The Good. The Bad. The Insults. Thanks Dad.

I’m having a G-sale before the move and my family is kindly donating their crap for my sale.  I love it!

My dad brought a bag of cloths for the sale, but also brought a special bag just for me. It was a bag of belts.

dad: I know how you like to wear belts and these don’t fit me anymore.  They’re too large. I think they’ll fit you.

me: Thanks dad.

Some of the belts were cool, but most were ridiculous.  Exactly what my dad would wear when venturing out as Lacy.

Season Two! I Love You!

Season Two of RuPaul’s Drag Race is casting…http://www.rupaulsdragracecasting.com/

Bea, I love you.

If, in 50 years, some young person ask me where I was the day Bea Arthur died I would say, at GayBingo with my cross dressing dad.  It was kind of fitting.  As the news came in through text messages, the Queens honored Bea and lifted our spirits with song and dance. 

I was looking for things to commemorate the moment and found a Golden Girl necklace from etsy.com. Sad news hookers, the necklace sold out. 

Other GG paraphernalia include GG playing cards, GG lapel pins, and GG pendants. All at www.etsy.com.

Here’s a clip of our friend, doing a parody of Sex in the City.  She’s with other lovely ladies… Mona from Who’s The Boss, Sally Struthers and Mrs. Garrett.

Oh no she di’in.

I was going to blog about how I may see my dad in drag for the very first time.  It would happen in a few weeks and it will be the time and the place. 

Anyways, I was trying to find a pic that would be similar to what he would look like.  Instead, I found this spastic photo.

BTW, below is what I envision when I picture my dad in drag, well, it’s close enough. In this example, I would say, to dad, “What are you doing on the floor?”

Ru is my new boo

RuPaul is an effervescent, sparkling beverage being pored over your naked body.  Stimulating.  Did I go too far?  Read for yourself.

From his blog archives, circa 2002…www.rupaul.com/news 

——–

MY FAVORITE MOVIES OF 2002:

1) sordid lives
2) monsoon wedding
3) swept away

MY FAVORITE TV SHOWS OF 2002:

1) judge judy
2) golden girls
3) american idol

MY FAVORITE AUTHOR OF 2002:

david sedaris….naked
——–

I would curtsy in his fucking presence.

Don’t be Jealous of My Boogie

This is what I’m listening to and watching today.  DWI (deal with it)

 

http://wow.wowtv.tv/episodes/rupaul-jealous-of-my-boogie

 

I’m totally into RuPaul and the drag world. I’m thinking I need to infiltrate this world, get in, get dirty, and become these hookers bitch. Think of all the things I’ll learn.

I’ve already started to pick up the lingo. You know, like “That slut is giving me shade.” and “This sno-cone makes my world go ’round.”

Oh, rainbows and unicorns.

These Queens make my world go ’round. Maybe this is how me and dad will connect. If fact, I think I’m going to plan a weekend around a drag show. He needs a Queen mentor, he’s flailing in the proverbial straight wind. He’s left to his own demise.  He has no help, no make-up tips, no witty one-liners. He needs some guidance.

Get ready to be jealous of my boogie.

Is anybody else watching this?

I am and I’d like to know who to discuss this show with.  I’m sure my sister is catching every episode.  I think I’ve missed a few, so that will be a weekend project for me.  The skinny on this show…It’s a Top Model for drag queens.  And, appropriately, RuPaul is the host.

 

Some of my favorites are Bebe Zahara Benet (with the top hat) and Ongina (with the orange traffic cone).  Last week they battled for their life, the two of them were up for elimination.  They had to lip sync for their life, and they did.  Their song was “Stronger” by Brit Brit and Bebe sang and danced her weave off, literally.  Ongina was told to sashe off the stage.  Translation, she lost.

Globtrotters vs grandaughter…my g-ma chooses Globetrotters

My dad is blowing me off to hang with my g-ma…his mom. No big.  But, I haven’t seen my g-ma in about 17 years!  Usually I don’t even know when she’s in town.

My dad is taking my g-ma and her husband to the Harlem Globetrotter concert- his words.  He was quick to say that he couldn’t afford to take me to the concert, but wanted to give me the courtesy of a call to break our dinner plans, scheduled for the same time as the concert.  Well, the Globetrotters are playing right next door to where I work and about 10 miles from where I live.  I asked if she would want to grab dinner before the concert so we could see each other and that’s when my dad sighed.  He told me to not get my hopes up. She was only coming in to town to see the Globetrotters, but he’ll run it by her.

I’m not going to get my hopes up.  I’m not going to take it personally.  And, I’m certainly not going to be upset.

I will drink.

Piss off Globetrotters.

Dad, love the kitten heels

I saw my dad last weekend.  He was looking great. 

New hair color, new purse, and new pumps (he calls them his “sandals”).  I wish he would just let it all out.  And, maybe he does.  I feel like he could be an older, less cool Eddie Izzard. Oh how I love him…Eddie, that is.  And dad, too. 

He (my dad) was really excited about his new purse, which was marketed in the store as a man bag.  He mad a point to tell us it was a man bag.  Anything is better than his old “purse”, which was a neon colored fanny pack he slung over his shoulder.  I know I have a pic of this somewhere.  It was a staple to his outfit ensembles no matter the occasion.  I’ll find and post, promise.

We had a lovely time.  He pointed out that I get my singing voice and my drinking from him.  As well as my stage presence.  I wasn’t on a stage, but we were singing John Denver Christmas songs and choreographing dance moves, in case we take the act on the road. All the fun ended when he remembered that John Denver was dead. He told us he was too depressed to sing anymore, and plopped down on the couch.  While I drank vodka straight from the bottle, my sister changed the music to some Mary Poppins’ tunes and he perked right up.

BTW, my step-mom was there taking pictures of the dogs.  She’s the oddest one of us all. 

fanny pack freakout

Can I stick it in your ear?

boy:  (while checking himself out in a full length mirror, he brushes his fingers through his hair and as he tweeks his nipples, says)  ”Can I stick it in your ear?

girl: (while sitting on the boy’s bed and brushing her long blond hair while she stares, admirably at the young shirtless boy, ask)  ”Stick what in my ear?”

boy: (looking over his shoulder, and turning his chin to the floor, he replies) “My penis.” (yes, he said penis)

girl: (still brushing her hair) “What? Well, okay.”

This happened to me. I was the silly  girl. And why either one of us thought sticking a penis in my ear was a logical question is absurd.  It’s clear he just wanted to know what it would feel like. He was always telling me about all the places he wanted to try and stick his penis.  But, me.  Why would I say okay.  I couldn’t have thought it would actually fit.  And if I thought it might fit, I wasn’t scared that it would fucking hurt. We weren’t even stoned when this happened. We were just dumb kids.

The things he did to me boggle my mind. The things I let him do to me.  After he broke up with me (I still have a hard time with that part, that he would break up with me is proof of my ridiculous and pathetic state of mind at the time.) I cried a long time. Then I felt sorry for myself and then I exploited men in an attempt to pump up my self-esteem. Then, for years, I hated at all men. Through all that learned a lot of lessons about myself. I learned a lot from that asshole about accepting myself.  I learned that boys lie, and friends will too.  That my voice is worth hearing, and that whoever I’m with will should want to hear it sing or talk or whistle or mumble.  I learned that I want someone to love me, but I also want to love someone back.  I don’t want to rest in a relationship that is tentative or complacent towards love. To really love someone with your heart and soul is breathtaking. I learned to laugh at myself.  But, best of all…I learned to be myself.

That may sound cliche, but its true.  I had lost myself, into oblivion.  Little by little he took and destroyed the original me.  All that made me unique was erased.  But, like a little trooper I picked myself up and tried to move on.  I took a lot more drugs, and remember I hated men for a long time.  But, then I started to feel a little more empowered and started to get into my dad’s music collection. I listened to Barry Manilow, Bette Midler, some John Denver sprinkled in with a little Elton John, Cher and the Temptations. I remember a time, when when my empowerment was slipped and I was feeling exceptionally shitty. I smoked some weed, put on some Whitney Houston, and started crafting (deconstructing clothes and playing with make-up). As I listened to the record (I’m not old enough to have actually purchased a record player or records, cassettes were the music method of my day, but my parents had a record player and my dad loved him some Whitney.  He still loves his Whitney) Anyways, as I listened, the song “Greatest Love of All” clicked on. As I’m playing dress up and performing music videos for myself in front  of the mirror, I started to cry realizing how true it is “that learning to love yourself is the greatest love of all.”  Just as I darkened my lipstick, my bedroom door flies open and my dad is singing in the doorway.  One arm up and the other fist clinched and pounding at his heart. 

I looked him up and down.  And thought, that’s my dad standing there with his hip cocked and his little peach colored shorts being way to short. My eyes wandered down to his red tennis shoes when I noticed him walking towards me. He came sauntering in my direction and making hand motions for me to stand up.  With make-up running down my face, I stood up and we sort of danced poorly to the rest of the song. We had a blast. He dipped me, I dipped him.  While, this sounds sweet and was actually what I needed at that moment in time. You should know that my dad didn’t do this to cheer me up, that was a wonderful and unusual side effect of his behavior.

He busted in on my room because he was in the mood for a song and dance.  He heard Whitney and he came running. I love this side of my dad. He’ll never know how much that meant to me on that day.  As I’ve learned to love myself and be myself I’ve started to love other people for themselves.  

…Okay, this is getting so cheesy that I want some mac-n-cheese or cheeto-s.  My vote is cheeto-s!!!