Joseph Stack

Everyone's been giving me flack for feeling this way, but I read Joseph Stack's suicide manifesto and he didn't sound like a lunatic or a maniac.  He didn't sound like a terrorist nutjob.  He just sounded really angry at being fucked over by the IRS too many times.  I get pissed off at our aggressive coercive government at times too, doesn't everyone?  Our current tax code has become basically a financial rape instruction manual, and although I would never initiate violence against the government, my heart does go out to Joseph Stack, and I sympathize with him.
You know who I don't sympathize with?  The IRS.  I think they're a bunch of thugs, stealing from us, abusing us, and hassling us.  They want to squeeze every bit of money out of us that they possibly can in their own self-interest and they're able to do so because they have the power of the state behind them.  They have made us slaves to the enrichment of the government and if you work for the IRS (although you may not deserve to die), you're NOT innocent, you're a scum sucking asshole. 

Whether or not violence is an effective means to achieving a non-aggressive government has yet to be seen, but goddamn it, they need to reform the fucking tax code (among other things).

EDIT:  I've changed my opinion about the last part.  I now think that you can only create a non-coercive, non-nonviolent free society with non-coercive, non-violent means.

Come for the breasts, stay for the ... dance moves?

Will someone let me borrow their cat to roll around and take naked pictures with?

Man, if you ever move in with your boyfriend, be prepared for your family to be PISSED AS FUCK.  Nothing puts a damper on your happiness like having your dad call you all sorts of names and telling you he never wants to see your boyfriend ever again.  Ugh!  Shit is rough.  But I have made plenty of decisions before that I'm glad I made but know my parents would disapprove of if they knew about them.  I doubt this will be any different.  I know I made the right choice.  This decision and this man are right as rain for me, and I have a lot of peace in my heart about moving in with Ian.  The rest of the world can just shit a brick about it for all I care.

Mmmmmm  here are things that have been making my heart soar lately:
1) Waking up next to Ian every morning because he is always so warm and snuggly.
2) Eating free oatmeal that's 5 minutes past it's expiration date at Jamba Juice.
3) Ian in winter clothes, i.e. like yesterday when he wore his super soft navy cashmere and silk sweater with taupe khakis.  He's so yummy.
4) Watching Kevin Smith movies and Who Framed Roger Rabbit with Ian at night.
5) Finding my socks in with Ian's socks when I fold laundry.
6) The look on Ian's face when he comes home and sees what I made for dinner.
7) The flourless chocolate dome cake at PF Changs.

Fatty

Oh dear lord, did I just eat all the rest of that creamcheese frosting by myself?  Uggggggghhhhhhh  I need a better hobby.  I also need to workout.

Transitions

So I'm all moved in to Ian's apartment.  It feels pretty weird.  It's like all my random crap like bongos and a sewing machine and kites and libertarian propaganda among his uber modern minimalist decor that I never would have picked for myself.  But then I see J. Alfred Prufrock, my gold ceramic duck in the bedroom and the peanut butter we got together at the grocery store because I like chunky, and I guess I really live here now.

I cried like a little bitty fucking baby last night for at least an hour leaving the co-op with all my stuff and when we got home.  God I still feel like crying for another hour about it.  I loved that place.  I don't care if it was a shithole, it was my shithole and I loved everyone in it and everything about it.  When you live there, you don't realize how much your stuff smells like stale cigarette ashes and pot.  Such a beautiful experience to know so many true authentic people, people who care about me and looked out for me.  Of course I'll visit, but I'll miss out on stuff I know it.  Like when we had a huge snowball fight with newspaper in the dining room, and all the late night dance parties in the kitchen making french fries, or just all the times I came home for lunch and laughed until my sides hurt.  Submission parties, Molly cuddle fests, sitting around on the back porch shootin' the shit.  Ahhh, it's so heartbreaking not being there!

Looks like it's time to cry some more.

Ian Ian Ian Iann IaaaaaAAAAAAAANNNNNNNNNNNNN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I love love love love love him and I think I'll be with him for as long as he'll have me.

"Non-Flammable" Is that a challenge?

 I like to change the English language as it suits my needs.  Here's a new proposal:  You know how when you're chatting with someone online and they type a phrase and then end it with an elipses?  It's so confusing because you don't know if they're just pausing or trailing off, or if there's more to come!  I think whenever people want to indicate a very extended pause they should put, ",,," and if there's more to come they should put, "...".  Doesn't that make more sense?

Pits up Uhmerikuh!

Ian's turned me into the biggest mushiest dork.  It's obscene, it really is.

In other news, I'm growing out my armpit hair.  Ian is not a fan.  Oh the hypocrisy.  :P  :D

It just makes me mad that people are so weird about female armpit hair.  It's such a stupid taboo.  Women wax and shave their pits to perpetuate this ideal, this pretending like we don't grow armpit hair, when everyone knows we do.  It's so stupid, it's funny.  Surely armpit hair serves some worthy evolutionary purpose to be kept around for thousands of years.  I intend to find out what that purpose is.  My guess is the whole trap for pheromones thing.  I know Ian doesn't like armpit hair now, but I bet his desire for me will intensify once it gets long enough.  :D  Sure I'll stink a little, but we'll be connecting on that hormonal level.  :D 

The other day I was rubbing baking soda into my pits because I ran out of deoderant, (that's a SUPER good substitute by the way) and I felt so uber-granola-girl-mother-earth-nature-goddess.  I am emboldened by my armpit hair.  Looking at it now, all I can think is, why must we bow to the pressures of Western consumerism.  Embrace natural femininity, womanhood doesn't need to be cultivated.

EDIT:  Apparently Ian doesn't really care.  That's actually what I thought originally, he's pretty ambivalent about body hair in general it seems, but then we had a discussion about it and he acted a little unsettled by the idea.