I realize this might not be a popular opinion, seeing as this is a touchy subject, especially in the gay community, however I feel very passionately about this.

In our society, certain words carry a lot of power. They invoke strong emotions. For this reason, people should choose their words very carefully, because the weight them can diminish the perception of you. Overuse desensitizes us from their meaning. There is one such word I fell should be used in extremely limited doses, however I hear it used over and over again and it grates against my nerves like a zillion fingernails on chalkboards.

The word is fabulous.

It should be used sparingly. Personally, I think every person on this earth should be allotted only three uses of the word fabulous during their lifetime. I mean seriously, in our troubled world, is there really that much that could be considered truly fabulous?

Technically the word's original meaning is "resembling or suggesting a fable : of an incredible, astonishing, or exaggerated nature". In today's world, I think little resembles a fable. It's more like Grimm's fairy tales. (Is it just me or are they not the most horrible stories to tell children? Take for example The Poor Boy in the Grave. The first sentence is "There was once a poor shepherd-boy whose father and mother were dead." This is a bedtime story!? Grim indeed.)

Because he is hyper-masculine, someone once asked me how I know Leather Bear is gay. "You mean other than the fact he says 'fabulous' about twenty times a day?" Every fucking thing in the world is fabulous to this guy. The admin's new shoes. The food at a Mediterranean restaurant he likes. His weekend in Orlando for Gay Days. He probably thinks fluorescent lighting and wheat toast are fabulous too.

Dude, you may be super tall with a shaved head and goatee and really fit and muscular, but you might as well be carrying a clutch purse. For the record, I don't like straight people overusing it either. It's just too, too much sometimes.

Get a thesaurus people! There are others word you know.

Update from Mount Left Temple: Yesterday afternoon, I'm sitting working and I feel something wet trickle down my face. I grabbed a mirror from my desk to look at the zapped mole. (Zenchick asks, "You have a mirror in your desk? "Yes," to which she replied, "HOMO!")

OH MY GAWD! It became this giant blister and I guess it couldn't contain itself any more and was leaking. I dabbed my face with a tissue and then the blister broke just from my gently dabbing. Ugh. The skin broke easily and I wiped it (with the mole) off. So now I have this lovely red wound looking thing on my face. Very nice. I am supposed to go get my ID badge for the homeless outreach program tomorrow, so I guess my scarred mug will be immortalized forever.