New Beginnings are Wobbly Things.

Thank goodness everything I’ve learned about balance I’ve learned from Weebles.

I promise I won't leave you for a Fabergé egg.

I know the question in your hearts: “Wellwellwell, look who’s come crawling back?”

Answer:
 
Me, bitches!
(I mean that in the kindest way possible.)

I had to take some time off because my off-line life became suddenly very therapy inducing real and didn’t leave me with any kind of love or sense of humor to bring to my online life – and that’s just not good for anybody.

So I’ll give a rundown of the past 9 months or so of whatsagoingsons.

I lost a male figure in my life to his own horrific undoing.
My sister got married!  My nephew slept through the whole thing but later he and RHS blew bubbles.  Nephew for the win.
(At my sister’s wedding) I saw my father after nearly 12 years of radio silence.  It was… static-y.
I became a member of the WhoDat Nation.
I had to take a break from Dr. Rachel Maddow because she was giving me the blues.
A series of horriblenogoodverybadthings began to happen to my friends.
I welcomed my new Stepfather to the family.
I had a dramatic and possibly final falling out with my brother.
I officially became Mrs. RHS.  (I’m so lucky!)

Sadie and Sadie, married ladies.

I submitted my application to Hunter College for Fall 2011 as a Philosophy major.
I promptly freaked out.
I’ve started baking bread and making my own pizza dough from scratch.

And I’ve come up with a plan.

#1 Eat more milk chocolate covered Oreos.
#2 Sign up for The Mint and start saving for the honeymoon (to Paris!).
#3 Blog more.

Please rest assured that #1 is a lock.
  I am well on my way with #2 even though entering all of my information into the system and creating budgets has now left me wondering how I afford to live at all.

As for #3 here’s the plan – the plan for the plan.
  I have decided to give my blog a focus.  Writing is difficult for me and it’s easy for me to get bogged down in the not so shiny parts of my offline life and not write.  I think that it’ll be a good idea to have one weekly thing to write about that brings me joy.  That way, I do at least one post a week – and, regardless of what else is going on in my life I have a bright spot to share.

A happiness anchor.

And, since Barbra Streisand doesn’t have a weekly message – which, uhm, why doesn’t Barbra Streisand have a weekly address?  She has a basement mall but she doesn’t have a weekly message.  She is full of mystery.  A beret-wearing, “I Like To Sing While Looking At the Water” stating, microphone painting, chicken-owning mystery.

Anyhoods, since Barbra Streisand doesn’t have a weekly message I have decided to turn to the other Strong Black Woman in my life, RuPaul.

 

Oh, Ru you do flatter me with your excitment.

The 3rd season of RuPaul’s Drag Race is green-lighted to begin on Monday, January 24th and I will be using it as my weekly bit of joy.  I will recap each episode of the season which delights me because it combines two of my favourite things  recapping and fierceness.  I know!  I’m excited too.

RuPaul will be my happiness anchor and we will set sail from there!

Fingers Crossed

Uhm, Rush Limbaugh has said that he will leave the country if we get HCR happens.

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more about “Limbaugh promises to “leav[e] the cou…“, posted with vodpod

Oh, prettyprettypretty please with prescription drugs on top.  We are so close, Democrats… when you’re facing party in-fighting and Stupidak opposition just think, “Two birds.  One stone.”

It’s hard to hold a candle in the cold November rain.

Yeah, you know something is wrong when Axel Rose is your emotional voice.

November has been a hard month.

It started off well; I was all hot to trot about NaNoWriMo and started off with a bang on November 1st by nearly reaching my daily goal.  And then I sat and dithered for a week about what to write next and then my offline life decided to shit the bed.

RHS and I are fine but other things aren’t.
And it feels like every time we try and catch our breath we keep getting a punch to the gut by the Universe.  So I’ve been distracted and, for the most part disconnected in my on and offline life.  I didn’t try and process the Fort Hood shooting, I didn’t have the bandwidth for Stupak; I was too tired to make even easy jokes about Going Rogue.  It was all that I could do not to scream or cry every single day (including today), really.

And there was Thanksgiving.  Given all the what the what… I thought that I’d be as dry as an overcooked turkey when it came to reflecting on what I am thankful for.  But sometimes I surprise even myself.

So here’s a list that I’ve made for myself as a reward for making it through the month, and as a reminder, a touchstone, for those upcoming months that might be equally as hard.

I am thankful for:

The New York City skyline.  Regardless of what is going on in my life or how I am feeling, the view from the Q (or B) train over the bridge takes my breath away and fills me with joy.

Voicemail and video-mail messages from my sister of my nephew Malcolm.  He’s two years old, can barely talk and couldn’t quite make his mind up about the whether or not we wanted to walk for a while, and he cracks me up every time he tries to say my name (or, really, anything).

Not so terrible 2

My mother and my sister – the family that chose me.

Peet’s Coffee Holiday Blend.  Peet’s always starts my mornings right, regardless of how the day ends up.

Our therapist.  Her professional insight (“That’s fucked up, you guys.”) and useful tools have helped keep our Team strong and steady in this shit storm swirling about us.

Football.  Watching Eli Manning lose and the Saints and my Cowboys wins all while yelling at the television is a great way to relieve stress.

Friends – the family you choose.

RHS.  My gratitude grows leaps and bounds each day.

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Let’s do the Time Warp again.

Last week it seemed like it was 2001 (and we all know what a banner year that was for America) now it seems like it might be 1998.

Why?

Because Lilith Fair is back. I know that I’m the last to know (I am not on the email list), but it’s breaking news to me.  And secretly the young, I’m not quite sure if I’m a lesbian but I like it here because all of these ladies are super friendly to me and I do enjoy a compliment, BPD is pleased as punch because well, all of the ladies at Lilith Fair were super friendly to me and I do enjoy a compliment.

But still, one of my favourite people at work who I haven’t figured out a moniker for yet (and frankly doesn’t OOMFPAWWIHFOAMFOY seems a bit long? Awesome, but long.) and I were talking about how we just can’t get all of the way behind it.

Because I mean, the late nineties were all about ladies doing their best Joni Mitchell impressions what with their guitars and their scarves and their sing-songwriter with a little dash of now let’s all sleep with each other thrown in. Oh those Halcyon days, when all a girl needed was a sweet pair of overalls and a beaded necklace.

But we’re in the two-thousandsies (Dr. Rachel Maddow says it and so can I!) now and things have changed. I mean, sure, ladies are still super friendly to me and I do enjoy a compliment but the music landscape is totally different. I haven’t seen my overalls in a while now and I always give RHS the stink-eye when she ties on a scarf. Also, who’s going to play?

Miley Cyrus
Beyonce
Katy Perry
Lady Gaga

I mean, they’re nice girls and all, but I just don’t get the Lilith vibe from them, you know, and the former headliners are, well, former.

I mean, Sarah McLachlan hasn’t had a job in ages. Those ASPCA promos just don’t pay the bills.

The Indigo Girls have faded to just plain old blue. Emily went and got her heart broke and Amy Ray went and got… uhm, younger women?

Tori Amos has made it clear that she’s not into the Lilith Fair (Isn’t she just our favourite little megalomaniac outside of Barbra?) so we can count her out – again.

Who’s left?

Joan Osborn – haven’t heard from her in ages so I’m thinking that she got mugged by one of those strangers on the bus.

Shawn Colvin?
I’ve got no jokes about Shawn Colvin. Sunny plays with fire.

So you can see the dilemma.

Who’s currently happening in the industry that fits within the Lilith milieu? And does anybody still want to pay to sit on a lawn among the scarfed and questionably washed (friendly though they may be) to see them?

These are the tough questions facing the Lilith Fair promoters. And I know that there are lists all over the interwebs with dream line-ups and they’re alright and all, but I have one that beats them all.

Lilith Fucking Fair Bitches!

Patti Labelle
Not only did LaBelle release a new album a year ago but Pattie Labelle is prepared to sing herself into a diabetic coma. That is some showmanship. Ain’t no acoustic guitar toting girl (even you, Ani) can beat that.

Heart
How do we get them alone?

Karen Oh
Oh yes!

Meshell Ndegeocello
Who is she and what is she to me? One badass sexy lady. Who plays bass. And is badass and sexy. Why are there even questions about this?

Tina Turner
Her Buddhism will add the den mother factor. Also, she owns a white and a silver leather jumpsuit. That totally beats the scarves any day.

Barbra Streisand
Barbra Steisand is a colossus astride the earth (and with her don’t rain on my parade policy you are guaranteed great weather).

Liza Minnelli
You are guaranteed Quaaludes, mascara and an amazing wig-off with Tina Turner.

Crazy with a Z

Whitney Houston
Whitney needs a gig ya’ll. And frankly, you’re going to need someone who knows exactly how to revive you when you’ve had taken too many of Liza’s happy pills and had too many crack (oh, I’m sorry cocaine) laced pot-brownies.

Elton John
Bitch loves a party. And costumes. Win.

You know you’d rather see this line up than anything Sarah McMopelan can throw together.

Don’t front.

Déjà BOOO

It looks like it’s 2001 all over again.

1. New Jersey and Virginia have Republican Governors¹ 
2. Mike Bloomberg has used-car salesmanned himself into the NYC Mayor’s seat²
3. Maine has second-class citizens³

 

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Same you can believe in.

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¹In 2001 Donald DiFrancesco succeeded Christine Todd Whitman as governor of New Jersey.  In 2001 Jim Gilmore was the governor of Virginia.

²In 2001 Mike Bloomberg switched his registration from Democrat to Republican before switching his registration to Independent in 2007 and then hoodwinking NYC citizens so that he could be eligible for a third term.

³In 2001 Maine’s partnered gay citizens were not afforded the same rights under the law as their married heterosexual counterparts.  For a brief shining moment this year that wrong was righted.  Last night citizens and neighbors in Maine voted to disenfranchise and relegate second class status to other citizens and neighbors in Maine.  Those voters chose to protect marriage at the cost of their dignity and integrity. 
That seems like too heavy a price to pay to me.

Oh Joe he didn’t!

I’ve been sitting here, dithering, if you will, for the past couple of days trying to think of a clever play on Joe Lieberman’s name.

So far I’ve come up with:

Joe Blows
Joe Diddly
Say it ain’t Joe
Not Joe Senator
Joe Shit
Joe-berwokky
No way Joe-se
Sloppy Joe

My favourite, however, is Cock Block.  It’s not a play on words so much as an accurate description of Joe Lieberman’s time in Senate.
He’s the “friend” telling the hot girl that you’ve just gotten to talk to you about that weird infection you had last week.

In this case the hot girl that’s just deigned to grace you with her witty repartee is health care reform with an anemic public option and the Republican filibuster power is the infection that we thought we’d finally rid ourselves of when we finally got Al Franken his seat.

Joe Lieberman is the fucker that finagles it so that all three of you to go home alone and then get all offended when you shoot him a dirty look and a dirty finger when he’s all, “Dude.  Couldn’t close that deal, huh?  Sucks.  She was alright, though.”

But don’t take my word for.  Dr. Rachel Maddow has had her blazers in a bunch over it for the past two nights.  And I don’t blame her.  In the whole history of the Senate no one (NO ONE) has voted with the opposition to prevent cloture for the party they caucus with.  I understand wanting to make a name for yourself, but Benedict Arnold doesn’t seem like the wisest of choices.

In real life, such masterful cock-blockery often results in a five-finger salute to face.  I’m not advocating violence, but I am advocating a swift and decisive response to such disregard for the leadership of the party with which you caucus.  I am advocating that the Democratic party strip him of his leadership, run someone against him and censure him and then call that pretty girl up, beg her pardon and see if you can get her to talk to you again now that your douche-y “friend” is gone.

Democrats, don’t let her get away.

It’s all fun and games until someone gets married.

So it occurred to RHS and I on Sunday as we were shoveling awesome breakfasty goodness  into our mouths having a nice Brunch Date to belatedly celebrate our 5 years of being a Team [That’s how we think of ourselves, as a Team. We even have a team name and a secret handshake.  That’s okay.  Take a moment.  It will still be true when you re-read it.] that we were less than a year away from our big come and celebrate the permanence of our relationship and bring us presents¹ party.

So yeah, we’re wedding² planning.

I know that this will be a surprise, but… I have not been planning my wedding since I was a little girl.  I’ve been planning it, seriously planning it, since Sunday.

RHS and I made lists and talked about options and made more lists and suddenly it occurred to me that I might end up with one of those god-awful wedding binders and began to panic a little bit, but then I calmed myself down by telling myself that if I had to have a wedding binder then I’d have to buy a new wedding messenger bag to carry the binder and that and the Bloody Mary made me feel a lot better.  That, and the thought that a god-awful wedding binder is kind of a tiny cost to pay to get hitched to RHS.

So yeah… wedding planning.

This means that every now and then there will be a post about the planning stages.  Posts like, Why can’t we just throw your ethics out of the window so that I can have that nice diamond ring, hunny?  Or the inevitable: People need mini-cheeseburgers more than they need crudites.  It’s a fact.

I hope that you (and RHS) can bear with me.

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¹Go look at the loading graphics of KitchenAid.com.  Those are kind of dirty, right?

²Maine has a big vote on Question 1 coming up.  Get out the word to your friends in Maine to show up and vote NO on Question 1 on November 3rd.

Sang a song about it. Like to hear it? Here it go.

So, I’ve been sitting here on my couch watching American football (arguably one of the best things about Fall – except for the foliage, of course), ironing my clothes for the week (It’s a weird, nerdy total time-saver and is super-helpful when you’re between laundry runs), making dinner, being domestic with RHS and recovering from our 4-mile run today.

I totally forgot that it was National Coming Out Day.

Over at Pam’s House Blend they’ve got a lovely compilation of videos from the March on DC that seems appropriate for the day.

I tend to think that everyday is a coming out day.  Not that I run around New York City, stopping random passersby and tourists to let them know that I am gay (I let my tie and my loafers do the talking for me) but every single day I live my life as openly as possible.

When I came out to my mother in 2003 over the phone…

BPD: Guess what Mommy, I’m in a play!
BPD’s Mommy: That’s wonderful sweetie, what role do you play?
BPD: I play a lesbian and that’s really easy because I am one in real life.
BPD’s Mommy: How wonderful, you’re in a play.
BPD & BPD’s Mommy: (awkward silence)
BPD’s Mommy: So you’re a lesbian in real life?
BPD: Yeah.
BPD’s Mommy: Well you’ll draw on experience then.
BPD: Yeah.
BPD’s Mommy: Well, thanks for telling your mother.
BPD: About the play?
BPD’s Mommy: About everything.  Thanks for feeling like you can tell your mother anything.  I appreciate that.
BPD: You’re welcome.
BPD’s Mommy: I love you.  Break a leg in your play.

… my biggest worry was that she’d hang right up on me and that’d be it.

Her biggest concern was (and, I would wager, still is) that life would be difficult for me.  I was (and, I would wager, still am) her BabyGirl and the last thing that she wants is for my life to be difficult.  And over the years I’ve tried to make her understand that being closeted made my life difficult.  That as awful as it sometimes is, having to endure hateful tirades and having to keep constant vigilance about my safety when I am about in the world is still loads easier than those years I spent closeted.

So every day that I am out in the world living my life just as I see fit is a victory. Every day that I don’t have to live a closeted life is a triumph.  I come out every morning when I roll over and see RHS’ sleeping head, every pay-day when I look at my check and see that we are covered by my health-insurance, every Sunday when we go on our runs through Prospect Park and talk about our plans for the future, every time someone stops me at work to ask me about my ties and every time my sister wants to talk to RHS on the phone so that they can commiserate about me.

I congratulate all that have made today (yesterday and tomorrow) National Coming Out Day.

Especially you, Diana.

Interwebs lift us up where we belong…

Last week was a hard week.
I was totally stressed out at work.
I was audited by the IRS and had the first of my installment payments due and had to figure out what I wouldn’t be paying in order to give the government its due  (fingers crossed this gets me the Public Option I want).
I’ve been a bit worried about something coming up in my offline life that’s been keeping me distracted and I found a line on my face.  The worst part is that the line on my face is probably caused by the frequent and painful multiple day-long headaches that I have (which are probably migraines).
Also, I found out the the Phelps clan would be in my fair borough to picket outside of synagogues on Yom Kippur because they’re classy-McClassersons who are still protected by Free Speech. And though I am not Jewish and I didn’t spend the day fasting (I did spent the day tidying and meditating on things that I might need to atone for [like calling my sister “stupid” a lot when I was younger]) this kind of… just nastiness by the Westboro klan really floored me.

There were some bright spots.

RHS booked an Off-Broadway gig (which pays) and is now finally able to turn Equity.  This makes us a two Equity-card household.
Oprah Winfrey kicked off her 24th Season with interviews with Whitney Houston, and in a double whammy Jay-Z and, the light of my life, Barbra Streisand.

But the brightest spots were found on the interwebs.
I was browsing my favourite blogs and discovered Wordle.net (beautiful world cloud maker) at CKHB’s blog.  Here’s the wordle from last week’s entries.

Every silver lining has a word cloud.

I found out where the limited edition Barbra Streisand Barbie doll can be purchased.  (Wink, wink.  Hint, hint.)  And I found videos of the Vanguard performance (that I, sadly, did not win tickets to).

Hello, dolly.

Some smartasses after my own heart found a way to counter the non-housebroken-ness of the Phelps clan.

Amen, dude.

And finally… Oprah gets surprised.

Thank you interwebs.

Will Ferrell has something important to tell you.

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One question: Where is my girlfriend, Tina Fey?