Yeah, I’m sorry. I’m okay, just got wrapped up in life and life got wrapped up in me and “update my blog” hasn’t been near the top of my list, despite the fact that I’ve been way busy, but not too busy to still find the humor in things.
Because I’m feeling very ADD these past few weeks, interested in so much but not invested enough in one topic for a complete post, I bring back my one-time series, the Velvet Variety Hour!
Cut the fucking shit already. Let’s lay some blame where it belongs. Alan Greenspan anyone? Greedy investors? Stupid homebuyers? Add all three to my list, but mostly that first moron because the homebuyers are too dumb to know any better, or in the case of the investor, too selfish to care. It’s not like I never voiced my Greenspan hatred here. And here. And I knew this was coming, though, I can’t say that I would have predicted this “soft landing” for three years, then a major crash as ARM after ARM readjusted and kicked people out of their homes. What a mess.
Anyway, is it foolish to point out again, a “self-correcting” economy? And would it be worth anything to say, “Hmm, maybe you, Greenspan, should have not cheapened the value of our dollar with rate cut after rate cut?” And would it fall on deaf ears to say: Fuck the bailout. Fuck it. Throw caution to the wind, suck up the imminent depression that would follow, and let the economy shake out and recorrect itself. We should have sucked down a recession after September 11th, but oh no, a fake war and the interest rate decline just prolonged the inevitable.
My favorite part is where he says none of this will work and the government will throw more money at the problem. Yup. Your tax dollars at work. Complain to your Representative. Oh, wait, not if you live in DC.
Christ on a stick, is it not November yet? From day one of this crap, the only thing I have wanted is the one who will fix the economy. Neither of these mofo’s can do that. The wheels fell off the bus of the two party system a long time ago. Now what? Is it possible to “deregister” to vote? Can I sell my vote on ebay? There is certainly a lot of election paraphernalia on ebay, but no one is selling a vote yet. Hmm. Wonder why.
I can’t help but watch the Katie Couric / Sarah Palin interviews that have divebombed the internet. I told Mr. X, to me, there is nothing funnier than two women dueling it out, fighting tooth and nail to validate their recent promotion. Couric is just lobbing questions over the net that she hopes will prove she can hack it in places that aren’t the cushy, warm and fuzzy morning set of NBC and Palin is trying desperately to prove she’s worthy of the VP Nominee.
Aah work. How you continue to be a hilarious source of comedic relief for me. Policies continue to be invented because people can’t seem to understand simple things like “working from home is not allowed in our company” or “wearing a miniskirt with a slit up to your pubes is inappropriate.” Now we have a sign in sheet. The sign in sheet is manned by the newly-hired receptionist. The other morning I was attempting to sign in when I was distracted by a flash of skin and satin. I looked up in horror to find that Ms. Newly-Hired was wearing a satin “I’m going clubbin” style halter top. Break out the strobe light I was so distracted that I dropped the pen. Yikes. It makes me miss our last receptionist – the one who got the New York Yankees tattoo and the Y was actually IN FRONT of the N, instead of just being one giant logo. Ha.
Ms. Newly-Hired called in sick today because her car got towed last night. Or something else equally unbelievable. She actually reminds me of someone else I used to work with – you know that person, right? The one who always has a story. Anyway, when we all started poking around her desk we uncovered a tornado of disaster, not the least of which is that she stuffed all our vendor’s checks in window envelopes, without the address showing in the window. I begged them not to fire her because she’s so comical. Someone aptly said, “She’s so…stupid.”
Oh Facebook, how I love thee. When my BFF from kindergarten told me I had to join, I was reluctant. But then she sent me a link to my 3rd grade boyfriend and I was hooked. I have spent the last few weeks swimming through a sea of familiar, comfortable, and happy, remembering times when friendships were easy and you could take them at face value instead of wondering what people’s agendas were or which personality was going to emerge from their crazy-toychest. I used to wander through life with the same innocent take on friendships that I learned in elementary school, which was, 99% of people were nice. Once I got to DC I learned the hard way, after befriending crackpot after crackpot that you really have to be careful who you are friends with. Most people I’ve come in contact with seem to have “issues” that require medicine cocktails and shit, I’m tired of being around people when their dosages are screwed up and they use that as an excuse for being an asshole. Over it.
It is official. I think I might be addicted to hot yoga. There’s something so satisfying about getting your body to a point where it is so limber that you can push one hip from behind and the other from the front and hear about 40 cracks in unison. Granted, my bones crack like I’m 80 years old, but that shit feels good.
Sammy & Thora
The Sammy & Thora tattoo is in full force with the artist. I’m very excited. I had the perfect place for it, the middle of my back, but Mr. X mumbled something about having to be the one who sees it most and until I come up with an alternative, that’s where it’s going.
Mr. X and I are on our way out to the beach tomorrow to see the very beginnings of the house that is being built. For us. So I don’t have to waste away in DC on the weekends anymore. Yay!