Skip to content

Tonight Imma Angry White Girl

January 31, 2017

I have never been so ashamed of my race, my fellow citizens, or my country’s leadership than I am tonight. I don’t normally spend a lot of my time worrying about race and ethnicity. I’m not gonna be some lying PC liberal who tells you I don’t see colour, but honest to God I just don’t tend to give a shit about it. But tonight, I’m one angry white girl, and I’m angry at the racist fuckmuppets that are dismantling this country in the name of “nationalism.” Shit by any other name smells just as bad. This is racism in its purest form.

I was waiting in line at Target this afternoon and casually giving the other patrons the once over. Scoping out who was buying what – harshly judging the woman who bought the new Chocolate Strawberry Oreos because that’s just not right – and it dawned on me that I was the only white person in sight. I can imagine that this would have inflamed or horrified an Alt-Right white girl, but it actually made me smile. I listened to people speaking a couple of different languages,  and I thought to myself “This is what America really looks like. This is what MY America looks like.”  My America is open, welcoming, and inclusive. It may not be perfect, but until today I’d take it over most places on the planet. Today not so much.

I’m about as purebred white American girl as you can get.  Not quite the Heir of Slytherin pureblood, but I’ve got a pedigree that would make a white supremacist ejaculate prematurely. My people came over on the Mayflower. They were white, Christian, and carried diseases. My ancestors fought in the Revolutionary and Civil Wars.  My people have been here for nearly 400 years. They built the foundation, government and industries that make up the history of this country. Sure, they weren’t perfect. They owned slaves. They treated Native Americans like vermin. Not gonna lie and make them sound flawless. We can’t take a time machine back and fix their wrongs. But, what they did do is come here as immigrants, work their asses off and build the foundations of a country that has in the intervening centuries been defined by philosophical, cultural and ethnic diversity. This was, and always has been, a country of opportunity for people from all over the world. I think, despite their inherent flaws and the prejudices of their times, our Founding Fathers would actually be pretty fucking proud of the way this country has turned out. Until today.

Today a snotty entitled greedy child took another stab at defiling the Constitution – a document and set of guiding principles that thousands of men and women died to see come to fruition and thousands more have fought to defend. The laws of this country, the checks and balances of our government’s design, aren’t and shouldn’t be treated like quaint notions that don’t apply because a white nationalist and a guy with a bad hair piece are running the Executive Branch.  The Constitution of the United States of America isn’t a fucking substitute for toilet paper for the bathroom of the West Wing.

You cannot ethnically cleanse America. You cannot, as the Alt-Right kids like to suggest, send everyone back from where they came from.  You cannot send all the African-Americans back to Africa.  You cannot send all the Asian Americans back to Asia. You cannot send all the Muslim Americans back. The White Wonderland they envision isn’t even remotely feasible without bombing ALL OF US back to the mother-fucking stone age. This is not how you “make America great again.”  This is how you make a mockery of our history, embarrass us in front of the world, and end up getting more Americans killed.

This is how you make America ashamed again.




Presidential Grudge Fuck

January 28, 2017

A grudge fuck is really the only way I can describe how this past week has felt. Every morning has brought more news out of the White House that makes me feel an overwhelming sense of dread and shame. I’m ashamed of my country’s leadership and of my fellow Americans.

The tone and tenor of the first week of 45’s occupation of highest office in the land has been one of aggression and self-aggrandizement. Executive orders aimed at inflaming the liberal left, stripping millions of people of their healthcare, locking out of the country people who were legally admitted to this country and who contribute to our economy,  flipping off a neighbouring country, telling indigenous people that we don’t care if they are displaced or die so long as the entitled class can have more. Cabinet appointments that are paybacks for money donated whether they are actually to the benefit of the people they are appointed to serve.  And payback against the people who dared to have a different opinion from the current leadership. Just a dirty, nasty, lubeless grudge fuck.


The rhetoric has been that of anger and loathing for the majority of people who make up this country – people who want to live their lives in peace, genuinely want to love their neighbour, feel safe, raise their children and rely on the notion that their government has their backs. Instead of sending out positive messages to the country that emphasize that we’re going to move forward together to make this country live up to it’s potential, we’ve had to listen to 45 keep measuring his dick. It’s not possible that everything about him and his presidency is “the greatest” or “the biggest” or always historic. Not every speech he gives is in the same class as the Gettysburg address. It’s just not feasible for that to happen. And the sycophants around him need to stop telling him that it is and stop telling the American people that they are too stupid or misguided to know the difference between truth and fiction. They aren’t making it better.

We want a president who speaks to all of us and for all us. Not one who panders to a specific demographic that represents a true minority in this country. We’re not all angry white people who think they are owed retribution and restitution for their state of existence. Most of us want a president who can, at least, pretend to understand what it’s like to be an “average American”. To understand when you can’t afford to make your house payment, pay the medical bills for your spouse’s cancer treatment, send your kids to college, afford bus fare to get to work at your minimum wage job, be a single parent who is trying to balance work and child rearing or just getting through the fucking day.

We want a president that recognizes that half of the country’s population are women and that women have all kinds of special healthcare needs that men do not. Men do not have to spread their legs and have a speculum shoved up their twat so it can be scraped to make sure they don’t have cancer. Men don’t have the discomfort and some times debilitating pain that comes with having your uterus rip it’s own lining out every month.  Men don’t bear the burden of birth control to make sure they don’t have an unwanted pregnancy ,or have to deal with the ramifications and side effects of birth control. Men don’t have their twats ripped at the seams forcing a child out of their bodies and into the world.  The most men find themselves worrying about for the bulk of their life is whether or not their dick can get hard at will. We have an president who thinks of women as objects whose pussies are up for grabs and isn’t ashamed to admit that.


Delivering a bleak, dystopian Inaugural Address doesn’t speak to making America great or even better. It makes America sound like Escape from New York or The Purge. Listening to it I wanted to peek out my front door and make sure there weren’t gangs of armed lunatics marching down my street, cars on fire, and small children abandoned by dead parents in the “American Carnage” that seems to define our nation. He didn’t talk about real hope, real healing, being a country of inclusion rather than exclusion. About making life better for your fellow man. About admitting that we’re part of the global community. That the universe is bigger than his own prick. He made it sound like we were so fucked and on the verge of an imminent apocalypse  and only he could save us. One half expected him to rip open his shirt and expose his superhero Underoos with a giant T emblazoned across the front.


But he’s not a super hero. He’s not even close to it. He’s a man who can’t stop congratulating himself on being so “tremendous”. He’s a man who can’t stop trying to convince us that he’s really the most popular guy who has ever lived. He’s a man who believes he knows everything about everything and can’t possibly be wrong or shortsighted – but who doesn’t actually possess any actual knowledge and eschews the advice and knowledge sharing of people whose education and experience inform them. He sounds just like the petulant child that is running North Korea, not like a well balanced, well meaning American president.

I keep hearing that “Trump won. Stop being a sore loser.” Like the role of every good American is to accept defeat and let the “winner” run roughshod over their lives. That’s not the way America was designed. Winning an election isn’t, and shouldn’t be, about conquering your own country – forcing the people to bow down to your will – while you rape and pillage to fill your own coffers or those of your generals. That’s pretty much the complete opposite of why this country was established. Knowing and understanding that this isn’t what America stands should compel every American to work to move America forward constructively. Not destructively. Not in anger. Not in hate. And not without lube.


Dear Fuckmuppet-Elect

January 16, 2017


Dear Fuckmuppet-Elect;

I know it’s not like you give a shit what I, or really any American, thinks now that you’ve “won” the election, but that’s really not going to stop me from expressing my opinion. It’s that pesky 1st Amendment shit again. We’re just days away from what is going to be known to future generations as one of the darkest days in American history. The day you are sworn in as Fuckmuppet-in-Chief.  I refuse to call you “President” because you’re truly not a legitimate president.  John Lewis is right to question your legitimacy, you’re just too much of a narcissist to admit he’s right.

I’m not saying “Not my President” in the same way that the delusional birthers and racists did with Obama, but rather from the reality that 1) you didn’t win the popular vote  (which means you’re not the most popular kid in school, again) and 2) the fucking Russians, and 3) (most importantly) there’s not one fucking thing that is presidential about you.   I will also not be watching the inauguration. I will turn every TV set in my house to low rent porn stations rather than give your inauguration the ratings you so desperately crave.

For much of my adult life I worked for a certified con-artist, and that gave me the skill-set to be able to spot a grifter/confidence man/snake oil salesman like you from 30 paces. You ran a campaign based on conning naive people into believing you had their best interests at heart when the reality is you could give a flying fuck about anyone other than yourself. It’s going to be a crying shame when they finally realize you picked their pockets while you shook their hands. Every one of them will regret not having doused themselves in Purell immediately after voting for you. Big Pharma is going to make a fortune when the demand for anti-depressants sky rockets during your tenure.

Every morning this country wakes up to another stupid fucking comment you’ve made on Twitter. It’s amazing that a grown ass man spends as much time tweeting like a teenage girl with an inferiority complex. That you worry more about the mocking you get from a comedy show, than the risk analysis of the Intelligence Community on the ongoing threats to American safety. What’s it like inside your head? Is there room for real rational thought in there? Or is all the space taken up by self-aggrandizement, penis envy, urolagnia, and an obsession with fucking your own daughter? How can you justify uttering the Oath of Office on Friday if you don’t really intend to or know how to honor the commitment?

I do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will faithfully execute the Office of President of the United States, and will to the best of my ability, preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States

The best of your ability will leave us wanting, that’s for sure.

“My friend, you’re weighed in the balance and found wanting
Your kingdom is divided, it can’t stand
You’re weighed in the balance and found wanting
Your houses are built upon the sand”

Sweet Mother of Cheezits I hope someone saves us from you and that it doesn’t turn out to be Mike Pence,


It’s Not Grief, It’s Whattheeverlovingfuck?

November 15, 2016

At first I thought this was grief I was feeling. I’ve seen a ton of articles trying to apply the Kübler-Ross stages of grief to the End of Days brought about by the 2016 election. But we’ve got the stages all wrong for this. We’re not truly experiencing grief and loss, we’re experiencing a never-ending spin cycle of Whatheeverlovingfuck?

Deep down I’m a shallow gal. I don’t like to spend my days worrying about politics, civil rights, and political correctness. I like taking shit for granted. I prefer for my biggest worry to be “Do I look fat in lycra?” and all my crazy to come from Kanye West. Let’s be practical I’ve made it to 50 without a single fucking wrinkle on my face. I really don’t want them to come from this shit. I certainly don’t want to have Breitbart headlines swirling around in my already weirdass dreams about ways to induce miscarriages by bingeing on dark chocolate so no one knows you’re getting an abortion. (Copyright claim right here if I’m right about that shit btw.)

But, instead, we have this constant swinging of the mood pendulum that ranges from “This isn’t going to be so bad.” to “FUCK! We’re all gonna die.” I woke up at 3AM the other day to the sounds of sirens wailing for what turned out to be a shopping center on fire, but my first thought was “WOLVERINES!”

I know smart, rational, well-educated people, who are freaking the fuck out. I have a friend who is in an interracial relationship who is pretty sure the old white guy who lives down the street from her house has started staring at her in a malevolent way since Wednesday. Another friend, who lives deep in the red south wakes up in a cold sweat worrying about the physical safety of her gay son and young daughters. Are they paranoid? That’s as may be, but it doesn’t diminish the experience.  They are on edge and it’s making daily life a challenge. They are suffering from Whattheeverlovingfuck?

The Four Stages of Whattheeverlovingfuck?


Tuesday night we all sat around staring in disbelief at our TV screens as the Plague of Angry White Men spread red across the map of the States.  We swore this wasn’t happening, many went to bed praying that when they woke up Anderson Cooper was going to tell us it was all going to be okay. We pinched ourselves bruised on Wednesday to make sure we were really awake.



This set in when we all watched Hillary give her concession speech, and we realized that while we’d put a major crack in the glass ceiling we weren’t going to have our first female president in 2016. It got worse when we realized that what this loss really meant to those of us who believe in marriage equality, reproductive rights, racial equality, etc… was that we’re about to get ass-fucked without Astroglide or a condom. We’re replaying Kate McKinnon’s Hallelujah video over and over again like teenagers who got dumped on prom nite until we don’t have any snot left.


Scrambling to make sense and meaning out of the chaos of terror, sadness, and our Facebook feed we’ve started signing every petition that comes through. Abolish the Electoral College, Appoint Merrick Garland, 4.3 million of us have begged the Electoral College to honor the popular vote, and for good measure we’re pressuring In-N-Out to get a veggie burger.  We’re clicking all the click-bait we can click in the hopes that something, anything, will get us off the Wheel of Death. But it still keeps spinning.



For the foreseeable future, we’re on this perpetual roller coaster ride. One minute were all thinking  “Bernie’s got our backs. It’s all going to be okay.” And next thing we know Trump has appointed a white supremacist as his top strategist. Obama has tried to make sure we don’t think he’s scared shitless of handing over the keys to the nuclear football to a hot head. We all try to keep our spirits up with Obama/Biden memes, until we find out that Trump wants top-secret security clearances for his smug-as-fuck children.  Even if it is just so they can pee in the West Wing’s bathrooms that sends a resounding shiver down our collective spines. Whattheeverlovingfuck?


And here we sit, mired deeper and deeper in disbelief as the lists of the cabinet appointees swirl through the news cycles. Having conversations we were tired of having before we started having them. Giving each other civics lessons while we wait for the other shoe to drop. If this sounds like you, then yup, you’re in the stages of Whattheverlovingfuck? And in case it skipped your notice, there’s no final stage of acceptance.  It just starts all over again. Like Groundhog Day.

Welcome to the End Times Bitches

November 14, 2016

It’s day 5 since the American voting public opened the first seal of the Apocalyptic document and the depression hasn’t lifted. The last time I felt this way was 9/11. That general overwhelming sense of loss, anger, revulsion, and futility that you just can’t shake or drink away. Barely awake this morning, not even a cup of bourbon laced coffee in my hands, and the conversation with my girlfriends is a mix of the validity of the Electoral College, explaining to the 30-somethings what Quaaludes are, and shedding tears over Kate McKinnon’s performance of Hallelujah.  Welcome to the End Times bitches.

This sucks and sucks all the harder because we did this to ourselves. We fucked ourselves over and now we’re being asked to be gracious losers. Fuck a bunch of that. I’m told I’m not supposed to say #notmypresident. Well fuck that. He’s not.  The America I want to live in isn’t represented by an emotionally unbalanced bigot. That’s North Korea.  Not the good ole U.S. of A. We were supposed to be better than this, and until I see definitive proof that this asshat has the best interests of EVERY SINGLE MOTHERFUCKING AMERICAN in mind, then I am not willing to accept him as my president.


And can we please get on the same page about protesting and not be bickering amongst ourselves about it? Let’s just agree to support each other, no matter how we choose to voice our dissent? Sweet Mother of Cheezits first it’s good to wear safety pins, and then it is making a statement about white privilege. We’re both celebrated and mocked for marching in protest not just by the alt right who are jerking themselves off frenetically this week, but by our own “side”. This fucking country was born out of protest. Not suppressing speech, even if you don’t like what you’re hearing, is one of the things that separates us from police states and is also what got Donnyboy elected.   The white supremacists have their swastikas and we have safety pins.  Everyone needs something.

I want to move past this. I really do. I’d like to make it through the stages of grief and get to acceptance, but no one is giving me a single fucking reason to do that. In fact, everyone is compounding it. My friends and Facebook feed are sending article after article that both raise and dash hopes. We won the popular vote, but we’re still not going win the election. There are few states that might take the popular vote instead. There might be a loophole to get Garland on the court.  Trump might resign or be impeached. I feel like I’m swirling in a stained toilet bowl and nothing can make me feel clean. Not even 120 proof bourbon.

Maybe a little vintage Letterman will help…

You Take The Fucking High Road and Shove It…

November 10, 2016

Yesterday gave me a faint hint of what it must be like to have a mood disorder. I started off the day buoyed by a Facebook feed full of inspirational Pantsuit Nation posts and moving video feeds from Susan B. Anthony’s graveside. This was going to be the day I’ve been waiting my whole voting life for – a woman was going to be President. In a nod to the suffragettes I voted wearing a petticoat instead of a pantsuit like so many other women.

While I was nervous, because really, who wasn’t? I thought my bourbon fueled evening was going to end in glorious drunken celebration. Instead, after a fuckton of liquor I went to bed before it was over.  I couldn’t watch the guys on CNN fuck with the maps any more trying to make sense of why all their predictions were as wrong as the clusterfuck that was unfolding. When I went to bed there was still a path to a narrow victory. I woke up at 3AM and asked my husband how it had ended up, and then sobbed for the next hour. (New rule in our house indicates that crying needs to happen before bed, not once the other party is asleep.)

Now I’ve liked Obama well enough, but I’m not going to lie, I was disappointed 8 years ago that we were electing another man, historic as his appointment was, I wanted a goddamn woman to be President.  We’re not only due one, we’re overdue for one. Nations with lower opinions of women than the US have had female leaders.  I’m not a dyed in the wool feminist, but fuck me we’re just as fucking qualified to run this country and Hillary was overqualified to be the first female President. And no I don’t want to hear your bullshit conspiracy theories about her, or that she’s evil, blah, blah, blah. Most of the people spewing that shit haven’t got a clue why they think that any more than we have the slightest clue how Trump is going to “make America great again.” You just like the way it sounds in your own head.

Yesterday, my country broke up with me based upon the rumours, innuendos, and lies told by a lot of angry old white men for the last 30 years.  God am I tired of angry old white men. My whole life they’ve been trying to tell me what I can and can’t do. What my limitations are, making decisions for me, and spending way too much fucking time worrying about what I do with my twat.  Sweet Mother of Cheezits get a new fucking hobby?

This morning well meaning friends, bloggers, reporters and social media tried to tell me to take the high road.  That the world isn’t ending.  That there are limits to the damage that the angry old white men can do in the next four years.  They showed me pretty maps that said that the future will be better because all the 18-25 year olds voted democratic. (I’m pretty sure Snopes will be calling bullshit on this for years to come.) They warned me that unfriending people who differ in opinion with me won’t accomplish anything. Guess what? I don’t care. If you threw your vote away to “protest” you should be cunt punted for being stupid.  Guess what? Some of those votes had the chance to make a difference.  Your vote does in fact matter. You shouldn’t be allowed to vote if you don’t understand and appreciate that simple fucking fact.  If you voted for Trump intentionally because you want what he represents then you and I have very little in common in our core beliefs and I’m not totally sure you and I should be friends to begin with. If you stop seeing my snark in your Facebook feed consider this your explanation.

Well, guess what? I don’t want to take the motherfucking high road.  Right now I don’t even want to know where it is located.  Don’t fucking program it into my Waze.  Y’all want to be hopeful, y’all go right ahead. That’s your business, but not this girl.  I’m sad. I’m disappointed as fuck in my country.  I’m completely disillusioned by the electoral process. I’m afraid for people I love who are people of colour, LGBT, women, or trapped in communities where their beliefs are in the minority. I’m ashamed that my nieces and nephews are going to have to watch this epic world altering clusterfuck unfold and have it shape their futures. I’m angry that I’m going to be forced to listen to that arrogant ignorant prick for the next 4 years.  That he will appoint the worst of the worst to the positions of power.  I’m terrified of the fact that he will have the nuclear codes.  And gawd… his smug fucking children? We’re going to have to hear and see them gloat – because you know they will.

But more than I’m afraid of what HE will do, I’m afraid what the people who think he’s so fabulous will do. Many of them will take this as tacit approval to turn off the few filters they have in place and just unleash all their pent up hate. Sure, eventually they will realize that all the reasons they voted him into power were wrong – they won’t have jobs, they will pay higher taxes, and without insurance they won’t be able to afford to pay the ER bill for the 3rd degree burns they got at a cross burning.  But they will have plenty of time to wreak havoc on the country before they get that slap in the face.  Which I will enjoy. Immensely.

So, with this in mind, you’ll pardon me if I ask you to keep your hopefulness to yourself. Enjoy it all you want.  Do what you need to get through this.  Take the fucking high road.  Me? I’m gonna stew in bourbon and wallow in pity for a lot longer. It’s my fucking right.

From The Realm of Things I Do Not Understand: Sanctimonious Parents

October 31, 2016

This morning I read a New York Magazine article Pets Are Not Children, So Stop Calling Them That thanks to someone in my Facebook feed liking the article. (FYI I’ll be reviewing our friendship status when I’m done here.) While I’ll confess it doesn’t take much to fuck me off, this writer made a good solid effort at it. Especially since it’s been a year since I’ve been annoyed enough to write a blog post.


First of all, it doesn’t diminish the life of a human child that I consider my two Black Labs to be my children. If it makes you uncomfortable that is an issue entirely of your own making, and most likely stems from the fact that you want praise for increasing the population count in an overcrowded world. Bully for you. You figured out how to fuck without a prophylactic. Being a parent doesn’t automagically make you a better person than someone who chooses a different path. I know you think it does, but you’re wrong.

The article implies that because I did not birth my dogs I am not entitled to call myself a parent. Not all parents give birth to their own children. The more noble of us choose to take on an unwanted child and raise and care for that life. In essence a parent is nothing more than a guardian. As a guardian it is your responsibility to keep your ward safe, sheltered, nurtured, fed and to guide it through life. If you’re halfway decent as a parent your ward will be happy, healthy, well behaved and will enjoy their life. You choose to be the guardian of a human child and I choose to be a guardian of a canine.


Why should it bother you if my husband and I choose to refer to each other as “Mom and Dad” when talking to our dogs? They are just monikers. Not all parents choose to use those same terms. I know plenty of people, myself included, that refer to their human parents by their first name. Doesn’t matter what you call someone. What matters is what relationship you have with them.  Our dogs look to my husband and I to provide them with the same love, care and guidance that a human child would. They look to us to fill the role of guardian, of parent, and we do that. In spades.

Where I really have you beat is that my children love me unconditionally. Yours will spend much of their life resenting you for the myriad of mistakes and transgressions you will make as the parent of a human child. Mine will forgive me my sins and omissions before I’ve even made them. Maybe this is what makes you so uncomfortable. I have to work really hard to fuck up my kids and make them ungrateful selfish brats like yours that undoubtedly scream “I WANT IT! I WANT IT! I WANT IT! I HATE YOU!” in the toy aisle at Target.

The author goes on to say that parenting is how we shape our future. Well, perhaps we’d be better off if the well parented animals ran the place. All I need to do is watch 2 minutes of a Trump rally to see what the blessed job of human parenting gets us.