The wheels on the bus STILL go round and round

So some almost four months have now gone by and the boys and I are still using public transportation. I can’t say that it’s been a horrible experience. The biggest positive I can share with you is that I have spent exactly $28 on gas since January 15th. Boo-yah! There haven’t been too many negatives. There has been the occasional child melt-down on the way home. But these events have been few and far between and are easily resolved with a pack of crackers and/or a movie on the Ipod. That said, I need a new Ipod, because Adrian has claimed mine as his own.

Other than that, things have gone relatively smoothly on the bus. We have the same bus driver every day and Adrian has started, recently, telling her as he gets off, “I love you.” She laughs and tells him she loves him too. I don’t really understand their relationship, but hey, it works. Periodically she will bring him little snack bags of M&M’s, which, now that I mention it, was a bit problematic in the beginning and I had to tell Adrian that it was rude to ask her every day if she brought him any. Perhaps this is why he tells her he loves her…a little passive aggressive ploy to ensure a daily supply of M&M’s? I dunno.

I DO have some pet-peeves regarding public transportation now that I didn’t have before, so I thought I’d take the opportunity to share some of these with you…

• If you happen to want to avoid conversation with others by wearing your headphones and listening to music, please make sure that the music is either turned down low enough that you can still enjoy it without having to subject the rest of us to your crappy tunes, or put a little more Miley Cirus on your player so we can enjoy it too.
• If you are over 40% of your ideal body weight and you decide to take the aisle seat that happens to have someone sitting by the window (or even if you’re your ideal body weight…or under your ideal body weight) and your bus stop is coming up, PLEASE just ask the person sitting by the “stop-cord” to pull it for you rather than stretching out your fat hairy unshowered arm in front of my, er, uh, the window seat’s occupant, face. Seriously. I won’t kill you if you ask me to pull the cord for you, but I may if I have to smell your B.O. one more time.
• Speaking of B.O., shower…regularly. Now I know those of you who know me well, or have been reading for any length of time, know that I don’t shower on the weekend(s). However, I don’t ride the bus on the weekend either.
• PLEASE DON’T TOUCH MY CHILD. EVER. I don’t cut your throat, you don’t touch my child. Deal? Don’t wiggle his foot. Don’t jab your index finger in his belly. Don’t rub his hair. DON’T TOUCH MY FUCKING CHILD. I don’t know where your hands have been, nor do I know when you last washed them. Also, IT’S JUST PLAIN CREEPY TOUCHING CHILDREN YOU DON’T KNOW. Please, don’t EVER, touch my child. Understand?
• I realize you may see me on the same bus at the same time on most every day of the week for about 30 minutes. I don’t really feel like this makes us “friends”. Don’t ask me the intimate details of my life. It’s none of your business whether my wife appreciates me picking up our children every day; if I get the best father’s day gifts because of my dedication to my children; if I’ve lost my driver’s license because of a DUI; if I’ve got plans for dinner. Here’s the deal. I don’t care about you, so you shouldn’t care about me.
• Are you fucking blind you dumb cunty shit sucking whore? Do you seriously have to use every “colorful” word in your vocabulary right in front of my children (who love to parrot EVERYTHING)??? Is that really necessary? Here’s some tips. Instead of saying, “Dat chicken was fucking delish”, why don’t you try, “that was some of the most tasty chicken I’ve ever had.” Instead of saying, “He pulled his fat cock out of my twat and shot his hot creamy load right into my eye,” why don’t you read the paragraph above this one. So, to sum it up, shut your fucking mouth in front of my children and I won’t cut your fucking illiterate throat? Mmmmkay?
• I love that you’re trying to save the environment by riding the bus, really I do. I love it even more that you split the trip up between your bicycle and the bus that I’m riding. These bus racks on the front of all Cap Metro buses are not rocket science, sweetie. Seriously. If you could maybe have your shit ready, BEFORE the bus pulls up (instead of waiting for it to pull up) IE: Have your helmet off; have your saddle bags off; have your bike locks off; etc.. My bus ride is 30 minutes and I don’t appreciate you adding another 10 to that by taking your sweet time. This is not YOUR bus, it’s ALL of ours.
• There are trash cans located at each and every bus stop. Could you please take your empty food wrappers, cups, used condoms, and anything else you brought onto the bus with you off the bus so my children don’t pick it up and say, “Daddy, can I have a snack?” How old are you anyway.
• If the bus is relatively full and people get on, move your leg off the seat next to you, and stop pretending to “sleep”. There’s plenty of space for everyone if you aren’t taking up three spots.
• I KNOW JESUS SAVES. I also know you’re not really deaf. So please keep your post cards, I’m not interested.

These are just a few things that will make EVERYONE’S ride much more enjoyable. Thank you for listening, and have a nice day.

Give me an "N", Give me an "8"...what's that spell?

NOTE: This blog was originally posted on MySpace following the second parent adoption by my partner a few months ago. Thanks to the magic of MS Outlook, I just realized today is the one year anniversary of MY adoption of Nathan. I felt it was appropriate to honor the anniversary with a story I'll never forget.

NATE! Well folks, in the interest of people accusing me of liking Adrian more than Nathan I decided to write a blog about Nate’s big day today. Today, September 12, 2007, marks the end of Nathan’s journey of permanency. Also known as the day that “My baby got two daddies.”

It has been a completely wonderful almost 2 years since Naterbug came into our lives. I remember the moment like it was yesterday. I was called to come to CPS in Georgetown, Texas to meet my new foster son. I was also asked if I would consider bringing pictures of Adrian with me to give to his mother so that she could see how he was progressing. For those of you who haven’t figured it out yet, both of my boys have the same biological mother. Jed and I talked about it and I really had no problems with giving her pictures of the boys. Hell, she gave us two wonderfully perfect boys, the least I could do was give her pictures of her kids.

I showed up to CPS headquarters all a twitter. By some paperwork error, we weren’t notified when Nathan was born like we were supposed to. Nathan had been placed in another foster home for 2 weeks after he was born. His original foster dad was bringing him to the meeting, I was going to meet him and his mother, the staffing would take place to see how Nathan was doing in foster care and how mother was doing with her “steps”.

When Milt drove up and Nathan’s social worker said, “Oh, there’s foster dad now,” I nearly crapped. He drove up in a big ol’ Ford F350 and I thought, “LERD, a Williamson County hayseed.” He walked up and said hello, introduced himself and I shit my pants as a purse fell out of his mouth. He was the nelliest hayseed I have ever met in my life. The social worker questioned him about some stuff he brought and he mentioned how the “ladies in church” had knitted a blanket for Nathan. Great! A nelly, Christian, conservative, hayseed.

Nathan’s mom did not show up that day. She had been presented with another life plan, and chose to take a different path. One, we hope, found her happiness. Much to my surprise, I didn’t just MEET Nathan that day, it was decided that I would be taking him home with me THAT SECOND as well! I just had ZERO prep-time! I felt like my sister, Dana, following the birth of her fourth son…(Walking, walking, walking—gush, water breaking, breaking, breaking—what’s that banging on my knees??? A FUCKING HEAD? ARE YOU KIDDING ME? WHERE’S MY SADAL BLOCK?)

As the social worker was filling out the paperwork I sat and played the ambiguous game with Milt:

M: “My ‘better-half’ is a doctor.”
F: “My better-half is a bottom.”
M: “We live in Jester Estates.”
F: “We live in Brentwood.”
M: “Have I ever seen you at Chaindrive?”
F: “OH MY GOD GIRL, YOU’RE GAY?”

Group hug.

Milt went on and on about how happy he was that Nathan was being placed with another gay couple and that it was exciting that Nathan would ALWAYS have been raised by loving, nurturing, nelly bottoms. We actually have, since that meeting, become very good friends. I thought it was important for both Milt AND Nathan to stay connected throughout their lives. I ALWAYS want Nathan to know exactly how many people have loved and cared for him.

AS YOU ALL KNOW, in Texas, it’s against the law for same-sex couples to adopt children together. Fortunately, all that means is we cannot do it at the same time. Unfortunately it means we spend a couple of years wrapped up in the legal system, sifting through the leagaleeze and getting our equal rights the hard way. I finalized my adoption of Nathan a few months ago, sealing the deal so-to-speak, making Nathan a permanent part of MY family. Jed, however, was, and has been, “a bystander” through the process.

I GET IT, how it must make Jed feel to sit there by my side and watch all the pomp & circumstance and see my joy as I get a sense of legal closure with my kids. All the while he maintains “room-mate” status in the eyes of the law. It sucks. Because the court really does make it a big deal for the adoptive parent. So we sit, and we wait for Jed’s turn, and then we do it all over again.

Today we officially have 50% “ownership” of our sweet little boy. Both of our kids are now officially 100% ours. Both of our boys officially have two loving parents, for better or for worse. No turning back. And hopefully they will love having each other in their lives “forever”, and hopefully they will appreciate the two and a half year fight we’ve been through to give them a permanent sense of family and belonging.

Congratulations Jed. Congratulations Nathan. Congratulations Adrian. I’m proud to be a part of your family.

God does, in fact, work in mysterious ways

"Dearly beloved, We are gathered here today2 get through this thing called life

Electric word life, It means forever and that's a mighty long time

But I'm here 2 tell u, There's something else, The afterworld

A world of never ending happiness, U can always see the sun, day or night

So when u call up that shrink in Beverly Hills, U know the one - Dr Everything'll Be Alright. Instead of asking him how much of your time is left. Ask him how much of your mind, baby." -PRINCE

Ladies and gentlemen, I'm here today to testify and to tell the world that through the power of prayer my lifelong struggles with weight control are completely over. Can I get an AMEN? You see, today I went to Taco Bell for lunch. Since I was on my scooter, I opted not to get my "usual" because I wouldn't be able to get the ginormous platter of nachos back to work with me. Instead, I opted for a whole new meal. Taco Bell has a new product right now called the Nacho Crunch Burrito. I decided, by ordering one of these delicious sounding delights, I would be killing two birds with one stone. I'd get my burrito AND my nachos. So I got one of these, two bean burritos, and two tacos...which would have been standard for me along with any nacho order!

As I was waiting for my food, I couldnt' help but overhearing the loud television in the dining area of Taco Bell. Normally they have it tuned to News 8 Austin, so I can catch my weather on the 8's, and the news about Austin's latest serial raper. But today, folks, they had it tuned to The 700 Club. Today's "message" was all about the healing power of prayer and touch. Rather than praying that someone touch me, I just listened, praying that my order would hurry up. I'll be damned if preacher man didn't start telling a story about "Chris" (I'm sure, a made up name).

Chris was suffering from a horrible affliction of "painful, pus filled, blisters, that oozed constantly" when she "accidentally tuned into their program". Through the power of prayer in touch, The 700 Club is happy to announce that not only are Chris' blisters GONE, but there's no scar tissue anywhere to be seen. Praise Jesus. Thank God for that.

So next I take a bite out of my Chicken Nacho Crunch burrito. You would be surprised how the mind plays tricks on someone when they bite into a nacho cheese and sour cream stuffed burrito with refried beans. Yes ladies and gentlemen, my burrito tasted just like this:

Thank you 700 Club. Thank you Taco Bell. From now on, I am a full-on anorexiant. I hope you're happy. Praise Jesus.

You're my obsession

I’ve discussed a couple of times over the last couple of years the various collections or obsessions I’ve had. There was the Vespa phase; the bowling phase; the duct tape purse/wallet making phase; the fish phase; and they tank top phase. I’m sure there’s others…but for folks who know me closely, these will be the ones you recognize immediately. I have discovered, or should I say, I have known, that I come by it honestly. I wouldn’t call myself a hoarder, or even, really, a collector. JED is a collector…Freddy is an obsesser!

The last few high holy days that the entirety of my family has gotten together, my sisters and I have talked to my mother and father about the amount of “stuff” they have in their house and how it would be nice if they started purging now in an effort to help us siblings out in the future (if you catch my drift). The amount of time it’s going to take me and the sisters to clean out the cottage after the folks go take Logan for a walk in the future is mind-numbing. My mother gets rid of NOTHING. (And, mommy…if you’re reading this…it’s ALL meant with love!)

The last trip Jed and I took up there we tried to point out a few of the more ridiculous items she appears to be holding onto for no apparent reason. For example, she’s got CRATES of newspapers from around the time period of the Oklahoma City Murrah Building bombing. Timothy McVeigh is dead…no need to hold on to the papers, eh? The BOXES AND BOXES AND BOXES of “reel to reel” cassettes they have. Do any of you even know what a reel-to-reel is??? I rest my case. How about this little collection of hand lotions obtained from various hotel stays across the country over the years?



For reals? Ain’t you supposed to use this shit? Isn’t lotion like milk? I’m almost positive it has an expiration date on it.

Another bizarre thing she “collects” is a drawer full of sun/reading glasses. Heading out the door and it’s bright outside? No problem. Grab some glasses. Know you’re going out to eat and won’t be able to read the fine print? Grab some glasses. But really folks. Aren’t these things REUSEABLE? Do you really NEED 90 pairs???



In one of my parents 13 bathrooms, they have a nice collection of reading material for anyone needing to take a deuce. I actually remember enjoying reading Reader’s Digest when I was a kid. I think this is probably a crappy picture, and you may not be able to see it, but the date on these three magazines are FROM when I was a kid. Christmas gift idea for the folks, A CURRENT SUBSCRIPTION TO READERS DIGEST.



Some of the collections mom has I actually appreciated. It made it SUPER easy on birthdays and Christmas to know what to get for her. That is the ONE nice thing about knowing someone with a collection. BUT the problem is, when she runs out of space, she forgets to tell you, “I no longer collect x”, or “I no longer collect y”, or “I know longer collect…”

OR…

I don’t have any more space for…

But I these make me feel safe, and I THINK I can still squeeze ONE more in…

Some of the collections I get. Really, I do. But WTF is this?

Look. If it looks like evil, smells like evil, and sounds evil, IT PROBABLY AIN’T A GOOD THING?

And last year’s monkey is this year’s



Some of the collections are worth a fortune. I’ve already called dibs on this collection…not because I’m fond of small Germanic children, but I REALLY need an extra bathroom at my house…



But these votive candle holders can be bought for 10 cents a piece at your local Goodwill…



And I don’t even know what the hell this is??? Colored glass? PEOPLE COLLECT THIS SHIT?



Do all these hearts surrounding my picture mean mom loves me??? Or am I just part of another collection (NO COMMENTS ALLOWED REGARDING MY 1973 PORNO ‘MUSTACHE’, SERIOUSLY)



More hearts…



I probably shouldn’t have done this blog. I feel a revenge blog coming. I know mom is going to come take a picture of my shit. Or worse, one of our friends will violate my secrets. It’s coo. It’ll inspire me to clean up around the house so the kids won’t have to.

What are your collections? I would love to see pictures if you can swing it!!!

Matthew McConaughey is...

A nutsack. No. Wait. That's insulting to all of the nutsacks that I have personally gotten to know over the years. Matthew is, quite simply, a tool. I don't know what it is about this guy. I hate him about as much as most people hate Oprah. It's unnatural. The difference is I've actually been in Matthew's presence and have legitimate reason to hate him.

During one of the season in which I held my tickets for Longhorn football, Matthew occupied the seats behind me. He was a loud drunken ass for the entire season, and had the "Don't-you-know-who-I-am" attitude that makes most normal people hate celebrities. From that moment on, he has been everywhere I've been ruining every single moment of my life. Why can't he be a normal celebrity that shuns the spotlight/cameras instead of trying to seek the attention out? Is his career really suffering that badly? Don't get me wrong, he was fabulous in Hope Floats…but does he really need to keep himself in the public consciousness? Here lately he's been shot around town hangin' with Jake Gyllenhaal and Lance Armstrong (another nutsack). Every time I turn on the television it's like watching the three Musketeers.

• I'm watching the UT v. OSU game and they show Matthew and Jake hanging out the window of their skybox. What a lovely couple they made.
• Later in the game they show Matthew sans Jake on the sidelines doing some sort of bizarre calisthenics routine.
• I go to ACL and they have to show Matthew on the jumbo-tron jammin' to the oldies with his old pals.
• I log onto MSNBC and I see an article about where Matthew's shirt has gone. Do we really care that much about the mysterious disappearance of the guys shirt? He's in love with HIMSELF. Of course he's going to be shirtless all of the time.
• And yesterday as I'm watching Oprah (I'm so sorry I said that out) I see her in the audience while Bon Jovi is playing for her show talking to some ass-faced dude with ridiculous looking facial hair and I say to myself, "IS THAT MATTHEW MCCONAUGHEY?" And wouldn't you know, it was. He was desperately looking over Oprah's shoulder trying to make contact with the camera. "LOOK AT ME...LOOK AT ME. I'M MATTHEW MCCONAUGHEY...I'M A HAS-BEEN STAR".



Can't Matthew just shun the spotlight like Suri Cruise? Does he have to be everywhere? Can't he just go back to making mediocre movies and quit ruining all the things that are good in life? Like football and music? Does he have to be such a media whore?

By the way. Before anyone feels the need to point out that Matthew WASN'T in Hope Floats, I already knew that.

What good is having children if they won't do your laundry?

I will admit that there is a very small part of me that is looking forward to the day that Adrian and Nathan learn the value of a dollar for a hard days work. I don't have a dishwasher, and this isn't really a problem for me right now. However after we have guests, or a party, the clean up can take hours washing everything by hand. Adrian isn't even 4 yet, and we have already taught him that when he is done with dinner, his dishes go in the sink. I've already purchased a little stool for him to be able to reach the sink better. The idea behind the stool was so he could brush his teeth at the bathroom sink with us, but its the perfect height for the kitchen sink too. It's just a matter of time before he’s completely ready to tackle the dishes on his own. I think by 5, hell be a solo practitioner.

For both St. Paddy's day and Easter I taught him how to make decorated cookies. He did a GREAT job, and they were delicious. The highlight of the cooking experience was when I had him place the cookies on the plate and single handedly serve our guests we had over for dinner. He was so cute, and didn't drop a single cookie. The boy definitely has skill.

My son is half-Hispanic for those who don't know. I don't want any comments about how I'm importing cheap labor, etc., etc.. But...the other thing I'm looking forward to is him learning a trade, like yard work. Last weekend Jed was gone and I had the boys for the afternoon. I had to do the yard work, but what does one do when you've got a toddler and an infant that you're keeping an eye on? You teach them a trade. I know there are many people who think this is wrong with a capitol "w", but look at my little cholo. Does he look unhappy to you? No. I'm just preparing him for the years of hard labor ahead. I realize yard work is dangerous, so I'll wait until he’s 5 or 6 before I turn him loose in the yard.



I'm looking around the house looking for other things they’re perfectly capable of doing. Folding laundry helps with eye/hand coordination and fine motor skills. It also helps with cognitive exercises by fine-tuning their sorting skills. I'll save this for Nathan, because I don't think it's fair to let Adrian have all the fun.



After the boys perfect their housekeeping skills, we'll be able to get rid of our housekeeper, Tracie. Well be able to use half the money we currently pay her to pay off the kids and have a little bit left over for some things that really matter, like a beer for daddy, or a comic book for poppa. I'm not saying I expect FREE labor. I will pay for services rendered. I don't want to take advantage of my kids.

I wish I could type some more, I have plenty to add, however my shoulders are getting sore and it's very close to Adrian’s bedtime. He needs to get working on them before he falls asleep. Let me know if you need anything done around the house. Caustic chemical clean ups in the garage? Asbestos removal? I won't charge y’all too much to borrow them.

Don we now our gay apparel

I have a somewhat embarrassing confession to make. I have personally ordered from the International Male Catalogue. In case you haven't checked out out the Catalogue, you should (www.internationalmale.com). It's embarrassing because A) I think 1/3 of 1% of people out there can wear any of the clothes in this magazine, and B) I certainly wasn't in that winning percentage! While the clothes, or lack of, look good on the models in the magazine, you MUST possess certain attributes which, sadly, Freddy didn't. I'm not talking about my dick y'all, I GOTS that. No. I'm talking about the six-pack abs, the 16" discs a/k/a "pecs", or the bulging biceps. Okay. Maybe I had the biceps, but my abs were more like a keg than a six pack and we may as well just call my pecs what they are, moobs. You got to love a magazine that has an underwear section called "Problem Solvers"…IE: Your dick is so small, we can keep you from looking like a Ken-doll.

Now I'm not saying that I ordered from the catalogue last week. No, dear readers, it was many, MANY moons ago. I was very single at the time and I was, what you could call a "gym bunny". Though I never lifted weights, I did spend many a long afternoon in the gym on an aerobic type machine and/or a step-class or three. I was taking a trip to San Francisco under the mistaken impression (from having watched Full House on television) that San Francisco was a warm, sunny, metropolis. Who knew that it only got into the highs of the 80's during the summer with lows dipping down into the 40's when the sun went down. I should have watched Miami Vice instead.

So I purchased a pair of shorts and a swimsuit for my adventure out west. Please hold all snickering to a minimum.



The shorts, as you can see, are still in "high fashion" today. These are the EXACT same shorts I purchased 13 years ago. I don't recall them being this long though. They did have the split up the side, and nothing screams "gay" like a pair of Daisy Dukes with a 2 inch split up the side of your leg. To accentuate the outfit, I often wore these shorts with Camel hiking boots (which not only showed off my amazing calves, but also made the hem of the shorts look that much higher!) and a brightly colored knit sleeveless button up sweater vest without anything on underneath it. HOT, I tell you, NOT.



I also purchased this lovely swimsuit thinking that I would be spending an ample amount of time in the warm ocean waters of the Pacific. HOLY JESUS. Do people actually get in that water? I've had Cherry Limeaide Slushes warmer than the waters of the Pacific. I don't know what I was thinking with this swimsuit. It was not quite a Speedo, because they weren't briefs. Additionally, the ones I purchased were as brightly colored as the sweater vest I had to accompany my shorts. My "jewels" looked FANTASTIC in this suit, however combined with my keg, it wasn't a pretty sight. I did manage to attract some attention wearing these things, but I'm sure I ended up on some "what the hell was he thinking" website.



On a trip through a mall in Wichita, Kansas with an old friend of mine, I stopped in at one of those mall leather shops. I forget the name of it now, but I think they used to be a national chain. It wasn’t one of those leather shops that sold assless chaps and ball-gags. Rather they had all styles of leather jackets. Why I thought I needed a warm leather jacket in the ‘Bible belt’ of Kansas, Oklahoma, Texas, I’ll never know. It’s not like it ever got cold enough to wear it. It did, however, look stunning on the dance floor when I was able to get all the fringe moving at once. I didn’t get the shiny polished version above. No, I got the black suede. I did, however, look JUST like the boy above. Except I was 140 pounds lighter, I had hair, and I hadn’t yet been able to grow facial hair.



Lastly, when I was in Junior High, Wham had just come out (not figuratively) with George Michael and his dual pierced ears. As we all know by now, Freddy was full on Guhay at that point and followed George's example and pierced both of my lobes, along with the cartilage at the top of my left ear. High style. I may have even owned this sweater. It was back in the day before Brian Austin Green made having both ears acceptable for straight men and the saying was still, "Left is right and right is wrong." I think that applied to the ear piercing for men anyway. Now that I think about it, maybe it was my political leanings??? I'm not sure, I'll get back to you on that.

Are you there God? It's me, Freddy.

A few months ago Jed and I started discussing taking the boys to church so they could start learning the basic Bible stories and start developing a foundation of a belief system without being influenced one way or the other by the daddy and their poppa. As you may imagine, religion is a touchy subject with us. Not me 'n Jed, but us. While we want the boys to learn the parables, the stories where good prevails evil; right outsmarts wrong; the underdog forges ahead, we both agree that we need to pull the boys out of church before they learn the ugly truth about all religions. I have this thought in my head that plays out like this:

Adrian: Daddy, do you believe in God?

Daddy: No sweet boy, I don't.

Adrian: Why?

Daddy: Well, you see son. Many of today's conflicts have started based on God and religion. There are many different types of religions Adrian, each having their own Gods, yet none of them really agreeing on what their own God wants, believes or teaches. Basically son, all religions hide behind their flags and preach against one another. The Jews hate the Christians. The Christians hate the Muslims. The Muslims hate everyone. At one time, believe it or not, the Greeks had their own Gods. Everyone has since dismissed them as Mythical characters, and this is sort of how daddy feels about the modern day God. Does that make sense to you son?

Adrian: Not really daddy. Everyone I know tells me:

Lets be honest. Eventually the boys are going to hear it and then I'm going to have to explain it. And since I've gone ahead and opened the can of worms, I'll go ahead and expound a little further.

Yes, at one time the Greeks did have their own deity system. At what point did a revolution begin and someone say, hey, Greek Guy. You can't have 2 dozen Gods to explain every event. There is only one God. My God. You must believe in my God, or you will burn in the fiery pits of hell.

I stand firm on my statement that Christians can't come to a consensus on the truth about God. Does God, in fact, really hate...anyone? Not just fags, but Jews? Polygamist? Hows about goat fuckers? I got one Christian church telling me that soldiers in Iraq are dying because of me, because I'm gay. I've got another Christian church telling me that that church is crazy. The soldiers aren't dying because I'm gay, however I will be burning in the pits of hell because I'm gay. And yet another church is saying, "You're gay? GREAT! God doesn't care what you are and neither do we as long as you tithe 10 percent of your income. Welcome brother." If God really hates anything, is that something I want to expose my children to? I don't mind if they hate sprouts or mustard, but do I want them hating people?

The way I see it, the problem with Christianity is nobody can get on the same page. In that regard, if you read yesterday's blog, Christians are very much like gay men. They can't even agree to disagree, they just fight with each other and talk about each other on Fox News. I don't understand how an entire group of people who all identify themselves as Christians can have so many different interpretations of a single book? Yet they drone on under the same banner of Christianity trying desperately to make the rest of the world think like them, and act like them.

Puhleez don't get me wrong. I am so not bagging on Christians. I know LOTS of Christians who are great people. There are many people who volunteer for the homeless. Even your very own Freddy diligently serves the elderly every single Monday at 11 am. He finds himself delivering food to the home- bound old folks on Austin's forgotten East Side. Does it make me any less of a person because I don't consider myself a Christian? The fact of the matter is I DON'T KNOW if there is a God. I've been taught that the Romans were wrong, the Greeks were wrong. And isn't it convenient, or is it a coincidence, that The Bible tells us they were wrong because of that whole idol worship thing??? Who am I to tell you that your God doesn't exist? Or the Muslims? Or the Buddhist? Better yet, who are you to tell me that I'm less of a person for the simple fact that I don't have a God.

If I've offended you, apologies. Go ahead and do the Christian thing. Forgive me.