End of Year Meme.

1. What did you do in 2004 that you'd never done before?
I beat someone up. Two people, actually, but I didn't mention the second weakling yet.

2. Did you keep your New Year's resolutions, and will you make more for next year?
I didn't make any last year, because I thought I was perfect the way I was. How wrong of me.

5. What countries did you visit?
None.

6. What would you like to have in 2005 that you lacked in 2004?
I could really use a boyfriend, but I'm sure you're all sick of listening to me bitch about that. I could use some money, as I'm a poor college student with an addiction to that VH1 big-spender show.

7. What dates from 2004 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?
The time I had dinner with Anna and friends, going to school and getting 2 great roommates, the first time someone linked this site, that silly little election, that god-awful pride celebration, and lots of moping about. Keeping this blog sure does make answering that question easy.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
I have no idea.

9. What was your biggest failure?
The person from whom I stole this meme wrote "my life." While that's a bit too much of a cry for help in my opinion, I'm going to say that life is my biggest failure. Or not getting enough money from FAFSA.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?
I still have an anxiety disorder, and I have been known to be moody at times.

11. What was the best thing you bought?
I have a cd player in the shower, and it's hella tight. I also bought a journal that's pretty sweet.

12. Whose behavior merited celebration?
I love my roommate as much as possible without it turning into a bad erotic story from nifty.

13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?
I don't think I blogged about this, but one of my suitemates (the New York Jew) was voted out of the room. He's probably the worst person I know, but I don't know how to tell the story of it and maintain a shred of partiality.

14. Where did most of your money go?
The dorms, college. Especially since FAFSA is run by morons who forgot about me.

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?
I really wanted Kerry to win, and the Marriage Amendment to fail.

16. What song will always remind you of 2004?
Northern Lad, by Tori Amos. I went through a phase in high school where she was my favorite artist, but then it waned. Now it's resurging.

17. Compared to this time last year, are you:
i. happier or hardened?
Hardened. I've finally recovered from having my heart broken.

ii. thinner or fatter?
Fatter, but that's because one year ago I wasn't eating.

iii. richer or poorer?
Stupid question. I'm in college. What's poorer than being poor?

18. What do you wish you'd done more of?
I wish I'd studied more. I wish I'd gone out more and made at least one friend who's gay at Madison.

19. What do you wish you'd done less of?
I wish I didn't procrastinate as much. I wish I'd spent less Saturday nights alone in my room reading blogs and watching bad television.

20. How will you be spending/how did you spend Christmas?
Disgruntled and with the family.

23. Any one-night stands?
No. I'm not sure if I'm bitter about that or not.

24. What was your favorite TV program?
I adore Drawn Together. And my addiction to Date My Mom has already been mentioned.

25. Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year?
Various people in the dorm, but that's mostly because I didn't know them last year.

26. What was the best book you read?
The Kite Runner

27. What was your greatest musical discovery?
I now think I comprehend the genius that is Nina Simone. I mean, I had heard some of her stuff, but wasn't properly in awe of her talent. Barring her, I'd say Nellie McKay, even though I have a friend who went to the Manhattan School of Music with her and thinks she's a jerk.

28. What did you want and get?
Good roommates and decent classes.

29. What did you want and not get?
Scholarships. A boyfriend. A winning lotto ticket.

30. Favorite film of this year?
Angels in America

31. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?
I'll tell you what I didn't do, and that's have fun. I turned twenty.

33. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2004?
You can't go wrong with dress shirts and jeans.

34. What kept you sane?
Blogging.

36. What political issue stirred you the most?
The marriage amendment.

37. Who do you miss?
The ex.

40. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year:
"Another Saturday night and I ain't got nobody"
~Cat Stevens.

Light housekeeping.

Just to let you guys know, I do realize that there is an ongoing blood fued between this site and Mozilla. I just don't know how any magical HTML skills that serve as a band-aid, making sure the sidebars know their place and the links legible. If anyone has free time and madcap coding skillz (yes, with a z), feel free to redesign my site (according to my specifications).

Speaking of coding skills, I'm hoping to head back to school somewhere around the 12th. Since classes don't start for a week after that, I'll try keep my hands out of my pants for an afternoon and see if I can't rediscombobulate the site.

If anyone has any suggestions or things they enjoy in other people's sites and like to see here, feel free to let me know. I'm planning to add a guide to the masthead art. I also think I'm going to have a mp3 of the week feature rather than adding music to posts whenever I feel like it. Except, of course, that most people read this site at work and can't download the songs, so maybe not. If anyone has any other suggestions, drop a line or something.

Also, if you've added a link to me recently, or have noticed that you're on my kinja, rest assured, I will be adding you during the major upheaval, I swear. I just have to find a way to add people to the (already large) sidebar. One of the joys of living in a dorm the size of a breadbox is that I can read blogs from anywhere in the room, no matter what else I'm doing, so I really do keep up with everyone on the sidebar, plus those that have recently added me. It's a lot, and I don't want the links in the sidebar taking up more space the the actual posts. I'll think of something.

So that this post isn't completely tech related, feel free to read a little ditty from the archives. If you haven't read it, it's new to you!

Thanksgiving Story

N.B. I meant to post this story a month ago, but somehow it got lost in the archives. Since I didn't have time to flesh out a good Christmas story, I figured I'd let this little post see the light of day, even if it is a month past due.


Normally, I don't mind growing up Unitarian Universalist. Unlike most of my friends, I really enjoy the church in which I was raised. I always enjoyed going to Sunday School, and when I take tests like What Religion Are You?, I turn out to be UU most of the time. I mean, I went to my first gay marriage when I was five, and didn't even realize that gay couples weren't acceptable until third grade. This is the kind of church I enjoy. Well, usually, at least.


My sister's best friend's mom was in charge of the church Thanksgiving potluck this year. Through a series of whiny women, the mom forced her daughter to go, and her daughter whined until my sister went, and my sister whined until the entire family went.

Now, most people spend Thanksgiving with their families. It's a given. Even the most trailer-trash of humans put on their best Norman Rockwell and survive the meal. If you're not spending the holiday with your family, chances are, there was a major schism between you and your family. I know that Christmas is a popular time for suicides, but I'm willing to bet that Thanksgiving is up there, too.

In case you haven't caught on to my Thanksgiving story, I had to spend my Thanksgiving with whiny, overweight lesbians (is that redundant?) who were rejected from their own family and had no where else to go.



I hate Thanksgiving.

Copying AIM Conversations for fun and profit!

Her: What are you up to?
Me: I'm at home, chillin
Her: Like a villain?
Me: No
Me: Like a vaudevillian Castillian riding a million Brazilians using a vermillion pillion in a pavilion.
Me: Bitch.

Now this is what I call a holiday.

My two younger sisters realized sometime this weekend, between visits to grandparents and aunts, that they had slept in their own beds this entire year, save a church sleepover. (We forewent a vacation this year when my parents went on a cruise to celebrate their 25th anniversary.) After complaining a bit, they managed to convince my dad to let them tag along on a quick business trip my dad needs to make. They're staying in the state, so I think they're mostly going to stay in a hotel and play in the pool. It's not exactly a popular tourist destination.

The point is, I have the house to myself until Wednesday night. I have a few hours of babysitting so I couldn't go along. Shucks, really. Now I have the house all to myself.

I awoke for last minute instructions (garbage on Tuesday, library books need returning) at the ungodly hour of 7. Instead of going to bed, I treated myself to a little bit of holiday goodness.

I took my sister's DVD/TV combo into the bathroom and set it up on the toilet. I then proceeded to take a two hour bubble bath while watching the second DVD of the fifth season of Sex and the City. My mom is on a diet, so the Christmas gift of chocolates sent from work were devoured during the bath, and my sister's new $60 facial scrub from Santa "acccidentally" found itself opened and slathered on my face.

Now THIS is what I call a holday.

And I do mean the ONLY thing.

The only good thing about living at home during winter break is that I can stick my body pillow in the dryer before I go to bed, and then pretend that the pillow is emanating body heat, like the imaginary hot boy I pretend it to be.


Man it's going to be a long winter break.

Too much information?

Doesn't you want to just cum all over his face?


I know I do.


His name is Dave Karger, and there aren't any better pictures of him available online. He looks much better on tv, trust me. He writes articles for Entertainment Weekly occasionally, and hosted the latest episode of Reel Comedy (on Life Aquatic).

It was all I could do to keep myself from tossing my rocks off on the television screen.



Ok, maybe not, but I like to hyperbolize.

Can you keep a secret?

My roommate, being finished with finals, boarded a plane home yesterday morning. Last night, because his bed is at a better angle to watch tv, I spent most of the evening in his bed, watching the Graham Norton Christmas special on Comedy Central and went throug the motion of opening textbooks in an ostensible attempt at studying. In fact, I ended up sleeping in his bed, in his sheets, his blankets, his pillows, everything.

I awoke this morning with a smile; sleeping in another man's scent really hit the spot. I know I always say that I'm going to stop harping on this, but it's been a while, and waking up with another man's scent lingering in the sheets made me almost think that there was another guy in the bed with me. I moved my body pillow to his bed too, which helped. Not that his bed smelled of sex, mind you--this may be creepy, but I know better not to get my rocks off on his stuff.



Now, you have to promise not to tell my roommate that I slept in his bed. Sure, I sexually harass him all the time, and threaten to touch him in his sleep if he's mean to me, but I think this would actually cross the line from jocular ribbing to just plain creepy.

Again, too lazy for an actual post.

This comic sums up my feelings right about now.

A Softer World


(It's also been my away message for the past while, for those of you who asked.)

Coffee: Opiate of the Masses

In honor of finals week, a cartoon, gakked from toothpaste for dinner.





Also, I spent far too much time last night compiling a list of my favorite moments from the Smiths/Morrissey songs, which can be found here.

Studying for finals is SO overrated.

Another Saturday (Morn) and I Ain't Got Nobody

Yes, I know I am jumping the gun a bit by posting this song a few hours early, but I'm a realist.

Another Saturday Night mp3

Another Saturday night and I ain't got nobody
I've got some money 'cause I just got paid
Now, how I wish I had someone to talk to
I'm in an awful way

Cat Stevens is awesome.

First Words

Have you guys seen Date My Mom, the most addictive thing to hit late-night MTV since Undressed? A guy has to choose a girlfriend after going on a date with her mom, who tells all sorts of embarrassing stories, acts like a moron, and creeps out the potential boyfriend. It's great, and it's on all the time on MTV; it's just that we're all night-owls who are taking a break from studying for finals, and apparently our room is the place to be. Probably because the roommate and I are studs.

Inspired by the show, during a commerical break we started discussing our first words. There were a lot of boring responses like Mama or Bye, so let's just forget about those.

One girl was a bit of a 'round' baby, and everyone always used to say "My, what a heavy baby" whenever she was picked up.

One day, someone picked her up and little baby responded with "Hea-vy beebee."




Now it's on to my first word. I swear to god that I am not making this up.

My mom would often bring toys or something into the kitchen so she could keep an eye on me while cooking. We don't have a kitchen that opens into a dining room or breakfast nook or anything; it's pretty much just a kitchen. I'd just be there, sitting in my high chair or bumbling about. My mom would often read a book to me while cooking, or just talk to me.

Being in the kitchen, she'd have to remind me that the oven was not something to touch, in case I ever got too close.

One day, when the oven wasn't on, my mom set me on the counter, next to the oven, and my little curious self must have touched the oven when it wasn't on. I put my hand on the burner, touched my chest, and said my first word.

"Hot"



God I was so cool as a baby.

Even though it's Thursday, it's still Humpday.

It has recently come to my attention that I don't near talk enough about sex. Or rather, when I do, it's whining about how I never get any. And that gets old, fast.

Which, of course, poses a quandary: how am I supposed to join the big leagues of the gay blogosphere without talking constantly about sex or posting half-naked pictures of male models and/or myself? (Not that there's anything wrong about that.)

I mean, I do fine when it comes to stats. Really, I do. But fine isn't enough. You've got to keep on reaching for the gold. I must fight and claw my way onto the top of the blogs.

While I'm not going to post any NSFW pictures of myself anytime soon, I will give a little insight into what trips my trigger, chokes my cherry, yanks my yahoo, and kicks up my notch. You get the idea.

(This is the part where if your boss is reading this over your shoulder, you should probably exit your browser, or if you know me in real life to tactfully cease reading.)

Which brings me to a new site that I found, via Queerclick. I fucking love this.

Reluctant Young Men

It's a website selling fetish videos, but I don't know if I'd call them fetish videos. They're amateur videos, featuring gay and straight young guys in tickle torture, teasing, milking and cum control.

The faces that the guys make on that site are fucking hot.


(Would it be presumptuous of me to mention that Christmas is coming up?)

I fucking love watching faces during sex. It's probably my favorite aspect of porn. I'll often fast-forward to the end, or only download the last 15 second clip, where it shows cumshots. I don't think the cumshots are that great; I mean, truth be told, I'm a shooter, and I usually make more of a mess than the guys on the screen. I'm all about the facial expressions. I can't describe it. It's like they've lost control and give themselves in to the pleasure.

Even when I was having sex, if memory serves me correctly, my favorite positions were the ones that involved looking at the other guy's face for most of it. Sure, I enjoy kissing during sex as much as the next guy, but it's the facial expressions that do me in. Literally.

Speaking of back in the day, when I was having sex, once I was milked for like, 45 minutes and it was the best orgasm of my life. I was even commended about my facial expressions after that bout. God I fucking loved that, and it's just not something you can do yourself. Well, you can, but it's not the same.

Along these same lines, I put a new masthead into rotation a few days ago. Refresh the page until you see the portrait of the guy against a red background about to cum. It's by David Romero, from a series entitled "Portraits Made at the Moments of Orgasm."

It's hot.

Now show me on the teddy bear where the bad man touched you

Roommate: I'm bored. There's nothing to do.
Me: We could always make out.
Roommate: Uh, no.
Me: Well, I'm out of ideas.

High atop my New Years Resolutions list should be to stop sexually harassing my roommate so much.

Yeah, like that'll ever happen.


At least my roommate realizes that he doesn't always have the most enlightened views towards women, and that my harassment counts as karmic retribution. Now he knows what it's like to be treated as a sex object that guys want to molest.

Put out an APB on this guy!

Your Perfect Man appears strong-willed and self-confident to strangers. With his friends and family he is loving and trusting. In situations of conflict he is fair-minded and willing to compromise. He is broadminded and tolerant.

Career wise your Perfect Man is daring and prepared to take risks. He is intelligent and intellectual but can sometimes lack imagination. He is will probably have a career in the fields of media or art.

Your Perfect Man is reliable and conscientious and will be a faithful partner. As far as communication is concerned your Perfect Man should be a diplomat he’s so good at keeping the peace! He tends to rush into commitment at a young age but may not find his true soul mate until later in life. He is usually a considerate and conservative lover.

He's not really a looker now, is he?

You know, like the "Real" Gilligan's Island?

I feel as though I'm on some sort of reality program, like The "Real" Twilight Zone.

See, I came back to my dorm Saturday night, finding a rousing game of beer pong in process in our kitchen/dining room. One of the gayest songs on earth, Rufus Wainwright's Instant Pleasure (MP3), was playing over the speakers. They didn't take that song from my cd, but rather one of the overweight straight guys already owned it and put that on the playlist. Even more shocking, a handful of them were singing along, loud and drunkenly, to this song.

It was really fucking weird, and I spent the rest of the night looking for hidden cameras and Rod Serling's zombie stepping out from behind the shower curtain.

"Imagine, if you will, a world where frat boys spontaneously sing musicals and gay folk songs and gay men punch overweight guys when they get in the way."

Because I did.

Oi.

This is, unexpectedly, the second post of today. I suppose I could hold off on writing this until Monday, but it's a topic heavy on my mind this afternoon and I'd rather get this out so I can stop obsessing over it.

Between classes this morning, my mother called to tell me the news: my grandmother and (step)grandfather (mentioned here) have excommunicated a fourth of the family because of their "unChristianlike" lifestyles. They are out of the will, their children will no longer receive Christmas or birthday gifts, they are off of the Christmas card list, they've been removed from the "In case of emergency, contact" cards, everything. They prayed to God and made their decision.

This stems from one of their granddaughters recent marriage. Not only was it to a black man, but the service was held in Florida, where she goes to school, he is stationed in the air force, and where they live. The grandparents are upset that they didn't take the extended families into account when they got married, saying that the college student and army private should have paid for the family's airfare to the wedding, or should have moved the wedding back to Wisconsin. Not only that, but when my grandparents went to the wedding, they felt that God wasn't mentioned enough during the service for the union to be sacred. Couple this with the family's decision to go to a church with a gay pastor and a bumper sticker criticizing the Pentagon ("What if schools had all the money they needed and the Pentagon had to hold a bake sale to buy a warhead") and you've got yourselves a bunch of Satan-worshipping heathens who are off the family tree.

Now, I've never been baptized. Neither have my sisters. My nuclear family are the unChristians in the bunch, married, born and raised in the most liberal church possible, with a lesbian in charge of Sunday School and regular anti-war protests. As a result, we don't really associate much with that side of the family. We never really thought this sort of mentality would affect us, but I guess we were wrong.

Of course, I'm worried, because my (step)cousin lives two floors down, and while he seems like he's fine with my whole preoccupation with sexing up hot guys, I'm just hoping that he doesn't let it slip during Christmas dinner, or that while his parents are visiting I don't accidentally make out with a guy in the hallway. (Not that it's likely that that'll happen, but I still have hope.)

There's a lot more to be said about the subject, but I'm going to hold off on that for a while. Hopefully just getting that off of my chest will be enough.

How True!

You are a talentless hack who can't think of
anything else to blog about and so you feel the
need to throw up one of these stupid fucking
quizzes.


What Stupid Fucking Quiz Are You?

So addictive

Now, my city isn't large enough to have a Craigslist, which is probably a good thing. I spend enough time trolling around that site just for the sheer voyeuristic awesomeness of it without worrying that I'll be called out for scratching myself on the way to class or staring too much at that hot guy in my AmLit class.

To make up for our lack of craiglist, one of the school newspapers runs a "shoutout" column every Wednesday. It's pretty much the same thing as craigslist, only better. Like grouphug, there's no way to identify or contact the poster, which means they are more risque and voyeristic. They are marvellously addictive.

There are hundreds of shoutouts submitted every week, but only thirty or so are printed in the actual newspaper. The rest can be found online. This week, I submitted two shoutouts that made it into the paper. I am so awesome.

My roommate is awesome. He bags more bitches in a month than I have in my entire life. I wish that he would tutor me, except that would probably get pretty damn awkward, since I like the cock and he doesn't.

---

Just because you're hooking up with my suitemate doesn't mean you can steal our milk. Two gallons in three days? Get your damn legs out of the air and go to the stupid store, you fat cow.

God, I love shit like this.

Conversation edited for clarity.

From a recent AIM conversation with my friend Kat:

Kat: I think you are just too odd to date, Bob. Meeting you is like inviting a haughty text book into conversation. You are bad at faking, you are straight forward, and you are smart.... in college (in Madison) that is like inviting a heavy weight to bed.
Kat: You are too hip for college sex.

I don't know how much I believe her, but it's been over a year, and I'll take any explanation that doesn't involve me thinking I'm an unattractive jerk.

I am mere mortal and he

he is firetruck red
firecrackers lit at dawn
a flittering floating diamond against
the gold of forgotten stars

he is bursts of Technicolor brilliance
a blinding, winding skirmish with
washed out watercolors
wiped like tablas rasa

he is cursive calligraphy
a nimble, limber hovering of lust
throwing himself at blank verse
and blank stares

he is silhouettes of snow flakes
smiling first graders on snow days
and hot fudge sundaes

he is erotic dreams and laurel wreaths
religious beliefs and brass rings
and he will always be just out of reach

2 mp3s in today's post

Remember that cute straight boy whom I occasionally fawned over? Well, he still exists, and he still is pretty.

He's on the committee to decide which bands come to play on campus, and this weekend he managed the local Hardcore festival, and somehow managed to convince me to come along.

Now, I'm no stranger to the hardcore scene. My best friend's friend (she could also be classified as my friend, I suppose, but she lived about 30 miles away and we never really hung out) was a major player in the local hardcore scene, and I've attended my fair share of shows.

Now, there may be a few of you thinking to yourselves, "You're from the middle of Wisconsin. You don't have real punks," to which I reply "That just means that we have more to rebel against, bitch!"

For my more adventurous readers, here's an mp3 of a similar band to those that played this weekend. Actually, this band is probably a bit too... soft to have played in the concert this week, but I figured that if I'm going to post music that no one is going to enjoy, it might as well be by a gay band. Keeping it in the family, or something.

I love hardcore boys, I love boys hardcore.mp3 by LimpxWrist

You can imagine how out of place I felt.

Except! Remember the poem I wrote with the line about making out with boys in the front row of mosh pits?

That was smart of me.

I'd forgotten how pretty underweight boys with unkempt hair and hoodies can be. There were so many pretty boys standing around the outer rim of the mosh pit. I enjoyed the eye candy much more than the music, let me tell you.

Of course, I should mention that emo/punks don't always have the best hygiene, and that the entire audience smelled. I tend to believe that the pretty boys smell wonderful, and it is all of those scary beasts in the mosh pit who smell rancid, but there's no way for me to prove that. The smell of BO, blood, and vomit doesn't exactly trip my trigger, so there was no making out in the mosh pit for me.

Actually, I didn't talk to any of the pretty boys in hoodies, because I'm a pansy like that. I don't meet people well, as I've stated earlier, and I try to stay away from drunk overweight guys with dog collars and mohawks.

There's a chance that you guys might actually enjoy this second mp3. The song is about not going out often because people are stupid. It could be my theme song. Or something.

Trouble with Public Places by Cadallaca.

mix cd for my friend anna. lowercase letters are fun.

1. julie london- blues in the night
2. nina simone- funkier than a mosquito's tweeter
3. fleetwood mac- go your own way
4. bright eyes- bowl of oranges
5. the decemberists- shiny
6. the postal service- we will become silhouettes
7. custom- hey mister
8. prince- ballad of dorothy parker
9. tv on the radio- robots
10. hawksley workman- striptease
11. ted leo and the pharmicists- timorous me
12. ted leo and the pharmicists- ballad of the sin-eater
13. bright eyes- the city has sex
14. dresden dolls- coin-operated boy
15. george clinton- count funkula
16. scala- teenage dirtbag
17. the shins- young pilgrims
18. one line drawing- crush on everyone
19. american beauty main theme

I am TEH GOTHEXXOR!!

(This list is taken directly a Christian Family Website. You bold the bullet points that apply to you, and then see whether Satan has taken ahold of your life.)


Listed below are some warning signs to indicate if your child may have gone astray from the Lord.

-Frequently wears black clothing.

-Wears band and/or rock T-shirts.

-Wears excessive black eye makeup, lipstick or nailpolish.

-Wears any odd, silver jewelry or symbols. Some of these include: reversed crosses, pentagrams, pentacles, ankhs or various other Satanic worshipping symbols.

-Shows an interest in piercing or tattoos.

-Listens to gothic or any other anti-social genres of music. (Marilyn Manson claims to be the anti-Christ, and publicly speaks against the Lord. Please discard any such albums IMMEDIATELY.)

-Associates with other people that dress, act or speak eccentrically.

-Shows a declining interest in wholesome activities, such as: the Bible, prayer, church or sports.

-Shows an increasing interest in death, vampires, magic, the occult, witchcraft or anything else that involves Satan.

-Takes drugs.

-Drinks alcohol.

-Is suicidal and/or depressed.

-Complains of boredom.

-Sleeps too excessively or too little.

-Is excessively awake during the night.

-Dislikes sunlight or any other form of light. (This pertains to vampires promoting the idea that His light is of no use.)

-Demands an unusual amount of privacy.

-Spends large amounts of time alone.

-Requests time alone and quietness. (This is so that your chid may speak to evil sprits through meditation.)

-Insists on spending time with friends while unaccompanied by an adult.

-Disregards authority figures; teachers, priests, nuns and elders are but a few examples of this.

-Misbehaves at school.

-Misbehaves at home.

-Eats excessively or too little.

-Eats Goth-related foods. Count Dracula cereal is an example of this.

-Drinks blood or expresses an interest in drinking blood. (Vampires believe this is how to attain Satan. This act is very dangerous and should be stopped immediately.)

-Watches cable television or any other corrupted media sources. (Ask your local church for proper programs that your child may watch.)

-Plays videos games that contains violence or role-playing nature.

-Uses the Internet excessively and frequently makes time for the computer.

-Makes Satanic symbols and/or violently shakes head to music.

-Dances to music in a provocative or sexual manner.

-Expresses an interest in sex.

-Is homosexual and/or bisexual.

-Pursues dangerous cult religions. Such include: Satanism, Scientology, Philosophy, Paganism, Wicca, Hinduism and Buddhism.

-Wears pins, stickers or anything else that contains these various phrases: "I'm so gothic, I'm dead", "woe is me", "I'm a goth".

-Claims to be a Goth.

If five or more of these apply to your child, please intervene immediately. The gothic culture is dangerous and Satan thrives within it. If any of these problems persist, enlist your child into your local mental health center.

Mark My Words

Last Tuesday, before break, I had to awake at the ungodly hour of 9 o'clock to register for classes. I'm pretty sure I'm pleased with the results, though I won't be able to say for sure until January and I'm able to check out the professors. All of my professors rate at least a 4 on ratemyprofessors.com, but you know what? I don't think that will matter.


I have the gayest schedule possible.


Next semester, I will be taking a Creative Writing class (with an emphasis in poetry), a Western Culture class, Gay and Lesbian Studies, Comedic Drama, and a Mythology class. I'm also on the wait list for the Intro to Musical Theatre seminar.


I am going to be the best homosexual you know.