Fox News, W, & Ann Coulter, Oh My!

My friend Sarah has been on my case. She says its time for me to start writing regularly. When I told her about TBK taking my voice, she refused to accept it. She continued to send me encouragement in emails, calls and gifts. Her latest is this book she claimed reminded her of me. Immediately, I have a problem. First off, the title. Bright Lights, Big Ass: A Self-Indulgent, Surly, Ex-Sorority Girl's Guide to Why it Often Sucks in the City, or Who are These Idiots and Why Do They All Live Next Door to Me?

Let's start by breaking down the title, shall we?

• Big Ass? I'll concede the point, but wow, what a way to start.
• Self-Indulgent and Surly? I'm making an appointment to return to my therapist.
  
• Ex-Sorority Girl? In college I wore an asymmetrical haircut, shaved on one side and purple with safety pins in my ears. I slammed danced to The Clash and worshipped Elvis Costello. Sorority? What do you think?
• It doesn't suck in the city. Trust me. Let me take you to the small town I grew up in and you'll know, I'll never willingly leave the city.
• Who are these idiots and why do they all live next door to me? Ok, Officer Friendly clearly helped her think of me.

Still I decide to give Sarah the benefit of the doubt and am over halfway done with the book. There are moments I admit she is funny and I am nearly ready to concede I see a glimmer of me when the author references her love of "Fox News." So I go back and read the cover and then check Amazon's description of the book. They refer to the author as a plus-sized, downwardly mobile Republican. Sarah has lost her damn mind. My cable box trembles when it nears Fox News as I've repeatedly advised it I will take it out and roast it over an open flame before shooting it with my neighbor's gun if it so much as dares to pause on that crap channel. Fair and balance my fat, white, cellulite liberal democratic ass!

Still I continue on and get to a story when the author trips over a picture of George W which someone has defaced by comparing him to Hitler. She goes on to say she can understand one not liking the president but draws the line at anyone comparing him to a mass murderer. So she swipes the picture and spends the evening drinking with it or to it, I'm still somewhat confused.

Well, I probably would have swiped the picture as well so I'm allowing Sarah some comparison points. However, I would have been toasting the brilliant artist who created such an apt portrait. While W has not yet wracked the number of murders Hitler can boast, with Katrina, and Iraq he's keeping a respectable pace.

I have one singular moment of complete and utter solidarity when she describes her game "Slugapug" named after her favorite dog.

Then I get to a passage where the author is attacked while proudly reading Ann Coulter on a public bus. AND THAT IS WHERE I DRAW THE LINE! Come on Sarah! What the hell are you thinking? I have more in common with a linebacker.

At least I think I do. What exactly does a linebacker do?

This evening I read a particularly ridiculous passage thinking this woman makes this shit up. I go into the kitchen and make dinner. Well, I'm in no mood to cook especially since there really isn't anything in the refrigerator. There is one cantaloupe I bought at Central Market last Friday night. I take it out and sliced it in a bowl. I want a drink, but I don't think I should open a bottle of wine as I know it will end with me drinking the entire bottle. So I pull out my Ketel One from the freezer. I get a tall glass, add ice and pour a jigger (maybe two) of vodka in it. Then I add some seltzer. I go looking for juice and am sorely disappointed to discover there is none. In the back I spy a bottle of Lillet, red fortified wine I bought months ago for a French dinner. What the hell, I pour some in and mix it up. It's rather vile, but with the melon, it's drinkable. And after a few sips, it only get's better.

Suddenly, it's apparent I've a bit more in common than I care to admit. I still wouldn't advise my cable box to get too cocky yet. Just try checking out Fox News and see what happens!

For Sarah

I had to speak with Officer Friendly today. Not respond to him, but rather seek him out and start the conversation. On the fun meter it was somewhere between having the dental hygienist clean your teeth and waiting in line at the grocery store behind someone with a load of coupons for everything but what's in their basket.

The pug has invited some rather unsavory friends into our home. A few days ago I saw a small tick crawling on my bathroom floor. I've NEVER seen such a thing in all my years of dog owning. I passed it as a fluke, but the next day when I found another on my hassock, I knew it was time to seriously investigate. I turned the pug over and began the search. I didn't have to look long, he had a dozen or so on him. I took him out, cleaned him off and then spent a small fortune at the store buying new dog beds and insect sprays. The next morning bright and early I delivered him to the vet for a nice cleaning , spray and dip.

Each evening I've looked him over and found the occasional tick but I passed it off as just passing bastards. Yesterday I put poison all over the yard, waiting till the neighbors were no where to be seen. (Not everyone is a fan of poisoning the environment. Trust me, neither am I, but if pressed with the reality of tick, I'll choose to grow gills and glow at night.)

So today as I looked over the pug, I noted a few more ticks. Disgusted, I continued my search. Dear God in heaven WHAT IS THAT?! A huge beetle like insect clung to the pug's coat. I pulled it off and dropped it in a small jar I found. I looked it over and wondered what new hell had found us. Sure enough, there were 3 more of these repulsive monstrosities, all of which I put in the jar.

Then I heard the tell-tale jingle of Officer's Friendly's dogs' collars. He was out in front of the house exercising them. I wondered, did he have a tick problem? Would he know what these demons were? Which would I prefer, embarrassing myself asking the vet what they were or Officer Friendly? Truth be told, I wanted neither.

I had to leave for lunch so rather than hide inside till the coast was clear as I usually do when Officer Friendly is around, I walked outside with my purse and the jar. He walked quickly towards his home. I gritted my teeth. I took a deep breathe and called his name. He turned and I literally had to talk myself into walking down my stairs and towards him.

"Are you having problems with ticks on your dogs?"

He claimed he did not, and asked if I was. I admitted it was pretty bad and then said I just found these as well and held up the jar.

"Those are ticks." He looked at me as though I were asking him to identify a common household fly.

"But they are huge..." I incredulously start. And then I realize. These ticks are full of blood. How stupid am I? Did I think they stay one size? Now thoroughly embarrassed I pull the jar away and start walking towards my car. To his credit Officer Friendly continues the conversation talking about the problems past tenants have had in my home. But I am now done with Officer Friendly. Once again, I am despising myself for attempting to interact with him, and in the process thoroughly humiliating myself. In addition, I'm further infuriated he remembers the names and histories of past tenants which tells me he bothered to have some sort of interaction with these people. This only serves to make me feel like a real leper. Am I the only one he so completely rudely rebuffs?

One of his beautiful German Shepherds runs towards me with a football in his mouth. Momentarily forgetting Officer Friendly, I smile at the dog and move to pet him.

"She doesn't want to play catch with you." He barks at the dog. He's wrong, I do want to play catch with his dog. What I don't want to do is stand here talking to him feeling like a complete and utter loser.