Deer Poop

I am living in Carbondale, Colorado for the next few weeks. Carbondale actually stands for "deer poop"... things we didn't know- ey? And Carbodale is all over the ground out here! I think there is more Carbondale than grass.

Deer poop looks like this:



I have only been here a day and deer are already like homeless people to me. "Stop shitting on my side-walk, Joe!"

(Joe was a homeless fellow who shit on my block a lot in San Francisco.)

Joe's poop looked like this:



I don't really know what Joe's name was, and come to think of it, his poop really looked like this:



Alright. I guess it is nice that deer don't leer or smell violent... in fact, they are pretty pleasant- except for:



I guess it could be worse:

Knowing How To Live Over Here!

Cynical and Cyclical... so Cymiliar.

I have found that my misplaced optimism has once again left me crying in a pillow... just like childhood. That's not funny... or is it? What if I told you that when my Mom would break me down, she wore floppy shoes and my Dad slipped away on a banana peel? I know, what hacky parents, but not as much as my ex, who clearly is hacking my parents.

I had the worst week, for a decent heart, in as long as I can remember... truly nightmare-ish and I couldn't be happier to be home again. I was in Portland, where everything awful in my life has ever happened. I am back in San Francisco, wavering on view points, grasping for reason. When things get to be too overwhelming, all I can do is exercise, starve myself and/ or watch Sex and the City (I know, typical). I am knuckle deep in season 5 of the meal replacement series, when I catch myself crying at Charlotte's bounding optimism when faced with looking for love. I don't know if I am crying because I know she ends up with a fat, bald man or if it's because I realize that I had so much hope for the person who completely devastated me. "Love knows no bounds," but it should... it really should, because before too long you'll be watching Sex and the City just to see Richard cheat on Samantha again. So you can feel like someone other than you is an idiot for not seeing the signs. At least Richard took care of himself and owned a bunch of hotels. I was practically engaged to a bag of Cheetos before I realized it was getting orange stuff all over my tummy.

That's about all... anything I can create is good. Now I am going to watch one more episode (I hope it's the one Richard fucks up again) before going to sleep.

au revoir

Marriage Balls Be Ringing

I see a lot of signs in San Francisco. "Free Wi-Fi" "Cash Only" and a bunch of variegated marriage propaganda.

Come on people, if God wanted a man to marry a man, why would HE make wedding dresses be so pretty?! Further more, if a man were allowed to marry a man- what's to say he won't want to marry a refrigerator or a down comforter?! I mean even I, a straight as starch gal, have found myself questioning my sexuality around a down comforter.
Just the other night, I was all bound and gagged getting stuffed from behind by a man (like God intended) and just as I was about to cum all over his fist and forearm, I looked at the comforter. There was definitely a moment there where I could see us walking down the isle. I shook it off of course, because the thing's all white and no blanket is going to upstage me on MY big day!

I knew this one guy, in grammar school and he was always sucking on penises because his parents said it was okay. When he turned 18 he left his boyfriend of 7 months to elope with a tire iron. No one knows where he even met a tire iron! He had always been drawn to guys who were a bit dangerous, so a tire iron probably felt like the next step. Was he born hard for tools? or was it brought on by the media? He probably ate some bad shellfish and became this evil-faggy-tool-shed-closet-hound. The point is: it's not nice to point or be gay just because you FEEL like it.

My friends are all pretty liberal and I hate that! Do I hate them or their beliefs? I don't know either, but I do know that I hate almost all of their status updates, mostly because they don't "like" mine enough. Also, when we're having conversations they want to talk too, about themselves- how selfish! Even if I'm doing most of the talking, it's about other people so they should just get over it and comment on my status more.

To bring the point home, I don't see what the big deal around marriage is anyway- who cares?! I mean, especially if all you have are tuxedos?! I want to get married, but that's just because I like dressing up, gifts and owning people.