Mommy with a Penis

Mike Gatto is running in April's election for the State Assembly in California. Well, yesterday, one of his peeps called our house and my husband answered... CALLER: Would you consider voting for Mike Gatto? HUSBAND: Before I can answer that, I need to know where he stands on gay marriage. CALLER: (Pause.) Well, um, I'm pretty sure he's for it. HUSBAND: (Not totally convinced.) Where can I see that in writing? CALLER: (Searching frenetically.) Well... I'm sure it's here somewhere. Oh, yeah, here it is. Yes, he definitely is in favor of gay marriage. (Beat. Beat.) No, wait, that's abortion.

Residual checks always perk me up. They're sort of a mystical concept. You never know when they'll appear nor how how much they'll be. And I, at least, have no earthly clue what sort of algebraic gymnastics the Screen Actors Guild goes through to determine what ends up in our bank account. Today, when I found a residual check nestled amongst the bills, it was like Christmas in March. Then, once again, I had that nagging thought that I should be more diligent in understanding the byzantine world of residual pay, but to be honest, I got a turkey to cook (guests tonight), beds to make and dogs to de-worm. Who has the time? Luckily, it doesn't have to be a lot of money to make me happy. Just enough for a jumbo-sized bottle of Ketel One and I'm grinning like Carol Channing off her meds. Well today was a red letter day. Seventeen payments were added together in a single check. I can practically taste that martini. Foreign Royalty Statements are always a hoot because you ...

Homophobia moment number one deals with Black History Month in the Los Angeles Unified School District. At Wadsworth Elementary the students put on a parade carrying banners depicting prominent African Americans: Barack Obama, Rosa Parks, Martin Luther King, Jr., you get my drift. Along with these fine folk were also images of OJ Simpson, Dennis Rodman and RuPaul, which has caused quite a media kerfluffle, and in my opinion an unnecessary kerfluffle. Some parents were offended, then the school board got involved, and finally the NAACP got wind of it and the entire incident has been so blown out of proportion that it lead to the suspension and possible future firing of three teachers. Even our not-so-faultless mayor, Antonio Villaraigosa, chimed in, "These teachers undermine the school's well-intentioned celebration, and they did so at the expense of elementary school students. Their actions were not only cynical, but did a terrible disservice to the students, their families ...

If you've been following Mommy With a Penis, you've heard about my daughter's closet of princess costumes, from tiaras to matching shoes. You've also heard that my son sometimes likes to dress in his sister's things. Well, to support both these themes I dug up this photo from last Halloween... Sometimes we just have to face the fact that mermaids are huge. When I was a kid, long before the Disney film, I'm a little ashamed to admit that my favorite story was The Little Mermaid . (Didn't everyone have a Hans Christian Anderson anthology?) Granted in that version she was blond and not a plucky redhead, and I don't remember her having a moniker of any sort. She was just a mermaid looking for love: long suffering, pretty and silent. And she had a brassiere made of seashells. What future gay boy wouldn't be enamored. Michael took Maxie to Target to find her Halloween costume and without qualm she chose Ariel. I was amazed at how quickly she made her choi...

We may have been spared the entire Bristol/Levi scandal if they lived in Northampton, England... And from what we've seen of Mr. Johnston johnson... A little rear entrance might have suited him just fine.

The heinous dress kept calling to me. And like a traffic accident, I couldn't stop from sneaking peaks. It was a pink on pink confection, bubblegum on top with matching bows on a fuchsia ballerina skirt. Oh, and did I mention Hello Kitty's puss emblazoned across the bodice? My teeth hurt just looking at it. I was standing in the checkout line at Macy's buying last minute Christmas gifts when the monstrosity caught my eye. My cynical inner voice couldn't help but query, "What poor Filipino sweat shop kid pieced together that dish rag?" But quashing the cynicism was another voice, one that was more powerful, more resonant, and I'm embarrassed to admit, surprising fey, "Maxie would love it!" Followed immediately by, "And I have a coupon!" I'm not sure which gave me the fortitude, the possibility of making my daughter deliriously happy or twenty-five percent off the already discounted price, but either way, I grabbed a 5T off the rack ...

When Michael and I started this having children thing , I was determined to keep our home from looking like day care gone wild. There would be no forts in the living room, no crazy swing set structure taking up the entire back yard and no toys littering every room of the house. I envisioned a Japanese minimalist approach to parenting. "Here's a box, honey. Now go play." And for a while the kids didn't know that a wooden spoon banging on Tupperware wasn't the neatest thing since drinkable yogurt. The thing is, Michael and I didn't just renovate our house, we gayed the place up big time. Our kitchen is the perfect example of sleek, sexy lines amidst varying textures: polished granite countertops, stainless steel appliances, brushed nickle pulls on blond bamboo-like cabinetry. Thomas the Train and Dora the Explorer simply do not belong on the imported slate floor doing the Watusi. Likewise, our bathroom is sumptuous. The chestnut wood cozying up to the creamy mar...