Thursday, April 22, 2010

F**ked up Facebook

In my humble opinion Facebook can sometimes be flat out wacko. For instance, I don't get the whole FarmVille thing. I tried it once for fifteen minutes, vowing never to return. Then the next day I found that one of my friends fed my cows and another friend found a mystery egg on my property. I have cows? I have property? Huh? And doesn't it seem that every Facebook friend wants you to join some oddball group? At present, I have 133 requests. It's out of control. I will cop to joining gay marriage groups, and of course I was fully behind Betty White hosting Saturday Night Live (which worked!!), but usually I just delete.

Tonight, I read in an update that a few friends have joined the group Petition to remove Facebook group praying for President Obama's death. Quite a mouthful. But I was intrigued. I went to their Facebook page and I found this image...


In my eyes, it's a legitimate beef. Praying for anyone's death is just plain creepy. How do these folks reconcile ill will to their god? Surely, they must be breaking a couple of rules. Now what was the heinous page that was being petitioned? Take a look.

DEAR LORD, THIS YEAR YOU TOOK MY FAVORITE ACTOR, PATRICK SWAYZIE. YOU TOOK MY FAVORITE ACTRESS, FARRAH FAWCETT. YOU TOOK MY FAVORITE SINGER, MICHAEL JACKSON. I JUST WANTED TO LET YOU KNOW, MY FAVORITE PRESIDENT IS BARACK OBAMA. AMEN

Even more of a mouthful. And here's their image.

Now, the first thing I saw on this page, I kid you not, wasn't the image above, but an update that read Everyone post pictures of your poop! I want to show you mine but it is bloody and i get embarrassed.

I have a hard time taking this site too seriously, especially since they claim their favorite actor was Patrick Swayzie and their favorite actress was Farah Fawcett...AND they managed to misspell both names!!

I'd go on about this, but really, I'd much rather post pics of my poop.

Wednesday, April 21, 2010

Deciphering the Code

Mommy With a Penis is busily doing work in the bedroom when a three year old girl comes scurrying in.

MAXIE: Papa, Papa!

MOMMY WITH A PENIS: Yes darling?

MAXIE: I want a regielusodlkeyoooo.

MOMMY WITH A PENIS: What's that?

MAXIE: You know. A gloeuuhdoeiuiii.

Maxie sees that Mommy With a Penis is confused and tries to clarify.

MAXIE: 'Abastian has a leourertgderfff. An I wan one too.

MOMMY WITH A PENIS: Sebastian has something and you want one too.

Maxie nods, thrilled her meaning is understood. Mommy With a Penis stands.

MOMMY WITH A PENIS: Well, let's go find out what a hibbideyhoobey is.

Maxie and Mommy With a Penis go into the backyard, where they find a seven year old boy in the throes of some pretend game.

Mommy With a Penis turns to Maxie incredulously.

MOMMY WITH A PENIS: Is this what you wanted? A cigarette?

Maxie nods with enthusiasm. Mommy With a Penis quickly switches focus back to Sebastian, and finds that there are no words. A huge shit eating grin spreads across Sebastian's face.

SEBASTIAN: It's not lit, Papa. See? I'm only pretending.

The kids eyes are bright and their smiles iridescent. They have no sense of any wrongdoing. Mommy With a Penis is flummoxed, unsure what the lesson should be.

Fade to black.

Saturday, April 17, 2010

Mike Huckabee Stepped in a Load of Doo Doo

Let's go back to the November election 2008... Now, I'm not talking presidential or even Prop 8, but something on the Arkansas ballot called Act 1. When the results came in, the people of Arkansas voted to pass Act 1 forbidding anyone "cohabiting outside of a valid marriage" to adopt or foster children. And even though this included heterosexual singles, the initiative was clearly targeted to keep gay people from adopting. It's simple algebra folks: If gays can't legally marry, and only legally married folks can adopt, well then, it stands to reason that those dreaded homos are defeated again!!

As an adoptive parent, this pisses me off. There are an average of sixteen hundred children in the system in Arkansas, and yet in 2008 the Razorbacks felt like it was more important to stick it to the ho-man than advocate for their own children.

Well, some good news... The ACLU sued the state in December 2008 to overturn the ban, their arguement being that there are not enough Arkansonians who are either willing or able to take care of all these kids. And on Friday, Circuit Court Judge Chris Piazza overturned the law! The judge said, and listen up H8ers, "Due process and equal protection are not hollow words without substance. They are rights enumerated in our constitution that must not be construed in such a way as to deny or disparage other rights retained by the people."

On April 7th, before Act 1 was overturned, former Arkansas governor Mike Huckabee visited The College of New Jersey, and was questioned by Michael Tracey, editor of the college magazine The Perspective. Topics included Don't Ask, Don't Tell, gay marriage, and other LGBT nuggets. On a question about Act 1, Huckabee explained Arkansas's stance by explaining that "Children are not puppies. This is not a time to see if we can experiment and find out how does that work?"

Someone might want to explain to ex-Governor Huckabee that there have been way too many studies about gay adoption and gay parenting to still be deemed an experiment. And the results are that children from homohomes end up being just as accomplished or screwed up as those from heterohomes. Homosexual and heterosexual couples stay together or divorce with the same frequency. And children end up being gay or straight no matter the parents' orientation. So basically, being raised by Butch Betty and Lipstick Loni will not make little Mai Ling a muff diver.

As a matter of fact, the only difference found was that children raised by homosexuals tend to be more tolerant. And perhaps that's an experiment that Mr. Huckabee just can't stomach.

In that same interview, Huckabee espoused about gay marriage, "You don't go ahead and accommodate every behavioral pattern that is against the ideal. That would be like saying, well, there are a lot of people who like to use drugs, so lets go ahead and accommodate those who want to use drugs. There are some people who believe in incest so we should accommodate them. There are people who believe in polygamy, so we should accommodate them."

I find it highly unchristian for this former Baptist minister to compare me or my husband or Ricky Martin to drug abusers, incest participants and polygamists.

Huckabee has received lots of heat for saying these things and to retaliate he issued the following on his website, "The young college student will hopefully find a career other than journalism. I ask that he release the unedited tape of our conversation."

Then Tracey fired back, "It is telling that nowhere in his statement did Huckabee suggest he was misquoted in the article, and rightfully so; we have the audio and transcripts to prove that everything reported is accurate."

This week, both Judge Chris Piazza and future publisher extraordinaire Michael Tracey are my personal heroes.

Hey, Mike Huckabee, the ball's in your court. But now that the ban on gay adoption has been overturned in your state, you might want to choose your words more carefully, because let me assure you, we are listening.

Friday, April 16, 2010

What Happened Easter Bunny?



We've done it before and it leaves the kids mystified. When we travel during Easter, we get the Cadbury eggs, the Peeps, the chocolate bunnies and the other goodies ahead of time. Then, we fix up the baskets and hand them over to the hotel's front desk. The rules are simple: leave the baskets outside our door at eight am, knock loudly and then quickly disappear. It's very much like ding dong ditch, except in this version we end up with a couple of surprises waiting on our doorstep.

Sebastian and Maxie love Easter. For them, there is no no religious connotation. No Crucifixion. No Resurrection. No blood of the lamb. It's simply, baskets, egg hunts and sweets. This year their baskets were sent by my step mother, Deanna. They were plush and in the shapes of a pink bunny and a white ducky. They came the week before in the mail and I wasn't sure how to explain them to the kids, because up to now the Easter Bunny had supplied the baskets. But Sebastian informed us that we could leave Danana's empty baskets out the night before and he was sure the Easter Bunny would fill them. Mini crisis avoided.

I shouldn't have worried. It seems that our Easter traditions are always being altered. Last year, was the first time we went to my aunt's house in the desert for an Easter egg hunt. The hunt, however, was on Saturday and not the traditional Sunday, and it was quite obvious the older cousins were hiding the eggs. But these discrepancies didn't seem to worry my children, they just wanted their candy.

Eight o'clock rolled around and there was no knock at the door. Sebastian had already been up and was excited about the impending baskets. Finally, we peeked into the hall and he was noticeably bummed when we didn't see them. Teaching a child patience drains me of all of mine. He lay back down, I'm sure thinking about the bounty to come. Eight-ten. Still no baskets. Eight-fifteen, I took another peek. Eight-eighteen, Michael asked me what time it was. I got dressed saying something like, "I better go make sure the Easter Bunny didn't get lost," and went to the lobby to check on the basket progress.

The Parker Meridien in Palm Springs is a beautiful hotel with spectacularly manicured gardens. To get to the front desk, I had to wend my way across the croquet lawn, through the trees with the hammocks, around a few fountains, by the lemonade cart and fire pit, and bypass the fancy schmancy restaurant where, honest to God, you can enjoy a lobster frittata with sevruga caviar for one thousand dollars. (If you get it with beluga it's a mere hundred. Our server told us they've never sold the sevruga, but will serve up to ten belugas a day.)

A beautiful young woman with an Anne Hathaway smile greeted me at the front desk. I asked about the baskets. She smiled even wider (if that could be possible) and said that she made sure they were delivered to room 54. "We're in room 51," I corrected. I've never seen a smile crumble so fast. Her demeanor changed drastically. She stuttered a bit and then got onto her headset, looking like someone playing a CIA operative. Where are those baskets? Abort mission. Repeat, abort.

A silver haired gent wearing a hot pink sports jacket, which matched the bougainvillea that grows plentifully on the property, was at my side in no time. He was told of the mix up and once again there was some dithering not at the Parker! Then he jumped into action,"Follow me!" I did as I was told, but to be honest, his SWAT-like demeanor was diminished by the fuchsia colored sports jacket.

I followed him to our hallway. First he knocked timidly on Room 54's door. And then to my satisfaction he got out the master key and barged on in. But no one was there. He got on his headset to get a profile of Room 54's occupants. Someone on the other end (I imagined Anne Hathaway's lookalike) informed him the guests in Room 54 were an elderly couple, more than likely not interested in plush baskets filled with kiddie DVDs, plastic watches, and according to my husband the cutest socks you ever saw.

Silver Fox seemed more than determined and assured me he was going to search the grounds. (For the baskets? For the elderly couple? For a sports jacket not so offensive to the eye?) He seemed to think if the elderly couple did take the baskets, they must have thought it was part of the hotel's mystique. (His word.) I was relieved Silver Fox was on the case. He seemed dedicated to getting to the bottom of this mystère. (My word.)

As I was going back to the room, I was struck by the fact that the only way out of this minor catastrophe was to blatantly lie, which I hate. No matter how nonchalant I try to act while spinning a fib, I end up tripping over my tongue, which makes me feel like crap. But when I opened the door to Room 51, Sebastian gave me the explanation: "I think the Easter Bunny is caught in traffic."

I was unaware the Easter Bunny drove, but I didn't flinch. "Is that what you think?" No lie. No awkward moment. But then I'm asked, "Where are Danana's Easter baskets?" All I could think to say was, "Let's go swimming."

Distraction I can do. Lying, not so much.

As the hours ticked by I knew our chances seeing those Easter baskets again were getting slimmer and slimmer. (Something I learned from watching crime shows on CBS.) And by the time I checked out at two-thirty, I knew they were gone for good.

The folks at the Parker felt horrible. They ended up taking off about one hundred fifty dollars worth of services, including Easter breakfast, off our bill. Had I known that, you better believe I would have ordered one of those lobster frittata smeared with sevruga.

And for those of you worried about my children, no need. A close friend went to the store, bought new baskets and filled them with fake grass, stickers, books and chocolate. They were waiting for us when we arrived home from the desert later that afternoon.

As chocolate smeared their mouths and fingers, any questions of the missing baskets or the Easter Bunny's bad traffic karma melted away completely.

Monday, April 12, 2010

NOH8

It doesn't seems to matter where you are in this country, almost everyone knows about California's anti gay marriage bill, Proposition 8, which passed November 2008. Of course, this is not the last we will hear of this. Especially, since eighteen thousand gay couples were able to get married in the four month window following the California Supreme Court's ruling, and since the election that availability is no more. Michael and I (and seventeen thousand-nine-hundred-ninety-nine couples) are married but Glenda and Gertrude in Fresno are now legally forbidden to do so. Where's the logic in that?

My argument on this subject hasn't changed: What about my children? The far right have often pulled out the chestnut, "what about the children" to any topic they can apply it to. And ProtectMarriage.com, the group who placed Prop 8 on the ballot in the first place, say they are about marriage and family. "California's constitutional marriage amendment exists to strengthen society, encourage monogamous and loving marriages and to provide the optimal environment to ensure the well being of children." Well, the well being of my children, and of children from other gay families, are best served if their two
daddies/mommies have the choice to legally marry and then remain so without fear of having their union overturned at a later date. So, isn't it prejudice to exclude these children because their parents are of the same gender?

And please let's not shy away from the phrase "gay agenda" as if it's a bad thing. Because folks, I am clear. There is a gay agenda. It's called equal rights.

***

The pictures of today's entry were taken by Adam Bouska. He and his partner Jeff Parshley have created this silent protest in response to the passage of Prop 8. All his subjects wear white tees and NOH8 tattoos with duct tape covering their mouths. It's a powerful image. Many celebrities have supported the NOH8 campaign and last week our family went in to have our pictures taken. We are very proud to be part of this historic protest, and I'm personally thrilled of the outcome. Be sure to go to the NOH8 website to see more of Adam's compelling work.

***

And in keeping with the political theme... We are voting for the State Assemblyman of the 43rd district tomorrow. In all my years living here I do not recall being inundated with so many political fliers and phone calls. Both Democratic nominees, Mike Gatto and Nayiri Nahabedian are doing all they can to get us to the polls.

In my last blog entry, I relayed an actual conversation as told to me by my husband. A volunteer from Gatto's camp tried to secure his vote. And being the gay Nazi that he is (Michael wouldn't even buy Coors Lite for my cousin last week because of their stance against homosexuals) he asked the volunteer what Mr. Gatto's position was on gay marriage. The poor guy was a bit confused and didn't have the facts at hand, which made my previous entry funny, or at least to me.

However, Mike Gatto didn't think so. Last week, he got wind of my blog and actually called our house!! He apologized for the volunteer's lack of knowledge and said he's been advocating for gay marriage "for years, maybe decades." He then added my blog was the only one that came to mind that was negative and he was "hurt" that my entry put his campaign in a "bad light." And in all sincerity, Mike, I am truly sorry. I was going for humor, not judgement.

The other thing I personally found significant about this election is that Gatto has taken the high road in response to the opposition's smear tactics. And there is nothing that turns me off more than a politician who doesn't stick to her own stance on the issues. Don't you remember what happened to Hillary, Ms. Nahabedian? Shame on you.

I know who I'll be voting for tomorrow.

***

In a bizarre follow up... Nayiri Nahabedian also personally called us!! This happened yesterday. We weren't home and both Gatto's and Nahabedian's messages are now side by side on our answering machine. Not since junior high politics have I felt so popular. "Vote for me and I'll be your best friend." Is this a new trend? Should I expect our gubernatorial nominees to start calling come November? If so, Jerry Brown, use your sultry voice.