digestion

I am pleased to report that the Weenie Roast went off without a hitch. Sure, it was hot as balls up on the roof deck and based on the way I soaked through my shirt, I really should by all rights rename myself Schweaty McArmpits. Lawdy, do I perspire.

But gnarly glandular issues aside, it was awesome. I met loads of cool new people and reconnected with plenty of familiar faces. I had a great time and want to thank everyone for schlepping out to Brooklyn on such a hot day. I'll post a proper recap with names later but for now, I need to go hump my air conditioner.

Before I go do dirty dirty things to my Fedders window unit, here are a few pictures I took. Forgive the paltry number but my batteries crapped out early into the evening because, like a dumb ass, I forgot to charge them. I'm sure there are other photos floating around out there that will be posted before long.

P.S. I'm a bit tired and tipsy at the moment so if I screwed up/forgot any names in the photo descriptions, help a sister out and add them in the comments on Flickr. Please and thank you! More to come...

nyc pride march

Hope you all had an enjoyable Pride weekend! I certainly did. I've got the exhaustion and the bags under my eyes to prove it. Then again, I was also out celebrating while battling the stubborn remnants of the flu. But if anyone asks, I'm all haggard and spent because I'm totally bad ass, not germ-ridden. Pass it on.

Anyhoo, I was lucky enough to secure a spot on a balcony overlooking Fifth Avenue for today's Pride March. Sadly, my lack of a good zoom lens prevented me from taking any photos worthy of posting, despite my awesome location. I did manage to get this one with my cell phone which isn't too shabby...

And I also filmed a bit of the party, in particular the rollicking response to the Caribbean-themed float passing by underneath. It's sort of Blair Witch-like with the jerky camera movements but I guarantee you'll smile through the motion sickness when you get a load of these gay boys bopping around to Rihanna's "Umbrella." Check it out...

More to come later.

15th annual dyke march

I'm heading out to the big-ass Pride March in a few. But before I go, here are some pictures from yesterday's New York City Dyke March...

Or, check out my Flickr set. Happy Pride!

proud

Happy Pride! In honor of this weekend's fabulous festivities, I'm dusting off a sampling of some of the more Sapphic scribblings in my archives.

Hopefully by Sunday night, I'll have a few new ones to share. Until then, enjoy...

:: Are You There God? It's Me, Curly

:: Debunking the Myth about Marcie's Sexuality

:: Delayed Gratification

:: Flirtation

:: From the Home Office in Provincetown, Massachusetts

:: Hear Ye, Hear Ye

:: I'll Stick with the Clam Dip, Thanks

:: I'm a [Last Name] Girl

:: I'm Here and, Like, Totally Queer and Stuff

:: On Matrimony, New Additions and Accidental Hand Jobs

:: Personal Best

:: Re: The Muppets

:: Rule of Thumb... and Pinky, Middle, Index and Ring

:: Someone Is on Your Side

:: The Trunk

:: My Way Gay Tale of Even Gayer Gayness

:: We Like Her, We REALLY REALLY Like Her

Thanks for indulging me in this little retrospective. Have fun getting your gay on this weekend!

change o' date for the weenie roast

Greetings! The date for the first-ever Weenie Roast has been changed to Sunday, July 15.

Click to enlarge

When: Sunday, July 15, 4PM - ???
Where: Roof Deck at Cattyshack
249 4th Avenue, Brooklyn;
(between President & Carroll Streets)
Directions & more info: cattyshackbklyn.com

UPDATED: Weenie Roast: FAQ

Thanks!

weenie roast

Whatcha doing on Sunday, July 8 15? Join me and a few of my fellow GLBT bloggers for a laid-back evening of blog talk, burgers and booze at Cattyshack here in beautiful Brooklyn, NY.

I'm totally taking a page from (aka biting off) the venerable Joe.My.God.'s wildly successful Blarg Hop here. Joe has proven on several occasions that bloggers + alchohol = good times, good times. I have first-hand knowledge of this as I attended the Blarg Hop in February. 'Twas a hoot. In fact, there is photographic evidence of me making a dirty, filthy gesture and if my mama ever saw it, she'd say, "What's that you're doing with your hand? Shazbot?" And then when informed of the actual non-Mork and Mindy meaning, she would disown me tout de suite.

And no, you cannot see it.

Because I said so, that's why. Now drop it.

But I digress, the get-together was so much fun and it provided the opportunity for many a mutual admiration society to come face-to-face.

Since the kick-ass Helen the Felon and I were frequently the lone vaginas at these soirees, we decided that the gay female blogging community in the NYC area needed to represent. And thus, we bring you the first-ever Weenie Roast...

Click to enlarge

When: Sunday, July 8 15, 4PM - ???
Where: Roof Deck at Cattyshack
249 4th Avenue, Brooklyn;
(between President & Carroll Streets)
Directions & more info: cattyshackbklyn.com

Gay boys, breeders and non-bloggers (oh my) welcome!

UPDATED: Weenie Roast: FAQ

*************************

Attending: Me, duh; The Ninth Circle of Helen; Surplus; Joe.My.God., Tina-cious; House of Jero; Post No Bills: New York Adventures in Banality; NY Radical; Zeebahtronic; Babs' Travels; This Girl Called Automatic Win; Meanwhile; The Misadventures of an Adult Onset Athlete; Hyperdonut; Royspeaking; Confessions of a Southern Boy in Yankee Land; Rusty's Balcony; Crash and Byrne; Uffish Thoughts; Blind Cavefish; Cheryl B; Kelli Dunham; See My Briefs; The Lunar Gemini

Let me know if you're coming and I'll link to you. Oh, and pass it on and stuff!

Thanks!

if you can dodge a wrench, you can dodge a ball

Guess who just signed up for a dodgeball league?! No, not Bea Arthur. Me, sillies! I just joined Big Apple Dodgeball, NYC's first GLBT/GLBT-friendly league.

Ah, I love the sound of that red bouncy ball pelting flesh! I'm quite good at making that noise as I have quite a wicked throw, if I do say so myself. Actually, I did say so myself already a while back... Click here to read all about my dodgeball acumen.

Wanna join me? The league is still gathering names and will send out more info soon. If you're interested, email them @ bigappledodgeball[AT]gmail[DOT]com.

I promise not to hit you in the face. Or at least, I'll try not to, because I'm a good sport like that.

pardon my french... manicure

Oh, the indignities we lesbians suffer in order to ensure our partners' maximum comfort while doing the deed. Check out Kevyn Abernathy's funny tale of fingernails over at QueerSighted.com. She's the lone lesbian writer on the site so please go and show her some love.

While I'm doing a bit of plugging, A Lesbian's Life is currently seeking "individuals who have had rich life experiences" and would like to take part their upcoming series called, WOW-Women on Women™. Oh and they're also soliciting photo submissions of smooching sisters for a kissing contest. Click here for more information.

i chart, you chart, they chart

Attention lesbians and those who want to socially network with us on a site that took forever to launch and from my limited exposure to it is quite buggy and lacks an intuitive user interface! Yeah, you! Listen up!

I finally set up my profile up on OurChart.com. Look me up... if you can figure out how!

Update: Here's a link to my profile, OurChart members. Admittedly, my profile is pretty much empty at the moment. I'll complete it when both my temper and attention span are not in such short supply. That site tries my patience, yo.

thank you!!!

Thanks to lots of shameless shilling on my part and some possible voting irregularities, it seems that Ham & Cheese on Wry is the 2006 TLL Lesbian Blog of the Year.

Lori of Hahn at Home technically received the most votes but she removed herself from the running because she felt some people voted for her site more than once.

Wow. That takes a lot of integrity and class and Lori deserves high praise. And my sincere gratitude... Thank you, Lori! You're truly awesome.

Thank you to everyone who nominated and voted for my blog. And thanks and a big welcome to all the new readers who stopped by and patiently read through all of my posts from the schmoopie to the insane. I'm happy to have you here.

And finally, thanks to Kelly at The Lesbian Lifestyle who organized this whole shebang. I know it was a lot of hard work and I know I speak for everyone involved when I say your efforts are much appreciated. Thank you!

I hereby promise to honor and uphold the duties of my crown and not pull a Tara Conner. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to tie one on in celebration. Uh... with a non-alcoholic beverage, of course.

Thanks again!

another shameless appeal for votes

Just a reminder/desperate plea to vote for your favorite lesbian blog in the TLL's Lesbian Blog of the Year competition. It doesn't have to be my blog you vote for, mind you. I won't hate you if you don't vote for moi. I'll just harbor a lifetime of resentment and be all passive-aggressive and snotty when responding to your comments. But I do that anyway...

One vote per person. Voting (and my nagging) ends on Saturday, February 17. Thanks so much!

P.S. Happy Valentine's Day!

cool!

It's official: I'm a finalist in TLL's Lesbian Blog of the Year competition. Thanks to everyone who nominated me! But you're not off the hook yet! Please click here to cast your vote for Ham & Cheese on Wry. And don't forget to check out my talented competition:

:: Tina-cious
:: Hahn At Home
:: Dorothy Surrenders
:: Girl Punch

Congratulations to my fellow nominees. It's an honor to be in this category with you. Best of luck!

Here are some choice cuts of ham and select cheeses (on wry) for those of you new to the fray:

:: are you there god? it's me, curly
:: debunking the myth about marcie's sexuality
:: flirtation
:: from the home office in provincetown, ma
:: i'll have the big gulp, thank you
:: i'm a [last name] girl
:: i'm here, i'm queer, get used to me
:: my left foot
:: a letter to my menstrual cycle
:: an ode to my itty bitty titties
:: re: the muppets
:: the requisite essay on pride
:: the trunk
:: my way gay tale of even gayer gayness

Now get to voting! Thank you!

'cause i'm a whore...

:: Obnoxious, Desperate Behavior Alert! ::

Just a reminder that nominations for The Lesbian Lifestyle's first annual Lesbian Blog of the Year Award are still open. Currently, I'm in the top five but there are still a few weeks to go before the voting begins and, well, I could be knocked off my cushy perch. We can't have that, now can we?

If you haven't done so already, please stop by TLL and nominate my blog. (Leave the blog name/URL in the comments.)

Oh and a MAJOR thanks to those of you who did so already. I appreciate it. Your work here is done... um, unless I make it into the finals and then I'll start a whole new campaign of pleading and nagging when voting begins. It's going to be so much fun!! Aren't you looking forward to that?!?

For you newbies to Ham & Cheese on Wry, welcome! Here are a few choice links to get you acquainted with my silly wee spot on the web:

:: are you there god? it's me, curly
:: debunking the myth about marcie's sexuality
:: flirtation
:: from the home office in provincetown, ma
:: i'll have the big gulp, thank you
:: i'm a [last name] girl
:: i'm here, i'm queer, get used to me
:: my left foot
:: a letter to my menstrual cycle
:: an ode to my itty bitty titties
:: re: the muppets
:: the requisite essay on pride
:: the trunk
:: my way gay tale of even gayer gayness

Thanks again!

ourchart.com

Attention lesbians! The Chart is finally here... well, almost. Let me back up... If you've been following The L Word (and I know you have), then you already know all about The Chart, Alice Pieszecki's hand-drawn web of women who have banged each other silly. It's sort of like Six Degrees of Sapphic Separation mapped out on a dry-erase board.

Anyhoo, some of the producers and stars of The L Word got together and launched an online equivalent called OurChart.com. It's one of them there social networking sites for the lesbian, bisexual and transgendered community. Think MySpace or Facebook, but with less pedophiles and unknown, crappy bands trying to befriend you.

The actual chart is not yet live but the rest of the site has officially launched, complete with articles, blog posts and lots of other good stuff. I'm particularly thrilled with the inclusion of behind-the-scenes photos taken by Jennifer Beals.

I adore Jennifer Beals. She can break my heart into a million pieces with just one facial expression: The wounded look. I believe she holds the patent on it. No one can portray hurt quite like Jennifer Beals. She furrows her brow and opens her mouth ever so slightly and God, it just levels me. I am beyond smitten with her.

But I digress... Beals is actually an accomplished photographer. Have you seen The Anniversary Party? Jennifer's photos appear in that film, as a matter of fact. She's got an amazing eye.

Okay, enough mooning over Jennifer... Once The Chart launches, I'll let you know so you can join my network. I'm pretty sure the rules are somewhat different than the show in that we don't actually need to know each other in the Biblical sense in order to be connected. However, if you're a real stickler for details, we could work something out....

Photo: TV Guide

queer of the year 2006: and the winner is...

... posted over on Joe.My.God's blog.

Such a tease, aren't I?

Thanks to all who nominated and voted for the finalists.

a lovely start to the new year...

Woo hoo! I was just informed that I'm a nominee for The Lesbian Lifestyle's first annual Lesbian Blog of the Year Award. Cool!

I am thrilled that I'm even being considered for this honor. A big thanks and a big ol' wet one to those of you who nominated my site. I appreciate it!

Nominations are open until January 31st and then voting on the top 5 most nominated blogs starts February 2nd. Iffin' you don't mind, I'd be beyond elated if you'd mosey on over there and nominate my blog.

Thank you kindly and best of luck to all the nominees!

looking back

Happy New Year... almost! I'm going to close out 2006 the same way I did last year with a month-by-month recap of posts.

Suffer.

JANUARY

Re: The Muppets
Here began what turned out to be a 13-part series. It chronicles first love and my process of coming out. Independently, those can both be brutal experiences. When you combine the two, it's completely overwhelming. I almost didn't survive it but hot damn, I made it through. Go me.

I haven't really gone back and read this all the way through after posting it. Occasionally, I'll catch a glimpse of paragraph or passage and honestly, I don't even remember writing it. It just sort of flowed out in a way that I can't explain.

I was scared to poke around in old memories and really hesitant to bare my soul like that to the world but something inside just told me to go for it. And I'm so glad I did. I feel like I finally put that part of my life to rest.

An added bonus to sharing my story was the response I got from people all over the world -- gay, straight, confused, male, female, transgendered, Christian, Jewish, Muslim and everyone in between. Some were too shy to comment and instead, sent highly personal emails to me sharing bits of their own lives and thanking me for sharing mine. It struck a chord I never could have anticipated and inspired a few people to write their own stories. I can't even properly articulate how much that means to me.

Thanks again to everyone who read the story and cheered me on as I labored through the tough parts.

Okay, enough mush. Next!

FEBRUARY

Cottonmouth Au Jus
Here is yet another of the many gems uttered by my beloved niece.

An Open Letter to the Building Facilities Person(s) in Charge of Ordering Paper Goods for the Bathroom at My Job
The custodial staff at my office building feels the business end of a complaint letter composed by yours truly.

Judge Not
Who knew Peter Cetera could set off such a firestorm of controversy?! (Psst! Read the comments on that post.)

MARCH

Erin-Go-A-Cup Bragh
A retelling of the acquisition of my first bra and an unfortunate nickname.

Courtney & Tina: A Theory
Were Kurt's widow and Jennifer Keaton one and the same?

APRIL

The Terrible Twos
My blog became toddler this past year. In case you're wondering, the whole potty training thing is still a work in progress. Don't rush me!

A Not-So-Good Friday
Another tale of Catholic hi jinx.

MAY

An Announcement
Fans of off-key oversinging everywhere rejoiced at the birth of American Midol, the smart-assed brainchild of Mejack, The Lovely Jess and myself. The new season starts soon so stay tuned for more shameless plugs!

In the Criminal Justice System
A footnote (pun totally intended) to the tale of my tortured tootsies.

On Why the Newspaper Guy Must Think I'm a Complete Asshole
This one got a Gawker link, bitches!

JUNE

What's Grosser Than Gross?
Ham & Cheese on Wry goes interactive! Here are the results of a poll on the most disgusting television commercials currently on the air. Caution: the term "nail bed" is used.

Duh, Baryshnikov
Mejack and I discuss plot holes in the Soviet-era film White Nights. You know, typical conversation...

My Way Gay Tale of Even Gayer Gayness
Here's the piece I read at my first-ever public appearance as Curly McDimple. Not only did my story garner a few laughs, I also didn't shit my pants. Success!

JULY

They Feel the Need, The Need for Speed[os]
Photos of Brighton Beach's finest on parade.

He Will 'Rize' Again
The Lovely Jess and I make suggestions to improve the Catholic Mass. Oddly enough, the Church didn't heed our advice. Fools.

Oh man, I'm going to have to say a good Act of Contrition for that.

AUGUST

Rule Of Thumb... And Pinky, Middle, Index & Ring
The results of a manicure given by my six-year-old niece.

Are You There God? It's Me, Curly
An appeal to a higher authority for my menstrual cycle to fuck off.

SEPTEMBER

Rod 'The Bod' and God Side-by-Side on the R Train
Screw The Naked Cowboy. This woman has the hottest act in all of NYC.

My 'Porchret'
The niece takes up portrait drawing as a hobby. Behold the birth of an artiste!

OCTOBER

Toreador, Don't Spit on the Floor
I got all fancy and went to my first opera with The Hot Russian. And it totally didn't suck and stuff.

On Altruism and Inadvertent Anti-Piracy Measures
Another Gawker link! They just love to showcase when I make an ass out of myself.

NOVEMBER

Our Version of Rate-a-Record
The Lovely Jess and I go toe-to-toe on the appeal of Faith No More and the Dave Matthews Band. Caution: The term "mushy peas" is mentioned.

DECEMBER

Acting? Thank You!
Save your pennies for some Broadway tickets and set your TiVos to record the next Tony Awards. 2006 is the year I became an actor!

They Do Know... They Just Don't Care
Band Aid was a noble effort. Really it was but dear God, those lyrics! Here I take Sir Bob down a notch... or twelve.

loose lips

Last night was acting class number two. There was a bit of chaos outside the classroom prior to the start. The 6:00 class ran late sending about 20 actors spilling out into the cramped corridor occupied by students awaiting the 8:00 session.

I arrived, took one look at the disorderly scene and then secured a spot up against the wall out of the path of the recently-dismissed.

A bespectacled man in his late 20s(ish) was standing next to me. He looked me over and shyly asked, "Which class is meeting in here next?"

"Beginning Technique," I offered with a smile as I rearranged the heavy, uncomfortable load in my arms.

He returned the friendly expression and then cast his eyes downward towards my hands. The smile was replaced with a look of supreme discomfort and then he quickly spun on his heel and took about three giant steps away from me.

I looked down to see what he found so off-putting and there in my grip was the folded copy of Gay City News I had just picked up on a whim at a kiosk on West 12th Street.

Okay, which one of you dykes got sloppy and lost her copy of The Lesbian Handbook? Fess up, now. It seems this... this... boy somehow got his oppressive, misogynistic mitts on one and found the passage on page 103 which states, and I quote:

Wherein any straight male with the unmitigated gall to dare socialize with any member of The Lesbian Sisterhood shall be castrated on site (using attached rusty machete). The severed member will then be held up for all to witness after which it should be flung on the floor in disgust, set on fire (preferably using cheap liquor as the flammable agent) and then an interpretive Wiccan ritual dance performed around it. Invoking the name of Martina Navratilova is optional.

Ladies, do you see why we mustn't let this material fall into the wrong hands? He ran away before I could complete the task and now I'm going to fall short of my decapitated dick forecasts for the fourth quarter. You dumb bitches just cost me an all-expense-paid trip to the Michigan Womyn's Music Festival. Thanks. Thanks a lot.

queer of the year readers poll

"Which queer person most advanced the state of the gay rights movement in 2006?"

Have an answer to that question? Visit Joe.My.God. -- one of my favorite queers -- and nominate your choice(s) in the Queer Of The Year Readers Poll. The poll closes on Friday, December 15. The results will be announced on January 3, 2007.

Thank you.

reason #4,872 why i'm the worst lesbian ever (tm)

Courtesy of The Hot Russian.

mark this down...

Today I am not ashamed to say that I originally hail from the Garden State.

Fear not, my Jersey-related inferiority and persecution complexes will return in full-swing tomorrow.

Further Reading
:: N.J. Court Rejects Gay Marriage (365Gay.com)
:: N.J. Supreme Court Has It Both Ways on the Gays (Gawker)
:: New Jersey Says Same-Sex Unions Are Legal (Worth Repeating)
:: New Jersey (Andrew Sullivan)
:: NJ Homos Improve Bus Seating, Slightly (Joe.My.God.)
:: Gay Couples Must Get the Same Rights and Benefits as Hetero Couples BUT... (Daily Dose of Queer)
:: Technorati Search

rule of thumb... and pinky, middle, index & ring

When approached by a six year old toting Bratz bubble gum pink nail polish, one should ask about the availability of nail polish remover prior to application. Otherwise, you'll have to rock this look until you can finally get your hands on some Cutex...

Hot, right?

Note: In anticipation of comments concerning the stereotypical length of my lesbian nails, I've taken the liberty of preparing a rebuttal ahead of time. So, for those of you about to go down that well-worn road, kindly click here first ... then sit; and finally, spin. Thank you.

i've got chills, they're multiplyin'

No seriously, I do. Yesterday a faint throb in my throat surfaced. Convinced it was just a case of parched throat, I drank plenty of fluids -- okay, beer -- to quench the small flames starting to lick at my tonsils. As the day progressed, my throat felt like I had eaten the bottle my Sam Adams Light was housed in.

I shuffled home and crumpled on my couch, in an achy, shivering heap. I reached for the afghan my mother crocheted me when I was nine and still trembled beneath its soft, cozy thickness. I dragged my sorry ass into bed only to be kept awake by my fluctuating body temperature and an overall dull pain marching around the perimeter of my body. One thought entered my mind: "Oh God, please don't let me puke."

I am the biggest baby when it comes to the vomiting. I whimper and feel all sorry for myself. Occasionally, I cry. Call me a baby but yo, having the entire contents of my stomach violently and quickly forced back out my mouth? I no likey. Fortunately, the puking never came. But I barely slept a wink last night and today I'm a clammy, feverish, nauseous mess.

I would like to say that this bout of the funk came courtesy of a wild Pride weekend. Alas, I had to miss the parade yesterday to attend a 40th birthday party for my brother-in-law. Saturday was a bust because my delicate, lazy ass couldn't abide the rain thereby preventing me from attending the Dyke March and its various after parties. Sadly, my Pride activities were rather limited this year. Although, there was a rather raucous game of Spin the Bottle played at a fabulous pre-Pride party I went to on Friday night. Wanna know how gay the party was? A Julia Sugarbaker (of Designing Women) monologue was performed. Flawlessly and with major 'tude. Need I say more?

But back to Spin the Bottle -- I was smooching people left and right. Seriously, I found myself in a rather lucky position favored by the bottle courtesy of a sloping wood floor. Good times. Good times. My lips were, how you say, chapped by night's end. Give it up for lip balm. And communicable diseases, apparently.

I hope all you gays had a fun, event-filled and funk-free Pride weekend. I wish I could say that same. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to have some toast and ginger ale and watch some garbage TV.

my way gay tale of even gayer gayness

I survived my first-ever WYSIWYG Talent Show! I stressed out majorly before going on but I really had a great time up on that stage. I think my story went over well. Um, I also think that there's a whole new crop of people out there who think I'm a complete bitch based on my scathing critique of dates gone bad, but hey, them's the breaks. People are bound to find out sooner or later that I'm a real asswipe, no?

A big thank you to Chris, Andy and Dan for allowing me to get my WYSIWYG on. It was an honor and a pleasure to share the spotlight with Rod Townsend, The Spinster, Greg Walloch, dj:ayden, Joe.My.God and Joel Derfner. What illustrious company I keep!!! Thank you so much for the opportunity. You were all amazing!

For those of you who couldn't make it, here's the piece I read last night:

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Sometime last year, my fellow WYSIWYGer tonight, Joe.My.God, sent an email to a bunch of us homo bloggers and posed the question: What is the gayest thing you've ever done?

I thought it would be easy enough to answer. After all, I'm one of The Homosexuals and therefore can easily rattle off a list of things that make me a big ol' lez.

For one, there's the whole aversion to cock thing. Secondly... actually, wait... I guess that right there makes it an open and shut case, no? I don't like dick. Simple.

But believe you me, there are a litany of ways in which I earn my Sapphic stripes so I felt like I was more than up to Joe.My.God's challenge... until I started trying to write about it. As I sifted through my memories trying to find something that demonstrated my over-the-top dykedom, I couldn't find shit. I had not a single, salacious story to share so I just ended up slapping together some lame nonsense about the overly-schmoopie things my ex-girlfriend and I used to do for each other.

For example, she wrote me tons of free-verse poetry and gave me lots of dolphin brick-a-brack and in exchange, I adopted us a whale and made her dozens of mix tapes which, in retrospect, were quite heavy on the 10,000 Maniacs. Now, that might seem like an odd and incongruous musical choice but it was a two-pronged approach really. I felt like I could not only woo this girl with some of Natalie Merchant's more syrupy lyrics, but I could also raise her level of awareness of things like child abuse, illiteracy, corporate greed, the Great Depression, teenage pregnancy, freedom of choice and oil spills.

But, as I fully expected, my less-than-tawdry tale barely ranked as queer next to some of the others in Joe's compilation. And I'm not sure how my account tonight will stack up on the Way Gay meter so, instead of trying to outgay anyone, I'm opting instead to stick with what I know best -- making fun of people.

So, without further ado...

I went out with a woman last year and how do I put this delicately? I banged her on the second date. A day or two later, after said banging, I received an email from her that went a little something like this:

Curly,
I just wanted to thank you for the other night. It was wonderful spending time with you... and making love with you. You are a gifted and amazing lover.

OH.MY.GOD. I wasn't even that freaked out by the level of intimacy she had assumed about us. No. No. I was more concerned that I had just fucked someone who actually used the term "making love" in all seriousness. As well as the word "lover." Without irony. Or a funny accent.

Now lest you think I'm an ingrate, I must say that I appreciate a nice thank you note as much as the next person but well, in this case it's a bit unnecessary. The screaming orgasms -- note the plural -- and the scratch marks down my back were all the thanks I needed, really.

About two years ago, while perusing the online personals, I came across an intriguing profile. I was immediately taken with her cool name. It was the same name as a rather crunchy city in Arizona, which I just assumed was where she was born or conceived or something. Actually, I had envisioned quite the back story for this woman based solely on this name. I theorized that her parents were hippy-dippy academics and she was their free-spirited daughter who favored peasant blouses, flowing skirts and bare feet and probably always had a good stash of weed on hand.

We hit it off over email and agreed to a date. I was really looking forward to meeting her. I arrived first and nervously waited for the beautiful hippie of my imagination to appear. I was all atwitter over the possibilities.

A few minutes later, in bounds a woman with stringy brown hair, pale, dull skin and the same build and carriage as Jar Jar Binks.

When she thrust out a bony hand and introduced herself to me, my heart which was so puffed up with hope and expectation deflated and shot around the room like an unsealed balloon.

Instead of the envisioned bare feet and a flowing skirt, she was wearing lug-soled shoes that were far too large and clunky for the tapered-ankle high-waisted Mom jeans she was wearing. And in place of the delicate peasant blouse was a thick black Champion sweatshirt. Actually, I could tell it used to be black but by now, it was more of a charcoal gray because of age and repeated exposure to detergent.

And there was no killer weed to be found on this girl. The only type of drug paraphernalia on her was an EpiPen. Turns out, this chick was allergic to her own snot. And her allergies were so bad, she couldn't risk eating or drinking anything that she didn't prepare herself so she brought a small cooler bag containing quite the nut-free, gluten-free, dairy-free assortment. Oh, and some orange shit in a Poland Spring bottle that I didn't even want to know about. And then she offered me some of her hypoallergenic stash with the same ease and expectation as if she was offering me an Altoid.

The outlook was not good but I held out hope for some stimulating conversation. I don't know what I was thinking. There was a better chance of monkeys flying out both our butts. Actually, that's probably not the best choice of expression because knowing her allergies, monkeys flying out the butt was probably a side effect she suffered as a result of eating, I don't know... soy or something.

So, needless to say that stimulating conversation never quite materialized. Instead, she spent most of the time talking about her various reactions in gruesome and excruciating detail as well as the life-saving benefits and properties of epinephrine. Um, in case you were wondering, talking about anaphylaxis on a first date? Soooooooooo NOT hot.

But her name still interested me so once I got her to stop yapping about her freakish swelling and violent vomiting spells, I inquired about its origin. It turns out that after one visit to, uh... for the sake of protecting her identity, we'll call it... uh, I don't know, Flagstaff... she decided that she liked the "energy fields" and the "unique aura." So much so that she needed to rechristen herself... Flagstaff.

Now, I don't know about the rest of you but when I really like a place I visit, I just buy myself a nice magnet or a coffee cup or something. Granted, I realize I don't have much sway in arguing against renaming oneself as I stand before you as Curly McDimple (not my real name) but then again, I'm not demanding that family, friends, coworkers and random people I meet on Nerve address me as such. Uh, just you guys here.

And the thing is, Flagstaff's real name was, like, Elizabeth or whatever. And well, the whole thing is just silly especially when you consider that there's a perfectly good city bearing her Christian name right across the Hudson over here. I mean, one could argue that Elizabeth, New Jersey also possesses "energy fields" and a "unique aura." Sure, the "energy fields" will most likely give you inoperable cancer and that "unique aura" possesses a smell that's akin to a dirty diaper hitting you in the face shit-side up, but still, Elizabeth's not without its charms.

I didn't always rely on online dating. When I first came out, I tried to meet people the old-fashioned way. I enlisted the help of my dear friend from high school, Filomena. Unfortunately, I think she took the whole "old-fashioned" thing a little too literally. In one of my first ventures out into the scene, she took me to a dance... sponsored by SAGE.

For you breeders in the audience, that acronym stands for Senior Action in a Gay Environment. In other words, it's for old people. Don't get me wrong, I have nothing but massive amounts of gratitude and respect for our elder statesmen. I just don't necessarily want to slow dance to "Always and Forever" with them.

And while I really appreciated Filomena's efforts, it was just a bit much for my first time out. Seriously, we were there not five minutes before a woman closely resembling Leather Tuscadero hit on me. And then right after that, Donna Summer's English-version remake of that Andrea Bocelli song blared from the sound system much to the delight of the aging throngs and it suddenly turned into motherfucking Soul Train in there. I saw one old lady using her walking stick as a go-go pole of sorts and a bunch of old biddies engaged in some hard-core bumping and grinding and I got all overwhelmed and started to cry right there in the middle of the dance floor. So we left.

But Filomena was trying to be supportive and didn't want the night to be a total wash so she suggested that we go to Rubyfruit but then she couldn't remember where it was and I had never been there so I was of no use, so after wandering around the West Village aimlessly for a bit, we just went home. In retrospect, it was a good thing because I've since been to Rubyfruit and the clientele is not that much younger than at a SAGE dance. In fact, there's a lot of demographic overlap.

I finally braved Rubyfruit about a year or two ago and it looked like a fucking softball clinic in there. One woman gestured to me and I wasn't clear if she wanted me to dance with her or lay down a nice bunt. Had we gone there that night after the dance, I would have been permanently scarred. Primarily because a lot of the women in there looked like Ms. Neuschwander, our scary freshman-year gym teacher who favored polo shirts tucked into pleated, khaki shorts and was prone to slapping young girls on the ass as they got on and off the pommel horse.

So, after all my name-calling and ridiculing is said and done, it should perhaps come as no surprise to you that yes, I'm still single. Yup, I'm available and ripe for the picking, ladies. Not sure that's an enticing proposition because by now you might be thinking I'm judgmental, a bit immature, a tad obnoxious, slightly shallow perhaps, emotionally stunted even. And to that I say... uh, well, nothing, because you're right.

But hey, I'm not without merit entirely. My time is up so I can't go into my finer points at length. But allow me to leave you all with these four words: GIFTED AND AMAZING LOVER.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Thanks to everyone who came out to support me. Last night was a whirlwind so if I didn't get to properly thank you face-to-face, I promise I will do so. Extra special thanks to The Lovely Jess who served as therapist, cheerleader, wardrobe consultant, personal manager and so much more. You're the best. Thank you.

wysiwyg reminder!

Hooo lawdy! It's only a few days until I perform at The WYSIWYG Talent Show. Let the trembling and panic attacks begin!

If you'd like to see me wage battle against my nerves, please stop by the Bowery Poetry Club on June 20 and cheer me on along with these fabulous bloggers whose company I am honored to keep:

:: Greg Walloch ::
:: Spinster ::
:: Joe.My.God ::
:: Rod Townsend ::
:: Joel Derfner ::
:: dj:ayden ::

UPDATE! The Bowery Poetry Club doesn't sell tickets in advance. Doors open at 7:30 so please arrive early to secure your spot. This show will sell out. Fear not about the early arrival time -- there's a well-stocked bar to keep you entertained until showtime.

Please visit the WYSIWYG site for more info. Hope to see you there!

debunking the myth about marcie's sexuality

More than one person has found his/her way to Ham & Cheese on Wry by questioning the nature of the relationship between one miss Peppermint Patty and her bespectacled buddy, Marcie.

Because I'm one of the gays and, you know, we all know each other, I can say without equivocation that no, Marcie is not a sister. It chagrins me to do so since, clearly, the recruitment efforts of another lesbian (hello, Peppermint Patty) were less-than-successful. But fear not, fellow dykes, at last check, Patty had surrendered her decoder ring and the secret handshake was changed so that she is no longer in-the-know. We can't have that kind of piss-poor lesbian in our midst at the monthly meetings, you see.

But back to Marcie... Total breeder. A breeder with jungle fever, no less. Girlfriend's totally got it bad for Franklin. And didn't she and Pierre partake in a little sumpin' sumpin' on that trip to France? Or am I mistaken? That Marcie gets around, yo. Not too shabby for a girl with Coke-bottle glasses and stringy hair.

Perhaps Marcie had a drunken one-time fling with Patty, but that's about it. If I had to guess, I'd say that dalliance occurred during the river rafting trip. Lesbian camping skills are a complete turn-on, after all.

If you want to discuss raging dykes within the Peanuts set, I'd say to look no further than The Little Red-Haired Girl. She's completely dismissive of Charlie Brown's advances. Downright hostile, you could say. I mean, I realize Charlie Brown could send Ann Coulter running into the loving arms of Condoleezza, but that's neither here or there. Besides, Condi's probably already hit that. Awwwwwwwwwww snap! Take down! Two points!

Ahem. The Little Red-Haired Girl is a complete closet case, if you ask me. But she'll soon discover her true self. It won't be long before she's the one calling Peppermint Patty "Sir," if you catch my meaning.

Psst, it means that Peppermint Patty is a stone butch. A total top, if you will.

Ew, you do NOT want to know what I just visualized. :: shudder ::

Photo: Peanuts