Here is a simple equation for you.
Mac and Cheese +
BACON *squeels* =
MAC AND CHEESE WITH BROCCOLI AND BACON!
Here is a simple equation for you.
Mac and Cheese +
BACON *squeels* =
MAC AND CHEESE WITH BROCCOLI AND BACON!
I go to sleep late. I wake up early, usually around 6:30 a.m. I believe my Tia Tencha used to tell me that she had to rest after sleeping all night long. You see, I will wake up at 6:30 a.m., but that doesn’t necessarily mean that I’ll get out of bed. I’ll stay in my warm bed and cuddle with my iPhone. (iPhones aren’t nearly as expensive/heartbreaking as men are.)
Thankfully, I have people in my life that make me get up and enjoy the beauty of San Francisco. Damon and I woke up very early last week and watched the sunrise atop Twin Peaks.
P.S. If you get the reference from the title of this post, you get a hug.
It’s time for another edition of Weird Tchotchkes I Live With! First up was this hard-working reindeer. Next up is this dragon boat character.
Hey there, dragon boat! What’s going on today? Where are you sailing? Breathe any fire lately? I can’t quite tell if you’re angry or happy. Do you need a hug?
This dragon boat has two heads! Siamese twin nautical realness? I’m confused.
This dragon boat is always displayed in the window that is constantly open. The poor thing is always blown into the house by wind, so he/she/it always ends up on the floor. The other cool thing is that the sail moves on this small creature.
Thanks dragon boat for all that you do! (nothing)
A couple weeks ago, I wrote about the glorious Veronica Lombo in this post. It lead me to think, though, that I have been blessed with many beautiful women in my life. These women, who come from different walks of life, are such an influence and all deserve to be showcased. So, away we go.
Introducing Michelle Hernandez! (insert maracas playing)
Michelle and I go way back and she was my fag hag long before she or I knew it. We went to high school together and sang in choir together. Incredibly close, even though she was a year ahead of me in school. I remember driving around in her Jetta and her screaming about her flow. I, of course, thought her pain was hilarious. I am her poopy pants.
We’ve been all over the place. We have cried in the shower together in Manhattan. I have been her domestically abused husband in the Madrigal Feast at our High School. I was a nazi and she was a nun in the Sound of Music. We have sung endless amounts of karaoke. We have had WAY too much wine at China Wine (hence the crying in the shower.) We’ve gayed it up in NYC, LA and SF.
Michelle has hair. She has lots of god damn hair. She has an animal shelter in her hair, full of well-fed dogs and cats. She also has the gift; her singing voice. This woman can belt you into oblivion. She’s currently belting her face off while she cruises around Australia with Retro Soul. She has been back stateside recently and we’ve gotten to hang out/drink/be ridiculous/nap. In between all that, she answered some random ass questions from my random ass.
Do you remember the first time we met? I sure as hell don’t. If not, make something up.
There was a Dance At the Gym. A race wars Mambo competition. Suddenly, from across the crowded room, there you were. It was as if the world around us had suddenly gone into soft focus, and it was just us. We danced to the ethereal music in our own heads, which of course was the same song, obvi. Eventually, Chino would shoot you dead in a jealous rage and I’d end the show with a dramatic monologue in a bad accent, gripping your corpse in one hand and a revolver in the other. Wait… that’s something else.
Wait, so how many bullets were there? How gay are you? Where did it come from? When did you know you were a fag hag?
Oh wow, on a scale of One to Gay, I’d say 11. No, 7. Wait, what’s the weather like? How many drinks have I had? Is the moon in the seventh house? I’m not into absolutes. People have called me “The Gay Whisperer”. It’s also been told that my gayness is a freak accident. What? See, while I probably SHOULD have been born a man tranny (a man, biologically, who should have been born a woman) I somehow got it right. I’m like a woman living inside a man living inside a woman. Whoa, sit on that for a second, that’s what she said.
Where did it come from? Interesting enough I was raised a conservative Catholic. I eventually realized that this conflicted with everything rational, progressive, and fabulous. One day, I woke up and it dawned on me that all my ghosts of boyfriends past were, well, pretty gay. If not openly, then obviously enough. I soon looked at my history of male best friends and realized that I’ve been a fag hag since the age of 8. John Hellman was my first gay. Of course we didn’t know that then. Although in retrospect, duh. I recently got in touch with him. He claimed not to remember me. And it looks like he’s de-friended me on Facebook. Ouch. I don’t blame him. I was kind of a bitch at 8. That was before I got ugly for a while, so I was kind of a bitch.
You and I love musical theatre. What Broadway diva do you admire the most? Keep in mind, I will judge you harshly on this answer.
Whoa. You’re getting really deep and personal here already. Um, this is so unexpected. There have been a series of women in Broadway who’ve affected my development as and artist, and a gay. I think Linda Eder was my first love. That bitch can belt. Eventually I forgot I was white and started getting really into that Dreamgirls song, so I’d like to give Jennifer Holliday an Honorable Mentioned. Although, what IS a gay man but a big black woman, really. And of course there’s Judy… and Liza. And Audra! And Marin Mazzie! And Bernadette! DON’T MAKE ME CHOOSE!!
OK, I won’t make you choose. I’ll just make you tell me how you feel about Cher.
I’m gonna be honest, you turned me on to how fabulous she really is, and for that I’m forever grateful. I DIG Cher. Once I was at a seat filler event with my original Gay-sian, Dennis Tong. Cher walked by, and Dennis, with no shame, called out to our goddess. She stopped, turned, and gave us the best smile she could muster through all that magical plastic. It was awesome.
I would have died. You are currently cruising down under? How are the Aussie gays taking to you?
You know, I’m not finding a whole lot of homos down under. Twat? Yeah, disappointing. We were based in Brisbane, which I can only describe as the Galveston of Australia. Although this young gay couple DID come up to me on their last night and ask for a picture. It hadn’t occured to me until that moment how much I’d missed my gay supporters. Putting my arms around those homos felt like a breath of fresh air. Fresh, fabulous air.
Oo! There were also a few lesbians! I always forget the lesbians. Sorry, boys.
And of course, there were a few straight girls who said they’d go gay for me, but I mean, WHAT IS a straight girl but a few tequila shots away from a public bi-curious display.
We’re expecting more gays now that we’ll be based out of Sydney. Judy, Please give us more gays in Sydney.
Let’s just say a certain government organization won’t allow me to disclose that information. I’ve already said too much.
Finish this sentence: Milk milk lemonade, around the corner ________.
…TOOOOOOOUCH MEEEEE IT’S SO EAAAAASY TO LEAAAAAVE MEEEEEE ALL ALONE WITH MY MEEEEEEMORIESSSSS OF MY DAAAAAYS IN THE SUUUUUUUNNNN…!
Talk to me about drag queens. Friends or foes? Are they jealous of your boogie?
Oh friends, definitely. Although every so often you’ll get a really queeny one that doesn’t like ANYTHING, so there you’re not gonna win. Enter Hernandez, and it’s a lot of diva in one room. The trick is, to let those ladies have their spotlight and follow their lead. Even if you know you’re funnier than they are, tonight, they’ve got the Weave.
That is incredibly sound advice, poopy.
Last year Michelle invited me to be a part of her cabaret show in Southern California. I hadn’t performed on stage in about 4 years, so I was extremely nervous, but I knew it would be great to be back on stage with her. We did this medley of songs based on the same 4 chords. Here is a shitty video. Ignore my singing. Listen to Michelle.
I was home recently and was able to look through some old photo albums. I’m in the process of converting these prints into digital files so they can be preserved. Czech out some findings!
I came to my hometown out of the blue, recently, and have since been spending a significant amount of time with my family. While the older members of this family are currently driving me crazy, I’ve been getting to spend a good chunk of time with my nephews. We’ve played volleyball and eaten a bunch of french fries.
Today, though, we went to Medieval Times! I’ve been twice before: once when I was about 5 and the other for a surprise 16th birthday.
The nephews purposefully didn’t get a hint of where we were going. This was going to be a special surprise.
We’re on our way! Don’t we all look excited? (I need to trim the beard.)
Finally, we pull up to the *castle* and they say, “Are we going to Medieval Times?” I enthusiastically say,”YES! Aren’t you excited?”
The reply I get is: “That sounds boring”
“It’ll be fun, I swear!” I’m panicking on the inside.
Don’t they look excited?
We walk in to the castle, pick up our tickets, don our red crowns, (Go Red Knight!) and head inside the stadium. All the wenches and bucks (male wenches) are bustling around getting everyone’s liquids and explaining how the meal is going to be handled. Remember patrons, no forks and knives as they weren’t invented yet.
Thankfully, my boys were starting to get a little pumped for some jousting action and watching horses gallop and stuff. Plus, they got some swords at the gift shop. Violence makes kids happy.
Look, it’s our RED Knight!
Let’s get this out of the way right now. I had an ulterior motive in coming to Medieval Times. It was a way for me to hang out with the kids, but honestly… those knights are pretty dashing. I had a thing for the Black & White Knight, the Red /Yellow Knight, the Green Knight, and the Blue Knight. Basically, every knight except mine. Did you see all those colors I just named off. That’s a pretty proud rainbow, if you ask me.
Blah blah blah there is a storyline to this show, let’s look at horses and knights!
The Red Knight actually got hurt during the joust. No, really. He couldn’t get up. The cast was great and played it off REALLY well. Kudos to them. His replacement looked dramatically different then the original. None of the kids could tell. In case you’re interested, the Green Knight won.
Those are some satisfied faces right there!
And to end:
Growing up, I watched way too much TV. In fact, I watched way too much TV that was meant for adults, rather than programming geared for children. Don’t get me wrong, I watched Fraggle Rock, Eureka’s Castle, and my favorite Under the Umbrella Tree. (Damn, I’m getting old.) My true television passion lied solely on primetime dramedies and daytime television. I’ll take all the Ally McBeal and Ricki Lake that you’ll give me. I was an AVID watcher of Good Day LA. That Jillian Barberie was extremely influential in the formation of my balls-to-the-wall personality. (I like to think I have a balls-to-the-wall personality. Truth is, I sit at home at night icing my feet and drinking a hot toddy.)
All these shows were fine and good, and if I could I would probably circulate them back into my television watching. Alas, being a semi-adult has its downfalls, and I either don’t care about television currently playing (sorry Mad Men) or I simply don’t have the time to watch consistently. There is however, one show, that I cannot and will not stop watching until my last dying breath. This show is a great mixture of women’s sensibility, politics, pop culture and absolute ridiculousness. It is, and I say this lovingly, one of the longest running messes on television and I am eternally grateful for its presence.
Ladies and Gentlewomen: THE VIEW
There have been some rotating cast members in this lovely female crew, but Barbara Walters and Joy Behar (please click on that link) have been at it since the beginning those 15 years ago.
15 years! Those were the days. When Star Jones was still fat, Meredith Viera was singing “Cabaret” live on the air, and Debbie Matenopoulous was giving Generation X a bad reputation consistently.
My parents at first, were well aware that I had a mild affinity for this divalicious daytime deliciousness, but I don’t think they knew the extent of my admiration for this program. Eventually, my parents tried to curb my viewing of the show by making me do things like “go outside” and “play sports” and “hang out with friends.” That still sounds absolutely awful. That didn’t seem to be working and my guardians were starting to notice that it was possibly making me a little more feminine. They BANNED me from watching anytime daytime TV, and specifically the View. Sorry Mom and Dad, the cat is out of the bag.
Thankfully, I have parents that were born long before the tech boom and they had to come to me constantly to help them turn on the TV, get on that thing called AOL (and if you have an AOL email address still, you need to stay away from the internet forever) and best of all, put on their VHS tapes. Yup, I said VHS. I however, was a precocious child and ended up recording the View on my parents VHS and watching it after they had gone to bed. Before, I had only stuck to watching The View during the summer and days off and didn’t mind to miss while I was at school, but now this was a game. It was a game I was easily winning. I’d set the timer on the VCR and my show was being saved for my viewing pleasure whenever I was ready.
This was all going smoothly until my dad wanted to watch his old tape of Dr. Zhivago. Now, I had been somewhat careless in this game. I was, at first, very careful about the tapes I recorded over, but then I became a hoarder of the View. I was recording on any tapes I could find. I NEEDED to see my ladies who brunched. My dad, still inept when it comes to technology, had me put on Dr. Zhivago one day. I had NO IDEA that this was a VHS that I not only recorded the View on, but had carelessly started the recording in the middle of the film. Omar Shariff is bustling around Eastern Europe and all of a sudden Joy Behar starts talking to Madonna about menopause. Now, normally, this would be heaven to me. (I had no idea what menopause was, but I knew it was hilarious.) My dad calmly asked me how many VHS tapes I had written over with episodes of the View. I confessed that I had no idea. He surprisingly was great about the whole thing; he had given up. He told my mother, and then we all proceeded to Tower Records and bought some tapes that we had needed to replace. Life was good again; I shamelessly got to watch my girls.
I’d like to share with you a few of my favorite moments from the show, if you’ll let me.
But first, this:
1. Sherri Shepherd thinks the world is flat.
What a ding dong. I have the chance of *running into* Sherri this Saturday at some random ass comedy show. If I can get in, I’ll sneak some photos and talk Galileo with her. See what I do for you readers?
2. My Momma, Whoopi Goldberg, lets one loose on live television.
3. The Rosie and Elisabeth fight. OK, I’m telling you now; I’m team Rosie all the way. I love that lezzy. She was my other daytime addiction, and when she announced she was joining the view, my heart leaped out of my chest with excitement. Czech out this hot mess of a fight, which ended up being Rosie’s last appearance on the show. It’s a bit longer of a video, but it’s worth it.
4. Star Jones leaves The View! This bitch. You gotta love how absolutely ridiculous she was on that show. With her, “I’m a lawyer” this and her “it was diet and Pilates” that. You’re not fooling anyone, my dear. Not only does ABC fail to renew her contract, but she decided to leave on her own terms and go out in a blazing ball of glory. Don’t try and do that to Babs. She does not like to be played the fool. Momma gets back on the screen the next day and lets her have it. Take that, Star! Not only did ABC and the show’s producers see right through your bull, but they were sick of your ass and kicked you to the curb. Momma aired out all your dirty laundry. Feel good?
They won’t let me embed this amazing video so go here.
5. Rosie impersonates Donald Trump
That speaks for itself.
So, I must thank the View. When I come home at night to my yellow cave up on top of that gay ‘ol mountain in SF, it’s nice to hang out with some familiar faces (even if one of them is an obnoxious blonde Republican that thinks Sarah Palin would have been a great president.) Thanks girls, looking forward to seeing you tomorrow.
P.S. To whoever is in charge of booking at the View; Please please please come and have me on the show. I’d love to sit on the panel during hot topics, get into a cat fight with Elisabeth and pet Whoopi’s dreadlocks. It’ll be a great show, I promise.
I was fortunate enough to spend the afternoon with my nephew, Kyle, today. I picked him up from school and took him out to eat. He has a very sophisticated palette that consists of bacon and french fries. He takes after me.
While I like to think I’m a fun uncle with boundless energy, I realized very early on that this kid can easily wear me out. We headed off to heaven (Target) and bought a sky blue volleyball for $10. That’s some pretty inexpensive happiness, if you ask me. Thankfully, Kyle let me take a break and I was able to take a few photos of him. He’s such a ham.
He’s a 7 year old terror, but I love him anyway. The best part about him is giving him back to my sister when I’m done being a pseudo-parent.
There is a special relationship between a gay and his gal pal.
Urban Dictionary’s Definition:
That all sounds fine and dandy, but I like to think a fag hag is a girl who is a great wingwoman, likes to go dancing, and has a thing for mixed drinks and gay dudes. (I guess they can be good people, also.) The relationship with a fag hag is not terribly complex. In fact, it’s rather quite simple. There is emotional availability for both parties with none of that weird relationship stuff.
Meet Vee (Veronica Lombo):
Vee and I started our love affair AFTER attending Mater Dei High School. I had always heard her name around campus, but thought she was too incredibly popular for me to even know what she looked like. Turns out those 4 years were partially wasted because I never got to talk to her while we were in school together. Sad panda. By fate, we eventually connected the summer after graduation and it’s been love ever since. We’ve even been known to travel to Long Island to see the Spice Girls. Vee is living a wonderful life in NYC and she’s documenting it all on her blog Vee Said She Said. You can learn about some fine fashion, trannies that will cut you, and maybe an appearance from a certain SF based homo. (It’s me!)
I’m going to make a claim for the rest of the gay community and offer Vee full gay-dom. She’s earned it. She is a graduated fag hag; a full-fledged gay. CONGRATS BIOTCH!
I asked this devilish diva a few questions to let the fur fly free.
When did you realize you were gay?
I was 18, and met my ‘first’ gay friend, Ralph, working at Nordstrom at South Coast Plaza during Christmas break. We naturally became fast friends with common interests such as fashion and cheerleading. One night, a few co-workers, along with Ralph and myself, went to Club Thrust. Every other night, Club Thrust functioned as a sushi restaurant, but Thursdays were the exception. We chugged Sparks in the backseat of our friend’s car. I didn’t know what I was in for. Suddenly everything came together. The lights. The music. The dancing. The sweaty men. The drag queens. It was my crack. I was addicted. There was no going back.
Looking back, I guess I’ve always been a gay man in a woman’s body. My best friend in Kindergarten was a French boy named George. He wore nautical striped shirts, khaki shorts, and neutral colored sneakers. He also loved Euro Disney. I should have known.
Damn, Vee. George? We should find him. I say we go sail the sees to find George. Alright, what is your coming out story?
dlist.com …need I say more?
HA! Yes. Some backstory. DList was THE gay social networking site; now defunct. Facebook for gays. I convinced Vee that she should join and start her gay army. Finally she listened to me, and she BLEW UP. The site even featured her as “The Lady of DList.” You’re welcome, Vee. How did your parents take your coming out?
My parents love me and my gay friends. They especially love the ones that are very eager to sing karaoke. You, David McDonald, are obviously at the top of the list. ;)
“I don’t care if someone is gay or straight or whateber, as long as they are a nice person, that’s all that matters.”
“Bee, were you out at the gay clubs last night? You left a message on the answering machine and all we could hear was loud music.”
Tell Romeo (Vee’s Dad) that I appreciate being at the top of the list. Vee’s father and I have a strange love affair. Don’t ask. What’s your favorite karaoke song?
I can’t really sing, so I prefer rap songs. The one that I am probably the best at is Eminem’s “My Name Is.” But, I don’t really have a favorite.
Which version of Madonna do you prefer and why?
I really dislike Cowgirl Madonna. I just wasn’t ok with that entire phase, even though I definitely still listened to the songs. My favorite version is “Hung Up” Madonna. The leotard, the sparkles, and the dance sequences are everything.
I hope they’re both organic, and that the milk is lactose free because that would cause problems. And definitely no high fructose corn syrup in the lemonade. Actually is there any coconut water available?
You were a gymnast in another life. How did those uneven bars treat you?
Not well. I was more of a beam and floor exercise kind of girl. You KNOW. ;)
What would you do if you ACTUALLY had a penis?
Get it penazzled, obviously! (If you’re unsure of the definition, google it.)
OK. You have silly string, some toothpicks and an adult diaper. Can you make it WERQ, TWERK or both at the same time?
WERQ fo sho. I would “stud” the adult diaper with the toothpicks to give it an edgy feel. As for the silly string, I hope that it would be neon pink or cobalt blue, and I would construct a kind of netting around the toothpicks.
When it comes to QAF, should Brian have ended up with Justin or Michael and why?
Brian was innately selfish, so I don’t think he deserved either Justin or Michael. Brian cared for both of them equally, but Justin and Michael cared for Brian WAY more then he ever did.
OK, everyone. Set forth and show your fag hags some lurvin’. They deserve it.