Why So Blue, Panda Bear?

Ok. So I've become a little obsessed with iFilm lately, and I stumbled across this video, which shatters a lot of my notions about pandas.

Get ready, set,

PANDA FIGHT!

I believe in Tinkerbell.

This weekend was Gay Pride weekend in New York. I find it sad that we still have to have it, though I imagine even if gay rights were completely equal, they'd still love to have a parade. Because Whee! Fun!

My original thought was to go to the parade with my roomie Devon. But it was grey and rainy and while Devon still made it out, I was curled up with Swetus and I figured the gays would understand if I didn't want to mess up my hair with the rain. I raised one fist in righteousness and said as Devon left the apartment:

"Go gay or go home!"

And that's the best I could do. My gays know I love them.

The weird thing to me is how homophobia is still treated. I mean, to me, it seems just as irrational a fear as agoraphobia or arachnaphobia or those people who are afraid of beds. Because I think any person who knows and is close to someone who is gay can't possible be afraid of them. Not even Dick Cheney can be, well, a dick about it because his daughter is a lesbian and I suppose contrary to popular belief, he has a heart that can feel something. You know, other than a thirst for baby's blood and puppy slaughter. And if Dick Cheney can support gay marriage, I don't think anyone else has the right to be all, "ooh...the gays are ruining America!"

The gays? Really? Have you people never seen Paris Hilton? She is, by far, the person trying to bring down America, at least in public image. Or she's a glaring example of what's wrong with America. Really, I don't know how she fits into my argument, if I even had one, but when talking about what's wrong with America, I just have to fit her in somewhere. That girl needs to be taken out back and beaten. Perhaps it'll make BOTH her eyes wonky.

I mean, look at that. It's pretty clear she already got beaten with the ugly stick, but my sympathy wanes for her on that front when she goes kicking people out of their homes just so she can tinkle.

My thought is that if you are afraid of gays, you are either gay yourself or you've let your fear and hatred win out over actually talking to someone about their life and seeing what it's about. We should treat it like any other fear: you know, go on the Tyra Banks show and while other people have spiders or snakes or cats brought out to confront their fear, you get the draggiest drag queen in the world prance out and throw glitter in your face.

See? That wasn't so bad. And there's only a 50% chance that it turned you gay. Gay glitter does have some powerful properties.

Anyhoo, makes me think. Go gay or go home!

She'd be Classy If This Were a Film Noir

I've had two very lovely days. On Wednesday night, Swetus [EEEP! It should be noted I originally wrote HIS ACTUAL NAME here--well, we can't be having that now, can we?] and I had a big date night. Dressed up all pretty and went out to Kitchen 22 in Gramercy. And I'll be damned if we weren't the best-looking couple in New York. Well, no matter how true that statement is, I'm most likely damned either way.

Then last night we drank free beer, got free pizza, Swetus helped install Blythe's A/C unit and fed us even more. After literally chasing down a bus [which totally counts as my excercise for the next YEAR], we managed to be settled and in bed by midnight. Not too bad. Not too bad at all.

But more importantly, today is my mama's birthday. Which means we should all take a moment to wish her a happy birthday, and more importantly, praise her for bringing ME into the world. Heh. Not really. But in honor of her birthday, and the fact the only thing I can manage to talk about in my current life is how much I love that damn Swede, I shall share one of my favorite mama stories:

I was in a jazz company back in the day, around my middle school years. And many of the girls would choose to leave the company at some point in high school to join the drill team or whatnot. And we always made it a point to pull some sort of prank on those that broke ranks and left us to go do line kicks and booty-shaking, not real dance in our humble and snooty opinions.

So we had three girls leaving us one year, and we decided to do the prank en masse and toilet-paper each of their houses. It was going to be real fun. Teachers and dancers joined together in vandalism. My mom decided to come along too. I love how many times that I went wrapping, my mom came along.

First house, no problem. Looked like Christmas in July, it did. I've always been fascinated by the arcs toilet paper makes when it's on its journey, and the deep satisfaction that comes from it securing itself nicely onto a branch. Man, I'd go toilet papering again here in New York, if I didn't think it'd get me shot.

The second house wasn't an issue, either. It was good to go. Recall the satisfaction I mentioned in the last paragraph and you get the idea.

The third house was a bit problematic. We had been told the family was on vacation, so this should have been the LEAST to worry about. It should have been nothing but blue skies and bunnies and stuff. Mom even got arrogant and went up to the front door to give them a new kind of wreath or whatnot.

Oh crap, there's movement from within the house. My brain, being a strange device, first thinks that someone is robbing them while we toilet paper their house. Man, that'd be shitty, wouldn't it? And if one perpetrator got caught, it would be hard to convince the authorities that they didn't commit the other. Which, basically would only suck for us.

"No, no. We only went to vandalize. We don't know nothing 'bout no heirloom theft."

But, of course, this was not the case. I am, what they like to call, "special." Anyhoo, somehow we got the date wrong or they got held up or something and their trip was canceled. Actually, to this day I don't know why they were there, but it was the family. So we noticed this and scramble into the getaway car. I mean, it was a sight to behold. And let me tell you, when people think they're about to get busted for toilet papering, it's every man for himself. I mean, I almost left my mom on their front doorstep:

"Take her!!! She's old and feeble!!!" [though my mother is, in fact, neither]

The van we were traveling in zips around and we pick Mom up. She is the last to get in our getaway car and was by far the most exposed out of all of us. She's a little out of breath. And freaking out. And here is reason 3094823905792304759043.3 why I love my mom.

Mom [breathlessly]: "Ohmygod!!!! They saw me! They totally saw me. Oh my god, they're gonna finger me!"

[dead silence]

"Uh, what?"

"They saw me! They're totally gonna finger me!"

"They're going to do WHAT?!?!?!!?"

[utter horror]

"You know, finger me. Like, point me out in a lineup."

[everyone busts into laughter]

"They're going to finger me!...why is everyone laughing?!?! I'm gonna get in trouble!"

[my jazz teacher leans over to inform my mom of the new implication of the word]

"Oh!...You people are gross."

"Well, it's not 1934 anymore, Mom."

End scene.

Happy Birthday Mama! You've earned yourself a tequila shot. Or six.

Home is Where the Heart and My Beer Is

He's sitting on the couch and I am on the chair. We just had dinner. Macaroni and cheese. He is watching Modern Marvels on the History Channel, one of the few on that station that I don't really care about. It's about oil and stuff. Anytime they mention a city from my home state, I cry out "Texas!" and he is well trained to respond "Hook em!"

He took the day off because we went to a potluck dinner last night at an apartment that didn't have A/C. White wine and XTREME heat do not a happy Swede make. What did make a happy Swede was the fact that England tied Sweden in the World Cup, making it the 38th year in a row that England, notably a strong team, has failed to beat Sweden. A tie is not a win. No doubt my father is growling at the TV somewhere. He had even called to make sure I had not betrayed my Motherland and root for Sweden in the World Cup. Ah, Europeans and their football. I enjoy the occasional sporting event, and certainly whooped and hollered during the UT Championship, but I certainly don't understand the level of obsession that leads to riots and such over it. In the end, I fully realize that I don't actually play any of these sports, nor am I actually on the teams, and therefore do not feel they are my possesion--"WE won today." Well, shit. I didn't win anything. I sat on my lazy ass and drank a beer. I like to keep that in perspective when viewing such events. Though I will enjoy it as much as the next person.

It's a quiet and lovely domesticity. I feel at ease with him in my home, our home, and in about five minutes I'm going to stop writing here and curl up with him on the couch. We're already in our pjs and it's not yet 8 and I couldn't be more pleased about that. Something about this love has quieted, albeit slightly, the frenetic nature of my mind. I think it's why I'm not writing as much these days. It's not that I don't think about things a lot or feel compelled to write, but I don't have the driving desperation and hopeless drama that normally fuels my entries here. When we go to bed at the end of the day, and I'm wrapped around him in our ferret-like nature, for the first time in as long as I can remember, some part of my soul feels quiet and calm. The level of warmth that surrounds it is my comfort blanket all through the day and I know that this is what they were talking about when people wrote all those prettier things about love that I could never attempt to match. It's the missing puzzle piece to our lives. Certainly the missing one to mine. And it has settled in nicely, and the picture is complete.

It feels a lot like home. It took two years and a lot of heartache here, but I have managed to find really amazing friends, a stable job, fun and engaging activities, and someone to share my heart with. I've managed to build a life here. A real one, seperate and joined to the life I had before. I used to miss that old life so much because I felt so lost at first, I had not found my footing, I slipped in my own standards of the person I want to be.

Now I've found it. I'm found.

Thus I went and thus I go

It's an odd thing, settling into love. Sometimes I get spooked like a cat. And I keep waiting for an anvil to drop on my head because I'm so stupid happy and I have no idea most of the time why he wants to be with me. I spend most of my time being horribly annoyed with myself. But it's fine, I guess. He's very patient with me. And I can list about a billion different ways that I love him, but all I got when I try to look at it from his perspective is that I must be an amazing lay. Hee. Haw.

He is the smell before rain.

I wish I had more interesting things to talk about. I'm in love and my neck is sore. It's doing better, by the way, but I can't really put my head down very far. Nicely enough, I have regained most of my range of motion. Baby steps. I won't be doing my Exorcist impression very soon, unless you count projectile vomit, which could happen at any time I suppose.

Good night and Good luck. I'll try to kill a hobo or something to have something thrilling to discuss later.

An Open Love Letter/Desperate Plea to My Neck--

You know, maybe I'm wrong, but I thought we had a really good thing going.

You do a lot of hard work in this relationship. I know that you're involved in a lot of my everyday movement. That's gotta be rough. I mean, I just used you to take a sip of my iced tea right now. But I don't think it's been an entirely one-sided relationship. Haven't I always stretched you? Before working out, dancing, even some mornings when I sensed you didn't appreciate how I slept, I've always tried to be careful of you. I let nice people like Swetus and others rub you on occasion. It's because I appreciate your hard work. Remember that massage that Sharon bought us? Wasn't that nice? Didn't it make us both feel good, what with the nice smells and the great music and lovely company? Those were good times. Why can't we have more times like that? I know you've got a lot of burden to bear, and I've never wanted to be one to add to your troubles or make your life more difficult. I thought we had a nice little give-and-take.

But clearly there was a breakdown in communication. I'm willing to take the blame for that. Maybe I neglected you one too many mornings or didn't pay attention to some of your more subtle hints. So I understand that you did what you had to do, and hurting me forced me to pay attention to you. I can't blame you for that, I'm a girl who needs a lot of attention, too.

But didn't I take immediate action to tend to your needs? Didn't the nice doctor I took you to go see put nice heating and cooling things on you? Didn't he add that nice electrical pulse that loosened you up a bit? Didn't that make us BOTH feel better? I fully understand that this problem won't be fixed overnight. Relationships need constant work and that takes time. I appreciate this fact. But I really thought we were getting somewhere.

And then you let a little accident stand between us and a brighter future. Maybe it's not right to blame you for it, but accidents happen and I don't know why you're reacting so strongly about it. Hand didn't mean to slip when I was propping myself up. The comforter doesn't allow for good grip--and don't blame the comforter, because you know you love that thing as much as I do. So Hand slipped a bit. And Shoulder had to compensate so Brain wouldn't splatter everywhere. Because none of us win when that happens. And I know you and Shoulder are close and stuff that happens to Shoulder really affects you, but when are we going to stop playing games with each other?

I am aware I need to tend to you. So I'm okay with one night being uncomfortable and not very restful because you weren't getting your needs met. But one little accident after all I did yesterday? I didn't even jump up and down at my best friend's show last night (which really rocked) because I was trying to keep YOU in mind. I didn't fully hug my friends. I didn't want to upset you. And how to you repay me? Waking me up every time I tried to move in my sleep just so I'd constantly be aware that you're pissed. Well, you know what? I think that crosses a line. You're like an infant, Neck. Do you want me to treat you like that? Because what you are doing is what babies do, and depriving me of sleep when I am doing everything I can to attend to you is unfair and it makes me grumpy and exhausted and then I'M not happy too. I thought you could be more mature than to try to bring me down with you.

All I'm asking for is a little bit of restful sleep. That's not too much, I don't think. And most of my waking time is now dedicated to you, I'm waking up very early to go see the nice doctor who gives you treatments and I'm trying to be even more cognizant of your needs. I just need you to give back a little. Attack me all you want during the day--I'm a big girl, I can take it, but the sleep deprivation is only going to make things worse between us. It makes me wonder why I even bother with you at all.

I hope we can get back to the way things were. If we do, I think we both deserve a little treat like the one Sharon got us. Doesn't that sound nice? But you have to be willing to meet me halfway, otherwise this relationship will never work between us.

Respectfully,
Me

The Lowdown

Sorry, I'll write more later--but here it is--Cliff's Notes:

1--still very much in love.

2--sorta binged on 24 this weekend. I've now seen everything. In six months.

3--hurt my neck. Apparently, I know have a spastic neck. It hurts. A LOT.

So yes, all three of these reasons are why I've been out of touch. I had something lovely thought out to write yesterday, but then I decided it was better to be on the floor, unable to move out of extreme pain [XTREME] like the MedicAlert old chick or something.

I'll write more later.

Hootie Hoo!

Goddess on A Mountain Top

My last installment of Going Back to Cali must wait.

Why?

Because today has inspired me to create another Staten Island God [subject to approval by Blythe, Sharon and Marina]:

Tummibumpkis--God of Intestinal Troubles

Good Ole Tummibumpkis has sort of destroyed me today. Tummibumpkis has been kind that at least in moments of urgency, the bathroom was empty of coworkers [a situation that can prove most awkward].

Yeah, I know. I'm a girl. We don't have intenstines. I forgot. I'll now return you to your regularly scheduled cuteness:

Thanks, Daily Kitten. It makes me feel slightly better.

Going Back to Cali

First, what has consumed me most of today [not wanting to recount the whole horror, I steal this from the email I sent Marina]:

"So, Angie's out sick today and for some reason, [Boss] thought that Robert and I weren't on the distribution lists for [Confidential Info] so she kept forwarding us the emails that we already got and I finally got the nerve to tell her we didn't need them, we already had them and then right after, I ran into her in the bathroom. We were discussing if there were any lists that we weren't on that I needed to be on and it was all really professional and stuff and we were walking back to our areas and just as I turned to go into the para room, I felt a little draft. All this professionalism? Happened while I had TUCKED MY SKIRT INTO MY PANTIES!!!

[Boss] didn't notice but I am still dying of shame."

Yeah, I am the hugest nerd in all the world.

Part 2: Cute Overload

Sorry. I'm trying to keep my mind on track but then it's all...PANTIES. We've made it the Word of the Day.

Hopefully, I can use up this film on the camera I bought and post pictures, but it should be noted that mine and Abby's mani/pedis turned out fabulous. They have little flowers on the big toe with a fucking JEWEL on them. Bling bling!

But basically, it goes like this:

After a lovely day at the beach when Amy arrived [boogie boarding is so much fun and I don't care that it's "Surfing for Lame-O's"], the first Faction of Parents came into town (Mom and Gary--the Kingwood Battallion). The next morning, early as we could, we headed off to the San Diego Zoo.

If you read this blog regularly, you know where I'm headed.

When things were really bad for me here after the bet, and I hate myself and I wanted to erase my existence from the world [DRAMA ALERT!], nothing really made me very happy. Somehow in the course of the development of my friendship with Sharon, we were comment-happy with each other on LiveJournal. I keep trying to find the entry, but alas, there are far too many. But basically, to cheer me up, she posted a picture of a cute little kitten that was photoshopped to do "Jazz Hands." And it was the first time I laughed in a really long time. And cemented my idea a little more that in many ways, Sharon and I are kindred spirits. Cynical to a degree, but give us a kitten doing jazz hands and all is right with the world.

And thus began my obsession with all things cute and fuzzy. When everything was shit in my world, when I felt everything was corrupted and nothing was good or pure or untainted [and when you live in New York, it's even easier to think so--the proof is all around you. Makes it interesting or depressing, depending on your outlook that day], the one thing that still seemed truly innocent were animals. And cute ones at that. The fuzzier, the better.

And as you know, I became a bit enamored with Panda Cam.

And Panda Cam is from the San Diego Zoo.

Throw on top of that Koalas, Polar Bears, Alaskan Brown Bears, and a LION, and I was just about the happiest little camper in the world. Swetus and I tried to coordinate to where he could actually SEE me on Panda Cam, but it was not meant to be.

As if I couldn't handle any more cute, we went down to the beach again to look at the harbor seals. April was birthing month for them, so there was a whole fresh batch of baby seals that melted my wee heart. When I told Swetus that we were going to see them, he asked if it was BYOC [Bring Your Own Club]. Ha ha. Bastard. I love him so. I don't think I've ever posted a baby seal picture here, so here it goes, it'll make me feel like I've written more.

Anyway, it was a lovely and we had a very nice time looking at all the sweet things in the world. Kinda made it full circle, since I clung to all these cute things as a way to deal with my own pain--being able to see them all when the dust finally settled [and by "them all" I realize I mean both the cute animals I adore AND my family].

The next installment in this series will involve how my sister almost missed her own damn law school graduation that we all came out for. That silly girl.