you weren't used to how fast we touched (fast we touched)
Then we locked eyes - and I knew I was in there
And I was gon' tear ya ass up (tear ya ass up)
I know that I'm carrying on, nevermind if I'm showing off
I was just frontin (you know I want ya babe)
I'm ready to bet it all, unless you don't care at all
But you know I want ya (you should stop frontin babe)
[Verse: Jay-Z]
Everytime your name was brought up
I would act all nonchalant in front of an audience
Like you was just another shorty I put the naughty on
But uh, truth be told you threw me for a loop, this Hov
I'm too old to be frontin when I'm feeling Denzel
And acting like you ain't appealing when you are
Strutting like you ain't my only girl but you are (I was just frontin)
I'm ready to stop when you are
I know that I'm carrying on, nevermind if I'm showing off
I was just frontin (you know I want ya babe)
I'm ready to bet it all, unless you don't care at all
But you know I want ya (you should stop frontin babe)
Aside from the obvious infatuation with Pharrell, that song reminds me of how sexy my boyfriend is and describes how infatuated I am with my man and how much I love to check him out when he's not looking. (Trying to be the best girlfriend you could be, But still you sneak and look at me, and girl I love it).
I am back at work this week and trying to get along with this stupid backpain. I haven't blogged in so long. I just haven't had the energy for it and since I can't sit in my computer chair at home without being in a world of hurt, I don't even try.
Anyway, I don't want to talk about my stupid back problems. I want to talk about Pharrell Williams. In fact, I don't really want to talk about him either. I want to be stuck on a desert island with him. Sorry to my boyfriend who I love with all my heart, but you can get stuck on a desert island with Salma Hayek if I can get stuck on one with Pharrell. Just for a couple days.
Watch this video and tell me that's not the sexiest man in show business.
A few years back I was struck with sciatica, one of the more common back ailments. It was very painful and I went to the chiropractor a couple of times a week for about six weeks, until it was almost a hundred percent better. It's flared up every now and again since then, causing an ache in my lower spine that reaches all the way down my left leg, but it has never hindered my ability to move around in a normal fashion.
This past Saturday, however, I was struck with this most crippling pain in my back, a pain that makes it impossible to walk or sit for any extended period of time. Even laying down is extremely painful and almost impossible to find a comfortable position. I can't go anywhere, not to work and not to the store down the street. Even sitting in this computer chair for long enough to blog about it is excruciatingly uncomfortable.
It is the most awful feeling in the world. Hobbling around the house in this pathetic manner, waiting for Rob to come over to do the simplest things like wash the dishes and vacuum the floors, not knowing what the hell to do with myself. I have cried and/or become hysterical at least ten times. I went to the chiropractor yesterday and he gave me some physical therapy and did some adjustments, but it is going to take a little time to get back to normal. My entire body is twisted and off center. It's really the most horrid thing that's ever happened to me. Now aren't you glad I shared? I have to get back to bed.
WOOOHOOOO! After four hours in the Harlem DMV and whole a lot of bullshitting, I finally have a license to drive in the State of New York. I think a big shot of tequila is definitely in order. And a pizza. Oooh, I can't wait to get home. I am so happy I could just cry.
I have been neglecting my ongoing blog thingy.
Too much going on in real life to pay attention to computer life. I've been writing alot by hand...on the train or whenever I have a spare minute. Scribbling down the daily goings ons and whatever else might come to mind. Like I used to do. Writing til my hand hurts. So deep in thought that I forget I'm writing...like I do here, but different because it's indelibly private and vastly different from writing and knowing that whatever you write, somewhere, somehow, it's going to be read by someone. Writing in a journal isn't like that. The person on the train might have a drifting gaze which often wanders to my page as I write, but it's generally quite a private matter.
Real life has been a little more dramatic the last couple of weeks than I'd like...bothersome co-workers, online "friends" becoming estranged, real friends rematerializing, living a nightmare in the DMV during my lunch hour...
Yeah, that was today. I went to the DMV during my lunch hour and after three phone calls and two attempts at the DMV to get a NY driver's license, holding in my hand the entire time a copy of my driving record, original social security card, original birth certificate, marriage certificate, pay stubs & tax forms as proof of address, photo identification and a host of other pieces of identification, and after standing in line for a total of about 4 hours, the cruel, degenerate ogres who work in every DMV in America told me that the driving record was not sufficient because it had been printed up from an email which the Oregon DMV sent me at the cost of $15.00. Apparently, it needs to be printed on DMV letterhead, despite the fact that it has EVERY SINGLE SOLITARY piece of information listed on it that any DMV personnel would need in order to identify me as a valid driver in the state of Oregon. But because this is New York, where, believe it or not, they are still living in the fucking stoneage when it comes to technology in the DMV, they could not fathom that this driving abstract could be valid if it had been emailed to me. So when the first guy at the first window told me he couldn't accept it, even though the last time I came to the DMV and the last three times before that when I called them, it was perfectly sufficient, this time that particular document was apparently NOT sufficient. I said "I don't understand. Last time they said it was fine, now you're telling me that it's not 'official' enough?" He said "I can't take it, it needs to be on DMV letterhead" then another guy butted his nose in from behind the counter and said "he can't accept it, you can go talk to the supervisor if you want" but he said it reeeeaaaal snotty. So I said, "I'll do that" and he said (with shit-eating grin plastered on face) "thank you! have a nice day!" And I looked at him in the face and said "fuck you."
Then I went to the supervisor, but just as I began to speak to her, a guy from the other side of the counter where I'd just been came and whispered in her ear. I told her my problem and showed her the valid driving record which was being rejected and explained that it had been emailed to me by the Oregon DMV and that it should be sufficient as it contained all the pertanent information and then some. She said "why did you need to be rude to the man over there?" I said "because he was rude to me, but what does that have to do with the matter here, is this about my conversation with him or about official business?" She said "official business...and [something about how I cursed the other guy]." Then she looked at me pointedly and told me that she was not going to be able to accept that document. She was so high on her power trip you could feel it. Even though she had the authority to accept it and even call the Oregon DMV to verify the information, she said "you'll have to get the document mailed regular mail from the DMV in Oregon and come back later" I wanted to reach out and slap her across the face with all my might. I grabbed my documents back from her and siad "Thanks alot. Fuck you." Then I walked past all of the other windows and all of the people sitting waiting for their numbers to be called and I lifted my middle finger in the air to the other DMV employees standing behind the counter of doom and said "fuck you all". The asshole who was a prick in the first place, said (again): "Thank you! Have a nice day!" I turned to him and said "you. Eat a bowl of dick!" I enjoyed the laughter of the other patrons as I left, more enraged than anything you can probably imagine right now. And it may have been childish and it may have been crazy...but I'm glad I told the DMV to fuck off. Because I hate them. One of the guys who had initially helped me at the counter came out to the elevator while I was standing there and I asked him if employees of the DMV have to take a special class so that they can learn how to relentlessly torment other human beings. Weilding their peon power, relishing their little moments of victory and authority. It's really sickening. So I accomplished nothing except to create a spectacle...imagine that. I guess I'll never be going back there again. It's okay. Not the first time I've been 86'd.
I came across the winner of the "prestigious 2003 Legal Document of the Year award" on The Smoking Gun a few days ago and sent it around to a few people. It's pure genius and frankly not something you wanna miss. ¡Muy divertido!
"Motion to Dismiss: The Constitutionality of Fuck, “Fucker” and “Fucking Fag”
Mr. So and so is charged with interference with Staff, Faculty or Students of Education Institutions, a class three misdemeanor. The charge was amended from the original charge of Disorderly Conduct.
The basis of the prosecution is an alleged statement Mr. So and so made to his principal at school. During lunch,, Mr. So and so was contacted by the vice principal for suspicion of smoking in the boy’s room. He was taken to the principal’s office where he allegedly called the principal a “fucker, a fag, and a fucking fag.” He was charged with the present offense based on his statements to the principal and he is being prosecuted for the words he spoke.
In order to provide a context for the alleged crime, we must first examine the history of Fuck and its evolution in society. Fuck’s earliest recorded use is prior to the year 1500 from the English-Latin Poem Flen Flyys: “Non sunt in celi quia fuccant uujuys of heli,” which translates to “they are not in heaven because they fuck the wives of Ely” See www.wikipedia.org/wiki/fuck."
And, quite honestly, the motion only gets better from there on out. Go on, read. Laugh...and don't forget to share it with all the people you know who are uptight about naughtiness, cussing and general delinquency, not to mention those who are all too familiar with the subject...nobody I know of course.