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Look, it’s my blog, folks. I got all excited about the New York stories and wanted to post one of them right away (the rest will show up in the next week.) Yes, this whole New York adventure got in the way of Cherday, I get that, but such is life. And again, let us not forget, this is my blog.
So, being the king of this domain (and this domain only), I have moved Cherday this week. Can she do that, you are asking? Dude. Of course I can. How many times do I have to say it. This is my damn blog.
So anyway, this particular Cher song has been on my mind since last week. And this is my first ever dedication:
To my “why do they call me gay” googler- I am still thinking about you, buddy… a lot. And by ‘buddy’ I mean every single one of you out there.
This is actually one of my favorite Cher songs and I have been waiting for a special reason to post it. (Please also notice the NY theme in the video. Yes, I am that gay and coordinated, folks… tying it all together like that, yo.)
Happy Cherday, everyone! Happy Friday!
Have a fabulous weekend.
I almost missed the plane. Of course, right? I got to SeaTac airport early, checked in, got mostly naked to get through security, hopped the train to my gate and there I was… without my backpack! This backpack not only had my favorite sweater, shmancy chocolate that Violet had picked out for Kristen, and a rockin ipod playlist for the trek to Jess’s party, this backpack had my hair product!
I had eight minutes until the plane boarded. I had a serious decision to make.
Since spraining my ankle I haven’t run. I haven’t even tried. And up until the exact moment of realizing that I had forgotten my backpack at the security checkpoint I wasn’t even sure it was possible yet. But like I mentioned my hair product was in that bag and I had 8 minutes.
I ran. Oh how I ran.
I hopped the train backwards towards the security checkpoint and in my frenzied, hair product-less obsessed mind, instead of staying past the security check point area I ran right back out of the secured part of the airport into baggage claim. WHOOPS SQUARED.
So now I had 5 minutes and I was exactly where I started when Violet dropped me off over an hour ago. I continued to run. (At this point running was totally unnecessary as there was really nowhere I could run to, but it felt good and it was giving me a false sense of being proactive about my situation.) I saw some TSA lady about to get into an elevator and decided she was my last hope. I half yelled, “Excuse me! I know you spend too much of your day having to deal with panicked morons like me… I know that, but will you PLEASE help me!” She rolled her eyes and started walking towards the security check point, waving her hand at me, without looking at me like, “Come on you sad, lost little animal. Mamma’s here now, you dumb little baby.” And I followed her with big eyes and endless hope, like a lost, little, dumb baby bird.
She went to the front of the security check line and yelled, “Hey! Sam! I got another one here. Left their backpack about 15 minutes ago. Flight in 5.” And then my angel TSA mamma bird who kind of hated me was gone.
Sam opened several of those rat maze like rope things that the line of folks weave around while peeling off all things metal and putting all liquids into a clear sack. He took me right to the front of one of the metal detectors to know one else’s approval or delight. I again got mostly naked, walked through the gates of oh-my-god-I-might-actually-make-my-flight and then some woman in some special tower 20 feet away waved my backpack at me. I gave her a thumbs up and she waved at me to come over.
When I got there she had hid it behind a desk and ask me, “Oh ya? What color is it?” And my brain though, “Wait? What the hell? You just showed it to me.” But there was no time for trying to question our internal homeland security processes and procedures; I had a flight that left in 2 minutes! I said, “Red.” She said, “Mm hmm. And what’s in it?” I said, “A fabulous gray sweater, a couple of purple rubber ducky devil ducky things… um, my bathroom bag (i.e. my hair product!!!) and some…” She cut me off and handed it to me. I thanked her profusely as I once again did what I could to be as proactive about catching this plane as possible and I ran like no one’s ephing business.
I ran down several flights of stairs, hopped back on the train and ran to the gate. Everyone had already boarded. A guy took my ticket and said, “Go! Hurry!” I ran down the ramp and onto my plane. I did the walk of shame past several isles of already-ready-to-go passengers who all stared at me and gave me pointless and predictable dirty looks. I was sweating like mad as I crammed my bag into an overhead bin. I found my middle seat, in between a woman reading Genesis and another woman who spoke no English and who would insist I take a piece of her chewing gum every 30 minutes or so for our entire flight.
The cabin doors closed as the flight attendant came by and said, “That was a close call, sir. Please put your seat belt on.” And off we were. Off I was. To New York.
Yesterday I woke up in Brooklyn. About an hour ago I woke up in Seattle.
I just got back from my trip to New York. It was an incredible adventure that was absolutely, totally amazing and included no sleep. Every single moment was completely packed full of places to go, people to meet and ridiculously exciting things to do. And I want to write about it all but I’m not sure this is possible. This trip was so huge…. sooooooo huge (with tons of amazing bloggers to name drop along the way).
So, in an attempt to tell the story the way I want to (i.e. verbosely with attention to details that don’t matter) I have realized, if I also want to attempt to keep anyone’s attention I’m going to have to do this in parts. This will be the first ever series on jljj and I’m calling it: New York in 4 Parts. Tour of Fabulous (Catchy, no? The brainchild behind the title being the lovely Lady Brett ) I haven’t written them yet but my guess is the line up will look something like this:
Part 1. (Almost Not) Getting There (might also be called, “Willing to Miss A Flight For Hair Product And Devil Ducks”)
Part 2. Taking Over Brooklyn (might also be called, “How jesse Almost Got Beat Up By A Huge Angry Woman In A Brooklyn Dyke Bar” or “Hey Rene! I May Look Butch But I’m Actually Quite Fragile and Sensitive! No Need To Push” or “Doing The Single Ladies Dance With Sinclair In A Crowded Bar” or “Ya, I’m The One Who Keeps Putting Cher On The Jukebox, Who Wants To Know?”)
Part 3. No Mo’ Boobies Party, starring my name twin, JessHeIs (might also be called, “Leo and the Magic Air Mattress” or “Did You Try Dangling It, Babe?”) Regardless, this is where a whole ton of blogger name dropping will happen.
Part 4. Meeting Greg (might also be called, “Sunday Swooning” or maybe “Kristen’s FagSpice Kitchen Bottom Finally Gets to Meet The Green Eyed Grrrl” or “No, I’m Not Nervous Or Feeling A Tad Dizzy Because Of Your Flawless Fabulousness, I Always Act Like A Giddy Idiot”
So, there are a few unnecessary details to iron out and I have a bit of sleep to catch up on, but it is all in the works, and is all on the way. Until then…
Yes, once again it is Cherday. (Somehow, tracking the week like this really does make Thursday feel like it pops up twice a week.) Anyway, at present I am flying around the house, with the Seal running along side of me wondering what fabulous chasing game we are playing, trying to get my stuff together so not to miss my plane. I have 18 minutes until Violet will start the car and after 4 years together, we have learned to pick our battles. Keeping her waiting is not one I am willing to attempt.
It’s not like NY doesn’t have internet, it’s just that I may or may not have time. But when I get back I promise to give my version to any and every story that hits the net regarding trouble I may or may not have caused.
Until then, Happy Cherday, everyone! Happy Friday-eve.
(Cher doesn’t have a song about Brooklyn, so I am posting this beautiful song by the Avett Btothers that Sinclair found for me.)
In the last week, every single day for the last several days, there has been a web search that says something like, “why do they call me gay” and “why do they tell me I’m gay” and “why do they tease me [that] I’m gay” that has led to my blog somehow. It’s very likely that it was several different folks and several different searches, but my gut, for whatever reason, doesn’t think so. And I’m not sure how or why you clicked on my blog each time, but you’ve been here day after day this week, so, I’m writing this post to you, on the off chance that you’ll stop by at least once more.
To my ‘why do they call me gay’ googler,
I’ve been thinking about you a lot and wondering what your story is. I’ve made up in my head that you are a 9 or 11 or 13 or 15 year old kid in some small town who is waking up each morning dreading having to go to school a little bit more than the day before. My guess is that you are a really smart kid, but it’s getting harder and harder to focus on schoolwork with the name calling. Instead you are online asking google why the world is being so mean to you right now. You are probably confused about a lot of things and you are online trying to figure out what you are doing wrong.
This may be your story, or close, or I may be way off, but this is a lot of people’s story and that sucks. It’s my story (minus the invention of google – I use to take the bus three towns away and look for books about it in a library where I prayed no one would know me. And I’m not even old, so get over that idea!)
I grew up in a small town and started having a really hard time in high school once folks began accusing me of being gay. This teasing didn’t bug me or bother me; it terrified me and made my already totally confusing life way more confusing. I wasn’t sure if I was gay or not but when I started getting called ‘gay’, and folks were talking about me behind my back, teasing me, friends started acting weird or stopped talking to me, I became way more worried about being accused of being gay than if I thought I was or not. So, I started spending as little time in school as I could get away with. I was good at most sports and stopped playing all of them. I was first chair trumpet (that means I was top dog player, yo) and stopped playing all together. I got rockin’ SAT scores but barely graduated high school and didn’t even apply for college. I waited to turn 18 and got the hell out of my town.
***DO NOT DO THIS!***
A lot of people have this story, or something close to it. And that sucks. So I see your searches that has somehow brought you to this blog all week and my stomach sinks.
Clearly this is bugging you or confusing you and I really want to reach out to you somehow but I’m not sure how to. I don’t actually know your story. (For all I know you are a 60 year old trucker lady from Minnesota.) But if you are in school and you are getting teased I want something to happen or change for you and I bet you do too. And it can, it’s just a matter of figuring out what to do… but you probably already know that.
And if you are gay or you aren’t gay or you don’t know if you are or if you don’t even care about that stuff anyway, and people are giving you a hard time and calling you names, any names, just so you know: You aren’t doing anything wrong and you don’t deserve to be teased or bullied or called names that make you feel bad or uncomfortable! Ever, ever, ever, in your whole life you never ever need to put up with that!!!
(A really important side note to all of this would be, of course, that being gay isn’t a bad thing. I am totally gay and totally fabulous and I know a TON of gay and fabulous people, but I don’t think that is the main point in this case.)
What I wanted in high school was for someone to help me somehow. I wanted to talk to someone about things but I was way too scared and didn’t know who I could trust. Even though the teasing and the rumors about me were really hurting me I felt like I needed to keep my feelings a secret for some reason. I thought that if I told someone about it things might get worse somehow. And there wasn’t anyone I really trusted at my school to talk to.
And maybe you don’t feel like there is anyone you can talk to at school, or maybe you want to talk to someone who doesn’t know who you are? Well well well! I just found the coolest place for you to call!!! … or, get ready for this!!!… You don’t even have to call, you can just go on their website and chat with someone online!!!
Here’s the info:
Youth Talkline (for ages 25 and under but they will totally talk to you if you are older)
Phone: 1-800-96YOUTH (1-800-969-6884)
Website: youthtalkline.org and click on “online peer support chat”
Hours: Monday-Saturday, 5 p.m. to 9 p.m. (west coast time) (that’s 8p.m. to midnight on the east coast) and sometimes they answer a bit earlier than that.
Or, if you are over 25 and want to talk to the same awesome organization call this number instead: 1-888-843-4564
I just talked to a guy at the Youth Talkline, youthtalkline.org, who was super nice and he said that even though the name of the place on the website is GLBT (which stands for gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgendered) no one that works there cares if you are any of those things or totally straight or you don’t know what you are or you are blue or purple or tall or fat or blond or whatever.
And they will talk or chat with you about whatever you want to in total privacy. He also said they have over 15,000 different resources of different people and places all over the country that might be able to help you out regarding all sorts of stuff. These people will just talk to you about whatever is on your mind, and you don’t even need to tell them your name if you don’t want to. They sound like they know a lot and probably have some good ideas on how to help you out.
And whatever, whoever, however, wherever you are if you want to talk or ask me questions just email me, email@example.com, and we can get in touch. I would love it. (I’m the only one who reads my email!) And if I’m not who you need/want to talk to and those numbers above aren’t the right fit, maybe I can help you find a better fit.
Also, just so you know, I’m really sorry that whoever is calling you gay is making you feel confused about why they are saying that. And if they are hurting your feelings I’m really sorry you are getting your feelings hurt.
And even though we don’t know each other, do me a favor, go to a mirror, point your finger at yourself and say this as loud as you want to (it’s long, you might want to write it down first):
NONE OF THIS NAME CALLING CRAP IS MY FAULT AND I AM NOT DOING ANYTHING WRONG! I AM AWESOME AND FABULOUS. I DO NOT DESERVE TO BE CALLED NAMES OR TEASED OR BULLIED OR MADE TO FEEL BAD OR SCARED OR UNCOMFORTABLE BY ANYONE AT ANY TIME EVER, EVER, EVER IN MY WHOLE LIFE… EVER!!! I DESERVE LOVE AND KINDNESS AND RESPECT AND NOTHING LESS!!! AND IF THEY DON’T KNOCK IT OFF JESSE JAMES WILL KICK THEIR BUTTS!!!
OK, that last sentence isn’t true and is actually a really, really bad idea!!! We’re working towards peace here… no butt kicking necessary.
Get in touch with that youth talk line (youthtalkline.org) and see how it goes, you have nothing to lose – or get in touch with me, but get in touch with someone, ok?! A lot of folks care about you and really don’t want you to be having a hard time. I don’t even know who you are and I’ve been thinking about you all week. I care about you.
So, that’s all I got for now, which isn’t a lot for this much writing.
Take good care of yourself, buddy. I’ll be thinking about you.
I’m not sure how possible it is to keep track of all of the Homo-got-some-rights-aaaand-now-homo-lost-his-rights bills and referendums that are being passed and proposed in this country anymore, but in my fine state of Washington we recently passed a semi-homo-loving bill that was dubbed the ‘Everything But Marriage’ bill which grants domestic partners all of the same Washington state laws and rights that our one-man/one-woman-I-liked-it-so-I-put-a-ring-on-it friends enjoy. Minus getting to use that oh so sacred M word, this bill is progress.
And, just like the story goes everywhere in this country, where something happens to make the world a better place there are always mean, ugly, grouchy, party pooper haters out there, lurking in the background, all ready to try and keep the world as segregated, discriminating, and unjust as possible… or in their words, ‘moral’.
So, after the Everything But Marriage bill passed here a queer-hating referendum to reverse the bill was proposed and received all of the signatures necessary to make it to the ballot. This means we the people of Washington state now get to vote on Referendum 71, specifically designed in attempt to reverse letting all consenting adults in a relationship have the ability to legal protections and to legally care for each other no matter if non or both tend to leave the toilet seat up.
Their angle: Preserve Marriage, Protect Children.
…What the eph are you ephing… eh hem, well, I would ask them to kindly explain this logic but they recently bailed on the town hall debate that they had agreed to. Convenient. Maybe they are too busy protecting their children or preserving their marriages? Don’t I mean marriage, you ask? NO. Marriages.
A few important side notes about the dickwads that created this bullshit (am I still sounding neutral?): One of them has been divorced several times, to which I have no personal opinion on – just seems that we must have different ideas of the word “preserve.” If by “preserve” you mean like the jelly kind that you put on toast and once it is opened it will eventually expire and then you have to throw it out and go buy more jelly, ok… I just thought you meant… you know what, never mind. Oh, and the other asshole doesn’t even live in Washington.
So, on a much lighter and way more entertaining note, here is fabulously relevant and funny and cute song with two cute girls with cute voices singing about the absurdity of some arguments to keep this country ‘moral’. Specifically about when Pat Robertson said that if we legalized gay marriage we might as well legalize child molestation and bestiality. Strong case there, Patty! And if you are a bit pissed off like I accidentally made myself writing this post, this video will help bring you back down. It’s funny and cute, and its a song about sex with ducks… did I mention that?
Well, it’s Thursday. Happy Friday-eve, folks! Happy Cherday everyone!
… Well, not totally. I mean, Cher is still involved. Of course. It IS Thursday after all.
I have spent way more time than I will admit trying to find a decent cover of Just Like Jesse James. It is just one of those songs that is nearly impossible to sing without sounding, well, pretty terrible. It just doesn’t get covered well. The song is exhausting really (yes, I know this from personal experience, come on folks), it has a huge range and you’re up against CHER for gawdsake. Not easy. And with no hard feelings to the many, many, maaaany attempts on youtube most of them really start to hurt after a while if not pretty immediately.
So just as I was about to give up I ran into the unsuspecting small-town-Lori Brown (I made that up for her). And folks, it’s not that she sings the song well, she ephing ROCKS IT out of the park! Home. Run. I’m telling you, The Goddess of all thing Sparkly and Fabulous would be so proud! I sure am.
*If you are one of those extremely impatient and attention deprived folks like myself AT LEAST watch from 2:08 to 2:17 AND 3:22 to 3:33! In the borrowed words of Leo MacCool “OH EM GEE!” This Lori Brown woman is ON FIRE.
Speaking of fire, the first time I watched the part in between 2:08 to 2:17 I stood up, point at the screen and yelled, “THAT’S RIGHT LORI BROWN! AIM AND FIRE, BABY! AIM! AND! FIIIIIRE!” (too much information?)
Happy Friday-eve folks! Happy Cherday… eh hem, I mean, Lori Brown day!
(If there are any haters out there that seriously think someone (besides Cher of course) can sing this song better I challenge you to send me the video…)
Last night I was on the phone with my buddy Sinclair (maybe you’ve heard of her?), talking up a storm about this and that, like I do and like she so patiently wades through, when all of a sudden she said, “ok, it’s booked.”
… as in my ticket to New York. is. booked.
We have had this in the works for some time and finally, finally, the time is right and it is all coming together. In just a few weeks we will be painting the town together like we do and do oh so well. I will also finally get to meet Kristen, which, of course, I very much look forward to. I have my fingers crossed that I will get to have a drink with GR-E.G, and maybe even Leo and Freedomgirl?
And oh yes, it is no accident that the weekend I am there just happens to be the same weekend as my name twin (minus the Andrew part and the capital J), Mr. Jesse Andrew of Jess I Am is having his top surgery fundraiser/31st birthday. Sin and I have planned my trip around this fabulous event and I am quite excited. I have wanted to meet Jesse and Tina for some time now and really look forward to the party.. eh hem, I mean fundraiser. (Oh, by the way, donate for gawds sake! Even just a buck or two. But let’s help get this guy get where he’s going already!)
Well folks, that’s the newest news from this puppy-eyed westcoast blogger. So, thank you economy, for sucking hard enough to put us both out of work at the same time so we can burn money, which we have none, and time, which we have too much, together, finally.
And to you, Sin, a little song from me to you :
(p.s. SOMEONE! I need the guitar chords to this song! How is it that I can’t find them anywhere? I have some of it figured out but need to teach myself the entire acoustic version so that I can feel whole and complete – and also so that I will have the option to embarrass myself with some sort of terrible drunken concert of sorts whenever the mood strikes.)
The one topic about Cher that I will NOT engage in is the very popular discussion as to whether or not the goddess of all things sparkly and fabulous has or has not had her incredibly sexy diva bod nipped and or tucked. 1. Who cares? 2. Like the diva says, that I will adamantly defend, “If I want to put my tits on my back it’s nobody’s business but my own!” You tell em’ Cher! She is really quite profound, don’t you agree?
Well folks, regardless of it all… your opinions, thoughts, assumptions, whether or not your socks match and are right side out or not. Regardless of how well you slept last night, if your zipper has been down all day (some of you just checked!), whether Cher did have a nose job… or not. Regardless of your height, how much you got in the bank, your hair color, how good or bad your breath is, or if just yesterday you spilled an entire espresso drink all over your favorite fabulous shirt that is now most likely ruined because you didn’t soak it in cold water over night like I told you to. Regardless of it all folks, whether you fight it or just let it be, it is Thursday. It is Cherday. And there ain’t no stoppin’ it!
This lovely video montage is a minute and a half of quotable profoundness fabulousness from TGOATSAF (i.e.the goddess of all things sparkly and fabulous… think that acronym will catch on?)
Happy Cherday, everyone, happy Friday-eve!