The Man attempts, yet again, to beat me down

Sunday, Oct. 29, 2006, 7:46 p.m.

Remember how a few days ago, I mentioned that I was being censored by the military newspaper I write for because The Man is a humorless bastard?

For once (little did I know), I really was not exaggerating. Isn't that, as they say, a bitch?

You see, after I was told that my commentary about Army Strong wasn't going to be allowed to go to print, I was a little bit miffed. (inasmuch as a rabid dog gets "miffed" when you smack it with a stick), and I decided to take some action.

I suspected (rightly, as it turned out) that my opinion pieces weren't being okayed for press for the simple reason that I was the one who wrote them. So this week, I wrote a short blurb about Halloween Fun For Soldiers -- and I didn't put my name on it until it had been approved. Oh, and my editor (who is on my side) made the decision to bypass our Head Boss, who is usually the lone veto-er of my work.

Thursday, when the paper came out, I was told by the Powers That Be, in no uncertain terms, that I am banned (yes, that was the word they used! Hooray for progress re: freedom of speech and such!) from writing commentaries for the paper. Forever. Supposedly.

I'm planning to contest this, mainly because over the years, I have won awards for writing my opinion in this newspaper, and I have no intention of being forced to quit now, before having the chance to go out with a bang. I think it's pretty ricockulous (variation on "ridiculous" -- like it? One of my esteemed colleagues used it one day, and I've adopted it since. Spread the word! Literally!) that just because I'm not spouting the same ass-kissing bullshit as everyone else, I shouldn't be allowed to speak my mind -- especially seeing as how it's not controversial in any way, just a little bit different.

So that's the bad news. I'm brainstorming some strategies to force Head Boss into rescinding his order, but I'm not sure what's plausible. Short of going to his house and beating some sense into him with a large, heavy, blunt object, I'm kind of at a loss right now.

Suggestions?

The thing I just told you about would have made me go out of my damn mind with rage this weekend, had it not been for these two happenings:

Happening 1: Halloween Costume Party Number 2!

My roommate and a friend of hers threw a second costume party Friday -- as a follow-up to the one two weeks ago, I imagine, just to make sure everyone got plenty of use out of their costumes.

Of course, the three of us (my roommate, her friend and I) decided to get different ones anyway:

My roommate: Dorothy, complete with homemade ruby slippers
Me: Wal-Fart's idea of an airline stewardess -- or, the rest of the world's idea of a skank in a hat
Friend: Some kind of Egyptian harem girl

Damn, we are classy.

Other (lesser) people's costumes included:

Plumber

If you are not convince by the plunger, please observe:

Just try to look away. You can't, can you?

The Devil and his Catholic School girlfriend

Guy With A Mustache That Keeps Falling Off

Notice the Return of the Plunger.

If you want to see even more drunken debauchery (all within about an hour and a half, before I left to go meet up with Husband), click here and scroll on through.

After I had had my fill of the party (tiny, crowded apartment + pouring rain outside = AAAAGH! before too long), I headed out to meet Husband at the bar, where he was celebrating the Cardinals' World Series win by drinking enough Crown Royal to get the entire team shitfaced.

I didn't really feel like getting changed out of my costume before going to the bar, so I didn't. That was kind of a mistake, as anyone who has walked into a crowded bar wearing a microskirt and clear, light-up, four-inch heels can probably tell you. I have never felt quite as much like an actual whore as I did the moment I walked through that door.

On the upside, Husband was very appreciative.

Happening 2: Lewis Black comedy show!

Last night, Husband and I made the four-hour drive to Atlanta to see Lewis Black perform. Even though our seats were located in a portion of the theater where we could look down and see this ...

... we still had a fantastic time.

The best part of the show, for me, was when he began one portion of his act by saying something about the end of Daylight Savings Time. I shall attempt to reenact:

Lewis: "Why the FUCK would we lose an hour of sleep on a SATURDAY? I mean --"

Audience members: "We gain an hour tomorrow! GAIN!"

Lewis: "... "

Audience: "We gain an hour!"

Lewis: "Fuck. That's gotta be the dumbest thing I've ever done on stage."

Audience: "HAHAHAHAHA we love you anyway!"

After the show, he had an autograph-signing session. I was near the front of the line, and I wanted to say something incredibly witty and amusing to him as he signed the back of my ticket, but everything I thought of sounded sniveling and more or less retarded, so I resigned myself to being satisfied with just getting an autograph and a picture. But then it struck me -- when all else fails, BE JUVENILE.

This was taken about a second after I leaned in and asked, "So, can I get some tongue?"
(He politely declined, saying, "Well, not in front of all these people!" To which I responded, "All right -- it'll have to be later, then. [wink] Call me!" And then he busted out laughing, which was the highlight of my entire night.)

Anyway, I had an eventful weekend, and that helped take my mind off of the brutal, discriminatory censorship that fueled the fire for this entire entry. And now I have to go, because the Flavor of Love reunion show is going to start in ten minutes, and if I miss a single thing that that crazy New York says or does, I will cry, because she makes me feel more human.