how’s it gonna be? May 31, 2008

I really wish I were the sort of person who could resist posting this, but it might help us clear some things up. I mean, it is startlingly accurate and comprehensive. . .

Leonardo / Dorothy Your ki is made up of 52% Vigor and 75% Wisdom

Your intelligence and vigor make you the natural leader of the Golden Girls. You are the most spiritual of the girls, with the strongest sense of honor and duty. You keep a cool head under pressure. Perhaps the other Golden Girls don’t listen to you as much as they should (especially not Raphael,) but when it’s time to face the Foot Clan, they know that you’re the one who can bring them out on top. Wielding two silvery katanas, you slice through your enemies with a precision and grace that can only be beaten by one of those disposable razors that has three blades. You know the kind I mean.

This test tracked 2 variables. How the score compared to the other people’s:

	Higher than 56% on Vigor
	Higher than 91% on Wisdom

Link: The Which Golden-Girl/TMNT are you Test written by ChimericMouse on OkCupid View My Profile(ChimericMouse)

Have at it!

keep it up, homegirl, don’t you quit May 29, 2008

This is actually pretty mortifying, as he hails from my home state and it took us ’til 2006 to vote him the hell out of Senate, but Rick Santorum is at it again. Incensed by all the California gayness going on, he took some time out of his busy schedule to write this column for a Philadelphia newspaper. Now, I can’t just pick a favorite quote from it – it’s all so ludicrous – but for the sake of time, I’ll leave you with this gem:

“Is anyone saying same-sex couples can’t love each other? I love my children. I love my friends, my brother. Heck, I even love my mother-in-law. Should we call these relationships marriage, too? Marriage is and always has been more than the acknowledgment of the love between two people.”

Amen, brother. Now he’s fighting for the right of Pennsylvanians to keep marriage laws discriminatory. Thanks, Rick. God, I need to get out of this place, and fast. Seriously, y’all: today I am getting blood drawn and packing the hell up. Hopefully.

[ EDIT: They definitely drew eight vials of my blood, and because of my heart monitor, they had to do it in a tiny room where this woman was shouting on the phone in Spanglish, complaining about what an asshole her baby daddy is.  And after the nurse finished draining me, she put a Bugs Bunny band-aid on me and walked out, and I passed out.  But because I saw that one coming, I was able to record it on my monitor, so I should be done wearing the stupid thing now, thank Christ.  But I probably won't get to skip town until my lab work comes back, so I'm keeping my fingers crossed, and my toes, too.  Also, scrambling about trying to find housing in Asheville when you're hundreds of miles away is pretty much impossible.  Yuck.]

she made us drinks to drink; we drunk ‘em, got drunk. May 23, 2008

Couldn’t sleep again last night, and then spent my entire day at the hospital.  Of course, there were road detours that sprung up [literally] overnight to thwart me, and of course, the cardiologist I saw was called away to put a Pacemaker in someone just as I arrived for my second appointment, but I had the carwash mix and Michael Chabon’s essays to keep me from losing my temper at any point.  And it was all worth it, I suppose, to learn that I have absolutely no heart defects.  Or at least, that’s probably the case.  I’m going to have to wear this dorky, pager-looking “event monitor” to monitor my heart activity until I have another blackout.  Seriously, here is an illustration:

Hopefully, I will look a little less crazo when I am wearing it.  Oh, and while I’m on the visual track, here is what occupied my a.m. hours:

And unfortunately, I definitely looked crazier and more uncomfortable than the man in that picture, because the guy who did my echocardiogram was a creeper named Ricardo, and he looked at my tits but never at my face, so at least he didn’t witness the pained expressions I made as he jammed the probe into my abdomen repeatedly.  And then I had to rush home and shower to rub the clear jelly stuff they use off of my torso, before dashing back to don another hospital gown and sit through more testing.  Not fun, kids.  But on the bright side, I probably just need to take salt tablets to keep my sodium levels in check, and then I might stop passing out.  So yay for that?

What else?  I get to see my baby brother (and his dollface of a girlfriend, and his cute-but-inconsiderate gay roomie) on Saturday, when we go pack up his dorm room!  Although this OSU visit cannot possibly compete with Marshall’s and my marathon search for stories on the mean streets of Columbus, I am looking forward to it.  And tomorrow, I get my new glasses and maybe some tackily adorable earrings I ordered from Etsy just so I’d have something to look forward to, because Erie really is that boring.  And I don’t even get bored, on principle, but Jesus. My cat is making a tissue-paper nest for himself on my floor, and it’s hella-cute.  I am in the process of making a mix CD called “songs to practice your fly-ass British accent to.”  I’ll let you work out for yourselves who inspired this endeavor.  I’ll give you a hint, though: I heard she’s a bisexual, she has a super-adorable new kitten in her life, and she’s pretty much destined for fame as soon as Marshall’s incriminating video footage comes to light!

I am off to maybe check out Marshall’s top-secret surprise for me (?!) and then to read a story and watch Golden Girls episodes, because I’ve earned it.  I love you all, and cannot wait ’til we reunite!

Well, now that the gang’s all here. . . May 21, 2008

Before I say anything, I thought I’d pass along a link to MoveOn’s site where you can sign a get-well-soon card for Ted Kennedy. Since Ted Kennedy is pretty much awesome and incredibly important, and one of the last people that should be stricken with a malignant brain tumor, it’s probably a good idea to sign the card. Plus, you might rack up some karma points. Who knows?

Speaking of karma: I finally, finally wrote to Jason after he had the nerve to “woo” me on OKCupid, and I told him in no uncertain terms to fuck off and get out of my life.  And so far, he has, which is a plus.

I just came back from the strangest neurologist on the planet, who found nothing physically wrong with me, but said I really need to get in to see a cardiologist. Dad pulled some strings, and I’ve got an appointment coming up sometime soon, which will hopefully NOT involve a tilt-table test. But probably, it will. I guess it’ll be worth it, to figure out what’s going on, because I am still passing out, and my parents still don’t entirely believe me.

Have you guys seen the trailer for The Strangers? It is a scary movie, and the previews alone are scaring the bejeezus out of me. If you’re feeling curious, and/or ultrabrave, check it out: http://youtube.com/watch?v=nCU0k_jbCUo. And if you are down for going to see it with me, then I will probably be your best friend forever, because I can’t help it: I like being scared shitless by things that have no actual bearing on my daily life. I figure, I have nightmares almost any night anyway, so I might as well spice things up and introduce masked strangers wielding weapons to my inventory of terrifying thoughts. It’s probably healthy for my imagination. Or something.

My grandmother is calling to tell me what I missed on today’s episode of One Live to Live, which is delightful. Off to catch up – I love and miss all y’all. And will see you soon if I have anything to say about it! (I’m officially accepted to UNCA all over again, so it’s all happening. . .)

hearts all over the world, tonight. May 15, 2008

Okay, although there are a lot of things more important than gay marriage (like, um, the fact that hate crimes are still entirely too prevalent), the fact that California’s Supreme Court just got rid of their ban on same-sex marriage is pretty fucking awesome. And the caption of this photograph is awesome, too: “Maya Scott-Chung, left, and Beth Teper, friends who support gay marriage but are not a couple, reacted to the court’s decision in San Francisco.” Aww!

In other news, I just read some Rickie/Brian My So-Called Life slash that was pretty thrilling, and now I am trying to get an appointment to see my hot-ass ophthalmologist. An eye-doctor appointment used to be the secret sexual highlight of my visits home; I have fond memories of Dr. James J. Piersol turning my eyelid inside out with a gentleness I found disconcerting. But these days, I don’t even bother getting gussied-up for the event, as I am endlessly in thrall to Miss Marshall and I’m just not that interested in fucking the ophthalmologist anymore. Who knew?

Kiah, you’ll be pleased to know that I read an article in my grandmother’s STAR magazine about how Nick Cannon’s probably using Mariah Carey to further his career, and Mariah may have agreed to this in order to drum up sales for her new album. My grandmother handed me this magazine in order to show me a picture of Ellen Degeneres and Portia de Rossi walking their dog. STAR is oddly progressive in its treatment of gay people; it treats them without fanfare, and enlists help from out celebrities and a “legendary drag queen and diva extraordinaire” named Lady Bunny(?). My grandmother is pretty hip to all this, despite the fact that she frequently refers to lesbian couples as “those two girls who go together.” Oh, Grandma. I’m off to watch Ellen with her, and tonight we may go to a local elementary school’s talent show because we are both really into cooing over cute kids we don’t know. She’s going home tomorrow, and then Erie’s going to become pretty much intolerable. I love and miss you all, and wish we could celebrate California together. Pour one out for me if you’re partying tonight, Biah, which I’m pretty sure you will be, since you’ve moved into party central!

Jason just wooed me on OKCupid; I found out when I went on to delete new messages. What a fucking asshole, eh? I mean, really? You fuck me over totally and completely, you can’t do the one thing I asked of you (which would be leaving me alone), and you decide to woo me on the site where we met? I mean, at what point did he find that acceptable? Is it all just water under the bridge for him? Must be nice.

Another edit: My grandmother just called upstairs while I was crying to tell me that “if the doorbell rings, don’t worry about getting it, because the Jehovahs are out!”  I really, really love this woman, and am so lucky to have her around as much as I do.

Hiah! May 12, 2008

Hey, friends! This is such a ridiculous, Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants thing to be doing, but whatever: I miss you all and am blogging to tell you about it. It doesn’t hurt that I am Rick Chess Merlin! Right now, having partaken for the first time since, oh man. Well, since the night before the night before graduation. Which wasn’t so long ago, but considering all the stress I have been going through, I have held out for a long time. God, I’d forgotten how frantic my mother was. I guess that’s where I get it from?

So, I was indulging in a little before-bedtime reading, and because I have just accepted nightmares as a routine thing by now, I picked up a book KMin assigned but never got around to having us read: Darkness Visible (A Memoir of Madness) by William Styron. Which is a terrible sleepytime read, FYI. And on the page before the “harrowing” memoir begins, there is a quote from biblical Job: “For the thing which I greatly feared is come upon me, and that which I am afraid of is come unto me. I was not in safety, neither had I rest, neither was I quiet; yet trouble came.” Which is not something Arrested Development’s G.O.B. would ever say, but clearly, it reminded me. Which reminded me of where I’d rather be, which is Marshall’s old dorm room with the pretty mood-lighting, and what I’d rather be doing, which is listening to bad pop music while having some really profound but utterly tangential conversation with you guys. Seriously, June can get here any day now. I’ve got such a good thing going with you guys that it’s even sadder to be in this stupid city again. It’s of interest.

Or, actually, not. Some other things that are hardly interesting: I spent no less than ninety minutes shoe-shopping for my grandma at an outlet mall today, at a store that tries really hard to be quaint by giving out crinkly bags of popcorn for a nickel each. My mom got teary-eyed when she read my Mother’s Day card over breakfast in our hotel lobby, and the drive home was rainy and long, but I got to finish reading Junot Diaz’s Drown, which I read most of during Commencement, and which is fucking incredible, oh man. Kiah, I think you’d probably enjoy it, because it’s all short stories about Dominican street life and immigration and masculine posturing and dirty sex and grit, and the language is gorgeous and full of Spanish words and phrases. Oh, mannnnnnn. I am going to sleep in Greg’s ultra-comfy bed while I am here, and I don’t have the same nightmares when I’m there. My family cannot stop talking about Barack Obama, and even though Grandma is a Hillary supporter and she grew up way before the Civil Rights era and still refers to people as “Barbara, the black lady,” she is totally going to vote Obama in the general election! I know the world is terribly fucked-up right now, but really, this is such an interesting time to be alive, and I’ve got really high hopes in spite of everything. Especially because, oh shit, Mike Gravel definitely released video footage of himself doing the Soulja Boy dance: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oq3IR8vLskM How unreal!

Why am I still up and online? Honestly. I have spent entirely too much time going through my old drawers and finding back issues of The Advocate and Curve stashed in strange places, and it is clearly time for me to go to bed. But send me your addresses? Seriously. And I will, um, probably end up blogging more. Much, much more. For now, I’ll leave you with adieu, and – oh, what’s that?! http://progressiveboink.com/justin/arrested/electionvideo.mp3

Yeah, that’s about right.