Drunk Dialing

Hey - for once it wasn't me making the call! I received a call last night that I have been remiss in blogging (no shit!). Actually, I believe the quote was, "I've read about Milk. I'm sick of reading about Milk over and over again. I need something new!" I didn't point out that one could easily scroll and re-read some older posts, because there's no reasoning with drunkenness (I know - people have tried to reason with me when I've imbibed and it's like talking to a brick wall). So, my friend, after I return from misadventures on the west side of the state, I will blog my lil' heart out! Until then, you've been immortalized :)

Milk & Soul Mates

This was my birthday weekend, and in the grand tradition of birthdays yore, Kirk came up to Lansing to spend time with me. I was reminiscing recently with his sisters about the first time I met them, as the memory is so vivid. They came to college for the annual siblings weekend, and he brought them to the mall where I worked. Tiffany was probably 8, and Shel was probably 3. I remember Tiffy being very precocious, and Shel with her hair all scraggly and standing on end as Kirk hadn't bothered to brush it that morning. When I mentioned that it was amazing that it had been nearly fifteen years, Kirk admonished me that once it's greater than ten, you're not allowed to count, almost like when half-birthdays stop mattering.

Back at that time, Kirk was in the closet and I was a straight-not-narrow member of the campus GALA organization. I had a roommate who was a lesbian, and as a way to befriend her and gain her trust, I started going to meetings with her to show my support. I marched in an effort to have sexual orientation included in the university's non-discrimination policy. I spent time trying to understand the struggles my new friends endured. A few months after first meeting Kirk's sisters, he came over to my apartment, nervous and jumpy, wanting to share some big news with me. He told me he was gay. I don't remember exactly what I said to him, as time blurs some details. I'm guessing I told him I loved him and that I was a little bummed! Over the years, I was witness to him coming out to other friends, family and coworkers. I watched the struggles he had, sometimes on the sideline and sometimes by his side. I was his plus-one at work parties where it just wasn't acceptable to be "out." At times, it was a pretty intense thing to share. The vulnerability and uncertainty was often palpable and I often found myself wishing I could change the world for him.

We had talked over Thanksgiving about going to see the movie "Milk" together. The movie, about Harvey Milk, the first openly gay man to be elected to a major political office, seemed right up our alley. So, this past Saturday, we ventured to the theater to take it in. The details of the movie are just a fraction of the experience. Sitting with Kirk, holding his hand as we watched this movie about the struggles of gays and the hatred that they face, was amazing. By the end, I couldn't stop the tears that were streaming down my face. My eyes were red and swollen. I was exhausted. I was enthralled. I was amazed at the courage of so many people who have been willing to fight - not only for themselves, but for those to follow. And I was also discouraged that our society still holds onto such bigotry.

I've never believed that I have one soul mate. And I struggle with the idea of what a soul is. I guess that's the problem with being a concrete thinker. When I had the opportunity to fulfill my general education requirement for Philosophy, I took Logic. It wasn't because I wasn't interested in philosophers so much as I knew that pure logic would make sense to me. I remember being fascinated in 9th grade English by the transcendentalists and the idea of the oversoul and the thought of all finite beings drawing support from one infinite spiritual being of the universe. I was intrigued by the idea of the mere existence of this spiritual being; to me, this differed greatly from the Catholic ideology of a God being a controlling being to fear that I had been groomed to believe in during countless hours spent in Catechism. I've felt connections with many people on many different levels. But the connection with Kirk in the theater Saturday was something I haven't experienced in a long time; it was the sense of just knowing how the other was feeling because of such a long, shared history together. And it served as a reminder to cherish those moments with my soul mates.

Huh...

Did you ever realize you possessed a quality you thought there was no way you would possess? Mainly because you had never been truly tested in that vein before? Let me say it's a true bite in the ass when you find that quality unappealing...

As Heard On the Radio...

...an advertisement for Ski Doos being sold by Groves Motorsports:

"Get off your couch and get some excitement between your legs!"

The Rev!

Corky scored tickets to the Reverend Horton Heat show on Saturday at the Majestic in Detroit. This is the second time I have seen The Rev with Corky and Runs With Spatula, and as before, it was fantastic.

"What makes it fantastic?" you say? First and foremost, it's like going home. It may be hard for some to understand, but to actually be among a large group of people where I don't feel like I stand out one single bit and where just about anything that I think is cool goes is a rarity. There were chain wallets galore...leather pants and jackets...alternative doo-wop greaser styles...old people...young people...mohawks...the people of my young adulthood. It took me back in my days of combat boots with crazy black patterned tights, real alternative music that didn't have a radio station home (or for those who kick it old school, the days when 88.7 in Detroit was a classical station with an 8 - midnight segment of college-like radio, where I first heard and fell in love with Nine Inch Nails), goth make-up when I chose to actually put some on (I was wearing some the first time I had a gay man look at me and say, "You're fucking beautiful"), funky clothes, silver jewelry, and trips to Sally's Beauty Supply for whatever odd hair color I could get away with at whatever job I had at the time (auburn was the classic favorite). It's a crowd where I can just breathe and feel completely at peace - someplace to feel anonymous and noticed all at the same time.

Then, of course, there's the music. Just to watch these three men play is a treat, and it still amazes me that such a sound can exist with a guitar, an upright bass and a drum set. Since the concert was in December, they played a few songs off of their Christmas CD, which was awesome. The Jimbo song makes me happy. And they put on such a great show without the need for theatrics. All in all, it was a much-needed excursion!

Nashville Pussy!

After a long drive home, a quick shower, and a 60th surprise birthday party for Kirk's aunt, I headed down to the Reverend Horton Heat show with Corky, Runs with Spatula, and her nephew, Michael. We met up with A. and her very cool friend, Nicole. We had heard that there were two bands opening for the Rev, Backyard Tire Fire and Nashville Pussy. To make a long story not so long, the lead singer of Nashville Pussy shares his first name with Spatula's sweetiepie. So, the gist of the conversation went a little like this:

C: You should have him sign your chest.
A: You should!
C: How funny would that be?
S: I will if you will! (I'm sure secretly hoping I wouldn't, but she knows better!)
C: I wonder if A. has a Sharpie in her purse... (by the way, her purse weighs easily 20 pounds, and probably qualifies as a FEMA emergency kit)
S: (thinking to herself, "Shit!" as the likelihood was great)
A: (after digging around) Here you go! One blue Sharpie!
C: Alright...let's go! (the lead singer was standing just a few feet away...)

We walked over, where the singer was chatting with a drunk and impaired young lady...
C: I'm sorry, but may I interrupt for just a minute? We were wondering if you would sign our chests...?
Singer: ;alsdjf;lasdjf;lasejdg;kasdhg. (Completely unintelligible, but he grabbed the Sharpie and scrawled away just above my right breast.)

Runs with Spatula followed, and we both had, "Hell Yeah" followed by his signature gracing our chests in blue Sharpie! A. commented that she didn't realize how naughty we were and proceeded to photograph the experience, which likely won't end up on this blog. Runs With Spatula and I agreed that he was actually respectful and didn't overtly try to cop a feel or anything. Needless to say, it's the first time I've been signed by a musician, but who could let that harmless opportunity pass by?

But, I must say the real question of the night was: were the singer and Ron Jeremy separated at birth? You be the judge...

Wayne!

I wouldn't call it a life-long obsession by any stretch. But certainly since the first time I visited Las Vegas, I have wanted to see Wayne Newton in concert. Despite a few opportunities over the years, I never made it to a show. But when I read in my weekly Ticketmaster email update that he was coming to a state near me, I decided to go. I flew solo for this event - I didn't have any takers on the invitation to travel 200 miles each way to see Wayne.

I took off a little early on Friday and drove down to Hammond, IN. If you haven't been there, I wouldn't suggest booking your next vacation for the greater Hammond / Gary, IN area. I checked in to the hotel, took a quick nap, then went in search of the Horseshoe Casino. It was nearly an exercise in futility as Google Maps failed me. I did eventually stumble upon the casino, made my way to The Venue (yes, that's what the theater is called - perhaps they should rename Binion's Horseshoe Casino to The Casino). I was a bit late, and was promptly seated 3rd row, center. Holy cow! Three rows away from Wayne!

I thoroughly enjoyed the show - he is quite the entertainer - very gregarious and charming. I chatted a bit with the three guys in front of me from Ohio, who were in their late 30s - early 40s. It was surprising to me to see three guys (straight, mind you) at a Wayne show for some reason. But they were entertaining as well. Wayne's voice is getting old and isn't so smooth anymore, but he's so charismatic and energetic that it didn't matter. The ambiance was great. I especially enjoyed the very end when the house lights came up a a bunch of people in wheel chairs and with walkers rushed the stage to shake Wayne's hand. There was even an oxygen tank. The line for the elevator outside The Venue was extremely long, due to the sheer number of mobility aids required by patrons.

I took a hot minute to scope out the black jack tables, but the minimums were more than I cared to spend. Since it would be sacrilege in my family to leave a casino without placing a bet, I plopped down at a nickel slot and put $20 in. It was one of the infamous nickel slots with five electronic "wheels" and the opportunity to play up to fifteen lines. I hit a little bit on the first few spins. Then I decided to play the max bet on each line and hit for 2,560 nickels. I ended up cashing out $153 dollars and promptly left. I figure that covered the hotel and some of the gas - not too shabby!

I survived the drive home Saturday morning / early afternoon despite the treacherous conditions (at least one car off the road each mile along I-94 in MI for at least 12 miles). I think the trip was time well spent, and this is another adventure to check off of my list of things to do!

My Favorite Man

My siblings and I had family pictures taken as a 40th anniversary gift for my parents in August. I copied the CD of the pictures, and not surprisingly, here's my favorite picture - with my nephew. His new career goal is to be a comedian because he likes to make people laugh - just a little bit of May blood flowing through his veins!