Jerky Tourniquet

Cancelling church in honor of Christmas?

2008-12-19T08:38:00.002-06:00

From today's bulletin at the Catholic University where I work.:

"Due to the Christmas holiday break, Masses will not be said from Saturday, Dec. 20, through Saturday, Jan. 3, in the Chapel of St. Thomas Aquinas."

Nothing honors Baby Jesus more than NOT saying Mass.

I totally get why it is cancelled with all the students off campus for winter break, but it just looked funny to me.

Fuck This

2008-11-10T19:38:00.002-06:00

It is time once again to go through annual open enrollment at my place of employment. Usually the only effect this has on me is that the rates increase for me to keep the same health benefits. Meaning that every year, I enjoy my annual raise for about two months before the increase in health insurance makes it moot. But this year, there is a new option: pet insurance. One thing that hasn't changed: "The university uses the Defense of Marriage Act to identify legal spouses that are eligible for coverage". That's right, for $6.65/month, I can get health insurances for my pet rat, but I can't cover my partner. I know that isn't really shocking considering I work at a Catholic University, but give me a freaking break. My girlfriend and I have been together longer than my boss and her husband. We've also been together longer than my boss's boss and her husband. Both Catholic/Christian. Both divorced and remarried. So spare me your bullshit about the sanctity of marriage.

Trying not to drink the Kool-Aid

2008-11-09T20:52:00.002-06:00

I came to a sad realization a while back: When it comes to career/school, I'd rather endure an unhappy, but otherwise predictable and stable present than take a risk on an unknown future. There are reasons for these coping mechanisms I've developed, but that doesn't make them any less annoying. Well, I decided coping mechanisms be damned, I was applying to grad school and getting the hell out of my job (this liberal lesbian managed to get a job on the only campus in the Twin Cities with more McCain than Obama signs in dorm room windows). I got the acceptance letter last weekend and Pfunk and I decided this week that we should move into a bigger apartment before I start school. Two big changes that require action on my part. This is my Insta-Anxiety Solution: Just add change.

Today was my first meltdown. I'm lucky I have the most patient girlfriend on the planet.

Voting Nightmare

2008-11-03T20:52:00.003-06:00

It is a good thing we are finally having the election tomorrow. Currently, my day consists of listening to (while doing my data entry work):

Last night's "Daily Show"
Last night's "Colbert Report"
Today's "Democracy Now"

Then I do a vigorous cycle of nytimes, npr, cnn, huffingon post, michael moore's site. Rinse. Repeat. Throw in my frequent email updates from Obama, Franken, Keith Ellison, Planned Parenthood and OutFront and my brain is pretty well saturated.

So it is really no surprise that I had a dream about voting over the weekend.

In the dream, I was living Australia. I must've forgotten to vote absentee because I flew all the way back to the U.S. to vote. After waiting in line, I voted on touch screen video machines. In between each candidate, I had to watch commercials on the screen. Not election ads, but movie trailers and the like. After only voting for maybe 4 or 5 positions, a friendly message informed me I was finished voting. Well, I knew there were supposed to be more people on the ballot than I'd had a chance to vote for, so I pitched a royal fit. I demanded a paper ballot and was screaming at everyone to do the same. While the election officials scurried off to find me a paper ballot, John McCain hobbled over to me and asked if there was anything he could do to help. I showed him the cheat sheet I had prepared to prove that there were more issues people to vote on than the video machine had allowed. I think he made a comment about the fact that the cheat sheet was on legal sized paper instead of letter and then my alarm went off.

Can you find the friendly gay cabaret member?

2008-11-03T19:44:00.006-06:00

Pfunk and I celebrated our two year anniversary early in October. In honor of the occasion, she booked us two reservations on the Minnesota Zephyr, a dinner train cabaret out of Stillwater. When she made the reservation over the phone, she informed them that we'd be celebrating our anniversary. When the tickets arrived, we realized that we'd been booked on the daytime lunch ride, not the evening dinner as planned. We decided to make the most of it and take the day off work and spend it together. I think regardless of whether we took the lunch or dinner ride, we were probably going to be among the youngest on the train. But I was especially certain that would be the case on a Tuesday afternoon.

I was right. Almost everyone else at the Depot was white haired and looked like they stepped off a tour bus from a local senior center. The only people remotely close to our age were traveling with older companions.

I was relieved when we got a table to ourselves. I didn't want our anniversary to be unnecessarily uncomfortable by having to explain that we are not sisters, or friends, but partners celebrating two years together. The ride progressed nicely. Despite the rain outside the train, we enjoyed taking photos and talking. The Zephyr cabaret performed Big Band era songs in period costume between each of the five courses of the meal. The food and entertainment were enjoyable. We quickly identified the gay male member of the cabaret. Because wherever there is cabaret, there's gonna be at least one gay!

After dessert, the waitstaff came around to each table. I could hear them asking the other tables, "Are you celebrating a birthday or anniversary today?". But when our waitress came to our table, she said, "Are you celebrating a birthday or an--birthday today?". Instead of correcting her and proclaiming our anniversary loud and proud, I must confess that we chickened out and responded in the negative to the birthday question.

Turns out that a couple across the aisle from us were celebrating a wedding anniversary. When the Zephyr cabaret came to their table to sing, "When I Fall in Love", I took Pfunk's hand and held it on top of the table. I whispered, "Let's just pretend they are singing to us too." Well, the gay man in the group saw us holding hands and winked at us as they were singing. When the song concluded, he turned to us and said, "Are you two celebrating something too?". I said yes and he wished us Congratulations before re-joining the cabaret in the next car.

Several minutes later, the gay guy came back to our table, sat next to Pfunk, and said, "So, how long have you lovebirds been together?". We told him two years. He replied, "My partner and I are going on 16 [years]. Too bad we don't live in California, but maybe someday!". It was nice to be recognized after feeling invisible earlier, especially after Pfunk made a point to tell them it was an anniversary dinner when she made the reservations. When we celebrated our anniversary at the Melting Pot last year we did the same thing and they had a special card for us at our table. It is too bad it took another gay person to realize that Pfunk and I are a couple.

Well, it gets worse. I don't know if the table across the aisle heard our exchange with the gay guy, but they started talking about politics. First is was just typical Republican B.S.

"That Sarah Palin is sharp."

"Poor Elizabeth Hasselback never gets a word in edgewise on 'The View'".

"With the liberal media, all we have left is Talk Radio."

We didn't bother responding; they are entitled to their opinions. I did tell Paige to put her bag, with its Obama button, on top of the table and angle it in their direction, which she did.

But then the oldest man at the table said, "If a Republican ever slips up, the media is all over it, but God forbid they say anything bad about the bastard n**ger."

I audibly gasped.

Paige, who had wisely stopped eavesdropping long before that, said, "What?!".

I said, "That guy just said the N Word."

Then I turned to the man who had committed the offense and said very quickly, "Could-you-please-not-say-that-thank-you!".

He never acknowledged me directly, but said say to his companions (I think in response to me), "Oh sure, you can say every four letter word in the book, but you can't say the N word."

To which, I thought: Exactly. You may find the word "fuck" offensive, but unlike the word you just used, fuck is not a word used to discriminate against a segment of the population that has been systematically oppressed. Fuck and the N word are nowhere near the same. Furthermore, he does Republicans a disservice. Until he "went there," I'd disagreed with their comments, but politely kept my mouth shut. But if you ever had any desire to get me to respect your ring-wing views, all of that went out the window when you said that.

I was literally shaking with anger. Luckily, all of this happened during the last few minutes of the trip and we pulled in the depot shortly thereafter.

When I was recounting the story to my therapist the next day, I think she summed up the experience best when she said that it was like the train (with its 40s/50s music and costumes) had actually gone back in time. To a time when gays were invisible and white people are profoundly racist.

Of course, this experience is evidence that you don't have to go back in time for these things to happen. I'm sure my white privilege is partially responsible for the shock I experienced when I heard that slur. That and living in my liberal urban bubble.

This whole experience got me thinking about minority rights and the differences between gay rights and racial minority rights. The fact that gay people can, to some degree, choose who they "come out"to as a minority can be handy. If I'm in a situation where I'm concerned there are anti-gay bigots, I can choose to be closeted about my sexual orientation. Racial minorities don't have the option of only showing their skin to those they deem safe. But, as our experience on the train demonstrates, the burden to have to make ourselves visible to people than don't see us can also be disheartening and exhausting.

I couldn't help but think that if same-sex marriage was legal in this country, Paige and I might not have been invisible to the waitress. If awareness of same-sex partnerships was legal recognized, people would be forced to see us.

Inconceivable!

2008-09-18T13:13:00.003-05:00

Nomi Prins and Michael Hudson were guests on Democracy Now! yesterday to talk about the latest corporate bailout of AIG. They both gave great insight into the situation and helped me understand this complicated problem better. Hudson probably gave the best single sentence summary I've heard when he said,"The economy is being sacrificed (by the government) to pay the gamblers." Link here. The interview starts at 10:20.

What makes this interview even more enjoyable is that Michael Hudson sounds a lot like Wallace Shawn. So if you close your eyes, it sounds like Amy Goodman is interviewing Vizzini from The Princess Bride.

Every tag ever used on flickr to date

2008-07-30T15:47:00.000-05:00

2008 2008maydayparade 34thannualmaydayparadefestival 89s10thst 8track acrylic airplane artistdesignedminigolf babyrat barackobama barn basketball bathroom bedazzled bedraceforbridging bird bloomingtonave blue bookshelf buckhill bumpersticker burnsville canvas celebritymii chicago chicagogayprideparade church cootersdukesofhazzardmuseum costume crowd cute dfl dog downtown drawing dukesofhazzard duluth elvis face falafel freerangefilmfestival frog furry gaypride gayprideparade gold graceland graffiti grantpark green hellskitchen hood hoodedrat hoodie hurricanedamage hurricanekatrina illinois intheheartofthebeastpuppetandmasktheatre jackdanielsdistillery june32008 katrina library lighthouse line longline louisiana lousiana lword lynchburg lynx lynxwon may42008 mayday maydayparade memorial memphis michelleobama mii minigolf minneapolis minneapolissculpturegarden20thanniversarycelebration minnesota minnesotalynx minnesotalynxvshoustoncomets mnartistsorg movieposter nascar nashville neworleans nola obama obamarally obamawinsnomination october2005 orange oshaughnessyfrey painting petrat pink plastic plastictoys poster prideparade puttputt queue racewaypark rat red redcross reflection retro saintpaul september2005 shadow shakopee shorttrack sign slidell southminneapolis sowhatsonyourbookshelf stage stockcar stockcarraces stpaul tabouli tacky targetcenter tasteofchicago tennessee theking thelword thetaste thriftstore trash tree tshirt umbrella universityofstthomas ust walkerartcenter walkerinsideoutartgoesoutdoors walkeronthegreen whiskey white wii window wnba wrenshall xcelenergycenter yellow

"I Do!"

2008-07-28T22:49:00.002-05:00

I mentioned a while back that my sister went to a wedding that was being filmed for a TV show called "I Do" on NBC. My brother in law was a groomsman in the wedding. The episode airs tomorrow night (Tuesday, July 29)...but only in Chicago. Doesn't look like the show has been picked up by the Twin Cities. Oh well. There is a 4 minute clip online. My sister swears her shoulder makes an appearance in the clip. My brother-in-law's entire body certainly shows up. He's the tallest groomsman by about a foot. Check it out.

URGENT! I just wrote to Dubya and you should too!

2008-07-18T08:32:00.006-05:00

I received an urgent email from Planned Parenthood informing me of something George W. Bush plans to do during his remaining months in office. Here is the text of the email [the info in the brackets below is mine]:

"We've known for some time that anti-choice extremists have wanted President Bush to deliver them some sort of "gift" before he leaves office. This rule change is just that gift. And here's what one of the most egregious results could be:

Right now, anti-choice groups run so-called "crisis pregnancy centers" in communities all around the country — often a block or two away from Planned Parenthood affiliate health centers [and other legitimate abortion providers]. These facilities look like health centers, but in reality are run by anti-choice zealots who deliver only the reproductive health care options that fit their agenda. No birth control, no abortion — and no choice for women and families who need it. If this rule takes effect, they're likely to receive a massive influx of our tax dollars to expand their deceptive operations and to attract hundreds of thousands of women who think they'll be getting medical care but instead will receive a large dose of anti-choice ideology.

I believe that tricking women when they are most vulnerable is wrong — and the federal government shouldn't pay people to do it. It gets worse. The rule would also require entities that receive family planning funding, like Planned Parenthood, to certify that we will not refuse to hire nurses and other providers who object to abortion and even certain types of birth control. Between deceptive "crisis pregnancy centers" delivering woefully incomplete care and legitimate health centers with extremely limited funding, hundreds of thousands of women are at enormous risk."

This is outrageous and cannot happen! I have personal experience working in two legitimate abortion clinics and visiting two of these deceptive "crisis pregnancy centers." The difference in the training, information provided and candor in which their respective staff treats women couldn't be more different. They should not have access to the same funding. My letter to our President is below. The first paragraph is part of a standard form letter provided by Planned Parenthood. The last two paragraphs are my own.

"I am opposed to President Bush's proposed rule to allow federal funding that is specifically designed to prevent unintended pregnancy and promote reproductive health to now be used for anything but that.

I accompanied a friend to a so-called Crisis Pregnancy Center near Detroit in 2000 and found the information provided by their volunteers biased, racist and lacking in medical expertise. My friend was asked if the father was white when the volunteers were pushing adoption. When my friend expressed concerns over being diabetic while pregnant, the untrained volunteers told her she'd had no complications despite having taken no medical history, performed zero tests and not even so much as performed a medical exam. When the possibility of abortion was brought up, we were guilt-tripped and chastised.

Crisis Pregnancy Centers are dangerous. Federal Funds currently available to medical professionals offering sound information to women at their most vulnerable should not become available to untrained biased volunteers posing as members of the medical community."

To learn more about this dangerous legislation and send your own email to George W. Bush, click here.

Abstract Expressionism

2008-07-12T13:10:00.006-05:00

My Nephew Jackson...

...Is not Named After Jackson Pollack.

But that doesn't mean his milk splattering skills don't border on genius!

It's alot of fun, especially when Auntie K is on clean-up duty!

Not a good week for the theatre arts in the Twin Cities

2008-06-26T20:25:00.002-05:00

First I heard on MPR that Theatre de la Jeune Lune is closing its doors. Then I found out that the University where I work is eliminating its Theater program. That totally blows.

I've built my own empire, out of car tires and chicken wire

2008-06-26T20:07:00.005-05:00

Ain't nobody gettin' outta that cage now! It may be cattywhompus and jerry-rigged and too embarrassing to take out in public, but the cage will now live up to its name and keep the critters inside!

My lesbian mommies went to the hardware store and locked me in!

Open Letter to M. Night Shama-llama-ding-dong*

2008-06-23T15:56:00.003-05:00

In regards to your most recent cinematic endeavor, The Happening, you lost me within the first ten minutes when I was supposed to believe that Marky Mark is not only capable of teaching science, but is somehow the "cool" teacher with an obvious rapport with his students. I wasn't buying it. Could have done without the mood ring too.

*I'm not making fun of your name, I just don't know how to pronounce it (or spell it for that matter).

Some stories from the weekend/Monday morning

2008-06-23T13:07:00.004-05:00

Saturday morning:

Every other Saturday I go to the Chiropractor and Occupational Therapist. My mind really tends to wander, especially with the O.T., because much of the treatment requires me to lie on an examination table for an hour. I should really start keeping track of all the crazy places my mind goes when I allow myself an hour for stream-of-consciousness. (Similar to my recent blog post about the Girls Grilling cap). Anyways, in was under these conditions that I found myself thinking about rodent abortions. Yes, rodent abortions. Since Pfunk and I adopted the rats, I've joined a few rat groups on flickr. A woman recently posted a story to one of the discussion boards about how she bought a new cage that she thought would contain and separate her male and female rats. Well, she was wrong and ended up with a litter of 10 rat babies. So she paid to have all of her female rats spayed. It was at this point in the story that I read the sentence, "As it turned out, none of the girls were pregnant so I don't have the added guilt of thinking I killed babies but I still 'paid the price' right in the wallet." Really? Were you really going to lose sleep had any of your EIGHT female rats been knocked up when you had them fixed? See, you all may think that Pfunk and I are rat crazy and maybe we are, but some of these people take the crazy to a whole other level!!

Random aside: I can sympathize with the part of her story where the rats escaped the cage. Pfunk and I bought a smaller cage for the girls for travel and trips to the vet(ok, you're right, we are rat crazy) off craigslist this weekend. I underestimated how far apart the bars were in the posted photo and it took Falafel all of two minutes to escape from the ceiling of the cage. It was just like Kate leaving the bear cage on Lost. Tabouli wasn't quite able to follow Falafel's lead and squeeze through. She may be a little slow (or timid), but we still love her.

Saturday afternoon:

I bought the new David Sedaris book on Thursday evening with the goal of rationing it out, savoring each essay. But I was a total literary glutton and finished it at a coffee shop Saturday afternoon (actually, it is somewhat remarkable that it even lasted that long). I had just started the last chapter entitled "The Smoking Section," when a gentleman took the seat on the other side of the end table next to my own chair. Before reading that chapter I'd said to Pfunk, "if David Sedaris can quit smoking, anyone can!" (two of her family members are trying to quit right now). That was before I read that he up and moved to Japan in order to quit. Anyways, I'm reading about Sedaris's last cigarette in Paris before flying to Tokyo (and then his 2nd final cigarette...and his 3rd final cigarette...) when I realize that the man that had sat down next to me was hooked up to an oxygen tank that was quietly exhaling bursts of air into the tube connected to his nose every 10 seconds or so. There are probably dozens of medical reasons someone might use an oxygen tank that have absolutely nothing to do with cigarette smoking, but I still found myself laying the book in my lap to conceal the cover:

Sunday afternoon:

I was talking to my sister on the phone yesterday. She was telling me about the wedding she went to the night before that was filmed by a reality TV camera crew. It was for a new show on NBC called I Do and if the show makes it to air, you will probably see my Brother-in-Law because he was a groomsman. Anyways, she was chatting away about the personalized party favors (including personalized matchbooks to light the provided sparklers at the end of the night - yikes) when I interrupted her to say, "Go ahead and flip me off you fucking Ron Paul voting idiot!!". I might've gotten a "mother fucker" in there too. No, I don't have tourettes syndrome (although Pfunk would claim I show symptoms when either sneezing or playing Guitar Hero). I was driving while talking on the phone. I was behind this guy driving a Cavalier with a Ron Paul bumper sticker. We both pulled into the intersection to turn left, but had to yield to the through traffic. Well, the light turned yellow and the oncoming traffic slowed down to stop, but he still didn't turn. The light turned red and we were both still sitting in the intersection, so I honked at him. At which point both he and his buddy gave me the finger out their open windows, he threw something at my car threw his open window and purposefully drove as slow as he could through the turn. Asshole! My family is so used to listening to my road rage over the phone that my sister just paused for my rant and then continued her story, no questions asked.

Monday morning or "It's like The Office meets Candid Camera":

The saga at work continues. I kinda snapped this morning. I marched into my boss's office and said, "I figured it out. [Ms. Backache] was hired for a hidden camera show that tests people's breaking points. Am I right? Now that we figured it out can the experiment stop?". My boss laughed, but there wasn't a smile on her face.

Kid Logic

2008-06-19T15:24:00.004-05:00

Growing up, there was one section of sidewalk on the corner that had bike tire tracks going through it. When I was really young, I asked my mom how the tracks got into the sidewalk and she explained that they were put there when the "cement was wet."

After that, every time it rained I would go to the corner while the "cement was wet" and stamp my feet on the concrete to try to leave footprints.

Maybe I need my mommy to lay out my clothes the night before, elementary school style...

2008-06-19T12:34:00.005-05:00

When Pfunk's alarm first goes off for the day, I've already been at work for a half an hour (up for an hour and half). This not only means I possess utter resentment and jealousy that my partner gets to "sleep in" everyday, it means I get dressed in the dark. Or at least half of my body gets dressed in the dark. I keep my hanging clothes (pants, blouses, sweaters, etc) in the hall coat closet where there is some light, but my dresser (underwear, socks and T-shirts) is in the dark bedroom where Pfunk is still sleeping.

I was at work for an hour this morning before I realized that I was not wearing my tailored white tee (work appropriate - I work in a casual office), but a thin men's Fruit of the Loom undershirt (not so work appropriate). Pfunk wears white shirts under her clothes almost daily and somehow one ended up in my dresser. So now I'm sitting at my desk wearing a sweatshirt over the undershirt even though it is 80 degrees outside.

Earlier this week, I realized in the work parking lot that I hadn't paired black socks with my new black shoes as intended, but instead was wearing navy blue socks with black flats. So I went sockless (and got blisters from my new shoes).

These events would indicate that I'm lacking the desired level of alertness in the morning.

Somebody let the rats choose the movies

2008-06-14T14:26:00.003-05:00

Pfunk suspects that Falafel and Tabouli are Chipmunk groupies.

My Waitress

2008-06-12T20:48:00.010-05:00

I normally don't complain about work when I'm at home, or even get very riled up while I'm at the office for that matter. I don't have the kind of job that warrants that kind of energy. It's not important enough, I don't get paid enough, I'm not high up enough etc. Some might call that a bad attitude, but it's simply the reality. I like that I have a job that I don't bring home with me.

But today was just strange. The day started with an admissions counselor bursting into tears in our office and ended with a coworker spilling an entire Nalgene bottle of water on her computer mouse and keyboard. (To add insult to injury, she was just given a computer upgrade last week; the computer is brand new). And the events that transpired in between also left much to be desired.

I knew that the tides had shifted, that we'd surrendered all decorum, when one of the members of my team asked another to walk on her back. I'd expect as much from the one with the backache, but I'd never expect the other one to agree. But the next thing I knew, Ms. Backache was laying on the nasty office floor and the other was removing her shoes to walk on her back. You just have to trust me that this was very bizarre.

What put me over the edge personally was the presence of a new employee that has been in our office a lot lately for training. I can't stand her. And it really isn't her fault, she doesn't deserve the animosity I was feeling towards her today. I think most of it isn't even about her. This angst has been months in the making, long before she was even hired.

Basically, my department is merging with another department. We've been in a state of imbalance and transition for months with this merger. And it is one of those circumstances where, for the most part, everyone is civil and maintains proper office etiquette on the surface. But a dramatic power struggle is brewing underneath, with people taking sides.

This merger is happening because our department is successful and theirs is flailing. And it was thrust upon us from the top down, literally from the President of the university. The other department is incompetent at their jobs, unable or unwilling to recognize that their incompetence and resent having us come in and telling them what's what. Meanwhile, we resent having to babysit them. As the result of this merger, we inherited one of their employees. She has an attitude problem, is resistant to change and has a personality that would be difficult in any small office, let along under these circumstances. She would be Ms. Backache. Ms Pain in the ass. Ms. Thorn in my Side.

Just when I was started to get used to Ms. Backache, figuring out how to tolerate her quirks, the incompetent department hired the aforementioned new employee, whom I'll call Ms. Jazzhead. Why anyone trusted the incompetent department to pick the new hire, I'll never know. She's yet another employee we had no say in hiring; another strong personality to try to accommodate. And she is putting me over the edge. Have I mentioned that all of this is happening in a windowless room shared by up to 6 people, with only one point of exit/entry?

Under other circumstances, Ms Jazzhead would be tolerable. But given the constant struggle we've been in with her department for the past few months, I think her eccentricities have become just one more example of the overall inconvenience this merger has been. I'm calling her Ms. Jazzhead because she declared one day "I'm so excited to have access to the University Library because I'm kinda a Jazzhead." No further explanation. I was able to infer on my own that she must like jazz music and is looking forward to checking out new music from the library.

She says random stuff like that all the time:

"Is anyone allergic to lilacs? (This is as she is walking in the room at 8:00 AM) I picked some lilacs on the way here. They make great hair flowers."

Indeed, she often wears flowers in her hair to work.

"Anyone want some cheese? (Again, at 8AM) This is my favorite cheddar."

Today I saw her pick her nose three times, at one point bringing her blouse to her face to wipe it. I'm never using the computer keyboard she was using again. There a box of Kleenex on my desk. For the love of God, help yourself.

She was wearing her headphones and no doubt listening to jazz and was bouncing in her seat to the music. Not nodding her head to the beat, but full-on chair dancing. There were glutes involved. And she is simultaneous silently scatting along with music, mouthing "Ba da da da, bah boom!" and hitting an imaginary high hat. I couldn't take it.

Another thing about this girl, every time she eats, it is as if its the first time she's eaten in a week. She scarfs her food like she's ravenous. My boss said that in the middle of meetings, she asks people if she can have some of their food. Whenever she comes over here for training, she eats any communal food that is laying around. I was watching her eat and I couldn't stand it, she wiggles her nose while she rips into the food like a predator. She looks like a rabid bunny.

I know I'm going straight to hell for feeling this way, and for sharing it here.

Tori Amos has this song called "The Waitress." The song opens with this verse:

*******************************

So I want to kill this waitress

She's worked here a year longer than I

If I did it fast you know that's an act of kindness

**********************************

She sings later in the song:

********************************

I want to kill this waitress

I can't believe this violence in mind

And is her power all in her club sandwich

********************************

I heard Tori Amos interviewed about the song once and she said it is about wanting to kill this co-worker (they are both waitresses). And she feels simultaneously guilty about feeling so violent towards another woman, while resenting the Waitress for making her feel that way, and astounded by the power this woman has over her.

I had a moment of clarity yesterday where I realized that Ms. Jazzhead is my Waitress.

And for the rest of the afternoon, I tried to calm myself down by singing the refrain over and over in my head:

************************

But I believe in peace

I believe in peace Bitch

I believe in peace

************************

I also stopped at Savers on the way home and bought this cute mushroom pin for 3 dollars. That helped.

Ratty Boom-Batties!

2008-06-12T20:29:00.006-05:00

Hopefully, Pfunk and I aren't the only ones that think adopting rats from the Humane Society is a swell idea. Turns out there is an overabundance of rats up for adoption at the Minnesota Animal Humane Society right now. It made the Star Tribune today (Thanks to ChineseTwine for the heads up on the article). Check out the "Small & Furry" Adoptees here.

I'm not sure if this is Falafel or Tabouli peeking out of Pfunk's hood.

Tabouli, continuing to use the Freshie bowl for any purpose other than food storage.

The joys of motherhood

2008-06-09T19:53:00.010-05:00

For those of you that may have missed the blog entry introducing the rat babies, it can be read here.

Now that you're all caught up on the awesome warm fuzzies, I can dive into our dilemma. It started last week when Pfunk and I staged a major odor intervention. The awesome cage that Kelsey gave us has two levels. The rats love it and end up hanging out on the upper level most of the time. The only potential problem with the upper level is that it has a wire floor, which can cause a foot infection called bumblefoot. So Paige and I bought plastic placemats and cut them to size to fit the upper level. We then put cardboard over the mats.

This worked fine for a couple weeks until Falafel built a nest in one of the corners of the upper level. She hung out in the nest a lot, and took to both peeing and sleeping in that corner. Since Tabouli likes to do what Falafel does, she was hanging out there too. Pretty soon the rats, the cage and the apartment started smelling like pee. The pee would pool up in that corner and didn't have a chance to dry before she was already sitting in it. So much for the books that said rats won't "eliminate" and sleep in the same corner.

Hence the intervention. We ditched the solid plastic mats (and wet cardboard) entirely, re-lining the upper level with plastic cross-stitch mats (recommended in a rat care book). The cross-stitch mats still protect from bumblefoot, but allow urine to drip through. We then installed a litter box on both levels. We installed the litter box on the upper level in the corner Falafel had been using because we read it helps to put the litter box in a corner already used as a toilet. We also read that it helps when litter training rats to put the litter box in a corner and occupy all the other corners with other things. So "downstairs" in the cage, we have a litter box, nesting house, food dish and water bottle in each of the 4 corners.

We then gave the rats baths and introduced them to their newly reconfigured cage. Five days later, the cage definitely smells better than it did. BUT, there have been a few glitches. First, the rats chewed up the corners of the cross-stitch mats in less than 24 hours (see below). They don't seem to be ingesting the plastic, just chewing, but I worry they will eventually chew themselves into this small island that is safe from bumblefoot, surrounded by a sea of treacherous wire floor. Secondly, they don't seem to be taking to the litter boxes. I did what the literature said and placed as many "raisins" and wet bedding into the litter boxes as I could to help them make the connection. We also bought different litter for the boxes than the litter/bedding we use on the bottom floor in hopes that would help.

But Falafel just seems to want to reclaim that corner as her own. She sits in the litter box, just hanging out, not going to the bathroom. One day she took the pieces of litter (they look like little pebbles) in her mouth one by one and tossed them overboard. I put the litter back in. The next day, I'd see her kicking the litter out of the box with her hind legs. Again, I put the litter back, figuring she'd catch on eventually. When I came home and find any "raisins" outside the box, I toss them back in. We tried putting the rats in the litter box if we caught them going outside the box, but I'll admit that's been hard to actually do.

But today Falafel staged a full fledged mutiny while we were at work. I came home and found all of the litter on the floor outside of the cage, or elsewhere in the cage, just a few pebbles actually still in the litter box, rolling around pathetically. I took a photo of the litter strewn floor, emailed it to Pfunk with the subject line: "Falafel's verdict". Inside the email it said, "Falafel's verdict on the litter box? A big 'Fuck you!'".

Oh yeah, I almost forgot. While they are not using the litter box, someone (I suspect Tabouli) has been peeing in the Freshie bowl (the food dish we put fresh fruits and vegetable in).

So anyone in cyberspace have any advice? Are our expectations too high? Falafel and Tabouli are only two months old and we've only had them a few weeks. So we are still getting to know and trust each other. Any tricks that have worked for you? Maybe they are bored? We have a wodent wheel and igloos currently en route to our home to help with that.

There was a lot going on at the corner of Lagoon and Hennepin

2008-06-08T22:58:00.004-05:00

Sitting a red light today, Pfunk started giggling to herself.

Me: What's making you laugh, the big guy in the Superman shirt?

Pfunk: Nope.

Me: The old lady wearing the babushka?

Pfunk: Nope.

Me: The guy on the clown bike*?

Pfunk: Nope.

Me: The man in the Sherlock Holmes hat?

Pfunk: yep!

*A few blocks back I'd noticed a man riding a bike whose seat was way too low for him, causing me to comment that it looked like he was riding a clown bike. He caught up to us at the red light.

This is what happens when I forget my cell phone...

2008-06-06T17:04:00.007-05:00

On my way home from work everyday, I almost always call someone and chat on my way home. I hadn't realized how much of a habit this had become until I forgot my phone at home this morning and realized it would just me and *gasp* my thought in the car for a half hour this afternoon. Somehow I ended up thinking about a baseball cap.

My girlfriend's dad recently went to a food/beverage convention in Vegas for his business and brought us back matching baseball caps. On the cap, there is a hot pink stop sign on the front that says "Warning: Girls Grilling." The side of the cap says "Grill Friends" (which looks suspiciously like Girl Friends). We thought they were kind of cute and funny, but were somewhat baffled as to why he got them for us. Especially when we found out he BOUGHT the hats. I'd assumed at first that they were free convention swag.

When friends came by our apartment recently, one of the hats was sitting out and I found myself joking about Paige's dad, making a comment along the lines of "I'm not sure what he was thinking, when would we ever wear these?".

It is a legitimate question. Neither of us wear baseball caps all that often. We hardly ever wear pink (in fact, I'd put Pfunk in the "never" category when it comes to pink). And we don't own grill. Even if we wanted to, we have no balcony or backyard to grill in.

But my flip remark about the caps ignored the excitement that he had when he gave them to us. Something about the hats made him think of us. I suppose there are two ways to interpret the "Warning: Girls Grilling" message. You could see it as sexist in the sense that grilling is seen as a man thing and therefore a woman would obviously mess it up. So you'd need advanced warning to steer clear. OR, the message could be viewed along the lines of the "You Go Girl!" pop-feminism. Stand back men, these sisters are doing for themselves. I know the hats were made, and Pfunk's dad intended the hats to be received in, the spirit of the later interpretation.

Thinking about that made me see the gift in a whole new light. I'm not really a Spice Girls "Girl Power" kind of gal. But he's trying. I remember early on in our relationship, Pfunk's dad referred to something I'd said as "man-hating." I honestly can't remember the specifics anymore, but something I'd said or done caused him to react that way. It sounds silly and maybe I'm reading too much into this, but I'm really starting to see this silly cap as validation of Pfunk and Me and our life together. We are very independent DIYers. To some degree, all lesbians have to be. There will never be a man in our house to assume the role of master griller or anything other historically “male” chore (not that I’m so naïve as to think all straight women in the year 2008 are relying on men to grill for them).

I realize now I want to focus on all the things Pfunk’s dad got right when we picked out those hats for us, not what he got “wrong.” This isn’t the first time I’ve humored a family member’s fumbled attempt to accept my sexual orientation. Why focus on the fumble when the whole point is they’re trying to show acceptance? Shortly after my sister starting dating the man that is now my brother-in-law, she got a taste of what it is like to come out when she told him she has a lesbian sister. I get the feeling he and his family hadn’t been around many gay people before me. Well, somewhere along the way, he heard about the phenomenon of lesbian softball players. A stereotype (like many) that has some truth to it, but that doesn’t apply to me. I did synchronized swimming in high school, possibly as far from softball as one can get. The closest I’ve been to a softball player is when I dated one in college and would read feminist theory in the bleachers when she and the team warmed up. But when my brother-in-law got me a “Chicago Women’s Softball” tee-shirt, I was totally tickled by his effort, not put off by the fact it wasn’t something I’d have chosen for myself. I wore it with pride until Pfunk, an actual softball player, claimed it as her own.

Sometimes accepting those fumbled attempts can be challenging. I remember very early on after coming out, I told my mom I was dating a woman for the first time. She said, “I’m so glad you found a favorable companion”. It was all I could do to not burst out laughing!! Gays will admit that we still haven’t settled on what to call our significant others. Girlfriend, wife, spouse, partner, significant other: it is hard to know when to use what term. Sometimes none of the terms seem satisfactory. But to have laughed at my mom in that moment would have been to ignore the positive message she was delivering, not to mention hurt her feelings and perhaps dissuade her from trying again.

But seriously, "Favorable Companion"? I don’t think that phrase will ever catch on in any community.

Here's what I wrote...

2008-06-05T10:00:00.003-05:00

...to a friend in Michigan today after sending her photos from the Obama Rally in St. Paul on Tuesday. Yes, I went and I got in! That is one among several blog entries I need to write.

"I really battled about whether to caucus for Obama or Clinton. I ended up caucusing for Obama, albeit hesitantly at first. A lot of my lesbian/feminist friends are/were for Hillary. I couldn't help but feel like I was somehow betraying the sisterhood by not backing the first woman with a legitimate shot at the Presidential nomination. :-) I'd love to see a woman as President, but ultimately decided gender couldn't be the sole deciding factor in who (whom?) I gave my support to. Once I took gender out of the equation, I settled on Obama as the better candidate for me.

Some of Clinton's actions in the campaign before and since the Minnesota Caucus have only reinforced my decision to go with Obama. She misled voters in Iowa and New Hampshire on Obama's record on pro-choice issues, an issue she and Obama agree on. She stirred up smoke where there was no fire to get votes. There are plenty of policies, like healthcare, that they have differing opinions on that she could've campaigned on. But she used scare tactics instead. Basically, when Obama was an Illinois Sate Senator, he voted "present" (rather than yes or no) on 7 votes regarding choice. Hillary tried to use that voting record to imply that Obama is weak on choice. What she neglected to say was that Obama voted "present" at the urging of Illinois Planned Parenthood as a strategy. Here's an article on that if you are interested.

The former head of Chicago's N.O.W. chapter actually switched support from Clinton to Obama after being forwarded a Clinton campaign mailing that went out to pro-choice NH voters. Here's her Youtube video on the matter.

And then Clinton made a remark about Farrakhan being connected to Obama's church. Again, scare tactics. And then the remark about Robert Kennedy's assassination as a reason for staying in the race. That is when she really lost me!

Of course, neither of them support gay marriage. I understand to a degree that they are playing the political game with the "marriage not ok, civil unions ok" platform, but it is still disappointing.

I'm just grateful I had the choice! You Michiganders must be so frustrated to not have had both candidates on the ballot for your primary (another questionable move by Hillary).

Even if I had been a Clinton supporter, I think I still would have gone to the Obama Rally on Tuesday. I felt part of history in the making being there. It was energizing to be with 17,000 people cheering him on (and another 15,000 watching outside that couldn't make it in the arena).

One last rant. It is one thing for Clinton not to have conceded the race on Tuesday. It is another thing to still be holding onto the quest to get the presidential nomination while simultaneously vying for V.P. I think she's put Obama in an awkward position: If he chooses Clinton as his V.P., he could be accused of cow-towing to pressure. Plus he'll have to explain how after months of saying he'd do a better job as President, he now thinks she is worthy of being V.P. But if he doesn't choose her, he could be accused of not trying to unite the party (when she's the one seemingly not uniting the party by not conceding). Sigh."

Introducing...

2008-06-04T15:06:00.014-05:00

...the newest members of our household: Our pet rats, Falafel and Tabouli.

After dogsitting for Paige's parents' dogs for a week, I started to crave a small furry being of my own. Cats were out in that I'm allergic and the last cat I owned was a bloodthirsty psycho hosebeast. Dogs are out because they aren't allowed in my building. And even if they were, it would be cruel to have a dog in an apartment so small.

So that pretty much left rodents. We eventually narrowed it down to either a guinea pig or two rats. We went to our humane society "just to look" and came home with two 8-week-old female hooded rats. Luckily, Kelsey had already given us her rat cage, rightfully sensing that we were probably going to get a rodent or two sooner than later. The girls were born into a foster home as part of an unexpected/unwanted litter and had been at the humane society for a month, so they are sisters. They were already living in a cage together and seemed to get along because they were taking a nap together under a tube when we arrived. They'd been named Doc and Snow White, but we knew we wouldn't keep those names. The one we now know as Tabouli is the one that sold us on the pair. She was curious, willing to come out of the cage and didn't bite. Falafel was a bit more skittish and nibbled on our fingertips a bit. But we knew we wanted to get two because rats are very social animals and figured we might as well get two that seemed to get along well.

Turns out first impressions may not last. Falafel is the dominant one and more outgoing. Tabouli tends to follow Falafel around, even thought Falafel sometimes pees on her and steals her treats. Occasionally, Tabouli does get fed up with Falafel bullying behavior and we catch her sitting on Falafel's head. Falafel more readily comes out of the cage for playtime. Tabouli is harder to get out of the cage and is more likely to try to hide in your shirt, sleeve or hood. Tabouli can be bold though, as she has the surprising habit of leaping between Pfunk and me when we are holding her. Falafel's initial skittishness at the shelter may not have had so much to do with her personality, as the fact that the rodents were housed in the same room as cats that were available for adoption. Which just seemed cruel to both parties involved. The rodents are constantly afraid of becoming lunch and the cats are constantly tormented by the tempting rodents over yonder. I'd say that was my only complaint about the humane society. Overall, our experience at the humane society was positive. They'd already been examined by a vet once in the shelter and we got a free visit with a shelter-recommended vet (provided we go within 14 days of the adoption, which we did).

We came up with the names on the way home. I told Pfunk about a short story I heard on This American Life about hamsters named Donut and Danish. I thought they were cute names, but didn't necessarily want to copy them. So we tried thinking up other cute food names that go together. I eventually blurted out "Falafel and Tahini." Pfunk suggested Tabouli instead of Tahini and we had our names before the car was even home from the shelter. The names have been a big hit, even with those that aren't too keen on the idea of rats. In fact, most people seem to find rats a questionable choice when we tell them about the adoption. My mom, Pfunk's mom and my sister all shudder at the sight of their "wormy" or "snake-like" tails. My friend Meghan that lives in Brooklyn said, "Maybe it is a New York thing, but I can't imagine wanting rats in my apartment." So we've been doing a lot of educating people on the differences between city/sewer rats and domesticated rats. Domesticated rats are smart, clean and smaller than feral rats. They groom themselves all the time, especially after us dirty human beings have held them. They can learn their names and to come when called and can be litter boxed trained.

Not everyone has winced at the rats. Kelsey is a big rat fan as is Pfunk's sister. I introduced the rats to my 2 year old nephew over webcam. He was very interested in the girls. My parents told me later that time I had the rats on the screen was the longest he'd sat still all day. A lot of people ask how we tell them apart. The main way we tell them apart is Falafel has a big blobbly spot on her back. Tabouli's spots on her back are smaller. They are both hooded rats, but Falafel has a "traditional" hoodie while Tabouli has a "zip-up" hoodie (she has a small white stripe running from her chin down her neck - her zipper). Tabouli also has a small spot on her belly that Falafel doesn't have.

We've already had some adventures. I'm far too trusting of the rats, resulting in one of them getting loose in the apartment on three different occasions. The first time it was Tabouli. She was freaked; I was freaked. It took me an hour to get her back in the cage and required moving most of the furniture in the living room. We also took them to the vet, where one side of the waiting room was labeled "cats," the other "dogs." I wondered aloud where the rat section was. We ended up in dogs, since cats seem the more natural enemy of rats. They were a big hit at the vet, I think simply because they see so few rodents in comparison to felines and canines. They were given a clean bill of health and Falafel only pooped on the Dr twice. Our most recent adventure was giving them baths. We staged a major invention last week. We completely remodeled the set up of their cage because we were having some odor issues. The last step of the intervention was baths. We washed them with baby shampoo in a bowl of lukewarm water. The bowl was in the bathtub, as was Pfunk, bless her heart. By the time we were done, she was completely soaked!

Good Grief!

2008-05-27T07:41:00.005-05:00

Had a great holiday weekend. Good times were had. A BBQ at Jess's, yummy lunch at Good Earth, drag show at the 90s, saw Indiana Jones with friends, avoided tornadoes (other parts of MN weren't so lucky), dinner and dessert with Kelsey and Leaf and spent some quality time with Pfunk and our new rat babies!

We even took some time to give the apartment a thorough scrubbing. I tackled the bathroom while Pfunk did the kitchen, living room and bedroom. I know it doesn't seem fair, but I was really going to town on that bathroom (I mopped the ceiling for crying out loud). It took me as long to do the bathroom as it did for her to do the rest of the apartment.

After a great weekend, it was difficult to want to go back to work this morning. This feeling was reinforced by the fact that I really didn't sleep well last night. I woke up almost every hour all night. I hit snooze as many times as I could possibly justify and the first thing I did upon waking up was prepare a pot of coffee. Left the kitchen to get ready. Came back into the kitchen with dreams of relaxing with a cup of coffee and the internet for ten minutes before I had to leave for work.

When I saw it.

A river of coffee cascading down the countertop, the side of a cabinet and onto the floor where it was centimeters from making its way under the fridge. Fuck! Pfunk's pristine kitchen tainted and my relaxing ten minutes gone! I have a coffee maker that can either fill 2 travel mugs or a regular pot with coffee. So it has this double spout where the coffee drips from. Only one of the spouts was actually making it into the pot. Fuck!

Half a roll of paper towels later, I had mopped up the coffee off the floor before it reached the abyss under the fridge and thought my coffee catastrophe was remedied. That's when I realized that coffee had not only been running over the top of the cabinet door, but also under the cabinet door into the cabinet itself. What do I keep in said cabinet? Dishes that are easily rinsed off? Of course not. No, it is where I keep my art supplies. Fuck!

At first I thought the coffee was only on the very edge of the top shelf. Realized pretty quickly it was soaking a bunch of materials, including paper and books, on both shelves. Everything on both shelves had to be taken out (getting coffee on the floor I had just finished cleaning). At which point I ran out of paper towels and discovered my girlfriend had moved the extra paper towels when she was cleaning and I had no idea where they were. I think it was at this point that I actually threw a temper tantrum. I literally clenched my fists and jumped up and down while screaming "Fuck. Are you fucking kidding me?!?".

After my little pity party, I got my wits about me. I remembered there were more paper towels in the linen closet. I threw away the really soggy stuff and tossed the rest in the sink to sort through later. Everything else was strewn about the floor and kitchen table while I left the cabinets open to air out. I kissed Pfunk goodbye, who had wisely stayed in bed despite waking up from the sound of my curses. I implored her to ignore the state of the kitchen with promises that I'd take care of it after work, and left for the office.

Not a great start to what is essentially a Monday morning given that yesterday was Memorial Day.

One bonus to this whole fiasco: In the midst of hurling my art supplies willy nilly across the kitchen, I uncovered some 21 Jumpstreet trading cards mixed with with some paper. As it turns out, Pfunk just ordered Season One of 21 Jumpstreet off of Netflix. So I stuck the trading cards on the inside of her locker as a surprise.

I don't claim to be a great writer...

2008-05-19T08:58:00.005-05:00

...but I think I could do better than CNN.com's Mallory Simon managed to do with this sentence:

"Personal trainer and fitness expert Robert Dothard said making exercise available and enjoyable in your home means reaching an audience of people who often feel embarrassed walking in to a traditional gym for fear of being embarrassed." (italics added) Jigga what?

Entire article here.

Update: The sentence has been corrected to read "who often feel embarrassed walking into a traditional gym."

I'm so tired of working with this ignoramus, I can't even tell you.

2008-05-16T11:35:00.003-05:00

Monday afternoon, when someone in my office brought up the rising death toll in the aftermath of the earthquake in China, not only had one of my coworkers heard nothing about it, her response upon hearing some details of the tragedy was, "Well, that country is overpopulated anyways."

This is coming from someone who majored in International Studies and hopes to start a grad program in International Leadership.

If you are interested in hearing a story about the China Earthquake that actually exhibits some fucking compassion and understanding of the scope of the devastation, might I suggest listening to this report from NPR's Melissa Block.

Pfunk and I's latest crafty project: Wall Mounted Friends

2008-05-15T10:01:00.006-05:00

Inspired by a project we saw at a recent craft show, Pfunk and I set out to create trophy-style wall mount "animals" for the entryway to our apartment. The end result is similar to what we saw at the show, but not the same. It was fun, cheap and easy project.

Materials:
Plastic/Rubber Toys (Thrift Store) - 29-69 cents/ea
Wooden plaques (Craft store) - $1-2/ea
Acrylic Paints (Craft store) - 50 cents/bottle
Cutting implements (kitchen scissors, serrated saw or knife)
Hot Glue Gun & Glue
Hangers (for back of wooden wall mount)
Nails for hanging!
Crown shaped bead for "Frog Prince" (optional)

Steps:
1) Attach wall hangers to the back of each plaque.
2) Paint each plaque with several coats of paint.
3) Cut each toy where you want to mount it, careful to keep surface as flat as possible
4) Apply hot glue to back of toy - you may need to get creative because toys tend to be hollow, so not much surface to work with. 5) Hold toy in place while glue dries (we then let ours set overnight before hanging)
6) Hang!

Easy come, easy go!

2008-05-15T09:36:00.004-05:00

My $600 stimulus money was posted to my checking account Tuesday. Wednesday, my landlord finally got around to cashing my May rent check of $575. Whatta joke! I know the $600 is still extra money, but seeing those two transactions side by side can't help but make me feel like I only made out with 25 bucks. Maybe I'll use the $25 on a couple bottles of gin and hole up in my apartment in a drunken stupor until we have a new President. This whole stimulus thing is a freaking joke anyways. There is a great blog, How I Spent my Stimulus, that is worth checking out. I'll probably post to it once I figure out how I want to spend the money. Current contenders: credit card bill, plane ticket to Detroit, pet rodent adoption fee, MPR membership, Obama campaign donation, private purchase of some kind, medical bills or some combination thereof.

Guinea Pig wearing excellent kitty disguise!

2008-05-09T14:43:00.003-05:00

Found this on the MN Animal Humane Society website today:

Testing

2008-05-08T15:09:00.004-05:00

Blogger is really pissing me off at the moment (see effed up formatting and font size below) so I'm posting this test entry to see what happens. Talk amongst yourselves.

Graphic courtesy of CoryQ.

I's a huje nrd.

2008-05-08T14:44:00.017-05:00

After spending WAY too much time looking at LOLcats the past couple of days, I suddenly broke out in lolspeak last night, much to Pfunk's initial amusement (but ultimate chagrin). Here's a sample of the types of things I was saying as we ran errands and hit the DQ.

On the way to Petsmart:

At Petsmart:

In DQ Drive-thru:

With DQ in hand:

You'd be surprised the overlap between purple, maroon and brown.

2008-05-07T15:05:00.006-05:00

I was on the designsponge blog last Friday, reading about a DIY bookshelf project. I wasn't interested in making the shelves, but was intrigued by how the books in the example photo were arranged by color. I decided, with the help of Pfunk, to try it at home.

Before: arranged by subject.

After: Arranged by color

We decided it was best not to put them on the shelf in ROYGBIV order, given that we're gay. This recategorization was already scoring high on the dork scale and having a gay pride bookshelf would've put it over the top. It's a little hard for my brain to get used the idea that the photo albums are mixed in with actual books, that all the arts and crafts books aren't together, the books I bought while on study abroad aren't together, etc. It's a good thing that my book sets like Lord of the Rings and Little House on the Prairie are all the same color, so they could at least stay together. It would've been hard to split up the Harry Potter books since each one is a different color. Luckily, I have the Potter box set and I keep it somewhere else (and even if I did keep it on the bookshelf, its in a brown box and could've been kept in the "brown" section). Overall, I found the effect pleasing. This way, Stephen Colbert and Margaret Atwood get to be neighbors. That wouldn't have happened before.

Pfunk to the rescue

2008-05-06T20:06:00.006-05:00

Pfunk and I were on our way to pick up Chinesetwine for the HOTB MayDay Parade when Pfunk yelled, "PULL OVER NOW! PUPPY!". There was a teacup Yorkie sprinting down Excelsior Blvd in St. Louis Park (a busy street). I pulled over and followed the little one down an alley into a parking lot behind a shop. Pfunk leapt out of the car and called the Yorkie over. She approached Pfunk, but when she tried to pick her up, she started to run away. Pfunk was on her knees and lunged for the puppy rather than let her get away. The dog was wearing a pink jacket and rhinestone collar, but no tags. While I was finding a better place to park the car, Pfunk took her back to Excelsior Blvd, where she found the owner quickly.

The owner of the Yorkie was also the owner of a shop on the street and was really nonchalant about the whole thing. I think he thought the dog had just wandered out of the shop and Paige happened to scoop him up right outside his door as she strolled by. In reality, two other people had also stopped because they were worried about the dog. Another guy pulled his car over and a woman came over from her yard.

The best part of the whole event, other than the rescue itself, was what the woman from the yard had to say about what was going through her mind when she saw this tiny dog running down the street: "At first I thought it was a bunny, but then I realized that bunnies don't wear pink sweaters."

Quotes of the Day

2008-05-06T19:40:00.007-05:00

"A monkey threw up on my head."

"I'm glad we live inland because Seattle's fucked."

First, the monkey. I remember parts of two dreams from this morning. In the first, I was home in Ann Arbor (I think for the holidays) when I ended up at a get-together at someone's home. A guy I haven't seen since high school was there. I took him to a Sadie Hawkins dance my junior year. A creepy counselor from my high school church youth group was also there. Someone asked if I had a boyfriend. My mom appeared out of nowhere and volunteered that I didn't have a boyfriend, "at the moment," effectively putting me in the closet. Not something she would normally do in real life, but it was a dream. Who knows what that was all about. The details of the second dream are a lot fuzzier (no pun intended). All I know is that there were a bunch of monkeys. I was laying on my back when a monkey climbed on me and vomited on my face and neck. It was warm and wet. The first thing I told Pfunk this morning is that I dreamt a monkey threw up on my head. She was like, "Okay," rolled over, and went back to sleep.

The second quote comes from Pfunk. For random reasons not worth going into here, she had a day off of work today. Which was probably a good thing in that she is still not feeling well. Plus we are dog-sitting her parents' dachshunds, so she could chill at home with the pups. The only drawback is she watched way too much TV and was all hyped up about the Tsunami that will drown the West Coast when there's a major earthquake in the Pacific Ocean. I told her she is no longer allowed to watch the Discovery Channel unsupervised.

Update! Awesome image courtesy of CoryQ.

Make your own "motivational" poster here.

Where my "227" viewers at?

2008-05-02T15:27:00.007-05:00

So we had a training in another building today and on the way out the door, one of my co-workers asked if anyone knew the room number where the training was.

"227, like the TV show," I said.

None of them knew what I was talking about! Please tell me there are some people out there that remember 227. It was show about the residents of an apartment building. The address number was 227.

I used to call my college roommate "Pearl," after the feisty and nosey old lady on 227 who was always at her window talking to passersby. We lived on the ground floor of a dorm my roommate would lean out the window and talk to people as they walked by.

Perhaps an "I love my lesbian aunt" t-shirt as a birthday gift to combine the two celebrations? :-)

2008-05-02T13:26:00.006-05:00

I informed my mom yesterday that the birth of my nephew may have inadvertently created a lifelong conflict of interest. Well, not so much a conflict in interest as competing interests. His due date was July 27th (his mom - my sister's b-day), but came almost a month early on June 29th. So it always going to make sense to have his birthday parties the last weekend in June, especially given that waiting longer will invariably bump up against 4th of July travels and festivities. Problem is, Twin Cities Gay Pride is always the last weekend in June. So when I'm in Chicago on June 28th for his 2nd birthday party, I'll be missing Pride for, you guessed it, the second year in a row! It's not like I think Jackson showed up early just to spite his lesbian auntie, but Auntie Paige and I were joking that we wished he'd baked just a little longer. My sister getting pregnant and giving birth and the resulting birthday parties is just another example of heterosexual privilege winning out over gay rights! That last statement was a sarcastic, by the way. I freaking love my nephew. But I do enjoy parts of Pride and wish I didn't have to choose. But now grandma is aware of the conflict and says we can plan around it in the future. Yay for loving open-minded grammies and my nephew growing up in a family that supports a straight mom and a gay aunt and both their partners.

Google searches as insight into Smitty's life

2008-04-28T10:43:00.007-05:00

So you know how when you type any letter or combination of letters into a Google tool bar search box, there is immediately a drop down menu of all your own searches that match (which is then followed by the most overall popular searches using those letters)? I decided to type every single letter of the alphabet into my Google tool bar at work and log my top five searches under each letter. What does it say about me? That I listen to a lot of NPR for one. I've color coded my searches into the following categories:

Trying to hear something on NPR, or following up on something I heard

CoryQ related searches

I have no idea why I was looking this up

Hey! I actually looked something up for work!

My attempt to get at the correct meaning or spelling of something.

Other things on the internet made me wanna look this up.

Keeping up on Current events

Looking up stuff for life outside of work.

No discenrable category - aka what's leftover.

amc theaters showtimes

abc debate obama clinton

april 16 debate

auto glass minneapolis

ann arbor civic theater

be a brit different

bryant park project

bruised rib

bruised rib pain

bravo tv

Car Talk

Cribsheet twin cities

College of St. Catherine

Chimera

Comcast Cable

Double Dare Nickelodeon

Dane Cook Speak and Spell

Design Sponge

Dane Cook

Daniel Holcomb minnesota

examinate

ellen gay boy killed

endymion krewe

electric fetus

eating on fat tuesday

festifools ann arbor

ftm thomas beattie

ftm message board

ftm

ftm support

genuine

guillermo vargas habacuc

geep

green eggs and ham

girl scout cookie names

Highway 61 MN

human chimera

hognose snake plays dead

hognosed snake

hallmark

i hate bryant park project

ijustine

imageshack

improv everywhere

internet is affecting my quality of life

jake gyllenhaal reese witherspoon

javanese food

javanese mountain dish

jamaican bobsled team pictures

judge maggie cammer

kdwb

kate moennig

kare11 news

kimya dawson

ksw scientology

l word alice tattoo disappearing

leisha hailey tattoo

leisha hailey tattoo removal

lawrence king

larry brandon gay 8th grader

macac

mn public radio

moxie salon minneapolis

medium

monkey river town

nordic inn crosby mn

ncaa basketball picks

north pole

nomad bar mn

no such thing as a clean break

obama verus clinton

obama or clinton

other people's stories

operating heavy machinery

one shot too many

Privilege

postcards from yo mama

pulmonary embolism

photoshop disasters

prairie dog meme

Q. I had no personal searches starting with "Q"

radio lab

reuse center minneapolis

rosie o'donnell

randy paush oprah

river heights charter school

Steven

slush girl

star parker

stamping minneapolis

sally kern

truck nuts

tim e woodsman

tila tequila

twin chimera

thomas beattie pregnant man

ugly shirt boston proper

uber alles

utah phillips

universal health care versus single payer

university club st. paul mn

V. (I only had 4 personal searches under "V')

Valvex

Valvex root of name

verichip

very cold temperature glass

william carlos williams just to say

women's colleges in the us

wagner's ring cycle

wordpress

wentworth south dakota

X. (None)

Y. (None)

zomg

zoloft

zoloft and dizziness

Quotes of the Day

2008-04-26T21:06:00.004-05:00

After telling my chiropractor all about the attack thermos and resulting bruised rib, she asked me, "Where does it hurt the most?". I pointed to a spot between my breasts, just to the left of my sternum. She pulls out this medieval torture device. Some kind of spring-loaded metal instrument that punches your displaced rib back into place. She proceeds to repeatedly use said device to sucker punch me repeatedly in the spot I just pointed out. To which I replied, "Mother fucker! I hate you!".

Paige is sick, plus it is 30 degrees and snowing, so we've been watching movies all afternoon. I fell asleep during Jesus Camp and woke up in time for Into the Wild. Two hours into the movie, Paige said, "When is he just going to die already?".

I have a thermos-shaped indent in my side...

2008-04-21T21:35:00.002-05:00

...and it smarts! I bought a fancy new thermos while vacationing in TN. It sat on the shelf for a month until I left my insulated coffee mug at work one day and needed to put my coffee into something the next morning. Turns out that the thermos keeps the coffee warmer longer and using the thermos cap as a cup has a dainty feel to it, like using a Japanese tea cup. So I've ditched the insulated mug entirely. So perhaps it isn't surprising that when walking back from a staff meeting on Friday, my brain told my arm to clutch the Thermos tighter under my arm instead of dropping in the mud when I lost my footing. Long story short, in a spectacular fall that involved running about 5 more steps after the initial trip, all the while still falling, I fell on the thermos that was tucked under my left arm like a football (my hands were full), such that there's a visible bruise on my ribcage and my sternum aches with every hiccough, sneeze or random movement. But the thermos went unscathed. It is a pretty awesome thermos afterall.

Sometimes NPR becomes a parody of itself

2008-03-27T14:26:00.002-05:00

I heard this story yesterday on my way home from work.

I screwed up the HTML on this post and can't be bothered to fix it.

2008-03-20T10:31:00.012-05:00

Some things I've enjoyed on the interwebs recently....

Imogen Heap's "Thillercast" in honor of the 25th anniversary of Michael Jackson's Thiller album. Her story about trying to make "shiny trousers" is super cute.

Flickr. After a long hiatus of not posting any photos, I recently uploaded a bunch from my recent road trip. After a refresher course from CoryQ, I was able to determine that on Tuesday, someone did a tag search for "nipples" and ended up looking at my photo of Elvis and Priscilla's wedding attire.

Photoshop Disasters. Discovered via MJ.

Mugglenet.com's interview with Jim Dale, narrator of the U.S. and Canada editions of the Harry Potter audiobooks. The kids from Mugglenet aren't the best interviewers, but what Dale has to say is pretty interesting. You gotta love the story about how he came up with the voice for Dobby. (Episode 137)

Lastly, I'm just in love with Ellen Degeneres lately. She's recently talked about homophobia on her show, in the case of the murder Lawrence King (a story way under reported) and Sally Kern's anti-gay rant. In the process, she's introduced the stories to a much wider audience than would've heard about it otherwise. Her words about Larry were touching and she managed to educate while making people laugh when she called Kern's office. But it was this old clip from her show that had me laughing my butt off yesterday.

Weird weird dream

2008-03-20T10:16:00.005-05:00

I had a couple dreams the other morning. The first one is pretty fuzzy, but involved an extended wait at the dentist's office. The dentist was making all of his patients wash their faces with liquid Dial Soap. I waited close to two hours for my appointment, only to have the dentist announce he'd worked too many consecutive hours and he needed to take a nap. That's really all I remember of that dream.

Then I dreamt I was standing in my parents driveway in Michigan when the neighbor's dog from across the street came running over and attacked me, latching onto my left hand. I screamed for the neighbor to come get her dog off of me, but she just stood there watching. Finally she came over and the dog let go. I showed her my shredded hand and said, "Look what your dog did!."

She replied, "It's not even bleeding."

I said, "You know, I only hate you because you hated me first."

"I know," she replied.

WTF?

A little background on the dream. The neighbor is a real woman that lived across the street from parents for many years, but they moved last year. She had two dogs during that time, neither of which was the dog in the dream. She and her family were evangelical Christians. She was always very friendly to my face, but I always suspected she disapproved of me behind my back. I honestly don't know if my suspicions were valid, or based on assumptions about her beliefs. But I certainly didn't hate her.

A word of advice

2008-03-16T18:45:00.003-05:00

If you go to the Lagoon Cinema in Uptown Minneapolis to see "No Country for Old Men" and they tell you the move is in Theatre 1, don't assume the first room you come across is in fact Theatre 1. Because then your flakey self might glance at the sign for "City of Men" long enough to see the "C" and "Men," assume its the correct room, and then 15 minutes later find yourself wondering why a Cohen brother movie is in Portugese.

Luckily, the correct theatre was still showing previews when I realized my error.

Help

2008-03-05T13:12:00.002-06:00

My left eyelid has been twitching involuntarily on and off for a few days. Does anyone know any cures for this ailment? I personally think my symptoms are the result of an allergic reaction to going back to work after a week's vacation. The only cure may be to quit my job! But if you know any home cures, please let me know.

Blog entry and photos about the road trip to come!

Smooth Smitty strikes again

2008-02-18T14:11:00.004-06:00

In the last two months, one of Pfunk's grandmothers died from Alzheimer's disease and her other grandmother moved into assisted living.

When we decided to see a movie on Saturday, I nominated The Savages because I love Laura Linney and Philip Seymour Hoffman. All I knew about it was that they played humorously dysfunctional siblings. Little did I know that they play siblings that are humorously dysfunctional while moving their elderly father with dementia into a nursing home. I must've turned to her five times during the movie to say, "I'm sorry. Are you ok?".

And here I thought I could do no worse than the Garden State incident.

Pfunk, when your dog dies, what do you say we make a date to see Old Yeller?

I'd feel like a sheep, if the music wasn't so good.

2008-02-13T08:42:00.005-06:00

For weeks and weeks I've been seeing and hearing the name Bon Iver (a taken name based on the French for "Good Winter" - Bon Hiver) wherever I go. First, he made the front page of the Arts and Entertainment section of the Star Tribune. Later that week, My theatre coworker Jon told me he'd gone to a Bon Iver show and said how great it was (make that former worker as my last day at the theatre was Sunday!). Which meant a lot coming from Jon because he writes music reviews and goes to multiple shows a week. Then Bon Iver got song of the day on NPR. After a staff meeting at my University job, a coworker asked if I'd heard any good music lately and I mentioned that this name Bon Iver is following me wherever I go and it turns out that coworker went to high school with him. Then I watched the DFL Senate Debates on MPR (Al Franken, you're making it hard for me to root for you) and the next video in the MPR queue is Bon Iver's in studio performance from The Current. Then I open my Twin Cities Events email from The Onion yesterday and its urging me to go to Bon Iver's in store performance at Electric Fetus tonight. So I finally said, "All right already! I'll go, Jeez." So I'm going. And it looks like I'm hopping on the band wagon at just the right time because by looking at his Myspace page, this appears to be his last local show (he's from Wisconsin - close enough) before embarking on a nationwide tour. Favorite song so far? Skinny Love.

I promised.

2008-02-10T19:56:00.000-06:00

Met a fabulous British gay boy at Twilight the other night. When I told him the name of the University where I work, he exclaimed, "Oh Gawd! I met a student from there once. When I mentioned Machiavelli, he thought I was talking about an Italian wine! Promise me you'll get out of there at soon as you can!".

Road Trip!

2008-02-08T15:58:00.000-06:00

Anyone know any must-see sites in Nashville and/or Memphis? P-funk and I are going on a road trip and Tennessee is the destination. So far, Graceland and the Jack Daniels Distillery are on the list. And my Dad suggested the Bluebird Cafe.

What's a girl to do?

2008-02-05T15:21:00.000-06:00

The Minnesota Caucus starts in just about 3 hours and I'm still vacillating between Obama and Clinton (That's Rocco Bama to you, CoryQ). I'm frantically listening to debates and reading interviews and researching online looking for the perspective that is going to be the tipping point one way or another for me. Regardless, one of them will be getting my vote for President come November.

UPDATE (02/05/08 9:20 pm): I settled on a candidate and attended my caucus. I stayed for the elections of the Senate delagates and resolution proposals to the MN DFL party issues. It was inspiring to go to the caucus tonight. It was packed! Standing room only in the elementary school cafeteria. It was great to look around at my neighbors and see the great turnout. I've never participated in a caucus before, coming from a state (MI) that has primaries. Of course, Michigan democrats didn't really get a primary this year, but that's a whole other issue.

I called my parents to tell them about it. They knew I'd been wavering on who to cast my vote for. At one point, my dad said, "You don't have to tell us who you voted for if you don't want to, it's private." When I was little, my mom always took me with her when she voted and let me come into the booth with her. This was in the days where the booths had curtains and levers, which I loved. I know some places still use the old booths with the cloth drapery and manual levers, but I've never used one. I've always had the cardboard booth and the scantron ballot. I remember once accompanying my grandfather when he went to vote. When I tried to follow him into the cloaked booth, he scolded me harshly, telling me that his vote was private. He died when I was in second grade, and it is one of my strongest memories of him.

The caucus process can turn that whole idea of the private vote on it's head. It feels like democracy at its purest. The straw pull for the presidental race was private, like a primary. Had we had more nominees for senate delagates than we had allotted slots, we would've gone through the more traditional process of declaring what candidate you support and defending and debating that position to determine the number of delegates. We still had several debates and open votes on resolutions and precinct chair nominations. There were also several motions for changing the process itself to suit the needs of the precinct members in attendance. The whole idea had made me a little nervous going in, but it was also exciting. But I'm still not telling you who I voted for! At least not right now on the blog.

I live in Minneapolis Ward 6, Precinct 2. I am recounting these numbers from memory, so they may be a bit off. What I can tell you for certain is that just over 900 people voted, Obama's votes were in the 700s, Clintons in the 100s. The numbers for Kucinich, Edwards and Uncommitted are exact.

Obama 702
Clinton 186
Kucinich 6
Edwards 1
Uncommitted 7

Yikes.

2008-02-04T19:15:00.000-06:00

I have a co-worker that is trying to give Three-Thumbed Jenny a run for the money in the stupidity department. Apparently, until quite recently, said co-worker was walking around under the misconception that the man who has the potential to be the first African American President of the USA, was name Rocco Bama.

Things irritating me this week

2008-01-24T18:18:00.000-06:00

1) My upstairs neighbor
2) TruTech electronics

First, the neighbor.

Let me give you an idea of the setting of this story.

I live in an apartment building that is full of 20-30 somethings. That building is located in a city. By choosing to live in such a dwelling in such a location, I understood going in that I could expect a certain level of noise. Traffic outside, doors opening and closing at all hours, music that you may or may not like (shout out to the gay boy that lives beneath me and his Christina Aguilera remixes), amorous lovemaking, drunken revellry etc. These are all sounds I've tolerated, even enjoyed, in the time I've lived here. Knowing that my neighbor sometimes has too much to drink and can't get his key in the keyhole and cracks himself trying is funny, and makes me feel better when its my turn. In exchange for leaving my neighbors in peace, my noise has in turn been tolerated, be it my affection for Wizard Rock or when I had a cat that stood at the door crying anytime anyone walked through the hallway. I've only intervened once upon hearing something through the floor; when that something was a woman below me getting beaten by her boyfriend.

But alas, I find myself in a situation where this auditory understanding based on common sense and mutal respect is null and void: when it comes to the guy upstairs.

He has knocked on my door multiple times, each time between the hours of 12 and 3 AM, to ask me if my bathroom fan is on. I will concede two points: 1) the bathroom fans in my building are on the loud side. And by loud I mean loud for a fan, but not by definition loud. 2) I did indeed have my bathroom fan on the first time he knocked on my door at 3AM. These are the facts he's choosing to focus on, claiming that he can't sleep when he hears it.

These are my facts: 1) Fan motors create steady background noise, white noise. Not the kind of jarring, vacillating noise that is usually considered disruptive. 2) The time I did have the fan on, I was asleep in the bedroom that is adjacent to the bathroom with the fan in question. In my mind, if I can do it, he can do it too. 3)Ever since the one and only time I actually had the fan on, I've been careful not to out of respect for him, and tell him that when he comes back. 4) Continuing to knock on my door in the middle of the night and waking my ass up to tell me you can't sleep because of something I only did once and am no longer doing out of respect for you even though I believe I should be able to have my fan on whenever I want without it realistically bothering anybody makes me want to hate you. Because it either means you are rude and think your sleep is more important than anyone elses (he knocks on other people's doors too) or it means you're creepy and like knocking on the doors of women who live alone so you can see them in their Tinkerbell pajamas, and, to add insult to injury, watch their cat escape into the hallway.

I've tried ignoring him. But, while I can sleep through a fan, I can't sleep through someone knocking on the door repeatedly, until I answer. I finally mentioned it to the resident manager who said he'd talk to him about it.

I also told the story to a co-worker who suggested the guy might be mentally ill, which kinda made me feel bad for hating him so much if that is the case. Any thoughts are always appreciated in the comments section.

I guess I'll save my Trutech electronics rant for later.

Funny, cuz I recently sent away for information on interior design from some art and trade schools...

2008-01-17T22:24:00.001-06:00

Could an Internet quiz provide the confirmation I need to lead to new path in life? Perhaps. The interior design thing was quite the uncanny coincidence. But I must confess that the "stuck in a rut" part rung a bell too. And it couldn't be more wrong about the cooking...

You Are An ISFJ

The Nurturer
You have a strong need to belong, and you very loyal.A good listener, you excel at helping others in practical ways.In your spare time, you enjoy engaging your senses through art, cooking, and music.You find it easy to be devoted to one person, who you do special things for.
In love, you express your emotions through actions.Taking care of someone is how you love them. And you do it well!
At work, you do well in a structured environment. You complete tasks well and on time.You would make a good interior designer, chef, or child psychologist.
How you see yourself: Competent, dependable, and detail oriented
When other people don't get you, they see you as: Boring, dominant, and stuck in a rut

What's" Your Personality Type?

And his mama cried...

2008-01-17T21:48:00.000-06:00

Check out this video of my nephew rockin' out to The King. I like to give myself a little credit for this musical preference. I'm an Elvis fan and when Jack was born, I hauled ass from Minneapolis to Chicago to see him. At the tender age of 4 days, I sang him one of, if not his first, lullaby: In the Ghetto.

On a cold and gray Chicago mornin'

A poor little baby child is born

In the ghetto

Well, the Chicago and baby part were true even if the morning and ghetto part weren't.

"Oh, Mr. Banks. Sorry, I didn't see you... as hard as that is to believe"

2008-01-17T15:58:00.000-06:00

I was in the car the other day and found myself asking P-funk: Do you ever wonder if DJ Jazzy Jeff calls up Will Smith and says, "Will, we should totally do a reunion show on VH1. Salt N Pepa did it. I'm looking for comeback and bet you are too. Whatdoyasay?".

"Uh, well, I don't know. I was just in this movie, you may of heard of it, I Am Legend. It grossed $76.5 million the opening weekend alone. I mean, it was the biggest December opening since The Lord of the Rings. I'm not sure I need a comeback."

"This is what I'm talking about! Couldn't you hook me up with a part like you did with The Fresh Prince of Bel Air?".

"You think I should've had a bloodthirsty zombie infected with a genetically altered measles virus pick you up by your collar and throw you out of a house or something? I don't think so."

"C'mon man! Those were the goddamn days. I loved that bit with Uncle Phil!"

My nephew is a genius!

2007-12-28T20:31:00.001-06:00

Between when I last saw him in September and December, he learned so many things! He walks and speaks in two languages!

He says:
Mama
Dada
Ni-Ni (Night Night)
Up (Which can either mean pick me up or put me down. Basically, move me now)
Open
Ball
I know there are other words he knows, but he says these consistently.

He can use sign language to say:
Eat
Milk
More
Done

When you say "High Five" he gives you a high five.
When you say "Bye bye" he blows kisses. This works whether you are actually saying goodbye or singing the Nsync song.

His favorite book is a Dora the Explorer boardbook, even though he's never seen the show. But he also enjoyed the school bus book when I said "Beep Beep" and poked him in the stomach.

He started this adorable thing where if he wants to sit in your lap he'll walk up to within a foot of you, turn around and slowly reverse backwards into your lap.

He is excellent at ripping off wrapping paper and throwing the paper. And then abandoning the new toy to play with tupperware.

He is also quite skilled at pretending the foam stick give away from the Michigan Basketball game is a sword and stabbing his aunt with the stick. This activity is especially enjoyable if she screams and acts out a prolonged death scene, a la Paul Reubens in Buffy the Vampire Slayer (the movie).

I actually said this in response to a story I heard today

2007-12-20T15:15:00.000-06:00

"I cannot imagine the circumstances under which I would have to chase a midget out of my kitchen. How could a midget be in your kitchen eating directly out of your crockpot and without your knowledge? What has to happen to a person to get to the point where you just stumble upon something like that?"

Just another afternoon in the shrink's office.

2007-12-14T14:37:00.000-06:00

The other day, my therapist asked me the most bizarre question after majorly misunderstanding something I'd said. It was the result of me talking too fast and underestimating her knowledge of circa 2000 pop culture.

I was talking about a former friend from my college days. She and I were in Women's Studies courses together and active in the feminist community on campus. We both ended up in the Bay Area after graduation where she started dating a lesbian separatist. Her girlfriend was pretty hard core. Basically no movies, books, music, etc by men. No male friends, etc. My friend was torn between sympathizing with her girlfriend's politics while feeling restricted by how small her world had become as the result of the rules governing their every decision.

This is what I said:

"She would basically sneak over to my place to watch things like the SNL movie The Ladies Man. As feminists, we both recognized that the character is sexist, but we could still watch it because at the end of the day it's relatively harmless."

To which my therapist replied, "So she would sneak over to your apartment so you could watch S&M porn together?!".

I can only imagine what my therapist was thinking when she thought I'd blurted out quite casually:

"She would basically sneak over to my place to watch things like the S&M movie, The Ladies Man. As feminists, we both recognized that the character is sexist, but we could still watch it because at the end of the day it's relatively harmless."

Anyone that knows me well (including my therapist) knows that myself (and my former friend) would never characterize porn as "harmless," especially SM porn. For my therapist to have heard me blurt that out after 2 years of hearing about my vanilla existence made the misunderstanding all the more hilarious to me.

I went to middle school with this guy!

2007-12-10T07:46:00.000-06:00

First I heard him on This American Life. Then he showed up on BoingBoing.net the other day. His name is Gabriel Delahaye (I remember him being called Gabe back in the day) and I think he's pretty funny!

Smitty is tapping into her rage...

2007-12-05T17:34:00.000-06:00

...someone head her off before she hits her stride. Hide the SoBe bottles.

KT - You are the winner!

2007-12-05T10:06:00.000-06:00

Just when I thought I had the lesbian drama to end all drama, I get a phone call from my homegirl in D-town. She went on a "friends maybe more" blind date with a girl from Myspace. Turns out the date has a girlfriend...in prison! For having sex with a 15 year old girl! There's nothing like a blind date that puts you 1 degree of separation from a registered sex offender to put one's own drama into perspective.

No Christmas List is complete without a copy!

2007-12-03T15:29:00.000-06:00

**************************************************

Reason # 32,7462 I know being gay is not a choice...

2007-11-19T18:08:00.000-06:00

Effing Dyke Drama!

Nobody would voluntarily sign up for this shiz.

So I had this dream/nightmare the other night...

2007-11-11T14:21:00.000-06:00

It started off in a German beer garden. I see an American woman who is trying to figure out which bathroom is the women's restroom because the signs are in German and she can't read them. I remember thinking she was an obnoxious American, not because she couldn't read German, but because of the way she was asking for help. She was speaking really loudly in English and drawing a picture of a woman and then pointing to some doors that weren't even the bathroom doors. At some point I realize that my girlfriend is also at the beer garden, but she's not sitting with me. I feel disconcerted that she's not sitting with me. Is she mad at me? I'm not sure.

Cut to...

My girlfriend kissing her ex-girlfriend! WTF?

Cut to...

My mom and I are on a tandem bike of some sort, except only my mom is peddling, but I have my own seat. My mom is in front and I'm holding onto the hood of her sweatshirt while holding up a flashlight to light our way. We are looking for my girlfriend who has gone missing. While on the bike we pass her ex and a bunch of their friends who are also out looking for her. I'm feeling pretty panicked when we see this little girl on the side of the road. She is very pale, barefoot, wearing a white dress. She is trying to flag my mom and I down, saying that she needs help. All I can say is that this girl is creepy. Like the twin girls in The Shining kind of creepy (except there is only one of her). My mom and I instinctively don't stop, deciding that we'll go around the block one more time. If we don't find my girlfriend and the little girl is still asking for help when we come back around, we'll stop. I keep thinking the girl has something to do with my girlfriend's disappearance and I really don't want to go into the little girl's house. My mom and I circle around and just as we are about to come around the bend where the little girl will be...

...the alarm clock goes off!

I roll over and ask my girlfriend why she was kissing her ex. I've been giving her shit about it for days (jokingly).

Anyone out there in cyberspace do dream analysis?

Mr. Semple

2007-11-07T21:09:00.000-06:00

They moved in across the street when I was in 2nd grade, but I already knew them from church. Father, mother, daughter, son. The daughter and I were in the same grade. The dad died on Monday. He was only 58, the same age as both my parents.

At my childhood swim meets, I could always hear him cheering and whistling, even while in the water. He used the same whistle to summon his children for dinner or for bed when we were playing kick the can or having tennis ball wars in the street. Often, he'd open the back hatch of their wood paneled station wagon, load up all the neighborhood kids, and take us to the DQ. I cut through their yard to go to the park and fed their dog when they were at the lake.

He was meticulous about his yard. Mowing, raking, hosing down the driveway. Whether I was 8 or 28, he'd yell my name from his yard whenever he saw me. When the cancer meds made him jittery and restless, he took to mowing the lawn twice a week and raking obsessively. My mom jokingly took some leaves from our yard to his yard so he'd have more to rake.

He had terrible taste in TV and movies. He'd watch anything and he'd watch it over and over. "My big fat obnoxious fiancee"? Yeah, he'd watch that type of stuff.

He was huge Michigan fan. He ushered at all the basketball games; attended U of M club meetings every Monday with my mom. When I was in middle school and too cool to sit with my parents at the basketball game, I'd make my rounds around the arena and always visit his section.

He was a banker and handled my parents' accounts. My mom would take me to the bank with her and I'd always try to visit him. When I saw his office was decorated in Michigan colors, I painted a rock yellow and blue and told him it was for his office. He still had it on his desk when I opened my first checking account for college (he gave me Charlie Brown novelty checks at no extra charge).

The last time I saw him was at his son's wedding this summer. His son married an Ohio State girl, Michigan's biggest rival. The wedding was in Ohio and he changed into a blue vest and yellow bow tie for the reception. His funeral is on Saturday, college football day. Instead of a wake, there will be a tail gate. My mom said the only thing about this weekend she is looking forward to is watching his friends from Ohio eat off of maize and blue plates.

Sloth Loves Chunk.. and Timbaland?

2007-10-29T16:51:00.000-05:00

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Am I the only one that hears Sloth from The Goonies when listening to "Apologize" by Timbaland (featuring One Republic) ? There are three notes repeated throughout the song that sound like someone saying "eh" or "hey" 3 times. To me, It sounds eerily like the start of the infamous "Hey you guys!" line uttered by Sloth when he reappears at the end of the film dressed in a Superman shirt and pirate hat. Mainly, I just like the idea of the specially made headphones Sloth needed for his uneven ears when Timbaland invited him into the studio (Beautifully photoshopped by Bird).

*******************************

In the video below, Timbaland lip synchs the three "hey" notes at seconds 14-16:

*******************************

"Hey you guys!" by Sloth:

You know you're jealous.

2007-10-27T00:48:00.000-05:00

My email inbox is full of delights today. First the "Daily Show" clip (see below) and now this:

"Hello and Congratulations from 89.3 The Current, We randomly selected your entry, and you've won tickets to see an exclusive interview and performance from Sia on Halloween night."

While you suckers are trick or treating, I'll be seeing Sia!

Joe would be the "poor, sad, opportunistic, bearded dude" on the right

2007-10-26T12:55:00.000-05:00

So a few years back I went home for Christmas and ran into my friend Joe. Known him for years. Joe and his wife were counselors for my church youth group all through my middle school and high school years. His father taught my Bible study class. When I asked Joe what he was up to these days, he said,

"I'm a celebrity photojournalist."

I was like, "So, what you're telling me is that you're paparazzi."

Turns out a photo he'd taken of Alyssa Milano was in that week's issue of US Weekly.

Since then, I've received updates on his career from him and other members of my church whenever I'm home. He told me about flying to Hawaii to photograph Matt Leblanc's wedding. When I went home for my sister's baby shower I found out that he'd taken the infamous photo of Britney Spears driving with her baby in her lap! Remember how she blamed that decision on being chased by the paparazzi? Joe was that paparazzi! If you google his last name and his agency, tons of photos come up. Sometimes I flip through People or US Weekly and check the photo credits and find his name.

Just last week I watched the video of Britney Spears running over a photographer's foot just to make sure it wasn't him!

Today I received an email from my mom entitled "Joe on the Daily Show." He was featured in a segment about celebrity "exhaustion." Check it out:

She's not even correct. I only get Christmas Eve and Christmas Day off. The Catholics don't give a shit about Jesus at all.

2007-10-23T23:10:00.000-05:00

My mother's response when I called her up and said I think I need to quit my job at the Catholic University sooner than I planned because I'm in danger of causing permanent damage to my body as the result of repetitive stress injury?

"But you have so many days off at Christmas."

Well, shit, do I have my priorities wrong. My concern is bowing out before my hands turn into gnarled talons; your concern is my availability at Jesus' birthday party. Who cares if I'm there to open Christmas gifts if I'm physically incapable of opening them?

And the homo in the corner pipes in...

2007-08-29T09:26:00.000-05:00

The girls at work were having a conversation about people they know who are well out of college and still virgins.

My contribution to the conversation?

"I know a few women in their 20s and 30s who haven't had sex with men. But I wouldn't call them virgins, I'd call them lesbians."

Vote 4 Jesus

2007-08-09T11:24:00.000-05:00

I feel like a lot has happened since I last blogged. I went to Chicago, went camping, there was what I'm calling the "week of making lesbian amends" and the 35W bridge collapse and subsequent Red Cross volunteering. So there's a lot to catch up on. But I'm currently exhausted and want my blogs to be coherant. And if I write about the Red Cross stuff, I want to word it carefully out of the respect for the Red Cross (who ultimately do great work, but I find myself having a love-hate relationship with) and of course, respect for the victims and their families.

So, I leave you with a blog entry that shows little to no respect for the Catholic University where I work! Cuz, fuck 'em.

So, the University has been renting out the vacant domortories for the summer and there have been a lot of sports camps and such on campus. A couple weeks ago, when Pfunk arrived to pick me up at work so we could leave directly for Chicago, I saw a large group of kids wearing "Vote 4 Jesus" T-shirts on the front steps of my building. I exited the side door, where I met up with Pfunk.

I joked, "Hey, there's a bunch of kids in "Votes 4 Jesus" T-shirts, let's go make-out in front of them. Then I leaned in for a kiss (still in the relative safety of the side entrance).

When I was about 2 inches from her lips, Paige said, "There is a priest right behind you."

"Excellent!" I replied, and finished the kiss.

The priest, did a triple-take, but kept on walking.

Enough already!

2007-07-26T14:23:00.000-05:00

I think it's time for CNN and YouTube to stop sucking each others dicks already. CNN is especially way too pleased with itself and their joint venture hosting the Democratic debates with YouTube.

Wait? There was a question from a snowman regarding climate change? That's just wacky! I totally take back what I just wrote.

The Spam in my email inbox this morning

2007-07-13T09:20:00.000-05:00

"Going to have sex with two ladies at the same time? You need a strong erection, or they will have to satisfy each other. You really need Viagra!"

There are just so many things wrong with this. First of all, the author is wrongfully asserting that "two ladies" sexually satisifying each other is somehow lesser than if a man did it. Compare the number of married woman who have never or rarely have orgasms with their husbands to the numbers of women in long-term relationships with other women who have the same problem and get back to me, ok?

Second of all, That statement assumes that a nice stiff one is the only route to sexual gratification, which it isn't. However, if a stiff one is what you're after, viagra is not necessary.

I'll refer you to Bitch and Animal's song "Best Cock on the Block" from their album, Eternally Hard.

If you still don't get it, try the spoken word piece "Cute for a girl" by Alix Olson.

Open Letter to Those that Irked Me: Part two

2007-07-10T21:58:00.000-05:00

To my girlfriend's supposed friends,

There where warning signs right off the bat. When P-funk announced the locale for her birthday dinner (after the dyke-licious birthday plans of stock car races were rained out), every single one of you made some protest upon hearing the dreaded location of, gasp, NE Minneapolis. I know that you rarely leave Minnetonka, Eagen, Edina, (insert gentrified Twin Cities suburb here) and when you do, it is to go to places like the effing Hard Rock Cafe and Valentinos, two locations P-funk and I suffered through for some of y'alls birthdays in the past year. But suck it up, her b-day is only once a year. When you chose a straight nightclub with a dress code for your birthday party, we didn't complain to you about it (I complained on cyberspace, but that is a different story). And when you didn't look up directions to a place you'd never been to before and got lost, not only did you not apologize for being late (which you never do), you complained about the location to the Birthday girl, again.

Then, in quick succession, you behaved in ways that pretty much secure you on my shit list:
1) You treated the waitress like she wasn't human
2) You made fun of other people in the bar because they have the courage and creativity, unlike you, to dress outside the norm. ("Apparently it's 'Wear your underwear on the outside of your clothes' Day. I guess I didn't get the memo.")
3) You talked about how awesome the Transformers movie was.

But the worst offense of all: the birthday presents. I'm completely baffled by the gifts you got my girlfriend. You seem to be suffering from the "I'll just get her something that I would like because she'll probably like it too" syndrome. The problem with that approach is you are a spoiled femmy brat that apparently hasn't looked your friend in the face since you all when to Edina High School together. At least I hope that is what your problem is, because it is better than the alternative which is "we are in complete denial about the fact that our friend is a big old lesbian" syndrome, or, even worse, "we know she is a big old dyke, but we think that doesn't mean she can't be frilly" syndrome. How else can you explain the fact that she received FOUR tubes of glittery tinted lip gloss from two different "friends"? This is in addition to the Winnie the Pooh stickers, body splash, shampoo and aromatherapy thingy she received.

[Side note. This is what happens when a lesbian receives a Pier One aromatherapy thingy (technical name: Zanzibar Clove Reed Diffuser):

Lesbian: Is it a candle?

Femmy brat: No

Lesbian: But do you light it?

Femmy brat: No

Femmy brat's boyfriend attempting to speak lesbionic: You put the bamboo sticks into the aromatherapy oil. The bamboo soaks up the oil and wicks the scent into the air.

Lesbian: Ok, I get it. So you just use one stick at a time?

Femmy brat and brat's boyfriend: No, you use them all at once.

Lesbian: Oh.]

The best gift was the one I thought was tacky at first: $10 cash in a card. When P-funk opened that one first, I thought to myself, "Jesus, it's not like you're her Aunt Doris! Cash in a card? At least put the cash towards an iTunes gift card." But in the end, I figured at least you recognized you had no idea what to get her and didn't resort to some nauseating flower-scented crap she'd never get for herself. She could at least use the cash for something she wants or needs. Like, say, a drink a gay bar with friends after a disastrous dinner with high school friends. Which is exactly what we did!

Sincerely,

Smitty (who recognizes the hypocrisy of my judgemental and holier than thou tone while criticizing someone for being judgemental and holier than thou. But I'm being judgemental of them being judgemental, whereas they were judging someone based on wardrobe. So I totally win).

It's a Magical Month for Muggles!

2007-07-10T09:50:00.000-05:00

I have tickets for Harry Potter Movie #5 at the IMAX this week, Harry and the Potters play Minneapolis on Monday and I have Book #7 on reserve for next week. Holla!

An open letter to the people who irked me this weekend

2007-07-09T10:33:00.001-05:00

To the gay man who tried to lift my shirt at Innuendo,

You know, even though I despise and disagree with it, when straight men are sexist and degrade women, I can understand the motive behind it. Only to the degree that I know it is advantageous for them to do it. Demeaning women secures men's place as top dog not only in society overall, but within their interpersonal relationships with family, friends, coworkers and lovers.

Despite experiencing discrimination for being homosexual, gay men are not about to relinquish their male privilege (or white privilege when it applies) even though it allows them to discriminate against women (and minorities). Gay men are still firmly entrenched in patriarchy; sexism still works to their advantage overall in society. Anyone that questions that assertion need only to visit San Fransisco and compare the Castro neighborhood to the Mission District and see the discrepancies in money and corresponding visibility of the gay and lesbian populations there. Or visit the Log Cabin Republication booth at Pride and see who comprises the gay republication population (hint: they look a lot like Dick Cheney, with his lesbo daughter). A gay republican? Isn't that like a unicorn? A fantasy devised by the Religious Right? Alas, no. But I digress. The irony is that homophobia and sexism are cut from the same patriarchal cloth. Without patriarchally defined gender roles, neither homophobia or sexism can exist in their current forms. Unfortunately, that doesn't stop gay men from being sexist.

Despite knowing all this, you, Mr. Shirt Lifter Upper, caught me off guard Saturday. Here's the scene: A double date with P-funk and friends S1 and S2. S2 and I hit the dancefloor, leaving our comparatively butch girlfriends chatting and having drinks in the lofted seating area that overlooks the bar and dancefloor. S2 and I were soon joined by you, a big bear of a gay man, who seemed delighted to have some lesbians join in the dancing fun. We engaged in some campy disco dancing that would put the Village People to shame; it was all good. Until, that is, S2 left the dancefloor to have a smoke outside. Keep in mind that the dancefloor is in the front of the bar, with floor to ceiling windows on two sides, so that anyone on the street can look in.

[Side note - anyone ever noticed how unusual it is for a gay bar, especially in the midwest, to have a well-lit dancefloor that can be seen by the public? How are all the closeted homos supposed to imbibe and dance if the windows aren't blacked out, non-existent, or the dancefloor located in the back?Well, for all of you shamed gays in St. Paul, you'll be happy to know that this set-up at Innuendo is a temporary one. Once "Rumors" opens up in the back, (Rumors & Innuendo, get it?) the dancefloor will be moved back there where you can get your groove on discretely.]

So I'm dancing by myself and sort of doing a silly dance for S2 through the window when you come up from behind and grab the bottom of my Tee-shirt from both sides and lift it, getting it above my belly button, but not as far as my bra, before I grab his hands and yank down, HARD. You continued to try to lift my shirt even after I started pushing down. At this point, P-funk and S1, who had watched this whole scene unfold, came barrelling down the stairs and quickly surrounded me on the dance floor. When I sought solace in P-funk's arms, you made a confused face and backed off. You even tried to apologize from across the dance floor later.

The interesting part was that you weren't apologizing for trying to blindly and forcefully disrobe me without consent, but that you had mistaken S2 as my girlfriend. So you were apologizing for trying to take my shirt off for the wrong girl (and anyone walking down the 200 block of East 4th in St. Paul), not for treating me as less than a human being. As a gay man you can accept that I'm with someone of the same sex, but can't get it through your thick skull that I'm not the play-thing of you and whomever I'm dating. Women are still property and you'd mistaken whom I "belong" to.

And while I pride myself on being an independent woman who didn't need P-funk and S1 to come to my rescue, it was sort of fun watching you flee at the sight of these two butch dykes thundering towards your sorry ass.

I have another open letter to some other people that irked me this weekend, so stay tuned!

It's fine, thanks for asking.

2007-07-08T17:01:00.000-05:00

My big straight sister called me last week to announce she'd had "A VERY lesbian day today." She was phoning from an Indigo Girls concert, so that explained the evening portion of her Lesbian Day.

Earlier, as part of her job marketing her physical therapy clinic, she had worked at a charity golf event.

"It was a girls charity and it was basically these 2 rich lesbians hosting the event and all their rich lesbian friends playing in the tourniment."

Sounds about right.

One of my sister's tasks was to check in the players. They were teeing off at different holes to stagger the players and avoid bunching up on the course. The hole number was pre-printed on the players' nametags.

At one point, my sister leaned in to read the nametag on one woman's chest and said, "Sorry, I'm just checking your hole."

Everyone cracked up.

For the rest of the day, my sister had lesbian golfers coming up to her and saying, "How's your hole? I'm just checking your hole."

Sick and Tired

2007-07-07T20:09:00.000-05:00

When I first got my current job at a Catholic university, my then girlfriend, a Catholic herself, got me a copy of the book "Catholicism for Dummies." Someday, when I'm no longer employed there, I'm going to write a blog entitled "Dummies for Catholicism." I went into this job with my eyes open. I expected some clash between my personal views and those of the institution. Shit, when I turned on the local news the night after my very first day on the job, I saw a representative of the University speaking at an anti-gay marriage rally on the Capitol steps. But after working there for over a year as an out lesbian, and experiencing no friction from my immediate co-workers and boss, I guess I let my guard down and got a bit comfortable. Well, that comfort has been discarded and the guard is back up. An event that is supposed to be a "team-building" conference and a "reward" for a year's hard work had the opposite effect on me. I've never felt less like I want to be a part of this team after witnessing the racism, ablism, homophobia and sexism displayed by my co-workers at this retreat. Far from a rewarding experience, I felt like I was being punished for something.

I personally thought the best way to celebrate gay pride last weekend...

2007-06-27T09:39:00.000-05:00

**************************************************************
...was to fly to Ohio and watch two straight kids get married. My girlfriend and friends disagreed. Hey, I'm not bitter that I used to baby-sit for the groom, yet he's allowed to get married and I'm not. Ok, maybe a little bitter.

My parents basically said I had to go to this wedding. I'm not very close to the groom, but he's the son of close family friends. They live across the street from my parents; his sister was in the same grade as me. And the father is ill with two types of cancer, and is headed to the hospital for his 2nd bone marrow transplant. It was important that I be there before he's in the hospital and under quarantine for months.

Since my presence at the wedding was mandatory, my parents booked and paid for my flight. Now, normally I'm very resposible about printing out my flight information and get to the airport plently early. But last week was hectic. I was out of town Monday, worked and saw a friend Tuesday (my last chance to see her before she left town to get married), did laundry and packed Wednesday and worked both my jobs Thursday and Friday.

I was talking to my dad during the hour I have between jobs Friday when I mentioned that I still hadn't printed out the flight information for the next day and needed to look it up. It had easily been 2 or 3 months since the flight was booked and I really had no clue when it left. My dad said, "Oh, I have it right here in my Outlook. Northwest has a feature when you book online. You can download the flight information right into your Outlook and Blackberry."

This is where the Consumer Alert portion of the story begins.

He told me my flight was at 10:05 am.

I arrived at the airport at 8:40, plenty early for a 10am flight.

The check-in kiosk told me my flight was a 9:05 AM.

When my dad downloaded the info, Outlook converted my flights from Central Standard (where I live) to Eastern Standard (where my dad is). The fact that I was leaving at 10:05 Michigan time wasn't going to help me in the Minneapolis St. Paul airport. My flight was already boarding and I hadn't gone through security yet.

The first time in my life I've not printed out the flight information for myself.

Turns out it would also be the first time in my life I would miss a flight. Not before I put forth a galliant effort to make that flight. But the Fates are not without a sick sense of humor. I ended up in security behind the people with strollers, inexperienced travelers who don't know to take off their shoes, people who put their IDs away after the initial inspection. And the bitches at security pulled my bag for inspection. I knew they wouldn't give a shit that my flight was about to leave, so I kept my mouth shut, assuming that they look upon idiots like me with utter disdain and purposely take longer out of spite for the stupid girl that can't get to the airport on time.

Like a scene straight out of a movie, I ran to my gate, pulling my suitcase behind me, my overloaded purse bouncing off my butt, simultaneously pulling my shirt up and pushing my pants down. At one point my name came over the intercom "This is the final boarding call for flight whatever to Cleveland, Smitty, you have two minutes to be at gate whatever". I flagged down one of those golf carts usually reserved for the frail and invalid. Panting and dripping with sweat, I begged for a ride. The driver obliged and did his best with me cursing under my breath everytime we had to slow down for a yuppie with a small dog in a carry-on or a businessman on a cell phone that was oblivous to the cart coming down the concourse.

When I got to the gate, my plane was still visible through window, but the door to the gangway was shut. There was an Amish couple in front of me at the counter who were also trying to get to Cleveland. They had just flown in from somewhere else and there flight was late getting in to Minneapolis. They were being told, "I'm sorry, we saw that you were coming from a far-away gate and held the plane as long as we could." Damn, they didn't hold the plane for some Amish folk who were late through no fault of their own. I knew then I was SOL.

I had called my girlfriend in a panic from the security line. I knew she was praying I'd miss the flight, that there'd be no more flights to Cleveland in time for me to make the wedding, and she'd get to turn around, come pick my ass back up, and take me to the Pride festival.

Perhaps I would have made it to Pride if I hadn't started to simuloustaneously cry and have an asthma attack in front of the ticket agent. She took pity on me when I really didn't deserve it, and gave me a seat on a Cleveland flight that left only an hour and 20 minutes after my original flight. A flight that ended up being overbooked. When the ticket agent at my new gate came over the P.A. and said "I'm looking for 3 people with flexible travel plans to give up their seats on this flight in exchange for a free round trip ticket anywhere in the U.S.," I sat in my seat twindling my thumbs as if I was supposed to be there all along.

Not a good idea

2007-06-22T14:03:00.000-05:00

To eat an entire Chipotle burrito at 10 pm and be in bed by 11. You end up dreaming about your friend's dad's bluegrass band and wake up with the song "I'm my own grandpa" stuck in your head:

Oh, many, many years ago
When I was twenty-three
I was married to a widow
Who was pretty as can be
This widow had a grown-up daughter
Who had hair of red
My father fell in love with her
And soon the two were wed

This made my dad my son-in-law
And changed my very life
For my daughter was my mother
'Cause she was my father's wife
To complicate the matter
Though it really brought me joy
I soon became the father
Of a bouncing baby boy

This little baby then became
A brother-in-law to Dad
And so became my uncle
Though it made me very sad
For if he was my uncle
Then that also made him brother
Of the widow's grown-up daughter
WHo of course is my step-mother

Chorus
I'm my own grandpa
I'm my own grandpa
It sounds funny I know
But it really is so
Oh, I'm my own grandpa

My father's wife then had a son
Who kept them on the run
And he became my grandchild
For he was my daughter's son
My wife is now my mother's mother
And it makes me blue
Because although she is my wife
She's my grandmother too

Now if my wife is my grandmother
Then I'm her grandchild
And every time I think of it
It nearly drives me wild
For now I have become
The strangest case you ever saw
As husband of my grandma
I am my own grandpa

Chorus
I'm my own grandpa
I'm my own grandpa
It sounds funny I know
But it really is so
Oh, I'm my own grandpa

Best. Cheer-up. Email. Ever! Thanks Austin!

2007-06-06T10:25:00.000-05:00

I just received the following message from my friend Austin and now there is a smile on my face!

"I know I am working on getting a JD, this is not like an MD. That was my warning that the following advice is not my medical opionion, but just sort of general things I have gathered either through others or that I just made up now.

While depressed avoid:

overly cheery people - (a) they typically suck to be around but when depressed it is magnified as they would say something like "make lemons out of lemonaide" which is the problem because (b) they may possibly force you to become violent (c) and confined spaces with them as it only increases the odds of the aforementioned (b).

whiny folks - you are in no place to empathize, but more possibly attack their shallow whines and then shatter their already shakey existance

depressing music - elliott smith is a bad choice right now. Just say no to emo.

nonhappy ending movies - millon dollar baby, boys don't cry, the crying game, bambi - all should be avoided.

Booze - not because it is a depresent no, no no. More to avoid the drunk dials you will live to regret. Or drunk emails etc.

The one uppers - those that say, "oh yeah you did X, well that's not so bad because I had Y happen to me." Though normally they can be side stepped and ignored or talked over most of the time. Right now you may lash out and explain that Y is not X so no they don't really know what it is like and that Y in fact didn't even happen to them because they are too full of shit to ever have anything actually happen in their life.

The mall of america - this is actually a place that should just pretty much always be avoided

WE - now is not the time to watch women be abused or have shopping problems. Their problems are obvious and solvable and their lives are in no way as meaningful or complex as your own melodrama.

Things to not avoid:

Austin - though she can be cheerful she is far more cynical than most and sassy. Pick someone for her to verbally assault and she will do that just to make you smile.

Pointless comedy - movies like "mean girls," "tootsie," "Wayne's World," and any great standup - Whoopie, Kathy Griffith, Ellen, Robin Williams, you should know who you like.

Flea markets - for many reasons (a) you are better off than 95% of the people there (b) great neil and elvis finds are bound to occur (c) shit is cheap and (d) people watching

Bravo - that channel is just damn good tv

dancing - you missed a remix of glamorous by Fergie that repeated "tacobell" about 100x. You don't get that experience just anywhere. How often can you dance to tacobell?

Please again remember this is in no way medical advice but more of some bullshit I wrote to make you at least smile or roll your eyes. If I wasn't successful I blame it on the fact that it is text so something must have be lost.

On a totally different note unrelated to the above list my dog Q got a haircut yesterday and he is very handsome and proud. He struts all over and seems very excited. Basically he is proud to no longer have the shag and return to his stud buzz cut. Take it easy. I am going to the show at your theatre on thursday. I hope it doesn't suck. If it does suck expect hate mail coming at ya'

Take it easy, and try not to be so easy

LLCJ"

[LLCJ stands for LL Cool Jew, btw]

Song by David Gray

2007-06-03T12:54:00.000-05:00

Please forgive me
If I act a little strange
For I know not what I do.
Feels like lightning running through my veins
Everytime I look at you
Everytime I look at you

Help me out here
All my words are falling short
And theres so much I want to say
Want to tell you just how good it feels
When you look at me that way
When you look at me that way

Throw a stone and watch the ripples flow
Moving out across the bay
Like a stone I fall into your eyes
Deep into some mystery
Deep into that mystery

I got half a mind to scream out loud
I got half a mind to die
So I wont ever have to lose you girl
Wont ever have to say goodbye
I wont ever have to lie
Wont ever have to say goodbye

Please forgive me
If I act a little strange
For I know not what I do
Its like my head is filled with lightning girl
Everytime I look at you
Everytime I look at you
Everytime I look at you
Everytime I look at you

A familiar stranger

2007-06-01T20:26:00.000-05:00

She and I never celebrated an anniversary. It was a running joke whenever someone asked how long we'd been together. Should we count from when we started dating the first time (even though we didn't remember the exact date)? It made more sense to start counting from when we'd picked up years later, the 2nd and final time around. But that time the relationship was long distance, confusing things. She had been ready to name it "dating" and "girlfriends" before I was. So again, we were left with no one day to celebrate. We could've counted from when I took the plunge and crossed state lines to move in with her. But that seemed too late a date to start counting from. So, the answer always ended up being "about a year," "a year or two," and finally, at the end, "3 or 4 years".

I do know the exact date that it ended. The day (actually it was night) when she turned to me and said, "You know this is pretty much over, don't you?"

"Yes, it is."

The one year anniversary of that date came and passed recently. I mentioned it to my mom that day as drove home. Minutes later I saw my ex on the street. Me still in my car; her standing on the corner smoking. I watched her while I waited at a red light, briefly entertaining the thought that it was somehow significant that I saw her on this anniversary. But the light turned green and I did when I've been doing for a year now, turned away and headed in my own direction.

The women in my family need to chill and stay put

2007-05-22T16:06:00.001-05:00

My grandmother had a stroke in February. And in the last 4 weeks, my sister and my mom have had overnight stays in the hospital with mitral valve prolapse palpitations and stroke-like symptoms, respectively. Everybody needs to calm down and get their circulatory systems under control because I need them around for at least a century or more, or they're going to give me a god-damn heart attack. Damn! (Positive thoughts are requested. If you pray, you can do that too)

This American Life goes Televised

2007-05-21T09:31:00.000-05:00

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Ira in the middle of nowhere

I'm slightly obsessed with the public radio show, This American Life (TAL). I was first introduced to the show when I was employed at the University of Michigan. There wasn't enough work to fill the day, and I noticed my co-worker often had her headphones on. I eventually learned that she was making her way through the free online archives of TAL as a way to help pass the time. And it has become my habit to stay sane by doing the same in my illustrious career of mindless data entry.

For me, TAL is kinda like that certain band that you love. A band that isn't exactly unknown, but is far from mainstream. When you meet a fellow devotee, there is a certain kinship you feel with that person, while at the same time you suspect they couldn't possibly experience it as you do. When people haven't heard TAL, you feel sorry for them for missing out so long. At the same time you email links of your favorite audio to the unenlightened, you kinda think new fans are posers that just jumped on the band wagon. And you secretly fear you yourself are a poser because you only started listening in 2000, and TAL has been around since 1995.

7 years later, I've shelled out $30 on three separate occasions for a Sarah Vowell reading, an Ira Glass radio demonstration and a David Sedaris reading/book-signing. And at each performance I was simultaneously incredulous that the venues were sold-out because TAL is my thing, but also not really surprised either, because TAL is so awesome. I bought Davy Rothbart's book of short stories based solely on his affiliation with TAL (he should stick to nonfiction). And when I found out a college friend got a job as a production assistant on TAL, it was all I could do not to grill her for every detail, from the layout of the studio to what she knows about Ira's wife. I find myself repeatedly saying, "tell me again about the time Ira borrowed a can of soup from you". If it weren't for the fact we were friends well before her production assistant days, she'd probably think I'm only friends with her because of her TAL connection.

And then there is the day your favorite band sells out. At least it looks that way. The band is on MTV, their ticket prices go up and the venues are larger. In this case, my favorite public radio show was not only becoming a TV show, but a cable TV show. Not basic cable either, but effing Showtime. And when TAL went on tour to promote the television version, tickets cost 50 bucks. And its probably the first time in the history of the Twin Cities that the NPR venue of choice wasn't the Fitzgerald Theater in St. Paul, but the Orpheum in Minneapolis. I can't afford Showtime and I can't afford $50 tickets. But I still really wanted to give TAL the benefit of the doubt regarding this whole TV scheme. And that's where my production assistant friend came in. She received an offer for free tickets and was nice of enough to share a free ticket with this TAL super-fan.

Ira's not dumb. He's knows fans are skeptical of the TV show. So he addressed the issue to the Minneapolis audience, where someone in the audience reportedly yelled out, "Judas." I missed that. The Judas shouter was drowned out by the guy on my side of the theater who yelled out, "What were you thinking?!". Ira attempted to quell our fears and put us at ease with humorous tales of how they too had doubts and stumbled along the way in converting to a TV show. He admitted that elements of stories that had worked well on radio didn't translate well to the screen. He specifically cited the example of how the power of the emotion in the voice of one of their regular interviewers ended up somewhat lost when matched with her appearance. I left thinking that at least Ira was honest and hoping that the opposite could also be true: that an image could possibly enhance the power of the audio.

So I finally got to see an episode. My girlfriend's parents were out of town and she'd been at home every night to watch the dog. And they have Showtime. I emailed my friend who used to work on the show and this is what I said:

P-funk and I watched an episode of This American Life last night (that is a strange sentence. Watched This American Life). We watched episode 2, which had the story of the middle schooler who doesn't believe in love that was previewed at the live show.

I didn't dislike the show, but I can't say that I really liked it either. It was just weird. Ira is sitting at this late-night-talk-show-host-type desk in the middle of nowhere, and you can imagine people who haven't heard the radio show thinking, "who the hell is this guy? And why is he sitting in the middle of the mountains.... at a desk?". One thing I hadn't realized until last night is that the TV show is only 30 minutes per episode (compared to an hour long radio show). The episode had three acts and was only 28 minutes long. It is strange in television to have a half hour program that has three separate vignettes with no overlap and no wrap-up at the end. There is just nothing out there to compare it to, which could either be exciting or just leave people going "what the hell is this?".

I'm sure some of my uneasiness comes simply from knowing the radio show so well . I kept turning to P-funk last night, saying, "This is weird, isn't this weird?". And she kept reminding me that she's never really listened to the radio show (other than a few stories I've forced upon her), so she couldn't really comment.

I will say one thing: one of the Acts was about a photo journalist who had the choice to spring into action and try to save a drowning woman or continue to act as an observer/photographer. He chose the later (there were other people trying to help her). They showed a series of photos as he described the scene and at one point the story takes a dramatic turn and the corresponding photo literally made me gasp out loud. And there is something about that image that never would've fully translated on radio.

The Definition of Covet

2007-05-10T15:12:00.000-05:00

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What comes between a quarter and mid-life crisis?

2007-05-10T12:15:00.000-05:00

Cuz I think I'm there.

My 29th birthday, job dissatisfaction, and a conversation with my girlfriend regarding a hypothetical move to Chicago seems to have combined into a mind-racing restlessness.

In terms of the 29th birthday, I have this personal notion that it is one thing to be a nomad with an unstable career when you are in your 20s and "just out of college." It is another thing to be pushing 30, with a 10 year high school reunion under your belt, and holding down two jobs that have little hope for upward mobility. When I say this is a personal notion, I truly mean for me personally. On the spectrum of stability desired, mine is stronger than my ex's, but less than say, my sister's. And it is firmly rooted in my history of depression and anxiety. I like a certain level of predictability. But playing it safe can get boring. While I was in desperate need of more stability a year ago, now that I have it, I'm feeling like I could take some risks. I'm a little tired of the status quoness of my life at the moment. The problem with that it, I'm trepidatious of rocking the boat should it capsize into depression if I change too much too fast, or take a risk and fail.

Random aside: Stability shouldn't be confused with spontaneity. I've been accused of not being spontaneous. I can be very spontaneous and fun, dammit.

Anyways, on to the job satisfaction (or lack thereof). Let's review my post-collegiate career path. I'd say said path resembles a course akin to the path an R2D2 with faulty wiring would take. Since graduating from college in 2000...

2000-2001: Lived in hometown of Ann Arbor, Michigan: First job out of college was as a patient advocate at a women's clinic. Later worked as a research assistant at the University of Michigan. Volunteered with NARAL during the 2000 election.

2001-2002: moved to Berkeley, California and held 2 jobs (with several temp jobs when I first got there). Worked as a fundraiser for another women's clinic and did customer service in a crunchy granola solar panel store. Very Berkeley.

2002-2003: Back to Michigan, 2 jobs: Customer service in bookstore. Data Entry at a environmental compliance software company.

2003-present: Minneapolis. 2 years of temping at multiple jobs (mostly data entry, but some accounting) in two corporations. At the same time, I worked as a house manager for the Fringe Theater Festival for two summers. Spent three weeks in Louisiana with Red Cross after Katrina. Presently holding 2 jobs: full-time job in the admissions department of a university and a part-time job at a non-profit professional theatre.

I got the admissions job during a time of much-needed stability. I'd been unemployed for several months, very depressed and my relationship was on the rocks. I needed a reason to get off the couch everyday. I went after the admissions job because I thought I could get it, period. There was no particular dream to work in Admissions or even academia for that matter, although I was glad to be leaving Corporate America. I can't really complain about the job. It fulfilled the requisites I needed at the time. It got me out of bed every morning, gave me a regular schedule and enough money to be autonomous. But now that I'm out of that bottomless pit of depression, out of debt and out of the rocky relationship, I'm think my needs in a job are changing.

The pros:
Work with a great group of people (not the whole department, but the 4 people I work with daily)
Don't take my job home with me
Flexible Schedule
$, benefits, 401K

The cons:
As a cynical, low-income lesbian, working at a homophobic Catholic university for rich kids sometimes makes me feel like a sell out.
My group is the low man on totem pool within the dept and we can tell.
Work is not meaningful in any way, boring and mindless actually
Little hope for upward mobility
Money is enough for paying bills, but have to have a 2nd job to buy luxuries such as contact lenses.

Don't even get me started on the part-time job. Recently, when is comes to scheduling, my boss has royally screwed me. Screwed is too polite, it's more like getting pummelled up the arse with a splintered broomstick.

As for the move to Chicago, while it is purely hypothetical at this point, it brought up a bunch of other life stuff. Do I want to stay in Minnesota? My reasons for moving here no longer exist, but that doesn't mean there aren't reasons to stay. I considered moving to Chicago a year ago when my ex and I split (especially when a room opened up in the apartment of a fabulous drag queen across the street from my friends). But I ultimately I decided not to make anymore major life changes (there's that pesky desire for stability coming into play). Do I want a relationship to be the major motivating factor behind another move? No. At least, not yet.

Moving to Chicago Pros and Cons:

Pros:
Live in the same city as my nephew, sister, brother in law and 2 of my closest friends (and girlfriend if Chicago is where she decides she needs to be).
Live closer to my parents (who are in Chicago all the damn time now, visiting their grandson).
I'd be down south where the weather is balmy. :-)
I'm a Midwest girl.

Cons:
I have reservations about living in that city (size, quantity of concrete).
Have to leave the friends I have here.
Oprah.

Ultimately I need to decide what my goals are and then prioritize them. Education, career, family. You know, the little stuff. When I try to picture my career, I have a tendency to dismiss my dreams as unrealistic. The whole fear of failure leading to the Smitty that can't get off the couch problem. Family is difficult to picture too, especially as a gay lady. I go back and forth on whether I even want kids, let alone how I would attempt to procure them. But let's not even go there, my brain is fried as is.

Spiderman 3: Spidey Goes All Emo on Your Ass

2007-05-07T13:03:00.000-05:00

Why is it that when Peter Parker is flirting with the dark side, he looks like he's on his way to a 30 Seconds to Mars concert? This movie is absolute crap, btw.

But I wanna touch the caulk NOW

2007-05-04T20:53:00.000-05:00

Received an email at work yesterday entitled NEW TOILETS!!! Having already heard the news regarding this improvement to the women's restroom, I didn't bother opening the email until I heard several of my nearby co-workers giggling. This was the text of the email:

The engineer of Toilet Installation came in to ask us not to touch the caulking around the bottom of the toilets for several days. For those anxious to do so it should be good by Monday.

I'd be embarassed if I still cared about the job.

2007-05-04T19:47:00.000-05:00

Tonight, at the theatre where I work part-time, I helped stuff envelopes for a mailing being sent out by the theatre's education department. The letter was so poorly written it was laughable.

These are letters sent to teachers in hopes they'll bring their students to the theatre on field trips. I'm sure they're going to be impressed with what our director of education had to say in her letter.

This was the second sentence:
"We are thrilled to offer this American Classic to you and your students as so many of you have requested that we do so."

Huh? First of all, none of the letter recipients care how many requests were supposedly received. So the sentence would've been most straight forward and effective this way:

"We are thrilled to offer this American Classic to you and your students." Period.

If you just can't help but brag about this deluge of requests you've received, then phrase it this way:

"We are thrilled to offer this American Classic to you and your students as many of you have requested." (No, not SO many)

But under no circumstances was it necessary to continue beyond that. But again, if you just can't help yourself...

"We are thrilled to offer this American Classic to you and your students as so many of you have requested that we do." You simply cannot end that sentence in "so."

Onto the next cringe-worthy statement. In a description of one of next season's student matinees:

"When a young nun is found unconscious and bleeding with a dead baby nearby...".

Dead baby? Revolting. Doesn't that seem a little crass? Let's consult a thesaurus and replace "dead baby" with less visceral wording. How about, "deceased infant'?

In another description:
"The central character is a performance artist who is about to present a performance art piece".
So what is it that performance artists do exactly? Performance art you say?

On the actual subscription form, the educators were offered the opportunity to sign up for an "Immersion Day*".

Were you hoping I would explain what an Immersion Day is, perhaps in a corresponding asterisked footnote? Yeah, well, so are the teachers attempting to fill out the form.

Nike Venom

2007-05-01T14:41:00.000-05:00

My lesbian credentials were put to the test yesterday when my girlfriend made the following requests of me:

1) Will you practice softball with me?
2) Will you go to Sports Authority and help me pick out a bat?

Other than the briefest of forays into tennis and golf, I've strictly avoided any sport that involves catching, throwing, running, extreme physical contact or hitting balls or other objects with sticks (and any combination thereof). Which left me with swimming and synchronized swimming as my only options unless I wanted to take up competitive jump rope or perhaps rhythmic gymnastics.

I was a competitive swimmer from age 5 through middle school. Picked up synchronized swimming in middle school and continued through high school, which culminated in a Michigan state championship in 1996. Oh wait, you thought I was kidding when I mentioned synchro earlier? Nope. So it's not that I've never been athletic, I've just always shied away from sports where there are strategic plays that require me to successfully complete my portion of said play for the benefit of the team. Too anxiety-provoking.

With swimming, you get to be on a team but the strategy starts and ends with "swim as fast as you can." Which I always did and did well. With synchro, the whole point is for the routine to look the same every time. It is predictable, aside from the occasional nose clip mishap (and one unfortunate incident in which I suffered an asthma attack during a meet and had to be pulled out of the pool). With enough skill and practice, you pretty much know how things are going to go down in the water.

Since high school, my athletic exploits has mainly been limited to dancing at nightclubs.

Anyways, about last night...

Request Number 1
I first had to cajole my girlfriend into moving softball practice to the back yard, rather than the PUBLIC park she had planned. It is one thing for me to make a spectacle of myself in front of P-Funk, subjecting strangers to my flailing is another thing entirely. I'd heard there was a 50/50 change of thunderstorms, so used the potential for lightening to keep us close to shelter (and surrounded by a privacy fence).

Tossing the softball around started off positively enough; I was catching and throwing with ease and accuracy. Just when I was getting cocky, she threw a fast one. I caught it, but it stung a bit. That's when I realized that "playing catch" had just been a warm up and the plan was not to keep standing only 10 yards apart and throwing softies. I decided I needed to throw harder if I was actually going to help her practice before the first game of the season on Wednesday. All consistency was gone the second I tried to really throw the thing. P-funk was gracious as she ran all over the yard chasing my sporadic tosses: "In a real game, the ball doesn't always come directly to you, so this is good practice." Luckily we were rained out before things got any uglier.

Request Number 2
The only equipment required in synchro are nose clips, waterproof make-up, sequined bathing suits and Knox gelatin*. So I was fairly confident that when P-funk said "Help me pick out a bat," she actually meant, "Watch me pick out a bat." The extent of my advice was "Don't get a pink one." I also proved useful in keeping an eye out for possible blunt-force trauma victims as she took practice swings. Then we abandoned the strange land of sports bras and for my apartment where we spent the rest of the night sorting my arts and crafts supplies. How quaint.

Random aside: This isn't the first time I found myself in a "mixed marriage." I previously dated a softball dyke my senior year of college. I was the only lesbian not on the field during warm-up. I could be found in the bleachers reading "The Prostitution of Sexuality" by Kathy Barry for my Women's Studies Seminar, occasionally looking up to drool over the forklift operator playing shortstop (who wasn't my girlfriend, but that's another story).

*We used unflavored gelatin to hold our hair in place during competition. No, Seriously.

The day Auntie K's work productivity was reduced by 30%...

2007-04-26T11:03:00.000-05:00

...was the day that Grandma gave her the user name and password to view the webcam at Jack's daycare.

Hugh Grant Accused of Attacking Man with Beans

2007-04-26T08:32:00.000-05:00

Actual headline. Awesome.

He's 9 months old already!

2007-04-21T19:09:00.000-05:00

Someday my sister will pay the consequences for doing this to my nephew. In the meantime, soak up the cuteness!

So Long Old Friend

2007-04-05T15:07:00.000-05:00

I'm a little sad and guilty about giving you up. But I'm also relieved. You'd started to make me sneeze, so I locked you out of the bedroom. And you stood outside the door and cried. Every night. That's no kinda kitty life! And let's be honest, you were in the habit of literally biting the hand that feeds you. I hope you're happier where you ended up. I'm going to miss the fuzzy pants you wore everyday.

I started a Flickr account

2007-04-02T15:03:00.000-05:00

I'm still learning the ins and outs of the site, but am doing much better after a handy tutorial from CoryQ.

My Flickr account (jerky tourniquet, of course).

Cory Q's Flickr account (that he shares with some dude).

And a featured photo:

I'm going to miss you suburban puppers!

2007-03-27T15:23:00.000-05:00

It has been fun playing house with you cuties!

Random stories/observations from recent goings-on

2007-03-27T14:52:00.000-05:00

The lamps in The Cheesecake Factory in Edina, Minnesota looks like the Eye of Sauron in the Lord of the Rings movies, which I always thought looked a lot like a big flaming vagina. So, essentially, the lights in the Cheescake Factory look like some kinda Georgia O'Keefe Fire-crotch art project gone wrong!

My one year anniversary working at the University was on March 20th. My co-workers took me out to lunch and gave me a card for the occasion. However, my boss signed the card "Happy B-day." I wonder what she'll think when she's given another card to sign next month on my actual birthday. Of course, this is the same woman who, on her way out the door yesterday (Monday), said, "Have a nice weekend!". So I'm guessing she won't ever realize her blunder.

P-funk and I were in a thrift store on Saturday when an employee came over the P.A. and announced, "Code 4," followed by something in Spanish. We decided that it translated to "Code 4! Lesbians in housewares!". For the rest of the day, I'd randomly bust out with, "Code 4: Lesbians in the Kitchen!" or, "Code 4: Lesbians on the freeway!".

We are currently house/dog sitting in the suburbs and therefore ended up at Perkins for breakfast over the weekend. Where we saw a grown woman pull a bib out of her purse, fasten it around her neck, fold her hands in front of her, pray aloud at the table, and dig in for some serious grubbing. Hey lady, Perkins may not be fine dining, but bibs are NOT acceptable attire. This ain't Red Lobster!

Which is worse: playing to a fuller house where only half are paying attention to you, or playing to a small crowd of interested fans in an otherwise empty room? Went to see Bitch, formerly of Bitch and Animal, perform at Pi last night. Don't you hate it when you are a member of an audience that won't behave? You end up feeling embarassed and guilty to be part of the crowd, even though you yourself are playing nicely. Last night, it appeared as though half those there were just there to hang out and talk and not see the show. You could tell it was really frustrating for Bitch and she actually stopped one of her spoken word pieces part way through, said, "Fuck it," and picked up her bass and drown everyone out instead. Cringe.

Drag Queen Wardrobe Malfunction

2007-03-25T11:46:00.000-05:00

Last Sunday, P-funk, Doyle, Jess and I went to the Gay 90's for the "Miss Gay Northern Star" Drag Pageant. The winner and first runner up go on to compete in the National Miss Gay USofA Pageant in Texas. I have to say, I was a bit disappointed: there were only two rounds, evening gown and talent (talent = lip syncing). I guess I was expecting other categories. Bathing suit certainly would've been interesting. I've seen other drag queens go on stage with as little as a thong and pasties before, so a bikini actually isn't outside the realm of possibility. But one of the things I like about drag queens is that the full bodied curvaceous queens can complete as equals with the skinny bitches. So I'm glad swimsuit wasn't a category. But I would've loved an interview portion with the judges. There could've been questions like "If you could be either Paris Hilton, Christina Aguilera, Tyra Banks or Lindsay Lohan for a day, who would you be, and why?"

Also, there were only 3 contestants! So that meant 3/4 of the competitors are going to Nationals! Maybe there were preliminary rounds that I didn't know about and these were the finalists. But I was a tad bit surprised when the pageant itself probably only took up 45 minutes of the show and the rest were performances by the usual La Femme showgirls and some special guests.*

For the evening gown competition, the contestants flaunted their stuff, sashaying about slowly, pausing in front of the judges to pose and lift their dresses to show off their shoes. Meanwhile, the MC would tell the audience the dress designer, hair stylist, make-up artist, etc. Usually, these helpers were other drag queens, so you'd hear things like: Brandonna's dress is designed by Shamika Dupris, hair by Nina D'Angelo, makeup by BeBe Benay. Awesome.

Contestant Mahogany Blue was wearing a shimmery green sequined number with a halter top. Similar in style to this dress, it had a plunging neckline with two vertical strips of fabric covering the chest that met behind her neck, like a halter top. Mahogany was mid-sashay when the wardrobe malfunction occurred. The neck strap snapped, gravity took over, and the next thing you knew, there were two fake titties (and separate nipple enhancers) tumbling to the floor! Essentially, she was now naked from the waist up (that is just how much the neckline plunged). I gotta give Mahogany credit, she was the consummate professional. She just held the dress together behind her neck and continued her parade, occasionally switching the hand that was holding the dress to give the other arm a chance to look graceful.

I can only imagine that all decorum was lost backstage, when she confronted the dress designer, Simone LaRue, with her fake-nailed fingers contorted into a gnarled talon of goddess rage!

In the end, Mahogany came in last. Who is to say if it was the wardrobe malfunction alone that cost her her chance for the National crown. After all winner Miss Alexis Principle's Tina Turner impression was pretty hard to beat! I thought Mahogany should've won at least Miss Congeniality for how she handled her mishap!

*A note about the special guests. Tiffany T. Hunter was a visiting drag queen from a club in St. Louis. She was an absolute train wreck. At one point, Doyle saw her on her hands and knees in the women's restroom ralphing. Later, she came onstage with toilet tissue stuck to her platform shoe. And she kept bumping into the pillar in that is front center on the 90s stage. Some awkwardness around the obstruction might be expected from a visiting performer, but I think it is safe to say that she was impaired to the point that she kept forgetting the pole was there.

Another visitor was Alyssa Edwards, the winner of a National Pageant. The only way to describe her presence on stage is FOUL. The look on her face was one of complete and utter disdain. Pure evil. A fabulous diva.

I don't get corporate america

2007-03-23T16:06:00.000-05:00

So a number of years ago, my dad started a high tech telecommunications company that was eventually bought out by a larger company on the East Coast. They announced they would be closing my Dad's branch last year, so he has been out of a job since December. Always the entrepreneur, my dad is starting yet another company. This time, an engineering firm. Basically, you come up with an idea you can't execute, my dad's firm will design and build it for you. His first customer? The company that laid him off. They can't make their new product without his engineers. Oh, the irony.