Posts Tagged ‘speak out’

Wednesday Workshop: As I See You

January 14, 2009 17 comments

Hi everyone, it’s the glorious Miss Eva reporting for duty! As Kendall has a bit too much on his plate today he has let me (letting me doesn’t necessarily mean he had a choice does it?) take over his blog and allow me to pop my Wednesday Workshop cherry. Ooh, so exciting.

PROMPT: Describe your significant other’s most attractive quality (on the inside).

Were it not for that little add-on, there are so many ways I could have fun with this. In both dirty and non-dirty ways. But I suppose I shall simply have to be serious. Kendall had better appreciate this is all I’ve got to say.


If I had to pick out one characteristic as his most attractive, I might as well use the one that attracted me to him in the first place and made him hard not to fall in love with.

From the stories he’s shared with you, some of you might have realized something about the teddy bear I call my boyfriend. He seems to be pretty dang near incapable of not caring about people. This includes people who have done him wrong, people he has never met in real life, people he barely knows, and even people who he has never heard of before.

It’s as if he is drawn to people who need help and does whatever they need him to whether that’s just listening, making them laugh, giving a hug, or completely changing the subject. He is easily one of the most kindhearted people it has ever been my pleasure to meet.

Me and Kendall (as well as The Bait, The Spawn, and Pippi) went to the same high school and despite the fact that me and him shared a lot of the same friends we never really had the opportunity to become friends ourselves. Now as I’m sure most of you know, I gave birth to baby Daybreak a few months after my 17th birthday when I was in my junior year. Her father, the ex, dumped me about three weeks before my due date.

So here I am, a heavily pregnant teenager whose boyfriend had left her after saying throughout that he would stand by her. I was sitting on one of these tables we had in the student parking lot and trying my very best not to start sobbing. When someone put a tissue in front of my face, saying it might help. And sure enough, there was Kendall with one hand outstretched to me and the other holding a half-full box of Kleenex. This boy, who I only knew peripherally, skipped that full period with me, just listening to me rant about the world in general.

It’s just who he is.

I’ve watched him smile and say “hello” to random people on the street whom I ask if he knows. So very often the answer is that he has never seen them in his life but everyone deserves something as simple as a smile.

Whenever me and him take Daybreak to the park, God forbid he sees one child being picked on. The last time this happened, Kendall helped the boy out of the puddle he had been pushed into and after speaking to his mother for a moment, sent him over to the jungle gym where Daybreak was trying to emulate a pretzel.

Then there are the other things…

…making jokes and generally being silly until a frowning person can’t help but laugh.

…even when he’s sick, he will get out of bed and in his car, driving to pick someone up in the middle of the night after their car broke down.

…standing up for someone he personally dislikes merely because he thought it was right.

…leaving little notes for people telling them to have a nice day.

…or one of my personal favorites, when I feel like utter crap from menstrual cramps he’s ready with a hot water bottle and those wonderful hands.

He’s extremely polite, intelligent, humble to an almost disturbing degree, and such a goofball you can’t not be happy around him, but his kindness is still my favorite.

Don’t ever change, Amore.



Speak Out: Ruth & Imogen

October 31, 2008 1 comment

(Note From the Management: The opinions expressed in the Speak Out Series are those of their individual writer and not necessarily shared by myself. The only influence I have on this is showing them how to post and letting them use my password. Thank you.)

R: Hi I’m Ruth.

I: And I’m Imogen, whose significance I just figured out the other week. Kendall was amused.

R: He’s easily amused anyway so I’m not surprised to hear this. Anywho, your dear Odd Duck has allowed us to take his blog hostage for the day while he gallivants around with Eva and Daybreak tonight in search of lots of candy.

I: We had to think pretty hard about what we wanted to write about and then the news literally hands it into our laps.

R: California’s Proposition 8, ladies and gents.

I: Now as a couple who happens to like the supposed penis, we have often caught flack from people telling us we’re going to Hell or very not subtle propositions from guys saying they can cure us.

R: However, probably the hardest part of all was coming out to our families. I grew up with a very conservative Southern Baptist mom, who often condemned gay people to go to Hell.

I: Even though people think I’m Hindi because I’m Indian, I am not religious at all. My adopted family isn’t either so it was just slightly awkward. Ruth though, well she needed some help.

R: It was this past summer when I told Kendall and Eva I was gay. Eva I knew would still be my friend since we had been since we were in diapers and Kendall is the lesbian’s fag hag so there was no chance of him having a problem with it. They both went with me when I told my mom I was gay. At one point in her yelling, I had had enough and walked away in tears. Eva came after me while he talked my mom down.

I: Have either of them told you what was said that day?

R: All my mom will say is that I have very loyal friends and all Kendall will say is that he did what he could to help her see that she had hurt me.

I: I remember our first double date with those two. I had met Eva once and had only heard of Kendall. He made sure to sit across from me in that IHOP and when I finally met his eyes, I saw him making a bunch of goofy faces.

R: They’re our friends, they wanted you to be comfortable and it worked. But we’ve gotten off topic. There is now a proposition to repeal the right of same-sex couples to marry in California. I honestly wish I lived in California so I could vote against it but alas, all we can do is spread the word.

I: One more thing, those who think we are going to Hell for loving each other? We’ll be sure to save you seats.

R & I: Thanks bunches!

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Speak Out Series: Eva

October 7, 2008 Leave a comment

(Note From the Management: The opinions expressed in the Speak Out Series are those of their individual writer and not necessarily shared by myself. The only influence I have on this is showing them how to post and letting them use my password. Thank you.)

First, allow me to introduce myself. I am the Talented Miss Eva and yes, I am the one crazy (read: desperate) enough to date Kendall. Just kidding Sweetheart.

I’ll answer a few questions you may have about the picture to the left before we get started tonight. Yes, they are real. Yes, I am a natural blonde although I will admit that I added bleach to it shortly before I left for that trip. No, you may not check the carpet.

Now that my preamble is out of the way, we can get down to the meat and potatoes of this little post of mine.

“I hope people realize there is a brain beneath this hair and a heart beneath these boobs” – Dolly Parton

As you can see, genetics were quite kind to me in the bust department. Although on my more cynical days, I think they’re a case of “too much of a good thing”. Don’t believe me? Well, we will just have to see about that.

Once upon a time, there was a nine year-old girl with a dream to become a professional gymnast. She wanted the glory, the recognition, the ability to travel the world. She had practiced as much as her mother would allow since she was small. Before her eleventh birthday, she would win several regional competitions and place at the state-level. Then along came puberty. At age 13, wearing a 32B and showing no signs of stopping, she was told that she did not have the “appropriate figure” to compete. Crushed, she left competitive gymnastics for good a few months short of turning 15.

I don’t look back on that period of time fondly, even if it was over six years ago. I had never hated my body until then and probably would have delved into Anorexia had my mom not been on the lookout. Even with her making sure that I stopped before I got to that point, I still cursed my body with everything I had. Especially my breasts.

It was early in the summer of 2003 and I had gone shopping with my older sisters in Greenville, NC. We were walking out of Bath & Body Works when a sharp-dressed woman stopped us to ask if we would be interested in modeling. I didn’t stay in it in long, but I have to admit it did rebuild my confidence in my appearance. Plus, what kind of girl would I be if I had turned down getting paid to play dress-up?

Now it’s October of 2008. I’m a nursing student at Duke University, with a three (soon to be four) year-old daughter in tow. Let me repeat that, Duke University. I graduated from high school pretty damn high in the pack, not as much as say Kendall or The Bait but still impressive. Did I mention that my tuition at Duke is fully paid for because of the GPA I maintained at the community college I went to in order to save money? So, with all that in mind, will someone please tell me why I’m treated like a bimbo so often?

A recent example would be going to pick Daybreak up from the day care center last Friday. I had just gotten out of a seminar, still dressed in a business suit with power pumps and all, when I notice my gas light has popped on. I go to the Kangaroo and as I want something to drink, I go inside to pay. These two old men (I’d say they were in their early to mid-60’s) were talking about Sarah Palin. I passively listen to them as I find a diet coke and make my way to the cashier when one of the men notice that I seem to be listening and nudges his buddy.

Man: All the while, staring right at my chest “Hey Earl, that little priss is listening like she understands anything about what goes on the world. What’s the world coming to these days? Pretty girls like her just don’t know their place anymore.”

His buddy, Earl, laughs himself into a coughing fit.

It took every ounce of patience and self-restraint I possessed not to verbally castrate them. In my head, I could hear my mother telling me to be polite to my elders like a mantra. After a few moments, I calmed myself and left.

I really fucking hate stereotypes. I may love my boobs now, but dang if they’re not more trouble than they’re worth at times.

Sincerely, The Talented Miss Eva

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