Friday night was one of those. Seconds after leaving work I received a traffic violation. A TICKET!
Officer: Do you know the speed limit on this road?
Me: Um, 40...
Officer: It’s 30.
Officer: How fast do you think you were going?
Me: Um, 40...
Me: So, I was close.
Officer handing me a ticket: Try to do better.
Me: Grumbling under my breath, “Fucking Pigs!”
On to Downtown Downtown. Let me clarify, Downtown Downtown is a modifier for actual Downtown. See you have Downtown and then you have Downtown Downtown. The Leisure Club Downtown is Downtown Downtown. Where the Civic Center is merely Downtown. The parameters of Downtown and Downtown Downtown are vague but I believe the edge of Downtown Downtown is somewhere in the vicinity of Downtown.
I park and immediately I’m given a drink and begin the long trek of art galleries, trendy shops, gay bars and funk boutiques as Friday night was Gallery Night or as it has become known, Drunk Night. A wonderful night once a month where the Real Homeless and the Real Housewives meet. It’s one of those nights where the queens that talk to you during normal ordinary times have nothing to do with you because suddenly everyone has their own reality show and you are merely a guest on it. Two seconds after saying, “Hello” and it’s, “Please scoot down the couch and make room for my next guest.” Fine BITCHES! YO SHOW DONE BEEN CANCELED DUE TO LOW RATINGS!
I found the perfect painting for a little spot on the back wall of the cupboard under the stairs. It’s Margo Channing! And it’s only $200.00. “I think I’ll wait for the paint by number version though, thanks.”
The next day while traveling in the ghetto under the freeway that separates the two hills, North Hill and East Hill. Which is odd because North Hill is actually West Hill, but back in the day it was north of Downtown Downtown. So North Hill it is and East Hill was the country. I live in the country.
Anyway, in the nether region ghetto I found this excellent example of tailored advertising and product placement. A billboard for Downton Abbey.
Also in the news, it’s Spring! I know I know, I hear some of you complaining that it is still 30 below where you live. For the entire month of January it has been thoroughly icky and altogether ooky. A weird combination of humidity and creepy stale air that feels like you are moving through some kind of thick slime. It traps the mucus in your respiratory system transforming it into Jell-O. I walk in it and I swear I can see particles of the Norovirus and the Flu suspended in the air.
Yes I know I’m a whiney thing, but let me say that at least most of the USA can depend on the fact that it is Winter outside and can dress appropriately. I haven’t a clue from day to day until I wake up in the night and realize I left the air-conditioner on and a cold front has moved through or the other way around. The day will start off in the 40’s and peak in the 70’s and after about three days of it I wind up sounding like Brenda Vaccaro.
It's simultaneously Winter/Spring and my azaleas are in full bloom at the same time as my camellias.
The lilies aren’t far behind. Until we have a freeze which will further shock and freak out the plants resulting in botanical schizophrenia and a lackluster Spring showing.
While I’m rambling let me just say that the surname, “Jagger” is just that a surname and not a verb, action word and or a gerund! So stop moving like Jagger and getting all Jaggery with your Swagger Jagger. ENOUGH!
What I did stumble upon recently is a throwback. A genuine throwback to the early 80’s punk/disco/glam period with the Toilet Boys and more specifically Miss Guy and his/her song, “Take It Off."
I could be very happy living in the past music forever. Please stop giving little girls money to make nursery rhymes into pop songs.
And since my attention span while writing this tripe has now drifted into porn,
I share with you my new bareback super-porn boyfriend, Lito Cruz.