Vegas Vacation Day 3 Impressions 3/24/16

Day three of our vacation.  Doug wakes up and says “I had a strange dream.” Apparently, he dreamt he was on the show Beat Bobby Flay. When the time starts and the bell rings, he grabs a frying pan and goes over to Bobby Flay and starts beating him with it.  This sets the tone for the day.

We are going to take on the other side of the Las Vegas Strip today. We take off across the bridge to MGM in search of adventure and breakfast. Wolfgang Puck, Emeril, Joel Robuchon, and Tom Collicio…no one to beat there, so we end up in the food court (we’re not looking for much, we’re anticipating a buffet tonight). McDonalds it is…we opt out of the omelet from Nathan’s hot dogs.  There is no military discount for this….which reminds me: When we asked the lady at Zumanity if there was a military discount, she replied with “No, because this show has strobe lights.”  So, the running joke has been, no military discount, must have strobe lights.  We both laugh hysterically each time we repeat this--Guess you had to be there.

Anyway, we pick a table and have our breakfasts. Next to us, there are two young men with beards and skinny jeans. One of them is talking angrily and waving his hands in the air as he talks. He’s complaining about injustice and how he can’t get a break because he was just better than the losers who were getting breaks. He pounds on the other guy’s plate with his fork as he makes his point. The other guy says nothing, just sits with a rigidly straight back and listens to the rant. Or maybe he’s mourning the death of his Panda Express mystery meat stuffed waffle. We linger to listen to the rant which runs from women who have dumped him to colleges that refuse to give him a free education to people who won’t consider him for a job because he’s white.  He does not mention his beard. Doug and I are judging him for his beard, it’s hideous. If we had someone apply for a job with that beard, we would not hire them either.

 

We hit the M&M store. There’s a midget employee who is shouting things. I didn’t know she was an employee; I thought she was some kind of mental homeless person, in need of an intervention, speaking a language of her own making. Then, the Coca-Cola store with all its trinkets and throngs of foreign families trying different flavors. Oh, speaking of different flavors, M&M was trying out Chili nut and coffee nut flavored M&Ms this visit…we passed on those.

More walking, my feet still hurt from yesterday…clearly today is going to test our relationship. I anticipate whining later tonight when I start to get tired.

We walk, skipping over the Miracle Mile Shops at Planet Hollywood because that’s the anticipated buffet (ranked number one on the internet polls). We check out the shops in Paris and I eye the Eiffel Tower. Neither of us have ever been up in the Vegas Eiffel Tower. We decide to check out the price. Military discount? Oh hell yes, the veteran gets in FREE…they don’t have strobe lights up there!!  Woohoo.  We wait in line and get all the way up there. Awesome pictures. Awesome views. High enough to make your knees a little weak. High enough that even Doug, who has absolutely no fear that I’ve ever seen, says that he feels that little twinge. Still, it’s cool.

After Paris, there’s Bally’s and these outdoor shops in a Bizarre-like atmosphere. Bizarre is a good word. There’s a place that takes photographs and stages fake weddings. There’s a brief temptation. There are t-shirts which light up to the sound of music. There are sunglasses and fake designer purses--Frendi, Guchi, Predia, Louis Vinton. And there’s a jerky shop. We’re stopping in the jerky shop. JoJo’s Jerky.  The man in the shop tells Doug: “We grow our own beef. Everything is handmade.” Doug and I exchange a look. We’ve reached that point in our relationship where we know the thought running through both of our brains at this moment is “How in the hell to you hand-make a cow? Isn’t that illegal?” Still, regardless of the suddenly suspect source of the meet, Doug buys jerky.  Doug cannot pass on jerky. For the record, the verdict on JoJo’s jerky wasn’t all that favorable. I had a friend who once said, “Pizza is like sex. You never get a bad slice.” This seems to mirror Doug’s theory on jerky--JoJos is apparently the equivalent of Tortino's frozen pizzas.

He eats this while we walk some more. More walking, yep. And finally, it’s starting to warm up a little. This almost makes me forget that I’m getting a blister.

Between the Flamingo and the Linq there’s a street (it’s new since that last time I was in Vegas years and years ago, or maybe it was there and I was just at the pool pissed off and drunk while all my money was being lost).  Anyway, we head down this street and the shops here.  Now, a friend told me to try the food at a place called the Yardbird.  I see a place called the Yardhouse, and I’m like, hey, we should stop to get something to drink and share a couple of appetizers for lunch….because really, I just want to stop the ever-growing blister that’s forming on my foot, right in the center between between the pad of my big toe and the other toes. The advice was to try the deviled eggs appetizer, so we do because, at that moment, I am not aware that I’m at the wrong place. We also order the fried cheese—in our endless quest for squeaky cheese like the kind we had once, fried at some fair or something.

After food and a feet reprieve, we head off to finish up the little street, which ends at a Ferris wheel called High Roller. The thing is MASSIVE.  I cannot express this enough. Nor can I express my lack of desire to ever be trapped in one of the huge pods with 20 sweaty strangers, unable to escape, glass-enclosed death trap that you have to get in to take a slow road up so high that I think airplanes from McCarran Airport are flying through the center of. Doug wants to get closer to it. He wants to see how it works. I take pictures. I don’t really even want to get close to it.  I mean, it might break off and go rolling down the strip, crushing small children and Asian families as they run down the streets, their screams travelling on a two second delay.

Next, it’s on to the shops at the Venetian. Lots of things we can’t afford. But, good browsing and people watching. Way too many aggressive salespeople. One woman tries to give me a free sample of perfume….but you know what, it’s not really free, because my time isn’t free and I don’t want to listen to their story about how their product will change my life. I tell one woman "No" and she says “Why the hell not, it’s free.” I almost turn around and confront her crappy sales attitude. I want to ask her if she makes a lot of sales being a bitch. She’s lucky that pivoting on a blister is not a good option. A guy tries to give Doug a sample of mousse for his hair. Another man wants to pawn off his free lotion--never accept free lotion from a metrosexual. When Doug says no, the salesperson mumbles under his breath “It was for her.” There are more 1 guy 2 girl groups everywhere. Is there some unwritten rule about needing a girlfriend to join you and your boyfriend on a trip to Vegas? Weird. 

In the Venetian, in the canals, there’s a married couple taking a trip in the white gondola. The woman is heavy set, wearing white and has a huge smile on her face. The man is wearing a kilt and looks like he’s hoping a sniper will take him out from one of the bridges over the canal. People are taking pictures. The gondolier is singing bad Italian. There are some claps, but I’m not sure if these are congratulations or thank-goodness-its-not-me claps. The woman grins. The man stares at the water. A camera man sits across from them filming. I think about an episode of Dateline I saw once.

The Venetian leads to the Wynn. My feet hurt. I’m in agony. I try to fake it and smile, but part of me knows that this is probably going to mark the end of my relationship. Goodbye happiness. Goodbye perfect match. I’m going to whine and ruin it all. And then, while I’m mourning the loss and sure I’m going to die alone, they’re going to amputate my feet and I’ll have to walk around on the calloused stumps that once were ankles. And God dammit, I am not coordinated enough to walk around with two feet, how am I ever going to manage walking around on two stumps? The man I love looks at me and says, “I’m farting in every hotel on the Strip.” He grins.  Okay, maybe there’s hope still.

I drink a lot of water. Smart Water. Fiji Water. Wynn Water. Propel Water---oh yes, the irony. I have to pee. The signs at Wynn for the restrooms have both a man and a woman on them. I head for the door. A security guard stops me. Apparently, I was headed for the mens/Jenner family/metrosexual room. I nearly walked in on things that I did not want to see and couldn’t run from without crying in pain.  I go in the women’s room.  Hey, this fancy people at the Wynn have nice restrooms. Marble floors and doors that actually close. Gold faucets and touchless hand dryers that remind me of those blowers at the end of a car wash—except for your hands.

Now it’s back. Back the way we came. It’s getting late and the street “performers” have come out. There’s short Darth Vader with his platform shoes and oversized head. There’s Spiderman who should have worn a cup or something; but, I can see why he wears a mask. I don’t have a penis and even I feel superior to Spiderman. There are two woman wearing only body paint advertising for a strip club. A woman hands them her baby and says: “Take a picture with my baby!”

Then, it’s the Miracle Mile of shops at Planet Hollywood. It’s going to be a miracle if I survive this night without an amputation. A mile of shops much like the rest. To be fair, these stores are more within my price range. If I wasn’t all whiny and tired and hurting, I might have taken more of an interest. We check it all out. With special attention to the electronics stores. While checking out a drone in Hammacher Schlemmer, Doug looks at me, farts loudly and says … “Planet Hollywood!”

Finally we’ve arrived at Spice Market. The Buffet.

Military discount or strobe lights? 

Military discount wins!!!  The people in front of us can’t decide where they want to sit. They take the hostess around the entire place pointing at different places and ruling them out. It takes them 20 minutes to pick a table. People with food piled high on two plates pass by in a hurry to their tables. I’d say something about them being able to go back for more instead of grabbing all the food at once, but I figure their feet might hurt and I think they’ve got a reasonable solution.

We get a table finally. Next to a table where a man has a plate filled with crab legs. The food is good. Or maybe it’s just the joy of being off my feet.

At another table, there are two woman in clothes one size too small. Leopard print leggings and lots of gold. Long lacquered nails. Bags by Louis Vinton and Predia or maybe Frendi and Guchi. Ankle boots with straps that cut into swollen feet and cankles bursting at the seams of the leggings. They talk with flourishes and hair whips. They scarf food trying to look elegant. Doug and I watch as they go back for several helpings. And then…at the end…..they start flossing their teeth at the table. One of them picks up the cloth napkin and blows her nose in it. Doug and I exchange looks of horror and shock.

The waitress yells at the busser for leaving too many unbussed tables. The busser yells at her in Spanish, mumbling under her breath behind her back as she rolls her eyes and throws up her arms.

We hobble back to the tram to Luxor. Full. The rest has done little to help my feet. 11.4 miles the days before. 11.9 miles today. 5.25 miles the first day.  It takes me three days to do a marathon. There’s a girl complaining about her feet on the tram. She shows her friends that they’ve taken 5000 steps. They ooh and ahh at how awesome they are. Doug looks at his phone. 24,639 steps. He’s hit a new record for the day. The tram also holds a family with a father who looks like he’s barely hit puberty. His wife/ mother of children/ nanny/ grandmother and he have 4 children. They are all wearing sandals. For some reason, I think they’re probably vegans. It must be the delirium setting in. Doug farts as we exit the tram and head back to the room, finishing our third day of vacation. 

Vegas Vacation Day 2 Impressions 3/23/16

3/23/16

Well, we want to try a buffet tonight in Vegas, so we don’t want to eat too much. Plus, we know we have to get back to our hotel in time for our Blue Man Group show. We elect the hotel café for a quick breakfast.  But oooh, they have hash!  And they have sourdough toast. We cannot pass these up. This is probably going to be a fulfilling day for food.

We decide to walk the Strip, our side, the one Luxor is on, so we can stay in the sun. It’s rather cold out and very windy. It’s nice not being in a hurry as we explore the huge hotels and the shops in them. Doug is good with checking out all the art gallery stores with me. The salespeople pounce on you when you enter and they follow you like you’re going to steal something. If only they knew that I don’t buy art for value or as an investment, I buy art when I like it---and that’s very few of the galleries I find. One that I really liked and so did Doug was a photographer named Rodney Lough Jr.; he’s got photos in the Smithsonian so you know we’re not the only ones who like him. The salesman actually talked to us like people rather than potential art thieves too. You should check out his website if you get a chance, his books and photographs were just stunning.  I’d love some of them in my house. The prices range from reasonable to never-gonna-happen.  Maybe one day I’ll get one.  We checked out Aria and The Cosmopolitan hotels, both new since either of us have been there, then we walked into the Bellagio because I’ve never seen the garden. The garden is filled with Japanese tourists using big tablets as cameras. By this time, we’re looking for restrooms, so why not hit the Bellagio restrooms.  They’re nice. They have heavy wooden doors on the stalls and real marble floors. This design makes for nice acoustics for the guy in the stall next to Doug’s who’s singing “Easy Lover.”

Further down the strip, the street performers appear. There’s a guy in Chuckie costume.  The costume has a fan in the head. There’s fat Elvis on a scooter.  There’s multiple Elvises (Elvi?) swapping money and one of them looks at the other and says in a heavy New York accent “I have a fucking headache today, Dude.” Darth Vader is short even with his huge platform shoes and his huge oversized head….seriously, the shoes add about 6 inches to him and he’s still shorter than Doug and I.

Finally, we reach the Fashion Show Mall.  All this time we’ve been dating and we’ve never been in a mall together (the Sandusky Mall apparently doesn’t count as a mall). We roam through the stores and wander into the “As Seen on TV” store.  While Doug looks, the clerk starts to talk. She tells me about living in Las Vegas and how the clubs are lame because she’s from New York and here in Las Vegas people just want to get drunk. Her allergies are bad today and all her friends in the mall tell her she sounds like Rosie Perez. When GaGa and Pitbull were in town at the same time, it was madness in Vegas. Even the shitty hotels way off the Strip were charping $500/night and the place was so full that police were trying to turn people away from the city at the airport. As we leave, Doug looks at me and says “What is it about you that people tell you everything?”  It’s a gift. We hit the Nike Store so I can buy a thin jacket because I’m cold.

After the weaving in and out of stores I am completely lost as far as direction. Usually I’m very good at it, but I think I’ve come to rely on Doug who is excellent at it. He has the sense of direction of a bloodhound. He leads us out of the Fashion Show Mall at the back and down a street. And Wah La…we are across the street from the Erotic Heritage Museum.

We cross the road and walk through the completely empty parking lot. There’s an open sign in the door though and we walk in. A tall girl with tats, dyed black hair, and horn-rimmed glasses greets us. I make sure Doug gets his military discount…haha! This discount thing is great. We explore dildoes and peep shoes and the dark circular room where about 8 screens are showing 8 different pornos at once. There’s Bill Clinton and Monica and the Star Wars porn parody. There’s art and historic erotic equipment that looks quite frightening.  Doug is checking out the peep show rooms and gives out a cry of surprise…he thought the dummy in one of the booths was a real person who was in there pleasuring himself. We giggle and laugh.  Too bad we won’t be around for the show “Puppetry of the Penis”….actually I don’t think Doug was upset about missing that show.

Back across the street to the mall again.  By this time, my feet are starting to hurt and I have a blister developing. We left the hotel at about 9 am…it’s now 2 pm, we haven’t stopped walking. And I’m kinda hungry. I only had toast afterall. We see Grimaldi’s pizza inside the mall. It was suggested. So we stop. We decide to get two personal pizzas and share.  Doug gets a white pizza with artichoke hearts, garlic, and ham. I get a regular red pizza with pepperoni, black olives, and garlic. The pizzas are huge…too big for us to eat. They’re coal fired brick oven and they’re awesome, but there’s so much left over. We decide to take some back to the room. We’re too full for a buffet now.

We walk back the same side, on the outside of the hotels this time. Doug gets stopped by a guy on the street who says “You guys smoke weed? I got some really good bud.”  I’m jealous, no one has ever offered me weed on the street. We take the shuttle from Excalibur to Mandalay Bay to Luxor.  A guy with two girls gets on.  The blonde girl is wearing 5 inch heels. The guy is telling her to sit down. He looks at us and says “Tell her to sit down.” I’m like “I’m not telling anyone to do anything.” Then I look at the girl and make a fist. “Girl power.” The blonde grins and nods in agreement.  “Yeah,” she says, “We have the strongest ankles of all the sexes.” Me: “Yes, all five of them.” We all laugh…good times. On the walk from the shuttle to our room, a fat 10-year-old points at Doug’s Star Wars shirt and says “cool shirt, Dude.”

We drop off the pizza, relax a little, and then head to Blue Man Group. As we’re going down in the elevator, a man in there with us tells us (well me) that his wife is claustrophobic and he’s going to the airport to pick her up right now. She’s not going to ride the elevator without him, he says. The elevators are too small. As we get off the elevator, Doug just looks at me and shakes his head. We stop at the sundry store and buy chapstick. The dry weather is bugging me. The clerk tells me about how awesome the show it and how we’ll enjoy it. She tells us that we can’t get discounts unless we gamble a lot, but it’s good that we don’t. Doug just shakes his head at me.

We get in line and watch people try to cut in line. We have good seats. I bought them months ago for Doug’s birthday. When we get in there, we find out just how good they are…we have a real danger of being picked to go on stage. We can practically reach out and touch the stage. We don’t get picked, thank goodness. Neither of us really want that. The show is awesome. As it ends, we all stand up. Some woman from the middle of the show, pushes past all of us, shoving us back as she gets out first; she leaves her husband behind as she tramples toes and knocks over old ladies.

After the show, we decide that we could eat a bite. We buy some souvenirs, then we head to the all night deli. There a man tells Doug that his shirt is awesome and starts to talk about the movie. The people in front of us can’t decide what they want and it takes them 15 minutes to order. Doug orders a four foot high pastrami and corned beef sandwich. I get onion rings and a hot dog. A guy is taste testing all the pop at the place where you fill your own cups. We get our food and head back up to the room. We want to sit in the big tub and much on dinner. Doug leaves the room to get pop at the pop machine. When he returns, he knocks on the wrong door.  The woman inside doesn’t open the door for him. 

We finish the day with dinner in the big soaking tub. It’s been a good second day.

Vegas Vacation Day 1 Impressions 3/22/16

3/22/2016

Get up early and drive out after listening to the news and finding out there were terrorist attacks in Belgium. We decide to stop for breakfast a Bob Evans on the way. The waitress has so much make up on, it must have been applied with a spatula. I mention that we’re headed to Vegas and she proceeds to tell us that she got married for the second time in Vegas (she asks if we’re getting married there). She tells us about her trip there and where she stayed and how much fun she and her now husband have when they go there. Arrive at the airport and Cleveland seems to be working on all their long term parking as all the lots are closed and only one is open, but it has a sign that it is full. However, since we have a small car, the attendant lets us squeeze into a handicap spot right next to a shuttle pick up sight.  We’re in the “Brown Lot” because it’s shitty and far away.  But there is a shuttle. The shuttle driver picks us up. Doug stretches to get his wallet out and I’m sure it looked like he was trying to hump my leg. “Well that’s what sweethearts are supposed to do,” she says after I make a comment about having a huge shuttle bus to ourselves and Doug and I are sitting right next to each other. “Are you getting married in Vegas?” she wants to know.

We arrive at the desk to check-in our bags and the guy at the counters asks Doug if he was in the Air Force (he’s wearing his USAF shirt). When Doug says yes, the guy wants to know if he can get in with a disability because he wants to be a recruiter and he wants to know if a waiver is possible (he has hearing aids in both ears). Doug tells him he doesn’t know. Then I assure him that he looks like he was in the military. He says “So if there’s a terrorist on the plane, he’s coming for me first?” Not what I meant, but yeah, he looks like he was in the military for a long time.

We have this discussion in the huge line to get through TSA security check point. Behind us a woman in a business suit one size too small is complaining about the line. “This is not very good customer service,” she says.  The guy in the suit standing with her nods and glances around at everyone else other than the woman. Another woman in a miniskirt with tattoos all the way up one leg like a cobweb of filigree runs up through the exit and cuts in front of everyone.

At the gate, everyone is on their phone at the same time. A guy with an autoharp (how in the hell can that thing fit in an overhead bin?) is talking too loud about his philosophy of life to someone who cares—no one else does. Ten 20-something guys are trying to post a snap chat photo at the gate, taking over a huge space in the crowded “discount airline” area. A big guy with very white shoes, bags under blood shot eyes, and a frumpy shirt keeps passing out in a chair nearby. There’s another guy with a carry-on, a large “personal item” bag, and a 17inch laptop—how is he going to get this all on the plane? If the plane crashes, these are the people I’m going to die with. I do not want to die with these people.

On the flight, we encounter a flight attendant who is a Jennifer Aniston- wannabe with braces. We quote Airplane! to pass the time as we anxiously await our seat mate in the row of three. But surprise!  No seat mate, three seats for two of us, this is practically first class! And we have the exit aisle with extra leg room. Doug glances at the iPod of the man across the aisle and notices that his phone is playing the exact same song as the guy’s iPod….creepy. There’s a woman who’s gone to the restroom about 3 times since the plane took off; the woman has “resting bitch face”. I spend some time practicing my resting bitch face, but as usual I keep laughing. There’s another guy with Jean Claude Van Damme sunglasses sitting across the aisle and a row behind us, staring menacingly (or at least I imagine so since his eyes are hidden).

As we land, a huge woman pushes through the aisle of people getting up to deplane, knocking people back into their rows. She’s wearing leopard print pants, has dreadlocks, and a tank top. When we get off the plane we see her sitting in a chair waiting with her head held in her hands. She nearly killed people to get there? Baggage claim finds us waiting with a guy who apparently wore muddy rubber wader boots on the plane. Thank goodness we didn’t die with these people!! 

Bags first on the roundabout, taxi waiting immediately, trip straight to the Luxor, no waiting at check-in, and we get a lovely suite with a view of a parking lot and a wall. The room is smaller than we remember, and yet we don’t use most of it—no need to get space from our current company I suppose. The room is worn and threadbare, the hotel is showing its age.

We’re off to get Zumanity tickets at New York New York. Then we decide on the Excalibur buffet for dinner. Our waitress is about six foot tall, has a blonde wig, is rail thing, and has a smoker’s voice. She is obsessed with dessert, telling us 5 times to not forget it. Doug discovers lemon-pepper peel and eat shrimp. We pig out.

We explore the shops at New York New York and Excalibur on our way to the show.  Outside of one bathroom, we see a big blonde woman 350 pounds plus who has no neck. She’s texting and taking pictures of the front of the men’s restroom. The salesman at the Swatch store keeps trying to sell us something by explaining the watches we’re glancing at, but neither of us can understand a word he’s saying through his accent. He keeps eyeing Doug’s watch.

Zumanity. Cirque de Soleil show for adults only, about sex. Next to us is a couple with a selfie stick taking pictures of themselves. In front of us is another couple, Asians taking selfies who will get home only to discover that the weird American’s have photobombed and ruined all their selfies.  While the Asian couple doesn’t interact with each other, each absorbed by their cell phones and texting, the couple next to us with the selfie stick starts making out and don’t see one bit of the show at all. The Asian woman has a pink cell phone case that is twice as big as her phone and shaped like a football.

The show.  A creepy midget who just wanders around fondling people and at the end is wearing nothing but a bedazzled nut pouch as he runs his tiny little hands over his miniature man body. Two men who dance in spiked 4 inch heels and flowing capes and have shaved their legs so their legs look like women’s. A transvestite host in a black negligee. Two buxom and bulbous Russian women. A built guy with a pink Mohawk and leather chaps (Doug refuses to buy chaps, I asked him). Women diving in water in an elevated glass bowl. A short black man with horns and goat pants/pagan leggings running around on all fours growling at people. And an insurance agent named Judy from Minnesota who is seeing the show with her daughter.

After the show, it’s late. We go back to the room and end our first day of vacation.

16 Offensive Thoughts for 2016

With the new year, I'd like to clear up a few things about my opinions and thoughts in general. If you are offended….well, I’m going to get to that here….

1] If you have a penis, you are not a woman, you are just a guy who likes to put on makeup and heels. If you don’t have cramps because you had to have a penis cut off, reshaped, turned inside out or whatever…you are not a woman.  I’m okay with that despite what you think; I just don’t think you’re a woman.  You can’t identify with being a woman because you didn’t grow up having society tell you that you have to be skinny and pretty and quiet and demure. You never got looked over in math class or science glass or woodworking shop because someone took a look at you and decided you weren’t right for the answers. You never had to call your father or your brother or your neighbor to open a jar from the grocery store. You remain a man/boy who maybe prefers dresses to jeans and likes makeup and heels. But you have never been a woman or a girl and you never will be any more than I will wake up and decide that I’ve had enough Chinese food to totally identify with being Chinese.  Doesn’t matter how many surgeries and how many language lessons and how many bowls of rice, I will always be an American who wants to be something I am not. You are a man who likes to wear dresses and heels and make-up. That’s okay. So don’t tell me that you aren’t still pretending. You are.

2] I don't care what pronoun you prefer to use on yourself, I prefer to use pronouns that make sense to me..it causes me stress and anxiety to use your pronouns when I want to use my pronouns...why is your stress and anxiety not as important as mine? What kind of insensitive cad are you?

3] Bad people will never be stopped by laws. Murder has been wrong since the beginning of time and yet we still do it. People will constantly try to take what is not theirs. There’s a speed limit. How many times have you broken the speed limit in your life? How hard was it to do that? You are a criminal. We are all criminals. Laws are the construct of man, man is flawed and twisted and fallible. That is life. In a perfect world, we wouldn’t need laws for guidance; we would know. In a perfect world, we would feel empathy and think ahead to possible consequences. None of us are perfect. Stop trying to legislate us to perfection; instead strive for empathy and thoughtfulness and strive to teach it to upcoming generations.

4] I will vote for who I want to, your memes and opinions mean nothing to me and I'm really not sure why my opinion is so important to you that you feel the need to attack it and generally call me a bad person because I don't agree with you...I mean, who in the HELL made you any more of an authority on anything than me? What is it about you that makes you think you are better than me? Because when you tell me I’m wrong and you tell me I’m stupid, you are essentially telling me that you’re better than me. I would like to think of you as an equal with a differing opinion instead of an egocentric douche with a closed mind. It’s surprising to me how many of you “open-minded” people try to tell others they are closed minded for not thinking like you do.

5] Ownership of a weapon does not make someone inherently violent, and just because you don't understand that shooting is a sport doesn't make it wrong. I don't understand the sport of javelin throwing. What's the thrill of throwing a giant pointy stick that could impale unsuspecting passersby? I don't get it; but, you know, I feel you should do your thing. Don’t understand hunting? Funny, I don’t understand how you can eat bacon. Perhaps you are not aware of where bacon comes from? At least hunters give the animal a fighting chance. Trust me when I tell you that the burger you are eating had no chance. I fully admit that I’m a hypocrite here. I’m not sure I could ever hunt. But at least I admit it while I’m scarfing down my holiday meal.

6] If you don't believe in God, church, abortion, guns, carnivores, gluten eaters, or feather dusters…that’s just fine by me. However, let’s understand that other people don’t believe that and let’s respect that about them. I don’t like the color pink, but I’m not going to stop people from wearing it or painting their walls pink. I don’t have to live in a world of pink, I just have to tolerate it from people who make that choice. It’d be nice if you all were as accepting and open-minded.  Or perhaps you just don’t trust yourself in a world where others are doing the things you think are wrong for you. That sounds more like a problem you have than a problem anyone else has.

7] Drugs and alcohol. One is legal and one is not. Both involve a measure of personal responsibility. Some people will rob to get their next fix. Some people will drive while drunk. This all goes back to that empathy and consequences thing. I’ve known people who have indulged in both and indulged too much at times. And yet these people have held jobs, never robbed anyone, been sober for work, and never taken a dime out of the pockets of their family. Actually, I’ve known people with expensive hobbies that have been more damaging to their families than people who drink too much.  As long as you aren’t putting anyone else at risk and you’re not shirking your responsibilities, I’m good with just letting people do what they want. I don’t want to go on a heroin binge anytime soon. Still, I understand that some people get wrapped up in addictions they do not have the ability to control. I believe we should help those people if they want and need help. I believe I should help old ladies cross the street and I believe I should help people better themselves, too.

8] Why is everyone taking offense at everything?  What the hell happened to the balls this country had? I mean really. Damn. Words are the enemy? Really? The most sacred point of the Bill of Rights and people are willfully trying to hide from it. Life isn’t a convenience. Life isn’t meant to cater to your every demand. I’m damned sorry if your parents made you think that you deserve to live in a bubble where everything is all pretty. Life doesn’t work like that. It’s work. Sometimes it sucks. People have minds of their own and they don’t conform to your little visions of how they should react. When you’re a toddler, you get to pretend that the world is perfect. But when you’re an adult, you should be well acquainted with the fact that you’re not going to like some things. And as adults, you just have to figure out how to work with that. If you can’t deal with the fact that you aren’t the painter of your own reality and you get pissed at people who don’t fit in, then you are nothing better than an emotional toddler. Don’t expect me to treat you any differently. Stop whining or get treated like a child.

9] Yeah, life is an inconvenience; but, life is wonderful too. Nothing beats the thrill of working hard and accomplishing something. I’m pretty sure nothing beats standing at the top of your own Mt. Everest…except turning to your right and seeing that someone built an elevator for someone else who thought that since you saw the world from the pinnacle that they should too, but they weren’t capable or willing to make the effort.  Hey, that’s life, whiners. You can’t have everything you want. If you want it bad enough, keep trying.  Now I know that on some level this suggestion belies what I said before about letting people do things their own way.  But this is about choice. And if you make sacrifices for an award, you shouldn’t have to deal with someone who demands the prize without the sacrifice.

10] The willfully ignorant get no sympathy…They shall not be given quarter. Yes, I am a pirate who demands that people constantly strive to learn. If you’re done learning, then I’m done with you. If you’re happy to wallow in your trough of bad decisions, then wallow. I’m good with leaving you there. You want out? See #9 .  However, I am also good with not dealing with you when you just want other people to think for you.  Once I was told by someone “I don’t read. I let other people do that hard work.” Uhm….good for you. Go away. I don’t want to be around anyone who brags about how stupid they are.

11] People who don’t like animals cannot be trusted.

12] People who lie (I’m talking big lies, not little white lies) to their significant others cannot be trusted. You give a solemn vow to one person other than your family. If you can’t keep that vow to someone you profess to love, then what would prevent you from lying to me, a person you don’t give a crap about?

13] Gay marriage.  Well, I don’t want to marry another woman, but hey, whatever. You have a person you want to share your life with and be devoted to? You’re a lucky person. I really can’t fathom any place where this would be considered a bad thing. If you are against gay marriage, you are allowed to not enter into a gay marriage...problem solved.

14] Evil exists. It has nothing to do with laws or history or being made to feel bad during childhood. People are evil. People will want to destroy you. People want to kill you. Not everyone, of course. The world is still filled with good people. However, to deny the existence of evil or think that evil can be solved with a hug is wrong. This is my opinion. You are welcome to believe that. Just don’t try to convince me I can leave my doors unlocked or walk a dark ally in a big city without looking over my shoulder. People are evil. They will kill you for your shoes, they will kill you because you don’t believe what they do. They will kill you because of the color of your skin or the color of your hair or because you call carbonated beverages soda instead of pop. It doesn’t really matter why or what excuse, these people will hurt you and kill you because they are evil and empty inside.

15] I am tired of hiding my happiness because you are unhappy. I’m tired of trying to be careful of your feelings when at every opportunity, you attempt to throw gray clouds around everything. I’m sorry that you cannot be happy. But dammit, that’s about you not me. If I hear one more person say they wish they had a significant other in their lives because they can’t understand how I can and they can’t since they’re so much better than me, I am going to punch them in the face and give them something to really cry about. Honestly, I was happy before I met someone. I was content to live out the rest of my life without any significant other and I planned on having a super life. So, now I have someone. Life doesn’t like plans. Remember that while you’re pining away and telling yourself that you’re better and prettier and nicer than I am. I am me. You are you. There is no ladder or scale or test to find out who is more desirable. I’m happy. I was never unhappy and no matter what happens in my life I’m going to work to make it as awesome as possible. There will be no moping in my world—no moping and no pink.

16] There’s a lot to be said for accepting life the way it is, for just experiencing life rather than

fighting it. Long after you and I are gone, the grass will still grow, the sun will still shine. One cannot fight these things. Be thankful, be empathetic, be loyal, be true to yourself, don’t try to paint the world with the brush you carry with you, just let all the brushstrokes from everyone around you color the world and stand back to enjoy the painting. It might not be the painting you were expecting, but it is beautiful none the less.

And yeah, I get that some of these opinions start to conflict with each other. That's life. It's not a science experiment...well, it kind of is, but not one that follows the laws of science.  Dammit, now I've gone and broken some of those too. Not even a full day into the new year and my resolution to be perfect is already destroyed.