Thursday, April 21, 2011

Reality Check

The vast majority of reality television shows are geared for straight folks, and most recruit hetero hard-bodies to participate. That is why I am proposing a new genre of reality television, one which lesbians everywhere can relate to. Here, in no particular order, is what I would like to see:

Survivor Ptown: Twenty-four ladies are divided into two flag football teams and left stranded on Herring Cove Beach with nothing but a case each of Miller Light and one pool table. Contestants must build shelter, find food, and fashion pool cues out of driftwood. Object is to out shoot, out smart, and out lay your opponents.

The Butchelorette: A spin-off of the wildly popular heterosexual version, this show would have 14 beautiful fems vie for a successful, handsome butch. Instead of handing out roses at the end of each round, the Butchelorette would give a softball to each contestant that survives the cut. On the season finale, the Butcherlorette chooses one lucky lady and presents her with a prepaid U-Haul rental agreement and a kitten.

Mel’s Kitchen: Take 18 vegans aspiring to be the country’s next culinary sensation, add in one hostile lesbian chef who hasn’t had sex since the 2002 Dinah Shore weekend, and you’ve got the makings of a super hot dish. Watch the tempers, tofu, and tempei fly as the ladies show off their cooking skills and their ability to turn flour, water, and a garden burger into vegetarian chateaubriand with portobello-mushroom sauce.

Dancing at the Bar: This show would air the first Sunday of every month from 3:00 p.m. to 7:00 p.m. It’s lesbo-a-go-go as the ladies are judged on their ability to execute all our favorite lesbian dances, including the Grind from Behind, the My Feet Are Planted in Cement But My Arms Work, and the Ten Shots of Tequila In and I Love You Soooooo Much Tango. Double points are awarded to those with non-repaired ACL tears who make it through an entire song without their knee popping out.

Dyke Swap: The premise is simple: couples with opposite interests and outlooks swap partners and hairstyles for seven days and must each take turns running the household. Start with a power suit–wearing, Ketel One martini–drinking, BMW-driving couple and have them swap partners with, oh, I don't know, let's say me and my partner (indulge me here, it's all part of my ongoing L Word fantasy, which does not have to stop just because the show ended). Would I be able to abide by Bette’s the household rules for an entire week? And, more important, how would I look with her hair?

The Amazon Race: Women jump in their RVs and race from campground to campground across North America in this somewhat fast-paced competition. That’s it. Not too much happens. They take some photos, read, and wash their clothes in a lake. Hey, it’s camping, it’s supposed to be boring.


*The above is a re-print of a post I originally posted Our Big Gayborhood.

Friday, April 8, 2011

Into The Closet

As I was driving to the casino this weekend, I convinced myself that it was ok to go spend a little money and have some fun. Dropping money in a casino may only buy you a little bit of excitement for the afternoon but at least it wasn't going to take up room in my garage, basement, or closet like so many other ghosts of purchases past.

  • Juicers can really clutter up a kitchen cabinet. I bought one a few years back from a popular shopping channel. It was great fun until I realized that I did not routinely have six apples, three carrots, and fresh ginger root on hand every time I wanted a glass of juice. And let’s be honest here. What I really wanted to throw in that chopper was peanut butter cups, M&M’s and milk, which would have just clogged the thing up anyway.
  • The hair remover gel looked great on the infomercial. Funny how the woman on the television didn't appear to be bleeding after pulling the gel covered strips off her skin. Then again, she demonstrated the product on her legs. I kept the gel for a year or so just in case I needed to glue my truck to the driveway during a hurricane.
  • The electric abdominal stimulator was another infomercial inspired purchase that caused me some discomfort. I thought it would be a real time saver to be able to zap myself some six-pack abs, drink a six-pack, eat chips and watch pay per view, all while never leaving the comfort of my couch. The sensation of getting punched in the ovary every five seconds didn’t really thrill me however, and after using this device only one time, I tucked it neatly away in a closet. Somewhere.
  • I believed I could spare twenty minutes a day three times a week for eight weeks. Turns out, this was not the recommended exercise schedule but the amount of time required to assemble my treadmill/stepper/clothes hanger. And yes, this was another purchase inspired from one of those half hour commercials that run on Saturday morning. After nearly falling of the thing on more than one occasion I realized it was best to save treading for the pool and climbing for getting in and out of bed.
  • A bicycle is a reasonable purchase – if you use it. Of course I made sure it was all tricked out with a fancy seat, travel bag, and speedometer/odometer. To add that extra bit of excitement I had the garden-variety pedals replaced with toe clips, which as it turns out are not a very smart accessory for a novice rider. If you can picture a grown woman with curly black hair sticking out six inches from the side of her helmet (summer humidity in New England is a bitch) trying feverishly to clip out at an intersection before toppling over, you will understand why the bike now stays put in the garage. It wasn’t a good look for me.

*The following is a re-post of an essay I originally wrote for Our Big Gayborhood.

Thursday, April 7, 2011

Embarrassing Work Moments Summary To Date

Happy Thursday!

What better way to close out your work week than to enjoy the foibles of a fellow working class compadre? My embarrassing work moments have a long history and unfortunately seem to follow me from one employer to the next.

Clothing Mishaps

Clothing mishaps are usually due to lack of sleep or a hangover. I’ve experienced minor issues, such as wearing two different color socks or sitting at my desk for hours with a dryer sheet sticking out of my sleeve. I’ve nipped potential incidents in the bud, such as the time I had my shirt on inside out. I fixed that one before any of my co-workers arrived by quickly reversing my top in my cube.

Wrong Place Wrong Time

I walked into a meeting and took my place at the conference table. A few of the regulars filed in along with a few not so regulars. Oh well, special guests I thought. Within 15 seconds of the start of the meeting I knew something was not right. "What are we talking about?” I asked myself. When it dawned on me that I was sitting in a meeting to which I had not been invited, I put my head down and began to take notes. Image is everything.

Water, Water Everywhere

I carry a backpack to work. Inside the backpack are notebooks in which I track my work, my planner, and miscellaneous items like my water bottle. One day, as I approached my building, I could feel the back of my pants were wet. Apparently the little do-hickey thingy (technical term) for my water bottle popped off without me noticing. The bottle had leaked in the backpack and onto my backside, wetting all my notebooks and my bottom. So glad I wore khakis that day. I see London, I see France, looks like CJ wet her pants.

Gum Bum and Pee Pee Pants

My most unrecoverable incident was probably the time I went outside for lunch to enjoy some fresh air and I sat in a big wad of melted green gum, a sticky situation at best. Unless you have a change of pants you are pretty much screwed on this one. Fortunately, a caring work friend loaned me her hoodie to wrap around my waist for the rest of the day.

I’ve peed on my pants leg at work. I'm a squatter. I know sitting on a public toilet will probably not bring me irreparable harm but I just can’t do it. Hovering can be tricky business however - one rogue stream and you've got yourself a pair of pee pee pants. Luckily this happened at the end of the day. I quickly walked behind the buildings to the parking lot, glancing behind and downward to make sure the offending spot was not standing out too much.

How To Make A Good Impression

I remember one job interview I had many years ago. To my surprise, I knew one of the women that worked there. We hugged and kissed on the cheek as old friends do. I interviewed with two or three people that day. I was happy with how things went and was fairly certain I would be offered the job. I walked back to my car all pleased with myself. I got in the car, buckled myself in, and looked in my rear view mirror before backing out of my parking spot. Then I saw it. My friend in the office wore bright red lipstick and apparently thought I needed some as well as she had left a big red lip print on the side of my face. It would have looked ok if I was interviewing for clown school but it wasn't such a good look for your typical office. I just wish I hadn't worn such big shoes that day.

Here’s hoping you all have an incident free day.


*Embarrassing Work Moments Summary To Date is a re-post of an essay I originally wrote for Our Big Gayborhood.