Archive for December, 2010

Banned Words for 2011

Friday, December 31st, 2010

Lake Superior State University has just released its “2011 List of Banished Words.” Check it out here. It’s pretty good. I’m especially pleased that they included “Man up.”

But they left out so many awful words and terms, including one of my personal annoyances, “reach out to” as a synonym for “contact.”   Or what about “no worries!” in place of “you’re welcome?” Didn’t that use to be Australian? Why do I need to have it in Los Angeles?

Here are some words I don’t want to see or hear in 2011:









In This Economy




Crazy – (anything)


Which ones have I left out??

Yes, a Hideous Shoe Post

Wednesday, December 29th, 2010

Here is another offering from the cynical monster known as Jeffrey Campbell.   Each time he comes out with one of these, he is slapping his knee and laughing. He wants to see how far he can push today’s brainwashed consumerettes.

This “shoe” is special “thanks to a super cool removable ankle cuff.”   I can’t imagine fucking around with the ankle cuff and I can’t even think about it. No no no to everything about this contemptible shoe.

Now. Some of you out there are fed up with my Hideous Shoe posts. You want me to get serious, to write about stuff that’s interesting and thought provoking.

But others out there are going “Oh god, all she does is whine about her personal misery! Where is the fun stuff?”

Do I need two blogs, one for trivial mockery of fashion trends and pathetic fame-whore bloggers, and another to air my feelings of despair and hopelessness? Or should I give up blogging altogether, as a waste of time and energy? Or should I just kill myself or pray for brain cancer?

I don’t know what direction to take. I really truly don’t know if I’m trying to express myself or avoid myself.   I’m looking for considered opinions, not some bullshit about some other bullshit.

The Stuff We Leave

Tuesday, December 28th, 2010

What if you disappeared tonight, and at some point in the future, even tomorrow, an archeologist tried to understand who you were by the stuff you left behind?

If someone had only my possessions to determine my character, to try to chart my life and my culture, I wonder what conclusions they would draw. Here is a woman who liked sweaters and boots and jewelry and religious icons and nail polish. Or, here is a woman who was vain and shallow but tried to appear spiritual by collecting religious crap.

Maybe they would factor in my books, and deduce that somewhere in that shallowness, there was once a thinking organism that read and cherished Flaubert, William Burroughs, George Eliot and Balzac. Maybe they would see all the books on abnormal psychology and assume I was a therapist or a mental patient.

One of the Christmas gifts I received this year is a book of old photos, published by a guy who collects found art and the personal effects of dead strangers. The photos show some gay men in the early 70s, wearing Biker gear for get-togethers in the woods somewhere. They are only vaguely interesting and don’t inspire my curiosity, but rather a dim sense of pity that they probably lived much of their lives in secret longing to just be themselves.

I wish I could take my shit with me when I die, like the ancient pharos. It’s not that I own anything valuable. I just don’t want to be judged or pitied. I don’t want strangers to evaluate my accumulated crap and decide I was a loser. I will need to give everything away first or burn it all. Or maybe I’ll realize how stupid it is to worry about some idiot trying on my clothes in a thrift shop or my poor underwear laying under some rotting fruit in a dumpster.

I now possess a big suitcase full of my son’s clothes. Everything is so indicative of who he was! He was a gentle soul who loved softness. A pile of old cashmere sweaters, some I have mended, some with huge holes at the elbow, all of them black, grey or dark bottle green. Huge pairs of baggy trousers in corduroy or velvet. No denim jeans. Maybe they weren’t soft enough or maybe he just wanted to reject the uniform of his peers.   So many dark soft clothes that I can’t go through all of it at once.

And yet, after he hurt himself, he lived like a monk, with only two sweaters and a few t-shirts and a single pair of shoes, He didn’t want any of his other belongings. He had already given most of his guitars to his brother. His belongings might mislead a stranger to guess he was a dandy of some kind, but nothing could be further from the truth. He never felt comfortable in his body. He once told me that he felt like a radio or some other device, with all its wires exposed. I agreed that I felt like an amoeba without a protective membrane.

Both of us eventually tried antidepressants. For me, they worked. After trying seven different medications, he gave up believing there was anything to cure his depression.

In the pocket of one of his jackets, I was stunned to find a bag of old needles and plastic spoons. What were they doing there? Had he stashed them there in a hurry one day? He hadn’t worn that jacket in more than a year but no one had come upon that bag.

It didn’t make me angry. It didn’t disgust me. It was part of his life and part of who he was. It was part of everything he went through. I’m keeping the bag because there isn’t one thing about him that I want to forget or that I don’t love and won’t keep on loving.

Bryanboy’s Christmas Miracle, Page 3

Monday, December 27th, 2010

Illustrated by Tatyana T.   (Click on image for full size)

Vulva Diversity: Uh-Oh.

Monday, December 27th, 2010

God, I’m such a know-nothing. First I find out about “slut shaming” long after all the other sluts, and now I see there’s a movement for Vulva Diversity.

An organization called New View, whose worthy mission is to “challenge the medicalization of sex,” also launched a campaign in 2009 to celebrate genital diversity, including an arts and crafts exhibit and conference.

Here’s the deal:

“Popular knowledge about women’s vulvas comes disproportionately from commercial sources such as magazines, pornography, and on-line surgery sites that are likely to digitally alter or airbrush genital images or include only selected models. There are very very few books that feature a range of real genital photographs.

The result of this distortion and silence is widespread ignorance and genital shame which harms women and girls and results in vulnerability to ads and tv shows promoting cosmetic genital surgery.”


Obviously, I am against cosmetic genital surgery, since I’m not insane. What a   terrible and tragic pursuit! The whole idea that there is some norm of beauty in genitalia that would induce women to willingly mutilate themselves is beyond repugnant.

However. I now realize the vast range of Vulva Diversity and I am genuinely shaken. I had no idea! Did I NEED to have an idea, though? I’m not a lesbian, so I wasn’t likely to be confronted with this much Vulva Diversity. I clicked on a “Labiaplasty” site recommended by New View and nearly fainted.

What a big baby I am! I told my husband about this before-and-after gallery and he asked me to refrain from speaking about it. He may be a big baby, too.

I’m going to give you a chance to look or not look. Want to look? Okay, click here, if you’re sure you want to.

I hope it’s safe to note that I personally am in the After category, but I see how you could feel concerned if you were in the Before category. You would wonder why your own Look was not represented in art or photos.   You might feel insecure, like the first time I saw a belly button with a big knot-thingie and wondered why mine looked so empty.

Jesus.   Does any9one have any thoughts on Vulva Diversity that are less infantile and more useful than my own?

Once Again: The Lesbian Stick

Saturday, December 25th, 2010

Let us all follow the Christmas tradition* of reading The Story of the Lesbian Stick.


*This year it’s dedicated to Max. Thanks, honey! You know how much I treasure that stick. xoxo


Friday, December 24th, 2010

Awww, Little Sister Wolf at 3 years old.   This picture is up on a bulletin board in the living room, with masses of other family photos.   I always thought it was cute until one of my friends deemed it “Tragic.” You know who you are, mister.

My alltime favorite response, from quite a few people: “Why is Max wearing a dress?”

Denim Maxi Skirt

Thursday, December 23rd, 2010

This skirt makes me   want to __________________________.

Genetic Denim,   $220 at Shopbop.

Bryanboy’s Christmas Miracle: Page 2

Thursday, December 23rd, 2010

Illustrated by Tatyana T.   (Click on image for full size)

Exciting Bryanboy Children’s Book!

Wednesday, December 22nd, 2010

Bryanboy and the Christmas Miracle will be a book to cherish for the whole family! Celebrate the holiday season with this heartwarming tale of loss, courage and the Lord’s love!

Here is the first page, illustrated by the brilliant artist Tatyana T, text by Sister Wolf. We are scrambling to have the book ready by December 25,   our Lord’s birthday. xoxo

(click on the picture for full size)