Tuesday, May 25, 2010

Today I felt 80...

I found myself bitching about the weather to a woman in the bank today.
Then I went home and noticed another grey hair while bleaching my teeth.(this makes 2or 3...sometimes my dog's hair is in my pillow) I also saw a wrinkle on my head that I didn't recall earlier. And after fixing and eating a "sangwich", I stood up and heard a crack. It could have been my knee but it felt like my vagina.

How can I be aging when I still feel 12?

I don't have the credit of an 80 year old. Or the car, home, or appliances. I do, however, pee a lot.

On a semi-related note: I've been contemplating having a baby lately. I don't really like or prefer babies. Mostly I want someone to talk to and open my beers and be better than. I would give birth to a toddler if it was possible but I don't think there's a loop hole there. And trust me, if there's a loop hole I will find it. I've been breast-feeding for years if that matters. Most of it was consensual. Anyway, I still need to think this over. I have some plants I've been keeping up with and I was told to start there. Psshhh, little bit of water every other day, no problem. I make it home most nights.

Okay, enough about babies. Right now what I really want is a Vespa. I'd like to buy one before I find another grey hair or "laugh line". I'd have better parking at Whole Foods. I could walk the 25 feet from my studio to Whole Foods if my feet weren't so sore and blistered.

I'm gonna chase this beer with a little Metamucil and a Werther's Original and call it a night, kids.
Let's hope for a youthful tomorrow...

Thursday, May 20, 2010

IT'S A SMALL, SMALL WORLD: What Do You Do When You've Dated All of Gay Pittsburgh?(unedited version...for those who like it dirty)

A warm mist fills the air. Marigolds are in full bloom. A prostitute passes a clove cigarette to her friend. Ahhh, the sweet scent of an impending summer. Mix that with the sweat of hot bodies; the unclad men and women, and fashionably overdressed drag queens, filling the streets of downtown Pittsburgh and you've guessed it. Pride has returned! That's right!

As you ponder where to go and what to wear to one of the many pride festivities this year, you may also have a few woes plaguing your mind as well. Among the long bathroom lines, lost drink tickets, and getting hit with a jawbreaker by an over zealous parade participant on his own float, you're probably also a little anxious over that inevitable and often uncomfortable run-in with your ex.

If you're like most people you have an ex that makes you trample over some inept toddler, knocking trash cans over and hurdling strollers bigger than the vehicle in which you drove, to avoid. (We gays can be so dramatic). And if you're like me, you've a few. The question is how to either avoid or deal with that this Pride.
Let's face it, you can't shake a stick on Liberty Ave. without hitting some homosexual you once shared a feline and a box of condoms with.

You look in the distance and notice a wry smile. You smile back, seductively, of course because you're wearing your new pants. Then you look closer and realize, "I know her. And her. And her. What the?!... I dated them all. Why are they hanging out? When did they all meet? Did they just see me?" Given the blank stare and hypothetical dart just spat in your eye you've no choice but to believe yes, yes they did. And then your friend goes, "Is that the girl she left you for?" You can't even distinguish the "she" she's referring to because there's so many and they've all formed a posse and are now blocking the entrance to the french fry stand you want to hide under. That's when it hits you that they've all moved on. Now all you have is your new pants.

For the love of carbs, don't stare too creepishly. That's what got you the restraining order in the first place. Play it cool. You have a few options here. This could be your cue to bend down and "tie" your sandal and head toward the exit. I'm not one to back down to confrontation so I'd suggest something a little more mature. I'm saying to kiss first person who walks by. This is much better than leaving and it could make at least one of those exes jealous. With any luck it could be the mayor. Or me. And if you're feeling a little confident you could go for the assertive approach by walking up to all of them and greeting them with a hand shake and offering a penis-shaped cookie. This is known as campaigning in politics and it's also the way my siblings and I met our father. I digress. Anyway, if this is the approach you decide to take I urge you to make sure your assertiveness is succeeded with sincerity and a smile. And on an even lesser "evolved" note, make sure you look better than the person they're now dating. Each and every one of them.

Break-ups are hard. I hear the first eight minutes after a break-up are the hardest. That's what my exes have all said. And the only thing harder than a break-up is when you're dumped for someone else. Like your mom, for instance. That's a really hard one. If that ever happens you should just give up. Nobody would even blame you. More than likely your mom won't be attending Pride, but I bet your exes will. So toughen up. They're all probably watching you read this right now, wishing they had another chance. Nah, they're all smiling because you never understood them anyway and now they all have someone who does. Forget about them. Keep your chin up and relish in the fact that you'll never have to deal with all of their annoying habits, smells and lack of attention in certain, um, areas anymore either. Take a look around at all the many people passing you by. There's bound to be a few you haven't yet dated. Your next ex is just around the corner. Literally. She or he is probably peeing behind a trash can around the corner. And the only thing sweeter than the cosmos being shaken up is the irony of it all. Happy Pride.

by Chrissy Costa

Tuesday, May 11, 2010

Oops! You dropped your hair...

Today I stumbled upon a wig & a small tube of smashed lube in the middle of the street. Someone had a better nite than I did...

This weave pictured here, enveloping a small, used pamper was last week's treasure. I spotted it while walking home. I couldn't step away from it. I've seen weave laying on the ground before, in patchy chunks, but never so much. And never tangled around a soiled pamper. Pamper's such a fun word to say. P-A-M-P-E-R. See. Anyway, I couldn't help but wonder what the fuck happened. I mean, why doesn't anyone else seem affected upon seeing this nest of shit on the ground next to their car?! And when I showed friends they laughed but didn't question it. I, on the other hand, can't help but question everything. I only lost a little sleep coming up with the following scenerios...

#1- A baby, left to it's own devices, was seen wandering the streets of a certain neighborhood. The woman (or man) who spotted the baby child was in the process of getting her hair stitched on (I apologize, I've no idea how weave works. I have very short hairs)at a nearby salon. She immediately ran outside to save the child from oncoming vehicles and/or a few angry pigeons (both VERY unsafe), before her hair was properly sealed. Upon picking the child up she slipped on a used Magnum condom that are everywhere in this certain neighborhood, and she went headfirst into a parked Toyota (license plate, bbr-694U). She was unharmed as the airbag inside her hair piece exploded, leaving her safe but hairless. The child, stricken with fear over all the ridonkulousness he just witnessed, cried as he soiled himself, again. That made one heavy pamper. Too heavy to stay in place. So the pamper falls to the ground, landing on the weave that was just about to be picked up by the woman who ran to rescue the child. Now I don't know about you, but when my hair falls into/around/near a dirty pamper I just have to let it go. So did she. Hence, a pamper covered by hair. I didn't have the mental energy it would take to determine what happened after this part so we'll leave it here.

#2- I have always been disturbed over children's beauty pageants. It's just creepy to see a child in make-up and big hair. On a sidenote: did child beauty pagents originate in Pittsburgh? Just askin'... Anyway, our next scenerio revolves around a local beauty pagent. The contestant, Olivia, a little Caucasian girl who didn't know she was Caucasian because she could barely walk, entered the pageant because her parents were picked on as kids and had something to prove. Not having the appropriate amount of locks to be able to do fancy hair stuff, Olivia's parents decided to get her extensions. Now, where they went was probably their downfall. Olivia's dad didn't want to pay a lot because he had a rather large bill to settle with Rent-A-Center. So instead of listening to his "nagging" common law mate, he went to the outside hair stand next to the patchouli sticks and wooden beads. The woman in charge of the stand was mostly Asian with a bit of a southern twang. She spoke very fast and in circles. Olivia's parents didn't understand her, (who can, really?)so they shook their heads "Yes" and let her attach a large black "wig" to their child's little head. Everyone was happy. Until IT happened... As the family was walking to their vehicle an unidentified car, speeding up the street, slowed down just enough to toss a small pamper out of the window, hitting Olivia and pummelling her new hair to the ground. Angry that her cheap common law mate didn't just go to a salon to buy hair, Olivia's mom let the "wig" lay in the street where it fell and demanded her family go home immediately and never speak of IT. Olivia was never forced into another beauty pageant again...

#3- An elderly drag queen is still missing...