the master race
2004-08-16

Had a pleasant weekend with my Southern friends, who are actually not southern at all. But I will call them that. Saw C. who I haven't seen in years and years and who is getting married next Memorial Day. K. is having a one-sided fight with someone, which resulted in a heartfelt conversation this morning about growing old and apart. There should have been music to it, like the stuff at the end of The Wonder Years when it turns out that Kevin married somebody else while Winnie was in Paris.

On another note, I have realized the kernel of all my problems in life, the seed from which all my troubles grow:

I'm not Aryan enough.

It's not that I'm lazy or possibly mentally ill, it's quite probably my facial features that are keeping me from the all-around success that is my due.

Don't condemn me, take a look around you and see if people with blue eyes and ski-jump noses aren't disproportionately represented in pictures that don't depict 1. the starving or 2. terrorists.

At least I'm not part of some mad breeding scheme, like a certain (Vietnamese-American) ex of a friend who wanted to marry said friend because she's a blonde. His grandchildren would apparently be all blonde haired and blue eyed through the power of Mendel. He's actually quite well off, so if you're blonde, have no self respect, and are willing to mate on his parents' couch (he still lives at home) I could get his email for you and hook you up.