There’s been a lot of interesting news out there lately that I feel compelled to comment on.
Let’s just get the scariest stuff out of the way. Australia is apparently still intent on trying to scare the bejesus out of me.
But it seems, Australian sharks are already chomping at the bit to chomp on some Poe toes. According to Fox News (and several other outlets):
Scientists have discovered the world’s first hybrid sharks in Australian waters, with multiple generations of the new creature found along the nation’s east coast.
Lemme just summarize here and help you all read between the lines: Australian sharks are actually mutating themselves into some sort of super shark capable of swimming over to the east coast of Australia where I will be innocently scuba diva-ing (What is the active verb of scuba dive? Is it just “diving?” That sounds right.)
See, before this disturbing news, hungry Australian sharks were a bit limited geographically. But not anymore.
Scientists say the discovery of interbred sharks could signal the presence of new “tropical” sharks in waters as far south as Sydney, The Australian reported.
Holy toothmarks, I’M going to be in Sydney!!
The scientists say interbreeding between the two shark species is a sign the animals are adapting to climate change and they also warn that hybridization could make the sharks stronger.
Stronger!!?? How much stronger does a shark need to be? They’ve already got that whole “rows-of-super-sharp-teeth,” natural killing machine advantage over me. And, even though they just got started, these special Poe nibbling sharks outnumber me already.
Fifty-seven of the marine animals were found along a 1,243-mile (2,000-km) stretch between northern New South Wales and far north Queensland, with Ovenden calling the discovery “unprecedented.”
I cannot fight off 57 sharks. I’m just gonna put that out there. I’m pretty sure I can’t even fight off one shark, unless the smell of grown woman urine in the water somehow puts sharks off. Because I will pee myself, is what I’m promising here.
Also on my resolutions list? Do “not stab anyone in the bootie (or anywhere else).” I should have said I also want to avoid getting stabbed in the bootie, a resolution that will be made even easier by the fact that the Virginia Butt Slasher has fled the country. My friend Kelly sent me this important news bulletin:
A man sought in a bizarre series of buttock slashings that targeted young women at busy Fairfax County shopping malls has fled to his native Peru, police said Wednesday.
Authorities are exploring whether Johnny D. Guillen Pimentel, 40, can be extradited to stand trial in the United States, but he has not been taken into custody, said Lucy Caldwell, a county police spokeswoman.
Caldwell said that Guillen Pimentel arrived in Peru about mid-December but that it was unclear whether he had gone there directly from the United States or how he had left this country. He is believed to be staying in Lima, the nation’s capital.
Alright then, let’s get that extradition ball a-rollin’! This man needs to be punished to the full extent of the long arm of the law. Let’s not forget the victims here: women across Northern Virginia with scars on their posteriors.
Also, the whole incident has earned Pimental a catchy new nickname:
Guillen Pimentel’s arrival in Peru generated headlines in a number of media outlets, which dubbed him a “corta nalgas,” or buttocks slasher.
Not on my resolutions list but totally should be: Crashing a gypsy wedding. Well, we might be able to make that one happen this year.
My friend Linda sent me this story a couple of weeks ago.
First the armadillos were coming to D.C., now the gypsies have hit our fine city. And they’re hanging out in the snootiest part of D.C. – Georgetown.
Suddenly, the small, cluttered clothing and accessories store became overwhelmed by a group of women, half a dozen of them, either pregnant or with little children, all speaking in a thick accent she discerned as Irish. They were so intense they scared her, especially when they began to tear through her clothing racks.
Y’all know I love me some gypsies. They’re like my Irish or Roma white trash cousins. And like me, they love to frequent our fair city’s fine boutiques. And…Betsy Johnson stores.
Mo Aliyan, a manager at Betsy Johnson, says the hits by the Irish groups started “in the past four or five months.” He says they come often, “maybe once a week, a group as large as seven, and they range in age from 9 years old to 60 years old. They are either pregnant or have children with them.” Like Johnson, he describes them as having long hair and Irish accents, and adds, “You would notice them a mile away from the way they dress.”
Yep, sure can. They dress a little, shall we say, provocatively.
I love how terrified all these Georgetown boutique owners are of these girls.
He calls them “professional criminals,” but says that so far, “none of the ready-to-wear has gone missing,” perhaps because store staffers are usually able to catch them before that happens. “We’ve never had to call the police because we have a security guard. They know not to mess with us,” he says.
Sometimes they do shop, paying with cash or credit cards. What’s always the same is that they arrive as a posse, loud and chaotic. “The first time they came, in I was so scared because there are so many of them,” Krista Johnson recalls. “They scream at you, and the babies scream.”
I’m dying to know if they are hitting up any bridal boutiques.
Funny sidenote: When you Google “Irish travellers in DC,” the first thing that pops up is a TripAdvisor Forum thread that says “Irish Travellers need holiday itinerary hints.” Suggestions include forests, wineries (not sure that’s a good idea), Myrtle Beach, Outer Banks, Atlanta, Savannah, Charleston, basically, anywhere BUT DC.