Christmas, Cleavage, and Whine

These last two days have been insane. Yesterday we had our Christmas party at work. I got all done up. (Having two gay brothers teaches you not to go out in public looking like who done it) I curled my hair and pulled it up. Then I wore my super sexy flowing black shirt. First I feel I need to tell you that the official size of my breast (according to Victoria's Secret) is 36DD. So regardless cleavage is going to flow no matter what I wear. Now it doesn't help that my philosophy is that you are never showing enough cleavage, except if your nipples are showing. Well, my shirt definitely displayed my bounty, but it can't be whore like because I was wearing jeans and not hot pants. The shady faggot was there with his fag hag. He was dressed like a dollar store pimp in his potato sack jacket and hat. His fag hag was also showing cleavage, but hers came from her protruding side fat and not her breast. Why he let her go out in public like this is beyond me, but lets just say he lost fairy points. Anyway they had the audacity to comment about my "revealing clothes". They didn't say it to my face they just kind of muttered it behind my back. My friend Daze (who is sadly just a B cup) told me to cover those things up. Then she felt my breast, which was weird because usually only women that have the mushroom hair feel me up. My hubby Crow looked a little uneasy as this woman was pulling my top up and attempting to push my breast down. I told her loud enough for all to hear that she wasn't going to be able to cover up my flotation devices, but I did appreciate the foe lesbian pat down. Needless to say the shady faggot left soon after that. Then I won a prize a frozen turkey. That's right folks my Christmas gift from the barrel is sticking my hand up a dead birds butt!! You gotta love the holidays.
And onto the whine. Today we had a "servers meeting" which actually means that the management staff complains about us and we bark back at them that they are lazy bottom feeders. Oh yes good times. Today was my day off, but I had to get up at the crack of dawn (8 am) to attend this meeting. I went in guns blazing and ready to have my managers bend over and have the truth shoved right up their asses. Unfortunately they agreed with everything I said! I hate when people give up so easy. I save all this adrenalin to lay down a good ass kicking and they just roll over and reveal their jugular. I am not above still attacking them in their weak moment, all I am saying is it takes the fun out of things.
So this has been my last two days. Buffy and Tuffy are safely placed back in the proper shirt sans cleavage. The shady faggot has returned to smiling in my face, and I have purchased plastic gloves for my Christmas dinners rectal exam. All in all I can say these last two days weren't bad at all.

A look at the other side

I orginally wrote this for my English class. It was hard because it was the truth, or atleast the truth as I see it. This is my brother Louis:

Sitting Quietly Watching the Pendulum Swing

My oldest brother Louis is great guy. He is the one that taught me to believe in myself and to look at things logically then form an opinion. I owe a lot to him. He has influenced my taste in music, my political preference, and my over all worldview. Louis is creative, funny, witty, daring, and Louis is bipolar.
There are a lot of misconceptions about people that are bipolar because it is considered to be a “mild” form of schizophrenia. Many people are afraid of the word bipolar because they believe that the person is “crazy” and might harm them. My brother Louis doesn’t have all these different people living in his head or hear voices. He has never once during a conversation become a little girl searching for her dolly like some might believe. From my observations of Louis he lives his life a lot like a pendulum swinging back and forth. One moment he is on an up swing happy and smiling. Then quickly without warning he is on a down swing crying and begging to be forgiven for crying. With Louis you have to take the bad with the good, because when things are good there is no one else like him in the world.
I often tell my brother that I see two very distinctive personalities in him. There is Louis a quiet reserved fellow, who you will often find in deep thought. Louis is a pacifist and he always seems to find the silver lining of things. Then there is “Lou”. Lou is cocky and arrogant. Lou looks for a fun time without regard of consequences. Lou lives in the limelight and is the center of attention for everyone around him. Lou is looking for the next big revolution to happen so he can join. To be honest both Louis and Lou have qualities you love about them. Sometimes you want Louis when you want to have one of those “what is the meaning of life” conversations, and sometimes you want Lou to pull you into the limelight with him and make you forget all about your worries. I can honestly say I love accept both personalities of my brother, and I wouldn’t have him any other way.
When it is late at night I am staring at the ceiling because my insomnia has returned I call up my brother and we will become engaged in insane conversation. He will tell me about his life’s adventures and mishaps. Then he will ask my opinion on his latest attempt at love. After the hours roll by Louis will blurt out with true sincerity “baby girl you know you’re the only one who gets me” and silence will follow. We both know that this is because I am the one person in his life that loves him unconditionally. He is twenty-nine and already he has lived many lifetimes. After he being diagnosed HIV positive, being arrested on felony charges, trying to commit suicide three times, and being locked in an insane asylum, my family had enough. I think my family saw each problem as a personal attack on them, when I saw it as a byproduct of his mental disease and remained by his side. I know that there is love between them all, but both Louis and my family need to find a way to heal the rift. It is not my duty to judge either side I just play mediator and the go between in hopes that someday all will be forgiven.
Sometimes when I am alone I cry for Louis. It seems like his life is a constant battle. He believes that all his faults are a necessary evil because the need for him to improve them is what keeps him alive. I am the only one that he can’t use his faults to push away. When he gets going on a down swing he begins to verbally attack people. He will say things that are really hurtful and his words cut through you like a knife. When he goes on this tirade of pain I have to remind myself that this isn’t my brother. I have to remind myself that this is the chemical imbalance of the brain talking. Then calmly I ask him to relax and tell me what is really bothering him. I find that when the down swing comes you have to ignore the harsh words in order to help him get to the real root of the problem.
Louis is a lot like a lab rat when it comes to his mental medication. It seems that he will be on one medication for a while then his doctor will suddenly decide to change it. On certain medications he is zombie like and you can’t get a coherent sentence out of him. One medication actually gave him seizures and while he was shaking he was speaking in tongues. Each time I talk to him he gives me an update on what meds they have him on and how they alter his thinking. I get frustrated sometimes because I don’t feel his doctors are doing anything but trial and error. I feel that when it comes to someone’s well being you had better check out all the facts before you scribble down a prescription and send them on their way. The cocktail that he is currently on seem to work great. He can still think, get out of bed, and lead a productive life without having quite as many mood swings.
Being a family member to someone with bipolar is not easy. You never know if you are going to catch them on up swing or a down swing. It is hard to watch someone you love go on a self-destructive path. I don’t fear he will hurt me because of his disease, I am more afraid of him in a self-loathing rage hurting himself. But I am just a spectator in someone else’s life and I can’t live it for him. My brother Louis is mentally ill, and while his medications help there is no cure. The best I think he can hope for is more good days then bad days. When I decided to write this paper I did so because I wanted to put human emotion into a stereotype of mental disease. I wanted to tell the truth, I wanted you the reader to understand that my brother Louis amazes me. The fact that he wakes up everyday takes his pills and prays to be “normal” is something I am not sure most people could handle. I realize that he has more to overcome then I do because of his mental disease, but I believe he is strong enough to do it. I am going to continue to stand by him and support him even if he is “legally insane” because I know eventually when the dust settles the family rift will be mended, Louis’s mental illness will become easier for him to handle, and the stereotype on mental illness will be lifted.

1 AM yesterday

I was in bed wide awake attempting to lull myself to sleep by counting the jellyfish on my ceiling. When the weirdest scene from my life kept playing over and over. Sometime ago I was working (and yes I was country fresh) when the shady faggot began to preach to me about the trifling gays he had encountered. I commented something along the lines of "tell me about it both my brothers are gay, so I know a lot about trifling faggots." Then the shady faggot looks me in the eyes and says "knowing gay men DOES NOT make you a gay man" This basically trivial point in my life was playing on the inside of my eyelids, and every time I saw it I got just a little bit madder until I no longer could stand to be in bed. I jumped to my feet and walked with great authority into the livingroom. I am not sure what I thought this would accomplish since no one was up to cleverly instigate in a fight. I considered calling Clementine, but he would be in bed and lord knows that boy needs his beauty sleep. So I decided to sit down and figure out what exactly was pissing me off. So one shady faggot doesn't like me. Hundreds do (and if they don't like me they haven't met me.) I was irate because this little chicken was trying to tell ME that I don't belong in the gay world. Who is he to say that I am not a gay man? I have been on the side of gay rights ever since I was little and read my brother's journal. I helped every gay member of my student body out of closet in high school, and in my short college career I have helped two. I am the one who puts my life in limb on the line when homophobia might turn violent. Don't tell me I am not a gay man just because I have vagina. Heterophobia has got to stop. If you practice it you are as ugly as gay bashers. I belong in any world and culture and I want to be in. Sometimes I am jealous of Clementine because he has that easy in. He hold up his rainbow staff of queerness and everyone takes his point of view as fact. Meanwhile I am just a straight girl with the exact same point of view being told I have no idea what I am talking about. Well, you know what gay world I LOVE YOU! So what if I will never do it doggy style with a gay man while Teddy Ruckspin watches. I still know what it would be like to do it. How you ask? Well, friends it's a thing I call empathy. I didn't have to walk a mile in your shoes if I just walk beside you I will get the gist. So to all you shady faggots I'M STRAIGHT, I'M GREAT GET USED TO IT!! And to the great faggots don't worry Momma will be by later to spank you, you dirty dirty boys!