In celebration of the recent Supreme Court ruling reversing the ban on sodomy, Jonny and I will be having a party this weekend.

Just the two of us.

My favorite new law, though, is an anti-crime bill passed in Texas that requires criminals to give their victims 24 hour notice before they commit a crime. The offenders can provide their notices orally or by writing, and must explain the nature of the crime and their reason for doing it.

Personally, I would have been satisfied if the Supreme Court hadn't bothered to lift the ban, but instead took a lesson from the enlightened Texans and required a 24 hour sodomy notice. Can you imagine how much excitement this law would generate? I mean, sure, all of us would lose the fun that comes along with spontaneous sodomizing, but think of all the cute little notes we would get to leave for our significant others!

"Hi honey! Guess what? Tomorrow, 3pm, leaning over the kitchen counter...well, you know ;)"

If you got a note like that, you know you'd be as excited as a kid waiting for Christmas.

I am always happy to find a way to combine the concept of sodomy and the birth of our Lord.

Speaking of being fucked in the ass: It doesn't look like I'll be getting a callback.

Seems that Monday, the majority of those who would be getting callbacks got them. I thought that maybe Tuesday would be the day for me to hear, but as the afternoon turned to evening, it became apparent that it was not to be. The original plan was to spend the day in a gelatinous, loose fetal position, moaning and rolling about on the floor, but I got by with a little help from my friends. Heather offered unconditional loathing to be directed at any persons of my choosing, my friend Natalie presented me the option of having her attack people with steel-toed boots, and the aforementioned Jonny nicely provided soothing reassurances.

The powers that be, however, still wanted to get in a few licks. At dinner that night, my fortune cookie told me that I had a bright future in administration. This was exactly the wrong thing to tell me at the time.

It was pretty much the ancient Chinese wisdom equivalent of being told "Hey, you know what? Who cares if this whole improv/acting/performing thing doesn't work out? Have you ever thought maybe about being an accountant? People will always need accountants, you know."

While tasty, I take comfort in the fact that desserts aren't always right.

The evening ultimately ended quite nicely, and I put the disappointment behind me.

We'll get 'em next time.

And if you'd like to bear personal witness to just how wrong it was that I didn't get a callback, you can come see me tonight at the place I still love in spite of it all, at 11pm, for free.

It isn't 24 hours notice, sure, but you can make it.