Today’s lunch left me feeling a bit less than satiated, so I thought I’d mosey on over to the break room for a snack. I checked my wallet for one-dollar bills, locked my computer (so no one uses it while I’m away), and headed out.

The break room that is closest to my desk is actually across the building, and of course there isn’t a direct way of walking there. I’ve got to leave my cube, walk to the end of the hallway, turn right, then turn left after about 10 steps, then turn left again after another 8-10 steps, go to the end of that hallway, turn right, turn left after about 15 steps, walk another 30 steps, and then I’m there. It’s not quite cross-country, but I’m pretty sure that it’s darn close. Because of this distance, I’m confident that I get enough exercise in the round trip to justify the candy intake.

So I made it safely to the break room, avoiding such things as broken legs, sick oxen, and typhoid fever, and walked up to the snack machine. At first glance, nothing looked very appetizing. I’m not much of a snack person, not salty nor sweet, so I looked through each row until I got to E8.

That’s when I saw the M&M’s.

They called to me, begging me to allow them to provide the sugar and sweetness that their counterparts have provided for decades. I couldn’t bear to let them down, so I decided that a bag of M&M’s would do the trick.

I reached into my pocket, retrieved my wallet, and pulled out a nice, crisp one-dollar bill. I checked the corners to make sure they weren’t folded, which would merely delay my access to my snack. I lifted the money to the receptacle, placed one end in, and watched as it was accepted without fanfare. I then extended my forefinger and pressed “E” and “8″. The motor began to whir, and the feeder begun to turn. My M&M’s were about to become mine!

Then it happened. The feeder, a corkscrew-like contraption, stopped spinning before my bag of M&M’s were freed. There they sat, taunting me as I stared in horror.

I looked for witnesses, then placed both hands along the top of the machine. I gave it two or three good firm pushes, allowing it to rock forward with each one. Nothing happened. My M&M’s were not budging.

I sighed desperately. I knew that M&M’s weren’t going to be the most healthy snack possible, but they had surely become desirable since I had decided to get them. I gazed upwards from my stalwart M&M’s and noticed that Rold Gold pretzels were located directly above E8. I became excited with the thought that I might be able to buy a somewhat healthier snack, which could then drop directly down and knock my M&M’s free! If this would only work, I would redeem myself by having a somewhat healthy snack now and saving my M&M’s for a treat after I next visit the gym. It would be perfect.

I then reach again into my back pocket to get my wallet, locate another pristine one-dollar bill, and feed the money into the machine. I wait for a moment to ensure that the bill is accepted, and then press “B” “4″. I watched as the motor whirred and the feeder turned. I held my breath as the bag of pretzels begins to fall. But wait! It missed the M&M’s completely. It didn’t even brush against them! How was I EVER going to get my M&M’s?

I’m not typically the type of person that gives up this easily, so I looked into my wallet to see if I had any more singles. I did, so I pulled it out, un-crumpled the corners, and fed it to the ever-greedy machine. I began looking up and down the column to see what else might work as a bomb to release my treat. Sadly, the only other item that was slightly interesting was a Butterfinger bar, and even though I’m not much of a fan, I knew that I wasn’t going to get my M&M’s without the aid of Bart Simpson’s favorite candy bar. I pressed “D” “8″ and turned away. I couldn’t bear to watch. I heard the “thunk” of the candy bar hitting the bottom of the basin. I waited another moment or two, hoping that maybe, just maybe, my M&M’s also fell down.

I looked. My head dropped. Still, the M&M’s remained above, now hanging precariously from their hopper. I then remembered the “shake the machine” method, and so I planted my feet, placed my hands again at the top of the evil box of snacks, and shook. I shook it once. I shook it twice. I shook it a third time. Nothing. I shook it again. Nothing. I wanted to cry.

I stepped back, hands dropping helplessly to my sides. I tried to think of other options. I could walk upstairs and talk to the lady that is responsible for the machines (she’s actually just the liaison between our company and the vendor) to get a refund, but then I’d be left to snack on pretzels and a Butterfinger, neither of which really sounded very tasty. I could just cut my losses, not get a refund, and just not have a snack. I didn’t have any more one-dollar bills, so I couldn’t try another bomb attack without returning to my desk with 4 snacks and a pocket filled with $19.25 in quarters.

Then it hit me: I had bought enough items at prices less than $1 that I had accumulated enough change to try again! I reached down to the change bin, and pulled out three quarters and two nickels. I looked back into the devil chest to review my options once more. I put in the three quarters, and pressed “E” and “8″.

Time seemed to come to a crawl as the motor began to whir again. The feeder seemed to be turning at less than half of it’s normal rate. I watched, and my now coveted bag of M&M’s fell. I kept watching, and my heroic bag of M&M’s slowly neared the edge of their row. Closer, closer, c-l-o-s-e-r! And they fell.

I think my heart stopped for a moment. I stared in disbelief at the bottom of the basin. There, waiting for me to reach in, was a Butterfinger, a bag of pretzels, and two bags of M&M’s. I blinked purposefully to make sure that my eyes weren’t deceiving me. I slowly reached into the beast and pulled out all four items, one at a time. I finally had my M&M’s.

As I walked back to my desk, I started to tally the cost of my $0.70 snack. I had spent $2.85 and nearly 10 minutes just to get a bag of M&M’s.

And all I had wanted was just a bag of M&M’s…

Yesterday, one of my tropical co-workers sent me an email containing this image:

It’s an ad for a “Laptop Security Sweater”. Yup, that’s right. I’ll have one soon, but more for warmth than for security… but at least it will be nice and cozy in my own little world!

PS- I posted the above image on the outside wall of my cubicle. Hopefully the facilities folks will notice…

I wonder if there isn’t something more worthwhile to focus on right now.

(AIDS in Africa and around the world, hungry children, crime in our home towns, crooked politicians…)

Enjoy!

I just have a few random items to share this time, so I apologize for this not being any more thought provoking than it is. But I’m over that already.

Anyways…

… There have been some changes at work, but I can’t discuss them at length just yet. I have mixed feelings. One of those is apprehension. None of them are NOT* excitement.

… I haven’t had a chance to take Red for a ride in a couple of weeks, and this makes me sad.

… I need/want to fence-in my backyard, but I think I need a miracle to be able to afford it.

… I have discoverd that Honey Crisp apples are probably the most amazing fruit in the world, and they’re probably the second-most expensive fruit in the area. Oh, and they aren’t all that filling, either.

… I’ve petitioned the awful, miserable ICC to graduate with my Associates degree. They seem to have approved, which means that I should have the semi-magical paper in-hand in December. Yay.

… I am trying to find a way to afford to go back to school to get a Bachelors degree. FAFSA wasn’t kind. Why does college cost so friggin’ much?

… Although the previous items may make it seem differently, I’m not at all depressed or sad (except for the Red part). I’m actually quite content with everything else in the world.

… Is it already October?!

*Thanks for catching my mistake, WE. I guess I could stand to hire an editor…

But before I actually pose the question, though, I’d like to introduce you to two kids in a fifth-grade classroom. Matt is a typical “boy” – he likes fast cars and likes to watch wrestling on TV. He is average in every way, except that he has hair that is so blonde it’s nearly white. Chad is his classmate, and he also has very light-colored hair. Chad, however, likes for people to notice that his hair is nearly white. Like Matt, he likes fast cars and wrestling, but he also likes for people to notice that he has (practically) white hair. He wears t-shirts that say “Look at my hair!” Sometimes he gets so excited about his hair that he struggles to focus in class.

One day, Chad gets a little too excited, and the teacher has to reprimand him. She asks him to sit quietly for the remainder of class. The next time the teacher asks a question, Chad immediately raises his hand to signal that he knows the answer; however, the teacher calls on a different kid to answer the question. A little bit later, Chad again tries to answer a question, but the teacher calls on Matt to answer instead.

Chad doesn’t like this. In fact, it makes him EXTREMEMLY upset to be passed-up like this. He knew the answer to both questions. He begins to wonder why he wasn’t chosen to answer. Finally, he approaches the teacher and exclaims that he is being treated unfairly because of his white hair. He throws a complete fit, shouting that it’s not right that he didn’t get to answer just because of his hair color. It’s not like he CHOSE his hair color, right? He can’t really change his hair color, at least not permanently. He just can’t figure out why he is treated so unfairly.

Does this sound familiar to you at all?

It does to me. I’ve met number of gay people – both male and female – that choose to live their lives in a variety of ways. Some of them are like Matt – they’re gay, but they don’t rub it in your face. In fact, you probably wouldn’t even THINK that they’re gay at all, unless they decide to share their personal lives with you. On the other hand, some of them are flamboyantly gay, similar to Chad. They want you to know that they’re gay, they prance/march around with their rainbow attire, and tell you all about their personal lives (mostly to an unwilling audience). The “Matts” don’t care to be seen with the “Chads”. They don’t necessarily want to be associated with the “Chads” on a regular basis. The “Matts” want to “fit in” to society in the exact same ways as everyone else. They want their personal lives to remain PERSONAL. The “Chads” don’t understand why people look at them funny when they go prancing along. They think that everyone hates them because they’re gay, but never hesitate to exclaim loudly that they are such.

Now, answer me this: Like Chad, are the “Chads” being mistreated BECAUSE they’re gay? Are they being treated DIFFERENTLY because they’re gay, or is there some other factor(s) involved? Think about that….

Back to the fiction for a minute:

Later in life, Chad begins attending White Hair rallies where fellow White Hair People get together to show that they are just like everyone else and should be treated just like everyone else. Everyone in attendance wears their “White Hair Rulz” shirts, sell their White Hair wares, and have a jolly good time. Matt attends, too, but dresses like he would on any other day. He goes with his friends, some of which have white hair, and they all enjoy the festival. Some people (non-White Hairs) from the town attend to see what the festival offers, while others are furious that such an event would take place in their city. They generalize and think that everyone that attends the White Hair festival is going to be loud and obnoxious about the color of their hair, and that they’re going to somehow destroy the town.

That part of the story is too close to what has really happened here. Recently, Peoria was host to its first “Pride” festival on the riverfront, which was held to celebrate gay pride. A few months earlier, at the announcement of this festival, an openly gay man posted on the Peoria.com PUBLIC forums that he was excited for the event. He explained that he was excited to see that his local community was willing to let him and other people like him get together in a public place to celebrate something that they all have in common, which happens to be their sexuality. Other members of the PUBLIC forum jumped all over him, saying how wrong it is for him to be gay, how gross it is that he likes other men, and how Pride festivals are counter-productive to overall acceptance and  equality for everyone involved. One person in particular kept asking something along the lines of “why do you keep screaming for equal treatment while holding festivals that separate you from the rest of us?”

Now, pause for a moment and think about that. Is a Pride Festival separatist? If you would say “yes”, please consider this: are the Germans or the Irish being separatist when they hold Oktoberfest or Erin Feis? Is Illinois being separatist when it holds its annual State Fair? I would say “no” to all of these instances, but only to a certain extent. If the Germans were ONLY allowing fellow Germans to attend the festival, and propagating ideas relating to Germans being superior to everyone else, I would answer differently. But the fact that these gatherings are open to the public as a “come and see who we are”-type of event, I don’t find them to be separatist in the least bit.

My two cents? I don’t care who you are. I don’t care what your profession is, or what you do in your free time. I don’t care if you have white hair, blue hair, pink hair, or brown hair. I don’t care if your skin color is brown, white, red, orange, black, purple, or tattooed. I don’t even care about the clothes that you wear. BUT, and that’s a big but, if you act like a gangster/hoodlum, I’m going to react to you as if you really are a gangster/hoodlum. If you act like a drag/drama queen, I am going to react to you as if you really are a drag/drama queen. If you act out in ANY WAY, I’m going to react as if you are acting out. It’s not because you’re gay. It’s not because you’re of a different race. It’s because of your actions. AND, furthermore, I’m not going to be any more hesitant to react* because you fit any sort of minority-mold.

There was another post on the Peoria.com forums after the Peoria Pride event. It was from an assumed lesbian (the username sounded like a female, and she was posting about “my people”…) that was furious about the ways that gays and lesbians are given lesser rights/privileges because of their sexuality. While I don’t think that it’s appropriate for other people to be judgmental, I immediately wonder what outward actions triggered the judgments. To expect people to ignore pride flags, feather boas, and girl-cut jeans on guys, or butch haircuts, boy-cut jeans, and nose rings on girls is asking a bit too much. To the people that expect this, you need to keep something in mind:

Matt gets treated like the rest of the class because he BEHAVES like the rest of the class. Chad gets treated differently because he brings attention to himself and WANTS to be treated differently. If he wanted to be treated the same way as Matt, he would BEHAVE the same way as Matt.

Now, I’m interested to hear your opinions, regardless of your viewpoint. But, as always, I reserve the right to edit out words that I find to be inappropriate, so please be mindful of that.

*I may hesitate to react if I think you’re going to shoot me, though….

But, from what I can tell, it seems to actually WORK like this:

Does anyone else take issue with this? Is anyone else tired of having a tyrant essentially DEMAND things instead of allowing the properly elected group of representatives come to their own conclusions?

Just checking…

But, you know, if we really like the way that we’ve been doing things for the past, I don’t know, 30(?) years, why don’t we just friggin’ change the laws so that we’re actually doing it CORRECTLY?

(image source)

I swear – people either don’t pay attention to ANY traffic signs or else they are just plain idiots.

There is one particular intersection that seems to be greatly affected by such drivers. It’s the right-hand turn from northbound Allen Rd to eastbound Pioneer Pkwy:

From the above image, it might not be entirely clear that there is a dedicated lane for those that turn right, so here are a couple of pictures from Google Street View:

Notice the sign? It’s there, and it’s accurate. There really are TWO lanes on Pioneer Pkwy, and one is dedicated for those that are turning right.

So, what baffles me the most is the way that this corner gets backed up EVERY MORNING that I attempt to go through  it on the way to work. People start to round the corner, and then they stop to yield to the traffic that is turning left onto the same road. They will come to a full and complete stop until all of the “left turners” have passed, and then they will quickly accelerate to merge into the left lane.

Seriously?! Seriously. People. You have your own FRIGGIN’ lane. Claim it! If you don’t claim your lane, then the “left turners” will take it for themselves. Don’t let those Commie Jerks* take away what is rightfully yours! If you let them take your lane, or even merge to let them go first, you’re letting down your country. Just sayin’…..

Okay, now back to my good mood.

*I have no way of knowing if any of the “left turners” are actually affiliated with the Communist Party, nor whether they are nice people. This is just a generalization made for expressive purposes.

A big “Thanks” goes out to J, K, and K for such a wonderful weekend, and another “Thanks a Million” to an awesome sister.

BUT, I did recently get a copy of Imogen Heap’s latest album, Ellipse, and I’ve been obsessed with it ever since. Okay, the truth is that I’ve been obsessed with it for the past 2 months while I eagerly waited for it to be released yesterday (8/25).

ANYway, this is my favorite song from the album. It’s called Earth, and it’s great!
[See post to listen to audio]

I’d love to see Mia Michels choreograph a piece for SYTYCD with this song. I think it’d be perfect!