A ramble with Fawn

Me: I am standing next to a Jillian Michaels display and all I keep thinking about is her face buried in pussy. Is that weird?

Fawn: Well she is a lesbian for one and two she's ugly. Though I wouldn't mind having her body from the neck down. Just not her ugly mug.

Me: I kind of like her face.

Fawn: I think she is ugly.

Me: Too each their own? She does have pretty eyes and lips. And I want her boobs.

Fawn: From the neck down everything is fine.

Me: Yeah. I'd fuck her.

A few moments later

Me: My hands smell like scrotum. I haven't even played with balls today! O.o

Fawn: Yeah because everyone should handle someone elses balls at least once a day, twice if it's with a stranger on a train, plane or in a taxi.

Me: Exactly!

A few more moments later

Me: So I'm thinking of opening a haberdashery.

Fawn: You say that as I'm sitting here drawing some dress designs.

Me: Nice! See, it's meant to be. Plus, ___________ has a severe lack of good old fashioned haberdasheries anyway.

Fawn: Hahaha you sell buttons and zippers and fabric and thread and I'll sell shoes, handbags, jewelry and clothing.

Me: And hats too!

Fawn: Yeah! I'm actually seriously thinking about fashion design.

Me: Okay! Let's do it!! :)

Fawn: Haha you say this and you don't even know if you like my designs.

Me: Well I figure I'll have some designs too. :D We'll offset each other.

A few more moments later

Me: I've had 8 Jillian Michaels starring at me all day and it is starting to creep me out. Also, sexual subliminal messaging. "Eat this product and this blonde girl will suck your dick." I'm taking a picture when I get off work.

And here are the pictures!

Does she seem a little overly excited about that protein bar or is it just me?



Too many!! It gets disconcerting after four or five hours...

It could happen to you.

Many of you, I'm sure, are wondering why I keep "harping" on the topic of Equal rights for Homosexuals, Bisexuals, Transgenders and Heterosexuals. The reason for this is because it is very close to my heart. Not just because I'm bisexual.

I come from a family where Homosexuality is actually a statistic. 1 in 3 children on my mother's side of the family is homosexual. I've grown up surrounded by people who were homosexual and you know they are the most loving and wonderful people I've ever met!

Dick
I had a homosexual great-uncle on my Grandpa's side (my mother's father), who sadly passed away before I got the chance to really know him. He worked in radio, he had been in the army. He loved Audrey Hepburn. And he had a wonderful partner. I have pictures of them and myself when I was a baby.

Becky
I had a great-aunt who was a lesbian on my Grandmother's side (my mom's mom), who also passed away, very recently. She was in the air force when she was young. She was a wild child who loved her family very much. She was a funny dancer and had a great sense of humor. I have pictures of her and Hannah (when Hannah was two or so) dancing at a cousin's wedding.

Janice
I have another great-aunt who is a lesbian (on my Grandmother's side). She has been with her partner for longer than I have been alive. They have always been there for one another and, though they are conservative in their public displays of affection, anyone who has been around them for very long can tell that they love each other. That they have always loved each other. I have pictures of us playing together, along with me crawling into their dog, Posha's house.

Kevin
And lastly, I have another great-uncle (also on my Grandmother's side). He is funny and wears some inappropriate "Gumby" t-shirts. He took care of Becky, his sister, right up until the end. He and the rest of my family have always worked together, no matter the disagreements, no matter the disputes. Because we are a family!

We are not any less just because we happen to love someone of the same sex. We do not deserve to fight and die for a country that refuses to give us the same rights! We deserve to get married and have spousal rights and be in love with who we want to be in love with.

Which brings me to why I am talking about this today.

I was on Facebook and one of my girlfriends posted the following link and I clicked on it.

http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/452010736/bridegroom-an-american-love-story

And what I found made me want to cry and made me feel sick and made me angry. It also made me think and it made me wonder.

I have been surrounded by homosexuality my whole life. I have family that I love dearly (even though we don't get to see each other as much as we would like) who are homosexual or bisexual. I have so many friends that I couldn't possibly live without who are homosexual or bisexual. What happens if they are in a committed relationship and something happens? What happens to them because they have no legal rights? What happens?

This is the full video as posted by Shane about the love of his life, Tom Bridegroom. And this is what happens if you have no legal rights regarding the person you love.




This is a very powerful story, and very sad. You may disagree with what someone chooses to do with their life, but it is THEIR life, not yours. And they deserve the same rights and freedoms you have.

So I am asking you, please, if you have ever loved someone who was Homosexual, Bisexual, Transgendered OR even Heterosexual (because this is a story that affects us all) watch (and re-watch) those videos and then make the decision of whether you are willing to help out.
 
For those of you who are wondering, yes, I did pledge some money as a backer. I wouldn't ask anyone to pledge money to a cause I, myself, had not pledged something to. I didn't pledge much, because I am poor, but what I gave was from the heart and that is all that matters in the end.
 
I want to see this film in the fall, and if we raise enough awareness that can be a reality.

I want to see my family and friends happily married even though they love someone of the same gender. Even though they love someone of a different color. Even though they love someone of a different religion. Love is love.

Equal Love, Equal Rights.

The Golden Man.

Dear ____,

I keep telling myself that I will stop missing you, stop writing you. I tell myself that I never really loved you and you never really loved me. It doesn't make anything hurt less, it doesn't change how I feel. No matter what I do, I keep thinking about you. I miss you. I wish things had been different.

I was seventeen. I had just gotten out of a bad relationship. I had finally broken up with the Edward in my life. My home life was deteriorating. I was losing faith in God, in religion, in love. I was wilting, like a forgotten flower in a too sunny window.

And you came in to my picture. You came into the darkness and pulled me out. Or so I thought.

I had a crush on you. You were so smart, strong and funny. You were sweet and wonderful, it was easy to fall for you. I didn't even have to try. But you had a wife and I valued our friendship too much to say anything. Not that you couldn't see it written all over my face. I can say I never tried to take you from her. I am still her friend, though I still feel the shame bubbling up in my cheeks sometimes when I talk to her.

I worshiped you. I adored you. I loved you. I wrote so many poems in your honour, though I have often said I would not waste another verse on you. I say I will not waste another tear in your name.

I keep thinking back to when I told you that I had a crush on you. You said you had already known. I blushed because I couldn't believe I had been so obvious.

I told you that I wanted to have sex. You said you would ruin me for other men. I told you I wanted to be ruined. Sometimes when I think about that I know you ruined me anyway.

I can still feel your fingers tracing the soft part of my neck up to my ear and back down as I was trying to write that mythology I was creating. I had dedicated a character to you. The most beloved man created by the Gods and Goddesses of my world. I called you Zimri. How fitting that, in the Bible, Zimri is a traitor and the name itself means "my song" (Or mountain sheep, but that fits less perfectly.)

I remember how strongly I wanted to kiss you. I remember making you blush, twice, and marveling at my ability. I remember how badly I wanted you, while feeling the guilt creeping around the edges. Your wife. Your son and your daughter. Your life that I was so desperately wanting to be a part of.

I was seventeen, though, ____! You should've resisted me, should've told me no. Told me that it was inappropriate. Why didn't you? Was I Lolita, seducing you away from God and family?

I blame myself for inviting you to the prom. I blame myself for asking you to go with me. I wish I'd never gone. I wish I'd never said anything. But I wanted that experience. I wanted to experience prom, to experience a dance. It was my first dance and I was so excited to be dancing with you. I remember all the moves we created for "Beep" by the Pussycat Dolls. Sometimes, when I'm reminiscing, I play it. I dance and I think about you.

Sometimes I look at the pictures from that night. The night we stopped being friends. The night we became something more than friends, but less than lovers.

I abandoned you when you said you were leaving her. When you said you no longer believed in God. I was afraid, more than anything. And I was angry. I don't even know why I was so angry. I know I felt ashamed and betrayed for everything that happened between us. But that wasn't the reason I stopped talking to you. You had left me, now you were abandoning God and family. The whole time that I knew it could never be, even when I was hoping it would be, I prayed you would stay married. I prayed you would stay with your wife. I prayed I would forget you.

My prayers were for nothing. I still lost you.

The wound still aches every now and then. It still throbs. I still dream about you. I still miss you. I still love you. The truth of the matter is that I always will.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry I had to remove you from my life. I wish I hadn't, now. But where would we be? You wouldn't have come back to me. You wouldn't have fulfilled my dream. You couldn't. We couldn't

Some days, I admit, I still want you. I am comfortable admitting that. I wouldn't do anything now, because I am happily married, but I still wonder.

I think my problem is that I wonder if you still think about me. I just want to know that you miss me too. And I don't know why I want to know that. Do you ever think about me? Do you ever miss me? Do you ever want me still? I wish you would message me. Just once, let me know that you still love me like you said you always would. Even though we still can't be. Even though I shouldn't let you back in.

Darling, I miss you, but this is another in a series of confessions I've written on my way to letting you go. I won't e-mail you. I won't message you on Facebook. I won't try, though I want to sometimes. I will eventually come to terms with this.

In the meantime, I hope you are doing well. I hope you are happy and healthy. I hope all sorts of beautiful hopes for you.

Love,
Sarai

A Rocky Road to Hoe.

I have a sincere question:

What the fuck does it matter if President Obama is Muslim, Christian, black or white? Do those things define him as a human being? NO!

You know what defines him as a human being?

His being. His living and breathing. Him being the man that governs us.

He may not do everything right. He may not be the most amazing president ever. Every HUMAN makes mistakes.

He should still be respected. He should still be treated like any other human being.

Besides that, tell me where in the Constitution it says he has to be a Christian? Tell me where it bars people of other faiths from being President. Didn't we come to this land for religious freedom? So religious freedom is for everyone who believes what is acceptable? For only those who believe in Christianity? Fuck that!


I'm done. I'm tired of it. I'm tired of hearing all this bullshit. I'm done.

The Velvet Goldmine

When I was younger I used to babysit my cousins all the time. I didn't mind this because I could watch what I wanted on TV after they went to sleep and I had an available assortment of snacks and what not at my Aunt's. It is on one such evening of babysitting that I discovered a movie called "Velvet Goldmine."

I didn't actually watch the whole thing at the time. Just bits and pieces of it. I couldn't get into it and, admittedly, the only reason I watched it was for promised sex scenes. I was approximately sixteen so I hadn't really figured sex out just yet. I was, however, overtly curious.







The other day I was thinking about it, out of nowhere mind you, and I decided to procure a copy of it. And the other night I watched the whole thing. THE WHOLE THING.

Worst decision ever, mind you. I stayed up until after 1AM watching a movie that I really had a hard time getting into. And it wasn't that good of a movie. Personally speaking of course.

There are a few things I have figured out from this film:
1. Lady Gaga is just a copy of Brian Slade/Maxwell Demon
2. Jeffree Starr is a poor imitation of Jack Fairy.
3. Jonathan Rhys Meyers looks like Fawn when he has longer reddish hair...

The story revolves around Brian Slade, a bisexual glam-rocker in the 70's loosely based on David Bowie's Ziggy Stardust; Arthur Stuart, a British journalist, closeted homosexual and glam-rock fan; and Curt Wild, a garage band singer on the edge. Also starring: copious amounts of Homosexual and Heterosexual sex and Ewan McGregor's penis.

Of course there are a few other intriguing characters such as Mandy Slade (played by Toni Collette) and Jerry Divine (played by my favorite comedian Eddie Izzard!). But they aren't nearly as interesting as the main characters.

Overall, I didn't like the film. I didn't like how they filmed it, though it renewed my appreciation of nude Ewan McGregor and Jonathan Rhys Meyers as a whole... But that was it.

If you read the synopsis of the film it actually sounds really interesting and very psychedelic. Which it is very psychedelic. But not really in a good way.

The lines purloined from Oscar Wilde are thrown in haphazardly, dialogue is practically non-existent. The music isn't very good. The whole thing felt like it was trying really hard to be deep and intense. It came off as being faker than fake.

On a scale of 10, I would rate this a 2. Ewan's penis is about the only thing that made this for me. That and Jonathan Rhys Meyers.