Purple Rain #1

You could say my love life was a lot like the Producers; it would start of managably strange, the get more and more convoluted it got as time went on (perhaps a topic for another post). My current love life is like Brittney Spears's singing talent, Bush's commitmant to the enviroment, and the tooth fairy; it doesn't exist.

First of all, my lover would have to live with the fact that I'm extremely disorganized. Not like not-having-a-file-for-your-important-shit disorganized. I'm talking about getting-my-ass-sent-to-military-school disorganized. You see, I have two lawyer parents. Two. As in the major dinnertime conservation was on FERC energy regulatory law. And they had this huge filing room where they would keep this massive file with 7 levels of subordinate from everything from newspaper arguements to computer game hints. This contrasts rather heavily with me who has two piles of papers: one that I need to read, and another that I should get rid of, but am too lazy to throw out. Virdict: military school. At military school, I just wasn't enough of a screw up to fit in with most of the people there who had to go because a judge said it was eigther military school or prison. Spending all four of my high school years in miltary school didn't make me more organized, but just made me rather cynical.

My cynicism would be another pair of metaphorical "cotton underwear" a lover living with me would have to deal with. You see there is an expression "shit rolls downhill" is most higharchical structures. It namly referred how a top commander bitches to a lower commander, who bitches even worse to a commander underneath, and so on until the cadets at the bottom get PTed until one passes out. But the expression has another meaning, vague thoerorical leadership bullshit also gets passed down by faculty not grounded in reality. Think Office Space, only 10 times worse. For example, one time I slipped on the ice while marching down to dinner. After everybody had filed in, the sergeant had told me to stay behind and told me how I needed to go to drill practice to challange myself so I could "self-actualize in drill." Maslow must be crying in his grave. But you know what responce I had to give to student one year older than me who was trying despretely to justify his life through his rank? "Yes sir!" After 3 and a half years of repression, now that I'm in college I have little qualms about telling the truth.

Which leads me right into the last pair of "cotton underwear", my lover would have to deal with. If you ask me a question, I will give you the truthful answer before I give the "proper" answer. Sure I'll complement where complements are due, but I'll be improper before I start lying to make the other person feel better. A lot of things would be so much simpler if people just told the honest truth. If something someone does in annoying, wouldn't it be beneficial to that person to know so that he doesn't annoy people in the future? There is one exception to the rule, though. There is no correct answer to the question, "Does this dress make my butt look fat?" None. At all.