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Wednesday, November 16, 2005

10 Reasons Why Gay Marriage is Wrong (stolen w/ permission from Craigslist)


01) Being gay is not natural. Real Americans always reject unnatural things like eyeglasses, polyester, and air conditioning.

02) Gay marriage will encourage people to be gay, in the same way that hanging around tall people will make you tall.

03) Legalizing gay marriage will open the door to all kinds of crazy behavior. People may even wish to marry their pets because a dog has legal standing and can sign a marriage contract.

04) Straight marriage has been around a long time and hasn't changed at all; women are still property, blacks still can't marry whites, and divorce is still illegal.

05) Straight marriage will be less meaningful if gay marriage were allowed; the sanctity of Britany Spears' 55-hour just-for-fun marriage would be destroyed.

06) Straight marriages are valid because they produce children. Gay couples, infertile couples, and old people shouldn't be allowed to marry because our orphanages aren't full yet, and the world needs more children.

07) Obviously gay parents will raise gay children, since straight parents only raise straight children.

08) Gay marriage is not supported by religion. In a theocracy like ours, the values of one religion are imposed on the entire country. That's why we have only one religion in America.

09) Children can never succeed without a male and a female role model at home. That's why we as a society expressly forbid single parents to raise children.

10) Gay marriage will change the foundation of society; we could never adapt to new social norms. Just like we haven't adapted to cars, the service-sector economy, or longer life spans.


Re-post this if you believe love makes a marriage.

Wednesday, November 09, 2005

What the ??? I am either schizophrenic or someone hacked into my "User Profile" in Blogger. In the profile it says that my career is in "Religion" and my position is "Demi-Goddess." I know I didn't type that shit, so how did it get there? Hmmmm. . . and hmmmm some more.

Thursday, October 27, 2005

TWO LISTS

Worst Names For Retail Stores/Services In Charlotte

1) Once Upon A Child -- Should be called Pederasts 'R Us
2) EmbroidMe -- Should be called EmbroidThis
3) Outdoors With Leonard -- I'm not exactly sure what else it should be called, but I do know what the name of my next band is going to be. I'll be playing the kazoo and the oval wooden thingy with the nubs on it that you play by rubbing a wooden stick back and forth. I'm an expert on that thing. Years of practice.


With Show Names Like This, Who Needs The Weekly World News (from the Discovery Health Channel)

1) Face Transplant
2) 200lb Tumor, not to be confused with 160 lb Tumor
3) I Am My Own Twin
4) Things From The Human Body
5) Face Eating Tumor
6) Born Without A Face
7) Born With Two Heads
8) When Surgical Tools Get Left Behind
9) You Swallowed What?


All real TV shows, I swear. Most of them are British. Not that I've seen them or anything. Okay, I saw them all but 160 lb Tumor. I saw 200 lb Tumor first and I just felt like I'd be let down.

Monday, October 03, 2005

It's been so long since my trip, and I didn't journal while I was a way like I normally do, so I have to admit that I've forgotten what most of the negative stuff about Santiago is. It amazes me that my brain has started working this way -- I remember the good and forget the awful. While some people have the derisive term 'euphoric recall' for this brain development, I think it's great and much better than remembering resentments. Then again, I might think it's bad, too, but I just can't remember that I do because I've started forgetting all the bad stuff.

Anyway, here is what I do remember:

1) Santiago is the only truly wealthy area/city in Chile. While the outskirts are surrounded by makeshift shacks made from left over wood and metal, complete with mangy-looking dogs and dirty children playing soccer, the downtown area is gorgeous. It has beautiful homes and lots of parks with art, and trails and other shit in them.

This is obviously not the problem. The problem is the Paris-like aloofness and rudeness that the wealthy residents display. They never smile or laugh in public, and their faces seem like they might crack or split in some way if they did. Most people in service jobs have the same snobbishness, also just like Paris.

I just have one thing to say -- I put up with this crap in Paris because they serve the best food, coffee, art, and shopping I have ever seen. In Chile, the food is barely passable even at expensive restaurants, the coffee is mostly Nescafe (instant!!!!), the art is well and good but cannot compare with the Louvre and the Picasso Museum obviously, and the shopping is just like going to SouthPark Mall, only more expensive.

2) In the mid to late 1800's the newly developing country of Chile invited Germans to leave the Vaterland to come teach them about agriculture, economics and living in the European fashion. In exchange, I believe, that got rewards like free land. The Germans came and mostly settled in the Santiago area. They became the 'top dogs', so to speak, as Germans are wont to do. The club where the World Cup was held was very fancy and looks like it was built in the Alps and then transferred to South America. This club, Manquehue, is very exclusive not only in how much money it costs to join but also in that, in order to join, a Chilean must prove his or her German ancestry. I understand that, as in the US, private clubs can make their own rules, but that just doesn't sit well with me. They also don't like to be asked about it. I know because I tried, in a friendly manner, to do so. Maybe I should have told them that my ancestors' names were things like Geyer and Rothharpt.

3) Also, there are stray dogs everywhere. I have never seen this many dogs roaming freely about in packs. I am torn about this one -- I mean as to whether or not this is bad -- because almost all of them appear healthy and happy. They are friendly, don't really get in your way very often, and they know how to cross the street. Honestly, they do. The pack will stand on a corner while the leader looks both ways. When the leader goes, they all go. I didn't see on dead dog by the side of any road. They have lots of parks and the Andes to run around in with plenty of fresh water. None of them looked like they were starving. It seems like a great life for a dog, but I just cannot get over the fact that it is common in Chile to get a puppy and love it only until it gets to be an adult. Then it is released into the city streets.

Sunday, September 25, 2005

First off, the good things about the trip:

1) First class rocks! Good food, lots of room, attendants at my beck and call for every whim, and great overnight bags with gifts from L'Occitane. I am now officially spoiled, which sucks because I am also officially poor.

2) The World Cup was awesome and the US came in 7th place, which is higher than ever before. Meeting people from places like Scotland, England, Germany, Argentina, Belarus, Australia, etc. is fun too.

3) Spending more time with my sister than I have since I was 14 and she was 23. Also, spending time with my niece and her teammates.

4) The Andes. Wow.

5) Beautiful men who are fascinated by blondes with blue eyes. I was in heaven. Too bad I'm spoken for or I could have had a great time with a few of these Latin beauties, especially the Che & Benicio look-a-likes. Oh, well.

The last thing is rather difficult to describe. See, no one should ever be born into my family with thin skin. Unfortunately, I was. My father never showed much emotion(until he hit 60), being the stoic German fellow he was; my sister was a bully who was 10 years older and liked to jack me up against a wall when I wanted to change the channel on the TV; and my mom, well she'd say stuff like "It's your own breath blowing back into your face," if you said something stinks, or "It's the badness coming out of you" if you got a pimple. Not exactly mean, by not exactly pleasant to an overly sensitive youngster like myself.

Anyway, being in a land where she cannot speak the language at all, like in Chile, knocked my sister down a few notches. She made mistakes on many different things quite often in every area of her life while we were there, which is something she never, ever allows herself to do. She finally admitted that being in a foreign country makes her feel vulnerable and affects her self-esteem. Wow. I couldn't believe she admitted it. I tried to be of some comfort and tried to do the talking for her, but deep down I knew she now had a glimpse of what I felt like growing up in my family -- they all spoke a strange language I couldn't understand and they had a difficult time understanding mine.

I didn't even rub it in. That is, until she started a petty argument about Bush and patriotism, and I had to try to correct her misunderstanding & ignorance of the problem(key word: TRY), then proceeded to talk to the waiter in Spanish for an extended time. I was mad, okay? But I only purposefully tried to make her feel uncomfortable just that one time, I swear.

The bad stuff later on. There's a lot of it. I would never go back to Santiago. Chile, yes. Santiago, no fucking way.

Tuesday, September 06, 2005

Okay. I know you all want to know where the hell I've been. Well, maybe two of you want to know. Well, I'm here to tell both of you that my computer is no longer used for fun, games, and pseudo-creativity. It is used for WORK. I now relish the times when I can get off of the damn thing and read. Or just sit and stare at a wall or something.

My eBay biz has taken off. I am now doing it full-time. Woo hoo, I am finally making a living doing something I love -- buying clothes and reselling them. Yes, I do feel guilty about never having finished my bachelor's degree, but I do have to use my brain for this kind of work on eBay. I swear I do. Sometimes it actually hurts. My brain. It hurts sometimes. Ow.

Also, I've being traveling my ass off. Last month I was home only one weekend. I went to PA twice (once for a huge party my sister threw for 350 people at her house. Yes, it can hold that many people. I ended up hanging out with the guy that does his hair and his lover. I'm a good old fag hag from way back.) I went to Raleigh to see my friend and yours, T-O-M. I went to the Jersey shore for the first time in 15 years, too. What I realized is that the beach, like a lot of things, sucks ass here. Up there, the waves beat the hell out of you and the water stays cold (read: refreshing). The waves are so wild, you come out of the water exhausted, and they are so much fun, I stay in the water for 3-hour stretches at a time. I am off to Chile on Monday. My niece made our national field hockey team and the World Cup is in Santiago, Chile this year. My sister paid for it, so I am flying first class and staying at a five-star hotel. My responsibility during this trip is to be an interpreter for my sister. So, I have been crash-coursing Espanol.

I have missed you guys and will try to be better after this trip. I understand I got the boot from some of your links. That's OK. It's better than getting the boot from some real website or something. Okay, I admit it. That's just what I tell myself so I can get thru the day without crying constantly. I have work to do, so whatever works, you know?

P.S. Ed, if I find another vintage KISS tee, I will give you first dibs before putting it up on eBay. I didn't know you were such a fan, man.

Tuesday, May 10, 2005

I have a new neighbor who's like a frat boy who never grew up. He still dresses the same way, has the same hair, and acts/drinks like one. Plus, he doesn't work, just like a frat boy. I always hated frats boys. I mean, who in their right mind doesn't? It was a frat boy that date raped a good friend of mine and then told her she was asking for it. It was a frat boy who, on a dare, brought me a beer at a party, and when I told him that I didn't drink beer(only liquor)begged me a to take a sip of it. I should have known that it was half piss. Chalk one up for lesson learned. Plus, in addition to the 'George W' sticker on his car, he gets on my nerves for many other reasons.

See, they installed a flood light right next to the window in our bedroom, a window that has curtains and a shade but still allows the 2,000,000 watt light to stream through directly into our faces at all hours of the night. The first time it clicked on -- it's on a motion detector and they have an outdoor cat. This is not a good combo -- I thought I had passed on and was being beckoned into it. I was waiting to see people I knew that had gone on waving at me to walk through the tunnel.

The next day, I saw him in the drive way and thought I might gently ask him to lower the wattage, if not turn the dang thing off all together. I went over and I put on my 'sugar sweet' act, the one where I act like a lost 6-year-old girl in petticoats and lace. I was all "Um, excuse me, Sir, I hate to bother you but I was wondering if, maybe, by chance, if you have the time, if, maybe, you could see it in your heart to change the wattage on those beautiful new floodlights you have. For, you see, the light shines directly into our bedroom and it not only wakes us up, but it makes it difficult for us to go back to sleep, and my husband must get up in the morning at 6:00. Thanks for listening to me. If I bothered you in any way, I am sorry." And he was all like "?!!!? Get a shade. ?!!!?", with WTF's implied galore.

The petticoats and lace went flying out the window, but the can of whoop ass stayed firmly in my pocket at this point, much to my amazement. I became my non-subservient self. "Yeah, we have a shade AND curtains hanging there and that shit's so bright it cuts right through," with MF's implied galore. Then he was like 'whatever' and I was like 'whatever', and I went home.

Shortly thereafter he was working in his yard at 8-fucking-30 in the morning, blaring 106.5, The End, or some other pseudo-alternative crap which I could hear, through my ear plugs, when I heard his girlfriend come outside and call him.

"Honey?" she said sweetly. Silence. "Honey?" she said once more in the exact tone of voice.

"WHAT, WHAT, WHAT, WHAT, WHAT? JESUS CHRIST!!!!" he answered lovingly.

"What's wrong with you?," she asked.

"Nothing. I just don't like being called five(?)fucking times."

"I only called you twice."

"No, you didn't. I heard you call me five fucking times and I answered you every time."

Before getting into her car because, you see, she works, she simply said, "You make me sad."

That was beautiful. He makes me sad too, in a very angry if-I-were-a-guy-and-worked-out-and-was-all-muscley-and-shit-I'd-beat-your-ass-into-the-ground kind of way.

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