4:39 p.m. - 2004-10-28
It's Just That...Dick Che.ney Makes Me So Angry, Baby.
The stress of the upcoming election has turned Alex into a shrieking harpy, a role in which he is badly cast, seeing as he's 30 years old and looks terrible in drag. Hysteria does not become him.

I almost hung up on him yesterday when his friendly mid-day phone call to plan the night's events turned into a hissing, ineffectual 20-minute purgation of his hatred for the Repub.ican party. Apparently bitching at one's equally liberal paramour--also known in some circles as "preaching to the choir"--has some sort of far-reaching political power. Good share, Hamlet.

The man needs to volunteer his time and passion more directly for the Democ.ratic party before he earns a bleeding ulcer from the sheer helplessness of inactivity and drives me to fly screaming into a creek (where I will languish boyfriendless, but too competent to drown).

I feel verbally fucking abused, I'll tell you what.

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