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