I’ve spent a mere two weeks’ worth of time in San Francisco in the last year, and it feels more like home to me than Los Angeles does.
Please stop making me, and people like me, into a “social issue.” I do my part every day to help make this world a better place, I have a job and pay my taxes, and through it all, I harm no one.
I’ve noticed that you spend an awful lot of time thinking about homosexuality. More time, I think, than any openly gay person spends thinking about it (when I was in the closet, I thought about it all the time, too; it makes one wonder…). You seem threatened by our confidence, our honesty about who we love, and our freedom of spirit.
Kindly cease and desist any and all efforts to maintain gay people’s second-class citizen status. If that’s too much to ask, then go fuck yourselves.
Today was my first day on the job, and I’m dead. In the space of one day, I’ve aged like 60 years, which means I curse and swear up a storm (more so than usual) like a crotchety old coot and then, at 10:30, I promply fall asleep.
Let the fun begin.
I feel I should apologize for the gratuitous taco porn. I didn’t mean to render all of your dinners irrelevant. But OM NOM NOM NOM NOM!!!
And thus far have succeeded in cutting off several people in traffic and also kicking a water bowl for some dogs at Starbucks. On a roll, I am.
Turns out what really sold me on it, besides the pool for swimming laps, was how high-tech all the equipment is. So even though I’m all scurrrred and everything, the base stations for my iPod on the treadmills should help keep my screams of terror (re: this whole exercise thing) to a minimum.
Early to rise, I drove him to the airport, and he’s almost home. I miss him already.