Gayest Looks For Leno Deux

I'm carrying camera where ever I go.

Here's my fab hair stylist from Frenchy's Beauty Parlor, Amber's gayest look:

And my lovely husband, Michael's gayest look:

Then last night I went to Hell on Wheels - the L.A. Leather Coalition's rollerskate night at Moonlight Rollerway in Glendale where I caught participants giving their gayest looks for Jay Leno.

First and Foremost, the L.A. Leather Coalition 2008 titleholders!

Andrew and Sky's gayest look


Isem's gayest look

Tom's Gayest look

Karen's gayest look

Random Rollerguy's gayest look

The British leatherman's gayest look


Another really gay look


Scott, Tony and Robin's gayest looks

And more gay, gay looks.





What do you think Jay? Are we gay enough for you now?

For hundreds and hundreds more "gay looks" CLICK HERE

Gayest Looks For Leno

Jay Leno is an ass and doesn't know the difference between a good gay joke - which, in general is funny and clever - and laughing at the gays - which is lame and stereotypical and something I might expect from a talk show host in the 90's, not two thousand fucking eight.

From Liss at Shakesville (who I have a big ol' brain crush on):

Last week, it was an interview with Ryan Phillippe, during which he asked the actor to look into the camera, pretend it was his "gay lover…Billy Bob," who "has just ridden in shirtless from Wyoming (still milking the Brokeback jokes, I guess), and give it his "gayest look."

Phillippe responded, incredulously, "Wow. That is so something I don't want to do."

Jeff Whitty, writer of Avenue Q, who does not need to prove his ability to be able to "take a joke" wrote about this and gave his "gayest look" to Jay.

Which is really similar to my "gayest look" for Jay.


You can send your gayest look too!

Happy Holidays!

I know, it's March. But it's totally holiday season in my house. In fact this week, there are 3 minimum. And I'm not even talking about Easter! Cause I'm a Jewish atheist. In case you hadn't heard...

Anyway, today is the Fast of Esther, and tonight is the start of Purim, which some Rabbis believe is the holiest day of the Jewish calendar. If you live in Kosher Canyon, expect lots of kidlets in costume this Friday. It's like the Jewish Hallowe'en, only holier!

I wrote a little bit about the meaning of Purim last year.

So, in addition to Purim, yesterday was the start of the newish holiday (because I'm also newish), Discardia. Discardia was founded 5 years ago by MetaGrrl, Dinah, as a holiday that falls between the solstices & equinoxes and their following new moons. So this Discardia lasts from March 19th until April 5th.

According to Dinah,

"Discardia is celebrated by getting rid of stuff and ideas you no longer need. It's about letting go, abdicating from obligation and guilt, being true to the self you are now. Discardia is the time to get rid of things that no longer add value to your life, shed bad habits, let go of emotional baggage and generally lighten your load."

I am very fond of this holiday.

In honor of Purim and Discardia this year, I am combining three traditions, two old with one new.

One of the mitzvot (commandments) associated with Purim is Shalach Manot (which is literally the sending of portions but means the sending of gifts). It is said that one should send gifts of food and so, in many Orthodox communities tomorrow, you will see families hand delivering packages and baskets of food to one another. The requirement is that the food is ready to eat and that there are at least two servings. You should see some of the intensely creative ways this is carried out. There are baseball-themed shalach manot with peanuts, popcorn and soda in a baseball mitt or a pillowcase with chocolate chip cookies and milk.

The other mitzvah is matanot l'evyonim (sending gifts to the poor) and they must be generous gifts, none of this, "here's a quarter" crap. You must do both shalach manot and matanot l'evyonim on Purim.

On Discardia, getting rid of things, though not an obligation, since that sentiment in itself is anti-Discardian, it is, let's say, praiseworthy. In the spirit of these holidays, I plan on spreading some loving shalach manot and matanot l'evyonim around.

Knitting gets into the act

Imagine this.

Barely able to keep himself aloft - a fat butterfly. This butterfly is so fat that every time he lands on a flower, he kills it.

Poor thin, graceful flowers.

Stupid, shameless fat butterfly. Go on a diet.

This is the latest pattern from Mochimochiland.

I love the Mochimochi patterns. Tubby and the raincloud are just adorable and there are no judgments about the size of the raincloud. There is no commentary on the width of the tub.

While a fat butterfly would have been fine, the need to make the dead flowers along with the pattern, the reckless killing of the flowers with it's enormous heft, which I'm sure is "just a joke" is just uncalled for.

Fat - in and of itself is not unhealthy. Take a look at this article for more information.

Every day, those of us with eating disorders fight an internal voice that tells us that any amount of fat is disgusting. It is a symbol of our laziness, our inability to control ourselves and our desires and so we starve ourselves, we throw up every ounce of nutrition we take in, in order to make ourselves societally acceptable.

Another, "just a joke", I saw recently was Robot Chicken's "rape ghost" skit. You know, the one where the "rape ghost" won't rape the fat girl. Cause she's fat - get it? Which is disgusting. I mean, who would want to commit sexual violence on someone who was disgusting? Funny on multiple levels, I know.

Because in our society, fat equals stupid, unhealthy, lazy people, lolling around on couches stuffing their faces with Twinkies and Snickers bars and if they would just get off the couch, eat a vegetable and walk around the block they'd be socially acceptable (and rape-able, I suppose). But for god's sake, if you choose to stay fat, don't sit on anyone - you might kill them. And then it's ok to make fun of you.

That's not how it works. But that's the message that we hear, isn't it?

9 steps to an eating disorder by age 12

This is verbatim, from the Proctor & Gamble site for young girls - Being Girl.

I was going to highlight the worst, but I just ended up highlighting all of them. I am disgusted. As someone who has struggled with an eating disorder for a good 20 years, this is exactly the opposite of the message we need to be sending peri-pubescent girls. And what the fuck does the war have to do with any of this?

I just don't know what they are thinking.

What Does the War Have to Do With Your Weight?

Are you one of the millions of teens who overeat when they are under stress? If you are, we've got some good news and some bad news. The bad news is that rarely in history has there been a more turbulent time. Since 9/11, it seems as if the problems of the world are growing larger and scarier... and looming closer than ever before. The good news is that you are not alone. Fifteen percent of Americans confessed that after the towers fell, they turned to comfort foods while another 14% reported eating more sweets. Two months after the terrorist attacks, one in ten Americans had gained weight. Anyone versed in psychology is familiar with the relationship between mood and food. Whether it's the war with Iraq, hard decisions abut college, or troubles with friends, some of us use food to provide the good feelings we're missing. Sweets help fill the emptiness and soothe us when conflicts and pressures threaten our stability.

We might know that we're eating when we're not hungry, that we're eating to combat feelings of depression or anxiety, but that's not enough to get us to stop. With half of Americans already fighting the battle of the bulge, and over a third of Americans classified as obese, it's important not to let our emotions contribute to bad eating habits that will only promote even more bad feelings. Here is some advice from the experts about what to do when you're tempted to use food to make you feel better.

1. At the moment you grab for something to eat, tell yourself you can have it if you still want it but you have to wait 30 minutes. The craving may pass, you might get distracted, you might become wise enough in that half hour to find a more life affirming way of getting rid of that creepy stress. (used by every anorexic I've ever known)

2. Write down everything you eat. Icky, we know, but we also know there's no better substitute (except looking at yourself in the mirror naked), that's better than tracking what goes into your mouth to get you into the habit of thinking before you eat. (Ew - looking at yourself naked is double+ icky)

3. If you're already in the habit of having snacks at a certain time, shake things up. Change your routine. Plan ahead to keep yourself occupied during that time. (Don't eat snacks - keep yourself so busy you forget about your hunger entirely)

4. When we're eating out of emotion, rather than hunger, we're practically unconscious of the amount of food we're inhaling. Only eat when you're sitting down and paying attention ONLY to the food before you. (great - talk to preteens about inhaling food...appropriate.)

5. Post-It notes are great for reminding you of the right thing to do. Stick them on the bathroom mirror, on the inside of your locker, on your computer. Be creative with your reminder. "How hungry are your really?" "Exactly why are you eating that now?" "What will the scale say tomorrow morning?" (I'm speechless.)

6. If you know where your most challenging places are, stay away. If you're aware of the time of day you're weakest, prepare for it ahead. Never shop for groceries when you're hungry. (because 12 year olds are shopping for groceries?)

7. Exercise. For a hundred good reasons. All of which you already know. (you lazy fat ass 12 year old)

8. If you really try and can't stop obsessing about food, don't despair. Indulging doesn't make you a bad person. You have the rest of your life to renew your commitment to your good health. (You have the rest of your life to become a good person who doesn't indulge. That is what this is saying -- isn't it?)

9. If you sense this is a problem you can't get a handle on, maybe you need to speak to someone who can help. There are dozens of licensed, experienced professionals who have successfully shown others how to slay this dragon. Ask for help. (Especially your friends who can teach you how to chew and spit. Or throw up. Because every 12 year old I know is going to go ask for professional help with her body image issues.)

Kate, Harriet, Rachel, and Paul, have all commented on this issue already.

If you are as horrified by this as I am - please write to: (this is all directly from Rachel at the F Word

Here are the so-called “experts” behind the site. According to one profile, they’re headquartered in Cincinnati. Address snail mail letters any or each of the following:

• Dr. Iris Prager, beinggirl Content Manager
• Tina So, beinggirl Interactive Marketing Manager
• Jamie Kissell, US beinggirl Interactive Marketing Manager
• Janis Carter, beinggirl Interactive Production Manager
• Sonya Kirkpatrick, beinggirl Marketing Specialist

And also, Melanie Healey, Group President, Global Feminine and Health Care

One Procter & Gamble Plaza
Cincinnati, Ohio 45202
United States

Suggestions on how to phrase letters of complaint can be found here. Remember: it’s important to express and articulate your concerns and outrage, but ranting vitriolic letters are often highly ineffective.

Bitch

This is my very first time on a motorcycle. I am about two years old. So cute!


After many years of riding on the back of (also called "bitch" on) Michael's motorcycle, I decided that I would finally woman up and learn to ride. After all, I never feel so free as when I am flying down Angeles Crest Highway, smelling the pine and taking each curve in turn.

When I told Michael that I was ready, he bought me lessons for my birthday. Exactly 2 months following my 37th birthday, I was in class and ready to ride.

When it comes to riding on things, I will start with the caveat that I haven't always been very successful in these endeavors. For instance, I didn't learn how to ride a bicycle until I was 24. My sister and I weren't allowed to ride when we were kids.

Michael taught me how to ride a bicycle so that I would do the California AIDS Ride with him. From San Francisco to Los Angeles. Yes. Ride 700 miles after just learning how to pedal a bike.

My friend Kristin lent me the bike and I practiced for about 5 months but I never quite got to the place where I could take my hands off the handlebars to do things like...signal.

Notice the Band-Aid on my helmet in this picture. Very appropriate.

So after pushing my way down from San Francisco, possibly crying through parts of it. Possibly not riding every mile, I gave the bike back to Kristin and I haven't been on a bicycle since.

Some day I'll tell you about my one and only stint on inline skates that ended up with problems and surgical staples involving "DO NOT BACK UP: SEVERE TIRE DAMAGE" spikes.

But I digress.

The class, led by the Motorcycle Safety Foundation, would have waived my DMV riding test and was scheduled for 2 days in February. The first 5 hours was classroom instruction and a test. On which, I received 100%. Because I am a smarty pants.

We broke for lunch and returned to what was called "the range" but was actually a big parking lot with cones. In my mind I was already airbrushing flames onto my 750 Shadow before I had ever started up a motorcycle. We got on our assigned bikes. We learned neutral, the clutch, the friction zone, first gear. Soon, it was time to sit on our iron butts and ride across the parking lot.

Ummm. That part didn't go so well. You see, when riding a motorcycle, your left hand controls the clutch. Your right hand controls the throttle and the brake. Your left foot engages the gears and there's another brake under your right foot. That means, essentially, that all four limbs are working at the same time...or need to be ready to work at the same time.

My coordination...I would say is not that great. Others might say it really, really sucks... so when I wanted to brake, I accidentally gave the motorcycle gas, flinging myself out of control. When I had done that, I got scared so I let go of the handlebars like they were on a hot stove. Hmmm. Perhaps not the best thing to do when sitting on a 300 lb. machine with wheels.

The whole escapade was reminiscent of an I Love Lucy episode. I actually made it back and forth across the parking lot 8 times (barely), legs splayed out to the side of me. Flinging myself like a slingshot hoping that someone might be able to stop me. To this very moment, I have no freaking idea what the brake under my right foot looks like. I certainly never made contact with it.

After dropping the bike twice, though the instructors were very sweet, they asked me to please get the fuck out of there for both my safety and the safety of everyone within a 5 mile radius. And so I got off the bike. And made the walk of shame across the parking lot to my car. In front of 23 other students. Who are likely riding their motorcycles this weekend around L.A.

I am not. For now, and for the foreseeable future, I will be riding on the back -- bitch - like the old lady I am.

Made me laugh

Michael and I rode this weekend a lot. It was so so so gorgeous. 80 degrees F. Clear skies. I love L.A.

As we were riding I saw this bumper sticker.



















I laughed so hard I almost fell off the bike.

Here are some of my other favorites.

The text, in case you can't read it, says, Zeus is God, Read the Iliad. Available at Threadless.com. I can't find the bumpersticker anywhere but I've seen a guy driving around L.A. with it. If you find it, let me know where!!










Then there's the serious geekage over at xkcd with











As soon as I figure out my new scanner tonight (pray to Zeus or FSM or whomever you pray to that I figure it out) I should have a pretty fun post (and when I say "fun" I mean, really embarrassing with photos) up tomorrow.

Refining/Defining

I have a really good post coming up and so I've been procrastinating in putting up anything.

Clearly.

However, I've been thinking (again) about identity and it struck me that I could be posting this for the entire freakin' blogosphere to read rather than keeping it to myself.

I've written a number of posts about my identity as an atheist, as a Jewess, as queer, as a tattooed freak and as a wife.

By the way, here is a fairly old photo of the back work I'm having done. It's a lot more filled in right now.

Although, I have to admit that this thought occurred to me: If I had left it unfilled, I would be one awesomely large coloring book for my niece. Come on...wouldn't that be cool?

I mean, her drawings would wash off! Maybe I'll keep the center open and she can use the rest as a frame for her artwork...

I mean, if I'm actually pulling for winning best aunt ever, wouldn't that just cinch it?

OK - but that was a complete digression! I was talking about identity and the part of my identity that I'm currently fixated on is my career. Or rather, my next career. I've worked in HIV for between 16 and 19 years, depending on what you count as working. I think there is another identity in my future. I am looking into going back to school.

Honestly, I don't know where the money or time will come from but I don't know that any of that will get easier as I get older either. I haven't worked it all (or any of it) out yet but it's been settled on my mind like the earth on Sepulveda Blvd.

I've permanently set aside the idea of becoming a physician. I do not have the will to do that to myself. I don't know. I'm just blabbering here.

Clearly.