Category Archives: Humor

Saint Dominique

Posted on April 15, 2008 | Leave a comment

Look out Mother Teresa, there’s a new girl in town. And she’s hungry. Well, not in a Calcutta sort of way, but more like an ANTM sort of way. This is the type of shit I live for. I mean seriously. I sit watching America’s Next Top Model just waiting, hoping for someone to give me some precious jewel that I can take and run with. So, I’m just gonna get straight to the good stuff.

And, I quote…

“I wanna be like freakin’ Mother Teresa, but in a diva kind of way, okay?!”

–Cycle 10 contestant, Dominique

Wow. She said this shortly after she’d named several others whom she wanted to emulate. People such as Donald Trump, Oprah, etc… This girl from Columbus, OH, has got some serious narcissistic issues. To the point of being completely delusional. I love it. And to think that all the girls on the show hate her. This is where reality TV is really great, because you can’t edit this stuff in. No matter what context you put that clip into, Dominique just looks like an ass. I think I’m really starting to like her.

I don’t know what made that resonate with me so strongly. Maybe it’s the fact that she is putting Donald Trump and Mother Teresa in the same category. And then, to suggest that’s what she wanted for herself. Bless her heart. Dominique has such a healthy ego. Her version of self denial (if she even knows what that means) is restricting the number of times she compliments herself a day to less than 30. Also, I doubt that Mother Teresa ever had aspirations of being a Top Model. I could be wrong, though. I mean, they do share a certain man-ish quality. A certain je ne sais quoi. And, maybe late a night when she was all alone she practiced her wide-eye squint. So, Let’s compare photos:

Here’s our Blessed Mother Teresa looking fierce…

And, here’s the fabu St. Dominique…

I will admit that I did have to look hard to find a picture of her that was less than flattering. Damn Photoshop, damn you to hell.

I guess it’s not fair of me to single out St. Dominique when there are so many other seriously odd looking/behaving girls on the show. She just has made herself such an easy target. Which is the reason that I absolutely will never ever be a contestant on ANTM. I, too, have man-ish charateristics. As Tyra (or least I think it was her…) puts it, “There is a lot of ugly in the business of being pretty.” Truer words have never been spoken, Tyra.

Dance Fighting!

Posted on April 9, 2008 | 2 comments

Ok, so I am about to acknowledge another lapse in my education as a proper gay man. I am 34 years old and just saw, for the first time, West Side Story. Jeff and I were on a nice Sunday afternoon walk when we noticed that it was playing at the Castro Theater. So, we decided to crawl in, as it was just starting, and catch the film on the big screen of a historic theater (if you’re going to see it, you might as well see it like that, huh?).

Well, of course, Jeff had seen the movie version numerous times and as he proudly puts it, “I am one of the few that can say, ‘I was both a Shark and a Jet.'” Oh yes, that’s right, for one very special summer stock type of performance they painted my dear Jeff’s face to look Puerto Rican. Although, they did that in the movie, too. Baaaaaad make-up. But, gooooooood dance fighting!

I am going to go out on a limb here and just make a sweeping statement that could possibly affect the lives of every man, woman, and child on the planet. Prepare ye for this great revelation…it’s coming…it’s coming. If we would arm ourselves with dance belts, a good solid pair of dance shoes, a tube of ChapStick®, and the choreography of Jerome Robbins, and fight like real men, this world might have a good chance. I mean seriously, have you ever seen dance fighting? It is one of the best things I have ever seen. The only thing that kept me from having a full-out giggle fit was the appreciatively nodding, serious movie patrons surrounding me. To them it was some of the best choreography ever created. To me it was the answer to the question, how do we achieve world peace. Answer: one dance fight at a time.

The single best thing about dance fighting is that you never really even touch the other person. It’s very physical, but it’s all interpretive. Lots of high kicks and theatrical rolls. All this said, actually my favorite scene was after the rumble, where they are trying to “cool” down. It contains some of the “coolest” choreography. Here are the lyrics to the song…

——
Boy, boy, crazy boy,
Get cool, boy!
Got a rocket in your pocket,
Keep coolly cool, boy!
Don’t get hot,
‘Cause man, you got
Some high times ahead.
Take it slow and Daddy-O,
You can live it up and die in bed!

Boy, boy, crazy boy!
Stay loose, boy!
Breeze it, buzz it, easy does it.
Turn off the juice, boy!
Go man, go,
But not like a yo-yo schoolboy.
Just play it cool, boy,
Real cool!

Lyrics by Stephen Sondheim
——

Right. So, slightly homo-erotic, huh? Rocket in your pocket? Seriously. I about busted my gut. Which, reminds me. The only part of the movie that my fellow serious movie-going gays laughed at “inappropriately” was during one scene when Maria says to Tony, “Oh, and Tony, when you come, be sure and come in the rear.” There was a whole lot of snickering going on. You have to love old movies that cannot be watched seriously because almost every term or word has new meaning in our present society. Words and terms like “gay” and “come in the rear.”

I know that this makes me a bad gay. Making fun of West Side Story puts me on seriously dangerous ground. And, I hope that I don’t create a division in the gay community. But, if I do, we’ll just have a dance-off. You heard it here first, folks. I challenge all ye who think my joking isn’t funny to a dance-off. Castro Street, Midnight, bring your gear (don’t forget your tube of ChapStick®) and leave your chains, knives, and rocks at home.

Oh, what the hell, here’s the “Cool” video:

2 Comments

Posted in Gay, Humor, Movies, Music, Video

That Ain’t Right – #2

Posted on February 9, 2008 | 1 comment

I was just about to give up on this series this week. As soon as I came up with the idea, nothing happened. Literally. No one misbehaved. It truly rocked my world. I thought, “What is wrong with humanity? Come on people, give me the good stuff!” And then, I had one the worst trips that I’ve had in a long time. The trip started out bad enough. We had seriously delayed and canceled flights, but the passengers were totally understanding and actually…nice. There was a major snow storm in Chicago and it completely shut the airport down. Damn those Midwesterners, they can be nice even while sleeping on the airport floor. Nothing to write about.

Then, day 2 arrived. The gray skies cleared up and we were off to Long Island. I was exhausted from the first day, though, and my defenses were down. About halfway through our day, the shit hit the fan. We were in Tampa with a broken plane full mostly of retired Floridians. Nice. Those flights are fun on a normal day. No one can complain like a retired Floridian. And, when I say Floridian, I actually mean New Yorker. We were supposed to be going to West Palm Beach, which is about a 25 minute flight away from Tampa. We were delayed over 3 hours for a 25 minute flight. Nice.

Anyway, people (especially New Yorkers) are inherently mistrusting of airlines. Even if there is a hurricane bearing down on you, they think that you are canceling the flight for some other reason that you aren’t sharing. So, it should have come as no surprise when this little beefy red-faced New Yorker came huffing up the aisle only about 30 minutes into the delay.

“Can’t you put us on a different plane?”

Even though I have no control over anything, I responded, “Well, the only option would be the next flight which is in about 4 hours, you could take that one.” (I said it in a positive tone and with a smile, New Yorkers evidently don’t care for sarcasm.)

“I see a plane sitting over there at that gate, why can’t we take that one?”

With less of a smile, I said, “That plane is already in use. Maintenance is trying to fix this one.”

“I know you have planes sitting around for this type of thing, why aren’t you using them? If I would have known that this was going to happen I would have taken my men and found another flight!”

This guy was being a prick, so, too quickly I answered, “Ok, well if you go, be sure to take all your things.” I was testing the theory that New Yorkers like honesty. They want you to give it them straight. Today was not the day to test out theories.

“Nice attitude.”

Now, I had unleashed a monster. I knew that nothing I said would make him or his “men” happy. So, I just continued with the truth, “I have no control over what planes we use or where they go. This plane is being fixed and for now, we are still going to take this one. That may change, but, for the time being that’s what’s going on.”

“Well, you need to figure out what’s going on and get this thing going.”

I love this type of guy. It’s a lost cause. People treat me like I don’t know anything, but, ask me questions like I know everything.

Well, fast forward about 4 hours. We are finally in West Palm Beach and everyone is finally getting off the plane. This guy has been such a jackass that other New Yorkers are actually apologizing for him. I gave up on even trying to please him. He had yelled at me, at the captain, and at our customer service agents. He was just trying to cause a scene. I may not have had the best attitude, but for that day, it was all I could do. This jerk just needed to get off the plane. Upon leaving the plane his wife approaches me and asks for my name and badge number. I give her my name and inform her that we do not give out any other personal informational.

I say, “You only need my first name and the flight number for your letter.”

She snaps back, “Why are you assuming that I am going to write a negative letter?”

“Well typically if someone who is clearly upset asks me for that information it isn’t for writing a good letter.”

“How do you know I am upset?”

“Are you serious? Everyone on the plane knows that you are upset.”

She snaps back again, “You’re a negative person and shouldn’t be doing this job.”

With all the restraint I could muster I say, “Thank you so much for your support. Have a great day!”

Momma said there’d be days like this.

1 Comment

Posted in Flight Attendant, Humor, Rants

"Butcha are, Blanche….ya are in that wheelchair!"

Posted on February 8, 2008 | 1 comment

I’m quite an easy target when it comes to my lack of knowledge concerning gay history. I’ve really had to work hard to fill in the gaps in my knowledge. To be more specific, I’m especially lacking in the Bette Davis era of gay pop culture icons. (If you didn’t already know, the title of this post is from What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? starring Bette Davis)

Early on in Jeff and I’s relationship we were at our friends’ apartment enjoying a game night. It was a fun game night, really. We each were given a picture of a gay celebrity or icon to place on our forehead. Then we were to walk around the room and give each other clues as to whom was taped to each other’s forehead. It wasn’t long until I was the only one in the room still wearing his iconic crown of shame.

“She’s a brunette.”

“She played Rachel’s mom on ‘Friends.'”

“She starred in ‘That Girl.'”

“She’s on those St. Jude’s commercials.”

And it continued…

Finally, after much prodding they just “came out” and told me. Clearly expecting the light bulb to final light up, they exclaim, “It’s Marlo Thomas!!!!” I have no clue who Marlo Thomas is. And, I can only vaguely remember the pretty brunette that played Rachel’s mom. I say, “Seriously. I don’t know who Marlo Thomas is.” The next sound heard in the room was that of about 6 chins hitting the floor, followed by silence and disbelief. I think that Jeff was over in the corner crying with embarrassment.

Clearly, something was wrong with me. And, that’s when it happened. The first time, anyway. My gay card was taken away. To a room full of gay men and my straight friends Shahla and Rich, who both have “gay cards” in their own way, it was like finding a gold mine. Several years later they still joke about it.

Several weeks following the horrifying event, Jeff and I went back over for dinner. Immediately after we finished dinner, our friends Kirk and Jaime held a gay intervention for me. They made me sit and look at a stack full of pictures of gay icons. Actually, it was another game. Name the icon. And, I guessed about 75% of them correctly. Not surprisingly, I had trouble with the older ones. Bette Davis, Joan Crawford, Charles Pierce, etc. etc. The important thing is that, technically speaking, I passed. So, I received my card back. For the time being, anyway.

Honestly, I never knew what I was missing. Growing up in rural Iowa and then going to Bible college–I just wasn’t really ever exposed to these fabulous people. And, what’s worse is that I didn’t know anything about Harvey Milk or the Stonewall Riots. Fortunately, I have educated myself on these and other important moments/people in gay history. But, up until about ten years ago I had a gay IQ of about 2.

I knew 2 things in high school:

1) Guys gave me a funny feeling in my stomach.

2) I loved the Pleasantville High School Drill Team.

Those heavenly girls on the drill team squad rocked my world with their flashy sequined outfits and glitter-filled make-up. Of course, in 1988, boys weren’t allowed to be part of such squads. So, I sat on the sidelines in a bedazzled trance. I may not have had all the greats to look up to and imitate as a child. But, at least I had my drill team girls to give me the inspiration that was needed to create world-class flag and pom routines in the basement and front yard of my childhood home. And, if that didn’t earn me my “gay card,” then no amount of Bette Davis one-liners ever will!

***UPDATE***
Almost immediately after this post went up, I received an interesting comment that can be read below. Evidently, you can’t just say you have a gay card. You need to pay the “Fairy Gay Mother” a hefty price and she’ll be happy to send you one. Fun website. Not so fun prices. Clearly it is expensive to be gay.

Here’s me and “That Girl.”

Here she is now, my claim to shame, Miss Marlo Thomas!

1 Comment

Posted in Gay, Humor, Pictures, Pop-Culture

Miss America…LIVE!

Posted on January 28, 2008 | 1 comment

Yesterday, Jeff and I made ourselves sick with the amount of TV we watched. I hate when that happens. I just didn’t know when to quit. I think this is how Jeff put it: “I feel gross.” And frankly, I did too. I think what really pushed it over the edge was watching Miss America…Live!, the culmination of a 4-week Miss America reality show and 2-hour re-creation of the Miss America Pageant.

Let me start by saying that I love beauty pageants. I grew up watching the Miss America pageant. And, I loved every minute of it’s plastic glory. I dreamed of saying:

“I’m Tyler Lee, a 5th grader majoring in music, and proud to be from Pleasantville, IOWA, the town where the name says it all and the state where the corn is tall! And, I want to be your next Miss America!”

I would sit in overly-eager anticipation waiting for the real Miss Iowa to take her turn at the microphone. I would sit and think, “Now she has a chance!” And, every year the title would go to some bimbo from Oklahoma or Texas or California. Oh, Miss Iowa often made it to the final 10, but the crown would inevitably go to someone who could sing “opera” or play the “violin,” never to Miss Iowa, who could only juggle flaming ears of corn. Have you ever juggled flaming ears of corn?

I didn’t think so.

And, I wasn’t disappointed last night to see that Miss Iowa was just as plastic as always–even after the 4-week reality series that was aimed at teaching the contestants how to be more real. I knew it would never work. Miss Iowa wouldn’t crack. She was totally a Stepford Wife. Minus the husband, of course. And, she was a finalist. But, alas, she didn’t win. But, she could have, if they hadn’t made this ridiculous push to make the contestants “real.”

I guess “real” to whomever runs the pageant means that girls wear jeans and tank tops, and that they are allowed to do their best stripper walk during the swimsuit competition. I kept on waiting for someone to drop it like it’s hot. Oh yeah, we also got to hear why they chose their evening gowns. Which, just made them seem more annoying and less worthy of the title Miss America.

I think what I always loved about the pageant as a kid was the fact that they didn’t quite seem real. I think that they called it “poised.” I would sit and wait for someone to mess up or trip or stutter. Then, I would think…Amateur. But, those days are gone. They’re all amateur. Except for good ol’ Miss Iowa. Tough as nails, nothing could wipe that smile off her face.

Here’s a great clip from the 80s. Do you remember when they would actually sing the opening song? This has everything that was great about the pageant…