zima-induced violence! story at 11!

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this friday, not long after i wrote that blog entry about being called a faggot by some lawrenceville teens, i took the bus downtown to meet my sister at the 28x stop! cuz she flew in from ro-cha-cha and i didn’t wanna leave her stranded at the liberty & wood bus stop. anyway, i was riding the bus, which is unusual for my bike-riding ass. listening to music and sewing a pad wearing fingerless gloves, feeling comfortably wacky.

three teens got on. they were of the alterna-variety that i find charming: a girl with scraggly pink hair, another girl wearing a poufy skirt, and a super-hot punk boy wearing a ripped t-shirt and bracelets made out of bullets who sat next to me. (!) some madman started talking to hot bus punk boy (he was 15, i feel bad for crushing on him so hard) about his bullets and i decided that this conversation was more interesting than my headphones so i took it off. and i heard this gem:

poufy skirt: like, zima is really good, once you get the taste out of your mouth…

hot punk: oh gross, i only drink whiskey.

pink hair: yeah, like, i hung out with boys all summer, so all we drank was beer. and i got to like beer that way. and they taught me that if i ever met any boy who liked zima or hard lemonade i should punch him in the face!

ocean [wordlessly cringes at the implied homophobia]

pink hair: but then, like, i met alex, and alex drinks mike’s hard, but i didn’t punch him in the face because he’s gay! so he’s allowed to like mike’s hard. any straight boy, though, i’d punch them.

ocean [smiles]

[curtain]

man, what a marked difference from when i was fifteen. or, probably, from when you were fifteen. not that teenz aren’t still homophobic, but even liberal alternateens were still like “fag this” and “gay that” and the idea of any out gay kids–let alone out gay kids whose sexuality was treated as a non-issue–was kinda unthinkable. and i was only 15 a decade ago! wow.

in other gay news, my dad & sister came up and we had a bbq with some friends and my dad hung out with obvious gay couples and did not seem too upset about it, or upset at all. this may just be because he didn’t figure out that they were gay couples. my dad claims to not like gay people, but he has absolutely loved every faggot i’ve dragged home over the years, and most of the dykes too. but, even when it’s unbearably obvious that they’re gay, my dad chooses to not acknowledge this fact.

i was kinda dreading my dad’s visit, because i was like, “what the hell are we going to do?” but it actually turned out really fun. we bbq’ed, we told stories, we laughed, we went up the inclines, we dropped off my mom’s old bike at free ride, we watched football (or rather, my dad watched football & my sister & i read & we all talked during commercials). my hammock split completely, but other than that it was fun fun fun. my colon is full of cheap marshmallows and my recycling is full of beer cans. it was good hanging with my dad as two adults, as him being a guest in my home rather than the other way around, etc. my lil’ sister came to work with me and we went out to lunch and now she is wandering around oakland, probably pretending to be a student at pitt, and i’m sitting in this office doing pretty much nothing. oh fuggin’ well, right?

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