Merry Chanukkistmas! #2: If I'm Gonna Go Down, I'm Gonna Dehydrate with Style

Every year around mid-November, my Mother sends my brother Lewis and I an over-punctuated email requesting our Holiday Wish Lists ???????? and, consequently, she shares her & My Other Mother's wish lists with us, just in case we've become "people who think ahead" since last Hanukkah. Two years ago, my Moms' lists were ripe fodder for bloggetry comedy gold and included "queen size flannel sheets -- no flowers!", "Mac Word," "No-Batteries Flashlight," "Gas Card," 'Beading How-To/Starter Set," the uncharacteristically specific "Sharper Image Digital Dashboard Compass & Weather Station-CE352" and a Lawn Tractor, Snowblower and a Reciprocating Saw.

Last year, they failed me w/r/t providing comedy gold via wish-lists, possibly on purpose. Suddenly Mom #2 lost her zest for power tools (thusly eliminating a re-run of my favorite dyke-with-power-tools graphic) and wanted jewelery (?!?!), and my Mom shifted her passions from apocalypse survival gear to ... an electric toothbrush and a copy of a mix tape I made her in the 90's.

Not like it really matters what they ask for, it's a charade to me as I'm gonna go ahead and buy them books I think they should read instead, just like I do every year. I know my Mom thinks she wants a remote car starter, but who needs to start one's car remotely when all the adventure you need is right here in a wonderful work of LITERATURE? Right? RIGHT!

Anyhow imagine my delight when my Moms' Chanukkistis wish-lists arrived this year full of potential. Perhaps they think that after last year's "Riese being kicked out of the house and sent to a motel" incident, I wouldn't dare continue to lower my potential esteem in their eyes by making fun of them on my blog. Well I just so happen to like motels, so.

Also, "making fun of you on my blog" is the sincerest form of flattery in my world. Obvs look at my list of weirdos. And my other list of weirdos. Those ppl are all my friends. Even Tegan & Sara. I'm calling Tegan right now. She says what's up guys. I told her you said what's up.

So. The following is the wish list. With commentary.

[OH! BUT FIRST!

Look at the buttons !!!!! We got so many orders, you guys are Obvsing all over the place, keep ordering ... this product does not disappoint! I'll announce a new giveaway soon ... omg!

+++
Wish Lists.

My Mother:

Tickets for the Mandy Patikin & Patti LuPone concert in Detroit, 4/14/09-4/19/09.
Thanks for the deets on date & location, this'll ensure I don't accidentally pick up tickets for their engagement at the Key West retirement community the following week. Also we took my Mom to see Patti LuPone in Gypsy when she visited me in New York, what am I, a Patti LuPone machine. Patti LuPone doesn't grow on trees. Switch it up! It's not like I go see Uh Huh Her ten times in one year and four times in one week or anything.

Almost any other live theater/performance event (includes DSO and opera.)
Almost? See what she's doing here is expecting me to fill in the blanks. Just 'cause I came out of her womb doesn't mean I can read her mind. Even when I was in there I couldn't read her mind, so how could I possibly do that now, I'm not Magnito. Or maybe I could, 'cause she was a McDonald's manager while preggers with me, and now french fries are my favorite food.

Anyhow obviously I'm getting box seats for "Kwame a River: the Chroincles of Detroit's Hip Hop Mayer," it's at the Second City Detroit, family fun will ensue.

Or movie, or museum.
I can't afford to buy a whole movie so obvs I am going to buy my Mom The Ann Arbor Hands-on Museum (that's where budding lesbian moms take their daughters for early bird training, just look at the logo. Here's the hand, here's the hole, go to town) and request that next year that she give me the Giant Bubble or if possible any kind of human body part I can walk into, ideally a heart and barring that, another tunnel or cave where I can hide.

Actually though, um, I just went to their website and they're for real selling exhibits. I didn't know museums could do that? I could play with Ollie Oxygen, Holly Hydrogen, Wally Water and Mr. Catalyst forevs, I wouldn't even need Hav to vlog with me anymore. Also before I give it to her I'm gonna eat all the Astronaut Ice Cream.

Remote car starter.
Why can't my Mom start her own car? wtf? Where does she want to start it from? A lot of questions about this. I think people should start cars up close and personal, like in the driver's seat.

Cooking/baking dish that can go on stovetop and in oven.
Why would you want to put a baking dish on the stovetop? Isn't that what the oven is for? Personally, I know the oven's where you stick your head if you wanna die a là Lady Lazurus, and also for chocolate chip cookies. Maybe she wants to cover the burners so I won't stick my hands on them like I did when I was a kid. I'll find new ways to re-direct the room's attention onto me, mother, don't worry.

Earrings, (gold, hoops, gemstones)
Who do you think I am, Haviland? Hello remember raising me "gender-netural." I am not Haviland. I am Riese. When I get angry, I like to break things. Speaking of ...

Fiestaware pieces to complete my sets: Purple dinner plate and mug, Tangerine dinner plate and mug, Cobalt Blue mug and 19 oz bowl, Heather dinner plate, 19 oz medium bowl, and mug, Ivory dinner plate, 19 oz medium bowl, and mug. (last time I looked, Linens and Things had a great on-line clearance sale)

This is the internet age, I need to be entertained constantly, and I was tuning out already at "plate." I re-attuned at "Heather," since I know lots of cute lesbos named Heather, but then I dropped out again at 19 oz.

Also I fully appreciate that she's given me permission to snag her front-row seats to "Steve Harvey's After Party" but has specified the size of her required tangerine mugs to the decimal.

What happened to the originals is what I want to know.

-Instruction and guidance, sans ridicule and teasing, on FaceBook, etc. usage. (stop giggling and rolling your eyes!)

1. Absolutely not.
2. Not without giggling and/or rolling my eyes. Actually I can do it without giggling, but I have to roll my eyes. What else are my eyes supposed to do? Look at my Mom's facebook profile? "Maureen has become a fan of Patti LuPone"? "Maureen threw a plate at you?" "Maureen would like to invite you to throw a snowball at her vampire environmental cause?"
3. If I srsly can do this and have it count as a gift, that means I'd save myself the price of a gift, which means I'd save myself the work of earning money to buy a gift, which means I can basically think of this as a job, which I would do.
4. Except I can't. I just can't do that absolutely not.

++

Before introducing you to my other mother's list, let me remind you that I am flying to Michigan from New York. Last year I drove. That turned out to be a bad idea, especially when I cut my finger open with a nail about an hour before departure time and consequently bled all over the steering wheel.

I cannot make fun of my Other Mother in-depth because she didn't give birth to me or adopt me and therefore her love is not unconditional. However, my Mom wrote out this list for her, so really again I am making fun of my Mom.

Food dehydrator (to make her own Beef Jerky) - though I admire the DIY spirit, I cannot admire beef jerky, and possibly would have considered this request were it not for this unnecessary detail. For example, on my:
,
I include The Cultural Resistance Reader. Innocuous enough, but what if in parens I added (to start a revolution, kill people, a là the SCUM MANIFESTO, which I expect in my stocking or pay the price). You know?

Kayak, (our stretch of AuSable River is too shallow for a conventional canoe.) - Right. Two years ago y'all wanted a canoe ["We're not getting a canoe, because then they're gonna want me to ride in it." -my brother], and now you want a kayak? Next year you'll be asking for a Moped (global warming has melted AuSable River entirely) and I'll wish I hadn't carted that effin' Kayak onto AN AIRPLANE.

Belt Sander - I don't know what this is. One time at band camp in the psych ward, my ex-girlfriend made me a belt in arts & crafts. Is this like that? I'm just trying to relate to you, bisexual-to-lesbian, it's like mano a mano but en engles.

A large/tall cactus plant and/or a Jade plant. -I'll leave "large/tall" alone, but I think cacti are Weapons of Mass Destruction, so praise Allah I will not bring it on an airplane, but you bet the first stop when I get into Michigan will be the Giant Cactus store to get one of these. Actually I'm quite serious, obvs this is what I'm getting, it's not every year you're actually asked to provide someone with a house plant.We can put it in our new Hands-on Museum.

Readers Digest subscription - The one portable item on this list has already been snagged by my Mom (see Mom, now you can't tell my Other Mom to read this, 'cause then you'll spoil it, like when Lewis told you that we got you a bike, which you no longer ride, good thing we didn't get that Canoe or it'd be collecting dust too, along with my ice skates from the 80's and all the books I try to force you to read).

I shared my concerns w/Lewis re: the portability of other mother's list, and he told our Mom about these concerns, and Mom suggested that, pending security clearance of said cactus, we could get Other Mother a "recipe book to use with a food dehydrator." Or: "Socks, she can never have enough of them." Truer words were never spoken. I mean, who says "I have too many socks?" No one, right.

Lewis asked what my plan was and obvs I told him I will be getting a gigantic/significant cactus plant and he responded: "Now that you mention it, a giant Cactus would be pretty awesome to have around ... if you got space, why not fill it with the most dangerous plant known to man? I'm serious. Add that to my list too. I wonder what it would taste like dehydrated ..."

Clearly it's things like "food dehydrator" that get me going on a nonstop internet investigation. We need a word for that. "The act of investigating something on the internet like a crazy person all night long, prompted by something small and innocuous, convinced that JUST ONE MORE SEARCH WILL BRING THE GOLDEN TICKET."

Apparently, one can produce pretty much anything with a food dehydrator. E.g., "cosmetics, mushroom soup, sloppy joes, pesto and moist banana bread." MOIST banana bread! That's like the Cracker Barrel version of the band Limp Bisket.

What if I just got her a lifetime supply of beef jerky and cut out the middle man? This woman Mary Bell is like a Beef Jerky superhero, and her hairdresser called and says he thinks she's a gay. Whatever, she's still no Kwame a River. I bet she never even drinks water. She's just got no need for it you know. Give me that sandwich, let's dehydrate that stucker STAT.

++

My brother's wish lists remain similar in spirit over the years though specifics change. As he grows, he changes. Instead of A MILLION DOLLARS!!!! he asks for An American Express Gold Card.

He's also asked for "something that will make my honda ruckus go faster except for the nitro kit." It's like he speaks another language.

Furthermore he has requested a jetpack. With a link, in case we can't find one at Wal-Mart while Kayak-shopping.

He also asked for "anything from thinkgeek.com except the t-shirts," so I had to go look at thinkgeek.com, and I found this, which was special too, and I would get it for myself as a joke but it's too expensive. I also saw a "LIttle Einstien" bobble-head I wanted to get for A;ex, but then I forgot:

Luckily Lewis has learned to ask for "books Marie thinks I should read," so I can do what I was gonna do anyway without being asked "where's my kayak?"

Oh also, wanna see a dyke with power tools? She can sand my belt all day!

UPDATE: My Mother e-mailed, two days after sending us her wish list, with a mesage entitled "wish list addition" and the following request: "consistent weekly phone contact from each one of you. and at the very least, my phone calls returned w/in 24 hours, as you would expect from me." Obvs I called her back immediately, between that and the Facebook lessons this is shaping up to be a cheap Christmas/Hanukkah, I'll just get a cactus from the wild, done and done. No I can't do the Facebook thing. Gold gemstone hoop-has, here I come.

In two days I will be in Michigan.

Yup.

8 Against 8 : You may say that I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one.

Hello! Welcome to the last day of 8 Against 8, which's what happens when 8 gay ladies stop being polite and start saving the rainforest. Over the last week we've gotten My So-Called Life back on the air, become eight less by curing cervical cancer, gotten the word out about fedoras, fed & clothed a million skinny naked ladies at the gym and raised nearly $12,470 to support the No on Proposition 8 efforts. (!!!!) In honor of our last day, I have a lot of feelings, which you'll read if you get past this paragraph and so forth.

It's been tough keeping up on everything -- like the bajillion emails from people doing super-awesome things related to the campaign -- so I apologize if anyone's asked for a shout-out and hasn't gotten it ... YET! I'll try to work you in later. Like "OMG, so I have these feelings about myself, watch this video about no on 8," etc. I feel like I'm due for a mental breakdown, which's primo advertising placement, let me tell you. All I need is for that woman to come back and start a fight and/or poetry slam with me in the comments, traffic will skyrocket.

Who's hot today? Besides Laura and Maggie, who are hot every day:

(L to R, row-by-row:

a;ex vega, carly, rachel,
natalie, haviland, riese,
vashti, stef, tinkerbell,
marlene , suzanna, eric
krista, rebecca, autumn,
laura, ms. jackson, jack,
renee, milly & georgia of lesbilicious uk, gemma,
asher, liz, crystal,
allie, lynn, razia
poncho, erin, couch,
sinclair sexsmith, meghan, maggie
caitlinmae, littlefoot, ewok
raye, rachel, a.k,
lieutenant teddy, judith, judith
samantha.)
++
Okay so let's get down to business:

1. This is your last chance to WIN! a copy of The L Word Season Five on DVD by sending me your photo for the No-on-8 quilt or donating [actually, it's totally not. I've got several more copies that could come your way over the next few weeks for other reasons, TBA]. You know, The L Word? Returning to DVD with THE COMPLETE FIFTH SEASON on October 21st in a collectible 4-disc set, including all 12 dramatic and deliciously provocative Fifth season episodes from Showtime's successful long-running series featuring all of the beauty, chaos and complexities of a group of women who inhabit Los Angeles's lesbian community plus behind-the-scenes special features? [That's what I'm supposed to say, right? I'm really good at PR.]

2. Or you can win other things.

3. This is your last chance to WIN! for doing something that will benefit the entire world. Future chances to win will be more self-serving.

---

8 Reasons - 8 Against 8 - Why No on 8?

8. Because ultimately it's about freedom -- Prop 8 asks the state if there's still a case to be made for hope and consequently, for America's founding principles.

America's an idea, a philosophy, an evolving social experiment that now has a chance to begin again. We have a chance on November 4th to choose a new, hopeful and dramatic path that would make our ancestors proud.

The thesis of our path: Love & Equality will Save Us All. We've gone dangerously retro lately, despite the fact that those who've earned a voice (a.k.a. the "liberal media elite") clamor for a return to our initial philosophy: celebrate diversity, do not prosecute deviants. Because if you haven't hurt anyone on purpose, I believe your life is inherently legal.

7. Because until I heard Obama's '04 Convention speech, I believed only one America remained possible: a business, a military superpower on its last lap, a theocracy. Because we're at a turning point. This election will determine if America's a theocracy or something else. "Something else" = land of the free, home of the brave. Home of the tolerant.

6. Because although I don't understand -- and I cannot relate -- to the Yes on 8 folks, and I think they're wrong, stupid and unevolved, I am willing to share this land with them on principle. I mean -- I don't believe in a G-d that denies happiness or judges anyone on anything besides these two simple questions: Are you an asshat? Do you kill or hurt? etc. That's all that matters. Beyond that it's technicalities, tricky scriptures that direct repression and suppression of desire. I believe in desire.

 I believe in pleasure and the inherent goodness of everything a person does with pure intent -- anything a person does out of desire to make the world a better place and to not hurt anyone else in the proccess. Because what better place to live in than a place of fulfilled desire, a place where hope, ambition, pleasure and honesty can thrive?

Because I'm willing to accept the existence of the Yes on 8 Parade in exchange for their acceptance of me. I'm offended by their intolerance, disgust, and condemnation, but I'll accept it. They can lock me out of their churches, but they cannot -- THEY WILL NOT -- ask the government to follow the example of their churches. That's not the G-d I worship or pray to and that's not the government that I auto-be governed by.

++

5. Because relationships are messy, the fallout's complicated. We lose so much (our money, our minds), the art of losing is inevitable to master, and life is complicated and sometimes divorce's clean, rational proceedings are an unexpected blessing in the wake of messy, complicated breakups. 'Cause if straight people get shotgun weddings, I want them too. 'Cause the temporary insanity that befalls two people already prone to rash, unwise decisions and leads them to marry suddenly and against better judgment -- those are often precisely the relationships that need the legal protection provided by breaking up legally.

'Cause when my friends said if I didn't at least call the police they would -- and I did -- and the police came and they read & listened & told me, "We're all gonna die. She didn't say she was going to kill you soon. She said you were going to DIE soon." Which was well & good 'til they asked, how do you know her, and I said, she was my girlfriend and they rolled their eyes so far to the back of their heads I thought they'd never come back my way. They'd never look at me the same again and they didn't. They said anyone could've written those emails. [ha!] and as this conversation went on I wanted to pummel both of these cops with the strength of a million men, the kind of legitimacy granted by the heterosexual union, but no, certainly I knew by now that it's easy to look at two girls together and think it's just playtime sleepover, without power dynamics and rings there could be no crime.

4. Because marriage is the first step towards being considered legitimate at all, because it'll get a ball rolling that one day could land in our court. Same-sex domestic abuse is chronically unreported. Victims feel they are not taken seriously. This is true. I just tried to type a sentence about how things may have gone differently if she'd been male but it made my stomach hurt so I stopped.

Because when the shit hits the fan so many GLBT people are left on the floor, staring at the ceiling fan, amazed at how easy it was to lose it all. Shit.

++

3. Because I want to be proud of America! Because it's embarrassing to be on this team right now.

Because I want America to be Team Honest, where people come clean and get rings and dresses for it.

2. Because we're so Behind

We're the only industrialized wealthy democratic nation to criminalize prostitution and aggressively prosecute sex workers (and don't confuse willing sex workers with sex trafficking and sex slavery -- that's a whole different ballgame. That's like comparing people who run factories to people who run sweatshops, it's just not relevant to discuss side to side, even if it's the same work being done).

'Cause we're talking logic here people. The same kind of logic that says if we don't pay for everyone to get educated, we'll pay for them to go to prison and/or rehab later. If we don't pay for everyone to get healthcare, we'll pay for the emergency room bills they never pay themselves. 'Cause it's logical to losen up the laws that are based on church-originated views of sexuality -- whether it be prostitution, abortion, sex ed or gay marriage -- and get logical. Sex work (like abortion) happens whether its legal or not, and regardless of how you feel about it or your church feels about it, it's a proven fact that sex workers are safer when their industry is regulated & subjected to health checks & they aren't afraid to go to the police when they're raped or hurt.

It's time we get free.

Everyone else is giving universal healthcare and everyone else is giving gay marriage and

wtf America
this was supposed to be YOUR GAME.
wtf, America,
live up to your fucking potential, you asshole.
be freedom.
create a country where everyone is allowed to do what they want, SEPARATE CHURCH AND STATE FOR CHRIST'S SAKE.
wtf, america, stop being a douchebag.
you've been talking shit for years about how you want the tired, the poor, the huddled masses yearning to breathe free ... and you've become a church-state, which's so lame.

Because the past eight years have seen us lose our freedom of speech -- the very thing that set us apart from the oppressive regimes our parents' parents came here to escape.

1. Because if you want to immigrate to this country to be with the one you love and you are gay, you cannot.

Because that is discrimination, plain and simple.

++
18.
"Imagine all the people, sharing all the world."
-John Lennon, "Imagine."

Because if you respected my opinion that much, you wouldn't make it illegal. Because it's about time we do something revolutionary. It's been centuries since we threw the tea off the boat and what have we done since then? What have we got to show for ourselves now? Are we ahead of the game anywhere?

Because you can hate me and hate what I want with the fury of a thousand suns but you live here, with me, in this ridiculous yet oddly beautiful country, and so you're gonna have to just let me have this one.

Right-wing Yes-on-8 America, take one for the team. Team Freedom. I'm not being sarcastic this time. Thank you Ms. Jackson, I am for real. Imagine the flags blazing, Little Edie style, imagine the fireworks and Born in the USA and a landscape suited for conflict and division and hatred but simultaneously a landscape that gives us the space and the permission to diffuse all that and live life in peace. Where there is tolerance, and absence of judgment, a love will inevitably follow and that love ... is worth the struggle. Worth the letting go.

We have a chance, you guys. We have a chance to turn this all around. I've not learned much in my life from the government of these united States but I've learned this: 1. money is the stupidest thing ever, 2. war is retarded, 3. hope is sexy and 4. sex is hopeful.

Let's yearn, kids. Let's roam free with all our division and religion and misguided pretentious self-serving ideals. Let's let everyone do what they want with their lives and not tell other people what they can or cannot do. 'Cause this is America, yeah? We're Pilgrims and "Indians," ready for dinner?

I mean can you imagine if on November 4th we give IDEALS a bailout package? What I'm saying is no matter what crashes or breaks or shatters to never ever be fixed again, I hope this is a country where we can afford to dream. I hope we become that dream, outrageously little and better late than never and shimmering where it's shattered, glossy as glue.

[Del Martin and Phyllis Lyon at their wedding June 16th, 2008.]
Del Martin died in August at the age of 87.
An activist, Del fought for gay rights all her life,
and was finally able to marry her partner after 55 years together.
See: above.
+
donate.

8 Against 8 Day #3! I Married in the Sun! Reason 7 & Reason 6

When I started the 8 Against 8 posts, I had a lot of important things to talk about, like gay adoption and freedom (both the concept and the George Michael song). I wasn't even sure I could fit all my points into just 8 points. But I feel that I've come up with a much better reason to "vote no on 8" than anything I could ever say about civil rights, overpopulation or my gay Moms, and I'm going to make this point at the expense of having a chance to make some of the other points. Oh but first ...

... if you haven't given me your photo with a "No on 8" sign yet, I have only one question for you: why not, asshat? Get your shit together!: marielyn176@gmail.com. You can see all the total hotties who've already given me their snapshot in the most recently published post.

++
#7: Rachel Getting Married

Because I do not want to live in a world where it would be illegal for "Susan" to marry Rachel Maddow, omg. I know Maddow lives in Massachusetts, but this isn't about who lives where (more on this in a second). Don't you want to marry Rachel Maddow? Everyone wants to marry Rachel Maddow. If I could get Rachel Maddow on lockdown for rest of my life, I would move to the middle of nowhere faster than Palin agreed to be in charge of the Senate. I'd give up television and also apparently trash removal services AND I would even wake up at dawn and take the dogs out to look at the sheep. Firstly, Tinkerbell loves other dogs and it would be very fun for her. Secondly, I feel I could have a break into blossom moment.

Oh right! OK! It isn't about who lives where 'cause what we can do in California is set an example for everyone else, and also you can get married there and then it'll be recognized in NYC. Arizona's fighting Proposition 102 and Florida's fighting Ammendment 2. Give them your money too.

Today the NY Times reports (in its most popular story) that Rachel Maddow has doubled the audience for MSNBC's 9 p.m. slot in a matter of days, which's apparently unheard of. But speaking of things that are unheard of, you know what I've heard alot about? That NYTimes Magazine article about Rachel Maddow. Everyone is OBSESSED. What's your favorite part? I like imagining her taking ten minutes to hook up the speakers to the laptop.

Anyhow I think it's a good thing -- Rachel Maddow. Rachel, Rachel, Rachel ... Did you know Rachel has a twitter? Listen to Rachel on gay marriage in May. Here's her Air America show, where she made a name for herself before everyone became obsessed.

++
#6: 'Cause gay people can't make more people unless they really want to

In 2007, over 65,500 adopted children and 14,100 foster children were living with gay and lesbian parent. Half a million children live in foster care in the United States and more than 100,000 foster children await adoption.

I've been close to (read: dated, obvs I've got issues w/r/t saving people) three guys that were at some point put in foster care. They had horror stories -- abuse, neglect, parents who did it for the money. Even the guy who ended up, eventually, with a great family, was a total alcoholic. That's probs another story, anyhow.

It's insane to prefer placing kids with randomized asshats over placing them with the gays. Gays can't reproduce, so they generally adopt 'cause they want a kid real bad, not for the money.

On average, same-sex couples raising adopted children are older, more (formally) educated, and have more economic resources than other adoptive parents: The average household income for same-sex couples raising adopted children is $102,474, versus $81,900 for different-sex married couples, $43,746 for different-sex unmarried couples, and $36,312 for single parents. Same-sex couples hold graduate degrees at 34%, versus different-sex married couples at 13%, different-sex unmarried couples at 2% and single parents at 9%.

-Family Pride

Yeah, it's hard to have gay parents, but certainly gays are better than asshats. Also speaking from experience -- having a gay Mom did not make me want to be gay. In fact, precisely the opposite. Come on, who wants to be like their parents besides like, Rachel Maddow's future children? If Rachel Maddow was my Mom, I'd probs become gay. Anyway who cares, everyone should be gay. The earth is overpopulated, we do not need any more people, there's no food & no energy. After my agent and my therapist have their babies, that's it, it's over. No more babies. I might want one some day so I'll make an Amendment then. Also if you're reading this and you're preggers, that's fine, I support you. I hope my therapist has her baby soon so she can come back to work, I already have a lot of feelings I want to talk about.

We should clearly focus on recirculating the people we already have rather than making more. Quality not quantity. The Rosie Cruise, which I've gone on for three lovely years, is like an adopted child party, and they're all way better behaved than birthed children. You should go if you have any money left over after giving it all away to political campaigns. I don't, but that's why G-d invented credit cards.

Give me your picture or a picture of your baby. I bet your baby is against proposition 8, give your baby a sign. Once I thought I was preggers so I carried around a gourd with me, painted a face on it, named it "dumbass" and said it was my practice baby. My boyfriend and I would throw it to each other in the hall, it was funny, we even have photos with it. Clearly I can't be trusted, it's a good thing I don't sleep with dudes anymore.

I can't believe I've blogged three days in a row. Are you sick of me yet? I am. Donate. Photograph. I love you all, let's make babies.

We MUST!: Rosie Cruise '08 Part #1 With Vlog, Words, Photos, and a Snack

So, I'm on the Rosie Cruise right now and when it's over I’m moving to Halifax, Nova Scotia. Halifax is packed with bookstores (including a feminist/queer store called "Venus Envy") and therefore reminds me of Ann Arbor before The Man/A-E-Phi took over. Coincidentally, Halifax is Ellen Page’s hometown (“I LOVE Ellen Page. I want to EAT HER FACE!” – Riese, Jan. '08), though we didn’t spot her during our Self-Guided Shore Excursion on Wednesday -- I think Ellen’s career is peaking right now so she’s probs making an edgy film in L.A or New York or one of those other big show-bizzy cities filled with annoying people who’ve got bogus body parts and drink sugar-free syrup/eat babies for breakfast. I live in New York City, but trust me if my neighbors had fake body parts, they’d look a lot better than they do, I’ve seen better waist-to-hip ratios on a fried chicken. JK, I love all people and actually loathe fried chicken, so there you go.

Also my keyboard feels like it’s on fire, it must be all the gay magic. Or it could be the boat, which is presently rocking back and forth, making me feel crazy/nauseous. Maybe it’s my hands. Maybe I have magic hands! I have magic hands! I like chips!

Hello o-pirates! Look, I've got a multimedia Friday for ya. I'll go into details -- e.g., extremely compelling details about Our Grand Vaycay -- when I return to the asphalted treachery of my regular life. I'm sure I'll have a lot of feelings and consequentially a book club, poetry, auto-fun, advice column vlog installments, late-night confessionals, streams of consciousness, top tens and totes random weirdohood.

For now ... firstly, a VIDEO of Haviland & I & Layla Love and a vlog in our room and all kinds of things well okay I made this movie for y'all this afternoon. Caitlin is becoming quite the cameraperson, p.s..:

*

"Leaving New York -- never easy -- I saw the light fading out."
-R.E.M.
*
“I wish we were on the boat right now,” Haviland is liable to moan on any of the 358 days of the year she’s not on it. After the boat, there is only “boat” and “not boat.”
*

*

Boat: At 6 A.M. we’re on yoga mats at the fitness center waiting for Susan Powter to yell at us, to tell Caitlin “If I was that tall, I’d be illegal!” and to tell the fitness center employee “I like you, but I don’t like your penis” and to tell all of us that we’re sexy/beautiful/the future. How long will we wait?

Me: “We will wait until she comes. We must be patient, like the Jews at Mt. Sianai. They waited, and then Moses came down with the Ten Commandments."
Fellow Disciple: "Not everyone waited. There was the golden calf--"
Me: "Exactly. Thou shalt not worship false idols, and we will wait for Susan."

And we did. And it was worth it. And I can barely walk today, neither can Alex, we feel like our hamstrings have been through a tractor pull.

I'm listening to Tegan & Sara, I started jonesing. This is strange: here, now. Relatively alone at the computer in the internet cafe, paying for it, and so on, alone with my music and the words. It's the writing that makes me crazy, though I couldn't have it any other way. I'm not just saying this 'cause I'm reading Orlando.

Tuesday night I dreamt that the ninth plague was miniature cats dropping from our ceiling.

Susan's commandments are strict/sexy/beautiful/the future. She gets crazier every year. More on this later. Caitlin's written down some of her commandments and we will be gathering these, grasshoppers, and then we will bless you with them.

Modeling Through it in Halifax - 1
*

Album Cover (Title: "Modeling Through It")
*

Boat: I never return to anything. It’s a minor miracle I’ve spent over a year in my present apartment, and summer camp’s cliques and obsessive heterosexuality and insider-y gossip never worked for me so I never returned. Next year, a new camp, and then another, and another. But this’s my third fucking cruise. MY THIRD “CRUISE.” Aren’t I too cynical for all this? No, of course not. There’s water underneath and around us. No-one cares what you’re wearing or who you’re kissing and we’re too cut off to feasibly work while on board. So that's a few reasons why it's magic.

Boat: The entertainment’s appeal is never what I’d anticipated – in ’06, Cyndi Lauper and Kathi Griffin were – just as I expected – amazing. But I didn’t know Broadway Belters would be like a highlight reel of the last twenty years of Tony-award winning performances or that Hav & Brandi Massey doing Defying Gravity would almost bring me to tears, or that Elvira Kurt would be so fucking funny. Last year Sandra Bernhard wasn’t spectacular and we left Erasure early, but we made our own entertainment (“Living it Out” reading) and under certain circumstances, I found beaches and sunshine not only tolerable but lovely.

This year it's Julie Goldman. Literally the best/funniest stand-up I've seen all my life.

Boat:We decided to have a rolling race down a hill in Halifax (a.k.a. my future home), but halfway down I started feeling itchy and everyone thought I was kidding when I said I think I've developed an allergy to grass (I tend to exaggerate a lot) but whatevs. Anyhow, we made a lot of memories. And because we're all here, and I'd like to foster a spirit of togetherness and sisterhood under the light of the moon of the glow of all my sisters and brothers all over the world, I'm going to share them with you.

*

*

Caitlin keeps on rolling.
*

This is when I gave up and ran down the hill.
*

Caitlin and Alex - still rolling after all these years
*

Sooooo ... 'cause I want book club to be really good, and 'cause I owe y'all a "Stuff I've Been Reading" like WHOA, I'm gonna hold off on that discussion 'til I reach the shore. I'd tell you when that is, except I've got no idea what day it is and I'm in denial about any semblance of a life outside of here.

I've gotta get back to the room before Alex falls asleep, therefore lessening the chances I'll talk her into a grilled cheese.

So I Turned it Up And Turned it Down and Turned it On

In 12th grade, my dorm elected me Fire Marshall. I remember giving an acceptance speech, but not what I said. Probably: "Thank you for trusting me to usher you to safety in case of an emergency. Please remember that when a building's on fire, you can't afford to waste time getting dressed! You must dash valiantly into the night in your knickers, camisoles and fuzzy-animal-head slippers! You can nip out, no judging!" JK. I probably said "SUCKERS! You're all gonna burn!" I'm pretty sure I ran unopposed; it all happened too quickly for me to really consider the impact this election might have on my future. Somehow I ended up on Student Council that year too, though I can't recall if I campaigned for that. I was Secretary. I wrote funny notes read by the whole student population. That was good practice for blogging. Anyhow, the future is now, and I'm grateful that I've already got so much election experience.

But first, let's just get this out of the way: we all know I don't deserve this "Lesbo Blog of the Year" honor. The best lesbian blog of the year is not "This Girl Called Automatic Win." It's OBVIOUSLY "Come on Ilene." In this delightful OurChart-hosted vlog series, Ilene Chaiken makes meatballs while explaining her L Word plot choices. I admire Ilene for her seamless combination of cookery and chatting, like Martha Stewart (who, p.s., if she met you, would probably stick cheeseballs in your eyes). Furthermore, she's the creator of Showtime's hit series The L Word. The only person who could possibly dethrone Ilene is Max, but his podcast is so good, they're keeping it a secret, like the lesbo YA novel "Keeping You A Secret."

Anyhow, for some reason Ilene wasn't nominated, so I'm left to battle it out with four other blogs not written by Ilene Chaiken. Sooo ...

I noticed that Lesbian Dad, one of the other nominees, posted a blog where she said sweet things about all of us and endorsed her own candidacy. That seemed nice, that's the real spirit of this contest, like Lilith Fair! In fact, all the other nominees have posted nice, amicable posts announcing their candidacy, saying pleasant things about the others when appropriate and encouraging their readers to vote for whomever deserves it. I've basically just been like "everyone vote for me now!" That's how I used to get pudding as a child, see photo.

Speaking of children: I've sort of acted like a child about all this, 'cause I've got a chronic inability to conduct myself professionally and/or take myself seriously, and I don't want to seem like an asshole. I've wondered, "What do these strangers think of me?" and I imagine these kinds of judgments: "Is that girl called 'automatic *cough* win' trying to ride her (fading) youth & (arguable) beauty all the way to the bank w/o even bothering to read Strunk & White?" I'm pretty judge-able ... 'cause I just ... say things. I abbreviate words and sell underwear. My friends are smokin' hot and I talk about things that seem frivolous on the surface, but I promise are bursting with depth if you dig deep enough. And so ... this is that post that everyone else already did last week when I was too caught up in the pure entertainment of it all/riding the Rock n'Rollercoaster. So I'm gonna be totally mature right now and not be the teenaged randomized aggro candidate of yesteryear. I mean, these other women don't have Lozo's penis gunning for them. 'Cause yes, I am honored to be nominated, and they all deserve to auto-win. Srsly.

I wish I could just do "teacher voice" and become mature and say mature things, I seem unable to do that when faced with a keyboard.

**
This is a funny time though, too, w/r/t this nomination -- 'cause honestly, The L Word recaps really take a lot out of me -- I think this being the third season I've done, I'm just getting kinda burnt out, it's been many hours. And I refuse to quit, 'cause I'm clearly completely out of my mind. Also, I've been trying actively to adopt a lot of healthier habits in 2008 -- which don't enable L Word recaps quite like last year's did. And I'm also trying to polish a lot of stylistic and grammatical issues 'cause I basically write as the words come into my head and edit later -- and I wanna get faster and tighter. And wetter, obvs.


Anyhow! I feel bad that I haven't been able to update as frequently this month as you may've gotten used to. If you don't read the L Word recaps, I'm disappointing right now -- or maybe I'm not, mostly these are standards I set for myself. I mean, remember when I was posting almost every day? I do. That's when I was Emily Dickinson, it was a period of great productivity and very intensely focussed despair. But ... things are getting ... better. And not in a blindly optimistic way, but in real ways that I can touch and feel ... ways that make me laugh and smile.

I've been doing a lot of reading and a lot of thinking, too, about what I really want ... like out of life? I think when you barely even want to live (aren't making a living) (and are harboring a lot of anger and confusion) the big picture vanishes -- you do what you have to do to get through the day. And for me, that meant that for a large chunk of last year, I just wrote this blog and ate peanut butter crackers. I may never get back to that place where I posted 10,000 word epics or brand-new vlogs every day, but I'll be back to normal productivity (3-4 posts/week) in April, post-L Word. Like you might actually see Sunday Top Tens on Sunday.

But it's a transitional time for me & a lot of the people in my life right now -- clearly. I mean, Haviland's in Los Angeles, how did that happen. But it's also a good time. I've had fun just about every day this month with only a few exceptions. I've been digging 2008. Obvs ... I mean, you read the Auto-Fun. I mean ...

*

So I have one thing to say: Sashey, Shatey, Shante Shante Shante. No, I'm gonna tell you about the other blogs -- how we are the same, yet how we are different. Just like gay people. All the same, because they're all gay, but also different, because some of us have puppies and some of us like apples and some of us like ten-inch purple dildos. Also, some of us don't like Jenny, which is fine, except that people who don't like Jenny are wrong.

*

Dorothy Surrenders: I've actually been a fan of Ms. Snarker for a year or so now. Her writing -- "a gay gal's guide to pop culture" -- is tight, witty and relevant. Her pre-L Word run-downs, complete with a fourfour-ish knack for snappy telling screenshots, manage to do in about 300 words what it takes me 30,000 to accomplish. Her fingers are on the pulse of lesbian media and she isn't afraid to apply feminist criticism when necessary, like this week's look at the Scarlett/Natalie W Magazine Cover.

How are we similar? The L Word, a fondness for women in menswear, crushes on Jodi Foster and a suspicion that most sexy starlets who act gay are, in fact, gay. We both have regular segments -- she's got Straight Girls Acting Like Gay Girls, Naked Lady Mondays, and Weekend Crushes; I've got The Sunday Top Ten (occasionally: the Tuesday Top 8, Thursday Top 6 or Week-Long Top 15, I like to switch it up), and um, other segments I maintained for approximately 1-5 posts, like the Carousel of Progress, Great Mysteries of Life, etc. I've been good w/Auto-Fun. Anyhow ...

How are we different? I write about myself alot but also pop culture and books and stuff, she focuses only on pop culture. I'm cluttered, she's reliable -- she gets to the point and makes it well without excessive tangential journeys. She has not, as far as I know, shared photographs of herself or live-blogged a mental breakdown. She's got a real gig blogging for AfterEllen, I've got an imaginary gig blogging for my belly button.

**

Lesbian Dad:

First, let's talk about what Lesbian Dad said about mememememe, 'cause it made my heart swell:

"Ebullient, hilarious, very verbally zingy. A pop culture junkie, which predilection she humors in a spin-off blog dedicated to a blow-by-blow of each L-Word episode, complete with the incredulous dialog of her Greek Chorus of chums."

"When I was young and spry — particularly on the crest of coming out — I’d have felt, reading Automatic Win, that a life of lesbianism could be downright fun. Rather than what I first thought it was, in 1982 when I came out: a blighted but inevitable path which no one I knew was treading except my sweetie and me, surrounded as we were by theoretically bisexual, understanding and supportive straight friends. All power to the internet, sisters. But the madcap world Automatic Win depicts — memorably rendered by Riese in loose, inventive language, undergirded with a wry self-deprecation — is, alas, quietly but determinedly slipping into my past. Reading her gives me a blog’s-eye-view of the Younger Generation, the lesbo Sex In The City set. Only the more hipster version. With far more text messaging. And irony. And about ten years younger. "

How are we similar? She IS a Lesbian Mom (or "lesbian dad") ... I HAVE a Lesbian Mom. One day I'll probs be a Lesbian Mom, I'm waiting to get pregnant like in Village of the Damned so that my daughter will have laser-beam eyes and no-one will fuck with us at Wal-Mart. LD went to UC-Berkley, I went to University of Michigan-Ann Arbor, and those schools are similar 'cause they're both heavily populated by dirty hippies. We both studied English and Women's Studies, except that she has hands-on experience too, as in: she was actually a Lesbian Avenger, which makes her automatically 150% cooler than me forever. I like what she says in her "about me" when she describes her affiliation with the "Walt Whitman" system of writing: "Whitman tinkered with what he wrote over and over, past its first and second and umpteen print publications." (Rather than the Gertude Stein school: "first draft best draft." Obvs that's not the case, especially when ambien is involved. Speaking just for me now.)

How are we different? She writes about raising children, I write about being a child. She posts cute photos of children, I post cute photos of twentysomething girls who like to dress in hoodies or costumes. She has several legitimate writing spots on various queer parenting venues, I have several blogs.

**
Sugar Butch Chronicles: First of all, her banner is hot. Sugar Butch talks way dirtier than Tina Kennnard, for sure. Her writing is trance-like and thoroughly, openly and explicitly erotic. She addresses gender/queer representation confidently and with the education/experience to make good points. Her goals are "to encourage lesbian sex and sexuality in ALL its various forms and manifestations, to spark conversations about gender and kink and power and sex in whatever might feel good to you and your lover." She mentions fisting like within the first two lines of the last post I read, score!

How are we similar? Well, we both dislike eating dead animals and celebreality. Also, we've both been published in erotica anthologies -- in Cleis anthologies, too! We both like having sex with girls. Also, we both enjoy making out with girls in bathrooms, and possibly have been kicked out of the bathroom for this very reason.

How are we different? Sinclair has a lot of labels, e.g., "kinky queer butch top feminist sex educator." I'm just "weirdo almost-hipster." I notice this a lot, especially in the sex writers circuit, that these words mean a lot to some lesbians and are vehemently unspoken by others. I don't hear "butch" or "femme" a lot in my circles. I'm not sure if "masculine" or "feminine" enable greater clarity or even mean the same thing, but those are the words I use generally (which intrinsically conforms to the limiting gender dichotomy, innately tying one's gendered expression to either "male" or "female" poles, lacking an ambiguous non-gendered adjective entirely separate from the existing patriarchal linguistics). I think I say "boyish" and "girly." Or -- especially when referring to the girls I usually go for -- "androgynous." I like the words "genderfuck" or "genderqueer."' Ultimately I admire SugarButch, and many sex writers like her I've met at various lesbian sex writer hoo-has, for carrying it on in whatever context speaks solidly in defense of their experience. Because her writing is super-hot, and anything that reminds people that lesbian sex, even when it's not between two plastics at a Malibu poolside, is delicious and wet and delightful.

**

Hahn at Home is a 46-year old mother with teenage kids in Sacramento, California. We are 56% sure we actually saw her last week at Disney World, so Hahn at Home, if you're reading this and you were at MGM studios on Monday the 18th of February -- HOLLA! If not, then there's another lesbian Mom out there who looks like you, were we to pass this lesbian Mom at lightning speed and then try to judge her appearance from behind, walking backwards. That's a good sign for queer visibility. Apparently Hahn won last year but felt that people cheated and voted for her more than once, and then honorably refused to accept her prize, passing it on to the super-awesome Curly McDimple, who I met last year at the Blogger Wienie Roast located in Timbuktu, Brooklyn. That's really honorable. You guys -- feel free to vote as many times as you can, I don't have a serious soul.

How are we similar? Like Lesbian Dad, I must point out that Hahn is a Lesbian Mom and I have a Lesbian Mom. Also my Lesbian Mom has adopted kiddos like her, so really, we're basically bosom buddies. We both post photos of ourselves. She updates regularly and has a serious following; her writing is clear and casual and intimate without being too personal. I think we both trust our readers, which might not make sense -- but it does, to me, and it probs does to her, too.

How are we different? Obvs, again -- this woman somehow manages to blog, work and raise three kids on her own, whereas I somehow manage to barely raise myself. I don't think I could even pack my own lunch. Really on the surface there's nothing at all similar about us except that it seems we apply the same probing eye to what our daily experiences and the experiences of our friends/family/lovers mean about society, ourselves, and specifically how it feels to be the age we are. When I have a baby, I'm gonna give it a mohawk and then take lots of photos, it's gonna be awesome.

**
How am I different from everyone? Two words: vlog vlog. No, JK. I think the main difference is that I'm all the fuck over the place -- I looked at my labels, which I'm terrible at applying properly so they really mean nothing -- see sidebar, I've added it for a brief moment of navel-gazing. Somehow "It's Britney Bitch," "Near Mental Breakdown," "Drinking on the Job," "Liberal Politics," "The Gym," "A Shot At Love With a Bunch of Lunatics," "Literacy," "My Hair," "Lozo" and "Magazines" are all on the same list.

It's hard to describe what it is I do here -- I talk about myself a lot. There's vlogs, underwear, lists of bad music, number one feelings and contests in which I purport to give away Haviland's underthings and Lozo's hand in marriage. Cait recently asked me if there's anything I won't do "for the cultural experience" or "'cause it'd be blog-worthy" (she asked me this re: "The American Experience") I think -- as much as I hate other people and wish I could live inside a cave talking to no-one forevs and evs -- I'm simultaneously addicted to the balmy undersides or garish presentations of psyche, cultural norms, history and existence, constantly questioning and probing, stuffing as much life into each day as possible. Because obvs my life philosophy remains that I don't want to say that I ever wasted time doing something unoriginal or boring, that I was always learning, that I tasted as much as I could of the world before leaving it. And then wrote all about it.

I engage my audience in intra-web social drama and catastrophe. I pretend blog is a forum for internet performance art -- poetry slamming with mysterious anonymi at 3 A.M., deleting my entire blog when someone makes me feel censored, publishing the letter that fired me, writing half an entry on something and calling it "crazytown" in the morning. And unwillingly but eventually for the greater good -- letting all of you watch my life kinda fall to pieces though I wouldn't tell you why 'til later ... and then building a cave in my room and refusing to exit except for a trip to the Hustler Club with Lozo. I do a lot of things "just to see what will happen," 'cause I think life is my private chemistry set for better and for worse. So that's what I do here. That's my bloggity blog blog.

It's become more than just a blog to me but a sort of community that offers viewers enough entertaining and quality writing and referrals to entertain and also a more in-depth interactive involvement with the auto-universe through commenting, donating to the tip jar, buying merch, joining the Facebook group or making out with me. If this was a sorority, I think this is the part where I'd make you drink a lot and then roll around in chocolate pudding and then kick [sic] [I meant "lick," but clearly this is the best typo ever] it off each other. Yum. These women are fantastic and I think the one thing we all have in common is that we're pretty dedicated to "blogging."

Ultimately -- I don't need to be the lesbian blogger of the year, because my Mom already thinks I'm pretty no matter what. But seriously, they have this RuPaul doll at rainbow depot and it's autographed by RuPaul, and I need it. Vote auto-win.

"You Better WORK!"
-RuPaul

Sunday Top Ten: All I Want For Channukistis is Magical Powers

Last year, My Two Moms' Channukistis wish lists were glistening fodder for auto-comedy gold and included, among other seemingly innocuous requests; "queen size flannel sheets -- no flowers!", "MacWord," "No-Batteries Flashlight," "Gas Card," 'Beading How-To/Starter Set," the uncharacteristically specific "Sharper Image Digital Dashboard Compass & Weather Station-CE352" and a Lawn Tractor, Snowblower, Reciprocating Saw and canoe. ["We're not getting a canoe, because then they're gonna want me to ride in it." -my brother] This year, perhaps in a reaction to last year's blog o'gift-snark, Mom's really given me nothing to work with besides an electric toothbrush -- in fact, following that item on her list, she added, in brackets: "gotta give you at least one item you can ridicule on your Blog." I'm not sure what she's implying by that. Hm. Also, suddenly my Other Mother wants jewelery instead of power tools, which seems suspicious, perhaps she's just trying to avoid the re-print of this photo, which I found on a stock photo site under the "lesbian" category last year:

So ... this time of year, normally reserved for alienating my family just in time to go visit them and put my fate in their hands, I must turn again to memememememe. What do I want? Nothing, just a shack and a fishing pole, obvs, like Walden Pond. Ho hum. I don't know what I want or who I am. Actually, I do know what I want: for our country to figure out how to re-distribute the obscenely unequal distribution of wealth in order to fix the segregated and fucked-up educational system, stop child hunger, end enabled spousal and child abuse and the penal system that punishes women who fight back, reorient the economic systems that turn our most disenfranchised and least free citizens into the bulk of our military force, and provide health care for everyone. Ta-DA! And a Unniiicorrrrrn.

Also, I'd like magic powers and teleportation. I like to want things I can't have, because they don't exist. Then, when I don't get them, I can be like "Oh well, unicorns aren't real," instead of "What's wrong with you Riese, that you couldn't get a unicorn? Are you trying hard enough? Coal again?" You know what I mean? Also I wish I could respond to some of my holiday e-vites with not just Yes, No, or Maybe, but: "Are You Fucking Kidding?" I mean, have you noticed that even when you have a serious falling out with someone, they continue to eVite you to everything? Like, really Papi? Why?!? I'm not going to your Holiday Party unless I'm allowed to put arsenic in the punch. Secret Santa has SARS, that's the real secret.

SUNDAY TOP TEN:
MY CHANNUKISITIS WISH-LIST
OF THINGS I WILL NEVER GET
BECAUSE THEY AREN'T REAL

**
10.Time Machine

If you've spent any time with Haviland lately -- I know I sure have -- you're aware she's a fan of the show Heroes and thinks you should be too, she can't stop talking about it. I had nothing to contribute to the 100 Heroes-related convos, aside from the 100% true statement "I love time travel," which Cait found hilarious. I really do though, one of my favorite topics ever, and I'm a long-time fan of its representation in the media: Quantum Leap (TV), Back to the Future, Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure, Choose Your Own Adventure Time Machine Series, Flight of the Navigator, Charlotte Sometimes (the book and The Cure song referencing the book) and I wrote a whole time travel novel called "Silver Eyes" in 1988 which was probs a hit, but is now lost forever to wherever Mac SE-30s go to get old and die.

Where would you go if you had a time machine? I'd go back to the 70's so I could do fun things before we knew fun causes heart attacks, kidney failures, various cancers, premature aging, overdose and death, SARS, brain damage, sudden conversion to evangelicalism, rehab and/or The HIV. It'd be sweet to experience the bonds of a generation relatively united over more than just a common love of facebook, and also wild amounts of kick-ass fun were possible and there was no internet to document and broadcast your missteps/misshapes. Obvs I'm getting most of my ideas about the 70's from movies that may or may not even be about the 70's, like Dazed and Confused, Studio 54, Almost Famous and Boogie Nights.

9. Internet-Time-Tracker:

If Google is really stealing our souls and tracking our movements they may as well help out by sharing what they've discovered with us. I need to know how I spend my time in order to spend it better, 'cause I always feel like I've got 30 more things to do and haven't accomplished anything. I guess that having "write a book," "get a television show produced," "launch and fix all current net-related projects" and "write two longass blogs" on my daily to-do list means that it'll rarely feel finished. But seriously; like how much time do I spend looking for blog photos? How much time writing email? How much time on g-chat or reading blogs or writing blogs or doing my actual job or reading email but not replying or creating my actual wish lists? How much time spent online where I'm actually not actively engaged with the internet, but just have it on?

These, my friends, are the important things I think about because I have chapstick for brains. How much time did I spend thinking about those things? Well, I don't know.

8. A Barista/Personal Serving Wench

Why doesn't Starbucks deliver? I get at least one latte per day, which requires dressing in adult clothing and trudging to the corner despite inclement weather, like in the winter I've gotta basically swaddle myself in linens and fleece just to survive the one block trek. Certainly there's someone out there with better circulation who could help me out with this, then play with my hair afterwards.

7. Auto-Straddle/Win Boyshorts and Really Papi T-Shirts

Oh wait ... those ARE real. I mean ... not right this minute. But within weeks, your dreams and our dreams will become a reality. Vega is all over it with her design skills. Save your pennies, your girlfriend already told me what she wants for Christmas, and I'll give you a hint, it is not an electronic toothbrush, unless your name is "Susan" and you live in Royal Oak with my mother. If you're Jewish, your girlfriend still wants our merch for Christmas, Jesus was a Jew obvs. If you have a boyfriend he wants it too, even if he's Kwanzaain.

6. Neutrogena On-the-Spot Acne Patch

This product no longer exists. I've got no idea why, it was a miracle product, maybe the bunnies didn't think so. Stop Animal Testing.

5. The Latest Short Story Books by the following authors, [publication date of most recent short story anthology published indicated in brackets]:
Mary Gatiskill (1998 ), Lorrie Moore (1998), Thisbe Nissen (2000), Maggie Estep (1999), A.M Homes (2003) and Miranda July (2006)

I can't get these because they don't exist. Sometimes 'cause the authors just haven't written one or don't want to or are instead writing novels, but I know it's also that they're discouraged to do so in the first place by our weirdo industry. As a former employee of a literary agency and a current member of the publishing universe, I'm well aware that short story books "don't sell." I don't understand this! Everyone I know loves short story books. My people also love free health care for all citizens, providing oral pleasure to members of the same sex on occasion and cute haircuts, so obvs we're not a representative sample of the U.S. population. But here's how it works -- short story books are published reluctantly and almost exclusively as part of a two or three book deal, which also includes a few novels. It's like the publishing company allows the writer to indulge themselves by publishing short fiction but it's really just a reward for the writer's agreement to fashion a novel, not an actual attempt to produce a best-selling book. Writers like Lorrie Moore rebel against this convention by writing novels that are actually just three short stories (like Anagrams). Some just write novels that aren't nearly as compelling as their short fiction. Besides, that's a lot of plots that might appeal to me as opposed to only one narrative that might not sound as immediately interesting when I pick up the book and read the book, 'cause I'm committing to it for so much longer. Also, sidenote, I just found this interview of Lorrie Moore and it's brill.

4. A Hunger-Meter

You'd think if we are able to invent cars that know when they're out of gas regardless of the weather or their feelings or circumstance or driver, we should ourselves have such capabilities towards our own appetites. We've been ruined by psychology, processed foods and an agressive commercial/advertising laden culture which tells us what to want and why -- paradoxical, alarming, unavoidable. That's okay. I wish I could survive on potato products, peanut butter and melted cheese. Maybe I could. ACTUALLY I totes did once, during the bell jar summer of '03, except in that particular situation by "potato product" I don't mean french fries, I mean vodka. Usually I mean french fries. Or any kind of potato product, like latkes or mashed potatoes or tater tots.

3. Holodeck

Oh! The holodeck is from Star Trek. All the cool kids like that show, it's better than The L Word. The Holodeck is far more advanced than anything virtual reality has thus far accomplished, technologically. You use a holodeck to practice fighting aliens, role-play future situations or just hang out, like, "what's up, I'd like to play out this or that fantasy," e.g., two chicks at once, punching annoying people in the face, having sweet love with fictional characters or dead people or both like Dana Fairbanks. I wish they did an L Word-Star Trek crossover episode, I feel like Bette and Deanna Troi could have some hot sex and Jenny could date some enemy alien and be like "I'm a woman who likes to fuck other Klingons, fuck you and your uptight tightness, let's kill dogs, write it on my chest, baruch atah bladibla," etc.

2. The Old Style of Poland Spring Water Bottles

We have in this photograph a perfect specimen of water bottle. Any problems here? No, no problems. It's a traditional, time-tested method of storing bottled H20 -- everyone else is doing it. But Poland Spring ... why? why?!!??? Why did you switch to this new kind of bottle that breaks in one's bag and explodes, dripping everywhere, literally nearly 100% of the time?

I wrote about this in my carousel of progress in May, and at that time Tara claimed that she actually liked the new kind of bottle, and then the next day one of the new bottles obviously broke in her bag -- as it does to me every single day -- and got everything wet, therefore proving my point and making her agree with me. I mention this because perhaps if you read my prior deliberation on the topic and subsequently declared your allegiance to the new style, I imagine you too have witnessed its damp reality by now and are now on my side. If you haven't, it's basically a time bomb, watch out, waterproof your ipod asap. That blue thingie is a peace of crap, it's the water bottle equivalent of a condom made out of tissue paper.

1. TIE: X-Men Powers OR Go-Go-Gadget Umbrella

There are advantages to both of these things. On the one hand, there's a plethora of non-existent superpowers including mind-reading, the ability to move through walls and hands that turn into wolverine spearclaws. On the other had, if you leave the apartment w/o an umbrella and then it starts to rain and you don't want to mess up your cute hair, it'd be hot to go 'Go-Go-Gadget-Brella' and have an umbrella pop out of your hand w/o having to wait in line at Rite-Aid or deal with a street vendor, it also has the added benefit of flying powers. In conclusion, I'd like to be Mystique the shapeshifter. She's lythe and blue and bisexual and beautiful, she can shape shift obvs and become anyone she want to be -- she can take over another person's life with her body, soak up their superpowers, she's immortal, she can heal wounds, she birthed Nightcrawler who then grew up to say wise things, like about what you can and cannot see/believe with your own two eyes. I've never been particularly interested in eternal life, but she doesn't age or anything, so maybe it'd be fun, though less fun if Poland Spring doesn't fix their water bottles, because then I'd spend my whole life cleaning out wet bags. Haha.

The Gay Strai Alliance

According to Urban Dictionary:
Gay: "often used to describe something stupid or unfortunate. originating from homophobia. quite preferable among many teenage males in order to buff up their 'masculinity'"

According to me:
If you ARE gay, you can use it to mean whatever you want. Or if you're half-gay, like me, then you can do a blog entry that's 50% gay, 50% strai, and 100% lame. Also, I just proofread this blog (ok, not really, I have a slave for that, but I did just read it again), and realized I've mentioned anal penetration at least 100 times. SO GAY.

(Also, the tone of this particular post has been described as a bit negative. So FYI, I want you to know that I am a really happy person. Re: that, check out my guestbian blog on ourchart! )


The Strai-est Shit Ever (part unx, but incorporated into gay part deux)
(also, I've snatched the term "strai" from LN James, one of my most faithful and homosexual readers):

Elizabeth Hassleback, right now (11:08 AM), on "The View":
First: her shirt reminds me of the tapestries we hung on our boarding school windows and cited as valid decorating schemes.

Second: So, Rosie suggests that perhaps the multitude of confessions extracted from Khalid Sheikh Mohammed were garnered via torture, and Elizabeth has this miraculously clever insight: "Do you think he should have been given milk and cookies, an attorney, and been able to watch American Idol?" Really Papi? As the co-hosts pointed out, watching American Idol is a lot like torture. But I like the "milk and cookies" reference. Makes me think of Santa Claus. That'd be funny. First, we're going to drag you around on a rope and rape you up the ass. Want some Oreos? Elizabeth would like that, probs, because of 'Survivor.' Ho ho ho.

Garrison Keillor's Ridic Conservative Family Values article on salon.com
Some highlights:

"Monogamy put the parents in the background where they belong and we children were able to hold center stage. We didn't have to contend with troubled, angry parents demanding that life be richer and more rewarding for them."

"The country has come to accept stereotypical gay men -- sardonic fellows with fussy hair who live in over-decorated apartments with a striped sofa and a small weird dog and who worship campy performers and go in for flamboyance now and then themselves. If they want to be accepted as couples and daddies, however, the flamboyance may have to be brought under control."

Seriously, Garrison? You know, Prairie Home Companion has been wallowing in the nether regions of my Netflix queue for many months (I'm pumped for the Robert Altman/Lindsay Lohan matchup) but now I don't even like, want to see it anymore. I'll endure those five seasons of Nip/Tuck Hav recommended before I summon PHC. I'd protest your radio show too, but I don't have a radio. Is this how they do it on the prairie, for reals? Laura Ingalls Wielder is rolling over in her fictional grave, asshat. Obvs Garrisson hasn't seen Brokeback Mountain. Or been on an R-Family Cruise. Then he'd change his mind.

"It is quite odd that a man married three times with kids by different women would write this piece."
-Anonymous commenter, Salon.com

The Mail That Comes For the Girl Who Used to Live Here
I swear she didn't even do a change-of-address form. I've spoken of her before ("The AlAnonitute"). She's the one who moved out after S exclaimed, "I'll fuck 'em both with a strap-on!" (re: "be quiet! I have roommates"), which was one of the Top Ten Moments of 2006. I think she also noticed that Maggie and I were doing a little re-creation of "Leaving Las Vegas" (which I've never seen, but I believe it involved drinking oneself to death). The AlAnonitute receives many offensive publications, including Time magazine, The Learning Annex Catalog, and mailings from various 'institutes' where she probably should have like--GONE--because she totally had a 10 foot crucifix up her ass. For example, I think she really could have evolved as a person if she had taken a workshop in "Tree Whispering" or a two-day retreat in "Awakening the Sacred Feminine." I don't know what the 'Sacred Feminine' is, but I have a feeling it would enjoy the firm but pleasurable experience of a 9-inch dildo. (Tara knows what it is, and apparently it's totally valid, and might not like a dildo. Eh, whatevs!)


The Contents of My Refrigerator, Which is Why my Diet is 50% 25-cent packs of Sandwich Cookies from the Deli

The Gayest Shit Ever (part deux, having nothing to do with actual homosexuality):

YouTube
I don't get it, still. Seriously, I still don't get it! Don't you guys get in trouble for watching videos at work? Like, because of the NOISE? I thought the whole point of the internet was so we could do shit at work that is not actually work without anyone noticing. I just don't like it, or something. Hm.


Spoilers
I axed the spoiler-y part of this comment, but you get the idea. You can see, too, my gentle response.

thesaurus.com
tara: it's kind of a cheesy website. It reminds me of a mac or something.
me: It does. Aesthetically. They have a lot in common--this website, the mac computer.
tara: Like--what font is that? It's huge too. Kinda annoying.
me: I think it's Verdana.
tara: Who's this Rube person?
me: Dunno, it was a synonym for um--complicated. Along with Byzantine. And other zingers. It's Lucinda Grande.
tara: yeah
me: that's gay.
tara: the whole site's gay.
me: i should write "the gayest shit ever: part duex. things that have nothing to do with homosexuality.""but are still gay."
tara: my favorite reference point online is columbia's bartleby thing.
me: hm, wheres that at.
tara: http://bartleby.com
me: "right after that preposition you used to end that sentence, marie."
holy shit. this place is fucking awesome.
tara: it has everything.
me: wheeee!!! the word of the day is "fustian." that's a good word.
tara: interesting. you'd think it was a typo for faustian. or at least i would.
me: i thought it was?


This convo, which took place during my recent trip to the liqour store:
Hav (trying to quit Diet Doctor Pepper): "I'm taking your 'try bright lights' suggestion and going tanning to get more energy."
Me: "It's best if you can take a little nap in the tanning bed. Then you get the benefits of bright light and a little power nap--wait--hang on--(to the clerk)--and can I also have like, a small thing of Skyy?"
Hav: "Oh Riese, you're buying vodka?"
Me: (writing a magazine article that involves a lot of 'going out') "I've got a long week ahead of me."

Cheers, Gays/Strais/Et al.!