Saturday, April 01, 2006

the type of people who give liberal hippie scum like me a bad name.

Today is the opening day of the farmers market season in Bellingham. The Stainless Steel Amazon and I are planning on making it a 'girls only' affair, and the goonybird gets to have a male bonding day with the yummy biker.

But there is a cloud on the horizon of this day, a little hairy cloud named Emily.

Emily is the phobic, whining, twat that married 'my' cousin, the supercilious prick. Thumbnail sketch: 'My' cousin ran for city treasurer a couple of years ago, a position which I have to admit he was well qualified for. Not only that; his opponent was pretty much just a high school kid with a notary seal. And she won by a landslide. Nobody voted for him. He is not likeable. And remember, this is the country that made Howard Stern a rich man.

How do you describe Emily?

For years she worked for the NEW YORK TIMES (fanfare) where she was shop steward for the union, making graphs. She moved here and got a job on the local newspaper where she worked for fifteen years and was shop steward for the union, making graphs. Recently she bought a share in, and is the editor in chief of, the floundering local Liberal newspaper, which has no union, and where her vast journalistic background in making graphs has paid off in hard hitting editorials about subjects nobody remotely cares about, with lots of graphs.

This is a woman who, when she first met me, bragged about having been able to 'pass' as a straight Christian all her life when in actuality she is a gay Jew. (What lead her to marry a straight irish catholic, one wonders? Particularly the one she chose? And why brag about it to a stranger you know is related to the man? It is a mystery, like the chupacabra, but with more hair.)

She followed up that statement with the SHOCKING LEFTY REVELATION -at least it had to have been to a simple country turd like me, right?- 'You know, back in NEW YORK our babysitter was GAY. And a MAN. And he was BLACK, too."




So anyway, family issues of a vicious, revolting nature rear their ugly heads, sides are taken accusations are made, letters and phone calls fly back and forth and finally I make break with them all. And that is all. Just, 'the end.' Goodbye. No more contact of any kind. None. Nada.

That was 19 years ago. Time moves on.

Except not for Emily. Emily, who was only on the utter periphery of this affair but took up arms despite that like a woolly little Hun. Emily, who hardly knows me.

Well, how dare I indeed? I can't just run around all acting like I have self-respect; all choosing who I will and will not associate with like I'm somebody and all! I'm just a simple country turd! I drive a compact car! I HAVE to associate with her until SHE says otherwise! SHE is from NEW YORK!!

I'm going to gloss things over here and just say that her misdeeds are legion, and tawdry, and her cheap antics at one point became a therapy issue for my daughter *. The woman is, frankly, bizarre. And there I will let that matter rest.

..........except to say that if you are at the beach and you spy Emily in the distance coming towards you wearing a bathing suit, cover your childrens eyes and RUN THE OPPOSITE WAY. You do not ever want to see Emily wearing a bathing suit. Or shorts. Not even long shorts. Not any kind of shorts. Ever. Ever.

No. I do not like Emily.

This being opening day of the Farmers Market, Emily is very likely to be in attendance. What, and miss the first big event of the Granola year? Unthinkable! Plus she has to be there to record it for posterity now, too, I suppose.

God help both of us if I see her hairy little face. I'll fucking break it.

*until my daughter tore the bitch a new asshole to match the one in the center of her furry forehead. if you ever wondered why I refer to my daughter as the Stainless Steel Amazon, wonder no more.


  1. So, you guys are good at playing happy families.
    Jesus. She's hairy? I hate that.
    Is it dark hair, or light hair (because she thinks it's light enough to get away with it)
    OMG! Get her in here. Me and CB and Carrie and everyone will tear her another new asshole.
    Can we hear about that. Sounds fun.

  2. It does.

    ...I wish that when I'd done similar to my aunt, my mum had given me a cool nickname and not grounded me.

  3. I thank god every day that I'm the kind of person who doesn't know one end of a fucking graph from the other. Now I know why.

  4. i'll gladly help cap her for being a stuck-up ignoramus who doesn't know when to go home, but you should know before you let me into Club No Emilies Allowed that I'm hairy, too. Shaving is evil. And stoopid. You should see my armpits.

  5. noshit: dark hair. yeeeegh. see below.
    hendrix: the ssa rocks so hard! y'all would like her.
    wyndham: yea, lawd. glad you're back btw!
    cb: and above....
    let me put it like this.
    in a bathing suit, she looks like shes hiding behind a topiary. the type of thing you have to visit pay sites to see. appalling does not even BEGIN to describe it.

  6. You have compact cars in America?

    Well, you learn something new every day.

  7. America has compact cars in the same way the reptile house at the zoo has mice: they're there as fodder for the SUVs.

  8. UGH! I pity you for having to deal with this woman!
    Thankfully you have pushed her out of your life. I hope all went well at the Farmer's Market. Such a lovely and energizing time of year being spoiled by a she-demon with a quivering anus in the middle of her forehead is too much to handle.

  9. spins: you betcha we do. i used to own an austin 'america', in fact, a car the size of a party balloon. y'all are luckier, tho..y'all get to have messerschmidts! not streetable here.
    CB: it's a horrible sight to come upon a pack of them at night in some lonely parking garage, feeding on a helpless volkswagen....
    carrie: we went, she was not there, and I bought patchouli perfume and shallots and some organic gouda cheese and had a nice day with my daughter! but i was packed, baby.