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Getting hitched in Vegas can be either really funny or really tragic. It's hilarious if you go with that intention. It's not so funny to wake up in a pool of your own vomit with a hot 19 year old Chilean guy sleeping next to you whose got a ring matching yours and absolutely no recollection of the past 12 hours.

I don't say this from experience, of course. Heh.

But you know, Vegas is Vegas. As the commercial says, what happens here, stays here. Quickie marriages, quickie divorces.

Now Louisiana is looking to cash in on the Mardi Gras nekkidness, alcohol-induced wedding proposals by getting rid of the waiting period for out of state marriages. Now you can gather ye beads where ye may, meet the stranger of yer dreams, and get hitched while trashed and then wake up in a pool of your own vomit.

Woohoo!

Quite honestly, I may not take marriage [in and of itself] seriously, but I take my marriage seriously. I think one should not get married unless they mean it. Getting divorced is something people should do in situations where there are irreconcilable differences or abuse in the relationship, not something you do because you didn't bother to get to know your future spouse well enough before getting married. Jennifer Lopez is a moron who throws her shit around like there's an expiration date on her cooter. You know, like if she doesn't find the man of her dreams by age [insert age here], her parts are going to shrivel up and fall out.

And so I think waiting periods for marriage are, in general, a good idea. It gives you a couple of days to think it over, maybe spend a little bit of extra time with the future Mr. or Mrs. Fish, maybe come to your senses.

But no waiting period+excessive amounts of alcohol=bad news and lots of divorce.

Maybe this is part of George's marriage promotion campaign. You know, marriage at any cost.

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It's just a home improvement afternoon!

First, here's my latest Homewreckers entry.

Second, I just want to say how happy I was that it didn't rain today [yet]. As my Homewreckers entry points out, I planted flowers today after work. I get out of work on Friday in the summer at 3pm, so I rushed right home and got to work.

The rain has really sucked. The dirt in my pots is like a giant landslide, and I'm surprised that there's anything happening out there at all. But my tomatoes are growing. I've got almost a dozen plum tomatoes going, and there are one or two cherry tomatoes popping out.

All I need now is a garden gnome. I do, however, have a garden slug.

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I'm a little confused. George and co. are trying to foster a "culture of life." The invasion of Iraq was ordered because the government was slaughtering it's own people and we really needed to bring freedom and democracy to Iraq. Right?

OK, so why haven't we sent troops to the Congo, or scheduled a full on invasion there?

The International Rescue Committee, a voluntary relief organization, estimated there were 200,000 deaths since 1998 as a direct result of the war. Almost 2.8 million have died from malnutrition or disease because the war has limited humanitarian aid.

The UN is sending peacekeeping forces in. For those of you who like to call France a bunch of cowards, France has sent troops in. There are thousands of men, women, and children being killed, mutilated, and raped on a daily basis. There is talk of cannibalism. If George is so concerned about keeping peace in the world, why haven't we done anything about the Congo?

The answer is obvious -- we won't get anything out of it. The Congo isn't "swimming in oil." The government and the warring factions don't have those dreaded weapons of mass destruction [not that actually having them means anything]. Maybe George is fooled by the fact the country's name is the Democratic Republic of the Congo.

The fact that we're idly sitting by while an entire country is being wiped out is sick.

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My neighborhood, Fishtown, has been in the news a lot recently. Earlier this week a pharmacist who works at a drugstore a few blocks away was arrested for selling Oxycontin illegally to local strippers. Last week a 16 year old boy who lives around the corner from me was murdered about six blocks from my house by his friends.

I make fun of Fishtown a lot. I complain about my neighbors and their kids, and make fun of the crazy mullet-heads. When I found out the full extent of what happened to kid who was murdered, I was stunned. All those kids involved live within a block radius of my house. I've seen all three of the kids arrested hanging out.

The kid they murdered is being buried today at the cemetery up the street from my house.

It can happen in any neighborhood. Fishtown isn't special. But I'm always kind of stunned at how vicious people can be. Dangerous people don't have signs on them that say, "Don't trust me -- I'm an animal." Your best friend can turn out to be your worst enemy. I never want to have to be suspicious of everyone I meet, but sometimes I wonder if that's not the best policy.

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I'm glad the Pope likes women. Really, I am.

"I thank you, dear women, because by your sensitivity, generosity and strength, you enrich the world's understanding and help to make human relationships more honest and authentic," the Pope said.

I think it's nice to get some credit from the church for something other than being solely responsible for Original Sin, and being devious people who need to be controlled by their husbands. But, you know, it just doesn't fill my heart with joy to know that the Pope believes "Perhaps more than in other periods of history, our time is in need of that genius which belongs to women, and which can ensure sensitivity for human beings in every circumstance."

I know this is nit-picky and I should just let this go, but it really bugs me that the Pope seems to think that women possess a quality that men don't. I might joke around that women are inherently better at just about everything except arm wrestling, but the truth is that I really do think that women and men are made the same way [minus the obvious physical differences]. I don't think our brains work differently or that we're naturally better at some things.

I had this converation with Mea and her little man a few weeks ago when they were over. Mea cries during tender commercials and her little man said something about it being a "girl thing." I argued that babies are the all the same -- they all cry. Male babies aren't less likely to cry -- they haven't been taught that it's not OK to cry and act sensitive yet.

I'm a firm believer in "nature over nurture" with respect to many aspects of who we are -- whether you're gay or straight or somewhere in between, whether you're better at math or english, etc. But when it comes to what are stereotypical differences between men and women, I really believe it's the "nurture" that makes us different.

Mea can cry during commercials because she was brought up to believe that it's just something girls do. We're all conditioned from birth to behave a certain way, to think a certain way, and to adopt a pattern of "girlness" or "boyness."

Sometimes "nurture" can overtake the "nature," and vice-versa. I mean, I might have been socialized to play with dolls and wear pink dresses and let my man think for me, but I have enough sense and exposure to other things to let my "nature" come through.

I really don't know where I'm going with this. There is no point. I guess I just wish the Pope would keep his stereotypes to himself.

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Perhaps it's a sign of my maturity and my advanced age, but the MTV Movie Awards just could not keep my attention last night. Most of their little skits ran about five minutes too long. I find 50 Cent ridiculous. I was hoping someone would throw quarters at the crack of Pink's ass hanging out of those pants. There's something Stepford creepy about Beyonce Knowles.

It also could have been the trauma of seeing Kirsten Dunst's flaccid bosom, of course.

I watched for about 30 minutes and then flipped to Comedy Central for the new season of Insomniac. And then I was traumatized by the size of the knockers on the porn star at the porn convention Dave Attel attended.

Why can't women in the media ever have normal boobs? You don't need tits the size of beach balls. You just don't. There's no reason. I've seen a pair of gigantic naked boobs in person and they're just scary. You don't know whether to run screaming in the other direction or poke them to see if they explode. It's not like something of that size can be manhandled with any dexterity.

And on the other end of the scale, the Dunst end of the scale, it's OK to have saggy boobs. My own, while not nearly at the level of sag Ms. Dunst has achieved, do sag a little. But I'm not exacerbating the problem by running around to do my errands sans bra. Because if you need support, you wear a bra. It's a simple thing.

Is it too much to ask?