2001-01-14
Dear Diary:

    So this last week two more Diarylanders, the babe-a-licious Kaffeine and that hussy Queerscribe got to put a new name on the top of their Dorkiest Person I've Ever Met lists, and that name would be mine, eh.

    They are both exactly as they come off in their diaries. No internet personas here, just real people writing about real lives. With each of them I could talk for hours (and did) because hey, I KNOW them, even though we've never met.

    Last fall I won a hand made throw pillow from the way too smart, funny and cute Kaffeine for being runner up in the Name Kaffeine's Sex Balls contest. (If you're ever looking in a mirror and thinking to yourself, "I'm really not as cute as I used to be" then feel free to hate Kaffeine because, frankly, I suspect she's been hoarding all the cuteness out there.)

    I also want you all to know I'm over the bitterness of defeat in the sex balls naming contest. No. Really. I am. (Batman and Robin, my butt.) I've moved on and Thursday I got to meet the woman and collect my prize.

    Second prize. Really. I'm over it. I can be gracious about this. (Batman and Robin, my butt.)

    I half expected the pillow but what I didn't expect was what was under the pillow--A FREAKIN' TEAPOT THAT DOESN'T DRIP! I felt like crying. I should have offered to have her babies, or at least adopt Kaffeine, but I was too overcome by emotion to think clearly, eh.

    That self-same evening my daughter Jess and I moseyed over to Queerscribe's hotel to pick him up and wander down to the gay village for a look see and to hook up with my kid's sweetie and roomie. Although Queerscribe's never been to Montreal, while we were in the subway en route to the village, he saw one of his past conquests from his Toronto days.

    .:cough:. Hussy .:cough:.

    And while we were sitting in a coffee shop and later in a bar there was some serious cruising happening.

    .:cough:. Hussy .:cough:.

    Oh, and when you're talking to Queerscribe (who has a killer grin that makes me think of George Clooney--the guy is a hottie, eh) NEVER EVER admit that there's something you haven't experienced such as oh, I don't know, say, gone to a male strip bar and watched men take off their clothes.

    No, it's not a wise idea to admit this, eh.

    Fortunately, three of the five Montreal gay clubs that offer the experience don't let women in at all, and two only have one night a week that they allow estrogen emitters. Gosh darnit neither of us was going to be in Montreal for those Ladies' Nights.

    Gosh darnit.

    (You can imagine my relief, eh. I mean, female strippers are usually hired because they have um er ah assets not often seen in nature and I'm guessing gay male strippers may be hired to reveal that Nature Has Been Good To Them. Very Good. I'm a straight, middle-aged woman. There are some things I Probably Should Not Know.)

    Is it just me, or is it getting warm in here?

    Digress much?

    Queerscribe and the gang of us gabbed for about four hours Thursday night, and he and I had a lunch Friday that spanned another couple of hours. The talk was warm, affectionate, effortless; it was as if I was connecting with a friend of long standing, just catching up after a long absence.

    Smart, funny, raunchy, great fun ... Queerscribe is just like his diary. And I sweartogawd he came *this close* to making tea come out of my nose at the coffee shop a couple of times. Wicked man.

    You know, I named my diary My Big Adventure semi-sarcastically, poking fun at a small life where nothing happens. The joke has been on me, big time. The diary has proven to be a big adventure in itself, connecting me to people and ideas I would never have encountered in my real life.

    Bonus, eh.

--Marn

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Want to delve into my sordid past?
She's mellllllllllllllting - Wednesday, Feb. 15, 2012 - Back off, Buble - Monday, Dec. 19, 2011 - Dispersed - Monday, Nov. 28, 2011 - Nothing comes for free - Monday, Nov. 21, 2011 - None of her business - Friday, Nov. 04, 2011 -


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