>I really want to write something profound and amazing, but I just can’t. As an aside, our 16th anniversary pictures are nothing short of amazing, we are HOT! *laughs* ” Don’t be jelly!” Seriously, favorite guy and I are pretty good looking for two old folks, good genes/jeans-I tell ya! *belches, runs off to admire anniversary pictures…and gloat*


>Feels around on scalp for “off” switch.

Well, so much for sleep. I’m thoroughly bothered by some recent events in the business lives of Joe and I. I tried to put it to rest over pizza this afternoon, but it just keeps resurfacing. A few years ago we started up an indie label with a mission statement consisting of 6 core principles. They are art,music,culture,faith,life and love. Joseph and I are right brained liberal non conformist types who relish in anything grey. Well, it doesn’t get much greyer than art,music,culture,faith, life and love. You can ask anyone at any given time on any given section of the planet and you will undoubtedly get responses as diverse as the participants. Along the way we’ve crossed paths with some who’ve developed their own rather strident interpretation of our label’s core principles, go figure. Just as an aside it is 1:30 am and Joseph is asleep. He has no idea that I am writing this, but I might add that while he may not always agree he doesn’t ever censor my views or otherwise infringe upon my rights as an artist. We have recently signed a rather talented artist from across the globe who has by way of visual art brought to light the global issues of poverty and homelessness. The audio expression is without words and therefore left completely to the listener for its full interpretation. The title of the song contains the ubiquitous F word. Can you spell backlash?! We have received some not so nice unsolicited feedback from former label supporters and it is rather disheartening. I guess the part that is most troublesome is the premise of bellowing over what you believe our core principles are or were. There was never a claim to be affiliated with any specific race, religion or culture but that we were committed to all art, music, culture, faith, life and love. I may be biased as I am rather skilled in the use of the F word and as I’d like to think many other words. (I thoroughly enjoyed the Electric Company and Sesame Street as a child) Sadly enough, on both sides words have caused a great deal of distress.
For me, words are merely words until intent is taken into context. I fondly recall our youngest child calling me a “spaghetti”. Yeah, she said “You spaghetti!” But, with such intensity that she may has well have called me the B word. And, I reprimanded her as though she had based solely on the intent. We did not stop preparing spaghetti nor did we ban it from household use, it is not the S word in the Mercado home and as far as I know no one has been flogged or jailed for its use in the free world. To that, our oldest child is a budding wordsmith and has at his disposal an arsenal of words; both urban and esoteric, that are all allowed when used in the appropriate context. Am I insane, have I got it all wrong? I’d like to think not, but that is just my opinion. One I respectfully never attempt to force on others.
I’m hopeful that we can get past the issue of the song’s title with minimal strife and moreover I’d like to be removed from the fishbowl of cynicism as we’ve never offered any more insight into our complex ideologies than the 6 words in our mission statement. Six words that are apparently as interpretive as the word christianity and those casting stones while under its thin veil.
I’ve never quite understood the misconception that art is only art if you like it. That music is only music if it makes you dance. That cultures other than your own lack sense, substance or necessity. That Christianity is the only faith. That there is any one clear cut directive for a meaningful, purpose-filled life. That people/things of whom/which you cannot understand are not equally deserving of acceptance and love. Perhaps, I will never understand because I am agnostic: a=without, gnosis=knowledge. Which as I’ve recently discovered is also subject to vast mis-interpretation.
Today’s blog was brought to you by the letter “A” and the words art and acceptance, assholes! laughs….(Seriously I had to throw that in or it just wouldn’t be me). Have a good day all.


>Thanks, Rosalie

>Rubs eyes walks toward fridge to make an Alka-Seltzer cocktail…the saltier, tastier, more cost efficient Equate brand antacid was sold out…I guess everyone is getting ready for back to school, eh?…

Child-rearing, drugs, Alzheimer’s, global warming, recycling, interracial dating, the military, big breasts, promiscuity, slow learners, accelerated learners, custody agreements, homosexuality, racism, the musculoskeletal structure of different ethnic groups, genetics, color blindness, and hemophilia. This is a list of topics I covered with my grandmother during one of our regularly unscheduled 2 plus hour phone conversations. Did I mention Joe’s teeth?! We talked about that too, my grandmother just loves Joe’s teeth.
It’s amazing how it really is true that you can be one person in the world or the world to one person. When my grandmother’s glucose levels are on, she is the most entertaining, intelligent rational, amenable human being on the planet and although she is nearly 50 years older than I am there is no one who I find more pleasurable to be around. I absolutely adore her. It is an amazing feeling to have someone that knows your heart and protects it, someone who genuinely enjoys you for no other reason that the fact that you are you. We have always felt that way about each other. I vividly and warmly recollect our times together through the years, each of us glowing like childhood friends. I’ll never know what happened with her relationships with her own children, and I’m glad. I choose to enjoy this relationship in blissful ignorance.
I am at an odd point in my life right now having sky-rocketed through my younger years, I find myself at 34 happy but lacking definitive direction. I’m on tour so to speak. Everything is wonderful-make no mistake, but I have no destination. This is a bit odd for me as I am generally in control, plan in hand. Could it be that I have finally arrived and the adage is true? Is success really in the journey? I guess I’ll inevitably find out. I reflected on this as I was speaking with my grandmother who at 82…I think (I did mention the lack of accurate record keeping in rural South Carolina, yes?) is as inquisitive as Yael Rose at 8. When I brought up global warming and consumerism she immediately began to question her beef and pork consumption and her regular use of paper plates. I, of course assured her that the two or so plates she uses, as she is living alone these days-hardly causes a great deal of environmental detriment. Which was more relieving to her than the methane gas and cows dilemma. At which point she sounded worried and asked, “Well what can I eat?”. Although it was in reference to global warming her voice had the suspicious tinge of influence from last week’s conversation about her diabetes and her insistence on putting butter, cream cheese and jelly on her breakfast bagel. She’s very funny about diet as most black southerners are. My vegetarianism is tantamount to cardinal sin back home. In southern accent, “Child you better c’mon here and git some of this good pork and things”. The word “sin” has been thrown about quite freely and frequently in our home today…that’s a whole other ugly story.
Our conversations are always mentally stimulating, such thought provoking topics between she and I, and the 50 years between us make for a most enlightening perspective. I realize my grandmother is an intellectual nomad. I know that the next time we speak she will have something to add to everything we covered and we will continue on this journey together. It’s a most frightening prospect, 82 years is, in years traveled. In the 34 that I have had the pleasure of sharing with her, she has suffered many losses; friends, children, a husband. Yet, she sees no end. In my darkest times I draw on her travels and travails, and mark the map just one more stop along the way. I guess there really is no place to go, just a place to be. Thanks Rosalie.


I really ought to get some house work done, but this is an urgent thought. Reality. What is reality? When someone makes a statement and says,”… in all reality”or,”… in all actuality”- what are they really saying? We each create and dwell in our very own reality and that could not have been more apparent in the three conversations that I had with three very close friends yesterday.
The biggest misconception I witnessed is that of principle. Acting on principle is not validation for being spiteful and manipulative. There are instances when acting on principle adversely affects those involved, but not in so far as to sabotage or otherwise inconvenience them greatly. because of my strong feelings about drugs I would not-on principle accept drug money or tolerate any use or sale of drugs in my home or in my presence. This is principle. Calling the police or slandering the neighbors for smoking marijuana in their home during their party because I wasn’t invited is spite. I think it must be far easier to act in vengeance than to accept that perhaps it is merely your perception of the event or person that is really bringing you discomfort. Perhaps my neighbor meant to stop over and invite me personally, but it slipped her mind in all of the planning, perhaps she called and the kids did not pass on the message. There are often so many hidden truths to any given situation that acting in haste and malevolence is always wrong.
Another misconception is something I learned about a decade ago from someone who strangely enough thought quite highly of me with an odd way of expressing it. Sense of entitlement. Believing that upon any action your are somehow entitled to retribution or restitution. I have seen it over and over and it never amounts to anything good. Parents and children, “I work two jobs and he can’t even clean his room.” It is your responsibility to take care of your children and part of that is setting rules for communal living such as chores. Have you asked your children to clean the room? Twice? (I learned this in a marriage seminar, asking once is never enough) And, have they had consequences for not doing so? Perhaps your two jobs have interfered with your main job. Revisit. Romantic relationships, ” I always ask about his day and his friends and his family…and he never asks about mine it is as if he doesn’t care” Perhaps he doesn’t. Just because the happenings of his daily routine are essential knowings for your day doesn’t mean he feels the same. I am significantly closer to my family than my husband, we each respect that the other has good reason for the amount of time spent with and on family. My husband on the other hand is more inclined to ask about the kids when he is not at home and I don’t. I figure he’s got it under control.
It is true that you should treat people the way that you would like to be treated in theory as a generalization, not that you should lay out a blueprint of each interaction and they should be obliged to follow.
I find these issues unsettling and even annoying. I hold my friendships in high regard, but big character flaws such as these and/or areas of extreme malevolence make me feel unsafe in the relationship. I’m faced with wondering, “Wow could this happen to me”? In my yoga practice I have been taught to listen to my mind, body and spirit. Too often, I say yes when I really want to say no. I also let conversations and debates go on far longer than they need to and will even offer explanation of my position when I know the other party either is undeserving or otherwise uninterested in being pragmatic. I’m noticing particularly in the past two days that my self awareness and growth will take more getting used to for those around me than myself. Its a risk well worth the taking.
It has been over a week on the new medication, my energy is coming back and moreover my purpose is clear. I feel focused and ready for whatever awaits even if that means a little friendship pruning.


>stretches yawns rubs eyes Wow, I’ve been so busy lately…I guess. Let’s see Thursday we took our anniversary photos. The first professional portraits we’ve taken since we were married. My initial thought was, “How sad” but in retrospect, and this is not meant to take anything away from the wonderful memories we’ve made during this journey-this year is one that deserves preservation. Asks self, “If you had it to do all over again would you?” Answers self, “Nope. Can’t I just stay in this moment?”

I’m pleased with the photos we selected. You know how they take a bazillion frames?! I was so tempted to buy all of them, well except the soap opera shots which were hard enough to take. There’s something about dreamily looking into Joe’s eyes that seems disingenuous. Not that we aren’t loving and affectionate, but generally not with an audience and definitely not on demand like show ponies! All in all though, it was a pleasant experience and I’m looking forward to picking up the photos on the 14th.

Other than that the last 4 days have been pretty uneventful, just pretty relaxed and we’re looking forward to the next set of adventures.



Today, August 2nd 2007 is my 16th wedding anniversary…pauses sighs looks up and to the left drawing on recollection of todays’ events. I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow. Be well all.
I’ve added NEW! items to my etsyshop-have a gander…as the suspense kills you! evil laughter fades…



The weekend got away from me, although today is dragging. I caught an early yoga class with a new instructor on Saturday morning. Sadly, I actually liked her more than Joe. She presented more of a challenge and made more of an effort stressing form in the asanas. Joe is all about the spiritual which is part of it, but I am a slave to the physical and there is something truly beautiful about the human body in near perfect form. To look over in the mirror and catch a glimpse of your perfectly aligned body is a motivational tool for me.
After the class I headed home and then to meet the new therapist. The anxiety builds as we get into the car. Primarily because sessions are seldom invigorating and secondarily because Joe (favorite guy) is alot more spiritually aware than psychologically. It becomes almost frustrating communicating about an issue that is so close to me yet so far from him. I guess we face the same struggle with his Christianity. Actually, it is more than a guess since we’ve spoken on it more than once. We arrive and she-yes, a woman-another uncomfortable moment as I generally prefer males for invasive topics like obstetrics,gynaecology and psychotherapy comes out to gather the insurance information and medical history. She reviewed it, we spoke briefly and much to my surprise she headed straight for the prescription pad. It was pleasant that she trusted my self awareness and knowledge enough to skip the trivial formalities and further insult me by offering coping mechanisms. So, I’m on board again, well almost. It should be a couple weeks before the total effect is apparent. We (favorite guy and I) still have not spoken much of it. I’m not sure how I feel about it. It feels uncomfortable not sharing but I’m also at fault because I don’t share in his spiritual trials and triumphs either. It’s something we need to work on, I just don’t see it happening any time soon. We used to keep this His and Hers journal, where we’d each take turns answering pre-written questions about each other and the children and our lives together. It is no wonder that we were doing remarkably well keeping up with it until one of the questions referred to a change we’d each like to see and my answer pointed to the psychological while his pointed to the spiritual.

Tougher than most interfaith relationships is the one of the Agnostic and the Believer. While I can’t speak for his position I can affirm that mine is one of the unknowing, and as much as I believe the believers believe they know, they too do not. In my younger years I had attested to being an Atheist and as my awareness grew I realized that was a dangerous position for me to take. As a scholar of sorts I have gained quite a bit of respect and credibility. To make an assertion on religion in bias was just wrong. I concede that I lean further in my belief that God is not real, but the one disclaimer so to speak that stops me from making any declaration of my stance either way is that I just do not know.

This creates an awkward position for me because what comes next from followers of any religious faith is, “Well how can you say you don’t believe if you don’t know, how do you think you got here” followed by some ridiculous misconstrued theory of apes and a mockery of the theory of evolution which few people understand in its entirety. I’m in essence saying the exact same thing, but for the other team. Believers say they know God/Allah/Yahweh/Jehovah/? did it, but they do not know how. I say it was done but I don’t know how and/or/if by whom.

Case in point, in first year psychology you learn about the basic personality types. Folks are always saying what goes around comes around, karma, some believe God will punish you, others believe he teaches, he doesn’t punish. Either way, with there being; a limited number of personality types and infinite opportunities to encounter each a few times in this lifetime, wouldn’t it then be safe to assume that you may one day be faced with a situation that you have previously encountered? Perhaps on the other side of the encounter with someone who may or may not have the same personality trait(s) as you. You would then be faced with many if not all of the same feelings that you imagined the other person experienced. (I say imagined because you never really can tell what another person is feeling and your reality is always based on your own experiences). Is that karma? Is God punishing you? Is He teaching you a lesson? Is it purely coincidental? Is it The Path?

I am clinically depressed. I am okay with it. I don’t feel it is as a result of not praying or believing and no, I don’t think I’d be any less depressed if I did. My depression has contributed to a very real and powerful part of who I am. I see things a little more colorfully than most, I experience things in greater detail, I feel more anxious, more afraid, more emotional. But as everything is intensified, so is my creativity, my recollection of facts and events, my perception of others and reality. To those who know me, they would say, “That’s just Meka“. They can attest that I come up with just the right description of scents, of sounds, of feelings I can predict with near accuracy a series of events and how they will unfold. I am the friend to put your feelings into words, your jumbled words into feelings. My husband believes that I am instrumental in deciphering his many conversations with God. I am not God, but if there is one, I’ll bet he too is/was/will be clinically depressed. winks and smiles.



I did it. Done. Finished. Finit. Se acabo…It feels weird, I am underemployed. I am underemployed lowers octave looks up and to the left un-der-em-ployed, me. Ok, I guess I am. The walk to the elevators was awkward. As much as I protest, contest, complain and curmudgeon I do have warm feelings for some (very few) of the warm bodies. So fleeting it was though, that feeling- by the time the “ding” alerted me of my arrival on the main floor, I was so over it.
The ride home was quiet and perhaps a bit somber. I am bittersweet on the whole arrangement because it is new, and with all things new there will be humps, hurdles and adjustments. I’m sure Joe has his own reservations, no more two-day reprieve to hold his fork the wrong way, spread butter with a spoon, fart in the bedroom, fry food, (Ali & AJ are on TV singing this song that I kinda like…it’s Disney, but it’s kinda catchy, something about a boyfriend-makes me feel young again, I used to have one of those) and whatever else they do here while I’m away. I can understand, it’s a leap of faith for me too. I’m confident that we’ll be fine, we’ve already battled the biggest demons; in-laws, infidelity and interfaith issues. An extra two days of me manning the maison won’t kill him.
I’m meeting a new therapist tomorrow morning, I just remembered. Good thing too, because I was going to ask Joe to pick up a six-pack of Sunshine or Skinny Dip. A couple of weeks ago, I did stale/still drunk yoga-which was hysterical, by the way. At one point I’m in Downward Dog and I’m totally in the zone, just a breathing and a stretching only to realize that everyone else is upright and going into a gentle back bend! I tell you, alcohol is like WD-40 for your joints, at least until the next day. Anyway, sorry about the digression…if I tie one on tonight she’s liable to book me a room at “Hut de Nut”, it will take some time to discern my sarcasm from my psychosis. Seriously, I’m not thrilled about starting anew because I only want to discuss what I want to discuss and well, they can be pretty damn nosey. When I went to the employee assistance counselor, she was asking about my friends, my parents, hobbies…I’m thinking are you gonna keep me from bludgeoning someone or do you want to date me? laughs I guess it’s all relative, but it’s one of those deals like when you’re in labor and the doctor asks if you have any history of heart disease, stroke, asthma and you’re like, put that pen down before I kill you with it! That’s where I am, “Listen lady, pick up your little pad and write the following: “Rx for happy during the day, sleeps well at night, tolerates others”. That’s it, and if you want to know about my mom I’ll have her give you a call. Simple enough, no? I’ll keep you posted…Oh no, I just noticed that the past couple of entries have been written as though I am writing to someone versus just writing…am I splitting. Is this some dissociative disorder? I do, on occasion talk to myself…hmmm. Ah that’s okay I kinda like talking to me. Lisa? Avery? Are you guys out there?



Hotmail is now Windows Live mail, 2GB space, heightened security features and more blah blah blah. The only feature I’m currently interested in is the one where you can actually type a complete thought without having to restart the PC. I feel like I’m blogging on Lisa’s cell phone.

Things are good today, I spoke to my supervisor over that EBO, looks like I can skip the two week wake and head to the Pearly Gates tomorrow. I’m loving that. I’m ambivalent about outing my unemployed status to the masses. I’ve been on my own since I was 16 and give away far greater than I take, where matters of family are concerned- but I can already hear the yammers, “Oh, but you’re so smart…you need your independence, what about pocket money“. I’m so sick of this idea that a woman who chooses not to work to support and otherwise raise (yeah good ol’ fashioned child-rearing) her children is somehow defunct, like I’m banished to the masses of child-raising Met Food cashiers. I guess being the nonconformist that I am, I would choose to educate myself extensively and then only apply it towards parenting and homeschooling whilst everyone else is back-biting and ass kissing, kicking and busting for the corner office. I don’t know, call me naive, call me crazy, but I’d like to think that these years put in will reap far greater rewards than the latch-key pipe bombers of this generation. Besides, pocket money, schmocket money-I spend it faster than I bring it in.

My grandmother, who I love infinitely fell prey to the women’s lib movement in the worst way. She knows better now, thanks to my incessant propagandizing of attachment parenting, nursing and the family bed, but she is still a work in progress. She grew up in the South and upon acquiring her degree and marrying my grandfather joined the movement. She formula fed, with a propped bottle no less and she Ferberized, although I’m sure it was called something totally different then. The whole idea was to have the kid, place it down, prop the bottle and get back to the board room, class room, ladies room etc. It’s sad to think that your comeuppance as a woman could so easily be deflected from the obvious, natural reason for your earthly existence. I’m all about feminism as it stands to empower women not create a generation of neglectful stalwarts. At the end of the day my calling in this life is to raise well adjusted, well versed, cultured, educated people. Too bad there is no prestige or pension attached to the most important career around. Or is there?

It appears there just may be, as the Phoenix Police seem to be under the impression that I’ve deferred my parental judgment to the local “powers that be” (haha, Joe called me Flavor Flav as we were discussing this issue in bed this morning) our son was picked up on a curfew violation this past weekend. He was inside a private residence attending a party that was “broken up” at 12:01 IDs requested and all attendees under age were taken to a curfew violators encampment in the ghetto of West Phoenix. Ok, sounds simple enough except the law states minors cannot be outdoors after 12:00 unless they: are with an accompanying adult 18 or over, and/or have parental consent. Do you follow so far? Ok, so how was he arrested while indoors and never questioned about who accompanied him and ordered not to use his cell phone, which of course would have allowed me to advise the Footloose Police that he had my permission to be in attendance until 2:00 am? I am not partaking in any government subsidized programs and Jordan’s dad is not a man in uniform, I’m thoroughly confused about this blatant abuse of power. It is not a rare occurrence in the suburbs I have come to realize while researching my position in preparation of our upcoming juvenile court appearance, “Oh joy”. Basically, if Farmer Tom and his wife Peggy partner with Pastor Dave, Sister Sue and Sheriff Joe, “I reckon you can just ’bout outlaw any dern thang”. I just read they are outlawing sagging pants in Louisiana. What’s next, exposed socks, bad hair weaves? Violating civil liberties of anyone, yes children too, is a slippery slope. I understand many things create quality of life issues or a general annoyance, but that does not constitute an illegal act. If so, I’ve got a list of shit that I’d like to see stopped immediately. Let’s start with seizing the property of people who have old pickup trucks in their backyards, cars with one door spray painted black in the front yard, serviceman ass-crack should be punishable by fine and bellies exposed from under tight ass t-shirts should face up to a 90 day jail term or until said gut has been restored to order. Are you ready to sign my bill? One would just have to think there are far more serious offenses the Sheriff’s Office could be allocating tax monies toward. I have personally declared myself exempt for the past two years, citing that I’m broke and I don’t want my money being used for the country’s defense fund. That’s a whole other rant, and yes they, “Let you do that…” semantics, it’s all semantics.

At any rate, Joe and I will be there on September 20th complete with as many actual cases regarding this issue as can be obtained from the Internet and local libraries in addition to his current home school portfolio. I refuse to allow this to blemish his pristine record and I am not going to be pressured into abiding by this bureaucratic bullshit. If there is no blog on the 21st you can assume I violated penal code…whatever “arrogant black woman with her facts straight” is filed under in good ol’ AZ.

Well, I’m about to start winding down, watch a little mindless television before I head for bed, I’ve got a big day tomorrow. It’s amazing how I’m already feeling relieved (perhaps it is because I’ve called out all week) I’ve completed four projects for my gift shoppe, I have the basic design plan for two pairs of earrings, lesson plans are in the works and my house is clean. I know I’m not out of the water with my depression, but as I can best describe it, me working for the EBO is tantamount to being a laborer with a bad back. It is a bad situation that can and will eventually only get worse. I am grateful for the start; getting my feet firmly planted in AZ and putting some grub on the table, but in exchange I have recently been more depressed and without definitive reason than I’ve been in four years, that just doesn’t seem like fair trade. As one door closes another one opens, and if not well, you just kick it down and make your presence known. Laughs and remembers the time I pulled a door off the hinges at one of Joe’s gigs…good times.



What’s up, you say?! Everything, I tell ya. So…good stuff first. I have opted to resign from my daunting 20 hrs. a week position as plebeian cubicle dweller with headset at the Evil Blue Octagon. After much thought, planning, a little coaxing from the favorite guy and a realization that I do not need any help being miserable-it has been decided. Now, to decide whether or not to be a consummate professional and thank the folks over in Hades for the opportunity to border on self destruction at their expense or be myself and tell them how I feel. Two issues; the first is, I know that my stomach will hurt and I may even regurgitate a small portion of some vegetarian meal if I attempt to do this with any semblance of gratitude. That thought, and partially digested proteins are tough to swallow. On the other side, I don’t want to blemish my resume, I can always use my full time status as label manager in lieu of mentioning the Evil Blue Octagon, but that’s a little, y’know not quite truthful. See, I know that it is illegal to slander a former employee but an abrasive letter of resignation is part of your (in case you didn’t know) permanent employee record and I don’t think if they present such inclusion with neutrality there is anyway that one could fight it as slander. Trust that the slithering slitherers (yes, I still have Harry Potter on the mind) know a bit about Inhumane Resources and aren’t afraid to use their powers for evil. As someone who would like never to return to any corporate structure, I’m like, “Ah fuck it”! But knowing that in a crunch, I look pretty sweet on paper and can land position in the corporate slave trade quite easily and affluently one has to think long term. I’m sure as I usually do, I will find the delicate balance between logic and hysterics and will conjure up something with just the right amount of sting. At the end of the day, it all really is about semantics.
Other goings on…there has just been so much, but I’m up and down and down so I’ve been pretty tight lipped (fisted). I mentioned Joe’s gig, I’m such a total groupie! No, seriously I am. After so many years of this man making noise you’d think, I’d be at least over it if not completely annoyed, I’m so not. I love seeing him in all out “Art-guy-music-DJ-freako” zone. It’s like, is that the same guy that was just bitchin‘ about the yard, or spacing it in yoga class? (That’s a whole other hilarious story) Anyway, I get the groupie deal, but they’re all still banished to Cockroach-dom, and you all know who you are! Uses finger to hold eyelid down…I’m watching you! I’m so not, but that was fun to say, you laughed too, didn’t you?
So, yeah I’m leaving the job, school is just about in session and I’m in political tirade mode over a few recent happenings. And not that anyone other than myself really cares about this shit, but I gotta vent. This goes back a few days so not all of the details are accurate, I am 34 years old-but you’ll get the basic gist. In case I have not stated this previously the worst part of living in Arizona is really the cultural void. For the most part the majority here is Cretin, Christian, and Conservative. There is very little tolerance for anything and anyone else (If you’re reading this and counting your Black/Hispanic friends, justifying the fact that you don’t go to church every Sunday and pleading your case against conservatism in the fact that you don’t support this war-spare me, no really…please do-thanks) So, favorite guy and I are in the car and there is all of this yammer on a local talk radio show about Transsexuals being ousted from a Scottsdale nightclub for using the Ladies Room, urinating while standing and being loud and flamboyant. People are calling in and caller after caller they are spewing venom and dumb shit. They want to know if Transsexuals are gay or straight, they want to tell their story about the time they were in a bar with cousin/current girlfriend Becky Sue III and one of them types came in and made their stomach turn, they want to talk about how they don’t feel comfortable receiving customer service from one of them, and it just goes on and on and on. I’m (of course) arguing (in theory) with each and every caller. When was the last time you were asked to confirm your sexual orientation when entering a public restroom, and is there really enough room (or concern) for Straight Men, Gay Men, Bi Men, Trans Men, DL Men, Women, Fat Women, Ugly Women, Smelly Women, Try Women (girls who like girls cause biys like girls who like girls) and more- designated rest areas?! What the fuck folks? And the club owner’s cop out was he just wanted his “patrons to be happy”. Was it Transsexuals Comp Night-so they were also patrons. I can’t imagine they were too happy or he would not be getting sued! I do not feel comfortable being trained by an overweight fitness instructor, I prefer my beautician has a full head of her own hair, I’d like my dentist to have teeth and fresh breath and the only requirement for with whom a public restroom is to be shared is that they have to piss, shit and are a member of the public, am I right? At the end of the day if you don’t like what is going on, with the exception of Tent City you are free to leave, just like I am leaving the Evil Blue Octagon! Does happy dance…