Damask

Damask

So back in the 70s when I was in high school, I asked a girl* to the prom. To make sure I bought a coordinating corsage, I asked her what she was going to be wearing. She told me pink damask.

"Uh...," thought I, trying to hide my complete bewilderment.

So I talked to my mom who suggested, I don't know - the usual carnations and baby's breath or blah blah blah whatever.** So I get the flowers, make the reservations at the Supper Club, pick up my tuxedo,*** and go to pick up my date.

Oh, for Pete's sake. Completely wrong damask. Oh, sure, she was dressed in damask, just not the cloth type.

"OH MY GOD!" quoth I to myneself****

Needless to say it took me a minute to get used to the fact that I was going with a girl in fancy armor, who had, for some unknown reason (I didn't have the scrotum to ask), glued on a mustache. But we went and had a decent time, thought I've never been able to date anyone with a mustache since then. Or that wears armor. Of course now I envy her. It took me another four years to come out of the Gay Closet, but she came out of Renaissance-Fair-Geek Closet at the mild age of 17. Such a brave brave girl!

*Yes, a girl! Whadya want, it was the 70s in the middle of nowhere. It wasn't exactly Coming Out Central. (Although it woulda been much easier on me and several girls if it had been.)
**Which was very odd, because normally my mom could be pretty helpful in such things, but for her to say to me "I don't know - the usual carnations and baby's breath or blah blah blah whatever," was rather out of character.
***Here's a picture of me and some friends the next morning.
****I probably woulda just said 'OMG' but that wasn't part of the lexicon yet.

Managerie

Managerie

I can't see that word without thinking of a certain play. I'm sure you know which one I mean, but I'll give you a clue if you don't:

"Riiiiiiiiise and shiiine!! Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiise and Shiiine!"

I swear, if I lived with a mother who woke me up every morning saying that - especially in a nasty Southern accent* - I'd be "going to the movies" every night, too.

Speaking of which, I see there's a new version of The Great Gatsby coming this winter. I bring it up because someone on Facebook said "it looks like a mess!" How can you tell from a modern trailer where they don't show anything for more than 14 seconds? I mean, there's Toby being all cute and Leonardo being all...Leonardoey, and Carey being all...not Carrie Fisher. He went on to say that "It's really hard to adapt Gatsby." That could be. Made me realize that, while I've read it, I've never seen any of the film adaptations. I hope that doesn't make me a bad person.

You know which book is really impossible to adapt? Pamela. There I said it. The elephant in the living room that is Hollywood has been finally let out of its closet. And why is it so hard to make? Because it's about a girl who "although she is attracted to Mr B, she holds out against his demands, determined to protect her virginity and abide by her moral standards." That's right. Her virginity. Takes me back to my own years as an indentured servant. Well, I wasn't a servant, I was just on the assembly line making dentures. But I felt like a servant! And there was my boss always asking me to "stay late" and then chasing me around the lathe that ground down the timber into teeth.

"No," quoth I, "no! Although I am attracted to you, I must hold out against your demands, determined to protect my virginity and abide by my moral standards!"

And you know, just like Pamela's Mr B., my boss came to his senses, realizing that, although I was attracted to him, I was going to hold out against his demands, determined to protect my virginity and abide by my moral standard. And thus, the now 'sband proposed and we got married. He told me that he finally realized that if he was gonna get any of the milk, he was gonna have to take the whole cow. Damn straight!

Hey, wait a minute...

*Yes, there are some southern accents that are sexy, but face it, unlike New Zealand and Australia, where no matter what the accent is, it's sexy. Southern is truly hit n/or miss.

Proficient

Proficient

So I asked the 'sband what he thought I was proficient in.

"Drama."

Well, let me tell you, I was taken aback! I grasped at myne Barbara Bushes* and came back aforth, pulling myneself up to full height. In fact, I made him wait whilst I retrieved my platforms** so I was thus able to pull myneself above full height! Yes, I was that scandalized! Scandalized and shocked! And I looked him in the forehead and I said

"Really, honey? Drama? I am proficient at drama?"

Obviously my 'sband had not read the definition carefully or said 'sband would know that I am adept*** at drama, not proficient. There are some things in life one just cannot learn. As Shakespeare says in the bible: "Do, or do not. There is no try!" he also said in one of his psalm psonnets: "Size matters not. Look at me. Judge me by my size, do you? Hmm? Hmm. And well you should not. For my ally is the Force, and a powerful ally it is. Life creates it, makes it grow. Its energy surrounds us and binds us. Luminous beings are we, not this crude matter." and later on he was quoted as saying "Mesa cause one, two-y little bitty axadentes, huh? Yud say boom de gasser, den crashin der bosses heyblibber, den banished."

Somebody needs to learn the nuances of the English language a little better, I would quote.

*My new nickname for myne pearls.
**I know, right? How crazy is it that they have the same platforms pictured on that blog that I own?
***That's right, I italicized and bolded. Get over it.

Boniface

Boniface

Some of us cannot see that word without hearing Patrick Dennis saying "I don't wanna go to old Boney Face (a private prep school)!"

The closest I ever came to getting sent away to school was a military school. (Yikes!) And all because I was caught driving my brother's Corvette without permission. Well, it wasn't my brother's, it was a friend's to whom I looked up as a brother. Well, he wasn't a friend, but he would've been if we had known each other! So stupid though. The reason I got pulled over is because of the radio station I had tuned in. I wanted to sue because I thought pulling me over cuz the cops didn't think someone in a Corvette would listen to that struck me as prejudice. Well, it was that and the fact that the cop couldn't see the top of my head as I drove by him. That wasn't my fault either - for a ten-year-old I was of average height. And I was driving just fine. I was doing the speed limit on the highway just like I was supposed to. I just didn't know it was a manual and that I should have taken it out of first.

Luckily when I was in front of the judge everything was straightened out when I explained I had acted out after not getting the game I had wanted for my birthday. He completely understood and said he had one at home.

Maffick

Maffick

I know, right? I thought it said Matlock at first, too! Boy, was I confused! Funny how we think so much alike.*

So I feel I must share a concern I have. After the This American Life debacle where Mike Daisey apparently made crap up about the working conditions in the China iPad factory, the radical right is using that as ammunition to go after David Sedaris and questioning how much of what he says is fabrication. Uh oh. As an out gay lefter who may or may not have seasoned a statement or two with liberties, this is no time for Mafficking! What if they decide to come after me, look into what I've said, and start asking questions?

I knew this day would come. I release this entry with the timidity of a Wisconsin infant trying its first spoonful of Old Fashioned. As much I would love to celebrate this, my (almost) 50th entry, it is truly not a maffickacious moment.

Thus I apologize if this is rather short, I just can't get out from under this burden of worry that...well, they're watching me.

*Remember, just because 'alike' is correct does not mean that 'alot' is. Shuuuuudder!!!!