Dear Rev. Jesse Jackson,

Shut. The fuck. Up.

Kthanx.

Yours truly,
Deutlich

You know what’s lame? That Kevin Richardson [pictured] left the Backstreet Boys. It’s LAME, dammit!

Well, if you consider the fact that my favorite Boyband of all time is fairly “washed up” and laughed at mercilessly, I guess it makes a smidgen of sense. Moreover, Backstreet fans are fucking insane (except for me, of course) and privacy is the last option when in the group.

I mean, some crazy bitches actually stole Brian’s dogs from his backyard! STOLE! I have a library of crazy fucked up Backstreet-related stories that would blow your mind.

Blow.

Your.

Mind.

This makes me ridiculously corny. I don’t particularly care. I embrace it.

I have to be honest, though. I’ve not been a crazy teenybopper fan since the mid-90s to early 2000s. Back then? I’d fix the Starbucks sound system to play Backstreet Music. Did you know they used special cassette tapes to deter Baristas from using their own music? Well, I was smarter than them. I just had to use a cassette tape converter thingy majig. You know – those things you stuck in your car tape players to play your portable Discman?

Yeah. Those. Were. Awesome.

I am totally dating myself here.

Anyway.

I swear to goodness you would not have been able to tolerate me in the height of my fandom. I’m not even sure how DMB and SpecialK did it…

Oh, and please don’t let the following skew your opinion. I mean, it’s not like it was taken last summer…

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/]
(I’ll let you guess which one is me. There goes my “anonymity.” Oops.)

By the way, I’m also NOT going to the Backstreet Boys concert at Wolf Trap this August with Maxie.

Honest.

I’m not…

I’m not exactly sure what the point of this post is. Or if there really is one? Probably not.

PS: Do not ask who the narrator of this video is, who the posters belong to OR who’s house this was filmed in. You don’t want to know the answer. I swear.

PPS: Please know that I actually DO know how to dance.

PPPS: We did win the contest. In case you care.

PPPPS: I can’t believe I just shared this. I really have no shame. None. At all.

Next week I’ll be doing this

and this

plus whooping Maxie, DMB and Michelle at this

as well as partaking in a whole bunch of this

at a house located here

I’ve already checked out and can’t focus. My brain is officially on vacation.

I’m not in the habit of reposting PostSecret postcards, but this one in particular struck a chord:

I don’t quite understand how this person can think they aren’t racist. I’ve been reading PostSecret for a while now and this one just sits wrong with me.

Being a mixed baby, I still have a hard time “claiming” one race or the other. What I can definitely tell you, though, is that I’ve dealt with my fair share of racist assholes and it is unsettling at best.

How anyone can be so ridiculously judgmental is an issue that I can’t quite grasp.

Okay, that’s a bit of a lie. We’re all products of our upbringing. If this woman was surrounded by nothing but blacks and latinos that she feared, I guess I can see where she’s coming from.

But I don’t have to like it.

It just bothers me that she feels this way at all. I think that’s because there are still so many other people who think this way too.

Maybe one day it’ll stop…

Maybe one day.

I’m sure that the majority of you have read one thing or another about last weekend’s bloggerificness in Cleveland and Chicago. It’s for this reason I’ve had a bit of a difficult time coming up with something witty to say that isn’t also redundant.

Regardless, I have to note that everyone was spectacularly amazing. Maxie and I trekked to Cleveland first and enjoyed a lovely breakfast and trip to the Rock ‘n’ Roll Hall of Fame with Alexa. Let me tell you something, she is 10 times more fabulous in real life than I ever could have thought.

I mean, I knew she was great but you can never tell how a person is in real life until you meet them.

Then we proceeded on to Chicago where we spent the majority of the evening yelling over top of one another in a crowded Beer Garden in Boystown.

A) I love any place nicknamed Boystown.
B) It was Pride weekend! Boystown + Pride Parade = Lots of fantabulousness to behold. One tranny had better hair than me! I almost ran after her… But I stopped myself.

We met Jessica first and Joy showed up next. Everything gets kind of fuzzy after that. I do vividly remember that Jenn, Jamie, Princess Pointful, Kayleigh, Dan, Renee, Rachel, Veronica, Angela, Angie and Peter were all in tow. It is one interesting phenomena attempting to get everyone’s blog titles, online monicers and real life names straight. I’m sure everyone felt the same way about mine, especially it’s pronunciation.

Can I just say? Linking everybody sucks ass.

And speaking of butts? It speaks volumes of how cool everyone is when I can get away with talking about booty grease at the dinner table.

But what’s booty grease?

Well, no one’s really sure. My take on it involves buttholes, lube, and things that fit in said sphincters with said lube.

I know.

Crass.

That’s just how I roll.

Saturday’s adventures included the Taste of Chicago, a lovely Cupcake Crawl, more fantasticness with some of the bloggers from the night before and meeting Slaus, creator of O Hell Nawl.

And once again, I was blown away by how magnificent everybody was.

Oh, and if you are in the Chicago area at ANY POINT, please be sure to visit Swirlz Cupcakes. You just can’t go wrong with them. Like. At all.

Our return trip included one more stop off in Cleveland and further discussion of booty grease. I’m positive our waiter at the sushi place loved every second of it. I’m pretty sure he knew exactly what it was, too.

I have yet to fully recoup from the festivities. My job seems to be getting in the way of my sleep and I hope to catch up sometime this summer.

We’ll see how that works.