Wanna Be, Wanna Be a Homosexual

I read this little story once by this woman who couldn't figure out what her parents meant when they tossed the word "homo" around. She could tell it was something bad, because of the way they said it, but its meaning was unclear. She decided it meant "homeowner," because her parents rented their tiny apartment, and so naturally would have some resentment towards those who had garages and yards and stuff. It was only later, when she called her friend's mom a homo, that the truth was revealed to her. (Funny side note: she grew up to be an actual homo.)

So everyone. We want to be homos. We want to park our car in our garage. We want to paint the walls something other than stark apartment white. If the bathroom is hideous, we want to be able to do something about it other than adding a few more rubber ducks to try to draw attention away from the ugly. We want a yard, and a dog to go in the yard, and no stinkin landlord will ever tell us we can't get another cat, because seriously, landlords of the world? A cat? Can't do much damage? To an apartment with hardwood floors? SO REMOVE THE STICK FROM YOUR ASS, THANKS.

Yes. We will make good homos.