bad luck voodoo clock

as new year's eve approaches, many of us might find our minds wandering towards the topic of time a bit more frequently than throughout the rest of the year (march 6, 2009: oh shit! i have a meeting in 10 minutes! i have time to stop at starbucks, right?, vs dec 28, 2009: oh shit! i only have three days to quit smoking, lose ten pounds and learn tai chi and therefore fulfill all my new year's resolutions for 2009!). time is something that i generally try to be pretty aware of, and i've even been known to be a sliiiiiiggghhttt pain in the ass about being on time/early/way-too-early for movies, parties, concerts, events, meetings, airports (arrival and departure), dinners, weddings, etc etc.

for the past 24 hours, my mind has been slightly more pre-occupied by time than is usual for even my extremely punctual self. well, sorta... kinda...ok... actually, i've been obsessed with a clock. and not like a clock i want to BUY or anything (although that does sound very much like something i would do/say). allow me to explain:

when i moved into my last apartment, i hung this CLOCK. its a sorta-ish kinda cute-ish maybe cheap plastic target clock that i kinda liked and bought a looooooooooong time ago before finally hanging it up in the lovely apartment i shared with my dear stefario. i never really had a problem or particular affinity to the clock, but remember that i'd often hear it ticking when the room was very quiet. i never gave the ticking sound much thought other than an occasional giggle to myself about how freaked out captain hook would be, and the clock lived happily and unobtrusively on my wall for a year.

fast forward to last night. after a long day of moving and a double-dose of codeine cough syrup (did i mention i'm sickly and have strep throat? seriously, i feel like the little invalid boy in the secret garden), i struggled through the final throes of unpacking, having spent a good 45 minutes placing all like 800 pairs of my shoes onto their very own SHOE SHELVES!!! (sorry, just got really excited about the shoe shelf.) anyway, i picked up a yet-untouched box, took off the lid, and my ears were immediately assaulted by the horrendous TICKING of the clock!

i was shocked: i hadn't seen, thought about or even remotely cared about the clock in more than nine months, and suddenly, i just hated the thing. i was totally and utterly convinced that the clock (and its subsequent ticking) was evil! so i tore the clock out of the box, ripped the battery off its back and hid the repugnant thing away from me in the closet. um, at this point, i would like to point out that i had been moving all day, taken a double dose of codeine, and also later spent 5 minutes freaking out and looking for a spider in my bed that did not exist... i think i might have actually been slightly hallucinating.

anywayyy, i woke up this morning, saw the clock and slightly giggled at my cough-syrup-induced insanity, but somehow, i was still quite certain in my reserve that the clock was, if not truly "evil" per se, bad luck. i'm a big believer in following your gut, as crazy as it may be, and have therefore violently thrown the clock into the garbage! yayayayay! no more bad juju clock!!!!!!! i have decided that i need to purchase a new clock to represent a new year, and a new start for me, and i am inexplicably certain that getting rid of that clock is only going to bring good things. maybe its symbolic for like cleansing my life or some deep shit.

so i guess that this slightly literal point about time (and clocks?) and the upcoming new year is that, although the insane hooplah of a new year's eve celebration, coupled with the ridiculous pressure put on things like new year's resolutions are way too much over-hyped bullshit, the beginning of a new year is always the opportunity for a fresh start and for something new. so get rid of something that symbolizes the crap of the past, yo! buy new things for a new and totally kickass 2010!!! this will also stimulate the economy! and create new jobs! and make everyone happy in 2010!!! yaaaaaaaayyy!!!!!!

if i ever run for public office, someone please publish this blog so that people will know i've got a truly sound political mind. happy new year!!!


rub a dub dub

as you may know, i have spent the past few months dealing with the oh-so-pleasant processes of buying a condo and then throwing myself into one of the most terrifying and harrowing experiences i've ever had: remodeling a bathroom. of course, i'm excited and thrilled about the whole thing, but i've found the process extremely difficult and trying, and would have never made it without the help of my wonderful parents, who, as 20% of my readership, are doubtlessly reading this. so before i enter into my typical rant, i must thank the wonderful and fantastic and super-annoying-at-times, momma and poppa b for their many many hours of backbreaking labor and patience with my inability to successfully paint, screwdriver, take a door off its hinges, wash a window or purchase the correct light bulb.

today was moving day, and with the exception of the realization that i don't have nearly enough furniture, everything went pretty well, albeit exhausting. but throughout the day, i just wanted everyone to leave so i could finally enjoy the one moment i'd been fantasizing about for months, dreaming about for weeks, and savoring the thought of nearly endlessly... the first bath. most of you probably don't know this, but i am a serious bath enthusiast. fanatic. fiend.

as a child, i was a voracious reader, and there was nothing i loved more than reading in the bathtub (with the possible exception of writing really, really, terrible poetry/songs). i was the type of reader who wouldn't put down a book to do anything as petty as eat, sleep, talk, walk... pretty much anything... i was a really engaging child, i swear. of course, as a pretty much obsessed swimmer, i was also a big fan of being in the water, so it seems that water + book = reading in the bathtub was a natural progression for me.

i remember locking myself in the bathroom, johnny tremain tucked under my arm (poor, poor johnny and his sad crippled hand! i did a recent re-read of this book and have found that it does stand up to the test of time, johnny tremain fans!), lying in the bathtub, start reading/filling it up (HOLD PLEASE: this is a serious bath survey. am i the only person who lies naked in the bathtub while it slowly fills up? i feel like "normal" people fill it up and then get in? i guess i just like the whole process so much? i need answers!!! is this just another case of rachel-cant-tie-her-shoes-like-99%-of-the-population syndrome? thank you for participating in this very important survey!), filling the tub up to the highest level possible, reading until the water goes cold, draining and repeating. perhaps several times.

since childhood, baths, and reading in bathtubs have remained a hardcore favorite activity of mine, so when i bought the condo, i immediately knew that the 14-inch deep piece of crap they were passing off as a "bathtub" wasn't going to do. of course, my wanting a new bathtub pretty much quickly snowballed into wanting a new bathroom, then expanding the bathroom, then building a cabinet and installing doors and moving electrical boxes. so here i am, 10 weeks later, with a brand new, pretty bathroom... complete with the deepest fucking bathtub i could find.

sure, this 27 inch beauty makes the entire bathroom feel like it was specially-built for someone at least five inches taller than i am. sure, i have to make sure i don't tip over when i climb in because i have to lift my short little leg so high. who cares?!?! this tub is awesome. seriously, i splashed around like i kid!! water sloshed around and didn't even reach the top!! i can do a 360 in the middle of the tub! it took like 10 minutes to fill up because it is so awesomely deep!! this tub is big enough for two (wink wink)!

i'm a happy camper.

today's bath was bookless, but blissful. looking forward to many more, and extending invitations to come visit me!!! yay!



an ode to my BFF

this holiday season, i've decided to take stock of the things for which i'm most grateful. i've got a wonderful (albeit totally fucking crazy) family, a cool job (i like drinking and writing. that sounds like i mean i like to drink and THEN write, which would be rather hemingway-esque of me, but drunken writing is definitely not something at which i excel. i'll drunk blog for y'all sometime, and you'll be all "WOAH! who let courtney love loose on this ridiculous pink glitterblog?"), a totally VALLEYTASTIC condo, which i will eventually move into (patience is so not my forte. these past 10 weeks of waiting for my bathroom remodel to be finished have been absolute TORTURE!), and amazing, hot, talented, smart and funny friends (that's you!). moreover, i have seriously the best BFF a girl could ever ask for, so drum roll please as i introduce a blog dedicated to my one and only, the super stealth, badass motherfucker, NINJA!!!!!!!

for those of you who don't know, ninja and i met during our 1L year of law school (you know, that thing that most people go to because they want to be lawyers, yet i went to and spent a year at the beach before running for the hills, swearing to jab my eyeballs out with hot pokers if anyone ever tried to put me in a SUIT again and told me to like, LITIGATE?). i remember the first time i met ninja, as she sat outside studying with two other girls i knew. naturally, as the semi-loner i was for the first few weeks of law school, i didn't pay her much heed. i do, however, remember that she was wearing cute turquoise sandals. i should've known then that we were meant to be.

a few months into law school, ninja and i drunkenly befriended each other on the fabulous third street promenade, where we were joined by several of our classmates for a friend's birthday party. it was right around halloween, and ninja and i met a woman in a pharaoh costume. we took pictures with her! and each other! OMG! it was just sheer fucking bliss!!!!

over the course of the rest of our 1L year, ninja and i (and the fabulous ficks, her totally excellent boyfriend and another dear friend of mine!!! don't worry, buddy, i'd never forget you!!) learned that we shared several similar interests, including but not limited to: beer, eating until you can't walk, drinking beer, hearts, burritos, unicorns, shopping, sequins, buying beer, breakfast burritos, mario party, building beer towers, dance parties, pizza, getting fat, rolling around the sand like beached whales, and admittedly, a fair amount of consumption of THC (wink wink, only if it is not too incriminating? good thing i live in CA, where this kind of thing is pretty much standard procedure).

our friendship continued to flourish the summer after law school, aka the best and most worthless summer of our lives, when ficks, ninja, my ex and i were an indefatigable foursome, terrorizing the streets of malibu, dancing, singing, eating and drinking our way many really ridiculous situations, including but not limited to: window-breaking, disneyland fight-picking, trash can peeing, mid-afternoon communal passing out, and a fair amount of roommate baiting. that was four and a half years ago, and i'd just like to say one thing to you, ninj: the magic is still there.

if you've managed to read through that (only slightly) embarrassing introduction without giving up on this lovefest as little more than my pathetic attempt to secure our spots on the next season of the bad girls' club, hi! your efforts will be rewarded, because i'm going to hit you with 10 fabulous things about my BFF. enjoy!

1. she wanted to buy an entire box of lighters that had a light that shone the image of a heart and the word "love." i only let her buy seven, and she gave me one anyway :). love you, ninja!!!

2. she won't bat an eyelash, instantly saying yes when the waiter asks if we'd like another round. at noon. on a tuesday.

3. she is in love with her dog, toby, even though he is a BAD DOG who farts a lot and eats garbage. i've got a bad kitty of my own, so i can relate.

4. she loves teal! like i love pink! we're motherfucking soulmates!

5. at least 30% of our jokes to each other are about my jewiness or her asianness. we embrace our mindless stereotyping, apparently.

6. when i suggested we share a dish at a restaurant, her response was "fuck that shit i'm hungry." don't mess with a hungry ninja!!!

7. um HELLOOOOOO, she's a NINJA!!!! ok, not really. but that's her nickname and i'm pretty sure she goes by it at leas 75% of the time, which is pure awesome.

8. i don't think i've ever had so much fun with someone for so many years... and remembered so few specifics about what we did and why it was fun.... hmmmm....

9. ninja is an actual LAWYER! hot, right?

10. ninja is the best, sweetest, most loving and supportive friend a girl could ask for. she's seen me through the shittiest times of my life and she's celebrated all of my happiness alongside me. i hope to do the same for her, and look forward to the day when we're 89 years old, living in a pink-and-teal palace with the cloned offspring of toby and lulu, eating and drinking whatever the fuck we want (we will be old and won't care), wearing sequined mumus, and rocking back and forth on our unicorn rocking chairs. sounds like heaven to me :)

love you, ninj!!!! merry christmas!!!

ps: i need to add a number 11, because there's nothing i love more about our friendship than the ability to have conversations as follows:

ninja: you spelled toby's name wrong
rachel: ugh, bitch
ninja: no, YOU'RE a bitch!
rachel: no, you!!!!!
ninja: no YOU're a bitch!
rachel: BITCH!
ninja: love you.



smack dab in the middle of america's two favorite holidays, halloween (aka whore-o-ween) and christmas (aka santafest), falls thanksgiving, an antiquated and as-of-late overlooked holiday that conjures norman rockwellian images of white middle class families holding hands whilst lovingly gnawing on turkey together. in these traditional notions of what it means to give thanks, everyone is happy, satiated, charitable and content, and between mouthfuls of perfectly-prepared green bean casserole and polite please-and-thank-yous, thanksgiving is a holiday that celebrates wholesome family togetherness, preferably with two loving parents, 2.5 kids and a cute-as-hell beagle begging for scraps under the table.

i don't know about you, but that image sure-as-shit doesn't resemble any sort of thanksgiving i'm familiar with.

the past decade of thanksgivings in my family have been, more or less, drunken shit shows. there was the thanksgiving a few years ago during which my brother showed up high as a kite, causing some major drama between him and poppa b, which is actually rather standard fare for our family. then there was the thanksgiving during which i came out to my parents (as if they needed corroboration that the "BFF" whom i'd been inseparable from for the past 2 years, was in fact, my girlfriend... oh, the futile vanities of youth), causing my mother to drink an extra bottle or two of wine at dinner. of course, that thanksgiving could only be followed up with a holiday in which we were all rather hammered and i had no choice but to tell my mom i was pretty sure she was a lesbian and that i'd "gotten it" from her. that went well.

i'm certain that i'm not the only person whose thanksgivings more closely resemble the jerry springer show than the cheerfully benign images shoved down our throats every year in commercials. as such, i propose a makeover for thanksgiving and am initiating THXGIVIN 2009, a holiday which will more appropriately fit the lives of modern americans (and will go quite nicely at my family's THXGIVIN 2009, which will be spent with the family of my brother's lovely knocked-up fiancee in the middle of topanga canyon, aka hippieville USA). like whore-o-ween and santafest before it, THXGIVIN will put a commercialized, modern twist on the holiday that consumers will find a bit easier to swallow. please note that i wouldn't dare suggest any changes to the food served at thanksgiving, as it is universally agreed upon that it's the best part of this family-funtastic time in america, the land of the fat. having said that, i propose the following revisions to this awesome, totally fattening holiday:
  • we need a mascot. sure, there are the standard pilgrims and turkeys that kids learn about in elementary school as being symbols of the holiday, but let's face it: when is the last time you saw a pilgrim on TV? who gives a crap about turkeys the other 364 days a year? what we need is a THXGIVIN MEERKAT. thanks to the popular discovery channel show meerkat manor, meerkats are bigger than ever in 2009. still, these adorable little critters (seriously, have you ever seen them stand up, survey the landscape and scamper off? CUTE.) haven't quite gotten the recognition they deserve. i propose that with the proper marketing, meerkats can become the next penguin (aka, america's current favorite exotic animal in 99% of new animated movies). soon, children will make macaroni meerkats in art class, moms will go crazy for meerkat jello molds, and dads will love the new meerkat parade at halftime of their favorite football game. now let's give santa a run for his money! gooooooo meerkats!
  • we need some kickass tunes. this morning, en route to drop two friends off at the airport, the crisp, golden air and general buzz of activity that embodies "the holidays" filled my spirit and caused me to muse aloud, "hmmm... do you think the all-christmas-all-the-time-between-thanksgiving-and-christmas music station has started with the christmas music yet?" with an adventuresome spirit, our trio vowed to find out; soon we were thrilled to hear the tra-la-la-la-las and jingling sleighbells that filled the car with laughter and joy. ok, that sounds really cheesy, but as a christmas-loving-jew, i have to say that there's something magical about bing crosby's dulcet tones as he dreams of white christmases. therefore, THXGIVIN needs to jump on this bandwagon. in order to make this process as smooth as possible, i propose ripping off already-existing christmas songs such as: swimming through a gravy wonderland, elastic waistband rock, little drumstick boy, and randy the totally cute THXGIVIN meerkat.
  • we need some sponsors. let's face it: we live in a corporate, commercialized world, where money talks and holidays are brands. what THXGIVIN needs is to cash in on this shit. how? with SPONSORS. just imagine the potential for innovative marketing and advertising campaigns: "THXGIVIN, brought to you by nike: just gobble it," or "THXGIVIN carol cds, available in happy meals at mcdonalds, a proud sponsor of THXGIVIN 2010." This brand exposure is just what this holiday needs to compete with the big dogs, halloween and christmas.
i am confident that making the aforementioned adjustments to this holiday will give thanksgiving that supercharged powerhouse kickassitutde it needs to reclaim its stake on the national landscape and remind the american people that, yes, there is a holiday between whore-o-ween and santafest, and no, it's not that weird 8-day thing that's just for the jews. go on, THXGIVIN, this is your moment to shine.

have a happy, fantastic, drama-free thanksgiving!! xx, rachel morgan

PS: ANONYMOUS, i miss you.


an open letter to anonymous; or more appropriately, CALLED OUT.


this morning, as i struggled to rouse myself from the totally bizarre dreams that have been plaguing my sleep as of late (did i really dream about the vampires from TWILIGHT and meeting them at a swim meet? can vampires even swim? did i just give some disney staffer the idea for the next hit teen TV series, BLOOD AND WATER, about a bunch of sexy vampires who have to struggle to make a name for themselves in the world of competitive swimming, despite never being able to swim outdoors??), my blackberry quietly buzzed on my bedside table, indicating yet another early-morning email waiting to be read/ignored/deleted. i stretched, rolled over, forced my eyes to focus, and grabbed my Bberry, eager to learn what kind of deals borders rewards was throwing at me, or what barbara boxer has to say about the exciting affairs of the CA democratic party (note to self: donating $$ to hillary clinton's presidential campaign will get you on a democratic email blast list for life.).

as i scrolled through the various facebook notifications and emails, i was shocked to see an email from this very bloggerific website, notifying me that ANONYMOUS had commented on my blog. "hmmmmm...." i thought to myself, "i haven't blogged in AGES! i wonder what it says?" i laughed when i read the following comment in response to my most "recent" (if you can count something from 6 months ago as recent) blog:

Dear Rachel,

Why have you stopped blogging?
Did you find a new girlfriend?


well, ANONYMOUS, your efforts are appreciated, and i will respond in kind. why have i stopped blogging? god, i wish i had an acceptable answer for this other than some combination of laziness/business/preoccupation with coming up with terrible vampire-themed television shows/laziness. truthfully, i don't, so let's just accept my inconsistent-at-best bloggitude as fact and move on. secondly, no, ANONYMOUS, i have not found a new girlfriend. thanks for asking!

now that i've answered your lovely questions, ANONYMOUS, allow me to pose one to you: WHO ARE YOU? you've opened a pandora's box regarding your identity, and i've come up with the following theories as to the face behind the mask of anonymity.
  • you are my dad. i'm lucky enough to have a father who is, if anything, TOO supportive of my many talents and abilities. for four years as a college athlete in a state halfway across the country, my father was at nearly every single one of my games and tournaments. his was the voice cheering the loudest, his was the face sweating the most during triple overtime, and his was the most nervous gait pacing along the back rows of natatoriums across the country. surely the same man who had sweatshirts made of "scat the cat," a construction paper kitty cat i made at the age of 4, would also check my blogs daily, hoping for some sign of life. he is also the man who, when heartbroken at the lack of activity here in world sparkleize, would passive-aggressively shame me into resuming these self-gratifying rants. well played, poppa b... well played.
  • you are my ex. yes, i'm talking to you. i've got my suspicions based on your style of writing. however, the use of correct capitalization is throwing me off a bit. but then again, perhaps that was your goal? to make me second-guess my gut instinct? but you also KNOW i don't have a new gf... so why ask? again, to throw me off track? AAAAAHHHHHH damn you and your mind games!!!!!!!
  • you are a total stranger and one of my many, many admirers. in which case... helllllloooooooo! we should, you know... hang out sometime... i'm footloose and fancy free... and single... and will make empty promises to be a more consistent and enthusiastic blogger if it means you will make out with me!!!!
  • you are rachel maddow. this is actually the theory that makes the most sense to me. following the entry in which i professed my undying love and admiration for you, you likely discovered my blog during a sunday afternoon spent googling yourself. then, you probably read all of my posts, realized that i'm totally bomb-diggity, fell in love with me and spent hour after agonizing hour wondering how to get in touch with me. i realize i'm rather intimidating, but, rach, you're a shoo-in. no need to resort to ANONYMOUS taunting in order to get me to pay you the attention you so greatly deserve. i'm here for you, honey. anything you need, anytime. i'll even pick up blogging again, and change my name from sparkleize to R+R=TL4Eva (rachel + rachel = true love 4eva, duh).
these are my leading assumptions as to the identity of the ANONYMOUS commenter. as i said, i'm running with the rachel maddow theory, but if for some reason none of these are correct, well, i've got to hand it to you, ANONYMOUS... you've gotten me back in the blogosphere and piqued my interest as to your true identity. please, contact me again, ANONYMOUS. in the meantime, i toooootally promise to be a better blogger. like, when i'm not writing BLOOD AND WATER and coming up with cool vampire names like AZRAEL (the hot vampire version of michael phelps), ELEKTRA (the sexy she-vamp who falls in love with a mortal) and CROW (the evil vampire dude who is TOTALLY trying to bang elektra), i'm totally gonna be all over this lesbian blogging stuff. like, fer real.

xoxo, rachel morgan.


an open letter to proposition 8

dear prop 8,

let's face it: you've gotten a bad rap. a lot of people in the media, in the privacy of their own homes and in the vast expanses of the interweb have been giving you a pretty hard time these days. your name has become synonymous with hate (or is it h8?), you've spurred protest rallies across the nation, and celebrities are coming out of the woodwork to publicly berate you as an antiquated, evil right-wing institution of fear of "the other." in light of all this, i can sense that your ego is probably a little bruised, and i'm certain you expect yet another "crazy lesbian blogger" to unleash a shitstorm of ANGRY on you.

not so.

i'd like to take a moment out of my day to say THANK YOU to proposition 8. THANK YOU for passing in november against the backdrop of a historical election that proved the vast majority of americans are down with having a black man in the oval office, while in certain california communities, longtime "roommates" lisa and linda better keep up the charade and cancel their honeymoon plans on an olivia cruise. THANK YOU for proving to liberal, educated, cosmopolitan americans that discrimination is alive and well in the united states. frankly, we needed the reminder.

while many americans are angry letter-writers when a WAL-MART moves into their town, or furiously ask to speak to the manager at mcdonalds when their big mac has too much mayo, when it comes to larger issues, the vast majority of us tend to be a bit complacent. sure, there are always people fighting for change: activists working a difficult grass-roots movement or holier-than-thou celeb hawking one charity or another, but a lot of us are perfectly content to float along, lost in our daily lives and concerns (did i leave my flat iron on? why is this idiot in front of me driving so slowly? where did i leave my slutty bra?). in these times of smooth sailing, it takes a jarring BUMP/CYCLONE/KICK-IN-THE-ASS to wake us from peaceful reveries of contentedness. that's where you came in, prop 8!

like the bombing of pearl harbor finally spurring america into entering WWII, the secession of the south forcing lincoln into demanding abolition, and britney spears locking herself and her tots in a bathroom FINALLY causing her poppa to seek a 5150 court order (and a lifetime supply of undies), the passage of proposition 8 has forced proponents of gay marriage to take a stand. in these situations, once we finally realize how great of a cost we have to lose, we've got no choice but to DO SOMETHING.

since novemeber, there have been countless demonstrations across the country, which, in turn, have forced the issue into the public eye with increasing ferocity. similarly, several states seem hell-bent on proving that they're more progressive than home-of-the-hippies-and-pot-capital-of-the-world california, and have begun passing legislation that says, "hey! you're gay and you want to get married? come to IOWA!" (seriously, IOWA, where there are more cornfields than citizens *******please note i totally made this fact up and in no way vouch for it's accuracy*******? IOWA is more gay-ok than CA at the moment?). with each day that passes, more and more people becoming involved; we're marching, we're picketing, and we've finally learned that the only way to GET change it to MAKE it happen.

following this week's decision by the CA supreme court to uphold the ban you've instilled, prop 8, my wonderful and amazing girlfriend, rachel maddow, said the following of the protest movements that sparked across the country: "it's a sign of how much more organized and galvanized supporters of gay marriage are now than when proposition 8 passed in novemeber." i couldn't have said it better myself, rach. apparently, all the gay rights movement was lacking before novemeber was a little push. we needed a little reminder that outside of our accepting families and friends, and away from bustling boystowns and lesbo-villes, prejudice persists.

without you, prop 8, it might have taken a lot longer for us to wake up and realize that nobody is going to hand us civil rights on a silver platter. now, thanks in great part to you, change is coming. it won't be immediate, and it won't be easy, but i can promise you one thing, prop 8: next time, we'll be ready, so prepare to die. :)


rachel morgan


america's idol

last night, when adam lambert and kris allen stood center stage in front of the tiny orange creature known as ryan seacrest, i couldn't help but set my general air of snobbery aside. i was giddier than a schoolgirl, wracked with nerves, and anxiously awaiting the news that would either leave me squealing with joy or groaning in disappointment.

i was disappointed.

yes, i was/am an adam lambert fan. i mean, seriously, what's not to love about a man who can hit higher notes than mariah, sport more makeup than a 17 year-old slut at prom, and rock out in platform boots so high that i got vertigo just watching him?!?! of course, i also think adam is RIDICULOUSLY talented. like, seriously, SUPERGOOD. i get that some people may find him a little too much to handle, or that his style/sound doesn't really float their boats, but people who flat-out think he sucks are f'n NUTS. (haters: watch this video. and stop being so mean: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DJYyqzUr6jU)

now lets get to the real meat of this issue (in my world, at least): THE GAYNESS.

i somehow doubt i'm out-scooping people magazine on this one, but adam lambert is gay, y'all. i am the first to admit that i was smitten with the idea of having adam be the first gay american idol (clay aiken does NOT count. it took him like 6 years and 123451324 manhunt scandals to admit the obvious), and part of my idol-ehthusiasm this season was definitely driven by his pretty-freaking-overt-and-out-there sexuality, all while set against the backdrop of our current political and social environment. it's pretty obvious to me (and stay tuned for an upcoming blog on the subject pleasethankyou) that we're on the cusp of a civil rights movement for a new (gay) generation. gay and lesbian issues are hot topics in the media and on capitol hill, our communities are banding together in visible activism, and straight society is waking up to the not-so-novel notion of equality for all. and somehow, last night, with kris and adam standing there while america watched, i couldn't help shake the feeling that i was witnessing a mise-en-scene playing out our nation's latest social drama.

there they stood: kris, the adorable, married (at 23 - eeeeek!!), ministry-leading, average joe dressing, acoustic-y singer/songwriter type; and adam, the satin suit wearing, perfectly coiffed, practically-pissing-glitter glam rocker. having each received millions of votes to reach the finale, it's clear that these are two talented, charismatic guys, both of whom have the support of a dedicated fan base. but what particular demographics make up their respective fan bases? i think it is fair to assume that they're both pretty popular in the "ridiculous and annoyingly obsessed teenage girl" segment. if i were a 16 year-old during this season's AI, i can promise you that i would be walking around telling everyone i was IN LOVE with one or both of them, and that their posters would be plastered all over my walls. but this is where i think things diverge a bit for kris and adam's fans.

at the risk of sounding like every other commentator out there, i think there's a pretty noticeable "god factor" in the works here - as the crux of the issue in both our little TV sing-off and our real life national melodrama. politically, americans are being divided more and more strongly along the lines of religion and its place in our legislation, moral compass and national psyche. socially, this division is fairly obviously applicable to the adam vs. kris singing showdown: kris is the jesus-loving, churchgoing heartthrob whom all good little christian girls want to marry, while (in the eyes of the religious right, at least) adam is the drag-dressing, boy-kissing, hit-us-over-the-head-with-the-gay sexual deviant hell bent on destroying the sanctity of the right to get a divorce (or marriage, however you look at it). it's a pretty logical conclusion that those who fall on the more conservative, christian side of the fence miiiight not be not be such big adam lambert fans, and might, by default, vote for kris.

now, before you get your panties in a twist, i'd like to clairfy two things:

1. kris is talented, appealing, and uber marketable (which is what AI is all about, really), and i do not mean to belittle his accomplishments. GO KRIS! strum your little heart out, you adorable, silly-face-making boy!

2. i am, in no way, implying that a vote for kris = a vote for homophobia, or that disliking adam makes you a right-wing nutjob whose vernacular consists primarily of phrases like "commie-loving bastard" and "get your faggy ass away from that ricky martin poster, boy."

however, the fact remains that (in my opinion, at least, yo!) adam's talent eclipses kris' by like... a lot. yet somehow, he didn't win. how did this happen? without specific statistical, demographic and geographic breakdowns, it is difficult to pinpoint... but i don't think it's much of a stretch to attribute a portion of kris' votes to viewers who simply don't like adam for being gay. it's the sad truth about the world we live in, kids. BUT this isn't all doom and gloom! as i mentioned before (and will say again and again and again...), the times, they are a' changin'. i DO believe that americans are changing the way they look at the gay community; i DO believe that many, many, many voters cast their ballots regardless of sexual orientation or religious beliefs; and i DO believe that if americans were really that homo-hating, adam wouldn't have made it this far in the first place.

having said allllllll of that (believe me, i could go on, but i'm worried i've already scared off anyone reading this, cuz, seriously, i'm verbose), i'm committed to remaining a big fan of adam lambert's. he's undeniably talented, but, more importantly, he's never flinched in being himself. he is who he is, and he's ok with that - even on a national stage. and it looks like many americans are down with the glambert, too!!! so i say: "work it out, sister," to adam, and "yay we don't totally suck, USA!"



most people i know (gay, straight, bi, confused, horny, virgins, sluts, whatever) have a "type." this is not a bad thing. in fact, i think having a "type" is a handy dating tool, allowing you to instantly reject a portion of the population that doesn't do it for you (not in a superficial, "i don't like ugly people" sort of way (although, lets face it; nobody wants to plant their flag in the realm of fugdom), but in a responsible manner that says, "hey, i'm an adult and i know what i'm into.").

in the lesbian community, having a "type" goes beyond physical attributes like height, hair color or ethnic background. of course, those things ARE important (trust me, you'll never catch me dating anyone shorter than i am. which is, i suppose somehow rudely self-loathing, as i am not particularly easy to find in any sort of crowd myself), but what is often most important is the lesbian "mold" into which a potential mate fits. i like to call this the LESBIAN LADDER OF LOVE, wherein lesbians who identify with a certain subsection of the community fit on rungs based upon some of the most common "types" of lesbians. lets face it, you've heard of them: femme, butch, tomboi, stone butch, lipstick lesbian, power lesbian, dyke, womyn, genderqueer, andro, etc etc. essentially, each of these labels describes a specific "type" of lesbian whose categorization is dependant on the level (or lack thereof) of her femininity, as well as the ways in which her femininity shapes her personality, behavior, style, and, of course, dating preferences.

this is where things get interesting. some lesbians are only attracted to ONE specific type of woman; others are more flexible in their self-created pairings. allegedly, some lesbians are even able to fall in love with the PERSON, rather than the type (i don't buy this and it sounds like total BS to me, but whatever). so what dictates our types? it is certainly more complicated than "femme + butch = lesbian love," but it is, in my opinion, undeniable that there is a level of socialized gender identity inherent to many lesbian pairings.

personally, i would never date a woman whose femininity even comes close to rivaling my own. at the risk of sounding like a total bitchy princess.... i'm a total bitchy princess, and if anyone's going to be a girly girl in my relationship, it's going to be me. this is not to say that i expect my mate to adhere to ridiculous antiquated gender roles and be the breadwinner, force me to watch football on the weekends and, like, stand up when i leave the table. similarly, as pink-obsessed, short skirt-wearing, and eyeliner-enamored as i am, i'm no delicate flower who is incapable of putting together IKEA furniture (it may take me twice as long and i may mess up every 30 seconds and have to backtrack, but I CAN DO IT!) or afraid of playing football in the mud.

having said that, i do see myself falling into a traditionally feminine pattern when it comes to relationships (friendship or sexual). and while i'm the one standing on a chair freaking out over a spider, my B.O.T.M. (bitch of the moment (although it looks like it says "bottom," which is a whole other story entirely.)) is there to kill it, my chivalrous knight in shining armor, kleenex in hand. unsurprisingly, i'm sure, after this explanation in my personal dating preferences (seriously, this is not a personal ad or a desperate attempt at self-congratulation. however, i am awesome and single), i tend to prefer hot babes who are a little more on the butch-y side (two things: 1. exes reading this: don't argue; you know its true 2. see this love letter to rachel maddow and you might get the picture) of the LESBIAN LADDER OF LOVE.

i tend to not stray far in my "type," and, frankly, neither do most of my friends. whether its the waify model type in the corner or the curvy brunette at the bar, it's never difficult to be out at a bar, see a girl and say, "so-and-so would think she's cute" (and then immediately text so-and-so and tell her to come because i've found a new B.O.T.M. for her). this is where wardrobe comes in, acting as a signifier in determining where a P.B.O.T.M (potential bitch of the moment) sits on the LESBIAN LADDER OF LOVE. in a dress? femme. ass-kicking boots? butch. mullet? run away. dressing the part for your particular lesbian role is important, and picking up on a P.B.O.T.M.'s style and the way that it relates to her lesbian identity is equally important in determining whether or not someone is our "type."

without this nonverbal code, we might be lost. in fact, if we lived in a futuristic society wherein everyone dressed identically and individuality was punishable by death via mosquito zapper, lesbian dating would suck. you'd meet, you'd make out, elope and be on your honeymoon before you're both shrieking on a chair, wondering "who's gonna kill the spider?"


dear rachel, i love you. love, rachel.

i'm not so good at hiding it if/when i like someone. in elementary school, i told josh w that he was my boyfriend, without his consent or any actual corroboration on his part. in high school, when i decided that nick carter and i were DESTINED TO BE, i plastered his face all over my walls and forced my friends to learn important facts like a) nick's favorite food is macaroni and cheese, and b) nick's favorite color is green (actually, i've thankfully erased that info from my brain, so BSB fans, don't take my word for it). then, a few years back, i became obsessed with tegan of tegan and sara, and decided that it was appropriate to answer every question with something tegan-related at our monthly game nights. soooo i've been known to obsess a bit.

but this time it's different. i am LEGIT in love. i'm not playing any childish games, harboring any silly crushes or daydreaming about some half-wit i'd probably want to punch in the face if i met. i've finally discovered my soul mate....

i want to marry rachel maddow. i want to meet her, steal her from her partner of 10 years, make her fall in love with me, get a dog, pop out some babies and live happily ever after with rachel maddow. seriously. i want to get rachel and rachel monogrammed bath towels. i want to take her last name and go by rachel morgan maddow. i want to starch the collars on her shirts. i want to wake up at the crack of dawn and walk the dog while she reads the morning news and thinks of witty and insightful commentary. i want to tuck her into bed when she falls asleep reading and her glasses start to slide off the end of her nose. i want to throw fabulous dinner parties together and wow our friends with my charm and delicious food while maddow whips up a batch of dry martinis (i'll take mine dirty, thanks, honey) and explains the importance of the upcoming nigerian elections. sigh... there's a lifetime of wants when it comes to maddow.

in order to win her over, i've decided to return to the classic courting device known as a love letter. were this not electronic, i'd spray it with perfume and send it to her via carrier pigeon, but since this is 2009, i'll have to just blog it and pray that it someday meets her eyes. sigh. here goes nothing.

dear maddow,

hi, how are you? you looked adorable last night. i really liked that bit you did about the TRAKKIES (and you look ridiculously cute in that hat, FYI). listen, you don't know me, but i just wanted to let you know that i love you. and not in the way that i love pear jelly bellys, or in the way that i love harry potter, or even the way that i love my many, many bffs (because i'm soooo popular that it's difficult to pick just one, rach). no, maddow, i am IN love with you. wow. i can't believe i put myself out there like that! i feel so vulnerable. so... naked.

i've got a great rack, maddow.

being the incredible, unbelievably smart, perfectly composed and insanely attractive woman you are, i'm certain you have your fair share of suitors. all i'm asking is that you give me a chance. i may not be a rhodes scholar, but i'm certainly no dunce, dear. i can't pretend that i'll add a lot to our conversations regarding the democratic senator from north dakota's voting record on the war in iraq, but i think you might be interested in what i have to say about britney spears' recent tour, and how that reflects americans' support for the underdog and love of a comeback kid. i think we'd actually be a good match; you could talk about foreign policy, and when things get too intense, i'll offer a little comic relief with a re-telling of how i earned quite a studious reputation on my first day of law school when i announced to my entire section, "i don't like going to class."

i don't mean to imply that you and i have no common ground, maddow. observe: you're a self-proclaimed nerd; so am i! you're into maps; a secret pastime of mine is stalking people on google street view! you're a cocktail enthusiast; um HELLO, i write for a wine and spirits magazine! you got your start in radio; i'm a burgeoning radio starlet! if these facts don't add up to compatibility, i don't know what will, rach.

i'm afraid i've said too much, darling. i guess the point it: i love you...... and i want to be on you.

i want to be on you.


rachel morgan maddow

you think you're pretty special, dontcha?

it's no small secret that i was never one of those L word watching lesbians. ok, ok... that's a lie. i definitely watched the show, pursuant only to lesbian code 764C, wherein all lesbians are required by law to watch the only all lesbo, all the time (except for kit and her lame manny plot line) show on television. but being the huge TV snob that i am (seriously, i have like RULES as to which television shows i find worthy and which i consider "for the masses" and therefore beneath me), the L word was never my cuppa tea. having said all of that, i'm going to launch into an exploration of a lesbian phenomenon that i'd like to call...


for those of you who don't watch the show (aka the 4 straight people reading this), shane is the L word's resident lothario. she's hot, she's lanky, and apparently she smells like sex on a stick, because everywhere this chick goes, babes are falling all over themselves to get a piece. shane is even so hot that in one episode, she causes major family drama when she sleeps with a bride on her wedding day... and her two sisters/bridesmaids... and her mother (this episode, while terrible and ridiculous, looked like a television masterpiece when compared to the badness that ilene chaiken and co. threw at us season 6). as you might imagine, having this magical ability to attract women has gone to shane's head. she's an incurable cheater, she's constantly avoiding women she's used and abused, and she thinks everyone wants to take a ride on the shane-train.

she thinks she's hot shit.

enter SHANE SYNDROME. for some reason, lesbians have a tendency to enjoy a period in their lives wherein they revel in their own hotness, and in many shane-esque ways, decide that they're such a hot commodity that they can do whomever and whatever they want. SHANE SYNDROME is an ongoing epidemic in our community. here are the symptoms to watch for:
  • the shane-over: bye bye, basketball shorts. peace out, slicked back ponytail. so long, cargo pants. the shane-over is the first indicator that a lesbian is on her way to thinking her shit doesn't stink. she ditches the trappings of "regular" lesbians, and begins to dress in a manner fitting of her self-perceived sexual prowess. in today's "are you a hipster? no, i'm just a lesbian" scene, this means wearing plaid, cool hats, funky shoes, and rocking a badass short dykecut. as lesbians revamp their wardrobe, they're suddenly transformed, and enter into the second stage of self-congratulatory shaneness...
  • girlfriend? who?: little lezzie A has recently given herself a cute new look. she's rocking some great style, and, suddenly, girls who would have never given her the time of day are taking a second and third glance. the only problem? little lezzie A has been dating little lezzie B for a few years/months/whatever. but NOW, LL B is keeping LL A from "tasting the lesbian rainbow," so to speak. how is LL A supposed to get out there and mack on chicks like a 14 year old boy at summer camp with LL B being so suffocatingly present? enter step three...

  • play on, playette: naturally, LL A has kicked LL B to the curb (hopefully for LL B, before LL A has cheated, which is dependant on the severity of LL A's SHANE SYNDROME). citing reasons like "i love you but i need space" or some other such BS, LL A is single and ready to mingle. with a hot look and newly discovered freedom, LL A proceeds to spread her seed all over town, making out with anything and everything with boobs. other girls may think she's hot, but LL A KNOWS she's hot... and can't be bothered with things like "feelings" when there's an endless stream of girls just begging to be taken advantage of. by now, LL A has come down with a full on case of SHANE SYNDROME.

i've witnessed this cycle countless times, with many friends/acquaintances/frenemies/exes/friends-of-friends, and i've hypothesized that SHANE SYNDROME is part of the coming out process. as we begin to explore and understand our sexuality, in many ways, we're also constantly coming to terms with who we are and who we want to be. we abandon societal "rules" about what makes a woman a woman, and we pave our own path about what it means to be a sexual being. along with this self-discovery and acceptance, comes a newfound freedom and realization that being a lesbian can be fun! we're no longer relegated to traditional sexual roles wherein only men are allowed to be virile, vag-chasing egomaniacs, and we realize, "HEY! i can do whatever i want! i am hot shit!"

this is not a bad thing. nothing is sexier than a healthy dose of self-confidence (heck, i'll even take a hint of cockiness, personally). the problem that i've seen over and over is that many lesbians, once struck with SHANE SYNDROME, get so wrapped up in their own hotness that they lose sight of the reality that, while they may be attractive, enjoyable and likable, they are not, in fact, god's gift to earth. that's your friend's gf you just made out with? eh. you can't be bothered to care that lying and cheating might hurt someone else? pish posh. you're HOT and can do whatever you want!
of course, most lesbians come to the understanding that they're not infallible goddesses at some point in their lives, usually with the help of a good woman who can keep their errant ways in check, or by being out-shaned by somebody with an even more ill-conceived sense of self worth. nonetheless, there are plenty of shanes still roaming around. to them, i can only say this:

stop being such a douchebag.


rachel morgan


LILO AND SAMRO: inside a lesbian breakup, or seriously, lesbians are crazy.

***DISCLAIMER: dear heteros, please do not read this blog as any attempt to diminish the difficulty that i'm sure accompanies "opposite marriage(relationship)" (thanks, miss CA) breakups. all i'm trying to do is explain that when it comes to breaking up, nobody does it crazier than lesbians.***

there's been much ballyhoo in the media recently surrounding poor lindsay lohan's weight, drinking/drugging and feeling "SO ALONE" following her very public breakup with samantha ronson. there's also a seemingly endless stream of speculation spilling all over the place, as commentators and bloggers ask, "ARE LINDSAY AND SAM GETTING BACK TOGETHER?" listen, people. the thing you're not realizing here is that this is a LESBIAN BREAKUP, and therefore none of the "standard rules" apply.

seriously. are you a lesbian? have you had a lesbian breakup? is it not the most ridiculously F'd up thing ever? i'm assuming that all you sapphic ladies out there answered yes to all three questions, and probably know exactly what i mean and where i'm going with this, so straighties, hold on for an explanation:

why lesbian breakups are fraught with drama and take FOREVER to go through:

1. women are crazy. i think most men would agree with this statement, and every lesbian i know agrees with this statement, so lets assume its true. women, as wonderful as we are, are inherently nutsodramatic. there's always something we're pissed about, we'll never tell you what it is or why we're pissed, we spend hours and hours over analyzing and replaying the minute details of even the most mundane conversations, we're constantly convinced you're thinking something but not telling us, and all of that is just the tip of the iceberg. ok, so 1 chick = crazy, so 1 chick + 1 chick = DOUBLE THE CRAZY, and when crazy comes to the breakup party, things have a tendency to get ugly.

2. circle of friends. like many cultural subsections, lesbians tend to flock towards other lesbians and amass their own little lesbian clique. its fun! we drink together, go on adventures together, dance together, play sports together, sometimes make out with/sleep with each other (which is not at ALL dramatic), all while in a group that usually consists of at least 1 former couple now trying to be "friends." so lets say your name is sappho, and you've been dating billie jean king for about a year. although you each have your own friends, there has definitely been some friend-mingling, and you've become part of what, in some cultures, is known as a "dyketribe." what happens when you and billie jean break things off? who takes whose side? how do you all manage to be friends afterward without a ridiculous amount of drama? and, good lord, what does sappho do when her friend/ex begins dating again? even worse, what does sappho do when billie jean starts hooking up with one of their fellow tribeswomen? OMG HEAD EXPLODES. seriously, people, this sort of insane jr. high schoolish drama happens on the reg to responsible adult lesbians, and let me assure you of this... it has a tendency to get ugly.

3. TTYN EXBFF. one of the most difficult things about lesbian breakups is that when you break up, you're not only losing your lover; you're also losing your best friend (and frequently roommate, thanks to lesbian rule #1, which is "move in together immediately after you make out for the first time."). now now - don't all you heteros get your panties and man-panties in a bunch - i know that your exes were probably your best friend too, but, for some reason, the BFF quotient is exponentially higher when you're dealing with two women. straightladies, think about it - you and your BFF have a totally different sort of close friendship than you do with your BOYF, and heterodudes, you know that your bromances are nothing like your friendships with your special babes. ANYWAY, what i'm trying to get at is that two women, regardless of whether or not they're sleeping together, can form a very close bond/friendship that they could only find in another woman. now add in a little sexytime to that sort of friendship, and believe me... when it all comes crashing town, it has a tendency to get ugly.

4. "but we're still BFFs!" i think this is one area in which lesbians and sane people (aka straight people) tend to diverge pretty sharply on the breakup scale. SANE people, when going through a breakup, realize that time apart, not talking, not sleeping together and not convincing yourself that you're immediately ok with being "just friends" are important parts of the healing process. lesbians, however, due to reasons 1-3 on this list, think its a good idea to keep living together, partying together, talking to each other and being "just friends" immediately post-breakup. oftentimes, we know that these are not "good" or "healthy" things to do, but we do them anyway, coming up with a variety of excuses as to why we must continue daily communication with our immediate exes ("the bitch has my favorite pants still" (because sharing closets is pretty high on the lesbian perk list); "but she's my best friend" (honey, she may have been your bff while banging, but things will never be the same again); "we're both over it and can handle it" (you may be "over it" while you're remembering how pissed you are at her for cheating on you, but you won't be over it when you see her and her new gf making out two seconds after you break up, i promise)). cutting off all communication after a lesbian breakup is hard; in fact, i only have one friend who has done it (YAY! so proud!). the rest of us try to be friends... and it has a tendency to get ugly.

so there you have it. 4 reasons lesbian breakups are insanely difficult/dramatic/crazy/idiotic/never-ending affairs. i'm sure i could come up with a variety of other reasons, but i've got to get back to the topic at hand: LILO - SAMRO = BAD LESBIAN BREAKUP IN THE PUBLIC EYE. yikes. that's some pretty bad shit right there.

so, readers, the next time you catch a pic of linds looking extra-skeletor-y, or sam looking a tad more sullen than usual, give the girls a break. things are getting ugly.


what up, 2009!

ok whatever, i took like 4 months off from blogging. let's just accept that fact and move on. however, it is a new year, with new exciting opportunities on the horizon!!! in honor of this, the sixth day of 2009, i shall offer not only a retrospective look at 2008, but also give y'all a little insight into what 2009 has to offer! i'm so excited i might pee my tights (i try not to wear pants)!! anyway, here's what was what in 2008, and what will be in 2009!!


  • change: sure, i'm kinda ripping off everyone's favorite celebutician, barack obama, but there was a shitload of changing going on in 2008! firstly and most importantly, lets talk about b-spears. OMG! what a change!! in the beginning of 2008, homegirl was a M-E-S-S!!! somehow, by the end of the year, my favorite poptart had made a full-force comeback!! she looks fab, has some rocking new tunes out (if you seek amy, anyone? (if you still don't get this song, email me and i might divulge the secret!)), and is going to be touring soon!!! yay!!! however, brit brit wasn't the only one making changes in her life... i must also discuss the changes going on in the world around us! yay for economic collapse! when i was a wee little history student, i often reflected back to the 1930s with a fond nostalgia for times of economic hardship. i frequently found myself sighing wistfully, longing for an entirely potato diet and making my own burlap clothing (i can't even write that with a straight face. ew.). well, my chances are finally here!! viva la d├ępression!

  • celibacy: i've always had a special relationship with god (the jew god, not jesus), and in 2008, i decided to celebrate my love for yahweh (that's the jew god name. i think god smites you or something if you say this out loud, so read to yourselves, please.) by becoming a born again virgin. ok, well that's maybe not the entire truth, but either way, 2008 was all about purifying my soul (don't laugh) through the cleansing of my body. i am pure as the driven snow, and am considering joining a convent in mid-2009. i'll pray for your souls, you filthy sinners!!

  • cat-ness: 2008 was a big year for the little lady in my life, lulu! she turned one, had several unsuccessful playdates (for some reason, other kitties don't like my precious little princess. they hiss and swipe at her as she tries to cuddle and purr at them - obv, they're just jealous), had a bladder infection, and decided that as the primadonna kitty she is, she needs fancy kitty litter and the most expensive ever prescription food! yet another reason she and i are perfect for each other.

  • car trouble: rachel morgan had a wee little car smasheroo in 2008, which resulted in the permanent putting out to pasture of my treasured mbenz (bratty bitch car #1). whilst on the hunt for a new ride, i scooted around LA in a cute little blue bug convertible, the bumper of which was involved in a mysterious incident resulting in some super awesome scrapes that needed to be painted before the car was returned - that was fun! however, after weeks of test drives and wavering over which car to get, i found my lovely BLUE MOON, an adorable little bavarian motor works (aka bmw/bratty bitch car #2) x3, which i love. i happily drove blue moon around for a month before taking it in to service a funny noise in the engine and a malfunctioning key. naturally, while i was at the dealership, the valet backed blue moon into another car, resulting in some lovely scrapeypoos! yes, friends, that brings the total number of car oopsies to three in 2008! amazing.

  • conclusion: 2008, you didn't suck. you weren't great, but i've had worse years. however, now that's its over between us, i'm happy to say....

HELLO 2009!

  • resolutions: i have resolved to drink coffee in 2009. lots and lots of coffee. and not just any coffee. i have resolved to be a CLASSY coffee drinker, and brew my delightful little roast in a french press (served with a splash of soymilk, and frequently iced, natch). i've already had like 4 cups today. my hands aren't shaking yet, so i'll probably have some more in a bit. if i can type coherently, i'm under-caffeinated. i've also resolved that 2009 will be the year of the cute for rachel morgan. of course, i wasn't uncute in 2008 (maybe in 1998, but that's a whole other story), but i vow to be more adorable than ever in 2009. i'm going to pee glitter and smell of candy canes! i'm going to tap dance everywhere i go, setting hearts ablaze with my indefatigable charm. watch out world, here comes the cute.

  • blizzity-blogs: OK. i admit i am maybe just a scotch fickle with the sparkleize. i promise be better this year, blah blah blah, i will write daily, yadda yadda yadda, i'm going to be a blogging champ. however, i'm happy to introduce my latest blogging venture, designed to caputre the hearts and imaginations of everyone who has ever wondered, "what do lesbians do all day?" well, friends, muse no more. welcome to SPOTTED: the lesbian log, a blog which makes note of all of the lesbians i see in daily life. yep, i'm on a sapphic safari and i'm bringing you along for the ride, so grab your binoculars and lets spot some lesbos!!

there are only 359 days left in 2009, people. lets make 'em good. happy new year!!! xx