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The Literary Exhibitionist
machupicchu
machupicchu
DLU 80
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Dude Wal-Mart Is So Goddamn Gay
Wal-Mart Stores Inc., the nation's largest private employer and one of the most culturally debilitating, soul-sucking vortexes of all that is creative and divine and good in this world, will now include gays and lesbians in its antidiscrimination policy, gosh how sweet of them. Company spokesman Tom Williams said the policy will not affect benefits, which Wal-Mart does not offer to unmarried partners of any orientation, and pretty much doesn't offer to tens of thousands of its part-time help as it crams anti-union ideologies down their throats and underpays everyone and is one of the scariest ugliest most frighteningly overlit places to work in the known universe ever, but he said sexual orientation will be added to the company's existing diversity-awareness training programs for employees, not the slightest bit because they give a damn about gays, but mostly because they are terrified of getting their proto-Christian censorship-happy asses sued to high heaven by the "homosexual agenda," and if you think for one brief moment that Wal-Mart is taking this moderate and barely useful action out of the goodness of its tolerant pro-gay heart, I've got some cheap-ass porcelain monkey bookends and a giant tin of year-old caramel popcorn to sell you, cheap.


-- Mark Morford


-- 80 --


There is a box of a sample beverage product sitting on the front desk this morning, and the name of the product is -- I kid you not -- Moose Drool.

I just looked it up online. It's a brown ale, and this is its logo.



-- 80 --


I am not drinking a whole hell of a lot, you know . . . but I've had to pee an average of once an hour all morning. It's very inconvenient. I wish I had better bladder control. Aren't I a little too young to be losing it? I wonder what's making it happen? Last night's lemonade? The watermelon? What?

-- 80 --


I just finished the pad thai noodles I had for lunch. A mite spicier than I would prefer, but quite good; still not quite worth the time it took me to prepare it (10 minutes; my lunches at work usually take me three minutes max) but it was a sample product and it was what I had here for lunch today.

All bites contained several things I was not aware of. What the hell is in that shit? Tastes good; I guess I won't ask questions.

A sudden memory: sitting at a table in an Italian restaurant in Spokane, with Mom and Christopher. I have a mouthful of spaghetti, with a bunch of it hanging out of my mouth and onto my plate. I have a sudden urge to cough, so I cover my mouth and start coughing, but the spaghetti is still hanging so it sort of looks like I am coughing up all those noodles.

-- 80 --


Funny how sexual energy can change the literal sense of taste. God only knows why I just now thought of that.

-- 80 --


I had a lovely time at Clarica's place yesterday, with Barbara and Roger. We watched Roger's copy of Gone with the Wind, which I had never seen before, and I thought it was fantastic. I can see how it has stood the test of time, its unsubtleties that Roger was fond of pointing out notwithstanding. Considering the time in which the film was released, I was consistently, very impressed with the production. The filmmakers certainly went all-out for that thing.

There's this one scene that sticks out in my mind the most. A specific shot, actually. Rhrett Butler has insisted Scarlet go to her sister's party with the expectation that her sister will kick her out of the place in front of anyone. Her sister just happens to be this sort of nearly unbearably realistic angel of a woman who can only do good, and invites her in anyway. But there's a shot of Vivian Leigh in that wonderfully tart red dress Rhrett made her wear, waiting for the rejection she expects. She stands there with this fiery, defiant look in her eyes. The eyes, the hair, and the dress -- it's just this one moment, but for some reason it sums up the whole movie experience for me.

It's very interesting to me that the biggest movie of all time (in adjusted dollars) happens to be a story quite sympathetic to the civil war-era Confederate point of view. Not so much their point of view as their way of life, I suppose, but I still found it rather interesting. Much of the film is almost comically melodramatic, but I found it easy to get past that. I paid a lot of attention to set designs and costumes, which were incredible. And for what it was, the performances were quite impressive as well.

I wouldn't even mind seeing that movie again -- and it's easily the longest movie I have ever sat through. It's seven minutes shy of four hours. Two movies in one.

As God is my witness, I'll never be hungry again!

I read that the filmmakers had to pay this huge fine ($5000, or something -- astronomical figures for its time) just to keep that line "Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn" in the script. I think it's the only genuine swear word (which has long since been established as hardly worth censoring) in the entire movie -- unless you really want to count the phrase "fiddledy dee!", which Clarica was fond of saying.

I would very much like to see that movie in an actual movie theatre.

-- 80 --


After the film, during which I ate one slice of watermelon and drank lemonade, we all decided to eat Clarica's rice that she cooked and shared, along with some bread and butter, crackers, and the brownies that she baked. On our way to the bus stop at the end of the visit Barbara told me they were the best straight brownies (that is, with nothing added -- not even nuts, which I always detest) she ever had. God damn, I wanted some of those brownies. I'm not sure you have any genuine idea of what kind of restraint it took for me to pass those things up. I'm not joking, either. It was just short of genuine torture, just being in the same room as those things.

I need to find some way to get over that. I've lost four pounds since I gave up sweets, and I'm enjoying that trend. A month and a week ago I weighed 160 lbs; now I weigh 156. So, if and when I hit 140 -- the weight I got down to in college -- then I'll have a brownie then. But only one. No sense in rekindling a habit of binging on sweets that will only serve to make me start gaining again.

I had this serious urge to keep eating stuff last night, whether they were brownies or not. The rice was delicious and I found myself wanting more. There was no one thing that was particularly filling, and I think that was the problem, maybe. I munched on crackers and had two pieces of bread. Tonight I'm making pasta, though, and that will certainly hit the spot.

We played a game called "Apples to Apples" while we ate, which was fun for a while. When Roger said he had to go, I decided we should too, just because I like to have at least a couple of hours after I get home before I need to be in bed.

So ended a weekend in which I spent more time with Clarica than with Barbara, particularly if you count Thursday. Quite a milestone, there, although I am confident Barbara has nothing to fear when it comes to holding her #1 spot on the quarterly social review.

Clarica said she kept worrying that we might get into a big fight for some reason, and then we'd have to go write all about it on our journals. "Clarica's such a fucking bitch!" "I can't believe he said that!" Roger suggested we just pretend and write about it anyway. Just watching Gone with the Wind gave us some pretty good ideas for details.

Even though Clarica has talked to me about moments in which she's seething mad, I find it difficult to imagine. I'm quite sure people find it very easy to imagine me that way, as they often do when I'm not angry at all. In any event, I see getting into a fight with Clarica so improbable that for all practical purposes we can assume it's never going to happen.

The only good friends I have right now that I can remember getting into a genuine fight (not physical) with are Danielle and Gabe. And I don't think it has so much to do with being friends with them long enough for it to occur so much as it has to do with having known each other when we were much younger. Even I have learned a modicum of diplomacy over the years.

-- 80 --


My workload at work is pretty light these days. I don't think it will be difficult to continue feeling needed, so I'm not worried about it. It's kind of nice, actually, leaving the harrowing work of June in the past now that the new Fremont store is open. I have the ability now to work ahead, which can only make me look good as my one-year review approaches. I just hope Stephanie doesn't get some sort of petrified stick up her ass and deny me a raise simply because of what occurred six months ago. I don't expect that, though; she really doesn't seem like the type. The problem is that I have yet to figure out exactly what type she is.

I've been thinking about moving lately. Just thinking -- not considering. I've been in my apartment for five years now, and after having been to Clarica's and Llyra's neighborhood several times, I'm thinking it might be nice to live some place a little quieter. The only way I would move at this point, though, is if I found a one-bedroom that cost not much more than the studio I live in now, and it was in either the U District or Wallingford. That way I could save the $54 I spend on a bus pass every month and cut down on the distance I have to walk to and from work. But of course, the place would also have to welcome cats, and contain both a dishwasher and an in-unit washer/dryer. Given the costs of moving no matter where you're going, though, this isn't likely to happen any time soon, unless I get a particularly decent raise.

I've just been thinking about it, anyway. One major drawback would be getting home after rehearsals. We always go out afterward, and we stay out on average until 11:30 or so, which means it would take me quite a bit longer to get home after that than it does now, since both my apartment and rehearsal are downtown (I walk only about ten blocks to get there). But if it can significantly cut down my expenses in the long run, I could conceivably still do it.

I do really like my location, though. The biggest motivating factor in my thinking about this is the idea of living closer to where I work. I'm not so sure that alone is the best reason to move somewhere. I do love Belltown and I think I would miss it. But, if I made enough to move and keep getting a monthly bus pass, it wouldn't matter so much where I lived at all -- I'm very familiar with this bus system and it generally works quite well. Well, unless you're in the U District and you want to get to lower Queen Anne from there. At the very least downtown is centrally located -- direct metro trip from there to just about anywhere in town.

I guess I can just think about this more later if I feel like it.

-- 80 --


I still want a fucking brownie. I don't need one! They'll give me zits!

-- 80 --


I had a banana this morning. I hadn't had one in a long time and it was delicious. But it was no brownie. Why do brownies even have to exist? Their only purpose is to torture me!

-- 80 --


Fuck you, brownies!

-- 80 --


Um . . . yeah.

-- 80 --


I brought in the stuffed weiner [hot] dog Barbara gave me, to work today. I showed it to Kibby and told her they come in boxes at FAO Schwarz that say "11-inch Wiener," because that's the character's actual name. Then I told her, "Now you can go home and tell your husband a coworker showed you his 11 inch Wiener today."</center>
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Current Mood: yo. yo yo, yo.

1 transmission complete or positive energy please
Comments
stillnotdead From: stillnotdead Date: July 7th, 2003 07:18 pm (UTC) (Link)
eleven-inch WEENIE, wiener-head!
1 transmission complete or positive energy please