**the U.S. Just wants the median income to be higher and since us gays are typically smarter and make more money (j/k but kinda true)**
Associated Press
Sunday Jun 21, 2009
Married same-sex couples will be counted as such in 2010, Census Bureau officials said, reversing a decision of the Bush administration.
Steve Jost, a spokesman for the Census Bureau, said same-sex couples would be counted, “and they ought to report the way they see themselves,” adding, “In the normal process of reports coming out after the census of 2010, I think the country will have a good data set on which to discuss this phenomenon that is evolving in this country.”
Same-sex couples could not be married in the United States during the last decennial count. But last year, after two states had approved same-sex marriages, the bureau said those legal marriages would go uncounted because the federal Defense of Marriage Act prevented the government from recognizing them.
Since President Obama took office, his administration has been under pressure from gay rights advocates to take a fresh look at the issue.
The White House announced Friday that its interpretation of the act did not prohibit gathering the information.
We drove to Montreal, Quebec (Canada), for the UFC 97 fight card. We were excited about seeing UFC superstar Chuck ‘The Iceman’ Liddell during his pivotal fight (win = come back, loss = retirement) and the wife’s favorite, Anderson ‘The Spider’ Silva. We soon found out, after crossing into Canada, that our high school French was beyond rusty. It didn’t take long for us to figure out basic French like that ‘Norde‘ meant ‘North’ after driving back toward the U.S. border.
Shortly after getting back on track, we started passing cars left and right following the speed limit (Max. 100, Min. 60) before the light bulb went off.
I rarely speak in full sentences anymore since I am mostly only required to do such in 140 characters or less. The idea of a maximum and minimum speed limit was great, but I’d much rather it be mph rather than km due to time constraints.
Once we finally arrived at the hotel where parking was not included, our New Jersey tagged Honda pulled into a makeshift parking lot with only a French-speaking attendant. After finally finding someone to translate, we paid $32 CAD in USD—overpayed. We immediately found a currency exchange station.
The Weigh-ins gave us a closer look (since we were in the 4th row) at the fighters and a sense of their personalities. Not to mention, it was fascinating to see my wife–the most unaffected by celebrity person out there and the one person that just ‘doesn’t get’ celebrity gossip–starstruck by Dana White. In some self-satisfying way, I wanted his autograph for myself to hang above my Life & Style collection in the bathroom (the same collection she rolls her eyes at my purchasing).
By the time we made it back to our glorified hotel room (pretty convinced it was really a hostel in disguise), we thought our experience couldn’t be topped until we watched The Simpson’s in French and could actually watch Music Videos 24/7 on Much Music.
Last but certainly not least (part II posted manana), in a true Twilight Zone moment we watched Ashton Kutcher and P Diddy on Larry King Live talking about Twitter. Ashton should win an Emmy for his acting as someone who has nothing to gain from the success of Twitter (I’m convinced he sat in too many Twitter board meetings and will see an investment on his return–his use of ‘content collaboration’ sounded all too familiar like I was in one of my MTV meetings). I only have followers to gain–so follow me @alisaben05.
Since I’m so pleased with the Iowa ruling on Gay Marriage, I’m going to let you guys read a short piece about my own last summer.
On June 28th, 2008, I married my wife, though NJ calls it a ‘Civil Union.’ We kept our wedding spiritual and weaved in the theme of equality on love.A gay couple came up to us at our cocktail hour and told us that putting our love on display without a care of anyone else like we did in front of the Brigantine Beach public beach go’ers (we were warned) inspired them.It was a small wedding of twenty-five family members with the best tasting wedding cake (Strawberry Shortcake) anyone had ever had.We had the ceremony on the beach and we entered the beach over a grassy sand dune while our family watched, which my mom claimed made us look like Greek goddesses.After the wedding, we loaded up and went into Atlantic City and gambled.I put my money on red for love and screamed out ‘red for love’ at the roulette table and everyone who bet on love that night won!
Thanks so much to Heather DiPiazza, an amazing photographer and person, for the wedding shots.
About eight years ago I moved to New York from my native land, Oklahoma.I had spent a good twenty-three years surrounded by my family and their incessant wonderment of my future.
“Got any boyfriends,” Uncle Thed would badger me.
“No.”
“Well, got any girlfriends then,” He just wanted an answer.
“I got nothing.”
“You going to use your college degree or be a hippie forever,” Aunt Glenda joined.
“If it all works out, both,” I knew this wasn’t the end of it.
“Do you really think that little band of yours will amount to anything,” My grandmother worried.
“Yep, otherwise I wouldn’t be going to New York, Granny.”
Within minutes the conversation jumped into the latest gossip about some poor soul in our two-hundred folk town.I know most people long to be known like the theme song to Cheers, “Where everybody knows your name,” but all I wanted to was to be somewhere that not one single soul knew my damn name.I needed to breathe for a minute and figure out who I was without everyone else projecting it onto me or reminding me where I came from.
Fast-forward eight years and in taking on a new last name, I also inherited an additional family that is ten times larger than my own immediate family.Theoretically, my wife and I could have plans every single day of the week if each one of her siblings decided to have a dinner.The only difference between this is that the back-catalogue of my greatest hits and the infinite collection of tear-in-my-beer songs aren’t carried in the in-law format so excuses like “I have to write because an agent wants my manuscript” are just irrelevant eight-track excuses.
I could write books-upon-books (pun intended) on Alisa Ben, but Alisa Olander really is the forever hippie weaving in and out of responsibilities that amount to a whole lot.
Posted by Alisa Olander 
Posted by Alisa Olander 
Posted by Alisa Olander 
Heather DiPiazza Photography
Scavenger Cat Photography