Sunday, July 31, 2005

A Doll's Life

Sometimes, as a gay man, one starts to feel like some sort of publicly-owned Raggedy Andy doll, to be touched and admired and spoken to with a kind of automatic familiarity that implies a history of days and nights spent sitting around the tea party table or held tightly under mounds of tightly-tucked blankets or dragged by the arm from room to room.

I was gazing lazily into the mirror the other day, watching Kiki cut my hair, when a female hairdresser - Kiki's a man - came into view and kissed Kiki and complimented me on the way my short hair suited me. Then Kiki told her I was getting married and suddenly our two-man party become a threesome and she was asking me this and that about the wedding and suggesting this and that about the wedding, and then she asked me had I seen the new wedding show on TV and I screamed YES I love Logo! but then it turned out she was talking about some other wedding show on the Style network which also sometimes has gay weddings, which excited me just as much as me giving her a heads up to Logo excited her............(pant pant).............and then Kiki told her that M. also gets his hair cut at their salon and before I knew it I had whipped out M.'s highschool yearbook photo that I keep in my wallet, and YES she knew just who he was, she'd seen him and he was cute and she could see why I'd be attracted to him and why he'd be attracted to me, and then there was some confusion about how maybe it wasn't him that she'd seen because she was thinking of a regular and M. has only been there once, but anyways she still thought he was cute.

By that point, Kiki was just about done, so we finished up with a little just-the-two-of-us smalltalk while Girl Hairdresser started on her own client. I got up, gave Kiki a peck and a hug goodbye, gave Girl Hairdresser a little wave, and before I knew it she'd reached her hand out and I thought, Well okay we'll shake on it, but then she was pulling me towards her and then she was kissing me and winking at me and wishing me good luck with the wedding and I staggered dazedly over to the counter to pay, feeling slightly violated and trying to figure out where that darn leak in my Personal Space Bubble was coming from.

And this is, more or less, the way it goes. Gay Boy meets New Girl. New Girl showers loads of attention on Gay Boy, Gay Boy feels loved and accepted, Gay Boy responds with conversations and experiences and hobbies and interests that New Girl can relate to, and before Gay Boy knows it, New Girl has inserted Fabulous! into their lexicon and Gay Boy becomes confidante to all of New Girl's boyfriend and husband woes, and New Girl adopts a certain intense familiarity into her gaze that says Yes, you understand me, I can depend on you, we are friends for life and soon I will be inviting you for overnights and bringing you shopping with me and when you get dirty, Mama will just throw you in with the laundry and sprinkle you with some Johnson's Baby Powder and you will be just like new.

It's happened with girls I've met at school, it's happened with girls I've met at work, it's happened with girls I've met at parties and dinners and hair salons. And it is absolutely a two-way street; were I to put out my Do Not Disturb sign, or not respond to the attention, or not ask emotionally-pointed and open-ended questions, that's where it would end. But it feels good to have things in common to talk about, and it feels good to know that Someone Cares, and it feels good to feel like you have something to offer in the way of comfort or reassurance or kindred soulship. And while you're busy feeling all these good-feeling things, somehow you fail to notice when The Line Has Been Crossed and then it's too late, because she's gone and mucked up your face with a marker or a crayon or some grape jelly and it's too late to return you now, and besides you're too nice to say anything once you've noticed the change in her eyes, that mixture of love and adoration and desperation that says Please don't leave me I love you and I'm putting all the other dolls in a box in the back of my closet and I'll bring you to school and on car-trips and in the bathtub and I'll tell you all my secrets and we'll develop our own private language and if I ever lose you I think I'll die so please don't leave me I love you. Or something along those lines.

In short, girls love gay men. And gay men love girls. And some gay men like myself are lucky enough to find a large double-handful of the best girl friends I could ever hope to find, and it's me who doesn't know what I'd do without them.

But there are always the crazies who watch the Queer Eye and go to the gay bars and love the gay men and try to find in a Gay Best Friend what they're not finding in their girlfriends or boyfriends or husbands, and somewhere along the line it became acceptable or even de rigeur to have a gay best friend, or even to treat all gay men like best friends, and to bypass the standard practices inherent in developing social relationships and Jump Right In. And that's not what the Girl Hairdresser was doing, but we gay men start to develop an instinct for this particular problem, and I can assure you that, given a little more time or a change in venue, she would have had me marked and tagged and I would know the ins-and-outs of her relationship with her crummy boyfriend and everything would be fabulous and I would be typing this from my lonely perch atop her powdery pink four-poster, loving it and hating it and debating it all at the same time.

Thursday, July 28, 2005

Japanese Porn + cheap wine + emotional disturbance = bad reality television metaphor

For every fourth post that I start to write, there is a moment where I must pause to remind myself, No, actually, nobody's paying to watch the I Work with Dead People: And You Thought Your Job Was Emotionally Taxing? show.

But seriously? While we're on the subject? Briefly? My job can be pre-tty emotionally taxing. And then I come home all sad and have a glass of pinot grigio which makes me a little bit sadder, and then I put M. through the emotionally taxing motions of being a Social Work Wife, and then I think, Hmm it's been a few days since you've blogged, maybe that will make you feel better. And before you know it, here we are and I've written nothing wedding-related and I've already wasted thirty minutes watching creepy Japanese porn trailers** (and I thought my job was emotionally taxing...?) and my weakening-with-every-waking-breath 29 year old body is quickly falling prey to that glass of p.g..

So let's see....

My mother has now taken on the role of calming me down about the wedding. Every time I start breathlessly panicking to her about what to do when and where we're going to do what and how much it's all going to cost, she slips on her Compartmentalize and Prioritize apron and throws a verbal glass of cold water in my face, or holds a verbal brown paper bag up to my mouth, or verbally slaps me across the face to bring me back to reality. Maybe not that last one.

When I told her about the $6000 itemized quote from the tent company, she told me to email her a copy and she would go through it. She also told me to email her the list of recommended caterers and she would - - well, she didn't exactly say what she would do, but she was implying that she would either drive to Wellfleet and taste their crab quiches or at least call them to get the 4-1-1 on whether or not they bring their own bouillion spoons. Then when I was talking to her on the subway platform after work today (this Whole Wedding Business has increased our phone time from once every 1-1.5 weeks to once every 5-6 days), she very rationally told me that we just need to do first things first, and we've already got the location figured out so the next thing is the caterer and maybe the tent, and any caterer who does clambakes will at least provide the lobster crackers, and really it doesn't make any sense to try and meet with the caterers until after Labor Day and...etc etc etc..

So basically, Mom is becoming the mother-of-the-groom version of that scary life coach lady on The Swan. And it is calming and reassuring in much the same way I would imagine the Swans are calmed and reassured before their Big Reveal. It's also juuuuust a little bit scary because I alternate between getting mad that she is implying that I am being too planny, and nervous that she is taking over the whole plan and stealing my Big Reveal, and also maybe I am being just a wee little bit of a fourteen year old because I feel like I need to assert my adulthood but I also kind of like the idea of her shepherding me through the process.

And let us not forget that Mommy And Me are only 50% of the equation - - once she and I and M. and his mommy all start weighing in together, I will need two glasses of p.g. and a starring role in a creepy Japanese porn trailer - - but I suppose that will just make our Big Reveal that much more exciting and, to belabor a metaphor, when we look at our reflections in the bouillion spoons, or perhaps even the Ice Luge, we will be just that much more Oh-My-God-We're-Beautiful.


**Not suitable for work. But I bet you didn't skip ahead to see what the asterisk meant first, did you, you crazy Japanese porn fiend?

Tuesday, July 26, 2005

Love is a Battlefield

Two nights ago, M. and I got in a big (door slammin', "fuck you"-in', foot stompin') old fight because we are both stubborn and defensive.

This morning, M. and I got in a big (foot stompin', eye rollin', under-our-breath mutterin') old fight because we are both stubborn, defensive and (literally) deaf.

So I immediately went into the usual panic mode of Holy Shit This Is The Way It's Always Going To Be, We're Too Different, Lord Help Us If We Even Make It To The June 24th Bouillion Spoon Clambake.

And was totally hating on M..

But then....he sent me a really sweet text message which I got right before a really crazy family meeting, and then....he sent me a really sweet email which I got right after a really crazy family meeting....and then I got home and watched the Scott Thompson gay wedding show on Logo while I ate my Big Mac meal, and it was two young guys getting married, and I laid on the couch making the cry-y face with tears rolling down my cheeks because it was just all so sweet and romantic and self-affirming, and then I started imagining our wedding and our vows and our buffet and that's when I really started crying, and now I am anxiously waiting for M. to get home from work because I am once again desperately in love with him.

The morals of the story:

1. Even when it seems like the love is gone, it always comes back, unless it's not meant to be, but that's for another blog.

2. New-fangled technology is not all bad.

3. McDonald's and Gay Cable, when consumed in measured dosages, can be healthy and life-affirming.

Oh, and 4. Just because you used to watch A Wedding Story on TLC religiously during college and cried during each and every episode, but then went gay and had a little more trouble relating, does not mean you will never find a reasonable and equal replacement.

Monday, July 25, 2005

Change of Plans

M. and I just opened a proposal from the tent company which rang in at just under $6200 once they'd added in all of the tables, dance flooring, china, glasses, string lights, lantern lights, side walls, chairs and bouillion spoons.

This is before the caterer even comes a-knockin'. Or the florist. Or the photographer, videographer, DJ and flutist.

We managed to knock off $200 by taking the cushions off the chairs, and really, who needs bouillion spoons? Or lights, for that matter? It will be prime daylight savings time. So there's another 840 bucks, plus another $100 if we hand out rocks instead of lobster crackers.

In fact, I've decided that we will have a Magic Carpet Ride/Country Barn theme which should - once we factor in the burlap sitting mats, the (extra value is what you get when you buy) Coronette, and Wet Naps - bring us closer to our $150-$175 price range. Bring your own meat to grill!

Sunday, July 24, 2005

I win I win I win!

I'm pleased and confused to announce My Very First Award.

I, Groom Zilla, have been listed as this week's Best Gay Blog on the Best Gay Blogs blog! I figured this out during one of my thrice-daily neurotic analyses of how many people have been on the site and where they came from.

And, like, the past seventy visits have all been from this one site.

Which leads my thoughts down dark and twisted pathways regarding who would (not) have been visiting my blog had Best Gay Blogs not existed, but I refuse to rain on my own parade, so....thank you, Mom, for stuffing their ballot box.

Friday, July 22, 2005

New Theme Song

I recently discovered rising crunk/R&B/hip-hop starlet Ciara, and I am happy to say that she has provided me with a whole new set of illegally downloaded songs to choreograph on my way to and from the subway, including my brand new Signature Song in the event that my go-go dancing dreams come true (that, or I have too much gin next June 24th and decide it's time for my father-son dance), "Get On the Dance Floor." I feel it works as a nice compliment to my two previous Signature Songs, "Abracadabra" and "Nasty Girl."

The lyrics which spoke most strongly to me heart and clinched the victory:

I'ma dirty dance for ya,
I'ma shake my ass for ya
I'ma drop my pants when you get up on da dance floor
I'ma dirty dance on ya,
When I get my hands on ya
Shawdy, I can prance when you get up on da dance floor.

Maybe you had to be there.

Thursday, July 21, 2005

Negative Nancy

Why I hated the fact that it was a full moon today and am happy to be going to sleep:

1. 4 train took 20 minutes longer than usual to come this morning, resulting in sweaty back and no more iced coffee for the last 3/4 of my commute.

2. When 4 train arrived, I chose the car that was not air-conditioned, resulting in sweaty back, sweaty back-of-my-knees, and hair product dripping down my forehead - - the last of which was in part due to the fact that Kiki is on vacation (during full moon week) and therefore unable to cut my hair which thus requires me to use additional hair product.

3. Day at work consisted mainly of working with the craziest family I have ever met - - patient dying and her 2 personality disordered children acting, well, crazy, and me in the middle, wishing I had followed through on my initial plan to play hooky and go to the beach.

4. Felt sick all day because I went out for a farewell dinner with my friend KP last night and began our meal with something that consisted of fried bread topped with melted cheese, layered with more fried bread and melted cheese, covered in more melted cheese and finished off with a cheese sauce. Plus I drank too much. And still cannot bring myself to do a #2 at work.

5. Three 4 trains blew past my station on the commute home before one finally stopped thirty minutes later, resulting in sweaty back, forehead and knees, in addition to creepy man in sandals staring at me and trying to make conversation about the train situation while I was trying to have a telephone conversation with my mother who, in turn, was doing a really sucky job at this because she was sitting at the dinner table with my dad and therefore could not talk about Thanksgiving at my sister's in South Carolina or my wedding because he is currently opposed to both.

6. When I got home, M. was sweetly making dinner for me but then turned the microwave on at the same time as both A/C's, resulting in a power outage which, in turn, resulted in an apartment climate that reduced my back, forehead and knees to slush, mitigated only by the fact that I was now free to walk around in my underthings, and due to crazy family at work and train situation, I didn't get home until 7:40pm, which meant that the sun had gone down and now that I was finally free to do a #2, there was not enough natural light left for me to read M.'s latest Time Out New York while sitting in our greenhouse-like bathroom.

After that, things got to be okay. We watched "The Village," which didn't suck as bad as I thought it would, and M. just brought me a bowl of Oreo ice cream which I demolished, even though I just brushed my teeth, and I also scored a major deal on hair product at Ricky's on the way home.

But basically, today was a wash. The whole week was kind of a wash. And, as a result, this blog has been a wash. And nobody wants to read a washy blog, so I hereby solemnly vow, now that we are entering a new moon cycle, to Turn Over a New Leaf.

And I will start this new leaf by sharing my cautious optimism that I will soon have something new to download. Although M. just pointed out, when I complained about how slow our computer is, that this is most likely due to the fact that I have turned into the computer porn equivalent of a 90 year-old hoarder of old soup cans and newspapers.

Tuesday, July 19, 2005

Tuesday Soapbox

The problem with the arrival of the Logo channel on our cable system, and its subsequent role as homepage on our television set, is that I have now come to expect that every time I turn on the TV I will feel validated and normalized and included.

The Today Show had a segment this morning on unmarried couples living together instead of getting married, and they went on and on and on about the growing percentages of cohabitating couples who choose to never get married because they prefer the set-up they already have.

And as I was leaving my apartment yesterday, I saw a Today Show teaser where they announced the finalists for their Home Town Wedding contest and showed four couples with their backs to the camera. Four couples of apparent diversity in size, shape and color, but all hetero as far as I could tell from the rear.

This juxtoposition has left me with a strange and somewhat indescribable and probably unoriginal feeling. It's hard to put into words. I mean, sure, I understand, I live in the real world - - or really not, since Manhattan is nothing at all like the real world, but I at least know of the real world - - and I know how it works. Of course the Today Show isn't going to include gay couples in their Home Town Wedding contest. Or maybe they would if any gay couples got around to digging up a video camera and applying, but probably not. And of course the Today Show is going to cater to their largely heterosexual, Middle American audience when they do a segment on cohabitation. Never mind the fact that us gays have been doing it for years and years - - granted, without much say in the matter.

I know all these things. But it still, as they say, Gets My Goat. Because the Today Show is more than happy to have the Fab Five come on their show (never mind that the Fab Five work on NBC's sister station), or Steven Kojokarakarokaaju, or maybe even whichever actor or actress might have chosen to play gay on a given show or film. When it's for entertainment value, it's safe. But when it's about real, live Gays, not so much.

And I know it sounds naive, but it isn't fair. We were watching a show on - - surprise - - Logo last night, where the head of GLAAD was talking about how little exposure the gays get outside of the major cities. Again, not a surprise. But in my Imaginary Ideal Pretendy world, wouldn't it be nice if there was a gay couple on one of these Today Show segments - - or, to be fair to TDS, on any of these shows - - not to make a political statement but simply because we're just like everybody else?

Even as I write this, I find myself rolling my eyes at myself writing this: Well, sure, Groomzilla, of course it would be nice, but it's not gonna happen, because Gay Don't Pay the Bills, so finish up your little soapbox piece and go do some real work.

But if none of us were misguidedly optimistic or fatally idealistic, we wouldn't have any way of putting things in perspective, of acknowledging temporary defeat with mainstream culture but appreciating that, well, at least there's Logo.


In other news, I started re-reading Anne Lamott's Bird by Bird last night in an effort to jump start my obsession-of-late of writing the next great novel. Thus far it has left me feeling inspired but already-overwhelmed. Between my hypothetical novel, my precursory thoughts on taking the LSAT, my ruminations on moving to Philadelphia, and the actuality of planning a wedding in the next year, someone has a lot on his plate.

Monday, July 18, 2005

Sharing

So today I'm feeling totally depressed.

A disclosure which necessarily begs the question: what is the role of the blog in conveying the details of one's life? Is the blog a mechanism for sharing primarily the "big chunks" of life, the stories, the breaking news, the narrative-weaving events? Or is it simply a virtual diary into which is thrown everything from I'm Getting Married to I Got Fag-Bashed to I Feel Sad?

At any rate, I do, indeed, feel sad. I might chalk this up to several sources:

1. World hunger.

2. The weather, which continues to feel much like I would imagine a wet electric blanket set to HIGH and wrapped around one's head whilst sitting in a sweat lodge might feel, minus the electric shock but with every bit as much of the resigned gloom.

3. The after-effects of two consecutive nights of relative over-imbibement this past weekend, when I have lately become accustomed to only one night of imbibement-within-reason. The first night was Mama-sized Mango margaritas at our local gay Mexican place, Arriba!Arriba!, followed by Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (3.5 stars). The second night was dangerously self-poured drinks at our friends M&R's place, followed by beers on the outdoor patio at Metropolitan in Williamsburg. Nothing wild either night, but...I'm not the man I used to be.

4. The fact that the innkeeper at The Other Inn still hasn't called or written to tell us we can use her rooms and/or tavern, which puts a serious chokehold on my ability to needlessly overplan our guest accomodations, and which leaves my poor little namecards slowly suffocating in their Ziplock tomb praying for the day when there is enough Secure Knowledge About Accomodations to safely release them onto their yet-to-be-built posterboard homes.

5. The everpresent threat of homeland terror, mitigated only minimally by the assumption that they will be least likely to bomb Bronx-bound trains above 42nd Street, such as my own.

6. The feeling that Nobody Needs Me at work today.

I also had a dream last night that I was gift-wrapping my dog - - my actual dog, not my dream dog, or technically my former actual dog, whose death when I was in highschool affected me deeply but also led to a prize-winning essay that was equal parts Me, Toni Morrison and James Joyce - - slightly affected and self-important, but undeniably heartfelt.

Anyways, I had a dream where I was wrapping him in giftwrap - - not like one would wrap a present, just circling the tube of wrapping paper around and around and around him, like Christmas tree lights. So maybe that's where my depression is coming from, because a) I miss him and rarely dream about him, b) when I do dream about him, it's never very interactive, just things like gift-wrapping him or walking him down the street, which leaves me with a slightly hollow feeling, and c) I have no idea what it's supposed to mean. Dog:giftwrap as impending wedding:anxiety? Or life:personal control? Or three slices of pepperoni pizza at 9:30pm last night:my brain?

Thursday, July 14, 2005

S.O.S.

Someone please help me.

I'm obsessed with Who Is Going To Stay Where.

Last night I cut out 132 pieces of card stock and wrote everyone's names on them, to make it easier to arrange people in the poster board hotel lay-outs I am/was going to create.

And now tonight, when I have had the whole apartment free to myself for five hours while M. is out with his friends, instead of getting started on the Novel I'm Going To Write, I have spent the entire evening (after catching up on Average Joe and watching the end of Dangerous Liaissons) making an Excel spreadsheet detailing every room at Our Inn, into which I will move the little names M. created on another Excel spreadsheet guest list.

Or, more specifically, half the names on the guest list, because that's all that will fit into Our Inn. The other half will be at the Other Inn if the Other Innkeeper ever writes back to me. Otherwise, they will be at the Motel Down the Street on Route 6, and M. and I will have to draw straws to see who goes where, and this idea causes me great agita.

And I also cannot stop eating Hot Tamales (the candy, not the Mexican delicacy). And for some reason I put them in the refrigerator along with the Milk Duds (correction: I know full well why I put them there, which is so that they wouldn't get eaten by the cockroaches which seem to be encroaching on our kitchen as the summer goes on), and now when I take them out they have condensation from my hot apartment and they get all over my hands and I get scared that the Hot Tamale Red Stuff will get all over our New Laptop, and this also causes me great agita.

I'm sick. Please help.

And there's still 345 days left.

The only thing that keeps me going are my Hot Tamales, the promise of another weekend, and This Man:





Tuesday, July 12, 2005

I Heart Mom

My mother has volunteered to drive out to the Cape tomorrow morning to drop off our security deposit at Our Inn and check out a few things in Wellfleet.

And I keep trying to come up with a clever "Where does x end and y begin?" question related to my fears that my mother's pleasantly surprising gung-ho participation will somehow turn into a bitter battle for control, but......a) I can't come up with anything good and b) I feel like maybe I should once again shelve the witticisms and just revel in the fact that my mom is totally rad. I mean, seriously? She's rad.

Monday, July 11, 2005

Minutiae

Motherfrick. I just wrote a gynormous posting detailing my latest internal hemorrhages about the wedding, and then it went bye bye.

In a nutshell:

1. I watched the new Scott Thompson show on Logo last night, where he sets up gay (canadian) weddings in 2 weeks, and at first it was nice but then I thought, in another nutshell, "Wait what the fuck are we thinking, putting ourselves through the potential awkwardness and misery of a gay wedding in front of my parents and siblings when they have yet to even see M. and I hold hands, let alone kiss and dance and express our lifelong commitment to one another in matching suits, and maybe I'm more of an internalized homophobe than I thought because the thought of standing up there in front of everyone forces my mouth into an uncontrollably clench-teethed grimace falling somewhere between Lon Cheney and The Scream, and how are we even going to choose between Myrtle's Catering and Sal's Clams let alone figure out what to wear and who to invite and where they'll stay and WHAT IF THEY ALL LAUGH AT US........????"

Then the brides on the show had a happy ending and I got distracted by my ironing and felt better and went to bed.

2. Then I lay in bed staring at the ceiling for forty-five minutes listening to my pulse race and it was there and then that I figured it out: of course the cute tavern at the Other Inn would be so much better for the Friday night talent show than the tent at Our Inn, which we really have only been thinking about because we'll have already paid for the grounds for the weekend, and when it comes to Pre-Wedding Talent Show location scouting, really, finances shouldn't be the deciding factor, should they? Then I waited for Matt to wake up, which he did eventually, screaming in terror because my face was two inches away from his to better direct my Wake Up vibes into his brain, and I excitedly told him about my brainstorm, but he told me we'd discuss it in the morn-zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

3. Then I just got off the phone with my mom, where we had one of the best and most enjoyable and least routine conversations we've had in a long time, and in between discussing the perils of grilling salmon indoors and my brother's crazy ex-wife's new boyfriend, she totally pledged 10 grand for the Big Day, maybe even more since she was kind of vague with the numbers. So together, she and I will be ensuring that Daddy-o "participates."

4. Finally, here is one of the photos Our Inn just sent us on a CD, along with a request for a $1400 deposit, illustrating one of the cutie rooms where one of my Lucky Readers will perhaps be resting their Lucky Heads:

Thursday, July 07, 2005

A nice email

I thought I'd put a lid on the sardonic wit today and share an email I got from my sister-in-law, which made me happy on many levels. The reference to my sister is a long story, nothing serious, just an email she sent in response to my initial email where she tried to be funny but ended up sounding inappropriate and dumb. Again, long story. But my sister-in-law's email kind of made my day:



Subject: Re: save the date
Date: Thu, 7 Jul 2005 11:37:16 -0400
To: "Groomzilla"


Hi,
Your wedding plans sound fabulous. I was with your mom this weekend
and she told me all about the Inn. It sounds like you guys lucked out
- on-line searches can be fruitful! We were wondering about making
reservations, your mom said there were places near the Inn that might
be better for kids?? What do you suggest? We just want to get a room
before they fill up! Oh, of course we will all be there. We're so
happy for you both. Your mom seems to be becoming your champion -
you'd be very proud of her and how she feels about your marriage. I
know there's not the same feeling eminating from your dad, but, I am of
the mind that he's going to come around (I am an optimistic person you
know). He has softened in the last few years, and he does have time.
Your sister's reply is disturbing, I'm sorry you have to deal with
that. I won't say anything more. Just know that we love you and M.,
we're so happy that you've found each other. Married life is good.
xxook

On Jun 29, 2005, at 8:45 PM, Groomzilla wrote:>
So M. and I and M.'s mother and Mom took a trip to Provincetown and Wellfleet last weekend, and we found a place for our ceremony and it's going to be the weekend of June 23rd-25th, 2006......so please mark that in your calendars and I hope everyone can make it. Children are by all means welcome, but if you think you'd have more fun without, that's fine too. For children who do attend, I will be holding a Friday night workshop entitled "Why are Uncle P and M Kissing?" Or feel free to hold your own before then. Can't wait!!! xoxoxox

Tuesday, July 05, 2005

What a Feeling

Sometimes, after a really long and arduous day of saving lives?

Followed by a totally mind-fucking therapy session in which you make unforeseen and hypothetically liberating but potentially disturbing connections between you, your mother, your Significant Other and your father?

All you can really do is listen to the theme from Flashdance.

All.

The Way.

Home.

I'm a (Yankee Doodle) Dandy


Happy Belated 4th of July. This is a holiday which holds special significance for me, as it is the day which happened to coincide with my Big Coming Out to the parents way back in 2000.




To think, it was just five short years ago that I made my mother cry and my siblings question my decision and my father declare his intent to pray for my conversion. And now I'm engaged to be married to another man, and my mother stopped crying weeks ago, and I'm pretty sure my siblings are starting to buy the fact that this is For Keeps, and sure the Conscientious Objector is still praying for a miracle but I'm starting to think he's going at it in more of a half-assed kind of way. He did, after all, attend the shotgun backyard wedding of my brother's second wife's daughter from her first marriage over the weekend, which really doesn't leave him much wiggle room as far as his attendance at my own nuptials is concerned.

It does, however, leave ample room for M. and I to decide if we want an ice luge of our own:

Saturday, July 02, 2005

Hysterical funniness and a shout-out to Spain

In an effort to make this post gay wedding-relevant, let us exalt in yet another progressive and fair-minded nation making life a little bit mas facil para los homos. Viva Espana!

If only I weren't so attached to the idea of being a naughty little girl getting married in a country that forbids it, I swear I'd be pushing for a move to Canada or the Netherlands. Maybe Spain. Not so much Belgium.

The real reason I am posting this morning, however, is to share something that has had me sitting here at my desk in my underwear snorting all over my keyboard and trying not to wake M. up. Please to enjoy.

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