Boy, do I have some Tales to Tell...
Sunday, November 30, 2008
I've always said that if you ever have a craving for something, you should eat it. Because, if you keep denying your craving, it becomes an obsession.

This past week, I had a craving for some ham. So, I bought a Niman Ranch Petite Ham. I love ham. No. I crave ham. No. I can't live without ham. Truth is, I can't live without pork. I tend to cook vegan at home but the only reason that I cannot fully commit to being vegan is because I have this unhealthy need for pork. So, back to ham...

When I got home with my Petite Ham, I found a pound of sliced ham in the fridge. The husband apparently had similar ideas. So, I ate that first. I then headed out to Philly for Thanksgiving. And what did I have for lunch? Ham.

Well, today, I finally broke open the Petite Ham. Plus the husband got back from Philly with about a pound of ham. Which I have continued to nosh on during the night.

I'm not sure why I have this craving for ham. I just do. I could eat it constantly. And I do. Ham. It's my best friend. Later.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Scene: At store.

Customer: Hi. Can I ask you question?

Tim: Absolutely!

Customer: I'm looking for a gluten-free, dairy-free, wheat-free apple pie. What do you have?

Tim: I can offer you an apple.

And.... scene.

Ahhhh. Thanksgiving. Thanks for nothing. Just one more day. And it's past. And I can avoid questions like that. Or questions like, "What is the easiest way to have Thanksgiving dinner?" Get invited to someone's dinner. Anyway, Happy Thanksgiving to anyone reading this. Later.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
I'm not a fan of going to the movies. But, once in a while, something is out there that I want to see. I highly suggest seeing Were the World Mine. I loved it... maybe partially because the lead character's name is Timothy. Plus, I love films that make me suspend reality. And there is one other reason but it would spoil the film. Go see it. In these times of negativity, this is a great breath of the positive. Later.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
What is it about a stripper pole? No matter who you are, a stripper pole has some sort of allure. Something happens to people when the lights begin to pulse, the music blasts its thumping rhythm, and there you are, up on the dance box... suddenly, something comes over and you become a sex kitten. Am I right or what? Or is it just me?

Is it just me who slides down the pole, separating my knees at the bottom, grinding my way back up, as I undulate my body to the beat, with my lips parted, and a come-fuck-me look emanating from my eyes, tossing my imaginary hair side to side, then hands on hips, thrusting my pelvis back and forth, wetting my lips, ending with a pout of insouciance... sorry... had a moment.

I don't think it's just me. My friend C. says that stripper poles bring out the fantasy in everyone. Especially the wallflowers. But most certainly the exhibitionists. That would explain me. Later.
Friday, November 14, 2008
So, Thursday, the morning after my partner and I protested the Mormon Church, as is our habit, we turn on Good Morning America. I got out of bed to see if there was any coverage of the protest. The coverage amounted to a two-minute segment. When they cut to a local briefing, there was a 15-second segment.

I was happy to see it on the news. What I wasn't happy about was that there was a entirely-too-long story about some crazy Paula Abdul fan who overdosed in her car. They even had her white trash family on. They were sobbing and saying that the deceased was distraught because the Idol Judge made fun of her for her appearance and she went there for her vocals. Did they hear the vocals? There was another story about some little white girl almost falling off a cliff. And some little white baby boy waving his arms in the air.

Seriously? My fucking rights are non-existent and this is given air time? Seriously? I'm being considered a second-class citizen and we need to know about a obsessed fan? For real? What if those children lose their parents and some gay couple in Arizona wants to adopt them? Guess they're fucked.

And really? Sam Champion? Robin Roberts? Lest you forget, you are part of a maligned minority. I mean, seriously? You couldn't say something? Sad.

Going forward, I am refusing to watch television news. It is a fucking joke. Later.
Thursday, November 13, 2008

"What do we want?" "Equal Rights!" "When do we want them?" "NOW!"

We were there. We were vocal. We told them we counted. We marched. We stopped traffic.

I felt very proud to be part of the peaceful demonstration in my City. I was directly in front of the church. Part of me wanted to see some stone throwing. Because, if you think about it, what the Mormon Church has done is basically throw stones at me. But we didn't have that. It was very peaceful. Apart from some stupid drivers being mad, there was not much fracas. But they were stuck in traffic and going nowhere. Now you know our pain. Biznatch.

"Hey, hey. Ho, ho. Homophobia has got to go!" Later.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Anyone want to join me this Wednesday (November 12) for a little peaceful demonstration? We're meeting at the Mormon Temple on 65th Street & Columbus Avenue. Around 6:30pm. Bring signs. Bring candles. Bring friends. But most importantly, bring yourself. Later.
Friday, November 07, 2008
I sometimes want to ask those who support stupid propositions why I matter so much to them? Why does my existence as a loving person, who happens to love another person, of the same gender, matter so much to you? So, let's take away the people who proposed this proposition and talk to the people who were convinced by them to vote for this proposition: since when did anyone marrying another person, hetero or homo, change you obviously empty life?

I don't understand why there are people out there who think it matters so much that two people of the same gender marry. Seriously? I mean, seriously? I don't care if they are in love. I don't care if they are doing it for the tax break. I don't care if they are doing it for the green card. I don't care if they are just doing it for shits and giggles. Because we all know that hetero couples never marry for any of those reasons. Why, am I such a matter to your existence?

Is it because you are scared that me marrying my partner is going to take away your hard earned money? Try talking the the outgoing president about that. Is it because we may cause your marriage to break up? Try looking in the mirror for that reason. Is it because two women marrying each other is going to cause frogs to rain from the skies? Try watching the news sometime (and try reading another book). Is it because you value human beings so little that you would relegate them to being second-class citizens? Let me guess: you're pro-life as well.

So, why do I matter that much that you won't let me marry anyone I want? I don't want to marry a chicken. Or my cat. Or a pencil. Only uneducated, small-minded people think that way. Which I am willing to go out on a limb and assume that you are neither uneducated or small-minded. Are you? Because I can't fathom any reason why you would vote to deny me a silly, simple, yet basic right, to marry the person who I want to spend the rest of my life with. But would gladly vote to prevent a chicken or my cat from being treated with less dignity than you give me. Just wondering? Later.
Wednesday, November 05, 2008
WAAAHHHHH!!!! I'm home. Sick as a dog. It's a stomach bug. I feel really shitty. In more ways than one. It's bad.

It all started yesterday. I woke up feeling less than good. Got ready for work. Voted. And headed to work. I got in and it started. You know that feeling when you just feel like your body is saying, "STOP!" It started with the chills. I got some tea but that did very little. I started burping (I know, gross). I started burping last night's dinner (double gross). Obviously, something did not digest. I can't blame it on last night's dinner because the hubby had the same thing and he is fine.

So, I left work after an hour. With some homeopathic medicine and some juice. Got home and crashed. For five hours. I wasn't feeling better, so about 9:00pm, I called out for the next day.

And, here I am. Still not doing that well. I finally got something to eat. Mainly because I was feeling weak and needed some kind of nutrition. The cat isn't used to having someone home the entire time. She is a bit freaked out. I'm also not the best patient, so I tend to alternate between loving the cat and pushing her away. Mike hates me being sick because I am quite an asshole.

I asked him to bring home some paper towels and ginger ale. Can you believe? Sick as a dog and all I can think of is paper towels for the home and ginger ale for my stomach. Ugh. I am going to sleep again. Later.
I'm just writing down some of the things that run through my head.

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Location: New York, New York, United States

Eating up the City before it eats me up. I'm a freelance cook who spends his free time working out, cooking for "my man", and wondering why the Right is so concerned about my bedroom.

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