TimeOut Chicago
December 4, 2008
OutWorld Video Podcast
March 27, 2009
Feast of Fun
March 27, 2009
Take Your Banana to Work Day – PDX Style
February 19, 2009
Solar Powered
February 18, 2009
Gayest Straight Girl Ever
February 13, 2009
I know it’s not completely obvious to the untrained eye that I’m a big ol’ queer. But, I forget when meeting new people that they don’t know. I live with such queer colored glasses and am usually so segregated in my fabulous gay world. Well, I often forget there are straight people, really.
I end up thinking they are just something I read about online. Like Republicans. I talk about Republicans a lot online! But in real life, pretty much never see one…
Straight people must think I’m the gayest straight girl ever.
Because of course, it’s all I talk about. Well, that and Battlestar Gallatica. Well, that even gets pretty gay.
I guess straight girls don’t usually talk about fisting, dildos and pussy upon first meeting. I mean we all know they’ll talk about it at some point – after a lot to drink and if there is a hot tub involved.
So, I must come across as a really fucked up straight girl. And do they sit there thinking “should I say something? I’m pretty sure she’s gay. I wonder how her boyfriend that she talks about so much feels about it?”
It’s hard today. Everyone’s talking about gay marriage. I mean straight people are for sure talking about gay marriage way more than any queer person I know. What would straight people post on their Facebooks if it weren’t for Prop 8?
I’m the worst gayest straight girl ever.
Gold Standard
February 1, 2009
My high school boyfriend informed me that my tits were still the gold standard. Unfortunately, he has not seen them since I was 19 and I’m pretty sure they’ve dropped about two stories since then. But, I will bask in the glory of my teenage tits for as long as I can.
Of course, he is the gold standard for high school boyfriends. He had a car and drove me everywhere, he played guitar in a band, he thought I was super funny and hot, he only cheated on me once (and vice versa), and was a big ol’ bottom. Right? Perfect high school boyfriend for a soon to be dyke – who still doesn’t drive by the way.
Speaking of hands down…he was sharing with me the trials and tribulations of being a 30 something single straight guy dating in Los Angeles. What a disaster! Like, he has date shoes. The pair of shoes he has that are nice enough but not too nice as to reveal how much money he makes. He said the women he dates immediately want to find out. If they don’t just come right out and ask, they’ll look for clues like his shoes or phone or job title to figure it out.
Of course, he described other problems with dating in LA and all I could think was that the problems aren’t LA but that he’s a bottom looking for a top stuck in world where people don’t talk about such things. I had to explain that bottom doesn’t just mean getting penetrated (we’ll talk about that another time I promised) and that off-the-shelf straight gender roles and simplistic versions of masculine and feminine are failing him. Tops and bottoms would help him start to understand what he likes in women and help him to articulate it better. He seemed confused. I guess they don’t talk like that in his straight LA world.
I said: “Like me and you in high school. Me – top. You – bottom.”
Like I said, gold standard in high school boyfriends.
Sexing your dog
January 13, 2009
I get really weirded out when folks strongly correct you on the sex of their animals. Like knowing the cat is a boy or a girl (with all their parts removed) matters or the bird or even the dog (also, with all parts removed).
Really? I need to know whether your bird has a vagina or not? I’m pretty sure the fact that it is a bird and hopping on my arm is the more overriding quality. Oh, and the wings and strange tongue and talking thing or that it lives to be 70.
Not, the vagina. I’m pretty sure it isn’t used for any other reason but to pee now. Why? Because I was going to hook your cat up on a date and need to know which hole it wants it in? Whether it is a top or bottom or butch or femme or girl or boy? I’m pretty sure whether even if it is a boy or girl — it’s overwhelmingly a cat. It likes to be fed, sleep a lot and doesn’t like anyone much.
It’s even stranger with queer people. When you are being told the sex of the animal in a room full of folks that don’t look or act or even identify as women and men, etc.
The flaming gay boy who strongly tells you his dog is a male. Really? And you? How about you? This dog has no voice or agency but you, queer boy, have forged ahead with it’s rigidly defined sex and gender roles.
I think it’s weird. I think of all the confusing parts of the changing nature of sex and gender today the least we could do is celebrate how much it doesn’t fucking matter when it comes to neutered, leashed, dependent animals we care for.
YouthOutlook in Elgin, Illinois
December 18, 2008
Thanks Deb for the great pictures and Nancy for having me there to celebrate your amazing 10 years of great work! I like this pic best because it looks like I could be giving a sermon or a toast at a wedding – two things I should probably never do!
A Very Special Facebook Group
December 13, 2008
I think I should just get it over with. Once and for all. A Facebook group for all of my ex’s. It might be called: “What’s a girl gotta do to get some good sushi?”
I can’t stand getting one more friend request from a random past screw who might write random messages on my Wall. What if they get drunk and write something about my ass or my safe word or my mother? Something for everyone to read. Everyone I’ve ever worked with, everyone I’ve ever gone to school with, everyone who thinks I’m a nice, normal person.
Ok, maybe that last part is a more interesting group to create.
What color for “Your Therapist is Online”
December 13, 2008
It really weirds me out when I can see my therapist is online. She just recently gave me her email address because I was moving away and she thought it would be a good way to make appointments for when I come back through town. Now, automatically, Gmail tells me when she’s online.
It’s all I can do not to start chatting with her. Of course, I learned good boundaries and would never do such things. But, damn, how great would it be to actually get a good response from an online chat friend. I say something to most friends and get a “LMAO” or ☹.
I think the decade long relationship I had with my therapist was a big help. I mean, I can’t exactly remember what I was like beforehand, but I was probably a disaster. I mean if I’m only half a disaster now, imagine what I was like then? My favorite part of therapy is when I’d come to some realization about myself, or my behavior more like it, and she’d say: “well, at least you see it now.” And that would be it. No, magical advice for what to do next or heaven forbid what to do instead of whatever fucked up thing it is that I did. No, she’d just applaud my ability to see my own behavior.
I don’t think I’ve changed that much, I just really have good language for describing what fucked up things I do and why I do them. I feel much better now.
Gays on Strike
December 10, 2008
It’s time for gays to go on strike.
I don’t just mean the famous ones who run talk shows. Though talk shows and comedy would for sure suffer during the strike. In fact, all daytime television would suffer if gay actors and gay writers and all gay story lines were cut from television. What conflict would there be if someone’s daughter wasn’t coming out on a soap or if there were no American Idol to talk about at work?
First off, I hereby declare that straight people can no longer have the following songs:
1. “YMCA” by the Village People. What the hell are you going to do at your sacred weddings now, huh? If you are going to cast your vote to protect your marriages than we are taking YMCA back. Do you even know what that song is about? Do you even know the history of YMCAs? Well, for years we have enjoyed watching you make fools of yourselves at your weddings to our song. Our song about how glorious it is NOT to be tethered to your sacred contract with the state. No contract? Fine, I’ll take random, anonymous sex and a place to crash any day.
2. “We are the Champions” by Queen. How will you ever know you’ve won a football game without the super queer Freddie Mercury telling you so? Do you even fully appreciate the life that Freddie was singing about or the horrible disease that took him from us? Sure, your football games are special to you. Special enough to save the lives of the next Freddies so they can remind you how great it is to be a winner? You can have Friday night footballs games. I’ll take super queer fags with crazy mustaches who really know what it’s like to be on top…and bottom.
And to my straight female sisters. Sorry, we are taking back the domestic violence shelters and abortion clinic protections. You will have to figure out how to get through the bad parts of all the rights and responsibilities of your lives without lesbians sacrificing their spirits and Saturday mornings helping you when the shit hits the fan. I’m not saying we don’t need those services once in awhile too. But, from now on, we are gonna just help ourselves. You’ll have to fend for yourselves against the patriarchy. Won’t have our shoulders to cry on. Won’t have your lesbian friend to get drunk with and complain about your husbands. Sorry, we’ve held back long enough during those conversations. We are here to say…DUH!
We are also taking:
-hummus (try getting your protein fix without it!)
-girls with guitars/folk music (how will you ever get through college?)
-haircuts (can’t wait to see how good you look with straight men cutting your hair.)
-fashion make overs (they were laughing at you anyway…)
You’ll have no more scapegoats when we go on strike. You won’t be able to blame us for anything anymore. We are gonna take all the disco, culture, Miller Lite, art, politics, social services, teachers, UPS drivers…
Oh, and we are taking the fag hags too.
Circa 1972
December 9, 2008
How hot is my mom pregnant with me? Knee high boots, a killer mini dress, and I bet those are garters.
