May 2007 Archives
Friendship is fun. No, really -- it is. And the only thing more fun than friendship is playing bunny games. Particularly games that have a history deeply rooted in fisting bunnies.
So. Grab your friends. Grab some bunnies. And grab some ass beer (or ale or cider -- shit, or everclear if ya wanna live a little). And play games. All ya gotta do is lose.
A lot.
I was talking to my dear, and amiable friend Adam yesterday about dating and finding these people who live in this limited-computer world, where they know enough to turn on the computer, send e-mail, and watch porn online, but little else. I was like, man we need to come up with some qualifying rules to weed these folks out. His reason was that he was talking to some guy online and discussing music -- specifically the new Pink Martini album, Hey Eugene!. This guy liked it so much that he bought it on iTunes. Adam talked to him the next day, and he said that he liked the album so much that he bought the other two albums from iTunes as well.
I was like "OMG, why!?" And that lead to the realization that we can't date people who don't pirate copyrighted material.
So, here is my list of qualifying traits and abilities in order to date me.
1. Must type at least 75 wpm.
2. Must obtain software and music via nefarious channels (bittorrent, etc.).
3. Must operate at a minimum of 1024 x 768, and know how to change it.
4. Must not consider MS Paint a graphics program.
5. Must end all conversations with a closing tag />.
6. Must use FireFox as the primary browser and have at least one extension installed.
7. Must love and appreciate lolcats (I'm in ur google writing yr dating qwalifikashuns.)
8. Must emote using slashes (/hug).
9. Must provide necessary SoW when running late.
10. Understands that when i say =, it does not mean ==.
11. Knows how to hax0r my heart.
12. Doesn't try to pwn my arse.
13. Knows that when I need to be ... uplifted ... he should shout out a guttural HARRR!
14. Keeps a wizard's hat and robe under the bed for role playing in bed.
15. Must be CSS 3 compliant (guarantees you'll play nice with my mac).
16. Must E( 0 )3 or at least have high ass-pirations.
17. Must use iPod for more than music and porn.
If you feel like you meet these qualifications -- by all means, please contact me.
I was very tired last nite and went to bed earlier than normal -- around 10:30, I believe. I had a good, hard, sleep but with one of those vivid and realistic dreams. I woke up thinking "wtf was that" and went over the pieces of the dream in hopes of remembering them.
The dream involved a medical procedure that would basically swap my soul with my cousin, Renee's, soul. We would just be inhabiting the other person's body, but maintain our intelligence and persona. So I'm sitting here with my friends and family kind'a freaking out about the whole ordeal, and apologizing to my mother because she had just paid $15,000 for some major dental work in my mouth that I would no longer enjoy -- by cousin would enjoy.
I'm sure you're thinking -- well, it's your cousin -- isn't that ok? Well, besides the fact that she's a girl, I'd normally agree with you. But then -- and this was even in my dream -- I started freaking out because she's kind'a ... well ... trashy. And I mean that in nicest, familiar way possible. Just suffice it to say that I didn't want to live in a trailer on a mountain side and have to deal with CPS about getting my kids back. Not to mention the whole hoohaa thing, and having to figure out that whole monthly flow thing.
It was just a very odd dream, and so very realistic! It pretty much (re-)affirmed that I have no desire to be a woman. Ever. Despite my womanly qualities (I got more legs than a bucket of chicken!), I'm content having a wee (and my berries and cream too).
Come and sit with me a minute, child. Let's discuss some of the goings on in the world and discuss why people do the stupid things they do.
You remember that Paris Hilton was arrested with a DUI and sentenced to 45 days in jail. And this bizarrely, unfathomable fan-base comes out of no where (and literally, I'm not quite sure Paris didn't just make them up herself) with much wailing and gnashing of teeth in protest of the "mistreatment" and "cruel and unusual punishment" because of this jail term she has to serve. That alone made this situation worth rolling your eyes over -- but it seems to only get better.
First -- it's kind'a common sense that she wouldn't just be thrown in with the public. I mean, that kept that one guy who had TB alone in a cell forever -- and god only knows what sort of diseases that cooch has. As if they'd unleash that on the criminal populus (wouldn't THAT be cruel and unusual). So she is going to have a "special needs" cell complete with a ramp, over-sized button telephone, screen reader, braile printer, large squishy stuffed animals, one-button-push oatmeal dispenser, diaper changing table, and it's own private short bus.
Secondly -- they've reduced her sentence to only 23 days because of "good behavior." How can she display good behavior if she's not even served any time yet? They claim that her "showing up for court" is considered "good behavior."
But tell me this, little lad who loves berries and cream, if she DIDN't show up for court, wouldn't she have a warrant out for her arrest? How does that become good behavior? What else is considered good behavior? Smoking pot to calm your nerves because you're too stressed out over the sentence?
It's absolutely disgusting. With as much media attention as this is getting, I don't think they should be lenient on her -- especially for such bullshit reasons. Everyone seems to be missing the point that she was arrested for doing something wrong -- regardless of whether she maimed or killed someone. Why should she be given a reduced sentence? The whole "time off for good behavior" thing is whacked. If they had been displaying "good behavior" they wouldn't be in jail in the first place.
Stupid law. Stupid people. Stupid Paris.
And the crowd did join together and give thanks unto god that Michael is not and never will be THIS gay.
BTW, is that' that gay faggoty guy from Strangers with Candy? What was his name?
Hello. My name is Mr. Sick. I feel like ass, and I wanted to express my sorrows and misgivings to the world. Woe is me, woe is me.
Alas, fair maiden on yonder hill.
Who sits upon your window sill?
I'd hazard a guess,
But would like to stress,
That I'm completely fucked up on Nyquil.
Someone, anyone ... I need one of these.
Queen Noor has made a request for Mother's Day world peace. Specifically, she asks mothers to fight for peace.
Isn't that a bit of a contradiction? Fight for peace. A bit like saying let's fuck to promote abstinence.
So I'm really not sure which upsets me more -- that birds are dying, that Paris Hilton has to spend 45 days in jail, or that someone actually sent the following letter to Gov. Schwartzenager regarding her impending imprisonment. I took the opportunity to highlight certain aspects...
Dear Governor Schwarzenegger:Let me first begin by saying that I grew up as a child enjoying all of your wonderful films. You really are the truly great action hero for our time. You are doing a great job in the great state of California. Go ahead and kiss up as much as you can, dear. Like he'll even read it.
I would like to bring a matter to your attention that you may or may not already be aware of due to the excessive media coverage this matter has received recently:
Paris Whitney Hilton (oh lord.) is 26 year old American celebrity and socialite. She is an heiress to a share of the Hilton Hotel fortune, as well as to the real estate fortune of her father Richard Hilton. She provides hope for young people all over the U.S. and the world. *SPEWS MILK* Did they really just say that? She provides beauty and excitement to (most of) (emphasis on MOST) our otherwise mundane lives. Hilton is notable for her leading roles on the FOX reality series The Simple Life and in the remake of the Vincent Price horror classic “House of Wax”. In addition to her work as an actress, she has achieved some (again, emphasis on *SOME*) recognition as a model, celebrity spokesperson, singer, and writer.
As most of America now knows, Ms. Hilton was just charged in a Los Angeles court with DUI and sentenced to 45 days in Century Regional Detention Facility in California beginning on or before June 5, 2007.
We, the American public who support Paris, (They make it sound like there's more than 1 person...) are shocked, dismayed and appalled (woah, watch out.) by how Paris has been the person to be used as an example that Drunk Driving is wrong. I do not support drunk driving or condone a person being spared from DUI charges. (Perhaps we could try to contradict ourselves a little more.) Paris should have been sober. (Shoulda, coulda, woulda) But she shouldn’t go to jail, either. As depicted on Friday night’s episode “Nancy Grace” on Headline News (May 4, 2007), countless celebrities have been “slapped on the wrist” for similar incidents recently. Nick Nolte, Mel Gibson, Tracy Morgan, Wynonna Judd, to name a few, were arrested and never did a day in jail after their initial arrests for drunk driving /DUI /DWI charges. Rappers Busta Rhymes and Eve still walk free after both being arrested for the same charges as Ms. Hilton just this past week.(And to this, we say it's about time the law has finally realized that celebrities are no different than us pedestrian people here on the sides of the road who swerve to miss their drunk oncoming ass.)
Singer/actress Brandy Norwood’s California Highway accident, although no proof of DUI was evidenced in her accident, resulted in the death of a young wife and mother in California, yet Brandy walks free as of today, never doing any time and a woman is now dead possibly due to her reckless driving. (If there's no proof of DUI, how does this have anything to do with Paris Hilton? Oh duh. IT DOESN'T.)
Yet, Paris Hilton did not hurt, injure, or kill anyone or anything, and yet she must do jail time. (shit. forget jail time. Commit the bitch permanently. Do us all a favor. Stop the spread of herpes, etc.)
This letter, with all due respect to you, sir, is to ask you to please consider granting a pardon to Paris Hilton for her mistake, or at the very least to advocate for a pardon to be given to Ms. Hilton. Please allow her to her return to her career and life. Everyone makes mistakes. She didn’t hurt or kill anyone, and she has learned her lesson. (Did her mother write this? So dumb.) She is sincere, apologetic, and full of regret for her actions as she explained tearfully to the Judge handling her case in court yesterday. She is distraught and understandably afraid to enter the prison system. (Apparently she's a better actress than we all realized.)
Please save Paris from ending up at the Century Regional Detention Facility in California.
I urge you to think about the welfare of this young woman (/cry) who will be placed into a facility with murderers, rapists, people who have committed assault, battery, larceny, etc. (As if the bitch would serve with the common folk. Duh.) Paris has made a mortal error and deserves a second chance like so many others in our great nation have been served with after a mistake they have made. In my humble opinion, if the late Former President Gerald Ford could find it in his heart to pardon the late Former President Richard Nixon after his mistake(s), (Wow. There's a comparison that should live on forever in history. Paris Hilton == Richard Nixon.) we as compassionate human beings can undeniably support Paris Hilton being pardoned for her honest mistake as well.
I hope and expect that you will understand and please consider granting this unusual (albeit crazy and sophomoric) but important request in good faith to Ms. Paris Whitney Hilton.
"As above, so below. The human being finds himself, or herself, in the middle. There is as much space outside the human, proportionately, as inside."Stars, moons, and planets remind us of protons, neutrons, and electrons. Is there a bigger being walking with all the stars within? Does our thinking affect what goes on outside us, and what goes on inside us? I think it does.
"Where does creamed corn figure into the workings of the universe? What really *is* creamed corn? Is it a symbol for something else?"
Hmm. Curious words to ponder for sure.
Several years ago (when I worked at UTMB), my friend Alex (who lives in the UK now) and I decided to take a mini road trip to Crockett, Texas, home of ... well ... well. It's central Texas. Enough said.
We went there because my great-grandmother used to live there before she passed away, and i have a lot of memories spending Easters and Thanksgivings there, particularly this park that was behind her house. I remember there used to be some dear that were domesticated (tho kept in a very large pen) and we would walk over and feed them with wahtever we could find. (Apparently some asshole several years ago went to visit them and decided to feet them with a shot gun. He's in prison now.)
Anyway, we wandered around the wintery park (as it was February) and played on the sad, decaying playground toys and looked at the old WWII stuff (a tank, etc). My friend Alex took some pictures. She decided to have some fun with Photoshop the other day and sent me this:
We had a lot of fun that day. We wandered about "town" which was like 3 streets, had some local bbq, and a delightful dessert at Dairy Queen. Collectively we spent about 4 hours there (including the park and eating) before becoming desperately bored. So we left at like 1pm or something. Regardless, we enjoyed our time together. Kind'a miss it, actually. And it's sad that she now lives so far away. But at least we still chat on occasion.
PBS is in the middle of showing a special on the Mormon religion called "The Mormons." It's a two-parter. The first half, which aired last nite, was about the origins of the religion and the beginning history of the church from the story of Joseph Smith through Polygamy. I was surprised how the documentary was presented. It seemed pretty unbiased and relied predominantly on interviews with historians, sociologists, biographers, and members of the LDS leadership as commentary. It was not anti-Mormon, not was it pro-Mormon; it simply told the story of the Mormon church, its persecution, and its beliefs.
Everyone who knows me knows that I was raised Mormon. I never really grabbed ahold of the beliefs and made them my own -- I think my nature is a bit too skeptical for that. But my father and his side of the family is very active in the Mormon church, and so I was also involved. I even went on a mission (to Brazil and New Jersey).
It was after my little jaunt as a missionary that I realized how much I despise religion. Not theology or spirituality. Religion. Religion is the organization of people who share somewhat common beliefs and organize themselves to build upon these beliefs. The question is -- what do they build and who does it benefit? Obviously, in order for a group of people to meet in a single location, there is planning and financial things that need to be taken care of. So part of religion is a business -- finding a way to make money to cover the necessary expenses and (perhaps) pay those who run the organization. They grow the religion by gaining converts who provide money via offerings, thus increasing the overall profit and income. It seems today's churches are much more interested in the Profit than the Prophet (damn translations). So aside from the financial aspect, the other part of religion is sharing the beliefs and converting people. The Mormon church is out full-force with the missionaries, and there are some of the leaders who lose sight of what the purpose is.
The mission presidents (some of them -- not all) see these young boys as worker bees out to provide for the hive. It doesn't matter what has to happen as long as they meet their pollen quotas. Numbers, numbers, numbers. It drove me crazy. The mission president was not concerned about the spiritual well-fare of the boys under his watch (which was overly obvious by the mission meetings). And that is when I first began to have a bad taste in my mouth.
I was not a popular boy with the mission president. I questioned a lot. Disagreed a lot with the way things were run and how situations where handled. I was (thankfully) eventually sent home for medical reasons. After I was home, I continued to go to church for several weeks as I was expected to. But as soon as I got a job and was on my own, I quit. I had horrible memories and such disgust for the mission presidency and organization that I just couldn't handle sitting through meetings.
And ever since then, I have not actively participated in the Mormon faith. Contrary to some peoples' thoughts, I did not leave the church because I'm gay. I left because I disagree with the human organization of the religion. The dogma was ok for the most part, and I loved that the church encouraged its members to search on their own for answers, establish a personal relationship with God, and make their spirituality their own.
The Book of Mormon was provided as a means for increased understanding. The origin of the Book of Mormon is interesting, and as far as I can logically discern is no less true than the Bible. The temple stuff is a little weird, and I'm not sure I agree with all aspects of it. It's not something i really embraced -- but then again, the temple kind'a came about late in my life, a few years before I quit going. So i don't have the whole solid foundation for that to be a core part of my belief structure.
But as a whole, the Mormon dogma and theology -- minus the organization -- is a good thing, and I would certainly recommend anyone who is interested to study it. I will never go back to the church, however. I am so disheartened by the organization that it would take a considerable change of heart for that to happen.
I really don't know where I'm going with all this. Prolly just need to get it out. Perhaps, as it used to be, religious thought is something I fall back on when things in my life aren't going quite like i would want them to go. Man often falls back on thoughts of God when there are problems.
So I'm eager to see the next part of the documentary tonite. And I believe the next three nights will have a documentary on Atheism, which will also be interesting to see (or at least to Tivo.)
New pics of me, finally. These were taken a few days ago. I just pulled them off my camera today, so we'll pretend their from today. And look ... me with facial hair. I'm succumbed to the laziness that is partial shaving.
For those of you whom have never had the joy of visiting my home, you may be unaware that I live in an old duplex that was built sometime in the 20s or 30s. It has a lot of the original features -- wood floors, no insulation, crappy windows with holes, bugs, a portal to the Nether Realm. However, unlike most duplexes, the other half of the house is above me, not beside me. The previous tenant was a little small woman who walked around on puffs of air and had a small featherless bird named Sage.
She moved out last September and the duplex was vacant a few glorious months. Then the new tenant(s) showed up. A man and his wife who are around my age. Very nice couple, if not a touch peculiar. (Of course, they've got a fag living beneath them, so I can only imagine what they might think.)
For starters -- they have no furniture. Well, at least very little. I know they have a few tables -- I gave them 2. They have no bed, only an air mattress. No TV, but they have a very old 13" laptop which they use to watch movies and do school work. I'm all for minimalism and all, except that they find other ways to entertain themselves.
Like practicing Capoeira and playing their berimbaus. It gets REAL OLD REAL FAST.
But I digress. The reason I post this is because we have the misfortune of having to share laundry facilities which are located right outside my kitchen. Ya know -- I live alone. I can get away with doing laundry once a week -- or even every two weeks if need be. They cannot. I understand this, and just how quickly clothes can amass in piles. I can also imagine what a pain-o in the butt-o it must be to have to go downstairs to do the laundry. It must be because they always leave it in there for days, and I have to take it out to do laundry. (Of course, they typically do the same to mine as well. But I try to be good about that.)
So why the post? Because I walked in to the laundry room this morning to grab my shirt from the dryer to find they had been doing laundry again. There is a total mystery in the laundry room. It seems like new containers of detergent show up on an almost weekly basis, and they never go away. I use one thing and some dryer sheets. They have now brought in SIX containers of various detergents and one unmarked bottle of something (my thoughts are monkey semen, but I didn't try it to find out). The latest one came this morning ... it's Tide. In Japanese (or Chinese or something I can't read). Here is the collection that has slowly been building in the laundry room.
