My car is being gay-bashed. I keep thinking to myself, Is this possibly someone that I know? Who the hell would gay-bash a car? I�m not �gay�, but I do live in a predominantly gay neighborhood, the Greenwich Village and West Hollywood of San Diego. And I do have my name on my license plates, so it would be easy to tell that a woman owns the car. I realize it could not be anyone I know, because I don�t associate myself with anyone who would think it�s funny or who would vandalize a car.

So this is what happened, a few weeks ago, written with a finger in the dirt on the hood of my car was �I love to eat pussy�. Now, I know, my car is covered with experimental layered dirt, and that�s my fault. But yucky, who�s writing in that shit with their FINGER? Ew. Then, this morning, I�m driving to pick up my coworker, who happens to be a lesbian, and looking in my rearview mirror, I see the words �I want to suck your clit� glaring back at me, large and clear. Argh. I think this is a sign. Some supreme force is telling me, �Barb! Wash your fucking car!� Okay, okay, I�m listening! You have my attention! FINE! I�ll wash it, just be aware that it wasn�t all MY choice.

It�s sad that people feel the need to express their limited opinions. I read a quote once, something like why do the people with the smallest minds have the biggest mouths? So true, so true. It�s like Born Again Christians. They preach and preach, they�ve �found the way�, they�re �saved�, and that�s great that they have something to believe in. But my God, people, realize that your way is not the only way. I wish they�d close their mouths and unclog their ears. It�s funny, you know, I�m actually in a fantastic mood this morning. Had some coffee, work stuff is going well, and other things have made me smile. But I guess all this energy needs another outlet, and venting about people who bug me is definitely a satisfying outlet.

And I love to be satisfied. Coffee or soda in the morning is like crack to me. I rarely do the coffee thing, because, like a narcoleptic dog, I bounce of the walls for a few hours, barking and wailing my tunes, then pass out. I am SPRUNG right now. Soda, I can handle in the morning. I almost need it. Or three glasses of water, usually does the trick if I don�t have soda, all those �O�s� of the H2O. Oxygen for the brain. But coffee? Hoo boy, watch out. My eyes are buggin� and I�m asking for people over the phone by singing, �Hello Gretchen� this is Barbara�Can I speak with�.Da Da Da Da?� Certain levels of caffeine just make me stupid, like wacky tobaccy, which I don�t even smoke.

Okay, over the energy thing. New Year�s is coming up. I just kind of decided what to do last night. This is the first year that I�ve had no major plans for awhile, that I�ve not even been remotely excited for an event. It�s like, Yeah, yeah, yeah, Happy New Year, yeah. My three sisters are all going to some party downtown, with their three men. I can�t do downtown more than once every six months, it�s just not my dig. Stupid, drunk people, mostly military and college. Narrow-minded conservatives, with no appreciation for anything not wearing the same �uniform�. Gawking, tight-ass little pishers. Tell us how you really feel, Barb. Wow, coffee makes me feisty. Even as I type my rants, though, I have a shit-eating grin on my face. It�s going to be a wacky day. Thank God I have meditation tonight. I need to get centered.

Ah, yes. New Year�s. No man to kiss at the stroke of midnight this year. I�ll probably end up kissing one of my girlfriends.

-Barbarella

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