Scoop, Scoop.

Does anyone else find it amusing that we classify one of the deadliest jobs in the world, besides suicide bomber, as deep sea crab fishing?  Really?  The other one that made it high on the list is ice road trucking.  Ummm...I'm not saying they aren't extremely dangerous but, who cares?  I mean think about it.  They're "fishing" for crabs.  Crabs!  Do we really need crabs in our life so badly that we would send burly men out to sea for 3 months of the year to have only a handful return alive or in one piece for a meal that smells like you just sucked what was under your fingernail after scraping the bottom of a fish tank?  They're crabs people.  Get over it.  Pick up an education and be a plumber for god's sake.  At least you won't need to leave your wife at home to worry over the ever cooling plate of the shell fish dinner he risked everything for wondering if the father of her baby will be home with all his appropriate appendages.  Snap into a slim jim mutha bitches and get real.  Have I mentioned that they are just crabs?!  And on the other note of the ice road truckers...why aren't we using their deaths and mutilation as "fuel" for our litigational fires?  We should be lobbying to our government officials saying stop the murder, go green.  The only reason these men and women risk their lives to cross the semi frozen tundra is to take supplies up to the oil farms in Alaska and then ship oil back down to the willing.  Perfect reason to shut those bitches down and take on hydrogen or corn-powered machines.  Am I really the only one thinking about this?  I mean there have been shows on TLC or The History Channel, one of the two, broadcasting these dumb saps' lives.  The ratings go up and the crabs and oil come streaming in.  Is this what we as Americans have become?  Snookie drives the truck over the oil fields as The Desperate Housewives of Pensacola team up against all odds to get their unwed daughters dating again while shucking shell fish into bins?  Tell me you people wouldn't watch that show and then joke about it to try and justify the reason for watching it in the first place?  Makes me sad.  Although, I have to admit I do watch Chelsea Lately, so in a way I'm contributing to the mass hysteria known as our "culture", but I only watch her because I'm jealous of her face.  I like her face, people, is that a crime?! 

The next stranger you see in the world I would like you to do me a favor as you pass them by, smile and say hello to them.  No matter what type of mood you may be in.  Just look them in the eye and say hello.  Truly mean it when you do.  No mocking attitude should scrape past your teeth.  Just honest kindness.  Let me know how it goes.

This isn't even good grammer or interesting to read for such a topic...I apologise

I am almost 30.  This doesn't come as too much of a surprise seeing as I have been living my own life...it's hard not to know your own age at this point in time.  My point being, I have nothing to show for my life.  Now, this is not some silly Brady Bunch attempt to get sympathy or false compliments.  I try not to fish too hard anymore for such shallow meanings, unless it's about my hair, of course!  But it is an eye opening topic that I must sit down and truly address.  I am almost 30.  I live at home with my parents, I have no real job, no insurance, no money, I have debts owed to the government; sister; father; mother, I have no college education or training of any kind.  I am lost in my own uneducated translation...shout out Kever!  And to boot, I have no motivation to change any of it.  I have no goals to strive for, I have no likes to wish into reality.  I am a rotting piece of sunken ship floating to the surface with the current as my only direction of where to go once it's reached. 

I have always said that I just want to be the "normal" housewife and take care of someone, heart and soul.  But I am almost 30.  Those prospects and lack there of are not looking too good.  I know what everyone is thinking, 30 is still so young.  Yes it is, in the straight world.  In gay years 30 is midlife.  Looks are a huge factor in the life of gay men, men in general, but gay men have a different out look on life.  It is instilled in us that we must achieve greatness by 24 and be in the best shape of our lives by 30 otherwise you become that old man creeper hitting on all the young boys at the club...and you just turned 31.  It's no joke, people.  I invite you to sit and watch the goings on at any gay bar after 11pm.  I have always hated gay "culture" ever since I can remember.  I hate drama.  I hate overly exerted displays of attention.  I get sick off the fact that sex is the only motivator.  That you can't just be friends, it has to be including something more, something with maybe down the road I will blow you and you me.  It disgusts me.  But alas, tis what I must endure.  NYC was a little easier to live in than here being gay, obviously, but it still had it's flaws.  Even though the city was only 16 miles long it had so many different worlds combined.  You could be completely comfortable walking hand-in-hand with a boy down Ave. A at 13th st. but just a few blocks over in Union Station you'd be beat in the face with a skate board.  Same as the upper and lower East and West sides.  Upper East; stay inside and cuddle, Lower East be free!  Cleveland is not at all like that.  You just stay inside and pretend to be normal.  It's safer.  I am so exhausted, though.  Acting normal is truly exhausting.  I put on a show everyday.  I guess anyone who knows me would not use the word normal to describe me but the show is more for the people to not believe I'm a horribly depressed human being.  The one thing no one would ever say about me is that I'm sad or depressed, minus my sister or anyone that actually got to know me beyond the superficial level of Hello, Nice To Meet You.  My act, in public, is one of a happy, fun and crazy individual, but my true soul is breaking every time I step out of my bedroom.  I put on my mask along with my clothes.  It is exhausting.  I feel, though, that I wouldn't have anyone around me if I just was my true self.  I am no fun being myself.  I sit in the corner and sulk in self misery.  I don't socialize or make jokes.  At home is my true personality.  When I get home I completely shut down-due to the exhausting day I had being not me- and I crash on the couch or a chair and curl into a ball and stair off into a world I wouldn't wish upon anyone else.  It is my one real reason for the lack of motivation, the anxiety riddled affliction, my dark secret life of an American teenager...it is my heart strings snapping at the roots.  I have only a few left intact.

One love. 

Were you truly waiting for ME?

Mr. Roeper's clothes hamper or Hugh Grant's dental floss?  Which would you rather be if you had to chose one for all eternity? 

Remember, Roeper was an old man in the 70's.  He wore gobs of cologne, polyester and probably has Mrs. Roeper's hella face paint all over his lapels.

Although, spending that amount of time in any one's mouth could start to get nauseating, not to mention the mouth of a Brit.  Cheeky personality mounted on an insufferable entitled accent.

Chose wisely.