The Jigtastic Journal of J. Na Na

Good morning, Hillers!

Well, this’ll be my last post for 2007.  The year began with the introduction of Sugar to our family, climaxed with the e-meeting of my long lost half-siblings, and concluded nicely with an unexpectedly big raise.  I would like to say it went out with a bang, but that’s still pending seeing as how I don’t have any firm confirmations for a New Year’s date for the End Up, although I am meeting up with an old friend from SD. 

If you think that New Year’s is just a fucking hyped up bullshitty holiday that simply revolves around a calendar date, I see what you’re saying.  But why not take the chance, any chance, for a fresh start, and run with it?

Happy New Year.

J. Co’s away and I have the apartment to myself.  It’s nice being able to snuggle up with Kitty on my bed watching TMZ and reality TV while the rain pours down outside, just us.

Today is our office holiday party, and we get to close up shop at 2:00 then go to my boss’s, whom I call Businesswoman Barbie. I’m excited to see her I’m sure chic pad. 

My New Year’s resolutions are agonizing cliched: to clear up my debt and exercise more.  In all honesty, though, I may actually achieve them this go round what with my recent raise.  And I may latch on to J. Co’s 24 Hour membership and get a deal, and you’re much more likely to work out if you have someone with whom to go.   

It is so creepy to think that the Cabbage Patch Dolls had a villan, Lavender McDade, the mean old woman who tried to, I think, make gold coins out of them or eat them or whatever. 

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Wouldn’t it be interesting if Marilyn Manson played at Pride?

If you had to sleep with either Jay or Silent Bob, who would you pick?

Whenever I’m the only person on a bus, and I pass another bus packed with people, some standing, I have to fight the urge to raise the roof, get up and do the cha cha, and otherwise joyfully dance down the spacious aisle and upon the empty seats with glee.  That happened on the way home last night.

I think I need to find a new book.  Right now I’m reading "Rachel’s Holiday" by one of my favorite authors, Marian Keyes, but it’s set in a rehab clinic where the main character is Rachel, a cool, if not somewhat deluded 27-year old, and everyone else is a bunch of old guys.  Oogy.  I got "The Nanny Diaries".  Maybe I’ll start it early.

I woke up with the "Muppet Babies" theme song in my head this morning.  I miss that cartoon.  It was so awesome.  How everything took place in the nursery, in their imagination, and it would cut to real life clips from movies like "Star Wars" and "Indiana Jones".  Cute.

How awful must it be to be a dentist?  You know, the mouth is the filthiest place on the body.  It has the most germs.  Or so I’ve been told.  You would think that honor would go to the anus, but apparently not.  And to have to deal with people’s rank breath and jacked up teeth. 

They don’t pay those people enough.

People are abominably stupid.  I know this, because whenever I’m waiting for the bus with a whole bunch of people, then suddenly two buses come along, everyone packs onto the first one like their lives depended on it, all smashed into it like…what the fuck’s that fish called?  Trout?  Salmon?  Sardines!  I mean, we now even have GPS tracking devices on the buses in SF, with monitors up at most bus shelters that tell you when the next two or three buses will arrive.  And still, they pack on to the first available one with fervent gusto.

Absolutely fucking retarded!

I get a little pissed off at things sometimes.  Like at that clip of George Clooney on the can congratulating Julia Roberts–another actor who’s up her own ass–at some gala in her honor, and then some guy is playing footsy with him, mocking the whole Senator Larry Craig debacle.

I’ll admit Craig deserves to be called out for his actions, especially since he has a homophobic voting record in Congress.  He lacks integrity, and is a hypocrite.  But he’s also gay and closeted.  He didn’t choose to be gay, and I’m sure would prefer not to be closeted.  But years of institutionalized homophobia–decades of having it hammered into his head that being gay is wrong, unnatural, and immoral–have made him into the mess that he is. 

No one would choose to endure that kind of crap.  No one deserves to have to go through it.

We’re already taught to feel bad about our sexual desires.  Imagine being taught that who you want to have sex with is wrong on top of that.  How far do we go in denigrating someone for their hypocrisy before showing compassion for their pain?

Listen, I’m down for Christmas.  There’s an element of joy that still takes me back to my younger years when I see folks out buying gifts, and wide-eyed kids reveling in the holiday bustle.  I even took a long walk last night just to take in the cold December night, and walked by the ice rink they have  out near the Piers. 

But everyone seems to keep drilling into me that I’m something of a Scrooge for not being as ardently festive as they are.  In fact, my boss just called me a Scrooge because she says I don’t like any of the holiday things she does.  One of my co-workers came into my office with puppy dog eyes and said, "Joshy, I’m sad that you’re not doing anything for Christmas this year."

Thanks for the reminder, sweets!

I actually chose to have a low-key Christmas this year.  Going back home to the fam in SD is always something of a headache, both in having to deal with the fam and deal with the airports.  And I didn’t want to have a repeat of going to see my grandparents in Vegas like I did last year when I gained a bunch of weight from eating out and drinking every night, weight that I have STILL not lost.  And I didn’t want to use up any more of my vacation hours, since I’d like to store them up for something bigger and better next year.

So don’t cry for me, Argentina.  I promise I ain’t suffering.  And happy holidays.  Really!

I’ve been attacked–well, let’s be less incendiary and say approached–recently by a friend or two about the alleged irony of how I consider myself open-minded and liberal, yet am close-minded and stubborn when confronted with the viewpoints of others.

Being liberal and open-minded is not the same as being indecisive and ambivalent, you see.  So, when some poses an argument counter to my beliefs, I will argue against it, naturally.  For example, if some southern-bred, red state-sanctioned bigoted hick tries to convince me that homosexuality is wrong, immoral, and evil, I will beg to differ.  This does not make me close-minded.

The best analogy I can come up with is that a close-minded person would only consider their own religion, say, Christianity for (prime) example, as being valid and right.  Whereas an open-minded person would consider Christianity, Muslim, Jewish, Catholic, atheist, agnostic, Hindu et. al. to be all valid for the people who believe in them.

Do you see the distinction?

Saturday, J Co and I did laundry and went Christmas/birthday shopping for X-tinafied’s 28th, as well as picking up a few things for ourselves.  Union Square was mildly nightmarish, and I suspect it will continue to be all on through the freakin’ holiday season. 

And later that night, we went to what seemed like every straight bar in San Francisco.  Some of the more salient features of straight bars, as noticed by myself, are:
1. Beer is the drink of choice.  Fruity cocktails, not so much.
2. There is always football playing on the TV.  I am not joking nor exaggerating.
3. Musically, the genres of choice are hip hop (danced to by a bunch of white kids, natch) and instantly recognizable ’80s/’90s rock/pop.  You know, the kind that you start singing and dancing along to only when you’re soused?
4. Straight guys are sooo tall.  Why can’t fags be, too?
5. You dress up to go to straight bars.  You dress less when going to gay bars.

I was also introduced to my new favorite drink: a surfer on acid.  Deelish.  Now, back at work, I feel like I’m wrapped in a cocoon of dream state-ness.  That is, I’m awake enough, but a little out of it.