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Cut, cut. - 2007-02-09

No, really... how are YOU? - 2006-10-23

And now, finally: something (ish) - 2006-07-27

What Happened to March and April, eh??? - 2006-04-25

Well hello there, February. - 2006-02-16

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< L DykeWrite3 # >

2003-05-25 - 9:24 p.m.

Warning: classic LONG, WORDY, RAMBLING situation to follow.

Cough. Weez.

Sorry, that�s just me�. Looking for sympathy for this mother f�n not-a-cold/not-the-flu/dragging my ass situation. Apparently, if I had a regular job-situation I�d be totally bummed that my ass is draggin� on such a corporate-official 3-day weekend in honor of our troops, but since EVERYDAY feels like a holiday in honor of our troops, I�m just fine with it.

Sure, we put out our little flag (that�s little flag, not little fag) and we�re having a bunch of lezzie�s over for grillin and chillin and spillin tomorrow (mmmmm, can�t you just smell the damn veggie burgers now??? Damn veggie friends that I love more than life itself.

Of course we�ll dedicate an entire side of the grill and keep it kosher for the veggie burgers. Of course we�ll use a separate set of tongs and flippers and flipper-tongs for your items.

BUT�then we�re gonna sit you right next to the beef-eatin�/sausage munchin straight boys who love to party with us. They�ll sit there tossing back their shots of tequila and they�ll have beef/sausage juices smeared on their faces and they�ll politely ask you how your ex-girlfriend is and if her rash ever cleared up. Our straight-boy buddies LOVE hangin� with the lezzie�s at Lakeridge. They�re just THAT cute� and we love them� and we don�t even love them because we want to harvest their sperm to make our own "girl on girl" babies. Nope. We don�t want their sperm. Just their ever-lovin/tequila-shooting/blues-listening/sausage (actual sausage) munchin�/ straight-boy selves. Pure and simple.

So.. yeah, anyway�that�s what our clich�d memorial day will be all about. Oh, that and as many short-viewings of THE JERRY LEWIS LABOR DAY MUSCULAR DYSTROPHY TELETHON that I can possibly manage (or womanage). I grew up with it, I always pledged money� and wept at the stories�. And loved the entertainment�camp value included, but with a side order of sincerity. Bottom line�it was all for the kids.

Digressing further, I must share/dump as brief a version as I can muster of something I�m calling:

�Getting my dragging/coughing ass outta my sick(ish) bed and driving with my girlfriend/same-sex partner/lady-lover/meal-ticket/driver of choice 2 hours to some suburb(ish) place to see a friends daughter in a middle school production of Bugsy Malone on the Friday evening of the Memorial Day Weekend�.

Did the title give too much away? Did it? Did I shoot my woman-load?

Don�t worry. I know I did. Here�s a Kleenex.

Friday afternoon. Me. Bed. Cough. Girlfriend/same-sex partner/lady-lover/meal-ticket/nurse of choice bringing me ZINC lozenges and WELLNESS situations and HOMOSEXUAL-a-pathic remedies of all sorts. I enjoy the attention.

Phone rings. I answer with my sexy/throaty/raspy/coughy/slightly-disturbing voice. It�s a friend. A friend with a 12-year-old-daughter who NEXT WEEK is performing in her middle school�s production of BUGSY MALONE that we promised to attend.

Me into the phone: What? What do you mean it�s tonight? (cough/weez/shit! (the exclamation, not the body function). Well I know we promised her we�d come... Of course... Of course we�ll be there (cough/weez/shit!). No problem, we�ll just leave YESTERDAY�since it will take us 24 hours to travel the 50 miles from Hollywood to Anaheim-whatever on the FRIDAY AFTERNOON of the MEMORIAL DAY WEEKEND.

Yep. We�ll be there. Yeah, I�m okay. Just a little cough.

Here�s the problem. I�ve known the Mother forever. She knew me in my 20's when I was with MEN� yes, pre-lezzie. She LOVES my Girlfriend/same-sex partner/lady-lover/meal-ticket almost as much as I do. We�ve known the 12-year-old-daughter since BEFORE the mother decided to not divorce her husband, give it one more try and voila�a baby came along. That�s how long we�ve known these people. So, yeah� we had to go to the middle school�s production of BUGSY MALONE on the FRIDAY AFTERNOON of the MEMORIAL DAY WEEKEND.

2. 5 hours. 2.5 hours in the Land Rover (and Rove we did). I took DAYQUIL (be gone, all you healthy-homeo-erotic-opathic remedies) and we drove. My Girlfriend/same-sex partner/lady-lover/meal-ticket/driver of choice. DID NOT COMPLAIN once.

She didn�t complain when we arrived and found ourselves surrounded by the MOST WHITE-BREAD BORING KNOTT�S LANDING/PRIVATE SCHOOL kind of suburb(ish) parents ever non-imagined�. Dressed as �gangsters� and �flappers� for the BUGSY MALONE theme. Note: We were NOT theme-dressed.

She didn�t complain when we found out that it was going to be a �dinner theater� situation, and that we would be seated at crowded table-rounds and served salads with �Italian�(ish) dressing and pasta (ish) and garlic bread (ish) and a few other food (ish) items would be served to us by very borderline sweet/spoiled little 7th and 8th grader girls who will probably never have to waitress a day-in-their-charmed-lives and the irony wasn�t lost on me and I wanted to be mean but couldn�t.

My Girlfriend/same-sex partner/lady-lover/meal-ticket/date of choice didn�t complain when we were TREATED to an opening act made up of TEACHERS dressed as �flappers� and �gangsters� singing �non-songs� about inside-jokes that we knew nothing about.

Nor did she complain when the show ran 2 hours. And that's 2 "Middle School Dinner Theater" Hours, not regular hours.

We went, we sat, we smiled, we were 2 lezzies among 350 non-lezzies.

And, in the end, when our dear, sweet little 12-year old pal, who we came all that way to see, was being held up on the shoulders of a big tall 8th grade boy, and she rose high above the rest� and all those �bugsy malone-dressed kids� sang their finale and the silly-string guns shot their loads and the confetti dropped from the ceiling�I wept. (or maybe just a result of itchy/water eyes on overload??). Then our little 12-year-old-pal came running right up to us and hugged us both with all the energy and excitement of a 12-year-old girl who just finished performing in her middle school�s production of BUGSY MALONE on the FRIDAY EVENING of the MEMORIAL DAY WEEKEND. She was so excited that we had been there�. and it was all worth it.

Have a happy holiday all you gang(sters) and flappers.