Happy Memorial Day to those who have the most soul...our Soldiers!!

It's not about picnics and/or drunken bacchanals, or shopping til you drop at your local Mall in the Hood...

...it's all about the men and women who have served or serve our country.  I dedicate to you the following:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wdhois-aiYs

Ensembles according to Babs...

Let the weekend begin

Happy Cinco de Mayo

This is the cube of Babs.  I have been relegated to the "spank tank" due to social behavior. 

Note my devotion to the Virgin of Guadalupe.*  A portrait of Sr. Lucille by Velasquez, Mother Superior of Sr. Lucille's Academy for Incorrigible Teens (SLIT for Sluts), hangs to the right.  Post mortem, that old crone, still has her lazy eye on me.

Boys and girls-- yee are about to hear the catechism according to Babs-- Jesus wants you to have a good time while you're here under this veil of tears.

Jesus would NOT approve of this sign posted at my local Public Library.  Jesus hearts both skateboarding and horseplay.

What I want to know is this-- is there a vast right wing Lutheran conspiracy afoot to topple the one true church?  Have they installed a puppet Nazi quisling at the helm?  It's time a competent American bitch steps forward and cleans up the mess in Vatican City.  Hillary Clinton would be perfect for the job, but unfortunately she's a Methodist (at least she's not a Lutheran).  Caroline Kennedy?... well, she's as dumb as a box of rocks.

What do Jesus and Patti Smith, poetess extraordinaire, have in common?

"If you see things around you--unjust and unclean, that need change-- don't just sit on your ass, take it to the streets...use your voice..." 

--Patti Smith, Detroit Rock Royalty.  

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q40GZrxmup0

*This message has been approved by the Virgin of Guadalupe.

**Conflict of interest disclosure:  After years of double secret probation, mother church has excommunicated Babs twice.  If they could, they'd have burned  me at the stake (twice).  Those who fear for their immortal souls may want to tread carefully.      

Inheritance check

Dirk Bogart Sr (b. 1919? he constantly lied about this date - d. 2002 disinterred in 2004)

My late great father Dirk Bogart, Sr., (RIP), and his cohort in crime, me late great mum Vivien Leigh Bogart, lived ridiculously large.  They never did a sensible thing in their lives.  They lived the "upside down" lifestyle to the max.  Instead of buying a nice suburban house (l), they bought the Versaille double wide, during an economic down turn, at a loss (r).

They just didn't have 2 or 3 kids, they had 7. 

Not only did they live large--Dirk and Viv died large.  Their funerals were gothic undertakings of epic (bordering on tacky)  proportions.  After settling their debts (ginormous) the estates have closed, and we 7 Bogarts have each received our share of the proceeds: $67.93.

I polled the Bogarts and asked what they were going to do with their respective inheritances:

Babs.........Seminole Smoke Shop

Mame.......Wine in a box

Jane.........Cigarettes

Peg...........Save the Whales

Gin...........Dog Food

Dirk, Jr.....Beer

Chip.........Diapers

Southern Gothic

You're welcome...
The Constellations
New Alt band from ATL.  This song is so cool, I was surprised to see it was a bunch of white guys.
http://www.ourstage.com/tracks/SUVWVGJTURSJ-felicia

Weenie Autos

“The thing is, it's really hard to be roommates with people if your suitcases are much better than theirs - if yours are really good ones and theirs aren't….. It's one of the reasons why I roomed with a stupid bastard like Stradlater. At least his suitcases were as good as mine."
The Catcher in the Rye
Holden Caulfield in Chapter 15

“The thing is, it’s really hard to share the road with people if your car is much better than theirs -if you have a turbo charged fuel injected engine with 240 horsepower that sounds like a jet, with responsive handling and tight cornering, while theirs is merely a 'souped' up retarded "green" golf cart, that can’t get it up to make it through the intersection.

It's one of the many reasons I flipped off the soccer mom pulling into the Lutheran school parking lot, talking on her cell phone, going 5 miles under the speed limit, with a 'Family First' bumper sticker on the back of her lame ass Toyota Scion.”
--Babs
4.26.10

"Dos Gardenios" from Buena Vista Social Club

My first gardenias of the season. 

Wish you could scratch and sniff. 

The aroma is heavy, heady, pungent, and heavenly. 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wmfa2XznVic

"Dos Gardenias" It is a poignant Cuban bolero (dating back to the '30's)-- sung by Ibrahim Ferrer, who sings with the mojo of one who has been utterly betrayed.

"Last Dance" by the Raveonettes....

I can't get enough of this video and song.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KUkn3368YoI

What I want to know is, what's going on in the car scene?

Discuss amongst yourselves and get back to me. 

I Know What U Do Creep!

Yea, that's exactly what that keyboard says.  Hey Fang, for your punishment type this (oh, wait,  I forgot, Mr. Unemployable, you can't type) well then, hunt and peck this statement 100 thousand times and get it to me in triplicate.

Back in harness after indulging in my semi-annual nervous breakdown...

Babs has been

1) out of the state
2) out of her mind

Thank you to all my devoted followers.
1)  I'm back in state
2)  still out of my mind!

Oh I have some juicy, juicy dish to blog about my travels and travails.  Need some blanket time tonight, but promise to catch you up on the cavorts and shenanigans and trouble I've stirred up in the next few days. 

Until then, let's make this blog interactive...

Learned a new "pc" term tonight.  The first one of you, my ferrett like followers that can correctly identify this term will receive a special "bitch slap" from Babs.

The term is "MSM." 

Party like it's 1979!

Sharona then               Sharona now

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kVdnqEyToqg&feature=related

RIP Detroit native, Doug Fieger, what a great song (cock was in the rock) you gave us!
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/02/16/arts/music/16fieger.html

Good Friday Passions & Anniversaries

This imposing lady was the mother superior of Bab's School:

Sr. Lucille's Academy for [incorrigible] Gentlewomen (SLAG) whose mission it was to acquaint us intimately with the fire and brimstone of hell and guilt, whilst shaming the crap out of brat girls such as myself.

Truisms about Catholic school girls:
1.  If you tell them not to do something, and that it's a really bad sin, they're going to want to do it in spades i.e..sex drugs and rock and roll.

Two infamous harridan alumna of SLAG.  Madonna (l.), Lady GaGa (r.)

2.  Sr. Lucille and her cohort of penquins were constantly recruiting the girls of SLAG into becoming the "Brides of Christ" (i.e. slaves).  Most of of us SLAG-sters would've seriously considered becoming Jesus' mistress or girlfriend, because he was sensitive and had a six pac set of abs to die for.

Jesus channelled that alienated hippy vibe that we totally dug back in the day.  You could imagine Jesus pulling up to your parents house in his truck, and going on the road with him. "Bye, bye mom and dad, Jesus and I are getting out of this f**** town to live the rock n roll lifestyle and become rich and famous."   

A shout out on this Good Friday to my Hebe ex husband Fang. Hey Fang, do you remember what we did 6 years ago today douchebag?

Let me remind you, cheap ass entry in the Dikkiipedia -- you wouldn't fork out the coin for a cab, so we took a bicycle rickshaw to Cafe Daniel in NYC for our wedding dinner.

Posh-- Cafe Daniel!

Sr. Lucille would've self mortified herself with a cat o' nine tails had she lived to know her most incorrigble protoge, Babs, and her honeymooning future ex husband Fang, were summarily escorted by a jack booted cadre of Roman Guards out of the Vatican itself.

Granted I was dressed totally inappropriately, but who knew that wearing daisy dukes and a Guns N Roses halter sans bra would be frowned upon?

Fang and Babs were just confused Americans on a Eurail Pass funded by Fang's rich parents.  We thought... "this is Friday-- it must be Amsterdam in a heat wave."

And, I will admit Fang was so stoned-- he just oozed insousciant Jesus-killing, rich American Hebrew-- from the tip of his uber prominent probocis, to his insistence that I pose for a whacky picture with devil horns at the site of St. Peter's upside down crucifixtion.

Oh Fang, we had some great times.  Happy anniversary, BITCH.

The bitch is back!!

To my legions of fans, I apologize for the extended hiatus.  Rest assured the bitch was up to no good!!

A by-product of massive hubris and ego is the concomitant karmic humiliation, that tends to follow in it's wake. 

Along with the havoc I wreaked, and the adventures I've had in the past few weeks-- you will be happy to know the bitch has had some emotional spankings.  I have lived up to my own personal credo:

"If it hurts... it's probably worth it."

A full de-briefing will take place this weekend. 

Until then, my ferret friends,  a sneak peek:

1.  I was forced to ride in a P. T. Cruiser.
2.  I was forced to be nice to a baby.
3.  I was forced to produce product for the man (worked my corner).
4.  I got inked.  It hurt like hell, but looks pretty good

WTF?

Please note this do-it-yourself card board license plate as spotted at my mall in the hood over the weekend.  Please note Clark Elementary Student of month (see bumper sticker) you should be crafting new plate, as Mom's is about to expire. 

Dedicated to Doc Brown...

...a good man about to go down. 

I just want to say hello to one of the oldest of my old boyfriends, Doc Brown!  And when I say old-- I mean old in dog years.  Doc is so old I had to constantly remind him to turn up his hearing aid and change his attends undergarments.  

Doc Brown is one of the greatest guys ever!!.  But he wasn't my type, i.e. he liked me, treated me like a queen, and was a nice man.  But worst of all, Doc was the marrying kind of guy.  I had to constantly remind him that:

Doc literally snatched me from the jaws of death and nursed me back to life.  Another story for another day.  Doc was a whole lotta fun, boy if we had 'em we smoked 'em, didn't we Doc?

Anyway as a much married (and divorced) woman I am sad to hear that Doc is about to get hitched.  Doc don't do it. Run, Doc, run.  But if you insist on such foolishness, I wish you the greatest happiness.  Please know that I will  here in a few years to tell you "I told you so." 

P.S.  Doc I haven't received my invitation to the wedding?  Is it lost in the mail? 

P.P.S.  Get her to sign the pre nup.  Trust me on this one. 

Back to D-Troit I've fallen off the one syllable wagon and am doomed

...to toast in hell for all eternity.   

Topic of today's post:  Change. One day I suddenly decided I could not stand living another nanosecond in Detroit.  I took Fang up on his offer to shack up with him down here at 19 degrees latitude--- a place chock full of bottom feeders, geezers, carnies, and low lifes -- it's as though I'd never left Michigan.  Fang promised I'd get paid in sun shine.  Translation--minimum wage job with no benefits at Wal Mart.    

Here's a pic of the two Babs back in the Motown on a fine July day.

This girl band below is not from Detroit but they channel the classic Detroit garage band rock ethos that this brat was weaned on.  Please note, these gals know how to flip an authentic old school bird .

Punk Break Beat!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BWbBalZur6o


Of note in that video are all the fine old school American vehicles.  This bitch didn't shed one tear for the recent woes of the cads who don't drive Caddies, and the JAPs that drive Jap cars.
Check out this fine 62 Chevy 

Back in the day, my old boy friend, Ivan, and I ran wild like Bonnie and Clyde in this Chevy Nova with a "three on the tree" and a state of the art eight track player.  The things that we did in, and on that car, defy many state and federal laws still on the books.  Mom and Dad thought we were studying away at the University of Southern Northern Michigan at Mott the Hoople.  It's amazing Ivan and I aren't dead, but hey clean livin' Mom and Dad are.  

Ivan then...                                                                                                                      

Ivan now.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                    

Babs then...

                                                                         Babs now.

I Don't Give A Damn... it's Fry Day

Hey my peeps, missed me?  What me care?  Babs had a slight crack up, a bit of a melt down this  week.  The vow to write with one pulse words drove me to the brink--to the shrink. Dose fixed.  I had morphed in to the nice, sweet Babs (out of my mind).  That will sho nuff make you sick.

But I'm back, all jacked up,  and as mean as hell, or as the old man used to say-- dirt mean.
 

This week props go to this man:

He rocks our world. I love him to the core of my cold, cold heart. This man, our Prez, does so damn much for us-- like get out of bed each day and slug it out with a bunch of old, white men who work for the banks and the A I G's of this world...

...the Dicks of this world-- their one goal it is to see our great man fail. 

How does the Prez take so much shit and still remain cool, calm, and chill?  This week he fessed up to a bad thing-- dude needs to get his smoke on once in a while.  

Christ, folks, cut my man some slack.  I'm sure he's got to sneak out of the House of White and freeze his ass off, hide from the press, and have his smoke.  Save your angst for the Sea Worlds of this world and let the great one do his job. Let him get his head on straight, sans guilt, once in a while. 

Must take care of bid ness

Babs will be off this night.  But she wants you to think of her home town the Mo Town.  A for lorn place.  A shout out to all the good folk in the Great Lake State.  Hope you enjoy this vid--  "kick out the jams."

http://vimeo.com/7712066

The Men of Match Dot Com

My "friends" have encouraged me to put away the things of childhood and get a real, as opposed to imaginary, boyfriend.  Better yet, they want me to stop dating married men. 

Imaginary boyfriends and married men are much easier to manage than real ones-- who actually want to see you and go out with you, and be with you, and call you, and snore. 










Since I've been in 4th grade I've had a consecutive string of real (loser) boyfriends and/or husbands.  After the Fang debacle I swore off men forever. Forever lasted 3 months.

Here are my requirements:

1.  He's not gay (if you're reading this, you know who you are).
2.  He's not married (if you're reading this you know who you are).
3.  He has a J-O-B so he doesn't bug me all day long.
4.  He can afford to build me a large above ground crypt.

5.  Is funny, can make me laugh.

6.  Understands sex, drugs, and rock and roll.
7.  Doesn't drop his 'g s ala Todd Palin.

8.  I'd like  him to be tall and slim and look like this:

Or this:

A colleague of mine hit a real home run on Match Dot Com.  She is now going out with Bear Grylls.

 

What the heck, I thought, I'll give this online dating thing a try.  Well, needless to say it's not working out as well as I'd hoped.  Below please find a sampling of the real life matches I've received (and let me state for the record I've made it crystal clear to that goddamn match dot com robot what I'm looking for).

It's been an exhausting day of nursing a hangover, doing absolutely, nothing interspered with napping, and managing my match dot com dating life.  So I must bid you adieau and reiterate that, fellas, this bitch ain't never gonna respond to you in the real or virtual world, if you are, or do, or have, any of the following:

1.  If I have been  married to you, even for a short time.

2.  Wear lambchop sideburns (that's so 19th century).

3.  Wear a speedo bathing suit.

4.  Ride a motorcycle.

5.  Sport a comb over.

6.  Wear a rug.

7.  Obviously color your hair (Paul McCartney this means you).

8.  You are retired (way too much time to bug me).

9.  Don't know that "bogart" is a verb.

10.  Earn your living as a Mime or a Clown.

11.  Play duplicate, honeymoon, or any other kind of card game know as "bridge."

And last, but not least. 

12..  If, like King Tut, you suffer from gynecomastia. 

Look that one up in your Funk & Wagnalls.