Cassie’s in a mood this week! She riffs on the death of modern civility
“Good evening, idiot hookers.” That is one of my favorite lines from the new show Scream Queens. Not to spoil anything, but what they did to Ariana Grande I have thought about doing to her a thousand times. Oh my Gaga, that poor deaf Taylor Swift girl. If you haven’t watched it yet, you just gotta. It’s so awful … but in a good way.
This week I thought I would share things that have been bothering the shit out of me lately. As I write this, I would like you to picture me as ventriloquist Jeff Dunham’s dummy Walter. Add a big red wig but without the hand up my ass … this time. If you don’t know what Walter looks like, Google him — I will wait.
First off, to the people who have decided to turn smoking into some kind of performance piece, we get it, you vape. I don’t have a problem with vaping or people who vape if you show common courtesy while doing so. I have a problem with these asshats that use these super-vaping things that make you look like you are attached to a fog machine on a dancefloor in hell. One guy in JR.’s last week was creating so much damn “vapor” that it looked like a smoke bomb had gone off, and it smelled like Redbull. He was so proud of how cool he thought he looked. Not only did he just look douche, but between his Red Bull-scented vape and his Axe body spray, I thought I was going to throw up.
To the people that walk to their car in a busy parking lot, get in their car, start it, put it in reverse and then decide to sit and stare at your phone: Go to hell. Go directly to hell. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200. This has happened to me three times in the past two months. When did people become so damn self-absorbed? They have such a lack of empathy for their fellow man. I swear, I was about to have a Fried Green Tomatoes moment and ram their car and their stupid face into oblivion. It is people like those assholes that would benefit from the three-day waiting period to buy a gun. Usually by the third day I’m not mad anymore. Usually.
To the people that make TV shows, can you please just end the show before it just gets ridiculously stupid? I am talking to you, Under the Dome and Lost. So many shows start off strong and then, because they do well in the ratings and make money, they think, let’s see how long we can drive this cash train. I would rather have one or two strong, well-written seasons than 10 seasons of watered-down, confusing crap. I loved Smallville, but c’mon, Clark should have flown by season three. The last few seasons were just painful, but I watched them because I am a loyal idiot viewer.
I also have an unhealthy amount of rage when it comes to electronic devices not working right. When my DVR or Netflix puts up the logo saying that “signal has been lost,” or “please re-enter password,” I want to punch someone in the throat. Slow WiFi when I am trying to read something gossipy or important makes me feel like an angry cartoon character turning red and blowing steam out of my ears. Don’t get me started on the stop and start action of a YouTube video I am trying to show someone. Even the word “buffering” make me want to scream and rip the eyes off a teddy bear. I fear one day they will find my body with one hand clutching my chest and the other hand holding a smashed phone. Damn you devil devices!
To you wonderfully enthusiastic patrons that come and watch a drag show: I adore you, but if you spend the entire show trying to video the performances on your ghetto-ass phone like you are a cameraman filming the Olympics, please quit it. We see you trying to film “up” the girls’ dresses and we do not find it amusing. If you are up dancing in the aisles, at least tip the girl that has you on your feet. If you are drunk, broke and in the way, please stop it before I have to rip you a new one on the microphone. I can make you go from “fun guy dancing” to “dumb drunk asshole” with one witty quip. So don’t test me. The amateur show is every Thursday night.
While we are on the subject of being a good audience member, please don’t move the chairs. That isn’t your living room so don’t rearrange the furniture. I cannot tell you how many bruises I have gotten from walking into a moved chair or table. That spotlight is bright, so we are nearly blind — hell, some of us are actually blind. You wouldn’t rearrange the furniture at a blind person’s house. That is just mean.
There is a door outside our dressing room that goes out to the patio of Station 4. A door, like all doors, that opens and closes. So to the people that like to stand outside said door and act all butt hurt when the door opens and hits them, I have one thing to say: Move bitch get out tha way, get out tha way bitch get out tha way! It’s a freaking door!
When my husband and I go to a restaurant, the server always ask if we are paying together or separately. I always say together — no big deal. But when they bring the check they always hand it to my husband. Do I look poor or something? Do I look like I need someone to take care of me? So because he is the masculine one in the relationship he automatically pays. If that is how independent women feel on the regular, I feel you ladies. It’s annoying.
Oh, and one last thing. If someone is nice enough to book you to do a paid show, and instead of showing up you send a message 11 minutes before curtain, you are an ass. Not only did you miss out on a great opportunity, but you screwed someone else out of a booking with a check. I could have called someone else in. No tea, all shade. If you think I am talking about you, I am. Sometimes a bitch gotta put a bitch on blast. No hard feelings, I just wish people would handle things differently sometimes.
I apologize for being such a Debbie Downer this week, but it feels good to vent and get some shit off my chest. God, reading back over this I come across as an asshole. Fuck it. Toughen up, pussy. Life is hard. Winky face!
Random thoughts: How hungry was the first person to eat oysters? “Oh look, a wet rock with a loogie in it, Mmmmm.” I bet all dinosaurs were assholes. Chris Pratt and I would make pretty babies. I miss Saturday morning cartoons. Hangnails are proof that God likes to see us suffer. I am gonna need to take the day off work if anything ever happens to Betty White. I wonder which is more addictive: Trivia Crack or regular crack?
If you have anything you would like to ask me, please do. I give great advice. Next time I hopefully won’t be so moody. Maybe I got my monthly exclamation point — it’s like a period, but with a dick!
Remember to love more, bitch less and be fabulous. XOXO, Cassie Nova.
If you have a question of comment, email it to AskCassieNova@gmail.com.
This article appeared in the Dallas Voice print edition October 2, 2015.