Sunday, December 28, 2008

Final days

Here are some random highlights of 2008:

I became a more grateful-for-the-little-things-type of person.

I created a Kelkian.

I learned that I can survive without regular new Kelka podcasts.

I discovered the genius that is Dan Savage.

I voted for the President-elect.

I finally just embraced those odd things on my body that people refer to as "curves."

On a related note, I admitted that I can look good in dresses (silently and to myself). This, however, does not meat that I intend to wear a dress unless it's absolutely necessary.

I realized the type of person I truly want to be and the type of happiness that I want to live in.

I spent quality time with almost everyone who means something to me.

I let go of several things that I didn't think I was ever capable of letting go.

I finally learned to stop investing myself in pretty bitter boys.

I got a new friend into Six Feet Under and made a new friend who is already into Six Feet Under and consequently tripled my number of Six Feet Under buddies.

2008 has given me many challenges that I'm proud to have gotten through without turning into a bitter, depressed cynic. And while 2009 is just a petty line imposed on the ever elusive concept of time, I'm thinking that this year will kick ass.

Friday, December 26, 2008

Hang up the chick habit

I finally saw Itty Bitty Titty Committee. Not only does it have a buncha hot gay girls who aren't doused in make up, but it was funny and interesting.

Maybe it wasn't the greatest movie ever, and But I'm a Cheerleader is probably more of a classic. Nevertheless, it was cute and made me want to run around town defacing representations of oppression and consumerism. Jamit Babbit's style of filmmaking is entertaining, and she always manages to coat her messages with a layer of humor.

Daniela Sea's hotness actually almost superceded her ineffectual voice. And watching her get it on with Carly Pope....yum! Those big-ass glasses were a bit distracting though. And Clea Duvall was only in it for like 30 seconds, but she looked sexy as hell.

I was basically squealing, fawning, or drooling throughout the film, and I'm probably going to watch it again so I can squeal, fawn, and drool again. Because I thoroughly enjoy being emotionally manipulated by the artists who click with me.

Thursday, December 25, 2008

Point

Only the people you love and let in can really do something shitty to you. And if you can never forgive someone for doing something shitty to you, you're never going to have people in your life that you love for long. Because eventually, everybody does something shitty to someone they love. And a long-term relationship is basically a just a banged-up old car after 30 or 40 years.

-Dan Savage

Wednesday, December 24, 2008

"There's no tellin' what we'll do when we're free"

Lately I've been making a point of not focusing on the negative regarding gay rights. It's pretty much a selfish choice: I don't want to be in a negative mindset, and while I can be aware of the fact that people do cruel things to each other, I don't think it's helpful to dwell on this fact.

Bt then I read about stuff like this, and, even if all the facts aren't there, I realize that I am more than capable of enduring some downers.

So I'm going to tell a sad story with a somewhat inspiring ending.

A few months ago, my friend "Jack" was telling me how he helped edit a tear jerker-typa documentary about Bernie Baran. Essentially, Baran was intentionally falsely accused of child molestation because he was gay. And there is videotaped evidence to support this: the children were basically coerced into lying. But he was sent to prison for 15 years anyways.

And, as one might expect, he was raped in prison. He managed to avoid sexual abuse in subsequent years by becoming an honest drug dealer. He never cheated his customers, and this respect won him some safety.

So my friend Jack met Baran. And at first Baran was (understandably) standoff'ish and shy. But when they finally were able to get a conversation going, Jack noticed that Baran didn't seem as bitter or angry as he expected.

Jack asked him about this, and Baran said something to the effect of, "They already got 15 years of my life. I'm not going to give them anymore. I just want to enjoy my time with my boyfriend."

Damn. If someone can let go of that, then...wow. What can't they do?

Tuesday, December 23, 2008

The Musings of a Couch Potato

On a random note, this song rocks my face off.

One: I kinda forget that words like "fag" and "dyke" can be considered offensive. Especially since a bunch of gay people got me in the habit of saying those words. And then I look like a brash asshole in front of straight people. Meh, what else is new.

Two: There's a lack of girl drama in my life. This is good; girl drama can be draining and wasteful. But it sure as hell is entertaining. Like that scene in Empire Records when Liv Tyler and Renee Zelweger's character fight, and then Liv Tyler goes on a screaming rampage and has to be subdued by a few guys. Beautiful. I watched that shit in slow motion. Too bad it isn't on youtube.

This is what fake girl drama on television is for. And I put the shows that provide this on rotation (Sex and the City, America's Next Top Model, Will and Grace, Desperate Housewives, The L Word, etc). I'm on a Will and Grace kick. I can't decide if it's a guilty pleasure or actually good television. There is a serious lack of man-on-man action and a serious excess of stereotypes. But the blend of slapstick and mean-spirited humor gets me every time.

And I recently realized that Megan Mullaley has a sexy voice in real life. I watch too much TV.

Three: I'm starting to form a "season 6 wish list" in my head. One of the items is that I want to see Alice in big, emo glasses that make her eyes look endearingly beady. The case in point is as follows:


Sunday, December 21, 2008

Whooo are you?

Identity has always been of interest to me. There are so many ways one could identify and describe oneself: what you do, what you look like, how you dress, who you fuck, how you fuck, what you believe in, the friends you choose, what you eat, how you express your gender identity, your taste in art, the accomplishments you value, how much money you make, etc.

Six or so months ago I had an epiphany: zomg! you are what you think! I told a few friends about this revelation, and no one disagreed with me. Your thoughts shape your reality. They shape how you perceive life. They precede and cause all your actions, even involuntary ones. And your internal dialogue is what you spend all day with. It's a more intimate relationship than one could ever have with any other person.

But now, I want to revise this idea. Because I have plenty of thoughts that I do not agree with. They are results of patterns that I have internalized from others, but they aren't me. So now I think that you are how you react to to life, your own thoughts, the thoughts and actions of others, etc. You can decide how these influences affect you, even if the influence is the voice in your head.


And then I was thinking about what the hell I mean by, "Because writing it out is fighting it out." I just intuitively came up with that. But now I see what my goal was, even though I couldn't identify it at the time: I wanted to use writing to extract ill-formed reactions regarding queer issues. I wanted to let go of unnecessary anger, bitterness, shame, etc.


And then I was thinking about how I've broadened the definition of a queer as someone who is free from all social constructs--not just the ones related to gender and sexuality. (No, I'm not a proponent of anarchy).

And I've met someone who doesn't feel inherently inadequate for not measuring up to some standard (as far as I can tell at least). And he wasn't born that way; he did the internal work to get there. It's the most queer anyone can be. I don't know what will happen between us, but it's awesome to know that this exists, even if it doesn't lead to a friendship or relationship.

This is what I'm working towards, bit by bit. To never be tortured or tricked by subjective ideas. To never confuse them for absolutes.

I feel like I sound like The Joker in The Dark Knight.

Bland Menu

I have nothing but petty, superficial complaints.

It's been a long time since I've seen a cute, interesting-looking, not-too-manly, not-too-womanly girl. I can't remember the last time I had a crush that made me feel like a shy, hopeless adolescent.

And to add to this irritation, I saw that Elizabeth Berkely is going to be on the next season of The L Word. Gross! I'm tired of seeing excessively girly girls who wear too much make-up play lesbians. Gimme some cute tomboys. I'm bored, goddamnnit!

Although Alexandra Hedison will come back. That makes up for it. Hot.

Okay, I think girls (gay or straight) talk about (or complain about) boobs just as much as straight guys do. Translation: here is my not-so-intelligent boob-centric conversation of the week....

Me: I really just want my 20's and 30's. I don't know if I want to live in my 40's
Friend: Right. Ew. No.
Me: But if we do live that long, at least our boobs won't sag.
Friend: Mine won't. Yours will.
Me: HEY. No they won't!
Friend: Yours are huge.
Me: They are NOT! I'm a B cup!
Friend: You'll be tuckin' your boobs into your pants when you hit 40.
Me: You haven't seen what mine look like.
Friend: Yes I have.
Me: Not bare!
Friend: Whatever, I have cameras in my bathroom.
Me: It's those double C's and D's that have to worry. The bigger they are, the harder they fall.
Friend: You'll be a size K.
Me: I might just have to flash you one of these days to shut you up.

Friday, December 19, 2008

Content vs. Presentation

I don't identify with my nationality (which I do not wish to disclose). I never really have, partly due to where I was raised. And certain events and circumstances from formative years (which I'm not going to rehash) led me to rebel against identifying with my nationality when I was younger.

And I've recently realized that I haven't shaken this rebelliousness. I've always just felt like a tan white person. And many cannot discern my ethnicity anyways, so I'm content to be filed under "Miscellaneous" in people's heads.

The friends who share my country of origin occasionally tease and scold me when I mispronounce a word or when I talk about naming my hypothetical children by American names. What is wrong with you? Why must you speak like a pasty person? And they try to get me to bring out my "inner [nationality]." Culture is nurture, not nature.

They are totally joking, but the acute judgement is a bit superficial to me. I'm not ashamed of my ethnicity (although there are several cultural norms I disagree with); I simply don't feel a strong bond to it aside from some artistic forms of expression and philosophical ideas. I don't see it as the place of my roots.

As far as I'm concerned, it's just formed by lines on a map and yet another subjective culture that isn't necessarily better or worse than any other since all cultures have their pros and cons.

I think it's kind of silly to attach morality towards "being in touch with one's roots" when one was never raised near those roots. Learning about different cultures is interesting, but I'm just fine with the one I grew up with.

But it kind of concerns me when I have the urge to write off someone just because of their race. And I really only de-clothe with white folk. I wouldn't want someone to do that to me. Furthermore, my nemesis is racist against my race. And that's not why she's my nemesis (she's my nemesis because she's a tumor-like cuntface).

Luckily I'm aware of it and forcing myself to not write people off.

Note: I'm sure I've confused race and ethnicity in this post. Oops. I'm aware of the distinction, but I'm just lazy with consistency.

Thursday, December 18, 2008

Zing!

Gotta love this.

In related news...

Me: Wahhh! I'm racist against my own race!
Friend: I thought you knew that Ms. I'm White on the Inside
Me: I did, but I didn't know how bad I was until now.

So, yes, I'm slighly racist against my own race (which I'd prefer to not disclose), AND I have a handful of friends who share my race, AND I kinda want to scream and run because I kinda like a boy who also shares my race, AAAAND he's racist against our mutual race as well!

My life is so off that it's on. I love it. More later.

Wednesday, December 17, 2008

Riddle Me This

So at the end of Episode 113 of the Savage LoveCast, a guy called in asking why some lesbians find masculinity in women attractive. Why would they go for a "fake guy" when they could have a "real guy"?

I kinda wanted to hear Dan's educated guess, but I can understand why a gay man wouldn't want to speak for gay women. So he invited lesbian listeners to call in with their input for the next podcast. Hmm...perhaps this is my chance to hear my own voice aired in Podcastland!

I obviously cannot speak for everyone, but I think there are some gay women who like masculinity, but they like girly parts and dislike all dick-related dalliances. This implies a separation between gender role expression and anatomy. And, like I've said before, it can be a pleasant surprise to uncover a beautiful feminine body underneath a heap of boyish or gender-neutral clothing.

As for my personal tastes, I don't like extremes in anyone...men or women who are too masculine or feminine don't do it for me because I see them as too one-sided. A bit of masculinity in a woman makes her more three-dimensional and interesting. If she seamlessly combines two opposing hormonal interfaces, then the result is worth purchasing.

Playing with gender can be hot...not just because it's unconventional, but because it's like a bit of a confusing mindfuck that makes less room for labels and assumptions. Granted, there are plenty of styles that one can have, but it gets boring to see girls present themselves so similarly.

Tuesday, December 16, 2008

Crap

I kinda had an embarrassing realization that I've been rather loyal to this kinda crappy show called The L Word for the past three years.

Let's be honest: it's not exactly quality programming. It has butchered its portrayal of some queer issues, the writing is inconsistent, and they stupidly killed off a main character. The show had potential after season 1, and it did finally make somewhat of a comeback in season 5.

But, Kelka and Riese aside, it's mostly just an entertaining gay girl drama fix (what else could it be with allll women?). It's best to slap the "Guilty Pleasure" label on it.

And then I remembered how ashamed I used to be of being a non-heterosexual three years ago. It's great that I barely remember being that way. But remembering it now is forcing me to acknowledge the trite-but-true fact that this kinda crappy show helped me to emotionally and internally de-closet myself. And I know I'm not the only one who feels this way.

And amusing clips like this, this, and this still make me laugh and feel some vicarious nostalgia. And those moments make me a bit sad to have to watch its last season next year.

Lastly, if some bitch spoils season 6 for me, I will unleash a malicious revenge campain on her!

Monday, December 15, 2008

Imbalances

So I was all excited to start a book club. I got a few friends interested, and I chose a book that everyone was curious about.

But, being the indecisive commitment-phobe that I am, I backed out after 50 pages. I admit I should have stuck it out, but it's not like my friends were dying to eat this book up. I told the wifey (one of the "members"), and she didn't care. But then she devoured the book one weekend, and now she's trying to make me read it.

When she angrily scolded me about it yesterday, I could hear her raising her finger at me via the phone. (you BETTER pick that book up and read it!). And I suddenly had a moment where I thought for the socially conservative side: so THIS is why gay marriage is illegal...too much estrogen!

Friend: I've definitely thought about getting it on with a girl. But my boobs are big enough for two girls. So if you added two more to the mix, it'd be like a mountain of boob overload.
Me: I love you for putting that image in my head.


Loretta: ...I have to admit that I haven't seen Fight Club. Every time you've mentioned it, I've just nodded and changed the subject.
Me: Hah! I can't believe you haven't seen Fight Club OR The Big Lebowski. We must watch these. And I'm so getting you drunk and making you listen to an off-season Kelka podcast with me.
Loretta: But what if I don't like them, and you can't convert me?
Me: [pause] Well, we'll cross that bridge if we get to it.


Me: Okay, I kinda have to confess that I had a crush on a student once.
Friend: Whoa.
Me: Hey, I'm no pederass! She was 18, and I was 21.
Friend: It was a girl?? That's even worse!
Me: Why? I'm mostly sure she was bi. She was like a more charming version of me in high school. If anything, it's narcissistic.
Friend: Whatever pervy girl.
Me: It's not like I have a dick to rape, impregnate, or not make her come with.
Friend: Ouch!
Me: You started the gender biasing, big boy.

Sunday, December 14, 2008

Eenie Meenie...

I need me some girl talk. Stupid finals.

I've been quite indecisive lately. It's not really a problem, and everyone's mood shifts. But I'm having a hard time gauging what it is I really want, and I'm so in limbo that I don't even know if that's a good or bad thing.

Sometimes I'm more interested in just holding hands, and sometimes I'm more interested in sex. Sometimes I'm a social butterfly who succeeds at making everyone in the room laugh. Other times I'm setting my phone to silent so I don't have to talk to a soul. Sometimes I want a serious relationship, and other times I'm the biggest commitment-phobe.

I certainly don't feel indecisive about my sexual orientation at the moment though. I've been happily practicing the heterosexual lifestyle since February, and I'm quite willing to put up with the typical assholery of men.

But I need the friends who have been around to hear about every romantic mistake I've made since I was 19. I want them to follow me on dates, and when I'm about to do something stupid, they could cross their arms, shake their heads slowly, and give me a stern look. No, you cannot be picky about that flaw. No, you cannot take your clothes off yet.

So I like Scrawny Boy. Scrawny Boy likes me. But the second he started using more commitment-type words (e.g. "dating" and "companion"), I wanted to run. I don't think I'm afraid of getting my heart broken anymore; I'm afraid of being limited.

We saw Happy-Go-Lucky, and the main character in film was kinda living my ideal life: she was offensively optimistic and upbeat, she was committed to her friends, she worked with kids, and she dated occasionally. She lived in the moment, rented instead of owned, and kept things simple, even if she encountered not-so-simple occurrences.

Trade-offs, trade-offs.

Thursday, December 11, 2008

Take it on the other side

So maybe the Governor of Illinois is corrupt (and looks like a ventriloquist dummy), Prop 8 passed, the economy is in the toilet, and Barack Obama really has yet to prove himself.

Maybe it will be a loooong time before gay marriage is legal in this country.

Maybe 2008 has been quite humbling and difficult for me, and it's pushed my awareness to a place with fewer lines. And a part of me doesn't care much about things like making money, eating, or if I'll achieve anything significant (no, I'm not depressed--far from it).

Maybe Kelka will record their last podcast ever this year.

In spite of all this, I'm keepin' the faith about 2009. I'm choosing optimism. I'm knowing optimism.

And maybe I'm as wrong as Rod Blagojevich.

Wednesday, December 10, 2008

Role Play

I feel like I have a wife. Not sexually. Or legally. But emotionally. We tell each other about the ordinary occurrences and victories of our daily lives. We have a "what's mine is yours" attitude towards money.

She's smaller than I am, and one would stereotypically expect me to wear the pants in this relationship. But oohhh no! She bosses me around. She made me take a mini vacation to our state parks. She scolds me when I say something too crass or sexual.

And one time, when I didn't say "bye" in a vocally affectionate manner, she yelled at me and told our friends about it.

And when she feels insecure about how she looks in a certain dress, I make sure to tell her how good she looks.

She might sound like a bitch, but she's a sweet person. Furthermore, I like being treated like the dopey husband. When I admitted this to her yesterday, she let out an evil cackle and exclaimed, "I know! You're my toy!"

Tuesday, December 9, 2008

"You're too fucking...BLONDE!"

I've known a handful of gay girls who have told me that they don't find blondes attractive. I also don't find most of them attractive with a few exceptions (Stephanie March, Leisha Hailey, and I didn't think much of Portia until I watched Arrested Development). Personality or talent earns them this exception.

What's up with that? Is it the "blondes are dumb ditzes" stereotype? What is it about blonde hair that communicates a low IQ and a high degree of sluttiness? Who came up with this stereotype? Why?

I have noticed, however, that I like a little bit of ditziness in a girl. Maybe because it's the opposite of how I am 95% of the time? Or maybe because it's more interesting to find out that she's (hopefully) smarter than she seems underneath her facade. The last girl I liked was like this--but she was also batshit crazy. So that put a damper on things.

This is a theme with everyone I've liked. Surprising contradictions are delicious: sensitivity in usually grouchy guys, curves on tomboy'ish girls, intelligence in girls who act dumb, sexuality in uptight "ascetic" men, nerdiness in athletic gym whores, etc. Yum.

I suppose it's just fun to uncover the different layers to people and to find out that there's always more than meets the eye.

Monday, December 8, 2008

Zero Dignity

I appear to have a not-so-intelligent conversation about boobs about once a week:

Me: Anna's boobs are huge; they look like floatation devices.
Friend: Where did that come from?
Me: Well, they do! Maybe you shouldn't tell her I said that...
Friend: You know what would be nice? If our boobs really could float!
Me: You're right! It'd be a nice adaptation to be able to naturally float.
Friend: Buoyant boobs...this is an especially weird conversation.
Me: Hey! You took my weird observation and turned it into a weird fantasy!

In other not-so-significant news, what the hell are they making Kate wear for season 6? Her pants are atrocious. Is she a court Jester? An employee of the Joker? A roadie for Kiss?



And why does her hair look like hairspray'ed roadkill that's too large for the rest of her body? Perhaps it's because someone needs to force feed her? I'm totally not trying to trash her; I just want her to look healthy so I can be in lust again. Is that so wrong?

They used to put effort into her hair (and by "effort," I mean "massive amounts of time and product.") And I could be wrong, but her cheeks used to have more meat to them.

Whatever.

Sunday, December 7, 2008

Ground Zero

All of these anti-gay laws and listening to different people have me thinking about judgement, control, and expectations in a more broad and personal sense.

Expectations can ruin life in many ways: they set you up for disappointment. And they can prevent you from seeing what's good about something.

If, for example, you believe that the sodomites should be punished for their sins, well, you might be disappointed. And if you're a homophobic Mormon with a gay child, then you might never appreciate him/her, which is disheartening. Why? because you desperately clung to your expectations.

And that's essentially what most venting is about: disappointment with some person, event, situation, etc. Everyone needs to vent, and I'm not judging that. And if someone has been abused, then s/he needs to vent and get help.

But since when does life have to live up to your expectations? What makes you so fucking special? As Chuck Palahniuk said in Invisible Monsters,"Sometimes your best way to deal with shit is to not hold yourself as such a precious little prize."

Your fellow human beings don't have to agree with your views.

Your fellow human beings don't have to treat you well.

Your family doesn't have to be happy, sane, and supportive.

Your job doesn't have to be pleasant and meaningful.

Your body doesn't have to function.

Your ______doesn't have to work the way you'd like it to etc ad nauseum.

You can do what's within your power to shape your life that way you want it, but the extent of your control will have its inevitable limits.

I dunno what my exact point of this hyperbolic post is is aside from the fact that letting go of expectations (within reason) makes life significantly more enjoyable.

Saturday, December 6, 2008

I <3 Gay Podcast Land

1. Okay the whole, "I need to get a purse" thing was just a stupid phase. I saw a little wallet clip thing at Walgreens and found its minimalist simplicity to be hotter than any purse.

2. Kelka confirmed that they will be podcasting in January. Forget the holiday season; Kelka season trumps it in spades. I swear I'm going to get a friend drunk and make them listen to an off-season podcast with me (Loretta--you are my prime target!)

3. Hey, remember that massive act of bigotry called Prop 8? Well here is an amusing musical parody of it.

4. Why am I just now realizing that Jorja Fox is attractive? I'm slow. And she seems possibly gay. As does Vanessa Ferlito.

5. I really want to get on Dan Savage's Podcast. I'm trying to think of an interesting and unique enough question that the tech-savvy at risk youth would find worthy of airing. Gah!

Plus I have a suddently (and perhaps annoyingly) narcissistic love of my gay voice, and I love Dan's gay voice. Having an articulate conversation with him, consequently, might prove to be quite...ah, stimulating for me in my infinite, cerebral perversity.

Thursday, December 4, 2008

AHH! No More Lame Duck Watch!

I have a weakness for crime dramas. I've seen almost every episode of Law and Order SVU and CSI Las Vegas.

I love watching the sexy, smart characters follow the clues, interrogate suspects, and pull out their weapons as they try to find the bad guy. I love the cerebral , objective legal and crime scene lingo. I love the plot twists, and I love feeling like a total idiot for not seeing them coming.

Lastly, I love the usually dark, ironic endings. I find them oddly comforting.

So apparently there will be some crime drama-goodness in season 6 of The L Word. AAAAND! Lucy Fucking Lawless plays a detective!!!! Yaaaay!

And apparently a character will die? I'm not sure how I feel about this since they stupidly killed off a great character. If they kill Alice, Shane, or Bette, I will scream. I'll feel bad if it's Tina, especially since she redeemed herself and has a daughter. Max, Jenny, and Jodi are mostly meaningless to me.

There is a lot to look forward to in January: a new year, a new president, the hopeful return of Kelka, and the hopefully awesome denouement to The L Word.

Wednesday, December 3, 2008

Black or White Bullshit Vol 2

I occasionally browse through random discussion forums on the internet, and I'm confused by this seemingly new wave of people who have a bunch of Palin-esque comments regarding gay people:

Being gay is a choice, but I don't judge, and I'm not homophobic. I love people of all orientations.

and/or

I have friends who are gay, but I don't support redefining marriage. But I'm no homophobe.

Buh?

Okay, I am a full proponent of Kinsey's scale. I do think that there are some people who lean towards the middle, and they may be able to pick a side to some degree. I occasionally fall into this category.

But there are some people who are 95-100% gay/straight. Their sexuality is static, and a lifetime in prison (or a lifetime of living with people whom they aren't naturally attracted to) couldn't even turn them.

Why the hell would 10% (or whatever it is) of the world's population CHOOSE to be a sexual minority? What are the benefits?

1. You get to be a victim who gets to bitch about who the world is unfair towards you. I'm sure there are some gay people like this. This also applies to left-handed, disabled, albino, disfigured, dwarf, hideously ugly, generally unlucky, etc people.

2. You get to feel unique and/or get revenge on your family with your forbidden faggotry....Uh, are you 13?

3. That's really all I can think of.

Labeling all homosexuality as a choice is judgemental and homophobic because it is founded in a desire to invalidate and belittle who someone loves. And it's yet another example of black-or-white thinking that only serves to reduce people.

Monday, December 1, 2008

Associations

Okay, so I know people were talking about this a while ago, but Paris Hilton looks significantly more interesting and attractive when she's gettin' her snuggle on with a coupla hot dykes:







Hot!

There's a reality show on MTV in which young women compete to be Paris's BFF. (I always get exposed to the worst of television while babysitting. And, sadly, I don't tell these adolescent girls to change the channel and get sucked in with them). Luckily, the girls and I were making fun of how ridiculous it was.


But it seriously was a car crash moment. I do understand catching a bit of the celebrity worship bug, and I'm guilty of it on occasion. But to watch girls my age and a few years younger get all catty and emotional over wanting to be best friends with a public persona whom they really know very little about is, well, a little disturbing and kinda sad.


But who knows. Paris Hilton could be ridiculously intelligent and talented. Kate Moennig could be a high maintenance cuntface. I'm not going to reduce these people to what they show to the camera.

I'm a little confused as to why this woman elicits such a strong reaction from people, particlarly women. Love or hate it seems. I can see how she could be considered attractive, but she's scrawny and often looks like she just got off a porn set.

Is it jealousy? Thin, Euro-lookin' chick with lotsa money? It's not like she earned that money. Or her looks. I don't see much worthy of respect here.

I'm not sure what my point here is. I guess my inner feminist wants young women to aspire to something more than a spoiled party girl, even if she might be more than meets the eye.

Or maybe I just wanted to have an excuse to post those pics.

Tee Hee

One: Okay, I stand corrected re: what I wrote in the previous post. I was hanging out with a straight male friend, and he commented on an actor in a film we saw: The actor who plays the social worker is gorgeous. An hour later he said, Hugh Grant is so cute. I told him about this post, and he told me that even homphobic guys jokingly hit on each other.

Two: I kinda see Keith and David in Six Feet Under as the gay version of Turk and JD in Scrubs. Here is yet another amusing SFU clip.

Three: I feel like an unmotivated blob (a figurative blob) who doesn't care about much aside from being happy, hanging out with my friends, and flossing. The more I look around, the more the cynical side of me sees the world as a quicksand pit to aiming suck you into feeling like an unhappy person who lacks certain qualities or possessions (things, people). Blah blah blah.

Four: I used to hate PMS'ing. I couldn't stand the mood swings, rampaging libido, and food cravings. I'm not going to say that it's a pleasant walk in the park, but I do like how it balances me out. Otherwise I'd spend the whole month being an emotionally monotone, frigid person who forgets to eat. But the hormonal fluctuations allow me to experience more emotions on the spectrum. In other words, I can enjoy being crazy and feeling like my frontal lobe has been disabled.