08 Pride Post #20: Late night — last year’s Pride home movies

For the overnight shift, check out last year’s virgotext Pride extravaganza. To see every post, be sure and click the “Next Page” link.

More new Pride tomorrow!

08 Pride Post #19: Funniest Dyke in the World contestant Julie Goldman

The longer version of this routine is somewhere on the AfterEllen.com site but I can’t find it anymore. It’s worth hunting down because it’s even funnier than the excerpt above. Highlight: bulldykes shopping for bras.

08 Pride Post #18: everyone will quote me on this line

San Antonio’s own punky homegirls Girl in a Coma are all over the place lately, most prominently as part of the True Colors 2008 gay benefit juggernaut line up, touring with The Clicks, and handpicked to open for Morissey.

Above, their video debut Say, below Road to Home, featuring lip synching by plastic surgery enthusiast and model Amanda Lepore. See if you can catch the Joan Jett cameo. Immediately after hearing Girl in a Coma, Jett signed them to her Blackheart label in 2006.

08 Pride Post #17: Quotable Pride-“After us will come many other countries”

“We were not the first, but I am sure we will not be the last. After us will come many other countries, driven, ladies and gentlemen, by two unstoppable forces: freedom and equality.

We are not legislating, ladies and gentlemen, for remote unknown people. We are expanding opportunities for the happiness of our neighbors, our work colleagues, our friends, our relatives.”

Spanish Prime Minister Jose Luis Rodriguez Zapatero, upon the legalization of same-sex marriage in Spain, June 30, 2005

08 Pride Post #16: Funniest Dyke in the World contestant AinsleyofAttack

 

An immediate disclaimer: AinsleyofAttack is not currently a dyke, though she is in possession of a dyke-ly past, so the virgotext judges are going to allow her to slide in under the technicality.  If I were to warrant a guess at her sexuality based on her writing, I’d say “omni-” might cover it.   Anyway… whatever… the woman’s a fucking riot.

She’s got a blog, it’s pretty funny, but the Attack/hilarity is best served on Twitter.  In her hands, or more correctly, in that filty mouth of hers, the tweet is an art form.  Ask her 1600 followers.

Does every tattooed girl need to sit outside eating ice cream? Apparently the gay agenda is to make it impossible for me to ride a bike.

It’s confirmed. During sex I sound like a laundry bag filled with chihuahuas being smacked against a MoonBounce.

Writing a list of resentments for Step 5. So far I’ve gone through ten pages, two pens, and an urge to reenact the prom scene from “Carrie.”

What’s awkward? Explaining to the clerk that you want to pay for the pregnancy test separate from the groceries after he’s called you “sir.”

Child wailing its face off in the snack aisle, if you don’t stop the waterworks Dora the Explorer is going to become a forensics detective.

The line between homebody and shut-in is crossed when you name and alphabetize Goldfish crackers out loud while watching public access porn.

Go forth and follow, you won’t regret it.

08 Pride Post #15: Cleavage Cleavage Cleavage

08 Pride Post #14: “Not a target, a magnet”

LesbianDad, or Baba as a couple of very short folks know her, is one of those completely indispensable people, as in to the progress of humankind. Those charismatic-but-usually-all-aw-shucks folks who seem to be made of equal parts integrity, eloquence, and humor. She’s got her hands full with the Beloved and those kids, but you wish, with folks like these, that you could just pay them (handsomely of course) to sit in a comfy chair somewhere, and you’d round up all the nutjobs and haters and even just the boring unenlightened homophobes, the mundane next door neighbor folks who just don’t want to take the trouble to wrap their mind around things… anyway, you imagine what would happen if you could round those folks up and take them to their own comfy chair sitting opposite Lesbian Dad. They could drink some ice tea or lemonade, have a cookie or two, and just have a conversation with her, and their eyes would open, and the changes necessary for all of us to get along would happen a lot faster.

Below, LD ponders change, families, and marriage

I mean, sure, my parents knew my ‘twixt and ‘tween gender from the start. They helped me dress up as Robin Hood every Halloween. Got me the Tonka trucks, the Hot Wheels, the Hang Ten boys crew-neck t-shirts I’d asked for as birthday gifts. They were there, that inexplicably sorrowful summer of my eleventh year, when I fell for the pitcher on my softball team and she wouldn’t have anything to do with me, her worshipful catcher. But that doesn’t all inevitably add up to lesbian. I figured my parents needed as much time to come to terms with my sexual orientation as I needed. Which is to say, five to ten years. I just had a jump-start on them.

Parental and public approval, ironically, often comes long after one is in dire need of it. As with so many queer folk after they come out, I eventually stopped staring through the thick window at the party happening inside, and turned around. As I slowly became aware of the rich alternative queer community around me, I realized that my people have been making our own party outside all along. The marital table inside, groaning with vittles, no place set for us, is all well and good. But the picnic outside was made to order, the menu limited by nothing but our imaginations. So now that the door’s swinging open and people — okay, just a few right now, in Massachusetts and California — are waving us in (”C’mon! Have some, it’s great! We been chowing down on this stuff for years!”) — some of us picnic vets will be forgiven for muttering under our breath as we amble on inside.

‘Cause don’t get me wrong, I’m getting me those 1,138 rights and responsibilities. My two best reasons for them are 3.5 and 1.25 years old, and damned if I’m not going to fuse myself to them with every tube of Krazy Glue I can find. State of California nuptial Krazy Glue included.

Be sure and read the whole post, and buy some LD swag while you’re there.