Baby I'm Back

I've purchased a new computer chair, working on my final semester of graduate school, and am soooooo excited about the Season 4 Premier of Nip/Tuck tonight. My love for the highly superficial show is shared by my best bud, The Dirty Hooker. Her real name is Stephanie, but I rarely call her that. Anyway, she should be calling me any minute now to let me know what the scoop is for this evening. We will have drinks, drool over Christian (the dirty doctor), and imagine for an hour or so that this is all real.

In A Family Way

So, I went to visit my cousin in Austin a couple of weeks ago. My other cousin from Wisconsin drove down for a visit as well. It's weird when you don't see someone you're related to for awhile. You know they are your family, but at the same time, they're so distant (in age, location, and personalities) it's hard to believe that you're related at all.

So, I haven't seen my cousin from Wisconsin for over 15 years. You expect to see a dramatic change in that amount of time. She looked older, but still the same. She also had a five year old son. I'm not used to spending time with kids, so this was an experience for me. Did you know that kids don't pick up after themselves?? They also pick a movie to watch and then don't pay attention to it. Then they have to follow you around so that you'll play with them, but the that's the thing you want to do least.

The kid was cute though. He didn't cry or have snot bubbles, which is how I imagined 5 year old kids to be. So I learned a little something. I'm sure the huge hangover I had Monday morning was fun for him. I wonder if he thought that's how most 31 year olds should be??

Anyway, here's to family. Pick up the phone and call someone in your family you haven't spoken to in awhile.

DO NOT USE 713TICKETS OR I WILL HATE YOU FOREVER

I got this from a friend today. Please read. Sorry to be so serious, but this shit really makes me pissed off.

From Scott--

Hi everyone,
Sorry to get you all in such a huge forward, but this needs to come to light. I was contacted by a couple friends who forwarded this email and called me to let me know about 713-TICKETS and their unapologetic verbal gay-bashing. Please send this out to anyone you know (especially the press for you out-of-towners). Thanks for your help in holding the bigots accountable to their mouths.

From Hillary--

Please read the horrible story below and feel free to respond to the men/business owners who felt the need to mistreat members of the GLBT community AND community-at-large via their e-mail address: frtc@713-Tickets.com or by phone: 713-TICKETS.
"In each of us lies an advocate, an agent for tolerance, a voice that screams out for change...with small steps, come great rewards!"

The Story--

Please read below what happened to Vernon & I on Saturday evening...
Adam

On Saturday evening my boyfriend and I were driving on Kirby. While stopped at the traffic light on Westheimer, we kissed, only to be interrupted by someone honking their horn at us from behind. When we turned around, we saw a guy and his friend yelling at us. They yelled that we were FAGS and that we should die and go to hell. They followed us down the road yelling and harrassing us. They made a right on Shepperd but not before letting us further know their views on homosexuality! Unfortunately, this kind of thing happens quite often without us being able to do anything about it. These idiots didn't realize, however, that they were in a bright yellow hummer that had their company phone number,
713 TICKETS, in big font. The first thing we did was call the number to find out who was driving the car. It turns out the owner and one of his assistants were the people shouting at us. The receptionist apologized for his boss' behavior and gave us the boss' name, Kent Maree. His assistant, who was also shouting obscenties at us, is Max Velazquez. A friend of mine, who is black, called Kent this monring to ask if this is the way he treats all minorities. Kent responded by saying that it is
a free country and he can express his views as he wishes. He also let my friend know that Fags choose to be fags and they should burn in hell. Since this is a free country, I urge you all to please give Kent a call and let him know your opinion on the way he expresses his views and his business practices. Pass this on to as many people as you know so that they too can give Kent and Max a piece of their mind. Their number is 713TICKETS.

Visiting the Doctor

There are a few things about going to the doctor that disturb me on many different levels. The first is the appointment time. Remember the WHEN that meant that a doctor appointment for 10:30 meant that you were in the room (naked or dressed) and so was the doctor. Or was it only like that in small town Wisconsin where I grew up????

Anyway, I went to the doctor yesterday and didn't see the actual doctor until 11:30, an hour after my scheduled appointment time. First we had to make sure the insurance was clear. Then I had to do my co-pay. Next was the obligatory wait (minimum of 15 minutes). Then, you get called back to be weighed (always a horrible experience) and have your blood pressure taken. Finally, the nurse says, "The doctor will be in momentarily." You get anxious, happy to finally be in the sanctity of the sterilized room. You wait a few minutes, sure that Dr. He or She will be in the minute you get up to read the magazine sitting near your discarded clothes. It's hot and the paper feels funny on your butt. You start to sweat, not sure if the doctor really will be in momentarily. You pick up the only non-parenting magazine in the cold, unfriendly room. As you flip through the pages of the 4 month old magazine you notice nipples in every advertisement. What's up with that?? You just recently bought padded bras that ensured the cold weather would not be revealed by the twins. You page through the entire Elle magazine and 25 minutes has passed. You start to question if this is actually an episode of the Twilight Zone. Where the hell is that doctor??? You open up drawers and cabinets hoping to find something that you can fit in your purse to make the visit worthwhile--or maybe not. You go back and sit on the crinkly paper. Finally, Dr. He or She knocks and asks if your ready. HELL YES I'M READY, I'VE BEEN IN HERE FOR 30 DAMN MINUTES. Has anyone ever taken 30 minutes to get ready for the doctor to come in?? And do they know how uncomfortable it is to sit on paper with your naked butt??

I miss the old days of going to the doctor and seeing Dr. He or She right away. If I ever found a clinic like that I would be a patient for life.