Why Do I Know More Neil Diamond Than The American Idols? – Don’t Get Me Started!

So I’m watching the American Idol show (true, I’m watching it very half heartedly ever since what I considered the good people were voted off – I’ll leave you wondering who) and I was shocked with the star line up this year. These stars put the gay in gay – Dolly Parton? Mariah Carey? Broadway with Andrew Lloyd Webber? But now they’ve gone too far. Neil Diamond? Okay, so he’s not gay but he’s certainly Jewish so welcome to my world. But what amazed me more than knowing the lyrics to Dolly Parton’s “Coat of Many Colors” (a horrifying admission I’m all ready regretting mentioning) was the fact that I knew every word to every Neil Diamond song. Why do I know more Neil Diamond than the American Idols? – Don’t Get Me Started!

When I was growing up, my aunt and uncle were obsessed with Neil Diamond. I’m not quite sure why but I do remember that they had a complete shelf of Neil Diamond 8-tracks in their very dark paneled den. Oh how they loved him. They went to his concerts, they played his music and somewhere no doubt they had a bottle of “Cracklin’ Rosie” (if you have no idea what I’m talking about, you obviously didn’t live through the “Diamond Days” (as no doubt someone calls them).

What was it about Neil Diamond that drove the world crazy? I get that the songs are much more than “hummable” but there was something more. Whether you liked his raspy voice, the sideburns or the glitzy shirts he wore, Neil Diamond has “it.” Unfortunately the same cannot be said of the American Idols this season.

I dread it when the “dreads” boy sings. Beautiful eyes but that voice could put you to sleep faster than a Sound Soother from Sharper Image. Brooke White with her constant grimace and her Carly Simon wannabe questionable musicianship just leaves me cold. Syeshia is so fake that she reminds me of Phylicia Rashad (and that’s not a good thing). David Archuleta sings like a teenage girl with a bad self body image who goes backstage and cuts herself. All the closing of the eyes and only being able to sing moody ballads…and although I have the good taste to not say anything, if you’re asking me, yes his membership card is in the mail. And then there’s that David Cook and his hair. I’ve seen people trying hard with their hair but this guy must spend hours getting that “fucked-up-I-don’t-care-what-my-hair-looks-like-even-though-I-spent-fourteen-hours-on-it-caring-about-how-much-it-looks-like-I-don’t-care-about-it” hairstyle. I’m sorry it’s just distracting and to me and I hate to say it, but much more interesting than his voice or lack of stage presence.

Is it just me or have the last two seasons delivered less than “star material” when it came down to the finalists? Does anyone even care that Jordin Sparks (winner of last season) has vocal cord problems? Wasn’t the real problem that her vocals were amateur night at its best to begin with?

The one thing good about having stars on Idol is that you see what a real star is and you remember them performing and it really lets you know that when someone really has that indefinable star quality, you just know it. And what I do know is that I’d rather have a shelf full of Neil Diamond 8-tracks than one CD of any of these so-called Idols! And maybe that’s why I know more Neil Diamond than the American Idols? – Don’t Get Me Started!

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Are Gays Threatened By Gay Marriage? – Don’t Get Me Started!

So a lot of people wonder what blogs this blogger reads. Lately, with work and life I’ve done precious little reading but tonight I typed in one of my fave places for news and interesting points of view at a site “free of an agenda, except that gay one” that’s right www.qweerty.com Love the site (and not just because I wrote a piece for them about a year ago). Well, the “article” that interested me was about a New York Times article in the Sunday edition about gays in their twenties in Boston getting married. While I can certainly understand the point of view from Qweerty asking if gays (or in my opinion, anyone) in their twenties should really be committing themselves to marriage at such an early age dare I say I detected a little something more? Are gays threatened by gay marriage? – Don’t Get Me Started!

Though I didn’t read the New York Times article, I take the Qweerty boys at their word when they stated the article only interviewed well off white couples. Well, think about it, who else but Sumner and Hampton can afford to get married and then go to their summer house in the Hamptons? Qweerty even went so far as to call these white boys “Stepford Husbands” and seemed to take pride in a classic “I told you so” by talking about one male/male couple who at 26 divorced. Again, I have to say that it’s about the age not the same sex.

Somewhere don’t you have to feel good about the fact that these boys and girls feel good enough about themselves and have a state that support them marrying? No, instead some of us gays would rather clutch our pearls over the fact that one of these couples didn’t even live together before they “tied the knot.” Imagine in this day and age gays not being completely stereotypical sluts! I tell you, I for one am completely outraged! (Yes, that was sarcasm, kids)

You see, I’m getting older with every passing moment and the thing that I can tell you is that when I was growing up although I did see gay couples (having done theatre since the age of six) I really never thought about getting married. I just never even thought about that being something that was an option for me. I’m not sitting on the porch knitting a scarf for the winter for my guy of over nineteen years but I’m also not clubbing looking to club a club kid over the head and drag him home for poppers and a pop (if you know what I mean). So where is my shower with the assorted kitchen gadgets and a place setting too expensive for anyone to buy so they settle for the creamer set? (Which let’s be honest, no one wants without the place settings)

To be honest I don’t want the shoes or the rice (or the bird seed as is politically correct these days). I want all the rights that come with marriage but I don’t want to wear matching white tuxedos and link arms to sip champagne. At the same time I want gays of any age to be able to have it all if they want it. Does that make me less gay? Less of a fighter for the cause? I honestly don’t know. I guess if someone told me I could only get domestic partner benefits or be able to get into my guy’s hospital room (God forbid this scenario should ever happen) I would get married in a heartbeat but why should I have to just to make the gays feel better and piss off the right wing Christians? And yet do I deserve these rights without entering into marriage? I don’t know, honestly, I don’t know.

What I know is that if I was a woman and tried to get into my guy’s hospital room, no one would ask why or roll their eyes or even deny me the right to get into that hospital room. Those are the facts, I’m sorry to say. It doesn’t matter to the people who would deny us, the years we’ve spent or the commitment we’ve made to one another, it just matters that we’re both men to them and that’s unacceptable to me. (And should be to everyone) I don’t want to piss people off, I just want a little respect for being man enough to be with the same man for so many years and still be in love. Is that so wrong? How many heterosexual couples can say the same? I don’t think other gays should thumb their nose at me and the way I’ve chosen to live my life anymore than I should at the gays who are choosing to stay single and play the field. For me it’s about basic rights and respect. And if twenty-somethings want to get married, God bless (yes, that means THE God…yours too) and we forty-something gays should be glad that somewhere, somehow we helped in some way to pave the way for the twenty-something gays to get married (and not be bitches)! Are gays threatened by gay marriage? – Don’t Get Me Started!

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Making Change Is Hard (Apparently Especially When You’re At The Register) – Don’t Get Me Started!

Okay for those of you looking for me to be your personal life coach (not without a possibility, if the price is right) this is not one of those blog posts. No, the change I’m talking about is when you use an unheard kind of currency called, “cash” and get change back. Making change is hard (especially when you’re at the register) – Don’t Get Me Started!

Forget for a moment that most people who run a register couldn’t make change if their life depended upon it if the register didn’t tell them exactly how much change they should be giving back to the customer. How many times have you gone to pay for something and the cashier pushes in the wrong amount of money you’ve given them and they stand there stunned, staring at the register as if it might be able to help them by some sort of moron magic? That’s right, the person who invented the idea of the register telling you exactly how much change should give back made America a lot dumber than it needed to be. Agree or disagree but the next time you go to the cash out area, give the cashier extra money so that you can get a quarter back for your change be prepared for the show, “America’s dumbest dummies.”

Okay, now that this is off my chest it’s time to go straight to the real reason for this entry. I can’t stand the way that people give change back to you. There is no standard it seems and while I like structure, I’m not expecting that everyone should give back change the same way but you would think that at some point the cashier has received change too so wouldn’t you think they would give you your change in a way that makes it conducive for you to put it away? Such is not the case. My most hated change giving technique is what I call, “the change sandwich” this would be the bills on the bottom, the receipt next and then a top off of coins. They lay this sandwich on your hand and when you receive change like this you have no choice but to fold it all together and stuff it in a pocket. I know why they use this technique, they think we’re going to slide the change into their awaiting tip cup. Well, let me say if you give me change this way, you’ll never get the tip. Next up is the slide the change on the counter. If you’re someone who has a phobia about being in contact with others, you should not be a cashier. I find this technique rude. It makes me think, “What am I diseased or something that you’re afraid to touch me?” There’s a sister technique to this which is the tossing of the coins into your hand and as you scramble to catch the runaway change on the counter, they’re standing there bored, waiting for you to finish so that they can give you the bills and the receipt. This would be called the “You’ve not snatched the pebble from my hand, Grasshopper, I’ve thrown it at you.”  

And because I’m a half-full kind of guy, now I’ll tell you the change technique I prefer. For me the best way to give back change is to place the coins in someone’s hand and wait for them to figure out what to do with it (whether it’s going in a pocket or the change cup) Next, the bills should be laid into the customers hand. And finally, as the customer is putting the bills in their wallet, the question should be posed, “Would you like the receipt in the bag or with you?” Ah, doesn’t that just feel more civilized and wonderful? I get it that it takes approximately .2345 seconds longer to use this technique and in a world that can’t wait for popcorn to pop in a microwave that’s a lot of time. But so few things anymore allow us to breathe so between the pressure of looking for the money to pay, the people waiting on line giving you the evil eye wouldn’t it be nice if the cashier instead of rushing you too helped you to breathe at the moment you have to put your money away? I’m not asking anyone to change who they are, just the way they take care of one another. “Someone’s crying, Lord…” Making change is hard (especially when you’re at the register) – Don’t Get Me Started!

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Men, Let’s Leave The Ascot To Mr. Howell From Gilligan’s Island, Shall We? – Don’t Get Me Started!

The first time I saw it on someone on American Idol, I thought that a stylist had gotten to one of the contestants and convinced him it was cool and the kid was just dumb enough to not know the difference but now I’m starting to see it on everyone from Idol wannabes to the trainer from Biggest Loser Couples. The ascot has always seemed more than a bit pompous to me and I don’t really understand the reason for them either back in the day nor today. The only person I can really think of who looked “right” with an ascot on was indeed Jim Backus as Thurston Howell III on Gilligan’s Island. With his clenched teeth way of upper crusty talking it just seemed to fit. So to all of you out there who are considering it (and you know that there are many fashion victims out there who go with whatever the latest trend is which started by some gay putting it on a mannequin at Macy’s) men, let’s leave the ascot to Mr. Howell from Gilligan’s Island, shall we? – Don’t Get Me Started!

Come on, think about it for a minute. While the fashionistas would like you to believe that the jump from tie to ascot is a small one, I’m here to tell you the truth. The ascot is right up there with other failed attempts at creating neck fashion for men. Let’s face it, many have tried to replace the tie but let’s look at the options. I mean, who really likes a bolo tie? (Okay, as loathed as I am to admit it my father recently had to go somewhere and considered wearing his bolo tie – I have to qualify this. My father is a real life cowboy who used to break horses, even though he plays a pharmacist in real life. Well apparently at one of his positions he held as a manager, he was supposed to wear a tie and as my father has always hated wearing ties, his bolo tie from the 1970’s was his idea of the way to get around wearing a real tie. The only saving grace for me was that it was not a Lucite one with a scorpion in it or something even more God awful.) Then there’s the “kissin’ cousin” of the bolo tie, the string tie. This can only be worn if you are indeed performing at the Grand Old Opry, play a banjo or have Porter or Wagoner somewhere in your name. (Let’s face it, lots of kids out there running about with those as a middle name, right?) True, there’s the neckerchief but really that’s just a transitional neck piece. If you’re wearing one of these you’re either going to pull it up over your nose to rob the stage that leaves from Tucson at high noon or you’re turning it to the side and saying, “Howdy Doody!” Funny that all the trying to break away from the necktie fashions are by those ever loving Western wearing cowboys, huh? True, there was the open collared shirt with the many chains that started in the 70’s thanks to those “Eyetalians” and the Disco era but we have to remember that this also caused Mr. T to have to go to a chiropractor on a regular basis. No, all things considered, sorry to say there’s nothing out there like a great silk tie, gents.

So before it “catches on” like the parachute pants, gloves with the fingers cut out (are you listening Paula Abdul?) and acid wash jeans, I’m asking you men to please resist this urge. Isn’t it enough that you’re walking around with those silly hats on that make you look as though you want to be a 1950’s black man or Frank Sinatra? It’s enough all ready don’t you think? Men, let’s leave the ascot to Mr. Howell from Gilligan’s Island, shall we? – Don’t Get Me Started!

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My Laptop Knows I’m Gay – Don’t Get Me Started!

I remember when Tivo first came out and everyone talked about how it learned the type of programming you liked and would automatically record shows for you it had learned you might like. They even did a bit on it on a couple of sitcoms where the male character would lament that his Tivo thought he was gay. Well, when I moved to my new company they gave me a new laptop. The latest and greatest laptops have a broadband connection in them by the use of a card similar to what you have in your cell phone. No more looking for wireless “Wi-Fi” “spots” “zones” or anything. If you have cell reception somewhere you also have a broadband connection. Cool, right? Well, with the card that’s in your laptop, it has all the same capability as your phone like texting, etc. And like your cell phone and I guess it has a “phone number” attached to it as well. Suddenly whenever I would go online I would find that I had all of these “text” messages on my computer. Now it takes a lot to shock me but I could not believe that I suddenly was being invited to every gay club in Vegas (some I didn’t even know about or had ever heard about). After reading them I couldn’t help but wonder if somehow my laptop had become intuitive. My laptop knows I’m gay – Don’t Get Me Started!

So there I am, being solicited (as it were) by my laptop. My laptop wanted me to go to the drag show this weekend or the AIDs run or even just for a gay brunch. And suddenly I began to understand why people want to call them “notebook computers” instead of laptops. Laptop seems so dirty when it’s sitting there on your lap propositioning you with half priced margaritas if you wear pearls to clutch on “Pearl Clutching Kamikaze Night!” I couldn’t help but look around as if everyone knew what my laptop was telling me. Finally one day I could take it no more and so I asked the IT guy at the office, “Um…how does…I mean…the whole broadband thing…how does it do that exactly? I know you put that card in my computer, was it used?” IT Guy: “No it wasn’t used but it’s like your cell phone, it uses a phone number. Why, are you getting text messages from the last person who had that phone number?” “Yeah.” I said quietly and went back to work.

So there it was…my answer but not really because curiosity may have killed the cat but it never stopped me from wondering what was what. I can’t help but wonder about the gay who had the number before me. I hope he wasn’t a complete slut but from the look of the text messages, most signs lean to someone who was at the very least a bar hopper. Or maybe it was a lesbian…yeah, right. Not likely from some of the “made to seem like someone and not some business” is soliciting you. Frankly I’m glad to see that at least he was popular. Suddenly, I’m concerned that I’m not as popular as the mystery gay that had the laptop before me. I began to think that phone numbers should at least come with a sort of “fingerprint” of the person who had it before you. You know, it could be like the old, Mystery Date board game (All you gays reading this who are forty-something, don’t act as if you don’t know what game I’m talking about here – you know you played it!) In the new version you would open text messages to get clues until you finally got to a folder on your computer that had been hidden and when you opened it, there they’d be, your Mystery Previous Owner (okay, the fact that I’ve been with a black man for so many years may have been the reason I cringed when writing the whole “owner” thing). No doubt Milton Bradley will steal this idea and the next thing you know, they make another six bazillion dollars and I’m still writing this for myself with no cash for my stellar ideas! Just remember you heard it here first.

So, while I’ll admit at first it was a little shocking to see these text messages, now most of the time I just erase them without reading them. But there are times when I look at them and feel what I originally felt when I first saw them, my laptop knows I’m gay – Don’t Get Me Started!

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What Happens When A Gay Blogger Gets Happy – Don’t Get Me Started!

I don’t know when it happened, okay that’s a lie. I know exactly when it happened. For the past eight years I worked at a job that made me furious just at the thought of it. I know that Oprah says to follow your bliss but when you’re in the day to day of a miserable ten to twelve hour a day job you can’t see your way clear to tomorrow let alone taking time to figure out where you’re bliss went, why you can’t even imagine it anymore and so most times you just settle for some red bliss potato salad that makes you fatter and gives you even more reason to be unhappy. My anger about my day to day work made it easy to write about being pissed when someone called me “Ma’am” for the fifteenth hundredth time or the fact that someone was on their cell phone on line at Starbucks. And so when I left the world of miserable behind me something happened and I think some of my readers are not loving it as much as I am. What happens when a gay blogger gets happy? – Don’t Get Me Started!

Now all of this is not to say that I still don’t get angry (and funnier) faster than most or that I can’t still become bitchy faster than my Mini Cooper can tear away from a stop light but a lot more rolls off my shoulders now. I’m not in my dream job (which would probably be directing at a theater somewhere while writing novels and doing book tours) but I’m working with people who share mutual respect for one another and I guess I underestimated how great that can really be when you spend the majority of your hours with these people. I always think about Holly Hunter in the movie, Broadcast News. I love this movie but even more so a scene in which the head of the station says to her something like, “It must be great to be the smartest one in the room.” And she replies, “It’s awful.” At my last job this was how I felt every day. I was the smartest one in the room and yet it was awful because here I was among these people who didn’t get it; yet they were making double my salary and making all the wrong decisions, running a business with 1500 employees’ lives into the ground. Frustration took on a whole new meaning. But now (although sometimes I still get that nagging suspicion that I may be the only one who sees things as clear as they need to be) for the most part, I like being the spectator and I’ve almost learned the lesson of when to keep my mouth shut and when to speak up. And more importantly that the decisions made are not life and death. Not to say I’m not still a complete control freak and that I don’t sometimes feel as though death is imminent due to my decisions but it’s less than the way I used to feel. Not quite at the “let go, let God” phase – don’t know I’ll ever want to be there though. I’m more “Dear God, let’s go” on the whole.

I guess what has amazed me is how much people want to cling onto my bitchy side. I’ve had people write in to tell me that I’ve lost my edge or they seem angry that I haven’t posted more often. The facts are simple, I’m in an all life consuming (right hand red, left foot green, etc.) and when I’m not working I want to spend the time with my guy, my cats and my family rather than be scouring YouTube for more Broadway clips to post on the site. I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with this because for two years, I used my blogging and website as my only creative outlet. I hungered for it. But now I get to be creative every day. True, in my new life as “Attractive Betty” (probably more Anne Hathaway in Devil Wears Prada but my boss is too nice for me to be comfortable using this as the reference) usually the most creative thing I do is figure out how to get four executives from Vegas to all the corners of the world and back for their next meeting but the energy of creativity is in everything I do.

So what’s going to happen is anyone’s guess but I know that whatever happens, I’m still me. So those of you concerned about me losing my edge or my cute funny gayness, fear not. All those characters still live within me and will show themselves from time to time but for now being less of a bitchy gay blogger and getting back to the “roots” of the word gay, I’m happy (and still ten pounds overweight). What happens when a gay blogger gets happy? – Don’t Get Me Started!

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