for an open-minded jeweler

yeah, its true: this blog is the product of the laziest writer you ever did meet in ur whole damn life. i am truly the laziest person i know. all around me the people i know are creating beautiful art, sprinkling their talents out on the world, doing what they were put here to do. and then theres me..not writing

(even tho i magically came upon a free copy of microsoft office a few weeks ago and said, "well now i have no excuse. thank you, universe. now i can finish my novel." i even installed it. and converted my open office files back into word files. and did about one day's worth of work and put it away.)

sure i write some at work, but that is to pay the bills..not to feed my soul. not exactly filling the space im meant to. at least, not completely filling my space here. in that one capacity.

one thing i know i was put here to do, i am doing, i think to the fullest: loving the love of my life.

for two years as of tomorrow, actually. and i was never in a relationship this long, so this is a really big deal for me. but the best part of it is that these have been the happiest two years of my adult life.

and i remember when my brother told me how he asked monica to marry him.. he told me she couldnt have been that surprised b/c he always said that if they were together for two years that would mean they could get engaged. that was his marker. and i thought, "yeah, that's fair. that's a long time."

and so here we are. and it happens to be christmas time. and i keep seeing all of these damn jewelry store commercials on television, ads in between words with friends games, telling erryone to buy your diamonds here! get engaged with our beautiful rings! its christmas! its snowing! youre in love! celebrate! give her the eternity ring! every lady wants to show her friends that her man knows what she wants, get her THE diamond cut of NOW!

..and im like, what man?

i started thinking, like, when's there gonna be a gay couple on one of these commercials? whats up with that? who will be the first jeweler to do it? how could there not be ONE even SLIGHTLY ambiguous commercial out there thats speaking to me and my fellow gays?  

not a one!?

and then my friend tranda shared this with me. and i know its gotten some play -- quite a bit, actually -- but i just wish it'd make it on to the ol' boob tube.

maybe next holiday season. for now tho, there's no rush for us. we celebrate our love every day. and two years might be a good tell, but i knew the moment i set eyes on this one that she was it. rings will come when they come, commercial acceptance or not.

happy holidays my friends.


for being able to leave the hospital world

i'm sitting here in the friends and family surgery lounge at the jersey shore university medical center, waiting for kcface to get out of back surgery. and guys, the hospital world is so strange.

i remember my mother coming home each night after being with my nana all day in the hospital, and telling my father and i about her day. it was always hard to act enthralled when she'd go into details about dealing with nurses and doctors and the meals she'd had that day and the people she sat with in the waiting room while this person i didnt even know was visiting, and things like that. it was a lot of the same things over and over. and she really knew that hospital through and through. so much so, that when i visited my nana in the hospital, i felt as if i was also visiting my mother's hangout those days. she knew every turn of that place.

and that is not something you want to be able to say.

you dont want to know a hospital like that. cuz if you do, it means two things:  someone you love is really sick, and your brain is full of knowledge you didnt want.

you know what time they clean the bathroom on the floor your person is on. you know which bathroom is hidden and always clean to begin with. you know what they have on fridays in the cafeteria, and you know the most direct way to the parking garage where you park on the basement level b/c you know no1 else wants to, so there are always spots open--even near the entrance. you know which nurses to talk to, and you know which people are nurses in the 1st place.

and, the smell of the food in the hospital might not even make you nauseous, but elicit hunger and remind you to eat.

i hafta say, the food here is pretty tasty. i had some chicken fingers and garlic and herb mashed potatoes a few hours ago, and a fresh nectarine. but now, as im anxiously awaiting the completion of my boo's post-surgery recovery, a few people around me are eating their late lunch and it is making me want to throw up. their food smells absolutely disgusting..straight up, like sick ppl food. actually, like makepeoplesick food. it smells like salt and fat and industrial-sized everything. and a side of preservatives. why these ppl think its ok to make everyone else watch and smell them eat their lunch, i do not know. plus, these ppl are fat and talking about how fast they eat, chose beef barely over chicken noodle, and how they took all the sprouts and veggies out of their tuna salad wrap and ha-ha isnt that funny?

(no, actually, it isnt.) 

but i guess things get funny when youre staring at these walls all day long, trying not to let the worry and concern overcome you. surgery has to go fine, even if they are messing with your spine. blagh. i cannot really handle any of these details though. i couldnt tell you what the hell they did to her back. something was coming out. and now my ankles are weak and tingling at just typing that.

seriously. i dunno what i think im doing here, trying to be supportive. i cant handle this shit! when i was 5 years old my sister came home from a sweet sixteen with a gash in the top of her foot and i took one look at it and collapsed. out cold. bam. down on the kitchen floor. no thanks. dont wanna talk about blood and guts. but maybe this is why i get so lost in hospitals. today, i went down for my bite to eat before my honeybee went into surgery and i came back almost an hour later. maybe i didnt get lost, but just, you know, redirected by my daze of squeamishness. i dont know. but it happens all the time.

visiting my grandmother once, i tried to find the bathroom and ended up three floors down, in the laundry room where there were bed sheets hanging all over the place and as i tried to navigate through there, i thought for sure someone was going to come running out of the next line of sheets being chased by someone with a chainsaw and a crazyleathermaskface.

(they didnt.)

another time i ended up in the detox wing thats supposed to be totally confidential and supersecretlockedup, but wandering around with this pretty face will get some doors opened for you it seems cuz i made it all the way through, looking for the name i needed on all the doors, without anyone stopping me. when i couldnt find her name, i stopped someone in scrubs and i asked for my grandmother. i said which part of the hospital she was in, and they freaked out saying HOW DID YOU GET IN HERE and escorted me out, directing me back to the front of the whole hospital.

what a maze! how am i supposed to know where im going? you ask where the cafeteria is and the person with a sandwich in their hand goes, "it's right through those doors" but really it isnt and you end up on another floor where youre pretty sure you shouldnt be, cuz no1 else is wearting anything but scrubs and all the doors say TEAM MEMBER ACCESS and youre like, are they talking about the same team im talking about? but they definitely arent so you keep walking until now you have to pee and have seen enough icky-looking medical waste boxes that you dont even want to find a cafeteria anymore, and the very smell of hospital food has your stomach turning over and over. i dont care how many maps they put up, im going to get lost in a hospital and end up seeing more than i want to of it.

and i guess it is a part of life. we get sick, and we need to go to the place where they make you better. but i dont know..it feels like another universe of turns and doors and arrows going nowhere and time spent waiting for things to happen and not happen, and its just its a bloody puzzle getting around in that place! and while im glad to keep it that way, i got worried i wasnt going to make it back to see my kc before she was sent to the operating room.

but i did. and im really happy that i got to see my sugar before her operation. cuz im pretty sure that when she gets out of recovery she'll be seeing me with two heads riding a unicorn or something like that, and i'd rather her know i didnt get lost on the way to the cafeteria, somehow wind up in her strange anesthesia world, and come back out looking like that. but, here goes nothing. luckily, she is ok and the surgery went well. now lets just hope she isnt so delirious that she tells me any gory details about the procedure or i'll end up in the bed next to her.


for killing monsters

last friday, when tranda was all “omg a huge roach just ran across the platform right in front of my flip-flopped foot” it occurred to me that i hadnt seen a single waterbug all season. the last time i’d seen one was in the fall, in the basement bathroom of my favorite neighborhood sports bar.

(which will remain unnamed as it gets crowded enuff as it is on a sunday, and i don’t need all five of you going there n potentially snagging the last seat at the bar before i can get there, the next time i go to watch my jets. ive been lucky so far with this place, but not only do i have THE WORST LUCK but i also am one of the slowest-moving humans walking the earth so it’s actually a wonder ive made it to said bar before the games are over, ever. not to mention getting a seat. so i'm not gonna mess with that luck. tuff noogies.)

i told the cute bartender sarah that there was a monster in the bathroom and that someone should probably kill it. she sent a dude downstairs to deal with the slaughter and that was that. it’s been about nine months since then and i had the luck of not seeing a SINGLE waterbug monster in all that time.

and that is sure saying a LOT guys. 

for a little over a year of my life, i could hardly go one week without seeing one of those bastards.

no, really. 

when karen, amy, n i lived in astoria together, us poor girls had like, and uncountable number of other, uninvited roommates. we experienced all kindsa roaches--long skinny light brown ones that died in our utensil drawers, small blackish ones that scurried behind the counter when we turned on the kitchen lights, fat round dark brown ones with hard shells. i saw a centipede scurry up the wall out of the corner of my eye as i was watching tv one night. we had a mouse that liked to gnaw on our bags of bread on top of the fridge and poop next to the coffee maker so we never knew if the mess was mouse crap or coffee grounds.

(i cleaned those counters a little fanatically)

then there was that rat in the wall for a couple of weeks that was surely trying to get thru to the other side..to join us and all the other damn pests..

(but then we got one of those lil things u plug into the wall thats supposed to send waves out to scare various vermin off..and it worked i guess cuz the nightly scratching inside the wall finally stopped.. anyway, that gadget did nothing to deter those waterbugs. man. what a bummer that was.)

on the day we looked at this totally infested apartment we really shoulda been suspicious of the extra-large-roach traps that were all over the place. and maybe we should have refused to park our stuff there until the


landlord promised to deliver on some actual, professional exterminating after my three-year-old nephew's wee-wee almost got hopped on by one of those damn monster waterbugs as he was trying to pee in the toilet on that very day.. i mean, poor lil guy, he was probably able to count on one hand the number of times he had peed in a toilet so far in his life, and this MONSTER is in the toilet while he's trying to do so and all his mother could do was scream and make his father go in there and kill the bug with a broom..i mean, it wasnt as if i could ignore this dramz goin down, u know? so i shouldve really had some hesitations about calling this place my new home before making some pest-control decisions, but u know what?

love is blind, bitches!

we loved that place! so, we stocked up on some cans of raid and threw some more of those ridiculously large roach traps around the apt and that was that. whatever. maybe it was just that one waterbug. probably. yeah.

but.. then we started to get some visits. 

like the night i reached over to my nightstand for a sip of water and saw something scurry from under my bed to under the nightstand..and just ignored it. i was probably seeing things, i thought. well, i should say, i very drunkenly determined and then passed out..

or the morning i awoke about two hours before the alarm to some screaming and slamming and a little more shouting and then.. nothing. i was a little alarmed, but honestly i did not want to know what might have caused this yelling if it involved having to defeat some terrifying beasts. alas, i found out a couple of hours later that the most horrible thing ever had happened to amy.

she was sleeping, pleasantly, when she slowly woke up. she heard that light scratching on her pillow that anyone with long hair or sleeping partners with long hair hear thru the night. she thought, oh, my hair must be blowing across the pillow! but then she realized that her hair could not have been blowing across her pillow, as there was no window open in her bedroom, and she did not have a fan on.. so she opened her sleepy, almost-blind, contactless eyes, and turned a bit to the left, to see what was beside her making all this noise. and of course, it was a waterbug. right there. in her face. in her hair. on the pillow.

cue screaming, panic, broom-killing-of-monster-waterbug, etc.

amy never slept without her glasses on, ever again in that place. mostly she never slept in that apartment ever again because she could simply not relax. who could, after that? we saw several other of these jerk bugs loitering around rather consistently, so its not like amy ever got to put this terrible awakening behind her. so yeah. stuff like that happened and us poor ladies were a bit tortured. so not seeing those stupid bugs for a bit, like, a whole season..it was pretty great.

but then friday afternoon struck. i was just sitting at my desk, finishing up some work, when my coworker tina jumped up from her desk. a waterbug had crawled over her foot. and then..disappeared.

like, really? that can just happen? at work? in an office? why?! why can that just happen? why are these things always showing up where and when they want to? what do they want?! they're large enuff to see us as equals so maybe they just want to befriend us..? too bad they don't know shit and don't know that i'm not friends with anyone ugly, and maybe theyd leave me the fuck alone if thats actually what they want, cuz anyone who scares the shit out of me and/or my friends must be ugly inside, and out..and i hate them. jerks. really! unkillable jerks.

so i stand up and start lookin around. i know that monster is nowhere near where it had been seen making human-contact, so i go towards a darker area, and peer under carlos's desk to find this waterbug. of course, i saw it scurry out from under his desk, and then i screamed. i ran, waving my arms around all willynilly, shaking my head back and forth, picking my feet up real high, and found myself at the other side of the office.

ok. maybe i just darted across the office and let out a yelp, but whatever. it got someone's attention and the damn thing got deaded by another coworker, my hero of the hour. thank goodness.

i am so over pests. of any kind. and so, when my friend dave sent me this story and i realized that these guys were actually monsters, and they might be uprooted by this damn hurricane, i decided it was time to  start walking around with a tiger. idk where i'm getting this damn tiger, but if u guys have any leads short of robbing a zoo, get at me.

bottom line: remember that irene's wrath doesnt end with her wind and rain. we might have a bunch of monsters floating around in our neighborhoods cuz they been kicked outta their buildings, just like us. but, unlike us, they do not die easily. so hey, if u make it, whatever u gotta do to kill 'em, do it. good luck out there neighbors.


for pest week

just a little forewarning. i've got a little bit of hatred towards pests. and,  if you didnt already know that, youre gonna be finding that out in the next couple of days. 

and so, i hereby declare:

it's pest week, hookers!


for being totally emotional

this past weekend i attended the bridal shower of one of my very dear friends, amy. a bridal shower, i must add, that was intended to be a surprise. and if mz amy wasnt a real-life space cadet, i wouldve hands-down ruined that surprise all in one big idiotic swoop.

have i mentioned my bad luck?

i dont think i have. i will be sure to fill you in some other day, but for now all you need to know is i have it, and without even meaning to prove it, here is this quick* story.

the trains out to the town on long island i needed to get to for the shower were only leaving every two hours. i decided that instead of sitting in a strange town for two hours before the shower started, i’d pay a lil visit to my parents.

so i headed out to my hometown. where amy is also from, and currently living. i dont even normally go to that train station. usually i intend on going there for convenience’s sake, but miss that train and have to get the next one, which takes me to another town over. but of course on this day, i made it. not only did i make it, but i had time to walk down to the back of the train so that my father could pick me up where he likes to pick us up at that station. as i exit the train in my hometown, it occurs to me that im asking for trouble. my father will be waiting just four blocks from where amy lives. what if she is out for a run, or driving to the deli for a breakfast sandwich? she thinks i am in new jersey this weekend with my lady!

well, i figure the chances are quite slim that she’ll be passing by in the 30 seconds i’ll be walking down the steps and getting into the car—which they are—and i let it go.

walk down steps. see dad. watch footing on steps. hop into car, smiling, hello!

i close the car door and kiss my dad on the cheek and turn to put on my seatbelt and—there goes amy jogging by on the other side of the street!  

you. have got. to be kidding.

i changed my pick-me-out-of-a-crowd sunglasses to my tame, black ones, threw the seat into recline and made my dad turn the opposite way of her so we could escape unseen.

(you know, cuz if my friend thought she saw me, in my parents’ car, reclined in the front seat, but i WASN’T wearing my usual colorful fun sunglasses, she would assume it was not me, and that i was not hiding. for sure.)

dad says amy doesnt seem to be paying attention, so i assume she was just you know, running. not seeing. cuz if she DID see me, the surprise is ruined. she already has to know something is up cuz she specifically asked me what i was doing this weekend, what the party was for in jerz, and which day it was..

it turns out, sometimes we have our own heads so far up our own asses that we cant fathom that someone might not be thinking about us, all the time, or spending time considering every interaction we’ve had with that person. i mean, its either that, or amy was totally surprised because she really is a total ditz. it turns out she DID see me, and was too tired to run across the street and say hello, and was going to text me later. she just thought something happened and i didnt go away. no big deal. she still “knew” she was going to her [fake] make-a-wish fundraiser at the country club with her aunt. why would she question that? yeah. i think i got lucky.  

after getting very unlucky with that timing.

well what i wanted to share with you all

(in uncontainable excitement for the jersey shore season premiere tonight)

is that i found myself admitting to “being a crier” at my table of women at this shower. my tablemates were all talking about getting emotional over commercials and greeting cards and feeling silly about it

(oh, haha.. well they sure do excellent marketing tests..they really get ya..yeah, ha-ha..)

and then, like word vomit, it was out on the table: i cried at the end of last season’s finale of jersey shore. and let me tell you, i was not crying over its sad reflection of society

i was moved to tears when snookie and j-wow parted ways at the end of the summer and realized they are best friends and would miss each other terribly in their time apart. honestly, i was brought right back to the end of freshman year of college when shannon and i had packed up our room at bowdoin and were getting into our parents’ cars and saying goodbye and we cried and cried. my dad didnt say a word as we pulled away from the dorm and i tried to cover up the fact that i was so, so sad and hadn’t really realized until that moment that i’d found a new best friend that year and i was going to be lost without her in my living space for the next couple of months apart. but it was true.

so yeah, the jersey shore made me cry. there you have it. lets hope tonight’s new episode makes me laugh, instead, and feel smart and together-ish in comparison to these people, cuz that’s why i finally caved in the first place and started watching the damn show last season when i got hooked. yep, thats also true: after like only three episodes of the season i felt for those girls and cried right along with them at the end of the season. its cool. im secure enough with my edginess to admit that im also a huge sucker for anything mildly moving, whether or not i know the people involved at all.

*not actually so quick.


for hair color

i should probably confess something. i will mourn my hair color the day that i inevitably begin to dye it because of all the grey hairs that i will have. i should also confess that, because my mother has always dyed her hair and my sister, too, i don’t see anything wrong with it. im not sure i see it as an extreme measure that would go against that last righteous post where i bash all things that alter one’s body in the name of age-defiance.

(but in the end it is your call whether or not you wanna call me a hypocrite or not, so i’ll confess and you can call me out or stop reading me or whatever the fumbles you wanna do about it.)

so maybe it’s not so much of a confession as it is..a thought, and a crossroads i will need to pause at..probably quite soon. the bottom line: i’ll be coloring my hair in some way, some day, and i’m not sure if i’ll be wacky and dye it pink or fire-red, just go right for the all-out balls-to-the-wall-white, stick to something close to my own color and have to go for touch-ups like every week cuz my hairs are so damn dark, or maybe just switch it up all the time until i settle down. you know, like dating, for hair color.

i’ve kinda already played that game tho.

the summer i turned 13, bath and body works came out with this product that you could spray into your hair and then lay out in the sun, and it would lighten your hair. even your dark brown hair. my cousin claire and i have dark brown hair.

(it is not black, even tho my cousin susan said it all the time and i would cry because..well..im not really sure why, but i was definitely a sensitive sally and if someone said something that wasnt true, and it was about me, i couldnt really handle it.)

and claire n i were admittedly a lil jealous of all the chicks who could use sun-in, the easy-to-find and popular product for light-brown/almost blonde hair, to lighten their hair all summer and then show up at school in september with bleached-out hair. actually dying our hair was kinda out of the question cuz, well, our moms are pretty conservative and we were only 12 and 13. and i was practically DRINKING lemon juice already. i was putting in in my hair every day multiple times a day, all summer. my sister did it all the time and it worked on her..but she had lighter hair. i thought that was cuz of the lemon juice, but it wasnt. i done did get fooled! so you can imagine the joy when my cousin n i discovered this stuff at bath and body works.

by the end of the summer we had both lightened our hair

(and maybe even her eight-yr-old sister's hair, "just to see what would happen" and what happened was her hair turned bright white in one very large spot in her very long hair, in about 30 seconds flat, and we panicked and kinda threw her in the pool to wet her hair down before my mom came outside to see what we'd done..)

we were miraculously transforming our dark hair into red hair! maybe twas more like an orange-brown, but you know. we thought it looked hot. i went back to school in september and kids were like, whuuuuut..did u dye your hair? and im like, eh, kinda..whatever.. and thus began my hair-coloring phase.

next up: kool-aid.

yeahhh, it didn’t work.

still, my friends and i tried different combinations of hair types and lengths of time spent soaking each other’s hair in bowls of different colors and temperatures and concentrations of kool-aid on our bedroom floors, and convinced ourselves it was working..kinda like the lemon juice.

then one summer i went to visit my friend sara at her family’s house in maine and we got drunk with her makeup-artist-sister and i picked her brain about permanent vs. non-permanent hair dyes, and which colors would work best with my dark hair..and the next day we went to the store and i picked out a deep red tint, and we colored my hair. guys. thinking about the conditioner that comes with a bottle of hair dye makes me want to run out to the store and randomly pick out a color to dye my hair, just so i can use it. that is some hardcore condish. of course, you need it to be, as your hair is now straw-dry from hair dye.

that year, my hair turned from a temporary, deep-red tint, to a deep eggplant permanent color. next i went a little bolder and lighter. then back to the eggplant color. next a little more red. at some point i got hi- and lo- lights, then was in college in maine and didnt trust the hair salons there and just stupidly decided to try to go blonde with the box of dye and.. i got orange hair instead. not cute. the best part is, i kept on trying to get it to take, for a few months. eventually i had to start over and i went dark again and i never looked back. i actually looked good. why would i try to be blonde?!

but then i found my first two grey hairs the very next year and panicked. i flashed back to seeing my lab partner's straggly grey hairs sticking out of her dark hair in ninth grade bio class and thinking, why wouldnt she dye it? i yanked out those greys with a tweezer and promptly called my sister:


..she laughed, a lot. at my expense. saying, wow, at least she was out of college and already in grad school when we found her first greys..

yeah, thanks. that makes me feel so much better right now.

still, i didnt dye it. i kept plucking those couple out every few months when they reappeared in that same spot, and that was that. i said i wouldnt dye it until the grey took over, and for now just plucking the two or three

(or four)

out at a time was enough. and i still do it. well..until last night.

last night i saw those greys in their usual spot and i thought, why dont i just leave them and see if any more show up, and THEN i'll dye it. but what i must confess, is that i dont know how i'll know that the grey has taken over sufficiently yet not too much, or what i'll do next. i dont want to be walking around with straggly grey hairs sticking out all willy-nilly. but i also dont want to prematurely fry my re-silkified head of hair.. cuz once you start that kind of a thing, covering up your grey hai's, theres sorta no going back.

i'll flaunt my wrinkles with pride, but i might just shave my head and take up wig-wearing if that little tube of glorious conditioner that comes with the hair dye stops working and my hair looks like hay again. or i'll just get it done by a pro. lets be serious. but we should flaunt the good stuff, ladies. no need to hang on to the stuff that does us no good..like bad hair color.


for aging

oh, hello!

did you know that i just had a birthday? cuz i did.

(and guys, i got like the best gifts ever and had like the best birthweek-and-a-half ever and i got to see so many of my loves who made me remember i have some really amazing people in my life and i just basically lovebursted and celebrated and was a happy woman. one of those amazing gifts from my sugarbear has distracted me a bit from this lil brainchild of mine, but youll all be sure to see the fruits of that labor someday soon.)

im a whole year older and seriously i dont know what i’ll do if i get any wiser, but im sure it’s happening already b/c i impress myself, daily, with the shit i come up with. looks like the first thing i’ve learned to share with you all tho, is just that theres a time and a place for humility and this is definitely not the place so im just gonna go ahead and flaunt it, mmmkay?

the other thing i can share with you is that bitches be crazy. so many women in my life are terrified of aging. maybe not even TERRIFIED per say. more like REFUSING to do it.

(if you say that thats what happens when so many women in your life are from long island, i will not speak to you ever again. and when i have i ever lied to you? right. so shhhh.)

and i think it is just wild what we will do to ourselves to avoid looking like we are getting older. people i know who are afraid of needles and getting shots are planning on getting botox..and soon! sure, it's supposed to prevent wrinkles from forming later on, but like..i dont know why ANYONE wanna go thru this, voluntarily. 

i read an article in college that i cannot find right now despite a whole 15 minutes spent on google and trying to find a way around buying this one article i got to read an excerpt from on jstor that looks like it.. so i’ll just let you know what it was about. basically, we have such a hard time with aging b/c of all we do in an effort to avoid it, hide it, cover it up. all we see on tv are quick fixes we can buy to make us look a little less shriveled-up, tired, and grey. our beloved celebrities don’t appear to age, and even tho we all know we shouldn’t compare ourselves to these people who are paid to look a certain way and will do whatever they need to do in order to look that way, we do compare ourselves to the unattainable.
personally, i'm stoked to flaunt my saggy tattoos like this little pip.

and when we look into the mirror and see wrinkles and grey hair, as older women, we don’t even know how it happened. throughout our young years, we never see ourselves as possibly growing old-looking. and so when we see this older-looking lady, we get depressed. we feel ugly. we feel disconnected from the reflection in the mirror cuz we don’t know this old lady looking back at us. and it is probably pretty scary to feel all of that at once. and lets face it- this is all under the assumption that we even still have our brains in tip-top shape and SHOULD know the person in the mirror, or any person standing in the bedroom/bathroom/mirrorstore with us, for that matter.

and so i try to remind myself of this article. i try to remember that i'm getting older, every day. i embrace my birthday. sure, its wild when i think of my age and i wonder what it's supposed to feel like to be 28..but you know what? i love my birthday. i have fun. i am lucky to grow old. we all are. so just go with it!

use that natural beauty you have..flaunt it, instead of abusing it, and let yourself become a beautiful older-looking person, too. b/c that is what we do:  we age. there is no point running from it if you can't hide, so why not show a little grace and stop frowning over it? after all, doesn't frowning just give you more wrinkles?


for privacy

i used to be a pretty private chick. 

in high school, i would have preferred to go through the entire school day, sniffling my cold up into my head, giving me a terrible headache, to blowing my nose in front of an entire classroom of people. i would wear some kind of a sleeved shirt underneath my sleeveless track uniform, so no1 would even know what color sports bra i was wearing underneath, lest they spot a millimeter of it through my jersey's armhole mid-race. i had changing in the locker room down to a science. somehow i could manage to get back into my clothes after practice or gym class without showing anything but my legs, and a part of my back to whoever wasn't looking anyway. 

and i've come a long way. i mean, obviously..i have a blog. 

(really! you're reading it! thank you!)

and i talk about a lot of stuff. 

(even poo!)

but you know, i couldn't even burp out loud before college! 

(maybe i wasn't drinking enough beer in high school?)

but then i got to college. and i had to go to the bathroom in the same room as not only girls but also boys, as our dorm floor bathroom was co-ed. i also had to learn to brush my teeth and clean my new nose ring and be hungover-and-puking and even shower in the same room as all these people, all whilst carrying on full conversations. i also had to learn not to freak out when jarrett

(i know it was you)

snagged my bathrobe from outside the shower curtain and i was forced to get back to my room at the very end of the hall in the teeny tiny towel i had. 

(maybe i was drinking too much beer in college?)

anyhow, a lot has changed since even the college days when i learned 

(yes, mom, lots of amazing stuff that will help me to me excel in this world..but also)

to let go of my privacy a little bit. there is no way that the me back in hs would be ok with this in'eresting thought the me, now, had. i had this thought in my apartment--which is a studio, mind you--a couple of weeks ago when my friend tranda came over after work. 

i went into the bathroom 

(obviously the ONLY other room in the apartment)

and closed the door. as i sat there and peed, i could hear tranda and my boo chatting on and on in "the other room," aka the rest of the apt. maybe it was the effects of the wine we had just opened, but i reeeeally wanted to interject my opinion on prince william and kate and something or other..and i wondered: 

why did i even close the bathroom door? 

all im doing in here is peeing. tranda happens to be my everything-buddy at work, and i can tell you for sure i have peed in the same room as her more times than i could even begin to count. and then obviously my girl doesn't care.. the two of us pee with the door open from time to time, when a conversation needs to continue but nature has called and the bathroom is just right there.. i mean, whats the big deal?

so then i thought even further into it..people think about married couples and just associate going to the bathroom with the door open with being married and think that once you get married, all the romance is gone. im sure this whole bathroom situation has a lot to do with that mentality. at least, a little bit of it.. 

but like, same-sex couples go to the bathroom in front of one another ALL THE TIME. its kind of a treat, to tell you the truth. i love being out at a bar and being able to go to the bathroom with my lady. we get to chit chat about when we're going to go home, assess the night so far, and maybe even steal a kiss. things like that. sometimes those bathrooms happen to be "for one person only" but you know what? we're both girls so usually no1 stops us. and you know what else? this has done very little to kill the romance. everybody pees. 

who cayes?

moral of the story: dont fear marriage if marriage = going to the bathroom with the door open, cuz that kind of privacy is way too prohibiting for life these days.


for fibromyalgia AFUCKINGAIN



i heard from a very reliable source that when they cant figure out what else is wrong with ya they fah-reakin say 




not even kidding. i heard it from a doctor. 

(he's actually a lot cooler and sweeter and more fun and wayyy more intelligent than the one attached to that link. partially based on the fact that..............errrrrr.........well.........the smurf one doesnt exist. but the other one does. i promise you.)

so idk, be mad at fibromyalgia. but mayyyyybs be a lil more mad at all the people who never told you that you had it

[read: hypochondria / u be crazy / u do have the eff-word ]

..the ones who shoulda known. the ones you thought woulda brought this up before letting you read this blog and many others that dont know shit about fibromyalgia cuz it is fake, ya'll, and they couldnt possibly know SQUAT about it. 

or, just hang. take Lyrica..and..and enjoy whatever that does.


for july, july

happy fourth, ya'll! 

(did you know that was the FIRST time EVER IN MY LIFE that i typed those words? well now you know. that can be your something-new you learned today. youre welcome.)

today my amazing little buddy tranda treated me to an early bday manicure during lunch.

so you know what this means, dont you? well aside from me having red and blue nails to celebrate my american pride just one wknd after celebrating my gay pride

(and yes, my toes are painted, too, but just like the pic of my toes at the top of this blog. im a proud gay american. mmmkay?)

but this also means that now im ready to start celebratin' my bday MONTH! i mean, why not? i already got it started today with some lovely pampering at lunch and a tasty cupcake after lunch, so tonight is probably going to get a little wild. cheers queers! be safe while celebrating our freedom from england 

(even tho i know a bunch of you who are total anglophiles)

and dont forget to shut off the grill.


for fibromyalgia

before i had cable in my apartment, i’d listen to music in the morning whilst getting ready for work. nothing would interrupt my morning ritual, i could slowly wake up n prepare to face the day as i got dressed, and yeah i’d still be running late but i was happily undisturbed in my foggy morning-brain thoughts. but since i wasn’t giving myself any time to read the news, i really had no idea what was going on. anywhere. it was kind of nice having a current events vacation. ignorance really IS bliss! wellll kinda. i felt like a moron a lot of the time, not knowing what the heck anyone was talking about around the water cooler

(i just threw up in my mouth a little bit typing that)

[also it was more like a coffee machine and a water fountain as water coolers seem awfully un-green and expensive and therefore ancient but no1 has come up with a better phrase that i know of, so i’m forced to reference that one and i hate my apparent lack of creativity at the moment here.. forgive me, will ya?]

even tho half the time i didnt really want to engage in their convos anyway cuz i was either not awake yet, hungover, way too stressed out to stop long enuff to chat, or feeling too catty and antisocial to do so. there definitely were times i wished i’d been paying attention to the news tho. i mighta missed some big stuff in that time.

but now.

i have cable. oh, and a pretty nice tv.

(not that my last tv wasn’t loved. but my last tv was a pretty old tube television with a non-flat screen, which weighed more than me and i bought from my old roommate for a bottle of scotch two years ago, when i probably could have just taken it out of the trash, cuz i’m pretty sure that’s where she was putting it when she moved out..but hey i really wanted it.)

it’s great. im not above being hooked on television. yeah its sucking away my time and brain power and im doing less of THIS when im sitting in front of it, but it is a free country and i’ll do what i want. in fact, i’ll even take this time to complain:

now i spend most mornings getting ready for work whilst listening to the news. my lady likes to watch a certain morning show, so we usually have that on. i do enjoy hearing some tidbits of various kinds of news and reports, and sometimes a musical performance in central park, but there is one problem. one.

it’s fibromyalgia.

every. single. morning. i hear the same commercial for this drug lyrica that I GUESS is supposed to help with fibromyalgia. i mean, this woman is talking about it every morning and telling me how much happier she is, so i guess it works. but really? do you know what this does to me? i’ll tell you. i hear the word “fibromyalgia” in my head all day long. randomly. it pops into my thoughts while im editing. fibromyalgia pops into my head on the walk to the bathroom. i hear "fibromyalgia" in my mind as i am transferring trains on the way home from work. im thinking about fibromyalgia all day long. and i don’t even know what fibromyalgia is.

im trying very hard to not find out. i know ive determined that ignorance is not always bliss, but im really hoping that if i keep myself in the dark about fibromyalgia, i’ll be able to get the damn word out of my brain.

so far, no luck.

last week i broke my rib and last night my doctor prescribed me to some tramadol for the pain. i didn’t know what tramadol was, so i looked into it via the internets and guess what?! one of the main uses for this drug is to treat fibromyalgia. i can’t get away. fibromyalgia is taking over my life. or well, at least my brain.

so hey. if you or someone you know is being adversely affected by fibromyalgia, talk to your doctor. and keep it away from me.


for victories small and large

ive never been the activist type. i dont get uppity. actually, i get a little uppity, sometimes, but thats not saying much. it just proves to the world that i do have a pulse despite my generally even-keeled

[read: flat-lined]

nature. people say unfair things, racist things, derogatory things, and gossipy things, and they strike a nerve. and i'll defend the defenseless without pause. and if any of that has anything to do with those i love, you had better stop talking or youre going to see me get fired up. and its pretty ugly..im much more pleasing on the eyes when im not in this state. so you know, dont uglify me. my loved ones know this. now you do, too.

i treaded this one a little more lightly. this gay issue. its real controversial, you know.

so i only spoke up when it was necessary. and well, its been necessary forever. in college, whilst studying the civil rights movement of the 1960s via course loads upon course loads of african american lit

(i kept taking a.a. lit and russian lit classes and reading all this real depressing stuff, no wonder i drank so much back then..)

it hit me: this is the same shit as whats still going on with the gays. why wasnt anyone talking about this?? it made me crazy!

but you know, i was all closeted then and i wasnt about to get in someones face over the issue so i kinda hung back.

and then the issue trickled through some legislators hands and they said hey why not, and more of them gave their thumbs up and finally as we know, it hit the floor. the senate floor. like, really? is this really going to happen?

guys, my heart rate's been a bit elevated these last couple of weeks. along with my tweet-rate. along with my calling-of-legislators-rate.

(i never do that crap)

along with my pleading-with-my-parents-to-do-the-same-rate. my parents. they don't do that crap either!

(errr..not anymore, at least. i have a couple of pins from my dad's heyday of protesting ConEd and claiming to be an enemy of the state, and i'm pretty sure he was on the right side of the causes back then..but now he keeps it limited to ranting to us at family functions like all normal american family holidays should be spent. you know.)

but, they did it. they stepped up and made me proud. i was happily surprised by a lot of you out there, actually. you spoke up and did your part. and it really made my heart swell!

and now, here we are. we did it. we won. we will have our rights. in just 29 days. but who's counting..

anyway, i gotta say.. i wasn't feeling so hot last night. me n my boo were just gonna head home after work. we were supposed to head to a good friend's bday party, but we bailed. we needed to rest up for pride weekend!!

but then we realized this vote was coming up. so i went to meet my girl for a drink. i couldnt be sitting there at home all alone just waiting for this to go down! and then we heard they were playing ny1 at the stonewall inn, and we literally ran down there. and it was incredible. never in my life have i been in a crowded bar, on a friday night--and a gay bar, the friday of pride, nonetheless--when ppl were actually standing around in silence, whispering drink orders to bartenders, hushing one another, and watching THE NEWS.

im not sure what woulda happened if those senators didnt do the right thing. im not sure we wouldve spilled out onto the street from that historic bar and onto that historic sheridan square and rejoiced with our people, cheering, dancing, laughing, and celebrating. i think it wouldve turned ugly. and it wouldve been a riot, but not the funny-ha-ha kind. so im just really happy that those politicians didnt uglify us, and instead they stood up for what was right. cuz now we gonna have one of the most memorable nyc pride wknds, and its time to get it started.

cheers, queers, and our peers.


for marriage

i don’t really understand why people—straight and gay—say “gay people don’t want to get married anyway” in response to the debate about marriage inequality in the united states. i don’t think that anyone should be making that argument in justification for it not having been made legal by the federal government, or at


state levels.

it may be true for some gays, just as it is true for some straights. but first of all, why? because some of us aren’t trying to settle down and have families? well, why is that anyway? is it possible that maybe it’s been so long-ingrained in us that gay marriage is illegal and gays “can’t” marry, so we think we don’t even want it? it kind of gets ya into a thought process of, why should we all take relationships so seriously, i can tell myself i really am okay with just having sex with whomever and going home, i don’t need to be tied down because well, i can’t get married anyway..right? that might speak to some of us, and at some level i’m sure there are a few of us who acknowledge this lack of expectation to marry, combine it with a lack of desire to fight or go against the grain at all, and we therefore claim indifference to being denied such a right. we think, hey, we aren’t trying to hurt anyone, we aren’t trying to ruffle any feathers (unless they’re a part of my outfit, OKAY...!) by being openly gay, we just want to love who we love and be left alone... and so we sit back. we’re proud and we hope for acceptance, but we don’t want to fight. we don’t want to speak up and fight for anything, draw attention to ourselves, or ask for anything in return for or because of our DIFFERENCE. we certainly aren’t going to make a big stink about same-sex marriage. why should we? it’s fine. leave that to the straight people..

i think it’s unfortunate that this mindset might have contributed to the belief that gays don’t want to get married, because there are a lot of us who do want the option..even if we are too timid to put ourselves in the spotlight for the cause, and even if that spotlight is simply the eyes and ears of our friends and families. can’t we just have what everyone else has, without giving a reason for it? some of us want that. partly, because it is a right for the majority and not having that right makes one feel like a second-class citizen. i don’t like to admit that, or say it out loud, but it is true. maybe for some gays, admitting that to themselves hurts and they’d rather just say they don’t care.

for a while i thought i didn’t care.

but, i do care. i’ve been to

(and in some of)

the weddings of four people i grew up with, in just the last year. i have been able to celebrate their love with them. it has been a truly beautiful experience. i’ve laughed, i’ve cried tears of happiness, and i’ve danced the night away, all whilst dressed to the nines and surrounded by good friends and family. i’ve toasted and cheered and congratulated. and i’ve watched the happy couples enjoying their night and their company and their music and their love and their reflections on the past and their excitements for their futures. i feel honored to be included in these celebrations of love and commitment.

and it’s been getting me thinking- you know, i want that. why shouldn’t i get that? why don’t i get to have that in my life? i want my friends and family there with me to celebrate the beauty of my love. to celebrate the commitment i’m making to the love of my life. to be reminded for a day that there is love in the world -- i think seeing that helps one to feel, recognize, and appreciate it in one’s own life, and i think that experience feels so genuinely good that it really should be shared with those who are important to you. so maybe you’re gay and you don’t want that for yourself..but don’t you think that kind of a thing should at least be legal?

plus, you know i’d have a pretty kick-ass wedding. so, why not?

for tweets!

by the way, you should follow me on twitter @lez4pancakes


for cheese - everywhere

i might have to change the name of my blog to "Lesbians For Cheese" or maybe even "This Bitch Likes Cheese" if i keep writing posts like this. about cheese. truth is, i wasn't finished with my last entry. i had a lot more to say on the subject of cheese.

(let's be serious. who doesn't.)

but i'd gone for a run

(ready to hear how decrepit my body is from all the terrible things i put into it for years and years and years and still do?)


and i was so darn tired after writing those few words that i just had to get to bed so i just wrapped up whatever i was talking about, posted, and promptly fell asleep on my walk of four whole steps to bed from couch. and i didn't get into writing about how i want to put cheese on everything. sorta like i told you a while back about how i like to put syrup on everything? yeah. so now i'm sure you can foresee that you'll be learning about that picture of "me" up there. let's not yet jump ahead tho.

the reason i even went for a run in the first place

(aside from my masochistic yet true love for running)

was because it was time. there was no more justifiable reason to delay getting into shape when i noticed this one thing: the cheese had literally gone to my legs. yep. that's right. instead of muscles, i spotted, well, spots. on my legs. the ones that ARE, actually, not spots but dents.

i refuse to say the word that they actually are. instead, ima call them what i think they really are: cottage cheese. i'm pretty sure cottage cheese only showed up on my legs cuz it's one of the only cheeses i hardly ever eat, and since my lactose-intolerant body doesn't even want me to eat cheese, all the cottage cheese out there got jealous of all the other cheeses in the universe that my body rejects

(but i still eat anyway..obvs. i did mention my masochism, didn't i?)

and decided it'd get revenge by attaching itself to me forever. great! so now the cheese is even on my legs. i not only create dishes at restaurants and name them after myself when they don't have cheese on them, just so i can always have cheese in every possible meal, but i also grow cottage cheese legs. pretty sexay, ey?

but anyway, i like to request cheese on meals that might not have them on the menu. for example, those pictured pancakes. of course no chef would put that on their brunch menu. but i asked for it anyway. i'd had a long journey over the williamsburg bridge before sitting down with my boo at our table at bondi road, and i was hungover on top of that. so i was craving sweet and salty. i wanted pancakes, as i always, always do at brunch so i can drown them in syrup. but i also wanted cheese. cuz i always want cheese. so then, i ordered some silver dollar pancakes smothered in cheddar cheese. our waiter gave us the strange look i was expecting, we chuckled, and he was on his way.

but i got my pancakes.

the chef mighta come out "to see who the strange person was to make such an odd request" and i politely chuckled along again with him and the waiter until they watched me take a bite before they would leave. i took a bite, looked at my boo, and

(holding back drool and eyes-rolling-back-in-my-head)

i smiled. they were damn good. so good. i think about them a lot. i want them always. i'm sure i could make them on my own..but will they be as good as the ones at bondi road? probably not. and yet, has their chef put those pancakes on the menu yet? no. they haven't. so i say to all of you missing out on such a treat, go yell at someone else, i tried my best and you'd just better talk to the chef at bondi road cuz it aint gonna get onto the menu by itself.


for cheese

a friend of mine recently joined an online dating site for the very first time.

(i will bet my entire audience knows who that is, and i'm not ashamed to say that - i know i've got like two readers. what of it. i love you both.)

i'm super excited for this friend, cuz i think online dating is fantastic. i met my love on an online dating site.

(which you both already know)

so this friend starts talking profiles. you know, what should get added, what details should be left out, stuff like that. this conversation gets me thinking about what i put in my profile, those [many] moons ago, when i joined my site of choice. and you know what won me lots of charm points? can you guess it? hint: it's the best policy.

yep! honesty!

about cheese!



welllllll lemme be honest..partial honesty.

in the somewhat drunken stupor which i began filling my profile out, i see a spot to put my favorite things. so i'm like, well i sure do love cheese..imsa put that there.. 

and then, i'm pretty sure i went upstairs and refilled my wine glass, and swayed in front of the fridge for a while with the door open, looking for some cheese. at least until my roommate inquired from downstairs on the couch as to what i was doing and why don't i just bring the whole bottle down, and hurry cuz someone had already messaged her (she was a lot quicker at filling out her profile. most people are a lot quicker than i at most things.)and she wanted me to see his pics. 

i mean, probably. who knows really. i hardly remember writing the profile, never mind what i might've done after that. but hey. whatever else happened that night, the cheese worked. the sheer simplicity of cheese !won me my lady's giggle and a spot in her memory. 

so, i told my friend to be honest.

and then i remembered my second date with my girl, upon which we were ordering some snacks and i had to confess i was lactose intolerant and that i have the most incredible love/hate relationship with cheese that anyone could imagine, and that i wrote the profile after about a bottle of wine was coursing through my bloodstream and therefore did not remember writing that--yeahhh, at all.

so much for sheer honesty. but i guess that's what they mean by saving a little bit of mystery


and you know, waiting for the second date to discuss your poop-and-vomit-induced allergies. gotta keep it cute, you know?


for absence

..it makes the heart grow fonder, yes?

you tell me. 

or, don't. 

either way, i missed this lil bloggie.

i'm back.
with some rants. 


for bitch slaps

last night, my boo and i went to bed with a plan for todaycelebratory brunch and potential tattoos.

typically, i like to plan out my tats. i only have two, but yeah, give me a break..it's obvs gonna be on my body for the rest of my life so why am i gonna just throw WHATEVER on my temple of a body when i can ponder it, draw it on myself a few times, walk around with it, see how i feel about it.. you know. wait.

but my girl does NOT think this way.

last week she almost just got a sleeve done, on the spot. we'd had a few drinks and she was suddenly asking me where the nearest tat parlor was.
like, what? 

i was able to talk her into thinking about it. you know, waiting. a whole week!

so here we are. we wake up this morning, and in an attempt to have a quick little pre-celebratory-brunch-and-tattoos-day snugglefest, hurt each other.



my boooh i do need you in my vagina..

and then, i almost smacked her in the face. what she'd just said, it was too funny. i wanted to smack her mouth off her face..you know, in a funny way. but i didn't.

we went to brunch. and i had this amazing dish brought out to me:

yep, you know it. my dream come true (kinda). i could have syrup and cheese all at once! i was thoroughly enjoying this FRENCH TOAST SWISS CHEESE SANDWICH WITH SPICY FRIES that came with a dorbs pitcher of SYRUP, when suddenly, booface comes back from the bathroom and says she's allergic to something in there. we giggle with the bartender, who jokes:  yeah, there's just a cat hiding out behind the toilet, NBD..ha-ha..

and then. one of my curly fries, it had some hair on it. i mean, at least it wasn't a curly hair on a fry or any food for that matter, but it was still hair. ok. i can put it aside. i can put that fry down onto the bar and continue on with the rest of my yummy meal, right? sure.

but then. oh look, the next fry i pick up has TWO hairs on it. ok, really?! did this fall on the FLOOR?! there really IS A CAT HANGING OUT SOMEWHERE IN THIS FUCKING PLACE AND NOW IT'S BASICALLY ON MY PLATE!??!?!?!?!!!!

so i stopped eating. no more food. i wanted to smack our jovial lil bartender in the mouth. you know, in a.. i'm-going-to-throw-up-on-you kinda way.