Big Fat Hairy Living

Children’s books that don’t really exist. Unfortunately.

I bought a new plant on the way home from work. It’s very big.

A true gem from one of the intellectual giants at BigotRepublic:

So, what is the practice of homosexuality? It is sodomy. What is sodomy? It is anal sex. What is anal sex?

It is when a man puts his erect penis into the anus, or poo-hole, of another man, or in the case of child molestation into the anus of a child, and makes like a dog in the street until emission of semen occurs.

Poo-hole?

Last night at the tenor/bass sectional rehearsal, the choir director commented that we were having trouble singing Wanting Memories. He said the basses sounded too woofy and the tenors sounded too tight. “You sound tight and woofy.” Result: peals of laughter from the handsome first tenor cub in the row in front of me.

“My Party” Targeting Pink Computers: I just don’t get this. How is this virus just targeting computers owned by queers? Since when are queers the only ones who have parties?

I have a friend I met two years ago who means far more to me that he will probably ever know. Whenever something goes wrong in my life, I think of him and imagine what he would say. He’s probably the wisest person I know, and he always knows what to say to cheer me up or what question to ask to lead me down the right path. I’m wondering what he would say to me if he saw me right now.

He is supportive, loving, and caring in a way I’ve never seen from anyone else. Because he lives in a far away city, I don’t see him often, and because he’s been busy, I haven’t been able to talk to him lately. I miss him.

I love him.

I’ve always thought that analyzing myself is the way to be happy: by understanding why I do things, I can figure out what I need to do to make myself a better person (by changing things I don’t like about myself, for example.) I know I have a relatively poor track record, but I figure I should keep trying. My logic is that I can’t change things unless I know what I should change. Am I right? Or is there such a thing as analyzing too much?

Sean told me tonight that I seek attention, and that I seem like I’m searching for something. I think they’re right: I do seek attention, and I am searching for something.

I think I’ve lost sight of some things that are important.

There are four types of bears:

1. The A-List bears. These are the people who have nothing going for them that other people don’t have except for the fact that they’re incredible beautiful. Actually, that’s often the only thing they have going for them. A-list bears are usually supposed to deny that they are A-list, or that there even is such a thing as an A-list, but one subgroup of the A-list group of bears in Toronto shows a strangely immodest awareness of its A-listness by calling itself “The Collective.” They say that they call themselves that because they can’t do anything without each other; it would be more accurate to say that they don’t want to be around anyone else. (Reference: So You Want to be an A-List Bear)
2. The A-List wannabes. These are the people who, usually (but not always) because they aren’t perfectly beautiful, are not part of the A-List. They try really hard in an attempt to become A-List. Unfortunately A-List positions usually only open when someone moves away or dies. These people supress all negative emotions and become blandly pleasant in an attempt to be friends with everyone. They make excuses for the exclusionary, and often rude, behaviour of members of the A-List. As a result, they are friendly to everyone, but friends with no one. They are sad, sad social butterflies who don’t realize they will never be A-List.
3. The ones who don’t know. These people are oblivious to the A-List phenomenon. They don’t realize that the reason they’re not popular is because they’re not on the A-List. They’re confused and think that they’re something wrong with them. This is enforced by apologists (most of whom are on the A-List or are wannabes) who deny that there even is an A-List.
4. The ones who don’t care. Some of us have gotten past false consciousness and realize that the A-list are a bunch of assholes. Of course, those on the A-list or those who are wannabes usually deny that there even is such a thing. When people complain about being excluded or snubbed, they react violently, claiming “Bears are all friendly. How can you say such a thing? There is no A-list! You just have poor social skills!” (Reference: The BML. Scan through the archives. Especially funny is the reaction when the “So You Want to be an A-List Bear” link was posted.)

Yesterday I visited the conservatory at Allan Gardens during my 45-minute rehearsal lunch break. I really love plants.

Last night I went on the lamest pub crawl with some friends and acquaintances. One of the stops was at Woody’s, where they were playing this totally fucked up shit on the television: a bunch of muscle twinks were swimming in what looked like a giant bird bath and splashing each other with water.

In other news, I am now a member of the Canadian Alliance: Enza Supermodel Andersen accosted me on the street and asked me to join the Canadian Alliance so I could vote for her for leader. Please don’t laugh.