This is a Gay Rant post on Craigslist that a friend forwarded...I love it
From time to time - whenever I consider the extent of homophobia in our culture - I think about making a go of being straight, of meeting a nice girl whom I can actually marry.
But this morning, thanks to you, Plastic Bitch on the Metro, I realized why that's a bad idea.
As we filed into one of the trains at Metro Center, you spilled your skinny no-foam latte on my shirt and neglected to apologize. Until then, I was perfectly happy to overlook that fact that you were flouting Metro's no-beverage rule (you were probably up late last night gabbing with one of your girlfriends, so I'm sure you needed that morning boost of trendy caffeine more than anyone else using public transportation today).
Judging from your appearance, you probably had to get up at the crack of dawn to put yourself together (another reason you needed caffeine more than anyone else on the planet). Black skirt, white blouse, enough makeup to give a drag queen a run for her money, hair pulled back tight: you've got your act together, I'll give you that much. Your look was marred only by your flip-flops, which naturally drew my attention to that tattoo of a Chinese character on your ankle. OMG!! A tattoo of a Chinese character - that's, like, so totally original! Did you think of that yourself? I didn't initially think you looked Chinese, but maybe you've got some trace of Chinese ancestry or something.
You can't be a total flake, because you had a book in your oversized purse. Something by Cornel West, I noticed - OMG you must be so totally intellectual! Do you list "racial politics" as one of your interests on your faceboook profile? Maybe Cornel West was even your professor at Princeton (your alma mater as well as that of your dad, and his dad, and so on). Wait - let me guess - you majored in poli sci, didn't you? Or was it psych?
Don't get me wrong - I'm no misogynist. I know lots and lots of really cool girls, and I happen to live with two in particular. But from now on, every time I think I might want to be straight, I'll think of going to a bar in Adams Morgan (you probably prefer Tom Tom's) and, because my straight buds are making comments about your tight butt (how many hours have you logged on the treadmill since eating that rice cake yesterday?), going up and hitting on you. I even got a taste of what that would be like this morning. Self-absorbed as you seemed on the train, listening to some song by the Pussycat Dolls on your Ipod, you managed to catch me staring at you. When you snorted as if to tell me you're way out of my league, I wanted to assure you that I wasn't checking you out but rather thinking of ways to trip you on your way out of the train.
Alas, I got out before you. The badge prominently hanging around your neck told me that you're a staffer in the 109th Congress, so you were probably getting off at Capitol South. How cool, though! You're some Representative's Assistant's assistant, which makes you, like, a total power player. So that must've been you I saw coming out of Smith Point last Thursday, drunk after two $15 appletinis that daddy's credit card no doubt paid for.
I can't be sure, but I'll use your bulging pearl necklace as a sign that you work for a Republican. Which means that you probably don't support my right to marry my boyfriend, which is the reason I harbor these foolish thoughts about getting with a girl in the first place. Thank goodness I saw you!!
Thursday, August 31, 2006
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
Entitled Jay Walkers
As a DC commuter, not only do I add to the pollution for the city, but I am sure that I also add to the road rage on the clogged back roads. My commute is straight down 13th street to drop my husband off at work and cut over K Street to my office. I know I leave myself open for ridicule because we live so close to a metro, but we have done the math...and darn it, I want my car.
However what I don't want are pedestrians. I know that I am one everyday at lunch and so forth, but I and those like me are not the one I despise. It is the "full of themselves jaywalkers who know they are crossing and stopping traffic and getting a high off it. They take there time and relax to a strut knowing that they have caused a morning jam. They puff there chest, slow there walk and smirk to my windshield. Little do they know, I am a menace and have a record of hitting pedestrians.
It started in driver’s education. Where I grew up in rural Michigan, drivers’ education was during the summer. Everyone assembled into one of the classrooms at the elementary and took an exam. If you scored higher that 85% you got to opt out of the class portion of the course and went right to driving. I was not in on the game plan and did not study. I got 84%.
Once the class was done we all were sent out on the road in a woody. Yes, our student driver car was an old station wagon with fake wood paneling on the side. It screamed "nerd". And the giant lighted taxi-cab-like sign that read STUDENT DRIVER did not help much either.
Parallel parking was a breeze, but not for the other two drivers in my car. The worst exercise was performed by the instructor mid-navigation on Interstate-75. The instructor would cover the rear view mirror and inquire..."What is behind you right now?" I could care less, but would state what was last there...thinking however, shouldn't I be more concerned with what is in front of me at this point.
Everything was fine till I come to an intersection in the busy metropolis of Bay City, Michigan (you would be on the floor laughing now if you have ever been). None the less, this should have been an easy task, if it weren't for an entitled pedestrian who decided that we was going to take her time to get across the crosswalk. Her sign yelled "Don't Walk", mine screamed GREEN=GO! I inched forward to test her authority. She stopped looked up and smiled....more like a smirk... she continued to take her time. I needed to hurry her up a bit; I inched forward again...this time clipping her gently. She stared at the windshield as if she was shot... I had to get out and apologize.
It has haunted me. What gave her so much power to break the rules? Her "walker" was barely dented. I know she could move so much more quickly than that, she was so smug, her and her... curved back and blue hair...please! She was just like these DC jay walkers... just asking to be hit.
I was given a key chain by my instructor after the completion of Drivers Education. It reads.
However what I don't want are pedestrians. I know that I am one everyday at lunch and so forth, but I and those like me are not the one I despise. It is the "full of themselves jaywalkers who know they are crossing and stopping traffic and getting a high off it. They take there time and relax to a strut knowing that they have caused a morning jam. They puff there chest, slow there walk and smirk to my windshield. Little do they know, I am a menace and have a record of hitting pedestrians.
It started in driver’s education. Where I grew up in rural Michigan, drivers’ education was during the summer. Everyone assembled into one of the classrooms at the elementary and took an exam. If you scored higher that 85% you got to opt out of the class portion of the course and went right to driving. I was not in on the game plan and did not study. I got 84%.
Once the class was done we all were sent out on the road in a woody. Yes, our student driver car was an old station wagon with fake wood paneling on the side. It screamed "nerd". And the giant lighted taxi-cab-like sign that read STUDENT DRIVER did not help much either.
Parallel parking was a breeze, but not for the other two drivers in my car. The worst exercise was performed by the instructor mid-navigation on Interstate-75. The instructor would cover the rear view mirror and inquire..."What is behind you right now?" I could care less, but would state what was last there...thinking however, shouldn't I be more concerned with what is in front of me at this point.
Everything was fine till I come to an intersection in the busy metropolis of Bay City, Michigan (you would be on the floor laughing now if you have ever been). None the less, this should have been an easy task, if it weren't for an entitled pedestrian who decided that we was going to take her time to get across the crosswalk. Her sign yelled "Don't Walk", mine screamed GREEN=GO! I inched forward to test her authority. She stopped looked up and smiled....more like a smirk... she continued to take her time. I needed to hurry her up a bit; I inched forward again...this time clipping her gently. She stared at the windshield as if she was shot... I had to get out and apologize.
It has haunted me. What gave her so much power to break the rules? Her "walker" was barely dented. I know she could move so much more quickly than that, she was so smug, her and her... curved back and blue hair...please! She was just like these DC jay walkers... just asking to be hit.
I was given a key chain by my instructor after the completion of Drivers Education. It reads.
So many pedestrians, so little time.
Monday, August 28, 2006
Wal-mart Brings Ugly to the Rainbow
Wal-Mart and Gays = Even more poorly dressed Gays
Please, beyond being complete sell-outs, can we have some pride. Sometimes I wonder was the queer movement will throw at us next. Wal-mart, is a stationed at the top of stupid ideas for the gay community. Yes, for us rural gays it is a cruising ground and a source of 2 for a $1 chapstick but seriously. They represent all that is evil in the labor movement. They represent poor health care and employment. They represent big business at it's nastiness... not to mention they represent the Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen clothes line...pure evil.
Don't get me wrong, there are probably monatary benefits at play here. But where is the community with the labor movements. Where is our footing in civil rights. We have started down the slippery slope of mainstream and it looks badly dressed
Please, beyond being complete sell-outs, can we have some pride. Sometimes I wonder was the queer movement will throw at us next. Wal-mart, is a stationed at the top of stupid ideas for the gay community. Yes, for us rural gays it is a cruising ground and a source of 2 for a $1 chapstick but seriously. They represent all that is evil in the labor movement. They represent poor health care and employment. They represent big business at it's nastiness... not to mention they represent the Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen clothes line...pure evil.
Don't get me wrong, there are probably monatary benefits at play here. But where is the community with the labor movements. Where is our footing in civil rights. We have started down the slippery slope of mainstream and it looks badly dressed
The Old Maid en Blog Entry
The first of many posts. This is the rare first issue. Like the beginning issue of any comic book or magazine, this post shall be worth the most.
Born out of my pure bordem and shear need for attention, this blog I hope become a beacon for those who seek to see DC through the eyes of a bitter 32 year-old. Depressed because the summer is about to end, and even more depressed that I never really reached by weight-loss goal of 6-pack abs. My obession with Subway cookies, Potbelly Icecream sandwiches and Jelly Belly's have turned my belly jelly.
About me. Well, I get bored easily. I have a short attention span. I need everything to be visual and I am full of sarcasm. Like most gay men in DC, I am not alone in my sarcasm. DC is the breeding ground for bitter bitches like myself. In fact, when my Brother and I go to the bars to pick apart people, we often see people like us doing the same. We can not help it. Blame my mom.
She would pick-us-up from school on Friday after a long week of work and blah. She would then drive us the 45 minutes to civilation and take us to the mall. Because we lacked money our fun was found not in the stores, but in the center of the mall. We ould get a drink and a cookie from Mrs Field's (thus my cookie fetish and jelly belly) and we would sit center court watching all the people. Taking turns to disect each patron as they pass. It is now habit.
I tell you this...not sure why, but so you know that I don't take myself seriously either. I would pick-up apart me in a heartbeat. Yes, I have a stable self-esteem, but even I can see that I am a bit thick...no longer the skinny kid in college.... I can see that I am in need of a haircut....I never know the right time.... I can see that I am not Brad Pitt.
Born out of my pure bordem and shear need for attention, this blog I hope become a beacon for those who seek to see DC through the eyes of a bitter 32 year-old. Depressed because the summer is about to end, and even more depressed that I never really reached by weight-loss goal of 6-pack abs. My obession with Subway cookies, Potbelly Icecream sandwiches and Jelly Belly's have turned my belly jelly.
About me. Well, I get bored easily. I have a short attention span. I need everything to be visual and I am full of sarcasm. Like most gay men in DC, I am not alone in my sarcasm. DC is the breeding ground for bitter bitches like myself. In fact, when my Brother and I go to the bars to pick apart people, we often see people like us doing the same. We can not help it. Blame my mom.
She would pick-us-up from school on Friday after a long week of work and blah. She would then drive us the 45 minutes to civilation and take us to the mall. Because we lacked money our fun was found not in the stores, but in the center of the mall. We ould get a drink and a cookie from Mrs Field's (thus my cookie fetish and jelly belly) and we would sit center court watching all the people. Taking turns to disect each patron as they pass. It is now habit.
I tell you this...not sure why, but so you know that I don't take myself seriously either. I would pick-up apart me in a heartbeat. Yes, I have a stable self-esteem, but even I can see that I am a bit thick...no longer the skinny kid in college.... I can see that I am in need of a haircut....I never know the right time.... I can see that I am not Brad Pitt.
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