Friday, October 31, 2008

How Does Gay Marriage Hurt You?

I made this impromptu video last night because I honestly want to know the answer. I don't want to hear about religious belief or sanctity of marriage. I want to hear how gay marriage could actually HURT any given individual who is against it. Because all I hear is a bunch of people quoting bullshit and talking about things that are honestly none of their business.

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Thursday, October 30, 2008

Holy shit, this blog is amazing!!

With much thanks to for introducing me to it, I must tell you to go read the Margaret & Helen blog right the fuck now!! It's seriously amazing. Here is the bio of the blog:

My name is Helen Philpot. I am 82 years old. My grandson taught me how to do this so that I could “blog” with my best friend Margaret Schmechtman who I met in college almost 60 years ago. I have three children with my husband Harold. Margaret has three dogs with her husband Howard. I live in Texas and Margaret lives in Maine.

This is an awesome, albeit blurry photo of them:

And here is a little taste of their blog to show you how amazing it is:

Is there a draft in here?
(Seven Posts in Seven Days - Day 2)

I cannot believe this is even close. How did America get so far off track that a week out from this election many still think it is too close to call?

It was either a few years ago or a few months ago… at my age it all blends together. But I remember it was all over the news and on the cover of all the magazines. One of those new ”starlets”… Paris or Brittney or Lindsey or Chutney or something like that - one of those starlets got caught getting out of a car without her under garments. That’s right. Photographers all around and her hoo-ha was out there for everyone and God to see because she forgot to put on a pair of panties.

I know you all know what I am talking about. It was all over the news. Scandalous they said. Out of control. She needs help. What is the world coming to? EVERYONE was shocked and EVERYONE was talking about it. How could she? What kind of a role model is she for young girls? I know you all remember it. If my scattered brain can remember it, I know you can. People didn’t have to be told how the cow ate the cabbage on that one. We all knew it instinctively.

Well imagine my shock and surprise today when I came across this little item. The latest polls show that only 55% of Americans think that Sarah Palin is not qualified to be President. 55%! FIFTY FIVE PERCENT! This about the woman whose best qualification for the job to date is that she can see Russia from her house. So what exactly does Sarah Palin have to do before the other 45% of this country is shocked enough to realize that she is a “whack job”? Please Lord don’t tell me she has to show her hoo-ha in public.

If, in fact, you are reading this blog and think that Sarah Palin is actually qualified to run the country… well I suggest you check and see if your panties are on because the joke just may be on you.

And as far as McCain goes. Panties or no panties, he’s got to be questioning what he has unleashed on the Republican party. That whack job isn’t going anywhere and the closer we get to election day who knows what she will try. So hang on to your panties everyone. There might be a few skid marks before this is all over.

Harold and I voted early and we voted for Obama. Margaret hasn’t voted yet. She is reading these comments and talking to me every night. If I had to guess today what she will do, I would say that on election day she is going to put her big girl panties on and tell the whack job to go to hell. See, Margaret loves animals and the whole shooting wolves from the air thing has her really upset.

Thanks for stopping by. Get out and vote. I mean it.

And that's just one fantastic post. Helen seems to do most of the writing but she writes a lot about talking with Margaret too. I am so thrilled to discover this and, once again, have the myth dispelled that older folks are all staunch conservatives with closed minds. I have a feeling I will be reading this blog more today than I will be doing my work. Oops!

Wednesday, October 29, 2008

Crime of the Now

I was just running a quick errand and witnessed a crime. A really ridiculous, largely lame crime, but a crime nonetheless. I was walking up 14th toward Dolores when about 30 feet ahead I saw two guys pull up to the curb in a Jeep Cherokee type vehicle like they were parking. One of them jumped out and said "hey" to this guy walking up the sidewalk. The guy said "hi" back and then the dude from the jeep ran over to him, grabbed his bag of groceries, jumped back in the jeep and they sped off. They turned down Ramona which was right in front of me, so I made sure to get their license plate number. I then went up to the guy and asked if he wanted to know the plate number so he could call the cops. His cell phone had lost its charge so I let him call 911 on my phone and report it. An officer came a few minutes later and said he'd try to find them by driving around a bit but odds were they had drove off to another neighborhood.

The theft victim was a medium height, thin, blond gay guy. He had kind of a feminine voice and had to tell the 911 dispatcher on the phone to not call him "ma'am" multiple times. The dudes in the jeep were these stocky, white, wannabe homeboy types and I felt like they probably thought "Hey, let's rob the little fag! It'll be hilarious!" I mean, it was only groceries (although he was really pissed because he had a new bottle of Stoli vodka in the bag) and not his money or valuables and there was zero violence involved. But still. He thanked me for my help and I went on my way to finish up my errand, wondering if this is the kind of crime we'll be seeing in our current economic crisis. It's like outdoor shoplifting. I mean, shit, if you're so badass just waltz into Safeway and steal the shit off the shelf. At least that way you're not a total dick snatching away someone's hard-earned food and booze.

So if you live in SF and you see a black or possibly dark green jeep with the license plate number 3LWS883, hold on to your groceries and maybe kick that dude in the junk if he approaches you.

Tuesday, October 28, 2008

Ex-Boyfriends @ The Stork Club, Halloween Show 10/31/08!

We're super excited to be playing a Halloween show this year at The Stork Club in Oakland, CA with our good pals Vitamin Party - who are celebrating the release of their new CD, and Collisionville. We'll be in costume, they'll be in costume and so will everyone in the audience who knows what's right. And we hear tell there will be prizes for awesome costumes, and admission is $2.00 cheaper if you do, so don't hold back!

And don't forget to follow us on Twitter for up-to-the-second updates and tidbits.

The Stork Club
2330 Telegraph Ave. Oakland, CA 94612
9:00, 21+ $5 w/costume, $7 without, prizes for awesome costumes all night!
Vitamin Party
Ex-Boyfriends (we're on second!)

Friday, October 24, 2008

"Dear Diary,

I want to kill- and you have to believe, it's for more than just selfish reasons, more than just a spoke in my menstrual cycle."

I hear you Veronica, I hear you.

Thursday, October 23, 2008

Oh Kellogg's Diner, we hardly knew ye...

Thanks to my friend Jimmy I found out that yet another part of my Brooklyn past has been revamped and fancified beyond belief. "Williamsburg's Kellog's Diner Goes from Shabby to Chic."



My old band had so many post-practice, post-show meals there. It's just kind of startling how much Manhattan and Brooklyn and everything just keeps changing and changing and changing.

Wednesday, October 22, 2008

The Genius of Jane Horrocks

I want to go out and have drinks with her.

Tuesday, October 21, 2008

Go tell it on the mountain and hallelujah too!!

From Tights Are Not via defenestr8r. SPREAD THE WORD!!!

Functional Accessories

There are so many times in my life when this kind of head-wear would come in quite handy. So many people all over the city with their shirts tucked in but not wearing a belt would be felled by my tiara of doom!

Monday, October 20, 2008

Vote for My Roommate'sLandscaping Business

My roommate's landscaping company, Rose & Thistle Landscaping, is in the running for Best Landscape Design on Please send him a vote so he can get lots more clients, make loads more money and reduce my rent due to his incredible wealth!!

Also, he does a fantastic fucking job of landscaping!

Click here to vote!!!

Sunday, October 19, 2008

Snark Overload

Last night I was talking on the phone with Peta and we were discussing how we feel like we've both reached our limit with all of the snarkiness around the election. I love humor, don't get me wrong. And I totally understand how humor can be cathartic and unifying in times of distress and anxiety. But I also feel like things have gotten to a point where, due to the instant availability of images, videos and blog posts, people who support Barrack Obama often seem like smug, snarky assholes. Now mind you, I am not saying they are. But after the umpteenth parody video and altered photo and clever song reworked to be about Sarah Palin, I start to actually wonder if there might be some harm done as a result.

Not everyone who is voting in this election is young. Not everyone is in their teens or twenties or even thirties or forties. There are people my Mom's age and older. And, while I am not at all trying to insult people of a certain age and saying they don't "get" certain kinds of humor, snarky/uber-sarcastic humor is definitely a generational thing. To a lot of people, a LOLCAT-esque picture of John McCain makes about as much sense as wearing a gorilla costume to Sunday mass. I am not advocating that people all get deadly serious and don't express themselves creatively and humorously around these issues, that's not it at all. But I do feel like there's so much sarcasm and so much satire that it kind of detracts from the very real and serious shit that is going on and will inevitably impact our lives. It's not going to be fucking funny if we end up in a country where Sarah Palin is a heartbeat away from being president and there's no amount of Tina Fey schtick that will make that any less scary.

Friday, October 17, 2008

Oh, Mark-Paul...

Inspired by Mr. Peenee's recent post about his lust for Mario Lopez a.k.a. A.C. Slater from "Saved By the Bell", I would like to discuss my sadness over Mark-Paul Gosselaar, another SBTB alum and longtime object of my lust. Let's examine how very hot he became as an adult.


He made such a good choice when he stopped being a bottle blond.

He made an even better choice when he chopped his hair super short for

And it was even okay when it got a little shaggy.

BUT THEN!!!!!!!!!!! T_T

He turned into a hair farmer for "Raising the Bar", the previews for which look SO overwrought and melodramatic that they border on parody. And I love me a courtroom drama.

And I am not totally anti-long hair or anything. But this is just bad, bad, bad and greasy, greasy, greasy. WHY, MARK-PAUL, WHY HAVE YOU FORSAKEN ME AND MY LOVE YOUR CHOAD?!?! YOU LOOK LIKE A HACKY-SACK PLAYING DOUCHEBAG!!!!

Okay, sorry, lost my composure there for a second. Let's bring things back to a happy place with pictures of his naked butt from "NYPD Blue":

Sigh, so much better. I will be okay with that ass no matter your hair looks like Mr. Gosselaar.

Thursday, October 16, 2008

Alls I can say is...

....BISH PLEASE you do too fucking know when you're ripping off huge designers, Ms. Kenley with the Tired Fifties Bangs. I smell the bullshit you're stepping in and it's ankle deep.

McQueen rip-off.

Balenciaga rip-off.

"We're The Stains and we don't put out!"


Ladies and Gentlemen, the Fabulous Stains is kind of like a punk rock version of All About Eve. And not just for the way a young woman climbs her way to the top with her guile and charm leaving a trail of trampled people in her wake in each film. The endings have a similar resonance with Eve ending up trapped in the world she so desperately sought to gain access too and Corinne and The Stains becoming the very thing they set out to be the antithesis of.

Yes? No? Thoughts?

Tuesday, October 14, 2008

Oh. My. God. Shoes.

My new insomnia-based activity I do to try and zone out my brain is looking at shoes online that I could never afford. And since I can't afford them I can't buy them so there's nothing wrong with me wanting these Bruno Magli loafers in every color available, right?


Thursday, October 09, 2008

Beyond Unfortunate

Here are three reasons why Suede, Joe and Jerrell are not part of the final three competing at Bryant Park for Project Runway's big ol' prize. They always have decoy shows since Fashion Week happens before the finale so now one will know who is actually in the running to win. Click the photos to see each designer's unfortunate collection.

Suede's Easter Eggsplosion Vomitorium with Detachable Train.

Joe's Yawntastic Re-Working of Wonder Woman's Chonies Into an Evening Gown.

Jerrell's 900 Fabrics 'n' Jewels Walking Nightmare Terror Dress.

Wednesday, October 08, 2008

Everyone's Doing It

But I am going it MORE.

Tuesday, October 07, 2008

Ex-Boyfriends @ Thee Parkside on 10/25/08!

We've been holed up for a bit working on new songs and hiding in the dark confines of our practice space and now are ready to emerge into the sunlight like slightly blinded mole people. We're playing a great show at Thee Parkside on Saturday October 25th with Mount Vicious (featuring former members of Replicator) and The Re-Volts. We're gonna have some new songs to play for you all so please come out and rock with us and all the great bands playing the show!

Monday, October 06, 2008


My father did not want a funeral and so my family honored that. But I felt I needed to do something for myself to have some sense of closure. On Saturday October 4th some of my friends met me at Baker Beach where I read something I wrote about my Dad and then threw a bottle out into the ocean with a photo of us in it and a copy of what I wrote. My friend John Goldie took photos of the whole thing for me. It was a very emotional experience but also very needed. I can't give enough thanks to my friends who came out to the beach with me and my friend Jules for putting on a wonderful brunch afterward, full of loud talking and drinking and laughing which all were as needed as the memorial.

Eulogy for my father, Gilbert Walter Ohnesorge
May 20, 1941-September 29, 2008

I spent a lot of time trying to figure out how to start this, what to say first about my Dad, a man I’ve known my whole life. How could I come up with the perfect first words or sentences? I started to write several things and then erased them. And then I realized it’s impossible to find the perfect words to express something as intangible and profound as the impact my Dad’s love and presence has had on my life.

I wish I could say that my father was a happier man in his 67 years on this planet. He often struggled with deep depression and it colored so many aspects of his existence. But in spite of the sorrow that seemed to cling to him he was one of the most loving and loveable people I have ever known. Anyone who met him, from the waitress taking our order at restaurant to a friend of mine meeting him for the first time, fell in love almost instantly. He was a charming, warm and engaging man, quick with a laugh and a joke and armed with an encyclopedic knowledge of everything from competitive sports to wildlife to architecture and many subjects in between. He gave so much love and support to those close to him, even if he would more often turn away from those same people when they tried to provide comfort or insight into his many personal, inner battles.

My mother and father divorced when I was two years old and from then on I only saw my father on alternating weekends, holidays and my birthday. From a young age I could tell he often struggled with his ability to be a father. As a child I often misread this as him not being able to handle having me in his life. As an adult I came to realize that he often didn’t think he was a good enough person to even be a father. And yet, when I spent much of my childhood and adolescence performing in local and school theatrical productions, my father was always there to cheer me on, whether I was playing the lead in a musical or a talking animal with three lines in a staged fairytale. I remember one time, although I don’t recall which play, that he told me he liked my performance that night but thought I was stronger in a previous production. Some people might think this to be cruel on the part of a parent. But I remember being so excited that my Dad was taking what I was doing seriously, even at such a young age. He was giving me constructive criticism as opposed to patronizing me and talking down to me, the way so many adults do with children.

When I was twenty-five my Dad went through a brief spell of trying parent me as if I were still a teenager: telling what to do and not do and trying to impose rules on my life even though I was living in a completely different time zone as him. We argued about it a great deal until, during one heated phone conversation, I told him that it was too late to be this kind of father to me. He expressed regrets and guilt about things he felt he should have done or said when I was younger. I stopped him saying that there was no magic spell or time machine that would allow him to fix the past so, instead of trying, why not just try to have a good relationship with me now, as adults. I don’t know if he ever fully let go of his guilt, it’s impossible to say. But I do know that he listened to me about trying to have a good relationship with me in the present. From then on I noticed a change in the way we related to each other. We had much more honest, adult conversations and I came to feel like I could talk to my Dad about a lot of things that I never could in the past. And he’d listen and be more honest with me than most people in my life.

But one thing that never changed about my Dad, no matter my age, was the way he said “I love you” to me at the end of every phone call. It was always the most genuine, emotionally true expression. I could feel it and hear it – his voice would change when he said it. It never had the false ring or call-and-response feel that it can have with some people. It was always pure and conveyed so much by saying so little. And that is what I will truly miss the most about him. I would give anything to have one more phone call with him just so I could hear those words one last time. But I know that even that would never be enough.

I love you forever, Dad.

Your son,

Wednesday, October 01, 2008

Flood Watch

I have not cried at all since my Dad died on Monday morning. My eyes watered a little bit that afternoon when I was talking to someone on the phone but that faded as quickly as it took to blink my eyes. I suppose I shouldn't worry about this at all. Everyone grieves in different ways. I am probably in shock. It will take time so sink in. [Insert useless homily about response to death here.]

My father did not want a funeral. And he is not having one. I am not a fan of funerals in the least, having been to three already in my life: one for my father's mother, one for my mother's mother and one for my ex-boyfriend's mother who died when he was only nineteen years old. That had to be the worst of them all. His mother was Catholic and the entire funeral seemed more like a chance for the priest to expound the virtues of his religion and how it would save us all from hellfire and damnation than it was a time to remember and celebrate and memorialize her passing. Months later, when Abe was capable of discussing it, he told me how he had wanted to rush forward and choke the life out of that man as he blathered on and on about his mother's guaranteed entry to heaven and made it clear he knew so little about her. So maybe I should be glad that Dad didn't want a funeral after all. He wasn't particularly religious or spiritual so what would that even look like? Except I'm sure he's not the first non-religious, non-spiritual person to die and yet I bet several of them had some kind of service, some kind of memorial, to note their passing.

My father did not like himself much at all. He was a deeply unhappy, incredibly depressed man who seemed to live his life with the weight of his many demons bearing down on his shoulders. I am confident in thinking that his lack of desire for a funeral was not merely due to his nonexistent religious beliefs. I think my father couldn't imagine making anyone of us go to all that "fuss" over him. Because he won't be missed, right? He did so much to close himself off from life that he never saw how people instantly fell in love with him - from friends to family to lovers. Or, if he did, it was always something he glimpsed for a brief moment before he decided to shut us all out again and hide from the love we had.

A few weeks ago I was in the shower and I started composing potential eulogies for my Dad in my head. At this point I did not know about him not wanting a funeral and I thought it might fall to me to say a few words about him. I wanted to, despite the daunting task of trying to encapsulate someone's life into a few paragraphs. Especially someone with whom I spent much less of my life than I did with the mother and stepfather who raised me. But that doesn't mean I was not more than willing to try and find the words. Maybe my Dad thought he'd be doing me a favor by not asking me to. Maybe he thought he was saving from some sort of hassle or difficulty.

My father is being cremated and he wants his ashes spread in three different places: Florida, where his girlfriend will spread some of them near a jetty he loved to spend time at and was a meditative, peaceful place for him to be; Hawaii, where a friend's daughter will spread them in an area my father loved during a vacation and Kennebunkport, Maine where his parents lived for so many decades and where me, my Aunt, Uncle and other family will spread the remaining ashes at an as-yet-undecided point in time. I am glad we'll get to have this moment and this closure, but it feels like it needs to happen this second. I feel like I have a clutch of hummingbirds living inside my chest where my heart usually is - filling me with nervous shaking and tears that stop short of leaving my eyes. Maybe a funeral or memorial would do nothing to bring them out. Maybe it would. I have no idea.