Wednesday, January 11, 2012

Gay? OK.

I don't understand why society has a stick up their ass about same-sex marriages and civil unions. And when I say 'up their ass,' I'm being modest. That stick must be wedged up there pretty good and twisted periodically to provoke this kind of injustice towards an entire group of people. 

Pause. Look at that word. 


There was an entire nice, little paragraph that was beaten into us in our awkward childhood years about how all people are created equal. I know damn well the people writing these laws endured that beating, too. So. Where's your proof of education, my governing peepz? Oh, that's right. Obviously, equality didn't apply to the little things like marriage and spending a lifetime together. I understand you, Perry, I understand.

And of all things, this is about marriage. Really, if we're gonna pick something to fight about, at the very least it should have teeth. Or make loud, scary noises. Or maybe vibrate a little at inconvenient times. But it's about love, something people want and crave and spend their entire lives searching for. Maybe if love came armed with a machete, then there would be some cause for concern. But it doesn't. It comes with a fucking white flag a'billowing in the breeze and a smile on it's little mutant-heart face and we say to it YOU AREN'T ALLOWED IN THIS STATE, LOVE. GO SOMEWHERE ELSE.

Your love is your business. It's your lover's business. If you have a BFFL or an attentive cat, it may be their business, too. But it sure as hell isn't the government's.

So people with the stick up their ass, do yourself a favor. Remove that foreign object. Pluck out the splinters. Maybe give your butt a nice pat with some water to soothe it's raw little assy self. Go and love who you love, and let others do the same.

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

Send me chain mail and I will hit you.

I never forwarded that text message.

That's right. 

My phone vibrated and I looked at the screen and saw it was a chain mail message and thought to myself, "Are you willing to risk the consequences of not forwarding this oh-so important and credible and grammatically horrific text message? Can you live with yourself? Can you stomach the reality that not only will you never get kissed by your true love, but your hair will also fall out, bugs will manage to fill your locker at school, your parents will sell you to a merchant with a monkey and a tuba, you will be kidnapped by an evil unicorn, and die from an octopus tentacle?"

After all, these messages do not lie.

I processed this heavy decision and decided yes. I could live with that just fine.

Sunday, December 4, 2011

Reality's hickies are on the ass.

Reality bites me on the ass. It bares it's teeth when I'm not looking and clamps down like some misshapen Johnny Bravo dog with a mouth too big for it's itty-bitty dangling body. It doesn't make me cry, though. Or want to punch things like walls and school buses. It just gives me this oh-so adorable hickey on my ass that makes me walk funny for a few days or so.

Reality, you are a bitch. The female dog of female dogs. The biting asswipe that I can never shake off. The awkwardly sized fucker that nips at me to compensate for the fact that you drag your gaping mandible on the ground. Mandible dragger.

You suck. Really. Leave my ass alone.

Thursday, December 1, 2011

A chicken with it's head cut off.

Holy mother of God, do I love Chick-Fil-A.

I mean, they didn't invent the chicken, just the chicken sandwich, but like you could even attempt to count all the nonexistent fucks I give about that minor discrepancy. Heaven decided one day to settle down on Earth, and what we got was Chick-Fil-A. And then they decided to dress up men in cow suits for our endless amusement. The shakes and fries always had me hooked, but once they started employing the cows, I was forever conformed to the Chick-Fil-A cult, and oh-so happy with it, I cannot tell a lie.

And then some moron decided that the Chick-Fil-A enterprise would do better without a head and hacked it off when they publicly announced that they don't support gay marriage.

Dude. I've seen better judgement calls from the two year old I babysat last year, and he smeared his own poop on the walls.

I find some flaws in the logic of ramming one belief down the throat of another. It's like having to deep throat an entire set of moral codes that you don't believe in, or even care about. And if you're gonna deep throat, it sure as fuck better be something you care about. So, while the fantasy playing in my head of walking into my local Chick-Fil-A establishment and hanging myself from the ceiling and swinging around, screaming out my protest is really quite tempting, the only thing that I'll actually manage to accomplish is to get myself somehow wedged in a playground slide with my ass in the air. Chick-Fil-A has got their own set of moral codes, a set that I feel have been battered and deep-fried for too long and have gone to shit, but a set they abide all the same. I, too, have my own collection of morals. They tell me vandalizing Chick-Fil-A establishments with gay chicken porn would not be in my best interest. So I will try and resist.

No promises. There's no telling what that might do for their business which they effectively kicked in the balls permanently. I could be doing them a favor; draw in customers. You're welcome, bitchin' chickens.

I am probably more excited than I should be to see how the world responds to this, and to see how Chick-Fil-A handles themselves in this shit storm. Really, guys. There was no thought process behind this at all, was there? I think one of you woke up morning and said to yourself, "Hey, sales are looking dandy. Let's stir some shit up!"

Congratulations. You royally fucked yourself over.

I hope it's still half as enjoyable as it was before now that you're headless. Don't hurt yourself. I think you've done enough damage to yourself to last you a good long while.