Reggie’s on day 86 of nothing special. He’s stuck in Lodi again. I’m on day 3 of the Michael Thurmond 6 Week Body Makeover. You know the Bicep Buddhist on Extreme Makeover who tries to get at what the lipo didn’t? Rumour on the fat boards is this miracle makeover knocks 30 pounds off in
Monthly Archives: November 2005
Im drawing characters at the moment. Another little procrastination trick I’ve learned. I have several hundred to choose from. For years I’ve been in the habit of people watching. I carry my notebook everywhere. Sketch what I see. With words instead of lines. The man who wears the dirty Octoberfest tshirt to let everyone know
It was Bluefield. What did queens do in Bluefield? Sit at home and wish they were some where else. Every night but Thursday. I was working at a grocery store in West Virginia when I saw my first drag queen. It was after midnight and she sloshed through the door in stripper heels and gold
Someone asked me the other day if I was named after Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I’m serious. So was he. The thing about names is they sometimes suck. I hated being a Buffy. The absolute bane of my existence until I was 18 and realised I could never be anything ordinary. I never let on
The first song I learned was Jesus Loves Me. It came from my grandmother. The second was Sixteen Tons. I got that one from her husband. At three I didn’t know a lot, but I knew who loved you and I knew who owned your soul. If you were a coal miner it wasn’t Jesus.
1. I have nice nail beds. 2. I know a scientist. 3. My laugh. When it’s genuine. (It rarely is.) 4. I’ve studied ancient languages. 5. My hair sometimes shines. 6. I try to be polite and well mannered despite being raised by a barn, on a farm, in a holler, in WV. 7. Before
I hate when people give me diet tips. Save your breath. I’m not after tips. I know them all. I don’t need earth mommas telling me to up my fiber intake or keep an eye on those extra sugar grams. I am the lentil queen and sugar makes makes my neck spasm. I don’t eat
It was four in the morning when she woke me. “They’re there. They wont go away. They’re so mournful and sad.” Turns out two Edwardian chics were standing in the corner of her room. Crying alot. She could feel their pain. It was killing her. I asked if she was on crack and handed her
Bertha was a dying swan. The kind who said “Lawd Lawd” and “My heart, My heart”. Matriarch of a rather large family, she introduced 9 children to the world before her husband died. They, in turn, gifted her with 32 grandchildren. Three gingers by the youngest were, in her eyes, the crowning achievement of her
The girls at the gym were talking about cosmopolitans – and how they drank them sometimes because of Sex & the City, even though they tasted terrible. I could call them sad but I wont because I’ve been there. Done that. Bought the tshirt. I admit it. I love chic lit. I don’t know why.
I think I have man flu. It’s the worse kind. More terrible than anything a woman or child could get. Tall Dark & Handsome has been rolling around with it for three days. Wondering if he’s going to live until tomorrow and “Will you get someone new when I’m gone”. I said I’d think about
Me: “Last week. I got stitches. In my groin.” Reggie: “Sexy.” Me: “You’d think. But no.” Ive not been to the gym in a week. Tried an ‘upper body only’ day but couldnt stay off the rowing machine. I hate the rowing machine. I’m a glutton for punishment. My stitches bled. Ive had one day
