A Splash of Class

I've found a new home lehdies!

If you want the link please let me know

Adj

Hola,

Today I was thinking about my friend Lepu whom half jokingly and half seriously considered being a hooker at one point in time:
a) because he was having lots of sex with men
b) because he could have actually made a lot of money
c) because he was down on his luck (the proverbial starting story of all people in the profession)

As I was walking home today, I saw a greasy unibrow of a man whose oversized sweatpants were barely holding them self together at the seams. He was open mouth wheezing as his tits flopped freeflow down Davie. I thought to myself:

a) that is a broken shell of a man
b) manzeer that shit for the love of god
c) that...that is who uses hookers.

Contemplating on this, I thought of what would likely go through a hookers mind if they had to have sex with this man?


Greasy unibrow man: *Kerplumps himself doggy style on the bed* Fuck yeah stick it in me big boy

Hooker: oh jesus condom please don't break! Oh jesus condom please don't break! oh jesus condom please don't break!


I then thought about what must the condom be thinking?


Condom: Oh jesus what the hell is protecting me from that impending anus!?!


Think of how many condoms have taken an STI for the team

Thanks condoms,

~Adj

When I was in education we had a class on ethical reasoning which I LOVED. In the class, we learned that there are consequentialist thinkers whose line of reasoning goes something along the lines of ‘do unto others as you would have done unto you’ and they think about all the extenuating circumstances of a situation i.e. "YES he stole a loaf of bread BUT he was poor and starving." You can often tell that you are interacting with a consequentialist thinker by the line ‘Yes…but’ when discussing an ethically/morally grey situation.

On the other side, there lays the non-consequentialist thinker. This person takes the view that “a rule is a rule.” In the example above, their view would be that stealing is wrong no matter what the reason: “I UNDERSTAND that they were poor and starving; HOWEVER, what would the world be like if we all took something that we wanted? They should have asked the baker if they could have worked for a loaf of bread.”

When I was learning this I couldn’t help but thinking that it was like witnessing a Freudian conversation between the id and the superego. Most of us fall into one pattern of thinking and decision-making. It was only this weekend when I was reading Margaret Atwood’s ‘Debt and the shadow side of wealth’ that I realized that this was all just fancy talk for two sides of a singular coin: justice and mercy. Neither is more or less important.

Without justice the world would be a very crazy place because no one would respect rules or each other. However, if justice operates without mercy, then we would be putting away women who killed their husbands even though they may have physically/emotionally/spiritually/sexually abused them for years. What is ‘wrong’ can be very subjective; sometimes actions are warranted.

It’s interesting to analyze who in your life falls into which category, or even what category you fall into. Lisa would be the world's biggest consequentialist thinker. If I were to personify ‘mercy’ it would miss Lisa D.

AJ: Lisa they stole your identity, they launched 14 nuclear missles, and they killed your family with a hatchet --- you don’t think they should be electrocuted or at least spanked?

Lisa: I know AJ, and I’m not saying what they did was right, but we don’t know if they were beaten as a child or if they had mental issues. If I did those things, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. Maybe just them having to live with that on their conscious for the rest of their life is enough of a punishment. If we exercise a punishment as harsh as death, then do we not commit the same crime?

(In my head I can actually imagine having this conversation with Lisa)

If I had to personify the non-consequentialist ‘justice’ it would be the hydra of all governments in North America: the Newton Place Residence Association. The NPRA was pure ‘a rule is a rule and therefore a rule and I get off on that.”

AJ: You don’t want to give the proceeds of a bottle drive to charity?

NPRA: Well AJ, we know that would be a good thing; however, some people put their bottles in the community storage room because they were under the impression that the money raised from recycling such bottles would go towards X-box games. Since we didn’t count the number of bottles that went from the storage room to the general tally, I think we have to honor that understanding. (literal verbatim conversation that occurred when I attended one of their meetings)

AJ: *stabs himself in the eye, jumps on the table bleeding and yells at the morally derelict monsters for the ability to be born, and then swears an oath to cut off the reproductive organs which allowed for the spawning of the aforementioned creatures*

The NPRA drove me nuts at the time, but I see now that I was dealing with a different type of reasoning and decision making; I should have helped them see the perspective of mercy and welfare/the good of others --- i.e. imagine being a homeless person and hearing that you weren't going to get a meal today because some rich university students needed even more Xbox games.

Anyways, this random thought of the day has been brought to you by too much spare time at Christmas to reflect, Margaret Atwood, and the letter 3.

~Adj

FFFfffffffffffffff BOMBS!!! I-A-M-S-O-G-L-A-D-T-O-B-E-H-O-M-E!!!!! It was great to visit friends and family but there is nothing like the comfort of your own space, patterns, and people.

As you know, I am not a fan of airports, but the whole affair was relatively free of any stories. My cellphone ended up getting lost - and shortly thereafter found - in Kyle's car on the way out to the airport. Thank JEBUS for FedEx.

On the flight, I ended up sitting beside the cutest little blond 1 year old that you ever did see. Like any baby conscious traveller, I initially thought "oh shit please don't cry this whole trip, oh shit please don't cry this whole trip, oh shit please don't cry this whole trip" but he/she was a doll. When I asked what the little boys name was (he was in blue pajamas with race cars) the response a very curt "she is a girl." Totally progressive and a move I would even make myself; however, please some understanding as gender non-conformity isn't a day to day occurrence. I should have guessed from the double nose piercings, cropped hair, and excess body weight that her mother was a lesbian; however, I didn't at first.

We pulled in around ten and I was going to bus from the airport to the downtown; however, somehow I got disoriented and took the wrong bus to get back into the city. Post realizing I had taken the bus out to Richmond, the sad conclusion washed over me that I wouldn't be able to get to the Pumpjack for a new years kiss. On the bright side, the whole accordion bus did a countdown on the way into the downtown. There is an inescapable sense of hope and cheer about what a new year can bring; it's a very exciting energy.

My new years resolutions:
1) Do something improv related
2) Do more activities
3) Get out of my shy shell when meeting gay men; show more of my natural colors

In regards to the last one, I have been having such mixed feelings. I'm not your average BBQ bud (I'll post below what a BBQ bud is); however, when I'm meeting new gay men I seem totally bounded and restricted to talking about the weather and other statistically quantifiable day to day bullshit that no one cares about: where someone works, how long they have lived in vancouver, etc, etc, boring etc. My tendency towards politics, outrageous things, and humor is totally subdued, or non-existent. Where does this shyness to show my true colours around gay men come from? I don't know. Current guesses include the following:

1) A sense of possibility - with gay men there is a possibility of 'what if i really like this person?' I think this prevents the more interesting conversations that I would have with a woman or a straight guy. With either of the aforementioned, the first impression has no real consequences besides not having another -nth friend. If they don't like my politics: c'est la vive. If they don't like me: c'est la vive. My life isn't really affected by a straight guy or a woman and me not hitting it off. With gay men though, what if you like the guy? If you talk politics and disagree on some stupid issue, you may end up not getting to know them past that conversational sticking point. What if that's the love of your life and you never get to know them because your first conversation was on why you are repulsed by the conservative agenda? Okay, maybe not a good first talking point. Playing it conversationally safe can seem like a good idea; however, who wants to talk to a BBQ bud past the weather? Not I.

2) A small cave in a large forest - the bear community corresponds to a small town in a big city. A bad wrap can have big consequences as John knows Bob who knows Tom who knows the possible love of your life. Everyone gets one-line attached to their name (much like in the Mormon church). Here are a few that I've had people tell me about other bears in the bar

"That's Mr. Green, he has aids"
"That's Mr. Blue, he's a drama queen"
"That's Mr. Pink, he has a huge dick"
"That's Mr. Purple, he knits -- enough said"

I don't want to be "That's AJ, he is a partisan bleeding heart liberal who thinks that all things worthwhile in life are either immoral, illegal, or fattening." Okay wait, maybe that would be a fine wrap. What's a bad wrap that I would be scared of? I don't know. Certainly being boring is a kind of death. Maybe I should just get a shirt made up that says: that's AJ, he is a partisan bleeding heart liberal who thinks that all things worthwhile in life are either immoral, illegal, or fattening.

3) The conversational jump and being new - In Edmonton, I very rarely was in situations where I was meeting totally new people, or at least I wasn't in a situation where I didn't know most people in the room. Working in residence just meant that you knew a ton of people on campus: people on different floors, over 100 student leaders by name, people from organizations on campus, etc. Being in Vancouver is a very new scene where you are 'the new guy. It's good to experience newness; however, it can be very lonely. You are meeting people you don't know and you don't have any inside jokes or stories with them. That's half the way that I speak to people! You have to start with Small Talk as it makes people comfortable, then the trick is to switch into Conversation. Finding a 'common' for a conversation can be difficult, especially when people only want to discuss getting into your pants. TURN OFF. It can also be difficult when the people you are talking to are in fact BBQ buds who don't like Conversation.

Who knows

Anyways, here is the definition of a BBQ Bud: someone who loves to BBQ and loves to drink Budweiser at said BBQ. They are only comfortable talking about the weather and sports. If you begin to talk about life, politics, or things relating to the realm of education, they will panic. They are the kaki pant of the conversational world: neutral, boring, and tragically common. They LOVE surface: relationships, conversation, and image. Tell tale signs for males: Axe body spray at 17, Polo sport at 20, and Old spice at 30; Canadian flag/maple leaf tattoos; budweiser beer; abuses of wooooh!!'ing; an interest in cars; and reference to others as chief/buddy/or dude. Tell tale signs for females: a constant Xanax like state of happiness; discussions about weddings; pastel button ups; and references to CityLine tv. You know you have been lured in by a BBQ bud because of the bland nature of the questions they are asking

i.e.

Interesting Person: Yeah we wanted to remodel the kitchen but he wanted zebra lime print wallpaper and I wanted something French Provincial

BBQ Bud: Oh wow, that is quite interesting. What doorknobs did you go with? I've always been a fan of a good knob; something simple yet sturdy.

Interesting Person: I don't know, maybe tusks of some sort

BBQ Bud: Oh no, that doesn't sound terribly environmental, practical, or modern. Are you sure that's a good option?

Interesting Person: I once fucked a beggar in Tahiti while doing poppers off a midget.

At some point you just get so bored/frustrated talking to a BBQ Bud that you need to make an outrageous claim such that they will immediately leave the conversational vicinity. What would people think of them if they were talking to someone who talked about sex with midgets? *GASP*

Anyways, that's a BBQ bud. Avoid them at all cost and avoid being one at an even higher cost --- even if you need to do so on credit.

Hugs,

Adj

Now I know that it would be exceedingly hypocritical to blogg that I love the Christmas season and visiting family ….’but’; however: I have reached my maximum family visiting capacity.

Gold moments so far of my visit have included:
- My brother trying to explain to me why he supports Prop 8
- Being bored to tears and playing 8 hours of Mario brothers and getting sweaty palm hand cramps
- Walking the stairs for exercise
- My parents having a two-year food supply (Mormons) and apparently no actual food. If you need a billion spices or condiments they have you covered from tumaric to chipotle dijon; however, god forbid vegetables enter this house outside of a tin or a frozen cube.

In short, I’m ready to go. I had a lovely time but I think my family pleasantries have climaxed: pre-christmas memory lane, Christmas, and the furious frenzy of boxing day. After that comes all the boredom, arguments, and reminders of why I moved the hell outta Mormonville.

Things I currently miss:
- MY BED!!!
- The standard healthy living Vancouver bits: organic goodness, the seawall, sushi, lulu lemon (BC chavie wear), walks, etc etc
- The muscled and tightly clad men of the pumpjack (ps I bought bear-li-jay [a bear ersion of a negligee] at MarksWorkWorld: a black mesh football jersey and an assortment of double entendre CAT WORKWEAR shirts)
- Strawfee (Strong coffee) available on every street corner via Starbucks
- Of course my lehdy peeps

I think next Christmas might need to involve me, pool boys, some sort of inflation laden country where the dollar is worth nothing, people who barely speak English, and lots of gay men: San Francisco?

If you examine how much you are paying to come home, get gifts, etc, etc, etc it starts to make way more sense to just fuck it and go to Mexico. That needs to be a t-shirt: Fuck it and go to Mexico. Lol --- it could also double as their tourism slogan: Fuck it and go to Mexico. I’m sold!!! You also just know that someone has seen them self listed on someone’s to-do list with that line:

*AJ walks in to find his lover reciting his to do list*

AJ: Hey whatcha doin?

MuscleLadenHunkWithHugePenis: *Stretches & pops his shirt off Hulk Hogan style* Just my to do list…(under his breath) wash the car…fuck it and go to Mexico… do the laundry

AJ: Sorry, what was that middle part?

MuscleLadenHunkWithHugePenis: Oh sorry, just my to do list --- wash the car, have sex with you before I go to Mexico, and then do the laundry

Oh to be referred to as an ‘it.’ On the depressing side, at least being an ‘it’ to someone involves someone. On the not being a pathetic desperate cat lehdy side of things…………………..*bush weed goes by*…………………..

Flare-rageously yours,

~AJ

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Below a post from Lady Bunny's blogg that is spot on

https://www.ladybunny.net/blog/


GAYS: GET IT STRAIGHT!


The other night I got so horny that I posted an ad on Craig's List and arranged to hook up with several gentleman callers. Right before I started painting my mug, I remembered that I was low on condoms and popped out to the drug store to pick some up. Once there, I realized that I'd better get both regular sized and extra large, since you never know how accurate those "AOL inches" in personal ads are gonna be. Then I thought, it's a recession, so why not be thrifty and buy the 32-count boxes of each size since you always save buying in bulk!

I could see the puzzled look in the cashier's eyes as I plopped down 3 jumbo boxes of different sized Trojans. I'm sure she was thinking "Does your dick change sizes?" and I was all ready with my comeback--"No, but my asshole sure can!"

So let me introduce myself to you as a slut, who prefers multiple sex partners a day than any zany thoughts of holy matrimony which might impede my activity--or rather in my case, passivity. A year ago, Bette Midler came under fire from gay groups for suggesting on Larry King that gay marriage shouldn't be such a big deal since most of the gays she knew were promiscuous. The truth hurts. Anyhoo, let me also introduce myself as an atheist who values a gay wedding ceremony as much as I do a gay baptism with cosmo's or a gay communion with low carb wafers.

This gives me a different prospective on gay marriage than most. Due to shame, other depraved card-carrying nympho's may not be quite as vocal about how laughable gay marriage is for them, so I felt that a certain voice missing from the homo outrage over this Rick Warren gig at the inauguration. I understand that if your goal is to settle down with your lifetime mate, especially if you live in California where you were just yanked away from your newly-wed when Prop 8 won, you could be quite unhinged right about now. But aside from the differences in our personal outlooks, in my view, the protests against Rick Warren's appearance has been blown waaaaaaaay out of proportion. One problem is that the media always needs a new headline, important or not. This Rick Warren thing kept an Obama's mistake in the headlines for a good week. Now that they've gays have had their sissy hissy fit, the fickle press has moved on to attempt to smear Obama by tying him to Illinois governor Blagojevich's corruption.

But Obama's only allotted the controversial pastor a two and a half minute speech--not a 4-year cabinet appointment. And the crafty president-elect is balancing out the Warren factor by ending the inauguration with a legendary black civil rights activist who is FOR gay marriage. Try finding another one of those in the mainstream black church. (I'll wait.) Obama himself doesn't even support homo nuptials yet he's giving a contrasting a voice to Rick's. And of course everyone knows you save the best for last!

Of course, there are sizable benefits in using Rick for the invocation. Perhaps the whole country will be tuning in to see it's first mixed race president anyway, but those viewers who identify with Rick--ie the extremely backward anti-science bunch-- just might soften up towards Obama and ease our nation's desperately needed return to a more progressive path after 8 dark years of Bush. After the queer backlash, Rick even softened his stance up a little by removing language from his website which banned "unrepentant" gays from his church. Child, don't you know how I wish I lived in California so that I could grab a boisterous gaggle of drag queens and bare-ass chap-wearing to attend that service, now that we're allowed in, and turn his Saddleback Church into the Brokeback Church! Can you just imagine how flawlessly we'd speak in tongues after a snort of poppers and a bump of Special K?

Look, Obama is just throwing the evangelicals a bone. So let's not have the gay community snarling at the man over it--he's the best hope we have. In defense of Warren's selection, Obama even declared himself a "fierce" advocate of gay rights--girls, he's even using queeny Project Runway lingo. That's a sign of great promise! Do we want to weaken him by forcing him to renege (no racial slur intended) on Rick's invitation before he's even inaugurated? Honey, a mixed race man named Hussein has made it into the White House using a brilliant, groundbreaking campaign strategy--shouldn't we let him at least get into office and start squawking if he tries to throw us under the bus then? Rick's brief address just doesn't strike me as a big deal.

Rick's really made a fool of himself--offering as proof of his gay-friendly attitude that he offered Prop 8 protestors water and doughnuts? Darlin', I like to eat just as much as the portly pastor, and that pig knows as well as this one that doughnuts are served with coffee or milk--NEVER with water. What an insult! Stop the press! Call the HRC! Doughnuts and water?!? And Rick's support of Prop 8 was based on a ludicrous notion that if it lost, Prop 8 supporters could become victims of hate speech. How completely absurd! But it worked with his large, ignorant congregation.

But even outside of his congregation, how many religions accept us? Despite all of the complexes my dad gave me, I'm glad he also instilled in me the need to question absolutely everything and the strength to stand up to anyone I disagreed with--even a church which thought I was less than because of the sexual orientation I was born with. I wish more gay people would simply abandon a church which looks down on them--and I'm constantly amazed at muslims homosexuals who try to reconcile themselves with a faith which would stone them to death. Get a grip, gays! Almost all religions denounce us as amoral--so why not take away their power and ignore them as the ancient, contradictory fairy tales they are? And thereby devalue religious institutions like marriage? If civil unions offer the same legal rights, I say TAKE 'EM!

The photo below strikes me as a particularly crazy argument--GOD LOVES GAY MARRIAGE? That's throwing the ball right back into the evangelicals' court. Do you think that they'll ever agree with what a sinner like you thinks God wants?

And if we believe so strongly in separation of church and state, why is a representative of any faith invited to speak at a political function? I'd just as soon hear the mumbo jumbo of one of Obama's Kenyan witch doctor relatives babbling over a caldron than I would any other Christian holy man. At least it would be more entertaining and could feature well-hung African men bouncing around in skimpy clothing. And I stll have half a box of extra large condoms left--I'm just sayin'n

Of course, homo's aren't the only target of fundamentalists. The morons challenge science! They're also vehemently anti-abortion and Rick Warren's particular church does not view spousal abuse as grounds for divorce. So why aren't women's groups up in arms over Warren's pick? Because they weren't just slapped in the face with a stinging defeat like Prop 8? Or because Rick's speech isn't a big deal? Hell, I love to see the gay community angrily making demands. The gay movement often seems finished now that we have gay-themed TV shows on prime time and a perceived cure for AIDS. But choose your battles, people! On the same day that the Human Rights Commission issued a statement condemning Obama's choice of invocation-giver, George Bush pushed through one of his midnight regulations which allows pharmacy employees to refuse to fill prescriptions which they consider contrary to their religious beliefs. I clocked this madness on Rachel Maddow's MSNBC broadcast and when Rachel asked Rep. Diana Degette what could be done about the situation, her guest said phone the White House today. Drats! I caught the 11:00 PM broadcast of The Rachel Maddow Show and I don't think the president's phone lines were open at that hour. Did the HRC issue a statement about this?

Do you recognize the scope of this new regluation? Some cuckoo Pentecostal cashier could refuse to dispense antibiotics for a child. A woman could be refused the morning after pill and end up forced to have an abortion! A gay man with AIDS could try to refill his life-or-death protease inhibitors only to be told that the born-again pharmacist on duty didn't approve of his lifestyle! Especially problematic would be rural drug stores where a possibly wheelchair-bound AIDS victim didn't have the strength or means to hunt down a kinder, if further away pharmacy. Or I can imagine a spaced-out Scientologist denying me my anti-depressants--and if you think I'm bitter now...

So Bush has just enacted a law which could give religious nuts (who also have a problem with science) the right to conceivably kill gay people! Where's our outcry on that one? I'm sorry, but life or death issues tend to trump matrimonial ones in my book.

I'm filled with joy when gays have the gumption to take to the streets and insist on their rights. It's just that I'm saddened when we only take to the streets to only demand rights which pertain to us. You want people to care about your right to marry? Then you've got to care about issues outside of your own community. We're in a war which a vast majority of citizens no longer support. Our tax dollars are being spent to kill innocent Iraqis at this very moment. A chunk of ice the size of a large city broke off of the North Pole this year. And you're whining because you're afraid that you might not inherit your lover's silverware because of your inability to marry? (I know that there are dreadful situations where dying lovers are not allowed to have their lovers visit them if the patient's family disapproves. Just making a point.) I'll never have children, but I don't want to see other people's children dying courtesy of my tax dollars. Or their grandchildren unable to draw a breath due to man-made climate change. I suppose there are gays who also protest the illegal war in Iraq and global warming in addition to Prop 8, but for most of us to only pop out with a sign when it concerns same-sex marriage strikes me as selfish. If you expect straights to care about your rights, then you need to be a caring person about the issues which affect us all. It's not just because of my promiscuous nature that gay marriage is way down on the priority list when both people and our planet are dying by our own hands.

Michelle Obama stated during the primaries that "our souls are broken." I don't know exactly how one's soul is legislated back to health, but her words struck a chord with me. A dissonant, disturbing chord. We are a nation which casts more votes for American Idol than for our own president. We're a nation who doesn't have a clue what the writ of habeus corpus means, much less that Bush has ripped it away from us, so that we no longer have the right to ask "Why have you put in me in jail?" For years, straights, gays and everything in between have sat back and done little except watch the nightmares of the Bush administration in between updates on Britney's breakdown and Paris Hilton's jail sentences. The whole executive and legislative branch can grind to a halt over a travesty like the debacle of vegetable Terry Schiavo, but we don't have a clue what's really going on until it's often too late, like with Bush's frightful new midnight pharmacy regulations. And how can a democracy, the system we're supposedly fighting to install in Iraq, function if it's voters are largely clueless?

Obama won because the country felt like he was the only candidate equipped to deal with the economic crisis after McCain had declared the economy "fundamentally strong". Neither candidate dwelled on the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan in the last few weeks of the campaign. How tragic! For a "Christian" nation? We don't mind ignoring that pesky THOU SHALT NOT KILL commandment while paying to kill foreigners as long as we sense that this new president can remedy the economy. That way, we can continue to inexpensively drive next door to our neighbor's house because our car has our cigarettes and cup-holder in it. And don't you recall something in the Bible about the love of money being sinful? Yet we heed economic issues and ignore the murders of innocents in our names? That's broken souls for you. With some awfully misguided priorities.

I recently received on email petition asking me to urge Defense Secretary Robert Gates to repeal the "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" and allow gays and lesbians to serve in the military. I wrote back that given the current abomination that is the Iraq war and rumblings that our fight in Afghanistan lacks a clear strategy, why on earth would anyone, gay or straight, want to give their life to such ill-conceived fiascos? I remember the last time "Don't Ask Don't Tell" dominated the gay movement over a decade ago. And while I wholeheartedly agree that homo's deserve every right that hetero's have, why would we want the right to kill? The year that this issue was raging, NYC chose as it's grand marshall a lesbian whose only distinction was that she was kicked out of the military when her sexual orientation became known. In her scary publicity photo, she'd posed in fatigues and sunglasses and was holding a rifle. Well, isn't that festive for a parade? The same year, Los Angeles chose Carol Channing as their grand marshall. I was so jealous--LA's choice seemed more fitting than a gun-toting ex-military mama and Carol's a born-again who's not even gay! Thankfully, our calls for gays in the military died down since we've been in an actual war.

But if we gays are now going to make holy matrimony our predominant issue, why did we all seem to miss presidential candidate Denis Kucinich's interview on LOGO, our most-watched all-gay channel? I saw it and burst into tears at this man's sincerity and desire to take our side with conviction on this polarizing hot button issue. Although it seems unlikely that a man with features as elfin as his will ever be elected--especially during wartime--Dennis was the only Democratic candidate to fully support gay marriage. So if gays are so dedicated to same sex marriage, why didn't he become a cause celebre in the our community--he who solely had the nerve to stand up for our right to wed? Why was there no statement from the HRC when Dennis was denied access to a later debate?

Many gays favored Hillary, for no discernible reason. After Obama nabbed the nomination, I chatted with an employee from a gay rights organization here in New York and asked if he was pleased. He was not. When I asked him why, he told me that he was a Hillary supporter. I prodded him for more info and the only thing he could come up with was "Hillary's my girl." Why? A fuzzy feeling she gave them when she walked in the gay pride parade because she wanted your vote? Many gay men are so shallow that I can actually imagine them supporting Senator Clinton because they fancy the notion of a Project Runway challenge in which Hill's inaugural dress is designed. Who knows? But you can't vote on a feeling. You must get to know the issues, particularly if the right to marry is the centerpiece of your movement and you're voting for a candidate who doesn't support it and never has.


"I remember landing under sniper fire. There was supposed to be some kind of a greeting ceremony at the airport, but instead we just ran with our heads down to get into the vehicles to get to our base."

As I mentioned, Rick Warren has been given a two and a half minute speech at the inauguration, not a cabinet position. But Hillary did receive a cabinet position, and one which she's unsuited for. Don't you remember that she tried to trump Obama's foreign policy experience with her own--and her example of foreign expertise was dodging bullets at an airport in Bosnia? Meanwhile, there's video on every news channel of Hillary deplaning on a sunny day as local children practically skipped up to her on the tarmac. Not only was this a bold-faced lie which made her a national laughing stock, if she needs to conjure this easily disproved fib as evidence of her vast foreign policy experience, then the sleazy snake has zero foreign policy experience. Even if she'd been telling the truth and had sought cover from sniper fire, then plenty of gang members and other criminals would be equally qualified to represent out nation abroad. I don't think the fact that Senator Clinton voted to invade Iraq will endear her to the Middle Eastern nations we need to make amends with most, and India's strong ties with the Clintons via donations to her husband's foundation will make the India/Pakistan situation even stickier, as the two neighbors seem to be gearing up for battle as I type this. And we've got a brand new partisan Secretary of State to handle the situation!

After Bush's reign of error, we're hated worldwide. And maybe a planes didn't crash into buildings in your city, but they did in mine and I don't want Hillary, who took the wrong side on the war issue, trying to clean up a deeply-rooted international mess which she helped to create. And if the mess isn't cleaned up yesterday, we're going to have new generations of terrorists which we've created dropping by to introduce themselves to us. Possibly even before rising oceans erode Manhattan, Los Angeles and Miami Beach and New Orleans. And who can afford to move in this distressed economy? If we can move, and manage to make it through our failing infrastructure to dry ground, we won't be able to find any work. 40 million US citizens can't afford to pay their utility bills this month. In the winter. And the Minnesota Senate race rages on, a month after the votes were cast. Of course, after the last two presidential elections were stolen, we're used to it. We're becoming a banana republic without the fucking bananas. And you've got time to worry about a two and a half minute speech?

It’s so exhaustingly typical to complain about going home for the holidays, to complain about family, and to hate the period altogether. I fbombs love Christmas. Although my family does drive me crazy and I do hate travel (especially when the French are involved with their staunchly typical snootiness), it all ends up being worth it. Last night I was sitting with Kyle and we warming up by the fire in the living room. DING DONG! The doorbell pulled us out of a conversation about politics and we tiptoed to the front door to see who there --- when staying at a Mormon house over the holidays you have to be careful to not let in those who’ve heard that your back in town (and whom are coming over for a Christmas conversion). To my surprise it was carolers! I opened the door and had everyone cram into the entrance. The house was filled with a round of ‘O Christmas Tree’ and your other garden variety carols. I loved it! It felt so 'leave it to beaver' christmas special. It's not to say that we didn't have our usual family drama-tics (drama and politics) --- we did.

Fredrico (brother) and I got in a big spat. What would christmas be without a good spat? I don't know because I've never experienced it and I cannot even fathom it for that matter. Our spat was about Fredrico thinking it's his right to tell everyone and their dog about our family's various closets full of numerous family-drama-skeletons. The concept of "someone's business isn't your business just because you share DNA and a blood-flow" wasn't something he wanted to hear or agree upon. I still love him. I think that bonds of love are created by spatting, communicating, and coming back to love. With the other siblings things have been blastastic.

It has been so nice/calming/relaxing to spend time with Marmosa and Sarosa (siblings). Tonight all three of us went on a winter walk around the neighborhood and talked about what has been going on with our family and each other. The sound of snow crunching under foot, the shadows of three siblings passing under street lights, and open hearted discussion: c'est bon. All in all, a typical and fantastic family christmas.

Joy to Christmas and the holidays,

~AJ

PS - Eartha Kitt, the legend, the icon, and the glamazon died yesterday on Dec 25, 2008. I saw her last year at the age of 80 in heels doing a jump on stage and shamelessly hitting on shirtless stage boys! Hats off to you Kitts for living as loud and largely as you did. Thank you for all your inspiration --- now go Cha Cha Heels off to your Santa Baby in the skies.

There is only one thing I hate about traveling: airports.

Things started off well enough. Anna and I rapped carols all the way out here in the car and i'm not saying that we gave Frank Sinatra a run for his money...I'm just say'n.

When I got here I did the self check-in and then began the game of gamble: which luggage check-in line to choose? It seems that we always choose the shortest looking line; however, I often wonder if it's only because everyone else already abandoned that ship? I looked to the line on my left: families. I looked to the line on my right: families. I looked to the line of singles on the far right: uber long. Hmmmmm. My instincts were to go with the singles line: everyone only has 1 bag, no conversation, and no children to ramble up while trying to go through the process. Seeing that the family line on the right had the shortest line I thought "let's just do it and hope for the best." NEVER NEVER NEVER get trapped behind families --- ESPECIALLY FRENCH ONES! JESUS. There is a certain pain in seeing two lines move past you while you are trapped in the 'but maybe they are just about to finish?' mentality line. It's more painful when the family stalling the line is pulling French bitchyness at the baggage check-in person for not letting them through faster, when in fact the delay revolves around said family adding packing tape to boxes while at the baggage check-in. Of course; because you're French and that only makes sense. When standing in your silence of frustration you just want to scream at them or go stand in a new line; however, you don't jump ship because then you start at the very back of a new line which may have more french crazies in them like some sort of french linemine. If only there was a way to call bullshit and to plea for reason:

AJ: Excuse me everyone, excuse me!

Both lines: *turn and take notice of a man with breaking point face*

AJ: I hate to interrupt the normal flow of life (but apparently I don't as per previous blogg posts of fictional life addresses). I need everyone's attention for one quick moment. This French family in front of me is being flare-rageouss. You know it. I know it. We all know it; except for apparently them as they fucking stand here asking about the amount of breast milk that can be brought on board! You've seen yourself approaching your check-in line, watching this line thinking: poor fucking bastards...you never stand behind a french family. I DIDN'T KNOW THEY WERE FRENCH!!! Will anyone here take mercy? Have you no mercy? Take pity, I beg of someone take pity *AJ lays heaped on his bags as the former shell of a man*

Once having passed them, without kicking their crying 2 year old in the face, I hit the next line: "security" screening. Take off everything next to your underwear, I'm going to chew this gum with as much attitude and bitchy face as possible, and then you can take your five grams of coke off the conveyor belt and proceed to the next line. I actually remember when security screenings were more about illegal and imported goods than security. I guess some things did change with 9/11.

Anyways, I'm now waiting for a delayed flight. God forbid the day that things actually run smoothly in an airport.

PS --- if I see that child again I'm going to join them on the floor in a tantrum, kick the infantile thing and blame the parents for bad child rearing, and then i'm going to throw on my Cruella De Vil coat and drive to my fucking destination instead.


~Adj


PPS --- God bless cars, Cruella De Vil, and the airport singles line
PPPS --- I was supposed to arrive in Edmonton at midnight; my new expected flight arrival time is 3:30 am.

This year I choose to get myself a manly gift for christmas; however, as is the case with all things in life: batteries required. I decided to go to IGA in search for some batteries and while there I ended up picking up a few odd nick-nacks. While in the cheese section, I found a 14 year old clerk and inquired where the batteries were. It was a classic teenage answer: he seemed semi stoned, he was too nervous to use real words, and as his answer left me confused long enough for him to subtly exit the scene. Through mumble, I gathered that the batteries were behind the cash register downstairs; that or bat cars were now being registered down to heirs. I went with option A.

Making my way downstairs, I stood in line and picked up a standard issue trash mag. It was the usual thought process: Jesus Oprah got fat! How many times have I said that in my life? Why is this news worthy? Why don't I ever reach for the economist? I don't even think they have the economist. Why aren't there more magazine options then standard issue trash mags? It was while questioning the literacy promotions of grocers that I got the 'cashier cough:'

Cashier: *fake cough* (which in one puff of air manages to convey: I hate my life, there are ten people behind you, lets just fucking do this and be done with it. There is a weird air of prostitution to the experience really.)

I started unloading all of my items onto the never ending waxy black road of the conveyor as the hum of registered price items tolled the last cry of food never to be seen again. It was during this existential moment that I realized the reason I had come to the house of consumption in the first place: batteries. Expecting the batteries to be behind her, I was surprised when she had to go to the far counter where the apparent battery inventory was kept.

My cashier: *Saunters over to the far cashier* That guy over there wants batteries

AJ: *small waive*

Far Cashier: What batteries does he want?

My Cashier: YO! WHAT BATTERIES DO YOU WANT?

AJ: Umm...normal ones?....NORMAL ONES!

My Cashier: Normal ones

Far Cashier: *Hands her batteries*

My Cashier: *returns* these ones?

AJ: Sorry, no, just normal ones, I think these are triple A

The Line: *looks of anger regarding the delay*

My Cashier: *Saunters back to the far cashier* He wants normal ones --- these are tripple A

Far Cashier: What are normal ones?

My Cashier: WHAT ARE NORMAL ONES!!?!

AJ: I think they are double A.......SORRY I WAS JUST SAYING I THINK THEY ARE DOUBLE A!......DOUBLE A!

My Cashier: Double A

Far Cashier: I'm not deaf...here ya go *tosses batteries*

My Cashier: *Saunters back* here ya go

AJ: Ummm...I hate to be a pain...but this is an extra huge battery used for flashlights, the battery option on cd players in-case you don't have the cord, and turbo vibrators. It's also just ONE singular extra huge battery. I think if you were to take an inventory of all items in the home that ran on a singular extra huge battery you would in fact find none; I don't think any items can alone run on an extra huge battery. I don't know if you live in a home or have operated technology in the span of your life time; however, I just want some normal batteries.

My Cashier: *Saunters back with jutted hips and tension jaw* He doesn't want a single extra huge battery. He wants normal batteries.

Far Cashier: *Hands her the same triple A batteries*

I thought my head was about to explode and cover my fellow shoppers in blood, frustration, and non-understanding. In the entirety of a store there were no normal double A batteries??? None?!?!? HOW and WHEN in the history of grocers has there (a) been no double A batteries and (b) been a total ineptitude to understand the concept of the double A? Should the guiness book of world records be contacted regarding this matter? I wanted to pause the store:

AJ: EXCUSE ME!!! EXCUSE ME EVERYONE!!!! Sorry...sorry...I really do hate to be a bother but I just needed to check in with you all to ensure that the space/time continuum isn't collapsing as we know it. When I say "I would like some normal batteries" would any of you ever think that I would be referring to the exotic brand of batteries? Because I would expect for those batteries to not be in stock. I would understand that. However, how people have no idea what i'm talking about when I'm referring to normal batteries is indicative, at least to me, of the possibility that alternate realities have collided and are reshaping the face of Reason and Understanding as we formerly knew them. Quick show of hands for if this is totally crazy. Okay..1...2...5...okay. Okay, I really am sorry to bother you all, I just thought the universe might be ending. We're all good.

As you can surmise, I ended up not getting the singular extra huge battery nor the triple A midget ones. In closing, a note to those who can barely spell their own name: the IGA on Robson is hiring.

Yours in incredibly frustrated and non-vibrating christmas gift sensations,

~AJ

I was just listening to As It Happens on CBC radio and it was totally upsetting to hear about senior citizens and people with disabilities living in Ottawa during the transit strike. People on fixed incomes rely on the bus to get access to basic services, as well as to have people help them live life: care workers making not very much money, family or church members, as well as nurses. It's outrageous that there is no plan in place for this. It's the middle of fucking winter!!! It's horrendous that the transit workers haven't been provided with a contract for almost a year and something needs to be arbitrated ASAP.

Call/email a member of parliament serving in Ottawa and let them know that this is not okay: https://webinfo.parl.gc.ca/MembersOfParliament/MainMPsCompleteList.aspx?TimePeriod=Current&Language=E

Ottawa West = Hon. John Baird: https://webinfo.parl.gc.ca/MembersOfParliament/ProfileMP.aspx?Key=128360&Language=E

It only takes a minute to be a good person; i've even drafted you an email below to alter around a bit:


Dear _______,

I hope this email finds you well in times of economic and political uncertainty. I am writing this email because I am concerned about senior citizens and people with disabilities whom are living in Ottawa. During the current transit strike, many people are without access to basic services. The ability of services to be provided to these groups have also been limited due to the current strike as many public service workers rely on transit to get to work as to help those whom they assist with daily living. This situation is not okay. Please ensure that a plan is in place to help these people while leaders work together to find an amicable solution.

Sincerely,

~_________

There are certain things in life that we are proud of, there are others that we are glad for, and there are other things that aren't worth noting for posterity. Last weekend was all three in one go. Namely, another gala event of outrageousness at the Pumpjack.

Everything started off fine. My best friend Haru was in for the weekend and he agreed to take a day out of the twink lifestyle to join me at the BearBar. For the anonymity, posterity, and sake of my friend we are calling him Haru. We started off with a shot/s of gin which was later mixed with $3 beers. That's a recipe with t-r-o-u-b-l-e spelled all over it. At the bar I hit up the washroom and when I was washing my hands I met a guy named Ricky. We went into the bar, we were talking, and then the lean in occurred. We made out for three hours!! LOL I KNOW I KNOW --- IN a BAR!?!?! How tacktastic. My lips were exfoliated by beard and I couldn't keep my hands off the man. There were hands down every which way. I felt so bad because I kept thinking of Haru but I just couldn't keep myself off of him. Needless to say, Haru was fine. When I decided I should get going and gather up Haru I found him in the arms of a slightly older man and they were throat to throat after Haru had ordered him to "Spin me." I had to break up the fairy tale spin/kiss because Haru was much too drunk to be making good decisions. I did get Ricky's number and I phoned him this week and we talked on msn. Not gunna lie, I got hard just hearing his voice. The part about this all that sucks big time is that his english is VERY limited so we can't talk much past the weather chit chat. He may not be mr. long term but he can be mr. I can't keep my hands off you or down your pants. I believe the term of social etiquette that applies is: a booty call. lol -- a planned booty call as he lives an hour and a half away.

In other slutty adventures, which are blowing my mind because of my self imposed celibacy of years, was last night at the candy store (aka the PJs aka the Pumpjack). It was the first snow fall and I thought "I shouldn't be locked in doors; I bet things down at the Pumpjack would be cozy" so I put on my jacket, brushed my teeth, and headed down the street. I didn't know anyone so I stuck to the wall near the pool table. This guy named Stewart who I had talked to online and wanted to go on a date started making conversation. Then he asked to make out. Then he invited me back to his place and I thought to myself the following:

Brain: I don't know he is kind of drunk and you aren't even in to him

Penis: You need practice

Brain: Good point

Penis: PS it has been years, not months, and the most experience you have was Mr. T and for both of you it was your first experience with a guy

A few minutes later we were headed through the snow to his place. It was a TINY apartment but Mr. Man was anything but. He pulled out the crazy thickest cock and I thought to myself: shit...well when in Rome. I gave it my best shot, and in the end so did he, but I was a mess of gagging and getting a runny nose from not being able to breath at points. VERY TACKY when a guy tries to push it down your throat. The possibility of not using teeth was just not happening when your jaw is stretch to maximum capacity; he didn't say anything so I'm sure he was aware of the equipment he was playing with. The return was great and we made some idle chat. He told me not to be a stranger and then I headed out. I wouldn't want a repeat with him but good to get experience. I reaffirmed my faith in being goldicocks: having something that is just right.

In last man news, there is one guy i've been talking to online that I could see going on a date with and being able to talk to about things/anything. He works in music and is very cute and very funny. Lol, I also seem to be a sucker for the more conservative type -- my mormon upbringing perhaps? The only downside about him is that he may be the type who values the self based on who he hangs out with. Who knows. Very fun to be talking to guys!


Anyways, from the sahara to seafront: thank you vancouver


AJ