I have very little to say about this. What in the world does prayer in schools (which not just non-Christians are against) have to do with gays in the military (which many Christians are for)?? It just makes me sick that in 2011 there are still people who are ok with this:
At least we have bravery and intelligence like this to combat the small-minded thoughts above (I promise it's worth the 30 minutes... I've now watched it 3 times):
Thursday, December 8, 2011
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Crazy Princess
This is happening.
Have I lost my mind? Possibly. Are my shins gonna scream at me? Likely. Am I ridiculously excited? You have no idea...
As stoked as I am to potentially run in a tiara and/or tutu (does anyone still say "stoked"), I am actually looking forward to the next 12 weeks of training. I know, I know... insane. But it's true.
I've known for awhile that I was going to attempt this. I've been working on my training schedule for a few weeks. But I had a doctor checkup today to get full permission to continue to the next level of training, and I'm happy to share that everything looks good!
13.1 miles. That's a lot. Send me good thoughts. Maybe I'll be as happy and pretty as this gal when I run through the castle in 82 days...
Oh my gosh. This is happening.
Monday, December 5, 2011
Top 5 (and worst 5) Dates of 2011... thus far
I was asked to be a part of a Blog Carnival, and I have nearly missed the deadline due to a emergency new bathroom installation and endless amounts of shopping that shouldn't have happened. But I digress... the Blog Carnival's objective this time was to do a Top 5 List for 2011. I thought about doing my Top 5 movies, my Top 5 theatrical experiences, or my Top 5 fashion finds. Then I narrowed it down to my Top 5 awkward moments or my Top 5 dates. Since narrowing awkward moments to 5 is a daunting task and I haven't spent much time talking about boys in awhile, I picked dates.
4. Along the same lines of my lack of confidence in men comes my surprise when simple things can be romantic and fun. I had a date with a guy I wasn't particularly excited to go out with initially. He more than proved me wrong and our date ended with a stroll through Astoria Park. We wound up just being good friends, but the date was lovely nonetheless.
3. Sometimes seeing an ex is horrific. Other times you wind up at Professor Thom's in the East Village on a Sunday night out of the blue laughing and remembering why you dug each other in the first place and wondering if you can fix whatever went wrong the first time around.
2. Who knew a traditional date of dinner and a movie could top my list of dates with boys in 2011?? A couple of months ago I went out with an amazing guy. We had southern food. We made fun of Jersey girls at the bar while we killed time waiting for a late-night comedy. We laughed a lot. And at one point I looked over at him and just thought about how comfortable it was. That's a date I could do again (and would love to if you're reading this...)
1. Since it looks like I'm ending the year single, I would be remiss to top the list of best dates as one with a boy. So I'm dedicating my #1 date as a multi-way tie among dates with friends. I have one friend who takes me on Groupon French food dates which are some of my most cherished times. Another friend went to a macaron cooking class with me and turned out to be a wonderful partner in the kitchen! Going to a movie in Astoria on a Friday night with all the Queens teenagers... especially when we see things like "PROM" on opening night only to have your friend shout at all the teenagers for using their phones is priceless. Shooting off to Atlantic City to spend free money and hit outlet malls with a friend makes me thankful for spontaneity. And going out of town to visit a friend only to have said friend take you to get matching eagle tattoos. Best dates of 2011 definitely go to my plutonic friends.
4. Ice cream in Chinatown followed by driving around on a rainy Sunday afternoon looking for a parking spot to go to the Natural History Museum that isn't even open isn't cool even if the guy is insanely wealthy. Even less cool when the guy is lying about his age by 12 years, thus making him closer to your parents' age than your own.
3. Unlike Great Date #2 above, this traditional date to Nizza followed by a children's movie was lame. Less because of what the date entailed and more because of the company. When a guy pulls out the movie times on a piece of torn out newspaper and refuses to let you look up the showtimes on your smartphone, end the date there. Don't continue on and give him a chance for...
2. ...a second date. Yes, worst dates #3 and #2 are from the same guy. Gentle reader of the masculine variety, take note: wearing old school, too tight sweatpants on a date isn't sexy even if someone lied to you and told you it was at some point in the 90s. The conversation was terrible too. This guy gave me rules... you KNOW I loved that. My favorite rule? Don't text him because it's impersonal. Needless to say, 2 dates was all he got... it's 2011, sir and I don't do rules well.
1. I may or may not have been known to go out with guys on occasion who are not remotely my type just for the story and potentially to broaden my horizons. An obnoxious steroid-infused, fake-baked, car-obsessed, meathead (no judgement of course) took me out to the Astoria Brewhouse. He asked me about my plans for kids and marriage. He talked about his ex-wife incessantly. Then he tried to plan our 2nd date. When I attempted to be elusive in order to avoid putting myself in an uncomfortable situation, he pressed. Then he went in for a kiss... not a peck, but a full-on mouth kiss which I somewhat successfully dodged (I've become a pro at that over the years... ask my friend Darryl about my dodge with a kiss from Zenny). Worst date of the year, hands down goes to the guy who wore this...
I'm still holding out hope for maybe one or two more dates in 2011, but I'm not sure they can top either list. I wonder what 2012 will have in store on this front??
Joy's Top 5 Dates of 2011
5. During one of the many blizzards NYC experienced earlier this year, I had a lovely stay-at-home date with a fella. We talked and laughed for hours sitting on the couch. It was a great night and made me realize that asking a guy over doesn't mean they necessarily assume they get more than conversation. I should have more faith in guys who show an interest...
4. Along the same lines of my lack of confidence in men comes my surprise when simple things can be romantic and fun. I had a date with a guy I wasn't particularly excited to go out with initially. He more than proved me wrong and our date ended with a stroll through Astoria Park. We wound up just being good friends, but the date was lovely nonetheless.
3. Sometimes seeing an ex is horrific. Other times you wind up at Professor Thom's in the East Village on a Sunday night out of the blue laughing and remembering why you dug each other in the first place and wondering if you can fix whatever went wrong the first time around.
2. Who knew a traditional date of dinner and a movie could top my list of dates with boys in 2011?? A couple of months ago I went out with an amazing guy. We had southern food. We made fun of Jersey girls at the bar while we killed time waiting for a late-night comedy. We laughed a lot. And at one point I looked over at him and just thought about how comfortable it was. That's a date I could do again (and would love to if you're reading this...)
1. Since it looks like I'm ending the year single, I would be remiss to top the list of best dates as one with a boy. So I'm dedicating my #1 date as a multi-way tie among dates with friends. I have one friend who takes me on Groupon French food dates which are some of my most cherished times. Another friend went to a macaron cooking class with me and turned out to be a wonderful partner in the kitchen! Going to a movie in Astoria on a Friday night with all the Queens teenagers... especially when we see things like "PROM" on opening night only to have your friend shout at all the teenagers for using their phones is priceless. Shooting off to Atlantic City to spend free money and hit outlet malls with a friend makes me thankful for spontaneity. And going out of town to visit a friend only to have said friend take you to get matching eagle tattoos. Best dates of 2011 definitely go to my plutonic friends.
Joy's Worst 5 Dates of 2011
5. When meeting up with a guy for Starbucks, be sure to keep your story in check before divulging the details of your writings - especially when these writings are about dates. Primarily dates with other guys including those you don't really like but know you'll get a good story out of. Also know that dates can go poorly when it's your own fault and be thankful when the guy doesn't completely hold it against you and continues corresponding with you.
3. Unlike Great Date #2 above, this traditional date to Nizza followed by a children's movie was lame. Less because of what the date entailed and more because of the company. When a guy pulls out the movie times on a piece of torn out newspaper and refuses to let you look up the showtimes on your smartphone, end the date there. Don't continue on and give him a chance for...
2. ...a second date. Yes, worst dates #3 and #2 are from the same guy. Gentle reader of the masculine variety, take note: wearing old school, too tight sweatpants on a date isn't sexy even if someone lied to you and told you it was at some point in the 90s. The conversation was terrible too. This guy gave me rules... you KNOW I loved that. My favorite rule? Don't text him because it's impersonal. Needless to say, 2 dates was all he got... it's 2011, sir and I don't do rules well.
1. I may or may not have been known to go out with guys on occasion who are not remotely my type just for the story and potentially to broaden my horizons. An obnoxious steroid-infused, fake-baked, car-obsessed, meathead (no judgement of course) took me out to the Astoria Brewhouse. He asked me about my plans for kids and marriage. He talked about his ex-wife incessantly. Then he tried to plan our 2nd date. When I attempted to be elusive in order to avoid putting myself in an uncomfortable situation, he pressed. Then he went in for a kiss... not a peck, but a full-on mouth kiss which I somewhat successfully dodged (I've become a pro at that over the years... ask my friend Darryl about my dodge with a kiss from Zenny). Worst date of the year, hands down goes to the guy who wore this...
I'm still holding out hope for maybe one or two more dates in 2011, but I'm not sure they can top either list. I wonder what 2012 will have in store on this front??
Sunday, November 6, 2011
Meeting Joy
It's always funny to me how dates stick out in my mind. I know they do with everyone, but for me it's an area of fixation. I can remember exactly where I was, what I was wearing, who I was with, who I was dating, if I was dating, what color hair I had, et cetera on many of the most random days of the year. Call it a good memory. Call it being nostalgic. Call it being "Rain Man" for all I care. That's who I am. I'm the girl who remembers dates on the calendar.
November 6, 2006. A day that has plagued me for the past five years. A day that I rarely, if ever, discuss. But starting today I'm going to remember it as the day that I met Joy.
It's the first day I lived alone. It was my first day as a single adult. I was terrified. I was panicky. I ate a whole pizza and later threw most of it up. It was the most hopeless and confused I'd ever felt. It was my rock-bottom.
With the TV off, Indy at my side, and a nearly empty pizza box next to me, I thought about the events that had led me to that moment. It was as if I were replaying a movie in my mind - one that I knew all the parts and scenes, all the costumes and lighting, all the emotions and dialogue. I knew it by heart, but there was no way that it was real. It must be a movie, right? As I sat there feeling the real feelings of pain and confusion and frustration and irritation and so much more, I realized I was playing my own life and the choices I'd made, the choices I'd allowed to be made for me, and the reality that got me to November 6, 2006.
And I met Joy. I didn't know her. I didn't like her. I didn't want to be introduced. I certainly didn't want the stranger in the mirror to try and infiltrate life as I knew it. At that point in time, "change" was a naughty word. I much preferred my comforts, my salary, my closed heart, my closed brain, my stoic attitude, my solitude, my privacy, my control over something that wasn't mine to control.
Five years have gone by. Each year on November 6th, I've shut everything down. It's almost like I've clung to that day to relive something bad that happened to me. I've allowed myself to be the victim in a movie where I should be the heroine.
No more. Starting today - Sunday, November 6, 2011 - I will celebrate the fact that I FINALLY met me. Yeah... it took me five years to learn me (and I'm still learning more every day). For five years I've found things to be sad about. And that's just dumb.
I have the most incredible friends. I live in the most amazing city. I am blessed with a ridiculously supportive and loving family. I have a job I'm proud of. I finally have red hair. I'm the owner of the most hysterical and well-behaved dog. I'm independent and girly at the same time (I totally moved 3 big pieces of furniture today while wearing a dress), and I actually like that about me.
Does that mean that I've declared every day to be awesome from here out? Well, of course not. I didn't fall off the truck yesterday. It just means that November 6th is no longer a day of sadness. In fact, as hard as it is to admit it sometimes, I'm happy for that day. It's the day I took control of my own life. For the first time. I said "no more" to inauthenticity and not knowing, or wanting to know, myself. I ripped off the band-aid and exposed a wound that took a long time to heal. Now the scar is a semi-hidden piece of my character, yet part of what makes me the November 6, 2011 version.
Ya know, the authentic one. The one with the nosering, the limited tattoos, the sometimes-weird clothing combos, and the insomnia. The wanna-be runner. The laidback one who should sometimes demand more from people but doesn't know how. But also the one who carries her dog home in a pink blanket in an October snowstorm but fights against treating the dog like a human. The one who cries at "50/50" because the main character has an awesome best friend. The one who is insanely proud of her own friends including but certainly not limited to the two running in the NYC Marathon, the two who moved in together this month, the one building houses in Nepal for the needy, the one who's caring for a friend who lost a parent, the one whose life is a perfect balance of gorgeous wife/mom/friend/runner, and the one who took out-of-towners to a Brooklyn Burlesque tonight.
That one. And she's awesome. In fact, she might be the most awesome girl you'll ever meet (at least that's what she tells the boys...)
November 6, 2006. A day that has plagued me for the past five years. A day that I rarely, if ever, discuss. But starting today I'm going to remember it as the day that I met Joy.
It's the first day I lived alone. It was my first day as a single adult. I was terrified. I was panicky. I ate a whole pizza and later threw most of it up. It was the most hopeless and confused I'd ever felt. It was my rock-bottom.
With the TV off, Indy at my side, and a nearly empty pizza box next to me, I thought about the events that had led me to that moment. It was as if I were replaying a movie in my mind - one that I knew all the parts and scenes, all the costumes and lighting, all the emotions and dialogue. I knew it by heart, but there was no way that it was real. It must be a movie, right? As I sat there feeling the real feelings of pain and confusion and frustration and irritation and so much more, I realized I was playing my own life and the choices I'd made, the choices I'd allowed to be made for me, and the reality that got me to November 6, 2006.
And I met Joy. I didn't know her. I didn't like her. I didn't want to be introduced. I certainly didn't want the stranger in the mirror to try and infiltrate life as I knew it. At that point in time, "change" was a naughty word. I much preferred my comforts, my salary, my closed heart, my closed brain, my stoic attitude, my solitude, my privacy, my control over something that wasn't mine to control.
Five years have gone by. Each year on November 6th, I've shut everything down. It's almost like I've clung to that day to relive something bad that happened to me. I've allowed myself to be the victim in a movie where I should be the heroine.
No more. Starting today - Sunday, November 6, 2011 - I will celebrate the fact that I FINALLY met me. Yeah... it took me five years to learn me (and I'm still learning more every day). For five years I've found things to be sad about. And that's just dumb.
I have the most incredible friends. I live in the most amazing city. I am blessed with a ridiculously supportive and loving family. I have a job I'm proud of. I finally have red hair. I'm the owner of the most hysterical and well-behaved dog. I'm independent and girly at the same time (I totally moved 3 big pieces of furniture today while wearing a dress), and I actually like that about me.
Does that mean that I've declared every day to be awesome from here out? Well, of course not. I didn't fall off the truck yesterday. It just means that November 6th is no longer a day of sadness. In fact, as hard as it is to admit it sometimes, I'm happy for that day. It's the day I took control of my own life. For the first time. I said "no more" to inauthenticity and not knowing, or wanting to know, myself. I ripped off the band-aid and exposed a wound that took a long time to heal. Now the scar is a semi-hidden piece of my character, yet part of what makes me the November 6, 2011 version.
Ya know, the authentic one. The one with the nosering, the limited tattoos, the sometimes-weird clothing combos, and the insomnia. The wanna-be runner. The laidback one who should sometimes demand more from people but doesn't know how. But also the one who carries her dog home in a pink blanket in an October snowstorm but fights against treating the dog like a human. The one who cries at "50/50" because the main character has an awesome best friend. The one who is insanely proud of her own friends including but certainly not limited to the two running in the NYC Marathon, the two who moved in together this month, the one building houses in Nepal for the needy, the one who's caring for a friend who lost a parent, the one whose life is a perfect balance of gorgeous wife/mom/friend/runner, and the one who took out-of-towners to a Brooklyn Burlesque tonight.
That one. And she's awesome. In fact, she might be the most awesome girl you'll ever meet (at least that's what she tells the boys...)
Friday, October 21, 2011
Babies of the Carb Variety
I joke a lot about the hated addition to my midsection by calling it my Carb Baby. This came about when I started seeing a nutritionist a couple of years ago. I started losing weight, feeling better, and beginning to understand about the fuel I put in. Through some testing we found extremely high cortisol levels. That combined with refined carbs, which are the foods I have a sometimes love affair with, created a super sexy tummy pooch. Thus, the Carb Baby.
This is also an ironic send-up to a couple of things. 1) I can't physically have human babies without a lot of outside help and money, anguish and pain, and probable disappointment in the end anyway. So theoretically no different from those of you who can, right? 2) My biggest fear in life as some of you know, Gentle Readers, is having someone give up his/her seat on the subway for me assuming I'm preggers. This hasn't happened, but it's a constant fear and yet another reason to hate the Carb Baby.
Fast forward to 2011.
I've thrown out the bathroom scale as it only leads to more detrimental results with food. I've tossed processed foods out of much of my diet (although not when I'm on vacay with the fam as my loving cousin Russ would be quick to point out). I've been running like a fiend (btdubs... did the Wine & Dine at Disney October 1st with a great friend)...
...look at those awesome kicks I designed! But I digress...
Pointless boy issues, The Suzz moving across the continent, random health woes that just proved irritating, Indy having surgery, and some work hiccups (including a tough fiscal year end) haven't stopped me. In fact, they've somehow made me reevaluate what's important - spending time with friends, writing because it makes me calm, running because it makes me happy, finding boys without drama, having a good attitude at work, getting a good manicure, and enjoying the occasional French macaron.
And apparently that's working. I had my annual biometric screening at the ole workplace, and I've lost 17 pounds without really even trying. I knew the clothes weren't fitting, but I just looked at that as a reason to go shopping. I guess running in Astoria Park and really focusing on that in addition to limiting those processed foods really does pay off!
Also I have a booty. For the first time in my life, I have a bit o'tush. I'm certainly no Nicki Minaj, but I'm a-ok with that. I'm gonna thank the new running shoes for that (yes, they have my name on them)!
Let's do this, Carb Baby. Let's see if we can part ways once and for all. Maybe if I don't waste so much time hating you, I can make you end... or at least shrink. I'm ok taking it slow. It's kinda how I do. No pressure. Just know you won't be with me forever.
This is also an ironic send-up to a couple of things. 1) I can't physically have human babies without a lot of outside help and money, anguish and pain, and probable disappointment in the end anyway. So theoretically no different from those of you who can, right? 2) My biggest fear in life as some of you know, Gentle Readers, is having someone give up his/her seat on the subway for me assuming I'm preggers. This hasn't happened, but it's a constant fear and yet another reason to hate the Carb Baby.
Fast forward to 2011.
I've thrown out the bathroom scale as it only leads to more detrimental results with food. I've tossed processed foods out of much of my diet (although not when I'm on vacay with the fam as my loving cousin Russ would be quick to point out). I've been running like a fiend (btdubs... did the Wine & Dine at Disney October 1st with a great friend)...
Pointless boy issues, The Suzz moving across the continent, random health woes that just proved irritating, Indy having surgery, and some work hiccups (including a tough fiscal year end) haven't stopped me. In fact, they've somehow made me reevaluate what's important - spending time with friends, writing because it makes me calm, running because it makes me happy, finding boys without drama, having a good attitude at work, getting a good manicure, and enjoying the occasional French macaron.
And apparently that's working. I had my annual biometric screening at the ole workplace, and I've lost 17 pounds without really even trying. I knew the clothes weren't fitting, but I just looked at that as a reason to go shopping. I guess running in Astoria Park and really focusing on that in addition to limiting those processed foods really does pay off!
Also I have a booty. For the first time in my life, I have a bit o'tush. I'm certainly no Nicki Minaj, but I'm a-ok with that. I'm gonna thank the new running shoes for that (yes, they have my name on them)!
Let's do this, Carb Baby. Let's see if we can part ways once and for all. Maybe if I don't waste so much time hating you, I can make you end... or at least shrink. I'm ok taking it slow. It's kinda how I do. No pressure. Just know you won't be with me forever.
Monday, September 26, 2011
So Ryan Gosling
This is my daily view. Gas dusters to clean out my keyboard obsessively. Kleenex thanks to the fall allergies. Various lotions and moisturizers to maintain my girly softness. New personalized mug with my name all over it because I'm awesome like that. Receipts to be reimbursed for late night meals thanks to year end close. Neat folder of important, confidential, financial paperwork (does anyone actually buy that). Handbag-of-the-day calendar which sometimes leads to early morning research on where I can find said bags - like this one by Isabella Fiore entitled "Delilah" which can be found on avelle.com.
And finally... my inspirational Ryan Gosling picture as though I'm a 14-year-old girl with a poster of my favorite celebrity on the wall to kiss goodnight. Not that I actually did that... I mean, that picture of Jordan Knight was just because I wanted to be cool... uh, yeah, we'll go with that.
So when Selby sent me THIS link today, I laughed, I cried, I sighed too much. I totally get this girl and will forever subscribe to her blog for being my Ryan soulmate. Though I will fight her when the time comes for him to choose her or me.
I love you, Ryan Gosling. And we know I don't use that word lightly. You are officially #1 on my Top 5. Sorry Adrien Brody and Justin Kirk, you are now 2 and 3.
Friday, September 23, 2011
Boiling Blood
I love politics. Most of you know that. And I LOVE hearing what those who differ in opinion from me have to say. They honestly interest me just as much if not more than those who believe the same way. Because conversations with fellow left-wingers go something like this:
"I would vote for socialized medicine."
"Me too. I would also vote for gay marriage."
"Yep. Me too. I also am all about ridding the world of the death penalty, lessening tax cuts for the wealthiest Americans, keeping church and state completely separate, and supporting welfare and Social Security."
"Uh huh.... so..... I guess the biggest potential difference we have is Hillary or Obama?"
Boring. However, intelligently discussing whether you're of a different mindset from my own can take on all different forms. Some of my friends are ridiculously wealthy and understand that they sway to the right to keep the money they've worked hard for in their own bank accounts and not have to share. Others don't like change and don't know how to deal with the idea of NOT keeping our southern neighbors out by means of a fence. And others take the God-route and can't deal with the woman's right to choose and same-sex marriage. No matter their reasons, I like talking to them about it. Not even arguing. I love them either way.
However, bigots make me angry. Rick Perry, Sarah Palin, and Michele Bachmann have often topped my irritation-of-the-day roster. But when someone starts ignorantly speaking against people for who they are, my blood begins to boil.
Rick Santorum is the source of today's frustration. No... not frustration... sadness, nausea, fury, tears.
After working 13 hours today I came home to catch some of the highlights of tonight's GOP Debate on Fox News. Yes, I'm aware of what Fox News is airing. See above... I like hearing what everyone thinks. What I saw was much too irritating though, so the debate will stay on my DVR for another day or two.
Amazingly brave, clearly strong, and well-spoken soldier Stephen Hill asked a question to the panel about DADT. He got booed. The audience booed him. Like booed as though they were at a football game with one too many beers down their gullets. How disgusting.
But even more disgusting?? Rick Santorum. His first sentence in answering Mr. Hill's question is, "Yeah, I would say any type of sexual activity has no place in the military." I didn't hear a question about sexual activity. Gays don't just walk about looking for a place and means to have sex. In fact, I know many more straight people who have that agenda than gay people.
Senator Santorum believes that allowing homosexuals in the military is "tragic". How dare he? More importantly, how dare those people cheer him? Most importantly, I hope his bigotry keeps people from voting for him. His irresponsibility and cruelty to a minority group is appalling. I really hope if and when one (or more) of his seven children turn out to be gay, he doesn't wish them the same fate as he's wishing Mr. Hill and other gay Americans. It floors me that in 2011 this is still acceptable. I want him to stop being angry. What is he so mad about? No one is asking him to be gay. No one is asking to take away his rights for being a man, or being white, or being married, or being a dad, or being right-handed (or is he left-handed?). Let people be and live their lives. Stephen Hill just wants to go to work and not be forced to lie about who he is. Let him be. I'll bet Mr. Santorum's even one of those people who are anti-Chaz Bono on DWTS... which was another thing that shocked me, but I digress...
I guess that's my cue to lull myself to sleep somehow and try not to be angry about bigots... I have another looooong work day ahead of me tomorrow.
"I would vote for socialized medicine."
"Me too. I would also vote for gay marriage."
"Yep. Me too. I also am all about ridding the world of the death penalty, lessening tax cuts for the wealthiest Americans, keeping church and state completely separate, and supporting welfare and Social Security."
"Uh huh.... so..... I guess the biggest potential difference we have is Hillary or Obama?"
Boring. However, intelligently discussing whether you're of a different mindset from my own can take on all different forms. Some of my friends are ridiculously wealthy and understand that they sway to the right to keep the money they've worked hard for in their own bank accounts and not have to share. Others don't like change and don't know how to deal with the idea of NOT keeping our southern neighbors out by means of a fence. And others take the God-route and can't deal with the woman's right to choose and same-sex marriage. No matter their reasons, I like talking to them about it. Not even arguing. I love them either way.
However, bigots make me angry. Rick Perry, Sarah Palin, and Michele Bachmann have often topped my irritation-of-the-day roster. But when someone starts ignorantly speaking against people for who they are, my blood begins to boil.
Rick Santorum is the source of today's frustration. No... not frustration... sadness, nausea, fury, tears.
After working 13 hours today I came home to catch some of the highlights of tonight's GOP Debate on Fox News. Yes, I'm aware of what Fox News is airing. See above... I like hearing what everyone thinks. What I saw was much too irritating though, so the debate will stay on my DVR for another day or two.
Amazingly brave, clearly strong, and well-spoken soldier Stephen Hill asked a question to the panel about DADT. He got booed. The audience booed him. Like booed as though they were at a football game with one too many beers down their gullets. How disgusting.
But even more disgusting?? Rick Santorum. His first sentence in answering Mr. Hill's question is, "Yeah, I would say any type of sexual activity has no place in the military." I didn't hear a question about sexual activity. Gays don't just walk about looking for a place and means to have sex. In fact, I know many more straight people who have that agenda than gay people.
Senator Santorum believes that allowing homosexuals in the military is "tragic". How dare he? More importantly, how dare those people cheer him? Most importantly, I hope his bigotry keeps people from voting for him. His irresponsibility and cruelty to a minority group is appalling. I really hope if and when one (or more) of his seven children turn out to be gay, he doesn't wish them the same fate as he's wishing Mr. Hill and other gay Americans. It floors me that in 2011 this is still acceptable. I want him to stop being angry. What is he so mad about? No one is asking him to be gay. No one is asking to take away his rights for being a man, or being white, or being married, or being a dad, or being right-handed (or is he left-handed?). Let people be and live their lives. Stephen Hill just wants to go to work and not be forced to lie about who he is. Let him be. I'll bet Mr. Santorum's even one of those people who are anti-Chaz Bono on DWTS... which was another thing that shocked me, but I digress...
I guess that's my cue to lull myself to sleep somehow and try not to be angry about bigots... I have another looooong work day ahead of me tomorrow.
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