life
Thanksgiving – Thank God it is only once a year
I love my family – screwed up as they are. I just thank my lucky stars I only have to do this once a year. I come from an old southern family – the type of family that is the thing of stereotypes. If there is something that isn’t popular, that we don’t like, we just pretend it doesn’t exist. Denial in my family is a way of life.
Our Thanksgiving history is the stuff of legends. Things like my brother dropping out of his Ph.D program to become a vacumn cleaner salesman (first of two), my brother announcing he had dropped out of a second Ph.D program to breed rats in a lab, mom and dad announcing their intent to build a new house so mom could live with her girlfriend, grandma going for a naked stroll through the hospital, friend Becky asking to pass the gravy and for a side of sperm (her and her girlfriend wanted to have a baby), dad shooting a hole through the side of the house thinking I was a burglar, my brother announcing he was getting married to a woman from the Philippines he had met at a conference years before (not only had the family not met her, but she was a catholic – it nearly killed my grandmother), cousin Terry (fundamentalist side of the family) walking in on me making out with my boyfriend, and my parents walking in on me groping a male nurse at the hospital.
These are the Hallmark moments that mark our family holidays. It is no wonder we all hate this f**king holiday. Typically we just have the meal catered and try to get it over with as quick as possible. But something convinced my mother that we need to prepare the meal this year – or as will happen that I need to prepare the meal. You see, my mom can’t even heat a can of soup without burning it (Martha Stewart she isn’t). I am the only one that actually cooks (I learned out of necessity when I was a child), so I will drag myself in Wednesday evening and start slaving over the kitchen to prep the meal for Thursday – weeee, what fun.
I already know that my mom’s girlfriend is bringing her son (he just got out of prison AGAIN) and the local family gossip is that my father has a new girlfriend that he is planning on introducing. Hopefully this won’t be another for the record books, but it is already shaping up to be. I wonder if I can come up with an excuse not to go between now and tomorrow morning.
Call in Gay?
I couldn’t help by laugh when I say this the other day "Day Without a Gay: Call In Gay". It made me think of the Robin Tyler quote:
“If homosexuality is a disease, let’s all call in queer to work: "Hello. Can’t work today, still queer";”
Though it doesn’t look like that was the inspiration. In general, it is somewhat a good idea, but will I ‘call in gay’, will any of my colleagues – one might but he wouldn’t be volunteering he would be looking for a lil’ twink to hook up with. Good luck to them in getting volunteers to ‘call in gay’. I just don’t get that galvanized by the whole prop 8 issue, though I seem to be in the minority. In my case, I am just a jaded ol’ queen that thinks relationships suck because men are jerks.
I am lucky in many ways, I work for an employer where I can be openly gay (heck it feels like we outnumber the str8’s many days) and in a profession where many often assume you are gay by default. I’m spoiled and lucky (I once worked at a homophobic college and it was one of the most depressing experiences of my life – I was so miserable that many days all I did was cry.)
Also, read their FAQ, my favorite
Will this get me on Oprah?
If it will get you to help out, then…yes…you’ll be on Oprah, Honey.
*Side note… Not my usual self right now. For the last week I have been working 16to18 hours a day and am just exhausted.
McConnell a Closet Case – don’t make me laugh
This is somewhat old news, but it has been interesting to read what people have to say about it. – the AFSCME radio ad that is.
Conservatives call it slanderous and outrageous, moderates consider it distasteful, liberals ask ‘well what is he hiding’ . In truth, I heard the AFSCME radio ad the last time I was down in Kentucky. It never once crossed my mind that they were trying to imply that McConnell was gay. I took the ad as being targetted to softening his support among veterans. When I first heard the comments about the ad, it reminded me of the old Shakespeare line ‘The lady doth protest too much, methinks.’ – in other words conservatives seem so obsessed with sexual orientation it makes me wonder what they have to hide. (Total side topic, stay straight – we don’t want you on our team).
When I saw the village people ad, I finally got what they were trying to say. First off, it was stupid. It didn’t work when Republicans tried it in the last governor’s election, so why would you think it would work for you against them. Come on now people, I won’t pretend that Kentucky is the most cultured state in the union, but nobody is that blind.
As much as I hate to admit it, I have met/talked with McConnell many times in my life (daddy is a diehard Republican). Not once did I ever think McConnell was a closet case. My gaydar can be faulty, but it isn’t that bad. If it is, I need to turn in my gay card and become an ‘ex-gay’ – the very thought of which makes me cringe.
Ultimately, who cares why McConnell left the military it was a LONG time ago. So what if he blew a few guys – hasn’t everyone. 
I care more about his record in the Senate. It says a lot that McConnell used to tout how close he was to Bush and how he was proud to support him; then now he goes around touting how his position lets him bring lots of pork ($$$) back to the state. First, I never saw the fruits of his labor (nor did most Kentuckians). Second, if either are things you are proud of you should be absolutely ashamed. Pork and Bush as your proudest points – you don’t deserve to return to Washington. It is time for change, the sad part is it won’t happen. The recent polls have said it will be close, but the people in the street could have told you that a couple months ago. In the end, he will probably still go back – it will be yet another sad point in Kentucky history.
Attack of the Flying Dildo
By now, all my friends have heard (and many strangers too). Yes, I have been mentally and emotionally scared by a horrific attack by a flying dildo. I will never be able to look at a dildo the same way again 
.
My story begins on one fateful summer day in July. Me the innocent and sweet person that I am just driving along minding my own business. (Okay, I was really doing 90 as I was running late as usual and dodging in and out of rush hour traffic – but you miss the point.) Anyway, I was driving along minding my business passing through Florence (KY) you know the place with the ‘Florence Y’all’ water tower when out of nowhere this giant neon pink and purple dildo comes flying towards my car. Not having anywhere I could go, I just let it come for me – I’ve never been afraid of a cock before and I’m not going to start now. So my life flashes before me in slow motion and I think is this how it ends killed by a giant cock. Then smack, the dildo hits my windshield leaving a cock head shaped crack (if you are imaginative, you can even see it as a cock head that is cumming, the cracks shot out in front like it is shooting its load [or maybe I just need to get laid]). To add insult to injury, rather than bouncing off or falling off to the side, the dildo just sat there on my windshield. So here you have me barreling towards Cincinnati in rush hour traffic with a neon pink and purple dildo on my hood (I guess I could look at it as free advertising). I had ample time to study the dildo in detail, and hundreds of questions popped through my mind. Where did it come from, why my vehicle, who the hell throws a dildo out of their vehicle on the interstate, what if they didn’t throw it out, what if it came out, what were these crazy dildo users doing, and lastly where had that dildo been (that thought was just too horrific to imagine – I was passing through Florence and racing towards Cincinnati afterall, neither exactly an accepting gay mecca). The thought of where it had been too horrible to visualize, I decide to roll down the windows and crank the stereo – might as well make the best of a beautiful day. Then traffic began to slow – congestion during rush hour who ever heard of such – and here I am windows down, Cher blaring on the stereo, with a giant dildo on my hood. Needless to say the looks, pointing, and laughter were quiet memorable. At this point I had decided to leave the dildo – I refused to touch it without protection (always wrap it up, or at least in this case get a rubber glove or paper towel or something to grab the mysterious flying dildo with).
Slowly but surely traffic begins to flow again and I am back on my way to Richmond Indiana. I finally get through Florence and find a truck stop to get gas and remove my extra passenger at. I pull off, fill up the tank and see this guy staring at my vehicle. I muster in my bitchiest tone – ‘what you never seen a cock that big’. His respond ‘nope, can’t say I have’. My retort, ‘My sympathy to your wife’. He just looked confused. I finished filling my tank and then grabbed one of the papertowels out of the dispenser and use it to throw the flying dildo in the trash.
I proceed on the rest of my trip without my extra cargo and arrive uneventful in Richmond. At the hotel, one of the staff comments ‘what happened, that looks like one nasty crack in your window’. I recount my story with her eyes getting bigger and bigger throughout.
Without a doubt, it will require years of therapy to overcome this horrific experience – okay maybe not. More than anything it is par for the course, if crazy crap didn’t happen to me, I wouldn’t be me. In truth, the thought going through my mind, ‘damn is that what my life has come to that my truck is getting more action than I am. Needless to say, I haven’t fixed the windshield, I have kinda gotten used to it. Plus it is entertaining to me when people ask about the crack and I get to recount my story to them and see the reactions.
Back from the digital grave
Here we go again. Digitial Fairy . com has been revived from the digital graveyard. After looking at the Internet wayback machine, it seems about appropriate for timing – more than a year has passed. My pattern has been like this for years – revive the site, be diligent with updates, find something else to do and then fully stop. At this point we must take a major break (a little break would just be so cliche, so I have to do it in a big way). Can you tell I am a firm believer in the fashionably late mantra. Well, it seems like it was time to revive the site once more. Gawd, there is so much that I need to catch everyone up on – hopefully this will stop all the midnight phone calls wondering what was going on. How sad that my life has turned to midnight update calls instead of midnight booty calls (not that I am some kind of easy queen or anything).
Right now, all the things I need to catch up on are running through my brain. My move to Richmond (Indiana), the now ex (2 1/2 years together), the attack of the flying dildo, my former boss going exorcist on us (thus why I moved), the fast growing nephews, my god-daughter, all the fun family drama that reminds you how normal your family is, life, work, fun, and everything in between. I really was gone a long time.
Dream a Little Dream
*Another classic salvaged from the lovely Internet Archive originally from November 16, 2001
I think we all search for meaning in life and in that search for meaning we seek our truths in many ways. Some seek truth in life – others death. Some seek it through thought – others dreams (Okay so enough of the philosophical stuff). Actually I am just looking for an excuse to talk about the f***ed up dreams that I have been having lately. I swear, one would think that I was on drugs the way they have been going lately. You have to see I am a person that very rarely has recall of dreams, but when I do they tend to be greatly disturbing and prophetic (nothing earth shattering like the secret blend of herbs and spices at KFC ) – what were you thinking I was the second coming of Nostradamus. Well in the past few days I have had some dreams for which I am still attempting to discern their meaning – or just generally getting a good laugh from them.
While taking a nap earlier today I had a dream involving a squirrel. In the dream I awoke to a squirrel using its tail to tickle my nose and wake me. When I awoke the squirrel jumped off my head and onto a chair in my bedroom. The squirrel then put its front leg/arm up to its mouth and made a shhhhhhh sound – then it whispered that you must not talk that they would find us. He then proceeded to use his tail to write on my wall in this glowing green writing. He wrote that his name was “Alamanter” and wrote that he had an important message to give me. He then floated in the air and spun around really fast and erased what had previously been written on the wall. Then again the squirrel wrote on the wall and this time his message was “The marlins are coming you must prepare yourself – Beware the marlins”. He then jumped onto the window sill and whispered “Remember the marlins and be prepared or you too shall die”. He then jumped out the window – I then looked back at the wall and the writing was gone – nothing was left to show that he had been there. I looked back at the window and saw a shadow of Alamanter climbing the tree outside my bedroom and then fell back to sleep. Any interpretations or have I simply lost my marbles.
Tuesday night I had a dream that I was being chased by the female residents of my building. They were carrying pitchforks and torches and were chasing me in a scene right out of Frankenstein. They were all screaming to give them the paper that they must have the paper. I was running as fast as I could go trying to get away from them as I had no paper and didn’t know what they wanted. When they caught me they tied me to a stake and used a pile of toilet paper to burn me as they stood reading a copy of the most recent campus newspaper – it had me on the front page – so I was staring at dozens of pictures of me as I was being burned to death with toilet paper. (Gee I wonder if this has anything to do with the fact that the housekeepers don’t give my female students any toilet paper unless I start screaming at their supervisor).
The last has been a reoccurring dream over the last couple of weeks. I am doing rounds through my building and I keep hitting my head on the ceiling but I don’t realize why. I then realize that I am running late for a meeting with my boss and am trying to hurry across campus to get there. As I rush there I look down and realize that I am sort of hovering about the ground and floating towards the building. I suddenly freak out that students will notice and I look around me and nobody is looking at me as though anything is unusual. I then see a student running toward me yelling for me to wait. I stop just hovering about 3 feet off the ground and the student comes over to me asking for a room change from the fourth floor to the first floor due to a fear of heights – I tell the student to come see me later that day and then set off again floating towards my meeting. I get to the building and to save time I simply float straight up the side of the building to her window and go into her office via the open window. She doesn’t seem to think it strange that I floated into a meeting and just continues to talk.
Okay it is now time to sleep and see what else I can dream up tonight.
Better than Toilet Paper
*Another saved via the internet archive originally from November 14, 2001
I have to say that I am sooooo glad that I am not a female. (Don’t get me wrong I love all my female friends, but it is so much easier being a male. Okay, so where did this come from – well I have been having a little issue lately with my housekeeping staff – they don’t bring my ladies enough toilet paper. I have started using them to set my clocks – every day at 11:30PM and 9:00AM I get a flood of calls that there is no toilet paper. I have been going back and forth with the housekeepers for 2 weeks now about the whole TP issue and then Monday came and I didn’t get any calls. So here I am all happy that they finally got their act together and started getting things right – well I was wrong. I was talking to one of my staff and was asking her if everything was all sorted out with the toilet paper and she told me that it was worse than ever – they hadn’t had any since early that morning. So naturally I asked what they were doing when they went to the bathroom and she told me that they had gotten a huge stack of newspapers when they came out that morning and that they were set for the day. She went on to tell me that they were softer than the school’s TP anyway so the girls were happy. The immense irony of my life – guess whose picture was on the front of the newspaper – that’s right mine. So my ladies have been wiping themselves on an article about me and my time here. Can there be a bigger insult than someone wiping their dirty butt on your face – even if it is just a picture.
breaking up is hard to do
Another fairy classic – This one from Sept 23, 2001 when I was losing my then boyfriend Ricky – read all about how much of an a**hole I can be.
Okay, so the stuff about why I am wigging out and bummed today. Maybe I am just being stupid, but I think my boyfriend is about to dump me. (Hopefully he won’t read this, I haven’t told him that I added this functionality yet). Well, here is what has been happening.
Friday – He went to court with me (see Friday entries). While there I told him that I had a phone interview later that afternoon for a job about 250 miles away. After that he became somewhat distant – not saying much. That night (4AM in the morning so Saturday technically) I went to his apartment to spend the night (he gets off work at 4AM – also right after I posted a blog entry). Well, I am laying there in bed when he came in and I did the basic greeting stuff (hey babe, how was work) – he basically ignored me. When he got into bed he just laid down – no kiss, no playin’ around, no sex, no nothing. I asked him what was wrong and he simply said that he was tired. Next morning (noon actually), he woke-up before I did, typically he would nudge me gently or wake me up by playing with me or other things. Not this morning, I woke up and found him in the kitchen having breakfast – the conversation seemed rather distant (not like him at all). I went up behind him to massage his neck and shoulders and he pulled away. I again asked him what was wrong and this time his answer was that his shoulders were sore (all the more reason to let me give them attention I thought).
Well, we had originally planned to go to the park and go for a hike/picnic that day. When I brought up when he wanted to leave, he said that he wasn’t feeling up to it. I asked if he was sick the reply no not really. I again asked what was wrong and the answer nothing. I decided that it was very clear that I was not wanted there and was getting ready to leave, before I left he told me that he had to work late so there was no reason for me to come over as he didn’t know when he would get home – I told him that I had to be up early today anyway so it was no big deal (though I am saying forget it to what I had to do). So that brings us up to where we are right now, (any advice email me – the link is in the corner).
Needless to say I think I know what is wrong – the job interview and the thought that I might be leaving. You see, I am not the innocent victim that I might seem. I too like most men am an as*hole in nice guy clothing. Well, not really, but I made a major major major mistake with Ricky that I will have to carry for my whole life. You see, he is absolutely perfect (not really, but he is the perfect guy for me) – and 13 months today I did something that really hurt him and basically devastated him. Let me guess you are thinking that I cheated on him – NO not that I am absolutely monogamous. What I did was even worse.
(The short abbreviated version) We originally started dating in the spring of 2000. Our relationship moved really fast, within 2 months I was basically living with him. During this time I was searching for a job and had been very open with him about that. I interviewed with a school in the Boston MA area. I went to the interview and at the time really liked the school (I learned better later). I was offered the position and accepted it – only I did not tell Ricky. On August 22, 2000 while he was at work I packed my stuff and left – leaving only a note behind telling him I was moving to Boston and a check to pay half of everything until his lease was up. THE BIGGEST MISTAKE OF MY LIFE. I did so for two reasons.
You see, I can honestly say now that I love him and at the time I was scared to admit it to myself. You see I had been down that road before. I had never felt as strongly for anyone as I do Ricky, but others had been close. In both cases I had my heart ripped out beaten to a pulp with a sledgehammer and then tossed in a blender on frappe. In other words it was bad, and I was scared that the same would happen with him. The other reason that I did not tell him was that I was scared of the conversation that might come up. A conversation where we would decide to move together and I was terrified of the commitment. You see it would be one thing if I had stayed here, but I was moving 1000 miles and would be responsible for taking him to a town were he did not know anyone and where he was far away from everything he knew. I didn’t think it fair to even ask him to make that decision. Further the position was a live-in position (an apartment in a residence hall) – he had never lived on a college campus so had no idea of what to expect so it would have been unfair to have put him in that environment. Basically I was a stupid idiot that walked out on him.
We did talk after I got there and I explained everything and why I did what I did (he was crying the whole time and for the most part so was I, but I was convinced I had made the right decision). I saw him in December at a party and he was with someone else (actually a friend who was playing boyfriend to make me feel bad). We talked some more and put the hard feelings to rest.
I returned in May to be with a friend who was dieing. I had talked with him and he knew I was back. One night I just showed up on his doorstep crying (Becky had taken a turn for the worse) – he took me in and talked and comforted me. I stayed there that night and the next morning I woke up and wanted to be with him – I loved him and knew it and I just wanted to show that and be with him. He woke up to me giving him a blowjob – we made love for close to six hours. In other words we got back together, it was a little odd at first – basically I spent all my time telling him I was sorry for being an asshole. He was by my side through her death.
After that we decided to take a vacation (he spent 2 weeks with me and I spent another 4 after that) in New Orleans. During that time we made up for lost time, and it was also the first time we both truly told the other those three words (the hardest in the human language to say) I LOVE YOU. Well, we talked through the relationship and in depth on why I had done what I did and we together came to a conclusion. That another time and another place we would be together and it would last, but at this point in our lives it limited our options. We decided that it would last as long as it would last (basically until I left again).
So in other words he is faced with that possibility again, the possibility that I will leave. It is hard for me to think about it, so I can only imagine what it is like for him. He has to be wondering if the man that he loves will walk out on him for a second time. I don’t really know what to say or even tell him. In truth I didn’t think it would be that hard for me either. The other thing is that I searched much closer, 250 miles is not really all that far (4 hour drive okay maybe a little on the far side for a relationship, but it could work). But then again, all this worrying may all be for not because I may not even get invited for a campus interview or get the job, who the hell knows. All I know is that I think I am losing him again and this time he is leaving me.
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