Monday, December 21, 2009

'Tis The Season


I finished my first year of college.. and it only took me ten years.

Speaking of school, I have been informing people of my new decision of not becoming a nurse. It's interesting. Some people haven't taken it so well, namely my clients. I'm all, "Oh, I'm not going to be a nurse anymore." And they're all like, "Oh...". And then I'm thinking, "Were they really that excited for me to be a nurse?".

Christmastime is just around the corner. You know what that means.. 'tis the season for giving.. or stealing if you live in the Merion Village area. Someone stole our Christmas wreath. Someone stole one of our pumpkins, too. The wreath though is far more personal, and expensive. I imagine it was some drunk headed home from the Red Brick Tavern down the street. Or maybe the guy two houses down who looks like he should be on Intervention. Or maybe it was the creepy extended family whose residence is directly across from ours, the ones who never smile/wave when we smile, wave or say hi to them. Either way, it is gone. Just like the baby Jesus after he was stolen from the manger.. or the rock cave. We bought a new wreath, well Jon bought the new wreath, and he also fastened it to the door with a series of tiny nails and six feet of wire. The other day we had 40 mph winds and the wreath stayed put, clinging to the door like baby cow clings to its mother before it is sent to a processing plant to be turned into hamburgers.

You know what else it 'tis the season for? Assholes. And I am one of those assholes. I have zero patience. I did all my Christmas shopping online this year. Wow, so much better. SO much better. I did have to go out for wrapping paper though.. to the Container Store. Usually they have a good selection. Not this year. And everyone there was totally creepy. Ohio is full of scary people. Plus, I had to take the highway to get there, which I never do.

I didn't ask for anything this year. I'm selfless. I did however make an Amazon wish list in case someone wanted to go out of their way and buy me something, so they might know where to find the $1,600 bed frame I wouldn't mind getting, if they felt so inclined. If they felt like GIVING this time of year when people GIVE things.

Over the past year I have learned a lot, partly because I'm enrolled in community college, partly because I live in Ohio again, but mostly because I'm fucking astute. Is anyone following world gay politics? Have you heard about this wacky shit in Uganda? Giving gay people the death penalty for being gay? Do you know whose idea this is? The Ugandan government, you say? No, 'tis Christianity. Many years ago missionaries came to Africa to spread the word of God and to tell people not to wear condoms. White Christian Americans came waddling into the bush. Preachers convinced Africans their culture was inferior and bribed them with Western luxuries like SUVs and Nintendo Wii. Now look what happened!? Seriously, what would Jesus do, you guys? Why would God make gay people? To be executed? What 'tis the point? It's like when Christians burnt "witches". Do you honestly ever think there were actually witches? Couldn't they think of something better to do with ugly women than to label them as witches? ("Dorcas Goode is a witch! She ate my baby!", "I did not!") It just goes to show the ridiculousness of the human race is never ending. Which brings me to my point. I have learned a lot this year, a lot about people, humans. I have learned all my life I have given them far more credit than they ever deserved. The human race gives itself far too much credit. 'Tis the season to give, everyone. Stop giving yourself so much credit and start giving it to me.

Jesus was a socialist. My religion professor said that and I think, yes, yes that is true. The funniest part was watching Christian/Catholic/Mormon people in my class face's wretch in disgust. It's funny, when you think about it.. Jesus totally would have been a socialist, if real bodies of government were established at the time, which there weren't. He stood for the people, equality and peace. In fact, he was a radical in his own time, hence nailing him to a cross. If he were alive today and was in line with the current social/political/economical state of the United States/world I bet every Christian would hate him. They would think he was a total radical and then they'd nail him to a cross. It's funny then that his teachings could be so wildly misconstrued to what they are today.

So, this Christmas let's follow the teachings of Jesus, not the words of Christians. Because this Christmas I think Jesus would really like some world peace, maybe some water to turn into wine, and perhaps some healthcare for everyone, but certainly not bigotry, a four-wheeler and a copy of Sarah Palin's 'Going Rogue'.

Wednesday, October 14, 2009

I cried when I had no shoes, until I met a man who had no feet. And then I laughed...really hard.

I don't want to be a nurse anymore. The other day I was cutting this revolting man's hair, who had a large stain on his shirt, and I thought to myself while choking back vomit, "Could I put a catheter in this man's penis hole? Or wipe crusted poo flakes from his hairy anus?". And much to your surprise, that answer was no.

To some, changing one's mind could be seen as a weakness. To me it's a learning process of self-discovery and awareness. That and I want to do something more funner.
Jon and I have been discussing opening a business of sorts for some time now. Our original thought was a long term goal of owning a bed and breakfast somewhere in Mexico or New England. Later, we considered starting here in Ohio with a fancy booze store. Then the idea branched to a specialty foods store or a breakfast joint. So, you see, the possibilities are endless.. as long as there's funding.. and a business plan. So, that's what I'm going to get a degree in, owning something.

I will be meeting with my well-trained, randomly selected, advisor here at the Columbus State Community College and they will point this gleaming vessel of hope, me, toward yonder thar' future.

I have no idea what I'm doing.

Friday, September 18, 2009

Church Of Thine Bottle Of Wine


I know everyone is probably sick of me talking about religion, but it really burns me up, no pun intended. After watching this ridiculous youtube video (and this one) I got an idea. I'm going to start my own church. I'm already a reverend, that was easy, so why not create a house of worship? I could use my church to preach hate to anyone who will listen. The best part is I won't have to pay taxes on it. I can buy those lamps I want, more pants and plenty of potato salad all tax free! In thine name.


I will be needing a large building, perhaps an airplane hanger to put my church in. The bigger the better. More people = more money = more teachings of the reverend, me.

We can all gather on Wednesday nights (because there's nothing on TV) and make wishes. We can wish for money, no war and brain cancer for Sarah Palin. Jon will make baked goods and we will sell them for my church and then I will take the money and buy that Tempur Pedic mattress I want. Afterward, we will go around the room and everyone can complement me. People will ask: "Are you in the movies?", and I will chuckle as I dump a fifth of vodka into the communal cup/bowl. We will watch scary, horror movies and drink the blood of me, wine: a Bordeaux, or claret. Then at the end of the night we will sacrifice a bratty child from the suburbs. Crucifixion is passé, so we'll have to think of something more 'current', like maybe we could tape its cell phone to its head until it forms a tumor. Time consuming. Crucifixion it is!

We will hold car washes and whilst washing we will liberate money and electronics from people's cars and sell them on eBay to raise more money to buy whiskey for "Whiskey Night", which will undoubtedly include pudding wrestling or an underwear contest.

I'm really not sure why I didn't think of this sooner.

Today the Westboro Baptist Church was out protesting with their "God Hates Jews" signs for Rosh Hashanah. Why wouldn't Jesus hate Jews? He was a Jew, and who doesn't have a little self-loathing around the holidays?

"Happy New Year, Jesus!"

"Shut up, I hate you."

Monday, September 14, 2009

Recession

My hair is falling out. Well, mainly around my hairline. I tell people this and they roll their eyes. It's a very personal thing, hair loss. As in, I think I'm the only one who cares. That is until I have no hair left and then people will begin to stare. "Look at his big black eyebrows contrasting against his shiny pink forehead", they will say and "What a shame", they will say. I'm thinking about buying Rogaine. You always wonder about stuff like that, what it will do to you in the long run, other than possibly grow you some hair? I believe its original intent was to treat hypertension or heart disease. So, in all actuality, it is a side effect, like diarrhea or death. Either way, once you start using it you are stuck for life because if you were to stop all your fuzzy regrowth would disappear back down the shower drain. Commitment. I knew this day would come. Everyone in my family has always been a little short in the hair department, even the ladies.

The other day I also noticed the beginnings of a granny armpit. Does anyone else have this? Women do, older women and me. It's that delicate patch of softer skin in the front of your armpit. At the right angle it looks shapeless, wrinkly and geriatrically ladylike. It's not the whole armpit, just that spot. I've noticed it when the elderly wear tank tops.

I'm not even thirty yet. What happens in twenty more years? Superfluous ear hair? I guess we'll never know seeing as the world is ending in 2012. The Mayan calender and PBS says so.

Friday, August 21, 2009

Bitchin' in the Kitchen

Politics. Something I know pretty much nothing about. The House of Representatives, Parliament, log cabin, cherry tree, Oprah.. I don't know. I know I don't have equal rights. I know I can't have Jon's health insurance in the state of Ohio without lying to insurance companies. I know that the United States likes to bully other countries, so I am forced to care about ridiculous, stupid politics. I know I would probably care more if I had a 401k or stocks or worshiped Christ. Is there a way to opt out of America? Not that I hate it, I don't. Why does Canada have to be so cold, and Mexico so dirty? Sweden isn't taking new residents. I wouldn't either if I were Sweden. I would brush my silky blond hair and point and laugh at everyone, if I were Sweden.

You wonder if we'll all blow each other up over politics. Will that be how it ends? Either that or the earth will just eat us up or wash us away. The sun is burning out, you know. I just read something on CNN.com about how the sun is losing its heat spots. It's dying. Maybe that's why it was 60 degrees all July.

Anyway.

So, I went shopping the other day at the hipster haven known as American Apparel. I didn't buy anything. I decided I didn't want to support their ever-cheapening-ill-fitting-irregular clothing business. What happened? It's awful. So, they're sweatshop free? Then who's making these clothes, one eyed, one armed immigrants? Maybe they need a little child labor in China. At least they'd beat the child if it made a shirt with one sleeve bigger than the other. So I went to Target to look at tshirts. What a joke. Why is everything made for squatty, fat men with fat, stubby arms!? I'm not looking for clothes that fit me perfectly, but kind of would be nice. It got me thinking. President Obama should enforce some sort of clothing law where all clothes are to be made for healthy active sized persons. That way people have to not be fat asses or they won't get to wear clothes. They would be shamed into wearing moo moos. I think this is a great idea. They shouldn't be making shirts that fit over small buildings, it's only encouraging people.

Today I met with an advisor to discuss my future college classes, something I hate doing, seeing how the advisors don't really seem to know much about anything. I am sitting in the waiting area when I hear the conversation behind me.

Man one: "Hey, would you still talk to yo brother if he became gay?"

Man two: "Yeah, I guess."

Man one: "What? You'd talk to a gay guy?"

Man two: "Uh, yeah dude, he's my brother."

Man two: "That's fucked up. You'd talk to him if he became gay?"

Man three: "Yeah, dude. He'd probably know tons of chicks."

Man one: "Yeah, but he'd know way more dudes than chicks and the chicks he knows could be dudes. You could be all doin' it with some chick who'd be all like, I'm a dude. Dude, you can't trust gay guys."

Man two: "You wouldn't talk to your brother?"

Man one: "What!? Dude, that's fucked up. Fuck no, he'd prolly want to rape me."

I really wanted to turn around just to see how ugly he was.


Dinner time!

Tuesday, July 7, 2009

blog post number forty two.

Michael Jackson is being remembered today, in a stadium.

Yesterday this angry lesbian on my facebook made a comment about MJ saying, "If I molested little children, I'd rot in jail, which is exactly where he deserved to be". Hello! I mean, those little kids weren't going to molest themselves!? Anyway, child abuse makes you stronger. And I think lesbians belong in jail regardless of who they touch. I would have let Mr. Jackson put his bony, bleached fingers anywhere for a few million. Did he really even do it? Seriously. It's been so long I've forgotten. When people die others tend to forget the bad things they did in life. I've forgotten. Adolph Hitler, what?

Jon is taking it really hard. He bought the entire Michael Jackson catalog on iTunes and will occasionally have bouts of sadness. We've been listening to MJ music for weeks. It's actually really good. How depressing, I will never get to see him in concert. Jon said there was even a 3D portion in the concert for Thriller. Jon knows everything.

Oh, we bought a house. I haven't let myself get truly excited about it yet, considering our last experience of losing our home. It's super cute. It's the second one we bid on and it's way nicer than the first. Which reminds me of that old American proverb: "First is the worst, second is the best, third is the nerd with the hairy chest". I'm not exactly sure what the third would have been. Let's hope we don't find out.

Is it just me, or are you waiting for MJ to reappear? Like Peter Pan on cables, flying about in sequins or dangling more babies off balconies. I now understand why people think Elvis is still around. It's hard to believe that's it.

Death is annoying.

I'll bet Farrah Fawcett is so pissed she didn't hang in there for another week. Michael totally stole all her attention. She even went through the effort of making that whole documentary about how she was going to die. What a jerk.

Sunday, June 7, 2009

Excuse Me, Are You A Homeowner?


Someone actually asked me that once, only it was in reference to being a homosexual. People are so fucking creative.

Schools out, schools out, teachers let the monkeys out. My mom used to sing that to my brother and I at the end of every school year. It was cute.
I got a B in Anthropology. My teacher was a cunt. Of course it was her fault, not mine, because I do everything right. I also got a B in Math, which is fucking annoying because I had an A until the final, which is worth 40% of your grade. It flawed my pretty 4.0. I blame Jesus for not answering my prayers. Nice one, JEEZUS.

We are on the house hunt. It's kind of like House Hunters, but more real-er and more stressful. And without Susanne Wong and her bangs.
Last week we got the house of our dreams for a total steal, 30,000 bucks off the list price. We went out to Barcelona for dinner to celebrate and mid (second) martini toast our real estate agent called to tell us we didn't get our house. And to make things worse, the calamari was overdone. Lame. So we did what any sad persons would do. We went to the ghetto liquor store and bought $150 worth of booze. We picked up a fancy bottle of cognac (mostly to make the black folks at the booze store super jealous), but the time our sad asses got home, we realized we didn't have proper cognac glasses. The night was getting worse. So, a very angry Jon began violently scrubbing what was left of our wine glasses, they were our only hope. Needless to say, the glass broke and Jon's booze-thinned blood went squirting out into the sink. I put my nursing aspiration knowledge to the test. (I haven't taken any nursing classes yet, so I wrapped his finger in gauze and tape) I am a miracle worker.

It's a week later, and after the anger and sadness wore off, slightly, and we managed to polish off all the booze, we've decided to make another offer. The house is super cute. It has a balcony off one of the bedrooms. Enough said.

Cross your fingers.

Sunday, May 17, 2009

The Big Top


Jon took me to the circus today to see his friend Lauren perform in the trapeze act. I haven't been since 1986. It was actually quite entertaining. I left feeling pretty happy, but now I'm feeling sad. What is that you say? Did my Xanax wear off? I wish. Just watching people do something they love doing, something totally exciting and interesting, always makes me reevaluate myself and my goals. It kind of made me wish I was in the circus. I was trying to envision myself in a lycra bodysuit flipping around in the air or riding a mini motorcycle round and round in a giant metal ball. I would look super retarded in a lycra bodysuit. But how exciting!? The music would definitely get old, same with the corny clown shtick, as it got old after only two hours, but I've always loved performing. I'm just not that great at it. I don't have a true talent. Although I am pretty good at lots of things, I'm not necessarily great at anything. What a downer.
Sometimes I wonder what I would be doing if my parents really pushed me in any certain direction. If we didn't live in the United States with all its gender roles. Would I have found my true passion at a young age? Would I be a tap dancer? Or one of those creepy pageant kids? Or a pole vaulter? I guess we'll never know..
Now I'm going to be a nurse, something I'm not very passionate about. It's more of a secure career move that I thought would be interesting. But that's not a bad thing, right? Being practical? It's no flipping around on a moving horse though. Boring.
The animals at the circus made me sad, too. Not the trick dogs, they were having so much fun, but the others. Do elephants really like standing on their heads? They seemed to be enjoying themselves. It did invoke weird, dark, old Disney movie scenes, like Dumbo's mom dying. But, I guess you do what you gotta do in these though economic times. An elephants gotta eat.

Wednesday, May 13, 2009

BOMA


So, Perry Shoar bought Jon and I tickets to see Hercules and Love Affair at BOMA, or Bar Of Modern Art. Well, it turned out to be a DJ set, which is totally gay. It wasn't Perry's fault. He can't read. So we go to this Bar Of Modern Art. It's in an old church in downtown Columbus, which sounds cool, but it wasn't, at all. If you're thinking Limelight, you're totally wrong. The inside looks like a church, with a dance floor and funeral home carpeting. There were giant fake flower arrangements everywhere, those and douche bags. It was pretty bad. We made a b-line to the bar and ordered our drink, which the bartenders didn't know how to make. While we were standing there this little fourteen year old girl walked up.

"Hey guys."

No one looked at her.

"You guys ready to dance? Party? Get crazy?"

At this point I'm pretty sure Perry grunted at her and said, "It's ten thirty."

She was ready to party, in fact she could barely stand.

"Go away." Perry mumbled.

I noticed a tattoo on her arm that said "Belle". I said, "I assume your name is Belle?".

"No. (one eye open) That's my daughter's name.."

Oh my god, she has a child and she named it after a Disney princess.

"You guys ready to party?? It's mother's day tomorrow! You gonna dance?" (stumble, stumble)

At this point I believe Perry was trying to physically push her away, but she stood her ground and ordered another beer.

"Is that a Yoda tattoo?" the bartender said.

(one eye open) "yeeah." said the fourteen year old mom.

"That's a sweet Yoda tattoo." said the bartender, "Oh my god, I love Star Trek. Are you going to see the new one?"

At this point we made a break for the patio.

The rest of the night just kind of spiralled downward. There was a fire pit, douche bags in head bands, lumpy fat girls with underwear lines in tiny dresses and even a conga line on the dance floor. In a way, the people watching was well worth the ten dollar ticket.

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

Shit is Growin'!

Jon took lots of lovely photos of all the life going on in our yard.






Monday, April 27, 2009

Opposite Marriage is Key

I'm sorry everybody, NO OFFENSE, I just feel the need to say this..

Miss California is a cunt. If I hear one more person say she was brave for standing up for her faith, I'm going to tear my ears off. She is not brave. She is an idiot.

And all this, "No offense, that's just what I believe".

Yeah, no offense, I believe I'm better than you and I don't think you deserve equal rights, no offense though.

"Why are you mad? I said no offense. I'm just saying what Jesus said".

Christianity breeds stupidity. It says, "Don't think for yourself, we'll do the thinking for you". Listening to a pastor tell you his interpretations of an ancient book and then going out in the world and hating/judging people based on someone elses interpretations is ludicrous! Religion is absurd! People only believe it because they are terrified of the truth, terrified of the "consequences". When we die, we die. That's it. No heaven full of puffy clouds, no bearded white man telling us what a great job we did on earth (for hating and ostracizing groups of people). Do we really think it could be that simple? Heaven? Puh-leease. What a joke. The world is made up of tiny atoms floating in a galaxy in space and we think a man is sitting in a cloud watching us and giving us rules to follow? Fucking dumb. So funny the human race thinks so highly of itself. That we out of ALL creatures deserve to put ourselves on a pedestal, destroy our planet and each other, all in the name of "faith". So, Miss California, I hope the next time you're at the Walmart, buying tampons for your stinky cunt, that someone pulls you out back, pops one of your eyes out and fucks your socket raw, depositing a large AIDS-filled cum wad inside. Because that's what I believe. Retard.

Thursday, April 23, 2009

blog post number thirty six.

Last night I dreamt I delivered a baby. I don't remember whose, someone I went to high school with, I think. It was so traumatic I woke up. I remember a few things about this dream, one being the smell. I can only describe it as "sweaty anus turd", which is what I think is what was happening when she was pushing out the baby. I was asked to deliver the baby because I was a nursing student, which is funny because technically I'm not even enrolled in a nursing program, yet. The possible ex-high-school-cohort was belly down on what looked like a folded down back seat of a car. I was pinned behind her, against the back of the car, but supposedly we were in a hospital. She was really quiet and sweaty. She pushed. I let the baby fall onto the floor, which was really close because we were in a car/hospital. I had to choke back vomit as someone else cut the cord. So, I guess all in all I didn't really deliver the baby as much as was trapped behind a shitting woman who pooed a baby. I woke up and my legs were sweaty.

My math class is the weirdest. The other day in the middle of a lecture, this zitty little boy one seat over, started nudging me. "Hey, are you a cop?", he said. I was like, "In the village people?". No, really I just sat there and stared at him. I said no. He was like, "Wanna buy some painkillers?". I thought hard for a minute, stared at his creepy prepubescent mustache, and said no. Ever since he hasn't stopped talking to me. The other day he brought in his photos he took while serving in Iraq. Pictures of dead bodies in the road smeared by tanks, random body parts strewn about. Why is he showing me these? Totes creeps. So, if you try to call me someday and I don't answer, I'm probably tied up in his basement in Whitehall.

Oh, Jon and I are opening a bed and breakfast in Puerto Vallarta, fyi.

Thursday, April 9, 2009

Easter


It's here again. The time of year when we celebrate Jesus rising from the dead and hiding colored eggs around town for children to find.

Some two thousand years ago, when people were created of dirt. There was a lady who gave birth to God's son through the process of immaculate conception, or sex without touching. Jesus was magical and everyone hated Him for it, so they nailed Him to a cross. He died. Jesus was then wrapped in a sheet and put in a rock cave. The next morning Jesus' friends came to rub Him with spices, but alas, His corpse was gone. Where did It go? Later that day His friend the prostitute saw Him, claiming He rose from the dead, but no one believed Her because prostitutes are often crazy. Later that day two other people saw Him on their way to town, but they didn't know it was Him, because He had taken on a new shape (more magic). Finally, magical Jesus appeared to some disciples and told them more magical things, right before He was whisked up to heaven to sit on God's right hand.

Remember this story this weekend, remember the true meaning of the holiday. It's not about money and jellybeans, or brightly colored eggs, or that claymation special where everything looks kind of fuzzy like felt or something, but it's really clay from the 60s. I love that one. The real meaning of Easter is magic... and gullibility... and zombies.

Happy Easter.

Wednesday, March 25, 2009

p90x


After two whole months of swimming at the YMCA, I remembered that I hated it. Poor people, scrotum pool water and buzzing florescent lights is no way to spend any part of a day. So, I have decided to take the p90x challenge. The first part of the challenge was spending $100 on workout DVDs. The second part would be watching them.

Step One: Watch video entitled "Bring It". Done.

Step Two: Take "before" photo. Check.

Step Three: Get completely ripped.

Hopefully this won't just be more "magic beans", (ie: Occilococcinum, The Master Cleanse, Herbal Supplements, Perfect Push up, Dr Gillian McKeith's 24 Hour Detox) as I am know to be a sucker for that shit.

Living in Ohio again is a total trip. Sometimes, I admit, it can be a bit depressing, like, are you people living in a bubble? Why do you say expresso instead of espresso? Why do you need to add an "s" to the end of every business or restaurant? People are larger here, portions are bigger and very rarely do you need to move. In fact, this must be a huge market for those electronic scooter things. So, I'm doing the math. This+that-scooter=trouble. I don't want to be fat, so I must work out. And while I'm at it, I want to not have twiggy arms.



Update: I "brought it" this morning with the Chest and Back DVD, as well as The Ab Ripper. Look out, you guys, look out.

Monday, March 23, 2009

Logan, OH


This past weekend Jon and I went an hour south to the Hocking Hills area, located in Logan, Ohio. I'm not really into camping, well that's not true, I hate camping, but staying in cabins I can do.
So, Jon took me down for a belated Valentines gift and in celebration of the end of my first quarter of school.

Our cabin was located atop a large hill accessible only by a long gravel drive, that we soon discovered was only able to be climbed by driving Yaris at full speed, with a "running start", as not to get stuck in holes.

The cabin itself was situated on its own 30 acres of land.

Everything is still dead here in the Midwest, so it looked like the set of a horror movie. Fantastic!

Jon immediately made himself comfortable on the porch.

The kitchen was very rustic. There weren't even cabinet doors. Like early settlers!

There also wasn't a television.

Or a shower! We were definitely roughing it.

There also weren't walls anywhere. Not even the bathroom. Jon brought up a good point, no walls around the toilet means the whole place is like a giant bathroom. Eva was all for this idea.

Don't flush your condoms, please.

Myspace photo!

The next morning we went hiking.

And I did the robot in the parking lot.

5'10 is really tall, Jon.




Naturally occurring rock stairs!

I said this reminded me of Fraggle Rock. Jon didn't agree.

So I made some jab about how he probably couldn't watch it because he was raised Baptist.

He said no, it was because he thought it was stupid.

I think I'm funny.

After a morning of refreshing outdoor activity, we headed to historic downtown Logan to stop at Walmart, the only grocery store, for some supplies to make dinner. We made a pit stop at The Olde Dutch Resturant and Banquet House for lunch. It was the scariest, most depressing place I've ever been in my life. I was too terrified to take pictures, or move even. The place was packed with small town, overweight Christians. Church must have just let out. I couldn't have felt more out of place if I had been wearing nothing but a hot pink thong (so luckily I kept my pants on). Needless to say, we sat very still and ate very fast.

After our midday scare, we were off to the spa for massages.

Piggy and Eddy decieded to stay at the cabin to play Little House on the Prairie.

That night we watched the original Texas Chainsaw Massacre (So much better than the Matthew McConaughey one). We didn't have any run-ins with any bears or any scary woodland creatures. Although, while we were sleeping, a wild mouse ate the white chocolate out of this box of chocolates we had, which was fine with me. I hate white chocolate anyways.

Going into the wilderness is fun. Being gay in a small town, scary.

Back to Columbus!

Wednesday, March 4, 2009

Tranny Panties

Hi.

I would like to start out by saying, aren't you sad little Alexis Grace was kicked off American Idol last night? Why not the blind guy? Just because he's blind doesn't mean he can sing, and who likes Bruce Hornsby anyway? My mom used to. Apparently blind people do as well. Oh, American Idol. So dumb, but yet I still keep watching.

It's my spring break. Spring break '09! Yeah! It's going to be off the hook. It's already pretty crazy, I mean, here I am on the couch writing a blog, then it's off to work. Next thing you know I'll be showing my nipples for beads or doing shots of sex on the beach.

So, yesterday, as part of my spring break madness, I took photos of our house. And here they are..
This is the house. This photo was taken in the winter. It's not snowing now, in fact, yesterday it was 75, but tomorrow it could be snowing.

This is the guest room. This is where you would sleep if I ever invited you to stay over.

This is the door out of the guest room. Next to it is a photo of an old woman with some sort of cyst or something on her eye. We take it down when my mom stays over.

This is the upstairs hall.

This is our bedroom. Keep out.

These are the tiny closets that run the length of our room.

This is where you would exit in case of an emergency.

This is where you would urinate or barf.

Wipe the seat.

Here you can see our neighbors slate tile roof.

This is where Jon makes me food.

Have you noticed our soothing paint color selections?

This is where I make drinks.

This is another place to pee them out.

This is where all the state dinners and lunches are given, there were almost two a month last year.

This is where we watch American Idol.

And my decapitated deer.

Oh, and my pencil cactus! It needs a pot. Be careful, if you break it open, it will burn you. Cool.

This is where Jon makes money to feed me.

In the afternoon sun comes through these gay stained glass windows.

And little rainbows go everywhere!

Spring come here finally!

Patio.

Piggles!

So, yeah. That's the house. Our lease is up in four months and we'll probably move. We have actually been thinking about buying something. There are some affordable, cute little houses in Clintonville. Heaven forbid I live somewhere for a whole year!