Showing some Pride
This year I experienced my first “Pride” festivities. Although there was that one time when some friends and I were playing Frisbee and somehow ended up at a festival by accident. This year though I went on purpose, and like a pimp I was riding solo. I had no idea what to expect and as far as I could gather there was going to both be a parade and a festival of sorts(btw what kind of parade doesn't have candy?).
The first Pride I went to was in Austin. I went to where the festival was being held and was a little annoyed that I had to pay $10 (HOORAY YOU ARE GAY!! now give us 10 dollars...). The main thing I instantly noticed was that it is 100 million degrees outside in Austin during the summer (Celsius and Fahrenheit…it’s an anomaly like that). My second thought was, “Damn, this is really lame.” Most of the booths consisted of random churches and businesses and then a few homosexual organizations. Then again I wasn’t really sure what I was expecting (dancing bears and fireworks?) After paying ten dollars though, I was dead set on seeing and doing everything this little festival had to offer (damn i'm getting cheap). First I walked around and got as much free crap from the booths as I could. It didn’t matter John Johnson at 1234 Johnson Drive filled out every application there was. I enrolled in 4 different churches, 2 different insurance agencies, countless petitions one for gay marriage, one against gay marriage, and I even signed up for a free window estimate on my house I had made up for myself (i could use more space but he backyard is to die for). I also decided to do one of those free screenings by a chiropractor to see how my posture is. Turns out I’m dying and if I don’t go to the chiropractor instantly and repeatedly for many months I will wake up one morning looking like a pretzel (chiropractors never lie). After going through and picking up free swag I took inventory. I had about 20 condoms(brown chicken brown cow), three fans, a couple beer cozies, and countless pens and other crap. Oh I also had one balloon, which was given to me with the best pickup line I’ve ever been told(second place is “Woof”). This boy gave me the balloon to which I instantly refused, but he won me over when he said, “It’s so I can find you later at the parade.” Smooooooth. Later I gave it to a little girl who was crying because she dropped her ice cream (hero?). I wonder if that made for an awkward moment later…
After throwing away all that free garbage I was diiiiiieing of hungriness (it had been at least an hour since eating last). After deciding there was no damn way I was paying 12 dollars for a burger and a drink I walked out of the festival and went to Whataburger down the street and ate for like 5 bucks (I’m gay, not stupid). After filling my belly with countless refills of Coke Zero I went back to the festival where I met up with some people I kind of knew a little bit. I walked around with my friend and we ended up signing up for some dating game show. I only signed up because I was promised that they had enough people already and I was going to be an alternate. Also, at the time there was the lesbian version of the dating game going on and like three people and 1 poodle were watching. When the time came for the gay version I found myself called to the stage. Obviously my flowing blonde mane was too pretty to hide from the world and I was given a chair. Unfortunately my competition was a giant drag queen and my friend who I had signed up with. Also as I sat there I noticed that having a giant drag queen on stage attracted quite a large crowd and even the poodle seemed to invite it a litter of other puppies. So there I was, gay for a minute and thrust into the open. I had succeeded at being seen. The dating game went awfully bad. First of all I had no prior gay relationship experience to draw upon when asked questions and secondly I was always following the drag queen. The joke was that the main person was blind folded and if he picked the drag queen he wouldn’t know it. But it was a hard act to follow and made my already glaring lameness quite obvious. When asked whether she/he would rather watch the Sex in the City movie or the NBA finals the drag queen responded with, “I’d like to dribble your balls and then have sex in the city.” My answer was “I’d rather watch basketball.” Mostly because I’d rather do that than anything else, but also because I had no idea what Sex in the City was at the time. In the end I lost to the drag queen which stung a little. Luckily the guy that was blindfolded was fat and ugly and stupid and probably hated ice cream and babies (see not bitter at all).
Later that night I went to my first gay parade and it was…gay. By the time the parade came by it was dark out and the street did not do a good job of lighting the event. Add to that it was mostly people I’ve never heard of in my life waving on the top of convertibles and you get one bored blonde guy. The highlight was when I was standing there and these two ladies came up to me and said, “O M GOD!??! You’re contestant number 3!! You lost to a drag queen!!” (bitches).
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Karaoke Crooner
Hello children, gather around the ol’ laptop it’s story time.
These past 8 months I have been making a conscious decision of trying to be an actual social human being (no more blogging in the basement for me!). It is true that mostly this involves me going places and then standing around playing on my phone, but still I have made great strides. I have met some pretty awesome people (you) and some people who are not so awesome (someone else), but either way they have left me with quite a few stories to tell.
The third time I ever went to the homosexual dance institution just so happened to be Karaoke night. I had already decided that OCH was a decent enough place to hang. It has a sports bar, pool, and darts…pretty much all I need to survive.
I entered the bar and instantly felt stupid because the doorman recognized me already and didn’t feel the need to check my ID anymore. This made me both feel like a barfly and old at the same time. After further delusional consideration I came to the conclusion that they probably don’t check P. Diddy for ID either (I got swagga like that). Anyway…entering the bar I realized it was karaoke night and as with most things in the gay world, I was both intensely horrified and completely intrigued.
I had always wanted to do karaoke and I figured this was another good step in me getting out of the “Comfort Zone” which is a lot like the “Twilight Zone” but with more pillows and less vampires. I made my way to the bartender which I thought was the cutest and ordered myself a diet coke…which he charged me for! This was really throwing a wrench into my “I’m just like P. Diddy” delusion…I was trying to give the bartender my mean mug but his smile was like sunshine and I ended up tipping him 2 dollars for a $1.50 diet coke (you win this round).
Now that I had my drink I needed to find a place to lurk. I had learned from past mistakes and ruled out the inviting dark corner next to the garbage can. Instead I went and stood by the karaoke book and pretended to look up songs. As I stood there casually thumbing through the songs a large man with a truly epic mustache and beard got up and sang “Like a Virgin” by Madonna. With my first choice of song taken (jk) I decided to go with “Say it Ain’t So” by Weezer. I knew all the words plus I wreck at it on Rockband. I handed in my song to the DJ and then ran into the sports bar to get away from the onslaught of show tunes that followed.
Eventually my name was called and I boldly made my way to stage (walk soft carry a big stick). As the
music started I realized I was more nervous than I thought, as I looked down my leg quivered. Luckily it looked more like I was dancing than being a little girl so it worked in my favor. I sang my bacon clogged heart out as the familiar words scrolled across the screen. As I sang this random lady snuck up behind me and squeezed my butt(hands to yourself!). It startled me for a moment but I soldiered on. After finishing I didn’t dare make eye contact with anyone but I heard what sounded like a roar of approval (in other words one guy clapped). Fortunately I had made a fan while I was on stage; unfortunately he happened to be a homeless man who had snuck into the bar. For some reason I was unable to find the words to tell him to bugger off. It didn’t help that he was very polite and was so far the most interaction I had encountered at the gay bar. He first started with a complement, telling me I was by far his favorite singer of the night. I’d like to say I’m above flattery but I’m really not. From there conversation was all downhill. He explained to me in the most lucid of tones how he was happy that he was finally off all his medication (conversation starter). Well not ALL his medication. He was still “taking” weed. Which he prescribed himself (he’s not just CEO of crazy, he’s a client). He was now going to start a website dedicated to his weed business (all about networking). He was also looking for people to move to Hawaii with him so he could start growing weed in the jungle. It all made perfect sense if you were a homeless man who happened to be off his medication, I was rather skeptical.
These past 8 months I have been making a conscious decision of trying to be an actual social human being (no more blogging in the basement for me!). It is true that mostly this involves me going places and then standing around playing on my phone, but still I have made great strides. I have met some pretty awesome people (you) and some people who are not so awesome (someone else), but either way they have left me with quite a few stories to tell.
The third time I ever went to the homosexual dance institution just so happened to be Karaoke night. I had already decided that OCH was a decent enough place to hang. It has a sports bar, pool, and darts…pretty much all I need to survive.
I entered the bar and instantly felt stupid because the doorman recognized me already and didn’t feel the need to check my ID anymore. This made me both feel like a barfly and old at the same time. After further delusional consideration I came to the conclusion that they probably don’t check P. Diddy for ID either (I got swagga like that). Anyway…entering the bar I realized it was karaoke night and as with most things in the gay world, I was both intensely horrified and completely intrigued.
I had always wanted to do karaoke and I figured this was another good step in me getting out of the “Comfort Zone” which is a lot like the “Twilight Zone” but with more pillows and less vampires. I made my way to the bartender which I thought was the cutest and ordered myself a diet coke…which he charged me for! This was really throwing a wrench into my “I’m just like P. Diddy” delusion…I was trying to give the bartender my mean mug but his smile was like sunshine and I ended up tipping him 2 dollars for a $1.50 diet coke (you win this round).
Now that I had my drink I needed to find a place to lurk. I had learned from past mistakes and ruled out the inviting dark corner next to the garbage can. Instead I went and stood by the karaoke book and pretended to look up songs. As I stood there casually thumbing through the songs a large man with a truly epic mustache and beard got up and sang “Like a Virgin” by Madonna. With my first choice of song taken (jk) I decided to go with “Say it Ain’t So” by Weezer. I knew all the words plus I wreck at it on Rockband. I handed in my song to the DJ and then ran into the sports bar to get away from the onslaught of show tunes that followed.
Eventually my name was called and I boldly made my way to stage (walk soft carry a big stick). As the
music started I realized I was more nervous than I thought, as I looked down my leg quivered. Luckily it looked more like I was dancing than being a little girl so it worked in my favor. I sang my bacon clogged heart out as the familiar words scrolled across the screen. As I sang this random lady snuck up behind me and squeezed my butt(hands to yourself!). It startled me for a moment but I soldiered on. After finishing I didn’t dare make eye contact with anyone but I heard what sounded like a roar of approval (in other words one guy clapped). Fortunately I had made a fan while I was on stage; unfortunately he happened to be a homeless man who had snuck into the bar. For some reason I was unable to find the words to tell him to bugger off. It didn’t help that he was very polite and was so far the most interaction I had encountered at the gay bar. He first started with a complement, telling me I was by far his favorite singer of the night. I’d like to say I’m above flattery but I’m really not. From there conversation was all downhill. He explained to me in the most lucid of tones how he was happy that he was finally off all his medication (conversation starter). Well not ALL his medication. He was still “taking” weed. Which he prescribed himself (he’s not just CEO of crazy, he’s a client). He was now going to start a website dedicated to his weed business (all about networking). He was also looking for people to move to Hawaii with him so he could start growing weed in the jungle. It all made perfect sense if you were a homeless man who happened to be off his medication, I was rather skeptical.
Dear Straight Man,
Of the different groups of people in the world I would say that straight men are the most scared of homosexuals. For whatever reason some of them find it very threatening. At their best I would say most straight men are indifferent. I’m not going to even get into the whole psychological reasons for this, because as a straight man…you don’t want to hear it. But there are plenty of reasons why you should be wishing for a day when gay and straight men not only have equal rights but are seen as equal in society.
I’m a straight man. Could of fooled me, but having gay friends has a lot of benefits. First of all, gay men are no threat to your ability to woo a woman. In fact, just the opposite. For whatever reason, many gay men have a lot of straight female friends. How many of your bro’s have flocks of straight female friends? But my friend Steve knows a lot of females. True…your buddy Steve is a chick magnet/slut. However, how many of them has he already hooked up with? I’m fine with sloppy seconds. How many of them does he want to hook up with? All of them. And how many are trying to hook up him? The rest of them. You notice one thing? None of Steve’s friends that are girls are friends with Steve because they want to hook up with you. Funny how that works.
Now imagine that next week you leave your buddy Steve at home to watch World Series of Poker on ESPN and to crush cans with his forehead (this is obviously what I used to do when I was straight). Instead you go out with your gay best friend…uh…Erik (super gay name…Erik). First of all, Erik probably has lady friends. These are going to be females who spend time with Erik because he represents everything they want in a man and is safe, but they are also sexually frustrated because they have no chance with him. Let’s be honest…this is your best chance at anything. Let’s ask the same questions. How many of them has Erik hooked up with? I’m so sure. How many does he want to hook up with? Shoot me now. How many are trying to hook up with him? Goose egg. Have you noticed how there is no competition? That makes the game a little easier and you need all the help you can get. The question is really…why should a gay man want to hang out with you?
I already have a girlfriend, thank you very much. If for some reason you already have a woman you should REALLY be ok with homosexuals. Every straight man should bring their girl to the gay club. She does kind of nag me for never bringing her out. Yeah, well you’re kind of a douche and probably should. Bringing her to a gay club, there is ZERO chance she leaves with another man (unless you’re really bad at this). She has no other options besides you. I hate dancing though. You don’t even have to dance. Go buy a beer and stand and watch. What if some dude grinds her? Uh…he’s gay, it might as well be your grandmother. Ok fine, but what if some chick starts hitting on her? Think about that again. OH MY GOD…she could totally make out with another chick…wait there are lesbians everywhere!! Yeah I knew you’d come around. Fine but I don’t want any gay dudes hitting on me. If someone hits on you, tell them you’re straight. We don’t have pamphlets like you have…we’re not trying to send you to Camp Rainbow and convert you. Also get over yourself
I’m a straight man. Could of fooled me, but having gay friends has a lot of benefits. First of all, gay men are no threat to your ability to woo a woman. In fact, just the opposite. For whatever reason, many gay men have a lot of straight female friends. How many of your bro’s have flocks of straight female friends? But my friend Steve knows a lot of females. True…your buddy Steve is a chick magnet/slut. However, how many of them has he already hooked up with? I’m fine with sloppy seconds. How many of them does he want to hook up with? All of them. And how many are trying to hook up him? The rest of them. You notice one thing? None of Steve’s friends that are girls are friends with Steve because they want to hook up with you. Funny how that works.
Now imagine that next week you leave your buddy Steve at home to watch World Series of Poker on ESPN and to crush cans with his forehead (this is obviously what I used to do when I was straight). Instead you go out with your gay best friend…uh…Erik (super gay name…Erik). First of all, Erik probably has lady friends. These are going to be females who spend time with Erik because he represents everything they want in a man and is safe, but they are also sexually frustrated because they have no chance with him. Let’s be honest…this is your best chance at anything. Let’s ask the same questions. How many of them has Erik hooked up with? I’m so sure. How many does he want to hook up with? Shoot me now. How many are trying to hook up with him? Goose egg. Have you noticed how there is no competition? That makes the game a little easier and you need all the help you can get. The question is really…why should a gay man want to hang out with you?
I already have a girlfriend, thank you very much. If for some reason you already have a woman you should REALLY be ok with homosexuals. Every straight man should bring their girl to the gay club. She does kind of nag me for never bringing her out. Yeah, well you’re kind of a douche and probably should. Bringing her to a gay club, there is ZERO chance she leaves with another man (unless you’re really bad at this). She has no other options besides you. I hate dancing though. You don’t even have to dance. Go buy a beer and stand and watch. What if some dude grinds her? Uh…he’s gay, it might as well be your grandmother. Ok fine, but what if some chick starts hitting on her? Think about that again. OH MY GOD…she could totally make out with another chick…wait there are lesbians everywhere!! Yeah I knew you’d come around. Fine but I don’t want any gay dudes hitting on me. If someone hits on you, tell them you’re straight. We don’t have pamphlets like you have…we’re not trying to send you to Camp Rainbow and convert you. Also get over yourself
Gay bars are rather gay
Now my writing is probably going to be pretty gayed up for a little bit. It’ll be a lot like my old writing but more glittery and if you read it too much you’ll probably turn homosexual. (Sorry that’s just how it works) I’ve always liked writing and now I can share with you some of the stories I have. The purpose of these writings will hopefully show people that it’s just not that different. Also I know some people who care for me are interested in my shenanigans so maybe this will quench that thirst slightly. Mainly though, I like it when people read what I write…I’m an attention whore like that.
Today I’ll share with you the first time I went to one of those homosexual dance clubs. I wrote it then so I’ll just leave it as if it just happened. So much has changed…ok not really.
…tonight I did something for the first time. I went to a gay bar all by myself, like a big boy (look ma no hands!). 2 days ago was the first time I ever went to a gay bar, but that was with a friend. And by friend I mean some guy I had just met who didn’t seem the type to murder me in my sleep (BFFs fo’ life). I didn’t want to go by myself but I decided I needed to stop being a wuss and just bite the bullet and go. Mostly it was because if I spent one more night on the couch I was going to go on a murdering spree, and you would of seen my picture on the news and you’d of been all, “Oh snap I think that guy sent me a message on facebook…I knew he was an ax murderer. I could tell by the way he listed “ax murdering” in his Interests and his Activities.” So I went out. Now that I knew where the bar was I figured what the duck…couldn’t hurt.
Instantly upon entering the bar my glaring social shortcomings came to light. I have no ability to walk up to someone in the club. First off, I need a better pick up line than, “Yo THICKNESS! You gonna let me hit that or what!?!?” Seriously though, it wasn’t like I was there to meet someone, I just wanted to make some friends and explore. The problem with meeting someone at the club is that I want to get to know you. It's really hard to get to know someone though with strobe lights, loud music, and they are slightly in the bag. Basically conversation breaks down to yelling spittle in each other's faces...not exactly ideal. So my big idea...let them come to me. Genius right? I decided for the first time in my life to put out, “the vibe.” Turns out that look, for me, is an odd mixture of “I really have to pee” + “I just peed.” So I scrapped the entire, “The Vibe” plan and I pretty much just stood on the wall like I was at my first high school dance. I don't really drink, I can't dance, and I squint a lot....which makes me look like I'm scowling. To counter act this I decided to stand there not squinting as much as possible. So if you saw a dude in the corner standing next to the garbage can looking like an owl...that was me. SEX EEEEEE! After not squinting for a while I decided what I needed was a drink in my hand. Obviously this was what was keeping everyone from fighting over my phone number. They would see me standing next to the garbage and think, "Wow he looks like an owl...and he has a drink...I want." So I went to the bar to get a drink... Diet Coke. It was free! Realizing that I now had the super power to drink as much free Diet Coke as I wanted, I took full advantage...now that I think about it, I ended up tipping like 5 bucks that night so really I didn't come out ahead, but still I'm going to say I took them for all they were worth. The problem with this plan was that I now became the wide eyed guy standing next to the garbage that also spends a suspicious amount of time going into the bathroom (stud?).
After some time at the bar staring at people and spending more time on my phone looking up basketball scores than I care to admit, I did a loop and I ran into my friend. He was basically the only person I knew who was gay. He introduced me to his friend and now I knew two gay people (100% increase…success). Around the same time a friend messaged me and said I should go to a different club called Rain. Not really being familiar with the area, I had no idea where this Rain could be located but I figured it would be better than standing where I was, feelin’ like a fool. I looked it up on my phone and realized it was right next door…S-M-R-T. For some reason I decided to just take a walk around the block first, and midway back wouldn’t you know it…It started to rain. Of course it was pouring, and I was stuck at a cross walk with nowhere to go, when two girls came up next to me and both had umbrellas. We exchanged glances and I thought I had communicated, “Hey ladies help me out and hold your umbrella over my head while we wait for this light.” But apparently what I said was, “Hey ladies please both stand right next to me so not only do you not cover me with your umbrellas but the runoff from your umbrellas goes directly on me.” I really have to work on my subtle eye contact conversations. I decided to just run across the road, cars be damned (frogger anyone?) only to find that there was a line to get in the bar called Rain. Luckily there was an awning…unluckily the line was just long enough where I wasn’t under it. It didn’t matter though, I was already soaking wet.
Eventually I made it into Rain and didn’t really understand the difference between that and the other bar I was just in. But I bought a diet coke…walked around…decided to go back to the other bar and use the bathroom because the line was too long at Rain.
Then I spent the rest of the night trying to act natural…which of course made me even more un-natural. The only people I talked with were a transvestite with a moustache and a super drunk straight 45 year old woman who told me I was the most gorgeous person she had ever seen. I admit I was still flattered and felt almost good about myself for 10 seconds until she started throwing up in and around the garbage can I was standing next to.
Today I’ll share with you the first time I went to one of those homosexual dance clubs. I wrote it then so I’ll just leave it as if it just happened. So much has changed…ok not really.
…tonight I did something for the first time. I went to a gay bar all by myself, like a big boy (look ma no hands!). 2 days ago was the first time I ever went to a gay bar, but that was with a friend. And by friend I mean some guy I had just met who didn’t seem the type to murder me in my sleep (BFFs fo’ life). I didn’t want to go by myself but I decided I needed to stop being a wuss and just bite the bullet and go. Mostly it was because if I spent one more night on the couch I was going to go on a murdering spree, and you would of seen my picture on the news and you’d of been all, “Oh snap I think that guy sent me a message on facebook…I knew he was an ax murderer. I could tell by the way he listed “ax murdering” in his Interests and his Activities.” So I went out. Now that I knew where the bar was I figured what the duck…couldn’t hurt.
Instantly upon entering the bar my glaring social shortcomings came to light. I have no ability to walk up to someone in the club. First off, I need a better pick up line than, “Yo THICKNESS! You gonna let me hit that or what!?!?” Seriously though, it wasn’t like I was there to meet someone, I just wanted to make some friends and explore. The problem with meeting someone at the club is that I want to get to know you. It's really hard to get to know someone though with strobe lights, loud music, and they are slightly in the bag. Basically conversation breaks down to yelling spittle in each other's faces...not exactly ideal. So my big idea...let them come to me. Genius right? I decided for the first time in my life to put out, “the vibe.” Turns out that look, for me, is an odd mixture of “I really have to pee” + “I just peed.” So I scrapped the entire, “The Vibe” plan and I pretty much just stood on the wall like I was at my first high school dance. I don't really drink, I can't dance, and I squint a lot....which makes me look like I'm scowling. To counter act this I decided to stand there not squinting as much as possible. So if you saw a dude in the corner standing next to the garbage can looking like an owl...that was me. SEX EEEEEE! After not squinting for a while I decided what I needed was a drink in my hand. Obviously this was what was keeping everyone from fighting over my phone number. They would see me standing next to the garbage and think, "Wow he looks like an owl...and he has a drink...I want." So I went to the bar to get a drink... Diet Coke. It was free! Realizing that I now had the super power to drink as much free Diet Coke as I wanted, I took full advantage...now that I think about it, I ended up tipping like 5 bucks that night so really I didn't come out ahead, but still I'm going to say I took them for all they were worth. The problem with this plan was that I now became the wide eyed guy standing next to the garbage that also spends a suspicious amount of time going into the bathroom (stud?).
After some time at the bar staring at people and spending more time on my phone looking up basketball scores than I care to admit, I did a loop and I ran into my friend. He was basically the only person I knew who was gay. He introduced me to his friend and now I knew two gay people (100% increase…success). Around the same time a friend messaged me and said I should go to a different club called Rain. Not really being familiar with the area, I had no idea where this Rain could be located but I figured it would be better than standing where I was, feelin’ like a fool. I looked it up on my phone and realized it was right next door…S-M-R-T. For some reason I decided to just take a walk around the block first, and midway back wouldn’t you know it…It started to rain. Of course it was pouring, and I was stuck at a cross walk with nowhere to go, when two girls came up next to me and both had umbrellas. We exchanged glances and I thought I had communicated, “Hey ladies help me out and hold your umbrella over my head while we wait for this light.” But apparently what I said was, “Hey ladies please both stand right next to me so not only do you not cover me with your umbrellas but the runoff from your umbrellas goes directly on me.” I really have to work on my subtle eye contact conversations. I decided to just run across the road, cars be damned (frogger anyone?) only to find that there was a line to get in the bar called Rain. Luckily there was an awning…unluckily the line was just long enough where I wasn’t under it. It didn’t matter though, I was already soaking wet.
Eventually I made it into Rain and didn’t really understand the difference between that and the other bar I was just in. But I bought a diet coke…walked around…decided to go back to the other bar and use the bathroom because the line was too long at Rain.
Then I spent the rest of the night trying to act natural…which of course made me even more un-natural. The only people I talked with were a transvestite with a moustache and a super drunk straight 45 year old woman who told me I was the most gorgeous person she had ever seen. I admit I was still flattered and felt almost good about myself for 10 seconds until she started throwing up in and around the garbage can I was standing next to.
Top Then things about Being gay
Top 10 things about being gay:
- Free Skittles…it’s true look it up.
- I’m a minority which means I get to say whatever I want about people and it’s ok. Black people like watermelon and grape soda! Women are dumb and Asian people can’t drive! It’s ok…I’m gay. See how that works! (full disclosure, I too like watermelon and grape soda, can’t drive and am pretty dumb.)
- Those things on my shirt are now suddenly fashion statements instead of chili stains.
- Free drinks at the bar.
- I am thought to have an encyclopedic like knowledge of sports amongst my circle of friends. Watch…In baseball points are called “runs.” Impressive…
- My ability to change a tire makes me seem useful. Put on the parking brake fool
- I never have to worry about anyone ever getting pregnant!
- No more being forced to watch shows like Sex in the City or romantic comedies, having to go shopping or gossiping about Lindsey Loh…uh…never mind.
- I learned who Lady Gaga is! Interesting fact…there is no Lord Gaga.
- My unfortunately extremely blonde hair is finally of some use!
I'm gay...now go ahead and tell me to my face
How I know being gay is normal and you’re a jerkass and a bigot for thinking ANYTHING otherwise.
Wait I’m not a bigot:
You see nothing wrong with gay people, you just don’t want them getting married, teaching your children, going to your church, eating by you in public, or in any way showing that they exist. Sorry sir, but words have meanings…you’re a bigot.
Ok but the Bible says it’s wrong:
Even worshiping the Devil is not illegal. I’m not an expert…but I think the Bible is against that too. Also not to be harsh on the good book, but it’s track record isn’t exactly squeaky clean. There are a lot of ideals in there written by humans and interpreted by humans and then taught to other humans…humans aren’t robots, things get mixed up. Not to mention that it doesn’t specifically say anything about marriage being between one man and one woman. In fact Abraham, Jacob, David, Solomon and the kings of Judah and Israel—all of these fathers and heroes were polygamists. There is Leviticus which specifically calls man on man action “an abomination” but if you were to read the rest of Leviticus you might find it’s advice on most matters quite antiquated. It talks about treatment for leprosy, cleanliness rituals for menstruating women…by sacrificing goats, lambs and turtle doves. Also it tells you the way to get the best deal on buying a slave. I'm all for getting a deal, don't get me wrong, but I think almost everyone agrees slavery is wrong…the Bible though not so much. So while the Bible may have a lot of great ideals and morals and stories, there’s no way you should be trying to live your life exactly by a 2,000 year old book. Of course again, this is America. We may still trust in god, but last I checked we kind of built ourselves on religious freedoms.
Clearly it’s a choice:
Anyone who says this is a closet homesexual…period. If you think we chose to be gay then that must mean you chose to be straight, which means you feel the same way about men as I do, it’s just that you CHOSE to date women. Sorry bud, but that makes you gay. You like penis, but you’re a coward, and you chose vagina. You want to live your life as a lie? Go for it. But don’t get mad that I don’t want to do that anymore. I guess I could date girls, live a loveless life, treat her like crap, and eventually end up cheating on her with some dude in a bathroom stall because I’m so desperate for the feeling of love I’ll stoop to any level to receive just a fraction of it. It’s clearly not a choice and if it was, nobody would CHOOSE to be gay. Being gay is hard and in fact a lot of gays TRY to not be gay. I did. I tried dating girls for years and it did nothing for me. I had zero man on man contact for 28 years and I was STILL gay. I can’t say it enough. Nobody chooses to be gay, some gays chose to act straight, but no straight man has ever in the history of the world chose to be gay. You’re a real asshole if you want people to live loveless lives just so that you don’t have to feel weird about two dudes kissing.
Marriage is for a man and a woman, and anything else diminishes it’s importance:
This is the worst argument yet. That somehow marriage is such an esteemed union that two men or two women getting married ruins the value of everyone else’s marriage. Never mind the fact that people on death row can get married. That’s right. I can go around killing and raping babies and if I can find a woman to marry me there is nobody that can stop me. But if I want to marry a man that I’m in love with and been with for years...well that sir is a mockery of marriage. PUH-LEASE…Don’t 50% of marriages end in divorce anyway? I wonder how many of those are gay men and women becoming fed up with acting straight? Do I think a church should have the ability to deny homosexual marriages? Yup, I do. That is their right to do their religion however they want. But does the government have that right? HELL NO! Oh wait, may be we can call it “civil unions” and everything will be fine. That’s the biggest bunch of bullshit I’ve ever heard. What if we had told black people that their marriages had to be called civil unions? How do you think that would go? ANY difference in treatment of homosexuals is outright bigotry.
We can’t afford it:
I hadn’t heard this argument until a few weeks ago and it literally blew my mind. I don’t remember her name and really I don’t care to know her name but there was a woman running for senate or for the house in Wisconsin and she said something along the lines of, “I have nothing against gay people, our state is in a deficit right now and we just can’t afford to be giving out social security to all these new couples.” Really now?!!? Uh….taxation without representation anyone? How on earth can anyone think that it’s ok to say to someone, “We are going to take your money, use it for straight people who are married, deny you those rights, and then tell you it’s too bad.” It boggles my mind the things of which people are able to convince themselves. Also if your arguement is we literally can't afford to give gays equal marriage rights just think of all the money you'd save if you took away the rights from the hetero couples and gave them to the gays...waaaaaaay less gay marriages is all I'm sayin! Shouldn't be a problem right? I mean...it's just fiscally responsible....has nothing to do with anything else.
Don’t ask don’t tell protects gays:
How do you expect a man who can’t even be free to be himself to serve his country? He’s out there DIEING for you! So you can drive your SUV to soccer practice and pick up your kids. Are our men and women in the armed forces so out of control that if they find out their friend is gay they are going to go crazy and beat the crap out of them? Really? How is it that you can convince a man to go out In the world and risk his life for a few dollars, but you don’t think you can discipline him to not be a jerkass towards his homosexual squadmates? We allow women to serve right? So why not homosexuals again? You have made an environment in which homosexuals are rooted out and discharged and you are so afraid of what might happen if you fix it that you let the problem continue. Last I heard there wasn't exactly the worlds biggest line to get into the military, I'd assume you'd want ever able bodied mind that can contribute to join. Or maybe you're afraid Osama Bin Laden will make fun of you? I think he's against gay marriage as well.
The truth is that you being a bigot is creating problems. Normally I don’t give a flying fuck about bigots. If you hate black people, white people, Asians, women or whatever…I don’t care. The reason? Because everyone knows it’s wrong already. Everyone knows it would be wrong to tell a black person they couldn’t get married. Everyone knows it’s wrong to tell a Jewish man he couldn’t serve in the military. Sure there are people who believe all these things, but they are bigots and they are fine with it and they are crazy and nobody pays them much attention. But when it comes to homosexuals bigots get a free pass. A man can stand there and say something about homosexuals and there are too many damn people who don’t give a crap. But you should. Even if you aren’t homosexual, you should care and here is why.
You denying the rights of an entire segment of the population is causing problems and it’s going to effect you. Since going out and meeting people I have to say on a whole that gay men and women have much lower self esteem than straight men and women. It’s amazing seeing gay men going through the same transformation that women went through. NOT because gay men are girls, but because it is the natural reaction to being told
you’re not good enough. In the 50s when you were a young lass growing up and someone was telling you not to stress out your pretty little brain with numbers and thinking, you grew up thinking you weren’t as good as men. The effects of that are still seen today. Women still see a need to convince themselves that they are worth a life by being pretty, and the same thing is happening in the gay community. And you can say until your tongue bleeds that you have no problem with gay people, but if at the same time you are for DADT, against gay marriage, and really anything pro-homsexual, then YOU DO have a problem with gay people. And they sense it and they start to believe it…even if they don’t know they believe it. And this causes problems for them throughout every aspect of their life. Having low self esteem effects their relationships with mates, friends, and their duties in the work place. There is an entire segment of people in this country that are underachieving and you are denying yourself the opportunity to experience what they could come up with. Homosexuals are not weaker, dumber, slower, or in any way less compared to heterosexuals. They could be the next great writer, scientist, inventor, teacher…but you’ll never know if you keep them oppressed. I’m not saying gay men don’t need a back bone growing up. I’m not asking you to coddle them, tell them they are special and whatever bull extreme flower loving liberals come up with. I’m not for “competitions” where everyone wins. I don’t think we need to take 5 minutes out of the school day to hug your neighbor…I just want to be equal so that I can finally tell you how much better I am than you.
Not only that…but they/we will fight back. It’s only a matter of time before one homosexual goes off the deep end and does something crazy. And gay men are still men…even the flaming ones are still men. I promise you that getting punched by a man wearing a dress and glittered lipstick still hurts just as much as if he were wearing pants and a baseball jersey.
Wait I’m not a bigot:
You see nothing wrong with gay people, you just don’t want them getting married, teaching your children, going to your church, eating by you in public, or in any way showing that they exist. Sorry sir, but words have meanings…you’re a bigot.
Ok but the Bible says it’s wrong:
Even worshiping the Devil is not illegal. I’m not an expert…but I think the Bible is against that too. Also not to be harsh on the good book, but it’s track record isn’t exactly squeaky clean. There are a lot of ideals in there written by humans and interpreted by humans and then taught to other humans…humans aren’t robots, things get mixed up. Not to mention that it doesn’t specifically say anything about marriage being between one man and one woman. In fact Abraham, Jacob, David, Solomon and the kings of Judah and Israel—all of these fathers and heroes were polygamists. There is Leviticus which specifically calls man on man action “an abomination” but if you were to read the rest of Leviticus you might find it’s advice on most matters quite antiquated. It talks about treatment for leprosy, cleanliness rituals for menstruating women…by sacrificing goats, lambs and turtle doves. Also it tells you the way to get the best deal on buying a slave. I'm all for getting a deal, don't get me wrong, but I think almost everyone agrees slavery is wrong…the Bible though not so much. So while the Bible may have a lot of great ideals and morals and stories, there’s no way you should be trying to live your life exactly by a 2,000 year old book. Of course again, this is America. We may still trust in god, but last I checked we kind of built ourselves on religious freedoms.
Clearly it’s a choice:
Anyone who says this is a closet homesexual…period. If you think we chose to be gay then that must mean you chose to be straight, which means you feel the same way about men as I do, it’s just that you CHOSE to date women. Sorry bud, but that makes you gay. You like penis, but you’re a coward, and you chose vagina. You want to live your life as a lie? Go for it. But don’t get mad that I don’t want to do that anymore. I guess I could date girls, live a loveless life, treat her like crap, and eventually end up cheating on her with some dude in a bathroom stall because I’m so desperate for the feeling of love I’ll stoop to any level to receive just a fraction of it. It’s clearly not a choice and if it was, nobody would CHOOSE to be gay. Being gay is hard and in fact a lot of gays TRY to not be gay. I did. I tried dating girls for years and it did nothing for me. I had zero man on man contact for 28 years and I was STILL gay. I can’t say it enough. Nobody chooses to be gay, some gays chose to act straight, but no straight man has ever in the history of the world chose to be gay. You’re a real asshole if you want people to live loveless lives just so that you don’t have to feel weird about two dudes kissing.
Marriage is for a man and a woman, and anything else diminishes it’s importance:
This is the worst argument yet. That somehow marriage is such an esteemed union that two men or two women getting married ruins the value of everyone else’s marriage. Never mind the fact that people on death row can get married. That’s right. I can go around killing and raping babies and if I can find a woman to marry me there is nobody that can stop me. But if I want to marry a man that I’m in love with and been with for years...well that sir is a mockery of marriage. PUH-LEASE…Don’t 50% of marriages end in divorce anyway? I wonder how many of those are gay men and women becoming fed up with acting straight? Do I think a church should have the ability to deny homosexual marriages? Yup, I do. That is their right to do their religion however they want. But does the government have that right? HELL NO! Oh wait, may be we can call it “civil unions” and everything will be fine. That’s the biggest bunch of bullshit I’ve ever heard. What if we had told black people that their marriages had to be called civil unions? How do you think that would go? ANY difference in treatment of homosexuals is outright bigotry.
We can’t afford it:
I hadn’t heard this argument until a few weeks ago and it literally blew my mind. I don’t remember her name and really I don’t care to know her name but there was a woman running for senate or for the house in Wisconsin and she said something along the lines of, “I have nothing against gay people, our state is in a deficit right now and we just can’t afford to be giving out social security to all these new couples.” Really now?!!? Uh….taxation without representation anyone? How on earth can anyone think that it’s ok to say to someone, “We are going to take your money, use it for straight people who are married, deny you those rights, and then tell you it’s too bad.” It boggles my mind the things of which people are able to convince themselves. Also if your arguement is we literally can't afford to give gays equal marriage rights just think of all the money you'd save if you took away the rights from the hetero couples and gave them to the gays...waaaaaaay less gay marriages is all I'm sayin! Shouldn't be a problem right? I mean...it's just fiscally responsible....has nothing to do with anything else.
Don’t ask don’t tell protects gays:
How do you expect a man who can’t even be free to be himself to serve his country? He’s out there DIEING for you! So you can drive your SUV to soccer practice and pick up your kids. Are our men and women in the armed forces so out of control that if they find out their friend is gay they are going to go crazy and beat the crap out of them? Really? How is it that you can convince a man to go out In the world and risk his life for a few dollars, but you don’t think you can discipline him to not be a jerkass towards his homosexual squadmates? We allow women to serve right? So why not homosexuals again? You have made an environment in which homosexuals are rooted out and discharged and you are so afraid of what might happen if you fix it that you let the problem continue. Last I heard there wasn't exactly the worlds biggest line to get into the military, I'd assume you'd want ever able bodied mind that can contribute to join. Or maybe you're afraid Osama Bin Laden will make fun of you? I think he's against gay marriage as well.
The truth is that you being a bigot is creating problems. Normally I don’t give a flying fuck about bigots. If you hate black people, white people, Asians, women or whatever…I don’t care. The reason? Because everyone knows it’s wrong already. Everyone knows it would be wrong to tell a black person they couldn’t get married. Everyone knows it’s wrong to tell a Jewish man he couldn’t serve in the military. Sure there are people who believe all these things, but they are bigots and they are fine with it and they are crazy and nobody pays them much attention. But when it comes to homosexuals bigots get a free pass. A man can stand there and say something about homosexuals and there are too many damn people who don’t give a crap. But you should. Even if you aren’t homosexual, you should care and here is why.
You denying the rights of an entire segment of the population is causing problems and it’s going to effect you. Since going out and meeting people I have to say on a whole that gay men and women have much lower self esteem than straight men and women. It’s amazing seeing gay men going through the same transformation that women went through. NOT because gay men are girls, but because it is the natural reaction to being told
you’re not good enough. In the 50s when you were a young lass growing up and someone was telling you not to stress out your pretty little brain with numbers and thinking, you grew up thinking you weren’t as good as men. The effects of that are still seen today. Women still see a need to convince themselves that they are worth a life by being pretty, and the same thing is happening in the gay community. And you can say until your tongue bleeds that you have no problem with gay people, but if at the same time you are for DADT, against gay marriage, and really anything pro-homsexual, then YOU DO have a problem with gay people. And they sense it and they start to believe it…even if they don’t know they believe it. And this causes problems for them throughout every aspect of their life. Having low self esteem effects their relationships with mates, friends, and their duties in the work place. There is an entire segment of people in this country that are underachieving and you are denying yourself the opportunity to experience what they could come up with. Homosexuals are not weaker, dumber, slower, or in any way less compared to heterosexuals. They could be the next great writer, scientist, inventor, teacher…but you’ll never know if you keep them oppressed. I’m not saying gay men don’t need a back bone growing up. I’m not asking you to coddle them, tell them they are special and whatever bull extreme flower loving liberals come up with. I’m not for “competitions” where everyone wins. I don’t think we need to take 5 minutes out of the school day to hug your neighbor…I just want to be equal so that I can finally tell you how much better I am than you.
Not only that…but they/we will fight back. It’s only a matter of time before one homosexual goes off the deep end and does something crazy. And gay men are still men…even the flaming ones are still men. I promise you that getting punched by a man wearing a dress and glittered lipstick still hurts just as much as if he were wearing pants and a baseball jersey.
Halloweenie
The pumpkins are out in full force and I’m looking forward to my first ever gay Halloween. Halloween has always been a mixture of awesome and terrible for me. As a kid Halloween was never as the movies made it out to be. Growing up in the sticks in Northern Minnesota makes trick or treating a lot different. My costume usually consisted of whatever old costumes we had from when my brother and sister were kids. I remember one year I wore a Batman mask and a Superman cape…I called myself Super Batman…I was that clever. Anyway trick or treating in the country kind of sucks. My dad or my step mom would take me trick or treating. If it was my dad I’d sit in the back holding my candy bag as he smoked cigarette after cigarette in the front seat. Houses were sparse so it’d be about 20 minutes in-between me actually getting to trick or treat. When we’d actually get to his friend’s houses he’d get more treats than me. Usually we’d go inside and he’d have a drink with his buddy and I’d sit there hoping that he had a dog to play with. Sometimes my dad’s friends didn’t even have candy so I’d get whatever random things they had in the house. One year I got a bar of soap…every kid’s dream. If it was my step mom driving she’d want to take me even farther into the woods to where she grew up because that’s where “the best” trick or treating was. We’d drive for 45 minutes and go to all the places she used to go…or about 4 houses because by the time we finished those 4 we’d have been in the car for over 3 hours. I remember the first time I went trick or treating in “town” I almost had a heart attack from the amount of candy that I got. I was soooo pissed for all those years I had wasted in the woods trick or treating.
Besides the candy Halloween has always meant one other thing…dances. I remember when I was in either 5th or 6th grade I went to my very first dance. The dance just happened to be at the Linden Grove Town Hall which was only 5 miles from my house so my parents were pretty much forced to bring me. I had never been to a dance before and I was excited. You see there was a girl and I was madly in love with her. Obviously I was a bit confused but still she meant the world to me. I had slyly figured out that she would be at this dance and that was when I decided that I MUST go as well. The problem was that I needed a costume. Being the smooth operator that I am, I came up with the absolute best costume to impress a girl…a hobo.
Yes, as we all know homeless people are the sexiest people on earth and every girl’s dream is to dance with one. For some reason at the time I was fascinated with Hobos. I had just learned what the word Hobo meant and I knew right away I wanted to be that for Halloween. My head swam with ways for me to be an authentic Hobo. “No more cheesy store bought costumes for me!”. I thought to myself. No sir…I was going to be the talk of the town with my authentic Hobo getup. I went through all our old costumes and clothes and I made the best Hobo outfit ever created by mankind. I then stored my garb were the dogs slept so that they would get that optimum Hobo smell (I wish I was making this up). When the night of the dance arrived I dressed myself up in the stinky clothes. I took one of my dad’s handkerchiefs and made myself a bindle and put it on the end of a stick. I rubbed REAL dirt on my face. I actually cut myself a little on the sharp pebbles I was rubbing on my cheeks. I looked and smelled like the world’s youngest Hobo and I was certain that this girl was going to fall in love with me for looking so real.
My dad drove me to the town hall and on the short drive I peppered him for compliments. “I look so real right Dad?!?”, I’d say to him. I remember him saying, “You smell like the dog.” To which I BEAMED with pleasure.
When we got to the town hall I got out and stared up at the doors. For some reason I had the weirdest view of myself as I stood there. In my head I was a dashing and handsome Hobo, standing with muscled arms as an American flagged waved behind me. I was going to the envy of every man and the desire of every girl. Upon entering building the really old 9th grader taking tickets gave me a strange look. I of course recognized it as envy. Soon my friends would show up and we would high five each other and laugh and eat candy. A while later the girls from our grade would show up and both groups would retreat to opposite walls of the dance floor. Finally as I was eating my 11th mini snicker bar I looked to the doorway and this little angel fluttered through. Literally my girl had come dressed as an angel and I remember thinking I couldn’t think of a more fitting costume for her…then doubt crept into my mind. Suddenly my brilliance was flashing before my eyes. As I looked at the angel joining her friends on the opposite wall I saw in my mind’s eye me learning what the word hobo meant…me digging through old ass costumes and deciding they smelled to fresh and putting my clothes were the dog slept…me rubbing dirt on my face, on the very cheek on which I wanted a kiss…then the guy at the door looking at me not with envy…but disgust. I panicked! I dropped my bindle and I made a straight line to the door, and I ran all the way home.
The pumpkins are out in full force and I’m looking forward to my first ever gay Halloween. Halloween has always been a mixture of awesome and terrible for me. As a kid Halloween was never as the movies made it out to be. Growing up in the sticks in Northern Minnesota makes trick or treating a lot different. My costume usually consisted of whatever old costumes we had from when my brother and sister were kids. I remember one year I wore a Batman mask and a Superman cape…I called myself Super Batman…I was that clever. Anyway trick or treating in the country kind of sucks. My dad or my step mom would take me trick or treating. If it was my dad I’d sit in the back holding my candy bag as he smoked cigarette after cigarette in the front seat. Houses were sparse so it’d be about 20 minutes in-between me actually getting to trick or treat. When we’d actually get to his friend’s houses he’d get more treats than me. Usually we’d go inside and he’d have a drink with his buddy and I’d sit there hoping that he had a dog to play with. Sometimes my dad’s friends didn’t even have candy so I’d get whatever random things they had in the house. One year I got a bar of soap…every kid’s dream. If it was my step mom driving she’d want to take me even farther into the woods to where she grew up because that’s where “the best” trick or treating was. We’d drive for 45 minutes and go to all the places she used to go…or about 4 houses because by the time we finished those 4 we’d have been in the car for over 3 hours. I remember the first time I went trick or treating in “town” I almost had a heart attack from the amount of candy that I got. I was soooo pissed for all those years I had wasted in the woods trick or treating.
Besides the candy Halloween has always meant one other thing…dances. I remember when I was in either 5th or 6th grade I went to my very first dance. The dance just happened to be at the Linden Grove Town Hall which was only 5 miles from my house so my parents were pretty much forced to bring me. I had never been to a dance before and I was excited. You see there was a girl and I was madly in love with her. Obviously I was a bit confused but still she meant the world to me. I had slyly figured out that she would be at this dance and that was when I decided that I MUST go as well. The problem was that I needed a costume. Being the smooth operator that I am, I came up with the absolute best costume to impress a girl…a hobo.
Yes, as we all know homeless people are the sexiest people on earth and every girl’s dream is to dance with one. For some reason at the time I was fascinated with Hobos. I had just learned what the word Hobo meant and I knew right away I wanted to be that for Halloween. My head swam with ways for me to be an authentic Hobo. “No more cheesy store bought costumes for me!”. I thought to myself. No sir…I was going to be the talk of the town with my authentic Hobo getup. I went through all our old costumes and clothes and I made the best Hobo outfit ever created by mankind. I then stored my garb were the dogs slept so that they would get that optimum Hobo smell (I wish I was making this up). When the night of the dance arrived I dressed myself up in the stinky clothes. I took one of my dad’s handkerchiefs and made myself a bindle and put it on the end of a stick. I rubbed REAL dirt on my face. I actually cut myself a little on the sharp pebbles I was rubbing on my cheeks. I looked and smelled like the world’s youngest Hobo and I was certain that this girl was going to fall in love with me for looking so real.
My dad drove me to the town hall and on the short drive I peppered him for compliments. “I look so real right Dad?!?”, I’d say to him. I remember him saying, “You smell like the dog.” To which I BEAMED with pleasure.
When we got to the town hall I got out and stared up at the doors. For some reason I had the weirdest view of myself as I stood there. In my head I was a dashing and handsome Hobo, standing with muscled arms as an American flagged waved behind me. I was going to the envy of every man and the desire of every girl. Upon entering building the really old 9th grader taking tickets gave me a strange look. I of course recognized it as envy. Soon my friends would show up and we would high five each other and laugh and eat candy. A while later the girls from our grade would show up and both groups would retreat to opposite walls of the dance floor. Finally as I was eating my 11th mini snicker bar I looked to the doorway and this little angel fluttered through. Literally my girl had come dressed as an angel and I remember thinking I couldn’t think of a more fitting costume for her…then doubt crept into my mind. Suddenly my brilliance was flashing before my eyes. As I looked at the angel joining her friends on the opposite wall I saw in my mind’s eye me learning what the word hobo meant…me digging through old ass costumes and deciding they smelled to fresh and putting my clothes were the dog slept…me rubbing dirt on my face, on the very cheek on which I wanted a kiss…then the guy at the door looking at me not with envy…but disgust. I panicked! I dropped my bindle and I made a straight line to the door, and I ran all the way home.
Besides the candy Halloween has always meant one other thing…dances. I remember when I was in either 5th or 6th grade I went to my very first dance. The dance just happened to be at the Linden Grove Town Hall which was only 5 miles from my house so my parents were pretty much forced to bring me. I had never been to a dance before and I was excited. You see there was a girl and I was madly in love with her. Obviously I was a bit confused but still she meant the world to me. I had slyly figured out that she would be at this dance and that was when I decided that I MUST go as well. The problem was that I needed a costume. Being the smooth operator that I am, I came up with the absolute best costume to impress a girl…a hobo.
Yes, as we all know homeless people are the sexiest people on earth and every girl’s dream is to dance with one. For some reason at the time I was fascinated with Hobos. I had just learned what the word Hobo meant and I knew right away I wanted to be that for Halloween. My head swam with ways for me to be an authentic Hobo. “No more cheesy store bought costumes for me!”. I thought to myself. No sir…I was going to be the talk of the town with my authentic Hobo getup. I went through all our old costumes and clothes and I made the best Hobo outfit ever created by mankind. I then stored my garb were the dogs slept so that they would get that optimum Hobo smell (I wish I was making this up). When the night of the dance arrived I dressed myself up in the stinky clothes. I took one of my dad’s handkerchiefs and made myself a bindle and put it on the end of a stick. I rubbed REAL dirt on my face. I actually cut myself a little on the sharp pebbles I was rubbing on my cheeks. I looked and smelled like the world’s youngest Hobo and I was certain that this girl was going to fall in love with me for looking so real.
My dad drove me to the town hall and on the short drive I peppered him for compliments. “I look so real right Dad?!?”, I’d say to him. I remember him saying, “You smell like the dog.” To which I BEAMED with pleasure.
When we got to the town hall I got out and stared up at the doors. For some reason I had the weirdest view of myself as I stood there. In my head I was a dashing and handsome Hobo, standing with muscled arms as an American flagged waved behind me. I was going to the envy of every man and the desire of every girl. Upon entering building the really old 9th grader taking tickets gave me a strange look. I of course recognized it as envy. Soon my friends would show up and we would high five each other and laugh and eat candy. A while later the girls from our grade would show up and both groups would retreat to opposite walls of the dance floor. Finally as I was eating my 11th mini snicker bar I looked to the doorway and this little angel fluttered through. Literally my girl had come dressed as an angel and I remember thinking I couldn’t think of a more fitting costume for her…then doubt crept into my mind. Suddenly my brilliance was flashing before my eyes. As I looked at the angel joining her friends on the opposite wall I saw in my mind’s eye me learning what the word hobo meant…me digging through old ass costumes and deciding they smelled to fresh and putting my clothes were the dog slept…me rubbing dirt on my face, on the very cheek on which I wanted a kiss…then the guy at the door looking at me not with envy…but disgust. I panicked! I dropped my bindle and I made a straight line to the door, and I ran all the way home.
The pumpkins are out in full force and I’m looking forward to my first ever gay Halloween. Halloween has always been a mixture of awesome and terrible for me. As a kid Halloween was never as the movies made it out to be. Growing up in the sticks in Northern Minnesota makes trick or treating a lot different. My costume usually consisted of whatever old costumes we had from when my brother and sister were kids. I remember one year I wore a Batman mask and a Superman cape…I called myself Super Batman…I was that clever. Anyway trick or treating in the country kind of sucks. My dad or my step mom would take me trick or treating. If it was my dad I’d sit in the back holding my candy bag as he smoked cigarette after cigarette in the front seat. Houses were sparse so it’d be about 20 minutes in-between me actually getting to trick or treat. When we’d actually get to his friend’s houses he’d get more treats than me. Usually we’d go inside and he’d have a drink with his buddy and I’d sit there hoping that he had a dog to play with. Sometimes my dad’s friends didn’t even have candy so I’d get whatever random things they had in the house. One year I got a bar of soap…every kid’s dream. If it was my step mom driving she’d want to take me even farther into the woods to where she grew up because that’s where “the best” trick or treating was. We’d drive for 45 minutes and go to all the places she used to go…or about 4 houses because by the time we finished those 4 we’d have been in the car for over 3 hours. I remember the first time I went trick or treating in “town” I almost had a heart attack from the amount of candy that I got. I was soooo pissed for all those years I had wasted in the woods trick or treating.
Besides the candy Halloween has always meant one other thing…dances. I remember when I was in either 5th or 6th grade I went to my very first dance. The dance just happened to be at the Linden Grove Town Hall which was only 5 miles from my house so my parents were pretty much forced to bring me. I had never been to a dance before and I was excited. You see there was a girl and I was madly in love with her. Obviously I was a bit confused but still she meant the world to me. I had slyly figured out that she would be at this dance and that was when I decided that I MUST go as well. The problem was that I needed a costume. Being the smooth operator that I am, I came up with the absolute best costume to impress a girl…a hobo.
Yes, as we all know homeless people are the sexiest people on earth and every girl’s dream is to dance with one. For some reason at the time I was fascinated with Hobos. I had just learned what the word Hobo meant and I knew right away I wanted to be that for Halloween. My head swam with ways for me to be an authentic Hobo. “No more cheesy store bought costumes for me!”. I thought to myself. No sir…I was going to be the talk of the town with my authentic Hobo getup. I went through all our old costumes and clothes and I made the best Hobo outfit ever created by mankind. I then stored my garb were the dogs slept so that they would get that optimum Hobo smell (I wish I was making this up). When the night of the dance arrived I dressed myself up in the stinky clothes. I took one of my dad’s handkerchiefs and made myself a bindle and put it on the end of a stick. I rubbed REAL dirt on my face. I actually cut myself a little on the sharp pebbles I was rubbing on my cheeks. I looked and smelled like the world’s youngest Hobo and I was certain that this girl was going to fall in love with me for looking so real.
My dad drove me to the town hall and on the short drive I peppered him for compliments. “I look so real right Dad?!?”, I’d say to him. I remember him saying, “You smell like the dog.” To which I BEAMED with pleasure.
When we got to the town hall I got out and stared up at the doors. For some reason I had the weirdest view of myself as I stood there. In my head I was a dashing and handsome Hobo, standing with muscled arms as an American flagged waved behind me. I was going to the envy of every man and the desire of every girl. Upon entering building the really old 9th grader taking tickets gave me a strange look. I of course recognized it as envy. Soon my friends would show up and we would high five each other and laugh and eat candy. A while later the girls from our grade would show up and both groups would retreat to opposite walls of the dance floor. Finally as I was eating my 11th mini snicker bar I looked to the doorway and this little angel fluttered through. Literally my girl had come dressed as an angel and I remember thinking I couldn’t think of a more fitting costume for her…then doubt crept into my mind. Suddenly my brilliance was flashing before my eyes. As I looked at the angel joining her friends on the opposite wall I saw in my mind’s eye me learning what the word hobo meant…me digging through old ass costumes and deciding they smelled to fresh and putting my clothes were the dog slept…me rubbing dirt on my face, on the very cheek on which I wanted a kiss…then the guy at the door looking at me not with envy…but disgust. I panicked! I dropped my bindle and I made a straight line to the door, and I ran all the way home.
hypocrites...
With the surge of suicides it has been a tragic time for young gay men. I appreciate the new found resurgence in bringing gay priorities back into light but I still don’t think we are getting the right message out there. Too often we talk about the outcomes of problems and don’t focus on the causes. It’s easy to see that bullying is a problem, but it really doesn’t solve anything to just say bullying is bad. Light needs to be shed on why this bullying is occurring in the first place. It needs to be made a priority to explain why it is important for society that gays and lesbians be treated as equals, and getting picked on in school is just the tip of the iceberg. Maybe the next gay teen doesn’t take just their own life, but may be they take others with them. What will happen then? It’s sad but it’s easy to see why these youths feel that death is superior to life. Hatred of gays is the last acceptable form of racism and every tragedy that occurs should be made into an opportunity to further the cause of equality.
Let’s face it…kids are dumb. They only know and think what they are told. If you’re told your entire life that being homosexual is not equal to being heterosexual, it has an effect. I was discussing this problem with my brother who is an educated MIT graduate, but he still doesn’t grasp what I was trying to say. It’s a hidden racism that occurs. Nobody but assholes come out and just directly say, “You’re gay, there for you don’t matter.” But by not allowing homosexuals to marry or allowing homosexuals to openly serve in the military you are saying just that! It’s crazy to me that someone thinks there is a difference between saying gay men can’t serve in the military, and saying you can be gay you just can’t say you’re gay. It’s the same damn thing. Don’t ask Don’t tell is a way for the masses to feel better about themselves, but not really doing anything about it. So when you’re young and impressionable it’s both much easier to feel bad about being homosexual AND to pick on homosexuals. How can we tell children to treat each other as equals when grown ups are unwilling to do the same?
Let’s face it…kids are dumb. They only know and think what they are told. If you’re told your entire life that being homosexual is not equal to being heterosexual, it has an effect. I was discussing this problem with my brother who is an educated MIT graduate, but he still doesn’t grasp what I was trying to say. It’s a hidden racism that occurs. Nobody but assholes come out and just directly say, “You’re gay, there for you don’t matter.” But by not allowing homosexuals to marry or allowing homosexuals to openly serve in the military you are saying just that! It’s crazy to me that someone thinks there is a difference between saying gay men can’t serve in the military, and saying you can be gay you just can’t say you’re gay. It’s the same damn thing. Don’t ask Don’t tell is a way for the masses to feel better about themselves, but not really doing anything about it. So when you’re young and impressionable it’s both much easier to feel bad about being homosexual AND to pick on homosexuals. How can we tell children to treat each other as equals when grown ups are unwilling to do the same?
more complaining about gay men
So I’m newly out and about...I've been dating, hanging, chatting, seeing as many gay men as I possibly can. It's much different than I thought and in some ways a lot better. It's also frustrating at times, as even being friends with another gay guy can be unnecessary drama. So here are 11 general life tips that I’m starting to think that more gay men then I’d like to admit seem to need.
Being a bitch is easy to do and doesn’t equal a personality. I’m sorry you’re a miserable person, but maybe it’s because you think overpaying for shoes makes you important?
If you weren’t so insecure you’d probably have an easier time getting along with people.
You’re not going to be pretty outside forever but you can be pretty inside forever...work on that as much as you would the gym.
Get a sense of humor. I know laughing causes you to smile and that gives you those awful wrinkles…try it though, you might like it.
Not everything is about you. Surprisingly things happen that don’t pertain to you at all!
Try seeing things from the other person’s perspective. It doesn’t make you weak…it makes you mature.
If you’re not going to commit to someone don’t get mad that they look for someone that will.
Try doing something nice for someone, it might give you some self worth.
Self medication is not going to solve any problems.
Being the bigger person is not a fat joke…it’s a real way humans get along.
Just because you’ve become jaded about relationships doesn’t mean the rest of us have to be.
Quit hating on people different than you. Differences in people is like differences in clothes, and we both know you wouldn't dare be seen at the club wearing the same thing as last time.
Lastly...eat a burger made of meat...you'll like it.
Being a bitch is easy to do and doesn’t equal a personality. I’m sorry you’re a miserable person, but maybe it’s because you think overpaying for shoes makes you important?
If you weren’t so insecure you’d probably have an easier time getting along with people.
You’re not going to be pretty outside forever but you can be pretty inside forever...work on that as much as you would the gym.
Get a sense of humor. I know laughing causes you to smile and that gives you those awful wrinkles…try it though, you might like it.
Not everything is about you. Surprisingly things happen that don’t pertain to you at all!
Try seeing things from the other person’s perspective. It doesn’t make you weak…it makes you mature.
If you’re not going to commit to someone don’t get mad that they look for someone that will.
Try doing something nice for someone, it might give you some self worth.
Self medication is not going to solve any problems.
Being the bigger person is not a fat joke…it’s a real way humans get along.
Just because you’ve become jaded about relationships doesn’t mean the rest of us have to be.
Quit hating on people different than you. Differences in people is like differences in clothes, and we both know you wouldn't dare be seen at the club wearing the same thing as last time.
Lastly...eat a burger made of meat...you'll like it.
Gays need to stop trying to be scene, and start trying to be seen.
So it seems that for now the policy of don't ask don't tell will stand here in this great free nation of ours. This is sad news for the obvious reasons but any set back towards progress in me being seen as an equal is not appreciated. It's times like this that I get angry and I want to fight. I want to gather all my gay friends march down Congress and just overtake the capital. Rules and etiquet be damned! I'm tired of peaceful protests...people don't understand peaceful protests, they just think it makes you weak. I want us to go out and fuck shit up. FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT...but of course I really don't. That's the problem. We're damned if we do, damned if we don't. And in reality how are we to blame society for not takign us seriously when we ourselves as a group don't take us that seriously. Too many gay men have become cartoon characters. They act like they think they are suppose to act, they are bitchy and caddy and shallow...they are sheep. I just don't get it. 32 people had status updates today about the new season of Glee...3 talked about the don't ask don't tell. I'm not saying you should at all feel ashamed for posting about Glee on your facebook page. I'm just saying more gays found that more important than a law that effects them directly. Why? I feel like we don't take things seriously enough at times. We all want to be equal but we treat ourselves as not equals. We hang out at gay clubs, and eat at gay friendly restaurants...when I think the opposite should be true. We need to become main stream. We need to invade the bars that are frequented by the breeders. Eat where they eat. Play where they play. Be where they....be. We need to stop seperating ourselves. We need stop trying to be scene, and start trying to bee seen. Parades and festivals are all fine and dandy. They are a great way to celebrate ourselves...but we need to start actually showing the real us to the world. Are gay men really just a group of tanned, toned, and greased up hot bodies? Isn't there more to life than trying to look pretty? We need to start inflitrating the enemy. We are a talented group of people. We are prelevant in fashion, movies, books, art, and music...these are all tools at our disposal to reach the masses, but we only use them to reach ourselves. When we make a gay movie we more often than not make it for gay men. Gay men need entertaining movies about themselves too, but we should be focusing on making movies about gay men for straight men. I think the television show Modern Family is a shining example of how to incorporate gay life without making ourselves seem like a joke. I want the next joke to not be the token black guy...but the token gay guy.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Bum, bum, bum, bum, BUM
I usually don't like ripping on people...ok that's a lie. Um...I usually don't like ripping on those less fortunate than myself...Ok, for real I fucking love ripping on people. It's a lot of fun (A LOT). I don't care if you're crippled or retarded, funny is funny (haha retards). If people didn't get so butt hurt about things life would be a lot better for everyone (mostly me). Anyway there is one group of people that lately has really been chapping my ass (i have been wanting to use the phrase chapping my ass for too long!). BUMS. I hate bums and they are everywhere. First, there is this lady (i think) on Riverside and I35. Shes' way to fucking happy. It makes me want to slit my wrists. It's 100 degrees and she's outside dancing and smiling like she just had her first kiss! HOW DARE YOU BE HAPPIER THAN ME!!! There's also the guys that carry around the squeegee and try to wash your windows. I appreciate that they are doing me a service in exchange for quarters, but if they hadn't stole the fucking squeegee from the gas station I'd of been able to wash my own damn window! Also...where exactly did you find that muddy ass water?
Those bums don't bother me as much as the guys downtown. They are annoying and aggressive. There is nothing that makes me angrier than driving around down town for 20 minutes trying to find a parking spot only to find a bum standing in one, waving me in and expecting me to give him money for it. Listen buddy, if I am willing to waste my life driving around for 20 minutes looking for street parking because I'm too cheap to park in a parking lot, I sure as hell am not going to give you money for standing in the god damn way! Last week I actually had to yell at a bum. There were two spots magically open and standing there were two bums. I parked and the guy hit me up for money to which I said ,"I only have check card." He said, "I'll go to an ATM." I said, "Yeah sure, I'll meet you there." Then he puts his hands on my window and puts his face up to it to see if he can see change in my car. I freak out on him and he runs away.
There are also the "Hey I'm your buddy" bums. These guys usually amuse me more than annoy me. There was this one strange man who was started walking with me when I was on my way to my car. He starts up conversation by telling me I shouldn't jay walk because he got a $250 fine once...of course he was jay walking with me at the time. He also smells like a mixture of urine and old bananas. He then starts telling me that his friend ditched him downtown and that he really needs a ride to the tire shop to pick up his tire so he can get out of there. He pulls out his wallet and tells me he has $30 dollars if I'll give him a ride. He clearly has exactly 1 dollar in his wallet and a coupon for walgreens. He asks if he can use my phone to call his friend. I let him (risky but I wanted to see where this was going). I dial the number for him...which happened to be only 9 digits long. I tell him he needs one more number but he insists that is it. Obviously it doesn't work. He then asks if I'll just give him a ride to the tire shop so he can pick up his tire and be on his way. To which I respond, "It's 3 AM. There aren't any tire shops open and you sure as hell aren't going to be able to pay them with a Walgreens coupon." I then tell him to go away and he does.
My favorite guy though and a guy i actually did give money too was this guy just the other night. I found parking and he was nearby and as I'm walking past he says, "Wow that was lucky you found great parking." I say, "yep." Then he follows me a little and he says in the most pleasant voice I've ever heard a bum use, "Can I make a suggestion on where you should go?" I am intrigued, I am thinking, "Yes Mr. Bum...where should i go?" So I ask him and he says, "Do you like Jazz?" I say that I do, and he says, "Well you should go somewhere they have jazz music." hahahaha. I loved that. So I gave him a dollar.
Those bums don't bother me as much as the guys downtown. They are annoying and aggressive. There is nothing that makes me angrier than driving around down town for 20 minutes trying to find a parking spot only to find a bum standing in one, waving me in and expecting me to give him money for it. Listen buddy, if I am willing to waste my life driving around for 20 minutes looking for street parking because I'm too cheap to park in a parking lot, I sure as hell am not going to give you money for standing in the god damn way! Last week I actually had to yell at a bum. There were two spots magically open and standing there were two bums. I parked and the guy hit me up for money to which I said ,"I only have check card." He said, "I'll go to an ATM." I said, "Yeah sure, I'll meet you there." Then he puts his hands on my window and puts his face up to it to see if he can see change in my car. I freak out on him and he runs away.
There are also the "Hey I'm your buddy" bums. These guys usually amuse me more than annoy me. There was this one strange man who was started walking with me when I was on my way to my car. He starts up conversation by telling me I shouldn't jay walk because he got a $250 fine once...of course he was jay walking with me at the time. He also smells like a mixture of urine and old bananas. He then starts telling me that his friend ditched him downtown and that he really needs a ride to the tire shop to pick up his tire so he can get out of there. He pulls out his wallet and tells me he has $30 dollars if I'll give him a ride. He clearly has exactly 1 dollar in his wallet and a coupon for walgreens. He asks if he can use my phone to call his friend. I let him (risky but I wanted to see where this was going). I dial the number for him...which happened to be only 9 digits long. I tell him he needs one more number but he insists that is it. Obviously it doesn't work. He then asks if I'll just give him a ride to the tire shop so he can pick up his tire and be on his way. To which I respond, "It's 3 AM. There aren't any tire shops open and you sure as hell aren't going to be able to pay them with a Walgreens coupon." I then tell him to go away and he does.
My favorite guy though and a guy i actually did give money too was this guy just the other night. I found parking and he was nearby and as I'm walking past he says, "Wow that was lucky you found great parking." I say, "yep." Then he follows me a little and he says in the most pleasant voice I've ever heard a bum use, "Can I make a suggestion on where you should go?" I am intrigued, I am thinking, "Yes Mr. Bum...where should i go?" So I ask him and he says, "Do you like Jazz?" I say that I do, and he says, "Well you should go somewhere they have jazz music." hahahaha. I loved that. So I gave him a dollar.
Friday, September 17, 2010
Why I hate talking with people...except you. I love talking to you.
Talking with people is a lot of work...it really is. If I'm going to be moving my mouth that much there better be bacon coming into it...just sayin. That being said, there is one thing I hate more than talking...text messaging. Don't get me wrong. i do it all day everyday...mostly because text messaging had turned a 5 minute conversation into a 3 hour long read-a-thon. I know what you're thinking, because you're an ass and we think alike. You're wondering why i have text messaging if I hate it so much. The answer is simple...nobody calls anymore. If I didn't have text, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't talk to anyone...ever. You can order fuckin' pizza by text message now. Is that REALLY necessary? Have I shunned human contact so much that I don't even want to have to say words to a human in order to get a $15 slab of bread with canned tomatoes on it? The thing i hate most about texting, is that you have to be able to read between the lines because people tend to not say what they are thinking. I am not really used to this but I am learning. The weird thing is that by being aloof and vague people are more likely to do what I want than if I were to just ask them directly. For instance here is a recent conversation I had with someone by text. I had tried several times to text this person and call and they never responded. Randomly they decided to text me after a few weeks. In ( ) is what they really meant and what I really meant.
Them: What are you doing? (Want to do something with me?)
Me: Nothing important, watching TV and petting the dog. (What did you have in mind?)
Them: I"M SOOOO HUNGRY (Want to go eat?)
Me: I'm always hungry. Have you ever been to Your Mom's? (Yes I do. Want to eat at Your Mom's?)
Them: Never heard of it, how do I get there? (Can I ride with you?)
Me: Why don't I just pick you up? (I'll come get you because I know you're retarded)
Them: I dunno, I don't want you to go out of your way. (Yes please come get me.)
Me: No, it's cool. We can chat in the car. (It's on the way)
Them: Ok cool, want to go at 5? (How does 6 sound?)
Me: Yeah sure I need to shower and stuff anyway. (I'm playing Halo)
If it were me I'd just try to say what I wanted in as few texts as possible. I would of sent one text saying, "Hey do you want to go to Your Mom's burgers at 6?" They never would of responded...even if that's what they wanted to do. Because people are annoying. They can't commit to a time or a place, but if you bring it up organically somehow in conversation they'll do it every time. It doesn't matter if that was your agenda all a long, you have to say it in a round about way.
Here is another conversation I had with someone.
Me: Hey, do you want me to bring over my controllers?
Them: Hold on I cant text right now.
WTF?!?!? It's a Yes or NO question and you write an entire sentence about how you can't text...what is the matter with people?
Them: What are you doing? (Want to do something with me?)
Me: Nothing important, watching TV and petting the dog. (What did you have in mind?)
Them: I"M SOOOO HUNGRY (Want to go eat?)
Me: I'm always hungry. Have you ever been to Your Mom's? (Yes I do. Want to eat at Your Mom's?)
Them: Never heard of it, how do I get there? (Can I ride with you?)
Me: Why don't I just pick you up? (I'll come get you because I know you're retarded)
Them: I dunno, I don't want you to go out of your way. (Yes please come get me.)
Me: No, it's cool. We can chat in the car. (It's on the way)
Them: Ok cool, want to go at 5? (How does 6 sound?)
Me: Yeah sure I need to shower and stuff anyway. (I'm playing Halo)
If it were me I'd just try to say what I wanted in as few texts as possible. I would of sent one text saying, "Hey do you want to go to Your Mom's burgers at 6?" They never would of responded...even if that's what they wanted to do. Because people are annoying. They can't commit to a time or a place, but if you bring it up organically somehow in conversation they'll do it every time. It doesn't matter if that was your agenda all a long, you have to say it in a round about way.
Here is another conversation I had with someone.
Me: Hey, do you want me to bring over my controllers?
Them: Hold on I cant text right now.
WTF?!?!? It's a Yes or NO question and you write an entire sentence about how you can't text...what is the matter with people?
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Finally found my true love
For those of you who aren't yet aware, I'm quite the catch. First off, I'm handsome. How do I know? My Grandma Till used to tell me that every Christmas...of course she also would tell me I was going bald and getting fat, but usually that wasn't until after I would make fun of her for being old for a good 20 minutes. I really miss that old bat. Secondly, I'm a catch because I smell good (like chili), am handy to have around (I can reach things up high AND low), don't mind killing spiders or snakes (as long as I have oven mitts and salad tongs), and I'm really good at finding the remote, but I'm not giving it up so don't even ask.
So with all this obvious awesomeness it is no wonder that I finally found my one true love...that's right, the mistress of the night, Lady Karaoke. Turns out...I feel about karaoke like my sister in law feels about corn...I FUCKIN' LOVE IT!
I never knew I loved karaoke until I moved to Austin. May be it's because I have a strange crush on Willie Nelson, or that Austin is the live music capital of the world, but I love it. Well truthfully i suppose my first brush with karaoke was playing Rockband on my Xbox 360 (NERD!). While i was in Duluth living in the Shermer basement/dungeon I would frequently sing by myself pretending I was entertaining the masses, but really just annoying the mice that lived above my room.
Moving to Austin I was a little overwhelmed by the sudden lack of knowing people (but pleased with the sudden influx of BBQ). One day I just decided I needed to go hang out at the bar and try to meet some people (ANYONE!) As you might know I'm not the best drinker in the world...my first drink resulted in me beating up the floor with my face. (Face-0 Floor-1). So this time I decided to just drink diet coke (classy/manly). So at first I just kind of watched people (lurked). I'm shy and weird and just stood in the corner next to the garbage can drinking diet cokes and looking at sports pages on my cell phone (go rockets!). It doesn't help that clubs are dark and I can barely see so really I just squint at people...not my best face. I finally drank so much diet coke that I had to go pee about every 20 minutes...so I was officially changed from the weird guy who was standing next to the garbage can and drinking diet coke, to the weird guy who was hanging out in the bathroom way more than any normal person should (still sexy though). Finally I decided to just try out this karaoke. They had my favorite song to sing, "Say it ain't so". So i figured it was Divine intervention.
I have to admit. For the first time since I can remember I was actually really nervous. I hadn't been on stage for a while and while the bar wasn't exactly packed it was full enough. Also I had ZERO support and diet coke really doesn't give me much liquid courage. Still I climbed to the top of the stage (hero?). I was actually trembling when the music started. I covered my face with the mic, and looked straight down at the words. I could feel my leg shaking. I think people thought I was dancing and excused me for being off beat because I was the whitest person they had ever seen. I think when I got on stage I heard a Latino dude say, "Holy shit is he dying?"
Finally the song started and all my nerves went away and I just sang my bacon clogged heart out. While I was singing this lady snuck on stage and grabbed my ass...she was a hundred years old, completely wasted, missing clumps of hair, but I was still flattered. Afterwards I looked up and people were cheering and clapping, probably no more than being polite, but in my head I was like, FUCK YEAH! So i strutted off stage with some swagger and instantly this man came up to me and started telling me how awesome I was (per usual). Of course I let him continue even though he smelled suspiciously like he hadn't seen a shower since 1975. After stroking my already overly inflated ego he started talking about how he was finally off his medication and only smoking pot...then he continued to tell me he was moving to Hawaii to start a pot farm and that I would be just the guy to go with him. Apparently being able to kind of sing Weezer qualifies me for starting a pot farm with a homeless guy. If things in Austin don't work out I think I just may take him up on that offer.
That's the nice thing about Karaoke. You meet people. True usually it's people I never want to see again in my life. Last night I was at Karaoke and the oldest lady in the bar came up to me and told me I was beautiful. Then she went on to tell me about how she stays in Texas because she is tall and wants to stand out, just when I was about to think that my crazy hair=crazy person theory was wrong she for some reason started mocking my friend Pius because he's Asian. I was actually pretty mad about it because it's my job to make fun of Pius for him being Asian. Randomly she started talking in her best "engrish" impression and was doing a terrible Charlie Chan impression. Of course her love for me didn't subside when I sang "Runaround Sue" and "Under the Boardwalk" both songs that were probably popular when she was...50? I dunno. She was weird but I accidentaly crushed her hand when I shook it...so I guess we are even?
until next time,
D
So with all this obvious awesomeness it is no wonder that I finally found my one true love...that's right, the mistress of the night, Lady Karaoke. Turns out...I feel about karaoke like my sister in law feels about corn...I FUCKIN' LOVE IT!
I never knew I loved karaoke until I moved to Austin. May be it's because I have a strange crush on Willie Nelson, or that Austin is the live music capital of the world, but I love it. Well truthfully i suppose my first brush with karaoke was playing Rockband on my Xbox 360 (NERD!). While i was in Duluth living in the Shermer basement/dungeon I would frequently sing by myself pretending I was entertaining the masses, but really just annoying the mice that lived above my room.
Moving to Austin I was a little overwhelmed by the sudden lack of knowing people (but pleased with the sudden influx of BBQ). One day I just decided I needed to go hang out at the bar and try to meet some people (ANYONE!) As you might know I'm not the best drinker in the world...my first drink resulted in me beating up the floor with my face. (Face-0 Floor-1). So this time I decided to just drink diet coke (classy/manly). So at first I just kind of watched people (lurked). I'm shy and weird and just stood in the corner next to the garbage can drinking diet cokes and looking at sports pages on my cell phone (go rockets!). It doesn't help that clubs are dark and I can barely see so really I just squint at people...not my best face. I finally drank so much diet coke that I had to go pee about every 20 minutes...so I was officially changed from the weird guy who was standing next to the garbage can and drinking diet coke, to the weird guy who was hanging out in the bathroom way more than any normal person should (still sexy though). Finally I decided to just try out this karaoke. They had my favorite song to sing, "Say it ain't so". So i figured it was Divine intervention.
I have to admit. For the first time since I can remember I was actually really nervous. I hadn't been on stage for a while and while the bar wasn't exactly packed it was full enough. Also I had ZERO support and diet coke really doesn't give me much liquid courage. Still I climbed to the top of the stage (hero?). I was actually trembling when the music started. I covered my face with the mic, and looked straight down at the words. I could feel my leg shaking. I think people thought I was dancing and excused me for being off beat because I was the whitest person they had ever seen. I think when I got on stage I heard a Latino dude say, "Holy shit is he dying?"
Finally the song started and all my nerves went away and I just sang my bacon clogged heart out. While I was singing this lady snuck on stage and grabbed my ass...she was a hundred years old, completely wasted, missing clumps of hair, but I was still flattered. Afterwards I looked up and people were cheering and clapping, probably no more than being polite, but in my head I was like, FUCK YEAH! So i strutted off stage with some swagger and instantly this man came up to me and started telling me how awesome I was (per usual). Of course I let him continue even though he smelled suspiciously like he hadn't seen a shower since 1975. After stroking my already overly inflated ego he started talking about how he was finally off his medication and only smoking pot...then he continued to tell me he was moving to Hawaii to start a pot farm and that I would be just the guy to go with him. Apparently being able to kind of sing Weezer qualifies me for starting a pot farm with a homeless guy. If things in Austin don't work out I think I just may take him up on that offer.
That's the nice thing about Karaoke. You meet people. True usually it's people I never want to see again in my life. Last night I was at Karaoke and the oldest lady in the bar came up to me and told me I was beautiful. Then she went on to tell me about how she stays in Texas because she is tall and wants to stand out, just when I was about to think that my crazy hair=crazy person theory was wrong she for some reason started mocking my friend Pius because he's Asian. I was actually pretty mad about it because it's my job to make fun of Pius for him being Asian. Randomly she started talking in her best "engrish" impression and was doing a terrible Charlie Chan impression. Of course her love for me didn't subside when I sang "Runaround Sue" and "Under the Boardwalk" both songs that were probably popular when she was...50? I dunno. She was weird but I accidentaly crushed her hand when I shook it...so I guess we are even?
until next time,
D
Monday, August 9, 2010
you smell like something terrible
Every once in a while I do something that is completely absent minded. I started thinking about this the other day when I was in a hurry to get out of the house but I was on my phone talking with a friend. I was frantically looking, no tearing through my room. I was looking in all my pockets of all my shorts and pants. I looked through my dresser, my closet, and through the dirty clothes hamper. I checked the dryer, the washing machine, the bathroom...everywhere I could think of. What was i searching for? MY CELL PHONE!!! That's how dumb I am sometimes. I spent a good 10 minutes looking for something that was in my hand. It was like I was in a hypnotic state. I was passively going through the motions of looking for something that is usually in my pocket. Since I didn't feel it in my pocket I started looking for the device...never connecting that I was using it the entire time.
It's not the only time I've lost my mind. There has been more than one occasion where I eat a bowl of cereal, putting the milk in the pantry and the cereal in the refrigerator. Yesterday I accidentally put face wash on my toothbrush. I'm going insane obviously. Last week I was driving around just thinking about things and I realized I was in the Best Buy parking lot in San Marcos....that's right, my subconscious decided I was going to Best Buy.
It scares me some. It reminds me of my dad. I don't think I've ever opened his microwave without finding a cup of coffee in it. There was also the time my friends roommate used lemon dish washing liquid to flavor his chicken. I think that was because he was a idiot though and thought the lemon meant it was lemon flavoring.
Why am I telling you this? I don't know...why are you reading it?
It's not the only time I've lost my mind. There has been more than one occasion where I eat a bowl of cereal, putting the milk in the pantry and the cereal in the refrigerator. Yesterday I accidentally put face wash on my toothbrush. I'm going insane obviously. Last week I was driving around just thinking about things and I realized I was in the Best Buy parking lot in San Marcos....that's right, my subconscious decided I was going to Best Buy.
It scares me some. It reminds me of my dad. I don't think I've ever opened his microwave without finding a cup of coffee in it. There was also the time my friends roommate used lemon dish washing liquid to flavor his chicken. I think that was because he was a idiot though and thought the lemon meant it was lemon flavoring.
Why am I telling you this? I don't know...why are you reading it?
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
The day I ran away
Last night I was thinking about childhood and the time I had decided that I was going to run away from home for good! Living exactly 1 mile from the middle of nowhere I had no idea where I was going, how I was going to survive, or even what I was going to need. I can't exactly recall my decision making process as to exactly why I was going to run away, but I am sure it was over something very important...like being forced to eat all my peas.
I do remember my process for running away though. And thinking back...it was quite genius. First of all I had learned from my previous attempt at running away. The first time I tried I made the mistake of telling my step sister, and she used her big fat mouth to tell my step mom; and I was grounded before I even got to the door. Also this time I chose Summer to run away...it's hard to run away when it's 20 below out.
I can still remember my plan. I grabbed my snoopy sleeping bag and stuffed a pillow in it. I wasn't going to need any clothes as I was going to live in the woods, like Tarzan. I grabbed a few of my favorite toys, my flashlight/radio, and all the money I had saved over the years (because um...well it seemed smart at the time.) I then went down stairs to the pantry in the kitchen and grabbed a box of Fruity Pebbles and the Bran Flakes my step mom ate...just to piss her off. I figured I could feed the bran flakes to my dog Grover, who was going to be accompanying me on this trip...we had talked it over the previous night. With my sleeping bag packed full of necessities I went outside and made a beeline for the treeline. Once in the woods I decided I needed a treat so I went over to the blueberry patch and started eating. Grover also ate his share and when we were full we continued on our trek. I couldn't decide whether I wanted to set up my new place on top of a hill or may be up in a tree. I finally decided i wanted to live in a tree as after about 10 second of sitting on the ground I was sick of it. Of course I had no supplies to build myself a tree house so I walked back to the garage and grabbed a hammer and nails and as many boards as I could carry (two). As I was about to go back into the woods Grover started barking and I realized that the Garbage Lady had come. Me and Grover both chased after her as she always had treats for both of us. She called me "Squirt" and I thought that was funny...also she looked like a man. Anyway she asked what I was up to and I told her I was building a house in the woods. She complimented me on my ambition and then she grabbed our garbage and was off.
I went back into the woods and Grover and I looked for the perfect tree to build our house. As I was looking I started thinking that Grover was going to have a lot of trouble climbing a tree...not only was he really fat but he also was a dog. So I decided I was going to build my tree house close to the ground so he could jump in. I got out my pen and paper and drew up elaborate plans for a tree house close to the ground. We were each going to have our own room and eventually I planned on somehow getting electricity out there. After drawing up plans it was time for construction. I took out the hammer, put some nails between my teeth and nailed one board to two trees. 10 minutes later I gave up and decided I was just going to live in the hunting shack.
The hunting shack was to the south of my house and I had built my tree board to the north of the house. This meant I was going to have to cross the yard on my way to the hunting shack...but also the garden. I stealthily plotted a course through the yard in order to not be seen. Grover on the other hand was not as skilled. We got to the garden and I grabbed as many pea pods and carrots as I could. They were all a little small as it wasn't quite time to pick them, but they would have to do. The hunting shack was really only a 5 minute walk but by the time we reached it Grover and I had eaten all the peas and carrots I had picked. We still had the cereal but it was then I realized that I didn't have anything to drink. So I once again walked back to the house and grabbed a big container and filled it up with water from the hose. It was during this moment that I realized that the car wasn't in the garage or in the driveway. I decided to explore my former home and found that nobody was there.
On the fridge I found this note:
Went to the Blueberry Festival, won't be back until tomorrow night. Derek be good for Amber. Call if there are any problems.
love,
T
Under that note was this:
I went to Ronnie's. Don't call Mike and mom.
-Amber
Realizing the house was empty and I had nobody to run away from I went back outside and took Grover to eat more blueberries.
I do remember my process for running away though. And thinking back...it was quite genius. First of all I had learned from my previous attempt at running away. The first time I tried I made the mistake of telling my step sister, and she used her big fat mouth to tell my step mom; and I was grounded before I even got to the door. Also this time I chose Summer to run away...it's hard to run away when it's 20 below out.
I can still remember my plan. I grabbed my snoopy sleeping bag and stuffed a pillow in it. I wasn't going to need any clothes as I was going to live in the woods, like Tarzan. I grabbed a few of my favorite toys, my flashlight/radio, and all the money I had saved over the years (because um...well it seemed smart at the time.) I then went down stairs to the pantry in the kitchen and grabbed a box of Fruity Pebbles and the Bran Flakes my step mom ate...just to piss her off. I figured I could feed the bran flakes to my dog Grover, who was going to be accompanying me on this trip...we had talked it over the previous night. With my sleeping bag packed full of necessities I went outside and made a beeline for the treeline. Once in the woods I decided I needed a treat so I went over to the blueberry patch and started eating. Grover also ate his share and when we were full we continued on our trek. I couldn't decide whether I wanted to set up my new place on top of a hill or may be up in a tree. I finally decided i wanted to live in a tree as after about 10 second of sitting on the ground I was sick of it. Of course I had no supplies to build myself a tree house so I walked back to the garage and grabbed a hammer and nails and as many boards as I could carry (two). As I was about to go back into the woods Grover started barking and I realized that the Garbage Lady had come. Me and Grover both chased after her as she always had treats for both of us. She called me "Squirt" and I thought that was funny...also she looked like a man. Anyway she asked what I was up to and I told her I was building a house in the woods. She complimented me on my ambition and then she grabbed our garbage and was off.
I went back into the woods and Grover and I looked for the perfect tree to build our house. As I was looking I started thinking that Grover was going to have a lot of trouble climbing a tree...not only was he really fat but he also was a dog. So I decided I was going to build my tree house close to the ground so he could jump in. I got out my pen and paper and drew up elaborate plans for a tree house close to the ground. We were each going to have our own room and eventually I planned on somehow getting electricity out there. After drawing up plans it was time for construction. I took out the hammer, put some nails between my teeth and nailed one board to two trees. 10 minutes later I gave up and decided I was just going to live in the hunting shack.
The hunting shack was to the south of my house and I had built my tree board to the north of the house. This meant I was going to have to cross the yard on my way to the hunting shack...but also the garden. I stealthily plotted a course through the yard in order to not be seen. Grover on the other hand was not as skilled. We got to the garden and I grabbed as many pea pods and carrots as I could. They were all a little small as it wasn't quite time to pick them, but they would have to do. The hunting shack was really only a 5 minute walk but by the time we reached it Grover and I had eaten all the peas and carrots I had picked. We still had the cereal but it was then I realized that I didn't have anything to drink. So I once again walked back to the house and grabbed a big container and filled it up with water from the hose. It was during this moment that I realized that the car wasn't in the garage or in the driveway. I decided to explore my former home and found that nobody was there.
On the fridge I found this note:
Went to the Blueberry Festival, won't be back until tomorrow night. Derek be good for Amber. Call if there are any problems.
love,
T
Under that note was this:
I went to Ronnie's. Don't call Mike and mom.
-Amber
Realizing the house was empty and I had nobody to run away from I went back outside and took Grover to eat more blueberries.
Friday, July 16, 2010
Pirate or no Pirate that's the best damn pie I ever had.
Saturday I will of course be attending a sail boat racing class. It's pretty random, even for me. Being from the woods in Minnesota I naturally have an affinity for all things sailboat. I don't imagine my 10 summers of working at Vermilion Houseboats is going to translate to sailboat racing.
There was about a 6 month period during high school where for some reason I would wake up every morning and watch Gilligan's Island while I ate my breakfast. I learned many things about driving a sail boat from that show...even though they crashed. First of all, I need to go out and get a blue blazer. I know that the rich guy wasn't the driver but when I think of the Yacht Club I think of him. I need a white hate, a blue blazer, some grey slacks and a nice ascot, something bold but you know, not trashy. Then I need to bring a martini glass, a jar of olives, water (it LOOKS like vodka) and some caviar. I imagine my spot on the racing team will require me to sit on the helm wearing my new outfit and drinking my martini glass filled with water and olives. Every once in a while I will encourage the team to sail faster by sticking my nose up at them and saying something smarmy. I will also pretend to eat my caviar but will probably spit it into a napkin and tuck it in my slacks like the last time I tried caviar.
I'm also hoping they don't mind if I throw a line out and troll while we are sailing. I haven't been fishing for a very long time and I miss the thrill of sitting in a boat while it gently rocks back and forth.
Failing that I'm hoping that our boat can have a pirate theme. When I was young I wanted to be three things. A milk man, a garbage man and a pirate (dream big my parents always said). I'm thinking of manufacturing some sort of peg leg and I already have an assortment of eye patches. We could sing old pirate songs and I wouldn't have to shower when I got up that day.We could put up the skull and crossbones flag and if our team isn't winning the race I could start a mutiny! Now that I think on it, it's kind of hot here so I don't really know if I want to be dressed up like Johny Depp in that movie about the carnival ride. I guess we could be naked pirates, but then how would you really know we were pirates. We'd just be naked dudes walking around shouting, "ARRRRRR" all the time. May be if we still wore eye patches that would be sufficient.
There was about a 6 month period during high school where for some reason I would wake up every morning and watch Gilligan's Island while I ate my breakfast. I learned many things about driving a sail boat from that show...even though they crashed. First of all, I need to go out and get a blue blazer. I know that the rich guy wasn't the driver but when I think of the Yacht Club I think of him. I need a white hate, a blue blazer, some grey slacks and a nice ascot, something bold but you know, not trashy. Then I need to bring a martini glass, a jar of olives, water (it LOOKS like vodka) and some caviar. I imagine my spot on the racing team will require me to sit on the helm wearing my new outfit and drinking my martini glass filled with water and olives. Every once in a while I will encourage the team to sail faster by sticking my nose up at them and saying something smarmy. I will also pretend to eat my caviar but will probably spit it into a napkin and tuck it in my slacks like the last time I tried caviar.
I'm also hoping they don't mind if I throw a line out and troll while we are sailing. I haven't been fishing for a very long time and I miss the thrill of sitting in a boat while it gently rocks back and forth.
Failing that I'm hoping that our boat can have a pirate theme. When I was young I wanted to be three things. A milk man, a garbage man and a pirate (dream big my parents always said). I'm thinking of manufacturing some sort of peg leg and I already have an assortment of eye patches. We could sing old pirate songs and I wouldn't have to shower when I got up that day.We could put up the skull and crossbones flag and if our team isn't winning the race I could start a mutiny! Now that I think on it, it's kind of hot here so I don't really know if I want to be dressed up like Johny Depp in that movie about the carnival ride. I guess we could be naked pirates, but then how would you really know we were pirates. We'd just be naked dudes walking around shouting, "ARRRRRR" all the time. May be if we still wore eye patches that would be sufficient.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
so not double rainbow.
So last night I had a dream about "The Golden Girls." Which has to be the lamest dream I could ever have. It does slightly concern me that in my wildest fantasies the best I can come up with is playing Scrabble and hanging out with Bea Arthur and Betty White. For real...this is what my brain comes up with to process the days events? God damn...even my dream life is getting pathetic? At least it could of thrown some nudity in there...something to say I'm still alive. When I was little I used to have the craziest dreams, so much that I actually loved going to bed. Most nights were like watching the greatest movie I ever saw. Some were exhilarating, like the one where I could float. I just ran around the mall jumping and floating for hundreds of feet, I felt so free. Some were happy. I remember I had one where all my family got together for a reunion and we just played games outside and ate hamburgers. My favorites though were my "nightmares." They were so scary and real. Every moment I not only saw but felt. I'd wake up with my heart racing, in a pool of so much sweat that I had to change my sheets, and I never felt so alive! I just loved that feeling of being scared and having to run away or fight my way out. In one all I had was a comb in my back pocket which I naturally used to cut the heads off zombies as they attacked me from all angles. Meanwhile I was waiting for my step sister's ex boyfriend to come pick me up but he was only going as fast as playing Janet Jackson in the tape deck would allow. I guess it's why to this day I love watching movies.
Now though...I dream of The Golden Girls. We sit around and talk about things I don't remember. My dreams are so boring that in my dreams I fall asleep. Don't get me wrong, The Golden Girls is a perfectly acceptable television program. But it is not the dream of a virile semi-young man. It's like a part of my brain has been neutralized. Pretty soon I'm going to start dreaming in sepia tone. May be even have a dream where I'm just waiting in line.
I used to have dreams where I could control them. I'd have dreams where I'd be in a place like my old house in Linden Grove. I knew I was dreaming but I could still just walk around and look at things. Everything would be there and seem so real. I would remember the most minute detail of a room and I could even open drawers and see inside, exactly as it was when I lived there.
Now I dream and the most exciting thing my subconscious can come up with is what color scarf Dorothy is wearing (dark purple).
Now though...I dream of The Golden Girls. We sit around and talk about things I don't remember. My dreams are so boring that in my dreams I fall asleep. Don't get me wrong, The Golden Girls is a perfectly acceptable television program. But it is not the dream of a virile semi-young man. It's like a part of my brain has been neutralized. Pretty soon I'm going to start dreaming in sepia tone. May be even have a dream where I'm just waiting in line.
I used to have dreams where I could control them. I'd have dreams where I'd be in a place like my old house in Linden Grove. I knew I was dreaming but I could still just walk around and look at things. Everything would be there and seem so real. I would remember the most minute detail of a room and I could even open drawers and see inside, exactly as it was when I lived there.
Now I dream and the most exciting thing my subconscious can come up with is what color scarf Dorothy is wearing (dark purple).
Thursday, July 8, 2010
blah blah blog
So I found a new past time. Lately I've just been going out and driving in rush hour. It really quenches that human interaction I crave. There's a lot of fun to be had during rush hour. You drive 85 mph down the free way and then suddenly slam on your brakes and then sit in the worlds longets parking lot for a few hours. I work from home so I haven't been able to do the thing I love for quite some time. Yesterday me and the lady next to me got in a waving match. It was good. At first she was winning but then I busted out the sly head nod as I held up two fingers and we both knew the game was over. I also got in a honking match with the man behind me. I guess he thought my trailblazer was equipped with the monster truck button and that I could just drive over everyone in front of me. What he didn't know was that I opted for the moon roof instead. Anyway he kept honking and it occured to me that he might be on to something. I might not be able to go anywhere and neither can the 57 thousand cares in front of me, but if I pass on the honk, and the man in front passes on my honk, eventually it will get to the jackass that's holding up the line! At least my airconditioning isn't fixed yet so I got to sweat out a lot of toxins I probably ate from non organic meat. Also I got to keep my windows down and when I pulled up to a car filled with cholos and had a rattling trunk, I turned up my music as loud as i could and we had a moment where we shared rap music. Unfortunately next in my playlist was Frank Sinatra's "Boys night out." So I looked at the guy and was all, "Old Blue Eyes BOYeeeeeeee!"
gosh it was fun...i hope I do it again today.
gosh it was fun...i hope I do it again today.
My story i wrote in 7th grade
So I wrote this story in 7th grade. I thought I'd publish it on here so I remember I have it and I don't lose it on my computer. It's not really worth reading and I'm not going to take the time to fix the formatting errors that occur when you copy something from word to this blog software. Read if you're bored...but remember I was in 7th grade which means I was worse than I am now...which means I was pretty bad.
Derek Amundson
Gretel and Hansel
Hello, and welcome to my story. I don’t usually tell a lot of stories but this is one I thought I should share. You’re probably not going to believe a word of it. You’ll just go on with your day thinking it’s just a story. I assure you though…it’s all too true.
This story is about a brother and sister who cared for each other very much, they were twins after all. The siblings were named Hansel and Gretel, after their parent’s favorite bedtime story. Surprisingly, the two twins weren’t teased about their names as often as you would think, probably due to the fact that they were immensely popular and beautiful. Both had striking blonde hair and deep, kind blue eyes. Such beauty usually leads to jealousy, but they were kind and quick to laugh, making it hard not to like Hansel and Gretel.
Hansel and Gretel’s lives were nothing like the fairy tale. They had a loving mother who would do anything for them. She was the kind of mother that went the extra mile. She’d make their eggs and bacon into smiley faces or the pancakes in the shapes of hearts. She prepared separate lunches for them each day; PBJ for Gretel, and Ham and Cheese for Hansel. She kissed them goodnight each night and woke them up each morning with a smile and a hug.
Their father was also close to Hansel and Gretel. He taught them to fish and to play ball. He’d help with their homework, when he could, and loved to play board games to relax. When he was away on business he’d call each night just to check in and when he returned he always had some little gift.
Also living with Hansel and Gretel was their grandfather. To Hansel and Gretel, Grandpa as very old. Since they could remember he had been telling them the same stories. As they grew older they stopped listening to the stories and thinking he was just senile, but that didn’t stop Grandpa from telling them. Every story was a little different, but most had to do with the same thing, the aptly named Trepidation Forest. Little did they know that he was not telling fictitious stories, but lessons in reality.
Yes, all was well in their lives. They were doing well in school, had many friends, and enjoyed each day they were alive. Until one day when they came home from school to find that Grandpa had passed away. Gretel was actually the one to find him. He was sitting in his favorite chair looking out the window into the forest. Life had faded from his body leaving his skin devoid of color and cold. His eyes were wide open, and his jaw slightly dropped, making it look as if he was surprised to be dead.
Hansel and Gretel were told that Grandpa had died of a heart attack. The doctor told
Hansel and Gretel that sometimes old people get heart attacks even if they are still in
good shape. Hansel and Gretel mourned for many weeks with that last image of him stuck in their brains. Life would have to go on though, and mother and father did the best they could to help them cope.
A month would go by, and Gretel would have to do a genealogy project for
school. She became highly engrossed in her grandfather’s life and decided that it would be a good idea to search the old newspapers in the town library to find stories about when he was a child. While searching through an old paper she found one with the headline “Child lost in Trepidation Forest.”
Gretel’s chest seized slightly at this seemingly innocuous headline. Maybe Grandpa wasn’t just telling stories all these years? Gretel scanned the archives for anything she could find that seemed to relate to the stories Grandpa used to tell, but the more she tried to think about the stories, the less she could remember. Finally she made copies of each and then rushed home to show Hansel what she had found.
It was amazing what they had uncovered. It seemed that every few years children were lured into the forest and never seen again. What was strange was that neither the paper, nor the towns people seemed to find this all that alarming. There was no pattern to the childrens disappearances but each story was similar. Children who were well equipped to find their way out of the forest seemed to go in and die. Sometimes their bodies were found, sometimes they were not. What was even stranger was that the forest itself was not that large. If you were to walk for 2 hours in either direction you would get to a well traveled road that would bring you back to town. Grandpa used to say that the forest was alive, maybe he wasn’t that far off? He told stories of how the forrest tugged at your mind and tricked you into staying a lifetime.
Hansel, the slightly older of the two siblings, felt that it was still nonsense. He felt that it was just a coincidence that a few children had been lost in the forest, but he could sense that Gretel was becoming deathly afraid of the forest. It was time for bed he declared and he shut off the lamp hoping that the next morning Gretel would be past all this.
But Gretel could not sleep so she sat in the Grandpa’s chair. She could still smell
Grandpa in that chair and while this creeped her out slightly, the smell also relaxed her a little, and she started staring out of the window thinking of the last thing he saw.
The moon was full on this brisk November night. All the leaves had fallen off of
the trees, making Trepidation Forest more intimidating than usual. The forest looked extremely black, even in the bright moonlight. Suddenly Gretel noticed a small light in the distance, that light got brighter and brighter until the entire forest was glowing. It was so bright that it was hurting her eyes but she was hypnotized and unable to look away. She stared directly at the extremely bright light. Then the picture window
exploded in fury. Glass flew everywhere and covered Gretel, giving her multiple cuts and scrapes. Then Gretel woke up with a scream.
Hansel came rushing down the stairs to his sister’s aid. Gretel was trembling with
fear. Her heart was beating at an incredible pace, her eyes wide open, her jaw dropped. She was extremely scared. Hansel tried to tell her that it was all just a dream. Gretel was in total shock. It was all so real to her, the bright light, the shattering window…did she see figures? Yet there the window was, still in place without a crack in it. It was just a dream.
Hansel then took Gretel up to her room, and he stayed with her until she had fallen
asleep. He would not sleep that night. He stayed up thinking of Gretel. How scared she had looked. He thought to himself, how real it must have seemed to her. He decided that something had to be done about Gretel. She was going to go insane. Obviously the combination of Grandpa dying and his stories were getting to Gretel. Gretel meanwhile was thinking the same exact thing. Then she had the greatest idea she ever had! Why don’t they spend the night in the forest?! How had she not thought of this sooner?
The next morning Gretel brought up the idea to her brother, and Hansel was reluctant but finally agreed. They talked about how strange it was that all these years they lived in a house with a forest in their backyard, yet not once could they ever remember going into it and exploring. So they agreed that night they would go into the forest and spend the night. Not far from the house, but just far enough so that they could get over the silliness of being scared.
Mom packed them each a camper’s backpack. Between them, there was a tent and blankets, food and water for 3 days, flashlights, flares, a hatchet to cut wood, even a first aid kit in case they got hurt. They strapped on the backpacks and walked to the forest edge. What an intimidating forest it was. No wonder Grandpa was so scared of it.
Walking into the forest was different than they expected. It was quiet. There wasn’t any grass or even shrubs, just tree trunks. With each step it seemed that the fog became thicker. It wasn’t long until they couldn’t see the lights from the city anymore. Slightly scared but unwilling to admit it, they both had the same idea of setting up camp.
Hansel started to put up the tent, and while he was doing that, Gretel searched the forest for kindling. Soon Gretel came running back to Hansel, telling him to quickly follow her. The distress in her voice told Hansel something was wrong. Hansel stopped putting up the tent, which they would not need that night, and ran
after his sister. His sister brought him over to a tree house. Hansel never looked up though, what Hansel was concerned with was the children yelling off in the distance.
Hansel grabbed Gretel and ran following the trail dragging Gretel behind him.
She was barely able to keep pace and the more she shouted the less Hansel seemed to understand. After what seemed like an hour but was only a minute Gretel tripped taking down Hansel with her.
They both sat motionless for a second, catching their breath. Finally Gretel went into hysterics yelling at Hansel. Why was he running? Where were they? Hansel did not understand. He was more concerned with the children he heard yelling. Were they ok? What if someone was hurting them? He could help, he was 14 after all! They argued but neither was able to really understand the other. Unable to hear the children, Hansel agreed with Gretel to go back home and he would tell his parents what he heard. Gretel looked around and started to cry. She had no idea where they were and she knew Hansel did not know how to get back. Hansel just looked at her, as if nothing was wrong, and calmly said, “We’ll just follow the path back to camp.”
All she could say was, “What path?” He started to walk away and Gretel followed behind him. She kept asking him questions but Hansel just ignored her. With each step Gretel became more scared for Hansel. He didn’t seem himself. He was blank and emotionless. They walked for miles until suddenly Hansel stopped and Gretel ran right into him. He just stood there looking amazed and Gretel followed his gaze but saw nothing but trees and fog.
Hansel asked, “Isn’t it amazing?” Gretel looked around, seeing nothing but trees and fog. Hansel couldn’t understand how his sister could be so stupid. How could she not see the wonder of the forest? They had been after all following a trail of bread crumbs! Just like the story! But it didn’t lead them home, it brought them to a giant house made of candy! Just like the story! How could she be so stupid! Someone had done something wonderful in this forest!
He stood there staring at the Gingerbread house and he asked his sister one last time, “Isn’t it amazing?” Gretel meanwhile stood behind him…crying. She knew what had happened. The forest had taken over her brother. Everything grandpa had said was true. There was really only one thing she could do. She took the hatchet from the back of Hansel’s backpack…and struck him in the head.
The next morning Hansel and Gretel were found at their camp 300 yards from their house. Both were in their sleeping bags, Gretel fast asleep, Hansel dead with a hatchet sticking out of his forehead.
Gretel would spend the rest of her life in facility where she spend most days in a padded room. She would tell her story each year to his mother, trying to explain to her that she was not crazy and that it all really happened. Her mother would just look at her with pain and love in her eyes.
Gretel had a lot of time to think to herself. She could not understand why her
own mother would not believe her story. It all made complete sense. Hansel had gone crazy and Gretel had to kill him. Obviously the forest brought them back to camp and that was where they were found. As Gretel looked out the window of her cell she could see parts of Trepidation Forest and really only one explanation for her mother’s lack of understand came to mind…she too was infected by the forest...Gretel was going to have to save her too.
The End
Derek Amundson
Gretel and Hansel
Hello, and welcome to my story. I don’t usually tell a lot of stories but this is one I thought I should share. You’re probably not going to believe a word of it. You’ll just go on with your day thinking it’s just a story. I assure you though…it’s all too true.
This story is about a brother and sister who cared for each other very much, they were twins after all. The siblings were named Hansel and Gretel, after their parent’s favorite bedtime story. Surprisingly, the two twins weren’t teased about their names as often as you would think, probably due to the fact that they were immensely popular and beautiful. Both had striking blonde hair and deep, kind blue eyes. Such beauty usually leads to jealousy, but they were kind and quick to laugh, making it hard not to like Hansel and Gretel.
Hansel and Gretel’s lives were nothing like the fairy tale. They had a loving mother who would do anything for them. She was the kind of mother that went the extra mile. She’d make their eggs and bacon into smiley faces or the pancakes in the shapes of hearts. She prepared separate lunches for them each day; PBJ for Gretel, and Ham and Cheese for Hansel. She kissed them goodnight each night and woke them up each morning with a smile and a hug.
Their father was also close to Hansel and Gretel. He taught them to fish and to play ball. He’d help with their homework, when he could, and loved to play board games to relax. When he was away on business he’d call each night just to check in and when he returned he always had some little gift.
Also living with Hansel and Gretel was their grandfather. To Hansel and Gretel, Grandpa as very old. Since they could remember he had been telling them the same stories. As they grew older they stopped listening to the stories and thinking he was just senile, but that didn’t stop Grandpa from telling them. Every story was a little different, but most had to do with the same thing, the aptly named Trepidation Forest. Little did they know that he was not telling fictitious stories, but lessons in reality.
Yes, all was well in their lives. They were doing well in school, had many friends, and enjoyed each day they were alive. Until one day when they came home from school to find that Grandpa had passed away. Gretel was actually the one to find him. He was sitting in his favorite chair looking out the window into the forest. Life had faded from his body leaving his skin devoid of color and cold. His eyes were wide open, and his jaw slightly dropped, making it look as if he was surprised to be dead.
Hansel and Gretel were told that Grandpa had died of a heart attack. The doctor told
Hansel and Gretel that sometimes old people get heart attacks even if they are still in
good shape. Hansel and Gretel mourned for many weeks with that last image of him stuck in their brains. Life would have to go on though, and mother and father did the best they could to help them cope.
A month would go by, and Gretel would have to do a genealogy project for
school. She became highly engrossed in her grandfather’s life and decided that it would be a good idea to search the old newspapers in the town library to find stories about when he was a child. While searching through an old paper she found one with the headline “Child lost in Trepidation Forest.”
Gretel’s chest seized slightly at this seemingly innocuous headline. Maybe Grandpa wasn’t just telling stories all these years? Gretel scanned the archives for anything she could find that seemed to relate to the stories Grandpa used to tell, but the more she tried to think about the stories, the less she could remember. Finally she made copies of each and then rushed home to show Hansel what she had found.
It was amazing what they had uncovered. It seemed that every few years children were lured into the forest and never seen again. What was strange was that neither the paper, nor the towns people seemed to find this all that alarming. There was no pattern to the childrens disappearances but each story was similar. Children who were well equipped to find their way out of the forest seemed to go in and die. Sometimes their bodies were found, sometimes they were not. What was even stranger was that the forest itself was not that large. If you were to walk for 2 hours in either direction you would get to a well traveled road that would bring you back to town. Grandpa used to say that the forest was alive, maybe he wasn’t that far off? He told stories of how the forrest tugged at your mind and tricked you into staying a lifetime.
Hansel, the slightly older of the two siblings, felt that it was still nonsense. He felt that it was just a coincidence that a few children had been lost in the forest, but he could sense that Gretel was becoming deathly afraid of the forest. It was time for bed he declared and he shut off the lamp hoping that the next morning Gretel would be past all this.
But Gretel could not sleep so she sat in the Grandpa’s chair. She could still smell
Grandpa in that chair and while this creeped her out slightly, the smell also relaxed her a little, and she started staring out of the window thinking of the last thing he saw.
The moon was full on this brisk November night. All the leaves had fallen off of
the trees, making Trepidation Forest more intimidating than usual. The forest looked extremely black, even in the bright moonlight. Suddenly Gretel noticed a small light in the distance, that light got brighter and brighter until the entire forest was glowing. It was so bright that it was hurting her eyes but she was hypnotized and unable to look away. She stared directly at the extremely bright light. Then the picture window
exploded in fury. Glass flew everywhere and covered Gretel, giving her multiple cuts and scrapes. Then Gretel woke up with a scream.
Hansel came rushing down the stairs to his sister’s aid. Gretel was trembling with
fear. Her heart was beating at an incredible pace, her eyes wide open, her jaw dropped. She was extremely scared. Hansel tried to tell her that it was all just a dream. Gretel was in total shock. It was all so real to her, the bright light, the shattering window…did she see figures? Yet there the window was, still in place without a crack in it. It was just a dream.
Hansel then took Gretel up to her room, and he stayed with her until she had fallen
asleep. He would not sleep that night. He stayed up thinking of Gretel. How scared she had looked. He thought to himself, how real it must have seemed to her. He decided that something had to be done about Gretel. She was going to go insane. Obviously the combination of Grandpa dying and his stories were getting to Gretel. Gretel meanwhile was thinking the same exact thing. Then she had the greatest idea she ever had! Why don’t they spend the night in the forest?! How had she not thought of this sooner?
The next morning Gretel brought up the idea to her brother, and Hansel was reluctant but finally agreed. They talked about how strange it was that all these years they lived in a house with a forest in their backyard, yet not once could they ever remember going into it and exploring. So they agreed that night they would go into the forest and spend the night. Not far from the house, but just far enough so that they could get over the silliness of being scared.
Mom packed them each a camper’s backpack. Between them, there was a tent and blankets, food and water for 3 days, flashlights, flares, a hatchet to cut wood, even a first aid kit in case they got hurt. They strapped on the backpacks and walked to the forest edge. What an intimidating forest it was. No wonder Grandpa was so scared of it.
Walking into the forest was different than they expected. It was quiet. There wasn’t any grass or even shrubs, just tree trunks. With each step it seemed that the fog became thicker. It wasn’t long until they couldn’t see the lights from the city anymore. Slightly scared but unwilling to admit it, they both had the same idea of setting up camp.
Hansel started to put up the tent, and while he was doing that, Gretel searched the forest for kindling. Soon Gretel came running back to Hansel, telling him to quickly follow her. The distress in her voice told Hansel something was wrong. Hansel stopped putting up the tent, which they would not need that night, and ran
after his sister. His sister brought him over to a tree house. Hansel never looked up though, what Hansel was concerned with was the children yelling off in the distance.
Hansel grabbed Gretel and ran following the trail dragging Gretel behind him.
She was barely able to keep pace and the more she shouted the less Hansel seemed to understand. After what seemed like an hour but was only a minute Gretel tripped taking down Hansel with her.
They both sat motionless for a second, catching their breath. Finally Gretel went into hysterics yelling at Hansel. Why was he running? Where were they? Hansel did not understand. He was more concerned with the children he heard yelling. Were they ok? What if someone was hurting them? He could help, he was 14 after all! They argued but neither was able to really understand the other. Unable to hear the children, Hansel agreed with Gretel to go back home and he would tell his parents what he heard. Gretel looked around and started to cry. She had no idea where they were and she knew Hansel did not know how to get back. Hansel just looked at her, as if nothing was wrong, and calmly said, “We’ll just follow the path back to camp.”
All she could say was, “What path?” He started to walk away and Gretel followed behind him. She kept asking him questions but Hansel just ignored her. With each step Gretel became more scared for Hansel. He didn’t seem himself. He was blank and emotionless. They walked for miles until suddenly Hansel stopped and Gretel ran right into him. He just stood there looking amazed and Gretel followed his gaze but saw nothing but trees and fog.
Hansel asked, “Isn’t it amazing?” Gretel looked around, seeing nothing but trees and fog. Hansel couldn’t understand how his sister could be so stupid. How could she not see the wonder of the forest? They had been after all following a trail of bread crumbs! Just like the story! But it didn’t lead them home, it brought them to a giant house made of candy! Just like the story! How could she be so stupid! Someone had done something wonderful in this forest!
He stood there staring at the Gingerbread house and he asked his sister one last time, “Isn’t it amazing?” Gretel meanwhile stood behind him…crying. She knew what had happened. The forest had taken over her brother. Everything grandpa had said was true. There was really only one thing she could do. She took the hatchet from the back of Hansel’s backpack…and struck him in the head.
The next morning Hansel and Gretel were found at their camp 300 yards from their house. Both were in their sleeping bags, Gretel fast asleep, Hansel dead with a hatchet sticking out of his forehead.
Gretel would spend the rest of her life in facility where she spend most days in a padded room. She would tell her story each year to his mother, trying to explain to her that she was not crazy and that it all really happened. Her mother would just look at her with pain and love in her eyes.
Gretel had a lot of time to think to herself. She could not understand why her
own mother would not believe her story. It all made complete sense. Hansel had gone crazy and Gretel had to kill him. Obviously the forest brought them back to camp and that was where they were found. As Gretel looked out the window of her cell she could see parts of Trepidation Forest and really only one explanation for her mother’s lack of understand came to mind…she too was infected by the forest...Gretel was going to have to save her too.
The End
Monday, June 21, 2010
The day I almost fixed my Air Conditioning.
The other day my AC went out in my car...hooray. Actually it was the fan for the blower, so technically the AC is working, it's just that there is nothing to blow it into the car. The theory is that something crawled into it and died, like a mouse, a rock or a small dinosaur. I also have a theory that it was either "the man" or alien robots, but I'm still working on proof. Anyway, I'm pretty pissed because my car isn't old enough for things like that to die. I'll never forget where I was the day the fan died. I was in my car...on the way to Target which is about 5 minutes from my house (that might come in handy if you are trying to stalk me). Anyway about 1 minute into the drive it died. I tried everything to get it to work. I tried turning on and off the blower about 27 times. I tried it with the AC button on and off. For some reason I even tried it with the radio turned down...none of that worked. About 2 minutes into the drive I looked like I had been running laps in a sauna. I don't mean to brag, it's just that I'm pretty good at sweating.
So the other day I decided to take a look at it and see if I couldn't some how fix it. I grabbed my tool box, a heavy blanket, and one of those hangy light things (I also made a sandwich). I put on a pair of of old work jeans and found an even older t-shirt. I then checked myself in the mirror and realized I looked like a real stud. Like I should be a model in the Sears catalogue. I then took a little greasy and rubbed it on my jeans and shirt...even studlier. I pulled the trailblazer into the garage and after some light reading in the manual I even figured out how to pop the hood. I hung the hangy lamp from the hood, laid the blanket on the side panel and put the tool box on top of that so it wouldn't scratch the paint job...I've seen it done in the movies. Upon looking at what the manual referred to as the "engine" I realized I had no idea where the fan for the AC might be. I blame it on lousy American engineering and not my lack of knowledge. If they were going to make such a lousy fan for my AC they could of at least had the decency to clearly label it so that I could find it. So logically I tried the next step in fixing anything that is broken, I swore at it. Oh I used all the big 4 letter words I could, still nothing worked. I then wanted to kick it but realized that kicking my car might put a dent in it, so instead I kicked the lawn mower...so tomorrow I'll be picking up parts for the lawnmower.
Long, slightly boring story short, I never did figure out how to fix it. I did however learn that if I go over 70 mph that wind blows through the vents on it's own and a small amount of air conditioning comes through. Luckily it's summer and I dont' really have to worry about school zones although that school for the deaf seems to be in session...but they should be used to using their eyes as much as possible right?
So the other day I decided to take a look at it and see if I couldn't some how fix it. I grabbed my tool box, a heavy blanket, and one of those hangy light things (I also made a sandwich). I put on a pair of of old work jeans and found an even older t-shirt. I then checked myself in the mirror and realized I looked like a real stud. Like I should be a model in the Sears catalogue. I then took a little greasy and rubbed it on my jeans and shirt...even studlier. I pulled the trailblazer into the garage and after some light reading in the manual I even figured out how to pop the hood. I hung the hangy lamp from the hood, laid the blanket on the side panel and put the tool box on top of that so it wouldn't scratch the paint job...I've seen it done in the movies. Upon looking at what the manual referred to as the "engine" I realized I had no idea where the fan for the AC might be. I blame it on lousy American engineering and not my lack of knowledge. If they were going to make such a lousy fan for my AC they could of at least had the decency to clearly label it so that I could find it. So logically I tried the next step in fixing anything that is broken, I swore at it. Oh I used all the big 4 letter words I could, still nothing worked. I then wanted to kick it but realized that kicking my car might put a dent in it, so instead I kicked the lawn mower...so tomorrow I'll be picking up parts for the lawnmower.
Long, slightly boring story short, I never did figure out how to fix it. I did however learn that if I go over 70 mph that wind blows through the vents on it's own and a small amount of air conditioning comes through. Luckily it's summer and I dont' really have to worry about school zones although that school for the deaf seems to be in session...but they should be used to using their eyes as much as possible right?
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Dear Diary
I have a crap ton of blogs that I never post so I think I'm going to go through and post some of them that aren't ridiculously retarded...here's one.
This weekend (and then some) I am dog sitting my brother's dogs while he and his wife are out gallivanting in Las Vegas. You could say I am a dog person. I don't really understand the rationalization of having a dog or why it is that we humans enjoy having dogs but I do like dogs. I like dogs more than I like people. They don't say a lot and they like playing tug o' war. From childhood until I was able to drive I spent most of my time exploring the backwoods of Lindengrove in Northern Minnesota with my dog Grover. We'd chase rabbits, eat berries and do other dog/boy activities. He'd walk with me to the end of the driveway and we'd wait for the school bus to come get me in the morning. When the bus arrived I'd cross the road, get in the bus and watch out the window as he trotted up the driveway. I never had to teach him not to chase cars or to not follow me on the bus, he just knew. And after a long day of school the bus would pull up to my house and there would be Grover waiting for me. Not one time in the entire 10 years I road the school bus did he not meet me at the end of the driveway. On cold snowy nights he'd accompany me as I'd walk over to the hunting shack to play cards with the grown ups. He loved going over to the shack for the same reasons I did. There was a lot of food and a lot of people to play with. I spent 90% of my day outside as there was nothing else to do and he was there by my side for every minute of it. We built snow forts, dug holes in the garden,and chased the Schwan Man every time he came up the driveway. We'd go play by the pond, he'd swim and I'd throw rocks. Later we moved to town while our "New" house in Angora was being built. I didn't have the heart to put him on a leash so I let him run free. He never chased cars but frequently was found exploring the city. He never got lost even though he was at a new house, wouldn't even think of hurting a person, and the neighborhood kids were amazed with the fact that he would eat absolutely anything you told him to. One day we decided to try bring Grover out to the new house in Angora. Once there he wasn't leaving and we couldn't get him to come back with us to town. When we came back the next day he met us on the driveway like he had been there his entire life. He really was the perfect dog. Friends, Family, ...to me they came and went rapidly...but Grover was always there. Grover must of been about 14 when he died and I can remember it like it was yesterday. He started getting sick and sore and one day I came outside and he wasn't there waiting for me. I looked at the parking lot and he was laying on his belly with his tail wagging. I called to him and he wagged it harder and tried to stand up but fell back down. So I walked over there and put him on his feet and he was able to walk with me. The vet came and gave him some pills saying that it might only be arthritis but I knew that after 14 years if he didn't meet me at the door that there was something else that was wrong. I started keeping him inside, in my room so that he wouldn't be cold. It wasn't possible for me to get him in the house before, but now he seemed to accept it. Then one day I came home from school and he was over in the side of the yard laying in a pile of green ooze. I was so sad but he was still alive so I cleaned him up and called the vet. He said he would come the next day at noon and look at him. I carried him to the house and fed him some water and some beef jerky. That night he laid at my side while I played video games and we both fell asleep on the floor. The next day I got up for school and Grover was able to walk outside. I went to school and came back home during lunch to meet the Vet. When I got home I noticed that he wasn't in the yard and he wasn't responding to my calls. I ran through he woods looking for him and I found him miraculously about 200 yards from the house. He looked up at me and wagged his tail and I just sat with him holding him on my lap as I pet him. I remember talking to him and commenting on how his hair was falling out. I was feeling pretty sad and I finally said, "it's OK if you need to die" and then he started convulsing and I tried to sooth him...he then stopped and I sat there petting him for a good 5 minutes until I realized he had died. I just left him there...called the vet, told him not to come. Called my dad and told him where he was, and then I went back to school.
I was sad but I knew life moved on. Soon afterwards my friends Sarah and Shelly randomly bought me a new dog...which I immediately named Homer. Homer is just as nice as Grover but gets himself into a lot more mischief. May be someday I'll write about him as well. Also I'll have to write about Baxter and Chauncey, the two dogs I am watching this very minute...They are good dogs and we have had a few adventures already. Mostly though they are more like cats and they just lie around the house almost annoyed if I get in their way. Still they have their charms. Anyway I didn't intend on writing a sob story about my dog dieing 10 years ago...so just know that I got over it.
This weekend (and then some) I am dog sitting my brother's dogs while he and his wife are out gallivanting in Las Vegas. You could say I am a dog person. I don't really understand the rationalization of having a dog or why it is that we humans enjoy having dogs but I do like dogs. I like dogs more than I like people. They don't say a lot and they like playing tug o' war. From childhood until I was able to drive I spent most of my time exploring the backwoods of Lindengrove in Northern Minnesota with my dog Grover. We'd chase rabbits, eat berries and do other dog/boy activities. He'd walk with me to the end of the driveway and we'd wait for the school bus to come get me in the morning. When the bus arrived I'd cross the road, get in the bus and watch out the window as he trotted up the driveway. I never had to teach him not to chase cars or to not follow me on the bus, he just knew. And after a long day of school the bus would pull up to my house and there would be Grover waiting for me. Not one time in the entire 10 years I road the school bus did he not meet me at the end of the driveway. On cold snowy nights he'd accompany me as I'd walk over to the hunting shack to play cards with the grown ups. He loved going over to the shack for the same reasons I did. There was a lot of food and a lot of people to play with. I spent 90% of my day outside as there was nothing else to do and he was there by my side for every minute of it. We built snow forts, dug holes in the garden,and chased the Schwan Man every time he came up the driveway. We'd go play by the pond, he'd swim and I'd throw rocks. Later we moved to town while our "New" house in Angora was being built. I didn't have the heart to put him on a leash so I let him run free. He never chased cars but frequently was found exploring the city. He never got lost even though he was at a new house, wouldn't even think of hurting a person, and the neighborhood kids were amazed with the fact that he would eat absolutely anything you told him to. One day we decided to try bring Grover out to the new house in Angora. Once there he wasn't leaving and we couldn't get him to come back with us to town. When we came back the next day he met us on the driveway like he had been there his entire life. He really was the perfect dog. Friends, Family, ...to me they came and went rapidly...but Grover was always there. Grover must of been about 14 when he died and I can remember it like it was yesterday. He started getting sick and sore and one day I came outside and he wasn't there waiting for me. I looked at the parking lot and he was laying on his belly with his tail wagging. I called to him and he wagged it harder and tried to stand up but fell back down. So I walked over there and put him on his feet and he was able to walk with me. The vet came and gave him some pills saying that it might only be arthritis but I knew that after 14 years if he didn't meet me at the door that there was something else that was wrong. I started keeping him inside, in my room so that he wouldn't be cold. It wasn't possible for me to get him in the house before, but now he seemed to accept it. Then one day I came home from school and he was over in the side of the yard laying in a pile of green ooze. I was so sad but he was still alive so I cleaned him up and called the vet. He said he would come the next day at noon and look at him. I carried him to the house and fed him some water and some beef jerky. That night he laid at my side while I played video games and we both fell asleep on the floor. The next day I got up for school and Grover was able to walk outside. I went to school and came back home during lunch to meet the Vet. When I got home I noticed that he wasn't in the yard and he wasn't responding to my calls. I ran through he woods looking for him and I found him miraculously about 200 yards from the house. He looked up at me and wagged his tail and I just sat with him holding him on my lap as I pet him. I remember talking to him and commenting on how his hair was falling out. I was feeling pretty sad and I finally said, "it's OK if you need to die" and then he started convulsing and I tried to sooth him...he then stopped and I sat there petting him for a good 5 minutes until I realized he had died. I just left him there...called the vet, told him not to come. Called my dad and told him where he was, and then I went back to school.
I was sad but I knew life moved on. Soon afterwards my friends Sarah and Shelly randomly bought me a new dog...which I immediately named Homer. Homer is just as nice as Grover but gets himself into a lot more mischief. May be someday I'll write about him as well. Also I'll have to write about Baxter and Chauncey, the two dogs I am watching this very minute...They are good dogs and we have had a few adventures already. Mostly though they are more like cats and they just lie around the house almost annoyed if I get in their way. Still they have their charms. Anyway I didn't intend on writing a sob story about my dog dieing 10 years ago...so just know that I got over it.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Most over rated job of all time: Superhero
When I was a younger man I used to dream of the day when my super powers would fully develop. Now that I am wiser I am glad I decided to not pursue the life of a super hero. Let's face it...being a super hero is a shit ass job. First of all it pays nothing. Any good Superhero worth their cape and tights won't take hand outs. And it's not like you can just run around robbing banks either...I don't think people like that. Unless you're giving it back to the people but that pretty much negates the entire reason for robbing the bank in the first place. I guess you could try to market yourself but then you're really no better than Paris Hilton or some other talentless ass clown. That means you have to get a job. A real job. And it's not going to be some high class easy ass job either. You're going to have to leave all the time which means you're going to get fired a lot. Which means you're not going to have that great of job. Let's say you're a big CEO and there is an important meeting and you're preparing and just about ready to make a move that will revolutionize the industry when you hear a bus full of babies crying in the distance. What do you do? Do you just let the bus full of babies die? Or do you screw up the big meeting? If you leave the babies everyone is going to be all, "Where is Super Derek (still working on the name)?" They'll start getting pissed that you didn't save the babies and no matter what you do after that they'll just be, "Well I guess he saved the world today but where was he when the babies died?" or, "What does he have against babies? Does he hate children?" You can't save everyone and that means people are going to be pissed. So basically you'll just be working dead end jobs. Probably at McDonald's or Target. And the worst part is that they'll expect you to do extra work...I mean what good is having a super hero working for you if he doesn't do super work?
Then there is the obvious danger to your friends and family. There's always the super villain that will use them against you since you yourself are invulnerable. That's what super villains do because I've seen it in movies. Plus can you really have friends if they know you're a super hero? Every time they move, every time they need something real quick, every time they need anything they'll call on you. And the one damn time you don't show up they'll resent you for it. Plus they're not really going to want to just hang out. You can't play sports with your bros, it'll just make them jealous. Basically they'll get drunk and make you do party tricks. And forget about a love life. Sure it'll be easy to get dates but you'll never know if you've found someone who loves you or loves your job...of course that doesn't seem to bother basketball players.
Then there is the whole being a superhero. Super powers are way over rated. Flying? What a pain in the ass. Bugs in your teeth, you're hairs always messed up, and you'll probably get attacked by birds. Birds are bitches. I'll travel by car thank you. Invisibility? What good is that really? Oh you can't be seen? Welcome to high school. The only thing it's good for is hanging out in the locker room being a perve and you can see that shit on the Internet already. Super speed? So you're everyone's bitch now? You have to be everywhere on time? What's the rush?
So yeah. That's why I chose to not be a super hero. It's a lot of work. No pay. Everyone says they like you until you don't help them out then they hate you....yep I'll just keep reading medical transcription...that's where the excitement is at. I get to press the buttons on my keyboard a lot and it makes this lovely little clicking sound...just can't get job perks like that being a super hero...but may be there is something to being a super villain?
Then there is the obvious danger to your friends and family. There's always the super villain that will use them against you since you yourself are invulnerable. That's what super villains do because I've seen it in movies. Plus can you really have friends if they know you're a super hero? Every time they move, every time they need something real quick, every time they need anything they'll call on you. And the one damn time you don't show up they'll resent you for it. Plus they're not really going to want to just hang out. You can't play sports with your bros, it'll just make them jealous. Basically they'll get drunk and make you do party tricks. And forget about a love life. Sure it'll be easy to get dates but you'll never know if you've found someone who loves you or loves your job...of course that doesn't seem to bother basketball players.
Then there is the whole being a superhero. Super powers are way over rated. Flying? What a pain in the ass. Bugs in your teeth, you're hairs always messed up, and you'll probably get attacked by birds. Birds are bitches. I'll travel by car thank you. Invisibility? What good is that really? Oh you can't be seen? Welcome to high school. The only thing it's good for is hanging out in the locker room being a perve and you can see that shit on the Internet already. Super speed? So you're everyone's bitch now? You have to be everywhere on time? What's the rush?
So yeah. That's why I chose to not be a super hero. It's a lot of work. No pay. Everyone says they like you until you don't help them out then they hate you....yep I'll just keep reading medical transcription...that's where the excitement is at. I get to press the buttons on my keyboard a lot and it makes this lovely little clicking sound...just can't get job perks like that being a super hero...but may be there is something to being a super villain?
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