Now I ain’t sayin’ she a gold digger…

Ok, so I’ve been sitting on this one for a few months, but something happened this morning at the gym that really sent me over the edge. I haven’t heard back from the Sac Rag Legal Department yet regarding what I can and can not say so I’ll try to be vague.

A few months ago I was shopping at my local Raley’s Supermarket when I noticed a large, (are there any other kind?) tricked out Hummer H2 parked in a handicapped parking spot (she had a placard). Hey, no judging, right? Well, as I continued on to my car to unload the groceries I saw a woman in her late 40’s, early 50’s lightly jog to said SUV and literally jump in and drive off.
Continue reading “Now I ain’t sayin’ she a gold digger…”

Gas up for less

Being raised by my dad who was born in ’29 at the start of the Great Depression and my mom who still tells tales of rationing when she was growing up during WWII, there was no other choice in my household but to be looking for the best deal. Coupon clipping, stockpiling of goods when they were on sale, and saving all rubber bands from the newspapers were a large part of my everyday life.

I abhor wastefulness, and finding a bargain on quality goods truly brings me joy.

So, when my dear friend sent me a link where I can plug in my ZIP code to find the least expensive gas in my area, how could I not share it with my SacRag brethren?

To the guy in the rust-colored Humvee

When I showed you one of my fingers, it was because you sped around me when you should have seen that I needed to get over because a bus had stopped in front of me. When you showed me one of your own fingers, I laughed, because clearly you wouldn’t have cared if I was stopping to let Ghandi cross the street. I don’t think anyone but you and I saw you then also spit on my car, but I don’t think anyone needed to see you actually do that to know that you were capable of it. I’ll go you one further: a meer glance at your car and people know you’re an a-hole. Nice one, tough guy.

Ho’s on the Light Rail

There hasn’t been much news on the Light Rail beat – just the usuall guys smoking huge fatties right in front of the police, etc. – but last night I witnessed a totally rad fight. A middle-aged business woman was getting on the train while a teeny-bopper Hallaback girl was getting off. They bumped into each other in the aisle. This prompted said Hallaback girl to go OFF, yo. She started screaming immediately (and now I will curse in the manner of Buster from Arrested Development) “F YOU, YOU B” to which the other woman simply and elegantly flipped the bird. The girl had to get off the train – it was her stop after all – but she continued yelling through the open doors, “I F-ed YOUR HUSBAND LAST NIGHT, B, AND HE PAID ME FOR IT TOO, HO!” This was repeated numerous times, louder and louder. I spent the next three stops trying to solve the riddle of whether being paid to have sex with someone’s husband wouldn’t in fact make you the “ho.” Light rail is SO much better than driving.

This one’s for all the parents

If you live or work in midtown, around the [ahem] Sutter General Hospital, you have undoubtedbly seen what my three year old daughter calls the “Mommy Bus,” the blue shuttle that makes a stop near the corner of the hospital and is emblazoned with a marketing image of a mom and baby.

Yesterday my daughter saw two of them, and here was her reaction, verbatim:

Two of them? They’re gonna fight, that’s what Daddy would say.

She knows me so well. That is exactly what I would say. But so far it hasn’t happened.

What traffic reporters don’t tell you

I’ve long lamented the fact that traffic reports/reporters in this city are almost useless to the regular driver. They don’t help you much really, when you’re already stuck in traffic. They’ll tell you you’re stuck, which you know, but don’t tell you how to get out of it, which you’d like to know. Sometimes, you just gotta learn on your own.

Recently, I found a bit of a “shortcut” – I use quotes because the route is actually a longer way around distance-wise, but it takes less time to travel during rush hour. The culprit that I try to avoid? The I-5 South connection off eastbound 50 coming from West Sacramento.

This is one spot that typically jams up, as the one lane branching off 50 East to I-5 South clogs up. What’s worse, many people won’t let you merge once the traffic comes to a standstill. If you ever find yourself in this scenario, try this solution:
Continue reading “What traffic reporters don’t tell you”

Blunts & Doobies

I’m sorry, but is 8:15 a.m. just a teensy bit early to smoke a fat one? My light rail commute this morning made me feel so old. I arrived at the 59th street stop running late and at a different stop than I usually use. There I observed a group of 6 teenagers smoking a nauseating amount of pot before walking off to school. I’m not sure if I’m was more annoyed at the smell or that they made me feel so old when I reacted with total shock that such young minds were getting so high that early in the morning. I made a joke with the business man standing beside me and he said they do it every single day there. Can anyone tell me, am I really getting old or is that maybe just the slightest bit excessive? I’m suspecting a combination since I’m also increasingly horrified by MTV. Squirty Tip, this is your chance to go off about medical marijuana, with love from yours truly.