New Year's Predictions 2009

So it's 11:11 and I'm watching Rachel Maddow. In one of the commercials highlighting big stuff from 2008, they show her response to Obama's win: "Yeah democracy!" Perfect. Best quote of the year.

I really didn't expect to stay up this late tonight. Since Jack was born I have been sound asleep at the stroke of midnight. But Nyack has fireworks, which always wake me up anyway, so I'm just staying up.

One of these days Polly and I will actually go out again on New Year's Eve, but sleep and comfort are more important to us than booze and revelry at this point. Besides, a hangover is ten times worse when you have to parent a four-year-old who says "no" 326 times a day and bounces off walls.

It's now 11:21 and Polly just walked in and said, "WTF?" when she saw Hal Sparks on Rachel Maddow. What the hell happened to his hair?

For the record, it is now down past his shoulders. Do you see what happens when your gay TV show is canceled? For those of you who did not watch Queer As Folk, here is what he used to look like when the gays had control of his hair:


11:30 and now I'm in a race to finish this post by 11:59. (FYI: The time stamp on this thing is way off. I think it's on Pacific time. So don't trust Blogger. Trust me.)

Ah, there she goes. Off to bed. At least I got a kiss.

11:32 and I'm switching over to Anderson Cooper because I'm hoping Kathy Griffin will say something outrageous. Oh, there goes Big Ben. It's really cold out there. Poor Kathy. Poor Anderson. Poor schmucks freezing their asses off in Times Square.

Enough hemming and hawing. Here are my 11th hour New Year's Predictions:

1. Be A Loser - I predict I will lose some fat this year. A bunch of it. Enough to mold into a not-so-small child, in fact. And I won't hate the process. I'll just be slightly annoyed with it.

2. Be A Winner - I predict I will win my battle with procrastination, inertia, and distraction. Instead, I will dedicate time to procrastinate, remain inert, and indulge in the best distractions money can buy: the guilty pleasures. The rest of the time I will do what needs to be done, damn it.

3. Be A Sugar Mama - I predict I will improve my financial situation so much that I can afford to slip a $100 bill in Polly's back pocket every week and say, "Buy yourself something special." And get massages.

4. Be In the Zone - This is about writing what I damn well please and putting it out there. Time to get back in the zone. Reignite the flame. Welcome the muse. By the end of 2009, I predict I will have put my ghost costume away for good - and to great reward.

That's it. I can do no more. Four is plenty.

11:53 and there's Bill and Hillary. I just realized my post has two pictures of Hal Sparks. Well, here's a random family photo to round things out:

12:00. Mom's asleep sitting up. Did I not tell you my mother was here...for eleven days? Yup.

Happy New Year, peeps. You're awesome.

Taking Inventory: Predictions 2009 (Cont.)

Predictions always come back to haunt you. Promises. Resolutions. Back-alley bets. They're all the same. I pretty much know I'm full of shit while I'm declaring my predictions to the world, but I declare them anyway.

I've had fun predicting silly things like potential blog post titles and playlists for 2009, but today I figure I might as well face the music before the new year dawns. I re-read my post predicting magnificent freedom, riches, and gorgeousness in 2008.

Here's how I did:

Prediction #1: Just a little promise to "master the art of self care," which comprised losing a bunch of weight, indulging in facials and massages, and something about comfortable shoes (not sure where I was going with that).

Yeah. Well. It didn't turn out exactly like that. Actually, I think I got a D- in the remedial class on self care, considering I avoided the issue entirely. I did however get an A+ in distraction, a B- in Google voyeurism (an advanced distraction class), and a solid A in worrying. Yeah, me!

Prediction #2: Last year I distinctly remember wanting to pay more attention to fun, namely fun with my family...and somehow I tied all of that up in buying (and wearing) a swimsuit on summer vacation.

Okay, I totally aced this one. Well, maybe not aced. I did buy the swimsuit, and I did play in the lake, and I did have more fun with my family. I could be more fun, though. I mean, all that distraction and worrying and anxiety about too much distraction and worry takes its toll on the fam. But I definitely made good on this prediction. B+

Prediction #3: Return to writing my own stuff.

My grand plan to step out of my ghost costume and make time to write my own shit again really failed. Miserably. Horribly. Hence all the worrying. Big fat F, for sure. Oh I dreamed about it. Planned it. Set my alarm. I even wrote a few pages here and there. But it was, as I planned, a return to the creative life I miss so dearly.

Prediction #4: Ha! Yet another resolution about cash. Three guesses as to how I did...

I did not, in fact, make "bank." I barely scraped by. Which is not to say I did not have plenty of opportunities to make a boatload of cash. I just pissed them away, is all. (D-) Sexy.

(So at what point does self-deprecation become totally annoying. I would say right about...now.)

Nobody's perfect. I'm not alone. You all sucked in your own unique and wonderful ways, too. Would it kill you to tell me how many resolutions you trashed (or forgot about) this year? Comments, people. Comments.

Oh, and since I am a glutton for punishment, I will post my new predictions tomorrow.

Cheers!

PS: Read Frank Rich.

PPS: Read Bamboo Nation.

I Miss Music: Predictions 2009 (Cont.)

Mix tapes found, oddly enough, on Wil Wheaton's blog (which I don't read)

The other day I put in Polly's ear buds, turned on my Sirius, and blasted First Wave and later, Chill. Half an hour in a lonely tear fell down one cheek. As corny as that sounds, it happens to be true. I miss music, and I didn't even realize I stopped listening until I started again.

We all have our blast-the-radio, clean-the-house, make-collage-art-while-smoking-cigarettes music (or if you prefer, top-down, crank-it-up, drive-real-fast-to-nowhere-in-particular music). You know, the songs that feel like yours and yours alone? We wear them out, know them by heart, and pass them on in the form of mix tapes (or CDs, or playlists) to our bestest friends and secret lovers.

I forgot about my songs. Heck, I forgot about music, save for the 15 minutes I listen to WFUV while I take a shower in the morning. Because of this huge neglect of my musical soul, I really don't have anything worthy of a 2008 mix.

However, I did write down a list of songs I wanted to listen to more than I actually did. Songs that spoke to me. Songs that I wanted to put on a mixtape and blast when no one was home, and then send to friends so I don't have to explain the frustrating, wondrous, complicated year that was my 2008:

Wanna B Startin' Somethin' - Michael Jackson
When Doves Cry - Patti Smith
No Man's Woman - Sinead O'Connor
You're All I Need to Get By - Aretha Franklin
Dizz Knee Land - Dada
My Doorbell - White Stripes
Pressure - Queen
Ice Cream - New Young Pony Club
I Want A Little Sugar in My Bowl - Nina Simone
Bad Reputation - Joan Jett & The Blackhearts
Another Day - Jamie Lidell
Tell Me - God-des & She
Safety Dance - Men Without Hats
Girlfriend in a Coma - The Smiths
Upside Down - Jack Johnson
Cathedrals - Joan Osborne
Black Tambourine - Beck
Anotherloverholenyohead - Prince
Livin' My Life Like It's Golden - Jill Scott
Wish You Were Here - Pink Floyd
Train in Vain - The Clash
Push Th' Little Daisies - Ween
When You Say Nothing At All - Alison Krauss & Union Station

I did actually listen to all of these songs, some of them on repeat while I tried to write this or that and not get distracted by endless adventures on Google search. But music was not a part of my life as it has been in the past. I don't even know where my old (cherished, much-played) CDs are. Half the time I listen to Polly's iTunes purchases on my Mac because I don't want to find my own stuff.

Yeah. That's over. Music is making a comeback in a big, big way.

So what about next year? What will be on my 2009 mix? Here are my predictions:

• That Radio Free Santa Fe song we liked so much on vacation
• The new Prince single that doesn't talk about Jesus
• Our new all-time-favorite Marvin Gaye song
• That pop song that makes me want to drive faster
• New Bad Plus
• The song that made me want to work out
• That song I listened to 1,000+ times trying to finish Two Harbors
• One of Jack's retro superhero theme songs
• That awesome song from Whip It
• The song that we both like to listen to really, really loud
• That song that reminds me of Junior High
• The new Indigo Girls song that makes me want to see them live again
• That song we like to make out to on Saturdays
• Some Stevie Wonder

What's on your mixtape for 2008 - or 2009? Comments appreciated. I like 'em, and most of you seem to be emailing me directly instead. Cut it out.

Not My Best

First Times Square ball drop, 1907.

(vintageculture.net)

All in all, 2008 was not my best year. I waffled, worried, and generally hemmed and hawed when I should have been doing 10,000 other things. Not a unique tale by any means, but still highly disappointing.

The last few months were by far, the most challenging months I have had since PPD, and that's saying something. I would liken it to Groundhog Day - I keep having the same day over and over, but with far less revelation and progress than Bill Murray pulled off.

As December 31st approaches I look forward to it with a mixture of giddy anticipation and paralyzing anxiety. A new year is the ultimate blank page, and I haven't had much luck with those of late. Still, I'm hopeful. It is, after all, the year change comes to Washington. If Obama can make it to the White House, surely I can get out my old to-do list and take (gasp!) action.

Once upon a time I actually did stuff. For example, when I was still a teenager I moved to L.A. on a whim (it was Beck's idea), with no job, no car, and no place to live. I did it all on two week's notice, forfeiting a deposit on an apartment I had rented sight unseen in Santa Fe. I hired my first U-Haul, sold the Audi, and packed up my antique sideboard for the cross country move.

It was just me and Madison Joe, who promptly ditched me in West Hollywood to shack up with an older guy he met while playing cards at the Sixth Street Cafe. I found an apartment (hello St. Andrew's Place), a job (hello Beverly Hills crazies), friends and lovers (hello various friends and lovers). It was scary, but good scary, and it never occurred to me that I might need to slow down and think it through first.

Not so long ago I took long, meandering road trips without warning. I hooked up. I took chances. I started things: relationships, charity drives, businesses, groups. I wrote my own stuff all the time: plays, screenplays, books, monologues, stories. I put it out there. I made shit up and let it be judged. I stayed up late until it was done. I gave in.

I partied. I tripped out, tuned out, and dropped out. I danced.

I was a gypsy: Minneapolis, L.A., Danbury, Menomonie, Santa Fe, St. Paul, Brooklyn, Nyack. I reinvented myself. Over, and over, and over again.

I jumped. I leaped. I tried, and tried, and tried again. I wasn't gun shy. I was flying blind but but I did it anyway.

Somewhere between the maternity ward and the subway station, I lost my gumption. Seems 2009 would be a good year to find it again. Time to make a commitment. Time for less talk and more awesomeness.

In honor of the impending gigundo fresh start, I will offer up a new list of 2009 predictions every day. Different predictions. Fun predictions. Quirky predictions. Starting...now.

Here is my list of blog posts that I will probably, maybe, possibly write in the coming year. See if you can figure out what I will be writing about:

Welcome Back to Loserville
Obama-rama
Desert Sex Is Better Sex
I'm Not Sure, But I Think My Ass Is Smaller
Hallelujah!
I Dreamed Of Swivel Chairs
Why Zoe Rocks (or NYC on $50 or less)
Man, Those Girls Can Skate!
Time Off For Good Behavior
Wooddale Days
Boys, Boys, Wonderful Boys
Best Family Vacation Ever
Here It Is!
Great News, Don't Freak Out
I Hate My Gym
H-A-W-A-I-I
Levis
Fond Du Lac Joe: A Poem
I Think I Might Like Christmas Again
Facial Peels Aren't For Parties
You'll Never Believe This, But...

Tune in tomorrow for another list of 2009 predictions. And if you have any predictions you would like me to make, let me know. You have a few days.

Ho Ho Ho

In case I don't make it back to the blogosphere before Christmas, I'm spreading my slightly dark Christmas cheer two days early.

Just for the record, I have yet to purchase anything for my girl, baby Daddy, or baby Daddy's boyfriend. I have stockings to stuff, pictures to scan, and food to make. And I have to do a Target run. Fantastic.

Two days and counting and I still haven't found any Christmas spirit. I wonder if it will show up at all.

Friends, loyal followers, occasional strangers who wander over here in search of images of my celebrity crushes - or that really awesome poster, "For God's Sake, Send Booze!" - Merry friggin' Christmas.

If you don't celebrate the birth of Jesus like the rest of us consumers, than happy days off. Happy grown-up time out. Happy put-your-feet-up-because-nobody's-working day.

Even if you don't participate in any of the December holidays, celebrate the fact that you get at least one whole day to indulge your Facebook fixation, or Google aimlessly, or get in to a heated exchange on Topix or ONTD. Enjoy your movie marathons, or if you're venturing out, a double-feature at the multiplex. Revel in your Wii playing, your phone calling, and of course, your treat eating.

Cheers!

PS: The photo of Sexy Sarah is for you, Fond Du Lac Joe. No thanks necessary - I'm a giver!

PPS: Here's a little retro present for the rest of you:

Christmas Blues

It's not that I don't like Christmas. I do. I'm actually a huge fan. But this year, I'm just not feeling it.

Maybe if it was two weeks from now, or next month. Maybe then I could get it up for presents, nosh, and merry merriment. I would have more time and more money, both of which are in short, short supply this year.

The thing is, I'm not inspired. When I'm inspired, those things don't matter. I've been known to whip up a spectacular, magical, go-down-in-history Christmas for under $100, so it's not really about money.

If I felt inspired, I wouldn't care about any little bump or challenge. I would just give in and forget all the rest. I would turn off my lights to look at the tree lights for hours. I would make creative presents while watching goofy Christmas movies on TV. I would relax. Get some sleep. Avoid the time-sucking lure of the internets.

If life were a movie, this would be one of the stories where an angelic stranger mysteriously appears to help me see the light. Or a snow globe appears on my doorstep to show me what life would be like without Christmas. Or I reconnect with the spirit of the holiday by helping someone less fortunate.

That's what I need - to do something awesome for someone else. Hmm...

Damn, Girl

I'm pretty sure I watch The Biggest Loser for all of you, so you may not yet know that Polly's GF won the whole shebang on Tuesday night. Michelle lost a whopping 110 pounds to take home the $250,000 prize - and karma was paid to those evil bitches in the house. Fine. I said it.

I was rooting for Michelle after sweet, tough Colleen got the boot. Putting aside any petty jealousies (my girl has a wee little crush on said Loser), I cheered for her at every weigh in, and actually shouted with glee when she won.

Here's a pic of Michelle post-win:


Damn, girl. You look good. Real good. Like totally new woman, good.

All in all, the finale was pretty odd. After months of watching the women tough it out with the guys in sneakers and sweat pants, to watch them slip and slide all over the too-shiny stage in too-high heels seemed wrong. So, wrong. They looked like uncomfortable dolls put on display. Annoying. If it weren't for trainer Bob escorting them to their marks, a few of them would have offered up a crotch shot, for sure.

But the real shocker had nothing to do with the contestants. Just as I was thinking, "now I have time to summon enough courage to try again before the next season airs," a very pregnant Allison announced the new season starts January 6th.

Ugh.

It's bad enough it's the end of the year, and I feel both compelled and terrified to make new resolutions and predictions. I haven't recovered from watching season six of The Biggest Loser while eating Honey Mustard Pretzel bits (bursting with flavor!) and drinking Diet Root Beer, and now I'm expected to get off my ass for season seven in a matter of days?

Jesus.

I feel all messed up, and not just because NBC plans to ram more (courageous) fat people down my throat in just three weeks. I'm sucking in almost every possible way these days. I need a little ho, ho, ho and a heap of mistletoe. Maybe some Bailey's and hot chocolate. Maybe not. Maybe yes. Oh, shit. I'm so not ready for 2009.

Later.

PS: Why is season seven, Biggest Loser: Couples? I looked at the pics, and there are only two boy-girl teams. The rest are all same sex. So, unless season seven has gone way gay, I would say they are families, not couples. Like last season. I'm confused.


Despite the (semi) lezzie haircuts and pride-colored T-shirts, somehow I just don't think these two are special friends.

PPS: I forgot. The Biggest Loser is already way gay, thanks to trainers Jillian and Bob. Still, couples vs. families is a conundrum. I'll entertain any and all theories. If any of you loyal and faithful readers would find it in your heart to find the answer to this question that has been distracting me for oh, ten minutes now, I will send you an Amazon.com or iTunes gift certificate. (Amount to be determined once I see what's in my Christmas stocking.)

Betrayal for Breakfast

So my hero, President-Elect Obama, decided it would be appropriate to ask Pastor Rick Warren, an outspoken bigot and advocate of anti-gay legislation, to give the invocation at the inauguration. Some in the GLBT community are saying Obama has just spit in our face. I wouldn't go that far, but he did spit on something. I'm pretty sure it's my breakfast. Yummy, yummy oatmeal with maple syrup and a secret ingredient: spit. It looks good, it tastes good, but it's still spit.

Look, I'm all for inclusiveness. And I get that Rick Warren has done a lot of work to fight global poverty and AIDS. But man, way to kick us when we're down, Obama! After Prop 8 and the other anti-equality slams handed down on November 4th, we need some hope. We need to feel that we matter. We need to feel that his promises were not all talk, that we were right to eat the oatmeal and convince all of our friends to eat the oatmeal.

I know we can't get Rick Warren knocked off the line-up, but maybe we could get some decent GLBT representation added to it. I mean, all we get is a GLBT marching band? Seriously, Obama? We worked our asses off for you. We believed. We still believe. Could you just throw us a bone, show us you care?

If you want to speak up about this decision, send emails to these folks:

Emmett Beliveau, the executive director/CEO of the Inaugural Committee: 202-203-1715; emmett@pic2009.org.

Parag Mehta, Obama's LGBT liaison on the transition team: parag.mehta@ptt.gov.

PS: Thanks to Pam Spaulding for tipping me off about this through her blog.

PPS: Biggest Loser post coming tomorrow...I know you can hardly wait.

Maybe It's Just Me, But...

Time and time again the fundies cite the Bible as the handbook to life here on earth, God's ultimate rulebook. Yet it's no secret the book is loaded with contradictions.

Speaking strictly as a ghostwriter and editor, the Bible is a big mess. If it came across my desk I would hang my head and cry. Then, if the money was decent, I would grab the Vodka and try not to go certifiably insane trying to fix the damn thing.

It would take me forever, including whole days devoted to procrastinating and complaining about having to tackle a book about a dead guy, written by multiple authors targeting vastly different audiences. (Again, speaking strictly as a ghostwriter, not commenting on Christianity or Jesus.)

If I was able to pull it together in to something that did not require interpretation by pastors, priests, and other men who seem to know everything, there would still be the fact checking. Granted, we can't really pull that off two thousand years later, but if the New Testament went down in modern times, we would never get everyone to agree on the facts.

If the "authors" chose to self-publish, Zoe (my copy editor) would send the manuscript back with a note stating, "No Fucking Way!" And Adryenn, my marketing guru pal, would stop taking my phone calls, questioning my judgment and ability to choose future projects.

So what sparked this post? A comment from JRph on Pam's House Blend:

If we are to let the Bible define what "traditional marriage" should look like, then our marriage laws should be amended as such: ~snark~

A. Marriage in the United States shall consist of a union between one man and one or more women. (Gen 29:17-28; II Sam 3:2-5)

B. Marriage shall not impede a man's right to take concubines in addition to his wife or wives. (II Sam 5:13; I Kings 11:3; II Chron 11:21)

C. A marriage shall be considered valid only if the wife is a virgin. If the wife is not a virgin, she shall be executed. (Deut 22:13-21)

D. Marriage of a believer and a non-believer shall be forbidden. (Gen 24:3; Num 25:1-9; Ezra 9:12; Neh 10:30)

E. Since marriage is for life, neither this Constitution nor the constitution of any State, nor any state or federal law, shall be construed to permit divorce. (Deut 22:19; Mark 10:9)

F. If a married man dies without children, his brother shall marry the widow. If he refuses to marry his brother's widow or deliberately does not give her children, he shall pay a fine of one shoe and be otherwise punished in a manner to be determined by law. (Gen 38:6-10; Deut 25:5-10)

G. In lieu of marriage, if there are no acceptable men in your town, it is required that you get your dad drunk and have sex with him (even if he had previously offered you up as a sex toy to men young and old), tag-teaming with any sisters you may have. Of course, this rule applies only if you are female. (Gen 19:31-36)

Many Bible passages don't make sense in todays society, but they are ignored by those who seek to keep all Gay people oppressed.

Discuss.

Same Story, Different Finale

Here I am again, the eve of The Biggest Loser finale and still laying down on my bed to button my gigundo jeans from Lane Bryant. The Losers lost, and I'm still all chins and rolls. To top things off, my girl has it bad for one of the final four. Nice.

Can you blame her? I can't. I mean, look at her.


And here's how Michelle looked when she first rolled in to torture camp.


God, I hope she wins. Michelle has a better attitude than the other three Losers, who have been known to cause chaos and stab a few fellow contestants in the back. But hey, I'll give the other three the benefit of the doubt. They did lose the weight, something I have only thought about doing for the last few years. Who knows? Maybe their meanness was caused by a too-tight sports bra, or say, being humiliated on national television for months on end. Could be.

I know most of you aren't in to this show, but do consider tuning in to the season finale tomorrow night on NBC. It's totally fun to watch everybody's after reveals, and who doesn't like confetti? Besides, you'll get to see Polly's GF looking even hotter, since she's had a few months to lose, tone, and beautify.

Happy viewing, all (eight of you).

PS: Jack is four years old as of Friday. I think it's time to lose the baby weight, don't you?

PPS: Ten days 'til Christmas and I haven't bought one present. I'm so fucked.

Seriously?

May I just sound off for a minute? Who the fuck thought it would be a great idea to cast Kristen Stewart as Joan Jett in the new biopic of The Runaways? Seriously? The Twilight chick?


Even though the (first successful) all-girl band broke up when I was a mere six years old, they had a great influence on my musical awakening. Joan's "Bad Reputation," written about The Runaways, was an anthem for nonconformists (i.e., fallen Catholic girls like me).

Joan's mongo hit "I Love Rock & Roll" helped me realize that girls could be more than torch singers or backup to some guy. I mean, Joan wore the same leather pants, played a mean guitar, and rocked harder than anyone - male or female. And I had her as a role model from the age of eight...sweet.

The Runaways and The Blackhearts saved me from death by Debbie Gibson. Their songs were part of rock and roll before I knew there were other bands besides the Beatles and The Who, mom's much-played faves. So when I finally picked a radio station and searched for an identity, Joan and other Runaways were there to show me how cool defiance of the status quo could be.

We need some bad ass actors to play these roles, fierce women willing to hang out on the edge. And Joan? No offense to Kristen Stewart, but it's just not you. The ONLY possible actor for that role is Ellen Page.


Am I wrong? I don't think so.

(Photo credit: ellenpageonline.com)

Gays Save The Economy!

See more Jack Black videos at Funny or Die

Way to counter the "gay terrorists" myth. We don't bomb (clinics, federal buildings, or the WTC), we put on a show!

Watch this fantastic three-minute musical about Prop 8, featuring:

Jack Black
Neil Patrick Harris
Maya Rudolph
John C. Reilly
Kathy Najimy
Allison Janney
Margaret Cho
And many others!

I Just Had To Share

The Daily Show With Jon StewartM - Th 11p / 10c

Mumbai Tragedy

Barack Obama Interview
John McCain Interview

Sarah Palin Video
Funny Election Video

Look, this shit is funny. It shouldn't be funny, but it is. Really funny. Enjoy.