then again, maybe not
Closed for business

May 31, 2006

at least I didn't spill anything on him...

For better or worse, I don't embarrass very easily. But today, I was very embarrassed. Why? Oh, I acted like a jibbering idiot. Which is not really that different than how I usually act, but I don't usually do it in front of Civil Rights Movement leaders.

Yes folks. This afternoon when I was headed out of the office for a meeting, this certain someone was standing outside of my office building. So, in all my dumbass glory, I start grinning, and walk over. Note to self: don't walk over. Just keep moving.

Anyway, he's just standing there, and didn't have the good sense to run away from me. So I say hello, and tell him where I work, and blah blah blah, thanks for speaking last year, yadda yadda. Ok. Handshake, smile, good work we do, so far so good. But then instead of moving away graciously, I decide to keep talking. And ask him if he remembers the class he taught that I was in six years ago. Six. Years. Ago. Good grief. Clearly, the answer to my question is no. But of course, he says he thinks he does remember. Because he's a smart, polite fellow, and I'm a freaking idiot.

I see that he clearly doesn't remember, so I go into a full-on babble. I yack on about the paper I wrote, the scheduling problems I had in the honors program (his was an honors-only class, not that it makes this gibbering ok), and somehow end up talking about my mother and this funny story she told me about when she was at Howard, and she had to take a quiz about the city before she could leave campus. Ha! Not funny. Just scary.

Again, he is gracious, smiles again (quite a smile, let me tell ya), and asks if I got a good grade in the class. I say yes, I got an A. He says good, politely ends the conversation and walks away. I'm all swagger down the street, until I realize he's probably wondering why he gave such a freaking nutjob an A. I'm never going out in public again.


Blogging for LGBT Families Day - June 1

June 1st is

Day, a day to raise awareness about LGBT (lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender) families. I want to invite you all to
participate. Please also pass the invitation along to anyone, LGBT or straight,
whom you think may be interested.

Why June 1st? This date falls exactly between Mother’s Day and Father’s Day. As such, it honors mothers and fathers equally, but also conveys that not all families fit into the traditional structure of one mother and one father. June 1st is also the start of Gay Pride Month.

Since I suck at doing things on time, I'm just going to write something now. I've mentioned my godfathers, my adoption, and my often drinking mother before. But this is a good opportunity to talk about my family. I think that being adopted really has given me an openness to creating the family I want and need, rather than feeling overly tied to conventional definitions of family. After all, I don't know a single person who is genetically related to me, and only my mom adopted me, so everyone else floats outside of that. With the exception of my godfathers. They're a gay couple who've been together for around 35 years, I believe. And more importantly (to self-centered me, at least) they are my dads. One of my earliest memories is being with one of them at the Mummers Parade (you couldn't have paid my mother enough money to go with me). There are pictures of little me all over their apartment, and I still get referred to as "our baby." I even have a little sibling rivalry with the new small child in their lives (I don't want to talk about it). The point is, these guys are closer to me than almost anyone else. Their help raising me was certainly invaluable to my mother, and I can't imagine growing up without them. I mean, who else was going to help teach me how to fold napkins in impressive shapes (one used to be a caterer), or offer me weed when I had a headache (this was recently, not when I was a kid)?

Here's what I'm getting at. Love is love. And I couldn't have wished for better examples of good men, or loving fathers.


May 30, 2006

the continuing adventures...

It's been a while since I've shared a fun day in my life with you. So here goes. As a follow-up to my fucking feminists post, I thought I'd tell you a little tale of one of the fellas I list. See if you can guess which lis he's on from the story. And I'm sorry in advance for the TMI possibilities.

So, this guy I know, I'll call him 1isNotEnuf, has been bugging me to have a threesome with him and his sometimes girlfriend. It's not as random a request as it may seem. We've "had relations." So, after the initial ask, once I stopped strutting around like I was miss hot shit, everybody wants a piece, I politely declined the offer. There was no box to check off to RSVP no, so I just told 1isNotEnuf that I'd rather not. Ok, fine. Good laugh had by all. That was last... November I believe. It is now almost June, and he's still asking. We chat occasionally on IM, usually when I'm at home working and don't want to be, and it comes up. By which I mean he brings it up. Basically anytime I mention anything that has to do with people, in comes the conversation. So, it's ok for a while, funny every now and then in a "ha ha, remember when you wanted to have a threeesome" kind of way. But enough already. So yesterday, for the zillionth time, he brought it up again.

Dear 1isNotEnuf and other men of planet earth. Badgering is not a good way to get to witness hot girl on girl action.

I was sharing my frustration with another friend (with whom I've never "had relations," in case you're keeping track), and after she stopped laughing at the idea of me being annoyed about this, she asked a vaguely serious question. What's the proper etiquette for requesting sexual favors from someone? I mean, Miss Manners doesn't help here. Where's the line between friendly banter and annoyance? I say you should only ask once, unless the other person brings it up again. She thinks you could get away with three times, as long as it's not everytime you talk to the person. Yet another thing my liberal arts education failed to prepare me for.

Update: I should admit that I'm in a mood this week because I'm in a wedding on Saturday. Weddings always make me (more) cynical and (endlessly) annoyed.


Fucking Feminists

Well, this feminist, at least. On my mind for two reasons. One, it's always on my mind because I'm a nasty whore with no respect for myself who likes to screw, and also because I just got pointed to this post via Shrub.com.

Because I don't settle. Because I know what I want and I know what my idea of a
good time is and I know how to walk away. Because wanting a man doesn't equal
needing a man. Because I understand that's not really MEN AS INDIVIDUALS that
I'm angry at.
Well, I do settle, we all do. But I don't settle as much as I used to. Because I have realized that I'm happy being single. I use the word single, rather than "alone" on purpose. Jeebus I'm so surrounded by people it’s ridiculous to think of myself as alone. Or unattached, or any of the other couply words that make being sinlge sound like a horrible disease. Now, of course, like a good feminist I've been saying "I do't need a man" forever, I justs didn't realize that I mean it until recently. I spent all of high school in one of three relationships, and college was about the same until my senior year. I've been in and out and in and out (get it!) since then, and I think I like it better out. At least for now.

But because I do so enjoy contemplating my own navel (oh look, a little scar from that unfortunate piercing experiment), I do spend some time thinking about relationships. Like, if I am going to get involved with someone seriously in the future, what are my requirements? If I want to raise children with someone, who do they need to be? Would I consider getting married? Would I have to invite my family to the wedding? Would there be a a wedding? Can you get gifts if you don't have a wedding? Would any of my broke-ass friends get me anything good, or just drink the free booze?

Ahem.

Anyway. Big questions, all. I do like being in love. But I don't like being in love with someone who says you're only racist if you think people of other races should die (true story - a theory shared in my black ass's bed, no less), or I shouldn't be so gullible, no one is really against the rights of women (not in bed, but at the abrupt end of a dinner date). But, those are the dumb shitheads I go out with. Since I don't believe in soul mates, or the perfect person, or someone for everyone, I figure the best I can do is keep fucking, and hope one of them says the right thing for a long enough time.

This post is dedicated to the following awesome men I know: Scott, Doug, John, other John, Aidan, Bob, Chase, Paul, Al, and Dan. And the memory of Craig, who barely had a chance to show the world how great he was.

And I'd like to thank these assholes for helping me learn exactly what I don't want in a man: Daniel, Rick, other other John, Jim (especially Jim), Rob, Joe, Stephen, Komal, and that guy with the ugly green t-shirt whose name I keep forgetting.


"You broke my heart 'cause I couldn't dance..."

"...You didn't even want me around.
And now I'm back to let you know
I can really shake it down.
"

Well, in true me style, I've decided I have to blog again, and picked the worst week possible. Short week always equals busy at work, and my boss is out for the next two weeks, so I've got double the work. But, I missed you fuckers too much to stay away. Here's a quick update on what's been happening with me this month.

First, I did spend a good amount of time looking for a new job. And discovered that as overworked and underpaid as I am here, it only gets worse somewhere else. Argh! So, now I've got an even bigger decision to make. If I want to stay working with nonprofits (or at least anyone on the side of good), I either stay here, or take a pay cut. Or I can try to branch out to the (shudder to think) private sector. And honestly, who am I kidding? That's never going to work until I have a mortgage or a cocaine habit to support. And there's always the fallback option for disenchanted 20-somethings, graduate school. Perish the thought. So yeah. My decision is to think about it later. Hooray!

That's a long way around saying I'm back (whatever that means), and absence has made the cold dark pit of what I call my heart fonder of all of you. Except those of you who are total assholes. I still hate you.

Do you love me? Now that I can dance...