Is this inner city Jamaica, or just inner-city in general? I ask because I'm trying to figure out it if it's that bad here.

Helicopter is circling my house. That's a bad sign, right?

It's fairly regular here. I don't even blink. But, Baltimore, you know?

So I pretty much just consumed a bottle of red with my neighbors. A bottle each, to be clear. Which make me not care about the cramps. And it was a hilariously good time (a laugh until you slide off the chair in tears is always good) and the edibles I brought were a hit and almost completely consumed. But I'm sneezy from the red wine and warm from the cause of the cramps and very glad I put in the ac tonight.

Good night. We'll see about the morning. God help me if I wake at 5.

Although they can get over it juuuuust long enough to screw women. Just barely.

But only in the missionary position. Or, you know, it could mean something.

It makes me want to sit them down (or not) and introduce them to the wonders of (heterosexual) prostate stimulation. And point out gay men can have missionary position sex too.

Is this inner city Jamaica, or just inner-city in general?

Inner city Jamaica. She demonstrates some of the behaviours as happening in the US, but not the same motivation. Stuff like how the Crips won't say the word "red" because it's the Bloods colour--they will call something a "dead jacket" instead of a "red jacket". She's trying to work out if that's parallel to some of the semantic avoidance games inner city Jamaican homophobes will play.

That all just seems like a lot of verbal hoop jumping! It must be exhausting.

S'okay, sara--I'm about to have a third glass of wine because it's helping my headache (or at least, helping me not care about my headache) and letting me watch SYTYCD

Inner city Jamaica. She demonstrates some of the behaviours as happening in the US, but not the same motivation. Stuff like how the Crips won't say the word "red" because it's the Bloods colour--they will call something a "dead jacket" instead of a "red jacket". She's trying to work out if that's parallel to some of the semantic avoidance games inner city Jamaican homophobes will play.

It's interesting in that twisted logic way that drives the won't-go-down-on-women culture that we saw in the Sopranos and pops up occasionally in black street culture.

OTOH, I'm glad I grew up in the 70s where going down on somebody was presumed to be a gottdam responsibility and you better master your technique.

OTOH, I'm glad I grew up in the 70s where going down on somebody was presumed to be a gottdam responsibility and you better master your technique.

I was just earlier today thinking about songs in our culture that discuss this. Because I was listening to "Peaches and Cream" (by 112 and P Diddy)

When I walked into S's I told her I had just started the cramps. She sat me down, poured me a large glass of wine and started unpacking the goodies I brought.

When K arrived, after a day of hell that involved a firing, S did the same for her. I love these people. Gonna miss S, she's gone for the summer doing professional musician summer program things. We're to wrap her tenants into our fold.

that twisted logic way that drives the won't-go-down-on-women culture

She says this language is loud and proud, but pussy gets eaten. So what gonna do? You have to assume the anti-gay language is similarly shielding precisely nothing. People trying to throw up shade where there ain't no onthing.

Now I just have to convince my sister she knows women who watch porn. I'm not sure why this is a hard transition for her.

Your sister has met me. I have watched porn. (Though admittedly, mostly I *read* porn--trashy romances and erotica and fanfic).

I am also a little drunk right now. Three glasses of wine, woot! Also, damn addictive dal mix is empty. BOOO.