Smartassbian

Our "Abusive" Link

2010-09-23T14:17:00.000-07:00

It was recently brought to my attention that our facebook link, the one that includes our website address for donations towards my travel expenses to England, was reported as abusive by an empty headed socially inept retard! This sterling individual does not have the brains god gave a tick, or they would have been aware that they could simply hide our posts from the feed by hitting the confusingly named "hide" button when accosted by our irritating and annoying link.
The part that gets us, is we stopped playing Mafia Wars and got rid of all the people we thought we didn't know, or didn't consider "friends". Oopsie, guess one or both of us missed one discrete, hateful, malicious, foul smelling, ugly bedraggled slag! We request that the scum sucking oxygen thief please come forward whenever you are finished ridding the world of nasty emboldened homosexuals in need of help, so that we may treat you with the appropriate level of contempt. We would like to present you with a plaque for your tireless efforts in proving yourself to be a colossal thundering fucknugget! If you lack the moral fiber to take ownership of your handiwork, at least have the decency, and I know that's asking a lot, to remove us as friends, and go forth in short jerky movements.

People Can Surprise You!

2010-09-01T18:06:00.001-07:00

Lately I've had some rather heated interactions with strangers... I know I'm frustrated and stressed out, but I wondered what I'm putting out into the universe to deserve the kind of reactions I've been getting.

I was at a quick stop type gas station recently, and when I went to pay at the pump, I was asked to swallow a 45 cent "convenience" fee on top of paying for the liquid gold I was about to pump. I was not impressed, but decided to authorize the charge anyway. I chose my grade, pulled the trigger and nothing came out. Was I supposed to lift a handle, push another button, do the hokey-pokey?...I could not find anything I'd missed, but still, no gas.

I walked across the parking lot and inside. I complained to one of the clerks behind the counter that the gas wouldn't pump, and I felt I should be reimbursed my "convenience" fee, since coming inside to pay, was what I'd paid to avoid having to do!

He was very condescending, and said he'd come out to see what was wrong, so I don't need to get all upset over nothing. He repressed the button, inserted the pump, squeezed the trigger and the gas started to flow. "See, nothing wrong. You were all upset over nothing. You need to calm down." Telling me to calm down, has the same effect as setting my hair on fire. He started to walk away and I pulled the trigger...nothing.

"So, what's wrong now?" I said, "Did I hurt it's feelings?"

He came back tried again, and this time it didn't work for him either. "Nothing...right? Can you at least admit that there is something wrong with this pump, and that charging me for a convenience I did not get is wrong?" I chided.

"You can't go around getting ALL upset at people just because you're having a bad day!" he sneered as he fiddled frantically with the trigger. The gas started to flow once again. "There!" his snotty tone rang out, "I'm not here to pump your gas!" He began to storm away again.

Once again, I attempted to resume pumping gas, and once again the pump did not work. "Clearly it's broken" I shouted after him, he was a good 30 feet away from me now. "I'd like my convenience fee back!"

He wheeled around just outside the door of the store, and began to yell at me from across the parking lot about how I'm a bitch and should take my business elsewhere etc. etc. Everyone at all three islands had now stopped what they were doing, and were looking and listening to him, and me. I hung up the pump, started the bike, and rode off, all while he was still yelling.

Then, about a week later: I had been parking my truck a few streets away for about a week, until I had the money to make a payment, and call the bank to set it up. It was "Out for repossession" and losing it would completely hobble any ability I have to make money. I found a place that was discrete and not in front of anyone's house. It was beside a fence, and I was still using it, but I had to make a short bike ride to and from the truck when I did. It's not an old broken down clunker, it's in very good condition, but it is large. One day, I went to go get it, I was putting my bike in the back, when the woman who lives across the street from where I was parking it, drove up unrolled her window and said, "You've been dumping your truck here in front of my house, and you have Massachusetts plates, and they're expired, so I called the police, and they're going to come give you a ticket."

I didn't realize the tags has expired, but I replied, "Where do you live? Over there?" I pointed to where I knew she lived. "Yes" she snapped back.

"And you own this property over here too?" I inquired.

"No, but you've been dumping your truck here, and I reported you!" She said so snottily, I almost offered her a tissue.

"Well, that was nice of you." I replied. "You have a great day!" I said with more sarcasm than is allowed by law.

"I reported you!" she regurgitated. She pulled away, and I, hoping she was looking in the rear view, flipped her off.

I left upset and feeling like if this is how my day was going to be, I might as well just go back to bed. I began to think about what would have happened if the police had gotten to the truck before I did. They would have impounded it. I would not have been able to afford getting it out of impound, as I'd just given all the money I had to the bank the day before, so they would stop wanting to take it back from me. I would have been out the payment, and still not had a vehicle. I would not have been able to deliver the furniture I'd been working on for weeks, and would have had no way to get materials for another project. All I could think about was what a fecking busy-body ball-busting bitch she was! How was my truck parked across the street hurting her? How great must her life be, that that is all she has to worry about? But then I thought, how empty and crappy her life must be that she has to create drama, and try to hurt others to make herself feel better, and I decided that feeling sorry for her was more appropriate.

Anyway, after having some rough interactions and losing a measure of fondness and respect for my fellow humans, troubled by what an ugly place the world has become, I created a website to shamelessly beg for help in my quest to get to the one human I hope to grow old with, and much my surprise and delight, people have regained my faith. People I have never met in person, and a few that I have, have seen fit to contribute to the noble cause of helping two people who love one another overcome financial obstacles, and start their lives together. We have had the website up for less than 48 hours, and have already made $128.00, 9% of our goal! I am so glad that I decided to give people the opportunity to shine. What has really been surprising is that the people who have the least, are the ones who've been giving the most! It's an amazing phenomenon! I'm not one for asking for help, and it does not come naturally, or comfortably to me, but for some things, it's worth going outside your comfort zone.

If you would like to track our progress, or make a donation, I have put a link up in the sidebar! If you'd like to check out the website, go to ( http://gettracytocaroline.weebly.com ) I ask you to give if you can, and only what is comfortable for you. At this point we've had 21o unique visitors to the website, and if everyone who visited had given just $1.00, we'd be almost double where we are. We appreciate any gift, and will undoubtedly send wedding invitations to all donors! If we hit the lotto, we'll send plane tickets too!

The REAL Letter to Ellen...

2010-08-20T16:05:00.000-07:00

I had to condense my original letter which was pretty nice, down to 1500 words or fewer, that includes spaces! So...Here is the abridged version that I actually did send to Ellen today. There was a "Dear Ellen" at the top, but I had to cut it! LOL

Four years ago, I had it all. When the economy went down it took me with it, my home, my business, everything. Since then, I have fallen in love and become engaged to a wonderful woman, Caroline. She lives in England, and I am in California. She can’t live here legally, but I can go there. I am working hard to make that happen, and although things are tough, I have received a lot of help from my friends.

Elizabeth has let me live in her home, and sacrificed half her garage to let me have a work-shop for the past year and a half RENT FREE, and I feel my debt to her is enormous. I often think “there but for the grace of god go I” when I see homeless people.

Tauni spent $600 on veterinary care for my dog Winston, to get him what he needs to be able to travel to the UK without being quarantined for 6 months. She has also hired me to do some work for her, and insisted on paying when I’d have done it for nothing.

Faye and Sarah have sent me $200 American cash, through the post from England so that I could get my passport application in, and I never asked them for a thing. They are both currently unemployed, and with two kids, six cats, and a dog, it might as well have been $2000!

Even though my life is really hard right now, between Caroline, and my friends, I have never felt so lucky! I am going to find a way to get to Caroline, and marry her, but if you could help me thank the people who’ve given so much to help me, it would be incredible!

Kindest regards, Tracy

The 5th C

2010-08-03T01:00:00.000-07:00

Some of you may recall, or may have to go back and read my post about The Four C's. These were determined by a very happy long-term couple I know, as the key ingredients to a successful relationship. They are Communication, Compatibility, Chemistry and Comedy. I have met my match, and her name is Caroline.

It was exactly one year ago today that I met the woman with whom I plan to spend the rest of my life. Well, technically we didn't really meet. We had been interacting, checking each other out, looking through pictures, and flirting on facebook for a bit, when on this day, the 4th of August, we both decided we wanted something more. We began a simultaneous pursuit, we both seemed to feel this pull, or push, or some kind of force driving us toward each other. It was the beginning of the serious 'let's get to know each other' phase. I like to think that we both knew that the other was destined to become important in our lives.

Although we are having a hell of time merging our lives, it is a fight we are both fully invested in, and we will not stop until our goal of marrying, and living together full time, is achieved.

Our story: We met on facebook playing a game called Mafia Wars. We both joined a group that was created to help gay people who play MW meet and support one another. We were both fairly new to the game and were trying to invite as many people as we could to join our mafias, to try to reach the magic number of 501. I noticed her profile picture, and went to her page to check her out. She was definitely cute, and her status was "in a relationship". Awww.... too bad.

A few weeks later, she posted pictures of a new tattoo she'd gotten, a tramp stamp, my favorite! She took the photo in a mirror, in her underwear, so you could see the tatt. I clicked on the picture, again drawn to the eye candy...I clicked through her photos, she was so my type! Then I got to her profile, and her status had changed to "single". My heart skipped a beat. I didn't think about the fact that she lived in another country and we had an ocean between us. I immediately went back to the picture of the tattoo and the adorable butt, and left a comment about how nice it was, and how I liked the tattoo as well. There was a period of flirting that followed, and she seemed very keen on returning my attention. I had started a second account, so I flirted with that one too, and even though I hadn't tried to hide the fact that both were me, she didn't seem to realize it at first, and she was not as flirtatious with the other me, which made the real me pretty happy. Do you follow?

Finally the day arrived that we began to inbox, and exchanged emails and began the real process of getting to know each other better. Since then, we've laughed a lot, determined in person that our chemistry online was not limited to cyberspace, discovered how much we have in common, and that we can work through difficult issues. We've enjoyed over 623 Skype hours, 3419 emails 655 text messages, a bunch of IM's and phone calls, and here we are, more in love than ever! Happy Anniversary Baby!

The "Funny" Thing Is...

2010-07-22T16:14:00.000-07:00

About five years ago, I made some major life changes. I quit my job with a company I'd been with for nine years, ended a relationship I'd been in for ten, sold my half of the house to my ex, and set off to the other side (the wrong side) of the country to start a new life, and a new business doing what I love. I was filled with unflinching optimism. I would be successful. I would find a woman, we would fall in love, and live happily ever after.

I had a lot of money, and my plan was to remain flexible, and see where life would take me. I wanted very much after working for years and never having a *real vacation, to finally do something I've always wanted to do, like take an Olivia cruise, or adventure trip. The problem was I had no one to go with me. Some of my friends suggested I go alone, assuring me that lots of women did, and that I might meet someone on the trip.

"Yes, I'd meet someone...from Montana!" I'd reply. "I'm not getting into some long distance thing!"

I found lots of ways to squander my money, bought third row theater tickets on Broadway three days before a show, bought my sister a motorcycle, bought myself a cool little sports car. A neat trailer for the trip across the country etc. The list goes on.

Those of you who read my blog know that things did not turn out the way I'd planned, as they rarely do. The funny thing is, now I'm living back in the house I no longer own part of, and I am in love with someone who lives in another country. See how I stuck to my guns on that long distance thing? But the real kicker is the money! I now have a dog that I rescued, who needs ACL surgery, which I can't afford. I need money for a passport, a visa, a plane ticket for both me and my dog. Money for all the medical he needs so he won't be quarantined, and enough to get my bankruptcy filed, so I don't have to pay the bank for the house I couldn't afford to keep. I owe my ex, and very good friend, an untold amount for letting me live with her rent free for a year and a half. I barely make my truck payment, and insurance, and phone each month, and was at the Coin Star Machine with my piggy bank just last week, so I could eat.

My girlfriend, bless her heart, has sent me a few bucks here and there when I'm in a real pinch, and she has also managed to save money that we'll need for a down-payment and first month on whatever place we find to live in, once I get to England.

The worst part of it all came Monday, when my sweetheart collapsed at work and was out cold for at least 15 minutes. She was rushed to the hospital, where they told her she had a migraine and sent her home, even though she has a history that includes a brain hemorrhage. They didn't do a scan because they don't give a rat's ass, and we can't make them care. She has used up her yearly allocation of privatized care with a shoulder injury, so now we need money to make sure she's alright, and can live until next year's insurance kicks in.

We are trapped apart from each other until I can sell my tools and whatever else I have left. I can't help her, or myself. I am cursed with hindsight, and spend the days agonizing over all the careless ways I threw my money around, like it was inexhaustible.

I guess there really IS no funny part! Sorry.

*real vacation: One you don't spend at home working, or going to visit family.

Troubling Song Lyrics...

2010-05-20T13:18:00.000-07:00

Okay, So this is a cute song in a bubble gum poppy dance club kind of way, but if you listen to the lyrics, there is one line that is beyond explanation: "But we kick em to the curb unless they look like Mick Jagger"

Jagger does rhyme with swagger, I get it.... But seriously? If you saw a guy that looked like Mick Jagger, but was definitely NOT Mick Jagger, in say...a bowling alley or something, that would be a good thing? I understand that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but I think even Mick Jagger knows if he wasn't a rich and famous rock star, he'd be paying for sex, or desperately hoping to get some Carny drunk enough to do him just before she vomits and passes out.

For Cody

2010-05-14T13:01:00.000-07:00

Cody Steven Smartassbian: Jan 5, 1996 - May 14, 2010

Cody was an adorable pup who stole my heart, and after an hour or so of begging and pleading, came to live with me and his other, more reluctant at first, mother. Cody was smart and was house-trained in record time, but his puppy-hood was not without the occasional snag. There was the sofa he ate, and the fact that he liked to eat his own poo. We heard that if we sprinkled cayenne pepper on his poo, it would break him of the habit, however it only succeeded in developing his taste for spicy food.

Cody was an adventurer, going on countless hikes, rock climbing jaunts, cross country skiing, and camping trips. He even went down the rapids in a two-man kayak. He kayaked the waters of Lake Tahoe and traversed many trails in the Tahoe National Forest among other places. He lived on both coasts. He had an amazing sense of direction and smell, and could always take you back to the starting point or the car, no matter how lost you thought you were.

When visiting the various dog parks in the LA area as a young dog, Cody felt compelled to visit every person at the park. He loved people. He was only interested in playing with the dogs that could surely kill him in an instant! He would get in the car with any stranger, and was lucky enough to be petted by Melissa Etheridge.

When I got upset about something, or lost my temper, making most everyone and everything around me, want to get away, Cody always came to me...wondering what was wrong. This had the strangest calming effect on me, that no person could have ever had.

Cody was a clean dog, choosing to walk around mud, not through it. He loved cheese and cheese popcorn. He loved to chase bunnies, and actually caught one once, much to my dismay. He never bit anyone, or got into a fight with another animal. He could, and would, remove the squeaker from a new toy with surgical precision with the first 5 minutes of ownership. He was well behaved, and once trained, no longer needed to be kept on a leash. He loved to have his back end just above his tail scratched, and would let you pet his head, only to reposition himself under you hand, until you were scratching his butt.

Full grown he weighed 34 pounds. People often said he looked like a Dingo. The kind that ate your baby. Cody was a wonderful companion, and an easy dog to care for and love. He developed a tumor in March which grew from the size of a marble to the size of large grapefruit in about 8 weeks. This eventually grew to impede his ability to chew and was encroaching on his ability to breathe. Today, his other mother and I took him to the vet and held him as we watched his life end with a minimum of discomfort to him.

Cody will be missed.

Olympic Criticism

2010-02-26T12:34:00.000-08:00

I think there should be an Olympics for criticism. I have lots of it! The one thing that is sticking in my craw at the moment, is the female figure skaters. Not that they aren't wonderful, they are, but the costumes are, for lack of a better word, repugnant!

Skating outfits have always been a little "off". But please, with all the attention to detail in their routines, is it too much to expect their legs to match their arms? What is with the skin tone on these outfits? The legs are always 4 shades darker than the torso and arms, and I don't understand why. To say nothing of the ridiculous frilly skirts that spend all kinds of time flying up over their butts, and distracting everyone from the actual skating.

The skaters train hard and have gorgeous bodies. The lines they make while skating are captivating, and even more so if you can actually see them! That's why the men are so much fun to watch. There was one woman in the pairs skating that wore a suit that really showed her lines and made her fun to watch. I for one would love to see a shift in women's skating to this type of outfit. If this isn't the future of women's figure skating, I do hope they'll at least think about making their bodies appear to belong to one person! So I can stop worrying that the bottom half will take off in a different direction from the top!

Surely this is a gold medal criticism, and they will be playing my song when I decide which country I want to represent. The place where I was born, or the place I'm going because they haven't made laws based on letting me know I'm not worthy of the same civil rights as my heterosexual superiors, but I can still enjoy paying the same amount of taxes just the same! Hmmm....

Stray Thoughts

2009-12-30T15:34:00.000-08:00

Christmas is over, and the new year is nearly upon us. I spent this Christmas enjoying the hospitality of friends, as I am thousands of miles from my family. I had a much better time than I expected to have at both celebrations I attended, but what stuck with me was a conversation I didn't have with a very nice man, and why.

Is it just me or does everyone wonder why some people seem to refuse to curb their errant hair? If there is one thing I cannot stand to see its long flowing nose hair. The other things are ear hair that seems to be doubling as a wind sock, or eyebrow hairs several inches long... Really people, get a grip! Are you really that lazy, or just oblivious? Renegade hairs have always been a favorite pet peeve of mine. As far as your body hair goes, do what you like if I don't have to see it. Your head however is in the public eye.

The guy I was busy not listening to in the kitchen was blathering on about something or other, while I couldn't seem to pull my focus from his nose which had long straggly hairs on the bridge. He was so close to it with his razor only hours ago, yet there it was. As he spoke, I wondered if he felt it was a positive feature, or if he was afraid having a nose free of hair would make people regard him as effeminate, or possibly he'd be swamped by people asking if he was a swimmer. The other thought burrowing through my brain like an ambition drunk tequila worm was, How is that hair not in his field of vision? I know when I have even just a little flake of dead skin on my nose I can see it. This clump of unruliness must have had the effect of making everyone look as if they are sitting in a tuft of hair.

I began to wonder if its just me and my progressively pronounced OCD, or if it's a mystery to others as well. Then I remembered working with a guy almost twenty years ago, who had facial hair that grew clear up to his eyes, but he stopped shaving at the usual beard area, and let the hair above that flourish, as if someone had made him a template to follow years ago, and told him never to go outside those lines. That reminded me, I've always been this way. To the all the people who feel they should not disturb god's work, and let their hair grow wild and free, chances are good, I'm not listening to a word you say! Happy New Year!

My Blood Boilith Over...

2009-11-24T14:59:00.001-08:00

The Green Card: How to get one. I thought the obvious solution was marriage. I was unhappy about the prospect of leaving California, but willing to make the sacrifice to be with the woman I love. I did some research and found this!

"Although gay marriage is legal in Massachusetts, Connecticut, Iowa, Vermont and New Hampshire starting Jan 1st of 2010, you are not allowed to sponsor a spouse for a green card unless they are of the opposite sex. "

Really? Is "WTF?" the proper response to that? I don't know how to react, I find I'm filled with rage! Is it just me?

I have to wonder why my girlfriend and I could live happily ever after quite easily if only one of us had a penis. Other than one of us having a penis attached, the options are; She could get a temporary work visa if her job skills are in demand here. Well, since no one's job skills are in demand here, and I've been out of work for about a year now, I don't see that happening.

The other way is political asylum. She would not have to prove the government was guilty of mistreatment, only that they aren't protecting her from abuse, based on her orientation. Seems difficult.

There is one other way they don't mention, but you have to have money. It seems a green card like everything else is easily obtained by the rich. If she bought a large enough share in an American company they would automatically award her with a shiny green card! However if we had that much money, we'd be shopping for a villa in Tuscany, so...who cares!

I believe the percentage of taxes I pay should be in direct proportion to the percentage of rights I have in this country. Why the fuck should my taxes be subsidizing a marriage tax break for people enjoying the rights I can't have?

This whole thing just seems ridiculous to me! *Storms off in a huff! *

A Letter To Ellen...(First Draft)

2009-10-29T21:20:00.000-07:00

Dear Ellen,

You don't me, but I know you. I have fallen on hard times, but that's not new or unusual these days. I write because I have a dream, and I need your help making it a reality.

Some Background: About five years ago, I resigned from my corporate career to start my own business. I am an artist, and I'd finally figured out what I wanted to be when I grew up, or at least narrowed it down. I started my home remodeling business, but designing and building custom furniture, both free standing and built-ins was my passion. I moved from California to New England, where I'm from originally, because I had a big job there to start off with. I bought a house and built a workshop. Things started off pretty well. I got lots of referral business and repeat business, and it looked like I was going to make it. I don't have to tell you what happened next. I had taken on too much debt, and business ground to a halt. I lived alone with my dogs, neither of them had a job! The good that came out of it was I got to move back to California! The not so good, my house went into foreclosure, I had to sell my flawless Indian Chief motorcycle, and I went into a deep depression. My life's savings including my 401K depleted.

The Present: I have been back in Sacramento looking for work since mid February, and aside from a little home-handyman stuff here and there, I've found nothing. That's not why I'm writing you.

The Dream: I'm writing you because after 48 years of life, I have finally found the love of my life in Caroline Welsh. I have always believed in true love, and thought it must be out there somewhere, and now I know I was right. Here's where it gets sticky. Caroline lives in Cambridge, England. We are trying to figure out a way for her to come here and live with me. I would marry her, but it seems the people of California are not done with bigotry as the state pastime. For her part, she has quit smoking and uses the money she would have spent on cigarettes, on airfare to come visit me. We want to make a life and grow old together, is that asking too much?

The Shameless Begging: I know as influential as you are, there is still probably nothing you can do in an afternoon to make marriage legal for everyone, but maybe you could find a job for Caroline, so she can get her green card. She is currently a security guard for Huntsman International. She's good at guarding things, so maybe you need your studio, or parking space, or bike rack, guarded by a top notch guard. She's practically a ninja! A job for me as well, would be a bonus!

The Reality: Ellen, I know you'd help if you could, so please don't feel bad if you can't. I think you like helping others as much as I hate asking for help. If it were just me, I'd just take my lumps, but I'll do anything for the woman I love.

The Kissing Up: I'm a huge fan and have been ever since I first saw you do stand on HBO in 1989. You are so uplifting, and I watch you everyday while I get my exercise rowing on an erg. Keep up the good work!

Sincerely, Red Mojo

PS. Find a video I made for Caroline attached, with our heads photo-shopped onto your and Portia's bodies.

Does Everything Happen For A Reason?

2009-08-25T17:36:00.000-07:00

Yes, yes it does!

No doubt some of you recall the post a couple months ago about hearts and women and opportunites thrown away or lost. At my lowest low I wrote a very funny, but very wise friend about my dilemma, and this was her reply:

"Just say no to anti-depressants. If you're torn between two women, neither one is the right one. Leave them both and drop the pills. This Dr Phil moment has been brought to you by Paxil."

I did not like hearing that at the time, but knew deep down that she probably was right. Since that time, I have gone off the anti-depressants and met the woman I intend to marry. This may be news to her, so baby, if you're reading this...wait! Come back!

Yes, I do believe that things happen for a reason. I do believe that my belief all these years in true love, was not in vane. I am happy! What I mean to say is... I AM HAPPY!!! I have found what I was beginning to think I never would. I am in love and it feels wonderful. I have no doubts, and no fear. Now all I need is a job.

Job Search...Ridiculous Add!

2009-08-11T18:45:00.000-07:00

Here is the add as posted:

Painter needed for small 2 story home in north highlands. Home must be pressure washed, all loose paint scraped off with a wire brush and repainted. Exterior only. This is work for a licensed contractor. Flat price of $500 cash for the job. I will supply the body paint, trim paint, and $30 for tape, plastic, etc. All fascia, window and door trim to be trim paint. Must show proof of license and insurance.

Location: North Highlands
Compensation: $500 cash labor only flat rate
Principals only. Recruiters, please don't contact this job poster.
Please, no phone calls about this job!
Please do not contact job poster about other services, products or commercial interests.

I am looking for work, and I do paint houses inside and out. Last summer for instance, I painted a 2 story historical home in Connecticut. I power washed, and scraped, and sanded, and primed, and painted, and had to hire a helper to schlep the scaffolding around with me, and feed the paint hose, etc. The customer bought the paint, I supplied the tape and plastic. And I charged him $10,000.00. That was a good price. This is joke!

I responded to the add in this manner:

Hi, I saw your add in Craigslist for a licensed insured contractor to supply all the labor to wash, scrape and paint your two story home. I think you might have forgotten a zero on the compensation, and may want to correct the add.

If you have not forgotten a zero, I would be glad to do the work for you, but as well as supplying the paint and $30 for plastic and tape, you'll also need to supply the labor. If this is acceptable to you, please contact me regarding payment arrangements.

No Country For Old Men : A Review

2009-07-27T00:38:00.000-07:00

(The fourth row: right right up right left up down down. )

This is not a timely review, just a review...mainly because, I feel like I have to say something!

Okay, if you haven't seen this movie yet, and you still think you want to, I am going to spoil the plot, but not the movie...that has been done for you already. I watched this film, mostly because of all the Oscar nominations, and found it...Unworthy!

Here is a partial write up by By Ilari Valbonesi on January 17th, 2008:

"The story begins when Llewelyn Moss (BROLIN) finds a pickup truck surrounded by a sentry of dead men. A load of heroin and two million dollars in cash are still in the back.
When Moss takes the money, he sets off a chain reaction of catastrophic violence that not even the law – in the person of aging, disillusioned Sheriff Bell (JONES) – can contain. As Moss tries to evade his pursuers – in particular a mysterious mastermind who flips coins for human lives (BARDEM) – the film simultaneously strips down the American crime drama and broadens its concerns to encompass themes as ancient as the Bible, and as bloodily contemporary as this morning’s headlines."

Well, maybe Ilari and I didn't watch the same movie. The money wasn't still in the back, it was really kinda far away from the whole mess of dead men, dogs and pick-ups.
The mysterious "mastermind" is a smart but awkward bad guy, often lugging around a giant cylinder of compressed air, who remains eerily calm during the whole thing, talking, killing, performing surgeory on himself...no emotion, no acting really, unless you count acting bored out of your skull like you're standing in line at the DMV, acting.

I must've blinked when the biblical themes came up, unless it related to how you're not supposed to kill...what's that one...?

The worst part was about three quarters of the way through the movie, the hero, gets killed. Maybe I like my movies too formulaic, but for me, when the hero dies, the story's over. But the movie went on. The sheriff discussed growing old, and the wife of the hero was killed, because the "mastermind" told the dead guy he'd do it, and didn't want to break his promise, I guess. Then the killer was in a car crash with someone who ran a red light, but paid a kid for his shirt, which he used to support his arm, and limped away before the police got there.
At the end the sheriff is telling his (I'm guessing here) wife, that he dreamt about his dad last night, he talked about the dreams...the end.

We are left not knowing what happened to the money. Wondering why the movie didn't end when it ended, only to go on to this disconnected stopping point. It almost felt like, they didn't really know how to end it, and someone working on a different movie walked by the room, and dropped some notes on the floor. Someone courteously retrieved them, but the rushing figure was already around the corner, out of sight, so they used what was there as the ending.

Maybe it was supposed to be more like real life then your typical movie, but I live in real life, and that's not why I watch movies.

The Small Print

2009-07-17T23:41:00.000-07:00

This is an add for a dating site. This picture, under the heading: "Is She Out There?"

Wow!

Is She?

Good Add!

Makes me want to join!

Then you get to the part where it inevitably says something like, 'Not typical of the singles in your area' or ' Your results may vary' or 'hahahaha, gotcha!'

Oh well, good add though.

A little help please...

2009-07-08T11:00:00.000-07:00

Came to blow the dust off my blog. I have neglected it terribly. It's not that I don't want to write, or share, I've just been a little hung up.

Without going into too much detail, let's just say that when you're "on the fence" between two women, if you take too long to jump to one side or the other, you might just slip and fall, impaling yourself there, and feeling the life slip from your body as you watch them both disappear from view. I hope that wasn't too metaphorical!

I find myself wading through the psychological minefield, of being unemployed for months, unable to pay my bills or support myself. Feeling like a burden, having a broken heart, in two places, and hating my own guts. Now might not be the best time to stop taking the anti-depressants.

I'm finding that I've grown sick of feeling sorry for myself, and sick of the impostor that seems to have inhabited my shell. I don't know who she is, and I don't like her! I want my life back!

I need the me that is in perpetual motion. The one that can't sit still. The one that moves mountains everyday, as a matter of course. The fearless one, who bets it all on herself. Where is she? The search has begun. I'll keep you posted!

Job Hunting vs. Starvation

2009-04-21T11:58:00.000-07:00

I don't mind working at all, but looking for a job is the worst torture known to mankind. First, there's updating the resume. If you're fortunate, you have a copy of the last resume you used, and you can just add the newest information to it. If you're like me, and you're on your third laptop since the last job hunt, you have nothing, and have to start at the beginning.

How much job history do they need? They probably don't need to know I was a lifeguard when I was 18, but my job, before I started my own company, lasted ten years. So that's two jobs in the last fourteen years. But two jobs on your resume looks a little...empty. Should I stretch that information with lots of detail, or go further back into stuff that really doesn't apply? What does apply?

I've jumped from the middle of one ladder to the bottom of the next over and over again. I'm a fidgety employee. I've worn many hats. I pick things up quickly, and when I'm really good at them, I get bored and want to try something else. I've gone from waiting tables and tending bar, to soldiering, then electronics and computers. Then back to the restaurants as a cook, then Sous Chef, then back to electronics, and alarm systems. From installing alarms, to the Technical Manager of the Northwest Region for Honeywell. I quit that and started my own Home Remodeling business. It's as if my right and left brain have been fighting for total domination and it's a tie. So...what am I looking for?

It's hard to work for someone else, once you've been your own boss. It's hard to go from owner of the company, to grunt, so hard, I can't do it.
If I'm going to be at the bottom, it's got to be at something new, graphic design, real estate, or something else I'm interested in, but haven't done yet.

A dream job would be a location scout for the movies, or test driving Harley Davidsons right off the assembly line. A photo-journalist, or the quirky but likeable host of a DIY show, that becomes a household name and then makes tons of money endorsing Porter Cable or Delta tools. A very successful writer, who writes under a pseudonym and therefore, never does interviews or book signings...or what I was trying to do before the economy killed my dream, designing and building custom furniture. I had hoped to come up with a trademark signature. Something I could incorporate into all my pieces that told everyone that that was an original "RED MOJO" and one of a kind. Everyone who's anyone would want one, and I'd have a waiting list of clientele that read like the who's who of the Hollywood "in" crowd.

But, reality continues to ruin my life. I went onto some internet job sites to look for a job. I set up the parameters: Not willing to relocate, 0% travel, and typed in the keyword "remodel" I got a list of 100% matches that included, "Film extra" (stand in the background of films for $250 a day) and "Truck Driver" for some local trucking company. Now I might not be the brightest bulb on the tree, but wouldn't driving a truck include some sort of travel? Unless they want me to do donuts in the parking lot for eight hours a day...

Needless to say, it has been a frustrating process, but I'll keep plugging away, and just like trying to keep your big toe from pushing it's way through that hole in your sock...even if you walk funny, eventually it's going to happen.

A New Me (Just like the old me, but older)

2009-04-02T09:31:00.000-07:00

With all that's gone on in my life recently, I have managed to pack on a few pounds. Depression is not helped by eating every comfort food in sight...but it feels like it will while you do it.
I love things like mac and cheese, fried egg sandwiches, potato chips, ice cream, and have you ever tried Otis Spunkmeyer Chocolate Chocolate Chip Muffins? Oh my!
After you eat these kinds of foods, you are full, but still feel empty, and the weight gain only makes you even more depressed...please pass the pizza.

I have been trying to fight the good fight, but it's hard. I let myself down constantly, making fitness promises, that I never keep. Tomorrow always seems like a great place to start!

Well the good news is, I started yesterday. Today is day two of my new life. Yes, I have managed to string two days together before, but this time...it's different. I am lucky enough to have this amazing friend in my life who has made fitness a science, and he is an amazing success story. I happened to email him and ask for the link to his website, which I had misplaced, explaining that I wanted to list it among the links of my online work-out group. He responded quickly, and asked me to call him as well. I did, and the conversation went something like this

Jimmy: How are you? What's going on?

Me: Oh, I'm just trying to get healthy. I'm kick starting my online work-out group, and want to put your link in there. I've been having a hard time making myself exercise even though I know I always feel better when I do.

Jimmy: What's stopping you?

Me: Maybe I just want my mood to match my situation, not sure.

Jimmy: Hmmm...that's possible. If you were gonna exercise, what would you do?

Me: Well, I prefer to do it outside. I love to hike up steep trails, and eventually run up them, but there are no mountains around here. I have to drive a ways to get to one. I also like to run, or bike, but I'm too out of shape, so it's power walking for now. If I stay inside, I use the rowing machine. I like that too.

Jimmy: What's the weather like today?

Me: Oh, its a beautiful day. I couldn't ask for better weather!

Jimmy: When you walk how far do you go?

Me: Two miles, is what I've been doing lately.

Jimmy: Two miles! Wow! That must feel great! Good for you!

Me: yeah...

Jimmy: Well doesn't it feel great when you do it?

Me: Yes, it does.

Jimmy: How much weight do you want to lose?

Me: A lot...

Jimmy: C'mon tell me, how much?

*I tell him.

Jimmy: Okay that's 2 pounds a weeks for X weeks! X weeks? That's nothing! That's X house payments, you know how fast those come! You can reach your goal in X weeks!!! Tomorrow, walk two miles, then get on the rowing machine for 15 minutes, and you'll feel terrific! I'll call you and see how it went okay?

Me: Okay Jimmy, thanks. I'll do it.

Jimmy: Oh, this is so exciting! Aren't you excited?!

Me: (sheepishly) Yes.

Jimmy: Okay! I'll talk to you tomorrow...

The thing that doesn't come across well here, is the excitement in his voice. He's so cute! Like Richard Simmons, only hot! I did do it, and he did call. He praised me, and encouraged me, and will call again today. He also has great nutritional advice on his site, which I am going to follow as closely as I can. I went shopping yesterday, and bought 'clean' food. I am keeping a food log, and he wants to go over it with me next week, and tweek it for me.

I had given up on ever looking like I used to look, and thought with age comes some extra weight, it's a given. But he's my age, and look at him! I am going for it! I want to be comfortable in the skin I'm in. I feel better already! Isn't it exciting?!

25 Things I Hope I Haven't Told You Before

2009-02-04T18:49:00.000-08:00

Yes...that's the spot!

Hey gang! If anyone still comes here...I've been away, probably should have been put away, but that's neither here nor there! It took me 47 years to discover that I do have a breaking point, but I'm slowly building my way back up to where I feel almost viable as a human again. I am living in California now. I have temporarily moved back into the house my ex-girlfriend and I shared for several years. She has been kind enough to give me a starting off point for my new happier life back in sunny California!

The seasonal affect thing was killing me, and that joined forces with a full-blown bout of "your-gonna-be-depressed-even-in-perfect-weather...with-dancing-girls!" That knocked me flat on my mental ass, as it were. It was the problem and the answer all rolled into one! I had to move anyway...so why not back to the place I was not miserable, cold and depressed? Not what you'd call an epiphany, more of a needed morsel of common sense.

I'm here now, and fully expect to have a life again sometime soon. My sweet dog Winston has a torn ACL and needs surgery. It's expensive and I don't have any work yet. I'm not sure whether to pursue a J-O-B, or try to find some work (the kind I do), so I'm going to look for both and see what the universe throws at me, if anything! I know it's tough out there right now, but I don't have to worry about getting discouraged, because realistically, I'm starting from there.

I had all kinds of horrible and funny problems getting moved, and I have an entertaining story about breaking down on the side of the road in Arkansas while driving across the country to share with you once I get rolling again. Until then, I have been tagged with a list of 25 random or interesting things about me, and I like to roll them out now:

1. My stripper name, using that pet and street name formula is Cookie Collins.

2. I had a childhood crush on Doris Day.

3. Wilford Brimley gives me the Heebie-Jeebies.

4. I believe I may make my fortune winning the lottery, or writing erotica.

5. I learned how to fly a plane before I learned how to drive a car.

6. Every report card I got all through elementary school always had the same teacher comment: "Lacks self-control". This convinced me that the teachers only had 5 comments from which to choose, and the other 4 must've been:

Hoards crayons
Wets pants
Makes the line look like a snake
Eats paste

However, I couldn't convince my parents of that, and my father would FRICKEN LOSE IT when he saw that on there.

7. I love without limits, but some restrictions do apply.

8. I have always wanted a tattoo, and I think this is the year I'm going to get one.

9. I tear through a good book but read the last few pages really slowly because I don't want it to end.

10. Those cuffs they put around your arm and pump up to take your blood pressure, make me want to cry.

11. I once took a ladder and climbed up to the slant on the chimney, then jumped to my Mother's open bedroom window, grabbing it and swinging my leg inside, onto her dresser, which caused a huge bruise on my leg, and pulled myself inside, all so I could eat a banana. I'd locked myself out and was starving.

12. My cousin Katy and I used to think it was incredibly funny to read everything from the TV
Guide to the list of ingredients on a cereal box as if we were newscasters.

13. Growing up, whenever I got a new pair of sneakers, I used to pose them just so, and put them where I could see them as I fell asleep. I may still do that, I do love footwear!

14. A Swan chased me once while I was feeding bread to the ducks, I started running backwards, threw the whole loaf at it, but it just kept coming, then I screamed, and then tripped and fell. My step-dad scared it away before it actually started feasting on me.

15. I love corn on the cob, but need to floss immediately after eating it, I mean leave the table and go floss. I can't wait until after desert.

16. I had a pet squirrel named Harold when I was twelve. He lived in the house with us, free to roam around and go outside when he wanted to.

17. I rode a camel while in Morocco. He didn't have the best attitude, but never spat on me.

18. I have a very emotional response to really beautiful music. I get a lump in my throat, and sometimes cry.

19. I played the snare drum in the marching band at my high school. (band geek)

20. I am technology-dependent and wouldn't last a week without my ipod, or my computer.

21. I hear dead people.

22. I don't really hear dead people, but I can't resist injecting humor, even at the most inappropriate times. I can't help it, it's a "love me or leave me" kind of thing. Please don't ask me to write your eulogy.

23. Everyone can tell when I'm lying, my voice gets higher, and my upper lip sweats. I'm not good at poker either.

24. I've often wondered why there is no bean and cheese burrito flavored ice cream.

25. I love to cook delicious meals for people so I can hear them say, "Mmmmm, Oh Tracy, this is sooo good." Is that wrong?

Faux Lesbian Dating Sites

2008-10-20T14:53:00.000-07:00

At least one of these girls squealed "eewww" after this photo was taken.

I have been ~~spending~~ wasting Way too much time on Facebook. I have tried to cut down the number of applications that I have so I can get in and out quickly, but I still break down and add more, and more, applications that save the rain forest, and animals, and clean water, and feed people, and fight cancer, and fund research, and stop abuse, and help survivors, it goes on and on. I feel it's the least I can do, but it's really the most I can do, and then some. If I had a full time job right now, there wouldn't be enough hours in the day. That being said, I would like to share an annoying feature of facebook with you.

Facebook knows my sexual orientation, so I am bombarded with these adds constantly. And to be honest, I'm a bit hard pressed to understand who the actual target of these adds is.

Since these are not lesbians, one has to think they are going for straight men. There are several of these on facebook that are advertising a lesbian dating site. I'm thinking the entire website is full of nothing but straight men all pretending to be lesbians! It's really pretty funny when you think about it!

I would love to be a fly on the wall in this dating site just to read some of the emails and see the pictures that all these men are sending each other in the hopes of finding a hot bi-sexual woman who'll consent to sleep with the fake lesbian straight guy and his wife, once he somehow breaks the news to her that he's not a lesbian, and then talks his wife into it. Little does he know, the hot bi-sexual woman is also a straight guy trying to get hooked up in a threesome with two women. Wow! Even I'm confused. The one thing I'm not confused about is the sexuality of the "lesbians" in the photos. Yes, there are feminine lesbians, but please, don't insult me, or my gaydar!

Seven Semi-Revealing Tidbits

2008-10-14T18:20:00.000-07:00

Alex the Wry Writer was tagged in one of those horrible obnoxious memes, and was "kind" enough to pass the tag on to moi. This is my stab at it. If it seems random, try reading it from back to front or start in the middle, whatever works.

Da Rules:

1. Link to your tagger and list these rules on your blog:

2. Share 7 facts about yourself on your blog - some random, some weird.

3. Tag 7 people at the end of your post by leaving their names as well as links to their blog.

4. Let them know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.

Now for the list, hang onto your pantyhose, here we go. Gosh this is exciting. Wouldn't it be great to have a drum roll queue up at this point just to build the tension a little bit. I feel a little bit like I'm about to do a strip tease for you, with no music. Where's the fanfare? I'm about to trot out seven tasty bits about myself to you and we haven't even gone out for a nice meal. In a way I feel cheap. Well be that as it may, I guess I should get on with it. I can't stall forever, although teasing you is fun. Alrighty then...without further ado, here they are the seven inconsequential facts about me that I don't think you already know. Hi Mom! Just a shout out to mom in case she's reading this, and she may already know some of the things, in fact some of you will probably know one or two things, but hopefully no one knows all seven, except me of course, and I'll never tell. Just kidding, I'm spilling my guts.

1. My favorite activity as a child was cracking rocks.

2. I'm a gamer. (Word games, board games, adventure games, video games, etc.)

3. I believe there can be more than one great love in my life.

4. There's a bat loose in my house even as I write this.

5. I have an alter ego and she has her own blog not linked to me. She can be completely honest and not worry about what people think of her. Lucky her!

6. Even if I hit the lotto for millions I would still eat mac and cheese every once in a while.

7. Although I am very down to earth, I am willing to abandon reality at a moment's notice.

Not in my seven, and probably widely known, is the fact that I don't always follow the rules, so I will not actively tag seven people, but will instead passively tag you. If you'd like to do this meme, fire away! Please follow all the rules!

Get Ready to Laugh!

2008-10-08T13:34:00.001-07:00

If you watched the vice presidential debate and it left you feeling like punching something...watch this!

He Got Me Good This Time

2008-10-06T19:01:00.000-07:00

I just found out today that my house is in foreclosure. I thought I was only two months behind, but when I went to make a payment today, the website made me call, and I was told it went into foreclosure on Oct. 1st. The lawyers were supposed to have told me.
I guess I know now what that overwhelming feeling of dread was about. I can rally and pay the past due amount, and lawyers fees, and have my loan reinstated, but I'd have to borrow money from friends and family, and sell stuff to do it, and I'm not willing to do that just to delay the inevitable.

No one is spending money on things that are not necessities right now, and what I do; home remodeling, painting, custom furniture, all of it, is fluff. I made a good run at having my own business and doing what I love. I bought a house that was a little beyond me, and after two and a half years of struggling to make ends meet, the collapsing economy has put the nail in my coffin. I am kaput.

Sure, I could go get a job, but it would have to be a very very good job (one I'm probably not qualified to do) because of the high mortgage. I would have to find a high paying job, or maybe two medium paying or jobs, or four full time low paying jobs, I'm really only limited by the number of hours in the day, so I guess I could realistically only work three full time low paying jobs but then, when would I sleep? No, low paying jobs are out.

When I quit my rather high paying job almost four years ago, to start my own business, I had high hopes, and things went really well for a while. I was getting work, my customers were always happy, most times paying me more than I charged for the work I did. I got a lot of referrals, it seemed like it I was going to be in high demand!

People told me I was brave for striking out on my own. Risking everything, following my dream. Some wished they could be like me. I never considered failure as an option. I dumped my life's savings into my business, and workshop, and home, and set out to succeed. I said, if I can't make a living doing what I love, well, I don't want to find out.

Well kids, I'm about to find out. I will keep you posted, provided my new cardboard box has high speed Internet.

Let Me Off This Ride!

2008-09-25T10:24:00.000-07:00

"Let Me Off This Ride!"

A familiar cry to anyone who has ever operated a ride at an amusement park that spins, like teacups or tilt-a-whirl, usually followed immediately by...well, yakking.

I woke up on Tuesday morning and got out of bed and got that you got up too fast feeling, but it lasted for about 10 seconds. I clung to the bed wondering what the heck was going on. It passed, and I dismissed it. Later I was talking to a friend on the phone, I sat on the couch and decided to recline back into the corner, when that sickening dizzy spinning feeling hit me again! It felt like it feels when you've had too much to drink and the room is spinning. Then again when I sat up. Wow, that got old fast! I became very aware of the ways I moved that brought it on, and began to move very very slowly. No help. Still happened.

When I went to bed that night, I was laying on my side and rolled over onto my back. A few seconds later, I felt like I was inside a barrel rolling down a hill. It lasted for about six seconds and that seemed like an eternity. I grabbed the bed, actually frightened. The ceiling seemed to be moving. When it was over, I slowly rolled back to my side and stayed in that position all night. I woke up sore and crippled from not moving all night.

I learned with the help of a friend, and the Internet, that I have vertigo. It has many causes. I am currently on antibiotics to eliminate infection as a cause, and I really hope that's it, and it clears up and goes away. The other causes are not so easily fixed, and would require money and time.

I can do most things, but I have problems when going from lying to sitting or vice versa, feeding the dogs, picking up anything, rolling over, and walking in a straight line is pretty much out too. I seem to lose my balance pretty easily and list a little when I walk. I guess you could say I stagger now. It gives me a queasy feeling in my stomach, probably because I am prone to motion sickness. I have always hated rides that spin, and having one inside my head is not my idea of a good time.

I'm not just telling you all of this just to complain. I merely want to inform you of the symptoms of vertigo, and urge you to go with lactose intolerance, or premature gray, or even halitosis if you have a choice.

Mom, is that you?

2008-09-20T06:26:00.000-07:00

Yesterday morning I had an admin day. I finished a big job on Thursday and had to make phone calls, pay bills, and of course like all good admins, stack wood! I was sitting on the couch in my P.J.s and my Dogs were out on the deck catching some morning rays.
My dogs bark at every car and walker that passes by the foot of my long driveway. They put me on full alert when someone new even enters the zip code, so I don't pay much attention to the frequent half-hearted rounds of territorial barking, but then they went code red! I got up and walked out onto the deck and saw a van pulling up the driveway. One of those metallic green Dodge Caravans that half the population owns, one exactly like Mom's.

Hmm, I Wonder what Mom is doing here so early, and unannounced, I mused. The van pulled up and parked sideways to the deck and I saw an elderly woman in the passenger side window. That's odd, I thought, Mom wouldn't bring someone up here without warning me. Then the side door swung open, a gaggle of well-dressed old ladies peered up at me through five sets of thick glasses. "Hello. We're bible teachers!" the closest one yelled up. By this time Cody, my twelve and a half year old, cute as a button, yellow dog who has never bitten anyone, had reached the driveway and was heading toward the van, still barking.
"Stay in the van!" I shouted holding out my arms to emphasize the point. "I wouldn't want anyone to get bit!" They eyed Cody nervously. Winston, my ninety pound Newfie mix, who can't use stairs, but they didn't know that, was barking from up on the deck.

They continued to shout from the van, something about confidence, when I yelled back down, "I'll vote my confidence. Thanks, have a nice day! Peace be with you!" They got the message, slid the door shut and retreated. I wondered if it was possible that someone who read my Sarah Palin post had called (1-800-Bible-Thumpers) and sent them to save me. In my opinion it was the dogs who saved me. All those years of buying kibble finally paid off!

Oh Gina!

2008-09-16T04:36:00.000-07:00

See more Gina Gershon videos at Funny or Die

Snort! giggle, this is good!

It Had to Be Done

2008-09-14T14:33:00.000-07:00

I don't usually get all political on this blog, but I'm scared. Yes, I'm truly frightened by Sarah Palin, to my core. I know that I am not saying anything new here, but I can remember clearly back in 2004 thinking...There's NO WAY that idiot is going to get re-elected, and here we are. Our country is in the worst shape it's been in since the depression.

Palin made an interesting statement the other day about how everyone who wanted to vote for Hilary could vote for her now, and they'd still be voting for a woman. My God! Glenda and the Wicked Witch of the West were both women too. Interchangeable? I don't think so.

I also have a fondness for the statement, "We're fighting God's war!" A religious zealot is a zealot no matter what religion! You've got to be joking me. Are we seriously considering putting this puppy eating, Bambi shooting, ex-beauty queen into a powerful political office? An office second to the presidency, with a crusty old guy about to keel over any minute? Do it, and watch all the gays who so quickly registered for marriage licenses and domestic partnerships get herded up and sent of to the gas chamber as another part of "God's war". Yes, I'm talking to you, Gay Republicans!!! Wake up! Before it's too late.

For more of my opinions on this subject, given in a funnier way, by a more intelligent and better looking woman, click Susan Norfleet's link there on the right of my page.

Don't forget to vote, like your life depended on it!

If you are unfamiliar with Sarah Palin, let me introduce you:

Important, wise words...Subject: Eve Ensler on Sarah Palin

Eve Ensler, the American playwright, performer, feminist and activist best known for 'The Vagina Monologues', wrote the following about Sarah Palin.

Drill, Drill, Drill

I am having Sarah Palin nightmares. I dreamt last night that she was a member of a club where they rode snowmobiles and wore the claws of drowned and starved polar bears around their necks. I have a particular thing for Polar Bears. Maybe it's their snowy whiteness or their bigness or the fact that they live in the arctic or that I have never seen one in person or touched one. Maybe it is the fact that they live so comfortably on ice. Whatever it is, I need the polar bears.

I don't like raging at women. I am a Feminist and have spent my life trying to build community, help empower women and stop violence against them. It is hard to write about Sarah Palin. This is why the Sarah Palin choice was all the more insidious and cynical. The people who made this choice count on the goodness and solidarity of Feminists.

But everything Sarah Palin believes in and practices is antithetical to Feminism which for me is part of one story -- connected to saving the earth, ending racism, empowering women, giving young girls options, opening our minds, deepening tolerance, and ending violence and war.

I believe that the McCain/Palin ticket is one of the most dangerous choices of my lifetime, and should this country chose those candidates the fall-out may be so great, the destruction so vast in so many areas that America may never recover. But what is equally disturbing is the impact that duo would have on the rest of the world. Unfortunately, this is not a joke. In my lifetime I have seen the clownish, the inept, the bizarre be elected to the presidency with regularity.

Sarah Palin does not believe in evolution. I take this as a metaphor. In her world and the world of Fundamentalists nothing changes or gets better or evolves. She does not believe in global warming. The melting of the arctic, the storms that are destroying our cities, the pollution and rise of cancers, are all part of God's plan. She is fighting to take the polar bears off the endangered species list. The earth, in Palin's view, is here to be taken and plundered. The wolves and the bears are here to be shot and plundered. The oil is here to be taken and plundered. Iraq is here to be taken and plundered. As she said herself of the Iraqi war, 'It was a task from God.'

Sarah Palin does not believe in abortion. She does not believe women who are raped and incested and ripped open against their will should have a right to determine whether they have their rapist's baby or not.

She obviously does not believe in sex education or birth control. I imagine her daughter was practicing abstinence and we know how many babies that makes.

Sarah Palin does not much believe in thinking. From what I gather she has tried to ban books from the library, has a tendency to dispense with people who think independently. She cannot tolerate an environment of ambiguity and difference. This is a woman who could and might very well be the next president of the United States. She would govern one of the most diverse populations on the earth.

Sarah believes in guns. She has her own custom Austrian hunting rifle. She has been known to kill 40 caribou at a clip. She has shot hundreds of wolves from the air.

Sarah believes in God. That is of course her right, her private right. But when God and Guns come together in the public sector, when war is declared in God's name, when the rights of women are denied in his name, that is the end of separation of church and state and the undoing of everything America has ever tried to be.

I write to my sisters. I write because I believe we hold this election in our hands. This vote is a vote that will determine the future not just of the U.S., but of the planet. It will determine whether we create policies to save the earth or make it forever uninhabitable for humans. It will determine whether we move towards dialogue and diplomacy in the world or whether we escalate violence through invasion, undermining and attack. It will determine whether we go for oil, strip mining, coal burning or invest our money in alternatives that will free us from dependency and destruction. It will determine if money gets spent on education and healthcare or whether we build more and more methods of killing. It will determine whether America is a free open tolerant society or a closed place of fear, fundamentalism and aggression.

If the Polar Bears don't move you to go and do everything in your power to get Obama elected then consider the chant that filled the hall after Palin spoke at the RNC, 'Drill Drill Drill.' I think of teeth when I think of drills. I think of rape. I think of destruction. I think of domination. I think of military exercises that force mindless repetition, emptying the brain of analysis, doubt, ambiguity or dissent. I think of pain.

Do we want a future of drilling? More holes in the ozone, in the floor of the sea, more holes in our thinking, in the trust between nations and peoples, more holes in the fabric of this precious thing we call life?

Eve Ensler

September 5, 2008

A New Rant:

2008-09-01T18:04:00.000-07:00

Is there some reason why my post has to begin halfway down the page?

I know I've been gone for all of August, but have I really missed that much?!

A friend of mine recently made a comment: She claimed to be apoplectic about Sarah Palin and wants to volunteer for Obama -- in a red state.

Naturally I ran straight to the dictionary to see what the hell that word meant! These are the actual results.

8 results for: apoplectic

Browse Nearby Entries

Dictionary.com Unabridged (v 1.1) - Cite This Source - Share This ap·o·plec·tic Audio Help [ap-uh-plek-tik] Pronunciation Key - Show IPA Pronunciation

–adjective Also, ap·o·plec·ti·cal.

1.	of or pertaining to apoplexy.

2.	having or inclined to apoplexy.

3.	intense enough to threaten or cause apoplexy: an apoplectic rage.

–noun

4.	a person having or predisposed to apoplexy.

[Origin: 1605–15; <>apoplécticus <>apopléktikós pertaining to a (paralytic) stroke, equiv. to apóplékt(os) struck down (verbid of apoplssein) + -ikos -ic]

Now maybe it's just me, but that didn't help me much. Weren't we told in school that you can't use the word or form of the word in the definition? WTF kind of definition is that? It's like saying:

Rhythmic: Having rhythm. Or Hatred: Hating someone or something, to hate. To be hateful.

I was finally able to pin the feeling I was experiencing toward the dictionary definition down. I was apoplectic about it!

***Okay, When I previewed my post I saw the reason why I couldn't start my text at the top of the page. There was a freaking add running there. On my blog post! I didn't put it there! Has this happened to anyone else? What is going on?

Red Mojo's Rant: The Bank!

2008-07-14T07:18:00.000-07:00

You picked a fine time to leave me Lucille...

I sold my beloved Lucille in order to avoid setting up shop in a cardboard box just down the street from the enchanting but foul smelling turrets lady downtown. I sold her on eBay (the bike, not the turrets lady) and a very nice firefighter from a neighboring state won the auction.

Although he was very excited about getting such a great deal (approx. $6,000 less than I had invested in it) on such a gorgeous bike, it took him over three weeks to come pick it up and pay for it. Meanwhile, my money stress was growing with each passing day. I would wake up in the morning and run to the window to see if my truck was still in the driveway!

As payment, he gave me two certified bank checks, one for around $3,000 from his credit union, and one for around $12,000 from the bank that issued him a loan. I took them to the ATM, signed them, and deposited them immediately, it was close to 2:00 when he finally left. I figured since they were bank checks they wouldn't take long to clear.
The following Monday I transferred the bulk of the money into the account I pay things out of, and started electronically making payments. A week after I had made the deposit I saw the money get zapped back out of the account I'd transferred it to. Everything was about to hit, and the money was gone! I transferred the money back, sure that if it hadn't cleared when the transfer went through the first time, it would be cleared now. The time frame on an out of state bank check is "up to " 5 days.

The next day, six banking days after the deposit, the check still hadn't cleared. The seventh day, I went to the bank. They said the check was lacking a signature. I'm the only one on my account, I protested. They went and got a copy of the check, it had my name and the guy's name who gave me the check! His name shouldn't be on there! I felt stupid for not noticing that it was, but here's the kicker. The bank pulled the check the day after I deposited it. That was Thursday. Friday was a holiday, so it went out in the mail on Monday, and was mailed to my business address, a UPS box I only check if I'm expecting something.

"When a certified bank check for $12,000.00 dollars doesn't go through, you guys don't make a phone call? You just put it in the mail? Didn't it occur to you that there would be things coming in against those funds? That's a lot of money, it's not like it was a personal check for 50 bucks! Now there are all kinds of returned check fees, insufficient funds fees...is this how you guys make your money?! If someone had notified me on Thursday, maybe I could have done something to cover this, and I certainly could have taken care of it by now!" I said with my teeth clenched and veins popping out of my forehead, and sweat forming a glistening coat all over me!

"Come back on Monday, and you can sit down with a customer service rep. and get all the charges taken care of." the teller said, trying to calm me down and get me to leave peacefully. I did, but I really must write the rant!

The Closet Doesn't Fit Anymore!

2008-07-09T08:35:00.000-07:00

Back before Stonewall, and even after for many years, "gay" was barely visible. People worked hard, some very hard at hiding their true selves from the world. Why? Discrimination. A known homosexual could be fired, denied housing, bashed, beaten, or raped and no one would bat an eye. Often gays would be identified by other gays hoping to throw suspicion off of themselves. The old pot calling the kettle black thing.

Anti-discrimination laws don't exactly protect us, but it was a step in the right direction. I grew up in a time when being gay was still considered deviant, sick behavior by most. We didn't have gay characters on TV, with the possible exception of the spineless traitor Dr. Smith on Lost in Space, but we never really knew for sure. We didn't have pride parades, or community centers, or websites, or movies, or dating sites. We did have unmarked doors down dark alleys that opened to the secret world of lesbians or gays, or sometimes both. They were usually located in undesirable parts of town, and were subject to raids and other forms of harassment.

Many gay men and women married, to throw others off the scent. Then had their secret lovers discretely on the side. Today, this is certainly no longer necessary. Gay folks are more visible than ever, and while we are still fighting for equal rights in every state in this country but Massachusetts and California, we have made great strides against the fear and ignorance we faced just thirty years ago.

When I was in the military, I had a marriage of convenience myself. This was the only way I could live off post. I had a girlfriend, and sneaking her into the barracks was more than a little risky. I married a gay guy and was allowed to live off post. Breaking this ridiculous rule seemed justified to me. I wasn't even supposed to be in the military, and could have been dishonorably discharged if anyone could prove I was gay. It would have been easy to prove, but no one was really trying.

This weekend while in New York, some friends and I had dinner at a nice restaurant on the Hudson river. There were six of us total, three guys and three girls and I would say it was not a secret to anyone nearby that we were all gay! I saw a woman at the end of the bar giving me the once over more than once. I met her eyes, and smiled politely. She was quite attractive, and did a little check to make sure her pockets causing any unsightly bulges in her tight fitting black jeans, then looked back to see if I was still watching her.

Friend: She's straight!

Me: No she isn't.

Friend: Yes she is. She's married. She and her husband own this place, and you should see him. What a flamer!

Me: She might be married, but she's not straight! We just had a conversation with our eyes, and this is not my first time on this ride.

Friend: Ha! No, you could blog about that!

Me: Shut the fuck up!

The woman came over to our group and introduced herself, standing right by me, and shaking my hand firmly. I think I was the only one out all six, she hadn't already met. She asked if we'd like to sit outside, if we did there would be a wait, or inside. If we wanted to stay in the bar she could seat us now, and she'd prefer to be able to "keep an eye on us" she said looking directly at me when she said it.

We did sit in the bar, but I gave the woman no encouragement. I would not want to be the discrete lover a married, in the closet woman, no matter how attractive she might be. I'm sure there must be a reason for the arrangement, but I would not want to live in her world. I am out and plan to stay out. I'm here, I'm queer, and I don't care who knows it!

Red Mojo's Rant: RMV

2008-07-03T13:09:00.000-07:00

Every time I have to do something at the Registry of Motor Vehicles, I am completely and utterly astounded at how difficult they make it for you to be legal here. Although I have many horror stories to tell, I will limit myself to my current plight.

Let me start by saying I'm self-employed and the precise flow of my income is not always predictable, or within my control. A while back I had less money than I needed at bill paying time, so I paid the most important ones first. Well, my bad for not putting auto insurance in that pile, because when I went to pay it, two days after the due date, I was informed that my insurance had been canceled. The bill was $211.oo How could you cancel me just like that? I've been a good customer for years, isn't that a bit harsh. That's what the state makes us do, automatically when it goes past the due date, explained my insurance company.

Ins. Agent: "We can reinstate you, but we need the whole year up front, that would be $1958.00 "

Me: "Oh, is that all! Well, if I didn't have $211.00 two days ago, what makes you think I've got a couple thousand extra just kicking around today?"

Ins. Agent: *crickets*

Me: "So, that's my only option, all or nothing?"

Ins. Agent: "yes, that's what we are required to get once you've had your policy canceled, it's that way with all large companies."

Me: "Well, I don't have it, for you or anyone else. Thanks for your time. Bye."

I receive the notice from the RMV that my plates all need to be turned in immediately unless I can show proof of insurance. I can't, and I don't. If I can't drive, I can't work. If I can't work, I can't pay for insurance or anything else. What am I supposed to do? I know if I get caught driving on dead tags, they'll impound my vehicle. I risk it. I have to, I have no choice. I'm like a freaking criminal in the state of Massachusetts now, all because I was two days late paying my insurance bill! It's incredible.

It's always completely blown my mind the penalty for not having enough money is, a fine. You don't have what you owe, pay an additional fee. The poorer you are, the more they take from you. How is that okay?

Today, I finally had enough to go to the insurance company and bleed $1958.00 dollars on them. Then I had to go to the RMV and give them a check for $100.00 to get my tags re-registered. They did that and gave me my re-registration paperwork, and away I went. When I got home, I noticed the registration expiration date for the truck was already past. I remember trying to renew my registration on line, but of course it didn't fly because the tags were dead. I couldn't believe they let me walk out of there with an "expired re-registered registration"!

I went on line to try to renew and I got an email back saying, Sorry, you can't renew that registration on line.

I called the 800 number which put me in a voice system that never gave me the option I wanted, so I hit 0 and it started over. And it kept starting over and over every time I pressed 0. Well, as is my nature, I got frustrated and hit 0 about 50 times, and as silly as it sounds, that little temper fit, got me exactly what I wanted. I was now on hold for a representative. I waited a long time, and finally got through. After explaining it all, I was placed on hold while she called the location I had visited today. She came back and apologized that they'd missed that and said she'd take my payment over the phone, so we did that. Now, if I get pulled over, I'll still get a ticket for not having the sticker, but my vehicle won't be impounded for not being registered! I guess that's as happy an ending as I can get for $2,100.00 and half my day. And, I was happily informed that if I wanted to blow another work day out my ass, I could always contest the ticket.

How to Stay Single Without Really Trying

2008-06-30T09:09:00.000-07:00

The best ways to meet women:

When I was in my twenties, I met all my girlfriends in bars. We were all there. It was our social network. Many of the girls I dated back then, have grown into wildly successful women. I did know how to pick 'em, just didn't have a clue how to hold on to them.

Once you're in your thirties, the women you meet in bars, have a much lower chance of attaining wild success. And by the time you are in your forties, the wild success ship has pretty much sailed. Of course there is the occasional fluke, the I only go out with my friends once every two years, and this is the night, kind of fluke, but lets be realistic. The over forty hanging out the bar crowd is probably not the "A" group.

There are friends of friends, but you have to be careful with that, because if things turn sour, you could be giving up your friends who were slightly more entrenched with her than you, and inviting you both to gatherings, would just be awkward.

There's the Internet. There are tons of "lesbian" dating sites now. I have yet to have one of these adventures turn out well. First there's the email stage. I usually don't make it past this stage because my sense of humor doesn't play well in an email to someone who's never met me. They don't know how to take me, and get all weirded out. I actually had one woman claim I frightened her. Yes, frightened, through email, wow, that's how smooth an operator I can be.
My way of resolving this was trying to meet someone as quickly as possible after the initial interest was shown.

"Hi, Yes I do have my own business, ~~and my boss is an asshole~~. I think it's great that you love long walks on the beach, and starry nights, and fireplaces. ~~Who the hell doesn't?~~ We should meet!"

I was able to do this with limited success, and upon meeting the women, found I was not impressed, and never feel the need to give false hope, so I kept the meetings short and sweet. "Nice to meet you...bye."

I met one woman who was attractive, which I liked. She had a five year old boy, which I liked. She was nice, and we seemed to hit it off. She was a bit weird, but I chalked it up to nerves. We saw each other a few times, and the weirdness never went away, the odor of desperation crept in, and it occurred to me that she was not the sharpest tool in the shed, also she didn't get my humor, even after meeting me. Not good! After I told her I didn't think it was going to work, I saw a new psycho-scary-head-revolving side of her, that I kind of liked, but still, I thought I'd made the right decision.

There are activities one enjoys, mine is golf. I golf in a women's league. There are 160 women in the league, about a third are gay, and a small percentage of those are single. I haven't made any headway there at all. Of all the women, I really only interact within the same 16 each week, and one of them is me!

There's my job. I meet women, usually women who own a home together, not singles loaded with money who own their home and want the kitchen remodeled, and think I'm all that!

The grocery store hasn't really been paying off, and neither has the driving range, or the ATM machine. I can't really meet anyone at the gas station, because I'm usually weeping while I pump, and those are about all the places I go.

I think over 40 speed dating would be fabulous. I could have 15 or 20 first dates in one night. I can tell within 5 or 2 minutes, or whatever the time frame is that you talk to each participant, if that is someone I'd like to know more about or not.

I'd only have to get dressed up in "first date wear" once, for all those first dates! That's huge!

I haven't heard about this kind of thing taking place around here, although I'm sure I can't imagine why not. I may have to actually be the one to organize it, just so I can do it, that seems like a lot of work, so I'll probably just bitch about it on my blog!

Winnie! The Poo...

2008-06-27T15:03:00.000-07:00

Last night after dinner I let the dogs out as usual and when Winston affectionately known as Winnie, came back in, the smell of dog-doo filled the kitchen. Oh my god, he must've stepped in it or something, and he was trotting off toward the rug as quickly as his soiled little feet would carry him. Of course by little, I mean large!

"Winston! Come here!" I called out in a panic. I ducked into the bathroom and grabbed one of the "dog towels" and spread it out on the floor. He walked all around it, careful not to step on it trying to get to me. Finally I was able to grab him and navigate him ONTO the towel. I wiped each of his feet on it, and nothing came off, but the odor was stronger than ever.

Fearfully I looked in the direction of his butt, and lo and behold there it was, lots of it, soft and hanging is his long hair and on his tail. I pulled the towel off the floor and attempted to reach toward the offending end of the dog. Winnie doesn't like anyone including other dogs to go near that area. He has a strange social phobia for a dog. I tried again, he ran away from me.

I gave chase through the living room swiping at him when was within range. He ran around in circles to avoid contact, and little pieces were dislodging and flying all around the room and onto the rugs. I was expending a lot of energy and went through quite a selection of towels. I never worked so frickin hard to do something that so deeply repulsed me in my whole life.

Finally, he laid down and let me finish trying to clean him up. I was down to wash cloths by that time. Then I had to run around with a scrub brush and soapy water looking for all the little spatters throughout the kitchen and living room. Ah, the joys of pet ownership. Tomorrow, Winston is getting his summer hair cut!

Virtually Me

2008-06-25T06:00:00.000-07:00

When I joined facebook...I was a little afraid it might eat my life. I set up my profile and kind of left it for a while. I collected a few friends and went in there every so often to accept things, and add new applications, it was all pretty manageable. I even started a "green patch" to help save the rain forest. That is a worthwhile use of my time while I drink my coffee in the morning.

Recently, someone, I won't mention any names here, sent me an invitation to YoVille. A virtual town where you create your virtual you, and wander around interacting with others, trying to make some money so you can fix up your apartment.

Okay, this seems kind of fun. I have an apartment, very plain and boring with a living room, bedroom and kitchen. No one pees in YoVille. There's a coffee shop, and when you buy coffee you move faster. There's a diner, where you get your energy, a clothing store so you can look hip. They have a furniture store for all the stuff you need to make your place cool, and a flower shop. The night club where you can go buy a drink and things get blurry and your character is harder to control, and a widget factory where you work. You can only report to work and get paid every six hours (real time). It takes a long time to get enough coin to buy what you want, but you can also earn money by playing tic-tac-toe, or rock paper scissors with the other cartoon people.

When I went to make my virtual me, I had issues with the choices they offered for a female virtual person. My AOL weemee is a girl, and it looks pretty much like me...

Note the short hair, the well hidden breasts, but they are there, and of course the ever-present coffee cup letting people know beyond a shadow of a doubt, that this is me! I even change clothes to suit the time of year.

In YoVille, none of the girl's hair choices looked anything like my hair! None of the clothing options were clothing I'd wear, and even the super curvy body shape (the same for all the girls) did not resemble my body at all. I decided to use the male character, so it would at least be close to what I really look like. I named my character "tom-boi". Boi is the gay way to say, boyish girl. Not in the bull-dyke, I want to be a guy, kind of way, but in the, I'm a girl who does stuff boys do, kind of way. Anyway...this is what I ended up with.
So, I'm confusing some people in the game. Some of the young girls come throwing themselves at me, so I tell them I'm a gay woman, and they scatter like roaches. It's actually funny to watch. I went to the nightclub, and said, "Hi, I'm a lesbian. Did anyone notice a gay bar in town, because I can't find it?" Little virtual people actually ran away from me! Some left the bar completely. I had this large empty radius around me, so I made my character dance.

Despite the cold reception I've gotten in YoVille, I am addicted to the game. Why? Because it's about fixing up your place. That's right down my alley. Here's what I mean. When you start, your bedroom looks like this:

Now, my bedroom looks like this:

So, Obviously I have been working hard at playing my virtual life. Of course, sacrifices must be made, so my real life is in a hopeless downward spiral. The virtual me is just as obsessive-compulsive as the actual me. Why would I do that? Tic-tac-toe anyone?

Offended By the Easily Offended!

2008-06-15T08:15:00.000-07:00

Political Correctness; I am for it, and against it!

When it comes to stereotypes and broad generalizations, I think we all know that that's wrong, but we also know that most stereotypes are based in fact. It may not be true of all of the people in that classification, but it's true of a lot of them, or was at one time.

When it comes to advertising slogans, spokes models, or signage, all kinds of groups protest all kinds of things. The same is true about characters in the media. Casting the stereotypical gay guy, or construction worker, or Beemer driving ass-wad, pisses people off. I get it. I even understand it, and would like it to change. But when it comes to humor, let it go a little, I mean come on. The funniest stuff is based in fact, and the fact is, the stereotypes are at least partly true...admit it!

Not all men are only interested in sex. Not all fathers try to get you to pull their finger. Not all mother-in-laws are horrible control-freaky-bitches. Not all hillbilly's have had sex with a family member. Not all gay guys secretly want to be Barbara Streisand or Cher. Not all CPAs are socially inept nerds. ~~Not all rednecks are homophobes~~.

I can't tell you how many times I've almost been run off the road by a vehicle, and before I could get a visual of the driver, I would say to myself, "Please don't be Asian, please don't be Asian", and when I finally see the driver...Asian! Do Lesbians really wear a lot of flannel shirts? Maybe not as much now, but there was a time, and most lesbians I know still have a flannel or two in their closet...

I was at a party a couple years ago with a bunch of lesbians, and had recently relocated from California to the very lesbianish uptighty community of Northampton. I was telling a story which required me to describe a t-shirt. The ribbed tank top kind, which my friends and I always called a "wife-beater". When this expression came out of my mouth it was like that scene at a party where the needle scratches across the record and everything stops, and people stare at you in disbelief and horror. I was immediately scolded for my use of that term, and I scrambled to correct myself, and finish the story which suddenly seemed stupid and pointless.

I do issue a warning at the top of blog stating this blog is not for the easily offended, and is for the socially retarded, and this is why. I have a rule, it is a universal rule for humor, or it should be. The rule is: If it's twice as funny as it is mean...it's okay to say!

The accuracy of this chart is heavily dependant upon your "sense" of humor. My blog fits neatly into the blue when I write it. I follow the rule. If you are heartinsanfrancisco who's sense of humor is my sense of humor's identical twin, you know that this is true. If you are someone who does not share my humor perspective, some of this may dip into the yellow for you. I'm still okay because I did issue that warning I mentioned earlier. If you think that I am in that grey area, well...we aren't a good fit dear reader. Perhaps you should seek you humor elsewhere. Don't leave mad, just leave!

Lesbian to English Dictionary

2008-06-10T10:32:00.000-07:00

Lesbians have a culture and a language all their own. As a lesbian, you don't realize this until you are trapped in a room full of straight people and try to engage in conversation with them. Not small talk, but a real conversation.

In season 4 of The L-Word this was demonstrated by a game of celebrity played by a room filled half with lesbians and half with straight men and women. Celebrity is a game where everyone writes down the names of celebrities on separate pieces of paper, they are all thrown into a hat. Two teams are formed, one person on the team draws a name and has one minute to give clues that would lead the team to guessing the name.

The two different cultures didn't even know many of the other's "celebrities". Yes, they are all famous, but more famous within different groups.

I have always found that being around my lesbians is so much more enjoyable to me because they "get" me. They understand my references, and my humor and they can accurately assess what I'm saying.

Here's what I mean:

"Face" Your Fears

2008-06-08T09:22:00.000-07:00

When I was a wee lesbian of four, my older wiser five year old friend, Satan, dared me to pet a neighborhood stray dog that was busily eating a bone. It was a black retriever mix, and we had always had dogs and I had no reason to fear this one. I reached my hand out toward the dog, and faster than you could say "years of therapy" that dog was attached to my face, by it's teeth. To my bottom lip to be exact, and it did not want to let go. I thought to myself, what should a four-year-old do in the situation? So I let out a blood-curdling scream. Kimmy, the evil five year-old ran towards my house, yelling for my mom. We were in the neighbors yard raiding his rhubarb prior to the dare.

My mom came running out in her robe with her hair up in curlers, swinging a broom, and bellowing some kind of sadistic war cry as she pummeled the animal into releasing me and getting the hell out of Dodge. I could not have been more embarrassed, but since I was in dyer need of saving, I decided not to make a big deal out of it at the time. She ran to the Kimmy's house with me in her arms. I had hopes of revenge in my tear filled eyes, but instead a wet wash cloth was jammed into my mouth, and Kimmy's Dad was frantically driving us somewhere while my mother said things like, "What happened? No, don't talk!" We got turned away from a couple places before finding a doctor willing to stitch me up. Even then, doctors were afraid of law suits and facial stitchery was a dangerous area for them.

I told you that so I could tell you this. I love animals, I've always had dogs and would risk my life to save one, even one I don't know, but if a dog is acting aggressively towards me, I get scared.

When I was in high school I had a friend named Sally. Sally was cool, she played the guitar, she was gay, in fact you could say she was the Melissa Etheridge of our neighborhood. She had a dog. A large German Shepard named Bear. Bear was always on a chain in the side yard. Every time a group of us would walk past Bear, everyone would greet him, "Hi Bear." they'd all say walking by while he sat and watched the line of girls pass, but when it was my turn, the phrase wouldn't even be halfway out of my mouth, and he'd spring at me, held back by the chain, straining and growling and barking at me. I did not know what I'd done to offend him, but thanked the heavens for that chain.

One day I went to see Sally. I arrived, and went to the front door to knock. I was standing there after knocking and peeked around the corner to get a visual of Bear. He was not there, but he had to be...I knocked again, no answer I turned to go down the stairs and who came trotting around the corner to greet me? You guessed it. Bear, unfettered and larger than life. The second I saw him, I felt the rush of adrenaline course through me. I must've been beet red. I said to myself, this is it, I'm going to die now. I decided since I was surely about to be eaten alive, I'd let him start with my hand, so I held it out... as an appetizer. Bear sniffed it rather than digging right in, and then licked it. Slowly, I sat down on the step and began to pet him. We became friends, he never growled and barked at me again, what the hell was that about anyway?

My Hospital Trip

2008-05-19T18:37:00.000-07:00

Some random guy-definitely not me!

It happened late Wednesday night. I felt sick, it was around midnight. I got up and went to the bathroom, I found myself wondering which end to point at the toilet. "This is a bad situation", I thought. I decided to have a seat, and grab the waste basket. I was in intense pain, that made my cry out and I began to sweat profusely. This lasted for quite a while. It must be food poisoning, I reasoned to myself. I went to bed and in the morning, of course felt sick again, I still had intense intestinal pain and this time I noticed blood. Quite a bit of it, and an hour later, I had to go again, this time...all blood. I was scared. I called my Mom and told her about what was going on. I'd had dinner with my parents and wanted to find out if they felt sick too.

My sister has Crohn's disease, so of course my mother had me diagnosed with that in about 3 minutes. I was more of the wait and see, because I'm not dead yet school of thought. I made it through the rest of the day, but the next morning, I felt like dying. Mom called to see how I was, and when I told her, the conversation went like this...

Mom: I'm coming to get you and you're going to the hospital. This is nothing to screw around with, you could die.

Me: No, I don't want to go today...

Mom: What day are you going to want to go?

Me: (chuckling painfully) Never...Maybe I just need antibiotics.

Mom: You don't know that. You have to go to the hospital. I'm coming to get you!

Me: At least give me some time to prepare, and pay some bills and call people I have dealings with in the next couple of days...how about after lunch, say, 1:00?

Mom: I'll see you at one. Pack a bag, they are going to admit you. We'll take care of the dogs.

Okay, this seems manageable, that's what you're thinking right now...right? All except for one teeny tiny little detail. I have an unreasonable fear of hospitals and doctors, and, well...all things medical. I'm the polar opposite of a hypochondriac, I never feel sick, or if I do, I don't believe it hard enough to make it go away. Something literally has to fall off my body, for me to admit there's a problem, and if I could, I'd just staple it back on, rather than go see someone about it.

One of my greatest fears is being in the hospital to have my tonsils out, and waking up to find one of my legs amputated. I do not have a great deal of faith in medical professionals, and I have never ever had surgery, or been admitted to a hospital. The very idea of this sends me into a full fledged panic.

Maybe a cocktail or two with lunch, maybe I could just hide, or leave until my mother goes away.

These all seem reasonable to me. I begin to make phone calls and cancellations, and explain that I'm going to the hospital, which sounds like a death sentence to me every time I say it, "Yeah, I'm going to the gallows in a couple of hours, so...I can't make our appointment tomorrow."

I decide to go ultimately, because the pain is stronger than the fear. We get to the emergency room and before too long, I am in an examination room. I am told to remove all of my clothing and put on the gown. The dreaded gown, with the opening in the back. The gown that you see on terminally ill people with tubes and machines hooked up to them, that gown. I tell my story to several people and am forced to answer very detailed questions about my poo. This too, is painful. I get to enjoy a rectal exam, and they take blood, I am poked and prodded, my vitals are being taken repeatedly, and then they bring me a large container of orange fluid. I'm told to drink 8oz of this every 15 minutes over the next hour and half, and then they'll come get me for a cat-scan. They also leave me a plastic specimen container called a hat, that they'd like me to fill. I am delighted with the request but don't seem to be able to comply, not then, and not for my entire stay.

I was in the little room for 8 hours. After the cat-scan the doctor came and told me it was infectious colitis, and they were going to admit me. They did not yet know what caused it, but seven inches of my intestines were inflamed. They put me on an IV, and know I was one of those people wandering around in a gown with a metal coat rack on wheels that has bags of goop hanging off it that are attached by tubes to your arm. It's like a nightmare. I feel like I'm in an episode of The Twilight Zone. After the Doctor leaves, I begin to cry. My mom hugs me and tells me it'll be alright. I feel like a total baby. They take me to my room, and I am relieved to find that it's empty. It's just me, thank god!

I was moved into my room at 10:00pm. They took my vitals, I met the nurse, met the doctor, they did an assessment, hooked me up to more hanging goo, and promised me something for the pain, and something to help me sleep. I needed both. At 11:00 there was a shift change, so they took my vitals, did an assessment, I met the new nurse, and the new doctor, I asked for the meds for pain and sleep, they had to check...I asked a few more times, and finally at 1:30am they brought me the pills. I got to sleep at around 2:00am. At 4:30am they wheeled in my room-mate. A Hispanic woman who seemed to be in great pain. They turned on all the lights, they talked in tones you'd expect to hear outside, not in tones one would want in a room where someone is trying to sleep. There were about 900 people setting her up and she was moaning and groaning loudly and chanting "dios mio". I felt sorry for her, yes, but I wanted to sleep...

I got back to sleep at around 5:00am, but was awakened by a screaming baby in the room across the hall a half-hour later. I got up and wheeled my coat rack over to shut the door which was left wide open with all the lights and noises of the non-stop busy hallway flooding in.

I dozed off again just in time for a someone to wake me up so they could take more blood. That was at 6:00am. I hoped to sleep a while longer when my room-mate began to hurl, and in a very noisy way. I cannot hear this without joining in, kind of like yawning, so I quickly grabbed my ipod and jammed it in my ears cranking the volume to avert the disaster. Then more vitals, another assessment, more new staff...they brought me a menu, and wanted me to choose my meals for the next couple of days. I filled it all out, and someone came around to collect it. The doctor (a specialist) came in to examine me, and he told me about the possibilities and probabilities. They brought me a liquid lunch, said the doctor had put me on a liquid diet, so I drank my meals and didn't get any of the food I had carefully selected earlier.

Some friends came to visit me, and by that time I was unfettered, so we went for a walk around the hospital. I was in my own pajamas by this time. When I returned my extremely noisy room-mate was being relocated. Yahooo...peace. They left, and then around dinner time some more friends stopped in. They were on their way out to dinner, and felt bad when they saw my unappetizing tray of liquids. So did I.

I was feeling a lot better, and didn't have much pain anymore, but I made sure I got my sleeping pill before the shift change. I was exhausted. I shut the door and went to sleep, only to get another room-mate at 1:30am. This one was an older woman named Adelaide, but her friends called her Babs, who'd fallen and broken her hip. I officially met her the next morning, and I really liked her. She was quite a character, very funny and a great attitude. The nurses assistants were kind of ignoring her, so I helped her with some tasks, brushing her teeth, eating breakfast, answering the phone. When they told me I could go, she begged me not to.

"I can take you with me, but I've got to go!" I said smiling. It was Mother's Day. I made sure she had people coming to see her, and I got a ride home from some friends. I drove to my parent's house to make my mom dinner and collect my babies (Cody and Winston).

My visit to the hospital was not as bad as I thought it would be in some ways, and much worse than I thought in others. All in all, I'd have been glad to skip it altogether.

My Top Ten Sci-fi Women of All Time...

2008-05-08T15:27:00.000-07:00

Creampuff posted her top 10 (8) women of Sci-fi, and needed suggestion for the last two, I found so many I liked, that she didn't have, that I decided to just do my own top 10. I tend to like the kick-assier women, so here they are in no particular order...

1) Kristianna Loken. This should come as no surprise, I have already discussed my Kristianna-crush in great detail. She has a way about her that says, "yeah, I could totally kick your ass, but then again, I might just kiss you."

2) Sharon Stone. Sci-fi or otherwise, Sharon is an obvious favorite. Here she is at forty, looking like she's about to pounce! Are you feeling lucky?

3) Halle Berry. Isn't it obvious?

4. Lucy Liu. Looks like a flower but she stings like a bee... She bangs!

5) Jessica Alba. No Sci-fi's sexiest list is complete without Jessica, leaving her out would really chap my ass! She is amazing, and gorgeous.

6) Linda Hamilton. Yeah, it's the arms, but the eyes, lips, and jaw line aren't doing her any harm either. Don't try sneaking up on her.

7) Milla Jojovich. If you're already dead she'll dispatch you with speed and style. I'm not already dead, but she kills me! She's dead sexy baby.

8) Uma Thurman. She slices and dices, she flips and spins, the way she moves, like a graceful cat, she'll kick your ass, and hand you your hat. Don't let her see you swoon, she'll know you think she hung the moon.

9) Lexa Doig. Hello. Lexa is from Ontario, and is on the Sci-fi show Andromeda. Lexa is short for Alexandra. She's not as well known as the others, but just look at that tummy!

10) Kierra Knightley. She's got more fight than a bag full of kittens, and she's pretty hot, in a Disney kind of way.

*************************************************************************************

Honorable Mention

Pink. She rocks! She's Pink! I love her music, and she can hold her own in mid-evil cool chick gear too, so there you go.

Natural Disasters

2008-04-24T18:45:00.000-07:00

There are many types of "natural disasters".

There's the "shart", for those of you who haven't seen "Along Came Polly" it's when you think you're going to fart, but you shit a little.

There's that skin flap that forms under a woman's arms sometime in her 50's usually.

There's showing up at a formal event in the same outfit as a woman your friends all refer to as "the ho-bag".

But the natural disasters I'm writing about are the kind involving weather, and the earth. When someone tells me about a disaster, I find it difficult to not want to compete with them for who's lived through the worst natural disaster. I'm not sure my desire to win this particular competition is natural, or healthy, or smart.

And although it is true that many people have lived through disasters much worse than my best or worst, it is possible that I could still win the coveted "Most Freaked Out By a Natural Disaster Award". The awards ceremony for this particular award is fairly small and low key, and currently it is not being televised. The MFOBANDA nominees are often a rag-tag bunch, straggling along a tan carpet into the school auditorium , which was randomly chosen out of a dirty hat for that year's event. They are often hurt, injured, shell shocked, flinching and wincing as they pass by the disposable camera purchased to record the ceremony for posterity.

You see, about nine months after moving to L.A. I had found my own apartment. It was a small studio apartment. It had one large room, and a small kitchen. A hallway went around a corner to the bathroom, and in that hallway was a built in dresser, and vanity. The living room had a Murphy bed tucked behind a pair of large doors. I had furnished the whole thing with "found" furniture, which I cleaned up and improved as much as I could, and things that had been given to me by various people I'd met who felt pity for me. I was very proud of the fact that I had a pretty nice set up, and hadn't spent any money other than a couple bucks on a few yards of fabric to cover a chair.
But I digress. In the middle of the night, I think it was around 4:00am on January 17th, 1994 the Northridge Earthquake struck L.A. This was my first earthquake and it was a pretty big one. I was awakened by the sensation on laying in the bed of a pick-up truck as it flew down a bumpy dirt road. It was pitch dark, it was loud, I was naked! Everything was falling all around me, things were smashing and breaking. It went on for about 20 seconds, which felt like an hour. When the walls and the ceiling and floor stopped moving, it was still pitch dark. Car alarms were going off everywhere, people were outside the building talking in excited and frightened tones. I was afraid to get off the bed, I'd heard things breaking, I had bare feet. I slowly carefully lowered my feet to floor and felt each step before taking it to the light switch. No power, I picked up the phone, no phone. I needed to find clothes and get dressed and find out what I'm supposed to do! I started to panic, because my apartment was on the ground floor, and from the side of the building someone could easily break a window and step right in, and there I was naked, startled, no way to call the police, no lights, no one else in the building to here me scream. jThe thought of this nearly paralyzed me with fear. It sounded like everyone was outside. I thought I should be out there too. I had some candles, I lit a lighter to find them, and thank god I didn't blow up.

You should never light a match after an earthquake, gas pipes break or leak, but I didn't know. I didn't know how to survive here, it hadn't occurred to me before. I finally got some candles lit and looked around at the destruction. I was in disbelief! Cabinets opened and emptied themselves, even the hall closet threw up all over the place blocking the door. I found clothes and it took me a while but I found shoes too. I moved the pile of crap blocking the door and exited the building. Everyone was out in front of the building telling their story. The whole neighborhood was out there talking to each other and assessing the damage, in L.A. neighbors talking is a strange sight indeed.

There were many aftershocks, smaller but still disturbing earthquakes that followed the initial one. Every one of these made me feel a little sick, and scared. You never want to see a building you're standing in move the way a building moves during an earthquake. After a couple of weeks, the aftershocks were getting very small and not that unsettling. I had a very large avocado tree outside my apartment window, and when we had an aftershock I would run outside and pick up the avocados. I'd call my friend and say, aftershock! I'm making guacamole for the game. I put a big nail by the door and hung my jeans with the wallet in the pocket and a t-shirt on it. I put a pair of shoes just below them on the floor so I could find everything in the dark. i had management fix the closet door so it would latch properly and felt a little more prepared, but shortly after that was when the anxiety attacks started.

I would be on the freeway and traffic would slow to a stop and I'd be sitting their, one car locked in like a puzzle piece with thousands of other cars just sitting there, stuck no way to get out....STUCK. I would start pulling at my clothes because I couldn't breathe and they felt tight around my neck, but they weren't. This feeling, this panic began to extend to any situation where I felt unable to move, being in a large crowd where it was difficult to move or raise my arms, on a bus with people sandwiching me in, anything like that.

You never forget your first earthquake! You never know what will break inside you when you are truly shaken.

MFOBANDA acceptance speech:

First of all, I'd like to thank all the slightly less freaked out people without whom this award would not be mine. I'd like to thank the mental health professionals I've come in contact with for nominating me. Id like to thank the pharmaceutical companies for being there when I needed them, and I'd like to give a shout out to all my peeps who know what I'm talking about!

Playing to Win

2008-04-16T19:01:00.000-07:00

Having recently met someone on line who's distance away from me (great), is about equal to my level of interest in her, I have set about the difficult task of trying to figure how to proceed.

The options seem to be:

Thank her for the enchanting email moments, and look for something sharp to throw myself on.

Sell everything netting a huge loss, since home prices have dropped steadily since I bought mine, and show up homeless and penniless on her doorstep.

Win the lottery and fly to her, for, I don't know...maybe three days. See how things go. If they are as good in real life, as they are in glued-to-my-laptop-life, we can do what we want. I 've got millions!

If you're like me, you like the third option best! My dad always says, "Your chances of a freight train falling on your head while you're in the shower are better than your chances of hitting it big in the lottery". I say, good things can happen just as easily as bad things, and people do win. I'm a people, why not me? So I bought three tickets last night. The mega-millions was up to 26 million. I figured I could squeak by on that, so I spent three dollars on a dream. The clerk gave me three separate tickets, instead of 3 picks on one ticket. He said he thought it improved my chances. At least he was on my side! I took that as a good omen. Yep, this time I think I might really win. This could be the one, I can feel it.

They had the drawing last night, and this morning on my way to work I remembered I had those three little tickets in my wallet. I'll check later I thought, because I probably won, and I really do have to finish this job before I go gallivanting off. I'll check later, I don't need the distraction when I'm trying to frame in a doorway. I worked all day, just like one of the common folk, and had dinner with my parents. I didn't really think about the tickets I had tucked away. Tickets, or at least one ticket to a new life, one where I can still build furniture if I want to, but I can do it with all the best tools (like Norm on Old Yankee Workshop) and in a spacious well lit workshop in...Tuscany! When I go, I go big!

I drove home like I always do, singing at the top of my lungs. When I got home I fed the dogs, caught up on all my blog reading, checked my email and then I thought, Hmmm, I should check those tickets! I found the website for the Mega-Millions, I don't have it bookmarked because I only buy lottery tickets 3 maybe four times a year. I got the tickets and put on my glasses, here we go...out of all three tickets, one matching number. Well...maybe next time, why do I think so? I have no idea, and no plans to start wearing my hard-hat in the shower either.

Are You This Bored?

2008-04-14T15:01:00.000-07:00

While I am busy trying to come up with a wonderfully witty and entertaining story for my blog, I took this test and these are my results. I stole this test from theweyrd1 at Keen Observer of the Human Condition.
She's a ring finger, so she won't mind. We're like this (tries to desperately to wrap pinky and ring finger around each other).

You Are a Pinky

You are fiercely independent, and possibly downright weird.

A great communicator, you can get along with almost anyone.

You are kind and sympathetic. You support all your friends - and love them for who they are.

You get along well with: The Ring Finger

Stay away from: The Thumb

What Finger Are You?

A Kind Stranger

2008-04-08T20:53:00.000-07:00

You come to me shrouded in darkness and pain

The mystery of you fills my head

You shed a magical light that that clearly shows

An innocent and beautiful soul,

But it's a light that a privileged few can see.

That light feels like it's blinding, to me

You don't even know it's there

You sit in the darkness not realizing,

That through miles and miles of cyberspace

I can, and do, touch your sweet face

I taste your tears, I feel your fears,

I reach for you with all my heart

You, still huddled in the dark

I can't make it go away, your pain, my need

They are content to stay

You cannot feel me, but you know I'm there

Such little comfort, wondering why I care

You have your life, and I have mine

And though our paths may never cross

I see your light, and know the truth

Of how the woman you'd become

Was slowly strangled

In her youth.

April Fool's Day 1993: Conclusion

2008-04-08T07:16:00.000-07:00

As I drove by the L.A. skyline all light up, I felt so excited. This is where I would begin a new life. Start fresh, reinvent myself. It was about 10pm. I drove out route 10 towards the coast. When I got to Westchester, I called Jeff, the owner of the house I had arranged to rent a room in, as he had instructed me to. I waited at a Carl's Junior (a fast food joint like Burger King) for him. He showed up and said he has some things to talk to me about before we went to the house. I had Johnny, so we drove to the house, dropped off my truck and Johnny, then went to a small nearby women's bar. We sat at the bar and he bought me a beer.

He said, "Since I talked to you, we've had another house guest move in, his name is Joel, he is renting the other room and he has aids. I didn't want you to get there and be surprised."

I thought it was very nice of him to tell me, but not really necessary. This meant I would be living in a house with three gay men, Jeff, his lover Steve, and Joel. I told him I was fine with that, and thanked him for his desire to make sure I wouldn't be upset.

"And one more thing, there's another guy, Chuck, who's sleeping on the couch in the living room. He'll only be there for the month. It's just temporary." His eyes narrowed as he looked at me to see what my reaction would be.

"Okay." I said, looking around at the first few California lesbians I'd seen. I met a woman sitting at the bar. She was very nice and told me her girlfriend was in a band, and they would be playing at the Palms, a lesbian bar in West Hollywood, on Friday night if I wanted to come. I thought it might be nice, and said I would try.

Jeff and I went to the house, I met everyone, got a tour of the house, and went to my room for a good night's sleep. The next morning, I opened my eyes, looked out the window, and it was a beautiful day. Blue skies, the sun was shinning, it was warm, but not humid, perfect. I walked to the kitchen grinning. "What a beautiful day!" I exclaimed.

"You'll get used to it." Jeff said in a matter of fact tone.

"I'm going the beach to roller blade on the bike path." I said triumphantly, and Steve wanted to go with me. At the beach, on that perfect day, I looked around at the beauty of it all and wondered two things, What took me so long to get here?...and, Why doesn't everyone live here?

It turned out Steve was Jeff's lover more out of necessity than love. It gave him a roof over his head and food etc. but he was bi-sexual, and took a shine to me right away. I made it plain, I was not bi-sexual, and not interested in him at all! He continued to be creepy around me until I finally moved out, about two months later.

My Friday night at the Palms was insane. I'd been in L.A. less than a week, I was sitting in the outside patio of a fantastic bar, meeting people, listening to live music, and in walks kd Lang and her entourage, to see the band. Unbelievable, I almost fell off my stool. I didn't ask for, but was given three phone numbers that night, each woman, beautiful, and I was amazed.

The second of those three that I went out with, turned out to be my first girlfriend in California. I got myself into therapy, with a therapist that worked on a sliding scale through the Gay and Lesbian Center, and really did reinvent myself.

Moving to California on what seemed like a whim at the time, turned out to be the best decision I've ever made. As a result, I am a much better human than I was when I embarked on that journey, and my life is so much richer for it.

Happy Birthday to Me

2008-04-06T20:30:00.000-07:00

The 7th is my birthday. My family got together today for my birthday dinner. My mother who is an excellent cook makes whatever you request for your birthday dinner, and desert. It's been this way as long as I can remember. On the way to my parent's house my mom called me.

me: "Hi Mom, I'm on my way. I had to get gas."

Mom: "Oh, I thought maybe you'd got caught mediating."

me: "Mediating? Are Laura and Kevin fighting?"

Mom: "Yes, Kevin finally returned Laura's phone calls today...and...well, they both are at fault."

There's more of course, but I won't bore you with the details of what my brother and sister were fighting about, and how my parents got dragged into it.

First one wasn't going to come, then the other...drama drama more drama. They made peace in the nick of time, and everyone showed up for the meal. I was honored of course.

Well, this time for the first time ever, I left the meal up to my mother. "Surprise me!" I said. She made paella, which was wonderful, because she thought it would make everyone happy. My picky meathead brother won't eat a lot of stuff. But she knew he at least liked chicken. She also put in shrimp and turkey sausage, no mussels, I think I'm the only one that eats them. Well, he turned his nose up at it completely. Wouldn't eat any of it! Not even the saffron rice! What a dolt! She made a blueberry lemon cake with white chocolate frosting for desert, which was heavenly by the way. My parents disappeared into the kitchen to get the cake and coffee and when they got back they said they had an announcement to make.

"All future birthday meals will be eaten out at restaurants." You'd have thought the world just ended. My sister actually started to cry. My poor mother, she'll be turning 7o this year. She deserves a break. She knocked herself out on this meal and Little Lord Fauntleroy wouldn't eat any of it. What did they expect?

Since my sister was already in tears, my dad decided it would be a good time to give her career choice advice. She's always so open to suggestions, and currently between gigs. This went over like a lead balloon.

My brother bailed almost immediately, took his cake to go. I was saying my thank yous and goodbyes. My mother hugged me, and said, "Happy Birthday." I said, "You're kidding, right?"

We laughed, and I left with a whole quarter of the birthday cake. I drove straight to the home of the two skinniest lesbians I know, and presented them with the cake. They were happy to get it, I was happy to get rid of it, and we had a nice visit. Happy Birthday after all.

A Short Rant!

2008-04-05T08:50:00.000-07:00

My 3 year old Vaio died in December, and I bought a new one. The new one came with Vista software. A LOT of the software I own will not load onto the new laptop. It's all compatible with Windows98, 2000, and XP, but not Vista. Why on EARTH would Bill Gates do this to me? I'm sure he doesn't get that money doesn't grow on trees, but really...am I expected to go buy all new peripherals now? A new all-in-one, because HP software won't load properly, a new GPS, new photo-shop, new website software, new Microsoft office, new palm pilot, I mean...WTF?

I spent a couple of hours a few nights ago, locating and sifting through old photos, to go with my April Fools/Move to California post, and I found 'em. Pictures of Johnny, of the truck all packed up, the scenery along the way...and Vista won't let me use my scanner!

Suck It Bill Gates!!!!

April Fool's Day 1993: part 2

2008-04-04T20:54:00.000-07:00

First a little about my traveling companion, Johnny. A friend of mine had a roommate who'd adopted Johnny at the pound. I'd gone over to their place a few times, and when I did, Johnny would always come to where I was sitting and put his chin on my leg. He'd sit like that as long as I'd sit in that chair. They would always joke about how he was in love with me. I guess it got to the guy, because one day he asked me if I wanted him. I did. He had some issues, but we worked them out, and he was great company and made me feel safe sleeping in the back of the truck with me.

On with the trip. We left Virginia and we headed through West Virginia on our way to our first stop, Columbus Ohio. I had an old Army buddy living there with her girlfriend and planned to spend that night in a comfortable bed. While we were passing through the mountains in W.V. storm hit us. It was raining like crazy. A car passed me on an incline and the passenger pointed up at the roof and shook his head. Huh? What the hell is that supposed to mean? I wondered. I looked in the rear view at the roof. My bike, where was it? I pulled over and got out. No bike, it was gone. Oh my God! That bike was my only mode of transportation for two years. This truck wasn't going to last, I need that thing, and loved it. Huge 18 wheelers were flying up the mountain, I had this sick feeling I'd find it completely destroyed. I got in the truck and backed down the shoulder, all the trucks blew their horns at me, I didn't care. I kept going, then a transportation dept. vehicle with his yellow light flashing pulled up behind me. He was all dressed yellow rain gear from head to foot. He told me I shouldn't be backing down the shoulder, it was very dangerous. I told him I knew that, but my bike fell off, and I needed it. He smiled, I picked it up for you. He went and got it. It was alright. It hadn't been run over. The forks were bent from the fall, but I could get that fixed! I was so happy, I hugged him, and he laughed. I put the bike in the back, in my sleeping space, and decided I'd let it ride there instead. At night I could move it to the cab.

The rest of the drive to Columbus was comparatively uneventful. When I got to Pat's house, she was happy to see me. I met her girlfriend, we went out to dinner and then to a women's bar for a beer. It was my first time in Columbus, I liked it. In the morning I set out for Memphis.

I didn't stop to see any sights along the way. I only stopped for gas, restrooms and food, usually taking care of all three at the same place, or at least the same exit. All I remember about Memphis, was I found a hotel parking lot, slept on the plywood in a sleeping bag, and it was uncomfortable, and I was cold! The next day I made it as far as Amarillo, when I hit some snow flurries. I didn't want to mess with it so I found a fleabag hotel, the most rundown cheapest place on the planet. I took a hot bath, and sprawled out on the queen size bed and had one of the most restful and peaceful nights I can remember. It felt like sleeping on a cloud. The next morning it was off to New Mexico where I planned to spend the day, and the night.

Pat's girlfriend's mother lived in Albuquerque and she offered to put me up for the night when I came through. I had a short drive day. By lunchtime Johnny was running around in a park in Albuquerque, and I was sitting on a picnic table enjoying blue skies and a beautiful day eating my lunch AL fresco. I traveled up to Santa Fe and spent the afternoon and into the early evening there. I loved it there, all the art, the restaurants, the people were pleasant and happy. The Coyote Cafe was there. I was so excited to actually see it, I had the cookbook and it was one of my all time favorites. I thought about staying, not finishing the trip. That night I met up with Alice, she was gay just like her daughter. We had dinner at her house, we talked and I really enjoyed her company. She loved Johnny. I told her about my inclination to stay, and she told me employment was really tough in that area.
"Basically, you have to wait for someone to die, to get their job, and you'd better like it." she said. I decided to stick to the original plan, besides I'd already sent money to Jeff. The guy who owned the house I was renting a room in.

I was getting close, I would arrive at my new home tomorrow night! I was excited. The next morning I headed out over the mountain, through Flagstaff and then down the other side towards LA. That night, when I got close enough to see downtown Los Angeles all lit up, I couldn't stop smiling...almost there.

To be cont.

15 Years Ago Today

2008-04-01T13:11:00.000-07:00

My truck looked like this one, only without the shine, and add a big ugly camper shell.

On this April Fool's Day in 1993, my dog Johnny and I, set out on our journey to California. I had a beater pick-up truck that I bought for about $400 and then put another $400 into it to make sure it would make the trip across the country. I built a false bottom up above the wheel wells in the bed. The bottom was packed with clothes and keepsakes. The top was where I planned to sleep. It had a camper shell on it, and a roof rack up on top of that, which I strapped my plastic wrapped bicycle to. The front wheel of my bike was in the small space between the bench seat and the back of the cab. It was a dull dark grey Mazda that looked like it had been through hell and back.
In a condensed version, the events that had lead up to this day were, after I finished my active duty in the Army, I decided to stay in the DC area, which was where I'd been for the last couple of years. It wasn't because it was such a great place to live, it was because that's where my girlfriend at the time was from, and all of her family was there...blah blah blah. I lived in that part of the country for nine of the most miserable years of my life. A friend of mine from Cape Cod was visiting me one day at the restaurant where I was a sous chef, and asked, "Why do you choose to live here?" I looked at her blankly. She rephrased, "You could do what you do anywhere in the world. Why, of all places, have you decided to live here?" I hadn't really thought about it quite that way before. Things had long since ended with the local girl I'd been involved with, why was I here? That was the seed being planted. I didn't think about it again for quite a while.

A year later, my job was eating my life, and I was frustrated with the total lack of balance. I was at work from 10am to midnight five days a week. I had just enough time between lunch and dinner to shoot home and walk my dog. I lived nearby. I had Monday and Wednesday off. No one else has those days off! I had to work weekends and holidays, always. I had no social life at all. I loved the job itself but the hours were killing me. The faces at the restaurant bar were the same day after day, night after night, drinking and having ridiculous arguments, while we watched their faces slowly sliding off of their skulls. It was horrifying. One day I was having a particularly rough day, and casually in conversation, I said, "I should just chuck it all and move to California." I don't know what made me say it, but when I heard myself saying it, it hit home. "Hey, I could actually do that? Why not! There's nothing for me here. I've always wanted to go. If I'm going to leave my job and look for a new career, that's as good a place as any to do it." I had never been to California, but ever since I was a little kid, I've always thought I'd like to live there. It was decided, just like that.
I found a roommate matching service, and they hooked me up with a room in a house that met my 2 requirements, I could have my dog there, and it was within walking distance of the beach. Done! I gave my five weeks notice at the restaurant, sold all my furniture, and everything else that wasn't absolutely essential, bought the truck and said my goodbyes. I'd worry about a job once I got there. I was so happy with this decision, that when I went out with friends, women started coming out of the woodwork. I met a few really nice women right before I left. It's funny how being happy in public attracts people, too bad I was happy about leaving!

The Trip and The Arrival: Next installment.

My First Kiss Cont.

2008-03-30T17:20:00.000-07:00

this post is dedicated to cj

...This was the end of innocence. I'd kissed a woman! I'd been to a bar, had beer, lied to my parents, things would be different from this day forward. That had all happened on a Monday night, yes...a school night. I'd had Katie, and that kiss on my mind for every excruciatingly long minute of everyday, until the weekend finally arrived. She didn't have a phone, so I'd surprise her. I got on my trusty ten-speed, and rode the twenty two miles to the college. My feelings for her could have propelled me to the moon, if that's what it would take to see her again. I didn't know how to get there without spending a little time on the highway. I knew I wasn't supposed to be on it, on my bicycle, but I figured once I was on it, the worst that could happen is a cop might pick me up and take me to the nearest exit, which is where I was going anyway. I might've been wrong about that, but we'll never know, because no one did stop me. I rode like the wind, to the soft sweet lips of my new love.

When I got there, she wasn't there, but was expected back soon. Her roommate I'd met the night of her game, allowed me to come in and wait. She was very nice, and sat and talked to me. She pulled out a bong and took a hit, offered it to me, I politely declined. I was familiar with the stuff because my older sister was something of a pot-head, and got me stoned when I was all of twelve. I had decided after that, that pot wasn't for me. I was an athlete, and I wanted to be healthy.

When Katie arrived home, she wasn't alone. She introduced me to her friend, and expressed her surprise at seeing me. She asked me if I'd like to go for a walk and excused herself. She explained that the woman she'd just introduced me to, was her lover, and she apologized for misleading me with that kiss. She explained that she was attracted to me, and flattered by my attention, but she'd made a mistake. I was crushed. We walked back to the apartment, I saw pieces of my heart caught in the treads of her sneakers being mashed into the ground with each step. My legs became heavy. All I could feel was the cavity where my heart had been, growing larger and larger. I knew I had to get home before it consumed me completely, and the ride home, was ten times longer than the ride there had been.

My First Kiss

2008-03-28T20:23:00.000-07:00

This is the story of the first time I kissed a woman. I count this as my first kiss, because it was the first one that didn't disgust me, and the first one that I really wanted to participate in.

You'll need some background, so here goes. The summer between my sophomore and junior year in high school, I went to field hockey camp. This was a camp for serious field hockey players who wanted to improve and hone their skills. My high school was very competitive in this sport, and I was very competitive in everything. The camp was run at a nearby private college known for it's physical education program, and premier athletics department. Many of the women on the college's esteemed hockey team were instructors at the camp. I developed a huge crush on one of them we'll call Katie. Katie was going into her senior year, she was the captain of the team. She was athletically built, thin, blue eyes, blond hair, a gorgeous smile, and an English accent. What's not to love? I puppied around after her for the entire time, with a small crowd of others who also thought she totally rocked it.

I didn't know if she was gay. I knew I was, but I still hadn't met any one else I knew to be gay, so I had no gaydar. She tried to hint to me that she was, looking back, but I was too new to it all to add any of it up. The night before our last day, I stayed awake writing her a letter. One that I did not want to be around when she read. One that told her how I felt, bared my soul, exposed me, to her and everyone she might choose to share it with. I slid it under her door that morning, before she got up and out.

Later, the usual groupies and I were all in her room while she packed up her stuff, all hoping to steal a private moment, or make some kind of impression that would separate us from the pack. I had no way of knowing whether she'd read the letter yet or not. I figured she had, and was doing the prudent thing, pretending it never happened. Then she told everyone to get out, she needed to go, and we all started filing out the door. "Not you." She stopped me, and shut the door. My heart began to race, she's pissed...why did I do it...why? I should've waited until the last minute to give that to her... I'm so stupid.

"Nice letter" she said with a warm smile. "Here, I'm going to give you my address so you can write to me, I hope you can come to some games too."

I was stunned. I couldn't speak, I just smiled at her, she hugged me, and I somehow made it to my stuff and to my parent's car, and then home.

No, the kiss didn't happen yet, I'm getting to that.

So, I wrote to her, and much to surprise she wrote back, quickly. I thought for sure a beautiful woman like her, with all she has going on would take weeks to reply, but again she surprised me.

Finally, I arranged to go see her play. It was Columbus Day. I borrowed my parent's car, and drove to the college. It was about a twenty five minute drive. When I arrived, I found Katie right away to say hello. She asked me if I could give her a ride to her apartment really quick, she'd forgotten something she needed for the game. Of course I was more than happy to oblige. I met one of her roommates, and we headed back to the field.

One of the other girls from the field hockey camp was in the stands, and when she heard me cheering for Katie, she asked me, "So...you know Katie?"

"Yes" I replied importantly. "I saw her this weekend out at The Arbor" she volunteered. I was still trying to find out if she was gay, so I nonchalantly replied, "Was she with a boyfriend?"

"A boyfriend?!!" the girl blurted out laughing at my ignorance, "No, she wasn't with a boyfriend." she somehow managed while still snickering.

Of course The Arbor was a lesbian bar, but I didn't know. I didn't even know such places existed! I was only 16! After the game, Katie came directly over to me, and asked if I wanted to go out with a bunch of them for a beer, then asked "How old are you?" "I'm seventeen...and a half", I lied. The drinking age was eighteen back then, and they weren't much into carding, so that seemed fine, and off to the neighborhood dive we went. It was a little haunt with a juke box, it was not a lesbian bar, or gay bar, just a bar, the first bar I'd ever been in, but I wasn't about to share that information. I pretended I went to bars all the time, and drank beer quite frequently. I didn't. After a couple or a few beers, I realized the time, and said, "I need to call my parents!" They'll be worried. I intended to tell them the game went into overtime, and then I was visiting with my friends, and I'd be home soon. Katie got in the car with me and directed me back to the school to use a phone booth. They had no phone in their apartment. When I got there, a cop car parked behind me, and the officer called out to me, "Are you Red Mojo?" "Yes" I said sheepishly. "Your parents are looking for you!" he informed me.

"I know officer, I'm calling them right now."I managed, afraid they'd see I'd been drinking and arrest me. "I talked to them about half and hour ago, and I saw the lights on the field, so I told them the game was still going on." one of them said. That was helpful.

I placed the call, and my Dad was concerned I might get lost on my way home, so he was giving me directions over the phone, and wanted me to repeat them back to him. I was too drunk to do this, so I kept getting it wrong after the 4th or 5th turn. The cops heard what was happening and they asked, "Do you know how to get home once you're on the freeway?"

"Yes." I answered confidently. "Then we'll give you an escort." they said. The pressure of all of this was threatening to just cave my head in, but I pulled it together, told Dad the police were going to take me to the freeway, and then I told the police, that before that happened, I needed to take Katie home. They were fine with that, so I took her to her place, with them behind me, I pulled up in front, and after a whole night of flirting, drinking, smiling, and gazing into each other's eyes, it would end like this.

"Aren't you going to walk me to my door?" she asked. "Yes" I eagerly replied. We hopped out and walked around to the back of the building. We hugged and I gave her a peck on the cheek. When I began to pull away she closed her eyes, tilted her head a little and opened her mouth just a little. Oh my God! She wants me to kiss her! I went in. It was like heaven. I don't know how long we kissed before I was awakened from this bliss by a honking horn. Holy crap! The cops! We said goodbye, I ran to the car, followed the cops to the freeway and drove home wondering why on earth I felt all weird and wet between my legs. A crazy and wonderful night of firsts!

Watching TV

2008-03-25T19:50:00.000-07:00

I'm good at a lot of things, but watching TV isn't one of them. I have no problem watching a movie, on a premium channel, so it's not interrupted by commercials. Some people sit transfixed in front of commercials, but my brain looks for something else to focus on immediately, it's like flipping a switch.

Have I checked my email?

Any new comments on my blogs?

Should I throw another log on the fire?

Do I need to move my clothes from the washer to the dryer?

Oh my, I still have dirty dishes in the sink, better clean them up! Next thing you know, I'm toddling off to complete a quick task, and that's where things go wrong. I go downstairs to move the laundry, and while I'm down there, I smell something nasty. I find the source. It's a trash bag that's been waiting too long for me to muster up the enthusiasm to go to the dump. I hate going to the dump, and would trade it for any other household chore, if I had someone to trade with, but I don't. I have to do everything, so I put it in a heavy gauge large plastic bag and take it outside to put in the truck. I notice how dirty my truck is, and realize I haven't washed it in a couple weeks. It has my company name on the door. I have to keep it clean, so I get out the bucket the soap, the telescoping brush and wash it. I should vacuum out the interior. I look for an extension cord, but can't find one. I know I have one out in the workshop. I get to the workshop and see a cabinet clamped up, that still needs doors made so I can deliver it and collect the money. I should get those doors started, I'll need my ipod. That's in the house, I go to get it, and the dogs are all excited to see me because I've been away from them for close to thirty minutes, I let them out. When they come in I give them cookies and realize it's lunch time. I start to look for something to make, and remember that I meant to go to the store. I have to clean up to go, after all I'm single and you only get one chance to make a first impression. I go upstairs to put on a clean (non-paint-covered) shirt, check my hair, brush my teeth, because you can never do that too much, and I'm ready to go. I realize before I leave that I have some outgoing mail to prepare, I need to fill out a deposit slip, write a check, and send back a Netflix movie. I go into my office to get the bank envelope and stamp and see what a clutterfied mess it is in there, it looks like the hall of records threw up. I really need to organize my desk and get these invoices and receipts filed...and so it goes. I'll come back into the room later when something else has started, and try to think of what I was watching when I left, but it's gone. Whoosh, mind-swipe. Whatever it was, it was a complete waste of time. Have I mentioned how much I hate having my time wasted. Well, it's my biggest pet-peeve, almost all the other peeves can be filed under the heading: Time wasted!

Happy Easter?!

2008-03-22T06:55:00.000-07:00

Easter is such a strange mix of pagan and christian religion, that it really makes no sense at all, so if you do not celebrate Easter, please don't ask me to break it down for you. I go eat Easter dinner with my family. That's really as deep as I'd like to go.

Working for Hallmark

2008-03-20T17:37:00.000-07:00

I've been told that I could write for Hallmark. I thought I'd put together a little portfolio of ideas I have for cards to show the Hallmark people, to see if they would consider hiring me as a writer.

I wanted to run them by you first, in case you have any helpful suggestions.

(not really looking for advice)

Love and Romance

Front: Our Love is like the ocean...
Inside: When I'm on the bottom, I can't breathe.

Front: Waking up next to you is the best part of my day
Inside: Man! I had a shitty day!

Graduation

Front: Congratulations Graduate!
Inside: Welcome to the real world. Have your shit out of here by the end of the week.

Missing You

Front: Since you've been away...
Inside: At least five chicks have tried to make out with me.

Get Well

Front: A little bird told me you haven't been feeling very well...
Inside: For in-depth instruction, and helpful hints, please feel me immediately!

Women My Age...

2008-03-18T19:54:00.000-07:00

I am still very passively connected to two online dating sites. One I haven't joined yet, so I can't communicate with anyone, but I can see who my matches are. I have no picture posted, that always slows things way down too. The other I have my profile hidden so no one even knows I'm there. I just skulk around, I never see anyone that interests me enough to come out of hiding.

The site that makes matches for me, also lets people tell me they're interested, but no one who's been interested has been of interest to me. One of them looked like she had some 80's hair-do, and was wearing some time warp outfit too. Another one just looked old. She was one year older than me, and she looked like one of my mother's friends!

"God, do I look that old?" I asked my friend.

"No, you don't look like that, and you dress younger too, not inappropriately young, just not old."

she correctly answered.

It got me thinking. I have not met many women my age that interest me. I've never had that issue before. I've always been with women that are within four years of me, some more, some less. Now, I'm looking at women ten or more years younger as my desirable age group. Why? Is it because I have not matured, and need someone who can't see that? Is it because I don't think someone my age is going to be able to, or want to satisfy my sex drive? Is it because I think I am so much more vital and alive than I think most women my age are? Maybe it's because I don't do frumpy?

When women get to the age, my age, where fat just makes itself at home because it's too hard to lose, and clothing shifts from jeans and hoodies, to stretchy pants and blouses. When comfort becomes more important than style, and practicality rules over spontaneity. That's when they lose me. I have a feeling I'm not going to age gracefully. I plan to fight it all the way, exercising, dieting, dressing and feeling young. I don't want to be with someone who makes me feel old.

There is a clothing store in the town where I live full of clothing designed by Eileen Fisher. This is an example of what I am talking about. These clothes were made with frumpy in mind! They can make even a beautiful professional model look like a sack of potatoes. I'm sure the people who wear them chant the refrain, "Oh, but they're soooooo comfortable."

Halloween came early this year!

Frumpalicious!

Yes, you can be thin and in great shape, or gain up to thirty pounds and still look exactly the same in these outfits. Forgiving and sexy!

Wear it to:

The Library

The Coffee Shop

Yoga

A Funeral

A Cocktail Party

Political Fundraisers

Trick or Treating

Around the House

Book Club

Farmer's Market...etc.

(Not recommended for meeting women. Please be in a secure relationship before purchasing our clothing)

Happy St. Patty's Day!

2008-03-17T06:08:00.000-07:00

Hey everyone! I hope you have a Happy St. Patrick's Day. Do something to celebrate, it doesn't have to be big, just one thing out of the ordinary. You'll feel better. I only say this because I feel like I'm in such a rut lately. I need to break the pattern of my daily grind.

Don't behave!

How to Embarrass Yourself in Blog-land

2008-03-15T18:37:00.000-07:00

Go to a blog where political topics are discussed, so posts and comments get pretty heated.

Choose the right blog, make it someone famous, someone you admire.

Leave a comment that sort of agrees with what the author has written, but also adds a new idea for people to bat around. That's more interesting than just yes-ing everyone to death.

When you go back to see what's followed your comment, and you see someone has tried to paint you into a corner, followed by a somewhat scathing comment by the author, do not remain calm. Plan your revenge. Let that famous somebody have it. How dare she call me names like, narrow minded numb nut?
Don't sink to her level, in fact mention that you won't, pointing out that she has, then explain calmly, but firmly, why her opinion of you is misinformed, and assumptions were made, and conclusions were jumped to, and it's all a big misunderstanding.
Spend the whole next day wondering in what manner you'll find yourself shredded by one of the sharpest minds in comedy today.

When you get home, go to the blog...quietly. You weren't blocked, that's something. She probably has people who can do that.

Find the post and scroll down the comments to see your new torn asshole, and find...an apology, and explanation. It wasn't my comment she was responding to, it was the narrow minded numb nut above me.

Feel like a complete idiot.

Apologize back.

This is the true story of what happened to me over at Margaret Cho's blog, on her post titled "Because he's black?"! I did mention that this blog is for the socially retarded, right? I'm the leader!

Disclaimer: A couple days after posting this, it was brought to my attention, that the commenter I presumed to be Margaret Cho, was actually just some random Margaret adding even more embarrassment to the seemingly ever-growing pile!

See Sally Hate. Hate Sally, Hate!

2008-03-13T05:56:00.000-07:00

If you haven't seen this yet, or more importantly, heard it...Here it is!

Sally Kern is attempting to spread her seeds of hate and ignorance faster than we can spread the "cancer" of homosexuality. So how about it queers? Spread faster! We need to put this one in the win column.

To send a strongly worded letter to Oklahoma Governor Brad Henry, Representative Chris Benge, and Senator Mike Morgan here is a link to The Human Rights Campaign. They have a pre-written letter you can approve and send, and options to edit that, or write your own. If you are as offended and angered by this behavior from an elected official, as I suspect you are; please take some action!

Have a great day spreading your love, Smartassbian

Coming Out: My Story

2008-03-09T13:40:00.000-07:00

photo from ragamuffinsoul.com

I realized I was a homo at a relatively young age. Of course, I'd always had crushes on teachers, and babysitters...but I didn't really put two and two together until I was thirteen.

In sixth grade all the elementary-schoolers came together in a common middle school. That's when I met her. A beautiful, smart, athletic Irish girl with a very Irish name. We'll call her Meghan Flanagan. She and I became friends immediately, and had grown inseparable by the eighth grade. We had a lot in common. We were both very athletic, both honor students, we even both played the drums in the band! I began to notice that when her knee touched mine, or there was any other kind of physical contact between us, I felt all funny inside, a rush would go through me, and make the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. This feeling made me want to increase the amount of physical contact, naturally. It was also about that time in life, when all the other girls our age started to talk about boys constantly, and tried to arrange kissing parties and crap like that. You couldn't even have a conversation with one of them without the subject of boys coming up.

Typical conversation:

"I like Bobby, who do you like?"

"I like Meghan." Is what I wanted to say, but instead I would just name some boy, who seemed to be popular, "Eh, Michael."

"No, Lori already likes Michael, who else do you like?"

My eyes would roll back in my head, "Well, who's available, you know, that's decent?"

"Jimmy's available."

"Okay, I like Jimmy, can I go now, Meghan's waiting for me?"

It was a frustrating time for me, and I wasn't really sure why. One day, we were all at study hall talking, and someone said someone else was queer. "What's that mean?" I asked.

"You know, it's when a boy likes boys, or a girl likes girls, homosexuals!"

"oh."

Inner conversation: Holy crap, I'm part of something bigger. I'm a homosexual! I'm not the only one, there are others like me. This is great! Where are they? How do I find them?

Rumor had it that the high school PE teacher was queer, and I thought about talking to her about it, but I was too scared. What if she wasn't? What would happen to me, if I told her I was? Would I be kicked out of the girls locker room, unable to participate in sports, forced to where a big orange sign declaring that I'm a sexual deviant and should not be trusted?!

Things were different back then. It was 1974. There was no gay visibility. No role models, no alliances, organizations, community centers, and certainly no Internet! I looked up homosexual in the dictionary, found the words, deviant, pervert, lesbian and Sappho. I went from there, trying to find out about my culture, my social possibilities. Somehow I found some books on homosexuality in the town pharmacy. Too embarrassed and ashamed to buy them, I shop-lifted them, took them home and read them. What I read painted a dark and dismal picture of what my life might be like. Most of the information was about men, and it was explained that data on women was not easily obtained because they were not as visible or accessible. It seems there was also a very high percentage of suicide by lesbians who, because they were catholic, were told they'd burn in hell if they lived their lives as lesbians. Pretty bleak. My take on it was, you also burn in hell for killing yourself, so why not try to enjoy your life? Seemed like the lesbians were all becoming nuns, offing themselves, or living in seclusion with some other lesbian they'd somehow managed to find, or just lots of cats. I wondered if I would ever find anyone I was attracted to, that also happened to be a lesbian. The odds seemed to be against it.

I also was babysitting around that time in my life, and one of the guys I babysat for liked the Penthouse Magazines, and had issues dating back for ten years or so. I would look through them, and occasionally they would have a spread of women pictured together. When I found these, I would cut them out and take them home with me. They went into a drawer at my bedside along with all the stolen books.

One day, I came home from school and the contents of that drawer out on the bed, along with my Mother looking very distraught.

"What is all this?"

"God Mom, can't you see what it is? I'm gay." I was a little miffed that she'd invaded my privacy.

My parents arranged for me to see a psychologist, because they had no clue what to do or say. I obliged them, since they promised it would just be the one visit, and it went like this.

shrink: What subjects do you like in school?

Me: Science, English, Art, and Gym

shrink: What sports do you like?

me: Field hockey, basketball, softball, soccer, tennis, golf, swimming...

shrink: Do you think the women from the Penthouse Magazine pictures are sexy?

me: No, I think they're slutty. I prefer much more wholesome women.

shrink: Your parents gave me a list of the books you have. That's quite an impressive reading list. Did you read them all?

me: Yes.

shrink: What did you think?

me: I was disappointed that most of the data was about men.

There was more, but I don't remember most of it. When he was done with me, he called my parents in and he told them, he did not think it was a problem for me, and they should try not to make it one. They followed his advice, and told me, that they didn't understand it, but they love me anyway.

I consider myself very lucky, not only that my parents reacted as they did, but that the psychologist they took me to, was not a neanderthal, because it all could have gone down a lot differently.

Time Out

2008-03-07T06:24:00.000-08:00

I have to take a short intermission, and get my do-do together. I the meantime, go read this. It's very entertaining. I will be back when I have some space in my brain for blogging.

Cashmere Mafia, Why Bother?

2008-03-03T05:58:00.000-08:00

I have watched every episode of the Cashmere Mafia so far. I started watching because one of the four women in the group of friends, Caitlin is allegedly a lesbian. Well, maybe not, maybe bi, or maybe nothing. We find out early that Caitlin is someone who has never had a successful relationship, and two weeks is considered a long courtship for her. The suggested reason for this is that she hasn't figured out she's a lesbian yet.

Until one fateful day at the office when she and another woman have "eye contact" and the woman, Alicia, senses a connection and asks Caitlin out. They go out drinking, there's a couple minutes of conversation, where Caitlin admits she's in uncharted territory, followed by their first kiss, in public out on the busy New York sidewalk. At this I'm already scratching my head. Okay, this woman has never been with another woman before and is unsure about the whole thing, so...to make her feel more comfortable, I'll take her to a very public place and lay one on her. That should take care of it. Somehow this development does not deter Caitlin, and she comes out to her friends after the second date, and second public kiss, over coffee and danish. They don't bat an eye, and wish her luck. All perfectly normal.

Time goes by, all the other three women's characters are highly developed, as well as their relationships with the mates. We get to see some great interaction, chemistry, spats, etc. And although I'm not straight, there seems to be some level of realism here.

Hey, where did Caitlin and Alicia go? Oh, they are going to a baby shower for one of Alicia's many pregnant, straight looking, lesbian friends. At the shower, which takes place in a restaurant, one of the alleged lesbians asks Caitlin and Alicia, "If you two decide to have children, where will you get your sperm?" Caitlin looks shocked, as she should, who the hell would ask a couple that's been together for all of two weeks to a month? The time line is fuzzy since we never see them as a couple. Is that supposed to be second date conversation material for lesbians now? WTF? I mean seriously. Caitlin jumps up from the table and runs to the nearest hot man she can find. Can you blame her? Kind of. Anyway, he's just oozing charm and personality and between the interaction they have in the bathroom hallway, and then at the bar, we see more chemistry than we've seen between the two women for the whole of their "relationship". We never see the relationship develop between the two women, it's just there, instant relationship along with expectations and commitments, out of nowhere, while we were watching Davis screw around on Juliet.

Why write in a lesbian character if you don't know how to, or won't, develop her? This makes no sense to me. I know more about the other three women's spouses or boyfriends than I know about Caitlin! In a final insulting blow, we discover that Alicia is pregnant, but was afraid to tell Caitlin, and Alicia's ex-girlfriend comes back feeling entitled somehow, even though the pregnancy occurred after the break-up. As soon as Caitlin decides to accept her relationship with Alicia, and the unborn child as part of that world, Alicia breaks up with her to get back together with her nasty ex-girlfriend. Wow, now I hate lesbians! Man, they are messed up. Could the writers of Cashmere Mafia have done a less interesting, more bigoted, more "tv-stereotypical" portrayal of lesbians? I don't think so.

Now they don't seem to know what to do with Caitlin's personal life, so she doesn't have one at the moment. She's just work work work. Yes, the other's get to have personal lives, but that's different. Heterosexual relationships are everywhere, and easily studied, unlike the rare illusive lesbian relationships that may not really exist at all. It could just be fantasy. At least that's what you'd tend to believe after following this storyline, or lack there of.

A Touch of Spring Fever!

2008-03-02T17:30:00.001-08:00

Today was an exceptional day! The sky was vivid blue, the sun was out, it was not warm, but a little warmer than it has been. Above freezing in any case, and I felt a burst of energy and general sense of well being that I haven't felt in some long dark cold months. I was very productive and happy, singing and flying through a bunch of tasks. I even let my mind wander to the days of the not very distant future when I can get my little convertible out of hibernation and go for a drive, a picnic, fly a kite! Dare I dream of such things?

This has been a long winter for me, and I feel it's heaviness, like one of those lead blankets you wear when they x-ray your teeth, lifting from my body, from my spirit! Spring! Come get me! I'm ready!

m and other letters all together like a story but different

2008-02-27T15:30:00.000-08:00

Me when I was five or six. (A normal play day, not Halloween.) photo-shopped onto a picture of my Indian when I first bought it, and captioned, "Cowgirl gets her Indian"

I guess I started to write a new post last night and only got an "m" typed when I hit post by accident, but didn't realize it, so there you have it. Slip actually made a very funny comment considering!

Whenever I'm wondering what to post about I can't think of anything. Nothing, yet I know that I could literally write a post about anything, and make it fun. Why is it so hard when I sit down to do it. Let's explore my anxiety about writing...nah, that sounds like a snorefest! What a monumentally stupid idea. Instead I'll tell you an entertaining little story about myself as a child, that may have altered my sense of self, or not.

When I was young, probably...five, I liked to play with things like 'hot wheels' and tonka trucks and GI Joe, and cap-guns, and stuff you find outside, like bugs, and rocks. Yes, I actually sought bugs out! I would go behind the garden in the corner of the back yard, where there were piles of wet leaves laying around, and carefully pull them apart looking for bugs, and I found 'em. You could also find them under rocks etc. I found praying mantises, centipedes and walking sticks, and all kinds of cool things, then I would watch them, but they never seemed to do enough to hold my attention for long.

I also loved rocks, we had a lot of rocks in our yard, and I would find the interesting ones and take them to my boulder sticking out of the ground a little. I would place the new rock on the boulder and then with a bigger "smashing rock", I would smash it! I called this activity "smashing rocks" and I would announce it like I was going to work. "Okay, I'll be out back smashing rocks."

I liked to see what was inside them. We had a lot of quartz around and I liked those a lot.

One evening, my parents had some friends over to play cards, as they did once or twice a week. It was shortly after Christmas, so I began to run into the kitchen where they were all seated to show the Terva's my presents. They would oooh and ahhh, and I would go get the next thing. After doing this for a while, I grabbed a red purse, my mother had retired and given to me. When I showed it to them, they asked, "Did you get that for Christmas?"

"No, but I like it" I answered. Gales of laughter rang out from everyone. I didn't understand what was so funny about that! I went back to my room in a huff, and decided not to show them anything else. Serves them right!

How did this affect me? For years I refused to carry a purse.

I do carry one now, and it's red, but it's canvas and it's made by Vitorinox, and has lots of pockets, and I call it my "man-bag". Okay, maybe it didn't affect me at all, but it was fun to tell.

m

2008-02-26T19:32:00.000-08:00

You Know Best: The Academy Awards

2008-02-23T13:50:00.000-08:00

The Oscars are upon us, but before they arrive, let's see if you can correctly predict the outcome. I have entered the nominees for Best Picture, Best Actor, and Best Female Actor. Take the poll to see if together, we can come up with the winners!

Of course if I had my way, and most likely if you had yours, we would have a few different choices or nominees, but these are the only choices. Check back Monday to see how we did. Thanks for playing.

7 Things About Me: Food Edition

2008-02-21T15:35:00.000-08:00

I was self-tagged by that mean ol Creampuff, roro, for this meme (which means I decided to do it myself) and I will now commence to do something about it!

1. My very most favorite dish ever is...butternut squash ravioli, as prepared by Il Fornaio Restaurant. Il Fornaio is a chain (I usually hate chains) of authentic Italian restaurants brought here from Italy by Williams Sonoma who later sold them. There are many peppered around California, even one in Walnut Creek where one of my blog buddies lives. There is also one in Greenwood Village, CO which may be close to another blogger I know. If there is one nearby, and you have not had this dish...what are you waiting for? GO!

2. Egg salad will induce vomiting immediately if introduced to my mouth, sometimes just the smell is enough. If you have eaten this, or hard-boiled eggs, or deviled eggs, or anything involving cold boiled eggs, do not plan on kissing me until you have brushed your teeth, flossed, gargled with mouthwash and eaten at least 3 Altoids.

3. I love a really good, and by good I mean creamy-rich-fattening, Tiramisu. I consider myself quite the Tiramiconnoisseur. I order it anytime I'm in a decent restaurant, and it's listed on the desert menu. I seem to be on a quest for tiramisuperfection. I'll let you know if I find it.

4. Wonderful junk food, Flips; pretzels dipped in chocolaty goodness, Funny bones, those cheese crackers with cheese filling (not peanut butter, the more common filling), Choco-tacos; oh my those are good, and Smartfood or Smartassfood when I'm eating it.

5. Home made macaroni and cheese, simple but soooo comfortylicous.

6. I love Chorizo sausage, but I haven't eaten any mammals since 1990, so now I eat Soyrizo. Soy is like a Cho but different. I love this made into a hash with some poached eggs and biscuits. MmmmmmMmm.

7. I don't do hairy food, peach skin, okra, anchovies, etc.

Which Super Hero is Right for You?

2008-02-15T08:51:00.001-08:00

If I were going to have a super hero girlfriend, it had better be someone I will have no problems remaining faithful to, or staying with for...until she tires of me. I think we all learned a valuable lesson from the movie "My Super Ex-Girlfriend". No one wants a great white shark hurled at them while they're getting busy with their new sweetie!

But honestly, who would kick Uma Thurman out of bed?...certainly not me, but if it did have to be done...no, I wouldn't do it, and there is certainly no sense in me wasting anymore time wondering how to let poor Uma down gently! AS IF!

I took the quiz, and was paired with Psylocke, a mutant from the X-Men series with telepathic and telekinetic powers, whose occupation is listed as, "Adventurer, Ninja, Heiress, Multi-Millionaire, Assassin, fashion model."

So in this pairing, I have to be extra-careful because she can not only read my mind, but she can throw shit at me with hers! And if that doesn't get the job done she's a ninja, and if she doesn't want to break a sweat, by throwing a star at me, she could just as easily hire the job out with her ass-loads of money, or possibly just stop my heart with a look! Yes honey, dinner will be on the table when you get home. Ahhhh, love.

Who ARE You?

2008-02-14T11:02:00.000-08:00

Gaydar, with its time tested HIGH degree of accuracy sometimes lets us down. The reasons for this can vary. The subject in question may be waffling themselves, or might not be aware of their own gayness yet. I found this to be true in college. My gaydar found at least 10 freshman lesbians who had no idea they were lesbians until their sophomore or junior years! Does that mean the gaydar is faulty? I think not, however not 100% accurate either. I also met a woman once who had me seriously questioning my gaydar, when she constantly set it off, but was married to a man, who she loved very much! I later discovered that he used to be a she, and they were high school sweethearts. Wow!

However, no matter how finely honed my gaydar may be, it does not work on people I have no contact with. People like you, my blogaudience. I know the people who comment here, some lesbians, some straight women, one straight guy, but there are many more visiting and not saying a word. Who are you? Are you more lesbians, housewives, bi-curious women, straight guys looking for girl on girl videos, photos, whatever you can find, teenage boys just chasing the word lesbian all around the Internet on your Dad's computer? To help me determine my demographic I'd like you to answer the following poll questions honestly. You do not have to sign in, or comment to vote in the poll. Thank you for your cooperation!

Valentine's Day Hook-Up

2008-02-14T10:07:00.000-08:00

I am hooking you all up to this post written by the very funny and talented Karman Kregloe, featured on AfterEllen.com:

AfterEllen.com Valentines: We Know Better Than Cupid
Enjoy

Letter to Cupid...

2008-02-10T07:54:00.000-08:00

Dear Cupid,

Please don't take this the wrong way, but I think you are a steaming pile of dung with rotten aim, or a vicious sense of humor. Personally, I'd like to you see take that whole pack of arrows and shove 'em, and you can do the same with your messed up little holiday too! Single people don't have enough days to feel lonely, depressed, and inadequate, we need a day that really drives it home, to truly make it fester, so we can wallow, and start looking for sharp objects to throw ourselves on, or worse, eat mass quantities of ice cream, or chocolate, or macaroni and cheese or any other food that feels like love while you're eating it, and turns to guilt, and then fat, afterwards.

Maybe I should've written you earlier with a specific request, or perhaps just expressing my desire for your attention would have done me some good. I'm willing to recognize my part in this. Maybe you thought you were done with me and moved on, but surely you knew there was a chance, that the married woman you hit with your arrow, would not dishonor her commitment, just to be with her true love, and I would be left alone with nothing, cold and lonely, and empty inside, like Larry Craig must feel when he lies down next to his wife each night.

I am willing to give you another chance, and this time please aim more carefully, consider... before you shoot, the outcome. Here are some suggestions that might help.

I'd really like something along these lines:

You know, intelligent, witty, fun to be with, healthy, spicy, creative, spontaneous, and gorgeous doesn't hurt. I realize this is late notice for this Valentine's Day, but if you could make this happen between now and the next one, that would certainly be a feather in your cap. If you are not so inclined, please follow the instructions in the first paragraph, and make it sideways!

Skeptically yours, Red Mojo

Life is Funny...

2008-02-07T16:56:00.000-08:00

Sometimes things just don't work out the way you want them to. It's believed by some, that if you know what you want, and ask for it, the universe will give it to you. Is there a trick though? Is it like the story of the monkey's paw, where if you aren't terribly specific with your wish, you'll get screwed? I mean, is it what you know you want, or what you ask for? Things don't have to actually be said, just known, right?

Well, the way I see it, I am the only one who is going to make sure I get what I want. I have a list, and it's specific. Some items are negotiable, some are not! I can trade this for that, remain flexible, make compromises, to a point. Once I reach that point, I need to move on.

What am I talking about? Dating. To me dating is a series of interviews, a weeding out process. Some are weeded out in the first 5 minutes, others take more time. There are several different components that need to work.

1. Chemistry

2. Compatibility

3. Communication

4. Comedy

The four C's.

Chemistry is the easiest to determine. It's either there or it's not! If it is, you need to delve further.
Communication is a tough one. It takes some time, but you can determine potential fairly quickly.
Compatibility is hard at first too. People are more accommodating when they first meet than they may be later, and Comedy can be strained at first by nerves, but not for too long. I need to laugh! I think fun is...fun!

If you don't have these four essential ingredients, your relationship will fail. Yes, you can stay with someone until you die without all four, but to be happy, you need them all, at least I do. But, things can become complicated quickly and before you know it, you're closing your eyes to all kinds of signs or red flags that it's not going to work.

I do not feel I have enough time left on this planet to waste my time starting off in a relationship by settling for less than I want and need.

Could I die alone? Most definitely.

Will I let fear make me settle? Absolutely Not!

Do I hate hurting people, and being hurt myself? You bet.

Will I keep trying to find true love? Until I die, or find it. I'm hoping for finding it, actually, long before I die if possible!

Smoove

2008-01-30T17:41:00.000-08:00

Ever wondered just exactly what to say to someone you'd like to meet, but couldn't think of anything, so instead you just got in your car and drove away?

I have.

Last year, I was at the UPS store where I rent a box. I was picking something up, and said something mildly humorous, as is my habit when I'm there. I caught a glimpse of a woman over to the side, using a copier or something, who was amused, and she looked up and smiled at me. She had an incredible smile that just beamed at me, and my brain just ceased-up... stopped working... froze. I realized I wasn't breathing, so I restarted that process, took my package and got in my truck. As I started to pull out of my space, out came the woman with the beautiful smile. She saw me, smiled again, and waved! What do I need as far as signals go? How lame am I? I guess I was waiting for her to crawl up onto the hood, and knock on the windshield. I waved back quickly, forgot to smile back at her, and pulled out wondering if she liked my tail lights.
I got about a quarter of a mile down the road, when suddenly out of nowhere, a thought occurred to me. Yes, that's how long it took for my brain to begin to process what had just happened, but I've always been prettier than I am smart. I stepped on the brakes, I thought about turning around and driving back there, top speed, to try and catch her before she left! Then I thought about how retarded that would look, me barreling into the parking lot and blocking her car, so she'd stop, jumping out of my vehicle, racing up to her window, and saying, "Hi, I'm Red Mojo. I was wondering if you'd like to go have a cup of coffee with me?"

To which she would surely reply in a breathy voice, "Oh Red, I was hoping against hope you'd be back to ask me out. That's why I took so long leaving. Of course I'll go with you, after hearing that wisecrack you made inside, I'd follow you anywhere."

At least in my fantasy version that's what she'd say, but it would probably be much closer to, "Hi, I'm late, could you please move your truck?"

I drove home kicking myself for not rolling down my window when she came out smiling at me, and saying "Hey, you come to this UPS store much? I'll be back on Wednesday if you have any more copies to make." Or perhaps something less cornybally but still heading in that direction.

I was actually pretty mad at myself for about a month. Meeting single women in my age group is hard. If I go to the bar, I'll meet someone my age who hangs out in a bar, blechk. I decided I was not going to miss another opportunity. . .

A few months later, I attended the annual gay pride parade with some friends. After the parade we collected in an area to discuss who wanted to eat, who wanted to mingle, shop etc. While this was being hashed out, I noticed a beautiful woman standing near me who looked amazingly like what I thought the first woman I ever kissed 30 years ago, would look like, now. I looked and looked. Is it her? I finally couldn't stand it any longer, and said, "Excuse me, is your name Carol?"

She quickly replied, "No, it's Paula, but it can be, if you want it to be."

I smiled, and said, "Thanks Carol, I appreciate your attitude! Well, I have to go over there now."

I then proceeded to leave her side and run over to my friends who were disbanding to enter the pandemonium. I conveyed the conversation to my friend, as we walked into an endless sea people milling around every which way. By the time I figured out what an idiot I am, and that I should've at least introduced myself, it was too late. My friend and I walked around for an hour trying to find her again, and she was nowhere to be found. Why...why...why...dear God why? When will I learn?

Micro-Labeling or Lesbian Specialists

2008-01-28T21:11:00.000-08:00

It seems a lot has changed in the Lesbian culture, since I was "in circulation". I have been spending some time the AfterEllen.com web page, where the main topic of conversation is how the media has changed towards lesbians since Ellen came out. It is a great source of information on lesbians in TV, movies, on stage, on tour, basically all things celesbian (celebrity lesbian) in nature. They also have forum topics and vlogs that people can comment on. Recently while reading some comments, it became clear to me that a lot of lesbians have sub-divided into smaller categories, and labeled themselves even further. I call these lesbians, specialists.

I hate to sound crotchety here, but when I was young, we were mostly androgynous, some a little to the masculine side, some a little to the feminine, but none of that really mattered. Sure, there were a few couples that did the butch/femme thing. That was considered mimicking heterosexual behavior to most of us, and we didn't want to go there.

I never had trouble finding sexually compatible mates, because pretty much all of us, did pretty much everything! I call these all-around lesbians or versabians.

Now it seems like the girls are putting themselves into categories that limit them sexually, and they have to find oppositely inclined limited partners to fulfill them.

A top needs a bottom! Well, every self-respecting lesbian would certainly want to claim to be a top, so where are all the bottoms?

Even women who are feminine in appearance, are claiming to be tops, really, I'd like to know who the bottoms are.

There are stone butches, hard butches, soft butches, androgen, sporty femmes, femmes, and what? femmy femmes or lipsticks? Does everyone have an equal and opposite match?

Are you kidding me with this?

Attractive versabian seeks same for everything under the sun. Please bring your own toothbrush.

A 4th Grader Scorned!

2008-01-25T17:52:00.000-08:00

Ever since I saw Kristanna Loken's character Paige, (ohmigodshe'ssoooohot) in the L-Word, season 4, paired up with Shane, I have rented or watched everything I can get my hands on with Kristanna Loken in it. I've watched The Dark Kingdom, Bloodrayne, & Air Panic are on their way. I've seen several episodes of the tv series, Painkiller Jane, which is really fun, and I'm waiting for Lime Salted Love to be released. She looks better with a little meat on her bones, in Terminator 3, she was awesome, but thin and machine-like.

I'm like a junkie, trying to get my fix. Why am I obsessing over her? I asked myself the same question. I dated a woman for a short time this past fall that looked a lot like her. Actually for me, the woman I dated came first, because I never noticed Kristanna before I met this woman. She's not as tall, Kristanna is 5'11''. She has dark hair and eyes, but the same facial features, the slight cleft chin, the thick yummy lips, the same body type, and they carry themselves similarly. That must be it, I thought. I was extremely physically attracted to this woman, so it made sense.

Then a couple days ago, someone was asking me about when I first knew I was gay. I said, I think I've always known. I found out there was a name for it, and there were others like me, when I was 13, but growing up I always had crushes on babysitters, and teachers, especially in the 4th grade. My teacher's name was SueEllen Aiken. I had one of those wallet sized pictures of her I carried around with me. I put it under my plate when I ate dinner, and I remember my mother teasing me, "You have a crush on your teacher." I did have a crush on her. I got all straight A's that year because I listened to every word she said. I wanted to impress her. She even threw the football with me at recess a couple times, to a tiny lesbian, that's like going steady. She was a goddess, but alas, she broke my heart at the end of the school year when she announced she was marrying some dufus, and moving to one of those square states in the middle of the country. What kind of woman teases you with football, then runs off and gets married?! Oh, the humanity! I was telling this story when a picture of SueEllen came into my head, and I'll be damned if she doesn't look like Kristanna Loken! Wow, sometimes you don't realize just how far back stuff goes. It's crazy, but it's true. I wish I had her picture from back then, so I could post them side by side.

Come to Mama!

The question is...

2008-01-22T18:21:00.000-08:00

When do you tell her...you blog? When you meet someone, a romantic interest that is, at what point should you share that you have a blog? This is a question that deserves special consideration for the following reasons:

Blogging is seen by some, as kind of dorky

If you tell her too soon, and things don't work out, you can't blog about it

If you don't tell her for a long time, she may be displeased at your secrecy, and wonder what else you're hiding

If you tell her at exactly the right moment, she may read your blog, not like it, and think you suck

If you don't tell her at all, and she finds out, then...you're screwed

So, is there a marker, a definate event, a point at which the telling should be done?

Is it when:

You're making her eggs after your first night together?

You've discussed forsaking all others?

You've moved in together?

You start looking like each other?

For all of those who read this post and are not lesbians, I should explain the previous bullet points could also be labeled:

1st date

2nd date

3rd date (the one that doesn't end)

2 months along

A little help people. Someone throw me a bone.

Off Online Dating

2008-01-20T17:29:00.000-08:00

When I became single for the first time in 10 years, and moved back to an area of the country I had not lived in for 25, I considered online dating a reasonable option for meeting other single lesbians. First I just browsed, just looking...thanks. Finally I found a woman I wanted to meet enough, for me to actually pay the fee to join the service. I emailed her, and she answered, I emailed back, this went on for a short while and then she had a family emergency and asked me to continue to email her even though she would not be able to respond for some time. I did for a while, but with no encouragement, I felt ridiculous and found I was now actively fending off several suitors who had no command of the English language. I know I have impossibly high standards, but being able to read, and write, and speak English is not negotiable. I would get emails to this effect, "what R U doin later." I suppose that would be acceptable as a text message, but not as an email. Whether it's stupidity or laziness, I'm not interested!

Next there was another woman who I'd corresponded with for a week or so, and we had determined we'd like to meet. We were in the middle of nailing down the where and when, when she stopped responding, just stopped! I waited a couple days, sent off a light reminder email, still nothing. Then I emailed this, "Hi, Are we done?" No response. I thought she died in a car accident or something. A couple of months later after meeting someone else, who I did decide to date, I was sending out some Thanksgiving Day e-cards and included the woman I suspected was dead in the list of recipients. She replied to the e-card this way. "Hi, I'm in a happy relationship now so please stop trying to contact me."

I responded, "Hi, I am seeing someone as well, I still wanted to wish you Happy Thanksgiving. My bad."

A month or two later, I saw her new picture and profile back on the match. Wow! It became obvious over time that a lot of the people on one dating service, are the same people on the other ones too. It also became clear that many of them are career daters. The same faces there literally for years. I started to make a game of matching them up with each other. Who are these desperate lonely women on a never ending search for love? I decided they were such a pathetic lot I preferred not to add my picture to their ranks.

I ran a profile without a picture for a while, and when someone responded, I'd ask to exchange pictures right away. After all, I'm not looking for an email buddy, I'm looking for a woman to have a relationship with. Attraction is an important part of that relationship. Some women would get offended by that, like it's crass, or superficial. Looks matter, anyone who says they don't is lying. Now I'm dipping my toe in the Chemistry.com site. I don't know if it's any different. It seems a little better, but I haven't joined yet. Just looking...Thanks.

Honestly Mean Funny

2008-01-20T14:03:00.000-08:00

I have been feeling a little pigeon-holed by my own blog. Most of my readers are very kind, thoughtful, decent people. I always sensor what I write based on whether I'll offend anyone or not. I have not hidden the fact that I am gay, but I don't talk about it much either. I don't want to make anyone "uncomfortable". That takes a lot of what I think about, read about, watch, and do, out of the picture. Here, although I know they can find this blog, I feel like it's a place I can be more open and honest, and well, thoughtless, in a censorship sense of the word. That being said, I hope that this blog takes on a separate but equal life of it's own.

I can be snarky, and a little mean at times, and if you are easily offended, please go read my other blog. I do not wish to make apologies here.

I think my first post, this introduction aside, will be about online dating sites, such as match.com and chemistry.com. I have a lot to say on the topic, and hope others do as well.