Civil Rights: A Review of Gay Pride Weekend

Now add another decade and realize how things haven't changed.

I hope one day gay pride parades, festivals and celebrations don't exist anymore. At least, I hope they don't exist because they won't be needed to bring awareness to the gay community because gay people aren't seen any differently anymore.

I had a discussion the other day with a rather conservative family member about Pride, which was last weekend here in San Diego, and we discussed mostly why they felt like they needed to have a parade and why they needed to be so overtly sexual (paraphrasing... can't remember the actual words used) with their displays during the parade. (For the record, this person knows full well of my support for the gay community and was probably trying to instigate an argument, not necessarily be enlightened to another viewpoint.) I offered that maybe it was because doing so would not only bring up the subject of sexuality and the gay lifestyle and encourage people to talk about it, which would hopefully eventually get people to realize gays deserve the same rights as everyone else, but also makes the argument that sexuality, even gay sexuality, is not something to be ashamed of. By parading around (punny pun pun) in booty shorts those in the parade were not making any apologies for who they are. And that's kind of the point of gay pride weekend, I think. We have gay neighborhoods, gay bars, gay clubs, even a gay brewery now so that gays have a place they can go and be themselves and among like minded individuals without worrying about offending someone. Isn't it the same reason people go to sports bars? All that hollering at the TV, jeering with total strangers, and ignoring almost everything else going on would be offensive at another bar or establishment.

I also pointed out that "the way times used to be," as I too often hear older generations talking about, probably wasn't all it's chalked up to be. Human beings have likely always been this way, we maybe just didn't talk about it as much (which this particular relative sort of agreed with, and then said that it's more decent that we don't discuss it). And now that we're OK discussing our sexualities and the so-called weird things that we do, which are only weird because we have a sense of self and guilt that many other animals don't have, now that these things aren't as taboo as they once were, some people consider our society to be degraded. I just think we're getting to the point where we won't have self-imposed guilt anymore for living our lives the way we've lived them for generations. In fact, from a feminine standpoint, I'm pretty glad things aren't "what they used to be" because if my husband cheated on me it would have been my fault for not pleasing him enough, having a job would have been classless and not having kids would have given me an unsavory label. And if we go back further, I would have been sold by my father to the highest bidder. No owning property, no voting, no speaking out of turn, no leaving the house without a male relative to escort me, no rights or individuality. Just a walking pair of boobs that might entice a helpless man if someone isn't there to protect me.

Maybe gay people feel different-in-a-bad-way too often. Sure they can't marry the person they love or even provide that person benefits no matter how long they're together and in many places cannot adopt a child, but that's a federal issue. Maybe it's less deep than that: maybe gay people feel the need to function in a straight world where their individuality isn't celebrated in the same way as others' is. And maybe Pride weekend is an outlet. Maybe those participating in and watching the parade last weekend aren't all flamboyant and overtly sexual and slutty, but maybe it's about fitting in, being noticed for being different, or even just proving a point.

Speaking of which, my whole point was gays might not feel the need to have that outlet or create that awareness of gay or straight didn't matter. There was a time, long before I was born, where people were campaigning for a right I now very much appreciate. Had my boyfriend and I been born just a few generations ago it would not have been appropriate for us to be seen together, much less date. It would have been illegal for us to get married, and our kids would have been ridiculed, having no place to belong. Fortunately, we were both born long after those civil rights were obtained and now it's not unusual at all to see us walking down the street holding hands; no one would bat an eye at  our wedding, and our kids would be welcomed into any group. Watching the parade with him made me realize in a tangible way that this civil rights fight is exactly the same as the one we're benefitting from: it might not be unusual for a black man and a white woman to walk down the street holding hands, but a lot of people still feel uncomfortable seeing two men holding hands or two women stopping for a quick kiss. Those couples have to deal with that discrimination (even when it's not blatant) every day. They might be in love but feel like they aren't allowed to express it. They might want marriage and kids like most people do but the government, and plenty of their fellow citizens, don't think it's a good idea. Actually the government and many Americans think it's a very bad idea, and one that would directly contribute to the downfall of our country. Just like they once did when the idea that races could intermarry and *gasp* have mixed children (the poor things!). 

I know deep in my heart that a generation or two from now all of this will be in the past and my grand nieces and nephews will ask questions about it, wondering why it was such a big deal. I won't know what to tell them, but at least I'll be able to say I didn't agree and did what I could to change things.

One Week: Two Years Later

Random collection of characters in extraordinary costumes.

The last week has been thoroughly out of the ordinary, much like last time.

Last Saturday I went to Comic Con for the first time. I'd been around downtown San Diego during Comic Con before but had never been inside. I'm not a big enough geek (or that into pop culture) to justify buying an expensive ticket or spending an entire day waiting around for something, which was my impression of Comic Con before, but the boyfriend, leading the charmed existence he does, won a pair of day tickets on the radio with his Star Wars knowledge. So I got to go! 

I have to admit, a good part of Comic Con was exactly what I'd imagined: a lot of people walking around in costumes and lots of waiting around. But a bigger part of Comic Con was something I'd never have discovered without going. The costumes, for example, were amazing! So much time, thought and detail went into creating them, and anyone who was dressed up was constantly stopped and asked for a photo. Plus, the range of characters, from TV shows, movies and comics, was astounding. So many genres were represented. It was pretty awesome. 

The all around eye candy in the convention center was also pretty amazing. So many enormous TV screens playing video games, trailers, clips from shows, interviews and promotional material, not to mention the rows upon rows of booths giving away comics, flyers and cards, had my eyes wide open. They give everyone a bag to carry around the swag in, which was half my height, and saying no to free material was actually pretty hard. I enjoyed going, but if we'd wanted to see the panels we'd have had to spend our entire day waiting in line, and that just doesn't seem like a good way to spend a Saturday... but that's why people buy multiple day passes. And The Oatmeal wasn't there, which was the one booth I was looking forward to.

Then Monday I went into work and about half of the company, myself included, was laid off. No warning, no notice, not even severance. I didn't even get paid for going into work, despite being there for almost two hours before finally leaving with my check from last week. Total shit. I'd wanted out of that company pretty much since starting more than a year ago, but I wanted to do it on my terms and be able to walk out of there having said what I felt, and that was taken away. The upside is the rest of the week has been a much happier one, where I woke up and felt ready to take on the day, went to bed at night with an accomplished feeling and have been far more satisfied with my life simply not having that job. I can't be in a job I hate, not for long anyway, and having done so was really taking its toll. In fact, I'd taken the Friday before off mostly to job hunt because I wanted out so badly. Of course, not having an income sucks and prevents me from truly enjoying this time off as much as I'd like to, but that's what unemployment insurance is for, right?

I spent the rest of Monday drinking, first with one also-laid-off coworker and then with friends, and had a lovely Monday for the first time in months. I have to say, summer is a great time to be unemployed. 

Tuesday I was very productive: got in a great morning work out then spent the rest of the afternoon applying to jobs. I found one that's actually in my own neighborhood (walk to work?!) and seems completely perfect for me. I took a lot of time crafting an application and personal email and they responded asking for a phone interview! The interview process at this particular company is long and involved because they're looking more for the right fit, but that makes me feel like I have an advantage. Here's hoping!

Wednesday, because the people in my life are awesome, I went to opening day at the Del Mar Racetrack with one of my best friends. I'd been to the races before but never on opening day, and so much eye candy! Fabulous dresses and even better hats were everywhere. It was so much fun getting dressed up and walking around with all of the other people. We took the free shuttle from the Solana Beach train station and our fellow passengers were so drunk (at 1pm) that we could smell the alcohol on them. Once we actually got in it was obvious the vast majority of opening day patrons had been drinking for some time. We met up with my friend's coworker, who was having a bad day, but it seemed like everyone else was having a bad day too. Around 4pm there were a lot of ladies who were yelling at their men or just sitting down tired, drunk and angry. It didn't affect us though - we enjoyed seeing the horses and all the dolled up ladies all day, even if we were the only ones in a halfway decent mood. But I'd have never had the chance to go to opening day and prance around in a hat and dress if I was employed!

Thursday night, again taking advantage of my newfound unemployment, the boyfriend and I and his friend saw The Dark Knight Rises at midnight. I won't say anything about it except that it was great and totally worth seeing at midnight. However, I don't think I'll be seeing any more midnight showings, job or no job, because apparently I'm old and it's become too hard to stay awake. 

Friday the boyfriend and I ran some errands, getting a cage for his very fruitful tomato plant, and met up with his friends in my neighborhood for happy hour. One of his old friends from college was in town for Pride and their whole group got together. It was a fun night, especially because everyone seemed to be in such a great mood.

It's an awful cell phone picture, but those are dancing super heroes.

And finally, today is Gay Pride. We went to the parade, walked to Balboa Park (where apparently the festival is $20 per person), and then walked back. The people watching during Pride is one of my favorite things to do, and I always try to go at some point of the day. We saw a girl walking around in just shorts and star-shaped pasties on her nipples, right past a cop. He told her to put a shirt on. She complained and the poor cop just shook his head as in, look, you can't go walking around naked, just put a shirt on. It was a little ridiculous. But then so was the foam-mobile. 

Tonight might consist of sushi and drink specials and maybe walking around Hillcrest for Pride. This year, though, is going to be decidedly different from last. This year will not involve me making out with a gay man, or annoying anyone's boyfriend, or walking through Hillcrest barefoot because my heels hurt too much (I still shudder that I actually did that). This year will more likely consist of me saving the boyfriend from the clutches of very outgoing hopefuls around town. Seeing everyone happy and free and out makes me feel happy, which is why I love Pride.

It's certainly been an interesting week! I'm going to make an effort to better enjoy this time of no-work because I know that soon enough I'll be back at it 5 days a week. 

One Week

It's like my life: it makes no sense.

Well that week came out of nowhere.

Last Wednesday my job was to take about 30 foreign students to this western "club" for $2 drinks and line dancing. The place was packed, despite the $8 cover and line dancing. One coworker had been with the students dancing and was going to be taken home early, so he comes over to my van, thinking I'm the one driving him home, starts to push me off my seat and says, "Don't worry, I'll drive." I turn around and he realizes I'm not who he thought I was and starts apologizing like crazy. Then, "Ok, well give me a hug, cause I'm drunk." They leave in the other van and I head to Del Taco to pee. On my way out some foreign looking boys are on their way in, and I can't tell if they're my students or not, so I smile. Turns out they aren't, but I've already smiled and made eye contact so one comes over and ends up kissing my cheek.

Thursday I found out one of the students has blood cancer and might not live more than a couple of months. He just got here, was planning on staying at least a year, and is here with his sister, who he doesn't plan to tell. My response? "Are you messing with me?" But then I realize he isn't even looking me in the eyes. And I feel like an ass. He shows me his leg and his veins are black. Fucking scary. After that I meet up with a friend for sushi and wait outside with Quail Man and Robin. (No joke. Wish I'd gotten a picture.) After that my coworker gets off early and wants me to meet him at one of my favorite bars, which I discover is a 3 minute walk from my apartment. Somehow we end up talking with his friends about AIDS and herpes for like 20 minutes and they leave saying, "Always wear a condom." Good advice.

Porkchop couldn't make it.

Friday afternoon (when I finally wake up) I go for a run. Across the street from my apartment there's a coffee shop and food mart, and on my way back I see a double decker bus sitting outside with a ton of Asians. Some of them were taking Asian glamor shots with their coffees and here I am running by all sweaty and gross. That night, I was rear ended by a taxi while I had students in the van. I pull over and the taxi stays where he is, blocking the lane. There isn't much damage, but my bumper is very bent. The taxi driver looks at it and says, "Oh, that was there before. I didn't do that." Since I was 100% not at fault, as I was stopped at a light, I tell him he's in no position to tell me what damage was and was not there before he hit me. He refuses to give me his information and suggests I call the cops. So I write down his plate number and call. While I'm giving the dispatcher what information I can, another cop drives by and tells the taxi to get out of the middle of the road. He pulls to the side, then comes over and says, "So you want my information or not?" WTF, dude. Finally he gives me his information (no idea why he made me call the cops...) and I can take the students home. Later that night we leave downtown at 130 AM when my boss calls me to come back for people left behind. They aren't even at the pick up place, so I have to go out of my way to get them. Grrr.

Saturday is Pride, but I have to work during the day so I miss the parade. I go to Baja Betty's with my lady while we wait for the boys to show up, but they end up going to another place, so we walk to meet them. And it is a sausage fest! There is only a small handful of chicks at this place, and we're there with straight guys. Obviously I have a great time. We get some drinks, meet some vibrant and fun looking gay guys and dance. My friends are grabbed and hit on, my lady is motorboated and I end up with half my drink on the floor. Then my Scottish friend tells me he wants to take me on a "proper American date." How can I say no to that? (I tell him to ask me when he's not drunk, so I get a text at 3am saying he's not drunk anymore; I've long since passed out.)

Sunday I'm called in early (and by early I mean 1130) and get a little bit of overtime. I was having a great day: the sun was out, I took kids to the beach, I was not hungover, and I felt fancy in a skirt. After work I have dinner with my lady, then go home to shower and wait for shift #2 to start. At 130 AM I'm back on campus waiting for a busload of students to show up. They finally do around 230, and I load 8 Taiwanese students and their luggage into my van to take them to their house families. First one I drop off I can't pronounce the name, so I show it to the girl who thinks it's her house and she says yes, that's her. When the woman answers the door she says she was expecting a boy. Since the girl confirmed that was her name there was nothing I could do and we assumed there was some error that could be figured out in the morning. Then I get to house #3 on my list and realize there's a boy in the very back who says his name is the first name I called. Well fuck. So I knock on the door and am told the students are expected to share a room, so since we can't have a boy and girl sharing a room I tell them there was a mistake and I'll bring them the other girl. So I continue with my drop offs and around 4am get back to the first house, do the switch, and drop off my van at 430. I'm home at 5, so I watch some TV and 45 minutes later get back out of bed.

Monday I'm at my lady's house at 630 AM with breakfast and lunch all packed. I've promised to go in to her class on her last day to see all her autistic preschoolers and help out. She buys me coffee, but I start to slow waaaaaay down at 9 AM. Luckily, they got an hour of swim time and that perked me up for the rest of the day. The kids were cute (except for the screaming ones) and I thoroughly enjoyed watching Miss K sing "I am a pizza" and "We love peanut butter." When the day is done I go home to nap. My alarm goes off at 530 PM and I have no idea what's going on. I don't recognize my alarm, don't understand why the street outside my window is so busy (thinking it's 530 AM), don't know where I am or what I'm supposed to be doing. I have a vague feeling I'm late for work, but don't know where or why... Finally I come to and understand what's going on. And an hour later I'm back on campus. My boss had asked me to extend my shift until 2 AM and I tell him I did not sleep the night before, but if I have to I will. There's some big party in Mission Beach that all the students were supposed to go to, but it turns out no one did. I start thinking I'll be off early. But when we get back to campus there's a group of 20 Italians who were told about a party and want to go, and we have to take them. But when we get to Mission Beach the party is over. We drop them off to go get drunk somewhere else and do the last of our pickups. We finally get out of there around 1 AM and my coworker and I stay on the phone to keep each other awake while we drive, talking mostly about this giant tarantula we saw. One of the best feelings in the whole world is getting into your bed when you're that exhausted. I slept hard.

Tuesday I force myself awake and go for a run. My foot kept bugging me, like I hadn't loosened up enough before running, and when I get back I notice a giant lump between my heel and second ankle. Weird. I'm not doing things to get random cuts and bruises anymore, so I figure it'll go away just like it came. After work I meet with friends for birthday tacos (and have the tamest taco tuesday experience ever while I get made fun of for wearing a dinosaur shirt) then go see "The Girl Who Played With Fire." I'm amazed how well they do these movies- they stay so close to the books and the actors are so real. Plus, I discovered Paolo Roberto is a real boxer, and he plays himself in the movie. Freaking cool. We'd gotten some frozen yogurt from Pink Berry to sneak into the theatre. Turns out it's ridiculously expensive and not even that good. I end up getting chocolate yogurt all over my hands and all over the inside of my purse (phone, book and chapstick included). Hooray. Way to end one hell of a week. But I discovered that my dinosaur shirt glows in the dark, so that's awesome.

Here's to hoping for a tamer and more restful week.

In Which I Am A Porn Star

You read that right.

This week 3 different friends mentioned they not only read this little blog of mine but actually look forward to new posts. Yay! Then I get a random e-mail from The Ex letting me know of some exposure I've been getting, including Reddit and an Indonesian porn site.

I was wondering how on Earth my blog was associated with porn, seeing how I don't even write about it, so I did some googling. Turns out Lindsay Marie is a platinum blonde porn star, and she posed with some of her Indonesian coworkers.

So, Lindsay Marie is an up and coming porn star. (Also, me, the snarky writer, but I don't turn up when you google my name...) Her biography says, "you could call me the multi-talented model" because she can cook and sew, and walk and chew gum at the same time. She also likes to call herself a nude model, rather than porn star, maybe because I didn't find any videos of her. She was an extra in some short non-porn film some years ago, but her popularity is down 27% on IMDB...

Gotta say, though, she looks pretty good in a pair of jeans. Here you go, boys, and I even included a link to her website so don't say I never did anything for you.

I'm not much for bottle blondes, but she's not too shabby.

Thanks for reading!

Boobquake!

This just in: boobs cause earthquakes.

Yes, boobs.

The only antidote: take refuge in religion.

I'm not sure which one of those statements makes less sense. Some hot shot Iranian prayer leader made the logical leap from immodesty to earthquakes. Think I'm kidding? Here's the dude's actual quote:

Many women who do not dress modestly ... lead young men astray, corrupt their chastity and spread adultery in society, which (consequently) increases earthquakes. -Hojatoleslam Kazem Sedighi

(I was curious to know what was omitted with the ellipses; I think it's "and behave promiscuously".) Sedighi says in order to reduce the number of earthquakes, we must adapt our lives to Islam's moral codes. This, surely, is the only way. Doesn't this remind you of when tribes thought the rumbling of a volcano meant they had angered the gods and only the sacrifice of a young virgin into the volcanic opening could appease them and save the rest? What happened when they sacrificed a virgin and the volcano still spewed fire all over them? Maybe that's the New World version of Sodom and Gomorrah: they were so bad that nothing could be done to save them.

Luckily for us, there's an antidote to the madness: show as much boobage as possible on April 26th. The theory is that if this religious leader was told by God that boobs (or immodesty in general) cause earthquakes, then we should be able to cause a massive earthquake if we all pitch in and dress like the skanks we are (American women: if this isn't your call to arms, what is?). If there is an earthquake, then it's official: boobs cause earthquakes. If not, maybe that dude isn't getting his information from a good enough source. I'll be sure to show my, um, support on April 26th (and if I get called in to work I will be as immodest as possible in my tucked in khaki).

Come on, women, show your boobies! Join the Facebook group here.