"I'm sorry, Annie; I got horny. Do you hate me?"
The above has absolutely nothing to do with the text of this entry. I simply thought it was funny. It was from the movie Overboard, a vintage '80s comedy starring Goldie Hawn; though rather a bit corny, it's still worth watching. But I'm not writing about the movie, so my commentary shall end here.
ETA, sort of: I wrote this entry about a week ago. I've since moved back to Austin. My neighbor now plays his radio without ceasing. It was so loud last night that I can't sleep. I let him do it from about 2:30 to 3:45, trying desperately to fall asleep. At 3:45, I gave up. I smacked a big wooden rod against the wall. I didn't realize it would make quite that much noise, but it did give me silence. I'm serious, there was less than five seconds in the delay. That was nice, but he's not stopping there. The radio has been on all day long. You may think, "If it's during the day, who cares?" I do, because it means that I can never play my own music, for one. Worse, there's never any silence in here. There's no place I can go for peace and quiet now; I live here, and if I can't get peace in my own apartment, where do I go? If I can't have some quiet time, I can't think clearly, and my head feels as though it will come apart at the seams. This is going to stop. Very soon. Back to your regularly scheduled prattling:
To understand the following dialogue, one must be aware of two points:
· In 2002, Ethan (not his real name) wanted to use me as a human prop in an April Fools' joke, the premise of which was that he would come out of the closet to a couple of friends he thought were homophobic.
· For reasons best not described here, Ethan's mother is extremely proficient in the use of firearms. Large ones. This statement is not euphemistic or metaphoric; it is entirely literal and entirely true. (For the sake of not furthering stereotypes about Texans, I will add here that she acquired this knowledge on a different continent, decades before moving to America.)
Prior to this point, our conversation ranged over various topics, including his bitterness about medical school, the state of my own modesty, his sadism (not in a kinky context, there), eugenics, and religion. Immediately preceding this bit, we discussed the state of homosexuality in China.
Sfida: "Why would homosexuality be a huge problem in China? I thought that most Chinese weren't religious…"
Ethan: "That isn't the problem. If you turn up gay, it means, in China, that your parents didn't raise you right. It means that they screwed up somewhere, and as a result, you're a disgrace to them and to the rest of the family. And since family is everything in China, that would be a problem."
Sfida: "Oh. I can understand that."
Ethan: "If I were gay, and my parents found out, I'm pretty sure that my mother would kill me."
Sfida: "Really now?"
Ethan: "Uh huh. And you know she would, too."
Sfida: "Oh. Ok. Hey, what building is your mom's office in? I'll be sure to go up to Lubbock with Amanda, and walk by there, and mention you to her. And she'll go, "Oh, that boy that wanted so badly to kiss you?" You know, she actually did that to me once. I'll be sure that I'm wearing those jeans that Imelda calls "the ass pants" and the tightest shirt that I own. We'll run into you, and I'll go, "Ethan, dahling, it's so wonderful to see you! You're looking fabulous!"
Ethan: "You know, I don't think we actually have guns at home anymore."
Sfida: "Then I'll be sure that I go to a gun store, since, like, I'm sure they're everywhere in Lubbock, and spread out coupons in a ring around the perimeter of the building she works in."
Ethan: "You are an ass."
Sfida: " Aren't I though? I can be almost as much of an ass as you. I just choose not to be most of the time."
Ethan: "You are such an incredible asshole."
Sfida: "Does this mean that I can look forward to an inordinate amount of bleeding in very uncomfortable places once you've become my proctologist?"
Ethan: "You know it!"
ETA, sort of: I wrote this entry about a week ago. I've since moved back to Austin. My neighbor now plays his radio without ceasing. It was so loud last night that I can't sleep. I let him do it from about 2:30 to 3:45, trying desperately to fall asleep. At 3:45, I gave up. I smacked a big wooden rod against the wall. I didn't realize it would make quite that much noise, but it did give me silence. I'm serious, there was less than five seconds in the delay. That was nice, but he's not stopping there. The radio has been on all day long. You may think, "If it's during the day, who cares?" I do, because it means that I can never play my own music, for one. Worse, there's never any silence in here. There's no place I can go for peace and quiet now; I live here, and if I can't get peace in my own apartment, where do I go? If I can't have some quiet time, I can't think clearly, and my head feels as though it will come apart at the seams. This is going to stop. Very soon. Back to your regularly scheduled prattling:
To understand the following dialogue, one must be aware of two points:
· In 2002, Ethan (not his real name) wanted to use me as a human prop in an April Fools' joke, the premise of which was that he would come out of the closet to a couple of friends he thought were homophobic.
· For reasons best not described here, Ethan's mother is extremely proficient in the use of firearms. Large ones. This statement is not euphemistic or metaphoric; it is entirely literal and entirely true. (For the sake of not furthering stereotypes about Texans, I will add here that she acquired this knowledge on a different continent, decades before moving to America.)
Prior to this point, our conversation ranged over various topics, including his bitterness about medical school, the state of my own modesty, his sadism (not in a kinky context, there), eugenics, and religion. Immediately preceding this bit, we discussed the state of homosexuality in China.
Sfida: "Why would homosexuality be a huge problem in China? I thought that most Chinese weren't religious…"
Ethan: "That isn't the problem. If you turn up gay, it means, in China, that your parents didn't raise you right. It means that they screwed up somewhere, and as a result, you're a disgrace to them and to the rest of the family. And since family is everything in China, that would be a problem."
Sfida: "Oh. I can understand that."
Ethan: "If I were gay, and my parents found out, I'm pretty sure that my mother would kill me."
Sfida: "Really now?"
Ethan: "Uh huh. And you know she would, too."
Sfida: "Oh. Ok. Hey, what building is your mom's office in? I'll be sure to go up to Lubbock with Amanda, and walk by there, and mention you to her. And she'll go, "Oh, that boy that wanted so badly to kiss you?" You know, she actually did that to me once. I'll be sure that I'm wearing those jeans that Imelda calls "the ass pants" and the tightest shirt that I own. We'll run into you, and I'll go, "Ethan, dahling, it's so wonderful to see you! You're looking fabulous!"
Ethan: "You know, I don't think we actually have guns at home anymore."
Sfida: "Then I'll be sure that I go to a gun store, since, like, I'm sure they're everywhere in Lubbock, and spread out coupons in a ring around the perimeter of the building she works in."
Ethan: "You are an ass."
Sfida: " Aren't I though? I can be almost as much of an ass as you. I just choose not to be most of the time."
Ethan: "You are such an incredible asshole."
Sfida: "Does this mean that I can look forward to an inordinate amount of bleeding in very uncomfortable places once you've become my proctologist?"
Ethan: "You know it!"