Dear Mama Chaiken (aka Ilene, Mama C, the devil, etc.)

This probably needs some editing, but i'm fired up/on a mission, so it's getting posted now...

Once upon a time, this girl (me) was trying to play it straight, when i found myself wandering through the DVD section in Target and i happened to come upon this gem:



Obvs i bought it and ran home and watched the entire season in maybe two days. I was hooked.

For me, the L word totally changed my life. I mean, this show, this one that i now loathe, made me feel like it was ok to be gay, like maybe, just maybe my options stretched beyond flannel and mullets.

Today (or really, yesterday) the series ended and I am so completely pissed off that the show has gone so completely off the deep end i can barely stand it.

No, i take that back. I can't stand it. I really can't. I think that Ilene Chaiken is a self-righteous asshole/terrible writer. She took a really amazing thing, which, ps, was totally her idea in the first place and let it mutate into something that i feel embarassed to associate myself with. The L word is now, to me, something i can barely stomach, like that god-awful Shot At Love show people keep telling me about. It's really an effing shame that it had to go like this.

The writing has gone so completely down hill that I cringe, literally CRINGE when i watch the credits and see: "WRITTEN BY ILENE CHAIKEN". Wanna know why? Because she is a terrible writer. She is sooo bad at telling stories it nearly makes my ears bleed.

I dunno. I guess I'm just pissed b/c I used to feel like the show stood for something, like i had this one great thing i could call my own that was an important representation of our "community". And now...

Tonight was the last episode, and thank g-d, because it was getting pretty rough. This entire season, and most of the last two seasons have been so bad i wanna gouge my eyes out. I kind of feel like they jumped the shark when they killed Dana/left Carmen at the alter. I mean... Really, Papi? Really?!

Who would leave her at the alter?



The answer is NO ONE.

Also, early thirty-something tennis pros do not get diagnosed with an early stage of breast cancer and then die like, two months later. It just doesn't fucking happen. You know what else doesn't happen? Um... Transmen who are nearing the end of their transition do NOT get fucking pregnant, even if they have unprotected vaginal intercourse with their gay boyfriend. Which, i mean, HELLO! So much of that (second to) last sentence doesn't make any GD sense.

She should've lived.



He should NOT have been forced to sport ANY facial hair b/c we can all safely say that none of it worked.



Ilene! You are killing me.

Scratch that. You killed Jenny. Or maybe Sounder did. Although i kind of feel like Mark did b/c Jenny obvs stole his camera for her cute/ridiculous "farewell video" or whatever the fuck that was supposed to be, aka the vagina tease that showed 2.5 seconds of Carmen off somewhere being hot/NOT having sex with Shane. I mean, SERIOUSLY!!

This shit has gotten so bad i feel embarassed for everyone involved.


(makes me miss the soul patch and i never, EVER thought i'd say that.)

Tonight, my friends and i gathered to watch the show armed with a drinking game that was totally awesome and was basically the highlight of the night (thank you, Chelsea!). And it's sad, b/c the highlight should've been all the warm fuzzy feelings we had about a show that changed us all in one way shape or form, FINALLY coming full circle.

But you know what? The show didn't even kind of come full circle, unless you count the cute deja vu moment that happened when Shane was coming home in the AM and Tina and Bette were sitting on the porch just like they did in the very first episode. You know, back when the show used to be good.



(ps: thank you Dorothy Surrenders for making these)

There was absolutely no resolution. In fact, i would say, of the few shows i have ever seen all the way through, i feel like they left way more loose ends than they tied up. I mean, even the series finale of Arrested Development felt like it concluded in some fashion b/c they were at least (!!!) closing one chapter, leaving the possibility for another one to follow.

But tonight, they just started a whole mess of shit and asked a lot questions that were never answered and only alluded to Jenny's death. THE WHOLE ENTIRE CLIFF HANGER OF THIS G-D FORSAKEN SEASON WAS ABOUT WHO KILLED JENNY AND WE DIDN'T EVEN SEE HER DIE!!



I mean, who should i have blown to get a good story out of Ilene? Worst episode ever, except maybe the one where nothing happened. Wait... that was like half 12 episodes. Or maybe the one where they threw the baby shower and everyone was talking at the same time about birthing plans for no reason whatsoever. Or every single episode beyond giving Max facial hair, or after Jenny went mean crazy and not funny crazy. I mean, W? T? F? Ilene, Ilene, Ilene...

You killed me softly tonight. You really did. Thanks for ruining something i really loved. Thanks for ending a show that changed my life in the worst way possible. Thanks for being a vagina tease all these years. Thanks for mis-representing trans issues. Thanks for killing Dana. (Thanks for at least admitting that that was a horrible idea.) Thanks for never placing value on character backstories. Thanks for Papi. Thanks for writing horrible dialog. Thanks for changing everyone's personalities constantly. Thanks for sending characters into the vortex. Thanks for making all of us want to pull out our hair out every episode of late. And most of all, thanks for being really self-righteous about it the entire fucking time.

You are a horrible, horrible writer and i am very, very disappointed in the way you handled the "conclusion" of a really fucking important show.

Thanks.

Talk to you never,
Elida

everything i needed to know in life, i learned from a cookie.

Sometimes I forget that I live in a cozy little bubble. When I venture beyond it, I am reminded of how far we have yet to go as a people.

When I see shit like this:


"Fidelity": Don't Divorce... from Courage Campaign on Vimeo.

…I have a hard time wrapping my head around why anyone would ever want to aggressively impede another person’s happiness. I just don’t get it.

So, help me understand. I doubt anyone who’s reading this right now is the kind of person who would do that, but in case any of you are, please, please, please fill me in.


REPENT!!



I wanna know what makes a person feel entitled enough to tell millions of people that they are less than, inferior and do not deserve equal rights. Is it fear? If so, is it fear of the unknown? Does it gross you out? Does it make you feel threatened? Cause last time I checked ya’ll SUCK at the marriage thing. What’s the statistic up to now? Help me remember…

Is it a religious thing? Cause I’m pretty sure the main pillars of Christianity are about love and respect and NOT judging other people. I’m pretty sure the Bible is very clear about the proverbial “us (i.e. YOU)” having no authority in that department. Isn’t that supposed to be the job of the big guy upstairs? Maybe I read it wrong.

And I know there are passages about “homosexuality”, but we could go rounds there too. Cause there’s an awful lot of contradictory shit in the b-i-b-l-e. and it’s fine if you cherry pick for what you want out of it, cause I’d probably do the same thing in your shoes. We could talk about the context with which the Bible was put together, why certain things are in there and certain things aren’t, or about how it might be—and I could be going way out on a limb here-a liiiitttle outdated.

If it’s not religion, than what is it? And even if it is religion that wigs you out, then what gives you the right? Yeah, I guess that’s what im asking. The old schoolyard adage of “who died and made you king? I’m pretty sure the answer is no one.

So, stop it.



believe it or not, this was taken BEFORE i was ready to talk about "it"


You see, when I came out to my family and friends it took me a long time, because I was afraid. I was scared shitless that they would treat me differently, that they might love me less because of something that is completely out of my control.

And, while we’re dancing around the subject I just want to quickly mention that it’s not a choice, trust me. Why would anyone choose to be hated?

Anyway, everyone was fine with it. A lot of the convos went like this:

ME: …I’m gay.
THEM: …and?
ME: that’s it. Im gay.
THEM: Oh. Ok. ::shrugs:: Sorry, I thought there was more. Well that’s cool. I mean, whatever makes you happy.

And then we’d hug it out for good measure.

It took a while, but eventually i told everyone, they figured it out on their own, heard it through the grape vine or just kind of always assumed. And none of them treated me like a weirdo, made me feel like shit, told me I was a freak, tried to change me... none of that stupid, pointless shit.

Some people in my family don’t know, and who knows, maybe they’re reading this right now. Ha.

Anyway, they either don’t know or pretend not to know and at this stage in the game, I don’t really think there’s any point to upsetting my 80 year old Pat Robertson-loving grandparents. They would most definitely freak out and they are probably 100% supportive of the discrimination they’ve legislated all over the country.

I wish I could pick their brains about it, but I’d have to tell them first, which is not happening.

One of my favorite stories w/r/t the little dance I do with my grandparents is this:




A couple winters ago I was visiting them at their home. We were chit chatting and telling stories and then I noticed a plate of cookies sitting on the counter tucked in the corner. They were on some sort of holiday themed paper plate, covered in cellophane. They looked delicious.

“Ooooh! Can I have one of these?” I asked.

My grandmother reached her arm out towards me like I’d just thrown a lit match into the gas tank of their Cadillac, “NOOO!! You don’t want those cookies.”

“Oh.” I pulled my hand away from the plate. “Are they old or something?”

“No they’re not old. They’re from,” she lowered her voice, “ the neighbors.”

I lowered my voice too, “are they terrorists?”

“No,” she said, “they’re… lesbians.”

Um… what? I was puzzled. Why the hell should that matter? They seriously looked really, really good, those cookies.

“Are they also terrorists?” I pulled the plate towards myself, “Did they put anthrax in these cookies?” I began to un-wrap the cellophane.

“Didn’t you hear me? They’re…” she lowered her voice again, “they’re lesbians.”

“They’re just cookies. You can’t catch gay from a cookie.” I picked up a cookie and raised it to my lips.

She shook her head and sighed a great big heavy sigh that said, well… at least I tried…

I ate that damn cookie and it was delicious. And I can tell you with utmost certainty that the delicious, homemade, “lesbian” cookie, that was lovingly delivered to my grandma’s front door, along with a holiday card, did not turn me gay.

Cookies cannot make you gay. Sharing a glass w/a gay person does not make you gay. Shaking hands with and/or hugging a gay person does not spread gay either. If that were the case a LOT more people would be gay. In fact, we’d all be gay. You wanna know why?

EVERYONE knows a gay person.



Statistically, we the gays, make up a tenth of our population. That means that we work with you, we’re in your family, we’re your friends, we’re your neighbors and we are no different from you on the inside. Our love just takes a different form than yours.

And I swear, we mean no harm. We’re trying to do the same shit you are. It’s just a little tougher for us, because so many people STILL think we’re freaks.

That’ll all change with the passing of time with an evolution of sorts. The older, less accepting generation will slowly die off and then it’ll be just like anything else.

Until that day, I urge you to do one of a few thing:

1. If you are gay. Keep being true to yourself and show, by example, that there’s nothing to be afraid of.

2. If you are not gay, but there’s someone in your life who is and you are totally cool with it, show your support whenever you can. It means more than you think is does, and we could really use the help.

3. If you are not gay but you hate gay people or are scared of them or think that I am crazy when I say that someone you know is gay… first of all, wow. Second of all, open that little heart of yours and let us in, yo.

Life’s too short to walk around carrying all that hate on your back.

And to my fabulous friends and family, I love you more than I could ever express adequately in words. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for never treating me like anything less than the hopeless smart-ass-nerdy-goofball that I will always be. I love you.



Let freedom ring ya’ll!

...i am still just a rat in a cage.

When I was in high school I had a lot of rage issues. I was pissed off ALL the time. I was incredibly bitter and mentally unhealthy. Amidst all of my teen angst, I made what I refer to as “the list”.

The list began with only one person. At the end of high school, there were four people on it. It wasn’t a Columbine type list. I wasn’t out for blood. But I was definitely enraged. The names on the list were people who had done things I considered really shitty/unforgivable. Usually it was betrayal and I do not possess the capacity to overcome such a thing. I stay bitter and it’s really best if I never see that person again cause then I feel like the Hulk and I wanna throw cars at them.

This past week/end three new people were added to the list.

Sidenote: there were seven names on “the list” before Thursday.

Thursday night…

The ladies and I had band practice and then we decided to venture out to the new pool hall in Ferndale. We have come to love that establishment, despite of or maybe b/c of it’s ridiculous name (Loving Touch). If you haven’t been there yet, I recommend it. Just, maybe keep your eye out for the guy that roofied Kelly.

At some point during the night Kelly was drugged. We didn’t realize it until later so there’s not much we can do about it.

She wandered off like she always does and when I went to find her she was chatting it up with a big guy who was built like a starting defensive lineman. I put my arms around her and he gave me a dirty look. In my head, I thought, “um… fuck you asshole.”

Kelly was acting weird. This guys a few seats over gestured towards me, so I walked up to him.

ME: (slightly annoyed): what’s up?
HIM: is that your friend.
ME: yeah.
HIM: don’t leave her alone with that guy he’s trouble.
ME: seriously?
HIM: yeah.

So, I took Kelly away from the creeper and brought her back to our table. She was wound up and crazy and we sort of assumed she was drunk. Shortly thereafter she lost muscle control and assumed the position of a raggedy Ann. We carried her out and she spit up foam.

Thank god she made it through the night and that asshole from the bar didn’t have a chance to do anything to her.

My question is this… what in the FUCK is going on in the head of a person who drugs girls? I mean, really. How do they twist their own personal logic into thinking that it’s ok to do that? And why the hell would they want to have sex with a person who is limp and lifeless and spitting up foam? Sick motherfuckers.

So, dude from the bar… I have the memory of an elephant and I could pick you out of a line-up w/o my glasses on. You should know that you’re on my list. And if I see you out somewhere, so help you. You are in for a world of pain, fucker.

Also, in case you are wondering, I looked after her until the next day. She was shaky but ok.

Saturday night…

A group of us were at soho enjoying a few adult beverages and some delicious pizza. McMannus walked up to me way more calm than she could’ve been and announced, “um… I think some guy just stole my purse.”

The cops were called, our night came to a screeching halt and McMannus has now lost some very important possessions like an external hard drive with very important information.

The cops think they have a pretty good idea of who it is, which is absolutely fabulous b/c I wanna kick his teeth in. The first purchase he made was at the CVS down the street. He bought cough drops, cigarettes and a Verizon gift card. Really, Papi? Really?! Cough drops?

McMannus and I spent Sunday afternoon digging through trash cans and dumpsters up and down 9 mile and the back alleys, hoping, against all odds that we might find her discarded bag. Unfortunately, we did not. But we did learn a lot about my neighbors in Ferndale. Among countless treasures, we found:

1. a bouquet of flowers
2. a winter coat
3. expensive chocolates
4. nearly finished bottles of vodka and whiskey
5. and about a million coffee cups and McDonald's bags

We also discovered that the dumpster behind hungry howie's smells really, really good.

So, douche bag potential heroin addict who stole McMannus’ purse, your days are numbered, b/c you just made the list too.

I don’t know which day this happened

…but Annabell’s car was stolen. She has finally gotten in back, but they jacked it up pretty bad after taking it from in front of her house.

Speaking from experience, I can tell you that having your car stolen is really effing shitty. It happened to me once and probably happens to a lot of people who own Crysler’s. They’re pretty easy to steal, or so I’ve been told. Does that make it ok? Of course not.

We should all be able to buy whatever effing car we want and park it in front of our houses expecting to find them in the morning.

everyone needs to chill the fuck out

A part of me feels like everyone is wigging out an extra special amount b/c of the rate in which our economy is tanking. But, c’mon… Everyone needs to chill the fuck out. If you are short on cash, do not take someone else’s purse and/or wallet. That is not the answer. If you think it is, I hope I never see your face EVER, cause you’re only gonna be able to crawl away.

That also applies to stealing cars. Don’t do it. Breaking out my windows for spare change is also completely unacceptable. That has happened to me twice and it’s entirely unnecessary.

Oh, and if you’re having trouble getting laid, pick up a hooker. Do not try and drug others into having the worst, most horrifically scarring sex of their lives. You are a total fucking monster if that even crosses your mind.

the moral of the story is this…

We are living in what my grandmother refers to as “the end times”. Personally, I think it’s been a lot scarier before and it should also be noted that she’s been saying that for roughly 50 years. Anyway! My point is this: times are shitty and you need to keep your guard up.

Accept that it’s a little scarier than normal and keep an eye on your shit. Double up on any normal precautions you’d take in any situation:

If you go to the bar, don’t leave your drink unattended.

If you carry a purse, keep it on your person always.

If you drive a car or ride a bike or donkey or something, make sure you lock it up and don’t leave anything of value in plain sight (i.e. stereo face plate, change, iPod, movies, cd’s, etc.) People will steal the craziest shit.

Oh! And a really important thing my mom taught me ages ago… If you ever have mail in your car, even if it’s a magazine you subscribe to, make sure it’s face down or in a bag of some sort. If someone sees your car in a lot and likes it, they could find your house and take it in the middle of the night way easier if they know your name and address. Lord knows what else they might do.

For Christ’s sake, be safe.