Kosher Eucharist / יוקאריסט כשר

I haven’t put much about my personal life on this blog, partly out of decorum and tact, but mostly because I want to save some salacious stuff for Sweeps Week in case we get nominated for a blog award. (NB, I wrote this post about a week before we actually did, so brace yourself for some tawdry shit. We must live up to our Mature Content - Not Family Oriented caveat, especially since we were the only nominees so honored.) However, I did something incredibly stupid recently, and I want to appeal you, dear readers (all ten!) for help.

I went out with someone despite the presence of a DealBreaker.

You know what I mean. We all have DealBreakers - the attributes someone must not possess if we are to pursue them. They’re different for everyone, but everyone knows, or comes to know, the telltale warning signs of a Bad Idea. Just as Nature paints poisonous animals red, she makes undesirable romantic partners carry The Da Vinci Code. With this in mind, I am going to list my DealBreakers here, and if you see me making excuses for going after one of The Tainted, wrestle me to the ground and talk sense into me. If I have to be killed, so be it. Better dead than the alternatives:

Chris’s DealBreakers:

A love of:
- Evanescence, Linkin Park, or any other band “that’s so honest!”
- The primly self-condemning poetry of Arthur Rimbaud*
- “The common people”

Possession of:
- Any Che Guevara paraphernalia whatsoever
- A marijuana-themed T-shirt, especially one featuring a stoned grinning mushroom, cannabis leaf, or Jamaican
- A small vestigial tail

They Must Never Say:
- “Meat/fur/leather is murder!”
- “…noble struggle of Palestine…”
- “I don’t drink.”
- “I’m a ‘recovering Catholic.’”
- “Make love to me.”
- “I don’t particularly care for Boney M.”

They Must Not Believe In:
- Communism
- Harry Potter
- Predestination

*This is the one I ignored, but in my defense he had a Getz/Gilberto album.

There are more, but imagining an Evanescence-loving Che-embracing “muggle” touching me has left me too nauseated to continue. I’m going to go eat my sardines and fantasize about Mikeleh’s and my upcoming wedding. Now that Disneyland apparently allows The Gays to use their “Fantsy Wedding” facilites, we may be going to Florida. The thought of a somewhat-sham wedding to my best friend conducted by Ursula the octopus-drag queen and ushered by Disney workers who have just been through “diversity sensitivity” training is too fascinating a horror to be written off just yet. Imagine Mickey Mouse leading a toast about how wonderful and beautiful inter-religious gay marriages are.

Now imagine Mikeleh and me shouting foul, drunken abuse at him.

It’s a match made in heaven, if galvanized in the gutter.