So, ok, first… YOU   ALL    ROCK   MY   SOCKS!

Thank you SO much, all of you, commentors, tweeters, emailers, for being so willing to share your ideas with me and for being so unbelievably creative and filling me up with some serious inspiration. You have saved Violet from another $12 chocolate bar from the local co-op and an earth friendly card- and I promise you, she will appreciate you later, when I tell her the truth: I love you, but it was actually my blog who got you this gift.

Seriously! The ideas are just so creative!

The contest post was a late night last minute freak out (could you tell?) and I feel so lucky, SO LUCKY, once again, like I often do, to have this space, where folks like you show up. You all make my heart pitter patter.

I will keep you posted on what I end up doing… eventually (should probably show Violet first, right? Be patient, this is about her after all.) And someone, or a few of you, should really start thinking about your favorite Cher song OR your Cherday idea (doesn’t have to be Cher so long as Cher is involved in some round about way) OR what my fabulous dog, the Seal, might balance on her head… just for you.

Thanks all,

jesse james

Just a quick note: I am once again simply, justlikejessejames.com (that is to say, no need to type ‘wordpress’ to get here. ) Tis’ all.

Several years ago now, I was in France visiting Violet. In France a lot of bathrooms have this strange set up where both men and women walk through the same door only to land in this tiny area that serves as a sort of bathroom-purgatory, if you will. This is the place where the sinks, mirrors and towels are. So, both men and women stand there together while waiting to pee or what-have-you. I found that generally to the left is the womens stall and to the right is the mens. So as it goes, we all stand there, men and women together, waiting for our binary gender appropriate door to open and to then be freed to let us in and be relieved.

So I am in France visiting Violet, looking more masculine than feminine (which is not to say that I think I looked more boy than just me but more than not the French thought I was a guy.) She and I are getting lunch at a cute little bistro and I have to pee. I walk into the French bathroom purgatory area and I wait. Both stalls are busy. I am in this bathroom purgatory with one man. As we wait, in walks a woman.

And then there were three.

A thing I noticed about France (this I learned the hard way again and again): Out in public, women don’t tend to smile at folks they don’t know really. And if a man smiles at a women or vice versa it isn’t unfair to assume they might be flirting a little.

So, I’m in France waiting to pee in the bathroom purgatory with both a man and a women. What I have yet to mention is that when the woman walked in I smiled at her which led her to give me a very awkward and blatant scoff as she turned her whole body away from me. So, either she caught that I am just a stoopeed american girl OR I am crammed in a little room and just accidentally said to some random woman, “Oh, oui!? You like my smile, no?! Well zen… hough hough hough! (that is my impression of a french laugh, it offends Violet to no end.) A second later she mumbled something casual sounding to me in french which led me to respond according to her tone, ” Ah, oui.” And I did what I could to not smile.

At this point, speaking almost no french, I had taught myself  how to answer a french question or statement with “oui” or “non” simply by interpreting the inflection of the sentence. I was usually pretty good at guessing correctly.

Maybe it was the bathroom purgatory pressure or maybe I was just doomed to do nothing right, but as that woman looked me right in the eyes and said, “vous la pue de la la de dee da fou le gwagh pa nui hough de le sweegh doo!?!” I had NO idea if I should go with “Oui!” or “Aaaaah, non, non, non!” I went with “oui” again, which was clearly the. wrong. answer.

Next thing I knew a man came out of the mens stall, washed his hands and left. Now there was an empty stall for a man with the three of us staring at the door. And then both the man and woman in purgatory with me looked at me wondering what I was going to do… and so did I!

The purgatory man looked at me, opened the stall door, like a man might do when he’s holding a door for a lady and probably wouldn’t do for another dude that needs to pee, and used his other hand to make the motion of “after you.”

At this point I realized how utterly confused our situation was:

The man that was holding the door for me was there first, so even if I was a guy it was his turn. And clearly he knew this and he knew that I knew this and now I had realized that he knew that I was a girl BUT when this other woman entered our bathroom purgatory both the man and I silently agreed that she clearly thought I was a man and totally mistook my smile for a french, “Hey, how yOu doin? Eh?‘” On top of that, the man that was in the purgatory bathroom before me not only got that I was female and that I was being mistaken for male by an uptight french woman who I had unintentionally flirted with and then answered two of her questions incorrectly BUT he knew I needed some help. SO his reaction was to attempt to save me by giving up his spot in line and escort me into the mens room.

Totally confusing, no?

I gave him an “I don’t know about this” look and he smiled at me and I smiled back while reluctantly walking into the stall. And really, that might have been the record holder for “most innocent smile exchange between the sexes in all of French history.” I walked through his held open door, to which the woman thought nothing of and I peed. Finally.

I walked out of the stall and saw the man that had held the door still waiting, the woman that kind of hated me was now in the womens stall. I stopped, smiled, and held open the door to the mens room for him. We both laughed and as he walked through I said quietly, “Mercy” and through a very thick french accent he said, “You are very welcome, madam.”

I don’t want to be writing this post. But to offer something, which is almost nothing, to my very sweet friend, who I love so dearly and always, so easily, I am writing this post with grand hope and a deep fear of only adding something and not diluting anything by sending this out there. I found out yesterday, that someone very dear to me was killed in a car accident. Just like that. Because that is what life can do. And so, all of a sudden, I am grieving, like we do. And the high potential for all of this to sound generic and common makes me furious and terrified. So, to keep safe as much of what this is for me and for everyone whose heart has suddenly turned to sand, in attempt to protect what is original and precious and irreplaceable and sacred, that I cannot hide, that I cannot protect, that I cannot change or fix, that is all I have to say about that.

It is Cherday, no? Sorry the video isn’t here, the ability to re-post has been protected and I am not willing to settle for something else. You’ll have to take that extra step and click here.

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.)

I am apparently soooooo gay that when the nice young  Jehovah Witness’ guys come to my door and I answer they say, “Um, hi. Oh, um, sorry… ma’am. We, um, have, um, the wrong address.” And they turn and walk away.

Sure, ok. Whatever. But ma’am!?!

Random? Yes. Do I care? No. Did this video just make my whole day? Yes. Is it Cher? No. Is it my favorite animal in the world (‘cept for the Seal) doing something incredibly remarkable and beautiful? Yes. Did I recently realize that I like to ask myself questions and then answer them? Yes. Why? Because it amuses me.

Now, watch this video.

Violet: It turns out we’re right by one of the best places in Hawaii to go sea kayaking with dolphins.

me: Ya, and sharks.

Violet: No, they don’t allow the sharks to kayak.

I can’t stop watching this video. Now, I know my inner fag is grinning like a little girl because of the show tune but the whole thing is making my tum feel like popcorn is popping. Like maybe I can save the rain forests somehow, maybe I should go to law school, maybe I am the best rollerblader ever who hasn’t tried rollerblading yet and it’s not just a reoccurring dream, maybe I should send my choreographed ‘CHER the Musical’ idea to Cher (that now most definitely has a leading role for Ms. Susan Boyle). Maybe you’ve seen this already? Does that really matter? Watch. this. video.

I hadn’t considered not having the internets, any of them, for our entire trip to Boston. It was as strange as it was refreshing. Do you even remember when you didn’t check your email every 10 minutes? Every two minutes? Or waiting until you got home to see who called? I sure didn’t.

Our trip, in a nutshell for now, seeing as my being absent from work was not easy on the folks here and I am quite busy (i.e. job security):

• The red-eye flight over was as miserable as I had thought it would be. However, sitting next to a swarm of fresh-outta-boot-camp-marines on the way home was almost as unpleasant. Minus the cute blond marine from Houston that sat right next to me. He was very sweet and answered my many, many vodka tonic(s) induced questions with the grace of a southern gentleman. Everything was answering with a “yes, ma’am” or “no ma’am”. I’m not sure how I feel about ma’am, but it was sweet, none the less.

• Boston was busy. Very, very busy. But nice. But Seattle is better. It fits me. I just like knowing that my yogurt is guaranteed to have more milk than corn syrup without reading the labels, but that is just me.

• The itty, bitty, very gay, very Jewish, flight attendant, Sparky, will get his own post.

• We made it to P-town, after an all day venture that will also probably get its own post. The trailer would include: getting hit with exploding cans of coke, grilled cheese and tomato with no cheese and no tomato, little bugs drinking more of the “water” than we did, and meeting !!Cher!! – Well, a drag version, but holy shit, did she do Cher almost better than Cher! Even Cher said so. My heart was all a flutter.

This is all for now. But I did miss you, internets, every single one of you.