ALL ABOARD THE PANDA EXPRESS!

I remember once at a party we were playing the game "Have you ever?", when someone asked me, Have you ever become a member of the mile high club.  My response was "does it have to have been with another person?"   The looks of confusion and disgust that followed can pretty much sum up my experiences with travel. They have been a source of confusion, disgust as well as a myriad of other emotions that would have made the Titanic Voyage seem like an uneventful pleasure cruise.

Most of my earlier travel was with my friend David.  Travelling with David was what I am assuming travelling with Osama Bin Laden would have been like.  You never knew what catastrophes were around the next corner and you never knew if you would make it home alive.

On a flight to Hawaii, David believed the passengers directly in the seats in front of us were only there to talk about him in secret, take up precious leg room and tilt back their seats as far back as they could possibly go.  As an outlet for his rage  David insisted on grinding his knees into the back of their chairs to make their flight as uncomfortable as possible.   "David, I don't think they are talking about you" I offered.  "I don't think they can even speak English"  "Oh they are talking about me, I can tell" he responded"   "And I don't like it one bit" his answer was obviously meant for our fellow passengers to hear as he raised his voice. 

Safely on the ground, having avoided any nasty Air Marshall incidents, we arranged for a taxi to take us to our hotel.  As luck would have it, our taxi driver was not able to speak English either and seemed a bit angry from the moment we got into the cab.  At one point our driver made a stop for gasoline at a convenience store, yet never pumped any gas, he did however return to the car with a tall canned beverage wrapped in a brown paper bag.  Best not to ask questions I thought and ignored the whole Mothers Against Drunk Driving public service announcement going on before my eyes.

When we arrived at our hotel, David exited the car and went to our drivers window to pay the fare. As I watched from a bench it appeared the driver was arguing with David about something and David seemed very confused as to what the problem was. "I'm sorry I don't know what you want:"  David repeated as the driver made a series of pointing motions and shook his head.  

The verbal abuse from our driver continued until David was on the verge of tears and just handed over his entire wallet for the man to fish out as much money as he deemed acceptable for the fare.  Enough was enough at this point and I walked over to the situation at hand, took the wallet from our driver, handed it back to David and screamed RUN!.
I urge anyone who may be reading this to take this advise and apply it to your own lives. When life hands you a situation that is uncomfortable, just run away from it and everything will work out for the better. I repeat, running away from your problems is ALWAYS the best option.

While in Hawaii, I thought it best to discontinue the use of taxis and bought both of us a day pass on the local city trolley system.
Now, Hawaii attracts a lot of Asian tourist and this was the case as we boarded our first trolley.
We were in the middle of a very long line and as we boarded it was becoming apparent that there was no room for many more people.
I quickly found my seat at the back of the bus as David stayed at the front, thinking it best to attempt to strike up a friendship with our driver this time around. to ward off any negativity remaining from his first go round with are taxi driver.  "Sure is crowded" said David to our Trolley Captain.   "You are Goddamned right it is crowded !  It's all these little Japanese fuckers coming over here and crowding us out is what it is!"  responded our Trolley Captain.
I heard this from the back of the bus because it was coming in loud and clear over the intercom speakers.
David continued this conversation by saying "It has been my experience that they are all rude and pushy and I will have you know that they were saying horrible things about me on the plane ride over here."
"Well they sure as hell don't respect authority" our driver stated  "Those little fuckers can just go back to where they came from if I had any say about it" he continued.  
Not only did he have any say in it, I thought, but he was saying it in stereo for the entire bus to hear.

I wanted to warn David that his remarks were being picked up by the Trolley Captains microphone but decided it was out of my hands at this point. 
I shared my bench seat with an older tourist and reached over to whisper  "I don't think you are rude or pushy and I regularly enjoy a hearty meal at my local Panda Express" I whispered in her ear, trying to ease the racial tensions that had evolved in the last five minutes.

People were still crowding into the Trolley, and there was just no more room for more passengers.
As if he was the newly appointed President of the Honolulu Transportation Commission, David took matters into his own hands. Throwing his hands in the air and with a horrible cartoonish Asian accent he began yelling out "THERE NO MORE ROOM", "WE NOT WANT ANY MORE OF YOU", " YOU LEAVE NOW."

Just so you can get an idea of how uncomfortable all this was to me, let me just say I was one of three white people on this trolley and the other two were doing a racist comedy skit directly from the 1940's for the entire crowd of Asian tourists to enjoy.

To reinforce his displeasure David then began moving his hands in a back and forth pushing motion and screaming "SHOO!"   "SHOO, YOU NOT GET ON BUS"

Oh my God, their grandfathers invaded this island and he was singlehandedly setting back race relations 75 Years I thought to myself.  The looks that I was getting said to me that the crew of the ENOLA GAY themselves would have been more welcome than we were right now. David, unaware that he had been heard by the remaining 100 bitter and angry passengers made his way to the back of the bus to take his seat by me. 

As he sat down a huge grin formed and he reached over to me to say "this is so exciting, I can't wait to get to Pearl Harbor."

I am not afraid to slap you across your whore face

In this life, one thing I hold extremely dear are my friends. As I get older I realize how important these people are in my life. I also realize how incredibly unique these people are to me. On any given day the compassion that goes out to them can range from comforting someone who has just lost their grandmother, to screeching the threat "I AM NOT AFRAID TO SLAP YOU ACROSS YOUR WHORE FACE".

Yes we sometimes get on that bipolar train ride of emotions that can quickly turn into a huge train wreck, but we always know that when all the shouting is over, you've still got someone in your corner.

I'm taking this opportunity to tell a few people in my life how much they mean to me. Yes it goes without saying, but it shouldn't. If you love someone, you should tell them. Yes I know that sounds sweet enough to contract diabetes just from reading it, so to be fair, for each person I acknowledge, I am also going to tell them something that I find extremely annoying about them. So we are all winners here!

We will start with my friend Pam. When Pam drinks, the volume goes up. WAY UP! Deaf people in China know that Pam is drunk. Pam really doesn't drink all that much, but when she does she is all in. A few months ago, we were doing two of my favorite things in the whole world; drinking and mocking people on Home and Garden network. (don't believe me that it's fun? have a couple of shots and turn on House Hunters) Anyway midway through the show, Pam looked over at me and yelled "I AM NOT LOSING THIS BUZZ". OK I thought, nobody is trying to steal it from you so just settle down. "REALLY, I FEEL GOOD, I AM NOT LOSING THIS BUZZ" so now I was just getting a little scared and thought it best to let her know there was a whole box of Franzia in the refrigerator,,,so no one has to die OK?
I am not saying it isn't fun, I am just saying Howler monkeys have a better indication of how to use their inside voices than a drunk Pam does.

Although Pam can be loud, she certainly knows how to listen. I don't think I have ever met anyone who does it better. I can rely on her to be my sounding board and even better than that she just takes it all in. She offers sound advice that comes straight from the heart. She never makes you feel sorry for yourself and you always end the conversation feeling better for having it. Everyone should have a Pam in their life. Sometimes all we need is for someone to hear us.

My friend Jenifer has an issue and that issue is animation. If there was such a thing as an animation intervention, I would sign her ass up for it faster than you can say Finding Nemo.
Don't even think of inviting her to a movie, unless it has "Disney Presents" in the title.
I did recently convince her to watch "The Color Purple". Everything was going fine until about halfway through she leaned over and asked "when do they turn into singing mermaids"? It's closer to the end I said.

The thing about Jen is that once she takes you in, you really have to be the one to screw it up. She will always be there. Through the good, the bad, the animated and the live action, she is a friend you know is for life.
We are talking about a woman who garnered over $2000 in groceries, money and gifts for a needy family, only to have them spit in her face. I would have taken that $2000 and paid someone to burn down what little they had left, but Jen took it in stride and continues to give.
Whether it is delivering meals to homeless or volunteering at her local animal shelter with gifts of food or to simply walk the dogs, she truly gives of herself.
The failings of humanity have never scarred her.
I give her the irrational and complicated from my own life and she unravels it for me, offers a solution and restores my faith in the human race.
I am here to say I absolutely love the sense of compassion and value she adds to my life.
Somewhere out there, some poor, some undervalued, some that have been thrown away by society have her to thank for restoring just a little bit of hope back into a hopeless world.

Barnicole is a girl who is 15 years younger than me. It's an odd pairing really. A gay man entering middle age and a mid twenties hippy chick. It somehow works, but not without it's frustrations.
Barnicole can best be described as a loose cannon of feelings. She expresses herself through art and a myriad of external behaviors.
We were once swimming at a party and someone mentioned the movie "Beauty and the Beast". This being one of Barnicoles favorite movies felt the need to express her joy for this Disney classic by performing the entire soundtrack at the top of her lungs while doing a form of aqua ballet in the swimming pool.
I stood in the corner of the pool and thought "Please God, make it stop". The singing went on and on. "Where is the off button?" I screamed.
She announces when she has to fart. ( I prefer to be left in the dark about this information)
She occasionally chooses a word at random and uses that word incessantly and to the point you want to beat the life out of her with a Thesaurus. Her word lately has been FANCY. "These crackers are fancy" "Hey there fancypants" "Oh you are using the fancy napkins?"
I can't take any more and scream "I FANCY SLAPPING YOU ACROSS YOUR WHORE FACE!"

As annoying as she can be with these small things, she is also an incredibly caring and talented person who has brought a lot of happiness to my troubled soul. Barnicole is the first person in the room to wrap her arms around you for a hug if she senses you are upset.
I see in her what I want to see more of in me. A strong, happy and courageous individual who doesn't just exist but actually lives her life.

Barnicoles art is especially intriguing. What she does is take negative and depressing headlines from the newspaper, puts it on canvas and paints over it with the beauty she sees in the world.
You can still see the headlines but they are all covered with what I believe to be the inner beauty she exudes. The finished product is beautiful and amazing, much like she is to me.

I love my friends, they make me not want to give up on this world. They make me not want to burn down needy peoples homes.

Death becomes her

I don't have a tremendous amount of experience with death. The experiences I have had in dealing with it have the results of an I Love Lucy episode.

Several years ago when I went to church, I was asked to be a pallbearer. For the most part this endeavour went pretty smooth. It was people I knew, but quite honestly were not that close with. My first encounter with death on a more personal level came when my best friends grandmother passed away. Let me just say death does not seem to affect me in an emotional way. Why? I honestly don't know, but I don't cry about it, even when dealing with it first hand. Yes, I have a heart you smart ass! I just don't use it that often.

Getting back to my friends grandmother, David had asked me to go to the funeral home with him to view the body before the funeral. David was a nervous wreck, I on the other hand was probably a little drunk at this point of the evening. In fact I know I was having just learned we were going to a funeral pre show.

We stepped into the viewing room and both took slow steps toward the casket. David seemed to be upset. I put my hand on David's back for support. Oh not emotional support, I was just trying not to fall down from all the jagermeister I had downed.

I took a seat on the front pew and David made his way to the open casket to view his grandmother for the first time since he had learned of her death. About thirty seconds into the viewing, David let out a very loud sob, threw his hand in the air and proceeded to literally run out of the viewing room.

I sat on the front pew wondering what I should do. I slowly got up and approached the open casket. What came over me at the moment was pure amazement. The funeral home had made this old woman who had been sick and in the hospital into such a beautiful vision. She looked like she did when she was alive. I almost expected her to get up and run after David herself. Her hair was immaculate. I wanted to ask if they bothered to do both the front and back of the hair or just called it a day after styling the bangs. No one was going to see the back, right?

A few moments passed and the overwhelming urge to touch her hand came over me. Would that be creepy? I wanted some sort of connection, to know this was real. OK, yes creepy, but I still wanted to do it. I reached my hand upwards and it rested on the casket. I moved it up over the top and then heard "are you okay sir?" it was the funeral director. "I saw your friend run out of here and he seemed very upset, just coming to check on you". I WASN'T TRYING TO TOUCH THAT DEAD BODY, I wanted to scream. I'M NOT A FREAK YOU KNOW! (ironically I lived with the funeral director's daughter for a short time and did actually get to find out how the bodies were maintained, another story)
I backed up off the casket and after and uneasy goodbye with the director I made my way outside where David was having an emotional breakdown in the parking lot of the funeral home. After a few words of encouragement to David we had another shot of JAGER and ended up at an all you can eat chicken restaurant. His grandma would have liked it that way.

I tried to avoid funerals as much as possible after the encounter with Davids grandmother but a few years later my cousin and his wife were killed by someone speeding through an intersection. It was a horrible car accident, which their three children survived.

At the funeral each child was allowed to put something in the casket that reminded them of their father and mother. This cousin was always fun to be around and I remember him fondly. The middle child had to be asked to remove a can of beer from her fathers casket. That would have been so perfect, I thought to myself.

Even though this was a close personal relative, I was again not overly emotional. Not that I wasn't sad but that is just my mode of operation. I had also been asked to be a pallbearer at this funeral, in which I would carry my cousins casket and six other men carried his wife's.

I stood beside the casket ready to carry it out of the church building and I noticed a very attractive fellow pallbearer standing at my cousins wife's casket. Why does he look so familiar? I thought. And then it hit me. The night before I had been out clubbing and had met this hottie at a gay dance bar. That's who that is I thought, he is the hottie from the Silver Star Saloon (yes that is the actual name) that offered me Ecstasy. He was very cute and very mysterious from what I remember the night before. I didn't partake of any Ecstasy and that is probably why he moved on and disappeared the night before. Only to reappear here now at my cousins funeral as a fellow pallbearer.

FATE? yes I thought. At this point it would have been good if reality had entered the room and slapped me severely across the face. And you would think that a double funeral for a close family relative would have done that anyway, but alas I saw this as an opportunity to try to make a move.

How inappropriate would it be to slide across the top of the casket as if it were the General Lee and I was one of the Duke boys? "so you come here often?" I would ask,as my slide stopped right at his pallbearer station. He would laugh, I would laugh, we would embrace and he would go to rehab. Everyone around us would be happy that I had finally found love.

Although I did notice some eye contact at the burial, in retrospect it was probably best that I had just remained at my cousins side and fulfilled my pallbearer duties.

To this day, avoiding the urge to pick up a drug addicted skank whore at my cousins funeral remains one of my proudest moments. We all have to have something to be proud of you know!

Sex doesn't always sell

I once had a roommate named Gloria. The first time I had met Gloria I was meeting her to rent a room in her house. She seemed professional, focused and completely normal in every way. She was friendly and had a good demeanor and seemed to naturally carry herself with an ease of confidence. I agreed to move in with Gloria and things went pretty well until I started discovering little things that seemed a bit odd. I knew Gloria had an issue with security in the house, in her own words "I found a dead body in my backyard when I was little". I on the other hand had found a dollar bill on the sidewalk when I was little. Don't make too much of it I told myself,,,people are not all the same.

The paranoia continued to build in the house until one night I got a knock on my bedroom door. Gloria stood there shaking. Was it another body I wondered? I soon found out it was not, but Gloria proceeded to lead me into her room and look at the ceiling. What am I looking at I wondered. Gloria then pointed to a corner in the ceiling where a piece of plaster about an inch in circumference had cracked and fallen to the floor. "I think there is someone in the attic trying to drill their way into my room" she announced. NOT CRAZY I said to myself trying to cast away the urge to grab her myself and stuff her into the attic to prove there were no psychopathic serial killers with hand tools and a penchant for young ladies with panic disorders.
After reassuring Gloria she had a shitty plaster job and talking her down from the ledge for an hour I went to bed and tried to put it behind me. NOT CRAZY I said to myself, just ignore it.

Well, a week went by and no other attempts had been made on her life so I thought we were golden. That is until I discovered her need for strangers to know about her insane tirades. We were on our way to the movies and we were picking up a new co-worker friend of Gloria's. Lacey stepped into the vehicle and after introducing myself found out Gloria had only known Lacey a short time and this was the first time they had really got the chance to speak outside of work.

Lacey was new to the area, about 27 years old and already had 3 children, a strict conservative christian faith and what appeared to be a low tolerance for anything besides Jesus and kids.

Upon learning of our new friends convictions the voice inside my head said "Hey Kyle, to each their own, live and let live."

The voice inside Gloria's head said, "Hey Gloria, you should share with her your stories of inappropriate sexual encounters that have gone wrong."

I am not sure if Gloria thought telling about her sexual trysts would endear her to her new friend or if it would make her appear hip and cool or maybe the voices in her head just demanded she do it. I don't know.

I finished telling Lacey about where I had grown up and a little work history and general interests. As I finished, this seemed to be Gloria's cue to dive into a story about a first date she had been on in which the night had ended in a clumsy attempt at sexual intercourse in the front seat of her dates car. Gloria went into detail about the type of kissing involved, foreplay and even threw in a few details about the actual penetration, just so everyone knew exactly what point we were at in her story.

Our new friend sat in the passenger seat feigning a semblance of interest into the dirty details of Gloria's sexcapades. I myself sat in the back seat behind Gloria feeling completely awkward in disbelief and shock as the true meaning of TMI was showcased before me.

Gloria was completely non-chalant in concluding her story as if she was giving some sort of weather report. Come to think of it I think she did mention the words "moisture in the southern region at some point."

As we sat in an uneasy silence, I just wanted to lean over to Lacey and whisper "I had nothing to do with that bat-shit crazy sex story you were just forced to listen to" Alas I could not do this and was forced to send Lacey apologetic glances in the passenger side rear view mirror.

Before we reached our destination Gloria had dove into another story that ended with her revealing that she stalks her ex boyfriend and had at one point in their relationship actually lost a condom inside her vagina. Our new friend had her hand on the door handle of the car ready to leap out if by chance Gloria slowed to less than 10 mph.

As our friend exited the car, I took her place in the front seat readying myself for a fresh gem concerning her reproductive system which I was bound to hear on the ride back home.

I never heard from Lacey after that meeting. I am sure she spent the next six months showering and trauma counseling does leave little time for social occasions.

I was wondering why the frisbee was getting bigger… then it hit me.

I am as dumb as a box of hair. Oh don't feel sorry for me, this is something I have come to accept and live with. My stupidity and I actually get along very well and never seem to outgrow each other. The list of idiotic things I do and say grows alarmingly out of control with each passing year, or day to be honest. If I am lucky enough to make it to 80 years of age I am likely to be in an insane asylum or a full body cast due to the ridiculous things that go through my mind and that I act upon.

On a recent outing with my friend Nicole we were getting our tickets to see a movie. We went inside and entered the actual theater where our movie was playing. When choosing a seat, from a few rows behind I heard; "Hey Kyle". I turned to see a couple of friends of ours beckoning Nicole and I to come over to chat before the movie started. When we reached the friends I said hello and followed it up with this gem; "so what movie are y'all here to see?". I knew the moment the words escaped my mouth how idiotic this sounded but could not stop speaking and neither could I pull the words back into my mouth. Oh my God you stupid man, I thought to myself, Of course they were there to see the same movie Nicole and I were there to see. You would have thought the fact that they were a mere 3 rows away from me in the same theater would have clued me in to this fact. There was no way to turn it around and I was forced to stand there and watch as the three of them stared at me, probably wondering how someone so stupid had made it to the theater in one piece. It was awkward for a few seconds and then the awkwardness gave way to ridicule at my expense, which I deserved.

The other day I called Nicole and she told me she had been out late and lost her phone the night before. I immediately felt bad for her and then worried. What would she do without a phone? I wondered, maybe I have one I can loan her, I thought. In response to her revelation I then asked "Did you ever find it"?
Soooo....here's the thing, I had just used my phone to call her. I hit "NICOLE" on my contact list, it rang, and she answered. Even a third grader could put 1 plus 2 together faster than I could. After she got done laughing she filled me in on the fact that yes she had indeed found her phone. I am currently taking applications for a third grader to be my personal assistant. I am sure things will get done more efficiently this way.

I think at times my stupidity really begins to drain on my friends nerves. When going to a movie I seem to have a bit of trouble understanding and or keeping up with plots. If I am not asking a question I should obviously know the answer to, I am sitting in the dark totally bewildered about what is happening on the screen in front of me.
My movie buddy Pam must get very tired of me asking things like; "When did she die"?, "What are they doing in that country"? or "I thought this was animated".
Occasionally I will forget what is going on all together and lean over to ask; "Hey Pam, did you watch GLEE last night"? staying focused seems to be another problem, Sorry Pam!

Maybe stupidity is not really my problem. I really think I have ADD: Attention Deficit Disorder. I am completely serious about this. My mind just wanders from one topic to another. I know this bothers my friend Jenifer, she can be pouring her heart out to me about personal and professional problems and after a while will find me staring out a window with a dazed look on my face. After a while I turn to Jenifer and say "Jenifer, where do you think squirrels sleep at night"? "Do you think they sleep inside trees like in cartoons"? This type of response I give to someone leaning on me in a time of need must explain why no one really leans on me in a time of need.

It's not just personal conversations when my stupidity exasperates people. At any given time I may get distracted by a shiny object and follow it into oncoming traffic, interrupt a personal conversation with a hilariously inappropriate and offensive joke I had heard or simply bitch-slap the person I am speaking with for an offense I had just remembered that had happened from months ago. "Why did you do that they cry"? "YOU KNOW WHY" I respond. My friends usually just sit there trying not to make any sudden movements that might spook me. They know that if they give it a couple of minutes I will lose interest in abusing them and move on to wondering what my middle name is.

The older I get the more I just don't care if people think I am stupid or not, GOD knows I will just forget about it five minutes later anyway.

The Car Shart

If success in my life was measured by embarrassing moments, I would be kings of the world. The level of shame I should feel by now would make Tiger Woods blush.

Making a good first impression is not my strong suit. When that first impression is coupled with a first date, my emotions and nerves become overwrought it just becomes a bull in a china shop type disaster.
On a first date years ago the guy I was meeting was very cool calm and collected and I on the other hand had sweated through a shirt and a jacket and paced back and forth in the restaurant lobby, like a crazy person, waiting on my date to arrive.
When he got there, we had some awkward chit chat and ordered our meal. He had ordered salmon and steamed vegetables. I foolishly ordered like I was high at a state fair and selected everything that was either fried or drenched in rich sauce.
Aside from looking like the poster child for an anti-obesity campaign, the food I had chose was simply messy. Halfway through my fried corn on the cob, my date asked me a question. When I looked up I began to speak and chunks of batter and half chewed kernels of corn flew out of my mouth and onto my date. He looked like a vegetarian had had explosively diarrhea all over his face and shirt.
Where do you go after that? His idea was to clean himself off, make light of the situation and excuse himself never to be seen again. I can't blame him

Like so many of my problems, what happened in late 2006 was another result of something horrible flying out of my body at the wrong time.
I had been getting over a stomach bug and was really beginning to feel better. In fact I had gone out with friends to a karaoke bar for the night and was very late getting home. About two miles from the house a gas bubble began to expand inside my intestines and beckoned to be released. I could not stand the pain and knew I had to be careful so I just pressed out a tiny bit to relieve myself if even just a little.
What happened next can be summed up with two words: CAR SHART.
I had managed, at the age of 34 to shit my pants. On top of that by this time I was only two blocks from the house. I drove with my butt off the seat until I arrived in the driveway. Knowing my roommate would be asleep, as he is a school teacher and gets up very early, I tried to be as quiet as I could. I snuck into the bathroom and cleaned myself up and bundled up the soiled clothing. I then went downstairs and discreetly placed the clothes inside and started the washer. I could not let the clothes sit in the hamper or it would end up smelling like a third world country by the morning.
A few minutes later Tom appeared in the laundry room and always positive and extremely easy to get along with, he confronted me about the late night wash and that it had woke him up. I profusely apologized and was forced to admit what I had done. "I shit my pants" geez I really sounded like a naughty toddler saying it out loud. Understanding as ever Tom looked at me and said; "that's OK, it happens to all of us"
Although his remark made me feel better, to this day I still wonder if crapping ones pants is just something that Tom's friends and family actually do on a regular basis and he has just come to accept it as a natural part of life. I mean does this happen to everyone? I can imagine a family sitting down to dinner and the mom nonchalantly telling everyone about her day. "Well I dropped off the dry cleaning, went to the grocery store and uh, oh yeah I made a poo-bomb in my car". And the family just keeps eating and nod their heads in understanding.

I am betting the queen of England has never sharted herself in a royal carriage and had to hold her buttocks up over the seat as the horses make their way back to Buckingham Palace.
I guess at one time or another we are just handed these trials and life feels like a giant heap of shit. It's the grace you have as you emerge from that poo-laden Toyota Corolla that defines you. It also helps to have friends that understand and love you for who you are. And friends that can stand up and say "There goes goes Kyle covered in shit, I've been there, it happens to all of us".

Feel free to include comments as to what one of your most embarrassing moments was!

Paved with Good Intentions

I spend a good deal of time bitching on this blog. SO I wanted to take a few minutes To tell you about some things I have done that have at least began with good intentions and a hopeful heart.
As with pretty much any action I take in life, even these end in disaster and come back to bite me in the ass.

There is a bookstore that I regulary shop at and recently noticed a sign asking for volunteers for an adult literacy program. Teaching adults to read is actually something I have always imagined myself being able to do. First of all volunteering is selfless and makes you feel good, secondly, giving someone the gift of knowledge is priceless.
I filled out the forms and soon began enjoying the idea of mylself sitting with an iliterate person depending on me to fill their head with the power to make something of themselves.
I then started to have visions of myself spelling out CAT. "C-A-T, sound it out" The poor soul, who was lucky enough to get me as a teacher would try to impress me by sounding it out "kaa_AAAH-tttt". NO that's nothing like it is supposed to sound like I would think. It would not take long before I was pounding my fist in frustration and sweat would form on my brow. Eventually I would have enough of the situation and scream "WRONG! IT'S CAT STUPID"! Then I would stand up, flip the table over on it's side and march right out the door.
Luckily the iltiteracy group filled their required volunteer quota and an itliterate person was spared my impatience.

For a brief time in 2002 I decided my life should include a bit of spirituality. I told myself going to church would be good for my soul, but the truth of the matter is I was just there to meet men. You can't really blame me for looking outsife of the bar for a boyfriend, and I thought that might be a good idea.
This was a predominantly gay church and that is what drew me to it (sorry Jesus).
This church was totally different from the conservative church I had grew up in where it was wrong to have instrumental music in the church or to dance.
The social aspect of the church was just amazing. Mimosas in the undercroft before and after services, fund raising events that involved costumes and elaborate themes and on one occasion even bar hopping after services in the name of spreading the good word. A lot of things were spread that night but I am not sure the word of God was one of them.
Approriately enough there was always a lof of kneeling we had to do during the services, allowing one to bow in redepmtion and also to strengthen the knees.
I would spend my kneeling time peeking out over the bowed heads of the congregation to view the most eligible members or to scout options for dating material.
I would like to say I actually did some good by joining the church, but that would be lying, and lying as we all know is a sin!
I don't think anyone really cared why I was there as long as I made a monetary contribution and showed up to the parties. The biggest sin one could committ whithin this congregation was to wear something that was from last season. For what it's worth I did like the people and I will always cherish my time spent at Our Lady of Snarky Comments.

On a visit to Borders Bookstore my friend David and I discovered a homeless man sitting outside begging for money. Touched by his need David and I set out for the grocery store to purchase essentials this man might need to brave his life on the streets.
David began accumlating twinkies, Little Debbie snack cakes and an assortment of candy bars. Apparently David assumed the man was not only homeless but a pothead.
I on the other hand had collected hair gel, body lotions an an assortment of lip balms. I had assumed the man was not only homeless but gay also.
By the time we returned to the bookstore the man was already gone. We ended up eating the candy and I adivsed David I knew of a great local gay church we could donate the body products to.

Most recently my good deed has backfired. Admittedly my good deed is really for my own benfit. There is a little scam I have going on at the deli counter of my local grocery store. The deli offers a $3 special for a bag of 2 chicken tenders and an handfull of potatoes. My scam is that I immediately engage the deli counter person in friendly chit-chat so that they will feel befriended and lose track of time,,all while forgetting they are stuffing my bag with an over amount of items. ( I said it was a scam I didn't say it was a good one or was very interesting).
Believe it or not this really works and the deli personell now know me by name and start getting my bag ready for me before I even get to the counter. I begin to ask about their family or job and the bag gets more full by the second.
I was out the other day away from the grocery store and saw one of the deli girls. She is always very friendly, too friendly and I stand there and listen to her crap all in the name of a bunch of extra calories I dont even need. The girl was very smiley and flirty and then proceeded to tell me I might have lost a little weight. I thanked her and responded that I was still chowing on chicken and potatoes so I probably hadn't actually lost any. Her rebuttal to this was; "that's ok I like a guy that's a little chubby".
My first thought was to reach out and bitch slap her. My second thought was that I might just stand there and cry for being called chubby. Lastly my third thought was genunine revulsion. I was being hit on by a cougar who had a bit of the mange and a moustache that would rival Tom Sellecks.
She ended the conversation by brining it in for the real thing and wrapping her greasy frame around mine to give me a bear hug. Although,,the smell of the chicken batter in her hair did stimulate something in me.
I swore from that moment on I would switch my focus to engaging the new guy in fruits and vegatables in small talk.