Fuckers couldn't leave well enough alone...

Mother fucking Ken Starr filed a case to get the 18,000 marriages that were LEGALLY PERFORMED in California, MINE INCLUDED, nullified.

Asswipe.

Here's a thing to check out at the Courage Campaign.

I'm so horrified and full of rage right now.

The Christmas Meme

1. Wrapping paper or gift bags?
Wrapping paper. It's more satisfying to open.

2. Real tree or artificial?
I love real ones, though my roommate Shannon and I had a fake one when we were super broke all the time. It came with lights on it already and was something like $15 at the Walmart.

3. When do you put up the tree?
Sometime in December. I don't really have a schedule for these things.

4. When do you take the tree down?
Whenever the mood strikes, usually after New Years.

5. Do you like eggnog?
I love it, but I usually cut it with milk and add more nutmeg.

6. Favorite gift received as a child?
MY BIKE.

7. Do you have a nativity scene?
I had one in my house when I was a kid, but there will be no nativity in my house.

8. Hardest person to buy for?
Mom and Dad. They both have things they like, but they're not really giftable.

9. Easiest person to buy for?
My roommate Woody. Shopping for him is like shopping for myself.

10. Worst Christmas gift ever received?
An extremely over-sized flannel nightgown. Really? Really?

11. Mail or E-mail Christmas card?
I prefer mailed ones, though Billie and I haven't gotten around to doing it yet.

12. Favorite Christmas movie?
Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, the claymation one.

13. When do you start shopping for Christmas?
Before Thanksgiving if I remember to.

14. Have you ever recycled a Christmas present?
I always end up with multiple bath sets (you know, salts, body wash, glycerin soap, a bath foofy that all match) and I always end up giving those away.

15. Favorite thing to eat at Christmas?
My dad always makes prime rib on Christmas, and any meat my dad touches automatically turns into gold.

16. Clear lights or colored on the tree?
Colored! Waaay more fun.

17. Favorite Christmas song?
I like Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, or most other secular songs. As for non-traditional ones, U2's version of Baby Please Come Home is amazing, and Bruce Springsteen has some great holiday songs, too.

18. Travel at Christmas or stay home?
Stay home. I'll travel for other holidays, but if someone wants me to fly out to their house so that I can crash on the couch, they can blow me.

19. Can you name Santa’s reindeer?
Yes, but only if I sing them in song form.

20. Do you have an angel on top of the tree or a star?
We've got a crappy star that we got at Walmart the same day we got the old fake tree. It's pretty tacky, and doesn't really fit the top of the tree, so it's always tilted, but no one has the energy to get a new topper.

21. Open presents Christmas Eve or Christmas morning?
Usually Christmas morning, though I usually get a few early when we exchange with various friends.

22. Most annoying thing about this time of year?
Shopping and worrying about how much you're buying for who and will someone be offended because they're gift isn't as good, oh, and when workers get trampled to death!

Dear Dad,

Recently, two people, Jess and Sinclair, wrote about their relationships with their male role models, Jess' grandfather, and Sinclair's dad. Even though we as a community have a lot of fun messing with genders, roles, clothes, and expectations, you can't shake off what your family has given you very easily, if you want to shake it off at all.

Billie's mom, my mother-in-law, upon seeing my dad for the first time, said to me "Oh, you favor your father!" I beamed at this. We look a bit alike, we have the same stupid smile, laugh at the same jokes, and watch Westerns and Bond marathons. He taught me how to ski. I have his boxy hands, his soft brown hair, and his build.

Even though he's always been there while I did the business of growing up, I've realized my dad is a great mystery to me. He drinks, he watches sports, works. I don't know his thoughts or feelings on a lot, other than the Cubs and welfare. Did he ever want a son? How does he feel about me, his eldest? What did he really want out of life?

I spent a few years in high school trying to pry secrets out of his past. I looked through old photo albums for pictures from before when my parents were married. Turns out dad was a golfer, a photographer, and grew tomatoes. His dad was a full-blooded Scot who's parents moved here from Glasgow. He spent time in South Africa, and lied about his age to get on a ship back to the US to fight in the war. He was a paratrooper who dropped on the beach at Normandy, living through the battle that took the life of my grandma's (his future wife's) fiance at the time. Grandpa was no hero, though. My aunt says he was abusive, especially towards my dad, the eldest son, but he'll never acknowledge that anything happened. Dad went to UCLA as a math major, skied in Utah and Tahoe with his brother, Bill, chewed tobacco on the ski lifts, and had an old blue Toyota truck with a KLOS sticker on the steering wheel. He played baseball as a kid, and had issues with weight, just like me. He had longish hair and a penchant for denim jackets and plaid shirts that made him look like Eric Clapton in my mind.

Somewhere along the way, in being turned into a husband and father, he lost himself. I hope he finds himself again before it's too late. I think my sister might say that it's already too late, but who knows.

I guess I've learned from him that you make sacrifices and take on burdens for the ones you love, because that's how he knew how to be a man, and how to be a father and husband.* I wonder if I actually learned any masculinity from him. Have I just learned his quirks, his faults, his ways, his karma? I will admit that I feel as though I've been spat out on to the adult world, not knowing what a father provides in a family, or how one should best interact with their wife. Poor Billie. I've got a lot of learning to do. She loves me, though, and I love her back, and she has patience for miles when it comes to me.

Actually, I've probably learned more about what not to do, while being a spouse and (future) parent. Don't lose your interests, your friends, your hobbies. Don't sacrifice so much that you become resentful. Don't forget to make time to be with your wife. Don't let a day go by when she doesn't know how much she's loved by you. Don't let your children think that you don't have a past. Don't let your children think you're a mystery.

There were no real male figures in my life that I could look up to. My grandfather on my dad's side died when I was young, and we were estranged from his family, so I don't know my uncle well at all. On my mom's side, HiGuy as he gets called, has always been a goofy, fun fellow, but after my grandma died, his emotional presence in my life hasn't been great, and my mother's brother, Brian, wasn't particularly available as a role model, either. His son, Michael, was treated like the golden child in the family because he was the only boy (and I can't count the number of times I thought to myself "Hey, what about me!").

So, with no tradition, no rules, no tips, to be inherited, what am I left with? Is this why I feel like my masculine identity is a fraud? I look the look, walk the walk, talk the talk, but I feel as though I don't own it. My identity in this way feel as though it is scraps of my friends and other lesbians I've seen, stitched together into something that feels like it might fit. The pieces I've picked up from my dad fit in here. I call Billie "dear," like I heard my dad say so many times over the years. I still ski when my sister snowboards. I know how to grill onions, steak, and fish.

I know my mom took up a lot of my and my sister's attention growing up. The emotional wedge she drove in between my dad and I (unwitting as it might be), is going to resound through the rest of my life. I know the way to fix it is to talk to my dad, bond with him, learn about him, but honestly, I have no idea how to even start.

*I guess I also learned how to lay a brick patio and install hardwood floors, but that's not really very hard.

It's Friday!

I'd rather be

But my skiing skills aren't too good, so really it would be more like this:

Or more accurately:

It's sad to me that when I go to the local mountains to ski, I'm the only person on skis under 40 and over 8. Parents usually start their little kids on tiny skis, and now those kids are moving over to snowboards, while their parents continue to ski. I hope it's just California where people are almost completely abandoning skiing.

Abomination Stew

In an effort to be as contrary and offensive to as many people as possible, I'd like to create a dish of some sort that contains as many religious dietary restrictions as possible in it. So far, it has to contain pork, beef, shellfish and wine. I think that takes care of Islam, Judaism, Hinduism and the Mormons. If anyone knows of anymore religious dietary restrictions, please let me know!

Kitten Care

Linus is becoming more of a handful than any other cat I've ever had. I'm afraid that since we're not home to keep him company during the day, he just sits around bored, sleeping, reserving his energy for when we get home. Last night, he was a nightmare! He'll follow me around in the kitchen, talking to me, climbing my legs, begging for peoplefood (which he doesn't normally get, except for what he can steal when our backs are turned!), and getting in to the cupboards and climbing on the table. Just when we thought we'd trained him out of going on the kitchen table, he's doing it again! Argh!

He's better on the weekends, when we're home and can mess around with him all day. I try to play with him as much as possible on the weekdays when I get home to wear him out, but it doesn't seem to be enough. He'll sleep on me for about fifteen minutes around 8:30 or so, but then perks right back up as soon as he wakes up.

He's also getting horrible about getting his nails cut. The first time, Billie was able to get through three paws, no problem, before he rebelled. Now, I'm lucky to get through three claws while he struggles to get away. With my older cat, Cookie, who I lost last year, I would stick her in a pillowcase, or wrap her up in a blanket to clip her nails. She was feral when we first got her, and was prone to nail infections, so I'd assume she would be more adverse to nail clipping than a cat raised by humans. But Linus, goddammit, has no excuse! We clip them fairly often, so it's not like he's not used to it. I guess he's going to be a pillowcase cat too.

He has developed one more cute/annoying habit. Turns out this cat LOVES wrapping paper. He'll bite it while I try to wrap presents, and has learned how to pick up and carry a roll by one of the ends. Even though it's incredibly annoying to chase him around to get my paper back, it's also cute to see a little cat dragging a giant roll of wrapping paper around.

Oh Linus. Either you'll make me lose my mind, or forge me into a more patient person.

Been a while!

It's been a while since I've posted! For a quick catch-up:

1. I turned 25, and I am now a quarter century old!
2. I met many members of Billie's family on Thanksgiving, and subsequently had a fight debate over gay marriage at the dinner table.
3. I'm taking another semester to write my thesis prospectus, then hopefully I'll be starting the thesis itself over the summer.
4. Linus continues to grow, and might actually be a tiny ninja in a fur suit.
5. I lost my health insurance on my birthday, which is already starting to ruin my life. Grr.

Aaaand now for something that's actually on-topic!

Butch fashion, and specifically, accessorizing.

A fairly common faux pas I see among my butch brethren is over-doing the cool little masculine details in ones' outfit. The other day, I saw one wearing a newsboy-style hat, vest, suspenders (both? really?), a bandanna tied about the wrist, a hefty leather watch, and gauged ear lobes. Now, I love me a good hat and leather wrist cuff, but when you heap too many details on, you end up looking more like you're wearing a costume, not like you're taking yourself seriously.

Same goes for formal wear. As totally awesome as your tie, vest, pocket square, cufflinks, pocket watch, suspenders, etc are, don't wear them all together. Of course, all of these things could potentially go together in a three-piece suit, which are coming out in more modern, updated cuts, and are totally awesome. However, when you try to heap a blazer, tie, and vest together, particularly in a heavy material like velvet, for instance, you're adding a lot of layers to your upper body that will probably make you look a lot bigger than you actually are. All those little details can pile up to make you very visible, and really, shouldn't that lovely lady on your arm be attracting the attention?

So, here's a hint. Take your base outfit, whether it's jeans and a t-shirt, or slacks and a dress shirt, or a suit, pick one awesome detail to add in. If this feels boring to you, find patterns that work for what you're going for. However, patterns can be abused just as much as accessories, so don't overdo it on the patterns either. For instance, distressed jeans already have a look about them, and will affect your appearence all by themselves. In men's fashion, details count, even details like the triangle of white peeking out from underneath your polo shirt.

Please remember that Johnny Depp is the only person in the world who is allowed to wear eight necklaces, three bracelets on each wrist, a hat, and bandannas tied around his neck and waist.

And another thing: Pants that fit. Jesus christ, wear pants that fit. Some women are notorious for buying clothes too small, simply because they think that they ought to be wearing that size. Butches, you do it too, sometimes. If you *feel* like you ought to be wearing 32's, your hips might not actually agree. Now, it can be hard for women to find men's pants that fit. Luckily, Target's Mossimo brand works perfectly for me, so I'm all set, but not everyone lucks out like I have. My advice is to look around, try lots of pairs on, and don't pay attention to sizes. Women's sizes are notoriously arbitrary, but men's sizes can be weird, too. You'd think a 34 would be the same everywhere you go, but they can fluxtuate.