Marriage

I've written about marriage equality alot. It's an important issue to me and much of the gay community. Personally, I think it has less to do with actual marriage than with society's acceptance, tolerance, of our human condition. Gay men and women don't want to pushed aside as nuissance, or worse, as a subclass.

Yesterday, I was talking with co-worker, one of the few I really like and a genuine progressive in every sense of the word. She just returned from a trip to Israel and this ignited a conversation about the Israeli High Court's decision on same-sex marriage. (Side note: So far more progressive than the United States: Netherlands, Denmark, Spain, Canada, England, Israel, and friggin' South Africa!)

I observed how frightening that the ultra-orthodox Jewish and Islamic leaders (and even a few Christian figures) could set aside their differences to hate the gays, opposing the effort by the mostly secular Israeli government to pursue fairness under the law.

My concern was immediately shuttled when she said that "Israel has more important things to worry about than marriage and the government shouldn't be concerned with this right now."

What's more important than equality? How can people settle a dispute about identity when its laws still allow the open discrimination and hostility to some sets of people? South Africa understood this when choosing recently to legalize same-sex unions -- they recognized that the once apartheid state could not seek a oneness of identity, black and white equal under the law, if they still allowed for codified discrimination.

Unfortunately, the twit at work thinks that you can do things in pieces. Ah, to "tradition!"...



PS: Damian and Chris, I can't help but think back to when y'all (plus Blair and my old roommate) helped prepare that dinner at the homeless shelter and we spent a few hours locked in the kitchen playing, "Tradition!"

Absence... Heart... Fonder... or something?

"Absence makes the heart grow fonder."

I've decided I'm in transition.

Today is my first day back to work from a 2 week absence. I don't sense that anyone is any fonder of me today then when I left. For that, I am relieved. I couldn't stomach these leeches trying to befriend me all of the sudden.

The living sitch it a little weird with the sudden departure of one of my roommates. It's definately better having her gone, but the house is a little more empty -- absent some furniture. We need to figure out if we replace her and with whom. (Do you know anyone looking to live near the beach?)

And the weeks before the vacay, I started seeing this boy. He left for a job out of LA on the same day I left for vacation. We only dated for like 6 or 7 weeks, but I miss the bitch! I hate being vulnerable.

Of course, you don't read this because you care about me. You want to hear about the whack-jobs I encounter regularly.

Upon my return to work, I was greeted with the envelope of cards to be signed prior to our monthly potluck. There are some farewell cards for employees leaving and birthday cards for the month. The whole thing is arranged by my nemesis. (I love having a nemesis, you should get one!) And her birthday is this month... and she put a card for herself in the mix! Is that a new level of patheticism, buying your own birthday card?

Things You Just Can't Be

There are certain things you can't be no matter how often you say it. For example, I can not:

Be the quiet one in a group.
Be happy to see anyone at 5:00 AM.
Be happy to see you at any time!

And you can not be... wait for it... a socially liberal, fiscal conservative.

"Sure, I can," you say.

"My ass, you can," I say.

"What a nice ass it is," you say.

"My ass may be cherry, but your ass is a Bush-Cheney Republican. Deal with it," I say.

See, being liberal isn't just about letting you get high, fuck as many girls as you want, impregnate them and letting them get all the abortions they want, then deciding to fuck asses so that you can live abortion-guilt free. That's what being a Budhist is about. Being liberal is about recognizing that there are good things about society and bad things, and that working together, we can fix those bad things. Being liberal is about recognizing that working together towards the collective good can accomplish positive change; that one needn't pull oneself up by their bootstraps because it's pretty likely one doesn't even have boots.

Today, another annoying co-worker I have yet to introduce you to, went on a rant about being socially liberal and fiscally conservative. The problem is that being socially liberal costs money and fiscal conservatives won't come up with it. Public schools cost money. Universal health coverage costs money. Job training, child care, and sex ed programs cost money. Shelters and transitional living centers and affordable housing cost money. You can't say you support something if you won't pay for it.

Dear MBNA,

I respectfully write to you today to endorse your efforts at collecting my unpaid credit card balance. I truly believe you are engaged in noble work. Credit Card companies are doing a lot of good. I will stand along side with you any day. As for that check you keep talking about, stop being a communist! You'll never get a penny from me, unless you pry it from cold dead hands.

xoxo, Bri

See, stupid, right?

To my friends who plead the SLFC party-line, I offer you this.

1) You are really just a slut who want to protect your size 4 body from an unwanted pregnancy as much as you want to protect your filthy-rich grandmother's country home from the estate tax.

2) You are wracked with guilt because while you support violent, bloody military intervention in foreign lands, you still love a fabulous night of Sour Apple Martinis and fags fawning over your new Dolce & Gabana t-shirt and jeans.

3) You are a closeted bleeding heart who married rich and needs to continue putting it on thick until your racist father-in-law finally dies.

4) You are so busy shooting up heroin, fucking gay prostitutes, downloading kiddie porn, drinking moonshine, hiring illegal Mexicans to clean your house and mow your lawn, selling pot to Junior High kids, and preforming abortions on your Taiwenese sex slaves that the only chance of people not catching on to your ways is to run for re-election as the Republican Senator from Rhode Island.

There is more to being liberal than gay rights, abortion, gun control and clean air. These are all important liberal issues, but they aren't the end all, be all. If you think a tax cut for the richest 1% is more important than quality public education, universal health care, human rights, or, I'll just say it, your brother's right to wedding registry, than you are a facist Republican! The only kind!

The Smug Satisfaction of Being a Prick

How do I loathe many of the people I work with? Seriously, these people are useless. Somehow I became the accidental techie of the office. Perhaps it's because of a brain capacity greater than a 3 year-old... turkey! Perhaps it's because I can read. Mostly, it's because I have magic powers and can see that little "Help" menu at the top of EVERY SINGLE window I open.

I hate being the accidental techie. I've been yelled out when the answer I gave wasn't what they wanted to hear. I've been dragged off the phone by someone who had to have immediate access to their eBay account. It can be brutal, but it's my reality.


Everyone in the office comes to me -- everyone except for the "Tuna Melt" chef, the temptress of Chatsworth, the Grand Dame of the Office Collection. Mrs. Kiss Ass was never a fan of mine, nor me her. It's only become worse since I've set my sights on both her beloved Pot Luck and office gift giving.

Today, she broke the postal meter. That's techie! Whoever will help her? Well, she's now asked 3 co-workers to help her while avoiding me. And she's asked them in Spanish, assuming I'm too ignorant to understand her and won't chime in with assistance. (I still haven't told many people here that while I don't speak Spanish, after studying it for five years I can understand it pretty well.)

She can ask the homeless guy peeing on my window in Pig Latin for all I care. I will not volunteer my services until she comes wallowing into my office, reduced to her crippled, arthritic knees, tears causing the blue eye shadow to run down her face. And then, I'll walk over to the maching and hit the power button, because I'm sure that's all it needs!

Brian, 1; Crazy Nut Jobs, 0

No, Damian, you didn't win your war on ID fat photos. I'm not giving up the porker pictures. I just had a great victory today... and when you Google "Fat, victory" that's what you get.

You've may have heard that I don't necessarily love my co-workers.

See:
Fat Girls and Hats
Today's "What the F#%$?" Moment Brought to You By:
Looking to score some pot... luck!
Being a Jack Ass is Hard Work
Entitle-whosit
Christmas Comes But Once a Year...

Rest assured, there is no love lost on me either. These people hate me.

This week, they -- the Evil Empire led by the Pity Queen, our accident girl -- sent one of the unpaid interns around to collect money for Boss Lady's birthday present.

a) I don't believe in office collections. If the company can't pay for it then it shouldn't be done. It's not fair to ask employees -- especially our underpaid staff -- to chip in for things.
b) Everyone at work gets a present, a $25 gift card to Borders. It might be silly, but it's fair.
c) The boss, the one making the most, deserves the least! Remember, I'm a Democrat. Don't tax the poor to provide for the rich.

Clearly, the Pity Queen started this just to kiss up to Boss Lady. It's so much easier to kiss up rather than just do your job, right?

I refused to participate, which was a little awkward for the intern who was used to everyone just throwing in $10 whenever she came around. I gave up the collections a year ago when we collected $150 for the daughter of our accountant who had a baby. We gave this woman who most of us had never met who happened to be related to one of our vendors $150 in cash! I don't think so. I barely like to encourage those I know who spawn, why would I payoff a stranger?

Well, there's been a great victory. I led an uprising and about 3 other people refused to participate. Today, Pity Queen went around refunding everyone else's contribution because not enough people participated.

Hopefully, the collections have ended and I can focus my energy on killing the pot luck.

Fat Girls and Hats

Fat girls shouldn't wear hats. Period. I know they aren't likely to take my advice, but they should. Really, fat girls shouldn't go out in public. But if they do it should be sans champeau.

One of the ladies I work with -- the president of the Let's Hate Adorable Brian club -- is wearing a golfish-style hat. On top of her chubby little head which is poised above her perfectly FAT body. In heels. Maybe the hat is really a helmet. If she were to fall in her heels, the inevitable inertia created by her massive size could violently throw her head into the ground. That's it. It's a helmet.

Still looks dumb.

Today's "What the F#%$?" Moment Brought to You By:

The Spork!

I like to accuse my boss of being an out-of-touch, Westside liberal. I think she'd embrace it. As a matter of fact, last week I referred to Sandra Tsing Loh, my least favorite public radio personality, as "the typical Westside liberal mom-as-career**". Boss lady quickly chimed in with, "She's from the Valley." Note the disdain? There is nothing the Westside liberal hates more than the Valley liberal.

Boss lady brings in leftovers from parties -- parties she'd never invite the staff to -- and offers it up to the starving, huddled masses of the office. And in her emails announcing her great contribution of 2 day-old sandwiches with wilted lettus and stale cookies, she has to throw in, "help yourself to leftovers from my catered party the other night." As a friend noted once, "Thank god. I only eat nasty leftovers from a catered event."

Today, she walked into my office, eating utensil in hand and looked confused. Holding the molded form of plastic to the light she asked, "What is this?"

It's a spork you elitist idiot. In her 50+ years on the planet she's never seen a spork... until today. Clearly she's never ordered Kentucky Fried Chicken. She -- or her spawn -- has never eaten in a school cafeteria. (Spawn goes to a $20,000/year ELEMENTARY SCHOOL!) She's never been to a picnic that wasn't catered by Wolfgang Puck. Her only outdoor dining experiences are likley limited to a box at the Hollywood Bowl or on the sand at Shutters in Santa Monica.

How can you not know what a spork is? When I told her, she still didn't believe me. I went online and showed her www.spork.org. I think she'll forever be in disbelief.

**NOTE: "Mom-as-career" is in no way an assault on stay-at-home moms. They are two completely different breeds of moms. A stay-at-home mom is a mom that makes significant sacrifice in what she perceives as the best interest of her children. She gives up her career, her social circle and her high fashion to raise her children. The "Mom-as-Career" mom would print business cards if she could. She adds children to the mix the way some people seek promotions. Motherhood for her is not about family, or continuation of the species, but about her own personal "do-goodness". "Look at how wonderful I am, with my 2 perfect home-schooled children." Oh, and the Mom-as-Career monster is most recognizable but her army of nannies and caretakers.

Looking to score some pot... luck!

It's the last Tuesday of the month, which means office Pot Luck time! YAY! This blog started with an expose on the office potluck. Things have only gotten better. December's pot-luck wasn't a paht luque. We ordered in. This month... we did it again!

I really think the pot-luck is on the way out. I couldn't be any happier to see this tradition die -- the only thing I hate more is old people. It never really was much of a pot-luck, but the crackheads fought tooth-and-nail to keep it. This month a boycotted but got scammed.

I was gonna make a big political statement by packing my own very delicious tuna lunch. I had it all planned out. While everyone else feasted on 3 week-old pickings from the fridge, I'd say, "No thanks. I'd rather just eat my own lunch. It's much healthier for me." They would quickly see through my "health" facade and the digust in their faces would be unavoidable. "Why can't Brian just play along?" "Why does Brian hate us so much?" "You know, Brian's got a point. He is looking god damn sexy these days. Do you think he'd do me?"

But I was foiled. Boss lady decided that the office would treat. Which you know is trouble because she's way cheap. No deliciously exotic chinese from Chinatown for us. No, we got some jumble of stuff that was picked up at the grocery store last night.

Maybe I'll save the tuna I packed and "contribute" it to next month's PL!

PS: Remember the flat soda I mentioned in November. The soda tasted bad this month, so I check the expiration date. The soda served expired over 8 months ago! Anything to save a buck, I guess.

NOTE: Anyone know how to actually spell "pot luck"?

Ooh, ANOTHER NOTE: Why can't I just appreciate the nice gesture? Because I'm an ass sometimes.

Being a Jackass is Hard Work

I was at a party last night and the Olympics were on. Some French ice skaters was "competing" and he fell... TWICE! Oh boy. That's the best. I love it when they fall. I love it because, really, ice skating is such a pompous sport. Look at their faces when they skate.

Except, I got caught smiling when he fell. I told the guy how great it is when they fall and about 3,000 pounds of judgement came crashing right on top of me. Being that I didn't know anyone at this party -- I'll explain later -- I felt like I better fix this. So I said, "It's great when they fall, because that's when you really see how good they are. See how he just picks up and gets right back in to the routine. If I fell, I'd sit on the ice and cry. But not these guys, they are such (prepare yourself for the word) athletes."

It gets better. This woman at work -- the gift buyer that insists we all contribute $10 everytime some lonely fuck has a bowel movement -- got in a car accident on her way home on Monday. (The irony is that she normally takes the bus.) Well, they might as well drape the windows in black and sit shiva in the conference room. I guess I would be more sympathetic if this wasn't the fourth time she's been to the hospital since I started here.