You knew this was coming . . .

I promised myself that I wouldn't be cynical and not react to the bigotry of the retarded polygamist Jesus freaks who helped in the successful passing of Proposition 8. Then I realized that I am a very petty and cynical person. So here goes:


Dear People who voted Yes on Proposition 8:

What I do know for a fact is, being aligned with Satan and all since I'm gay, is that when the "end of days" finally comes, your fearless leader, Wassila Wackjob Sarah Palin, is going to sell out your secret location for a double mooseburger. So, be afraid. Be very afraid.

Dear American Media,

Before you pat your own back and paint yourself as a "progressive" nation and all, keep in mind that South Africa had a black President before you did. They also have Gay Marriage. So South Africa has more equality. Uh-oh.

Dear Democrats,

Grow a pair for once in your life do the right thing for the LGBT community. You have the triple crown. Use it for something good before one of you gets a blow job from some fat woman and you hand the world back into the hands of the people who want to make out with Joe the Plumber in airport washrooms. (Ugggh).

Dear Rest of the world,

Get a fucking life and try to concentrate on your own elections. Geez.

Bringing you news which no one else does

Although by now we all are familiar with Proposition 8 and our stand on it, there are other lesser known propositions on the ballot which do not garner the same attention.

Proposition No, Hoff, No - This proposition makes it illegal for David Hasselhoff to appear in public without his shirt ever again.

Proposition 90210 - This proposition prohibits any further remakes of series originally broadcast in the last century.

Proposition Palin - This proposition requires a that a person nominated for the vice president of the United States be at least smarter than a fifth grader.

Proposition Can we talk about something else now - This proposition requires the people of the United States of America to recognize that it should not take two years for an election. It's not that you can't do short elections. American Idol, anyone? A sub-note of this proposition requires certain bloggers to stop making stupid election jokes in their posts and try to do something a little more constructive with their lives.

Proposition Blubber - This proposition requires people around the world to recognize that double chins and fat stomachs are sexy too. It also requires hot, six pack surfer hunks to date at least three fat people per year. In fact, usually, I am very careful about espousing my opinion, however, I put all my weight behind this initiative.

Proposition Shave that mustache, woman - This proposition requires women to keep their facial hair out of public purview cause ewwww. Unless of course you're a bearded lady at a gypsy fair.

Proposition People who wear magic underwear cannot make rules for other people - This proposition recognizes that it's hard to take people seriously when they beleive in the story of the serpent and the poisoned apple. Instead of spending all that money to prevent two guys from doin' it, get some help for your neurological disorder you call a religion. You know the last guy who interpreted the Bible to mean that certain people do not deserve equal rights? He was called Hitler. And we all know how well that turned out.

California, you little slut, put the weed down for a minute and say NO to proposition 8

Listen up, California. You really want to do this? Stop gay people from getting married? For what reason? To protect your marriage? Really? And can you please tell me again how two people who love each other and want to spend the rest of their life together harms your marriage?

Unless, you and your wife are huge closet cases.

Oh, honey, then you don't need a ban on gay marriage, you need a fucking shrink.

Now, let's face it. You actually want to ban gay marriage because you're scared. C'mon. You can tell me. It's because you fear that if those promiscuous fags can make it work and you end up in divorce court and lose everything you own, your self confidence might take a little dip to the south side. Just like John McCain's poll numbers. And then you would be forced to recognize that the only threat to your marriage is YOU and viagra.

Or it's because of that medieval book rumored to be ghost written by God?

See, it's okay to believe in such fairytales. We all need some crap to believe in so that we don't pee in our pants everytime the wind gets a little strong the it seems like you're on the set of Deep Impact. But just because you believe that the earth is flat does not mean that other people have to marinate in the pool of your ignorance.

It's okay to practice your ignorance in the safety of your own home/trailer/make-shift box like structure. Even if it means wearing that magic underwear like those freaky mormons or live a flintstone-themed life like the Amish.

Look, Sparky. Let me level with ya. I don't beleive in marriage either. Straight/Gay/Brangellina. If God wanted human beings to spend all their life with one person, he would have made everybody look ugly. He didn't. Ergo.

Anyway, the fight for gay marriage is not just about being recognized as a couple. It's about having the right to visit your partner who is in coma because of some weird kama sutric position you were trying to spice up your monogamous (ughh) life. Or being able to file joint tax returns to sock it to the man. Ye-ah, baby. Or being able to adopt a child together (God knows why).

It's even legal to get hitched with the guy sticking a pole up your arse in the land of the Queen. You see, the British part their stiff lips to blow each other every now and then. So chill the fuck out and say no to proposition 8.

Otherwise, the terrorists win.

The one in which we have nothing to say ... well, almost

So the past few weeks have been kind of surreal. Mostly because I have not felt like talking to anyone. For the first time in my life, it's like I have nothing to say.

I don't know what it is but it's like been very quite in these here parts. Which is very unusual because I even talk when I'm sleeping. Maybe the alcohol is wearing off or my brain has gone into a coma and forgotten to inform me or something like that. Hell, I can't even hear the voices in my head. It's like all of them got together and decided to go for a road drip leaving me behind.

Usually I am very anti-social and talk to a very selected few (mainly because not a lot of people cannot stand understand me), but this is even strange for me. I mean me not wanting to talk is like Paris Hilton refusing to have sex or Sarah Palin not horrifying people with every word that comes out of her mouth. Hell, I haven't even clogged the interwebs with my moronic opinion for quite a while.

I have this uncanny urge to put my head in the sand. Metaphorically, of course. As I said, it's quite strange for me. I ALWAYS have something to say. About everything. Even about things I don't know shit about. Like that time when I gave an advanced discourse about "the birds and the bees" to one of my straight friends who was about to get married. (I had to tell him what goes where and how. By far, one of the worst nights of my life. I still shiver and puke when I think about it.)

I hope this "phase" or whatever ends soon. Cause I don't want to turn into one of those people who speak very little and always think and weigh their words before they say anything.

I just want to go back to being the village idiot, with a ton of suppressed issues, who says everything that comes to his mind because he does not have a filter. The person we all know and want to always keep a little drunk because if he is sober, he might be tempted to take over the world.

This post is anything but normal

So I ran into this old school friend of mine. Actually, I shouldn't really say friend. More of an acquaintance. I mean I don't even have him listed as a friend in facebook. How much of a friend would he be?

Anyways, we got to talking, and by talking I mean he was saying something while I was nodding along trying to remember his name. Which, by the way, I couldn't. So the words "dude", "buddy" and "bro" were used a lot.

Anyways, when I finally gave up trying to remember his name, (to be fair I even tried word association but all I came up with was Freckles, which I think is self-explanatory), he told me he was getting married. I looked at him with the same expression of shock and disgust that is usually reserved for when I hear Sarah Palin talk. Anyways, after a few minutes of silence, I asked him why he is getting married and wondered aloud if I should congratulate him or feel sorry for him.

So, my old buddy, whatishisname, told me that he was getting married because, and I quote, "All his friends are getting married too". He applied the same excuse I gave my parents when I got bored of my atari and wanted a Nintendo (that's pre-playstation gaming consoles for those young fucks who don't know) to marriage.

After I fake numbered him and sent him packing, I realized he is like most people. Those who take major life decisions because everybody else is. For them, life is like walking into a resturant, sitting down, looking at the table on the right, and telling the waiter "I'll have what he's having."

These sort of people spend their whole life keeping up appearances. You know, people who just want to be like everyone else. People, who if you look at from far away, will all look the same, right down to the bad haircut and the mass-market trousers, because all they want in life is to be normal.

This is why i think being gay is like a blessing in disguise. The mind numbingly painful teenage years and social ostracisation aside, part of the reason why I can see things from a refreshingly different angle, is because I am gay. Hey, my point of view may not be plausible and might have resulted from too many blows to the head and a little extra vodka in my orange juice, but it's still my own.

As Jodie Foster once said, Normal is not something to aspire too, it's something to get away from. Boy, I always knew good ol 'Jodie was a lesbian.

Lastly, for those who are wondering, I did congratulate him. And I asked him to offer my condolences to his fiance

He thought I was kidding.

The one in which we actually think about other people ... well, sort off

So due to some unforeseen circumstances, I was sitting with my family, while they were having a conversation and I was nodding my head to assure them that I haven't slipped into coma. At least on the outside anyway.

Then suddenly this bit about me getting married comes up. Now, my family knows that this subject is not broached with me. But it was a joke, and everyone was having tea, so I let it pass. Another nail in the coffin of my happiness. Why bother, really? Anyways, it was something about building a separate apartment for me in a few years/whenever I get married whatever comes first.

It was assumed that I would actually be staying with my family whence I go back to wasting my life again.

Now don't get me wrong, I wouldn't like anything better than living at a place where the food is good and there is ample parking, but really I don't see this scenario happening.

This is because, well, all the members of my family who are not my mom don't know for sure that I am gay. Of course, they might suspect and hope and pray that it's just a phase and one of those things that boys do like install a basketball board in their yard and never use it or get a weird haircut.

I figure that when I do tell the rest of my family that I am gay, I do intend to move out of this place I currently call home. No, it's not because anyone would say things to me. They know better than that. If I had really cared for their opinion and advice, I would've lost weight ten years ago. That's not the point.

It's that I don't want my family to suffer a smear campaign because of me. I mean I'm used to people looking at me and whispering (Oh, that's his third helping, you know or who the hell wears reeboks with corduroy trousers?). So it's fine by me. I am immune to other people's opinion. That happens when you consider yourself know that you are a superior life form. Anyways, this is not about me. It's about how I don't want my parents to go through all that because of me. Because they have always been respected and spoken about fondly. Even though they have a son like me.

And secondly, when that mob comes to kill me, I just want them to focus on me. Nothing major, I just love the attention.

Hey, turns out I do care about my family. And here I was thinking of selling their secrets for short-term personal gain. Damn you, Oprah.

No, Oprah's got nothing to do with this. I've just always wanted to say that.

Too tired to think of a title

So yesterday, I did something completely out of character and did a task that had been pending for the past two and a half years. No, I did not suddenly wake up and become a do-er of things, it was the absolute last day I could do the task. The final extension had already been granted. I checked. So I pulled up my sleeves (metaphorically only, mind you) and actually finished it.

My parents, who really expected the time limit to lapse and were resigned to another disappointment from me, were surprised to know that I did it a few hours before the clock said that it was midnight.

Strangely, this got their hopes up and they are counting on me to do another thing that has been pending for the past six months.

Six months only? Ha! It's too early and not urgent enough for me to even think about starting to work on it. Hell, I am tired right now and need a break of a few weeks/months.

I mean, parents never learn do they? They always expect their children to come through for them. Even someone like me.

Really, when will they realize that it's not about what I can do for them, it's all about how I can get through life by doing the minimum amount of work whilst getting maximum gains. No, I'm not lazy. That's simple economics. Maximum utilization of minimum resources. Or something like that.

Seriously, aren't I a catch?