February 11th, 2005

lips, uncertain

Bondo Bitch Fest!

I apologize if anyone is tired of hearing about the Bondo fumes. But I am tired of being wooly-brained like Georgette on The Mary Tyler Moore Show or Chrissy on Three's Company. There are lots more fun ways to wind up feeling like this and they don't usually happen in the workplace.

They are supposed to be finished with the bulk of the work on Monday. I hope so.

(no subject)

He's rude and crude but that's why I love him. And The Rude Pundit is right on the money about how Dubya's gambling days are far from over.

"Do you think anyone's told President Bush that his Daddy's friends can't bail him out this time if his "business" (that'd be, you know, America) goes belly up? 'Cause, see, and really, that's the pattern of Bush's business life: run a company into the ground and then wait around until someone who wants some of that Bush-name glory comes over with a wad of cash for a buy-out or infusion. Like all wannabe wildcatters, Bush knows that he's gotta be a gamblin' man. The problem is, of course, that real gamblers know, well, when to walk away. Bush is a gambling addict, and he's got the biggest wad of cash in history on loan from the nation. Problem is that the vig on that wad's a motherfucker, and it's gonna come due. And you can bet that it ain't Bush's legs that're gonna be broken."