My Friend's Place

This post is in response to this article.

"Does looking down on the homeless help people feel better about their inaction?" - tweet from Miley Cyrus in response to the coverage about his criminal background.

Yes, it does. Because then it's like he deserves to be homeless. The media wants a homeless person above reproach so they can feel good about helping them. The reality is that a lot of homeless people aren't homeless because they're living amazing lives or because they make the best choices a lot of times. That doesn't negate the genuine need these people face.

I myself have spanged here at this exact location when I was homeless. 

I wasn't surprised at all when it came out that Jesse Helt had a record. Does that mean he isn't worthy of the chance to better himself and get out of that situation?  Hell no. There are basic things everyone should have like food to eat every day,  a safe place to sleep, human dignity and respect.  ALL PEOPLE.

This style of reporting, as well as how some media outlets have chosen to portray Michael Brown shows how many people really think people deserve homelessness, or murder or rape (I was told I deserved to be raped because I was homeless when it happened and if I hadn't put myself in that position it wouldn't have happened). Instead of looking down their noses at people going through something,  they should take a long look into their hearts and repair what is broken within them to make them think ANYONE deserves these things.

My Friend's Place, the place Miley visited to hang out with some homeless youth and the staff, is an amazing organization that is dedicated to helping homeless and at risk youth. You want to know how it started?  It was a couple of dudes who noticed there were a lot of people who had not while they had,  so they made sandwiches and gave them out from their cars to homeless kids they ran across. How awesome is that?

I recognize Frank, Camilla and Heather here from when I was kicking it at MFP.

I'm doing the Ice Bucket challenge today and my $100 is going to MFP. They saved my life. That's no exaggeration. $100 is a couple of coffees, a couple of lunches brought from home instead of purchased, a few bottles of nail polish. I am blessed and I work hard to make sure I can eat every day, I have a safe place to sleep and clean clothes to wear. If you have these things too, pony up some money and donate to My Friend's Place today.

Photos came from My Friend's Place website and this article. It's a good read, check it out. 

Drunken escapades

Life has been one hectic clusterfuck lately. Ok, for maybe the last 5 months, so sorry I haven't posted. I also haven't watched Doctor Who in forever, but greatly look forward to having that kind of time again! *sigh* leisure time... I miss you.

Here are some random updates about this weekend. I haven't really gone out, or been in the going out scene for some time, but this weekend I went to Dig a Pony to watch my cousin kill it with his DJ skillz and attempted to see my sister perform at the Hawthorne.

Maybe I don't remember, but has it always been men posturing excessively when they're drunk? At Dig a Pony, we had this guy try to tell us how he was bad ass and hard... "I'm... I'm trying to be like, a man but-" when Jana interjected, "But you're not quite succeeding are you?" Apparently he was going to finish up his sentence with, "but I'm more like a Spartan Warrior." and told us how bad ass he was. In our drunken peals of laughter it was revealed that I am more bad ass and hard than this boy could ever hope to be and I would throw down and get a little nuts back in the day and may or may not have shanked someone with an unlikely weapon. How's that for "hard"? Poor kid was so crestfallen.

I am going to be in a wedding today, and last night I was doing some Maid of Honor duties (although, in all seriousness, I really feel I haven't done enough and will karmically owe something at the end of all of this because it has been so easy... maybe I just jinxed myself for the actual wedding.. uh oh...). My Maid of Honor duties kept me busy until about  when I met up with my friend Josie who is actually insane. More on that later. By the time we made it to the Hawthorne, Becca's show was done and my very drunk cousin invited us to go with him and his group to Devil's Point, one of the many fine strip club establishments in our great city. We headed over there, got tipsy in the car, with Josie blazing it like she was hoping to become part of a rap group or some shit. Jesus woman, your smoke alone is a major contributing factor to the ozone layer depletion! We went in, with Josie promptly going right the fuck back out, while I drank and got completely schnockered with my cousin and watched the amazing athletic abilities that these women possess. The music was good, their performances were incredible and if I ever found myself needing to head to a strip club again, Devil's Point it would be.

At some point it dawned on my inebriated self that Josie was AWOL. "Fuck her! She's weird!" was the expert advice from my cousin. "But she's my ride, dude!" was my retort. So off to find her I went. I found her outside at picnic table smoking with some unknown creeper. What the fuck Josie? We're not here to make friends at the strip club! The fact that he was a creeper was not immediately apparent, but it let itself be known the longer we sat there. I know, some of you are saying, he's some random guy from a strip club, of course he's a creeper, but in my drunken mind I am very forgiving of faults and have love for all of humanity coursing through my veins, along with copious amounts of whiskey. Scott, and I chatted while Josie smoked some more (is there such a thing as being too high? Because she was pushing the limits of stoned from someone I am going to be driving with later). Scott is an author, whose book actually looks like it would be a fun, enjoyable read. He regaled us with tales of butt plugs, and how many people you would never suspect are always sporting one and later in the evening I was privvy to his thoughts on overly large clitorises (they were negative, so if you are the unfortunate owner of a clit that might be mistaken for a wang, don't approach Scott for some lovings. He's having none of that nonsense.)

At this point my cousin Jacob was led out by the ever adorable Melissa. Jacob stopped to chat with us and before they left, he randomly said, "And this guy's an asshole!" While true, didn't need to be said at that time. Scott was properly pissed, which I'll give him, but then he went on to say how Jacob was lucky he had a girl with him, and if he didn't he would go chase after him, et cetera. Whoa buddy. Here's where the posturing comes in to play. Bruised egos lead to insane puffing of the chest, and random threats."I get laid so many times behind this bar," with pointed looks to Josie and myself, "and it would be awesome to go home with a pair of panties and a pocket full of teeth." Now, at this point my drunk was taking on a new dimension and it dawns on me how many times he's been giving the pointed looks, and talking about, "I just need to make sure I don't hook up with strangers tonight," wink wink. Ohhhhh Scott. No.

He continued his rant about the lunatic things he would like to do to people who talk shit about him, while Josie lit up another cigarette. Thank GOD one of the bouncers told her she was at a non smoking table, and she got up in a huff because it eventually got us the hell out of there. While she stormed back to the car, Scott went off on another weird tangent (this is where I found out about his clit size preference). "I need to find her, she's my ride, it's been real," while I hunt through my phone for her number. "Yeah, no big deal, just ignore me, do your thing," he said in a completely non ironic way. "Ok." I was too drunk for politeness at this point. I found Josie and got the fuck out of Dodge.

Was my night over? Oh no, my living through some kind of Hangover or Bridesmaid movie wasn't done yet. "Let's go there!" Josie squealed excitedly while pointing across the street to some generic "adult" store. I am past three sheets to the wind, I am going on maybe seven sheets, and really just want to go home at this point. My old lady self said, it's 1 AM and you only had french fries to eat today before pouring an insane amount of booze into your system. Go home Linda, you're drunk. But no, to the sex store we went. Josie complained loudly about their selection of lingerie, and then pointed out which dildo she owns to me, because I needed to know what fits in her snatch. Since their selection was lacking, she decides we need to find another sex shop so she can get a skanky top for her illicit love affair. Oh sweet Jesus I'm tired, was all I could think. We ended up getting lost in Portland and then driving to get a carton of smokes before finally rolling back in to the Couve. Fuckity fuck fuck fuck was I beat.

I think I've had enough going out to last me some time, and will resume my nerdly pastimes for a bit.