The One with the Questionable Campaign

So, I have a Morally Ambiguous Situation™ here, and I wonder the general opinion of my. . .2 readers.

This happened.  The gist of it is that this pastor said that all gays (and lesbians!) should be rounded up and locked electric fence-style, men seperate from women, so that the gay gene would die out.

Never mind this doesn't make any sense, as I believe (but don't quote me on this) that most gay people are spawned from hetero parents.  I believe that the pastor in question is a horrible representation of Christianity, and is one of the worst kinds of people.

But. . .I don't know if the article's suggestion of retribution is the best way to go.  He suggests that everyone send a donation to some gay-friendly organization in the pastor's name so the pastor will be innundated with thank you letters from the organizations.  The author provided the pastor's address, phone number, and e-mail with which to do the signing up.

Now. . .at last count, I saw 190 people who had said they were doing this, sending some donation to a group in the pastor's name.

This is where it gets a little sketchy for me.  Is this pastor dead wrong?  Absolutely.  Does he need to be prevented from speaking in public ever again?  Yes.  Yes he does.  Is he the reason so many people hate Christianity?  For sure.

But this seems. . .over-reaching to me.  I don't know.  I can't reconcile it in my head.  What, exactly, are these people hoping to accomplish?  It's awesome that all these organizations are getting donations, but. . .why does it have to be done this way?  I can't decide if someone as douchey as this pastor is also giving up his right to privacy and not wanting to receive literature from these organizations by being douchey.

And then there were a couple of comments left on this article that REALLY bothered me.

One lady ". . .did this for a 'Pro-Life' neighbor, made a donation to Planned Parenthood in his honor. They sent him a letter of acknowledgement. I never heard another word from him about the sinful pro-choice people;-)."

Like. . .it's the guy's right to be anti-abortion, and he's being sort of harassed about it.  What if the guy had sent pro-life literature to this lady?  Would that have been OK, too?  Granted, I don't know if he made a big deal about it or if he was a jerk or whatever, but I don't. . .think it should matter.

Then. . .

"This is an idea I did 30+ years ago to a preacher at a liberal arts college I was going to. Being Southern Baptist and feeling I needed to experience his god...got a postcard from the LDS church out of a magazine and filled in his information. Four years later...he was still wondering why he was getting twice yearly visits from LDS missionaries in the dorm. Last I heard...he had at least two copies of the Book of Mormon and one of the gigantic tome with all the writings in it."

This seems invasive, too.

But it was this one that really raised my hackles:

"I had a similar neighbor and he had a pro-choice bumper sticker on his car. I went over one veeery early morning and overlaid it with a pro-choice bumper sticker. It was weeks before he discovered it."

I feel like this one, if you want to be dramatic, borders on tresspassing and destruction of someone else's property.  At the very least, it made her even more douchey than the pro-life neighbor.  Why do people feel (on both sides of the fence) that if someone disagrees with them, they have the right to mess with the other person?

So what do you think?  Is it good to harass people through the mail?  Are you in the right?  Is the only opinion that matters yours?

This whole thing really bugged me, so I want to know what other people think.

The One With the Enfamil

I may or may not have mentioned (and I'm entirely too lazy to go back and look) the baby magazines I keep getting subscribed to. If not, here's the (abridged) story:

There are some very small, very immature people living back where D and I used to live, and in states beyond. These people hold things against you forever, because they have nothing better to do with their lives. So there are those people.

Then, last time D was there, the liquor store guy said something about how he (D) had run away from that town, leaving his wife, to whom he was still married, and moving in with his pregnant mistress.

False. All of it. D's divorced, thanks, and if I'd been pregnant as long as people have been SAYING I've been pregnant, my fetus would be approximately 18 months old at this point. Like. . .Wonder Fetus. Also, if I've been pregnant for 18+ months, I look AMAZING.

OK. There's the backstory.

A month or so back, I checked a mostly-defunct e-mail address, just because I was bored. Contained within the 845 messages I had, I had a note from "American Baby" magazine, thanking me for my recent subscription.

. . . . . .

Um, what?

Also, the subscription was in the name I will have once I get married. Like, if my name was Sarah Smith, and D's name was D Jones, the subscription was for Sarah Jones. This right here is how I know it's just someone effing with me, and not something I signed up for on my own. I do send away for a lot of free samples and things, but always in my own name.

I called American Baby, explained what happened (sort of) and had the subscription cancelled. Unfortunately, since the order was put in online, there was no way of knowing where the order came from. OK, whatever.

Then, last month, I also got my first issue of another baby magazine, the name of which escapes me at the moment. I've gotten two of those. That is also addressed to Sarah (Jones).

So last week, I have a voicemail from Mom. What it SOUNDS like she says is, "Hey, it's me. Got a package in the mail for you. Let me know what you want me to do with your Enfamil."

The product name sounded vaguely familiar, but I called her back.

"Hey."
"Hey."
"I got your message. . .WHAT did you say the package was?"
"Enfamil."
"I don't even know what that is."
"It's baby formula."

. . . . . . .

She laughed. I laughed. I told her my fetus was about 18 months old.

While I was on the phone, D suggested that I put the can on craigslist. It's a fairly good-sized can, and someone should be able to use it. I decide to do something good for the world, and I did, in fact, put it up. Here was the message:

Free Can of Enfamil
Since my husband's nightmare of an ex-wife thinks it's really funny to send samples of baby magazines and baby supplies to me even though I'm not, nor have I ever been, pregnant, I have a new, unopened can of Enfamil and a few coupons for Enfamil I'd like to give to someone who could use it. I'd keep it for myself but I literally have no use for baby formula.

Send me a message and we'll set up a time and place to make the drop.

Within 5 minutes, I'd gotten a response:

yeah i want it

Really? REALLY?! No greeting, no signature, no please, no thank you. Just "Yeah, I want it."

OK, I'm not asking that people asking for. . .charity, basically, need to jump through hoops for me to give them things. But this?

Like three minutes later, I get another response from the same e-mail address:

please give me milk

At least she said please this time. But. . .something about it just hit me entirely the wrong way.

Then I got a message from someone with the handle (and I'm changing the numbers here) LuciousLipz9216. This message said:

do you still have this?i could really use it.i can pick up.please let me know.

OK. Better.

Next message:

Hello,

I would absolutely love to get these if they are still available. I have a 4 month old and could really use it.

Thanks,

G

Yes. YES! This sounded like someone I would feel good about helping out. I decided to e-mail G back, and I got one more e-mail before I took the posting down:

Hi I just wonder if you still have the enfamil coupons. My sister in law could use them to save some money to feed my niece.
Thank you so much
I

OK. Not the best grammar, but a good second contender if G couldn't get them. I won't hold bad grammar against her. Maybe she's not from around here.

I exchanged a couple e-mails with G, and then. . .they abruptly stopped. I e-mailed her again to check to see if she still wanted it, and I got this reply:

Hi Sarah,
Thanks so much, but it probably would be difficult to meet up so you

can give it to someone else. Thanks again.
G

Huh. OK. I e-mailed the second contender to tell her that they were still available, and I got this response:

Hi Sarah I live far but my post office is very close and I can mail you a postage envelope.

Would you mind to hold coupons until you receive my self-address Envelope?

Thank you so much for your kindness, time and patience.

We really appreciate this
I

. . . . . Tell me that doesn't sound sketchy as hell. Sketchy. As. HELL.

Ultimately, I decided to just wait until the holiday season, and then give it to one of the many food drives that are held during that time. Better that than to potentially be hacked up into tiny pieces by some formula-drinking psycho and to be distributed in dumpsters around town.

And actually, now that I think about it, I don't know if I have any readers who have formula-drinking babies, but if you could use this stuff, I can send it to you. Just leave me a comment with your e-mail address, and I'll get it to you. It's a pretty good-sized can, and it comes with some coupons and stuff. Just let me know!

The One With Online Dating

Edit: I remembered the guy's name!

The ubiquitous Aunt Becky, who also writes for Toy With Me, wrote a post today on online dating. I read it, and it made me laugh a little, but also reminded me of my own brief foray into the world of online dating. . .I know I've regaled this story before, on my old blog, but since that blog is Dead To Me, having died of depression, I'll retell it, since it's relevant. (Thanks, Aunt Becky!) And if you already know the story. . .well, I'll remind you of it!

When I was living in the little mountain town I lived in previously, my relationship status was. . .well, I had none. D and I had an on-again, off-again thing going (which, in and of itself, is a whole other post), and it had been off-again for a little while. I was bored. I was lonely. And I hadn't had a boyfriend proper since November of 2003. (This all took place in the summer of 2008.)

On a whim, I signed up with Match.com, posted a sassy profile, and went hunting for the Mens (and perhaps Ladies) of Haywood and Buncombe County.

Uhm, I imagine that a lot of you don't know North Carolina counties that well, unless you live here (and even then, you probably don't), but the mountains are. . .not the best place for picking people up. I ultimately lucked out with D, but he's not actually FROM there, so that's a different thing. I expanded my search from just the town I was in to towns outside of where I was, out to Asheville, which is the biggest city nearby.

I looked through many profiles, and there was no one who was quite what I was looking for. I looked for men. I looked for women.

Apparently, Match.com only allows you to specify you're looking for one sex, so if you say you're looking for men, no women will be sent your profile and vice versa.

(Get on fixing that, Match.com!)

(Not for me, because OBVIOUSLY, but for other people who don't want to be limited in their searching. Because it happens, y'all.)

So my profile just kind of. . .sat there. I winked at a couple of people, but got no response. I sent a message to one guy, but he told me he was too old for me. It seemed like a gigantic failure. I got a couple of winks and messages from people but they were. . .not my type, to say the least. I got a message from a 54-year-old black man. I have absolutely nothing in the world against black men, but that part of the state is NOT known for its diversity, so it just seemed so, incredibly random.

I got a lot of messages from much, much older men. I either didn't respond (if it was obvious the message was sent out to multiple people with no change in the content) or I sent a "thanks, but no thanks" message.) The oldest guy was 64. I'm just sayin'.

Then one day, I got a message from this guy. I THINK his name was Louis JAROD!. I don't remember the message, but he seemed nice enough, relatively intelligent, and was 34 to my 24. So, not bad. We exchanged some messages, chatted on the site, and ultimately, I said he could give me a call.

He did. Called me right in the middle of America's Next Top Model, which I was watching religiously that season. I had no TiVo or anything, so I missed the last half of the show for this conversation.

The thing that turned me off immediately was his sex fixation. He didn't say anything explicit or anything, but that was clearly what he thought he was going to get from this. We talked for a while, during which time I asked him, "OK, so, three words to describe yourself. Go."

He said, "Hot, Horny, and Happy."

. . . . . . . .

WHAT?

Sweet Mary, Mother of Jesus. WHAT? The first time you talk to someone? REALLY?

He also kept making innuendo about us hooking up.

WHAT?

Despite all that, he was like, "So, we should go out," and I was like, "OK."

(Desperation makes you do weird, crazy things, my friends. Weird, crazy things.)

I should note here that it was NEVER a thought in my mind that I was going to sleep with this guy. Never, ever. I was still a virgin there at 24, and wasn't ABOUT to give it up to Hot, Horny, Happy Louis JAROD. (Note: was Not Hot.)

We made plans to go out on Friday (this was on a Wednesday). I hung up with trepidation. Not only had I missed the last half of ANTM, but I had also made a tentative date with a guy who sounded like a Super Creep.

At this point, you're probably saying to yourself, "Sarah. . .why?" and shaking your head at me sadly.

This story, though, has a happy ending. But not for HHH Louis JAROD!.

He called me again the next night, presumably to finalize plans, since we hadn't actually agreed on anything, and he called me DURING GREY'S ANATOMY.

OK, you guys. ANTM, I can excuse. But bitches BETTER NOT CALL ME during Grey's Anatomy. I will not answer. And then I will cut you. And then I will make you apologize. And then I will cut you again.

He left a voicemail. I did not call him back.

Admittedly, this was a crappy, crappy way to do this. But I went to Match.com and sent him a message, saying I "wasn't going to be able to make it on Friday." He sent a message back and was like, "OK."

So instead, I went to the county's big high school football game that everyone turns out for. It was a blast.

I never talked to the guy again. He called me two more times, again during ANTM and Grey's, but I didn't answer.

So really, this is more a story of me not knowing how to deal with a creeper that isn't really aware he's a creeper. So I don't come out looking great.

But I did avoid an awkward conversation about why I was, in fact, not going to have sex with him.

And now I have D.

It all worked out.

(Maybe not for Louis JAROD)

The One Where Craigslist Creeps Me Out

Last night, D and I were looking through the personal ads on craigslist. Not looking for anything in particular, just checking out the depravity that takes place online.

And what we found was amazing.

One that caught my attention was someone (a dude) who was looking for a woman who wanted. . .oral attention on the way home from work. He noted the highway he lived by, and said that if anyone (he specified people in relationships) wanted some "oral attention" on their way home from work, he would be more than happy to oblige.

. . .what?

Then there were plenty of people who wanted random hookups (those are to be expected), relationships (also expected), and one guy who was dying to get it on with a transgender person.

. . .WHAT?

I mean, I get that people like sex. I get that some people like a lot of sex with a lot of different people. But it's like. . .why specify that you want someone in a relationship? Why look for something when YOU are in a relationship? There was one that specified that the guy was in a relationship, and that he wanted a woman who was also in a relationship.

How about (and here's a crazy thought) you. . .have sex with the person you're in a relationship with? Even when I found myself in the Other Woman position (yeah, yeah. I know.), there was no sex. Was not a thing. I don't understand the people who go out and that's specifically what they're looking for: sex (or. . .whatever) with NOT the person they're seeing.

All of this doesn't even include how skeezy I find it to troll for sex online, even when you're single. Sure, when you're single, you can do whatever you want, but. . .why would you want to do random people? Not having had a giant number of sexual partners (Hint: That number is fewer than 2), maybe I just don't understand the allure. But I feel like posting pictures of your junk online is just gross. If you have to find someone online, why not try a legit dating Web site? (There was an ad for one on a Web site I visit called PlentyOfFish.com. See? Cute name AND I'm guessing there are no photos of naked junk. Although, to be fair, when all written out with no capital letters, it looks like the name of the site is Plenty Offish, which doesn't make any sense at all.)

What took the proverbial cake, though, was a listing D found. Apparently, a middle-aged homosexual gentleman had received. . .oral stimulation from a random, unknown 20-ish homosexual gentleman. He didn't know his name or anything else (CREE-PY!). His main concern was that his. . .junkular piercing (a sentimental gift of some kind) had gone missing, and the dude was afraid that the unknown young man had swallowed it. He wanted it back. Understandably. He even helpfully included a picture of what the ring looked like, in case the younger dude was crapping out several genital piercings and needed to know specifically which one this guy was looking for. Luckily, it was a generic stock photo of said piercing and not a photo in which the ring was. . .attached to anything.

My first question here, I guess, would be why in the name of all that is holy would you give something like that as a gift? WHO gave him this gift? Possible suspects:

1. Friend, as a gag gift;

2. Former Lover, not as a gag gift;

3. Supportive Grandmother

I really don't know. But I feel like, in this situation, rather than taking it to craigslist, the guy should call Grandma and fess up.

"Hey, Grams, it's Kris. Yeah, things are going fine. Work's good. What's that? Oh, yeah, Mom's doing well. I'll tell her to call you. Listen! The PA you got me for Christmas got swallowed by some random dude. . .I know, right? You'd think he would have noticed. No, I met him at a bar. Yeah. You think you could send me a new one for my birthday? Excellent. Thanks! See you at Thanksgiving! Give Snuffles a kiss for me!"

Snuffles, obviously, is Grandma's cockapoo. Ironically.

So there's that. How I Spent My Tuesday Night.

Synopsis: Craigslist is a little sketchy.