Apparently, I'm old.

I have a spam problem.

I get the usual senseless spam--Viagra trials (I'm a chick), make-him-last-longer messages, clear-your-debt offers, and the list goes on.

But tonight I received a spam message that, well, freaked me out a little.

It's for the Hoveround (however it's spelled). You know, a motorized scooter for the elderly.

Now, I know I probably complained and talked about my ol' knee more than anyone cared to hear about. But does that really warrant a Hoveround? I'm walking quite well now.

My biggest question, though, is what website did I go to in order to land upon such a wrongly-targeted mailing list?

The sex aids make sense, I guess, cause I read Cosmo-esque articles online. I'm not ashamed of that. Every now and again, I'll read a celeb blog that'll say, "Hey, look at so-in-so's boobs!" And you know what? I'm going to be honest--I click. Because I want to compare those store bought boobs to mine. So ads that target nudity and stuff make sense.

The credit ads? I imagine everyone gets those. We all have bank accounts and credit cards.

The mortgage ads? Not that I own any property, but I'll chalk those up to doing credit checks and the like.

But a scooter for lame old people? That's pushing my buttons. I've spent too many thousands of dollars not to be lame (in the mobility sense). I would appreciate very much not to get ads reminding me of how much it blows being crippled.

How did I get on that list? Is it because I like to eat figs? I google "kittens?" My desktop is a bunch of flowers? I enjoy the smell of Bengay?

Oh, crap. It's because I watch the Golden Girls, isn't it?

I'm doomed.

My nose is broken.

I seriously think I've got some seriously messed up piping in my head.

Seriously.

I've got allergies that confuse doctors and snot that comes out of places it shouldn't (like my eyes, seriously, if that's too much for you to handle, you're obviously new to my crazy blog).

So I decided to give nasal lavage a try. What could it hurt? Worst case scenario, salt water would leak out of my eyes. Which it does naturally. Whatever.

I didn't go to the store and buy a netty pot. I actually received a free trial of Afrin Pure Sea nasal rinsing yadda yadda yadda. (I belong to this thing called Bzz Agent where you/I/we get free samples of new products. You/I/we are supposed to test them out and talk about them to friends, etc. You/I/we also get coupons to share. If you want to be a BzzAgent, let me know.)

So I read the instructions. I google "nasal rinsing" and watch videos. This sound easy! So I get the little bottle, lean over the sink, tilt my head and pour water into my nose.

What's supposed to happen is that the water will fill your nostril and then go through some tube in your nose and leave out the other nostril. If you do it improperly, water'll go down your throat and you'll hack a bit.

Well, the water went up my nostril and then ... I have no idea. I never swallowed it. It never came out my eyes. It never came back out my nose.

I think it's in my brain.

Confused, I pumped the little bottle of water into the sink. It worked. So I tried the other nostril. Again I assumed the position (ha) and sprayed water into my nose. I felt it collect into a little pool and then slowly overflow out the same nostril.

Perhaps I wasn't leaning enough? So I tilted my head more to the side and more forward. I'm now climbing onto the bathroom counter and damn near doing a handstand over the sink.

The water just sat there. Not going into the other nostril. Not going down my throat. Not cleaning anything.

This is physically impossible. So I right myself and the water just follows gravity.

I attempted to use this thing twice a day for two weeks. On the last day, I finally accidentally swallowed some water. But it never traveled to the other nostril.

So it's official. My nasal tubes are tied. Next time I go in for my quarterly nose/asthma check, I'll have my doctor take a look and make sure stuff's "normal." Cause if it ain't, well, what can I do?

Obviously not irrigate my nose.

If anyone wants a coupon for this thing, let me know. They're of no use to me.

I have not forsaken you, oh sweet blog!

Dear, sweet blog.

I know how you must feel.

Abandoned. Unloved. Forgotten.

This just isn't the case. I think about you constantly. I dream of you at night. I relive our fond times as I stare out of the window on a stormy day. I quietly laugh about your antics when I'm sipping my morning cup of coffee.

I miss you, blog. More than you could ever fathom.

I just haven't been worthy of you lately. I've needed a creative hiatus. Time to recharge. So I could come back strong and give you the full attention you deserve.

So wipe those teary eyes, blog. Because mama's coming home.

Peas are gross.

I hate peas.

Hate. Despise. Loathe.

I wish all of the pea pods on earth would get some sort of fungus that vaporizes them and removes them from existence.

Because peas are disgusting, horrid little things that taste like stomach bile.

I've tried so hard, several times to eat peas. I try to be a grown up. I put some on my fork or in my spoon, raise them to my lips, choke back need to retch, and I try to eat them.

And I always end up nearly running towards the nearest bathroom to rid myself of the peas as quickly as I can.

Take today's lunch, for example. It was an Indian dish (mattar paneer) consisting of rice, chickpeas, and curried peas.

I figured that being covered in curry would make the peas bearable.

I sadly figured wrong.

I mixed them with the rice and nearly spit them out. I upped the curry to pea ratio leaving myself one pea in a spoonful of curry. No dice. It still tasted like Satan's toe jam.

So I ate around them. At the end of my meal, I was left with a plate full of nasty, little green balls of ewww.

So I dumped them down the sink and ground them up into a gooey oblivion.

And now I'm left with a stomach ache. I can't help but wonder if it's the 3 peas I ingested reeking havoc on my innards.

Is this considered ironic?

It's just funny to me that an insurance company is begging for money for a change.

I just hope they had to endure phone calls with hours of canned music and helpless customer reps before getting anything. After all, haven't we had to do that for everything concerning insurance companies and money?

Of course, we usually get turned down.

Crap.

Anyway, you can't help but appreciate the irony.

I've been talking about marriage quite a bit.

But I'M ENGAGED so it's okay!

March 3rd, 2009 (otherwise known as 3.6.9) is the day this guy asked me to be his wife.

Details to come as soon as the buzz wears off. If that ever happens.

Morals aside, here is why the definition of a marriage being only between a man and a woman is total shit.

Plain and simple, if any constitution is going to dictate that marriage is only allowed between a man and a woman, then it must define the words “man” and “woman.”

Seriously. Because if they are the only two types of humans who can marry, we'd better sure as heck legally know what they are. And despite what you may think, gender identity can be a very gray area.

So for starters, let’s look at the physical aspects of what makes a man a man and what makes a woman a woman.

Men have penises. Fair enough. But if a man were to lose his in some sort of unfortunate accident (a la John Bobbie pre-reconstruction), he technically doesn’t have one anymore. Therefore, if gender definition is based on possession, he would (at that time) have no longer been a man. (He wouldn’t be a woman either since lack of a penis doesn’t equal a vagina.)

So then one can claim that he still has testes and a prostate and other organs that females don’t possess. Fine. He’s still a dude if the law defines a man as “someone with testes” or something similar.

But what about someone born with both? Since hermaphroditic people can possess ovaries and testes (male and female reproductive parts) within one human body, are they only allowed to marry other hemaphrodites?

It’s a valid question. Otherwise, you could possibly have a woman, another half of a woman and a man in one marriage. And that would legally not be allowed if the definitions of “man” and “woman” included reproductive organs.

But hermaphrodites can identify with one gender more than another and have “corrective” surgery to become “strictly” male or female. But there’s a chance that their chosen gender may not match their particular genetic gender assignment.

So let’s take a look at that.

So if the definition of “man” is a human possessing an XY combination and “woman” is a human possessing an XX combination, what about those in the population who aren’t XX or XY?

Surprise! Not everyone is an XX (female) or XY (male).

Females with one X chromosome and nothing else (X0) have what’s known as Turner’s syndrome. We still consider them human although they’re a chromosome short of the standard, but could they legally not be female?

Some men have two Y chromosomes (XYY). And others have two X chromosomes (XXY). So it presents the same problem as those with Turners—can they legally be considered of one gender when they don’t match the legal definition?

And if they can’t be legally gender assigned, they can’t marry anyone.

So, as I hope you can sort of see, defining “man” and “woman” will, like most legal things, take millions of dollars worth of finessing and arguing and it’s just not worth it to spread religious propaganda.

Which brings me to who should decide who is or isn’t allowed to wed.

If permitting people to marry is a moral decision, let the individual churches and religions deal with their own people.

If bigoted religions are not going to allow two men or two women who are in love join their lives in a ceremony, fine. Whatever. LGBTs deserve better than that asshole god anyway.

If a religion is alright with anyone loving anyone, fantastic! LGBTs can have a religious, god-approved union if they so desire.

This is why we have separation of church and state. It’s not to keep god out of schools or whatever. It’s to keep government out of churches.

Think about it next time you have a few seconds. Think about the whole reason people fled Europe and set up colonies in the states. You’ll start to see.

Anyway, I hope Prop 8 gets revoked. I hope it gets revoked in the Supreme Court and the whole country allows people to legally love who they love. I hope all of my gay friends get to marry if they want to. And I hope I’m invited to their weddings.