Beware The Liberal Mind Police

I can't even believe I typed that as a title to a blog entry.

I can't even believe what happened today.

I've been banned from a message board because someone there read my earlier blog entry and decided they knew exactly what and who I was talking about, that I was being mean to someone there, and should thus not be permitted to visit said message board. No one contacted me to even try to find out if I meant what they thought I meant. There is no rule in their guidelines of which I am aware that says you must follow their rules not only when on their board but apparently everywhere. Nonetheless, I am banned.

Talk about your mind police. Welcome to Big Brother and 1984, gang!

So, since I'm going to be prosecuted, tried, and convicted on hearsay and mind reading, I'm now going to come clean and start actually naming names so that we can at least be clear about whom I talking about when.

First and foremost, let's be clear. The message board is called CircleOf. As I understood it when I was first invited to join, it was created in reaction to perceived political biases and censorship of opinions on RealityTVWorld that led to several liberal posters being banned for violating the guidelines of the board, often during heated political discussions. Other posters were invited along and I was invited by someone, I don't really remember who. I knew and liked several of the banned posters and sympathized. I have (or, at least, thought I had) similar political convictions. I didn't spend as much time there as I do on RTVW, but I usually enjoyed myself there.

But then I once made a couple of snarky remarks about the Steelers and pizza. I even blogged about how shocked I was about the reaction of one particular poster regarding my football and team and my city in addition to said pizza opinion. Said poster then went on a real screed against me. In a way that was truly mentally and emotionally unhinged, considering the relative importance of football and pizza in the world. For that person, it went beyond the sports/pizza and pretty much tainted anything I said in any thread in which we both posted. If you're interested, the crazed poster is True. She doesn't like me. I really don't care about her. I'm not sure why we just couldn't keep it at that. I wrote about it here and that was the end of it for me. I just stayed away from the bitch after that.

Two times there, Landru (one of the "moderators") warned me to be nice. I assumed (but I was apparently wrong) both times that I got the warnings they were in reaction to my replies to some of the insults that were being slung at my football team (which, incidentally, had just won the Super Bowl to almost the entire board's chagrin) and my city. My reaction to those warnings was to stay away from the sports forums there altogether. And to never reply to a thread begun by True and to never post a reply to any of her posts. I thought that settled it.

Well, apparently I was wrong. Seems that, because some of the people on CircleOf read my blog, my entry about my little dust up with True was remembered. And, for some completely unknown reason, I can only assume that today's banning stems from that. I am unclear as to why anyone assumes that my little riff on karma has anything to do with someone to whom I pay no attention to and whom I care absolutely nothing about, but the powers that be at CircleOf have decided it does.

Anyway, just to clarify for those of you who may be wondering at this point? Karma hit my ex-best friend who was one of the women having an affair with X. She has been fired from her six-figure VP position and may be prosecuted for Medicare fraud. I don't give a flying fuck if I can't post at CircleOf if this is the reward.

A Quickie

I have heard some news that might make me believe that the whole idea of karma works. Nasty, rude, awful people do sometimes get what they deserve. What you put out there really does come back to you, for good or bad. Perhaps my positive attitude is doing the same for me in the opposite way. Merely by giving off good vibes, good things are happening for me.

It's good to know how these things work, isn't it?

A Drive By

• It's not often that this happens, but I've managed to drop a show that used to be a must-see for me. And mainly because it has just gotten so ridiculous I can't bear to watch it another minute. Now you'd think I was talking about some reality TV show like The Apprentice or Survivor or something. But you'd be wrong. I am, in fact, talking about Grey's Anatomy which has become the most idiotic show on TV with the stupidest and most unlikeable characters to ever be broadcast by a major network. I have not only quit watching this show, I am starting a campaign to persuade ABC to make it a daytime soap opera so I will never again have to be subjected to seeing even a glimpse of it. And so maybe they'll fill the airtime with something much, much more worthwhile and valuable to society, like I Love New York.
• There are some people on OT that I have come to despise so much that I'm considering not ever posting in a thread they start and also to never post a reply or comment to the people they are close to ever again. I know this is petty but it makes me feel better. I'm still not sure how I'll deal with these awful people posting in one of my threads. I'm seriously considering PMing these people and asking them nicely not to post in my threads just so I don't have to avoid my own threads.
• Oddly enough, none of the OT people I despise are from the right of the political spectrum. I would never have guessed that would happen, but those people can actually take an argument in stride. Unlike some others from the opposite end of the spectrum, of which I consider myself a member. Just kinda weird.
• I hate both AFC teams badly enough that I'm hoping some natural disaster causes it to be impossible for them to play the championship game and the NFL decides to let the two NFC teams slug it out in the Super Bowl. If held over the lip of an active and erupting volcano and forced to choose an AFC team, I guess I'd have to go for the Choker over the Most Unattractive Man to Inexplicably Get Laid Regularly By Super Models Who Obviously Have No More Self Esteem Than Your Average Crack Whore. I wouldn't fuck Tom Brady with Rosie O'Donnell's pussy.
• Speaking of fucking, I think Ron would fuck me all the way from Tampa if he could. At least his emails lead me to believe so. Mmmmmmmm.

An Embarrassment of Riches

Middle age is certainly being kind to me and one of my best friends. Both of us, long time singletons and recently drifting manless, were feeling old, unwanted, and unattractive just a few short months ago. And now, amazingly enough, we have both come through some dark and lonely times to end up in bright sunshine. It's really amazing how life continues to surprise and delight me even now.

Beautiful Karla, my friend since first grade, got engaged for Christmas. I'm just thrilled for her. When her mother died last January, I really got worried about her. She and her mom had been extremely close. And Karla had just been through a very traumatic break up, with somewhat sordid overtones, with the man she thought was the man of her dreams. He was a guy she'd worshipped from afar since high school and who she finally got to notice her a couple of years back. I was not a fan of his. He knew she was hopelessly smitten and treated her accordingly. Her mom's death exacerbated her depression and feelings of worthlessness. For months, I tried to convince her to not give up on herself; though, what help I was when I was going through the same stuff, I do not know. By late spring, she'd made a few, rather disastrous, forays into dating and was frustrated and disgusted by what she was finding. Finally, in desperation, she signed up on Match.com. I was very sceptical of an online matchmaking service, but decided to keep my mouth shut for the time being and pray she would not get hurt, let alone kidnapped and murdered. And after a few lunch dates with the expected losers and liars she got matched with, it seemed she was as discouraged by this tactic as by any other for meeting men. She decided she'd try one last time and that was when fate seemed to step in.

His name was Tom (which did not immediately endear him to me, as you might have guessed). He's 50 and divorced, with a son aged 18. He owns his own landscaping business. And he's quite the looker. Doesn't look 50 at all and in great physical shape. I was astounded that this was the caliber of man you could find online. And I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. You know, that he'd be psycho in some way or a sexual pervert (in a bad way, not the good kind) or turn out to have abused his ex or child or both. And it turns out I was wrong. He's funny, smart, and relaxed. He's sweet and considerate. He loves her dogs and she loves his son. He adores her and she adores him back. They both glow with happiness when they're together. And, now, they're getting married. My last and only friend who has stayed single with me all this time, through thick and thin, is getting hitched. It's what she has waited for and I'm just ecstatic for her.

And I, too, am in a state of happy contentment. Not because I'm getting married, of course. But because I'm at a very good place in my life at the moment. Careerwise, I've never been more productive and energetic. All my sisters, brothers-in-law, and nieces are doing well and are happy. And my romantic life is exactly where I want it to be.

I've narrowed down the crazy list of men I've been seeing to the three best. And all three, though quite different, fall into the category of man that I most want and need: a man whose career (and, perhaps, domicile in another state) keeps him too busy to be breathing down my neck on a constant basis, but who appreciates the fact that we make the best of our time and that I am the kind of woman who doesn't need or want a man 24/7.

Michael, my 44-year-0ld pilot, is the one I might consider a real relationship with someday. He's earnest, intelligent, funny, adventurous, and certainly one of the best looking men I've ever met. If it wasn't for his career and the still-touchy situation with his soon-to-be-ex-wife and kids, I think he'd be pushing me for more. He has such a romantic outlook on life, unlike cynical old me. It's frustrating but very sweet that we still have only had that one night of absolutely mind-blowing sex because he wants so for the marriage to be behind him before we move to that stage. And I simply can't make myself force it because he's so sincere about it all. He tells me the papers should finally be ready in a few weeks (too many things are being negotiated to finalize quite yet) and I certainly hope so. We go out on dates, come back to my place, and make out like kids. I end up breathless, intensely aroused, and sexually frustrated. Thank heaven his job keeps him out of town a lot, so I can get rid of the frustration with other options. And, best of all, he doesn't begrudge me those options.

The first of those options is Ron, 51, who lives in the Tampa area and is a vice president of finance for a college of osteopathic medicine. I first met him years ago when he was still here in the 'Burgh and was a VP for the Gateway Clipper Fleet. We reconnected when he got into post-secondary education and, as a PSU grad, found my picture on our campus website. He emailed me, we began talking, and, the next time he was in town, we went out for drinks. He flies into town every month or two and we make it a point to get together. He's my party boy. He's a fun guy. We go to nightclubs to see local bands. Or we hang at my neighborhood bar. Or we get crazy at a Steeler or Pens game. He'll get high with me. He's very distinguished looking, which belies his wild streak. I finally slept with him over the holidays and he's as wild and adventurous as I am in bed. We are very compatible in that way. And, I'm pretty sure, he thinks so too. This weekend is the third in a row that he's flown into town so we can go out on Saturday night. And if that hadn't convinced me that he likes our romps as much as I do, then he sure did when he told me last night on the phone that, on the scale of 1 to 10, I'm the first 10 he's come across. Though I don't think I could have a serious or permanent relationship with him because of distance, I'm glad I have a guy like this in my life. A man who is not intimidated by me, especially sexually, and who likes to experiment as much as I do is a very nice thing to have.

And last is Lee. He's 38 and a construction supervisor, currently working on a project in Chicago. We are each other's sex toys. It's sex, sex, and more sex between us. Nothing more than an animal attraction. We don't hang out in the bar together on the Friday nights he's in town. We just leave together. It's total down and dirty. I sit at the bar and sip beers with my friends. He plays the poker machine. We make eye contact. And then we go home for marathon sessions, from one end of my apartment to the other. If I had found Lee earlier, I would never have had to purchase my Rabbit. Of course, since he discovered I had my Rabbit, I no longer wish I had my $200 back. Because he has shown me some brand new tricks with the Rabbit up his sleeve, so to speak. All the younger women at the bar hate me now because of him. He's the Brad Pitt of the Corner Grill; all the women want him. And every Friday he's there, he leaves with me. Drives them crazy. And makes me laugh.

They are all terrific men and I'm very lucky to have them. 2007 is starting off with me healthy, happy, and content with my personal life. And to think that I was so terrified of middle age. It turns out that, for me and for my friend Karla, middle age comes with an embarassment of riches. And for that, I am grateful.

January Sucks Unless the Steelers Are in the Playoffs

No playoff football to divert my attention. Thank heavens for hockey and Pitt basketball.

The holidays were lovely. I had a blast from the Friday before Christmas until New Year's Day. I spent fun times with wonderful friends. I went out with nice guys. Tom even bought me a rather sweet (but completely unexpected) gift that really only makes sense to the two of us: a talking "Ralphie" doll from A Christmas Story. I bought myself a very expensive bottle of champagne (yes, it was Dom) for New Year's Eve; dressed in a killer lace top, pencil skirt with a lovely peekaboo thigh-high slit, and (what else?) fuck me shoes; threw a champagne flute in my bag; and met an entire barful of good friends. I drank the whole bottle of Dom myself and split a bottle of spumante with a friend. Lots of kisses at midnight and home with just myself and a good feeling of fellowship. And on New Year's Day, I cooked Grampa Schnell's pork and sauerkraut at Karen and Paul's where we ate and played Texas hold 'em with Tiger and Cora, Jon and Renee, and Step and Anita. A very nice start to 2007.

But, as always, the reality of January hits me square in the head the next day. And poisons the whole month, especially if I do not have enough distraction (thus my mourning for football). Daddy died, suddenly and shockingly, on January 2, 1999. Mommy died, bravely and slowly and painfully, on January 28, 2001. January is a month of birth and death. It is often depicted that way in literature and now it has become that in real life for me. I'm as optimistic as I can ever be for myself this new year. But at the same time, I look back and mourn what is gone. The month is aptly named, at least in my mind. Janus-like, I eagerly face a new period of my life with the lessons of the past firmly fixed in my gaze.