To The FemmeMobile! Away!











{October 7, 2011}   Cross posted to my other blog!

Y’know. The one about my whole life. πŸ˜€

My sister got married! For more hilarious stories on how awesome that was, click above. For the gay bits, read on!

For me, the best part of the wedding was the pressure to get married. Crazy, right? Who likes that, after all? It’s definitely not something most single people look forward to when they go to a wedding, but for me it’s a sign that my extended family is getting over the fact that I’m dating another woman, and they’re treating me like they would any straight niece or cousin. It was AWESOME.

Q didn’t show up until Friday night (the wedding was Saturday, and I was there by Tuesday.) Mark and Cathy — my favorite aunt and uncle — were there before I got there.

Things have been a touch strained with Mark since I started dating women. I knew they would be, but hoped that, like so many other things, he’d do the flip he does sometimes and end up in my camp. Usually, once something becomes personal to him, it’s not so bad! For instance, despite being rabidly right-wing, he’s pro-choice. My mom used us girls as an example one day, and he changed his mind completely on his pro-life stance. Things like that.

But religion is a strong factor, and he’s conservatively Lutheran. His wife, Cathy, has a gay sister — which hasn’t actually helped my cause, because her heart’s been broken by women. Never mind that everyone has their heart broken, Mark just sees this as proof that it’s not good to be gay.

Now, note that he’s never been anything but nice to me about it. It’s not what he says, but what he doesn’t say: he doesn’t ask how my love life or my girlfriends are, or if I’m dating, or anything else like that. He’s always kind to the people I bring home (all two of them, yes, shuddup), and he never says anything bad. Cathy told me once that he’s just worried for me, because being gay is a harder path in our society than being straight, and he just needs time. That’s okay, but I’ve still sort of been… waiting.

Anyway, Friday night was the rehearsal dinner, and Quin flew in right after it. I was talking about her — all week I kept trying NOT to talk about her, because it seemed like every other line out of my mouth had to do about her — and Uncle Mark was tipsy. He told me in that solemn-tipsy way that he really liked Q, because anyone who could make me that happy was good people. He (and my Aunt Cathy, at separate times) then proceeded to ask me if we were getting married, and if and when we got married could he play? (He played at Chelsea’s wedding, as she was walking down the aisle.)

I was totally touched. When Q got there, he was thrilled to see her. She danced with my Aunt Cathy at the reception, and Mark gave her a nickname: Rug Cutter. He even did his fist-bump with her; both are signs of high approval! And we were invited by both of them — again, separately — to come visit this spring. YAY! Everything very nicely fell into place, inside me. It was awesome. πŸ˜€

Hilariously, despite KNOWING who Q was (in part because I was introducing her as my girlfriend), another cousin (sort of — my second cousin once removed) said it was nice meeting my friend. *amused* That didn’t bother me: I was really only worried about my Uncle Mark, and the rest I know how they’ll react. It IS nice that everyone, even the people who strongly disagree and fear for my soul, are being sweet. (My aunts weren’t always nice to my mom, and she wasn’t even gay!) Mac was kind enough to sit Q with people who’d like Q and she’d like them, so I had no worries there! (My bff, Danny, was at that table too. Mac told me at one point, “Yeah, I sat Q and Danny together. Then I realized that the only other gay person at the wedding was also at that table, and I thought, ‘What is this?! The gay table?!’ So I switched him.” I nearly died laughing.) One of my favorite cousins even came over and introduced herself to Quin while I was off doing something, but that wasn’t a surprise: I knew she’d be fine with everything. πŸ™‚ For all that I’m generally sure my aunts and uncles won’t approve but will at least be polite, I’m equally sure my cousins will be awesome!

Also, speaking of homophobia and weddings, check this out! I can marry either of my cousins Chasen or Taylor (my two unmarried male cousins), but I can’t marry another girl. So, so wrong.

Ugh, so annoying. Here, have this much more entertaining wedding picture. This was one of the weddings I went to this summer, where I was the bearer of the ring bearer. πŸ˜‰

Ha! I love that picture.

J

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{April 19, 2011}   Butches!

Oh, guys, this is awesome: Butches With Cute Animals. Awwwww! But my favorite month is April, because I just found out my boifriend, Q, is on there! Twice! πŸ˜€ πŸ˜€ πŸ˜€

J



So, in my other life I’m a total comic book geek. And San Diego Comic Con, the BIGGEST comic book convention IN THE WORLD, is this weekend! But alas, I’m not going. 😦 Last time I went to ComicCon was a few years ago (there was a time when I wouldn’t have missed it for the world, but then I got a job. >.<), and I went like this:

You can’t see my stomach muscles in this pic, but I assure you, I did so many freakin’ crunches for the months ahead of time that I HAD THEM. I was quite sad they didn’t show up in photos. Oh well.

This year, the Westboro Baptist Church decided to picket ComicCon. THOSE FOOLS. I’m so proud of my fellow geeks right now, though. See, the denizens of ComicCon… decided to PICKET BACK. Hee. Hee hee. MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. They arrived with signs that said things like, “God hates kittens,” “Thor is my god,” “Your god got nailed to a cross. My god has a hammer,” “God loves gay Robin,” “Odin is God,” “God needs a starship,” “Superman loves fags,” “Fags are sexy beasts,” and so on. They even had a chant going: “What do we want? Gay sex! When do we want it? NOW!” One guy said into a microphone (in what I hope was a good Vader impression), “I find your lack of faith… disturbing.” And the best part? There were the usual handful of Westboro guys… and hundreds of fans.

Holy shit. I love my fellow geeks. I’m so proud right now!

You can read about it, and see LOTS of awesome pictures (including guys dressed up as Jesus, and Buddy Jesus, along with the more usual assortment of comic and movie characters) here.

And here.

And here and here and here. And there’s even video and whatnot, here!

Hee hee. Don’t mess with geeks. We mess back. πŸ˜€

Yes, that would be me in the middle...

PS if you hit those links, you should check the comments. They make me happy. πŸ˜€



{May 2, 2010}   Femmeing it up!

I had an awesome day today! I talked to Q (who is in CO), got a feel-better package from my little sister (who found decaf holiday flavored coffee — I’m caffeine sensitive, and special coffees are almost NEVER decaf! — three books I love, a really sweet card, and an adorable black tank top!), had lunch with Nezu, and then (still with Nezu) went on The Hunt To Find Red Sandals.

See, I have various outfits that look absolutely adorable with red sandals. (Also, surprising flashes of red are never out of style.) (As a sidenote, my grandfather picked up ‘adorable’ as a verb for clothing at one point — teasing girls, I believe, and how we’d show off our clothes. He’d jokingly say, “It’s adorable.” I have no idea why he started this — I suspect it wasn’t nice, to begin with — but every time I say or think ‘adorable’ now I do it in his teasing “that’s cute, but mostly you’re funny” tone, but it makes me happy.)

Alas, my old red sandals were kind of… sad. 😦

So, so sad. RIP, fabulous red sandals.

But Nezu, being a good butch who quite likes watching femmes get all femmed up, drove me around hell’s half acre today and we found ADORABLE RED SANDALS. Uh, a couple of pairs. >.> But we were at Ross, and they were cheap, and I’m making stupid amounts of money at the moment (which is to say like, $2,500/month, which for me is INSANE. Shush. I just startedΒ  a business. I HAVE MAD BUDGETING SKILLZ.)

So first, we found the adorable-yet-sensible-red-shoes-that-will-look-fabulous-with-my-awesome-black-white-and-red-dress-along-with-other-things:

Ignore the non-matching, chipped toenail polish. I only have so many hours in my day, after all.

I can totally wear these for hours. They have enough of a heel to do good things to my legs, but they’re comfy and cute. Yay!

But then… well, then Nezu found The Most Amazing Red Shoes Ever That Will Look So Perfect With My White Dress (Among Other Things, Such As When I Am Wearing Nothing, Or Perhaps Only Lingerie. I Could Walk Nekkid Down The Street In These Shoes, And No One Would Mind.) I love them even though they have bows, and I am generally anti-bow! (It’s more a lace, really. >.>) And even though they are INSANELY high, and have skinny heels, which I’ve never actually owned before! I will have to practice walking in them. OMG! In fact, I’m going to make it a point to wear them over the next few weeks, because after my photo-shoot and wandering in them for twenty minutes, my feet muscles were tired! Oh, dear. I can fix that, though! Q will be sore from bull riding, I’ll be sore from wearing heels. Equally tough, really. ;-D

Look! Look at the fabulous red shoes!

Fabulous even with a war cap and jeans!

You have no idea how perfect they really are. I love red. My house has red accents — throw pillows, bath towels, picture frames! Even the animals get red.

Bobby was wise enough to be born with red.

So the shoes? They are FABULOUS.

AND, they were marked down to $13 (from $50), so I was frugal, too! πŸ˜€ Now I need to get some of those happy feet inserts and build up foot muscle, ohyes. And learn how to walk in them. (Mostly in the house. My practical side wins in that if I can’t ever walk in them, I’m taking them back. *sighs* I’ll have to train really hard!)

OMG! I love these shoes. πŸ˜€

J



{April 27, 2010}   Gay rodeo! And navel gazing!

Last weekend I went with Q to the gay rodeo!

I totally hotlinked this image, but if you click the image and scroll down you can BUY THIS SHIRT.

It was truly awesome. I was the camera bitch, and Q and her two friends, J and J (not that this is going to get confusing) rode bulls. Actually, J rode one bull but cracked her skull on the ground (poor J!) and J did shoot dogging with steers. I took pictures of all three of them, and video, too, and made friends with all the other gays there AND EVERYONE ASSUMED I WAS GAY. I didn’t have to come out once! Woo hoo! It’s a nice break. πŸ˜€ Also, I took my dogs and they were THE BEST DOGS EVER. I love my dogs.

Aren’t they cute? (See photo. Somehow, I can’t get the two to be side by side. :()Β  I gave them bully sticks to chew on. Made out of bull tendon. I thought it was appropriate. People ride bulls – bulls win – dogs ultimately win by EATING BULLS. (Every time I take my dogs somewhere like this, I have to laugh. I have a pit bull and a 116 pound shepherd. Even my dogs are butch. *amused* At least until people get to know them…)

I also was able to talk to a lot of the other people watching, and that was fun. πŸ˜€ Now I get to navigate trying to make friends without giving a too-interested impression. Hmm.

Anyway, did I mention Q rode a bull? Three of them, in fact! But concussion-J got the video of the two last rides, so I only got the first one, which she didn’t yet have practice at. 😦 Still, how many people can say they got on a bull in the first place, right? RIGHT! Check it out! πŸ˜€

I cut off too quick (my camera is a little twitchy) but you get the idea. (Her grin as she turned around was probably the best part, though! Of course, then I wouldn’t have been able to show you guys, ’cause she’d be identifiable, but still!) THEM’S BUTCH POINTS, RIGHT THERE.

Later Q was OMG sore, and I nearly killed myself laughing at all the bruises, road rash (bull rash?), whimpering noises, and limping around. I’m sweet like that. I come by it honestly: any time I came off a horse, it was met with laughter by the woman who taught me to ride. πŸ˜‰ (But I also gave Q back and leg rubs and tiger balm and anything else I thought might help, so I win back some femme points. ;-D)

(Also, the road rash? FREAKIN’ HILARIOUS. Not because it was road rash, per se, but because she was so flabbergasted by it. Mwahahaha.)

I met a lot of cute butches and some fun femmes, and I found no one I was attracted to other than Q. It’s kinda sad, really. There’s one butch, S, who asked me if we were going to a local bar with them and who later (via facebook) invited me two stepping this week, and this is where I need to tread carefully. I’m not as good yet at reading flirt signals from other gays, and that’s a terrifying statement since I suck at reading them from straights, too.Β  In the few minutes I had a chance to talk to her, she seemed like a lot of fun. I wasn’t remotely romantically interested in her, but I could see hanging out and being buddies. I could use some more friends around here. (I have… two. Not counting Q, who is more-than-a-friend.)

New ground to tread on. I would say it’s annoying, having to re-learn all this stuff, but I never learned it very well in the first place, so… *shrugs*

Anyway, being surrounded by all these people (mostly butches, the occasional gayΒ  man, and I think two femmes — thoughΒ  one might have been straight, actually) NONE of whom I was attracted to made me think again about what I AM attracted to. I often say I feel like I steamroll people, and that’s sort of true. Except, really, if I see that I’m likely to steamroll someone I either stop hanging out with them or just don’t do it, depending on how much I like them. And most of the time, I tend to hang back and follow other peoples’ lead anyway. But… Well, take J, for example. J is butch, really adorable-rapidly-becoming-handsome, shy, intelligent. I like J. I’ve enjoyed hanging out with J. I kind of want to throw my arm over J’s shoulders and tell the world to back off, this is my buddy (or would be if I knew him better). I would never ever ever date J, because I would steamroll him. I don’t steamroll him, because I like him and I’m not a bitch, but if J and I were ever to hang out together, I have a hunch I’d end up taking the lead fairly consistently — something I’m fine with in a friendship, but not something I enjoy doing with someone I’m dating, and yet I’m more likely to do with someone I’m dating than with a friend.

But it’s more than that, too. I look at S, for instance, and I think — would I steamroll her? I don’t know. I don’t know her that well, I don’t get the impression she’s a pushover, but my gut reaction is “steamroll,” even though when I stop and think about it I’m not sure that’s true. There’s a type of person, a very laid-back type, that I can’t necessarily steamroll but that still falls into that category for me. I’m not sure I can explain it except by analogy. So, here we go!

When I think of myself, I think of birds and kites. Racing with the wind, swooping and diving here and there, rarely still, full of highs and lows, zipping from one interest to the next. Now, if I’m going to tie myself to someone — that is such a perfect phrase — that someone had better be able to (you ready for this?) keep me there. No, not keep up. Don’t get me wrong: I want someone who will go out and do things, who can keep up on a fitness level. But on energy levels, if you tie two birds (or two kites) together, they end up yanking each other all over. Neither ever gets a rest because the other is goading them on. They aren’t likely to fly together; more likely they’ll fly apart and get yanked back together, crashing hard. They might have a lot of fun twirling around, but they’re going to burn out.

Okay. So I don’t want another bird. But most people, I find, are a bit like flowers. Or bushes (thorny ones, if you’re butch and you prefer that. *grins*). If you tie a kite to a flower or a bush, that kite could very well get swept up in a strong, exciting wind and yank that poor little plant right out of the ground, dragging it along and bruising it in the process. You have to be very careful what you tie a kite to, and the bigger the kite gets the stronger the pull.

DK was like a tree. I could yank and yank and it didn’t pull her out of alignment. I could get swept up in the exciting windy things and I didn’t fly away. I might flutter around like a mad thing going, “Look at this! And this! And this! AND OMG THIS!” but I didn’t drag her over, and I always stayed nearby. I could bash into her and tangle in the branches and she didn’t bruise, didn’t fall over, just put me back out and away I went again.

S felt like a tree, too, but more like a newly rooted sapling. Maybe someday she’ll be an oak, or maybe she’ll always be a slender willowy tree, able to bend with the wind and not break, changing as she needs to — but still something I could yank out of the ground if I got too caught up.

I have never dated anyone who wasn’t some form of energetic tree or rock, and a solid one at that. Q is new for me: occasionally I tell people she’s a lot like me, and it’s a little weird. It is a little weird, because she doesn’t have that tree/rock quality. She’s higher energy. I don’t feel like two birds tied together — unless it’s more like tying up a sparrow and a hawk (and hoping one doesn’t eat the other. Oh wait, we’re gay! Just pretend like it’s a pun, then. :D). She feels more solid than I do to myself, less with the fluttering and dashing and more with the single-direction-moving. Racing leaps and stops, and while she stops I go back to fluttering around. And yet, there’s that same quality — that I can flutter and race and dash, and I’m not going to knock her over nor am I going to drag her along unless she chooses to be dragged. Hmm. It’s just, she moves, too. Odd. I don’t know what to make of it.

Anyway, back to people. So I was leaning against the car with S on Sunday, and it wasn’t so much that I thought I would steamroll her — she doesn’t seem steamrollable, exactly — but rather that I thought she was a sapling. I’d end up ripping her up by the roots and dragging her about. I’d be exhausted from the weight I was hauling, and she’d be bruised and sore from getting hauled. Fun for no one.

Another thing I find myself measuring people on is life experience. I’m starting to think I have a lot of life experience. I’ve done a fair amount of looking at myself and straightening my head out, experimenting to figure out what works and what doesn’t, I have a lot of responsibility, and I’ve done things where I had to make it or — well, really, or go home. But that was never a good option. I was not a homebody, much as I love my family. πŸ˜‰

I look at someone like S, and I suspect that she’s still young. This is hilarious, because I’m sure DK is younger age-wise, but if I’m looking at life experience, well… I think of S as a baby butch, though I’m also sure she’s been butch-identified longer than DK, and I don’t think of DK as a baby butch. It’s not fair to think of them as a baby-butch, either, because really I’m just thinking of them as young, and it has nothing to do with butch. I think that phrase just sort of stuck in my head. *wry smile* Anyway, this inexperience is another thing I lump under ‘steamrolling,’ and one that just won’t work. (I’m not comfortable with ‘inexperience’ because I’ve met people who have LOTS of life experience, and still seem… young. Untried. Maybe it has more to do with sorting your head out? I don’t know.)

I know myself well enough to know that these things really aren’t negotiable. I can’t say, “Well, this person is great except I can steamroll them. I’ll try it; maybe I’ll be wrong this time!” or “this person is perfect except they’re young experience-wise. Maybe it’ll work!” It won’t work. They’ll get bruised, I’ll be exhausted. No fun.

So, hm. Interesting stuff. Mostly it’s exasperating, knowing the field of people I’m interested in is so narrow. At least I won’t waste my time with people who won’t work?

Also, why are you reading this? My wordcount says it’s almost 2000 words, which is nearly ten pages. You weirdo. πŸ˜‰

J



At least, different from the last slightly downer post I tossed up. πŸ˜‰

Now, I have some eye candy, an Ivan video, aΒ  funny video, and an exchange that cracked me up for you! Woo hoo! Videos and exchange first. πŸ˜€

So, Ivan E. Coyote was at Speak Up! and did her love letter to femmes. (I have such a brain-crush on Ivan, it’s not even funny.) And someone got it on video! Awwww. It makes me all warm’n’fuzzy.

(If you don’t want to sit through the video, you can find the text here.)

NEXT!

So, the other day Q showed me this video (not work safe, exactly, though it’s not terribly bad):

Then today, after Q and I have been sexting each other all day, we have this text exchange:

Q: I just cut my nails. You know what that means *wink wink*
JB: LMAO! It’s business time?
Q: LMAO! Hilarious come back. Should I wear my business socks?
JB: LOL! Only if you can last more than five minutes in them!
Q: Ahhhahahahaha! It was 2 minutes, and I’ll do my very best!

Oh, god, we kill me with laughter. *grins*

Finally, I have eye candy for you. I got permission to put this pic of Q online. She says gorgeous is an acceptable word to use, because she would assume I meant her body or, alternately, she’d just take it as a compliment meant. So I give you this picture of her gorgeous body. Or hot body. Or sexy body. Or any other term you’d like to use (except pretty). See, I can put this online because she has no head. OMG! I’m dating the headless horse– …butch. πŸ˜‰ But I’ll put it behind a cut, because even there are no bits showing, she is shirtless. πŸ˜€
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{February 17, 2010}   update!

a double update, taken from my personal journal:

2/14 I wrote:

hi!

update: doubled my pain meds today from 7.5-325 (narcoctics-acetameniphen) on the percoset scale, to 15-650, near the highest you’re allowed. they start most people off on 2.5-325. woooooooo. but it made my hand stop hurting, FINALLY. (actually, i could still feel it. i just didn’t care.)

swelling is down (not gone) and redness is gone. i have an app’t with the hand doc tomorrow, and i’m hoping he’ll at least tell me i can stop packing it, since that’s causing the most pain right now. i’m feeling MUCH better though. a bad infection is much like being sick: lots of laying around, unable to function, whimpering. yay for my dad being here. πŸ™‚ below the read more is gory, gory pictures. ha ha!

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{February 3, 2010}   PICTURES!

To combat the thinkiness of the last post on labels (and because I’m a camera whore, let’s call it like it is), I bring you… THE PICTURE POST!

Mwahahaha. πŸ˜€

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et cetera