Don’t Change The World, Change Someone’s World

I see this a lot on animal rescue sites.  “You may not be changing the world, but you’re changing someone’s world.”  Or something along the lines of “They may be part of your world, but you’re all of their world.”

For as long as I can remember, I have wanted to change the world.  My personal philosophy is, “If you have the ability to change the world, you have an obligation to do so.”  However, when I say this, I mean positively.

 

When I was in middle and high school, I would go on mission trips.  I went to New Orleans after Katrina to gut out houses.  I went to South Dakota and worked in soup kitchens and played with disabled kids at a children’s hospital.  After school, I tutored kids who had just immigrated to Minnesota and helped them do their homework so they could be successful.  I even helped give private oboe lessons to a freshman when I was a senior, making discounted reeds for oboes so that they didn’t sound like a duck when they played.

 

For me though, this was never enough.  I kept thinking, “I’m not changing the world, I’m just doing a few good things.”

 

When I was on the speech team in high school, my last two years I was in the Original Oratory category, which is persuasive speaking.  Many of the kids in this category had similar views as I did in terms of changing the world.  However, while their speeches were more along the lines of “The News is horribly biased,” and “We should boycott Walmart.” My speech was “Being gay is genetic, stop discriminating.”  True story, it was called, “Do these genes make me look gay?”

 

Quite different, right?  I had the issue of having conservative judges who would rank me last when my content was fantastic.  While I procrastinated with some of the writing and memorizing, I still was an alternate to go to the state tournament.  I would tell people being bigoted that being hateful was counterproductive and that we should accept people for who they are.

gay flag

I was bullied as a kid and I refused to stop being super weird because I was perfect just the way I was.  Currently, I continue to be weird because I am proud to be really fucking weird.

 

However, my philosophy began to change after doing the speech about accepting LGBTQ for the way they are.

 

I had this topic the entire three month season, and my first tournament there was a girl that I was in a round with.  I don’t quite remember what her speech was about, but it was something about social injustice, just as mine was.  She was super friendly to me, she went to a rural school while I went to the largest high school in Minnesota.  She was super chill, and after that tournament, I didn’t see her again until the Sectional Tournament for the Northern Metros.

 

She was in my third round before the final round, and after I gave my (much more polished) speech, we all shook hands at the end and as I was going back to my school’s team, she tracked me down and asked to talk to me privately.

 

I remember the conversation almost verbatim, so here’s how it went.

 

“Leah, right?  I don’t know if you remember me, but we were at the St Michael’s tournament together.”

 

“Oh yeah!  How’ve you been?  Your speech was great.”

 

She smiled and continued to talk.  “I was hoping to see you since our schools didn’t really compete against each other this season, and I wanted to thank you.”  She saw my confusion and began to explain.  “You see, I’m bi and I was in the closet until after you gave your speech that first time.  For the past two years I was trying to find a way to not be bi anymore, but no matter what I was attracted to guys and girls, and my parents were really homophobic.”

 

I was stunned.  She seemed so happy whenever I saw her.  She went on.

 

“But after your speech, I got the courage to come out to my mom.  She used to say that Bi-people were just trying to slice up the pie in their favor, so to speak.  She said bis were just greedy, the worst of the gay community.  When I came out as bi, I used some of your stats and explained it to her.  It went really well.  My family accepted me so much better.  So I just wanted to say thanks.  Keep it up.”

 

We hugged and I went to my table, stunned.  I told my friends but we were all waiting to find out who would go into the final round.  Luckily, I made the final round and got fifth place, but at that moment I didn’t care.

 

I changed her world for the better.

 

I still think of that moment to make myself feel better when I feel like my life is falling to pieces.

 

In college, I saw a guy whose car broke down on the side of the road.  I picked him up, drove him to his house so he could get the stuff to put gas in his car, and he thanked me nonstop.  I ran into him a while later and he bought me coffee to say thanks.  Never saw him again.

 

Last year I let a Chinese girl who was new to the country and terrified stay in my home when I didn’t even know her.  Just so you guys know, she and I message on skype at least once a month.

 

I adopted two dogs who were at the pound.

 

When my uncle was dying, I did my best to make him comfortable and help his family.

Mark and I

I love you, Uncle Mark.  I miss you more every day.

My current job is working in a group home with people who have suffered emotional trauma.  They’re difficult at times, but I love my job and I love when I see them happy.

 

I’m not trying to get credit for being a good person. In fact, I consider myself selfish because I do all of this to make myself feel better.

 

Our world has been on the brink of destruction for thousands of years.  But a few good deeds can make all of the difference.

 

I’m not trying to change the world anymore.  I’m trying to change the world of those whose world needs changing.  And if everyone tried to do this, this world would be such a better place.

 

So I guess I still am trying to change the world.  One person at a time.

 

What good deeds do you do?  What have you done to change the world?  Let me know in the comments!

Four Years A Bride: How I Almost Died

Part 1      Part 2

After dating Alex about a month, we had already told each other the dreaded L word.  I was sleeping over at his place every day, and nights that I wasn’t at his house, we were texting each other all night because we couldn’t sleep without the other one.  When I worked on base, he would walk to my work, pick up my car, fill it up and go grocery shopping to make sure I ate my veggies.

If there was a rare occasion that we both had a day off, we spent it in his dorm room watching movies and cuddling.  I had been in love once before, but never like this.  It was intoxicating.  When we were together, I felt complete and at peace, when we were apart, I ached for him in a way I never knew a person could ache for someone.

Once a year I would fly home to Minnesota to visit my family, always on my mom’s dollar because I was poor.  She would fly me home, I’d see the dentist and any other medical check ups I needed, mom would take me clothes shopping, my friends would throw a party and we’d either get drunk or just hang out, and so on.  This trip, I remember a very distinct conversation with my mom about my relationship with Alex.

I told her that I was going to marry Alex.  I just knew that I was going to marry him.  Alex and I started joking about it after two weeks of dating, saying “if we get married.”  When the one month mark hit, we were saying “When we get married” and neither of us corrected the other.

My mom told me that I needed to wait at least six months so I could get to know him.  She said that I needed to be careful because he could be someone who is abusive, and to be fair, she made a lot of really good points.  The points she made, honestly, are points I make to people when they mention marriage after knowing someone for a year.

But I was 20 years old, I thought I knew everything.  I told her that we were going to get married probably in June, and while he hadn’t proposed yet, I knew he was thinking of doing it, he had told me as much.

But not this romantic

But not this romantic

My mom tried to talk me out of it and she said she wanted to meet him before I considered marrying him and that we should plan a trip to visit all of our families before getting married, but we lived in Alaska and he was newly enlisted, he was just as broke as I was.    But as always, my mom knew best, and her advice was really solid advice.  But I just didn’t want to listen.

I got my wisdom teeth taken out two days before I flew back to Minnesota, and the day after I was so high on pain meds that I didn’t remember my brother sitting with me on the couch singing Rocky Horror Picture Show.  Nor do I remember my step dad talking to me, or anything.  I do remember yelling at my mom that I wanted a hamburger smoothie and that I had to have Greek yogurt, to which she laughed and told me to shut the hell up.

The day I flew back to Alaska, Alex was going to meet me at the airport.  He had my car, after all.  When I landed in Fairbanks, I was still a little out of it from the meds, but I saw him at the baggage claim, standing there with a worried look on his face.  When he saw me, he opened his arms and I ran to him, refusing to let go of him.  There were a few people there cooing and awing, but we had only been apart a week, and to us, it felt like an eternity.

We got my suitcase and went back to his dorm.  We fell asleep holding hands.

The next morning I had to go back to Fairbanks to find out when I was supposed to work at the deli, and I knew that I had to work that night at the bowling alley, but I was still kind of out of it.  I had to take a Vicodin the night before and I don’t think it was completely out of my system.  I was also jet lagged.  That day, it was mid-January and it was -44 outside with drifting snow.

I was a fearless driver, never afraid of speeding and never afraid of anything happening to me because come on, nothing bad ever happens to me.  I was naïve.

I fell asleep behind the wheel for an instant, going 65 on the highway with drifting snow.  When I woke up, I saw I was going head first into a snow bank, I overturned, spun out of control, and my car flipped and landed in the ditch.

It all happened so fast that I didn’t even realize what was happening.  The car was spinning then suddenly I was upside down, the roof of my car had caved in and was nearly touching my head, the engine turned off, stuff was everywhere, and I was staring at a St Christopher medal that was on my visor.  I saw cars driving by, I saw the snow falling, and the seatbelt was causing me pain for restraining me in my chair.

I actually never saved the picture of my flipped car, but it looked pretty much like this.

I actually never saved the picture of my flipped car, but it looked pretty much like this.

I remembered I started screaming, but it seemed so far away.  I didn’t feel like I was in my body because I was so scared.  I remember seeing a woman a few feet away from my window, looking in to the window.  I started to pound on the window, screaming for help and she ran away.  I was trapped upside down, unable to move, my body paralyzed with fear.  I found my phone somehow and dialed the last number I had called.

It was Alex.

He picked up on the second ring, a little bit of fun in his voice.  “Did you butt dial me?” he said with a chuckle.

“OH MY GOD ALEX I JUST FLIPPED MY CAR AND I’M TRAPPED AND I’M SCARED AND I’M UPSIDE DOWN AND I JUST PAID OFF THIS CAR AND CUT THE INSURANCE LAST WEEK OH MY GOD I’M GOING TO DIE!”

Let me tell you, not the best way to go about this kind of situation.  I could only scream.  I remember him trying to calm me down and say it without screaming and I continued to be hysterical, screaming that I was probably going to die because it was -44 outside that day and I was in the ditch somewhere between North Pole and Fairbanks.   Oh, and because I was trapped upside down.  Can’t forget that bit.  The blood was going to my head.

He said he was going to hang up and have the dispatcher call me.  I cried that I didn’t want him to hang up and he did.  A few minutes later a dispatcher called me and told me to stay calm.  In the few minutes where I was waiting for my phone to ring, I pushed myself up into my seat and unclasped the seatbelt and slid to the roof of my car, laying on the ceiling, no longer upside down.  The dispatcher asked me if I was okay, and I told her no because I had just paid off the car and cut the insurance.  She asked me if I was physically injured and I told her no.

However, when you have that much adrenaline, you don’t feel anything.  The fire department, an ambulance, and the state troopers arrived and they asked me if I could crawl to the back seat and climb out the back window.

I had so much shit in my car that I couldn’t leave the front seat.  They asked me if I had a blanket to cover my face and I pulled it over and covered my face while they used a sledge hammer to break the window.  The pulled the blanket away from me and placed it over the broken glass while I crawled out the window.

Since this day was a horrible day, my ass got stuck in the window.  Since I was still hysterical from flipping my car and being totally fucking broke, I started screaming because my ass was trapped in that fucking car.  I think the responders were trying not to laugh at my yelling, “OH MY GOD MY ASS IS STUCK! I’M GOING TO DIE!”

I got into the ambulance and they gave me a once over, making sure I still had feeling in my legs and arms, checking my blood pressure, which was 180 over 120.  Apparently that’s really fucking high.

My eyes were fully dilated, I was shaking, I was cold, but I was alive.  They told me if I hadn’t of worn my seatbelt, I’d be dead.  If it had been summer and there was no snow to cushion the fall, the car would have compressed more and I would have died, if the glass had shattered in the right way, it would have blinded me.  All the conditions were perfect for me to come out injury free for the most part.

As they were telling me this, I realized my hand feel really warm.  I looked down and saw that it was covered in warm blood.  Since my adrenaline was still ridiculously high, I screamed “OH MY GOD I’M BLEEDING TO DEATH!”

A small piece of glass was taken out of my hand and they put a band aid on it, cleaning the blood off.  The cut didn’t even need stitches, but my blood pressure was so high that it was flying out of me.

They asked me if I wanted to go to the hospital, but I didn’t have health insurance so I couldn’t afford it.  They called a tow truck and I waited in the troopers car.  I got my phone and called Alex, telling him I was fine and I was broke and had no idea what to do.  I called my mom and got her voicemail, telling her to call me when she promised to not get mad.  I called my roommate to tell her that I got into an accident and I was okay.  I called my managers at each job and told them that I couldn’t work that day because I had no transportation because I totaled my car.

When my mom called me, she said she wouldn’t get mad.  She promised.  And I told her I flipped and totaled my car. She asked me if I was hurt, I said no.  Then she started to scream at the top of her lungs.  I almost dropped the phone.

The tow truck driver yelled at me because the key was missing from the ignition, but I had no idea where it had fallen.  I thought it was in the engine.  To this day, I have no idea where that key went.  They towed the car to the house I was staying at, and I did the one thing that I had wanted to do since the car started spinning out of control.

I really had to shit.

That whole, “Always wear clean underwear when you get into a car accident,” is no lie.  My god, since the moment the car went upside down, it was painful to hold in.  It was so fucking insane, I was so relieved to see a toilet.  There is no greater happiness than seeing a toilet after you total your car.

Hello beautiful... I am going to destroy you

Hello beautiful… I am going to destroy you

My coworker at the bowling alley offered to pick me up and take me to the Air Force Base to see Alex, and I really needed to work.  I went into work, letting Alex know I was on base, and told my manager that I wanted to work my shift after all.

She said I was fucking crazy.  And she was right.  I should not have worked.

Now one thing, when I flipped the car, I almost died.  I saw my life flash before me, but not like seeing all these things that I had done.  I saw all the things I didn’t do.  All the things I wanted to do in my life.  I saw Alex in a way I never saw him before.  I saw myself growing old with him, I saw him not just as my boyfriend, but as my companion, my husband, my soul mate.  When I was trapped upside down, all I thought through all of that, besides emptying my bowels, was, “If I get out of this alive, I have to tell Alex I love him.”  Alex and I had talked marriage, but I didn’t realize just what that entailed, and after flipping my car and nearly dying, I realized exactly what that meant.  I didn’t want to spend another day without Alex.  I wanted to grow old with him.  I wanted to wake up next to him every day, to fight with him, to buy a house together.  I wanted all that mushy stuff.  I was tired of moving every few months, I was tired of working two full time jobs just to make ends meet.  I was tired of being so lonely.  I was tired of being so damn strong.  I wanted to be able to lean on someone, even if just for an instant.  I wanted Alex to be with me for the rest of my life, and I realized at that moment exactly what that entailed.

As soon as he found out I was at work, he had the troll drive him to the bowling alley.  When he saw me, he went from walking to full blown sprinting. I didn’t even see him enter the building, but my manager did, and she started giggling when she saw him run.  He tackled me, squeezing me so tight I coucouldn’teathe.  He touched my face, he felt to make sure I wasn’t hurt, he kissed me.  He was almost in tears.

To say the least, I found out he felt the same way.

I was only able to work a few hours of my shift.  When the adrenaline calmed down, I was so dizzy that I nearly passed out.  I was trying not to cry.  I was so incredibly exhausted that I didn’t know what was going to happen to me.  My coworker said she’d cover the rest of my shift and my manager said it was okay for me to leave.  I was going to walk to Alex’s dorm, which was about a quarter of a mile away, but my coworker called her husband and had him drive me the short distance.  He offered to walk me to the door, but I said no and walked myself.

When I got to Alex’s dorm, he just sat and held me as I started to cry.  I had no idea what was going to happen.  I couldn’t afford a new car.  I could barely afford my rent.  Alex wasn’t allowed to live off base so we couldn’t get an apartment together unless we got married.  I was afraid of what the coming months had in store for me.

The next day my body was so sore and stiff that I couldn’t even move.  It hurt just to sit up.  So I called into work and my manager had already given my shift away because she knew I’d be sore.  Alex didn’t have a car, and since he’s an asshat in situations like this, he made me walk all over base to get anything I’d need for the next few days.  That was the most painful day of my life.

A week later I was back to working both jobs, taking a taxi to work or having my friend pick me up to go to the base.  My mom gave me a loan of cash to buy a ’97 Buick LeSabre, which I drove for two years.  When I went back to work at Safeway, my manager told me that I was no longer dependable and that I needed to quit or she’d find a way to fire me.

But Alex came to the rescue…

 

Have you ever almost died?  Have you ever been in a situation where you were given an ultimatum?  Did your significant other ever save your life?  Let me know in the comments!

Crazy Yacht Parties: Tales Of A Crazy Biatch Bonus Round

Have you read about Marjorie before?  If so, continue, if not, here’s some context.

Part 1   Part 2   Part 3   Part 4

 

So, of course, Marjorie had a lot of other stories that I just couldn’t fit in because they just weren’t as bat shit crazy as the rest of her stories, but there was one that I remembered, and I thought, “My god, this would get me so many views and people might use these stories in work seminars to explain why you should avoid crazy—I SHOULD TOTALLY TELL IT!”

So, alas, here is the story of how Marjorie told me about how she threw a party on her yacht when her dad died.

Yes, you read that right.

Marjorie claimed to be a gold digger.  However, I thought gold diggers were supposed to be extremely pretty and hot and pretty much super models, something that Marjorie wasn’t.  She wasn’t ugly by any means, but she was fairly average looking, and on the heavier side.  When I think gold diggers, I think more along the lines of Kate Upton.

Definitely not Marjorie

Definitely not Marjorie

However, she said that in her home state, she had a bunch of sports cars and sports boats, and even a yacht, because her sugar daddies and ex-husbands believed in taking care of her in the best possible way.

At this point, I figured that she must be delusional, but I smiled and let her continue her bat shit craziness.

She told me that her dad was a military officer and she had 5 or six siblings, I forget honestly.  She said that she and her siblings all hated their dad, but before she told me that, she said that her dad died a few years ago.

I told her I was sorry and her response was something along the lines of, “Oh it’s no big.  We all had a huge boat party to celebrate when he died.  We were so drunk!  It was so crazy!”

When I gave her a look of horror, she went on to explain.  “Oh, my dad was a total asshole.  We hated him.  So we had a big party on my yacht to celebrate him dying.”

Because, you know, that’s what you do when someone dies.  Have a party on a yacht.

She went on to explain all the things that they did on her yacht, and how they all did their greek mythology worship, which to me made no sense.  A friend of mine who is extremely well versed in greek mythology laughed quite a bit when I told her Marjorie’s “religious beliefs” because Marjorie was totally and completely misinformed about what each god represented.  Also, it was increasingly difficult to follow her stories, they kept changing.  I’m sure if she told that story now, the party would have been on her own private cruise ship, because her sugar daddy owned Princess Cruises or something like that.

I don’t know, I just know that the stories seemed to never end.

What is the craziest thing you’ve heard people do when someone dies?  Did you enjoy the stories about Marjorie?  Let me know in the comments!

I’m Out-Weirding Everyone

It’s no secret:  I’m bizarre.

Really bizarre.

I tell people this when they first meet me, and they usually say something like, “Oh my god, me too!  I like to play videogames when I’m home, I’m like, so weird!”

Then I hug them, pet their hair, and whisper in their ear, “Oh sweetie, you’re just a novice, let me tell you about the major leagues.”

My new job is full of people from everywhere.  We have pacific islanders, Caribbean islanders, one Midwesterner (me), a couple Floridians, a couple from Washington, and so on.  I think we only have one person actually from Louisiana, but he lived in Seattle and Hawaii for a number of years so he doesn’t really count.  One gal is from New Orleans, but Nawlins isn’t Louisiana, it’s just Nawlins.

While they are a little eccentric, I seem to always weird out everyone when I decide to open up and say something bizarre.  For instance, it was cold the other day, so I hugged my coworker to warm her up.  She said, “Oh my god Leah, It’s just so damn cold!”

So I replied, “Would licking help?”

Except two people.

Except two people.

Because, you know, if you lick someone, they jump around and scream from how grossed out they were. I thought that this was a generous offer, but her reaction was to jump away from me and hug my other coworker, exclaiming I was trying to lick her.

Another day, another coworker asked me if I could twerk.  So instead of saying yes, I begin to twerk.

And a lot of our clients saw.

And I did not care.

And the cake topper, one of my coworkers who seems to enjoy the eccentric that is I, she asked me to run around the building after we had closed, waiving my arms and screaming, while she did it as well so she could share it on snap chat.

And since she’s the size of my left foot*, in the video, you see her running fast and screaming while waiving her arms, and you see me, my belly bouncing, my ass clapping, while I’m going “AHAHAHAHAHHA!”

And I sent it to Alex, to which he told me he was proud.

So if you meet me in person and tell me, “Oh my god, I’m so weird, I get drunk and scream!”

I’m going to hold you, stroke your hair, and whisper in your ear, “Oh sweetie, you have no idea what weird is.”

I am going to blow your fucking mind

I am going to blow your fucking mind

If you hold me and tell that to me, I’m going to want proof.  Maurna may have me beat with her third nipple and her infatuation with her vagina, which didn’t weird me out, it made me want to go visit her to prove it.

Because, you know, I hate being shown up.

Do you think you’re weird or nerdy?  Prove it.  Tell me a really horribly awkward story that proves your weirdness.  

*My coworker is really short and very small in general.  Her head only reaches my shoulder and she’s a very sweet little thing.  I love working with her.  She’s great.

Damn Retarded Yankee

So today, apparently, I was upgraded from a “Damn Yankee” to a “Damn Retarded Yankee.”

This confuses me too, since us yanks are far more educated on average than the average confederate.  Or southerner. Or whatever the hell they’re called.

 

Basically these assholes.

Basically these assholes.

Anyway, after I got off work, I noticed that my nose was full of black heads.  One thing anyone who is in my very close inner circle knows is that I’m OCD with my skin care.  I don’t wear makeup or sun screen, but I moisturize my face every night and always have the high end lotions and lip balms to make sure my skin always looks fresh.  I have a professional waxer for my eyebrows and mustache, and overall, I’m just very OCD with my skin.

Today I noticed I had a lot of black heads and I needed nose strips, because apparently I love to induce pain to get rid of black heads.  So on my way home from work, I walked into Walgreens and got what I needed.  I stepped in line and I was the third person in line.  An elderly black woman was behind me and a tiny little white guy was in front of me.  The white guy was buying some cold medicine and was minding his own business.  He looked grumpy and mean and ‘murican, so I turned to the woman behind me.

“Beautiful night, isn’t it?” I said to her.  She smiled.

“Yes, I love this cold weather.”

Good, someone who shared my likeness for the cold.  “Oh I love it.  When it’s cold like this, I open all the windows and put a bunch of the blankets on the bed and wrap up like a cocoon.”

The woman was about to respond to my comment, when the guy in front of me practically yelled.

“That’s just retarded.  I’m sorry, you’re retarded.”

What the fuck, right?

“Well, I’m a Yankee and I like the cold weather.”

“That makes you a damn retarded Yankee then.”

When I looked up damn retarded yankees, I kept getting pictures of Red Sox Fans

When I looked up damn retarded yankees, I kept getting pictures of Red Sox Fans

Dude.  What the fuck was this guy’s problem?

“Sir, I lived in Alaska.  I don’t deal with the hot weather.”

He continued to talk, which surprised me because I was easily 4 inches taller than him and twice his width.  And I am wonder woman.

“That makes you doubly retarded.  Why would anyone want to live in the cold?”

See, this is how I feel about the south.  Why would anyone want to live in the south?

“Because you’re not sweaty and sticky all the time,” I countered.  The super sweet woman behind me nodded in agreement.

“That’s what air conditioning is for.  Besides, what activities can you do in cold weather?  Nothing, that’s what.”

BECAUSE THIS IS APPARENTLY NOTHING

BECAUSE THIS IS APPARENTLY NOTHING

I was feeling a little frustrated.  “There’s a ton to do in the winter.  Skiing, Skijoring, dog sledding, ice fishing, snow shoeing—,”

Then he cut me off.

“Find warmth.  That’s what you do.  Nothing else.”

Then I had it, this guy was probably perverted.

“You can snuggle up to someone for warmth and see what happens,” I said, rather smugly.  Probably too smugly.

“Yeah, and you can just turn down the AC so it’s hot outside and cold inside so you can snuggle up.”

“THAT WASTES MONEY AND RESOURCES!” I nearly roared, making a few heads turn.

Don't worry, the AC is on and it's a thousand fucking degrees outside

Don’t worry, the AC is on and it’s a thousand fucking degrees outside

“It’s better than living somewhere that’s cold where you’ll be eaten by polar bears.”  He grumbled something else, but I wasn’t sure what.

“THERE ARE ONLY POLAR BEARS IN THE ARCTIC CIRCLE!”

To which he checked out and repeated I was retarded and that I should have a nice night.

The cashier rang me up and said, “I’m from Nebraska.  I prefer snow too.”

So we high fived for the Midwest and I hugged the lady behind me for helping me out with the moron who thinks I’m retarded.

And believe it or not, I didn’t even hyperbolize this story.  It’s damn near spot on.  Because I’m a magnet for weird fucking encounters.

Have you ever had a random stranger call you retarded?  Have you hugged a stranger and had your wallet not stolen?  What is the weirdest encounter that you’ve had with a stranger?  Tell me in the comments!

Living Dead in Dallas

Sorry Charlene Harris, but I think it was perfect to describe my trip to Dallas a few weeks ago.

So shortly after I started my new job, my work told me that I needed to go to Dallas for a few days for training.  I figured why not, and went, because I wouldn’t be allowed to work at my awesome new job unless I was trained and certified.

So while I was waiting for my flight, I had a beer, and was waiting and waiting to find out that my flight was canceled.  I’ve mentioned before how driving to Dallas has ended in my car breaking down in the middle of nowhere, but my coworker, who is a pretty awesome guy, found out that we would be reimbursed for gas and he offered to drive.  Which was great for me because if the car broke down, it wouldn’t be mine.

Naturally, I had to prank Alex and my mom because I was driving to Dallas alone with a man.  And I had a beer in my system.

I call Alex first and put him on speaker phone.  The conversation went like this.

Alex: Hello?

Me: Hey honey, so I got drunk and some random guy kidnapped me and is dragging me to Dallas.  I’m probably going to die from either murder or Ebola.  Hope that’s okay.

Alex:… What?

Me:  Well the flight was canceled so I was drinking and my coworker is kidnapping me to Dallas and you’re never going to see me again.

Alex: WHAT?!

Me: It’s all good though, he won’t rape me because he’s gay.

Alex: Ugh, fine, let me know when you get to Dallas*

Then I called my mom next.  That woman is a hard woman to rattle and I told her that I was drunk and being kidnapped and she just said, “Okay, be safe!”  It was rather disappointing.

Halfway to Dallas, we decide to stop and get some Mexican food in Canton.  I’ve mentioned how I’ve had some bad experiences in Canton before, but this time the Mexican restaurant had a church on top of it and I got to touch a giant cock.

Take that, Bloggess

Take that, Bloggess

 

Once we were back on the road, we got lost after getting to Dallas and after making the same turn about six times, we found our hotel.

After training the next day I enjoyed a margarita and a walk with Jesus, and this time  I didn’t make a total and complete fool of myself like the last time I walked with Jesus.  I felt the drinks were necessary in order to enjoy Texas.

Our last afternoon in Dallas, we got out of training early and decided to explore the mall.  I have to say, Grapevine Mills mall in Irving is fucking fantastic.  It has everything.

Even ass fire.

Even ass fire.

However, there was one particular store that left me very confused.  The store was called “Heroes” and it was a store that sold military paraphernalia, airsoft guns, camo, hunting knives, so on and so forth.  They even have a website.

To say the least, this store screamed, “MURICA!”  Not even “America.”  Just ‘Merica.

The main thing that confused and scared and awed me was the mannequins.  The mannequins displaying the women’s clothing were taller than me (I’m 5’8), they had DDD boobs, and their pants were low rise and it was all camo.

Words can't even describe my confusion

Words can’t even describe my confusion

SeriouslyTexas, what the fuck is with this?  Why do the mannequins need to have huge boobs?  Why can you see the fucking nipples of the mannequin?

My coworker and I just stared at the mannequin for a few minutes, just in stunned silence.  We were so confused.  I like to think I’m fairly comfortable in my own skin, but the fact that this mannequin made my boobs look like less than mosquito bites and the fact that this clothing was so… ‘Murican, I had no idea what to make of it.  So I took a picture and moved on.

The next morning was our last morning in Texas, and I couldn’t be happier to go back to my little house.  I missed Alex and Texas has this obsession with the shape of it’s state that was weirding me out.  And I lived in Alaska for heaven’s sake.

         

Seriously?  A fucking Texas shaped waffle

Seriously? A fucking Texas shaped waffle?

So I made it home and I’ve been working so much that every muscle in my body aches and I just want to crawl under a rock and die.  It’s fucking awesome.

 

Have you ever gone on a business trip that went better than expected?  Ever been somewhere where the culture just confused the hell out of you?  Have you ever eaten hot sauce that made you fart fire?  Let me know in the comments!

The Gay Debate: Deep South Edition

Being in a red state and originally from a blue state, I have noticed a lot of different arguments about gay marriage and how they’re played out.  I’ve heard that the bible says no gay love is acceptable, I’ve heard that gay love isn’t “real” love, but Alex told me of a particular gay argument that left us both thinking, “Sweetie, have you had the birds and the bees talk?”

I’ve mentioned before that Alex is in the military, hence my name “Military Wife Rants” (though I really want to change that).  And when we were in Alaska, the whole gay soldier thing didn’t really affect any of us.  We had openly gay friends and closeted gay friends in the military in Alaska.  Nobody really cared.  Alex had a shop chief that told Alex that if he wanted to make below the zone, he would have to get some knee pads and go below the zone.  He was joking, of course, and this was a very common joke among young airmen from their shop supervisors.

On overseas bases, I hear this is very common.  At least, the joking, I have no idea if they actually get their kneepads on.  But I have seen a lot of knee pads in different Airmen’s lockers…

Hmm…

Anyway, Alex was telling me that his coworkers were talking about how gays can’t get married because they don’t have “real sex.”

He then began to describe how a plug goes into an outlet.  “For instance, two plugs can’t go into each other, so therefore gay sex doesn’t work.”

Basically sex.

Basically sex.

Alex told me this and I just shook my head and laughed.  I’ve made mention of touching tips before, but hearing this, I had to wonder what my gay friends would think.

I have one friend in particular, who is very active in the gay rights movement.  He’s very openly gay, I’ve known him for years, and he’s by far one of the most loving people I know.  I love to tell him stupid arguments like this, but for this post, I asked him his honest opinion on this particular argument.  He was happy to oblige, and here was his response.

There are so many ways to unpack it. First, marriage doesn’t equal sex. Marriage is about making a lifetime, loving commitment to each other. It’s not a contract for sex. People have sex without getting marriage all the time. Gay men will have sex, married or not. Equating marriage with sex is only done with people who are opposed to marriage equality think about same-sex marriage. When that same person learns that an opposite sex couple, their first thought is not “Oh, he’ll be putting his erect penis in her vagina now, I guess.” Or, if that is their first thought, wow.

Second, there isn’t a rule book about what kind of sex is legit and not. Straight people do oral, they do anal, they do frottage. That doesn’t invalidate their marriages. The one thing gay men can’t do is penile/vaginal intercourse, but when you take your marriage vow, you don’t swear to have vaginal intercourse, you swear to love each other. What kind of sex, if any, a married couple engages in, has nothing to do with the marriage contract.

Straight couples often stop having sex, yet the marriage endures. One of the spouses could get ill, or they both get old, and the sex ends. No one questions the validity of that marriage. The “real sex” question only gets brought up when talking about gay couples. It’s a convenient, cherry-picked idea used as a tool of discrimination that cannot be universalized.

Plus, why does he spend time thinking about how gays have sex? Seems fishy to me.

Well said, my friend, well said.

 

Have you heard arguments like this and their reasons are anything but sound?  Do you agree with what is said?  Let me know in the comments, but please no flaming.