Have you been a Yahoo user for the past bazillion years? Ejoyed their simple yet sophisticated email system with easily navigable searches and folders? Me too. I have 3 email accounts with Yahoo and I've been happy until they added all the bells and whistles.
"But wait..." you say, "aren't bells and whistles good?" Well yes typically. But if you are like me then you just want a simple and easy to operate email system without 4 different inboxes, spam, bacon, social etc etc etc. I mean, who receives email on their computer anymore? I get it all off my phone 90% of the time. I want something simple and fast. Yahoo was my Mecca for simplicity until recently when yahoo got a wild hair and decided to diversify by becoming more like its main competitor Gmail.
There are 3 major issues that most Yahoo users might have with the new Yahoo Mail and a couple of solutions.
Dear Boy Scouts of America,
I want to start off by thanking you for choosing my beautiful home state of West Virginia as the permanent site of the Quadrennial Boy Scout Jamboree. The 10 day event, which will have 30,000 Scouts along with 7,000 staff members and up to 50,000 spectators, will bring much needed economic stimulation to an area that was extremely affected from the economy’s downturn the last few years.
While many organizations and corporations exploit and destroy the natural beauty of West Virginia, I feel the Summit will help to preserve and appreciate the mountain state. However, my reason for writing is not in regards to these matters.
I am writing in response to several news releases regarding the discriminatory policy limiting who can attend the 2013 Jamboree based on a scout’s weight. While I understand that scouts must be in top shape to participate in some of the strenuous activities, the exclusion is more detrimental to our children than helpful.
“More US military personnel have died by suicide than by the war in Afghanistan. Our organization, Save A Warrior’s mission is to help soldiers who have been deployed multiple times and suffer from PTSD by teaching them meditation and giving them different tools so that they won’t resort to suicide. ” Jeni told me.
She was a thin girl in her late 20’s. Her dark, shoulder length black hair was pulled back in a ponytail. A blonde streak ripped through her bangs from her right temple. She wore all black and had a black bandage on her right hand and wrist, the result of an injury from dropping a box on her hand months prior. Jeni looked more like Rogue from X-men than an organization coordinator. I liked her immediately.
“This is my first time planning an event for these guys. They’ve been through a lot and it’s been a challenging but fulfilling road. I don’t know what to expect really. There will be about 16 of them and they’ll be thirsty and hungry. Can you bring some waters for them now?”
It had been a long Sunday and my birthday was the following Monday, which meant that the festivities had already begun. Earlier in the day my friend Nathan and I had imbibed multiple margaritas at the Pride festival in West Hollywood. Then my other friend Jennifer took me to a nice restaurant in Sherman Oaks to gorge on delicious food—prosciutto pizza, ribs, fancy seasoned Brussell Sprouts—and sober up.
On my drive home my sister Mel texted me and I was responding to her while at a red light. The light turned green and I hit the gas only to feel a thud. I’d rear-ended a blond lady in a Mercedes while texting! Dammit! Luckily it wasn’t a brand new Mercedes but instead one of those older Mercedes with the steel bumper. However it was mocha brown, convertible and in excellent condition—a classic!
Currently I have no prospects of marriage, and it’s a good thing since gay marriage is legal in all of North America except for the the land of the privileged few and the home of of the hesitant heteros, the USA, where I live. You see, in the USA only straight couples receive 1,138 tax, family and other perks because they went to the court house and got hitched. Also only in the USA do fundamentalists of every denomination and religion (Christian, Muslim and probably some Jews) join together to decide the fate of their gay and lesbian bretheren.
Since I am gay and ultimately want the same things as straight people—a house, a spouse, an African baby whom I would name Merlot after my favorite drink, a career, final death rights for my spouse to honor—I get a little pissy when the best excuse that anyone can come up with to negate gay marriage is that “It’s wrong because the bible says so.” It is the lamest excuse in the book. Literally.
In last night's episode of working at the restaurant I encountered a wild child. I went to walk into the kitchen and I saw the kid blowing out candles in the wine cage right behind where my boss was sitting. Before I knew what was happening I was standing beside this kid with my finger poised and mouth open to speak. It's like my inner hillbilly guidance counselor jumped right out like a beacon of shining light into this child's unclear notions.
Me: Hey! Don't you blow them candles out. I'm gonna beat you child!
Without so much as batting an eye, this kid looked at me and said...
Him: Do you like having a job?
I've been called every name in the book at one time or another. I can't say that it doesn't ever bother me because occasionally it does. It especially pisses me off when an idiot of this caliber who self-purportedly likes his butt licked and who doesn't have the common decency to proof read his comments calls me a FAG. Yes, it's true that he is serving in Afghanistan currently, but that doesn't give him a free pass in the hate department. I wish him no harm while serving. Instead I only wish him to know how much of a douchebag that he is. Check out the screen print from our facebook conversation below.
(PLEASE LIKE AND SHARE IF YOU THINK HE'S A DOUCHEBAG TOO!)
Do you hate when someone asks you out and then they give you the run-around on a time and place? Me too, and this crap happens way too often. Seriously. Here's the best advice that I have learned from hands-on experience. DO NOT BE A DOORMAT! Take charge of the situation. (This is applicable for men, women, gays, straights, swingers, hookers etc.) Read on.
Him/Her: So we should go out for coffee.
(You are agreeable.)
You: Yes, I'm cool with that.
(He requests availability.)
Him: When is good for you?
(Give your availability, as requested.)
You: Well, as it so happens I’m available today.
Working in the food industry, I get to see all kinds of relationships that people have with what they put in their mouths. One of the biggest disappointments to me is the shock and disgust that some people have when finding a bone or a piece of gristle in their meat. How dare something as menial as a piece of gristle be used as an excuse for anyone to throw food in the garbage.
Bullies come in all shapes and sizes or, in this case, ages. A few years ago I had an experience with the older bully that lurks about the West Los Angeles YMCA locker room. On this particular day I did not go to the gym to exercise but instead slipped on some swimming trunks and headed towards the sauna to soothe my aching back.
“You can’t go in there.” Said a voice.
I looked to the direction of the voice and saw a man sitting on a bench naked. He was about 6’2”, white, with salt and pepper hair and beard, no smile, big belly overhang with skinny legs and no butt, and a little button ding-a-ling of a penis. I had seen this man before. He was always policing everyone about the rules and regulations of the locker room as if he were some naked Gestapo. But he was not a part of the Gestapo. Hell, he didn’t even work there! I lovingly refer to him as big, mean motherfucker.
I live in one of the most beautiful places on the planet. Great weather. Decent people. Lots of interesting things. But fuck me to hell—I can’t escape the allergies!
I used to have allergies as a child: Runny, stuffy sinus, uncontrollably itchy eyes, itchy throat and coughing every Autumn like clockwork. I always said that there was a price to pay for having a full head of curly hair and being adorable. My price: allergies from the depths of hell’s anal glands.
Hello Ladies! Last time I told you about the secret revenges of marriage and the fact that I have a husband, Bob, who has to have the last word. Now it seems that we are having yet another domestic conflict, which I’m sure that all of you will understand…
The other day Bob and I were having a light-hearted banter about the shared responsibility of the household duties. We bickered about laundry, dishes, vacuuming and even about changing the toilet paper roll. We go back and forth with jokes about nagging. Bob feels he is not compensated to do such menial household tasks.
For the past 8 years I have consistently seen Arthure “Art” Moore on the Venice Boardwalk selling his paintings. His materials have changed through the years from cardboard and spare boards to canvas ranging from 5x7 – 20x30, but his message and style have remained constant: FUNKY.
So I was in this huge play with Academy Award Winner, Nicole Kidman. She had never shown up for rehearsals and it was opening night. I had my doubts that she was even going to show up at all. Then I died. So, since I was just a wondering spirit, I figured no one could see me. If no one could see me then I couldn't be in the play. In my despair I floated around the courtyard as a bodiless entity for a while.
Finally I became so curious to see if Nicole Kidman was actually going to show up that I devised a plan to get back onto the inside of the theatre. (Dead people are curious too! It's Nicole Kidman for heaven's sake!) I found a local crazy woman in a wheel chair struggling up the street outside. I grabbed a hold of the chair and wheeled her inside the theatre. For a ghost I was strong as an Ox.
Thinking that I was an invisible spirit I walked backstage to see if I could catch a glimpse of Nicole. Instead I saw Sarah our stage manager. She looked at me and said: "Hey, why aren't you in costume? Aren't you going on?"
By A Web Design