Mortgaging My Soul, Once Again

And now I’m not working at all.

Thank you Mr. Cable Man, it was worth taking half of the day off!

First of all, I’d like to send a message to my 10′s of readers how sorry I am for not blogging for about two weeks.  It’s just that I haven’t had anything super eventful in my life happen and, while I’m sure I could have made something up, Warcraft was calling me.  Damn Warcraft and its seductive call!  Damn it all to Hell!!

*whispers*  I don’t really mean it Precious…Love you….

So this is essentially an update on what’s been going on as I don’t have anything super crazy to blog about.

Oh!!  Well, something kinda funny happened today.  Well, not so much funny as sad.  I had to take a half a day off because the Mr Cable Man would be here around 1-5.  Don’t you love those appointments?  But anyways, I was sitting around the house from 1 on, watching some TV, eating lunch, doing laundry that’s been pileing up for 2 weeks…what, you’re asking yourself, “you really have that much underwear to last you two weeks?!”  Well…no, but we won’t go into that.

So, anyways, I was in the middle of a load, watching Judge Judy ripping some bum’s ass when I heard Mr Cable Man knock on the door.  As for anyone that’s ever been to my house, in order to enter you have to first bypass the Sacred Guardian of the Household, my Demondog Zoie.  She’ll threaten you with howling barks, throwing herself into your pelvic region, and leg humpings.  So, in order to prevent a lawsuit, I always have to pick her up, contain her evillness, open the door, and manage to have a small, “Hi, nice to see you” greeting while the dog is trying to consume the visitor’s soul.

So, I get the dog into her cage and, while it can’t contain her barking and vicious thirst for human souls, it does prevent her from plumeting people with her body and humpings.  So I told the guy what the issue was and he checked the signal inside; very, very poor.  We’re able to have the front TV going and the internet connection going, but we can’t have the two TVs and the internet connection going at the same time.  So, he goes outside to check the connection to our house to see what’s going on.  Apparently the people that buried our cable line last year after the dumb ass drove into our yard while falling asleep and knocking over the cable pole forgot to seal some type of connection and water got into it, causing the signal to degrade.  So he repaired that and also replaced the box outside on the pole and also on our house and, in theory, should have made our lives and TV watching whole.

However, during this time of being disconnected and him reinstalling everything, an evil plague grew over the lands and concentrated over Time Warner and consumed the lovely cable TV connections with its destructive poison, causing a major software glitch in their whole system.  So, when he got everything repaired and turned on the TVs, it got all of the updates but then started acting really bizarre.  Like, I can’t pull up the onscreen guide (*cries*) and you can’t select a channel without actually PUNCHING in the channel numbers, then hit select, then hit exit.  THEN, once you’re on a channel for about 20 minutes, the whole screen will fade as if the DVR is paused and it goes into a screen saver mode.

However, this isn’t the repair guys’ fault.  He felt really bad ’cause, well, it makes him look really bad.  However, I know that the blame really falls on Satan for trying to destroy one of the few joys that I get outa life.  Bastard…Bastard!

And, while this was all happening, Mike called me and said that the lawn mower repair guy is coming out in a few minutes and I need to wheel the riding mower outside and put the key in their so that he can just take it.  Fine, I can do that, right?!  Seems very simple.  Yet…not so much.

I look for the lawnmower key and have no idea where it’s at.  Mike tells me it’s inside the house, hidden by the furnance.  Because, as you all know, there’s been a crazy rash of riding lawn mowers from inside people’s garages in the theft-free town of Rockford.  So, I had to locate the key and, once inside the garage I look at the mower and realize that, during the winter, a lot of stuff has acumulated on it.  There was an old comforter and pillows that need to be destroyed and also various trash sitting on it.  Needless to say I’m ashamed of how the garage looks.  Anyways, I have to first move my car out in the freezing cold.  I then eyeball the situation and, *sighs*, our old chair is sitting right behind the mower.  So, using my awesome might, I get the chair scooted out of the way.  Now, I call once again upon my strength and, while the mower was in neutral, I moved it into the driveway, popped the key in the mower, and away I went back into the house to see how Mr Cable Man was coming along.  After he left I checked outside and the mower is gone, so I’m assuming that someone took it.  It might not have been the repair man but, at the very least, someone took it.  And, really, that was my job and it was accomplished.

So, in just a couple hours I spruced up the house (aka make the bed), did three loads of laundry, survived a Mr Cable Man experience, used my Super Human Strength to navigate the mower out of the perilas garage, and still had time to have lunch and Judge Judy.

All and all a very productive day. 

So, I sent an email to Annie’s Mailbox, read what I sent her!!!  I’ll let you know if it gets published!

My partner, “Seth,” was invited to his niece’s wedding.  On the envelope
and invitation it was only addressed to “Seth.”  Typically we wouldn’t
think anything of this slip up, but a couple of years ago the niece’s
mother declined to go to a family function at our house.  She later sent us
a letter stating that the reason why she didn’t come was because she didn’t
approve of our “homosexual lifestyle” and that her and her family attending
our party would show support.

So, while we know that I was politely told that I couldn’t come, we’re not
sure how to react.  We’re not sure how the bride feels (the mother sent out
the invitations), and “Seth” isn’t very close to the niece.  I polled a
couple of my relatives and I got varied answers ranging from declining and
sending a gift, “Seth” showing up by himself to support his niece, and my
personal favorite, showing up anyways because, as my best friend’s mother
put it, I “look great is a suit and tie.”  So apparently we’re all at a
loss as what proper wedding etiquette dictates for this particular
situation.

I feel that since they don’t view our relationship as valid, I should be
vindictive and decline without a gift.  However, I figured that I should
check with you gals and see the correct social response to the situation.

–Looking Great In A Suit

I’m probably violating copyright law but, after reading this, I did want to post it on my website.  I thought the way it was written was very fluid and to the point.

Excellent.

A LETTER TO HETEROSEXUALS

FROM THE LA TIMES:

An aging 72-year-old gay man isn’t hopeful about the future.

By Larry Kramer, LARRY KRAMER is the founder of the protest group ACT UP and the author of “The Tragedy of Today’s Gays.”
March 20, 2007

DEAR STRAIGHT PEOPLE,

Why do you hate gay people so much?

Gays are hated. Prove me wrong. Your top general just called us immoral. Marine Gen. Peter Pace, chairman of the Joint Chiefs, is in charge of an estimated 65,000 gay and lesbian troops, some fighting for our country in Iraq. A right-wing political commentator, Ann Coulter, gets away with calling a straight presidential candidate a faggot. Even Garrison Keillor, of all people, is making really tacky jokes about gay parents in his column. This, I guess, does not qualify as hate except that it is so distasteful and dumb, often a first step on the way to hate. Sens. Hillary Rodham Clinton and Barack Obama tried to duck the questions that Pace’s bigotry raised, confirming what gay people know: that there is not one candidate running for public office anywhere who dares to come right out, unequivocally, and say decent, supportive things about us.

Gays should not vote for any of them. There is not a candidate or major public figure who would not sell gays down the river. We have seen this time after time, even from supposedly progressive politicians such as President Clinton with his “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy on gays in the military and his support of the hideous Defense of Marriage Act. Of course, it’s possible that being shunned by gays will make politicians more popular, but at least we will have our self-respect. To vote for them is to collude with them in their utter disdain for us.

Don’t any of you wonder why heterosexuals treat gays so brutally year after year after year, as your people take away our manhood, our womanhood, our personhood? Why, even as we die you don’t leave us alone. What we can leave our surviving lovers is taxed far more punitively than what you leave your (legal) surviving spouses. Why do you do this? My lover will be unable to afford to live in the house we have made for each other over our lifetime together. This does not happen to you. Taxation without representation is what led to the Revolutionary War. Gay people have paid all the taxes you have. But you have equality, and we don’t.

And there’s no sign that this situation will change anytime soon. President Bush will leave a legacy of hate for us that will take many decades to cleanse. He has packed virtually every court and every civil service position in the land with people who don’t like us. So, even with the most tolerant of new presidents, gays will be unable to break free from this yoke of hate. Courts rule against gays with hateful regularity. And of course the Supreme Court is not going to give us our equality, and in the end, it is from the Supreme Court that such equality must come. If all of this is not hate, I do not know what hate is.

Our feeble gay movement confines most of its demands to marriage. But political candidates are not talking about–and we are not demanding that they talk about–equality. My lover and I don’t want to get married just yet, but we sure want to be equal.

You must know that gays get beaten up all the time, all over the world. If someone beats you up because of who you are–your race or ethnic origin–that is considered a hate crime. But in most states, gays are not included in hate crime measures, and Congress has refused to include us in a federal act.

Homosexuality is a punishable crime in a zillion countries, as is any activism on behalf of it. Punishable means prison. Punishable means death. The U.S. government refused our requests that it protest after gay teenagers were hanged in Iran, but it protests many other foreign cruelties. Who cares if a faggot dies? Parts of the Episcopal Church in the U.S. are joining with the Nigerian archbishop, who believes gays should be put in prison. Episcopalians! Whoever thought we’d have to worry about Episcopalians?

Well, whoever thought we’d have to worry about Florida? A young gay man was just killed in Florida because of his sexual orientation. I get reports of gays slain in our country every week. Few of them make news. Fewer are prosecuted. Do you consider it acceptable that 20,000 Christian youths make an annual pilgrimage to San Francisco to pray for gay souls? This is not free speech. This is another version of hate. It is all one world of gay-hate. It always was.

Gays do not realize that the more we become visible, the more we come out of the closet, the more we are hated. Don’t those of you straights who claim not to hate us have a responsibility to denounce the hate? Why is it socially acceptable to joke about “girlie men” or to discriminate against us legally with “constitutional” amendments banning gay marriage? Because we cannot marry, we can pass on only a fraction of our estates, we do not have equal parenting rights and we cannot live with a foreigner we love who does not have government permission to stay in this country. These are the equal protections that the Bill of Rights proclaims for all?

Why do you hate us so much that you will not permit us to legally love? I am almost 72, and I have been hated all my life, and I don’t see much change coming.

I think your hate is evil.

What do we do to you that is so awful? Why do you feel compelled to come after us with such frightful energy? Does this somehow make you feel safer and legitimate? What possible harm comes to you if we marry, or are taxed just like you, or are protected from assault by laws that say it is morally wrong to assault people out of hatred? The reasons always offered are religious ones, but certainly they are not based on the love all religions proclaim.

And even if your objections to gays are religious, why do you have to legislate them so hatefully? Make no mistake: Forbidding gay people to love or marry is based on hate, pure and simple.

You may say you don’t hate us, but the people you vote for do, so what’s the difference? Our own country’s democratic process declares us to be unequal. Which means, in a democracy, that our enemy is you. You treat us like crumbs. You hate us. And sadly, we let you.

Sure, that doesn’t really apply to me, but I’ve always wanted to say it.  And with what happened yesterday, it’s about as close as I can ever hope to get.

So, as you can imagine, there was drama in the Pond/Ebersole family household last evening.  I was lounging on the couch, minding my own business while watching TV, and Mike mentioned that he had something to “discuss with me” and that he needed “my undivided attention.”  Now, typically when he says this, I was a bad boy.  So, instincts kicked in, denying everything, fessing up to nothing, I just plain didn’t do it.

And I wonder why he believes I have a guilty conscious.  Well, I don’t really have a conscious, I’m just used to being told I’m a bad person.  Not that I’m debating the issue, I’m just saying.

So anyways, back to my original point.  Apparently Mike’s niece is getting married in the next couple of months and he got the wedding invitation a couple of days ago.  It was addressed to Mike only, his name being the only one on the envelope and the actual invite.  Now normally I would view this as an oversight or what not.  I mean, people love me.  I said that they LOVE ME, GOD DAMN IT and normally people would just assume that Mike would be bringing me along.  ‘Cause, you know, we’re involved and everything :p.

Now that you have this bit of news, I’ll take you back in time.  A time when, two years ago, people regularly enjoyed running through the fields, picking wild flowers, and rolling around in the warm sunshine, not having a care in the world.  Until we had our lil’ get together that we threw for both sides of our families.  It was very informal, just a get together where everyone came to our house and we had hamburgers and what not.  It was a fun time held by all.  All except the mother of said niece and her family.  Afterwards we received a letter from her, explaining that she didn’t come because that would mean that she accepted Mike and I’s living arrangement and she said that she loved Mike over and over again but, frankly, he’s going to Hell.

Well, Mike’s not going to Hell, but I still have my one way express ticket in hand, so I wasn’t super offended by it.  I know that it upset Mike, as they were really close as children, but we moved on.  There are some people that you can change their minds and there are others where, scream until you’re blue in the face, they have that mind set.  And it’s those type of people that I don’t want to waste my energy on.  I have too much Warcrafting to do.

Amen.

Now, as a bit of history about said niece’s mother, her and her husband are crazy Christian fanatics.  I mean, they make my parents and grandparents look like anal-loving heathens (aka me).  They have like, 13 children, never went to the hospital to birth them, and instead opted to give birth to them in the barn that the live in.  Yes, they live in a barn due to the large amount of children that they have.  And said barn is where they hold their “Revivals.”  They have lil’ sects spread throughout the US of A and they travel to all of them, holding these “Revivals,” preaching the word of God.  Uhmm, last time I checked, that sounds like a cult to me.  Ohh, and one of them had cancer but she refused an operation to remove it due to “God wants me to have this since he put it inside of me.”  Super F’ing Crazy.

So, you know you’re not going to change these people’s minds.

So Mike was worried about my reaction to the whole situation.  I mean, after knowing said history about the family, you know that my name was left out on purpose and I’m not welcome.  Well, not that I really wanted to go anyways, but it always feels nice to be invited anyways.  However I’m not upset about it.  I’m more irritated and upset about what this is doing to Mike ’cause Mike has no idea what to do now.  He feels like he should go and witness the wedding but feels, well, excluded due to his “lifestyle choices.”  So, I called up 5 random people last night as to proper Wedding Etiquette/Protocol.  It just so happens that the 5 random people that I happened to dial on my phone was my best friend and her family, my sister in law, and my mother.  So, below are their suggestions:

1)  Melissa (my best friend) – You don’t want to ruin the bride’s wedding.  It’s not like you wanted to go anyways, just send Mike to the wedding and be done with it.

2)  Jackie (best friend’s sister) – Call the bride, ask for her opinion (the invites were sent from the bride’s parents.  We’re not sure how the bride feels about da’ gays).  If she says that she doesn’t want you there, then both decline and send a gift.

3)  Rosie (best friend’s mother) – (And, FYI, my personal favorite opinion) Fuck ‘em.  Go anyways!  You look hot in a suit !!  Which, FYI, I totally do.  At Melissa’s brother’s wedding, I think I got more compliments then the bride *laughs*.

4) Sister-In-Law – Normally I would say for Mike to go by himself but they sound like jerks, so decline and maybe send a gift.

5)  Mommy – Casey, I know that you like being a rebel and *you* would go anyways but Mike may not be comfortable with doing that and upsetting his family.  So I would suggest he either go by himself or decline, but it’s up to you guys, whatever you guys are comfortable with.

So, there you have it, 5 random strangers’ opinions on what we should do.

I spoke with Mike last night and he isn’t sure as to what he wanted to do.  I basically polled people last night due to the fact that I’ve only been to a very small number of weddings and I don’t know wedding protocol all that well.  So, my best friend’s family has been to more weddings then they can even care to remember, Sister-In-Law was recently married a couple of years ago, and Mommy is a long-timed married woman steeped in tradition, so I figured that it would be a good mix of answers.

However I was hoping for one solid answer but it doesn’t look like there’s one to the “Excluding the gay uncle’s lover due to the fact that they don’t care for Uncle Mikey sucking Big Winky.”  I think that Emily Post needs to update her Etiquette manual. 

I suggested Jackie’s idea of calling the bride and seeing what she felt about it, as it *IS* her wedding.  However he never speaks to her except at family get-togethers and essentially it’s “hi, how are you doing” so he doesn’t feel super comfortable asking her if it’s alright if he brings his cock sucking boyfriend to a super fundamentalist wedding.  Not really sure why though….

So I suggested that he speak with his father and step-mother, as they probably hear from the dreaded sister more then us (which is never) to see what their feelings are on the whole thing.  Again, I have no problem with staying behind, believe you me.  I just don’t like seeing Mike being put into these type of situations because of people’s closed minds.  I mean, to exclude me because you just don’t like me is one thing.  Not that it ever happens, I’m fucking fabulous, everyone loves me.  But to exclude me because I’m gay?  That’s kind of like excluding people because they’re black :p.

Maybe I could be one of those sweet people that write to Annie’s Mailbox and see what they would suggest in this type of situation?  Hrrmmm…I may have to send off a quick email to them and see if they publish it!!  Wouldn’t that be fun!  Then everyone in the entire country can give their opinions on what I should do!  FUN! 

So, my last posting I enlightened the world on my dilemma with having no fitting panties.

I’m here to report that, as Nancy suggested, some savvy furniture buyer did not receive all of our underwear as a bonus.  I’m also here to report that, though I looked everywhere in the household, I neglected to look in the second obvious place (besides from being in the dressers as one would expect).

The dryer.

The one spot where a Domestic Goddess would look.  However I am not one of those.  Those that flit around the house all day with their feather dusters, Pledge, and June Cleaver smiles.  No, I’m the one that cries ’cause there’s no space in our bedroom now for our clothes hamper so I have to walk the extra 20 steps to the laundry room to throw my dirty clothes/towels.  I’m the one that can’t get up from the couch to get myself something to drink; Mike has to bring it to me.  Yes, my legs are broken, thank you.

Now soon I will force Mike or, God Forbid, myself to rearrange the bedroom so that we can fit the clothes hamper back in the bedroom.  I find it awful to strip naked in the laundry room and then run across the house naked so that I can go to bed (yes, girls and boys, I do sleep in the nude…I’ll leave the webcam on some night *grins*).  I mean, for the sake of our impressionable dog and our peeping neighbors, this situation must be corrected!

However, and I know that all of you are wondering, you can still donate to the Panties for Pond foundation for new underwear.  I love pretty underwear, as much as any gay man does, and I would be super excited to get a couple new pairs. 

Yes…it’s a day of which I’m not super proud.  A day where Jessica does her low moan of torment, Jennifer shuffles her kids out of the room and pauses her Pogo games to read further, and the rest of the world pauses, smiles and nods their heads knowingly, thinking to themselves, “There he goes again, losing his underwear yet again.”

But it wasn’t my fault, I promise.

Really.

So, before I tell you the tale of me busting out my Nancy Drew membership card and stylish Detective Magnifying Glass, I have to back peddle a wee bit.  You see, Mike and I purchased a king sized mattress about a year and a half ago in hopes of upgrading from our full sized bed.

Now, flash forward 6 months.

Still no bed to put the mattress on.

Flash forward yet again 6 months, still no bed.

So, to the present!

Two days ago Mike comes home from work, telling me he went to the used furniture store where he works at and found a nice king sized bed with matching dresser drawers and decided that, after a year and a half, it was time to put up the new bed.  I decided that this would be a good weekend project.

For Mike.

What?  Warcraft just DOESN’T play itself!!!   Back me up here Jennifer and Jess!   Sure, we can neglect our household responsibilities, food preparation, and the kids/dogs.  But neglect our Internet games?  The *REAL* reason why we are still sane and happy?!  I think not.

So anyways Mike took our old bed and some dressers that went with it and took it to the second hand furniture store, picked up the “new” bedroom suite, and brought it home.  Sure, I helped with some of the lifting and the carrying of the heavy stuff, but it was all him.  I kept on telling myself that’s how he liked it.

So the bedroom turned out to be a two day event and Saturday evening both of us slept on the couch and futon.  Sunday morning he went right back to work with the bedroom, rearranging everything and having a lovely time.  Again, Warcraft doesn’t play itself people!

So the new bedroom looks really nice; I’m happy with it.  Sure, the bed takes up half of the bedroom but, really, the only reason I’m in there anyways is to either sleep or…well, that’s all that it’s used for now a’days.

So I wake up this morning, take my shower and what not, getting myself prepared for the work day, and I was looking through the new dresser for underwear.

And it’s gone.

All of our boxer briefs and the underwear that actually *FITS* me is gone.

I looked in the other dresser that we kept from the old set and it’s not there either.

I start to panic, wondering if I would have to run around work, peddling insurance without panties.  I mean, not that I really care, but people would object.  Well, they probably wouldn’t know unless I pulled down my jeans.  But, you never know in the insurance world, sometimes desperate times call for drastic measures.  Or, you know, just for fun.

So, I looked around the whole house and I couldn’t find our regular underwear.  So I had to break down and wear these bikini briefs that I got YEARS ago and, since the winter and my Lovelies (aka Girl Scout Cookies), they’re really freaking tight.  It’s a good thing that I’m a grower, not a shower, or we would be having serious problems.  ahem…

So it’s 3:30PM and I still don’t have a flipping idea as to the whereabouts of my regular undies.  I’m sure Mike hid them somewhere just to punish me for not helping with the bedroom.

Well, I’ll show him.  I just won’t wear any until they appear again! 

And, for those of you that don’t want to see this happen and understand my plight, post a message, asking to donate to the Panties For Pond organization, and I’ll give you a PO Box where you can send money or panties (used or new, at this point I’m kind of desperate….). 

And no, I’m not talking about religious salvation.  I’m talking about something that impacts everyone, regardless of religious beliefs.

I’m talking about Girl Scout Cookies.

I got an email from Mike the other day, telling me that it was the last day to order Girl Scout Cookies and if he should get some more.  Now, here I am at home, hording my Girl Scout Cookies under lock and key, debating if we should get more.  We already had 6 boxes of those succulent morsels in our cupboard, but I craved, neigh, needed more.  However, I stood strong and told him no, we don’t need any more.  Besides, I had 2 boxes left of my lovelies, Tagalongs.  So, surely, I was good for awhile.

Two days later Mike left for a business trip and me, being the addict that I am, decided to play Warcraft.  It got down to lunch time and I decided that I couldn’t leave the computer for more then 3 minutes at a time so that left no time to make myself anything for lunch.  So I made the executive, yet poor, decision to just have Girl Scout Cookies for lunch.

What, I’m chunky and proud!

I opened up the cupboard and, to my dismay, there were no boxes of cookies.

Gone.

I started to panic and started opening up other cupboards, holding onto the glimmer of hope that they were put in with the cups, dishes, or even the spices.  No…I couldn’t find them.  I started carefully inspecting the counter top through all of the mail and what not, hoping that some paperwork or bills were covering My Salvation.  

Much to my dismay, they were no where to be found.  Out of desperation and pure panic, I called Mike on his cell phone.  He answered and, not even saying “Hi, how’s your drive going?” or “honey, it’s only been 4 hours but I miss you like the dickens” what poured outa my mouth was, “Where in the hell are the Girl Scout Cookies?!?!”

“They’re all gone,” said Mike.

“But…but there were 2 boxes of my Tagalongs and half a box of your Thin Mints….two days ago!”

“Well honey you ate them pretty quickly.”

I searched back inside my mind and, counting up the handfuls I would grab while walking by them or the times I would be watching TV and eating them like popcorn, I feared that he was right.

He then happened to point out that “I told him not to order any more.”

Ohhh, so you listened to me, did you?  Well, gee, my crack-addicted stomach thanks you!

So, the next day my brother and I were in Walmart, picking up a few things for work and he happened to go into the cookie aisle.  We, strangely enough, were out of them at work.  Yes, we had a stash at work, you don’t know us!!  So, we looked down the aisle, trying to find a suitable substitute for our addictions.  He picked up one box and I picked up some cookies flavored like Reese Cups.  Now, for those of you that don’t know me too well, I love chocolate/peanut butter combinations and I’m a Reese Cup whore.  So, I figured that this would be a nice substitute for my Tagalongs, which I was still mourning.

We get back to the office and, right after looking through our messages, we started to plow through our cookies like the gluttonous bastards that we are.  And, come to find out, they just weren’t the same.  Sure, they were good, but they weren’t Girl Scout Cookie good.

This is the time of year that I hate.  The time where the world gets a little darker and everyone’s smiles get a little colder.  Everyone’s going through Girl Scout Cookie withdraws and the only thing that keeps us going is the thought of a warmer, brighter world where Girl Scout Cookies are bountiful and rain from the Heavens to greet our gaping and cavity-filled mouths.

Ahhhhh, if only such a world existed…. 

I was on gay.com last evening as I was burnt out from playing Warcraft all damned day.  I know, I know, I didn’t think that it could happen but, strangely enough, it did.  I think I was only on there for probably about an hour, saying hi to a few people that I haven’t seen for quite some time, etc.  I was in the general chat room for a city near here and all of a sudden this guy posted in the general room, “I can’t believe you guys didn’t tell me that <soandso> had AIDS!  I had to find out for myself!!!”

This peaked my interest as it deviated from the general discussions revolving around winkies and asses.  So, being the curious creature that I am, I asked him how did he find out.  He said that him and this guy was going to hook up but, prior to doing so, the individual told him.

Now that I have a huge problem with.  HIV/AIDS is as much of a social disease than a medical one.  People find out that you have it and a large number automatically assume three things:

1)  You’re gay/deviant/crazy pervert

2)   You got it from unprotected sex, you barebacking monkey!

3)   They may get it from you just by being near you.  Well, logically they know this to be not true, but watch their faces if someone with HIV accidentally coughs near/on them.

People are just fucking scared of it.  They’re scared of death.  Just like leprosy, a lot of times they are ostracized from the community as the plague-carrying-barebacking-monkeys that they are.  I’ve read several articles online and in magazines where they talk about the social aspect of the disease and it saddens me.  Recently infected individuals that, not only are coming to grips with their own sickness and mortality, have to also deal with people that they counted on as friends/family shunning them because of fear/ignorance.

People may disagree with me, but I believe with every fiber of my being that how <soandso> dealt with the situation is the only correct and responsible way of handling situations such as dating or the infamous hookup.  You tell the person privately that, prior to us taking the next step into our relationship/5 minutes of talking before fucking, you need to know that I’m Positive.  This doesn’t mean that you have to sleep with them anyways, that’s your choice.  I once dated a Positive man for about a month or so but I never slept with him.  I couldn’t get past the fear, I’ll be honest.  But that’s your body and your choice, you don’t *HAVE* to sleep with someone.  So, you tell him thanks for letting you know but you’re not willing to take that risk and move on to the next 5 minute conversation/hookup.

So, once I pointed this out to the guy that was yelling it in the general chat room, he first said, “Well I thanked him for telling me before we hooked up!”  Well, gee, how nice of you to return his kindness :p.  And, frankly, if you’re doing a lot of hookups, your risk is crazily increased that the person that you’ve known all of 5 minutes is infected.  That’s just common sense, I don’t have statistics to back that up.  Publicly shunning and shaming them will only make them not tell someone next time.  Hence the cycle of HIV infection continues.  Stupid, stupid people.

Basically, if you’re gonna sleep with someone, find out their sexual history first.  Understand the people lie, that is our nature.  If you don’t know FOR CERTAIN, then put on a fucking condom!  Or, hell, once you meet up with them from online and they look extra scuzzy, put on two!!!

When we were cleaning out Brandi’s apartment!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Well, except really good sex.  You know, the stuff you only get once or twice a year.

Or sex with a stranger.  But, you know, that never happens any more…ahem….

But Mike and I were in Macy’s this evening after picking up his diamond ring that we had repaired and I saw that they were having a rocking sale on men’s clothing.  So I was walking around, seeing what I could find, and I found it….

Sweet PJ pants.  Not those really thin PJ pants that don’t offer you any comfort.  We’re talking thick and fluffy PJ pants that cuddles your skin and keeps you warm, even on the coldest of days.

And they were on sale, 75% off.

With tax, it cost $7.00.  For Nautica PJ pants.  $7.00.

I had one of those euphoric moments where I’m skipping down the aisles of Macy’s, holding my new PJ pants up to my face, snuggling them and my mouth hanging open for an obscene amount of time while I’m laughing in slow motion.

Of course maybe I’m the only one that thinks about PJ pants in that type of way…

I’ve also made a decision.

A monumental and potentially controversial decision that could tear this planet apart…

I’ve decided to bring back corduroy pants.

When I get back down to my normal size of 34 (with the winter and the Girl Scout Cookies, I crept back up to a size 36!!), I’m gonna buy corduroy pants and make it my mission to make it fashionable again.  Sure, it may be just the thing that would drive Jessica to the point of insanity and tear my family apart, but I think that it would be worth it.

I’ve always looked freaking sweet in them.  The only thing is finding shirts that looks good with them.  I mean, you can find anything that looks good with brown or whatever.  It’s just difficult to find a shirt that looks good with the particular texture.  However I will prevail and soon everyone will be pining for a sweet pair of corduroy pants.

Me doing this, while in the short run may cause the world to spin into chaos, will prove to cure the ills of the world and humanity, as a whole, will be at peace.

Amen.