Libertarians

Today I am grateful for Libertarians.

The real ones (note the capital L).  The ones that want to get into office and leave you the heck alone.  Not the Ayn Randy ones who haven't a clue, the real ones who want to let you do what you desire to do so long as it doesn't hurt anybody else. 

I'm tired of sex being a political ploy.  I'm tired of men legislating my vj but being unable to allow other people to use the correct term for it.  James Bolger is such a penis!! 

If Bolger can't say vagina, I wonder if he communicates like a caveman.  Does he point to his wife's nether-regions in an attempt to communicate that he's little more than a dirty old man.

Maybe I'm wrong.  Maybe he's one of those Republicans....you know, the kind that only does it with male whores. 

I don't know. 

All I know is that I believe that this is really the fault of the voters. 

Maybe if we quit voting in vanilla politicians, we'd get some of our liberties back.  Maybe equality wouldn't be an issue anymore.  Maybe the government will admit it really doesn't want to be the voyeur in our bedrooms anymore because it keeps our officials from having their own fun. 

Oh, sweet freedom....the stuff of my fantasies. 

I'm seriously thinking of starting a political movement, one where we quiz political candidates about their sex lives.  We'll promote the kinky ones because they get real life. They know that boredom is the problem, its the reason why people divorce. 

The kinkier they are, the more likely they will be to let us be free. 

Our motto will be:

Vote the freaks in so you can legally get your freak on!

Love ya,

S. 

Future Fathers

Today I express gratitude that I am celibate. 

I know it sounds like TMI but this is really, kinda funny. 

Yesterday was Father's day. 

I went to a Gay Pride Festival.  I was in the parade.  There was a man marching in the parade beside me.  We'd spent about four hours that morning bored at a park, so we chit-chatted about our lives. 

He's a published author, as am I.  Although you can tell by reading this thing, which one of us has to pay for the services of a good editor.   

He likes the metaphysical, just like I do.  We both think vampires are NOT sparkly and that Twilight is training a bunch of little girls to marry abusive aholes. 

We have the same political philosophy.  He even got into a little argument with a conservative about women's rights with another guy to help me save face.

That made me laugh. 
What do two men know about the experience of being female? 

In the third hour, he made it a point to tell me that he was straight. 

He wanted me to know that he was available. 

He wanted to know how to hook up with me after the parade. 

I don't hook up with men. 

I don't hook up with women either...but I kept that aspect of my life to myself.  Sometimes it is good to be vague. 

Still,  he's marching with me.

We pass a bunch of men yelling about safe sex and he notices a ton of unused condom packets on the ground. 

Get this...

He literally bends down and collects all of them from the street. 

This was a parade.  There were motorcars, marchers, twirlers and dancers.  Those packages were far from clean. 

That's not what they mean by dirty intimate activity. 

YUCK!

Worse, it was 98 degrees. 

Rubber degrades in heat. 

How long were those things lying in the sweaty tar on that busy street? 

I couldn't help but laugh at this guy carrying twenty or so rainbow rain jackets. 

Twenty? 

No one is that lucky. 

What, does he have a harem at home? 

Oh boy....if he does....well, there's a pretty good chance he'll be celebrating Father's Day next year. 

And me....

If I EVER get brave enough to even think about venturing into a relationship again, I'm packing my own protection. 


Love,

S. 

Critics

Today, I am thankful for all those people who are wise enough to point out my flaws in a way that make me laugh. 

This is me.  I'm a redhead.  I've often been compared to various species of cats (usually a cougar or a leopard).  I've always been an activist who was corralled into pretending to be a politician at one point in time.  I gave speeches and hypnotized crowds in a kind of sickening, wide-eyed, liberty loving idealization kind of way.   I lost.  Thank goodness.  Being a politician is akin to being plastic: really, you're just an overweight, ugly Barbie doll while campaigning. 

Never again....

never again...

Now, I'm just freakin' pissed that the winner turns a blind eye to corruption.  I love the guy and would probably go to the end of the earth for him but he doesn't speak up when his people screw up and arrest little kids just for something to do on a Saturday afternoon when they're too stupid to catch a bank robber using real detective work. 

I guess speaking up is my job as an activist. 

So...I will will admit to recognizing that look on the right. 

That's me. 

My eyes are so darn narrow.  I'm sizing up the evil doers and trying to figure out who is responsible.

I'm trying to figure out who I'm going to mistake for a ball of yarn.  Who do I get to unravel?  

Then I'll scheme. 

Then I'll pounce. 

Then I'll purr when I've succeeded. 

Only stupid lazy dogs say you can't fight city hall.  

I always do but it comes at a price.  I'm more vain than I care to admit. 

That, look.....that look I get when I want to gut evil people who steal and lie.....yeah, that look.......I think it's causing me to wrinkle now. 

I best get some botox for that. 

Love ya,

S. 

Chivalry

Today, I will express gratitude for the amusement that is chivalry. 

It can manifest itself as confusion when you open the door for a man who gets knocked off balance when you mangled his comfortable social script. 

It's even more fun when you train them not to open doors for you and you end up smacking one of them in the face with glass because he thought, most certainly, that you would hold it open it for him!

Ha...ha...ha...

Yesterday, it manifested itself when I was staring at a lying lawyer with my eyes betraying the fact that I wanted to jump all over him, cut out his tongue, and leave him lying on the floor in a pool of blood.  He, being the gentleman that he is when he is not being a deceptive lying piece of crap, was more worried about my modesty as a tiny bit of my slip snuck from beneath my dress. 

Hey....I'd rather show slip than an outline of my goodies but whatever...

I adjusted my skirt. 

Maybe he's not soo bad. 

I no longer want to cut out his tongue because he's going to need that to keep the lady's around him from showing off errant undies.  Now, I just want his nose to grow every time he lies.  It won't be long before he can begin to open doors for us with his monstrous beak.

Or maybe I can train him well enough that I end up breaking it by inadvertantly smacking it with a glass door. 

He told lies that ruined my life.  He's ruined other lives.  I actually have people calling me to tell me things he's done to hurt them. 

I'd like to break something of his, just like his his lies broke me and other people in this city. 

Revenge is a dish best served cold. 

Luckily, though, I don't have to be the one to dish out karma. 

It's just a matter of time. 

Love ya,

S.

Rationalization

Today I am thankful for rationalization. 

Hypocritical Republicans

Today, I became thankful for amusing, hypocritical Republicans.  

Yep....

They attack each other in primaries like cannibals that haven't eaten in weeks.  They lie, play games with each other and make up so much drama by attacking each other that they never address the real issues.  Then they have the stupidity to wonder why their reputations are shot when they lose to the Democrats months later. 

- and -

Here is a new one.....

I actually overheard a group of them discuss their fear of pro-life women because they can own their promiscuous little arses if one of them spills his white stuff. 

Oh my....

Then why are you trying to outlaw birth control, eh? 

Stop making me laugh. 

You're killing me. 

Really.....

Love,

S.

Some Unknown Horny Man

Today I am thankful for horny men with common first names.  

They give me a good laugh every so often.

You know, the ones who get so nervous they send you email after email asking you out but they never use their full name, so you have no clue who they are. 

You know....

you get an email from Bob[at]somebizarreISP.com

Hey Siegfred,

I'll be in town tonight.  Call me and I'll pick you up for dinner.  

See you soon,

Bob

Bob who? 

I know fifty different men named Bob. 

I've never dated one of them. 

I wouldn't know which one to call. 

Maybe this is a guy named Mike who wants me to bob for Rocky Mountain Oysters? 

I don't know. 

Maybe Bob is that stalker I've been running from for twenty years. 

Maybe he's looking for another Siegfred and emailed me by mistake. 

What do I do? 

What can I do? 

Nothing...

This guy could either be a spammer not having a clue how to market (cuz I can't buy your wares if I can't contact ya) or he's horny and can't think enough to give me some clue as to his identity.

Or, he could be a narcissist thinking he's the only man any woman could possibly want, so I should know who he is. 

Hmmmmm.....

Men are quite entertaining....... and amusing. 

Love ya,

S.

Time

Years later they are friending you on facebook, posting love songs from red-headed singers that look like you on their page, whining about unrequited love and comparing you with their wives or latest ex.

Today I'm thankful for the healing tonic that we call time. 

Love,

S.