| 11/27/2005 |
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- Stuffed:: Animal
- Armstrong:: Stretch
- Bruise:: Black & Blue
- Content:: Context
- Musical:: Number
- Assistance:: Help
- Scrambling:: Eggs
- Battle:: of the Sexes
- Extended:: Play
- Discount:: Store
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I posted this @ 11/27/2005 01:09:00 PM.............Need a link?..........
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| 11/25/2005 |
BABY I'M YOURS
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I posted this @ 11/25/2005 05:59:00 PM.............Need a link?..........
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| 11/24/2005 |
HAPPY THANKSGIVING
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I posted this @ 11/24/2005 01:19:00 PM.............Need a link?..........
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| 11/22/2005 |
DREAM ON
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I've had several dreams that I mean to make an entry about.
Dream #1
I was part of a elite spy team with Jenifer Garner (Alias' Sydney Bristow) as my partner. We were on our way to rescue a young woman who had been taken by Russian or some non-descript European bad guys.
Even now, I can still easily recall the look and feel of the building she was kept in. It was a warehouse type building that looked to be a distributor of plants and flowers and exotic foliage. I can remember the cool stone pavers and planters. I can remember tasting the moisture in the air.
As Sydney and I made our way through the building in search of the young woman, we were running low to the ground, hiding behind stone planters along the way. We overheard her captors talking to someone. Her mother! The young woman's mother was somehow involved in her own daughters abduction. We also noted one of the guys carrying a crossbow. Why? I don't know. You'd think a gun would be preferable.
We were spotted, eventually and began running faster. Dodging bullets and crossbow bolts as we made our way to a large set of open stairs leading to a attic loft-type area of the warehouse. We found the young lady bound, blindfolded, and gagged, just in time for her mother to dramatically also appear in the doorway. Sydney drew her gun, but the mother pleaded not to shoot. She ran over and helped us untie her daughter. An odd, but seemingly happy reunion.
It was about that time when the guy with the crossbow appeared in the doorway, took aim, and shot. It was unclear if his target was mom or daughter, but he hit mom square in the chest. She started to fall back towards a window, when the daughter tried to grab her and keep her from falling. It didn't work. They both fell out the window into a conveniently placed set of empty boxes below. Daughter appeared to be moving, but was obviously hurt. Sydney took out the Bower with one clean shot. We rushed past him and outside to wear the daughter was trying to climb out of the pile of boxes.
Once downstairs we noticed a delivery truck parked across the lot with it's trailer open. He was obscured by shadows, but you could make out his form and the glint from a camera lens. About the tie we noticed, about a dozen more camera-carrying photogs stepped forward, took aim, snapped a couple pictures. Struck a different pose, aimed, and took a few more pictures. The truck trailer door quickly closed, and sped off into the night. The young woman said that it was the Yakuza (Japanese Mafia) and know that they know who we were we were marked for death.
Dream #2
I was in Nebraska City. It's a Casey's gas station now, but it used to be a Goodrich Dairy Ice Cream shop. There were ten of us who were getting together to play football. I don't know who any of these guys were. Yet, we all were looking for Daly to show up. I don't know a Daly, but whoever he was... his Dad was now Mayor of Nebraska City. Jokes were being made that now that he's a mayor's kid he's too good to play football with us.
Dream #3
In reality, I like the length of my hair right now. Well, actually the length it was last Thursday. It was a good hair day. ANYWAY... I'd gone to get my hair cut and the lady was trying to trim up my hair. I have a cowlick or some odd clump of hair that decides it like to grow differently. I've been asked before by whoever cuts my hair if I'd just recently woke up, but that's another story. So in order to take care of this unruly section of hair she decides to cut it short. WAY short. Much shorter than the rest of my hair. She fusses with it a bit trying to get it to look nice, but to no avail. I've got a decent haircut going with a two strip of hair that is now shaved really short.
And that's it for my dreams... They make no sense, but then have you read the rest of this blog? What does? |
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I posted this @ 11/22/2005 07:43:00 AM.............Need a link?..........
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| 11/21/2005 |
DON'T MESS WITH TEXAS
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I posted this @ 11/21/2005 03:23:00 PM.............Need a link?..........
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DRESS YOU UP IN MY LOVE
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...which really has nothing to do with my love or anyone else, but more about the dressing part.
ANYWAY!
I'm pretty sure I've got one leg shorter than the other. Either that or I'm shrinking and not symmetrically.
You see, I recently bought not work pants. I went up a pant size which was alarming enough, but I can live with that. But where I typically wear 32 length jeans and slacks I fit into a 30. A 30?! Now I understand that different companies could make the same type of clothing and it would be different sizes, just because it is different productions, but still... Is there no standard? Maybe it was mislabeled. Sure there are a lot of easy possible explanations, but none so alarming as the possibility that... I'm. Shrinking.
Asymmertrically, even! I've noticed for a while now that my right foot would scuff the floor more often than my left. My gait is off. Well now in these now 30 length slacks the cuff is dragging the floor on my left leg where it doesn't on my presumably longer right leg.
I knew that as a person got older they fell apart. I just didn't realize it would happen in such a manner. |
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I posted this @ 11/21/2005 11:01:00 AM.............Need a link?..........
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- Heads up:: Seven-up
- Kicker:: Header
- Aggressive:: Passive
- Getting ugly:: Fight
- To be continued:: Next week
- Twist:: of Fate
- Form:: over Function
- On the road:: Again
- Import:: Export
- Flowers:: for Algernon
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I posted this @ 11/21/2005 10:59:00 AM.............Need a link?..........
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| 11/18/2005 |
HUNG UP
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In the grand tradition of this blog I bring you the latest ramblings from my mind.
I am in love with the latest single from Madonna and I eagerly await more from the album. The video has a very 70s feel to it Which, as a look I'm not too keen on, but the sound I love. I've been listening to it non-stop any chance I get. Which helps to get every little word of it stuck in my head. Even as I type this... "Time goes by... so slowly." Over and over. I love it!
I think my arms are longer. My arms seem longer than they were during the summer. Though, it might be because I'm wearing longer sleeved shirts now that it's colder. And I need new shirts...
An update on my Grandfather. He spiked a 102 degree fever on Wednesday and was having problems breathing. My Grandmother and Father didn't even make it to Nebraska City before getting a call from the nurse. They went back to the hospital. He was doing better on Thursday and now seems to be having some kidney problems today. I appreciate any thoughts, prayers, and positive mojo sent his way.
Top 5 TV Shows of this week:
1) Lost - Even though it was a backstory of the tail section survivors and not a whole lot of new information. Yet, any new Lost is a good Lost.
2) Grey's Anatomy - Great show in general. I love Dr. Bailey!
3) Alias - It's been intersting seeing Jennifer Garner's pregnancy actually written in to the show and how they use it in fighting the evils of the world.
4) Survivor - I'm a reality show nut. Tho this season hasn't been as drama filled. I'm rooting for Rafe. Not because he's gay, but because he is actually playing smart and a lot more physical than he originally let on.
5) Family Guy - Best line? Meg: "It's where I make out with my boyfriend... Dan... Mitchell...-stork. He's the chairman of the soccer... ball team?"
Mike and I were talking about this. Andrew Stimpson was diagnosed HIV+ in 2002, but was found clear of the virus in 2003. He recieved no treatment for his condition. Obviously there is a huge push to research how this was seemingly possible, yet he will not consent to have tests run.
There is no ethical way to force his cooperation, yet... If what has happened is actually true, it would be a huge break in a possible cure. I'm skeptical to believe that he either actually had HIV to begin with or that there is something else going on. Because... why not consent?
That is all for now. |
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I posted this @ 11/18/2005 11:05:00 AM.............Need a link?..........
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| 11/17/2005 |
TEARS IN HEAVEN
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*actually written 11/15/05
I cried yesterday.
As a typical activity I am not unknown to emotional outbursts. I'm a sappy guy at heart. A perfectly timed song can sneak up and make me misty if the moment is right. So as rule of thumb. Cris = Crier.
Last week my Grandfather was in the hospital with an enlarged heart, slow pulse, dizziness and labored breath sounds. During my weekly call to my Grandparents my Grandmother spoke of the incidence in the same breath as funeral arrangements. I was trying to hold it together, because I was on the road. Yet, I was freaking out inside. Had he died? Was he on his death bed?
He wasn't at the hospital at the time. He was home and doing fine. Part of me figured that he must not have been too bad off if they sent him home. The other part knows it was also a good thing to think to at least keep me calm enough to drive.
They were going to do further tests in the following days. Tests which showed that he would need a pacemaker. That was scheduled for last Thursday in Lincoln. It was a 'routine' operation, but on an 84 year old man... Nothing is routine. The doctors that examine him all talk about how stubborn he is, in the good sense. Always a good thing to hear. What could have been a simple procedure turned a little more complicated. The doctors explained that about 1 in every 100 or so cases happen like this. The were unable to run the leads to his heart through the first small incision that was made on his right side. The rest of what was said is unclear because all that was relayed to me at the time, still in Omaha was "open heart surgery." They next attempt to place the heart leads for the pacemaker were on Monday. I made arrangements to be there.
My Grandfather and I have never been super close. Not that we've ever had a falling out or any problems. We care about each other and we both know it, but it's never really said. He keeps his thoughts to himself that way and I am negligent in speaking them more often. Monday was different, obviously...
I was the first to arrive at the hospital Monday morning. My Grandmother hoped that one of us would be able to be there when the Doctor made his rounds. When I showed up I asked my Grandfather if the doctor had stopped by. He wasn't sure. In one sentence he'd tell me he had. Then a little while later he'd recant, and say he'd not stopped yet. The same was when I asked if he'd has any breakfast. He wasn't sure. He couldn't tell me what he had or even if he had any breakfast. He asked me several times what the weather was like outside. Repeating yourself because you have nothing else to talk about is one thing. Repeating yourself because you don't recall a conversation from ten minutes ago had me worried.
I watched his heart monitor and the irregular and sometimes weak pulse that it displayed. It was fascinating and frightening all at the same time. This wasn't just a rhythm that I could get hypnotized by. This was the readout of my Grandfather's heart. When it would seemingly 'skip' my heart felt like it skipped too. I'd shoot him a glance if I saw that it was not reading out normally. What was going on inside him? I teared up.
Finally my Grandmother arrived. She'd told me that she had worried he was getting forgetful for sometime. His hometown doctor has prescribed a medication to help with his memory. I forgot the name, right at the moment (no irony intended, but still kinda funny). He had not been on it since he stay in the hospital. Plus, whatever drugs they were giving him for his discomfort. Might have contributed to his memory issues.
The doctor came in and explained what they were going to do to him. Make an incision under his left pec and slip in that way to attach the pacemaker leads. They wouldn't have to crack his chest. Thank God! I didn't know how anyone could stand that, let alone an ailing octogenarian. As the doctor asked questions, my Grandmother would answer for my Grandfather. He is hard of hearing. She's used to doing that by now. It was the worst ventriloquist act. The doctor agreed and even commented on her ability to speak "for him."
He was taken in to pre-op around 1130am. He surgery was to be around 130pm. I never knew it took so long to get ready, but I was glad that the time was at hand. I watched as they got my Grandfather moved to the gurney. They loaded him up and moved him down the hall to the patient elevator. We walked beside his gurney as far as we could. The nice nurse explained what was going to happen now and where we could wait for the doctor to come speak to us. We told my Grandfather that we'd see him soon, because... What else do you say? Honestly..? I teared up. I couldn't help but wonder if this would be the last time I'd see him.
The waiting room is a special kind of Hell. It's a kind of Hell that people are in who have done nothing wrong. A punishment for those who have done nothing wrong other than to know someone. And that's not a crime. Yet there we sat for hours.
My Father and his family had made the trip from Alabama to be there for my Grandparents. They brought their children with them, which shocked me. Hospitals used to be pretty strict on not letting anyone over a certain age in patient's rooms. That is no longer the case. They were rather hyper, but what kid wouldn't be after a two-day car ride, and then to be asked to be still while adults fretted and worried. Their behavior was understandable, yet annoying to me.
My Grandmother and her brother, who was also there for support, were randomly chatting about anything under the sun. My Grandmother seemed like a lot of her speech was just nervous chatter. Anything to take the place of having to think about what her husband of over 60 years was going through. I was annoyed.
You see, when I get really stressed I need to have quiet time. I need to be alone with my thoughts. I'd rather immerse myself in what's happened, even if I do so by thinking about it quietly. Process it all. Worry about it. Hope for the best. I'm not saying it's the right or best thing to do. It's what I do.
As I looked around, the room was filled with other families doing the same thing. Some were playing cards. Others were sleeping. A few were watching CNN. All of them were ignoring the Giant White Elephant in the room that threatened each of their loved ones.
It's not that I wanted to talk about it. Yet, I didn't feel right ignoring it either.
After three hours my Grandfather's doctor came out to speak with us. He spoke directly to my Grandmother in a very even and deliberate voice. Each word carefully chosen to express the right meaning. She pulled me in close to her so that if she missed something that hopefully I would pick up on it. I was Back-up Ears.
The surgery went well. Everything went as expected. He would spend about an hour in Post-op until they were sure he was suitable to be moved back to his room where he would recover. The doctor was pleased with the operation.
My Grandmother felt relived. As did we all. Neither of us had eaten since seven that morning. It was time for food.
Once in his room, the nurses began their job of making sure everything was going ok and that he was monitored closely. Obviously weak as a kitten, he couldn't remember what happened to him. The nurse asked what his wife's name was. "George." Everyone laughed, but me. We all knew he was just being his usual jokester self, but there was a serious reason why the nurse was asking him such questions.
"In 60 years of marriage he's never actually said my name more than a handful of times," my Grandmother would say.
"What holiday is coming up soon?" The nurse continued.
"My birthday." While correct, is not what she was looking for.
He looked around the room at all of our faces. "Cris, I think they are pulling my leg. What am I doing here?" Everyone laughed.
It made me irate. Mostly, he was stoned out of his gourd because of the anestethia, but he honestly didn't know what was going on. He didn't remember having heart surgery (thankfully). He didn't even remember how he got to the hospital. He couldn't say anyone's name. Yet, he'd keep asking me if this was all some joke and everyone would laugh at how funny Stoned Grandpa was.
It was not the time for jokes, people! Laugh to keep from crying I guess...
I finally had to walk out because it was too much for me to see my Grandfather so confused and no one seeming to take his confusion seriously.
Everyone was leaving for the night. My Grandmother and I remained. He was sitting up more and about ready to have some dinner. When they say hospital food is bad, I can tell you that it isn't really 'that' bad. Yet, when you take a dietary specific meal and roll it around in a hot steamer cart from floor to floor, it loses some of it's luster.
My Grandfather couldn't cut up his food. You know, because he just had surgery. Weak kitten and wet paper bags and all that... As I stood there cutting up my Grandfather's meal of dried out herb-chicken and new potatoes, I just bawled. It was all just so odd in ways that I've never experienced before.
I've been to hospitals before. I work in one now. The air is thick with emotional energy. I know why. It's just all raw emotion. It's the things that hospitals remind us of. We break. We are not going to live forever. Miracles happen. People die. Other brand new little people are born. The whole circle of life can be seen it's various stages. That's a pretty powerful scene in my opinion.
Now is the recovery time. He'll go home in a few days. Hopefully he'll remember that he had surgery and that he shouldn't be driving for a while or climbing stairs. Hopefully he'll remember to bundle up because it is cold outside. He can't be watched all the time. It's those times that I worry about.
He'll be fine. Now is the time for the mindless chatter to drown out the mental reminders of what is worth worrying about in the world. |
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I posted this @ 11/17/2005 08:44:00 AM.............Need a link?..........
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| 11/10/2005 |
ALL I WANT IS YOU - U2
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DB had this posted then Flower followed suit. This is the first I'd heard of it, but it's rather amusing to see the results.
CRIS NEEDS HELP! Don't we all?
Cris needs music. Very much so! I'm jonesing 24/7 for a good song.
Cris needs to be by himself as well. More than I thought I'd ever admit.
Cris needs to find its own niche. I'm a He!
Van thinks that Cris needs help. Are we taking a poll? I'd be afraid to get the results of that one.
Cris needs immediate surgery, or he risks losing the use of his hand. But I like that hand! That hand and I have been through some hard times together. You know I had to go there...
Cris needs to do stack backtraces. I don't even know what that is, but if you show me...
Cris Needs You. Obligatory Uncle Same reference.
Cris needs to take important calls while he is cooking!! Hands-free headsets rule!
Cris needs to teach kids what they can. Can what?
My Wants...
Cris wants to marry her. Um... No.
Cris wants to know how this happened and Hank is surprised that Jen has not told. Okay guys! Hank... Jen... You've got some fessing up to do.
Cris wants more sponges. Who lives in a pineapple under the sea??!! Oh sorry... That's Spongebob Squarepants.
Cris wants to do 5 things. Things? I guess I set my goals low.
Cris wants to write. It was a dark and stormy night.
Cris wants to make an impact at various levels. Level 1? Check. Level 2. Check. Level 3. Check. Level 42. Check.
Cris wants Eric and Eric alone. Is he good looking? Does he look like Sean Astin?
Cris wants to come forward about his identity. I'm actually the Lindberg baby, and it feels great to finally admit it.
Cris wants to wait until he's feeling better and in one piece. I miss my hand already...
Cris wants to determine if it is bacterial or viral. It's just a rash, baby. It's nothing! Really! Don't worry.
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I posted this @ 11/10/2005 02:50:00 PM.............Need a link?..........
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| 11/09/2005 |
I'M FEELING YOU - Michelle Branch
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I'm alive folks. I've not posted in what seems to me like a long time. Though, it's only been... a week. For some reason it seems like it's been so much longer.
There is and isn't a whole lot going on. I'm in a weird mood lately. I feel like I want to say something, but not sure what. I feel like I want to do something, but not really sure what to do. Like I've just walked into a party where I only know a couple people. Do I walk over to them? They are talking to someone else. Do I get a beverage? I'm not really thirsty. Yet, I'm still standing in the doorway and now people are starting too look at me because I'm letting in the chilly night air.
Sorry.
My Grandparents are ok, but they've been better. My Grandfather is getting another stent put in via heart cath tomorrow. His heart was enlarged and was slowing down. He was in the hospital and as checked out. They let him go home so he must not have been too bad.
My Grandmother has hurt herself somehow. She didn't fall, but slipped on a mushy piece of fruit underneath one of their fruit trees. She think she might have pulled a muscle. The doctors think it might be a slipped disc. She gets and MRI Friday. She's claustrophoic. It'll be an open MRI. She's been using a dining chair on wheels to get around, which is sad, but funny at the same time. Trust me. The idea of my Grandmother scooting from counter to counter as she makes a sandwich for lunch is something that is ok to laugh at. She does. So that makes me feel better, because at least she's in good spirits about it.
I'm still not over Daylight Saving Time. It is too dark too damn early. I'm barely home from work and the sun is going down. Another reason I don't care for fall. I miss summer already. It'll be seven o'clock and I'm ready for bed. Am I switching to hibernation mode already?
I miss music. I still listen to all type of music and come across great songs all the time. Yet, my car stereo rarely plays any local stations because they suck. They really do. We used to have a couple good alternative and adult alternative stations. They've both gone by the way-side in lieu of odd mixes of 60s, 70s, and the occasional 90s song. It's ok, but meh... No new stuff.
I'm addicted to Soul Calibur III. (Sorry Mike.) There are tons of unlockable characters and items that you can use to creat your own characters. My OCD kicks in and I must unlock everything possible! I suppose that is the sign of a good game. Or... a serious mental illness.
So, all in all. I'm still alive. Still doing ok. If I get my shit together and can put together a decent blog post that isn't so rambling, you'll be the first to know. Well, second really... I'll be the first. |
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I posted this @ 11/09/2005 05:53:00 PM.............Need a link?..........
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| 11/01/2005 |
C'MON GET HAPPY
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I've been debating about what to say in a post like this for some time. This is my blog and I have the ability to speak freely on it. Yet I was concerned about the risk of seemingly like a bandwagon supporter of any issue. I've never felt the need to come out on this blog and make some sort of announcement about my sexuality. What purpose would it serve? Who would it benefit?
How can I put this? I've re-wrote this paragraph a dozen times and I'm still not sure these are the best words to convey my meaning. I don't want to be seen as someone who is just taking up a cause or supporting an ideal because it is the thing to do or a 'fad topic' to discuss. I hope that when I mention something seriously that it can be taken as such as. I hope that I haven't blown all credibility for being able to have an opinion. Sure, I like to joke about things. (Okay... Everything.) Yet, I want to try and at least show that I have opinions too. I obviously don't know everything, nor do I hope anything I say is taken as though I think I do. Sometimes I may contradict myself. Great! Hopefully when I realize I do, I'll learn something about myself or the world around me.
There is a television show on Bravo called "Great Things About Being..." They satirically cover topics such as being... fat, queer, 30, blonde, or a red state. While the show is a little edgy and is not meant as a serious documentary of any kind, I'm not sure how I feel about it. I was flipping stations and I caught the episode where they were covering the great things about being queer. I guess they prefer "queer" because then they can also promote their other Bravo show Queer Eye For The Straight Guy. (Which is a whole other topic.) I could look at it as a joke and not think much of it. Yet I could also think about the stereotypes that were being presented on the show.
So where the great things about being queer? Um... Parades. Cher. Show tunes. Being able to see everyone naked. Just to name a few. I laughed at this show. It was funny. Yet, the more I started thinking about it... the more I was annoyed by things. Not just on the show, but stereotypes in general about being gay. Is this what The Gay Man can be reduced down to? Parades and show tunes? And what is with being able to see everyone naked? Who couldn't do that anyway if they really wanted too?
Yet, I'm conflicted. When I worked at the Hotline a common phrase I could be heard saying was, "It may sound stereotypical, but it's stereotypical for a reason." I still believe that sentiment. I'm just not sure I believe it applies equally across the board.
What do you think of when you think of the typical gay man? Effeminate voice or mannerisms. Promiscuity. Good eye for design or style. Cher. Coordinating outfits. The Village People. Will & Grace.
Now do you think of any of those things, including the ones you came up with, because of a stereotype you might have in mind or because you know people who would fit that description? I would not personally say someone is stereotyping the gay man, because, as I said, the stereotype exists for a reason. Maybe I'm just trying to figure out the reason.
In a way, it is kind of like The Chicken & The Egg. Which came first? Do young men think that in order to be gay there is a stereotype to follow? "Oh, this is how you be gay."
Exhibit A: Do guys think this is what all other guys will fall for or be interested in? Yet, my question is do gay guys act like this because the think that is what they should act like or because this is how they actually are as human beings when not on the internet. Where they have a face. And a name. And a mother who would slap the spit out of them if they ever treated a woman that way.
Exhibit B: Esera Tuaolo recently spoke at a local college about equality and human dignity. As an athlete in the NFL and homosexual, I can't even imagine the conflict he must have felt. In such a masculine field where being openly gay is almost a threatening to your career as being gay in the military, it must have been extremely difficult. He speaks about his life and the choices he has made in the hopes of helping younger men and women come to terms with their own lives. He hopes to positively impact other who may be struggling with their sexuality.
So he came out. Greg Louganis "Olympic diver" came out. Recently Sheryl Swoopes "WNBA" came out. Even more recently George "Sulu" Takei came out.
The societal atmosphere is certainly different now than it was ten years ago. Ellen came out on her sitcom and it bottomed out shortly there after. The controversy behind her decision to come out on her sitcom led to a drop in ratings, advertising pressures, and marketing problems. Yet, look at her now. She has one of the most successful daytime talk shows on the air right now.
It seems to more acceptable for a Women in Hollywood to come out as opposed to men. "Oh, she's a lesbian, sure." Yet there seems to be a change in perceptions when it is an actor who has been around for a while, who suddenly comes out. "He's what?!"
A Homer Sectional!
Ok... So maybe the cultural climate hasn't changed as much as I thought.
The HRC has a set of ads out called "Tom: The Token Gay Friend". In them, Tom, the obvious token, is trying to educate his friends about equity and gender issue. Way to go, Tom! Yet, Tom... Why do you feel the need to bring up such heavy topics at the most non sequitur of moments. I know it's an ad with limited time to get the message across. Yet, maybe if Tom wasn't such a downer at such inopportune moments he'd have better luck.
Great idea. Bad follow-through.
The names in the following story have been vagued to protect the offender's anonymity.
I was at a party where only a couple people where aware of my sexuality. Granted I brought a date to the party, but we weren't hanging all over each other and I had forgotten to wear my "I'm not gay, but my boyfriend is" T-shirt. So really there shouldn't have been any foreseeable reason why such a topic would come up and directed at me. Then again...
As the festivities played out and we were all hanging out talking, a friend begin talking about how her sister needed a friend to hang out with. But not just any type of friends. She wanted a guy-friend who wouldn't be interested in her. She just wanted a male friend. Someone fun. Someone... gay. She wanted to be a hag. Which was, um... ok... Were we talking about Will & Grace? Did someone mention Sex & The City and I missed it? Because where did that come from?
Then to turn and look directly at me and ask me, "Do you know any fun gay guys that my sister could be friends with?" Did I get nominated as the token gay and not know it? Why not direct it at the entire group? Why look directly at me? I thought I sensed a little bit of spitfire in the way it was said. Mainly because it seemed like the type of passive-aggressive backhand that I also verbally volley with.
Maybe there are complete logical reasons for the ways of the world that I've either not figured out yet or for whatever reason are just unaware of. Either way.. it is an interesting journey. |
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I posted this @ 11/01/2005 02:38:00 PM.............Need a link?..........
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