September 29th, 2007

corset & bougainvillea

Flamed out.

At 3:00 p.m., I am standing on a sidewalk in Walnut Creek waiting for a locksmith to come and let me back into flipping_hades's car. You see, when I arrived here almost five hours ago for my annual exam at Planned Parenthood, three born-agains were camped out front with their "Abortion is Murder in Gods [sic] Court" signs and pictures of fetuses to wave at me while I parked and entered the clinic. Never before have I actually had to contend with these people on my way into a PP clinic anywhere else in the country, but alas, I am on the wrong side of the Caldecott ("Culture Stop") Tunnel, and I suppose that their fire and brimstone, while having no effect on my intention to continue having godless, non-proceative sex (sometimes gay sex, even!) or to have an abortion if and when I deem it necessary, did fluster me enough to do something as asinine as lock my keys in the car.

And though I was told more than two hours ago that the locksmith would be here in 45 minutes, the most recent call sets his arrival at half an hour from now. So, no laundry is being done at this time, no cleaning in advance of TDM's arrival on Monday, no Love Fest festivities are being undertaken. Score one for the vulgar, anti-choice bible thumpers!

I may go home and masturbate out of spite--once I can get home, that is.

In other news, I intend to do some housecleaning around these parts pretty soon. My patience is null these days for flamewars on my journal. If you feel like I'm talking about you, I may be. If you'd like to chat about it, I'm game. Comments are screened. But I am officially done with this blog being Cultural Studies 101. I don't get paid to suffer insults and name-calling from fools and their friends. There are better ways to engage difficult topics than by poking at me with sticks.