A Letter From the Offended

Dear Drunk Gay Men in Bars,

Yes. My breasts are fabulous. No. You may not come into contact with them in any way. I realize that you are homosexual and derive no pleasure from such activities. However, your sexuality does not win you a "Get Out of Jail Free" card, rather it merely absolves you from facing a harsher form of justice. So think twice before complimenting me dexterously again, or I may be forced to return the compliment to your face.

Sincerely,

Hottie in the Blue Top

Long as there are stars above you

While filling out one of those "Awards of 2007" surveys on Myspace, I surprised myself with a memory. The question asked for High Point of 2007. I scrolled through the past year in my mind. I automatically considered the moment I was offered my job, then discarded it as too easy. Though I was quite giddy. There had to be something else in there. I've had a pretty great year. There have been definite lows, but nothing compared to how fortunate I have been. I've been to Vegas twice, drove for 10,000 miles with Lily exploring the West, moved to a big city in a strange land, got a new roommate, got an internship, got a job, got an iPhone. First year as a college graduate, first year of complete financial independence. And then I found it. This moment that I experienced in March on The Road Trip. I hadn't thought about it in a while, but it was a real showstopper.

Lily and I spent the week of my birthday in Los Angeles. From there, we drove to San Francisco along Highway 1, a winding stretch that hugs the coastal cliffs like a sexy tattoo snaking up the side of a woman's torso. The drive took about 12 hours. It was simultaneously calming, invigorating, and frightening. We saw a herd of zebras, were nearly blown over by the winds of sea lions passing gas, and teased catastrophe when we thought we were going to be stuck in the mountains without any gas of our own. But there was one moment when we just had to pull over to the side of the road. It was so beautiful. We stood on the cliffs, overlooking the Pacific. The waves were crashing up hundreds of feet below and the sun was setting. The speakers from the car played The Beach Boys' "God Only Knows." With that repeating chorus, and those swelling waves, it was a perfect moment. We stood there silent, taking it all in. You see, not only was The Road Trip another adventure, it was a prolonged goodbye. A slow transition for Lily and I to cushion the blow. The reason I waited 5 months after graduation to move to Chicago. The only way it could have really been properly done.

God only knows what Id be without you
God only knows what Id be without you
God only knows
God only knows what Id be without you
God only knows what Id be without you
God only knows
God only knows what Id be without you
God only knows what Id be without you

One Laptop Per Child

Reverend Billy got you feeling down this holiday season for your consumerist ways? Put that guilt to work and make a real difference.

Please, check out One Laptop Per Child.

P.S. It's tax deductible.

Dreamweaver I believe you can get me through the nii-iight

Like Katie, I too enjoy making lists. Here's a simple one that ran through my head this morning as the coffee buzz set in and I fully defrosted from the commute.

Dream Careers (other than current pursuit, no particular order)

Rock Star.
I really love to sing, despite the fact that it slightly horrifies me to do so on stage. Senior year of high school, the Homecoming Queen asked me to sing "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" at the Homecoming assembly, in front of the entire population of McCrory. I obliged and did so with my eyes tightly shut the whole time, then hid backstage till it was safe to sneak back to where the band was sitting and vent my frustrations on a bass drum. There's a wholly different kind of soul bearing that goes along with singing compared to acting. I still dream though of somehow being discovered as the next Fiona or Blondie through no effort of my own. As a child I believed that the stereo speakers in the back window of the car were also microphones, which music industry execs installed. And I would sing towards the back of the car, believing they were listening and would someday swing by with a contract and a collaboration with Ace of Base.

Astronaut.
Though most girls haven't indulged in this fantasy, I imagine it is probably a common dream among youngsters. The unconquered, the undiscovered, the unimaginable. Astronauts are also the quintessential scientist rock stars. I missed out on Space Camp as a child and am still disappointed. For like fifteen seconds, I considered going to the Naval Academy to start my aeronautical career. When indulging in this fantasy, I leave out the fact that I have motion sickness.

Author.
Assigned to write a short story in 6th grade, I churned out a 35-page thriller handwritten on wide-ruled notebook paper. When we got our first computer, if I wasn't designing silly posters in Print Shop Deluxe, I was hammering out my story The Bellwitch, whose main character had black hair and purple eyes and wore a black miniskirt with a purple leotard. The climax of this story took place in a tornado.

Actress.
I've indulged in this one one too many times.

I know these seem like easy answers, but they're the absolute truth. Who really dreams of growing up to be an accountant anyway? Dreams shouldn't be practical. I'm sure you've got a few that you would like to share. I know we're all in creative fields, but one or two of my friends out there is bound to have dreamed of being a brain surgeon or something after mastering the game of Operation.

Make My Logo Bigger Cream

It just keeps getting better and better.