Have Baggage, Will Travel

I dedicate this blog entry to Mrs. DeRosa....not because the blog entry has anything to do with her but because she is a visitor of the Addiverse and thus she deserves recognition. Now, if we could just get Mr. DeRosa back from the Cards....

Aren't these "yearbook" photos a riot? As you can see, you just go to this link, stick your face in the various yearbook photos and wa-la! Instant 1980's. The scary thing is a few of the photos I made actually looked like how I looked in the 80's.... This one is my "on-the-bubble-of-the-Madonna-age." No, I didn't have this hair do but it sure does look purdy on me. Go ahead--try it! I know you want to....

And now, I shall share the story of how an Ultra-Conservative Catholic came to my rescue yesterday. Apologies to those of you who have already heard me tell this story, but I just couldn't pass up putting it in the Addiverse.

As always, I mean no offense to true Christians....to the spiritually-inclined....and to those who have had a sex change operation or might be carrying baggage of any kind.

It was just another day at the place of which I cannot speak....if I did speak of such place, I would tell you that I was in a meeting with St. Maddy, ultra-conservative (think: opus dei) of the Catholic persuasion. I'm her boss, so she has to listen to me babble. I was talking to her about a specific situation of which I cannot speak, but suffice it to say St. Maddy and I got on the topic of persons who have had a sex change and then, when in the later stages of Alzheimer's, "revert" back to their previous-before-sex-change sexual identity. (Who'da thunk? This is going to require research on my part. I know we "go" backwards as we age and that is even more evident in the throws of dementia but this is a whole new, exciting topic of which I have much to learn. I have SOOOO many questions about this.) St. Maddy explains that the particular client (of whom I cannot share what relation he/she/he has to the place of which I do not speak) was technically (as evidenced by external sex organs) born a man, had a sex change operation as a young adult, lived and was a woman for many years and then, upon the advent of progressing Alzheimer's, became very upset when people referred to her as a woman, as he/she/he now saw himself as a man, not woman. This was very troubling for everyone involved, as you can imagine.

I swear to you this conversation was very much based on the clinicial nature & programmning regarding the place of which I do not speak. It was an unusual conversation, to say the least, made more unusual by the religiousness of St. Maddy. Refreshingly, St. Maddy was totally non-judgmental and considered this issue in a very scientific, professional manner. I was very impressed. (As regular readers know, I have not been impressed by any of the religious zealots at the place I do not speak.)

In the mean time, Ms. Piggy (of who I do not want to waste my time talking about nor explain why I have given her the title Ms. Piggy...a pastor's wife and reportedly good Christian woman--ugh! I am plagued with uber-religious employees) plops herself down next to me and joins in the conversation, uninvited and definitely unwelcomed. This woman, who has less social skills than the computer I am typing on, listens just for a dot and then chimes in, "That's just like gay people."

St. Maddy and I look at each other, very confused. We aren't talking about gay people. We're talking about gender identity and we are certainly not talking to Ms. Piggy, anyways.

The very educated, loving, non-judgmental Ms. Piggy (COUGH! COUGH!) continues on about how all gay people have all this emotional baggage. She continues on, stating that due to this baggage (of which these gay people just won't let go of) and because of all the emotional trauma gay people have endured in their lives (kind of like I'm enduring while she's saying all this, I guess), those gays have chosen to be gay and if they would just have a healing and leave their baggage behind, they would no longer be gay.

Silence.

Poor St. Maddy looks like she is going to vomit. St. Maddy is no fool. Despite my "don't ask, don't tell" ridiculous policy at the place of which I do not speak, she is smart enough to know that her boss is one big gaywad. I must say, for an Opus Dei kind of gal, she has handled this quite well, albeit silently. I think she prays for me daily at Mass....and, I am all good with that. At least she never tries to "save" me.

You'd think Ms. Piggy would stop talking (especially since St. Maddy and I are just staring at her, not reacting at all besides our mouths hanging open), but because Ms. Fetal Pig has no social skills and because she is a self-righteous bigot and because she is too uneducated to realize that gender identity issues do not equal sexual orientation issues, she doesn't stop babbling. The ol' pastor's wife keeps churning out balls of judgmental stupidness. Baggage, trauma, choice, blah blah blah. She is quite animated--and serious and passionate--about all this. At one point, I do remember her saying, "I've known LOTS of gay people over the years..." but didn't hear the rest of it because I think a vein in my temple exploded and I could no longer function in any rationale capacity but to think, "it's her opinion, it's her opinion, it's her opinion."

I have had enough. Don't ask, don't tell is going to hell in a hand basket. I have had it with respecting all these people's beliefs and boundaries. I. am. over. it. They can kiss my big old, baggage-filled ass.

Ms. Piggy finally rests her case. I turn toward her, as I can no longer tolerate being a well behaved gay boss, ready to spew out something I probably need not to spew, when St. Maddy literally and loudly blurts out....

"I just don't understand why the tomatoes in my garden taste like grapes and look like potatoes!"

This bizarre question/statement from the gardening Catholic (who really has had some bizarre happenings in her vegetable output this year) totally throw Ms. Piggy off the "heal the gays" topic and knocks me off track of spewing hateful venom. Ms. Piggy, none the wiser and still as clueless is the day is long, gets up--smiling and full of some form of Christian-based satisfaction-- and happily rolls on her way.

I look at St. Maddy, who is looking at me.

I can't help but to burst out laughing. I reach for a piece of paper, which happens to be a form I give to employees at the place of which I do not speak when they've done something above and beyond, special, inspirational, etc. I quickly fill it out and hand it to her. It reads:

"For the best change of subject EVER on the job. One point. Thank you!"

I stand up and half-heartedly grumble, "Me and my baggage are going back to my office."

As I leave the office, St. Maddy giggles and then meekly squeaks out, "you're welcome." With my back to her and while still carrying my "baggage" down the hall, I call out,

"Score one for the Catholics!"

I enjoyed the rest of my day.
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