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For today’s Cherday post I am going to answer six of the most frequently emailed, commented and tweeted questions that I get about the Goddess of All Things Fabulous and Sparkly. Ready?
1. What is Cher’s full name? Well, it’s Cher. But she was born with the name Cherilyn Sarkisian.
2. What is your favorite Cher song? That depends on the day really. I never ever get tired of her cover of Walking in Memphis and of course, there is that one song, that I am a tad partial to, you know the one.
3. Do other lesbians (namely Violet) think it odd that you are obsessed with Cher? I wouldn’t describe it as obsessed so much as having a deep appreciation for the finer things. And yes, a few folks find my endless and always current knowledge of Cher a bit surprising, I guess. I remember Violet literally taking a step back when she realized I wasn’t kidding about this Cher business. I know she doesn’t feel the same way about her but she loves me enough that she has never said anything negative about Cher and just let’s me go on with my Cher-loving ways.
4. What is your favorite thing about Cher? Easy. That she is so freaking Cher. Everything she does is just so godamn Cher. And all of it, no matter what, who, where, why, when or how, she does so with no apology.
5. Do you seriously think Cher hasn’t had plastic surgery? I get this one a lot. I’ve never said either way. But, here’s the thing, WHO CARES! I’ve written about this before, but I am with Cher when she says, “If I want to put my tits on my back it’s nobody’s business but my own!” Exactly, Cher. Exactly. I think it is just the dumbest, most boring, anti-feminist thing in the world to think you have the right to decide for, attempt to dictate, point fingers or judge another woman for the decisions and choices she makes for herself and her body. Really, come on, there is more than enough judgment, endless condemning, policing and insanely impossible expectations and rules towards/for/of/on women that are so absolutely (and intentionally) unattainable in this world. And I refuse to participate. So long as Cher feels fabulous, she is fabulous.
6. What do you think about this Chastity/Chaz business and what do you think Cher thinks? I am excited for Chaz. I am also excited that he seems so willing to talk about his situation and his personal (private) experiences. It is dangerous, of course, to put one face to an entire population (hi Ellen!) but it happens and he seems like a good guy to be publically speaking about transgendered issues. I know Cher flipped a lid when Chaz (then Chastity) came out to her mom as a lesbian. I’m talking about lamps flying through windows-flipped out. But Cher said she was so upset about Chastity coming out because she didn’t want to watch the media be mean to her child, not because she was a lesbian. So, I don’t know what Cher thinks about Chaz transitioning but publicly she has been all support and I think that is perfect.
There we have it folks. Feel free to keep asking me questions about Cher, share with me what you know about Cher and most importantly, have a fabulous CherThursday!
Happy Friday-eve, everyone. Happy Cherday!
Today is the birthday of one of my very favorite people in the whole wide world. Rene and I have been best friends for, let me see, holy crap (what a profanely gross expression), over 22 years! We became self declared BFF’s in the 6th grade but we have known each other all of our lives (our mom’s are long time friends as well and were pregnant with us together- aw, how cute. I know.)
Here’s the deal, this poor woman is stuck at work for 10 hours today instead of playing around and celebrating the fact that she has circled the sun, um, a few times now.
So, I’m going to pull a little Sinclair-friend-romance ™ on Rene. What is Sinclair-friend-romance ™? Well, basically you just do something to make your friend feel like she is the most important person in the world, spoil her a bit with personalized gifts and cards and whatever. Sinclair is constantly doing things like this for me and really, it makes me swoon. And because Rene is one of the most fabulous people on the face of the earth AND it is her birthday, she deserves to be spoiled, to have cause for swoonage at least once on her birthday, right?
Rene loves flowers. And because I am poor and cannot afford to have them delivered (has anyone checked lately to see how obscenely expensive it is to have flowers delivered?!) I am going to go buy a huge beautiful bouquet from Pike Place Market, as bright and as pink as possible, and drive over to the east side and deliver them myself.
I also made her a mix cd, because I am a lesbian and that is what we do to show love. It is called, “Best Friend Love Mix (no homo)” and because Rene is just as straight as I am gay I managed to make an entire mix without the Indigo Girls or Ani Difranco. It was not easy but I love her that much. The mix is however, a bit faggy (surprise!), which she can handle, and does have songs like Mandy Moore’s version of Umbrella (judge away! I care none.) It also has this song, which is an obvious friend-love song yes, but what a beautiful cover! And for all of you in tweetville who helped me find different versions of Lean On Me, thank you, and now you know why I asked. I picked this version to end the mix. I think it’s a strong finish.
So, that is the plan. I am posting this before I leave because in her crazy ten-hour work day there is just no chance of her seeing this.
Off I go…
(A few hours later…)
Rene with flowers and chocolate covered pretzels, of course:
(p.s. speaking of Sinclair, with a twist of shameless self promotion, have you voted today?)
Well folks, clearly you have time on your hands. Enough time to read the folly happenings of my life and then still, even more time to nominate this little blog for a Lezzy Award over at The Lesbian Lifestyle. So, first off, THANK YOU. Very, really, truly, thank you, thank you. Getting nominated for a Lezzy Award was quite flattering. Finding out that I am a finalist for the “humor” and “personal” categories has me jumping up and down.
I’ll attempt to keep this one short(er than usual), just in case y’all have work to do, it is Monday after all. The point to this entire post is to thank you for taking the time to stop by here, and also for taking the time to nominate this little blog and… oh shoot… hmm, there was one more thing… now, what was it?
Oh, right! VOTE!
Once again, the rules are as follows:
1. You can vote every day! Clearly y’all are fierce voting machines, so, keep it up!
2. I must continue to remain an active lesbian for the duration of the competition. With Violet out of town having lesbian sex is out. So, I will have to improvise my lesbianism. How about this: I promise to watch one episode of the L Word for every five Golden Girls (ugh.) I will also make plans to hang out with other lesbians in lesbian establishments and talk about lesbian stuff (i.e. Old Navy sales, Rachel Maddow, the newest Sugarbutch post, Lilith Fair, etc.) I will also put an Indigo Girls album and an Ani Difranco album on my ipod to offset the abundance of Cher. (If I come up with other ways to be lesbian-like, I will let you know. Feel free to offer suggestions.)
3. Voting closes on March 1st. So, until then, vote!
So! Once again, ladies and gentlemen, and every beautiful representation, possibility, perversion, invention, diversion, rebellion, infusion, expression, combination there of, if you would please, click the pink box to make it happen! (yes indeed, that’s what she said.)
Yesterday might have been one of the most beautiful days of the year (so far.) As soon as I woke up and saw the sun beaming through the windows (can be a rare sight in these parts) I rushed to get myself and the Seal outside. With Violet out of town, the Seal and I were on our own to figure out how to spend the day in the sun. After wrestling with each other in the yard a bit, we both found a sunny spot and stared up at the bright blue sky through the freshly bloomed cherry tree. Eventually we decided it was time to do a little yard work.
(yes, this is a real-time photo of the tree the Seal and I were staring at.)
After a few hours of pruning, planting and weeding the yard we took a quick break.
As you can see, clearly the Seal has her eye on something. I assumed it was probably a squirrel or the neighbor’s cat until I realized…
It was MARCUS! The photo is very out of focus because I took it from quite a distance. Marcus use to be a pretty chill raccoon but ever since we introduced the Seal to this family he is a bit more on guard, and quite frankly, can be a little intimidating. I mean, we still love each other, don’t get me wrong, but these days we do so from a far.
(that is Marcus’s “I love you. Too bad about that dog” look. Love you too, buddy!)
After our break and our brief encounter with our favorite raccoon friend it was back to work. The Seal and I had a bunch of clippings and branches to chop up for compost and firewood before calling it a day. As you can see, not only is this dog some of the best company, but she is also a hard worker.
The Seal and I are on day 3 without Violet (still have 11 days to go) and so far we’re hanging in there. The sunshine helps and knowing Violet is on a much deserved vacation makes it all ok. Like I told Butchtastic Kyle, after spending over a year apart I like to think that two weeks should be rather doable. I am not saying my posts won’t begin to sound a bit pouty, as I much prefer my world with her in it, but I prefer over all things, that Violet is happy and having fun – and that she is.
So, happy Monday all. I hope you had a fabulous weekend!
Way, way back in December I posted a desperate plea for help. I had NO idea what to get Violet for Christmas and in my sad public begging a whole lot of you kind folk offered your help. All of the ideas were nothing short of brilliant and I hope very much that you all use these talents for good by spoiling the world around you with your romantic, artistic endeavors and in return are rewarded generously (I’m winking profusely right now, if you can catch such a subtle drift…)
So, one of the collaborators in my final gift idea for Violet came from a fabulous reader by the name of Amber. I had little collateral and offered in return either a Cherday shoutout or an object of your choice balanced on the Seal’s head. Amber went with Cher. The Seal is sleeping off her rejection with an extra mid-day nap.
Amber asked for the Shoop Shoop song and the Shoop Shoop song she shall get! I encourage any and all of you to get up and clear large objects out of your way as you prepare to dance. (And remember, if you are able to listen to Cher without a sudden impulse to make the world a better place- something is very, very wrong with you.)
Happy Friday-eve, everyone! Happy Cherday!
I just got a comment from Lesbian Life Style on my last post informing me that I have been nominated for a Lezzy Award. I am still trying to figure out what this means exactly but in all of the mean time I have been asked to grab this graphic and link it to the award nominations and quite obviously, ask you, my fine flanneled friends, to also nominate me (top 3 blogs with the most nominations in a particular category by the 22nd go to “the final round.” Again, not totally sure what that means…)
I was told that I have been nominated under “humor” and “personal” and am assuming that is because there is no category for “unemployed faggot dyke who has a fish and raccoon as closest friends, with an entire blog about Cher, her dog and her girlfriend, that posts photos of animals balancing random items on their head and chooses to watch Golden Girls reruns on Friday nights while simultaneously tweeting everything Blanche says rather than hanging out with real-life people award.” I’m not saying that shouldn’t be considered as a category in the future but honestly 1. Hi. You lose. I win. and 2. How very, very sad.
So, if you feel so inclined to nominate (vote for) this blog, well, shucks and thank you in advance! (fyi: Thanking someone in advance is a popular sales technique that makes the “customer” feel like they are special and like they have already done something nice, causing them to feel a temporary obligation to do so… do not be fooled by this.)
The rules for this award are that I must remain a lesbian for the duration of this contest and that you can nominate (vote) once every 24 hours. So, if I don’t make you laugh or tell you anything personal or if you suspect that I might be straight- do not vote for me! But, in the spirit of competition, I promise to make out with Violet every day for the duration of the voting period, and, like always, I will continue to share with you the personal, self-deprecating moments that come my way.
Click the pink box to make me rich and famous (that’s what she said):
…I don’t know what does.
Happy Valentine’s Day!
May your day be filled with kisses, hugs, cheese and squirrels!
Love,
the Seal
A few weeks ago a woman found me on facebook, like folks do. We went to elementary school together and were friends. Not close friends, but friends. The last time I saw her I was probably ten. She looks great, is now married and has 3 kids. We have emailed back and forth a few times and the last email she sent me made my eyes pop out of my head. The line that did it was this:
“…I can’t think about you without remembering us putting on your brothers underoos and stuffing the crotches lol..”
This email has totally rocked me and here’s why: I have been packing since I could pee by myself! AND clearly I wasn’t hiding it and I just don’t have any recollection of this. I do remember wearing my brother’s underoos now and then when I was little and refusing to wear my superwoman ones until finally my mom gave in and let me get the boy kind (Batman and Luke Skywalker.) But before this email, my own narrative for being a young little genderqueer, which at the time was dubbed “androgynous” and “tomboy” by others, was that I hid that part of me, at least a little bit… or at least I thought I did.
I certainly don’t remember being so intentional or obvious about it, that is for sure. I use to wear my brother’s clothes now and then but he use to wear makeup and my mom’s dresses. And when my brother and I played make-believe I was always a boy. I remember that I use to wish that I was a boy but I think that was mostly because I started having feelings for girls and didn’t have the language for things like ‘lesbian.’ (And when I did discover that language it was NOT a good thing to be.) Also, I was taught that female equaled feminine with no variations: Ken = boy, Barbie = girl and that certainly didn’t fit who I was at all. And I’m not sure if I was just protecting my mom or if I truly didn’t mind, but up until around the 4th grade I let my mom dress me up, never in dresses, but she would put pink ribbons to match my pink LL Bean turtle neck in my hair that I would then “misplace” every single day at recess only to do this over again the next day without resistance.
My narrative, before this email from my old friend, was that when I started to understand the social lines between boy and girl I hid my ‘boy-ness’ intentionally. I think a lot of it was in attempt to protect my mom, she really, really wanted a ‘girl.’ But also because I wasn’t a boy, I was a girl. I embraced “tomboy” and “it’s just a phase.” I believed that. I believed that one day I would magically want to wear make up and play with dolls and have a husband but that I just didn’t right then.
My narrative, before this email, was that I kept what I considered the ‘boy-like’ pieces of me mostly hidden until this one very particular defining moment in my life. I’ve told this moment to folks all of my life, any time it comes up. This was what I had been telling myself. Before getting this email from my old friend my gender-bending revolutionary moment was this:
For all of my life, up until this particular moment, I hid my boy-ness and put up with and gave into the fact that I was a girl. A tomboy, but a girl. I did this until the week before the 6th grade started when, for a reason I still can’t explain, I had this sudden and uncontrollable outburst. My brother and mom and I were school clothes shopping and I remember watching my brother go off into ‘his’ section, where all of the cool clothes were, while I was stuck in ‘my’ section attempting to find sexless, genderless t-shirts and jeans and shoes (oh unisex Converse Hightops, how you saved me from so much gendered-footwear-angst.) I remember my mom’s face as I refused to shop unless she would let me go to the boys section. I saw something in her break, which still makes me break to think about. She looked so worried for me and so sad. I know it really hurt her to agree to this, I saw it, but she did anyway. For whatever reason, all of a sudden, right then, shopping in the boy’s section felt desperate and both my mom and I could feel it.
I have always thought of that moment as a coming out of sorts. But now, I’m not so sure.
So, this email from an old friend has me shifting and questioning my own story of how I feel I came into being authentic and comfortable and right in this gender-place that makes me feel like me. It is making me wonder if I thought I was hiding it when really the boy in me was just totally obvious to everyone and always there the whole go? Or maybe I just didn’t hide it like I thought I did? Maybe I didn’t even know to hide it then because it was just who I was and I thought it was normal until I was told differently?
I remember my 2nd grade teacher telling me I couldn’t sit with my chair backwards because, “that is not how a lady sits” and thinking, ‘well, now I know.’ I didn’t like that rule, but now I knew. I remember running around outside in a pair of my brother’s shorts and no shirt and my dad watering the lawn and asking, “jesse! Are you wearing your brother’s shorts?” and feeling really embarrassed but not sure why. I remember my mom’s friend telling me that I couldn’t marry Valley because she was a girl, and I didn’t like that either, but now I knew, so I stopped telling folks I wanted to marry her. I always hated dresses but I just knew that sometimes I would have to wear them, until I became an adult and realized I didn’t. Ever.
My mom has very seriously asked me, as an adult, more than a few times, if I wished I was a boy, to which I very honestly answer, “No, not at all.” And I use to think the question was a bit out of left field or maybe just because I get mistaken for a guy sometimes? But I guess if, ever since I was 5 years old (or maybe younger, I don’t know anymore), I’ve been prancing around in boys clothes with a fruit-of-the-loom-sock-bulge in my pants (which, as an adult I never ever do in front of family) well, I can just see a bit clearer where her question is coming from.
I have been sitting on this for a few weeks now and wish I felt more of a solid reason for why I am so fascinated by hearing this from my old friend, but I’m still not sure exactly. I do know I am going to ask other friends of mine, that I have known since our underoos days, what they remember.
Today’s post is a simple cut and paste from an ad on craigslist, which is not how I roll, but for no reason in particular I am reaching a bit more than usual to smile today and this always does the trick. The ad does carry a bit of a risk to offend but I’m telling you, it’s funny, it’s my favorite ad ever and it makes me smile.
Enjoy.
Manly Bike for Sale
Bike for sale
What kind of bike? I don’t know, I’m not a bike scientist. What I am though is a manly guy looking to sell his bike. This bike is made out of metal and kick ass spokes. The back reflector was taken off, but if you think that deters me from riding at night, you’re way wrong. I practiced ninja training in Japan’s mount Fuji for 5 years and the first rule they teach about ninja biking is that back reflectors let the enemy know where you are. Not having a rear reflector is like saying “FUCK YOU CAR, JUST TRY AND FIND ME”.
The bike says Giant on the side because it’s referring to my junk, but rest assured even if you have tiny junk that Giant advertisement is going to remain right where it is. I bought this bike for 300 dollars from a retired mercenary that fought in both World War 1 and World War 2 and had his right arm bitten off by a shark in the Phillipines while stationed there as a shark handler. When he sold it to me I had to arm wrestle him for the honor to buy it. I broke his arm in 7 places when I did. He was so impressed with me he offered me to be his son but I thought that was sissy shit so I said no way.
The bike has some rusted screws, but that just shows how much of a bad ass you are. Everyone knows rusted screws on a bike means that you probably drove it underwater and that’s bad ass in itself. Those screws can be replaced with shiny new ones, but if you’re going to go to that trouble why not just punch yourself in the balls since you’re probably a dickless lizard who doesn’t like to look intimidating.
The bike is for men because the seat is flat or some shit and not shaped like a dildo. If you like flat seated bikes you’re going to love this thing because it doesn’t try to penetrate your ass or anything.
I’ve topped out at 75 miles per hour on this uphill but if you’re just a regular man you’ll probably top it out at 10 miles per hour. This thing is listed as a street bike which is man-code for bike tank. The bike has 7 speeds in total:
Gear 1 – Sissy Gear
Gear 2 – Less Sissy Gear
Gear 3 – Least Sissy Gear
Gear 4 – Boy Gear
Gear 5 – Pre-teen Boy Gear
Gear 6 – Manly Gear
Gear 7 – Big Muscles Gear
I only like gear 6 and 7 to be honest.
Additionally, this tool of all immense men comes with a gigantic lock to keep it secure. The lock is the size of a bull’s testicles and tells people you don’t fuck around with locking up your bike tank. It tells would-be-thieves “Hey asshole, touch this bike and I’ll appear from the bushes ready to club you with a two-by-four”.
Bike is for 150 OBO
Every now and then I check the background going ons of this little blog. My favorite thing to check is the web searches that folks type in that land them here (it doesn’t show WHO, just WHAT was searched, calm down.) Some are fairly obvious, some are pretty random and a few, to me anyway, are quite entertaining. My very favorite search of all time was just a few days ago, that read, “If I Could Learn To Rhyme, by Cher.” That one took me a second, but what they meant was, “If I Could Turn Back Time, by Cher.”
I don’t know how or why but a very frequent search is “jesse james the faggot” or “jesse james is gay.” I mean, yes, yes I am, but that is a bit of a strange pathway to get here.
I am very happy that, as of late, if you google “why do they call me gay” out of 50 million and some hits, my post on this question is the top result. I am relieved because when folks were searching that phrase online and somehow found this blog before I wrote about it I decided to google that exact phrase just to see what would come up. I wrongly hoped and assumed I’d find resources and legitimate information. What I found was the first several top results were so horrible and attempted to confirm all of the awful, nasty, ignorant, hateful things that can be used to answer that question. It was alarming really. So for now, ha! lesbian faggot blogger gets the first crack at answering that one!
And around graduation time plenty of folks land on this one.
Around the time I went to New York last fall I had a few searches that read, “Sugarbutch boyfriend” and “Sinclair loves Jesse” which I just assume Sinclair searched.
A few searches recently that I know must have really led folks astray were: “naughty lesbians” “caught with a woody” “pee on me.” Sorry about that guys, but this blog is fairly pg-13 minus my inability to refrain from swearing.
How in the world “Somebody’s gotta pay for the fog and the dancing fairies” is searched as often as it is, I’ll never know, but that entire phrase has come up more than 6 times in the last month. Every time anyone searches anything Cher and lands here makes me smile.
Do I have any point at all to this post? No. I just wanted to type and link “If I Could Learn To Rhyme, by Cher.” I have been singing it in my head like that for days and my guess is, you might now too.
Happy Friday-eve, everyone! Happy Cherday.
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