The magazine subscription beg-a-thon

A couple of weeks ago, I received two letters in the mail, one from each of my two young nephews asking me to 'support our school' and sign up for magazine subscriptions. I tossed them in the trash. Two days ago, I received copies of the information again and AGAIN I tossed them in the trash.

I have subscriptions to four publications: Vanity Fair, The Advocate, National Geographic and PC World. I read them every once in a while, mostly while, "indisposed." Ahem, cough. I'm very behind in my reading of these magazines because well, I work full time and I spend most of my free time in front of my laptop reading weblogs. The point is, I don't need more magazines and I certainly don't need magazines that are going to benefit a "Christian School" in the Deep South. Uhm, hellz no.

I am finding that as I get older, I am becoming less and less tolerant of the followers of religion, even when they are in my own family. Elton John is right, as far as I am concerned, and we *should* ban all religions because their followers truly *are* hateful lemmings.

I have found, in my experience and truth, that most followers of Religion are arrogant, hateful people who are going to get a good dose of reality when my favorite line in the Bible is shown to be true: "The meek shall inherit the Earth."

The one about the weight gain

In 1993, I met a woman who I thought would be the one with whom I'd spend the rest of my life. After a time, I found her to be a raving narcissist and, though I loved her family and had no wish to leave the relationship with them, I found myself withdrawing more and more into my own hobbies and interests and leaving the intimate relationship with "she who must have her way" behind. Since my interests were not her interests, at all, and she had little inclination to even pretend to want to do the things I did, I thought "fuck it".....it's my life, too. . . .

She turned 40 and decided to find a personal trainer to help her lose her baby fat, subsequently had an affair with her trainer and then dumped me after seven years. She then spent another two years screwing me around and hinting at a reconciliation and I would offer that this was only because her family loved me so. Sigh. What a waste of time.

Anyway, immediately after the breakup, I freaked out, had endless anxiety attacks, lost 3o pounds in six months and spent most weekends hugging a bottle of Jack Daniels whilst nestling alone on my couch. It was a little bit of my own personal hell on earth.

Fast forward six years or so.......to an amazing four plus years relationship, the purchase of a new home and the discovery of Xanax to ease those anxiety woes! No more overwhelming, debilitating anxiety, BUT, no more weight losses either.

I've rediscovered the 30 pounds I lost in 2000 and have gained about 10 additional. I am now, today, wearing pants that used to be my Fat Pants and I was dishearted to find that they are TIGHT. The Wendy's bacon cheeseburger, fries and Kit Kat bar that I had for dinner last night didn't help.

It must stop. This is insane. I am NOT this person.

The post about the sanctity of marriage [cough, bullshit]

I don't know about you, Gentle Reader, but I, for one, could not be MORE shocked. Today, just a few days past the day of giving thanks for all the freedoms and such we have in our lives......Kid Rock and Pamela Anderson each filed for divorce from each other after four months of marriage. I am in a very fragile state as a result.... someone....please....hold me.

How shall I ever take heterosexual marriage vows seriously ever again? FOUR MONTHS? Until "death do us" fucking "part?"?????????

Lucy? Let me 'Splain Myself

Many, many years ago , my brother and I became friends with two boys, Matthew and Mark*, whose father was the kind of dad I always wanted mine to be. My father was in the military, as was their father, but mine traveled quite a bit and the time that he spent away on Temporary Duty (TDY) made my home life just a little bit sweeter. On the other hand, M&M's dad was the kind of dad who made pancakes for them for dinner, took 'em to Burger King, to softball games for his squadron and he'd take them camping. (As an aside, my father beat the ever loving shit out of me whenever he could and called me "Crisco" because I was "fat in the can." Good times.)

Since my "father" was quite the "playah", he and my mom eventually parted ways and, (you've already read ahead, haven't you, Gentle Reader?) Matthew and Mark's dad and my mom got married. Bliss was this close to being had by one and all in our glorious land....except, my mom gave custody of my younger brother and me to my sadistic, ill tempered father because "your brother needed his father and I didn't want to split up you kids." Good Move, Mom! Two Thumbs UP!

My brother and I spent summers and Christmas Breaks with my mom and our SD (StepDad) and, it should be noted, right around the last day of the visit, my anxiety levels increased and I started wailing about how "this is the last time...we'll do this or that" and there was quite the melodrama. It has to be said: I did not want to go back and reside with the sperm donor but, I had no choice.

Fast forward a year or five. My father remarried . They spawned a child a year or so later. Then, the Evil Father got orders to move overseas..........I wept. I was 16, I was this close to my letter jacket for being a Band Queer and we were moving away. To Germany.

As telephone conversations went back and forth between both sets of parents, regarding the impending move to Europe, I was beyond wearied of living with my Evil Father so I asked for the opportunity to live with my mother and SD in a forlorn Southern State. My wish was granted. I was to be reunited with friends from 4th through 6th grade and life would be good again! Except??? The SD got orders for Germany, as well. I decided to move with them instead and my "father" took that hard. Apparently, I was supposed to be his beating beeyotch 4-ever.

Now, to backtrack, at some point along the way, whilst I lived in a different state with my mutha fucking father, prior to my moving in with my mother and the SD, both stepbrothers started turning into rabid Southern Baptists. This was .....disheartening, at best, since each of the boys had showed me their naughty bits and had no "come to Jesus" moments when we were alone.

Anyway, so, we moved to Germany, we lived as a family, we loved as only a dysfunctional family can. I drank a lot of mutha fucking beer, my dad got "The Cancer", he had another kid, he threw me some melodrama and I finally graduated from high school and got the hell out of Dodge.

In a desperate need to be at one with American McDonald's fries, I moved back to the States, leaving the SBs and the parents and the MF father and his family behind, and embarked on my College Journey in San Marcos, Texas.

I joined my mother and SD at Christmas the first year they returned to The States and was stunned to find that my younger SB was doing things like BURNING HIS ROCK ALBUMS FOR THE LOVE OF GOD! Literally. Burning.Albums.For.Jesus. (That didn't stop him from telling me all about screwing his girlfriend in our parent's bed (EWWWW) JESUS ROCKS THE HOUSE!

Fast forward 30+ years. My mom and SD? *They* are my PARENTS. They went from Military Loving Closed Minded Republicans to Liberal Open Independents. I love you guys....

Fo' Real, yo.

* The Names Have Been Changed to Protect Myself from being Sued by Morons.

Slacker

There is a security guard (and I use that term loosely) who is here "securing" our area. He has his radio on, the door to the conference room closed, and his little face is resting comfortably on his crossed arms whilst he snoozes.

*adorable*

Penguin Love

Oh for God's sake, people. Yes, Gay penguins can raise a baby penguin.

Get the hell over yourselves.

http://www.cnn.com/video/player/player.html?url=/video/us/2006/11/16/oconnell.gay.penguins.kmov