Sister #1 was hit by a drunk driver last night. Teen niece was in the car with her. Sister spent most of the night in the hospital and, after a healthy dose of morphine, was sent home where she slept, according to her, better than she has in years. Too bad it takes morphine to do that. Niece was examined and released. Both are “okay,” thank God, but I lectured them to monitor their health because injuries can lie dormant.

The car is pretty much totaled. She was turning left and Drunky turned right wide into their lane and slammed into them. He, coward that he is, took off but someone followed him home. The police were called and a small militia showed up. The car in the driveway was generously detailed with paint from Sister’s car. The police entered the home to search for him, but he was found cowering in the bushes, reeking of alcohol. As of this writing, he is in jail.

I got this news halfway to Washington, D.C., where we drove to visit relatives. I was so consumed with the revenge fantasy of splitting this guy’s head open with an axe that I missed a turn off and got on the wrong freeway.

The penalty for this crime is far too lenient. If you drive drunk, you a child molester. You are a murderer. You eviscerate puppies. I despise drunk drivers have NEVER had any sympathy for alcoholics.

Here’s an oldie but a goodie.

Alcoholism is not a disease and I resent it being treated as such. It’s an insult to people who are actually battling a disease. Labeling it as a disease makes it sound like something you could helplessly fall victim to. Something that couldn’t be avoided. Horseshit. You can’t quit cancer. You can’t quit leukemia. But you can sure as hell quit drinking. I’ve seen it done plenty of times.

I don’t know of too many diseases that will allow you to go out on a Saturday night, party your ass off and then drive head-on into a van full of kids. I’ve had alcoholics in my life and do you know what? They tend to be a bunch of big fucking babies. As soon as they stumble into a room, they have to be the center of attention and need to be indulged and mollycoddled and understood because, after all, the poor dear has a disease. If you love an alcoholic, get ready to suffer. And you will continue to suffer until he/she decides to do something about it (if ever). Or, conversely, you could leave them.

Ptuy. Fuck ‘em. Losers.

Yesterday, the guys and gals who occupy the lunatic fringe of the Republican party were doing the happy pee-pee dance because they won two gubernatorial elections. They’re convinced that it’s a new dawn for conservativism. If that’s true, I hope it’s a sensible brand that I can participate in and not the vitriolic hate-spewing kind that seems so popular these days. Boy, those guys are sore losers and not very gracious winners.

Then I heard Paris Hilton interviewed on Jimmy Kimmel’s show. She’s a vapid narcissist and yet she is admired by young girls. They all want to be like her.

This morning I see in the papers that the New York Yankee$, a group of blood-sucking slugs and carpetbaggers, just won the World Series. Another big eff-ewww to small-market baseball.

I’m leaving for Washington D.C. tomorrow to visit relatives. When I get back, this mess had better be cleaned up or someone is going to suffer a double-salvo of sarcastic wit. It won’t be pleasant so get on it.

I just got my cell phone bill. There was a dramatic spike in the amount due this month, so I started to scour the many pages in search of the error that I was certain Verizon made. I bundle my services; two cell phones, land line, cable and internet all from one provider. So the bill has taken on biblical proportions.

I found the the gaffe and it wasn’t Verizon who made it. My current text message plan allows for 500 messages per billing cycle. I sent/received 1,064 messages and was billed for the overage. I asked several friends (via text message, of course) if they noticed when I turned into a 14-year old girl.

One of my oldest friends said that I am not even close to being a teen girl. He said, in all sincerity, that last month his daughter sent 9,000 text messages and received 7,000. 16,000 text messages in a single month. And according to him, that’s not even a record for her! How is that physically possible? He said that kids in their early teens now communicate almost exclusively via text messaging and that he’s worried about their eroding face-to-face social skills.

Guess how much it costs providers to transmit a text message? ZERO. The amount you pay for text messaging is PURE PROFIT. Text messages are sent along what’s called a control channel—space reserved for operation of the wireless network. The channel uses space whether a text message is inserted or not. Text messages are of such an infinitesimal size that sending them is inconsequential. That’s why you’re only allowed 160 characters. How do you like them apples?

Those sobering facts are quoted from this article in the New York Times.

What Carriers Aren’t Eager to Tell You About Texting

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At the gym this morning, a guy was working out in bare feet. Gross! I don’t want to have to look at a pair of disgusting fungus-encrusted feet while I’m trying to exercise. I started formulating the perfect sentence to cut him down to size when he got up, casually walked over to the heavy bag that hangs from the ceiling by a big chain and gave it a series of very quick, very convincing, roundhouse kicks.

Bam-bam-bam-bam.

I judged the point of impact on the bag to be approximately the same level as my face.

So I spared him my sarcastic wit. This time.