It Ain't Truth If It Doesn't Hurt

The Korenator....

Everyone one should be blessed enough to have a Koren in their lives. Not the Koran...which is good...but a Koren...which is superfantastofabulosity.  I have probably not actually seen Koren with my own two myopic eyes in five years. There was a period in my life...living on Parker Street in West Durham...that I would walk home from work...and find this wonderful black man magically transported from Washington, DC to the front porch (with a four bedroom house attached) I shared with River and Darnell.

Koren is one of those people that has the ability to charm bees, divert stampeding herd animals, and take a nap in the middle of the Sarangheti with a pack of wild lions. He's just that peaceful.  And when he puts on something low cut and revealing...well...let's just say Elvira ain't got nothing on Koren when decides to do sexy...which is just about all 525,600 minutes of the year. Sometimes I want to sneak into his house in the middle of the night, jump through his bedroom door and yell BOOGA-BOOGA just to see if I can catch him with his hair all cocked to one side, one eye seal shut with eye boogers, and lipstick smeared across his cheek. More likely I'll yell Booga-Booga, he'll sit straight up with hair matching his night clothes, perfect skin, and a complimentary beverage of my choosing.

I think the only time I've ever been anything less than completely smitten with and humbled by Koren is when I would find him cleaning River's cess pit he tried to pass off as a room or in the kitchen with a sword and the top of the garbage can as weapons in a war with the rats that had taken up residence since D and River had decided that cleaning was anti-revolutionary. (Please note...at that time in my life...I was pretty much psychotically clean...WAY GAY). River needed a boot in the bootie not a friend with a broom to get his room clean.

Koren has managed...from his home in the Virginia suburbs...to know exactly when I need some K-Lovin', and just when I thought perhaps he had gone off to cure AIDS in Africa or summon bread from Heaven in a Burmese refugee camp, he sends me an email letting me know that I am loved and that he's there whenever I need 'im. I think maybe Koren was Miss Cleo in a former life.

So this is my public I love you to one Koren Hoard of Virginia. Whether you move to Santa Fe (don't do it!) or are making people beautiful with your skin and hair art inside the Beltway, you always got a friend in Albuquerque or wherever the hell I'll be living in a month or two.

P.S. I woke up to a blizzard today. Ain't that some shit. I'm in the middle of the desert, and I got penguins snowboarding down the middle of Central Avenue.

I Almost Choked on Some Rice...

So Chile went and did themselves a favor and elected Michelle Bachelet, a socialist and a Pinochet torture victim, as president. Good for them.  I mean it. I hope the woman flips a bitch and nationalizes everything from copper mining to panty stitching.  Then sends a picture to Bush of her naked vagina and her left hand giving him the bird. Viva la revolucion!

But Condi almost killed me this morning.  Made me choke on my leftover Thai food. Condoleeza Rice...that woman...that poor poor woman...had the gumption...that's right I said G-U-M-P-T-I-O-N (from the scottish word gaumr...to heed)...to say that the United States has been a friend of Chile for the last 20 years...*blink* *blink*...put down the crack pipe Condi...how soon we forget that ummm it was the United States that used the good old CIA to topple/assassinate Salvador Allende and then supported Augusto Pinochet who opened the economy to U.S. interests and opened toture chambers for Chilean citizens.

I am totally amazed by that woman's ability to lie...all the time...everytime she opens her mouth. I mean does she even have a PhD? Did she ever teach at Stanford? Is she really Black? Is that gap in her teeth real? These are the things that I can no longer take as truth...because Condoleeza has never told the truth...not one time...except the time that she accidentally revealed that George Bush is her husband. I just can't believe Laura was actually stupid enough to marry the man. She's smart. Either that or I think somebody dipped the real Laura Bush in dye, changed her name to Condoleeza Rice, made up some fake academic credentials for her and then proceeded to give her control over the most powerful of the federal secretariats. The Laura Bush that we've all seen on TV is actually Monica Lewinsky's mother.

And speaking of rice...never has a more noble food been more maligned. Even if I didn't love it so much, I'd swear it off until 2008 when Hillary takes office, and Bill becomes the first First Husband and the official jazz saxophonist of the West Wing. Basically, it comes down to this. I am so damn tired of this administration and its lackluster, backboneless chronies interrupting my favorite syndicated television shows to tell me more lies that I'm never going to believe.  The entire administration acts as if the entire country is made up of idiots, morons, and the illiterate. Some of us read. Some of us pay attention. Some of us went to college, and some of us remember some of the history lectures that we sat through. Come on Condi...if you are going to lie...lie about something credible...tell us that you did not have sex with this President...tell us what the definition of is...is.  But don't tell us that this country has been a friend to Chile for the past twenty years...we might have been a friend to Chilean industry...but contrary to what the Republicans believe...a nation and its government are not defined by its corporations but by its peoples. But don't take my word for it...let me pull out a few qoutations for you from something else I learned about it history class...3rd grade history class:

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness--that to pursue these rights governments are instituted among men, and derive their just powers from the consent of the governed. (Declaration of Indepedence, 1776)

I don't see anything in there about Multi-National Corporations are endowed with inalienable rights and that governments are instituted to provide corporate welfare, illegal invasions on demand, lax labor laws and environmental standards, and assassinations of democratically elected leaders.  Not convinced...try this one out:

...and that the goverment of the people, by the people, for the people shall not perish from the earth. (Abraham Lincoln at Gettysburg,  11.19.1963)

Once again...nothing in their about the goverment being about corporations or corporate interests...it seems as if our founding folks had this pesky idea that government was to be instituted by the consent, will, and for the protection of the people. Crazy that idea.

So...Condi...know that I love you when I say...shut the hell up...bleach off that paint you dipped yourself in...take off the wig...load up twins and your husband...and go on back to Crawford, TX...where you can continue your nefarious plots to take over the world. Just know...we're on to you. Us meddling kids...and our dog too.

God Made Me Do It....

I was on my way home from the theater tonight, saw a great film, and I was making my way up Coal, listening to Kirk Franklin...and I straight up started to cry. Not only did I start to cry...but I started preaching a sermon in my head. Now, I'm a bad driver...so add bawling my eyes out and cruising at 40mph down a busy city thoroughfare...and you've got a not so wonderful situation...luckily I'm maniacally paranoid when I drive...so I made it safely to my office. I knew...just as soon as the sermon in my head started...that I had to chuck my plans to turn into my driveway...and come get this out of my body...my spirit needs it...and my God wants me to do it. I've been looking online at Churches in Albuquerque...and...I pulled up a website of "affirming" churches...there wasn't a black church...let alone a black baptist church on the list...which is remarkable consider there are 30+ black serving Baptist churches in the metro area. And I just can't have anything more to do with white people's God.

In my head, I imagined myself in church...and my reaction to a black minister if he should start preaching against homosexuality...and I swear to the One that has me in a neck hold forcing me to type this out...that I will stand up in that church and out shout the pastor. Because I don't know what Christian ministers have been taught, but I do know somehow the Devil has made his way into many churches and twisted the souls of those that lead so many congregations into twisted dopplegangers of human beings. They are still human but the Devil's greatest trick was to co-opt the church (es). Let me tell you why...any preacher worth his salt...will know that as far as Jesus was concerned the Old Testament was good bedtime reading...it had some quality lessons in it...but it was a history book...telling of another time and another face of God...Jesus said...straight up...No one comes to the father but through me...and I did not come to change the law but to teach it. When asked by his disciples what is the greatest commandment...the one that you should keep above and before all others...Jesus said...the greatest commandment is to love...love thy neighbor and thy the enemy. Love...plain and simple. Jesus was the one that stepped in and stopped the masochistic Galilleans from stoning Mary Magdalene...giving that oft quoted line...let he who is without sin cast the first stone...for those of you that missed that...he was the one without sin...and he didn't even scuff is toe in the dirt in Mary's direction. He also commanded that we give to anyone who asks whatever the ask...I'm sure that didn't include when Oral Robert's asked for his own university...and old boy from the 700 club...when he openly advocated for the killing of queer folks. I'm not Jesus...but I don't think I'm wrong...doesn't seem to jive with the whole love theme that he seemed so keen on. What's more...right there...in red...in my precious moments bible Jesus says...DO NOT PRAY IN THE SYNAGOGUES and ON THE STREET CORNERS...for that is the way of the proud and the false...instead...go into your room...shut your door...and pray to your God in your secret place...for he is the God of secret places...and do not pray with flowery words and repititions but say only (paraphrasing here for space) the Lord's prayer...and then he gives it to us BAM! That seems to be pretty cut and dry too...so all the priests I saw on TV praying and calling on the Lord to help re-elect George Bush II to office because he is the savior of the presumed right of men to control women's bodies...they were really committing a big no no in the Messiah's book (Read: New Testament and the Gnostic Texts). But wait...there's more...in that same section he says...do not do charitable works and then tell everyone about them...because then they mean nothing...but do them in secret...because God is the God of secret places...and he will store of treasure in you in Heaven...if you tell people about it here on earth so they think you are the shiznit...well...you might get a nice tax rebate...but you ain't getting nothing when the Pearly Gate's branch of the IRS comes calling.

I'd then call out to the pastor and tell him (cuz you know its going to be a him) about a true prophet that is living among us...a woman by the name of Rev. Bishop Evette Flanders...a woman that said...someone reached right down and stole God from some of us...and those someone's are every person that ever declared that anyone...queer, rapists, child molester, unwed Mothers, trannies, Catholics, Protestants, murderers, Howard Hughes or Milli Vanilli are outside of the love of God and are unworthy of the Kingdom of Heaven. News flash...Jesus wasn't hanging out with the Morality Club in Judah...he was chillin' with the murderers, tax collecters, prostitutes, thieves, and the ancestors of Milli Vanilli and Howard Hughes...because like he said...what does it mean if you love only your neighbors...does not the tax collector do the same (he was not a fan of the IRS)...what gain is there in loving only your friends...but instead...love also your enemies (Please not...there's that love theme again). And please...let's not forget that he never ever ever made a list of who he thought to be enemies...except those that turned people away from the Kingdom of Heaven. I believe he was also the same guy that said judge not lest ye be judged...and while I am doing a little judging...I don't believe that I personally have ever turned even the least of creatures on this earth away from God...I doubt Pat Robertson can make the same claim...with a straight face that is.

Tonight...in what amounts of a celstial shout...God struck a tremor in my soul. He reached down inside of me...once again through his music...and said...I'm still here....I'm always here...you, others, life, has wounded your soul...but I can make it better...I can heal all things...nothing is beyond my power...I created you...and I loved you from the moment you left my hands...I loved you when you were beaten and you thought no one loved you...I loved you when you let your little brother sleep with you every night for years because he was afraid and you were afraid but you never told him that...I loved you when you came out to yourself and you believed no one would love you...I loved you the first time you got high...I loved you the last time you got high...I loved you when you've failed...I will never stop loving you...I will never stop speaking to you...hush my son and listen...hush my son and speak...speak because it will heal you...speak because there are those that are causing harm in my name...speak because there are those that can't...speak because I've given you a great gift...speak and do not be afraid anymore...I will not tell you at what hour I will call your name to come home...but I am calling your name now...so softly...I'm calling you and you now have the ears to hear. Know that there will be those that ridicule you for speaking in my name...let them ridicule...for blessed are those that speak my truth and are mocked...for theirs will be the greatest reward in Heaven.

Man...the tears just won't stop. As I've said before...I believe that God speaks to each of us in the way that we are most likely to hear him. I believe that each of us will come to God through our own faith in Him...regardless of the name we call him....He is greater than our imagination...He is greater than our definitions...He is greater than our fears...He is greater than anything we are capable of understanding...I don't know if I'll wake up tomorrow and this whole Thai Fried Rice induced epiphany will be over. But right now...in this moment...my God is speaking to me...and I'm here at the office...writing this blog...when I should be at home taking some more flu medecine because I can feel my fever coming back...His will be done. Hey glory.

Sick Does Not Equal Fun...

So...while I tend to go through cycles of not feeling tip top...it is rare that I get full on sick...with the fever and the shivers and the hot cold hot sweat hot cold. But yesterday my little body decided that it was going to do the flu boogie. So, at lunch I went home, turned up the heat, piled on the blankets, took some ibuprofen, and declared war on my fever. It worked...within half an hour the fever was broken...and I came back to the office and carried on with my day. I strutted around my work space...feeling mighty pleased with myself for giving my fever a TKO...but little did I know that General Fever Flu had only made a strategic retreat.

As I was enjoying a bowl of pho at my favorite little Vietnamese spot here in Albuquerque...the fever struck back. By the time I got home...I was the one that was forced to withdraw...so I popped some Nyquil liqui-caps...made friends with trazadone...and started eating vitamin C drops as if they were fruit from the Tree of Knowledge. I'd stopped by the store and picked up Molly Shannon's Greatest SNL Moments for $5.50 (what a deal)...and commenced to pray that I would pass out and remain that way until the sun came up. No such luck...I probably fell asleep around 8ish...and at 1am I woke up and started the Pee Pee Waltz that I'd learned just the night before. With all the pro-sleeping medication I had in my body...the fact that I was up and down at least once an hour from 1am to 6am is a tribute to the power of my metabolism. I must have a Super Liver...because normally just taking Nyquil is enough to knock me the heck out for eight to ten hours...and last night I added to that industrial strength sleep medication. I think last night I became the first person ever to pray for cirrhosis. Anything to stop Super Liver from conspiring against me getting a full nights rest.

Finally...at 6:45am...I hauled my aching bones out of the bed...stared despondemtly at the impossible fact that I'd actually managed to make my room even messier...hopped in the Kaiser...and made my way to the office. The truth is I was so feverish last night that I scared the hell out of myself. At one point I almost called Jose to tell him to come and get my ass and take me to the ER at Presbyterian. So, I decided that while my co-workers/office mates may not particularly be pleased that I have brought my germs to work ...if my fever returns to last nights levels...I'll be here where I can stumble delirously into someone's office, collapse, and catch a ride to the emergency room. That's strategic planning!

I'm sure I'll be just fine. My fever is breaking again...hence why I am writing this blog in the middle of what feels like a salinated rain storm.  I'm going to go now...out to the couch...and go to sleep for a bit...until the gang gets here. If there are no new blogs in the next few days...it's probably because Presbyterian doesn't have wi fi or they frown on their patients writing blogs when they should be trying to keep living. What's life without a little adventure, right?

Happy International Women's Day!

Most of the most powerful, influential, significant people in my life are and have been women. Just a few are: Coya Artichoker, Sara Leedom, Andrea Nordick, Andrea Garza, Monie Trujillo, Gigi Archibeque, Karla Eckdahl, Mom, Grandma Carey, Grandma Lacy, Grandma Strother, Aunt Mary, Aunt Joanne, Aunt Char, Aunt Gayle, Aunt Susie, Aunt Linda, Aunt Sis, Aunt Dee Dee, Sharon, Marge/Porsche/May (my pre-school teachers), Ms. Blom, Prof. Ofelia Ferran, Mandy Carter, Paula Austin, Monica Taher, Lisa Weiner-Mahfuz, Lisbeth Melendez Rivera, Maria Garcia, Liz Diaz, Kjersten K. Reich, Raha Jorjani, Asha Leong, Barbara Smith, Kandace J. Creel, Beth Zemsky, Nurse Caroline, Nurse Tiffany, Nurse Betty, Andrea, Chris the Therapist, Kathy Vader, Juliana Pegues, Mel Meegan, Melanie Quillin, Meta Diane Mandich, Jasmine Lacy, Shannon Lacy, Ella Strother, Mary Simon Cassati, Nicole Harris Zajkowski, Mona Harris, Heather Fors, Susan Raffo, Rocki Simoes, Tiffany Harmon, Monica Bryandt, Dorthe Troeften, Rebecca Scherr, and so many other fantastic amazing women.

Happy International Women's Day!

My Eyes Are On Fire...

So last night I made the switch from ambien to trazadone. Both are sleeping medications...but since I spent a signficant amount of time on the phone to my Mom and Chris one night last week because I was having ambien induced hallucinations...and since I took up the fun nighttime sport of sleep walking while staying with Hayley last week...I thought perhaps I should bid ambien adieu and try something that was less likely to send me to a psych ward or the emergency room (check out this NY Times Article about Ambien thanks to Cathy for sending it to me today--http://www.nytimes.com/2006/03/08/business/08ambien.html?_r=1&oref=slogin).

You'd think that would be the wise choice. Ha! I could have sipped dirty toilet water for all the effect the trazadone had on me last night. As a matter of fact, I was up every 20 minutes or so all night long. Hence the burning eyes and legs that feel as if they've been stomped on by a whole host of midgets that decided to take up clogging...on my body.

In my state of mindnumbing tiredness last night I also couldn't remember if I'd taken a second trazadone during one of my 38 times getting up and out of bed or if I'd only thought about taking a second one. And since I really didn't want my heart to stop beating...I decided against taking a second/third one. Not that I know that my heart would have stopped beating...but I've seen enough after school specials that I know there's a fine line between going to sleep and never waking up when you're dealing with sleeping medications. I prefer to wake up frequently during the course of the evening than never waking up again. Thanks.

And to add to the general "no fun" of not really getting any sleep...I've had this problem in the last week or so that whenever I lay down...I have to pee every 20 minutes or so. When I'm awake and vertical I am just fine. I pee like a normal person. But let my mind decide its nap time...and my bladder decides that it can only hold about .0005 ounces of liquid...and off I go to reacquaint myself with my old friend John Porcelain. My favorite white guy.  Now...I see omens and portents all over the place. In ancient Rome I would have been one of those guys that rips the innards out of a cow and told the Emperor whether or not he should invade Gaul or have an incestuous relationship with his Mother. Instead, in this modern world of sceptics and unbelievers, I simply think that tv commercials advertising new and/or improved drugs are speaking directly to me. Hence...how I came to the conclusion that I have an enlarged prostate. Nevermind that the poor chap in the commercial had to go pee all the time whether or not he was in bed with his wife, at a baseball game, or at the office...my inner hypochondriac has decided that I have an enlarged prostate...so an enlarged prostate it is (I'm also a "survivor" of the Monkeypox, Bird Flu, West Nile, Ebola, and that not so fresh feeling).

To look at the whole situation positively, my inability to go comatose even with the help of prescription drugs allowed me to get to the office at 7am this morning. I've checked my email, written a draft of a fundraising appeal letter, searched fruitlessly for my afghan that I keep here in case of just such a sleep emergency, and thought about doing my taxes. All of that before 9am. This is why the United States is the most productive and industrious nation on earth: insomnia. I'm sure the Department of Labor is going to be tickled pink that I figured that out for them.

But now, it's time for me and my enlarged prostate to make friends with the couch in our community room. Particularly since my eyes have started watering so badly that I could ship the moisture to Kenya and end their drought in a jiffy. Perhaps I'll pass out from sheer exhaustion...and wake up to find that my enlarged prostate and the reauthorization of the U.S. Patriot Act have all been an ambien induced hallucinatory dream.

Bonus Posting: From His Holiness...

A MEMO FROM THE VATICAN by PAUL RUDNICK Issue of 2006-03-06 Posted 2006-02-27 From: His Holiness To: All seminaries Subject: While the Church approves of ordaining “transitory” homosexuals—that is, those men willing to take subways and buses rather than taxis—according to our most recent directive we “cannot admit to the priesthood those who practice homosexuality, present deeply rooted homosexual tendencies, or support the so-called ‘gay culture.’ ” The following questionnaire should be used to help identify and root out such truly committed homosexuals. 1. Jesus would have been a bad boyfriend because: (a) He wasn’t gay or sexual in any way, so the question is disgusting. (b) He would have cared about everyone, but not enough about you. (c) He wasn’t really Jewish. 2. Priests traditionally wear black with a white collar because: (a) The attire is simple and modest. (b) It’s slimming. (c) The matching quilted shoulder bag is what really makes the whole thing work. 3. Priests take a vow of poverty because: (a) It’s selfless and humbling. (b) It’s handy when the check comes. (c) It makes their apartments feel larger. 4. Should Kate Moss be allowed to take Communion? 5. If there were a Fox series set in the Vatican, it should star: (a) Wilfred Brimley, as a wise, compassionate Pontiff. (b) Jennifer Love Hewitt, as a lovely and devout young nun who can talk to martyrs. (c) Me and Heath. Period. 6. If you found yourself attracted to another priest, you would: (a) Ask him to pray with you to battle the sinful urge, over drinks. (b) Banish all such thoughts from your mind until you lose fifteen pounds. (c) Ask him, “What’s black and white and wants your number?” 7. When you were watching “The Passion of the Christ,” did you ever think, It’s deeply moving and profoundly important, but it’s not “Chicago”? 8. God is: (a) All-loving and all-forgiving. (b) All-loving and all-forgiving, sometimes. (c) All-loving and all-forgiving, unlike white spandex tank tops. 9. Do you believe that the Ten Commandments should apply to everyone except Dennis Quaid? 10. If a couple asked you to christen their baby with the name Tiffany, would you respond, “Why don’t we just call her You Big Trailer Park Whore?”? 11. Do you believe that the Church should get involved in the final round of “American Idol”? 12. If you were asked to counsel a young couple who were about to be married, would your first topic be “Everyday china”? 13. Whom would you recommend for sainthood? (a) Mother Teresa. (b) Mother Teresa’s less popular sister, Linda. (c) Any of Mariah Carey’s personal assistants. 14. The phrase “Hate the sin but love the sinner” refers to: (a) Homosexuals. (b) Fried foods. (c) Kelly Ripa. 15. Essay question: Why didn’t God just destroy Sodom and Gomorrah through overgentrification? 16. In the Gnostic Gospels, which apostle is referred to as “scrumptious”? (This is a trick question, because, no matter what Luke says, it’s not Mark.) 17. If your bishop asked you to take a vow of silence, what would your response be? (a) Unquestioning obedience. (b) To comically mime the words “Stop it!” (c) To scribble on your notepad, “Fire!” 18. What is the difference between God and Oprah? (a) None of God’s book is true. (b) God didn’t create Dr. Phil. (c) God still won’t do “Letterman.”

En Guarde Monsieur Depression!

I landed in Albuquerque last night at approximately 11:00pm Mountain Standard Time. By 11:01pm I felt as if I haven't been taking copious amounts of anti-depressants for the last three years. By 11:30 I was about three seconds from abandoning my suitcase at the airport because I was just that tired of waiting for it. By 12:15am, I'd popped an ambien...kept an eye out for any pre-bedtime ambien induced hallucinations...and slipped into a crazy dream filled sleep. I woke up this morning, saw the sun was up, and decided that I'd overslept. So I jumped out of bed, got in the shower, tried not to touch anything in my nasty house, and then darted out the door and walked to the office...only to discover when I got to the office that it was only 7:15am. And I wonder why I want to curl up on my office floor and slip into sweet sweet oblivion.

When I get depressed...it isn't the woe is me I'm sad my life sucks....it's more of the...I would really prefer to be asleep for 18 hours out of the day kind of thing. Of course if you are asleep...you don't have to think to yourself...woe is me my life sucks. Really my life doesn't suck. But the deal with depression is that you can't just tell yourself "suck it up kid." Because the chemicals in your head are all screaming...GO TO SLEEP. Brain chemistry tends to win every damn time. Plus, of course, depression seems to pop up at the most inopportune time...when you've got 8.6 zillion things that have to get done...you know...or bad things happen...like...your organization closes down. That sort of thing.

My friend Cathy is a very wise young woman. She sent me an email today reminding me that everyone goes through times in their life when being alive and "not homeless" is as good as happiness gets. That's West Virginia talking right there. Old wisdom and shit.  I am where I am at this moment in life and this is where I am supposed to be. I don't know why I'm supposed to be tired as hell and wishing I could check into Shady Acres Retirement Community for the Young and Sad...but that's why God is God and I'm just good looking. He'll lead me out of this desert wilderness...I just have to remember to pay my rent and let the people who love me...love me through this. Asaleikum waasalaam.

Here's the Edge...and Here's Me...Really?

So...today I happen to send an email mentioning that I bumped into Hayley's new boyfriend coming out of the bathroom in a cute pair of jockeys...striped...with the string cut on the side. Cute. Sexy. Chic. And then I might have said something about Hayley may want to get a matching thong. Just a suggestion. I watched the Oscar's last night...and a good portion of the Project Runway Marathon on Saturday...I'm a little fashion sensitive right now. So then I get an email from Peter...to the group...perhaps suggesting that I once again jumped way over the edge of what general society may find appropriate. I don't know how he could imagine I would ever do something like that! I'm a lady.

To be honest...that's not the first time someone has remarked that I might sometimes push up against the boundaries of propriety. Heck...it's not the first time this weekend. I don't mean to make statements that could possibly be used as anti-pornography evidence at a Supreme Court hearing...I just happen to 1) have a sick and twisted sense of enjoyment at daring to say what others only think (to a point even I have limits...I ain't Howard Stern), and 2) for the most part I spend my life in a world where language has to be so couched in caveats and airbags that when I'm interacting on a personal level I tend to shut down most of my filters for fear that they may get all used up, and I'm so broke right now that there's no way I could afford to replace them.

I grew up...at least from the ages of 12-17 near or next door to many of my pre-college friends. We hung out in vaguely the same circles (Nerd Herd North High versus Nerd Herd Henry High forming to create the Mighty Nerd Herd Northside). But somehow...I missed or slept through or ate the socialization lessons that defined what is acceptable to talk about in public and what you should probably keep to yourself...if not for your own sake...for the sake of your friends and anyone that shares your last name. Some of that comes from my Mother...who swore like a sailor on shore leave in the middle of a brothel having a two for one sale. And I'm sure some of it is my genetic West Virginian coming out (probably why Cathy is runner up in the Miss Inapporpriate Humor Pageant...both of her parents are from WV). And then there is the fact that for the most part...I just like to make people laugh. If I can end my day knowing that I have made the people I love chuckle in their St. Paul multi-million dollar corporate offices...then I can sit in my little patch of the desert and feel like I done some good.

I know that sometimes I can take the joke too far. And I genuinely feel bad when my "read the crowd sensors" aren't working correctly and my "stop before its too late" brakes fail to initiate. I've had to apologize profusely and mark certain joke areas as forbidden because I've not realized that I've been shoving my foot down my throat while attempting to speak at the same time. But in the end, I think that pushing the boundaries of what is generally defined as acceptable to talk about/think about....is good for everyone involved...and I'll tell you a secret...sometimes I make myself uncomfortable....and that my friends is pretty dang impressive. Here's to toe jam and Appalachia!