I wasn't going to talk about this because it's a *sensitive* subject for many, but I feel the need to bitch and moan.
The gay marriage issue. I try not to think about the whole thing in general because it just makes me wild with impatient rage like AAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGHHHH ARE ALL OF YOU BIGOTS RETARDED
...yeah I mean I really don't get what the big deal is with gay people being legally allowed to get married. Whatever your beliefs--whether you are a huge gay rights supporter, a huge anti-gay activist, or you don't give a shit either way--WHY THE FUCK does it matter if the government passes a law that allows them to get married?!
The religious arguments against gay marriage have got more holes in them than the 25 year old towels hanging out in the bottom of my linen closet.
People LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOVE to quote Leviticus (Chapter 18 in particular) on this. Man shall not lie down with man as with a woman or whatever. Every time I read Leviticus 18 , it sounds more and more like a Manual On Reproducing For Those New Things Called Humans. Like for real. Read it. It's the moron's guide to going forth and multiplying: screwing close relatives will lead to not-so-awesome offspring, screwing your cousin's uncle's grandfather's great-niece's dad's sister's daughter will possibly get you killed by that chick's husband, and screwing someone of the same sex will not make a baby.
Am I interpreting that wrong? Maybe. But the Bible is thousands of years old, and whatever God said, we must remember that men will be men and they are the ones who actually wrote it all down, never mind the fact that the whole thing has been translated like 100000000000000000 times. I believe very strongly in the meaning behind what the Bible says, I just take each chapter with a grain of salt.
Oh and just for fun, you know what it also says in Leviticus?
- It is a sin to touch bad meat.
- God really likes animal sacrifices. (Is there some particular reason we no longer do that?)
(- Seriously, like the first ten chapters of Leviticus go into graphic detail on how to properly slaughter and disembowel and sacrifice an animal to God)
- It is a sin to eat camels and rabbits and pigs. And not just a sin, but an ABOMINATION to eat anything that lives in the sea but does not have scales or fins.
- If a woman is raped, it's her fault.
- Shaving your head and getting tattoos is a sin.
- Marrying a non-virgin is a sin.
I could go on an on.
Why is it that some of these things are totally ok now, but some aren't? If your argument is that "times have changed," then why the hell doesn't that apply to homosexuality?
The other big argument is what Jesus says about marriage being scared between a man and a woman. If you read that part of the gospels very carefully, you might notice that in pretty much the same breath, Jesus is also condemning divorce.
...How long has divorce been legal now? I'm sorry, but if you're using that as your argument against gay marriage, then we absolutely cannot have divorce being legal, or the entire argument crumbles under a great heaping pile of hypocrisy.
Honestly I think Jesus was trying to drive home his basic teachings about loving one another by saying that not cheating on your spouse is kind of an important part of a marriage.
But me ranting and raving is not going to change someone's beliefs. And I think you should be able to believe whatever you want. That's the whole point of freedom of religion.
Which brings me to what pisses me off the most about this whole debate.
This country was founded on the idea of the separation of church and state. In a country of religious freedom, with as many diverse religions as we have, I think this is extremely important. The law should have nothing to do with one specific religion.
I'll repeat that, because some people(::ahemcoughcoughDADcough::) just can't quite grasp it.
THE LAW SHOULD BE A COMPLETELY SEPARATE FUCKING THING THAN CHRISTIAN FUNDAMENTALISM.
Is gay marriage going to completely destroy morality in this country?
NO FUCKTARDS, it's not.
If the Playboy channel, the Kardashians, Ke$ha, Barney the dinosaur, George W. Bush, Teen Mom II, Paris Hilton, and every other piece of trash this country has produced over the centuries haven't destroyed us yet, somehow I really don't think gay marriage will be the thing that makes God rain fire down on us.
Think about it. There are things FAR FAR WORSE than gay marriage happening in this country every single fucking day. That's one of the reasons I don't get why people are getting so bent out of shape about it. If you want something righteous and worthwhile to protest, what about the fact that child molesters and rapists generally serve way less prison time than people who commit insurance fraud? What about the fact that all these banks (like Bank of America) are BLATANTLY screwing poor people out of even more of their money, and out of their homes?
What about the DEATH PENALTY, for feck's sake? Or the foreign wars that we have no business being involved in? Not killing is in the COMMANDMENTS. You'd think people who claim to be insanely zealous about God and Jesus might care more about senseless killing than about gay people getting happily married. (Oh and since we were on the subject of Leviticus, it says multiple times in that book that the people committing all sorts of *wrong* acts should "surely be put to death." Which is in direct contradiction to the Bible's previous chapters. Just sayin.)
If you actually read the gospels, I think Jesus's message is pretty clear. He says it over and over and over and over in many many different ways. Love one another.
A law that encourages discrimination against a particular group does not further Jesus's teachings. It does the opposite. Discrimination promotes hate.
We're supposed to be a free country, as far as religion. But when you start using one religion to create laws, it really isn't a very big leap to using those same laws to justify burning people at the stake for religious heresy.
So if we're condemning gay couples and refusing to allow them to marry, we may as well start calling all divorcees heretics and burn them as well. And then we can admit that this country cares more about stopping people we don't even know from being happy than it does about preventing school shootings and teen suicides.
...I don't think we are like that. Not the majority of us. We are good people, and we care about each other. And now hopefully lots of those good people will be able to get married.
Just don't expect me at all your weddings because I absolutely hate weddings. Sorry. I just do.
(Also I have nothing against the Greeks. That's a Father Ted quote):
Friday, June 28, 2013
Tuesday, June 25, 2013
Friday, June 14, 2013
I think I have a cavity or something.
It's been there a while actually. The tooth began its betrayal by getting more and more sensitive to things like hot and cold and toothbrushing. Now there is actual pain. BASTARD TOOTH WHY CAN'T YOU JUST BEHAVE LIKE ALL THE OTHERS??
I have no dental insurance. A cleaning/check-up alone is like $200.00 or more. And then add the cost of whatever they have to do to fix the rogue tooth. That is money I do not have, which means I will have to put it on a credit card, which--on top of several other unforeseen expenses recently--means that I AM NEVER GOING TO HAVE THE FINANCIAL MEANS TO MOVE FAR AWAY FROM HERE.
This makes me more depressed than I can articulate in words.
Sure I suppose I can always be my own dentist. The pliers and copious amount of alcohol are much cheaper than an actual dentist.
Speaking of medical procedures for which I do not have money, I may need to scrape some money together for the cat scan my doctor wants me to get....
A couple weeks ago, I was in the shower and all of a sudden thought that the house was shaking. I nearly ran outside with naught but a towel until I opened the shower door and saw Lil Sis's bottles of perfume lined up on the counter.
In an earthquake, liquids in bottles will generally move about. Not sit perfectly still.
The earthquake was in my head.
That realization did not make it go away. It actually got worse about 2 seconds later, and I had to sit down in the shower for the next ten minutes because it felt like I was on a boat during a hurricane and I couldn't stand up. Since then, I have been on my own private sailing trip. The vertigo never goes away now. Some days it gets really bad and I can't do anything except lie down and pop Dramamine to lessen the motion sickness.
Like today at work, for example. I fell off my chair this morning. I feel like Liza Minelli in Arrested Development.
Thursday, June 6, 2013
....to continue the Halloween story (recap here)....
PREPARE YOURSELVES FOR AN EPIC TALE
Mike#1 and I probably looked like a pair of homeless devil-worshipers when we left the church lawn on Halloween morning to go back to the payphone.
Unfortunately, we were out of change, so we went to beg for some from the gas station attendants before calling Mike#1's mom again.
She was a heavy sleeper. She didn't answer the phone.
The guys working at the gas station said we couldn't loiter, so we walked in a half-hour-long circle and then came back to try again. This time, thank God, his mom answered. She was not happy at being woken up before 8:00 in the morning on a Sunday.
Their conversation went something like this:
Mike#1: Hi, Mom. Umm.... do you think you could do me a huge favour and give me and Mich a ride home?
Mom: ....but I thought you were home? I heard you come in last night.
Mike#1: Umm....... what?
Mom: Hold on.
[Silence while Mom went down to the basement.]
Mom: What the fuck is Rocko doing passed out on the floor downstairs?!?
Mike#1: Oh thank God. TAKE THE KEYS. DO NOT let him leave in my car. Can you come get us? Please please please?
Mom: Where the hell are you?
Mike#1: The Market Basket. In Franklin Lakes.
Mom: Ugghhhhhhhh fine. I'll try and be there in an hour. Try not to get arrested between now and then.
(Now if that was Mumsy, she'd have had me arrested, beaten me up, and shipped me off to a nunnery before the day was out.)
Mike#1's mom arrived an hour and a half later. During our waiting time, Mike#1 and I were kicked off the premises of every single business in that shopping centre. His mom didn't even ask how we had gotten to that location, or why. She simply demanded that we buy her breakfast at the diner and a pack of cigarettes to repay her for the ride.
So we went back to Mike#1's house, he asked his mother would it be alright if I crashed for a while with him so we could catch up on sleep, and if I could stay the night in the event that we came back to his house after Halloween shenanigans. She gave him that raised eyebrow "I know what you horny teenagers are really up to" glare, but said ok.
Mike#1 and I went down to the basement. Rocko was still asleep on the floor. Mike#1 rectified that by kicking him in the stomach.
|This occurred with some frequency.|
Turns out Rocko had hidden on the next street over with the car off so it looked like it was parked and unoccupied. When the fire department left, Matt#2 and Sara crawled out from wherever they'd been touching each other, saw the car, and eventually went home with Rocko. Beforehand, they apparently spent an hour driving in circles around Franklin Lakes looking for me and Mike#1.
So we cat napped for a bit, then fecked around in the basement until like lunchtime, and then went to the Monroe Diner to meet up with Matt#2 and a few others to plan the actual Halloween festivities. We knew of six parties going down, and planned to make an appearance at all of them. It would be a caravan of sorts, with two drivers and probably more passengers than would be comfortable.
I got distracted by the diner's placemats. They were typical diner placemats--the paper ones with all the ads for local businesses and whatnot.
This guy had an ad for as long as any of us could remember:
I don't remember if he was a lawyer or a realtor or what, but for whatever reason his face really freaked out our friend Lizz. (And BigSis#2 as well, but I didn't torture her as badly...).
I took everyone's placemats and tore his face out of all of them. Before we left the diner, Rocko stoke a stack of like 50 placemats from the hostess stand, so we could make a collage of his face for Lizz.
Back at Mike#1's house, we did some drugs, played some video games, and then before we left to start picking up everyone else, Mike#1 requested that I sew his mouth shut.
Perhaps some elaboration on Mike#1.
To anyone who didn't know him well, he was f*cking terrifying. He prided himself on the fact that he had 26 holes in his face, not even counting the tongue ring and the many many many holes in his ears.
On top of that, he always looked furious. It was just his normal facial expression. Add the typical metalhead hair (shaved underneath, long on top) and what I always think of as the rockstar goatee, and the supergoth/metal wardrobe, and he probably looked like the son of Satan to the average bystander. Like seriously people crossed the street when they saw him coming.
So with this black rubber band thread stuff, I sewed Mike#1's mouth shut using the holes from his nine lip rings.
Obviously, when we were picking everyone up, we had to send Mike#1 to the front door.
We didn't honk in driveways because most parents hated that. Also you couldn't honk the horn in Mike#1's car because then it wouldn't stop honking.
We met up with Danny and everyone else in the other car at the first party. And so it began.
Party Number 1 - Jason's House
Party Number 2 - Matt#1's House
You could probably have moved into Matt#1's house and no one in his family would ever notice. Since he didn't want anyone destroying his actual house, he threw the party in his basement. It was like a rave--lights out, music blaring, blacklights, a bar. It was kind of crowded, though, so me and Mike#1 snuck upstairs to explore the rest of the house.
But then Rocko got into a fight with some other kid for unknown reasons, so we left.
Party Number 3 - Mike#5's House
Mike#5 lived two blocks over from Matt#1. It wasn't a big party, and some girl started vomiting all over the kitchen like 15 minutes after we got there, so we decided to move on.
Party Number 4 - The Woods
Mike#1 almost killed us several times on the drive there, because Rocko kept trying to pick a fight with him and WOULD NOT leave him alone, and since Mike#1's mouth was sewn shut, he couldn't retaliate verbally. But we somehow made it in once piece, parked on the designated side street, and made the trek into the woods.
I don't know who threw the party, or who invited us. I'm actually pretty sure we had found the wrong party, because none of us knew anyone there. Until Sara recognized someone from her school.
These were not goth kids, nor were they punks or metalheads or hippies or anything similar. They were just dressed that way for Halloween. According to Sara, these were the popular kids from the public school in her town. (At the time, we actually called kids like them the "trendy" kids. No one ever used the term "popular.")
Mike#1, Sara, and I decided that we should play one of our favourite games with our new trendy friends. Only we altered the rules slightly.
"Where's Waldo" involved everyone getting an identical bottle of some kind of beverage (usually soda). When we played, all but one of those bottles would be spiked with different drugs and/or alcohol, but no one knew which ones or what drug(s) were in them.
So yeah since we had a huge supply of acid with us (in a box of sugar cubes), we spiked pretty much every single one of the trendy kids' drinks. We felt entirely justified doing this because among the group of trendy kids were two girls who used to torture Sara in grade school.
(This is why you should't bully the weird kids. We are more cunning than you, we have no qualms about doing evil things to you, and we will hold grudges.)
About half an hour later, most of the kids of the woods party had started acting kind of strange.
As much as we wanted to sit and watch the ensuing bedlam, we thought it might be best that we get the heck out of there before anything really bad happened (as in, before the cops showed up). As far as I know, no one died or got seriously injured, but I can't truly swear to that... I DO know that the police were eventually called.
Party Number 5 - Mike#3's House
At this point, not even the drivers were entirely sober (Danny had smoked quite a bit of pot, Mike#1 had smoked opium). Rocko was both drunk and tripping (because those were the only things that would not show up on his weekly drug test) and getting increasingly belligerent, which meant that he was getting better and better at pissing off Mike#1.
Roughly five minutes into the party in Mike#3's backyard:
They fought a lot, perhaps because they had been BFF's since kindergarten, starting with the first time Rocko held someone down while Mike beat them up and took their lunch. (Their roles eventually reversed in high school. Rocko was one of those guys who was known as The Fat Kid until he hit puberty and started lifting weights. Then he went from the guy most likely to crack open another bag of donuts to the guy most likely to crack open another bag of donuts right after cracking open your face.)
...Actually their friendship is summed up perfectly in the lyrics of this song.
So Mike#1 and Rocko got thrown out of that party, and we lost about half of the group in the process because we couldn't find Danny, Mikes #2 and 4, and a bunch of the others to tell them that Mike#1 and Rocko got kicked out. So we just left them there.
Party Number 6 - Total Mayhem Accomplished
We had decided to save the best for last. Lizz lived in a big house out in the middle of nowhere and her parents had gone away for a week. She had a guest house behind her house, and a loft above the garage, so most of us had "reserved" space for spending the night. (We didn't have to worry about school Monday because we Catholic school kids had the day off, and everyone else planned to just cut school.)
Rocko and I had been working on our collage with the diner placemats pretty much the entire night, in the car between parties. By the time we got to Lizz's house, we had made this:
I folded it neatly and stashed it in my bra for an opportune moment and promptly forgot about it.
Lizz didn't really do drugs, or even drink that much. Her family was kind of wholesome and innocent, and she'd been pretty sheltered. So, naturally, the most evil among us kept trying to convince her drink and do drugs.
We discovered this was a mistake, because Lizz + alcohol = Lizz turning into a sloppy kind of slutty drunk.
Once she was drunk, all she wanted to do was get more and more wasted on whatever substance anyone had. And the rest of us were too retarded by then to have the sense to try and stop her. She eventually started aggressively hitting on Rocko, and then around the time the party was dying down, she dragged him off to her bedroom.
Mike#1 and I retired to the loft above the garage. Very soon after that, Mike#1 found the collage that I had stashed in my bra.
It took him a second to realize what it was and who it was intended for, but then his eyes lit up like a child's on Christmas morning.
I presume his overexcited reaction was because of all the substances still in his system?
He fled the loft
wearing only his knickers and one sock
Rocko and Mike#1 had their biggest fight yet
I have described the effects of acid before. It makes your mind work in a different way, and that can alter your reactions to things.
The sounds of Lizz flipping woke up everyone else who had crashed at her house. They came running to her bedroom, where Mike#1, Rocko, and I (all in various stages of undress) were trying to calm her down. Except because she was flipping out, it probably looked like we were sexually assaulting her.
Which is probably why her 11-year-old sister called 911.
Seriously we didn't even know Lizz had a sibling in the house until then.
Lizz calmed down enough to discover that her sister had called the police. She flipped again.The rest of us grabbed what we could of our belongings and fled.
Only we had a slight problem--nearly all of us were too high/drunk/whatever to drive. But the police were coming. We had to get out of there.
We elected Matt#2 to drive, because he had not consumed any alcohol, was no longer tripping, and had been mostly unconscious since we left Mike#5's house, so we figured he had slept off the pot and whatever else he had taken before then.
Only Matt#2 had no driver's license, and didn't want to drive.
The combined forces of an angry and panicking Rocko and Mike#1 got Matt#2 into the driver's seat. He did have a permit, so it wasn't like he didn't know how to drive. We got a good distance away from Lizz's house without incident. Matt#2 made his way to Mike#1's house, because no one else had parents who didn't care if 4 random half dressed teenagers were passed out in the basement and the living room.
another car pulled out in front of us and almost crashed into us
and Matt#2 instinctively hit the horn.
Remember what I said earlier about the horn in Mike#1's car? It wouldn't stop beeping.
The 1983 Pontiac Firebird Trans-Am may have looked the sh*t, but I PROMISE you, those cars were all trainwrecks. Big Sis#2 had the 1986 version, and hers was just as bad. One problem after another.
The only way to stop the beeping was to go under the bonnet and disconnect the fuse for the horn. But because Mike#1's car was a POS, it was nearly impossible to open the bonnet because it always jammed.
It was after 4:00 in the morning. None of us were completely sober. Three of us weren't even completely dressed. And we were stopped in a residential neighborhood in a car that was determined to wake up everyone and everything in a ten-mile radius. We figured we had maybe 30 seconds tops to stop the beeping before it attracted the local law enforcement.
Rocko and Mike#1 frantically beat the car until the bonnet opened.
If the horn hadn't already alerted the cops, then Mike#1's shriek after getting shocked by the fuse box most certainly would have.
We heard the sirens as soon as the horn stopped beeping.
Mike#1 took charge.
You'd be amazed how often that worked.
Once the flashing lights and sirens had gone, Matt#2 drove us the rest of the way back to Mike#1's house. Mike#1 then angrily chased everyone out of the basement to find their own place to sleep upstairs, because his sexual exploits at Lizz's house had been interrupted and thus left unfinished.
(Never mind the fact that HE had been the one to interrupt them.)
His banishing of Rocko, Matt#2, and Sara to the upstairs was the reason we were woken up three hours later by his mother, shouting and swearing and saying something along the lines of, "don't you f*cking delinquents have your own houses?!"
She didn't kick any of them out, though. She just left for work.
And that, my friends, is why you shouldn't do drugs.