Well, this lasted all of five minutes...

So, despite a proposed moratorium on saying mean things about the FCOG, I just couldn't resist today.  See now a lovely conversation via texts with my ex-best friend (because, really, at this moment I'm just more annoyed than anything else).

ME:  :( hey.  have a good day.

HIM: :) turn that frown upside down girl.

ME: (Forwarded message from PVille Guy).  It's been a rough week.

HIM: Drop this fag and get a new guy.

and here's where it went bad...

HIM: Trust me it's worth the wait ;)

So, I admit I should have probably just smiled and said... "Yeah I know."  But, as we all know, I couldn't let that one go.

ME: So I was the crap you had to go through to find Princess Bitch? Thanks.

HIM: Bye.

HIM: You take everything the wrong way.

ME: Really, how was I suppose to take that?  Sorry, I just don't feel like feeling bad about myself today.

HIM: Just be happy, it's so much better when your happy.  I'm moving in with her at the beginning of the year.

ME:  Well, that's the end of us then.  We can't be friends.  She won't let that happen.  So here are my parting words: U r ruining ur life.

HIM: Get over urself.  U ruin ur life by not being happy.

ME:  Don't call me when the shine gets dull and the tarnish shows and u  hate the position u r in.

HIM: I love the position I'm in.

HIM: I don't have to fight to get along with this girl.

ME: Get over URSELF.  U think ur so high and mighty because u have a charity case gf.  Ur pretending to be Prince Charming and its gonna get old.  And u know it.

ME: And PS, we wouldnt have fought so much if u had been a decent human being to me when we dated.

HIM: Ur just jealous that ur alone and i found a keeper.

ME: Ok bye.

ME: And PS, you didn't find a keeper- you found a clinger.  have fun w all that.

I'm SOOOOOO OVER THIS!!!!!* I want to through this nice computer out the window into oncoming traffic on Chagrin Road, go mow down some pedestrians in the Falls, and burn every picture I have of us.  This is like a tumor that has grown teeth and will not go away no matter how much I will it to.  It's a monster tumor.  Named John-COG.  

*I apologize for the gratuitous use of punctuation usually reserved for the diaries of 14 year old girls (aka "Twilight"s core audience).

Cali freedom?

Politics has been banned from the dinner table at my grandparents' home.  Only because usually it starts with just an innocent conversation-starter and ends with my grandpa slamming his fist down and my mother saying "Why do we have to talk about this?" and my grandma rolling her eyes with me.  I should tell you that my grandma, a long time teacher, is a democrat while my grandfather... is not.  He served his country and he's lived through enough for me to know that he is entitled to his opinions (especially having paid taxes for over 2x longer then I've been alive).

Which is why I cautiously brought up Prop 8 last night over chicken orzo.  

My grandparents had voted early because they were going to be off the grid visiting my aunt and uncle down in Texas so they still hadn't even seen all the results from Ohio and since 8 was a California issue, they had never even heard of it.

Careful not to inject my political views, I explained that it meant gay men and women were no longer able to be married.

"Where they ever?" my grandpa asked, inquisitively.

"Well yeah.  And then some people didn't like that and brought the issue back to the ballot."

"Oh."  He was quiet.  My grandma could tell that he was still working this out in his head and explained what she knew about it.  

"They were allowed to and then some conservatives thought it wasn't right so they brought a proposition to amend the previous decision," she told him.

He thought about it a little more and then said, "Well that's just not right.  They gave them something, freedom, and then just took it away.  That's just not right."  And a simpler explanation I couldn't have asked for.

That's exactly what happened.  I read comments on one of my favorite politiblogs discussing this issue, one of them saying "we might as well have turned the hoses and dogs on the Castro." Once again, there is a second class in this country.  And it's just not right.

I have a sweatshirt from Hollister (stop laughing, it's the only thing I own from there).  It says "Cali Freedom" embroidered on the back.  I liked it because that's pretty much what I always thought about of California.  Sun, sand, waves, freedom.  Guess not.

If my 78 year old grandpa, who gave service to this country and is one of its most loyal supporters, can see that this (Prop 8) is wrong.  My grandfather! A church going conservative.  Then my question is this:

What kind of crack are half the voters in California smoking?

If I was a gay person in Cali right now, I'd have to agree with Melissa Etheridge:

"Okay, so I am taking that to mean I do not have to pay my state taxes because I am not a full citizen. I mean that would just be wrong, to make someone pay taxes and not give them the same rights, sounds sort of like that taxation without representation thing from the history books."- from Melissa Etheridge's blog.

TO CALIFORNIANS FOR PROP 8: Be careful what you wish for.  I think it is shooting yourself in the foot to deny liberties to a very large, influential population of your state.  

But that's just me.  I'm from Ohio.  What do I know?

(I'll get down off my soap box now... but just one more thing: it's really not a question of gay rights vs. morality as everyone is making it to be.  It's the fact that a group of people that do not share the same opinions as a majority of this country just dictated the rights and future for another group.  And I think there is something fundamentally wrong with that.  The fabric of society will not unravel because two men can get married.  We do not live in a democracy, the people do not rule.  We live in a Republic and we elect people wiser than us to protect and represent those who need it.  That's what my grandfather, your grandfather, and others before us fought and still fight to protect.).

New Gap Ads...

Ok... I lied.  I just visited "Best Week Ever" and found plenty to be excited about.  Just look at the new Gap ads!!  My all-time favorites put their spin on Gap's Christmas MadLibs.  Jason Suedekis would like to "LIGHT YOUR OWN... house on fire" while Fred Armisen suggests you "VISIT YOUR OWN... stalker."

Then, there is gorgeous Kevin Volchik-er-Cam Giga I-don't-know. Wearing a winter hat.  I want to stare at this boy for hours on end.  Along with ads from Don Draper (Jon Hamm, the next Clooney) and Jason Bateman and offspring, this is by far the best ad campaign. Ever.  Even better then SJP dancing to Lenny Kravitz.

YOU MUST GO NOW: http://www.bestweekever.tv/2008/11/11/heres-some-holiday-magic-for-your-eye-holes/

For the love of God and all that is Christmas... it's a.ma.zing.

Wasting time.

So, I'm really out of material today. John and I had another heart to heart last night (much to my chagrin, it was during "How I Met Your Mother") but really it was just more of the same from Sunday. Not to mention, it was a very private conversation between two people who have been through a battle and carry the wounds. Meaning, unless you were there, you don't know. So, I decided to go for an old fall back created by Bernard Pivot, but more widely known because of James Lipton on "Inside the Actor's Studio." Asked of some of the most brilliant minds and actors of a generation, here is my response to Le Bouillon de Culture Questionnaire.

What is your favorite word? Beautiful

What is your least favorite word? No

What turns you on creatively, spiritually or emotionally? Blind and fiery passion

What turns you off? idiocy

What is your favorite curse word? FUCK- very versatile (I know that Ben Affleck or Matt Damon had the same response, but I don't care)

What sound or noise do you love? engines running, blades against ice during hockey, a good punch connecting with a jawline, a bat connecting with a ball headed for a homerun, a tennis ball swishing over the net

What sound or noise do you hate? static, white noise... and my alarm clock

What profession other than your own would you like to attempt? swordfish boat captain.  it looks like the most amazing adventure ever.  until a big wave drowns you and your crew.  then it probably sucks. ("the grand banks are no joke in octowbah.")

What profession would you not like to do? president of the united states... or telemarketer.

If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates? what would i like to hear or what will i hear? i would like to hear "good to see you, your friends and family are waiting in the back." but what will i hear? "um, are you sure you're suppose to be here? how do you spell that name again?"

And there you go.

Whirling Dervish.

So, I just thought that I would explain the concept behind Whirlyball since I mentioned it in my post from yesterday. I'm not sure how many there are nationally, but I do know that WhirlyBall is an up and coming "indoor sport" in the midwest (we have six months of winter here, what do you expect?). Specifically, Chicago and Cleveland. If you go to an official website, they basically introduce it like this:

"Agility. Speed. Strength. None of these qualities will be of any use in the highly competitive world of WhilrlyBall. Although it combines lacrosse, hockey and basketball with bumper cars, WhirlyBall has caused great athletes of every stripe to laugh and holler their way to a crushing defeat." (Basically, if you are just another average midwesterner (read: morbidly obese and otherwise uncoordinated), you finally get to even the playing field with all those athletic types).

WhirlyBall combines bumper cars with lacrosse, basketball, little bit of hockey, and soccer. You have a scoop and a whiffle ball and the goal is to either hit the backboard of the same color as your car (2 pts) or get it in the net (4 pts). Pretty easy, right? WRONG. This game is HARD. Not only do you have to figure out how to maneuver your car (which has a one hand steering device, wheel), you have to be able to catch the ball and get it down the court. You can only hold it for 20 seconds so passing becomes another obstacle. Any penalties in delay of game or fouling cost 4 points to the other team. (See demonstration by Death Cab above).

So on Sunday, I joined some friends from work and their families to play this raucous game. I had seen it before- an old boyfriend of my mother's was on a league when I was probably 13 or 14. I figured I could do this. I didn't have to run (which I hate), I just had to steer (which I can do with my car... how hard could this be?). Considering most of the 13 minute game I was trying to figure out how to back up as I got stuck in a corner and then when I finally had the ball, I couldn't get out before my twenty seconds... I'm gonna go ahead and say that I sucked.

So that's why I thought laser tag would be more fun. I had played before... it used to be a hot spot for the stoners and the bad kids during high school and I made my appearance a few times. Of course, this was like 10 years ago. So I suited up with 15 other people, about 8 of them under 10. Not only did I get my ass kicked, I got shot down by a 5 year old. He was insane! Every time I thought I had a good place to hide, my vest would light up. Who was this phantom assassin? It took me about 8 minutes to realize I was getting shot up from below by a misleadingly innocent operative, code name: Lucca. And he wasn't all stealthy, either, like James Bond or Ethan Hunt. No, Lucca used more of a Scarface method (pretty much running forward with his finger on the trigger, laughing maniacally as he mowed down rival gang members). I came to the conclusion that there is definitely a problem with our kids being exposed to too much violence.

It wasn't until I saw the results and realized that I had shot none and been shot 48 times that I thought about sticking to tennis if I wanted an indoor sport. At least on that court I get to be the crazy one.

The last straw...

And if all of this with John and the FCOG hasn't been enough...

TODAY I FOUND A GRAY HAIR ON MY HEAD.

I feel like William Shatner in "Star Trek II"... "KHAAAAAAAAAAAAN!!!!" 

(Yes, I've seen it.  I admit to having seen all "Star Trek"s and "Star Wars"s and liking sci-fi.  It is a guilty pleasure of this girl as much as "Gossip Girl" is... so deal. I can't help that my father was a nerd.  Just don't get me going on "Lord of the Rings" because I won't shut up.  I'm not a nerd, really, I just know my pop culture.)

A late night appeal.

"Hey."

It was the first word he had spoken to me in a week that wasn't in anger.  Last night at 11:00 my phone rang.  John's name was on the caller ID.  I debated about picking it up.  

"Hi."

For a moment, we said nothing.  I was afraid to talk, afraid he was about to start yelling at me again for God knows what this time.  

"How are you?"

So I told him about Laser Tag and Whirly Ball and Asshole and Cheney and how I really liked the people I went out with yesterday and how I drank maybe a little too much.  There was another pause.

"I'm scared."

And because I'm a good friend, I knew I had to listen.  So I let him talk about how nervous he was that things were going so fast and how, since October 15, he'd manage to see this girl every single day except for two.  How he loved her already.  How he thought she was the one.  

And because I'm a good friend, I told him to be happy.  I told him to go into it with his whole heart and be a good man.  That's really all I ever wanted for him anyway.  I told him that things are good now, but they won't always be.  And when they aren't, it will suck and it will hurt but that he will get over it.  If she's this important, he'll find away to make it work.

Then he said something that I never thought he would say.  "I want to move in with her."

Now, I don't have to know this girl to know this is a bad idea.  Anyone reading this can see this is not a good idea.  But he's a fool in love and he's my friend.  So I politely expressed my opinion (all the while wanting to scream "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!?!") and explained delicately that babies are fun when you can put them down and go home and that living with someone is not the same as just staying at their house every night.  It's a lot of pressure.  "Are you ready to be a father?"  He didn't say anything.

So we changed the topic of conversation and moved on to lighter things.  Like Christmas presents and other things to that nature...  and it was just nice to know that he still thought my opinion mattered.

Eventually, we were too tired to talk.  We said our goodbyes and for the first time, I was ok with that.  If that was the last conversation we ever have, I would be ok.  John and I were never "the one" for each other.  I always knew that.  It doesn't mean that I would ever stop caring about him, or he for me.  I realized that whatever end-game I had in this whole situation was never going to end up with us going back to the way things were.  I had to accept that.  We were lucky to be close as long as we were.  Exs rarely stay friends, it's just a part of life.

"So, I wish you the best in your life.  You need to do everything possible to make this work with her, you deserve it.  And I deserve to give every chance and my whole heart to someone else.  I need to figure out my life without you in it," was really the only thing left to say.  And I said it.  

It's scary and it's a new beginning at the same time.  I'm kind of excited.