my big panther

i often look at my cat and imagine her to be this huge wild panther that i single-handedly domesticated, i toned down her killer instincts with kindness and patience and led her to a life of warm bed covers and snuggles. and shrunk her too, i guess. or maybe i shrunk. then i imagine cuddling up under her chin, between her huge black paws and the loud roaring non-stop purr she would emit. but i'm wrong. panthers don't purr. in fact, neither do lions, really. way to ruin my fantasy wikipedia:

All cats are able to purr. However, the entire Panthera genus is able to purr only while exhaling. Cats that roar lack the purring vocal cords, and use the vocal cords in charge of roaring and growling instead, making a noise similar to growling when they purr. As a result, the two sounds are often confused. The roar in these cats is a very loud growl with respect to the production method. Additionally, because these cords can only be used while exhaling, the purring equivalent sound can only be made while exhaling. Cats that are not members of the Panthera genus, even larger ones such as the cheetah, purr.

ok, so i'm going to get a cheetah instead.

DC dmv: driving towards excellence

ok, what do you get when you put 20 metro station mean-agers in one room?
the DC DMV.
but then again, if it weren't for the wonderful purposeful inefficiency of DC employees well then we would have nothing to write about would we? let it be known, i did get a nice call from metro about my complaint about the columbia heights troll, and still saw her angrily hassling a homeless dude on my way to the dmv. i had to giggle, her meanness has become one of those quirky neighborhood things you just notice daily. i'm just being extra careful to always place my smartrip card precisely and deliberately over the little logo every day - to the ire of those behind me - but now you know why.
so tell me, DC, is the blank stare at the ceiling, paired with loudly chewing gum and clicking fake nails part of the DMV uniform? my license renewal did not go all that bad (it being my third attempt afterall, i had my shit together!) the only problem was when i received about a 10,000 volt shock of static electricity from the guy who took my photo. as i recoiled and winced he screamed "daaaaaaaaaaamn girl?! you tryin' to kill me?"

oh the caribbean

so, i just came back from the turks and caicos, which, in addition to being a lovely scuba site and burgeoning tourist destination, i found out it's also a nice tax free haven for bajillionnaires. some married, and with mistresses apparently, and who let their secrets get foiled by the naive loudmouthed visitor (me). nontheless, despite the fluffiest of bank accounts, the rich, and everyone else there occasionally lack the most basic necessities, though, it's the kind of stuff you laugh at, and giggle off because in the end, you're on a beautiful tropical island, duh. even when the weather is totally crappy like it was and i only saw about 25 minutes of sunlight (making my weekend escape/sneakback into the office that much easier to conceal).
so there i was at this 4 star resort with a toe polish problem - and cotton balls are nowhere to be found. seriously, cotton balls. "the shipment never came in, and when a shipment doesn't come in, it doesn't come in for a long time." hmmmm my mind grinds a genius scheme to import cotton balls. so then there was the grand opening party for this casino a lavish affair with over 500 guests, 25 cases of dom perignon and the same of moet, open bar with johnny walker blue and the like...and a buffet with filet mignon and lobster tail - but no knives. but look! a gourmet sushi bar with sashimi and delicate rainbow rolls and scultpured mountains of wasabi - but no soy sauce? weird.
in the end, so what, you're in the caribbean, your boss doesn't know, you're wearing your best dress, your highest heels, eating unadorned sushi and lobster tail with your hands, performing circus antics with belvedere cosmos and eyeing your next monte cristo from a giant pile.

what's in my inbox?

today is one of those days when i decide to clear my text (and sext?) message box, start anew, refresh! that means even the best messages that have spared deleting for the past few months. so here it is, the newest edition of "what's in my inbox?" and my belated responses:

1) you still have that bike out back? need parts.

now what would i give my brother bike parts? what am i left with? i'm not going to end up with a redneck backyard full of derelict bikes. i'm not a bike shoppe. double p e!

2) tell your brother i just passed a restaurant on cienega blvd called "gaylord." i miss the slut puddle.

gaylord is in LA. i miss the slut puddle too, tho winter is coming, which means it will be back in action in no time.

3) i tea-bagged bob dole. how drunk are you?

pretty damn drunk, apparently, to be privied to this conversation.

4) there's a party in my pants. pumpkin cannons and everything.

glad i wasn't invited

5) [cell phone picture of a picture man with elephantitis of the...] and the caption "elephantitis."

yuck. why do i still have this?

6) most of our better mail brides come from moldova

how would you know?

7) i want weed. you drive car. you bring weed.

that's funny, cuz i don't own a car.

8) "who's boba fett? some reggae dude?"

that's actually something I said last new years. and i still don't know who boba fett is.

9) it's half past your joobs. do you know where your nuts are?

here we go with the joobs again. my friends are imbeciles.

so, what's in your inbox?