This New York Times article on 50 Cent's life in the sleepy suburb of Farmington, Conn. , is quite wry - But a cook at China Palace said Mr. Jackson could save 10 percent on any order over $30... Ah, the privileges of fame... 10% off Chinese takeout! For the party, Mr. Jackson ordered more than $5,000 worth of liquor, including "a lot of Baccardi," according to the owner of a Farmington liquor store who spoke on the condition of anonymity "to protect his privacy." Sipping Bacardi (ooh, caught a Times misspelling) like it's his birthday. How anonymous could a liquor store owner in a suburban town be? It's not like there're hundreds of liquor stores in the town, I'm guessing. I like how they keep referring to him as Mr. Jackson...
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That's why it's depressing You want to be reminded that you're essentially a sexual cripple because of your gender? I don't.
And yeah, the article seems laughably shallow and there are plenty of things you can find wrong about it, and I'm over-reacting, but it's a neurose, and yes, I'm aware of it, and yes, I'm trying not too think about it too hard, because if I do I'll either want to cry or smash things.
And yeah, Hani found it amusing and swears that I was a woman in a past life, because I'm blubbering over not being invited into (apparently) the Giant Lesbian Orgy that is womankind.