Republican and proud.

For those who do not know me very well or for those who do not know me at all except through this blog, I feel the need to tell you…

I am a Republican. I am a Republican somewhere in between conservative and moderate. And I voted for John McCain. And I supported John McCain’s presidential campaign—financially and otherwise. And despite his recent loss, I would do it all over again.

And I make no fucking apologies for it whatsoever.

After many years of not speaking to an individual I knew in college—let’s call her “Mary,” shall we?—I located her on Facebook. I won’t get into the details of why we lost touch/stopped speaking to each other because to be perfectly honest, I don’t entirely recall why we had a falling out and the reasons I DO recall are stupid reasons for a falling out.

So, anyway, I sent a “friend request” to her with a message. I’m too lazy to look up the original message I sent her, but I assure you it was nothing more than something along the lines of, “Long time, no talk! How have you been?” It was simply a very generalized and informal ‘hello.’

Perhaps this is just me, but I found her response quite bizarre: “Did you vote for Obama?”

Kind of an unusual way to begin a conversation with someone after about five years of not speaking, but I responded with, “No, I know we haven’t spoken in many years, but I think you still know me well enough to know I wouldn’t do that! LOL!”

Her next response did not puzzle me per se and really didn’t OFFEND me in the traditional sense of the word, but…well….it irked me. And I found it a bit rude. Now, I understand that I can be a bit rude at times so perhaps I’m being oversensitive, but…whatever.

She proceeded to tell me about some of the exciting things she has done since graduating college, such as teaching abroad and “hardcore campaigning for Sen. Obama. Great. That’s not the weird part.

She then proceeded to tell me that she “didn’t know how she felt” about McCain supporters. She said that she knew I wasn’t a “hick” and that I was educated and intelligent (well, thank you very much), but that she “wonders about the values” of people who support John McCain.

In all fairness, she DID say that she “wasn’t trying to be nasty.” Hmm. OK, I will give the benefit of the doubt.

Now, as strange as I found her reaction to my lighthearted attempt to make contact with an old friend, as I mentioned before, I found her obvious and instant contempt for my voting choice rude and presumptuous.

I can’t stand Obama. And in my response to her—which I’m happy to share with you and will do so in a nutshell in the coming paragraphs—made no bones about that dislike. In short, I told her that I truly didn’t understand how one could support a man with little to no executive experience, a sketchy and less-than-stellar background, an association (and I will admit, it was a minor association, at best) with known terrorists and preachers who ask God to “damn” the country I love, and no military experience (something that I personally believe should be a prerequisite for presidential candidacy—but that is just MY personal belief). I don’t like his ideals and I don’t like his motives. In my humble opinion, Barack Obama is very close to “socialist.” Again, just my opinion. I am not a political expert, so take it with a grain of salt and do your own homework.

And, in case you’re wondering if I’m some sort of racist—because that implication has been thrown around to many people who don’t support the senator—I could give two shits that he’s Black. In fact, if he wasn’t as liberal as he is and if I didn’t dislike his positions on the issues as much as I do, I would say that it’s pretty goddamned cool that our next president will be a Black man, when just a few decades ago they weren’t even given the same rights as Whites.

However, despite my dislike of our future president and despite my feelings that he will hurt this country more President Bush has—just on the other side of the political fence, so to speak—I will also say in the same breath that until he fucks up, I will give him the benefit of the doubt and will give him the respect he deserves as an individual who holds the esteemed office of President of the United States. And even if (and, in my opinion, WHEN) he DOES fuck up, I will still give him the respect that the President of the United States deserves. And that is MUCH more than many liberals EVER gave President Bush, who is no gem in my humble opinion, but has been blamed for countless things he for which he should not have been blamed.

Do I think Sen. Obama is wrong on the vast, vast majority of his viewpoints? Yes. VERY wrong. But even though I think he’s wrong and even though I dislike him, I will not question his integrity—not yet, anyway. I believe he THINKS he is doing the right thing, so I will give him that. That is much more than I have heard many people give a truly honorable man like John McCain.

Anyway, “Mary” is not even close to the first person to treat me with disgust when I told them I supported Sen. McCain for president. I have heard anything from “How COULD you?” to “Wow, guess you haven’t had enough bullshit in the past eight years with George Bush!” to just blatant looks of pure hatred. I even lost a friend over my “voting confession” because that is how much he hated the Republican party.

I feel as if I have been treated as a serial killer who murders gorgeous babies and burns puppies with cigarettes and then drowns them in bleach when she’s done—all for being Republican.

Well, to those who have a problem with the fact that I voted for Sen. McCain OR that I am a Republican, I have one thing to say to you: go fuck yourselves.

I AM educated and I AM intelligent. The only difference between me and between many and most liberals is that I am sick and tired and absolutely DISGUSTED with being taxed up the ass for shit I don’t use, or being FORCED to pay for bitches who have 18 children and continue to pop out more every year so they can get a little extra in their welfare check.

The only difference between me and most liberals is that I believe in the constitutional right to own my own goddamned gun to protect myself on the street or to go hunt to feed my family, if I should so desire. Here’s a thought: maybe if more non-crazy people carried firearms, the criminals who kill with them would be less apt to do so, knowing that anyone and everyone else in that bank or convenience store could shoot them dead when they tried to rob it.

The only difference between me and most liberals is that I believe the life of a child takes precedence over my being able to have control over my own body. And you know what? It would REALLY, REALLY suck if I or one of my loved ones got raped and became pregnant with her rapist’s baby, but in that case, it ain’t the BABY that deserves killing. And as much as it would suck to carry around your rapist’s baby for nine months, to me, the greater crime would be to murder an innocent child.

The only difference between me and most liberals is that I believe national security SHOULD be first and foremost on people’s minds—even over the shitty economy, which should be a close second concern. Because newsflash: if Osama Bin Laden has his way and there are mushroom clouds over New York, Los Angeles, Washington, Chicago and Boston, we ain’t gonna HAVE an economy. We fight them there or we fight them here. I’d rather fight them there.

The only difference between me and most liberals is that I believe in FREE ENTERPRISE and CAPITOLISM. I do NOT believe that I should be punished because I worked hard, made sacrifices and did well in life financially. And I do NOT believe that those who didn’t work hard enough and didn’t do well financially because they weren’t prepared to make the proper sacrifices to do so should be REWARDED for it.

The only difference between me and most liberals is that I don’t believe people should be given a free pass in life. I pay for my health insurance out-of-pocket and have SAVED the money and have made many sacrifices to insure that I would be able to do that if the need arose. I collect unemployment insurance now because it’s there, I paid into it, and I am currently out-of-work, but if I didn’t have that benefit, I’d get my ass out there and I’d waitress or I’d pump gas to pay my bills and I’d shut the fuck up about it.

As a conservative, I believe in small government, the elimination of wasteful spending, the complete revamping of ridiculously inefficient programs such as the current “long-term welfare” system, and the absolute re-alignment of our failing public school structures. I believe good people should be rewarded and low-life scumbags should be punished. I believe free healthcare = shitty healthcare, and Canada proves it. I support hardworking legal immigrants coming into this country in reasonable numbers and would support—with MY tax dollars—a national “task force” that would round up the illegal immigrants and send them back from whence they came. I believe individuals should be held accountable for their own money and the risks associated with investments. I believe in self-sufficiency with limited government intervention ONLY when it is direly needed. I believe that drilling for oil is fine—provided it has a minimal effect on our climate—because it will make us less sufficient on the motherfuckers who hate us. I believe in not running away from a war in which our goal is to eliminate Islamic extremism and protect our capitalist freedoms and way-of-life.

And THAT is why I voted for Sen. McCain—because he stood for most—not all—of the things I stand for. I believe he is an intelligent, decent, honorable man who made COUNTLESS sacrifices—through his service in the Navy and the Senate—for the country he loves—including half a decade checked in at the “Hanoi Hilton.” I didn’t agree with him on EVERYTHING, but I respected him because I believed he would have done everything within his power to make this country a better place and that he would have stood against the injustices that plague the world today. I believe he is a man of honor and character. Now, if you want to talk trash about a man who endured years of torture so that you could be here today to have the freedom to vote for Sen. Obama, well—you’re wrong. And I’m not afraid to tell you you’re wrong.

Now, if you feel differently than I do on these issues, that’s your right and I’m glad you have that right. If you voted for Sen. Obama, that is your right. And I’m neither going to badmouth you for it, nor will I judge you for it simply because I disagree with your choice. You surely have your reasons and they may be just in your mind—just as my reasons are just in my own mind. I can live peacefully with my liberal friends and family members and have friendly debates where we agree to disagree. And I will STILL love them and respect them. But anyone who wishes to judge me or dislike me because of MY personal ideals and beliefs and my reasons for them, well—I don’t want to know you anyway.

It's okay to say the "F word."

My friend Ben asked me the other day, "What, in your opinion, is your worst habit?"

Well, I got to thinking about this and have realized that I, as close to perfect as I may be, have several bad habits. I eat too much junk food--especially cheese. I have a less than desirable temper at times (I blame this on the fact that I am Irish and that my father also has a terrible temper, ergo, it is inherited). I enjoy wine a bit too much (fortunately, I am more pleasant drunk than sober, so very few people tend to mind this habit). I am ridiculously clean; most people would view this as a good habit, but when you have the urge to shower after even the smallest chores, you wash your sheets every other day and have considered bathing your felines who clean themselves perfectly fine--well, that's kinda much.

But after much consideration, I have concluded that my worst habit is my uncontrollable urge to swear in pretty much every sentence that comes out of my mouth. Now, don't get me wrong--I CAN control it when I put my mind to it. It's not as if I go to black-tie cocktail parties in gorgeous ball gowns and blurt out a trail of curses that would make a drunken sailor blush. I don't go to boyfriends' parents' houses and curse. I CAN keep it in check and actually be a pretty classy lady when I put my mind to it.

The problem is that I don't put my mind to it enough.

I have a fair amount of difficulty telling a story without including the "f word" or some other vulgarity in it. Now, fortunately, people tend to find it pretty amusing. I tend to find it pretty amusing when others do the same thing. I have no idea why. Maybe it's because curse words are ever-so-slightly taboo. And well...taboo = more interesting, right?

I GENERALLY don't "aim" my curses toward others, although all bets are off when I am driving. For some reason, I guess I think that cursing makes my sometimes ordinary life appear a tad more interesting. I mean, I like to think I'm interesting in my own right. Jesus hates me, so He oftentimes has some pretty crazy shit happen to me (see what I mean? Can't tell a story without a curse!). It's okay, though--we're cool.

And I don't swear in my stories to be "cool" or anything. Really. It's more of a situation where I've just been doing it for so long that I don't know how to go about NOT including them in my stories. I've tried. Really, I have. On more than one occasion, I have made New Year's resolutions to cut down on the cursing. It lasted for about 3 minutes.

But then I got to thinking about it a little bit more. And I figured that if this is my worst habit, am I really that bad of a person? I mean, I'm not a whore. I don't kick babies or microwave kittens. I donate regularly to charities. I don't get wasted and then get behind the wheel. I've never killed anyone. I'm not too horrible, right?

Well, if you think I'm horrible, then fuck off.

Just kidding. ;-)

Crazy cat lady

Oh. My. God.

I am officially a crazy cat lady.

No REALLY. I'm not just saying this to get a laugh. If I don't find a man--and a job--soon, I will be wearing a housecoat by the beginning of next week. I'm convinced. Like one of those fucking mumus you find in the plus size pajama section of Wal-Mart.

As indicated in the last posting, I have officially moved into my condo. Now, I really like kitties--always have, even before I became a crazy cat lady and I actually had boyfriends and went out on dates and such. So, I adopted two cats from the local shelter. And they are great--pains in the ass at times, but great. Right now, I am on the sofa, typing this e-mail, and they are both sleeping at my feet. Fortunately, I am in normal pajamas, but still.

I haven't had a boyfriend in a few months. This isn't because I don't WANT one, but I think that somehow, men sense that I have become a crazy cat lady and they instantly run in the opposite direction. I have asked my friends if I smell like cat pee or something, but they insist I do not. I think they are just trying to be nice because they are starting to feel sorry for me.

Case in point? Allow me to copy and paste an Instant Message conversation held between my friend Ryan and me:

ME: my cat was just here chasing his tail. he got it and bit it and yelped.

RYAN: Welcome to your new life.

ME: ain't the brightest bulb

ME: yeah. my life is officially pathetic. i better get a man and a job soon

RYAN: You're having a bit of a lull.

RYAN: A quiet time.

RYAN: See it for the good it brings. In your case.

RYAN: You're not dating anyone wearing flannel...today.

ME: You're not making me feel better about this.

RYAN: I'm trying not to patronize.

Now, if that wasn't bad enough, I am apparently in a less-than-tolerant mood this evening, and I caught myself grabbing the Swiffer sweeper and banging the ceiling whilst screaming "SHUT THE FUCK UP!" at the minotaurs actually having a life above me.

Wow.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go have myself a bottle or two of wine and a good cry. I wonder if Wal-Mart sells housecoats online...or maybe I'll put one on my Amazon wishlist. If anyone is looking for a Christmas idea...

Minotaurs live above me.

I like my new condo. I really do. It's nothing special, but it's mine. It's cute. And it's a good size for me. The location is good, too.

But I need to vent.

I hate the fucking minotaurs who live above me.

How have I concluded that they are, in fact, minotaurs?

Well, for one, minotaurs have cloven hooves. And surely the beasts which live above me have them, because they clickety-clack all day long.

Minotaurs are big creatures. With the way these "individuals" walk above me, they obviously weigh one thousand pounds EACH. Minotaurs weight exactly one thousand pounds each. Well, I'm pretty sure they do. So, by deductive reasoning, my upstairs neighbors must be minotaurs.

Minotaurs make loud noises. Like farts and growling. I hear growling upstairs everyday. Ergo, minotaurs.

I can only pray that the minotaurs go away. Because I hate them.

Sorry to all those with penises, but...

...for the most part, you're all dicks.

I hate men. I really do. I’ve thought about it long and hard and I’ve officially established that.

Not ALL men, mind you. There are some good ones. My friend Ryan is good. I consider him a brother. I have several male friends whose company I actually enjoy. But I really hate dating men.

Not that I want to date women, mind you. That’s just…ew. Just because I hate men doesn’t mean I want to become a lesbian. Because, in case you didn’t know, women are insane, too.

I am just so done with the games. DONE. It’s bullshit. Really. I’m 26 years old and I’ve dated men anywhere from 3 years my junior to 12 years my senior. You would think that the older ones especially would be less into the game-playing. Not so, my friends. They are WORSE.

And guys-- fuck you if you don’t like the generalizations. I don’t care. If you had my experiences when it comes to dating, you’d make generalizations, too.

I recently went out on a few dates with a guy named Dan. And yes, Dan—I know you read this—so, instead of sitting there mortified, just consider yourself lucky that I didn’t mention your last name so that everyone in the future who Googled you would find out what a dick you are. Anyway, it’s not as if Dan was a boyfriend or anything—we didn’t date long enough for that--but ya know…I was stupid enough to hope that maybe it was on track to that.

How did I meet Dan, you might be wondering? I met Dan because I was temporarily brainless and feeling particularly desperate/lonely/foolish one night to put a personal ad/profile out on a very common website—part of which is devoted to relationships. Whatever. It was stupid. I admit it. I should have known better. But you do stupid shit when you’re feeling down on yourself because pretty much everyone else you know is either married, engaged or in a serious relationship en route to marriage. And there you are—third or fifth (or whatever odd number you want to place in the proverbial fill-in-the-blank spot) wheel…yet again. It gets to you. You’re happy for your friends and you’re happy they found their “soulmates,” but you get envious. So, as stupid as it is, I can’t guarantee I won’t do it again when I once more get that overwhelming feeling of “romantic envy.”

I feel the need to say here that I am NOT desperate. I do just fine on my own. I own my own condo, make pretty good money and can pretty much do everything by myself without the help of a man. Everything except have regular sex with a real penis. Which is kinda nice.

But I digress. I got a few responses, but most of them were from men in their 50s, men who were “separated” and had four children, or men who just seemed sketchy in one way or another. But then Dan responded and we seemed to have a lot in common. I won’t bore you with what those things are, but I was most impressed by his sense of humor. I also had this feeling that he was a very honest person—two things I look for in a guy.

Dan was 34, handsome, seemed to have his shit together. We went out on a first date and really hit it off. We had several more and things were seemingly going great. Despite his living about 50 minutes away, we managed to get together a couple of times a week and just had a fabulous time. He planned really nice dates at fun places. He cooked for me. He was thoughtful—picking me up a book on our second date that I had mentioned I would like to read on the first date. He paid attention to me; he seemed really into our conversations. As someone who works in the field of communications, I appreciate a good communicator who listens well.

He text messaged me constantly at first. CONSTANTLY. As in, almost TOO much. But whatever—first few weeks into a relationship, well, that’s pretty cute. You find everything endearing then. But all of a sudden, he stopped entirely. No communication. Nothing. So, I would call or text him and ask him if we were still on for the dates we scheduled the date before. He would say ‘yes’ and would seem somewhat enthusiastic about the upcoming date.

But not hearing from him for days or weeks at a time after he was formally texting/calling me so often was weird. And I’m not stupid—if someone just stops communicating with me unless I initiate it…well, I start to think he’s not interested. And ya know—that’s absolutely fine. All I ask is that you be honest with me about it. Especially when I point-blank ask you if you’re not interested anymore. But when I DID ask him point-blank, he claimed he was interested; he was just “busy.”
Mmm hmm.

Now, because I’m not stupid, I also know “busy” can be man-code for “not interested.” And it usually IS the case. However, like a girl who stupidly overanalyzes shit, I realized that he was, in fact, very busy. He worked a full time job and also worked at a restaurant a couple of nights a week. And he WAS working especially hard because it was the busy season at the restaurant, a couple of other people were on vacation there and he had to fill in for a few weeks. And his full time job was also affiliated with the restaurant industry, so that was getting busier, too—or so he claimed.

But I dunno…things just didn’t feel right. And I couldn’t shake that feeling that despite his insisting that he was, in fact, still interested. I’m not a typical girl. I don’t expect or even WANT a phone call every single day. I hate talking on the phone actually. But a three minute phone call every other day or two just to say hi and to indicate that you haven’t fallen off the face of the earth is not asking too much, in my opinion. Or a text message or e-mail saying that you’re thinking about me isn’t asking a lot.

So, I sent him a text and said in a nutshell: Listen, if you’re not diggin’ me, that’s fine. I won’t be mad—all I ask is that you let me know. But if you ARE just busy and if this is temporary, I can deal. I just can’t shake this feeling you’re not interested, since I never hear from you anymore. Just an occasional hi to know you’re not dead is fine (smiley face).

His response? “I had no idea how busy things would get. And I had no idea how overwhelming it would be. Honestly. You’re more than just a hookup, but I just don’t have time for a girlfriend right now or in the foreseeable future.”

You absolute TOOLBAG. Seriously. So let me get this straight. You responded to an ad I placed where I SPECIFICALLY said that I wasn’t looking for just a casual dating relationship. I was looking for something more serious if things were to work out with the party I decided to date. Basically, I didn’t just want sex, but wanted something on the path to something more. You can’t force a relationship to work out, but I made it clear that if the person responding never intended upon having a serious relationship, that person should NOT respond.

So, dearest Daniel--you responded to this and had NO IDEA that things would get busy in the just four weeks? Oh, and poor baby—that it would be too “overwhelming?” Life’s overwhelming, asshole. 34 year olds learn to deal with it. And if you had no intention upon potentially having a relationship, how am I more than just a hookup?

Oh, and don’t flatter yourself—we never had sex (thank GOD)—so we didn’t “hook up.”
What gets to me is that I gave him an out—I said that if he wasn’t interested, that was fine. And it REALLY was. I’m not going to get mad at someone if the chemistry isn’t there for them. I guess I just expect someone in their mid-30s to have big enough balls to tell me that’s the case.

So, I mention my most recent dating experience with yet another asshole (and believe me, I let him KNOW he was just yet another asshole when I cut him loose) because I am just so sick and tired of it all. I am honest and forthright—in this particular instance and in every other one of recent memory—I made it clear what I was looking for. There was no way to misinterpret things. So, I put myself out there in a 100% honest manner and STILL, the dishonest losers with shitty intentions find me. And I hate to say it, but with the exceptions of a couple of nice guys I’ve dated where the chemistry just didn’t work out and we stayed friends, this type of shit is the NORM. I mean it—truly, I have had more ridiculous dating experiences than I can count. I mean that literally; there must be dozens of shitty dates/series of dates I’ve been on. I shouldn’t be surprised and for the most part I’m not—but part of me still has that ludicrous, naïve hope that perhaps the next guy will be different. I don’t go into every date thinking about marriage or whether the guy will be the father to any children I may have in the future, but I still have that hope that there is some guy out there who I’m attracted to (doesn’t mean he has to look like George Clooney, just that he be attractive to ME), is funny, sweet, has a LITTLE bit of bad boy in him and has a decent job, decent goals and stable finances.

But so far, that’s been asking too much. So, in the meantime, I’m just going to hate men. That is, until I get that urge to post another personal ad, and that naïve optimism comes flooding back.

I don't get it.

I have either studied or worked in the field of public relations/communications for a number of years now. I am generally a good reader of people. I notice subtle body language, tone of voice, facial expressions...or so I thought.

Turns out, despite my study of the "art of people," I have realized that, in truth, I don't know a damn thing about them. I am constantly confused by the behaviors of our species. I don't understand why people do what they do, why we deceive, why we hurt others, why we think it's so cool and fun to mess with each other. I have witnessed examples of this throughout my life. I have also witnessed examples of people doing good for one another and I find myself wondering if they have an ulterior motive of some sort. Do people do bad AND good things to others to somehow feel good about themselves? Do people think, "Ha, I have the upper hand in this situation, so I'm going to screw with this person because it'll make me feel more powerful and better about myself", or "I'm going to do this good deed for this person so I can cancel out the bad thing I did yesterday in the hopes of feeling better about myself"?

I haven't lived very long, but in the 26 years on this planet I thought I'd have some clue as to how we operate. Or, maybe I do deep down, and it's just too difficult for me to accept that people are out only for themselves. I'm no saint, that's for sure. And I've done many characteristically bad things in my life; things I'm not proud of. But I like to think I give people a fair shake the vast majority of the time. I try to reserve judgement until that person proves to me what he/she is made of. I'm not always successful, but I've noticed lately there are just so many people out there that don't even try. They don't want to be fair. And that's what I don't get.

I dunno, kids...just thinking out loud...it's been a trying few days/weeks...

This should definitely win the "Most Random Photo EVER" contest.

What. The. Fuck.

I had to share. Marvel at its randomness.