Wednesday, January 18, 2017

January 18, 2017

Dear Diary,

I had quite a shock yesterday, when I overheard Bill on the phone, saying something about "Chelsea getting pardoned by the President."  My heart skipped a beat, and I know it wasn't the Lithium because I take that after breakfast to prevent that. Also to prevent burping too much.  I hate when food comes back up and you can taste it all over again.

I crept closer to the Bill's office door and listened while he cracked some joke about how "now she can go back to blowing drill sergeants," and then I knew he wasn't talking about my Chelsea.  He was talking about that guy girl army person, Chelsea Manning.

Whew! What a relief!  For a minute there, I thought MY Chel had been nailed in some investigation of the Foundation, tried, convicted and in prison.  Let's face it, dear diary, I've been pretty high for the last few months and can't always tell what's real and what's not. I black out a lot, too.  Last week, Bessie brought in a tray of tea and cookies and I threw my vibrator lipstick at her, thinking she was Godzilla.  That was really weird, but serves me right for nipping at the Fireball.  I love that cinnamon stuff.

Dear diary, I have to admit that I don't know a whole lot about this Manning character, other than he/she was in the army and did something with computers. It might have been wiping a server or Russian hacking. I'm not too clear on the details, but apparently, this fella was pretty confused:  After getting thrown in the pokey, he decided he wasn't a "he" after all, and wanted to become a "she."  That's when "he" changed his name from Brad to Chelsea.

What I don't get is how do they know what prison to throw him/her in?  Is she a woman in a man's prison?  A man in a woman's prison?  A woman imprisoned inside a man's body?  I saw a photo of her and can't help wondering if he did the "big snip" yet -- does that make it official?  I heard that Bruce Jenner did something similar, but walks around with a bunch of duct tape strapping his "thing" to his butt so that nobody sees the bulge.  I'm no judge, but that seems hypocritical to me.

It's all so confusing. When I was a young girl, you were either a girl or a boy.  Girls like boys and boys liked girls. Nobody had to take a college course to figure out what gender they were, we just looked at a pretty girl in tight slacks someone attractive and nature did the rest!  Oh, I know that there were people who were "kinky" or "homo," but in those days, everyone kept those secrets to themselves.  We didn't have to tell the world about it, we just enjoyed ourselves they just enjoyed themselves in private and that was that.

I never did get used to the smell of rubber, though.  It still gives me a headache.

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