G-ma-speak

I have written about my grandmother before. (see Social Life of My Grandma) I am fascinated by her. She’s 86. She’s sassy. She’s got a boyfriend. I want to be her when I grow up. She’s my G-ma.

One of my favorite things about G-ma is that she has her own language–or at least her own pronunciation of the English language. It’s not a “southern” thing, she lives in Iowa. It’s not an “uneducated” thing, she worked for decades in the county courthouse as a court clerk. I guess it’s just a G-ma thing. She’s old school in a trendy sort of way. She’s the real deal.

G-ma says things like, “I’m going to go to Wal-Marts and buy a digikal camera after I do the worsh.” Or, “I’ve always wanted to sit in a zacuzzi in Ha-why-ah.” Better yet, “Maybe I should take an umba-rella with me when I visit my friends in Worshington.”

Another thing I love about her is that she still has it. She told me yesterday that her doctor thinks her “real age” is 70. It made her day to find out that she had the body of a 70 year old. That means to her that she has several years of dancing left. It also makes her younger than her boyfriend who is 78.

I went home to Iowa to visit my family recently and spent a night out on the town with G-ma and her boyfriend Phil. We actually only went out for dinner at a local steak house. Phil rolled up in his mint condition 1986 Buick to pick us up. He was sporting a white shirt with the collar up and unbuttoned just a bit too far, a black leather vest, and a gold chain. His hair was slicked back and he was ready to go. I think I also detected a dousing of Old Spice. Of course, I loved him. I also loved the fact that he insisted I sit in front with G-ma and him. The car had a bench seat and held the three of us just fine with G-ma in the middle.

They took it easy (just for me) by only doing dinner. I had spent the day traveling from California and was really tired. Normally, they went out dancing at one of the various “jam sessions” held by other retirees. I couldn’t help the smile that had been on my face all night long. It was so amazing to see G-ma so active and with a gentleman such as Phil. And, they were very smoochy. At one point, later in the weekend, I came into the room to find my grandmother sitting on Phil’s lap. I think I probably giggled like a little schoolgirl. It was so cute. I want to be like that at 86.

Anyway, I thought I’d share a picture of my cute little G-ma and her stud-muffin boyfriend Phil…

Social Networking Wars

For all of my “social networking” friends…

So be it.

We have reached a new low. Or high. Depending on how you look at it. I was reading the newspaper this morning when a particular article caught my eye. It was titled: Pray-in at S.F. gas station asks God to lower gas prices. It’s not every day we get prayer meetings in San Francisco. Well, at least not for things like this. We’ve had our fair share of people who have made the trek to the City by the Bay to pray for the worst of all lost souls, the gays. But, this is a new one. I guess if you’re going to pray for gas prices to come down, you might as well come to the place with the highest prices in the nation, right?

I find it very interesting that an east-coast based activist/community organizer/church choir director, who also started a petition to get Oprah nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize (which failed), would come to SF for a pray-in. I mean, seriously, Washington D.C. is a lot closer than San Francisco. And, really that’s where he should have gone. I realize that as a “public relations consultant” (he has like 4 jobs) this is his way of petitioning Washington and God at the same time. It’s a publicity move. I get it. Send a message to Washington by praying over the costliest fuel, literally. It’s just funny to me. Someone probably spent hundreds of dollars to fly him all the way across the country to say a prayer that he could have said from D.C., whose prices aren’t cheap either, by any means.

I suppose that I should be glad he is supporting the airline industry by flying. But, let’s cut the crap, I’ll just be honest. I have issues with this kind of prayer. I think the real power in what Twyman did was in the underlying statement he was making: We don’t trust our government to do something about gas prices. If he did, he would have been in D.C. And, honestly, I think our government needs to hear that message: We don’t trust you.

Check out this approval ratings chart from PollingReport.com. (Just click on it for the link) It’s pretty sad, Bush’s approval rating has consistently hovered from 30-35% for over a year. Most people would be fired for that kind of performance. I’m getting sidetracked, aren’t I?

I should get back to my real issue, public prayer. I think personal and private prayer as a means of meditation–focusing one’s mind on something for relaxation or other purposes–can be helpful. If prayer for you is a personal conversation with God, great, that helps focus the mind as well. But, I don’t believe that publicly (i.e.-at a gas station) presenting a request to a higher power has much benefit beyond the obvious benefit of getting your message out to the masses.

This is something I know a thing or two about. I personally have been the subject of these types of prayers before. Prayers that are a means of gossip–getting the message out to the masses. I’ve been mortified more than once to find that a deeply personal experience of mine was shared in a prayer group or at a church. If someone wants to personally pray for me, I can certainly appreciate the heart in that. When someone publicly brings up my private stuff, on no level could I ever appreciate that.

Now, I have to admit that this is a very sensitive subject for me. I have rewritten this post about 10 times over the course of a week, trying to soften my tone. And, I’m glad that I took my time with it, because, it caused me to think about this in a rational way–to come to terms with my real issues. I detest preachy, public praying.

Ultimately, I think that Robert Twyman looked a little ridiculous standing, hands outstretched over the gas pump, praying. I can’t help but think that was part of the point. He got his message out there, though, even if the powers that be weren’t listening.

In the end writing this was therapeutic for me. And, there’s a part of me that feels bad for dragging you through my therapy. I guess that’s just the nature of blogging. Some days this is what you get.

Amen. So be it.

She Forced Me to Do It

I am really embarrassed to be doing this. I thought that I could just leave her alone, that she would slip on past without requiring any further mentioning. But, she’s done it again. This past week on American Idol, Paula Abdul commented or “judged” a performance that hadn’t happened yet. We were down to the five remaining Idols performing Neil Diamond songs. They each performed two songs. The Idols would all sing their first song without any individual judging. Then the judges were to comment on all five of the performers’ first songs at the same time, sort of a quick overview of their opinions for all five (normally, they comment after each individual’s performance).

Evidently, the change was a little too much for Paula Abdul. She started in her usual drugged-up way, lots of rambling about nothing, telling the performers that they were in “the zone” or that they had found “the pocket.” What? Anyway, she commented on Jason Castro’s first song. Fine. And then she proceeded to comment on how she felt about his second song, how it didn’t quite “do it for her” or something. Now, I usually tune out when she speaks and had to tune back in to catch what she was mumbling. The problem was that Jason Castro hadn’t sung his second song yet.

Now, it’s common knowledge that the judges listen to the dress rehearsal performances. And, so, they have often heard the songs before the LIVE! performance. So, Paula had heard the second song. Whatever. I don’t believe that Paula actually thinks about what she says, though. What’s funny to me is that after Randy reminded her that they’ve only sung the first song, she tried to play dumb. Now, watching Paula Abdul try to “play dumb” would be like watching George W. try to poke fun at someone who has poor “grammar skills.” You can’t be dumb and “play dumb.” She said, “Oh, I thought that he had already sung his second song.” Then followed with, “This is hard.”

Really? What part of telling singers–who have much better vocal skills than her–how to sing, or rather, how to find “the zone” is hard? If you remember, back toward the beginning of the season, Paula released her new ‘comeback’ single, “Dance Like There’s No Tomorrow.” I found it very interesting that she didn’t even perform the song on the show. They just played the video. I guess she was trying not to “outsing” the Idol performers. That’s commendable, Paula, because that would be truly difficult, trying to “find your zone” and just be “in that pocket where you are at your best.”

I’m sorry if I come across as being a little too anti-Paula. I’m actually very pro-Paula. I seriously hope that she continues providing us with such an abundance of humorous material. I’m confident that she will. And, when she does, remember, that she forced me to do this.

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I thought it would be fun to review another great moment in Paula history, the infamous “Paula Abdul Drunk Interview.” Enjoy…

Free Hugs!

I was just walking through the Castro and came across “The Sisters.” Their full title is The Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence. I’m sure if you check out their website you could find a much better explanation of who they are. But, here is my quick attempt at explaining them. They are a local group of gay men (there are other orders elsewhere, too) who dress up like flamboyant nuns and perform charitable acts of kindness.

Anyway, I was walking through the Castro and came across “The Sisters.” They were standing on a corner giving away free hugs. At first, I tried to avoid it. I tried, I really tried. But, the situation was hopeless. I got sucked into a hug-fest. Well, let me just say that nothing brightens your day like being hugged by a group of men dressed up like nuns, in full make-up, and wearing ear brassieres. If I haven’t painted a good enough picture, click on “The Sisters” in the first paragraph to visit their web page. You really should see their names and pictures in order to get what I’m talking about.

Actually, I think one of the nuns copped a feel. I could be wrong, but I swear her hands went below my waist. That shouldn’t be a surprise considering they also host an event every Easter involving nearly naked men. Oh, “The Sisters” do like their men.

My point is, it totally made my day. I couldn’t stop smiling for at least a whole block. It’s just impossible to stay in a bad mood when someone gives you a hug. So, I’m gonna give you a hug the best way I can. Just put yourself in this picture with me and consider yourself hugged…