Idiot Parade

Let it never be said that spring break is anything but crazy.While most stories of break adventures involve cabana boys, wet t-shirt contests, and more tequila than is advisable, my stuck-in-the-house-because-I-have-no-money break has been just as wild.

Minor things out of the way first. I have glasses now, and my first two fillings ever. I went nearly twenty-two years with perfect vision and perfect teeth, but in the words of Tyler Durden, “even the Mona Lisa’s falling apart”. Honestly, both things are good. I enjoy seeing and I enjoy not having holes in my teeth, so yay for these things.

I’m sure most of my friends and family have heard the big news by now, but in case there’s anyone out of the loop, I have a little story to share.

March 18 marked the first anniversary of my relationship with Jason. I desgined him a cute mug on Zazzle, and it was an all-around pleasant day. We saw Wolfman (I thought it was fantastic; J was less impressed. If you’re in the mood for some good old fashioned gore, give it a shot. And I mean real gore–full decaptiations, flying organs, mouthfuls of sinew. Also, Anthony Hopkins hasn’t given me the creeps like that since he ate that guy’s liver with fava beans. It’s awesome. End of film review), dorked aroud the ritzy area of the high desert (holy crap you guys, there’s a MARINA here. Like with boats and everything. It’s huge! Last aside, I promise.), and went for sushi. Lovely lovely sushi, an here I feel the need to promote Yoshi sushi because OH MY GOD. For one, they don’t cook their ungai in soy sauce, which is good for me; for two (?), I have never had better spicy tuna. It is brilliant, and made of magic and rainbows and unicorn smiles. You don’t even know.

So we get back to the house after sushi, and I’m dying for the anniversary present which Jason cruelly kept from me until that night. He grabs a gift bag and tells me to go up on the roof. We love it up there. Anyway. Once we’re up, he hands me the bag, and I’m tearing through the tissue paper, finding NOTHING, and getting a little upset with said NOTHING, until I hear Jason say “You’re so obsessed with that bag that you haven’t even noticed I’m on one knee.”

Oh yes.

THAT kind of one knee.

There was crying on both ends, and he asked me, and it was absolutely perfect. Oh, he’s a tricksy one. Distracting me with gift wrap so he could take a ring out of his pocket. You win this time, Gadget.

The wedding is a long ways off, mostly because we don’t have the money for one, but also because we’d like to keep the same anniversary. There will most likely be a handfasting at faire, so we can have all our friends with us, and still be able to have a ceremony with just family. Why have one wedding when you can have two, right?

Right now, we’re just enjoying the word ‘fiancee’ and gearing up for my graduation in June. There’s always some kind of excitement going on here. I only hope we can keep things exciting for the next eighty or so years.

I just read an article on AOL Black Voices entitled “Why are so many Black Women single?”

Some of the reasons, provided by the author of said article:

Marriage is for white people
Marriage is hazardous to the health of black women
Standards of black women are too high
The perception of black women is negative
Lack of respect in the black community between men and women
Black women should learn to date outside their race
Black women should lower their expectations and focus less on superficial qualities like looks, money, and body.
Black women need to stop having babies out of wedlock

However, none of these address what the author deems to be the real issue at hand (spelling mistakes are from the original article):

“African-american women and men are not cookie cutter figures who fit into the same mold that worked for white america. As slaves we were forced to accept the religions and practices of our white masters, even though they were foreign to us. We have been taught to prey at the alter of money and financial success, and have lost site of our true familial identity.”

I’m choosing to ignore the blatant racism there and instead share some of my own. The comment that I was going to post to the article, before Jason talked me out of doing so:

“Perhaps more black women would be able to find mates if they stopped clinging to poor speaking and writing skills that, for whatever reason, have been deemed “cultural”. I be this, he seen that, complete lack of grammar and punctuation…for the love of Pete, speak like an adult! Unless a man is looking for sex and sex only, he isn’t going to want to waste time on someone who sounds completely uneducated. Furthermore, stop blaming everything on the white man. Everyone has oppressed everyone. Africans fueled triangular trade and white Americans denied employment to the Irish. Have some self respect and take responsibility for your own actions; it’s much more attractive than someone who pins all of their problems on “the man”. And if we’re going there, shouldn’t “the man” be black now? The leader of the free world is African American…does that mean all of the poor whites can blame their problems on black society? That seems to be the tradition. Finally, any man of any race is less likely to engage in a serious relationship with a woman who already has children. Enough people have brought up the issue of welfare. Putting that aside, black women are more likely to have multiple children out of wedlock than white women are. This can be solved easily: USE A CONDOM. You can get them for free. Most cities have a Planned Parenthood office–GO THERE. All comes back to taking responsibility for your actions. If you want the fairy tale, don’t be an idiot. Get an education, figure out what you want in a partner (NOT a baby-daddy), and then procreate. I promise, it works out well that way.”

Any thoughts to add?

I always like reading these about other people, and because I have some time to kill, I’m hoping those other people feel the same way.

1. I am a sucker for the cheapass mall carnivals. The ones that’re set up in the parking lot in a matter of days, with the stunningly unsafe rides and quasi-carnies that aren’t even real honest-to-god creepy carnies, just some bums that were picked up off the street and needed a day’s work. Those carnivals rock. There’s one at our local mall, and I’m just dying to go.

2. Question posed on Mark and Brian a few days ago: If you could live the life of any tv character, who would that be? For me, it’s a toss-up between Kaylee Frye (Firefly) and Harriet Hayes (Studio 60). Kaylee never says a bad word against anybody, she can forgive anything, and I wish I could be more like that. I would really like to be more of a Pollyanna. Plus, I’ve never been good with anything mechanical, which is one of my biggest regrets. Harriet…she’s a brilliant comedienne, and if she were real, she’d be my role model. A sucessful woman in Hollywood who is both funny and beautiful and manages to stick to her moral code. It’s a rare thing, and a trait to be admired.

3. I have never seen any of the Rocky films. I have no desire to see them. I’m sure they’re as groundbreaking as everyone says, but I just can’t stand Stallone. He pisses me off. I have no idea why. I see him on screen, and I immediately tense up. Something about him just irks me. I just barely stomached him in Demolition Man, and I credit that to the crazy glee that I feel whenever I see Denis Leary. God, how I love that angry Irish man.

4. I am obsessive about greeting cards. I’ve been known to spend over an hour in Hallmark looking for the perfect one that expresses my feelings exactly. I used to think that it was sweet, but it suddenly dawned on me that I do things like this with song lyrics and poems. For whatever reason, I feel more comfortable emotionally exposing myself by using other people’s words. What’s up with that?

5. I want to look like Julia Roberts. Yes, there are other, much more beautiful women in Hollywood. I don’t care. Julia Roberts reminds me of sunshine. I adore her; I always will.

All for now. Need Trigun and cheesecake.