The difference between vegans and hippies

There is a difference.

My friend is seriously prejudiced against vegans. She had a vegan room-mate for a while. Apparently the roomy smelled weird and always left the window open (even when it was literally freezing outside).

I do not smell weird. Nor does goth guy (the only other vegan I know). My vegetarian friend knows a couple of vegans, and apparently neither of them smell weird. I suspect that my friend's room-mate actually suffered from a lack of proper hygiene.

Which brings us to one of many differences between vegan and hippie. While a hippie can be a vegan, a vegan is not necessarily a hippie. Hippies always smell bad. Also, they wear beads and vests, which ironically often look like leather. (animal rights, eh?)

You don't meet a lot of clean hippies. Does it hurt animals to take a shower? Or does taking their gross home-made clothing on and off too often make it fall apart?

Hippies are generally pot smokers. Also, they dress in homemade or hand-me-down clothing. It's all thrift-store jeans and tie-dye shirts. Also, they like fringe. And tinted glasses.

There's plenty of vegan goths.

And goths are never hippies. NEVER.

Now I suppose sometimes vegans are artists, and supposedly often hippies are artists. Now I've only talked to one hippie (on purpose) in my life. He was nice enough. Didn't smell too terrible. Was an awful artist. I know this because we were in an art class together. He also worked with glass. Made beads and gages (for ears. you know, the earrings?). They were interesting, but really sloppy.

Hippie art is another term for unprofessional. I know. That's a horrible thing to say, and yes, there probably are some really great hippie artists. But remember, I'm just outlining the stereotypes.

Now vegans don't have to be all that. In fact, I don't think vegan is really the subculture that hippie is. It's just a way of eating. I mean, come on! Vegetarian isn't a stereotype! It's something that any kind of person can do. And so is veganism. It's just a way to eat.

I admit that many hippies probably take the vegan way of life because they care too much about animals. If you're big on animal rights, you really should be vegan.

But my main point is this: I AM NOT A HIPPIE.

(my friend insinuated that vegans and hippies are the same thing. LIES.)

Of note:

HAhaha. If I were to do a quote of the week, this would be it:

"The sexual position formally known as the "69" is now called the "96"- due to the Credit Crunch, the cost of eating out has gone up!!"

~Some random dude on some random humor forum

(three guesses what I was googling)

Of note:

Good thing I wore red underwear today. In other news, I think I'm a were-wolf. No, I do not physically turn into a hairy man-eater. But metaphorically...

The mysteries and urban myths surrounding my cherry

So the other night I was, er, exploring my body. Well, it was a joint mission. (goth guy came around) The point is, SOMEONE tried to convince me I didn't have a cherry, that it'd already gone and popped itself.

Naturally I panicked. How many virgins had this guy actually been with? Did he really have ANY idea? I know I didn't have any idea. I've googled a lot of things about my body, but that one was something I'd never gotten around to. Or even thought about. Until somebody told me I didn't have a cherry to pop.

Of course he gave me a spiel about how it's okay and I'm still a virgin in my mind and all that jazz. NO DUH, ape brain. I'm not WORRIED about that. I was more worried that my body hadn't sent me so much as a memo when it decided I didn't need a cherry anymore.

So I went home and googled it. Here's everything you don't know about the cherry.

It's proper name is Hymen. It's a thin flap of skin on the VERY OUTSIDE of the vagina. It is NOT deep inside, as I always imagined. It's actually sort of a part of the labia, those lips around the opening. It's a crescent shaped flap of skin on the side of the vagina that's closer to the anus. (ugh. I hate the word anus. Which makes talking about the magic finger really awkward... more on that some other post.)

On some women it covers a large part of the vagina. On some women, it's very small, and really doesn't get in the way at all. Barely there. It rarely covers the whole vagina, and if it does, then a doctor has to fix it, or else menstruation is impossible. You can tell if it's broken because it'll be two little flaps instead of one, from tearing. Seriously, the connection to it from the rest of the skin down there is practically seamless. It's just a thin membrane of skin over the lower part of the vag.

MINE is INTACT. SOMEONE has never been with a virgin, or he wouldn't have given me that heart attack. Although mine is there, it is very, very small and very stretchy. I could probably have sex without breaking it. (not that I'm gonna test that theory.)

Breaking the hymen results, usually, in a little pain and a little blood. I guess it's sort of a sacred right. In many faiths, if the woman's hymen doesn't break the first time she has sex with her husband, she's considered unclean and the husband can get rid of her and she brings shame on her family. (COUGH COUGHIslamCOUGH COUGH)

Heh. Did anyone ever watch Bill Nye the science guy as a kid? This is the point in the show where a big booming voice would say "WELL NOW YOU KNOW."

Of note:

I am NOT paranoid! I called twice and texted three times. And heard nothing for TWO WEEKS. How DARE he call me paranoid!

*face/palm*

Lap pillows and man pillows and text messages, OH MY!

Yesterday my friend sent me this link: http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/asia-pacific/4092345.stm

Wow. Just... wow. I mean, if I was a guy, I think I wouldn't really want a kneeling lap for the pillow part...... just sayin.... Wouldn't they prefer a torso? They ARE men, after all.

And of course everyone has heard of the boyfriend pillow.

I think that one actually COULD stand to have a lap. Seriously, you're so lonely you need a man shaped pillow? Use your imagination, for pete's sake! What is this world COMING to?

It used to be we could comfort ourselves with a good steamy novel! And men just needed their hands! Are we really that pathetically dependent that we suddenly need people shaped pillows to fill the physical void in our lives?

Then again, maybe that's better than the alternative "fool around buddy". Or prostitute. Or escort. Those eventually cost more. But then again maybe that depends on how pricey and private it is, and how often you need it. Ergh. Why do we even NEED "it" so much?

Couldn't we just go back to hugs?

In other news it appears goth guy is coming around. I got a goodnight text tonight. This may have a lot to do with the fact that I was a TOTAL knock-out yesterday. My skirt was shorter than usual, I wore my go-gos with the five inch heels and my top hat. Oh, and a corset over my classy blouse. Yeah. I looked good.

The look on his face when he walked in and saw me was priceless. He usually doesn't (appear to) look at me when we're in a tiff. This time he did a double take.

Bwahaha. I felt powerful.

Goodnight!

Of note:

So I typed "oral sex" into google (don't judge me, I know we've ALL googled those kinds of things) and one of the suggestions that google came up with was:
"Oral sex is the new kiss goodnight."
Apparently it's a book. Thank you, America, and goodnight.

Mm brownies

So I'm vegan. I've been vegan for about two months.

Contrary to popular believe, I am not an animal nut. I really don't care about them all that much. (or I didn't. the longer I'm vegan, the more awkward I feel about leather and animal abuse. Maybe it's a side effect? Or maybe I just don't want to feel hypocritical...)

I did it for the health benefits. See, I was already vegetarian (although again, not for all that long. maybe a couple months). Yet it was still pretty easy to avoid vegetables, and other things that are really good for me.

However as a vegetarian, I had finally started to really recognize just how much I wanted to eat healthfully. I know, this sounds weird. Who doesn't want a greasy burger or bbq ribs every once in a while? I know I still fantasize about fried chicken sometimes.

I don't want to go into too much depth explaining the whys. I went veg because I noticed that veg friends that went back to meat got really sick, so I thought maybe the meat free life was just safer. (apparently after not eating meat for long enough you just lose the amino acids you need to digest it, hence getting ill)

And then it seemed almost like a challenge to become vegan. And when it comes to the culinary arts, I am always up to the challenge. I'm an excellent cook.

It's funny, about a month and a half before I went vegan, my one and only vegan friend (who still hasn't called back. the jerk. Okay, by friend I meant romantic interest.... which did NOT influence my decision) told me I ought to go vegan. I told him I could never live without provolone cheese. Guess who's eating her words now? But I really did think that I could never go vegan.

I often thought about it, and how nice it would be to rub veganism in the face of all my omnivorous friends. (heh. yes, it's a matter of pride, too.) But I just figured that was completely impossible for me. I mean, I can't even convince myself to stick to art projects or fad diets! How on earth would I ever manage to stick to something like THAT?

But I had just gone straight vegetarian. No meat, cold turkey (heh. how's that common phrase for irony, eh?). And I'd stuck to it. So I went for it. We'll see how long I last.

Hm. So much for not going into depth on the explanation...

Anyway, I love being vegan. The food is good (I cook most of it. And like I said, I'm an excellent cook.). Also I feel better. I mean, I wasn't sick before. But now I have more energy, I feel healthier. I have less days where I just feel a little off. My hair and nails are growing twice as fast as they did before.

Oh, and a bonus I didn't even expect: I lost twenty pounds in about a month and a half. Now I've always been a little heavy. It bothered me enough in high school to push me to bulimia (fortunately I was both a sneaky and very cowardly bulimic, so that didn't last (or WORK)), and it bothered me a little at the beginning of my college career, when I gained a little more. I counted calories until I was where I was at before, and I was happy.

I've been happy with my body. When I went vegetarian, when I went vegan, I was happy with my body. It's a very proportionate body and I like it, which is what matters. Also, many men like it, so that generally helps my self-confidence.

However, sudden, unexpected weight-loss is fun. It's exciting to fit into smaller pants. It's less exciting to have old pants getting too baggy. My super tight jeans from then are my casual jeans now. I miss tight pants.

Veganism was on my mind today because I made vegan brownies last night. They were delicious, but now I have too many excess brownies. I wonder if I'll get arrested if I try to pass them out at school? I mean, they don't have pot in them... But I wonder if anyone will take them since it's believed that the typical college brownie has pot in it?

I guess I'll find out. I just hate to throw out perfectly good brownies.

Of note:

Seeing as I won't be getting it on in the foreseeable future, I think I'll wear extra sexy underwear today, rather than waiting for the weekend.

Antonio

Recently I went to a friend's house.

I sat at a table with her and her mother-in-law and we talked of many things. Of men and sex and cigarettes, of work and school and masturbation.

I've never had that kind of conversation with my own MOTHER.

It was fascinating. We talked about how my friend had technically been her own first, since she popped her cherry with a vibrator. Interesting. I think that's actually a great idea, personally. I'm a virgin, so I worry about that sort of thing on occasion. I don't want to cover some poor guy's bed in blood the first time I have sex. Maybe I'll be my first. If I can actually get up the courage to push that hard...

I also found out that, on the vibrator tech scale, I'm pretty much at the bottom. I use a toothbrush. My friend has a bunny. This is a pink, vibrating cock with a set of bunny ears meant to stimulate the happy spot at the same time.

I think her mother-in-law said something about a bull? I don't even KNOW what that is. I am way behind in the pleasure toy market.

Heck, sometimes I don't even know if I'm supposed to masturbate! Many Christians claim that it in itself is a sin. I, however, am nearly certain that 'THOU SHALT NOT PLEASURE THYSELF' is not in the Bible. I think maybe masturbation encourages lust... which IS something they mention in the Bible. Many, many times. But if you can really control yourself... You're just not supposed to lust for something you can't have, like somebody else's wife or husband or donkey.

(Why the donkey? Don't ask me. But that IS covered. In Deuteronomy, I think. I'd like to think they're just not supposed to lust after other people's STUFF in the stuff-lust sense, but maybe it IS in the sexy-lust sense. I mean, if you've gotta pick an animal to rape, I would probably go with something that doesn't kick.)

Anyway, I do it regardless. And mostly I don't lust after anything I can't have (until recently. I really wish Goth guy would come around.). I just need to please myself. It helps to tire myself out sometimes, when I can't sleep. And it helps me feel a little better when I've been jilted by a jerk.

Oh, also. My toothbrush, he's special. I know he's not bright pink, and he isn't shaped like any man-members, but he has a name. My toothbrush-lover's name is Antonio. That's what makes him different from all the other toys. That and he was immensely cheaper.

HA!

Take THAT goth guy!

You are now no more than fodder for my fantasies!

There is of course the crawling back fantasy, in which you come crawling back to me begging for forgiveness. This has two varying endings.

There's one where I cruelly reject you and restore my dignity, while becoming unbearably successful. You eventually end up in somebody's attic, starving to death and watching tv through your neighbor's window, just so you can see how unbearably successful I've become. One day I pass you begging on the street and recognize you and shake my head and put a twenty in your mug.

The second is where I tell you to be my friend and try to win my trust, and we have an incredible friendship that blooms into true love. You never lie again and become my passionate love slave.

Of course I also have time lapse fantasies. Fantasies where it ends just as it is and we don't see each other for years.

Option A is nearly identical to the one where I get famous and you go live in a basement, except that I also get a mansion and a studio, and you probably end up shining my shoes or mopping my floor or raking my gravel or taking care of my garden.

In long term fantasy number two, we both get famous, and hear of each other, but never meet. But I use a pseudonym for my art career. Then one day we meet to do a gallery together and you realize that it's me. And I knew the whole time it was you, but didn't contact you because I figured you had moved on.

Except you hadn't. You then admit that I was the one that got away, and the only one you ever really kept caring for. And then we fall wildly in love and buy a castle and decorate it with our art and live happily ever after.

Generally the time lapse for those fantasies is ten years because I'm really sick of twenties. And I've only just begun... Maybe it gets better once I can drink legally.

(actually, I still miss you. I wish you would forgive me (for WHATEVER THE HELL I DID) and invite me over to your apartment again soon. If it's really over it's going to be a long time before I can look at somebody else again. Notice how none of my fantasies really involve a husband? I can't imagine not caring about you the most.)

Oh, but that reminds me. There is one more fantasy.

That would be the fantasy where I start dating my Writing teacher (HE LOOKS LIKE LIAM NEESON! (only younger and bald)). And you become jealous. You guys get into an epic kung-fu battle for my affections. In option A he pistol whips you and you're scarred for the rest of your life, for the loss of your love AND from the pistol whip to the face. In option B you go ninja on his face and kiss me passionately while he bleeds on the sidewalk.

Bad Christian

BA ha ha.

My private journal reads like a smutty romance novel.

Bad for my religious stance, I know. Hopefully I can resist in the future. I could just reread old journal entries to fulfill my sorry physical desires... But that's probably borderline hedonistic too.

It's funny, I'm one of three virgins left in the group of friends and acquaintances that I graduated from high school with. I know, it's been a couple years, but still. I graduated from a private Christian school.

(and that would be three out of roughly fifteen women. One fifth. Twenty percent. And I hung out with the GOOD girls. So I'm sure those statistics get more drastic if you take my entire graduating class into consideration.)

And even then, out of us three, I think only one of us hasn't been fooling around. And she's actually horrified by the thought of men and touching. That stuff grosses her out. More than your average female. It's like sex organs aren't even supposed to exist, in her mind. So she's kind of like an alien, which means she sort of doesn't count.

Not that I'm justifying the rest of us. I just think it's really unusual for ANY girl, even a Christian girl, to hold this stuff off for that long. (Is that a terrible thing to say?)

But then again, this kind of stuff actually makes me question God. Not his existence. I know that he exists, and I know that his son died for my sins. That I believe. And I believe in him for my salvation.

But what does God care about gays? Or oral sex?

Why should he care?

Is that so terrible to ask? This God, or what I know of him, is all about love. Treating other people right. So what does it matter who we love or how we love them?

The fruits of the spirit are love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, self-control and several other things that are sort of like those but at the moment escape my memory. (too lazy to google? I think so. Oops. Patience fail.)

The point is that all the things that Christ emphasized were matters of the heart, not of the body. Being good. Does that mean not banging before marriage, and only banging someone that's the opposite gender, and not fooling around before hand (which isn't actually specifically mentioned in the Bible so if I wanted to pick some nits I'd be set)?

Or does that mean giving to the poor and loving God and treating other people like we want to be treated?

It just bothers me that God has to have so much trouble with something like loving someone that doesn't believe the same way as me. Or loving someone that's the same gender as me. The only one that could potentially get hurt is me, and that will either be because the guy that doesn't believe like me has different standards and WANTS to fool around (which circles back to my original question), or because I get something hideous like AIDS.

That's a special kind of love. A selfless, unconditional love.

Aren't we supposed to rejoice in suffering because it gives us a chance to show how God has changed our hearts? Because it gives us a chance to demonstrate his love?

I know that the rules we have are the way God wants it, but I'll always wonder why.

I mean, he got involved with us... If you want to look at trying to be like God, look at what he got involved with. He gave selfless love to creatures that he knew were bad for him. That he knew would hurt him.

God got into a bad relationship, and willingly. Because he had enough love to give it all up for us.

Oof. I think I broke my philosophy bone. Next time a lighter subject, like guacamole or veganism. Or socialism. Or quantum physics.

That one guy that gave me sheesha once

Alright, there's this guy that I had a class with once. He was a nice enough human being. He acted like the most flaming gay I've ever met, but believed himself to be completely straight. He has an unnatural fetish for black women. If I was black, I'd be scared of him.

To clash with all of those aspects he is an EXTREMELY conservative Christian.

I invited him to a party once. Unfortunately he thought that was so cool that he decided we were to be friends. Fortunately someone who doesn't have your phone number is very easy to avoid. I just occasionally read his facebook updates. Oh. And as a favor for having invited him to the party, he gave me some delicious smelling sheesha.

His facebook updates are intensely angry and generally sort of bitchy. Oh. And so very, very dramatic. This guy is a drama queen. Sometimes they're the Jesus freak type of updates:

"Praise God for children and puppies! I am so Blessed!"

And then there's the other ones... :

"What the hell is wrong with people? This bitch was so rude to me and that ho needed to be slapped, fool! This world is full of drama queens and their bitches! I don't want no part in your drama, ho!"

Okay. Back to what it is that annoys me about this person the most. His art. SUCKS. And he just keeps doing it! And posting about it! "OMG look at my new drawing!" "Geez guys, I'm stuck! What should I draw next?"

The worst part? He's going to improve while an art prig like me is too full of herself to practice as much as she should. Someday in the far, far future I'll be scratching out a living by advertising stuff in costumes on street corners and living off of potatoes in my half room studio in the basement of the crazy cat lady, being a vain and dramatic misunderstood artist.

He'll have a cheery advertising business where he draws up symbols for big companies and rakes in cash everytime they use them, and he'll be working on his life's art work on the side, writing a comic book or making the next Starry Night.

Ah cruel irony. I think I'll go fight fate now.

The problem with gothic men

They are as emotional if not more emotional than women, gothic or otherwise.

I find myself waiting for him to answer my phone call and texts and hurt, because he's ignoring me. I wonder what tiny thing I did that hurt his feelings now.

When I told him I wasn't sure what I was doing at his place again, he was hurt.

I say something that makes complete sense and is in no way an emotional phrase, and he's offended, and tells me not to be rude.

When I call myself crazy, he tells me I don't even know the meaning of the word.

When I tell him I get lost in his eyes he's like, "what?" And so I slap my palm to my face in desperation.

There are certain things I'm afraid to talk about with him. Like I can't use the word relationship because I'm afraid he'll translate it the wrong way. We're just fool around friends. Fine. I get it. But I can't criticize myself without him threatening to use the same words on me on a regular basis.

If I don't call for a couple days, he puts something dramatic onto his facebook status and won't answer my phone calls.

That's what we call a vicious circle.

Was that him in the movie trailer he posted on his facebook page? Holy shit! I know NOTHING about this guy! And I'm afraid to ask him because there's always something wrong. And he won't answer my phone calls. And I obsess while I wait.

And wait.

And wait.

Does this mean that when I see him next he'll be angry at me? Or act like nothing happened? Or worse, that we'll "need to talk"? Again!?

Please start making sense and come back to me. Friday was amazing. Please call me back, you pathetic jerk. I miss you.

What an awful weekend.

El fin de la semano fue muy malo. Espero esta semano esta mejor.

I don't generally speak in spanish, but I'm learning. I had a terrible weekend. The fella broke it off with me. Said that it had all been a lie. He'd never cared. He'd been faking from the start. Well the first goth I ever dated didn't go so well, i guess. It's what I get for dating outside my faith, I suppose. I will make it through this storm.

If you happen to stop by, and believe in God, (any god is fine by me, but personally I believe in the Christian one) I'd appreciate your praying for him. He was cruel, yes. But I'm afraid for him. Pray. For his sanity, for his salvation, pray. Thanks.