I'd Never Make It As An Actress

Unholy Boss: "Everyone else is staying late tonight since we got new accounts in, and you're getting ready to leave. You don't seem to have the same dedication as you used to."

Me: "Shit. My carefully orchestrated facade of concern for your business and a desire to make you even more wealthy has been unveiled."

Unholy Boss: "You are such a bitch."

Little Sluts Should Go To Jail

I've been spending an ample amount of my extensive free time at work browsing Fark.com. Lately, I can't get past a few posts without seeing an article about some hot female teacher screwing one of her students. It's got me to thinking about a very good friend of mine, and it's gotten me seriously fucking steamed, and I'll tell you why.

My friend spent two years in jail, and was under house arrest for another year after his release. He now lives in Hickville, USA taking care of his ailing father, while trying to finish up college to earn a business degree, as well as working nearly full time to assist his parents with their bills. He has had a hell of a time lately keeping a job though, since the moment employers find out what he was incarcerated for, he is instantly deemed a pariah and fired on the spot. He has lost several jobs this way, has had to find interesting ways to gloss over several years of his life when making conversation with other students and professors, and has to constantly deal with the effects of his jail sentence and subsequent status...which is *rapist*.

Hold on to the image you just got in your head about my friend. Young male, labeled by our laws and government as a sex offender who had to serve time for his criminal act. I have no doubt that the image you see is is not a pretty one. Perhaps some old guy feeding off the flower of young, impressionable virgins. Perhaps some guy who has raped women in back alleys. Whatever you envision, it is nothing like what you would think if you heard a female was a rapist or sex offender. I'd bet my life on that. This is what I see in the media and social reactions to statutory rape:

• Men are seen as predatory villains who have stolen the innocence of a helpless victim.
  
• Women are applauded for getting some young ass, and men everywhere are wondering "why didn't I ever have a teacher that fine hittin' on me when I was living with a 24-hour erection?"
  
• Men are sent to jail for up to 10 years and are forever listed as a sexual predator.
  
• Women use plenty of snazzy defenses to show why she was so 'confused' and 'misunderstood' and would 'never make that mistake again'...and they WIN.
  
• Men are released from prison, stripped of their license, live as outcasts in their community or move to a new city and pray no one recognizes them.
  
• Women get a book deal, and their stories are told in a movie of the week on Lifetime for Women and are supported by friends and family for what she has 'endured'.

Are you fucking KIDDING ME?

The over-sexed teacher population is one of two examples on how there is an egregious difference in how we treat and view people who make mistakes regarding sex. If you are going to ruin a man's life for having sex with a minor, you damn well better do the same to a woman. There should be no difference in jail time, or social perception, but obviously there is, and it is complete bullshit. We view it as: a man is supposed to have absolute, total and constant control over his impulses, and if he dares to slip even once, then he must be severely punished because girls are frail and easily scarred for life and this traumatic event must certainly mean years of therapy and bad relationships with future men. We see the woman perpetrator as "Mrs. Robinson", sweetly and seductively taking this young boy into manhood, showing him the beauty and grace of human sexuality while leaving him with a wistful memory that he will surely cherish in 80 years as he withers away in a nursing home.

In my friends situation, he made a stupid fucking mistake. He was in his early 20's and was having a party at his house. He said it was a great party, tons of people, tons of liquor, loud music and hot sweaty sex going on in various rooms. Wish I had been there! One of the chicks that was there had been at other parties, hung out with some of his friends, and she was hitting on my friend HARD. From what he tells me, she had a pretty fine physique and looked mighty good that night. She was on him for hours, talking, suggesting, flashing smiles, leaning in at just the right angle to allow him optimal cleavage enjoyment, touches, kisses and leg rubs. Two young, moderately intoxicated, attractive people....you can guess what happened. She made her moves and they had a night of bliss. Well, it was probably more like sloppy drunken sex with a lot of slurring and falling all over each other, but hey, who can complain?

The next day, officer friendly shows up at my friends apartment and says "you're under arrest". As his brain is starting to melt and every organ in his body threatens to shut down or implode, he stammers out "huh? what? why? what'd I do?". The policeman looks at him with disgust and says with a fixed mask of anger "for fucking a minor". My friends eyes grow wide as saucers, instantly losing all color in his face, the very blood in his veins seeming to shrivel and die, all the while, he scans his mind for an explanation. This is a joke right? Surely it is a joke. I don't hang out with kids. What the fuck is happening to me??? And the cuffs are slapped on tight...

He finds out at the police station that the lil' minx he nailed has a brother. A very angry brother who also happens to hate my friend. Apparently, the two had some altercations in the past. The angry brother was looking for any way to get back at my friend, and when his trampy little sister opened the door to full legal recourse, well, he just stepped on through. Angry brother was all too happy to inform the police that my friend had committed statutory rape, as his sister was only 14 years old.

My friend had no fucking clue. Of course he knew she was young, probably in the 17-18 year old range. The simple fact is, they were at a party, they were drinking, she wanted to get laid, and so did he. Happens EVERY SINGLE DAY. He didn't coerce her, he didn't throw her down on the bed kicking and screaming NO. They just had sex. But as far as the law is concerned, he committed statutory rape of a minor, and he was going to prison. Period. He was being sent to a facility that houses murderers, brutal rapists, armed robbers and more....cuz he got laid.

He went to court and plead his case, but saying you didn't know that someone was under age is not a viable defense. The judge couldn't care less. Even though the girl got up and testified that she lead him to believe she was older than she was, that she wore clothing and makeup to purposely appear older, that she in fact, pursued him and it was completely consensual, the judge couldn't care less. The law was the law and my friend was going to prison.

What a fucking joke.

Men take the heat way too much whenever a woman feels like flaunting her shit. If a 23 year old woman had sex with what she thought was an 18 year old boy, no one would want to stone her in public screaming "rapist!" Sure, if someone was angry enough about it to report it to the police, she would have to make the rounds in the legal system, but she would at least have RECOURSE. She can use every excuse in the book to garner sympathy and forgiveness, and she would GET IT. She would be pitied. But the same thing happens to a man? Well then it is all about following the letter of the law, no excuses, no exceptions.

I personally think it is idiotic to make a person go to jail for having consensual sex. Don't tell me a 15 year old boy can't make decisions on whether he wants to get some hot, older chick ass. That's my personal belief, and many would disagree. I wish it weren't such a stringent law, and I sure as hell wish there were a way to differentiate between honest to god against your will rape, and people in the wrong age bracket gettin' it on. My friend is registered as a rapist. When you go online and search the sex offender database, you will see his prison photo right next to the guy that has made it his life's mission to brutalize women. He doesn't get to put up a disclaimer that says "wait! this is what actually happened!"

And what about the 14 year old that essentially ruined my friends life? What happens to her? Nothing. She can lie, manipulate, and seduce, but my friend has to suffer HER consequences. Why is there no penalty for her? She took someone's life into her hands, wreaked havoc, and skipped away. She will never have to worry about background checks, or new friends finding out your criminal status. She will never have to register in every county you ever live in for the rest of your LIFE as a sex offender....she just gets to forget it ever happened. Just another silly thing she did when she was young and stupid!

How can you put all of the culpability on men? How come men suffer much more dire consequences than women? How are all of these females avoiding prosecution by smiling pretty and claiming 'emotional hardship' as the reason she decided to fuck a teenager?

How come these little sluts aren't in jail?

The saddest part of all of this is my friend is a fantastic guy. He is the reason I met my husband in the first place. He was the first person I called and told, after two weeks of dating, that I was head over heels in love. He was so happy for me he was practically in tears. He said nothing could make him happier than to see two of his best friends together. My husband and I asked him if he would get ordained so he could be the one to marry us - and he did. He is the kind of guy that would drop his entire life, jump in a car and drive 15 hours straight if I needed help. He is the kind of guy that ADORES women...he loves their intellect, their beauty, their charm, their grace. He has always been a great admirer of the fairer sex and has always treated them with respect and honesty. He is doing everything he can now to get his life back in order, get a degree, be a great son and repay his parents for all of the expense and heartache this ordeal has caused. Once you are a friend of his, you are a friend for life. You could lose touch for 10 years, but that wouldn't change anything once you re-connected, it'd be as if not a day went by.

The people that didn't know him pre-incarceration will never see that. If he doesn't have a chance to explain what happened, all they will see once they know about his record, is that he is a rapist. All because some little bitch gets to do whatever see feels like without any consequences...JUST BECAUSE she is a female. I feel terrible for guys these days...they really get a raw fucking deal.

My Husband Better Have The Balls To Club Me Like A Baby Seal

About a year and a half ago, I had to put down my cat. My first kitty, my Amadeus, he was one amazing little guy. Anyone who isn't a cat person will never understand, but he and I had a very special bond. He started to get sick just before Christmas. He was only seven, and should have been the picture of health. The vet couldn't figure out what was wrong with him. He was hurting, and vomiting, and listless. It was agonizing to see him in that state, even just to think about it now, it still makes my skin crawl. They ran every test they could think of, and short of cutting him open to poke around his insides, there was no way to make a firm diagnosis. The vet said that in the absence of any other diagnosis, it was most likely cancer of the liver. Cancer. My sweet and perfect Pookey was sick and there was nothing in the world I could do to fix him. I truly felt like I had lost my best friend, and it was like being in a void where I couldn't feel or hear or breathe.

The vet gave him some meds to bring back his appetite, had some fluids pushed into him, and I took him home weeping like a little bitch. The vet said the meds have him feeling much better for a day or two, but I had to think about the inevitable...putting him down. Those last two days I was with him were wonderful and awful. Jesus Christ, I am sobbing even as I write this. I realize that what I am about to say will sound ludicrous to anyone who doesn't bond with their furry companions like I do...well, tough shit. Deal with my pain for a moment. I played with him, I held him, I slept with him curled up behind my knees, stroking his soft, silky fur for hours. I told him how much I loved him, how much he meant to me, how much I was going to miss him. I said my goodbyes and prayed to any god that would listen to give him a painless death and take care of him when I no longer could.

It...was...EXCRUCIATING.

I wanted to die with him. I would curl up on the floor in the bathroom and cry for hours. I would cry for so long that I thought my soul had just seeped out of my body. Eventually my wails and sobs would fade into a deep, heart breaking moan and I would fall asleep feeling completely numb and exhausted.

I woke up and decided that I would not, under any circumstances, accept this. He was my Amadeus, and I had to fight for him. I had to make someone understand that he could not die! I drove to the humane society and asked to speak with the vet again. The vet that had performed all of his tests came out to meet with me. I sat him down and explained that this was just unacceptable. Something had to be wrong. Someone screwed up the tests. Maybe they were reading something wrong. Maybe he just needed medication or shots for the rest of his life but he would be otherwise the spritely kitty he had always been. I was resolute to be very serious, and above all, I would not cry. If I didn't cry, this wasn't happening, and I could make this all better. The vet was extremely patient in the face of my insanity, and he was incredibly sympathetic. He explained again, that it just happens sometimes. Sometimes perfectly healthy cats fall ill, and there is nothing we can control but the amount of suffering they endure. I asked if there was any way we could keep giving him the meds I got the day before, continue to keep him hydrated, how much more time would he have? How much more time would *I* have with him? He said that Amadeus was already in pain, that he was most likely trying very hard to hide his pain from me. I had no doubt that he was right. Amadeus was always empathetic and he had the uncanny ability to know when I was hurting, and he would literally pet me and try to console me. Amazing creature. The vet said that the cancer would start to shut his organs down, the pain would increase and he would be unable to do anything at all. He would just lay there and die in silent agony. My resolution to be very serious and not cry under any circumstance was shot to shit. I lost control of my emotions and I just sobbed. This complete stranger put his arm around me and just let me wail.

I finally got myself under some semblance of composure, and I asked him what the process of euthanasia entailed. He explained what they would do, and what they believe it to be like for the animal. I nodded my head and was able to whisper that I would bring him in the following morning. The day before Christmas Eve.

I thanked this man for enduring my emotional outburst, and taking time out from his hectic schedule to sit with me. He said something that has stuck with me to this day. "This is one of the hardest things you will have to do, I know that. But I believe that it takes more love to put an animal down one week too soon, than one day too late". I drove home thinking about that. It was torturing me that the meds and fluids had made Amadeus like his old self. He was giving me cuddles and running around with my other kitty and his appetite was back. The thought of putting him down when he seemed so alive was just so hard to reconcile. But I eventually understood, and agreed with the vet. Amadeus was going to have maybe a week or two of feeling good, but the pain was going to set in, and he probably wouldn't let me see it. He would suffer for my benefit. Then he would crash, and crash hard. There was just no way in hell I was going to let my baby go through that. No way in hell.

I drove home and really prepared myself to spend the last remaining hours I had on this earth with Amadeus.

I am an emotional wreck writing this part of my story, so I am going to wrap it up before my husband offers me any little 'relaxation' pills.

I'll allow you to imagine what it was like the next day. Having to part with him. Say my goodbyes. Just promise whatever you imagine, you will multiply that by ten. Only then might you have an inkling of what I went through.

There comes a point in every life that it must cease to exist. It is a natural fact, and it is unchangeable. No one wants to think about it, well, unless you like that sort of thing, and certainly no one wants to think about someone they love dearly meeting their end. It makes me think about the woman that lives in the apartment below us. She is the mother of my landlord, and was probably once a very lovely woman. Now, she is so senile, she probably would believe her live-in nurse is Joseph Stalin. She has suffered several strokes, is unable to do much of anything on her own, she is in diapers and on tons of medication. Sometimes, I hear her wailing and moaning through our old heating vents. Just wailing for no reason at all. It has, at times, reminded me of my nights curled up on the bathroom floor. It makes my blood go cold. I feel for this woman. I feel for the pain she must be in. I fear that she experiences short moments of clarity, which only serve to remind her that she is otherwise in a constant state of infancy. She is no longer the adult she was, with a bright mind and a history. She is a shell that is just waiting to die.

I wish someone would love her enough to end her misery. Euthanasia on humans is a very touchy subject, very taboo in our culture. I think that is idiotic and blind. Is it that we are too terrified to think of our own mortality? Is it that we are convinced that a deity will strike us down if we dare end the suffering of a loved one? Is it that we believe it is murder, no matter the wishes of the damned? I know plenty of cultures have incorporated euthanasia as a perfectly natural part of existence. It is not against god, or against mans' invulnerability to do what is best for someone we love, who is in pain. It is just another phase of life, and therefore accepted.

It's too bad we don't have more avenues of relief for loved ones who suffer incurable and debilitating sickness. I can't imagine living a life, struggling to survive, raising a family and filling a home with love and memories only to have it all wiped away by a stroke or dementia. I can't imagine suffering the pain of end-stage cancer, watching my body shut down while I lie in a hospital bed unable to stop it. I would never want that for myself, and certainly not for my family. I would not want them to see me in that state, not only because it is horrible to watch someone die slowly, but because it wouldn't even be me anymore.

If I am on a constant morphine drip, in and out of consciousness, mind hazy and uncomprehending, that is not me. That is not the vibrant woman who fought for and earned everything she had in life. If I am severely senile and unable to remember what it means to use a bathroom, I am no longer the woman who tried to make everyone she knew laugh. All the wonderful, horrible, sweet, loving, bitchy, neurotic, tender, forgiving parts of me would be buried and gone, only my body remaining.

I have talked to my husband about my wishes to never live like that. To never have to endure being here but gone. To never have to know in the afterlife that he suffered so horribly for me. He tries to shrug it off, "don't talk about thinks like that" or "I don't want to think about it". Those excuses don't fly with me. I married him and he vowed to always do everything possible to make me happy. He vowed to always love me more than anything else in this world, to always take care of me. I know lots of people would think love is enduring someone elses pain. Caring for them endlessly while they are dying and demented. Showing them the true meaning of "in sickness and in health". My husband, in his fear of losing me, would probably foolishly agree.

Well baby, I got news for you...you married a girl that belives true love is clubbing me like a baby seal when the time comes. I love you more than anyone has ever loved someone, but so help me all that is holy and pure, if you leave me on this earth to rot and wander the house in my crusty robe singing The Brady Bunch theme song, I will permeate the walls of dimensions and reality to haunt your ass straight into the bowels of insanity and beyond.

Why Jesus Thinks You're Dumb

A friend of mine showed my blog to his wife. I happen to find both of these people to be extremely intelligent and down to earth, and value their opinions. After viewing my posts, and of course praising them as genius (oh shut up), she pointed out that some may be offended by the title I chose. "Jesus Thinks You're Dumb" - credit to E for suggesting it to me!

If you are the type of person that is immediately taken aback or offended by what most would call a *sense of humor* then this is obviously not the blog for you. If you have read anything up to this point, you will notice that the trend is for me rail against those who have such a tiny little cranium and inability to see possibilities outside of their 2 square feet of comfort zone.

I think Jesus must be shaking his head constantly as he watches humans exhibiting the greatest extents of their own buffoonery. I think that if any of us could watch ourselves at a distance, we would see what complete retards most of us are. We lie, cheat, hate, kill, torture, steal...sometimes in the name of god, and sometimes just because we are too high on ourselves to see anything beyond fulfilling our own selfish desires. We rape the earth, we squander with reckless abandon, we shut each other out...because we can't see a bigger picture than ourselves. We do all of these things, and more, even though we have more capacity to love, understand, help and hope than any other creature on the planet.

If that isn't retarded, I don't know what the fuck is.

I know we have the capacity to do great things, to overcome tragedy with grace and dignity and love. We have the innate ability to stand together and put the needs of the greater good ahead of our own. Even if only for a moment. I know this is possible because I have been a witness to it. I can look back at one point in my own history and remember what it felt like when we were not at odds with each other. September 11. I don't pretend to know why the attacks happened, how they happened, or who made them happen. Right now, I don't care. What I do know is that as I watched the news, and saw those towers go up in flames, watched people jumping out of windows, watched the panic and terror of those close to the devastation, time stood still. In my own city, we were all evacuated and sent home, and as I drove, the streets were eerily quiet and deserted...something I have never seen before living in a major metro area. It scared the shit out of me. I had flashes of The End, and couldn't think straight enough to know what I should be feeling.

That day, everyone was glued to their television, and if they were anything like me, they were gathering up with as many friends and family as they could. We sat and watched the events unfold, always with the thought in the back our minds, it could happen to us at any second. There was such a hush across the city. I live close to the airport, and the absence of planes flying overhead was noticeable and terrifying. There were no trains zooming by, there were no cars with angry motorists wailing on their horns, there were hardly any people on the streets at all. It was just quiet.

For about two or three days after, it was more of the same. But as people were coming out, and life was resuming, there was a drastic change in everyones demeanor. I wasn't being cut off on the road, I was given a yield with no problem when I needed to change a lane, I was hearing 'please' and 'thank you' everywhere I went. Complete strangers were saying hello, or waving. There was a general attitude of helpfulness coming from most everyone I came across. People no longer had the constant air of discontent and hostility...those typical behaviors were replaced with a very strange sort of calm and enlightenment. I was literally marvelling at what was happening, and at the same moment thinking to myself "it really sucks that this will end".

I knew that it was just a matter of time before we all slipped back into our comfortable complacency, and the days of Love Thy Neighbor would be just a memory. I felt a crushing sadness from that realization...knowing that I have just seen the magnitude of what we are capable of, all the while knowing that it couldn't possibly last.

We were, for such a brief moment, the amazing creatures that I believe Jesus always hoped we could be. Whether Jesus is the son of god, or was just one outstanding guy trying to hammer some common sense and love into peoples' heads, I have no idea. I fully appreciate his messages even without subscribing to Christianity. His messages were about love, tolerance, understanding, faith, charity and hope, so it seems to me he is a pretty good guy to look up to. I don't recall reading anything that said: hate each other, kill each other, rape each other, or do whatever you damn well please so long as it benefits you.

So I'd be willing to bet that...

When you call yourself a good Christian, and then hate someone for being a homosexual, Jesus thinks you're dumb.

When you treat others like shit to make yourself feel bigger, Jesus thinks you're dumb.

When you have kids and don't do everything possible to be a great parent, Jesus thinks you're dumb.

When you hate someone just because of the color of their skin, or the faith they practice, Jesus thinks you're dumb.

When you have the ability to help another person, and you waste it, Jesus thinks you're dumb.

If everything I just said offends you, then you are the person this blog is written about. I suggest you just move along and go find an inspiring mommy blog somewhere...you can hear all about the trials and tribulations of being a middle-aged fat chick with three bratty kids no one can stand except her (oh they are such ANGELS!), and how she is currently dealing with her new prescription for Prozac. You can go and find some bad online poetry, talking about misty meadows and forget-me-nots. Go wherever your delicate constitution won't have to be assaulted by my words, because I really don't give a flying fuck. I am not here to make you feel warm and fuzzy or adhere to what you think is ok to talk about. I am here to vent my frustration and aggravation so my husband and friends don't have to hear so much of my shit.

You got a problem with that? Well then kiss my big ole white butt. Pucker up buttercup!

You Don't Know It Yet American Express, But You Are About To Hate Me

Teehee.

Teeheeheeheee.

"Oh my god, this is going to be so cool!"

Teeheeheee

Me: "Stop doin' dishes and come watch this!"

Husband: "Whatcha doin' baby?"

Me: "Watch this!" *click* "We just paid our entire AmEx balance! One down, three cards to go!!!" (I do my celebratory Cabbage Patch dance)

Husband: "Oh, cool." (Back to the dishes he goes)

Me: (To the monitor showing my zero balance) "That's right you bitch, suck it!"

Oh AmEx...You evil financial institution of pain and slavery, you will weep now! Here's one customer you can't bleed at 16.99% interest compounded monthly, 24.99% for cash advances. HAHAHAHA!!!! Processing fees? Sorry, my balance is ZERO baby! Default interest rates? Never again you finance devastating fiend!

In just one processing day, you will know that I am no longer an open vein for your blood-sucking thirst!

I can already envision my mailbox overflowing with your "Pre-approved ZERO interest through December 2007!" letters. "Increase your credit limit with this exceptional offer through American Express!" Oh yes, they will come to me en masse, using every possible scheme in their arsenal to get me back. They will wring their hands, frantically trying to find a way to pull me back into the depths of credit card debt. They will assault me...five, six offers a month in my mailbox, emails glowing with their new rewards programs, phone calls from their telemarketing trolls expressing their gratitude for having had such a wonderful customer like me, and what can they possibly do to earn back my business??

I will ignore their letters, unopened, into the shredder they will go! Emails will be blocked and reported as spam! I will laugh at their telemarketers and give them a firm hanging up of the phone! Oh yes, they will toss and turn at night wondering how to lure me back into their clutches. "We've tried everything!" they will shout, imploring with their Dark Lord, the bank President, "She simply won't succumb to our introductory offers with the teeny-weeny-itsy-bitsy-can-only-read-with-a-Hubbel-telescope fineprint! She must somehow know that after July 1, her 0% APR will magically transform into 22.99%, compounded from the date of issue! What, Oh Evil One, are we to do?!?"

Dark Lord: "You must hit her harder! This is the time when we must double our efforts! Do you realize the tens of thousands of dollars we will lose over her lifetime? DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT WILL MEAN TO MY PROFIT SHARING?!?"

Minions: "You can't mean..But Lord, isn't it too soon for these drastic measures?"

Dark Lord: "Silence! You incompetent fools! Do you think I sit on this throne made from the flesh of the eternally indebted and damned by CHANCE?? You will go to the next phase immediately! You will call upon the henchmen of the Partner Program Division and sell, sell, SELL her information! I sense her fortitude is weakening, surely she will crumble under the weight of our hundreds of partner offers!"

Minions: (trembling) "Yes your Evilship, we live only to serve your command."

Oh Dark Lord, yes, you will weep when you find that nothing you do can control me any longer! I have been through the dank and oppressive tunnels of your hell and I have found salvation on the other side. I am protected now by common sense and a desire to be independently wealthy! A goal that I know can only be achieved by never again succumbing to the need to fill my life with useless, over-priced shit bought by money I don't yet have! My financial freedom is within my grasp and there is nothing your legions can do to stop me! So you just better run!

Run! Tell all the other creditors the un-indebted are comin'!

You tell 'em I'm comin'!

And hell's comin' with me, you hear?

Hell's comin' with me!!

I Wonder If God Is Laughing Or Crying?

As stated in my first post, I am not a particularly religious person. I have spirituality in my life, but as far as conforming to a sect of organized religion, it's just not for me. I had explored many avenues of religion before settling on 'pagan'. I can't say Wiccan, because that just doesn't completely fit, and I am SO tired of having to defend myself when the topic is brought up in mixed company. So I stick with 'just pagan'.

I am just someone who tries to follow the Wiccan Rede, a very simple rule..."If it harm none, do as you will". I even tidied up the language as Old English makes people even more convinced I should be burned at the stake. Anyway, it seems like a very simple and obvious rule, that when you really think about it, applies to absolutely everything. In my mind, it makes the 10 commandments moot and it makes the various 'rules' of so many religions nothing more than lace trim on the dress.

If you are always keeping in the back of your mind: If the action I am about to take is going to hurt someone (including myself!), then I should find another path. And conversely: If the action I am about to take affects no one else's life in a negative way, then I am free to do what I choose. Very simple and highly applicable to everyday life...that is, if you choose to think about your actions and consequences beforehand. Again, this is just what fits ME, and my life, and my beliefs. I have no problem whatsoever with people practicing whatever it is that turns their cookie, so long as it is not harming someone else. If you don't agree, or it just hurts your sensitive feelings to even THINK of someone not believing the exact same thing as you, well tough fucking shit. Close-mindedness is not an excuse to take away someone else's right to express himself.

These last few years, there has been a bulldozer taking down anything and everything that is religiously symbolic to one particular faith. Schools can no longer have Christmas plays, they are "holiday festivals"...ok, fine, I can accept changing the name as it does particularly exclude other faiths. But to strip those plays of having any 'religious' effects is just ridiculous. The fact is, whether it is Kwanzaa, Hanukkah, Christmas, etc., the HOLIDAYS are in fact about RELIGION. We are not all celebrating the same event, but it is all religious in origin. Take your holiday play or festival or whatever is politically correct and integrate scenes that celebrate the various faiths' holiday rituals.

Condo associations have fought fellow neighbors because someone chooses to put a religious symbol on their own door, or decorate for a holiday in accordance with their faith. How fucking sick is this? Why should your disdain of religion strip away someone else's right to do with their home as they choose? Are your virgin eyes going to explode out of your insipid head if you happen to glance upon a Star of David?!?

I came across this today while browsing Fark.com and got a little sick to my stomach. The idea that we now have to gloss over HISTORY because to even SPEAK the word "Christian" is taboo, is just maddening. The future of humanity is a very grim sight in my eyes. I am sick to death of the people that want to obliterate that one thing that really makes us human...the ability to recognize that, in whatever way it may be, we are all connected. This is a simple scientific fact, this is not based on religion, this is based on genetic connections to each other. Whether you subscribe to the Evolution or Creation theories, they all come down to the fact that we are all cut from the same cloth. Many of us choose to celebrate that oneness through spirituality. Why in the world would anyone rally against that??

I am sure plenty of people will rebut my argument by citing all of the atrocities that arose from religion. No doubt, zealots who believe they know what god wants, scare the living shit out of me. These people obviously have their own agenda, and what they are carrying out in the name of god serves no greater good than their own. But for every psycho freak religious nut, there is someone like my grandmother, who loved god with all of her heart, and prayed to him daily asking for the health and safety of her family.

So there has been good in the name of god, and there has been bad in the name of god. Either way, it's not the fucking point! The point is that religion has existed as far back as our knowledge of history goes. It is an integral piece of who we are as people, and it has shaped our lives and beliefs for thousands of years. To systematically remove it from our places of education is a great atrocity in itself. To take a tour of the birthplace of America, built on religious belief, and have to take out any reference to that religion is completely asinine. We are doing our future generations a monumental disservice in not giving them the whole story. Because if we start there, where does it end? Look back on any point in history and you will see mans' inhumanity to man. All history is drenched in blood, propelled by greed and megalomaniacs. No race or nation is exempt. To remove the parts of history some may not agree with is just more of the same, and eventually, you would have nothing left to teach! Imposing your will onto others, regardless of their beliefs or desires is just another example of how we humans can't get it together. So you don't like Christianity, or you don't feel it has any place in schools or government, so fucking what? Choose, for yourself, to not subscribe to it. But to block the eyes and ears of other people without their consent tells me you got a little too much steam in your over-inflated ego.

The only way we can hope to evolve as humans is to see the truth, the truth about our history - who we were and where we are headed. We need to see all of the horrible mistakes we have made in order to figure out why we continue to make them, and hopefully with that knowledge and some (divine?) enlightenment, we can start to find a path toward something better. Trying to sanitize human history doesn't change what has happened, and it doesn't offer us any better way to make this world a place of peace and safety.

Try to imagine, if we continue to constantly restrict information, beliefs and personal choices, what our world will look like in fifty years? Do I need to go out and beat people over the head with a hardcover copy of "Harrison Bergeron" to get my point across? Do we want to celebrate everone's sameness? The glory of all that is conformed and mentally numb? What's the point of having all of these wonderful differences if we don't get to enjoy and explore them? Being human means having a conscious mind, and all of the exciting opportunities and psychoses that come with it....start whittling away at that and eventually we are all just big, stupid dogs wagging our tails waiting for the dumbass with the over-inflated ego to throw us some fucking snausages.

While I wouldn't mind seeing the Catholic church lose some of its grip on the world, and I certainly wouldn't mind seeing violent radicals screaming 'Allah' meet their maker really fucking fast, to pull away from religion, better yet *spirituality*, would leave humans feeling even more empty and alone. Very bad things happen when people feel that lost.

I honestly do try to apply the Wiccan Rede in my everyday life. I make it a point to try to be aware of how my actions will affect others, and reconsider my choices if I know they will have a negative effect on someone else. Ask a friend of mine who has to endure my lunchtime bemoanings (minus my maple macchiato...go to hell Starbucks). I actually fret over whether a decision I am making will negatively affect my Unholy boss - a true sociopath who has treated me like human waste for years. I fret because even if someone is treating me that badly, it is still not up to me to 'stick it to him'. As much as I would absolutely, completey, with every single molecule of my being, LOVE to see this monster fall flat on his face and die a horribly slow, agonizing, painful and lonely death, that's not up to me to make happen. What I have learned from my 'religion' has taught me to focus on those things that I can change and affect - in a positive way. The universe will just have to purge the Unholy One on its own.

So for all of you people that think your version of a homogenized planet is the only way to go, consider yourselves lucky...had I not been allowed to discover my spiritual path, and been smart enough to incorporate it in my daily life, I'd surely have found other lethal ways to deal with stupid fucks like you.

My Kid May Be A Bastard, But Check Out My Huge TV!

Life is about making choices. The choices you are faced with may not be the ones you want, but hey, life is also not a bowl of fuckin cherries.

When it comes to family, especially your own children, choosing them over material desires should be a no-brainer. However, it is becoming increasingly obvious these days parents have decided that the latest and greatest SUV and 80 inch plasma tv's are more important than their duties to their children.

America is based on consumerism...eat it up, use it up, throw it away, buy more, spend more, abuse your credit, die bankrupt and alone in a rat-infested nursing home (cuz lord knows after the way you raised your kids, they won't be changing your shitty diapers!). Having the most possessions, while more than likely having the most debt, is how we gauge wealth. We borrow more and save less. Spend spend spend!!!

If you want to live this way, and you are either single or a couple who has no intention of having children, by all means, ruin your financial future and die in squalor. I will giggle myself all the way to the bank. But if you are planning on having children in the future, do us ALL a huge favor, plan your finances first. Without taking this *critical* step as a parent, you have done your kids and the rest of society a monumental disservice. There are two reasons that children are being raised by television, video games, and daycare workers making $10 an hour...

One, you are so completely arrogant and needy and totally lacking in any parental skills, you actually believe that by having massive amounts of high-priced crap (which do nothing but keep you chained to a lifetime of debt) your kids are going to magically have this fantastic childhood that will prepare them for the demands of adulthood. You think that by filling your house with expensive, neighbor-envy-worthy items, you are showing your child how much you love him. You are a great parent who will spare no expense to ensure that he has an I-pod, cell phone, x-box, guitar hero, laptops, bicycles, motor scooters...so he knows that more than anything you LOVE him.

The reality is, your kid thinks you suck. You suck because you aren't giving him what he so desperately needs...a fucking PARENT. All of those nifty electronic toys are not going to show him how to be a man, how to succeed in his chosen profession, how to eventually grow to be a great husband and father himself. He is growing up alone, his idiot friends are his life teachers, and he has a self-indulged, expectation of entitlement attitude that makes me want to scream! He has no idea what the real world is like, he thinks that just by existing, he should have everything he damn well pleases, and has no concept of working for what you want. These horrible children have no sense of community or responsibilty toward their fellow man, and they are quite confident their shit don't stink. Thanks a lot Mom and Dad of the year...stellar job!!

I grew up with two parents. My mother stayed home until I was in first grade and then worked part time for a few years after that. My dad worked a regular 8-5 job downtown, and was home by six every night. We had rules, we had chores, we had allowances, and we had responsibility. We also had the time of our lives. I look back on my summers as a kid and I think to myself, will my children get to experience anything that kick ass?? Once school was out, summer was a never ending free-for-all on our block. (Back then, on any given block, there were at least 20 kids out at all times, and parents felt perfectly safe knowing the other moms, dads, aunts, grandparents, neighbors were keeping an eye on your kids). We would get up in the morning, have breakfast while watching the Bozo Show or whatever else wasn't the morning news, and then we threw on our clothes and headed outside. We would start off with playing some of the usual games, tag, running bases, stickball, anything that got our little bodies sweating. As more kids poured out of their houses, we would get organized. We played army, street patrol, cops, anything you could think of that involved strategic use of our block boundaries. We had water balloon and squirt gun fights (mine and my brothers' was often an old Windex bottle filled with water), we would go to the park across the alley and play space invaders, we had contests to see who could sprint the farthest, climb a tree or hop a fence the fastest. We would take the dollar our mom left us and walk to the end of the block and get sno-cones from the drug store, we raided each others houses for popsicles and kool-aid. Once we were allowed a couple extra blocks in our boundary, we rode bikes until our legs turned to mush. Summer nights were spent outside, parents gathered up on front porches, all of us counting down the minutes we had to finish up ghost in the graveyard before the sun went completely down, signaling that we would have to go inside soon. Moms and dads would start calling us in from the porch or frontroom window...we would try to negotiate just fifteen more minutes...and then it was bath and bed. We got up the next day and did it all over again. Summers seemed to stretch on for years when we were little, and there was never a lack of something to do. We were fully capable of entertaining ourselves, and we did it without any electronic device whatsoever.

As you have surmised by now, we didn't have a lot of money. We lived in an apartment, had one old ass car, my dad took the train to work, and we clipped coupons and re-used anything we possibly could. I took a lot of hand-me-downs for clothes, we got toys on birthdays and holidays, and that was about it. But none of that mattered. I look back and remember that I had a dad who was always home for dinner (imagine, everyone eating together every day!), who was always up for a game of wrestling, or playing Life for the billionth time, who always read me a book before bed, who took me to the library every Saturday and did magic tricks and face painting just for fun. I had a mom who made my lunches, and spent hours putting fifty braids in my hair so I could have 'waves', and took me to the park and pushed me on the swing and hung from the monkey bars with me, who let me do her hair and dress her up for 'dates' with my dad. I could fill a book with the amazing memories I have from my childhood, and my heart gets full whenever I think about them. I remember feeling so loved, so cared for, and so important.

My parents sacrificed a lot of things I am sure they wanted...a car that wouldn't break down on them, vacations in the summer, dinner at a restaurant that didn't have coloring pages for placemats..they sacrificed these things because family was more important. Their children were more important. It wasn't easy on the finances for my mom to stop working and stay home with us, but they managed.

Which brings me to my second reason children are being raised as self-indulgent monsters completely lacking any moral compass or compassion...women who want it ALL. They want the big house, the great car, the career, and of course, the money. They also want the husband and the children. They don't want to be saddled to the archaic stereotype that women have to be home in order to have a family. No, they can use daycare, nannies, and of course, bunches of money to take care of the kids. These fuckin women astound me. Do they not understand that it isn't about just having kids, it is about RAISING them? And the job of raising a child should be, by far, the most important and most time-consuming job there is. If you are spending 10 or 12 hours a day at work, how can you possibly be putting in the time necessary to raise your children??

I don't even give a shit if it is the mother OR the father choosing to stay home, one of them needs to keep their ass in the house and make sure they don't raise any more kids that I would like to put through a wall because they can't stop behaving like little bastards in public in the desperate hope of getting some attention from their crappy parents. If you are both career-minded individuals, and neither of you are willing to give that up, then sorry, you need to reconsider your family planning. I am so fucking sick and tired of women who think that feminism was born so they could pursue a career, squeeze out a baby, hand that baby over to someone I wouldn't pay to raise my fucking plastic fern, and then go back to their career as if their lives have not COMPLETELY CHANGED. I know plenty of guys that would be thrilled to be stay at home dads, but I also know they are not the norm. Most men still earn more, and most men don't have the desire to be the primary caregiver. If you married an idiot like that, well....that's for another time. Again, if your husband is earning more than you, perhaps you need to put your desire for a family ahead of your career goals and take off the next five or six years. The simple fact is that you can't, no matter how much you whine, have it all.

Most of us are middle-income folks, paying our bills, saving what we can. If we want a family, corners have to be cut. Perhaps it means moving into a house with a lesser mortgage, or perhaps renting. And in this ridiculous real estate market, renting is not a bad idea at all. Perhaps it means cutting out the 'extras' you take for granted...eating out, excessive shopping, gadgets you don't really need, gas-guzzling cars you can't really afford, etc. Yes, it is an adjustment, yes, it is a sacrifice. But it is for your CHILDREN! What in the world could possibly take precedence over the well-being and caring of your own flesh and blood?? If people got back to the basics, stopped over-indulging their kids with needless crap they won't even care about next year, there is no reason they couldn't be stay at home parents.

The experiences I had in my childhood are absolutely priceless...loving parents who taught me respect, discipline, compassion, the value of money, the value of earning what you want, and how to stand on my own two feet. I learned that I was more important to them than anything else in the world, and I could count on them 100% if I ever needed anything at all.

Ask any kid today if they would give up their 50" flat screen and xbox for that.

Fuck You Starbucks!!

I never would have thought I could be the type of person to buy $4 cups of coffee. I have always been a devoted Dunkin' Donuts fan, and that was damn good enough for me. If I had the taste for something a little fancier, I had my Mr. Coffee espresso maker at home (purchased for a whopping $30) add to that a little Hershey's syrup and steamed milk and I was in heaven.

While working at the most wretched, vile, hate-filled, soul-sucking, morally-bankrupt, run by Satan himself office, I got into the habit of using my lunch breaks to the fullest. Another girl in the office had a thing for frappucinos from Starbucks, and we would often take trips there for the deliciously refreshing treat. They really do hit the spot on a warm summer day!

After the summer started to fade into fall, and the chill in the air grew, the frappucinos weren't as satisfying as they had been. I needed something hot to warm my insides, and yet full of enough sugar and caffeine so that it would trigger enough of the pleasure center of my brain so I could briefly forget that I was working for the Unholy One and being stripped of all self-respect and pride on a daily basis.

I walked into my usual Starbucks, and I noticed a new coffee concoction on the not-so-subliminal blackboard "Try a venti Maple Macchiato this fall! Pairs well with any of our $5 mini slices of dried out pastries"! I didn't know what the hell a macchiato is, and I didn't really know if I would love maple in my coffee, but I thought why not live on the wild side and give it a whirl?

I picked up my drink from the end of the counter, sniffed at the steam coming out, and that seemed ok. I took my first tentative sip, confident I just wouldn't love it like my dear frappucino, and then...

The clouds broke.

The sun shined down on only me, gods favorite child.

I was warm and fuzzy and so incredibly content.

What amazing genius put these flavors together to create liquid bliss?? I was instantly addicted to the macchiato. I made it a fairly regular treat for myself, heading to Starbucks once or twice a week (three or four in a really bad week) for my beloved potion.

Then, as could only be expected, the gods turned their backs on me. I stopped at Starbucks on a Saturday morning, foregoing my usual homemade mochaccino. I approached the counter with a big smile on my face, already tasting the warm deliciousness.

"Grande Maple Macchiato please!" I ask the counter chick, already thrusting my $5 bill at her.

Counter chick: "Oh, I'm sorry, we are all out of maple syrup. Those are seasonal, and we won't have any more syrup until after the summer."

Me: Mouth hanging open, look of abject horror so intense, counter bitch (she's a bitch now cuz she is depriving me of my caffeine drug) actually takes a step back. "But, but, how...?" I stammer, unable to fully comprehend the situation I am now faced with.

Counter bitch: "I love them too, I was so sad when they said we couldn't order more syrup."

Me: "How the HELL can you force people to become addicted to this over-priced coffee from heaven and then TAKE IT AWAY FROM ME?!?"

Counter skank: (Yeah, that's right, I said it) "Well, uhm, maybe you would enjoy a 'blah blah blah blah blah'".

Who the fuck was listening to anything she had to say anymore?? I could care less what you think I might enjoy instead. Just like that damned Amazon.com, recommending me books based on recent searches or purchases. Frankly, I don't want you tracking my books like "Kama Sutra - The S&M Way".

So there it was. I was denied my sweet, sweet nectar. My comfort drink. My moment of bliss. I work at a job that most people quit after their first day, I am paying off wedding debt, my wardrobe is five years old, one of my few escapes is watching Heroes with my husband and scoring the occasional free pizza at my moms house. My life sucks pretty damn good right now, and now I no longer have my maple ambrosia to lessen the pain of reality.

Fuck you Starbucks. Fuck you.

Where The Hell Is My Cushy Rehab???

I'm a smoker.

Therefore....

I'm an addict.

Did you hear that correctly? ADDICT. Not the devil, not a horrible person hell-bent on ruining your dining experience. Not a person who waits to get to the *outdoor* train platform to light up just so I can ruin your glorious 'waiting around for the train' experience. Not a person who wants to torment you as you sit in a smoke-filled bar whilst you suck down the only other legal drug in America which leads to death just as much as cigarette addiction does. I am just an addict struggling with the hold that nicotine has on me. A hold which, as stated in medical studies, has been found to be WORSE than heroin.

Where then, is my fucking rehab?

When people have an addiction that is anything but nicotine, there is rallying support and sympathy of the poor, unfortunate souls that have lost themselves on the dark road of addiction. Heroin, cocaine, crystal meth, alcohol, hell, even SHOPPING addicts get interventions and all kinds of help offered to them. We get a fuckin patch to keep us from being completely intolerable during our physical withdrawl period. Thanks a whole big bunch. And to add insult to injury, the patch, gum, inhalers, accupuncture, hypnosis, auricular therapy, zyban, etc. are NOT cheap. Many insurance companies still do not cover the cost of medications for smoking cessation, and two weeks worth of patches can run upwards of $60. Yes, yes, yes, I know what you are already saying. "But at least it beats what you will pay for cigarettes if you quit." NOT THE FUCKING POINT.

Society in the past ten years has turned us into lepers because of our addiction. While I appreciate being in a theatre/hotel/restaurant/whatever that is not saturated in cigarette smell, I also appreciate that there are still venues that are PUBLIC and should not be policed because non-smokers hate us with a bloody vengeance. The push in the past decade has been to eradicate smoking everywhere possible except inside your home. There are even laws which make it illegal to smoke on your own front porch, as that is considered public domain. If such freedom-imposing laws were aimed at people for other reasons such as - you are ridiculously ugly or deformed, you need to keep your elephant-man ass in the house - they would never be passed, right? Of course not, because it is ridiculous to transform your HATRED of someone into a law that reduces your basic civil liberties.

Open-air, public forums should not be deemed smoke free by any law. The smokers have EVERY right to enjoy that forum as much as the non-smokers, and these types of laws clearly show bias toward one groups preference and liberty.

I am getting off track a little bit here...I have a lot of steam to blow off. Back to us being a pack of leprotic, unsalvageable creatures from the pits of Hades....

Where is the compassion from the public, to me, as an addict? My addiction is no different at all from the types of addiction that put people in rehab for 28 days. They get lake-side therapy sessions, ducks, gazebos, entertainment halls, yeah, I've seen the movies. It's all cushy and chic to be in rehab and your friends and family are only all too happy to support your quest. I don't even so much want to go away for 28 days, cuz those rehab people smoke like chimneys and that would just make it crazy hard for me to quit. I just want some of the same public support they get. You know as well as I do that those struggling with alcohol or drugs get sympathy, support, understanding and help. What we get is more along the lines of "oh god, can't you quit that shit already"? Unless you are a smoker, you can't conceive of the power of nicotine addiction, and having the people that love you tear you down for it is humiliating and degrading and above all, useless. Hurtful words, admonishment, lack of understanding and sympathy only make us want our comfort drug that much more. We shrink into our dark, shame-filled holes puffing away wondering what is so terribly wrong with us that we CAN'T just up and quit?!?

You non-smoking hypocritical bastages can't have it both ways. You can't turn the tables and make it a smoke-free planet and yet not offer the nicotine-bonded any help or even appreciation for what it is we go through. Is it so much to ask that instead of doing that annoying ass little "ah-he ah-he" cough when I light up in PUBLIC, you shut your god damn trap until you are ready to help me on the road to recovery?

A little human kindness and understanding is all we are asking for. We don't want to hear "soooo...have you thought about quitting at all??" or my fave "you know those things will kill ya?" REALLY GENIUS??? Oh my god, you are such a fucking scientist to have that kind of highly-guarded, little-known fact in your huge cavernous brain!

I am an addict searching for support in a smoker-hating world...and I suggest you give it to me, cuz if you think I'm a bitch now, just wait till I am cigarette deprived.

Never Offer a Jew And a Born-Again Christian a Meal

I am going to give you a bit of advice...if you want to try to make new friends with a couple, suggest a dinner at a restaurant before inviting them into your home.

My husband has lived out of our home city for about ten years and has since lost his network of neighborhood friends. He works at a gymnastics school so he doesn't often have a lot of adult interaction, or time to entertain his hobbies and make new friends. I recently had the chance to meet his small group of co-workers and ended up having some nice conversation with the gym manager. The gym manager happens to be our age, and is engaged. Since married people typically hang out with other married people, the light bulb went on and I thought "Great! We can setup a dinner at our house and see how it goes!". So my husband invites them over for a Saturday dinner, and since I love to entertain, I planned on a spread of great food and stiff drinks.

Shortly after their arrival and we all had drinks in hand, we sat in the living room enjoying some appetizers and conversation was just flowing. A little nervous about having people I barely know over for an evening, dreading the mismatched personality or lack of things to say, I was quite pleased with the way things were going. As if to point out my mistake of speaking too soon, manager's fiance turns to me and says "so what religion are you?" I occasionally slip into my own brain during conversation and had missed whatever could have brought us to this question and replied "pardon me"? Apparently they had been talking about how their families have been having a very hard time with their engagement due to the fact that she is Jewish (aspiring to be full Orthodox) and he has recently accepted Jesus Christ as his personal savior and wants more than anything to just not be damned to hell. I have a real distaste for discussing religion or politics with people I don't know, so I brushed it aside saying "oh, we haven't really encountered anything like that with our families". That seemed to put an end to the possible religion discussion and I was back to enjoying the evening.

Shortly after dinner, I was in the kitchen cleaning up and fiance comes in to get another drink. She sits down and starts chatting about her job. I really didn't want to hear much about her job since I loathe mine and would rather not discuss work on a Saturday night when I have an outstanding pinot noir in my hand. This is where it all got bad. Very bad. She talked about her job, for HOURS. I was literally trapped in the kitchen while my husband was gleefully playing x-box in the living room with manager guy. It wasn't even a conversation, it was being talked at. For HOURS. What's worse is that she works at state social services, and thinks she is the savior of all the poor and wretched people I typically scoff at and say "get a job you lazy fuck" or "put an aspirin between your knees and you'll have less problems". She went so far as to say that if God had not put her on this path to monetarily-deprived glory, thousands of babies and unwed cracked-out mothers would have been lost to the system and probably dead by now. Since I happen to believe that our system is setup to encourage the poor and pathetic to suck every single dime out my pocket via taxes, I thought to myself that God must not be a very nice guy at all to give her that job.

It gets worse.

There was no escaping the religion discussion. She hammered at me about my beliefs and my probable damnation. I explained to her that I was raised Catholic and currently consider myself more pagan than anything. She wondered why I had left the church and I told her that after my first Communion, at about age 10, I promptly told my mother after the service that was all she was going to get out of me and I had no intention of making my confirmation. If you ever want to make your Roman Catholic Italian mother weep for about a month, that's the line I would use.

She managed, in the five plus hours (not an exaggeration, I was watching that clock like a man on death row) that we were trapped in my kitchen, to bring up every loaded topic imaginable. Gay marriage, which is wrong because it says so right there in the bible. And the bible is verbatim the actual word of God and since she can read Aramaic, she has been able to properly translate the bible and is fully confident she's got the right message. Abortion. Definitely totally wrong. Her stance : what if the next aborted baby was to be the next Einstein? My response, I am perfectly ok with throwing out one good baby with the cesspool. I like to play the odds, and there are a hell of a lot more fucked up, waste of life individuals than there are monumental geniuses. I'm willing to sacrifice.

I think all in all, I managed to get about 10 minutes worth of talking into the five hours of conversation. It was like being molested, completely against my will, forced to hear the rantings of a lunatic who is really nothing more than a big fucking HYPOCRITE. For all of her talk, all of her beliefs and divinity, she is MARRYING a Christian. Which, according to her translated version of the bible is just plain wrong. Big no-no. Another big no-no? Having pre-marital sex and living together before marriage. Manager guy was particularly worried about this part of their relationship, since it is most definitely a hell-worthy offense. She didn't seem to make a very big stink about it, so I guess its the truly exceptional ones like her that receive the get-out-of-hell free card.

Finally, my husband comes into the kitchen all smiles. He is always happy after a mind-numbing session of x-box. I wanted to poke him in the eye really bad. "You guys sure have been talkin for a long time!" I shoot daggers at him with my narrowed eyes. Fiance: "Oh yeah, it's been a great night, I can't believe how the time just flew by!" I felt as if I had been in one of those dreams where no matter how fast you think you are moving your limbs, you are actually moving as if trapped in sand. "We will have to have you over at our house in a couple weeks." I almost screamed. I got up and started to get coats ready, trying to herd them out the front door. It was 2:30 in the morning and I was exhausted. They got to the door and manager guy turns around and says "Oh, by the way, we want to sponsor you for our business venture. Come to one of our meetings at the Holiday Inn this Wednesday." AAAARRGHHHHH!!!!!!!

I called my friend the next day and asked her how it is appropriate to get rid of unwanted guests when an evening is going sour. She said, "oh that's easy, all married people have codes for that"! Codes? No one told me about codes when I was saying my vows. There is no handbook bitch, what do you mean codes? I am probably the only one that did NOT know this, but in case I am reaching anyone who has been living under a rock, you will want to setup a hand or body signal that alerts your significant other when your evening is sucking big hairy monkey balls.

We have a code now. Word to the wise, make yours up beforehand.