Well, the heads of the AFA are currently exploding into flames, right after they had pronounced that Mitt Romney has grown horns, spouted a tail, and his legs have turned into that of a goat.
They're married.
I'm pretty sure every blogger and his mother will be posting about this or have already posted about this, so I recommend just playing with my links to your right until you find someone who's eloquent about it. I realize that when I get political, I get boring, so I'll take a pass on this.
I will say, however, that it doesn't seem to be as big of a deal. When I was flipping through channels, I didn't see any loving pictures of gays just married. I mostly saw punditry, and it wasn't as righteous or passionate as the SF marriages. I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing. I'm hoping its a good thing, because I really want to get married someday.
Well, in honor of the blessed day, I rented Trembling Before G-d, a documentary on Orthodox Jewish gays. It was pretty straight-forward (and no, that's not a pun), unfortunately. See, on the cover, there are two nice looking twenty-something jews who look like they're about to make out, but the movie is filled with, well, average-to-less than average looking overweight jews talking about how hard it was to come out. Since Wisconsin is not really known for its Jewish population, it was hard to relate or to form a frame of reference for a lot of the stories. I had hoped that cute gay boys would help regain my attention, but alas! it was not meant to be.
All right. While being politico is fine and dandy, that's not the most important thing that happened today. In fact, it almost made me re-evaluate my thoughts on God, because I don't want to live in a world where something this bad could happen to such a good person. (Note the hyperbole. I don't want to step on any religious tail here.)
I received the worst haircut of my life. We're talking god-awful, jaw-dropping, pointed whisper, grimaced expression, eye-shielding haircut.
I don't know why this is happening to me. I went in prepared and everything. I brought along a magazine with a few pictures from the John Varvatos spring collection (why yes, I do like guys--how could you tell?) and pointed at the model whose hair I wanted. It looked something like this or this. It would have been hotttt with four Ts.
Instead, the haircut made me look like Hilary Swank in Boys Don't Cry. It was not the haircut I had come in to replicate. The picture was of a hot male model, not of a transexual.
I doubt that many trans people are able to grate cheese on their stomachs, and even fewer show their lovely treasure trail while wearing a $4000 outfit.
Now don't get me wrong. Hilary Swank is a fine young actress, but she's not on my list of movie stars whom I wish to imitate fashionwise. She's not even on the top 100.
I mean, murdered transexual chic really isn't "in" at the moment.
I spent my night running around with my sister (none of my friends are allowed to see me like this!), desperately trying on hats. Stupid Ashton has made trucker hats all the rage; hence it is sooo 5 minutes ago. Plus, novelty wear really isn't my thing. I couldn't find anything, so I'm a homebody now, doomed to spend the next six weeks praying that my hair will magically heal itself.
If anyone knows any spells that will make my hair look good again, please I beg of you, get to work. If you know any hexes, please direct them to the Cutting Edge Beauty Salon.
