Man, I Feel Like a Woman

When I was in high school, dick tricks were hilarious. One of the funniest things you could do with your penis was to stick it between your legs and walk around like you had a vagina. My friends and I called it “vagina man,” but I am sure that there are multiple names for this phenomenon. I would imagine that cavemen, once they had finished hunting mammoths and warring with neighboring tribes, also did this. I bet Og and Thor would wait until all the cavewomen were out for girls night and the thought just came to them. It is just funny and immature. Men will continue to do this until long after my time on Earth is through.

Now, actually having a vagina is not something that I envy. I can only imagine the kind of maintenance those things require: the annual checkups, the periods, the babies that come out of them. Yikes. However, there is a new perk that comes with having a vagina. You can be John McCain’s running mate. It is apparently the only requirement for the job.

I imagine the letter that was sent out to potential candidates from his vice presidential committee:

Dear Madam,

This is John McCain. Do you have a vagina? Then I want you. Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton have made history with their respective candidacies for president, and I am feeling a little left out. I figure that I can make up for my whopping failures in the coolness department by nominating the first woman to be on a Republican Presidential ticket.

Now I have a slight problem. The Republican Party does not respect women and as a result there are slim pickens in the female department. So, who will answer my call? It’s three a.m. and I’m waiting.

Love, John

Well we are in luck, because Sarah Palin, the first term governor of Alaska and NASCAR enthusiast, has answered the call. Jon Stewart put it brilliantly when he compared her to a cross between Tina Fey and every naughty librarian you see in 80s porn. Beautiful woman, really, but also a little bit crazy.

Now the Republican establishment has lined up like good little soldiers to support this new superstar of Republican stardom. Kay Bailey Hutchison, senior Senator from Texas and most qualified Republican with vagina, was very sweet on Fox News when she said, through gritted teeth, that she knew absolutely nothing about Palin but was excited to see the historic nomination. Pro-lifers have gone into a fetal rights frenzy over her Down’s syndrome child and her pregnant teenage daughter. Look at how she walks the walk while she talks the talk, they say. It’s enough to make you want to get pregnant just so you can have an abortion.

Hillary Clinton was even forced to make a comment that equated to “that’s nice John.” I would have loved to be a fly on the wall when Hill-dog found out about the nomination. I am sure that after the Clinton black rage, hate filled musk had settled she said something along the lines of “I didn’t make 18 million cracks in that glass ceiling for this tramp to come in a steal my thunder.” Or at least that's what she should have said.

Can someone say cat fight? Meow. Oh, it’s so on. Let’s see if Palin is lacking in self awareness enough to mention Hillary’s name in her speech at the Republican Convention next week like she did this week when she made her acceptance speech. Sarah, that bitch will kill you. She’s done a lot more for a lot less.

But Senator Lindsey Graham takes the cake. He said on one of those fair and balanced news shows that “any woman that gets up at three in the morning to hunt moose is OK by me.” Quit hitting the sauce, Lindsey. What a stupid thing to say. I am only impressed if after she’s brought down said moose she guts it with her rock hard nipples from braving the arctic tundra.

Gun rights advocates, who have never been to the Southside of Philly, can’t wait to have her appear on next month’s cover of Guns and Ammo. Republicans, however, should be careful about vice presidents who like to hunt. Dick Cheney, anyone? Although, receiving buckshot in the face from a beautiful woman is a bit more tantalizing than from a dried up, two faced, lying windbag.

All in all, I am thrilled that Sarah Palin is running with John McCain. He could not have picked someone less qualified, more anti-woman, more inexperienced, from a more obscure state, or with a hotter bod. Move over Cindy McCain, there’s a new bimbo in town and she doesn’t get her hair color from a bottle. I cannot wait to see Palin and Biden go at it in the debates. She is probably all the wiser to just stick to the naughty librarian routine and at least make it interesting.

So, fellas, the game has changed. What used to be a white man’s sport is now being played by women and black men. Next time you and your friends are bonding with dick tricks, tuck it in nice and tight. While dick tricks will be around forever, having a vagina now has some new perks!

Another One Rides the Bus

In 1979, my parents had just married. The Soviet Union had just invaded Afghanistan. Jimmy Carter was president. Margaret Thatcher had just become the first female Prime Minister of Great Britain. And the rock band Queen had just recorded their hit single "Another One Bites the Dust."

At the time my mother's former college roommate, who I grew up knowing as a friend of the family, was convinced that the lyrics were "Another One Rides the Bus." This fact I do not believe she has ever fully been able to live down. However, if it had been the name of the song, I would have been the inspiration.

Since moving to Seattle I no longer own a vehicle and I ride the bus on a daily basis. I have been all over the city on various buses at all hours of the day and night. Public transportation sounds very hip and environmental conscious. People who drive cars always talk about how they should take the bus to work, if only the public transit systems were better. Well, in Seattle it is pretty damn good. It does not run on time, but it runs frequently and all over town. Regardless of how efficient a public transit system is however, there are some things that just come with the territory when it comes to riding the bus.

There are three main things that can make or break your bus experience on any given day.

1) The individual riders that are sharing the bus with you.
2) The time of day.
3) The neighborhood you happen to be in or going to.

Let's go through each one, shall we.

First, the people that are on the bus with you can make all the difference as to what the next thirty minutes of your life are going to be like while you get your ass downtown.

I am absolutely floored by the number of people that do not wear deodorant and seem to be completely unaware of the fact that they should. In fact, that it was invented for people just like them. I have been guilty of leaving the house in the morning without slapping it on, but this happens very rarely and is always an oversight. I am very self aware when it come to the fragrance that I am exuding out into the world, but I believe this to be a quality that is not shared equally amongst my fellow human beings.

A crowded bus just has that smell. It is hard to pinpoint exactly, but every one's body odor is a little different. When it mixes all together it creates a smorgasbord of musk that hits you like a ton of bricks. This generally only happens when it is raining and every window in the bus is closed. The very best way of dealing with this is to commence mouth breathing. In and out, in and out.

Also, almost without fail an inebriated person will get on the bus. It's two in afternoon. You can only pray that the only empty seat is not next to yours. This person will talk to you. Or slur to you, rather. At two in the afternoon I am not in the mood to put up with this shit, but you just have to turn your ipod up and bury your head a little deeper in your book. That is what you see a lot on the bus: people making a very concerted effort to make it very clear that they are not open to conversation. The first few days I took the bus I thought this was a bit closed off, even rude. After a month, you understand. Because it is never the pleasant people that will try to strike up a conversation. It's the pre-happy hour drunks.

Which brings me to point number two. It's all in the time of day. I do not mind talking to drunks when I am also drunk, coming home from the bar at one in the morning. They're your peeps, your homeys, and it is an appropriate time to be drunk. Context. Its all about context. The bus drivers are also a bit more inclined to help their passengers during the wee hours of the morning by making the regularly scheduled announcements telling you which stop you are at and which connecting buses come to the same location. There is a real camaraderie on the bus at one in the morning. It's beautiful and it makes you believe that there is hope for humanity. That someday we really will all live in harmony, if only we could all be simultaneously shitfaced on Northwestern microbrew.

Point number three in predicting the quality of bus riding experience you will have has to do with the neighborhoods you will be traveling through. Capitol Hill at 9pm on a weekend is thus far my personal favorite. Capitol Hill is the gayborhood of Seattle, and is much larger and much more diverse than any gayborhood in any other major city I have been to, save San Fran. Around 9pm on the weekend the drag queens, on the way to their shows or just to support the team, begin getting on the 49 bus down Broadway Ave. Some have their face painted up in an extravagant display. Some have their scarfs just so place to hide their protruding Adam's apple. On comes a bear, off comes a twink. The picture is not strange to anyone else except the white boy from Texas.

Downtown, for about 20 square blocks, there is a "free ride area." Now the bus only costs $1.50 round trip, and even less if you have a prepaid card, so I would say that a free ride area is largely unnecessary. But it is there, just in case. The City of Seattle most likely intended it for tourists, and as long as you stay close to the water that is generally what you will find. Husbands and wives arguing about which stop will get them closer to the Space Needle. Knowing the wife has it right, but also knowing better than to get involved.

I think that they should rename this area the "homeless ride area." The panhandlers go from one end of the free ride area, work their way to the other end, and then catch the free bus. It really is the perfect gig. Unlike in other cities that I have been to, the homeless here are really very sweet, well meaning people. They will ask you for money, you will tell them no, and then you can have a fairly descent conversation with them. Very meek, very humble. The State of Washington within the last 10 years cut many public mental health benefits, and as a result there was an immediate increase in the homeless population in Seattle. This is what happens when Republicans are in power. It comes with the territory.

Riding the bus is an exhilarating experience. I wake up every day and think, "I wonder what crazy characters I am going to come into contact with today." Because you will, and I do. Everyone here, at some time or another and with varying degrees of pleasure, rides the bus. It is part of the culture, but that means it involves EVERYONE. And, as we know, not all people get along, or want to be in a closely confined vehicle with Jim Beam at two in the afternoon. Perhaps Freddie Mercury was a musical genius of our time, but he could have had one more hit had he only written a song about all the people on the bus.

It's all about me.

It has been many months since my last blog, and many things have changed in my life since that time. Now, traditionally I do not blog about myself. I find it boring to write and probably equally boring to read, but I do feel as though a blog about myself and what I am up to these days is called for.

On July 30th I left Nacogdoches, Texas for the last time and drove across the state to Lubbock to spend five days with my family there. I must say that I never realized Keaton, my cat, was such hooligan in the car. What should have taken me all of 9 hours took me 12. Thank you dear Keaton, and I promise to never take you on a long journey in the car again.

I had moved to Nacogdoches in the summer of 2004 to go to Stephen F. Austin State University, and stayed there 18 months after graduation to work on Business Development for the coffee company I worked for as an undergrad. I was musing recently about the personal growth that happened to me while I lived there.

When I arrived, I had just finished a stint with Youth With a Mission (YWAM) in Tijuana, Mexico building houses. I can build a wicked four wall house with a roof and an outhouse. A good skill to have, I suppose, if you are ever caught in say...Tijuana, Mexico. I was, to say the least, completely entrenched in Evangelical Christianity. I had spent the previous year in New Zealand and India converting Hindus to Jesus, which surprisingly is not hard. They already believe in 300 million gods, what's the harm in 300 million and 1?

Evangelical Christianity has its moments. I mean, you get to go to heaven and hang out with the big JC for all eternity. Also, the music within the last five years or so has become incredibly cutting edge. When I was growing up, Christian music was simply not as cool as secular music. No longer the case; quite an improvement to say the least. However, it has its downsides as well. Unfortunately for me, Evangelicals do not believe in homosexuals. They believe in a personification of evil that rules the underworld, but gays are like unicorns.

Now, I should explain a bit further. According to the handbook, gay people are not real. There is such a thing, however, as "struggling with homosexuality." If you happen to be one of the unlucky people that suffer from said affliction you do have some options. First, you can pledge yourself celibate and marry Jesus, retreating further back into the closet until you find Narnia. Many people do this. Or, you can subject yourself to demonic exorcism. I chose the latter.

I realize that for many people this sounds totally insane, and it is. However, in my defense I lived in a world where this seemed like my only option. This process is very similar to the popular "reparitive therapy" that is practiced by fundamentalist Christian organizations like Exodus Ministries in the United States. To put it in layman's terms they claim that they can change your sexual orientation through a series of sessions where you do plenty of bizarre role playing. If you are really that interested you can youtube it.

So, when I arrived in Nacogdoches this had been my existence for the previous two years. It's a hellish place to be, but as I have learned suffering produces beautiful things in people who make their way through it. Nacogdoches was my cocoon. I arrived there a deeply closeted, self loathing, very confused young adult and emerged quite differently. I suppose a butterfly would be an appropriate analogy, but that's kind of gay.

That's where I've been. Here is where I am. On August 4th I moved to Seattle, Washington. Holy shit. This city is absolutely amazing and full of people that are just like me. Seattle is known for some of the best weather during the summer of any place in the country. Today it was 72 degrees, 5 mph breeze, not a cloud in the sky, and snow capped peaks on all sides. A nice change from East Texas in August. We'll see how I feel in January when I have not seen the sun for two months.

Seattle is also the most intelligent city in the country. I suppose this is determined by the percentage of the population that is college educated. Art, literature, poetry readings, tasty food, Buddhist meditation centers, and beautiful gay men abound in this place. What's not to love? I feel so...blessed.

I cannot wait to see what turns my life is going to take while being up here. In retrospect, everything that has happened to me in my life is an accumulation leading me to this moment. And truthfully, that is all we ever have. This moment, right now.

Alright, that wasn't so bad, but don't expect any more blogs about me. I am going to pick this whole blogging thing back up. I encounter crazy and funny shit everyday in this place and I think, "that would make the perfect blog entry." So, be ready. It's about to get really fun!