D-Baggery Transcends Race, Gender, Sexual Preference

Yayyyyy, it’s my birthday week!

….you don’t get a whole week?  Eff that you don’t.  Gotta find something to celebrate.

So, I was born on 12/12 at 12:12.  Hence, I wore #12 everywhere it was available.

My birthday is now also the anniversary of a less awesome event.  This Saturday marks the one year anniversary of the slapshot that hit my face, which I may have mentioned, was about as fun as hanging out in the laundry room with “the sisters” in Shawshank.

So, I’m gonna have my “year-in-review” up on Friday - a recap of my journey to becoming an engaged blogumnist living in Arizona (Friday, because on my actual b’day, I’ll be cutting and pasting magazine letters into a vaguely threatening sentence to send to the guy who shot the puck), with some pictures.

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Hockey Greats Fantasy Camp's "VT Cup"

Follow me closely here: Some people are dicks.  All disabled people are people.  Therefore, some disabled people are bound to be dicks.  I’ll do a Venn diagram later.

I explained it like that because the sentence “some disabled people are dicks” seemed a little harsh to lead with, but it’s true.

Similarly, during the course of the “lay off the gay slurs in hockey” stuff, I realized something.  Some gay people, like straight ones, are entirely capable of being assholes too.

The less-than-desireables, of course, don’t take away from the fact that everybody deserves equality, regardless of our differences, but lets face it - in every group, there’s some people who’d rather trip you for a laugh than give you a stick of gum.

I found that little tidbit out playing disabled sports with my brother.  Here’s equal rights at it’s finest: It’s equally possible that this parapalegic deserves a face-punch as much as ’ol walkey-pants over there.  When you get to the point that you can say “go eff yourself, a-hole”, because a disabled guy is an a-hole, you’re really seeing past the wheelchair.

I’d show up to the court for wheelchair basketball all excited.  Just daydreaming… So cool that these athletes exercise as-much or more than most able-bodied people.  So cool that that these people are making the best out of their abilities.  So cool that – “Dude, you just ran over my toe again”.  “Well then get outta the f***in’ way”.

“…Dick.”

Which brings me to some of my favourite stories of “true equality”.

(In my defense of the following, when Jeff, the bigger, stronger brother, got a hold of me, I was generally a pretzel before I could say “a-salt”.  I had about as much chance of out-muscling him as my kitten has of paving the driveway)  (….okay, fine, booooo salt joke).

1) When we were kids, we sat across from each other at the kitchen table.  My side was against the wall, and Jeff’s side had stairs (going down) behind it.  When I was pissed at him, I’d push the table into him so he’d roll backwards towards the stairs.  He started setting his brakes at dinner.  High comedy.

2) We had an elevator in our house, from the deck to the downstairs, where our rooms were.  The outdoor elevator had a sensor on the bottom, so when we were fighting, I’d chuck a basketball under there so it couldn’t go all the way down.

Picking on each other and fighting is part of what being brothers is about.  Jeff routinely shot tennis balls at my junk, because it’s really funny when any dude gets hit in the junk with a tennis ball, and I couldn’t move fast enough to avoid it.  Well played, sir.

He’s just about the nicest, kindest dude in the world, and the guy has played his metaphorical two – seven off-suit like he’s holding aces.  And of course, on the rare occasions he was being a dick, I told him so.  And vice versa.

My point with all this?  I’ve learned from my experiences with the disabled community that it’s okay to say this:  Some of the member of the gay community have been epic-level assholes towards me throughout my attempt at minimizing gay slurs.  Lighten up.  Just because I wanted a major publication to correct an article they wrote that misrepresented me as gay, doesn’t mean I hate gays, and doesn’t mean I don’t get to point out when you’re being d-bags, just like everyone else.  Cause you know what?  A few of you are d-bags, again, just like every other group of people on the planet.

Can’t we all just get along?

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And for the rest of you that’ve been ever-so kind and polite towards me…

It’s my birthday week yaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyyyyy!

...Annnd cap it with a postcard style pic. Perfect.