The Battle of the hudson Rages on...

RIP my ASS. 

That doesn't look right. 

Anyway. 

I know you all have made note of my (perhaps poorly-timed) entry cataloging some of Singer jennifer hudson's (I know that technically it's a proper noun, but I can't bring myself to capitalize it.  Sue me.) many, many flaws.  I will say right off that a few of my examples were low-blows.  For instance, stating hudson's work record at the local Burger King (note the capitals) was almost certainly beneath me.  For these remarks I do not apologize.  

 

I would like to call your attention back to the section about ms. hudson that proves her incapacity to tell the truth, perhaps my more solid material.  Above all else, her ability to brazenly tell lies wherever she goes worries me so much I have trouble sleeping at night.  I picture her spouting falsities until five or six in the morning, unable to ignore the cacophonous outpouring of her deceit.  I was trying to move on.  To forgive her infidelities.  But then I came across the following article:

Academy Award winning actress (gag) Jennifer Hudson has turned down a $3,000,000 role in a Warner Bros. Film because of a nude scene.  Ready for the twist?  She's not even the one getting naked!

The Dreamgirls star says that she WILL NEVER APPEAR IN A FILM THAT HAS NUDITY (I decided to capitalize that part for simplification later) because she is a role model to young black women.  

This article is dated March 1st, 2007.  The Sex and the City Movie, filled with nudity of all varieties,  was released May 30th, 2008.  She thinks the passage of time makes it ok to LIE TO THE AMERICAN PEOPLE?!

Oh, excuse me.  I forgot.  Not ALL American people.  She only wants to be a role model to young black women.  So any white girls aspiring to this rank pillar of falsehood, guess again!!  You're not welcome here!!  And to those middle aged men everywhere, jenhud will NOT sing for you.  

I can't believe I caught her so easily, once again deceiving everyone around her.  Turning down millions of dollars to feign moral high-priestessness, uncaring about the people she has hurt and the reputation that is doomed to disintegrate (though, surprisingly, this is yet to happen).

If I didn't convince you before (*cough* DOC *cough*), don't even try to tell me you don't believe it now.  jennifer hudson is a FRAUD.  And no fraud should be famous.  Just ask former President Clinton.  

I wish I could impeach jennifer hudson. 

OUT

yeldah  

RIP

I think the blog has died...

I'M BACK

I'M BACK AND YES, I MISSED YOU TOO.

This is the start of my new life, post-college! I am presently drinking some flat champagne and mopping the apartment floors... Now if I ain't livin' on a prayer...

Maggie

First of all.  Amy.  You are not moving to Indonesia. 

Things have been bad enough for you for the past few days and I am only 1000 miles away.  Think about how you would cope in Indonesia.  And there is no way I am going (though Dwi already asked). 

Now.  On to my post. 

The holidays are supposed to be a time of cheer.  A time of happiness and eggnog.  A time of gatherings and fires (in fireplaces, though sometimes not when living with Schwayman).  A time when family is there.  A time when family cares.  A time when family acts like a family. 

My family failed me this pre-Christmas. 

After being delayed in New York for three hours on my way home for the holidays, I decided to call my dear friend Marbs and tell her not to worry about picking me up (my family is so lazy they bribe marbs every time I come home to pick me up in Atlanta and drive me the--wait for it!!!!--the whole HOUR to Athens.  It's just too loooooooooong a way to driiiiive, Hadley).  Since I knew my arrival time was in flux, I felt bad, guilty even, asking Marbs, a true and humble servant, to wait around for me all day and possibly get stuck in Atlanta rush hour.  I then telephoned my family.  Because in a pinch, that's who you should call.  I figured they would admire my selflessness--my generous spirit in releasing my awesome friend from driving duty.  I thought they would, if not out of joy, drive the treacherous hour south and pick me up solely out of pity.  I was wrong. 

After seven long hours of airports and exit rows and fat Tahitian men named Maury, I found myself alone in the back of a white van with three "A's" painted on the outside and a balding, middle-aged red-neck man-woman named Maggie behind the wheel.  I was headed home. 

Now, don't get me wrong.  Maggie was perfectly nice--perhaps more than was necessary (impressive for a professional airport shuttle driver).  But as we pulled out of the pink parking space marked with the number 10, I knew I was in trouble.  Maggie was talking about how just three weeks ago a shuttle ran over a 13 year old girl and killed her.  Then, as we passed a mysteriously placed tree on the way out of the parking lot, she told me how and why that tree was placed there.  Then, as we passed a boy on the side of the road, she told me a story about the boy she had just made up on the spot (Maggie did not know this boy but she knew one kind of like him).  Then, as we passed a mexican restaurant on the exit ramp, she told me what we might eat there.  Burritos, margaritas.  Then, as we passed a chinese restaurant on the same exit ramp, she told me what we might eat there.  Peking duck, happy family.  And this was all within the first five minutes of our hour-long venture. 

Maggie wanted to tell me about everything we saw on the way from Atlanta to Athens.  A normal person would guess there isn't much to talk about in way of surroundings on a drive through rural Georgia (Maggie only took the backroads--no highways for her).  But not Maggie.  Maggie found a way to talk about every non-notable object we passed and still managed to ruminate about the weather, George Bush's shoe incident in Afghanistan (yes, i know it was in Iraq, but Maggie didn't), her favorite instrumental rendition of "Silent Night" which we heard four times on our journey, and the constantly adjusted temperature inside the moving white penitentiary. 

Halfway through the journey I decided I must take matters into my own passive-aggressive hands.  I very loudly pulled out my neck-hugging travel pillow, yawned, stretched, and pretended to fall asleep.  It was working!!  Maggie was humming quietly, as if to help lull me to sleep!! 

45 seconds later, she was commenting on the paint job of a honda driving alongside us. 

My family failed me this Christmas.  But I guess it could be worse.  I could have to spend the holidays with Maggie.  

Yours, 

a jetlagged yeldah (there was no time change but I couldn't think of another negative word related specifically to traveling)

P.S.

http://www.ajc.com/news/content/shared-gen/ap/Feature_Stories/ODD_Hitler_Cake.html

Prescription, or pervert?

I have very concerning news.  I write this post out of concern for my fellow bloggers, as they might not yet know the corrupt nature of our resident "doctor".  I write this post in an attempt to use the intra-net for good, unlike those (the doctor) who use it for their own selfish fetishes.  I have been suspicious for days, even weeks now, but I didn't feel it was my place to reveal the true merit (or lack thereof) of this PhD we call our Doc. 

I first grew suspicious when I read a very disturbing blog the Doc had written about some missing candy articles, namely a reeces peanut-butter cup.  I thought it odd that somebody we turn to for medical advice was filling the empty white space of our blog page with his woes about a missing piece of chocolate.  I found it even more upsetting that he placed immediate blame upon his own kin when it was blatantly obvious from the beginning his rodent kitten CoCo (I know it's spelled with two "k's"but I don't agree and it's my post) had the sweet tooth. 

Then, as if my suspicion about the scruples of this so called professional hadn't reached their utmost potential, I called my mother.  And she proceeded to tell me that Michael Stolte, d.d.s, had contacted her via email.  He had attempted to use cyberspace to woo and emotionally capture my dear, dear Momma Suze.  When I confronted him about their interaction, he proceeded to describe their conversation in detail, informing me that the bulk of their discourse involved him asking her to define the "birds and bees".  

The scariest part of this story is that I think she may be falling for it...for him.  She hates that cat, she has insulted it many times, and yet she continues to send emails across hundreds of electronic miles to reach the doctor.  I am afraid he is prescribing my mom unusual remedies, in the form of whispers and soft nudges.  Please, please....be advised.  

Concerned daughter and grossed out patient, 

Yeldah

Let Us Reflect

Your Weekly List of Things to Consider:

1) Christmas is in two and a half weeks!

2) This is the first year that I have not compiled a Christmas List.

3) I recently received a letter in the mail. It read, "Merry Christmas, from the Financial Crisis."

BAH HUM BUG.

And 4) Right now, a woman is crying and pleading somewhere on my street. I don't know what she's saying. The other night, some girl was screaming horrible screams and the cops came riding in. What a terrifying thing, W. 10 is at night!