I'm just wondering...can rocket scientists really figure out all the stuff we say it doesn't take one of them to figure out?

haircut please!

My hair grows too damn fast. It's rapidly approaching the mullet stage and I'm getting scared.

Okay, I'm kidding, it's not anywhere near that bad. It's just getting kinda long.

Okay, again, I'm joking. I promise and swear to never let my hair do that, and if I do, everyone I know has the right to tie me down and shave my head and then beat me for letting it get that bad.

But honestly, how could one not want to cultivate such a fine hairstyle and make it into a family tradition?

Eeesh. That's enough. I'm off to schedule a hair appointment.

Odd thing happened this weekend. Amy and I were coming back from my improv show late Friday night, just walking down the street we live on. While we were chatting, I noticed this man walking in our direction wearing this strange outfit, it was kind of baggy and colorful--almost like it was some traditional African garb. He was also carrying a walking staff with bells on it.

Cambridge has some strange people living there (myself included), so I didn't react much to this as he came closer. Yet when we walked past him, he stopped and started yelling at us. Such a stream of obscenities came out of this man's mouth that I didn't even know what he was talking about until I made out the phrase "You stupid f*cking dykes!!" He was going on and on about how the US was Sodom and Gomorrah because of all the evil dykes and fags and how we couldn't have babies and all these other horrible things. His insults were quite creative, though, I'd not heard some of them before, and I've been harassed for being a homo many-a-time.

What I found strange is that Amy and I hadn't even been holding hands or kissing or anything else that might have made it totally obvious that we were big flaming homos. The hate-monger's gaydar was well-developed. Now I know I don't look like Mrs. Straight Woman to most, but this guy just automatically launched into his "gays are evil" tyrade without even confirming with us first. Haha.

So Amy and I just kept on walking while he stood in place screaming and yelling. I made sure to continue provoking him as well, by saying things like "Have a nice night!" and waving as we walked off.

It was pretty jarring, though. I think Amy was more affected by it than me at first, I shrugged it off and made fun of him as we walked home (both of us were glad he didn't follow us). Yet now, four days later, I'm still thinking about it. It's just so strange to hear that kind of thing in Cambridge, the big flaming liberal mecca where everyone seems to be okay with everything. I worried that I was getting too used to being in an environment where I can be gay and no one cares much, or at least they don't yell nasty things. It brought me back to college, where I did receive several death threats and had to deal with much more homophobia.

But why should I have to remember to be used to getting harassed? Some will say it's so I won't be surprised when it happens after I move away from the People's Republic of Cambridge. Why shouldn't it surprise me, though? Why am I the one who has to get used to it?

Someday, the cats of the world will rebel

This website made me cry at work because I was laughing so incredibly hard. I must spread the word of its existence so that others may also enjoy it.

Amy just called me at work to say that she fixed the bathtub so that it drains more quickly.

These are the things that unemployed people do. Seriously. I did things like that for eight months when I was looking for a job.

the spider

Last Thursday morning I was sitting in a lecture room in Andover Hall on the campus of Harvard Divinity School. I was there with my parents and Amy's parents watching the live simulcast of the main Harvard graduation -- which was happening over on the Yard (or "Yahd," if you're from New England). The live simulcast in itself was funny because they even had two Harvard (read "hahvahd") professors actually commentating on everything, like it was some sports event. The camera would even cut back to the commentators here and there and they'd be wearing the little headsets and interviewing some Harvard grad who was studying something obscure like how robotics can be used to help fix someone's damaged vocal cords.

Once the whole ceremony got started, they opened it all up with a Rabbi leading a prayer. At that same time, back in the lecture room where we were watching it on a big screen, out of the corner of my eye I saw something small fall down in front of me. I looked down to find that a spider had decided to leave his ceiling post at that moment and land on my left leg. And this was no tiny spider. It was a medium spider.

Now, I can handle getting rid of most spiders--providing that they're not ON me. This medium-sized rebel had totally crossed the line by touching me. So, I tense up and squirm and wiggle around, trying to get my mom's attention (who's sitting to my right) and Amy's dad's attention (who's sitting to my left). They see the evil-doer on my leg and also see me squirming around in my chair and internally, as I'm trying to decide if I should touch the eight-legged madman to get it off my leg or let it crawl off.**

**My inner thought process: "No, I can't let it crawl off because then I won't know where it is, and then it could crawl back onto me later! AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!"

So, simultaneously, my mom and Amy's dad start slapping and brushing my left leg as I squirm around, the spider freaks out and runs up my leg and then onto the chair I'm in, and the rabbi on the big screen is leading everyone in a big quiet prayer. The people in front of us are starting to look back at our little ruckus-- which must have looked like I was being attacked by my family-- and then we lose track of where the spider went. So, the big quiet prayer continues, I now don't know where the spider is, the people in front of me turn ahead again, and my mom starts shaking uncontrollably with the laughter she's trying to hold in after seeing a spider jump on the one person in the room who would freak out by that.

I look down at the floor and see the spider on my jacket. The big prayer is continuing, and just as the rabbi says something about praying for world peace and stopping the killing of the innocent, I start stomping the life out of the spider on the floor.

Let me give you the overall picture at this point:

Big quiet prayer + mentions of killing the innocent + me stomping a spider to death on the floor + the steady thumping of my foot on the floor + people in front of me looking back + mom is now crying she's trying to hold in her laughter so much = a humorous divinity school scene.

And what's funnier is that despite all the interesting pomp and circumstance of the great graduation from Harvard, all my family will probably remember about Amy's graduation ceremony is how a spider jumped on me and I loudly terminated it with my foot.

lazy lazy lazy

I don't post often because I never feel like my life is interesting. Or, they'll be a quick moment when it is, but then I can't write it out well or I go blank when I get to the screen. Thanks ash for making me get off my lazy arse and write something. I will try to be more regular about it...like fiber or bran or something.

What's been going on? Well, my lovely wife has finally graduated from divinity school. We attended the big ol' Harvard graduation, which is so pomp and circumstance that you just have to see it. They even have the sheriff of Middlesex County open up the whole big graduation by slamming this huge staff on the ground and yelling, "AS THE HONORABLE SHERIFF OF MIDDLESEX COUNTY, I KNOW CALL THIS EVENT TO ORDER!!" What was funnier was that the staff he slammed into the ground broke, and he quickly recovered by saying, "Must have been made in Connecticut." Everyone laughed, always got to get a little dig in on Yale, I guess.

But my parents and Amy's parents were in town all weekend and we dragged them all over the city for sight-seeing. We even took them candlepin bowling, New England's favorite pasttime--besides driving like maniacs and hating the Yankees.

Now Amy and I just have to figure out where we're going to next. States in the running include: staying where we are, Maryland, Ohio, Indiana, and California. Who knows? Amy can't officially start looking for pastor work until her final ordination meeting in September, so that kinda stinks that she has to be a temp or something all summer. She commented that she can't believe that she has a masters and has had seven years of higher education, yet she now has to be a temp and doesn't feel qualified for most of the jobs. Job-hunting sucks.

Okay, back to work. I now pledge to not be as lazy.