Conversations with Dad.

I called my dad to remind him that he’s picking me up at the airport tomorrow morning. We had a good call and as usual the best part came at the end.  After I reminded him what time I was arriving and of all the other details he said, “Great.  See you tomorrow.  Beer floats.  That’s all I’m saying. If a Coke float is good, imagine a beer float.”  Then he hung up.  He never says goodbye, he’s one of those people who feel it’s bad luck.

Conversations with Dad. You remember Dad.

Background: Viola is Dad’s mother. He calls her by first name.

Dad: We’re ging to Viola’s this weekend for a spaghetti dinner. Of course, I’ll be eating a salad, but I’m the only one that’s watching her waistline.

——–

Dad: Benjamin Franklin and Dolly Parton are two really cool people.

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.

What we learned today, sluts.

 

• Kung Fo Panda is a philosophical action movie.  And, my favorite Buddha teaching from this moral adventure:

Yesterday is history. Tomorrow is a mystery. But today is a gift. 

Blame it on the booze, the pills, or my big bowl of fruity pebbles…but this was pretty touching. And then, we cut to the scene where that big British ninja cat escapes.  I was captivated.  My jaw dropped, fucking captivated for at least ten minutes.  Don’t even get me started on that creepy old turtle that can drop the big British ninja cat with a gentle touch on the chest.  What?

• From Amber Frye (you tube) commentors we learned that some men call women cum dumpsters.  Sweet, isn’t it. We also learned from Amber, that she lies straight to our faces through the computer screen via a month old video on you tube. But, we love her, she’s an M to F trans-something slut, and the best one we know. Enjoy. 

Amber doesn’t allow people to embed her videos, because she’s a professional and shit. So, here’s the you tube link…click here http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KuHPsoprfCk 

 

And, because I’ve learned so much I would like to pass along some knowledge about ,myself. 

Growing up my dad was a clown…I’ve blogged about this before.  He performed at birthday parties, company picnics, and strip club grand openings. His performance included magic tricks.  Yes, my dad was a clown and a magician.  Well every magician/wizard/witch needs a magic word to activate the magic/spell. My dad’s, Hippy the Clown’s, was “peanut butter.”  Since a large portion of my dad’s gig were for Hispanic families, he felt obligated to relate to their culture and therefore tailored his magic word towards their customs.  When my dad clowned at a Hispanic family’s birthday party, his magic word was “frijoles.”

Now, I think I’ll clean my floors, have another bowl of cereal, a mountain dew and read my vampire novel, “Club Dead.”  I love that it’s still daylight!!!

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?”

E-mail from my dad!

When my dad writes me love notes he usually steals from his favorite songs.  Every birthday card, every Christmas card, even phone calls, he’ll pull a stanza or two from a song.

His favorite act to pull from is Barry Manilow.  His second is John Denver.  Third is Elton.  I would totally reverse the order, for myself.  But, then I’ve heard enough Barry to last me a few more years.  I would probably swap out Barry with Queen. 

Sometimes its a bit cryptic and I have to work to try and figure out who he’s sampling from. Once, for my birthday (probably 20th or so) he wrote in my b-day card…

We dreamers have our ways
Of facing rainy days
And somehow we survive
We keep the feelings warm

These lyrics are from Barry’s hit, “I made it through the rain” Out of all the many options he could have chosen from this song he chose the above stanza.  The most obvious option would have been the chorus lyrics,

I made it through the rain
I kept my world protected
I made it through the rain
I kept my point of view
I made it through the rain

But no, dad chose the opening stanza.  It makes sense to those who know him.  He’s always thought of himself as a dreamer.  But the last line about keeping our feelings warm…whatevs.

I can’t figure out where he pulled today’s note from.   He wrote,

Yell at the top of your voice from the most highest, I Love You.  If you have time to day think of me.                              Love you most    Dad

Maybe this is an original. Probably not.  Peace out hookers,

-Sweet

Here are two pics of Barry…the first is how I like to remember him, young and pre-surgery.  The second is, I hope, a pic of him smoking a joint.

 

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!!!