Welcome to the “out like a lamb” part of the month, sloth babies! Can you believe the madness that is March is almost over? This has been such a productive month – the first-ever non-European pope was elected (sidenote: Argentina is as close to Italy as one can get outside of the old world, so really not a stretch), and a former (still living) pope is on a permanent Vatication. A woman has (finally) been nominated to run the Secret Service, a dark horse 15th seed in Florida has made it to the Sweet Sixteen (even more amazing is that my friend guessed they’d win two games), and the Supreme Court is listening to arguments that could decide the future of mawwiage in ‘Merica (if you’ve never seen The Princess Bride, for shame!)
I just read the full transcripts of the hearing today, and so far, I’m not sure what to make of the questioning by the Supreme Court. I try not to get political in this blog because politics is serious, people, and I don’t do serious outside of the office. But much like I don’t want someone with a tail (read: boy parts) telling us ladies what to do with our bodies (or how intuitive they are in cases of pregnancy through rape), I do not think it just to hide behind a misused veil of morality as the motivation to prevent those we care about from legalizing their unions.
Right now, we have a serious financial deficit going on (start learning Mandarin, kids), and a whack-a-doo (confirmed by his friendship with Dennis Rodman) running the show in a nuclear North Korea.
In another equally volatile part of the world, an almost two year-long civil war has raged where one evil empire (Iran) is funding the Syrian government while another evil empire (Saudi Arabia) is funding the rebels. And meanwhile our evil empire’s attention is turned to whether or not two people who want to commit themselves to each other in marriage can legally do so. The argument against these legal unions? The definition of marriage, especially as it relates to the Bible, morality, and procreation… Let’s break this down right quick, starting with some passages from the Bible, shall we? If we’re going to default to holy scriptures, let’s do so verbatim.
“You should not lie on a bed where a menstruating woman has lain, and you can’t sit on a chair where she has sat.” (Leviticus 15:20) – Bummer, guys. So pretty much don’t leave your house. Ever. Oh, and don’t get married to a woman because we like to sit everywhere.
In a nutshell, the Bible says lots of stuff. If we’re going to choose scriptures to live by, that’s fine, as long as we’re not hurting someone else; we just can’t pick and choose holy text to dictate how others should be living. Barre tu parcelita (clean your own patio) is how the Spanish say this best; meaning, focus on your own crapola and don’t tell others how to handle theirs. If we applied the Bible across the board, what would happen to all you snipped Dads out there, while us women folk are standing all day and being sold to bands of gypsies:
“No man whose testicles have been crushed or whose organ has been cut off may become a member of the assembly of God.” (Deut 23:1)
Now, on to morality. People, Jesse James (a confirmed tool and cheater) has had the protected right to marry four times (sidenote: shouldn’t he have it revoked at some point?). Kim Kardashian’s marriage imploded on reality TV and now we’re forced to watch her refuse maternity clothes as her waistline continues to expand from a pregnancy with her baby-daddy (who is also a tool and who, by the way, is not the Hump).
- Totes appropriate maternity dress.
We’ve watched scandal after ridiculous scandal unfold in the private lives of politicians – Newt, Anthony Weiner (such an unfortunate joe-incidence), and let’s not forget the South Carolina governor who lied to his constituents to canoodle his Argentine mistress. He just recently threw his hat back in the political ring and garnered a lot of support. Need I go on? So, let’s throw the morality stump in the fire, shall we? ‘Tis a tall order to argue it’s morally wrong for two people who love each other to formalize their union in front of family and friends (and throw a great shindig afterward) when true moral digressions are played out (and ignored) in real life everyday.
Procreation. Welcome to the 1800’s, folks. Please check your passion at the door because sex is only for ensuring the continuation of mankind. Yes, that’s why the porn industry is failing so miserably. I don’t want to give too much away about my own shenanigans, but I’m willing to bet most of you don’t have those old fashioned “Like Water for Chocolate” procreation blankets on the bed… Also, if procreation is the argument for not legalizing gay marriage, I guess those adorable ninety year olds we hear about on the news who fall back in love after reuniting 65 years later shouldn’t be granted a marriage license because, let’s face it, no babies in their future.
This isn’t about personal beliefs, perceptions, or preferences. I personally believe that my cat is a Russian spy; I bet you have a dog that is not only a member of Mossad but also speaks Mandarin, and you think said furball could outwit my wily, trained assassin. That is your misguided perception, and you’re entitled to it. The core issue sitting before the Supreme Court is about universal rights. There shouldn’t be gay mawwiage and straight mawwiage – there should just be mawwiage. I know second amendment and “less government in business” supporters don’t want their individual rights trampled – so why is ok to deny a right to some that is afforded to the majority?
Friends, there is a lot of crazy shite going on in this world right now. Gay marriage needs to be the focus until equal rights are afforded to all citizens; wouldn’t it be great, though, if we got there together sooner rather than later? Then we can get down to the serious business of using Dennis Rodman as live bait to capture Kim Jung Un. So look alive, Ginsburg. The ball’s in your court.
Too Pooped to Pope… or Poke.
This is a metaphor, friends. Clearly, I am not running the Vatican (something about a missing Y chromosome and fifty years of additional living on planet Earth), but Benedict XVI and I have something in common – we’re both tired. Should he be more tired than me? Perhaps. But this is not a contest – I’m not trying to outrun the Pope (he could legit beat me now because I can’t run), nor are we having a Latin spelling bee. I do have a good reason for my whining – I have been googling how to successfully itch under my leg cast for over two hours, and so far, I’ve got NOTHING to use. I’m exhausted. And the itching is driving me bats. Despite my desire to believe the best in people, mankind seems stupid to lack common sense, my friends. Being the perpetual optimist that I am, and even though my attempt at finding a safe remedy has been futile, I’d like to share a couple of my favorite “suggestions” with you (for those of you on which irony is lost, i.e. Dubliners, let me be blunt. Don’t try these.):
- Use a knitting needle – uh, exsqueeze me? A baking powder? This sounds like a terrible idea.
- Use a hanger that is folded over – again, I can’t see where I’m going. How is this a good idea? Unless you’re a small child with no self-control, sticking any pointy-ish object down a cast sounds ridiculous, especially if there are stitches (the thought of something catching in there makes me want to throw up a little)…
- Use a vibrating massager – okay, my mind slipped on this one. I immediately thought about Sex and the City. Remember when Samantha bought a neck massager from Brookstone to use as a… nevermind. I’ll pass.
- Saw the cast off yourself and then duct tape it back – this was probably my favorite. I absolutely think this is what Uncle Si
has donewould do. Maybe I’ll just get my cats to do it for me. Over a bottle of wine.
- Frozen peas over the cast – perhaps the distraction of me trying to balance an already opened bag of peas over my cast was enough to alleviate the itching for a tick, but definitely not a long-term solution.
- Cornstarch or baby powder – what?! Why not use bread crumbs? This will smell
like dirty baby diapergreat once it’s congealed. Hopefully we all learned from Ross what happens when you mix baby powder and sweat…
- Pick your favorite giant kitchen serving utensil and insert here – again, splinters, broken skin, infection, sepsis. That is the order of things… Also, apparently this can push down the cotton bandaging, thus removing a protective layer that helps when they’re sawing the dag-gone thing off.
So, here I am. Laying like brocolli, comparing myself to the leader of the Catholic world and resorting to the internet to find relief for my sad, atrophied leg. I’m thinking all my meditation practice should work for this eventually, right?! For the record, I’m really excited to see what my leg looks once the cast is off (chicken leg runs in the family, so what God gave me coupled with atrophy will probably equal a leg resembling limp celery).
WHISKEY TANGO FOXTROT, people?! What’s a girl to do?! I can only hope the laser hair removal sessions endured throughout all of 2012 miraculously worked on my left leg, because right leg never got the memo that it should be nekkid like a mole rat. So I’m going to go to bed and meditate… or whimper; but not before I leave you with this image (although I’m hoping my leg doesn’t look like this either…)
onedayisoneday 