Posts Tagged ‘Uncategorized’


Posted: 29 January 2006 in the fantastic

I’ve just dragged this blog, duct-taped into submission, over to Word Press. Pretty, isn’t it? And, the most exciting part, there are now categories, so you can keep up with what you want to keep up with and steer clear of the crap. Welcome to the new site.

This tired lesbian joke is a reward for moving with me:
What does a lesbian bring on the first date? A Toothbrush.
What does she bring on the second date? A UHaul.


On Christmas eve last year, our neighbor brought us porn. We’re not fringe looking lesbians, in fact on most days, I’d be mistaken for straight. I wouldn’t even be mistaken for a fringe sort of straight person, frankly. We don’t parade naked in front of the windows (at least not when people are looking) and we keep our kink (and while it’s porn worthy, it’s not that loud) on the down low. Our neighbor is a straight man who primarily speaks Spanish and since we’re living in DC, that could make him from just about anywhere. Ecuador, Mexico, Chile, Belize, and so on. He is however, certainly not European, which (though biased) might make it more permissible for a straight man to give his two queer neighbors porn.

We were baking cookies and calling home, all Christmasy, and he knocked on the door (and didn’t stop knocking til New Years, but that’s not the point). We let him in, offered some cookies in the spirit of the holiday and tried to decipher what he was saying.
First, he ascertained that we were, in fact, lesbians.
Second, he told us he was looking for a woman.
Third, he asked us if we liked sexy movies.

We said that we did. Well, we do! But, we didn’t think he was talking about porn. No, we thought, due to the severely broken English and absence of household Spanish speakers, that he meant something like You’ve Got Mail. Not only are we not fringe looking, we’re also, apparently, naive. The neighbor, Hugo, ran next door, and came back with this:

Not knowing what else to do, we took it and promptly returned it when he left the house about five minutes later, with a note asking him nicely not to bring us any more porn.

I’m not sure what it was based on the five words we had exchanged in the year of living next door to each other that would prompt Hugo to bring us porn. We are in fact happy porn watchers (we like GreenCine for that) but we don’t share that fact with our neighbor. Unless he’s been reading our mail. Or peeping through the blinds. Naughty man! This post has been brought to you by shirtless, porn-giving neighbor Hugo, who thoughtfully posed for me to take a snapshot for you, dear reader.

I’m just like you. I’m close to my family, I like pirates, I work, I buy things when I should be saving my money, I sometimes forget to run the dishwasher, I don’t like telemarketers any more than you do, I wear a dimond ring on the third finger of my left hand. But when I solemnly swear to love D. as long as we both shall live, no one will recognize it. Not really. Oh, I know I could have run off to San Francisco, believe me, I checked the flights. And, it was just a short road trip up to Massachusetts. Vermont is just a spit and a giggle away and really, wouldn’t I be happy with a civil union? There’s Canada, you know. I know. But I live here.

Here. DC. The United States. I’ll spare you the history of our forefathers. We know they bucked the system so that they could live the way they wanted to live. My problem is, we’re still living the way they wanted to live. Our vaunted Bill of Rights aside, we live in a puritan society. I’m surprised we don’t still leave babies out for the wolves. I’m not knocking my rights, I’m just exhausted by being excluded.

My struggles with this vary in their intensity. They swing from fight the world to please-love-me complacency. But as the date comes closer, I wish it were as simple as marrying against my parents wishes, crossing the barriers of religion, of culture. I wish it could be overcome by converting, by eloping, by saying to hell with it. I want it to be a marriage in name, not a civil union or a commitment ceremony, though I’d settle for the rights conferred by a civil union. But I have a government handicap. We’re both women. And as long this government (and probably the ones that come immediately after) runs the country, I don’t deserve the right to marry her.

Our families support us. My mother and father toasted us with champagne and offered to send us on our honeymoon. I couldn’t ask them to be more supportive. If they were, I’d feel awkward about drowning in traditions that don’t quite fit. But we constantly struggle with the little issues: Do we have a cake? Is it marriage if we do it alone on the beach? Do we register? Send invitations or announcements? Should we expect gifts? And, we struggle with the big issues: Do we buy a house in a state that doesn’t allow second parent adoption? Would life be better in Canada? What do we do for work if we move, when we move?

As for marrying her, I want to be recognized. I want to work somewhere that celebrates my week off to get married. I don’t want my boss to say “We’ll work around it” instead of “Congratulations”. I want to send our grandmothers an announcement and not have them worry about the etiquette. I want this to be simple. Not like reinventing the wheel. I want to marry her without doubt, worry and caution. I want my mostly straight friends to not have to grapple with what to do, to say, when. I want to be one of you.

Regardless, we’ll be exchanging vows on a beach in March. Witnessed by sand and sea, attended by love and happiness, married. Because at some point, you have to stop leaving the babies that aren’t just like you out for the wolves.

“I don’t like you either”

Posted: 15 January 2005 in work

There isn’t a more perfect time for Star Wars than at 3am on a Saturday morning in the back pocket of the intelligence world. R2D2 blips and beeps. C3PO says “I don’t think he likes you.” Pause. “I don’t like you either.” How like Washington.

There may be a reputation here for spit shining each others shoes. Bending over backward to soothe, protect, prop up, shelter. For hiding the truth at all costs. In fact, this isn’t a friendly place. Most people, perhaps bouyed by the transient nature of the population, just tell it like it is. But they’re friendly enough, like 3PO, to say it from a point of almost friendship, from a point of directness so simply that it masquerades as something else all together. Politics.

Bonus points if you, too, are watching Star Wars.