For those of you who have somehow mistakenly gotten the impression that I am at all serious (or smart. I doubt you have, but let’s take that leap of faith for this purpose, shall we?), I present to you two things that defined my day yesterday that no one who knows me would ever doubt that I actually, in fact, said or did.
On Ben Roethlisberger’s motorcycle accident in Pittsburgh yesterday:
“You know, I’m not shocked he was recognized. Those Pittsburgh ball players are famous. They are always out in public, eating next to you at the restaurants and moreover, they’re as familiar as members of your family. Even bruised and bloodied, people knew exactly who he was. Here in Washington? A Redskin could walk up to me and say ‘How’ and I wouldn’t know who the fuck he is.”
*ba DUM bum*
Seen Heard at the DMV
I had the misfortune of visiting the DMV yesterday and, unfortunately, of also leaving empty-handed. Because no matter how high your IQ is, you cannot glean the proper car registration procedures from the Internet and god forbid you let your Virginia tags expire, because you’re treated like a terrorist.
That’s not the pun to the story. What is, then? Well, when *somebody* left all pissed-off yesterday and frustrated and wondering when the FUCK she’s going to find time to make all this bullshit happen before getting *another* ticket or tow, she wasn’t paying attention and Backed. Into. Somebody’s. Vehicle. At the motherlovin’ DMV. *gah*
Here I was thinking I need a personal assistant to just take care of all this detail crap. Fuck it, while we’re dreaming, give me a chauffeur too!