The idea of the "Sisterhood" is a concept PC feminists push around like Quaaludes and means, in theory, that women stick together...that women support each other in this world of oppressive men, and we've got each other's backs. To this humble observer, it's correct only because we sink our claws one inch deep in each other's backs any chance we get. Then yeah, we've got each others backs, all the way to the first aid station to disinfect the deep gouges! Last week, me, Mizz Michela, had a nice run-in with some middle-aged haggie types during an otherwise uneventful but annoying fire drill. You know the types...their lips are so pursed they could carry a kitten in their mouths without using their teeth. Their haggish expressions are so frozen in, it looks like they've been doing just that for all 50+ years of their lives. Loocy, whut happun?! you ask? The hag that started it all is that ever-so-important hall monitor with that badge of honor--the hall monitor sash--who is supposed to make sure all others are out before they escape the "fire" themselves. Me, Mizz Michela, has had some medical treatments in the last month or so that render my skin completely intolerable of the sun. In fact, a few days after each treatment I must not be in the sun at all; not even to sit near a window indoors. After that first few days, I'm not supposed to be in the sun at all during the high noon hours, 11:00 to 15:00. This fire drill was at 10:30 or so. So Michela was, in fact, not happy about having to walk outside, to stand in the middle of a sunny parking lot while the hall monitors take their roll calls and report all have "escaped." And I was trying to make sure I left at the last possible minute to minimize the time standing out in the sun, and to give my sunscreen a few more minutes to sink in. Haggie hall monitor did not like my dilly dallying. So she says she'd "burn up" looking for me, if it was a real fire, to which I responded something like, well, don't do that! Save yourself! Plus, I noted the stairwell had a long line as the entire building of exited at the same time. Sho' 'nuff, when I re-joined the mass exodus, there was still a line and a delay in the stairwell. Well, from that 20 second exchange, haggola went to her manager, and her manager felt that t was soooo serious, she must complain to the CIO of the division. Some sistahood, hags! Some sistahood you got goin' there! You want to wreck my career because I'm not happy about a fire drill? I didn't call your haggie hall monitor a bitch, or a whore, or a cee u next tuesday. Did it cross your mind there might be a reason I'm not in a rush to escape a building that is not even on fire? They sure as hell did not bother to ask before sinking the claws... See, I know the manager who went to the CIO well. I have worked well with her for 2 1/2 years. I even cut my hair a little shorter based on her suggestion, and I later told her so. For you guys not in the know, that is about the highest form of flattery a woman can get; that another woman followed your hair recommendation. End of story, that's a huge compliment. What do I get for that, for my friendliness and congeniality? CLAWS! SCRRRAAATCH all the way down my lily white back. The secondary hag could have come to me to ask why I gave her hall monitor hag some "trouble" (if you could possibly call that exchange "trouble") leaving during the drill. I could have explained to her my medical woes, and my guess is she would have been quite sympathetic. But noooooooo...it's more fun to attempt to wreck my life and stab me in the back. This hag and I later came face to face in an aisle way in which she verbally accosted me and accused me of not saying hello. Does it get any more petty than that? It was like looking at my mother coming in late from curfew... "What did you say?" she screamed at me in front of dozens of people. Um, I said the idea of the sistahood is bullshit, baby! And that's the moral of this story...next time women complain about THE MAN, remind them, oh no, we have much more to fear in our careers from THE PETTY WOMAN...middle-aged, purse-lipped, angry, women. When I've had work issues with men, it's been legitimately business-releated. Not this idiotic, petty bullshit that women seem to insist on turning into WWIII sized causes. So to the idea of a sisterhood, I say, save yourselves sistah! Both from the fire (that isn't there) and from the Sistahs! They're both quite deadly, I assure you...

Read all about it He's an entertainer and even people with pea brains missing their pods get that. Only Democrats and liberal media outlets seem to think he has a significant impact on the real world. In other news, members of the Kennedy family who actually hold public offices that do significantly impact the lives of ordinary citizens are still drunks and drug addicts, but CNN is not "working to confirm" this fact.

Read all about it This article contains a slew of notes to self for those of you who might find yourselves in prison some day. God forbid. But it happens. You know, an ex-husband drives you over the edge of sanity and you murder him...that kind of thing. It just happens. My favorite note to self in this how-to-survive-prison list:

Do not become a 'punk' (girlfriend). While becoming a punk might give you some fleeting, temporary protection from other inmates, you will be a virtual slave to one. Punks are used and abused. They are traded away in card games and sold for cigarettes. It is not a path to long term survival in prison.

Now, thems some words to live by!

Thanks to iGanja for this informative report...if you are an avid reader of this blog (and we know you are!), you read my issue about the state of health care in this country. (Click ->here<- to re-read.) MWB also thinks that care is at a critical point in this country, but for all you US citizens who are seeking treatment in the ER but finding long waits (especially in SoCali), iGanja has the solution. Simply attach this badge to your shirt when you go into the ER. Watch as the throngs in line in front of you suddenly recover from their emergency illnesses!

Read all about it I've always told non-San Diegans they don't--and couldn't--understand how special a place that county is. When our football team went to the Super Bowl for the first time, you could drive down this street near the beach called Newport Avenue and see gang bangers, hippies, jocks, and hot chicks in their cars and walking along the street, high-fiving each other. They were not tipping over trash cans and breaking windows. When the team promptly lost by more points than any other super bowl in history, we didn't care. We didn't boo. We gave those guys a heroes welcome home. After all, they were our first to get to the big game. When our baseball team went to the World Series for only the second time, and were promptly swept by the Yankees in four, the final game was in San Diego. The fans stayed for over 2 hours waiving their white towels and cheering their losing team as though they'd just won. A national TV sportscaster said, "I've been to a lot of championship games, and I've never seen anything like this for the losing team, home or not!" Now you gotta read this story and think, shit, San Diego really is a special place. It's a huge city, with a lot of people from all over the country (who wouldnt' want to live in SoCali after all). But it's still very much like a small town; unpretentious and giving. So when you see Michela's eye get that gleam, and those three little words, "Ah, San Diego" start coming out, you'll know why. And as a newly anointed baseball fan, I can truly say, Go Padres!

Read all about it When playing with a grenade, you might want to wear body armour. Additionally, you might want to avoid playing "Keep Away" using a grenade when playing with six other members of your family. Seven down, 30 million to go towards world peace...

But we sure as hell don't want an Antique Muff! I bet Muff has a big bushy one, too... eeewwww!

Read all about it More and more people are able to use nurse practitioners instead of doctors for preliminary care. As everyone begins to demand Rolls Royce health care for go kart prices, this option will make more and more (dollars and) sense. Doctors have historically made themselves out to be the holders of the golden medical keys, but this self-made medical myth is proving to be as fictional as Prometheus seeing his liver eaten by a crow every day for all eternity. For example, a recent study found that a computer program which was fed the symptoms of typical illnesses diagnosed the illness correctly >90% of the time. Doctors who were handed these same symptoms and then asked what illness the symptoms described got it right just over 50% of the time. Doctors are people, but they are so far into Egomaniaville that they feel they are impervious to error and everyone else is not. So to continue this philosophy that doctors should be the gatekeepers of all medical treatment is to damn us into emergency room visits for throbbing ear infections that flare up on a Saturday. Creative medical treatments and sources for said care are the cure to the medical care cost crisis.

Yes, you too can not only appreciate the oppression of communist regimes (hmm, a few come to mind; Pol Pot, China, Stalin), but also exalt in their glories and promote their oppressive values, all while being a Capitalist Pig. How does one go about such a "progressive"* way of living? It's simple! Go to the Capitalist Pig capital of the world, Nordstrom's department stores, and buy a pair of $150 jeans with the Chinese red star butt label. It's not only that simple, but such a deal for you little Commie Piggie! *Liberals loooove to call their ways of thinking "progressive", when in reality, the only thing that "progresses" under such a mentality is the high rate at which bums under the bridge convert to state-supported couch potatoes.

An MWB affiliate has provided Mistress Michela the transcript of an eConversation which took place between him and a new "friend" on the famous MySpace.com website which, by Michela's estimation, is almost the biggest time-waster on earth; it's second only to government forms which must be filled out in quadruplicate and signed by the blind 75 year-old DMV employee with the title DMV Line Supervisor II-A. Note: In case you don't guess, names changed to protect the MWB liability.:)

Joe: hello Jane: hi Joe: hows it going hata' Jane: ,lol Jane: hata? Joe: Jane: youre corny Joe: see, there you going hating Jane: haha well theres so much to hate Jane: Joe: lots of things to choose from Jane: there is Joe: :-( Jane: please Jane: blah Jane: eMne Joe: hm? Jane: men Joe: women aren't much better honey Jane: we're all so fucked Joe: true that's why you should be misinthropic like me Joe: and hate everyone Jane: i do Jane: im too cynical Joe: welcome to my world Joe: it gets worse Joe: my cynism has only matured with age like a fine wine Jane: ive always been this way Joe: so have I Joe: except now i am more so Joe: i've got like 6 years of cynism on you i believe Joe: how old are you Jane: how old do you think Joe: somewhere between 14 and 50 Joe: am i right? Joe: i'm psychic Jane: yeah Jane: youre good Jane: ;p Joe: i could tell by your sign Jane: my sign? Joe: i'm just being a jackass Joe: how old are you really Jane: 20, almost 21 Joe: congratz Jane: yeah great Joe: your a regular ball of sunshine Joe: Jane: i never realized how hard it was to find someone to just talk to and connect with, it feels near impossible Jane: you're Jane: dumbass Jane: im surrounded by morons Jane: *sigh* Joe: haha Joe: aren't we all Jane: right Joe: people suck Joe: i've always thought Joe: that if a more advanced life Jane: can a relationship be too intense? Jane: is there such thing? Joe: came here....and tried to take over, i'd help thme out Jane: does it make sense? Joe: it makes sense Joe: i don't think so Joe: except it can blind you to the problems Joe: that are underlying Jane: can you still love someone if its too intense Jane: but let it go? Joe: yep Joe: just don't see the person Joe: it fades with time Jane: i felt so weak when i was with him Jane: yeah well he lives far Joe: trick is not to see the person Joe: or communicate Jane: i havent spoken to him in 3 weeks Jane: almost 3 Joe: its a start Jane: yeah Jane: its hard Jane: very hard Joe: i know Joe: gotta keep doing it Jane: i cry every night Joe: gets easier with time Jane: its horrible Jane: ive never loved anyone like i love him Joe: can't help you with that, i cry about once every year and a half Jane: and the worst part he makes me feel like he feels nothing Joe: yah...but you'll say that about the next one Jane: no Joe: yes...you don't know what you don't know Jane: ivedated a lot Joe: your 20 Jane: yeah i know though Joe: i've felt the same way before Jane: i might not marry him Jane: but i know we have /had something special....rare Joe: nah Jane: he just blows my mind Joe: its cuz of your age Jane: im mature for my age Jane: im not like most 20 year olds Jane: i feel Joe: its not about maturity Joe: its about experiences Jane: ive had a lot of experiences Jane: ive dated since i was 14 Joe: damn woman Jane: ive gone thru a lot of hurt Joe: well Jane: haha Joe: there will be a lot more Jane: i guess Joe: guarantee Jane: youre not very good at this thing called a converstation Jane: you just keep putting my emotions down saying im young Joe: well, your very good at insulting Jane: nobody wants to fucking hear that douchebag Joe: douchebag? wtf! Jane: you cant even tell the difference between your and youre Jane: and youre a law major Jane: youre a fucking joke Joe: i'm trying to help you out Jane: fuck off Joe: wtf Joe: alright, be a fucking cunt Jane: cunt? Jane: block Joe: i can see why the guy doesn't like you Jane signed off at 10:24:53 PM.