"Ugh, quality at work fell 1/100th of a point, thus making me ineligible for OT until 2009. Saying 'whateva' like Sebastian Love about it."

"Ugh, they just sent us a memo saying we can NOT take off Nov. 4, and can only use our mandatory 2 hours to vote."

"Today's WTF Moment: 'There will no longer be any condiments, plates, cups, eating utensils or paper napkins for the break area. Thank you.'"

"Today's WTF Moment: They locked up the office supply cabinets, so now you have to send an e-mail to get basic supplies (pens, paper, etc.)."

"I wish my idiot manager would stop renaming her .docx files as .doc. She's convinced it's because she has a virus on her computer. *sigh*"

"'I don't know what a Doc X is. Is that an unknown document?' I shouldn't have even made the suggestion to her."

"I love how all the designers have made demotivational wallpapers for their PCs."

"Geez…one of the managers is going up and down the aisles with a clipboard and tallying our attendance. What is this, homeroom?"

"I'm a little unnerved that a lot of the designers here compare our current work policies to anal rape."

"OMG! E-mailed office manager saying I needed some tape, she e-mails back asking why, and then says I need mgr. approval. For tape? *fuming*"

And those are just the moments when I happen to be at the keyboard.

As you can see, things are devolving at the j-o at a dismal rate. Before you know it, we'll have to have hall passes, dress in business casual wear, and bring our own roll of toilet paper (and probably get docked time if we have to take a shit). Corporate fuckery, thy name is Big Company, Inc.. Every week (or sometimes every day), something new is handed down from the power that be (Little Terror) who has yet to show his face in the place (maybe for fear of getting sacked out of the blue Terry Tate style). A lot of the designers are fed the fuck up, and everyone's taking it in their own ways. Some have internalized the despair and amble about like zombies from cube to cube. Others are taking up the company's clarion call of overwork/underpay because they need the money in this fragile economy. And there are the few who are speaking out against it. Heading them up is Mexican Cher.

You may remember Mexican Cher, the outgoing, popular designer who at one point and time took my work cube. Well he unexpectedly got canned earlier this week, and man, did he not take it well. As I was exiting the building, he was downstairs punching a marble wall, talking about how he wanted to punch Brooding Velma's face in since she handed down the decision. Knowing how it feels to get a pink slip out of the blue, I extended a recommendation to him for this creative agency I've been working with. He thanked me, and had an interview which apparently went pretty well. One of the other designers, Li'l Lezzie relayed the news to me.

"You know, that was a really nice thing you did for Mexican Cher."

"Well I know how it is to get fired suddenly, so if I can help out in any way, I will."

"Yeah, yeah…that's good. I didn't know you were so nice. Kinda makes me feel bad about all those times we talked about you."

…and then she walked off! I guess no good deed goes unpunished now, does it?

And then there's Work Husband.

I've sort of mentioned him before — I first gave him the name Asian with a Phatty, but since I came back, we've become close enough to the point where he had to get a new name. And Lord, he still has a phatty. Unfortunately, his wife works there now, and her gnawing presence kinda takes the fun out of visually undressing Work Husband whenever I can. (OK, so I'm not really that much of a horndog, but he knows he has a big ass and a beefy body and shows it off, so who am I not to look?)

Work Husband has endeared himself to me though, especially now that after several run-ins with management, he is completely over working for Big Company, Inc. and has been very vocal about it by snapping at managers and drawing caricatures of them and hanging them outside his cube. I help to keep him in check though, and have even got him registered at the same agency where I'm at. He went in recently and is now optimistic about getting out of here.

I even got him to take the caricatures down. He's a good kid, but this is his first real job, and I don't want him to squander it by being a wise ass. (Look who's talking, right?)

One person who has been taken for a total mindfuck by these changes is Mr. Mon. I can't say I'm totally surprised though, and his transition is a testament to the error that can come from chasing a job for the money. About six months ago, he started to hint that he wanted to become a designer so he could make more money for his family. Thing is, Mr. Mon has no design skill. He really only wanted to become a designer because he was tired of answering phones and wanted the increased pay. Over the next few months, he started to take on light designing tasks and always strained his way through them. When they announced that he would come over to the design side full-time, I was worried. Y'see, Mr. Mon is the kind of guy that needs to be handheld, spoon-fed, and wiped down and baby powdered when it comes to learning new tasks. He doesn't do well when it comes to autonomous, self-directed work. The day he came over was the day they started to hand down the mandate about our new point/work schedule (pw: curtis). The hits have kept on coming, and his normally ebullient, cheerleader-type attitude has turned into sullen anger.

"Man, fuck Big Company, Inc. I didn't think I'd have to do this much fucking work for this fucking pay. Fucking shit. It's like they're fucking us up the ass with no lube. Just dry. Just bend over and take it like a bitch."

"Mad, are we?" We were at lunch with Work Husband, Captain K'nuckles, Male Daria, Wiggerlicious, and one of the newest designers, Work Husband's very handsome friend Lispy Rocker. It's our usual 11 o'clock rantfest; 30 minutes out of the day where we can vent and make jokes before a manager comes by with a clipboard and asks us why we aren't working.

"I'm just going to find another job. I fucking hate Big Company, Inc.!" Mr. Mon said. Looks like this place can turn even the cheeriest optimist into a potty-mouthed curmudgeon.

Speaking of which, you may be wondering how I'm taking it.

Let's just say I have planned my work and now I'm working my plan.

TO BE CONTINUED

To the Editor:

Even as we celebrate Barack Obama’s historic election, it should be noted that according to exit polls in California, 70 percent of African-American voters supported the gay-marriage ban.

I hope that the African-Americans who voted against marriage equality will eventually take to heart the lesson it took white Americans so long to learn: when we deny the rights we treasure to others, we only diminish ourselves. Jack Drescher

New York, Nov. 6, 2008

The writer, a psychiatrist, is emeritus editor of The Journal of Gay and Lesbian Mental Health. [link]

(Still trying to find the words, BTW.)

I'm still trying to find the words to express how I feel about such a monumental, once-in-a-millennium, historic event. We have a Black president in these here United States. Or rather, an African-American president for those of you who are all "oh, he's not really Black".

Whatever.

I'd just like to throw in that while this is definitely a celebration, don't forget that ol' Dubya is still in office for 74 more days. You know how you feel when you know you're about to leave a job, and don't really care about what happens there? All I'm saying is that we should still be keeping an eye on our still-current President. We don't want him passing any fishy laws while we're all still high on the Obama win.

Also, there's Proposition 8. The media would have you believe that the blame of the proposition's passing lies squarely on the backs of Black Californians, which I find to not only be silly, but statistically impossible. I'm not sure of the exact number of Black voters who voted yes on Prop 8, but I can bet that there weren't enough to make it a majority vote of just that ethnic group. So while 70% of Black voters voted yes on Prop 8, what percentage of those are of the total electorate? Not more than 50%, I bet. Hell, probably not even more than 20%. And yet, I'm getting text messages like this from non-Black gay friends of mine:

Black folks to California gays: Thanks for the President, now go fuck yourselves.

Seriously? Jesus…

I will have the words to address both Prop 8 and Obama's win. For now though, I'm just taking a minute to breathe in all this bittersweet air.

History is now.

That booming sound you hear? It's the sound of history changing.

For many states in the union, both early voting and advance voting have been available for over a month now. Also, you could vote by absentee ballot in case you didn't have time or didn't want to go down to a polling location. Here in Georgia, we've had since late September to exercise our right to vote, so perhaps that's why seeing the long lines for voting are a little disconcerting. Should it really take this long to vote given all the advances in technology in this nation? And even if it does take this long, why are folks complaining about it? We wait in line for phones, toys, concerts, political rallies, and much more. Is one or two hours really that much of a sacrifice to contribute to the future of this country for the next four years? I had about five texts from Buffy this morning about how he's going to have to wait about 40 minutes to vote and that he's thinking about leaving because, as he puts it, "whoever gon' win, gon' win".

Naturally, I told him to stay his punk ass in line and vote and stop being a little bitch about the wait.

I don't want another fucked situation like four years ago. I don't want to hear any more excuses. If you're not registered to vote, don't care about the future of this country, or just don't plan on getting off your ass to vote…I want to know why. Seriously, tell me, because someone with that level of apathy needs to be quarantined, and I'd like to notify the proper authorities in enough time.

I'm not going to tell you who to vote for; make that decision when you cast your ballot. Just make sure that you do cast your ballot, and go vote today, and wait as long as you need to at your polling place to make sure it's done.

Soon, it will all be over.

I have to tell myself this daily since I'm in a crappy job, almost done with school, and feel utterly inundated by the political talk, the upcoming holidays, this stye in my right eye, this situation with my damn retro pay…it seems like wherever I turn, I'm catching two feelings: urgency and despair.

The urgency…well, that's easy. We don't like waiting. I sure as hell don't like waiting. I would wager that Americans as a whole don't like to wait for a damn thing. We'd rather drive than walk, order out than cook in the kitchen, and basically take shortcuts to get things done quicker. Lord knows if there were a quick way to get rid of this stye, I'd be all on it. But lately, all we've been forced to do is wait. Wait in long lines to vote, wait until November 5 to see the new president elected, wait for the economy to turn around, wait for the war to end…wait, wait, muthafucking wait. And we hate to wait! I'm waiting for a new job, if only to end the despair.

The despair of the current situation is what's breeding the urgency of now. (Wait, that sounded kinda deep…better write that down.) Just today at work, Mexican Cher (a designer who I particularly didn't care for) got fired with no warning whatsoever. But to hear others tell it, the writing was on the wall ever since he "spoke out" against the current  crazy workplace regime and managed to ruffle a few feathers. I was leaving the building to go home when I caught him outside surrounded by a group of other designers as he punched a marble column, wondering out loud as to how he was now going to provide for his fiancee and newborn daughter. My heart went out to him, because while he was a bit of a dick, he was a good designer. I would wager a lot of us are in Mexican Cher

Soon, I hope, it will all be over.

And I hope we'll all be better when it is.

As you all know, web design is a field which skilled designers — both male and female of all nationalities — participate in and contribute to through collaborative efforts, and through conferences such as this. About two years ago, Chris Messina of Factoryjoe.com described a Future of Web conference as the “Future of White Boys club”. About a year ago, Black Web 2.0 made a succinct observation concerning the 2007 A List Apart Web Design Survey results and the lack of Black web professionals in the design industry. Since this conference is titled the “future” of web design, what are you doing to ensure that both women and minorities are included in this future (and not just on this panel)? [link]

Isn't that question racist/sexist?
Your question's not realy [sic] relevant to web design or the future of web design.
I don't think this is really about affirmative action. Why does it have to be all about race? It's just web design.
There are just web designers — not black, white, male, or female. At least that's how I feel.

Then again, maybe lipservice is all that can be done. How many in the web design industry that fall into the "White Boys club" would step out on a limb and look to actively recruit and train minority and female designers? Do they want to see a future of web design that's more diverse than now? Do they care?

Yeah, I know it's a touchy subject, but let's touch on it. What do you think?

I want to like this show. I mean, it looks good on paper, y'know? David Alan Grier is an accomplished comedian most well-known for his roles on In Living Color. Comedy Central has the political satire game on lock. Surely putting the two together would be comedic gangbusters. So far though, Chocolate News comes off like…well…In Living Color. Characters Grier have played so far include a breast-baring transsexual, an overweight, misogynistic gangster rapper, and a cross-eyed thug against high gas prices. The combination of acerbic editorials and half-assed sketch pieces (along with a 30-minute time slot) will probably doom this show to a first-season cancellation. It's a shame really; considering how many people are prone to showing their ass because of the overwhelming support of Barack Obama, Chocolate News could be at the forefront of capitalizing on the idiocy and gaffes that are sure to come.

Instead, we have David Alan Grier with fake tits. Nice.

Not to be left behind in the Black-comedian-hosts-current-events-satire trend, CNN will premiere D.L. Hughley Breaks The News tonight at 10pm. My original thought? I hope D.L. has some super glue handy. A Black man and broken property? I'm just sayin'…

I had the chance to see the first episode earlier this week (there are also some video clips up on CNN.com), and just off the top, it seems like more of a finished product than Chocolate News. The show is an hour long, and features interviews and in-the-field type reporting satire.

Y'know, like The Daily Show and The Colbert Report.

Tune in tonight and judge for yourself.

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Turns out one of you lovely readers out there (thanks Jasher!) submitted me for inclusion into Alltop — Guy Kawasaki's uber-aggregator of "all the top" sites on the Web in a number of categories. And now, I'm the newest site added to the GLBT Alltop! Well, maybe not at the top…scroll way down to the bottom and there I am. So all you new readers who shimmied on over from Alltop…welcome! Traipse through the past five years of BGB.com and enjoy. Leave a comment! Friend me on Twitter! Send me $20!

I'm for real about that $20. I've got student loans to start paying off.

Poking fun at Atlanta is sort of like someone poking fun at your mother. Sure, you can do it, but damn it, no one else better say anything wrong. However, in a city with high foreclosure rates and mortgage fraud, extreme debt, crumbling sewers, traffic snarls and unaccredited school districts, shouldn’t we laugh a little at it (if only to keep from crying)? A troupe of talented improvisational sketch comedians from Chicago’s famous Second City Theatre brings that much needed laugh with The Second City: Too Busy To Hate…Too Hard To Commute.

It’s kind of difficult to review a show like this because while the immensely talented cast has plenty of Atlanta topics to pull from and their own Second City material, a large part of the show’s success falls on the audience. The usual Alliance audience isn’t used to this kind of format; for example, at the show I attended tonight, some drunk woman shriek-laughed in the front row after being singled out by the cast. On another skit, what appeared to be a Civil War-themed dialogue quickly ran amok with audience suggestions of “syphillis” and “my best friend has batteries”. Less talented crews would have easily fumbled on these drunken suggestions, but hey, this is Second City.

The Hertz’s usual tiered seating is broken up with just simple bar tables, transforming the theatre into more of a hole-in-the-wall concert saloon. Tables and chairs were also placed close to the stage (fodder for the cast, no doubt), and a live keyboardist tickles the ivories and adds a whimsically Vaudevillian element to the overall setting. On stage, there’s six chairs and the cast. And right off the bat, they rip into the city’s underlying issues of race, diversity, class, politics, stereotypes, transportation, homosexuality, religion…you name it, they touch on it in some way. And that touching is sometimes on a raw nerve (as evidenced by people who complained at the intermission and others who walked out after sketches). Act I was hit (Neal Boortz, traffic, Braves games) or miss (improv church service, redneck store), and left me initially with the feeling that a regular audience member would have to be quasi-“in the know” about Atlanta to get most of the subtler jabs (or perhaps, just be sober). Act II quickly eliminated that feeling, turning up the offensive, punchy satire Second City is known for, and centering their sites on famed Atlanta institutions and ideas, like the Piedmont Driving Club and the failed Brand Atlanta campaign. Granted, this is based off of the first night of a show in previews, so the cast will have plenty of time to tune and tweak the show to achieve maximum laughs and minimal walkouts.

Actually, fuck that – let ‘em walk out if they can’t take a joke.

As a matter of fact, make it a joke about their mother.

Grade: B+

And I know what you're thinking: "Why even talk about work?" Well, I could talk about work, or I could tell you about what I'm learning in school. I'm not dating anyone right now, so I can't really talk about what's not happening. Outside of work and school, I'm usually asleep. That wouldn't really make for a good blog post now, would it? 11pm - 4:45am: knocked the fuck out. Comments: 0.

So yes, password-protected work posts are coming back. Until then, I'll tell you what happened today.

There are a lot of married couples that work at Big Company, Inc. It's kind of a no-fail situation, at first. One person starts working there, then after six months, they can bring on their spouse. If the spouse manages to stay for 90 days, then they get a hefty referral fee. The amount is under speculation, but I'm guessing it's at least $300.

In a way, I can see the advantage of working with your spouse. You both know the money's coming in on a regular schedule, you can have lunch together, and when things go wrong, you have a built-in amen corner.

But what if one of you gets fired? Sure, you're a couple outside of work, but is it the same package deal at work?

Today, one of the designers' husbands was fired, and in a rather gangster way — they called him at home before he was set to come in for his shift. He was instructed to give his badge to his wife (Big Bertha), and then have her turn it in. To add insult to injury, she was instructed not to gather his personal things, because the company would box them up and mail them to him. Her and I usually come in right around the same time, and her usually placid and happy-go-lucky demeanor was completely different. She was irate. She stormed into the elevator going up and started off.

"I can't fucking believe they fired my husband! He was doing well, got a great 6-month review…do you know why they fired him?"

"Umm…no." And if I did, I don't think I'd tell her. At 6'4", she could very easily kick my ass, especially in her present behavioral state.

"For some jeans, Karsh. The bottom of his jeans was caught in the escalator and ripped, he went the rest of the day with a ripped cuff, and then he got fired because of it. I'm so fucking mad…I need to talk to Office Creeper when he comes in."

"What are you going to tell him?"

The elevator stopped on our floor and the doors opened.

"I hadn't decided yet. But there's going to be some cussing in it."

The rest of the day was heavy with the news of the firing. In anger, Big Bertha scrawled the word "APESHIT" over our quality control matrix grid (one of many measures of public shame, but that's another story), refused to do any work on a very busy day, and spent most of the day crying. At the end of the day, she submitted her two weeks. Since Office Creeper's office is right across from my cube, I actually heard him tell her this very assholish statement: "Well I'm glad you're resigning, because after your behavior today, it saves me the trouble of firing you."

Ouch!

The other married couples working there are on pins and needles, but I'm sure we'll be feeling the affects of today for the rest of the week.

Especially the "APESHIT" on the board. It gave us all a good laugh, but they'll work that enjoyment out of us later.

Great.

And Atlanta tech recruiters know it too.

No sooner than I re-activated my resume on Monster did the calls start flooding in; the thing is, a lot of these tech recruiters all have the same clients and don't realize that a lot of them are calling to fill the same position.

My current position, that is.

In the past six days, I've gotten over 30 calls and e-mails from 30 different agencies, all for my exact same position! "Web designer working for a Fortune 500 company…great Midtown location…must know Dreamweaver, Photoshop, etc." And the killing part is that a) they claim to be looking at my resume and b) they even mention that I'm currently working for the same company they're trying to staff me at. However, one phrase shuts them down quickly.

"I'm only looking for permanent job opportunities right now."

Case closed. But more than that, some of the recruiters I've been getting have really been going above and beyond the call of duty. I've gotten calls as late as midnight for jobs and as early as 6am. Some are pushing jobs that I'm not even qualified for; I was getting a gang of calls for a bilingual Spanish tech support agent. When I said I didn't really know Spanish, the recruiter replied "then buy Rosetta Stone!"

And then there's the one recruiter who seemingly knows it all. He called trying to push a position on me (the same position I currently hold) and when I declined, he said "You know what your problem is? You need to be working a job paying you at least $10 more an hour. Stop taking these low paying jobs."

Now for that to come from a recruiter is not only rude, but totally unwarranted. I told him "you called me offering me this low paying job…I know it's a low paying job because it's my current job."

"Oh, well why didn't you say that?"

"You said you had my resume in front of you — why didn't you read it before picking up the phone? Answer that, smart guy."

"Well, I'm sorry to have bothered you, but listen to my advice, OK kid?"

Re-read the title of this post again.

The offers are starting to improve now; they're all permanent gigs, with some even talking about fully paid relocation. I haven't pursued any of them yet, but I will soon. What kills me is knowing that I'll have to go interview which means I'll have to probably cut my luxurious mane of hair.

Or I could just show up with my 7" afro and see if they will still make the interview about my skills and experience. I hadn't decided yet.

Tonight, Sarah Palin will take to the stage at the Republican National Convention for her time in the national spotlight, a focus which is no doubt more intense than her first big national appearance five days ago when John McCain picked the first-term Alaska governor as his running mate. In these past five days, Sarah Palin's record (both professionally and personally) has been laid out from Jacksonville to Juneau, outlining everything from her current ethics investigation, the parentage of her youngest child, and the knocked-upped-ness of her eldest daughter Bristol. But more than anything, pundits and peanuts alike are saying that Sarah Palin is just not qualified to become vice president based on her professional history and her dubious reputation as both a mayor and governor. And yet, the GOP is running itself threadbare vouching for this woman, spinning her weaknesses as strengths vis-à-vis Barack Obama and her personal choice of having a child with Down Syndrome as dedication to her pro-life stance on abortion. It's pathetic. It's stupefying.

It's familiar.

Oh yeah, that's why this all seems like a blast to the past for me — Palin is the GOP's Micro-Manager! She'll come in and be all hometown girl, but deep down, she's ruthless and will cut you for a plug nickel. Her nickname ain't "Sarah Barracuda" for nothing. 

Ho-ly shit. I just got a chill down my spine.

Let McCrone and Palin actually win this presidential election and make it into the White House. Hell, I'm applying for my Canadian citizenship right now. Just in case.

1. When was the last time someone hit on you? What went down?
   Oddly enough, it was today. It was some old White guy — mid 50's, maybe — who was sitting across from me on the train. He winked at me, I looked away, and at the next stop, he got up and sat next to me and tried to strike up a conversation with the intro "howdy sailor". Howdy sailor? Really? Luckily, the next stop was mine.


2. If you were single and could be with any one person, who would it be (thinking singer/actor or someone famous here, but whatever)?
   Well, I am single, and…well…gee, would you look at the time?


3. Have you ever had done anything sexual in your office or your place of employment?
   No, but I have done something sexual in someone else's office and/or place of employment.


4. Do you apologize when you make a mistake? How do you react when someone calls you out?
   I usually do. It may not be exactly when the mistake is made, but I do end up apologizing eventually. When someone calls me out, I react like most people do — get salty at first, then search for some truth in the comment. I mean, call a spade a spade; that's what I try to do.


5. Top or bottom?
   Neither. Or both. I don't know; depends on the situation.

While at the post office a few weeks ago to get a money order, I saw an advertisement for a set of vintage Black cinema movie poster stamps. It got me to thinking about the last few love letters I wrote (and how those relationships turned out):

Opportunity: I wrote him two love letters: one he read, told me he read it, and then never mentioned anything else about it when I followed up asking what he thought about it. The second one I wrote and sent to him came back marked "Return to Sender". And this was before we broke up.

Jackrabbit: She was this girl I crushed on hard in seventh and eighth grade and wrote two letters. She balled up the first one and threw it in my face. I found out years later — after finding out we were cousins — that she kept the second letter and put it in her senior book. She told me later on that writing love letters is "something old folks do." Ouch.

High Yellow Class: She was Baby Mama Drama's first cousin, and he offered to hook me up with her since he and I were good friends. "She likes love letters — you know girls like that kinda shit," he said. It took me two days to write a one-page letter. While we sat in class, Baby Mama Drama took it over to High Yellow Class. She looked at the letter, looked at me, then tore it in half.

So yeah…not a whole lot of luck in that arena for your man. Truth be told, I even had one written and ready to go for Gaara, but when that went south, so did the letter. South to the garbage can.

Granted, I know that people as a whole here in the US don't handwrite a lot of letters. Why go through the trouble of buying nice paper and a pen, taking the time to write the letter in its entirety, then put a stamp on it, put it in the mail, and wait until it reaches the intended target? Put it in an e-mail, save it as a draft, come back to it later, then just hit "send". Hell, I don't even get Christmas cards from family anymore — I get e-cards. I guess nothing quite fills you with the holiday spirit than an inbox full of mail from Hallmark.com.

While at the mall the other day, I wandered into Papyrus and decided to buy some stationery and pens. I'm not sure who the next guy is that'll get a love letter, or if he'll respond as offensively as those in the past, but I'm willing to give it another shot.

Besides, I lost the damn receipt to Papyrus.

At 23, I was too old for guys under 21, but too young for guys over 25.
At 24, I was too old for guys under 21, but too young for guys over 25.
At 25, I was too old for guys under 25, and too young for guys over 25. (Yes, you read that right.)
At 26, I was too old for guys under 25, and too young for guys over 30.

And now at 27, I'm still at that weird too young/too old inflection point which makes dating someone close to my age a challenge (unless I'm a total slut). I still get the "too young" thing from guys older than me (most recently, it was by someone just six months older than me). Throughout my dating tenure though, one thing has been constant: men over 50 can't get enough of me. And as I've gotten older, their fervor has only increased.

One recent communication involved a 63-year-old Black man in the advanced stages of multiple sclerosis who got his niece to post a message on Match.com for me. How do I know? Well he stated it in his ad text that much, had a picture of him sitting while his niece (in a muu muu and wild, unstyled hair) was staring off camera, and there was mention that she would "finish this up when she gets back from the store". He'd been inactive for three months.

Something tells me she might've gotten lost on the way back.

The latest guy, a White 52-year-old man, made the whole "I love Black guys because of the contrast in color" move. And then came the rest of tricks out of his bag.

Him: Oh, why not? Is it because I'm White?
Me: No, I've dated White men before; I don't have a problem with that. But you're out of the age range of what I'm looking for.
Him: With age comes character and depth.
Me: That's also true for cheese, but I'm lactose intolerant.
Him: Is that supposed to be a racial joke?
Me: No, it's a "why is this guy still trying to talk to me because I'm totally not interested in him" joke.
Him: How about for $200? $300?
Me: Are you serious?
Him: That's a drop in the bucket for me, and I bet you could use the money. Just think about it.
Me: Goodbye.

The killing part is that someone else would probably fall for that, and then enable this guy to think every young Black dude has a price. Afterwards, he went into some spiel about his "philanthropy", but I'll spare you that tired drivel. I'm heading to the theatre tonight, so maybe I'll do a write-up about it.

Young gay men go to the theatre, right? Yes? No? Tell me the stereotypes are true!

You find a fairy. With a wave of their wand they can change anything for you.

What is the one thing you would change about your body?
I wish my ass wasn't so big — it makes shopping for pants a pain in the…wallet.

What is the one personality trait you would change?
I don't trust easily. And when I do trust, it blows up in my face.

What is the one thing about your job you would change?
I'd have a new one, preferably where my ideas and output were recognized and commended.

What is the one thing about your home you would change?
I'd have a housekeeper. Since my schedule has spun out of control with school and work, clothes and trash are piling up, and I just do my work around it. Ironically, I usually keep a VERY clean house.

What is the one thing about your Significant Other you would change?
I'd have to get one of those first.

Who is the one person you would poof out of your life and why?
No one.

Who is the one person you would poof back in and why?
He knows who he is…

Blog posting and other writings will be on and poppin' tomorrow.