Eve.
This will, hopefully, be the last Christmas Evan and I spend apart. We are both at our respective homes now, but we did spend last week here in Charleston. We did many fun things, including:
1. Buying a $16 sweater at J.Crew and discovering that J.Crew has a 15% student discount.
2. Going to Savannah to see where the gay guy shot the man whore in Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil. We also ate delicious sweets, and a homeless man gave me a palmetto leaf fashioned into a cross, probably because of my stunning beauty, but also possibly in order to guilt me into giving him money (it worked).
3. Hanging out with my friend Maggie who, as of Thursday, December 18, 2008, is engaged to her bf George! This will give her mom, Jackie O, two chances in the near future to do the electric slide (my wedding and hers), so things are looking good for the O'Rourke family in 2009.
Ok, maybe we did other fun things, but that's enough for now. As for gifts, Evan and I exchanged them before we left for SC. He got me tickets to see Seinfeld stand-up! I got him a robe, which sounds really lame after the whole Seinfeld thing. It's a really nice robe though, with a belt and everything...
Well, since no one reads this anyway, I'll wrap this post up. I'll leave you all with the poetic words of Clark W. Griswold:
We're going to have the hap-hap-happiest Christmas since Bing Crosby tap-danced with
Danny fucking Kaye. And when Santa squeezes his fat white ass down that chimney tonight,
he's going to find the jolliest bunch of assholes this side of the nuthouse.
Merry Christmas!
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
It's Finals Week(s?)!!!!
Now that we have sufficiently familiarized our audience with our heathenistic value system, I thought it appropriate to allow a first-hand glimpse into what goes on around these parts during the most dreaded time of the year: finals or whatever.
First, some background. Stephanie, as you know due to her constant blathering, is a law student. That means she's really rich, I think. I, on the other hand, am a journalism student, which means I'm really insightful and ambitious. In short, law school is challenging, while J-school is...in existence. I don't really have finals, which makes finals week super awesome. She does, which makes finals week super lame. Unfortunately, her lameness permeates the entire apartment and its surroundings, so it pretty much sucks for everybody.
Typically, we're out of bed by 8 a.m. and ready to study. L.J. scratches himself like a lunatic pretty much the entire night, so only a modicum of actual sleep is achieved. We both are up and drinking coffee by 8, I on the computer, and Steph complaining about me being on the computer. She'll read the paper, watch the Today show, and verbally abuse me. She'll rapidly run through a list of things that I should accomplish in the day, and I'll read all the posts that have been saved but not posted on KSR (it's like looking into the future!).
L.J., by this time, is fast asleep, not to arise again until after 1 p.m.
By mid-morning, we've both eaten breakfast and Steph will be preparing for a trip to Starbucks, if for no other reason than to make herself reek like absolute hell for the rest of the day. As she leaves, she'll bark out my orders, and I'll nod affirmingly, slightly annoyed at her for treating me like a child.
The next hour and a half or so consists of me sitting on the couch, furiously rifling through my brain trying to figure out what in the hell I was supposed to do. I'll make the bed and do the dishes, just to be safe. I'll take L.J. out for his dump around noon, at which point I usually realize that I am still in my pajamas. I can't imagine my neighbors think highly of me after they see a grown man sloshing around in giant snow shoes, thin cotton pants covered in snowmen (stolen from Eddie...I hope he doesn't read this!), and a 'Kragthorpe, How's My A** Taste' t-shirt.
By the time Steph returns from Starbucks, I make sure to point out her that the bed has been made and the dishes cleaned. Unfortunately, for me, I'll have forgotten to clean the coffee filter, and a verbal beat down commences.
(Now, allow me to clarify something. I don't wish to portray Steph as some heinous witch. I'm a dolt, and the filter thing isn't a joke. I forget to clean that damn thing every day. Man, that pisses her off something awful, too.)
By lunchtime, I've accomplished none of the things I was supposed to, but gosh darn it, the bed got made! We'll usually eat together; I'll have a sandwich, chips, and 5 dozen Oreos, and she'll have a carrot and complain about how fat she's getting. It's a real confidence-boost. The remainder of the afternoon consists of L.J. biting both himself and the Christmas tree ornaments, me reading ESPN the Mag/SI/Deadspin/some book, and her studying (sometimes aloud).
Once it's dark outside (which in Bloomington is like 4:45 p.m.), we decide that L.J. probably doesn't need a walk. We'll briefly argue over what to eat for dinner, and I'll end up polishing off a Red Baron pizza, while she eats turnips. The rest of the night is spent watching TV (well, I watch ESPN on the computer while she watches house flipping shows or some educational crap) and determining whether or not we smell L.J.'s butt water.
Around 9 p.m., we'll both passively solidify our spot as the person who is not taking L.J. out in the freezing darkness. She usually wins, because I'm chivalrous.
And thus ends another day in finals week.
Finals week blows. The end.
First, some background. Stephanie, as you know due to her constant blathering, is a law student. That means she's really rich, I think. I, on the other hand, am a journalism student, which means I'm really insightful and ambitious. In short, law school is challenging, while J-school is...in existence. I don't really have finals, which makes finals week super awesome. She does, which makes finals week super lame. Unfortunately, her lameness permeates the entire apartment and its surroundings, so it pretty much sucks for everybody.
Typically, we're out of bed by 8 a.m. and ready to study. L.J. scratches himself like a lunatic pretty much the entire night, so only a modicum of actual sleep is achieved. We both are up and drinking coffee by 8, I on the computer, and Steph complaining about me being on the computer. She'll read the paper, watch the Today show, and verbally abuse me. She'll rapidly run through a list of things that I should accomplish in the day, and I'll read all the posts that have been saved but not posted on KSR (it's like looking into the future!).
L.J., by this time, is fast asleep, not to arise again until after 1 p.m.
By mid-morning, we've both eaten breakfast and Steph will be preparing for a trip to Starbucks, if for no other reason than to make herself reek like absolute hell for the rest of the day. As she leaves, she'll bark out my orders, and I'll nod affirmingly, slightly annoyed at her for treating me like a child.
The next hour and a half or so consists of me sitting on the couch, furiously rifling through my brain trying to figure out what in the hell I was supposed to do. I'll make the bed and do the dishes, just to be safe. I'll take L.J. out for his dump around noon, at which point I usually realize that I am still in my pajamas. I can't imagine my neighbors think highly of me after they see a grown man sloshing around in giant snow shoes, thin cotton pants covered in snowmen (stolen from Eddie...I hope he doesn't read this!), and a 'Kragthorpe, How's My A** Taste' t-shirt.
By the time Steph returns from Starbucks, I make sure to point out her that the bed has been made and the dishes cleaned. Unfortunately, for me, I'll have forgotten to clean the coffee filter, and a verbal beat down commences.
(Now, allow me to clarify something. I don't wish to portray Steph as some heinous witch. I'm a dolt, and the filter thing isn't a joke. I forget to clean that damn thing every day. Man, that pisses her off something awful, too.)
By lunchtime, I've accomplished none of the things I was supposed to, but gosh darn it, the bed got made! We'll usually eat together; I'll have a sandwich, chips, and 5 dozen Oreos, and she'll have a carrot and complain about how fat she's getting. It's a real confidence-boost. The remainder of the afternoon consists of L.J. biting both himself and the Christmas tree ornaments, me reading ESPN the Mag/SI/Deadspin/some book, and her studying (sometimes aloud).
Once it's dark outside (which in Bloomington is like 4:45 p.m.), we decide that L.J. probably doesn't need a walk. We'll briefly argue over what to eat for dinner, and I'll end up polishing off a Red Baron pizza, while she eats turnips. The rest of the night is spent watching TV (well, I watch ESPN on the computer while she watches house flipping shows or some educational crap) and determining whether or not we smell L.J.'s butt water.
Around 9 p.m., we'll both passively solidify our spot as the person who is not taking L.J. out in the freezing darkness. She usually wins, because I'm chivalrous.
And thus ends another day in finals week.
Finals week blows. The end.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
And after the wedding...straight to Hell!
At Evan's mom's (Toots') request, I sent in our wedding info and a picture to The Record, the newspaper of the Catholic Archdiocese of Louisville, a few months ago. They have a supplement to the newspaper in which people can announce weddings. There were no problems...until today. I'll cut and paste the email conversation I had with the following woman, Kathy.
The beginning:
Stephanie,
We need the name of the catholic priest that will be marrying you and Evan at St. Luke's Chapel in Charleston, SC.
We need this info. ASAP.
Thank you,
Kathy
The Record
A key element to this story: we are not being married by a Catholic priest.
My reply:
Kathy,
We are getting married at a non-denominational chapel and, thus, will not be able to obtain a Catholic priest to officiate. We haven't yet chosen an officiant and plan to do so when we visit South Carolina for Christmas. Thanks!
Stephanie
To protect myself, I tried to avoid having to admit (or confess, if you will) that I was not Catholic.
Then, things took a turn:
Stephanie,
The purpose of the supplement is to honor the sacrament of marriage, and we run weddings that are taking place within the Catholic faith. Preparation for a Catholic marriage begins at the parish level with a priest or deacon. If you can provide us the name of the parish and the Catholic priest or deacon you are working with, we will be happy to run your announcement.
Sincerely,
The Record
Oh, well, Kathy, I guess I didn't realize that certain marriages do not deserve the great HONOR of being published in the awe-inspiring piece of journalism that is The Record.
Thinking maybe she thought we were just some bumbling Baptists or Jews who stumbled upon The Record, didn't understand that it was all about the Catholics, and decided we just HAD to be published in it, I sent this reply:
Kathy,
My fiance grew up Catholic, and his parents are members of the church in Louisville, but I am not so we haven't been working with a priest or deacon. My future mother-in-law asked that I send in the information to the Record for the announcement because of their faith and because they get The Record. Thanks!
Stephanie
I mean, Toots and Eddie are dues-paying (I'm not sure this is the proper phraseology) members of the Catholic Church. That is, after all, why they receive The Record in the first place. Apparently, however, their lifelong devotion to their faith is not enough to overcome the evil that is me, as I received one final email (the death knell):
Stephanie,
Thank you for your response, however, I regret that we will be unable to print your announcement in the bridal supplement.
I wish you a very blessed life together.
Blessings,
Kathy
So, that's it, everyone, we got rejected by The Record, despite the fact that Evan's parents probably supplement the publication with what they give to the church. However, I'm sure this woman knows that the LEAST of our worries is getting our 15 minutes of fame. Because not only is our marriage disfavored by God, but, if we continue in our non-Catholic ways, we'll surely find ourselves burning for all eternity.
I don't want to offend anyone (it's probably too late for all that), but I would think we could all agree that this is absolutely absurd. Now maybe I haven't read more than Kathy, but I have read a bit about Jesus recently (yes, really), and I feel certain that he would have condemned such swift and passive-aggressive judgment. It's not that I care about being in The Record (although Toots wanted us in there, so, vicariously, I do care), it's just that I can't believe something as simple as wedding announcements have been perverted by religion. With all the hate that exists in the world today, it would be nice to see a religion promoting love. Ya know, like the love that Evan and I have for each other.
The beginning:
Stephanie,
We need the name of the catholic priest that will be marrying you and Evan at St. Luke's Chapel in Charleston, SC.
We need this info. ASAP.
Thank you,
Kathy
The Record
A key element to this story: we are not being married by a Catholic priest.
My reply:
Kathy,
We are getting married at a non-denominational chapel and, thus, will not be able to obtain a Catholic priest to officiate. We haven't yet chosen an officiant and plan to do so when we visit South Carolina for Christmas. Thanks!
Stephanie
To protect myself, I tried to avoid having to admit (or confess, if you will) that I was not Catholic.
Then, things took a turn:
Stephanie,
The purpose of the supplement is to honor the sacrament of marriage, and we run weddings that are taking place within the Catholic faith. Preparation for a Catholic marriage begins at the parish level with a priest or deacon. If you can provide us the name of the parish and the Catholic priest or deacon you are working with, we will be happy to run your announcement.
Sincerely,
The Record
Oh, well, Kathy, I guess I didn't realize that certain marriages do not deserve the great HONOR of being published in the awe-inspiring piece of journalism that is The Record.
Thinking maybe she thought we were just some bumbling Baptists or Jews who stumbled upon The Record, didn't understand that it was all about the Catholics, and decided we just HAD to be published in it, I sent this reply:
Kathy,
My fiance grew up Catholic, and his parents are members of the church in Louisville, but I am not so we haven't been working with a priest or deacon. My future mother-in-law asked that I send in the information to the Record for the announcement because of their faith and because they get The Record. Thanks!
Stephanie
I mean, Toots and Eddie are dues-paying (I'm not sure this is the proper phraseology) members of the Catholic Church. That is, after all, why they receive The Record in the first place. Apparently, however, their lifelong devotion to their faith is not enough to overcome the evil that is me, as I received one final email (the death knell):
Stephanie,
Thank you for your response, however, I regret that we will be unable to print your announcement in the bridal supplement.
I wish you a very blessed life together.
Blessings,
Kathy
So, that's it, everyone, we got rejected by The Record, despite the fact that Evan's parents probably supplement the publication with what they give to the church. However, I'm sure this woman knows that the LEAST of our worries is getting our 15 minutes of fame. Because not only is our marriage disfavored by God, but, if we continue in our non-Catholic ways, we'll surely find ourselves burning for all eternity.
I don't want to offend anyone (it's probably too late for all that), but I would think we could all agree that this is absolutely absurd. Now maybe I haven't read more than Kathy, but I have read a bit about Jesus recently (yes, really), and I feel certain that he would have condemned such swift and passive-aggressive judgment. It's not that I care about being in The Record (although Toots wanted us in there, so, vicariously, I do care), it's just that I can't believe something as simple as wedding announcements have been perverted by religion. With all the hate that exists in the world today, it would be nice to see a religion promoting love. Ya know, like the love that Evan and I have for each other.
Monday, December 1, 2008
Happy Thanksgiving!
For a few days, Evan and I led a life that was not mind-dullingly boring! We went to Kansas for Thanksgiving to see my Uncle Bruce and Aunt Mikey and my cousins/cousins-in-law, Greg and Stacey, Doug and Stephanie, and Mark.
1. Evan ran his first 5k! Despite some trepidation, he ran it easily and could have gone even faster. We ran it in a little over 30 mins. Of course, if I hadn't promised to stick with Evan I'm sure I could have completed it in just over 18 minutes. These are the sacrifices you make in relationships.
2. We got to meet my new second cousin, Chase, for the first time! He was born in July (I think) to my cousin/cousin-in-law Greg and Stacey, and he's pretty awesome. He really enjoys smiling, just like Will Ferrel in Elf! He also really likes eating, so him and Evan had a lot to talk about (ZING!). His other favorite, grosser, thing to do was spit up. The following is a picture we took with him, and he's clearly not pleased to be hanging out with two people who know next to nothing about child-rearing (he's an intuitive little fella).
The two big stories from this weekend are:
1. Evan ran his first 5k! Despite some trepidation, he ran it easily and could have gone even faster. We ran it in a little over 30 mins. Of course, if I hadn't promised to stick with Evan I'm sure I could have completed it in just over 18 minutes. These are the sacrifices you make in relationships.
2. We got to meet my new second cousin, Chase, for the first time! He was born in July (I think) to my cousin/cousin-in-law Greg and Stacey, and he's pretty awesome. He really enjoys smiling, just like Will Ferrel in Elf! He also really likes eating, so him and Evan had a lot to talk about (ZING!). His other favorite, grosser, thing to do was spit up. The following is a picture we took with him, and he's clearly not pleased to be hanging out with two people who know next to nothing about child-rearing (he's an intuitive little fella).
Saturday, November 15, 2008
No More Mr. Nice Gay (I can't take credit for this clever title.)
I think this blog is supposed to be funny, but I don't really care because Evan has deserted me to sit almost as far away as possible from the field at the coldest UK game of the season. So, I'm hijacking the blog and goin rogue, Sarah Palin style. I'm posting this video because we both like it, and it concerns an issue that is near and dear to our hearts. We have a member of our family who recently came out, and we hope that, one day, he will be able to marry the man he loves. Yes, everyone, we have a big announcement: LJ is gay. And you know what? We're ok with it! So, this video is dedicated to LJ and all the others who suffer under the stifling regime of the religious right.
As with all YouTube videos, it's advisable that you ignore the comments unless you're fully aware of just how many brain-dead people there are in America, posing as normal, well-adjusted humans.
As with all YouTube videos, it's advisable that you ignore the comments unless you're fully aware of just how many brain-dead people there are in America, posing as normal, well-adjusted humans.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Oh, Hello There
Hi. Though it says Gene Parmesan, I can assure you that I am the Evan gentleman Stephanie speaks of. I have an alias because of my other blog, the one where I cuss and call people bad things. Unfortunately, I have no idea how to write under different names, so you'll have to deal with the fake name I use to slander people. I don't think that's what this blog is all about.
As far as I can tell, this blog is about...L.J.? Or, love...maybe? I'm not really sure, but if the discourse veers too violently away from me, I'm just going to snap.
I guess we'll talk a lot about how bad I smell, because that's pretty much all Steph talks about. Oh, or how I leave stuff laying around everywhere and suck at doing the dishes. Maybe we'll have posts outlining how I never clean, and how mad Steph gets when I drink milk directly from the carton. If there's time, a lengthy discussion will ensue explaining the rigors associated with reading "cases," because if some dolt (yours truly) ever tries to speak when this is occurring, he is soundly beaten (mentally, of course).
As far as I can tell, this blog is about...L.J.? Or, love...maybe? I'm not really sure, but if the discourse veers too violently away from me, I'm just going to snap.
I guess we'll talk a lot about how bad I smell, because that's pretty much all Steph talks about. Oh, or how I leave stuff laying around everywhere and suck at doing the dishes. Maybe we'll have posts outlining how I never clean, and how mad Steph gets when I drink milk directly from the carton. If there's time, a lengthy discussion will ensue explaining the rigors associated with reading "cases," because if some dolt (yours truly) ever tries to speak when this is occurring, he is soundly beaten (mentally, of course).
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
First Post
Evan and I decided to start a blog because it's something lame that married people do and we'll be married soon. And we're already lame. So, it all worked out. A blog would probably be more useful to people with more exciting lives than we have, but one day we'll be done with school and have jobs and maybe a house and probably (gulp) kids! THEN we'll be really exciting, so shove off. Until then, we (probably me because I doubt Evan will engage heartily in this venture) will bore you with what's going on in our current, school-filled Indiana lives.
To start things off, let's put up a few pictures of our dog, L.J. If you didn't read the sidebar, he's the cutest dog that ever lived. It's a scientific fact; Google it.
To start things off, let's put up a few pictures of our dog, L.J. If you didn't read the sidebar, he's the cutest dog that ever lived. It's a scientific fact; Google it.
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