sistawendy: (weirded out)
Party weekends like Pride leave me with a messy apartment. I can't not clean it at the earliest opportunity, which is how I spent all my non-work waking hours yesterday. My apartment is spiffy, and I am at peace. Am I hausfrau* material, or what?

But before I could finish cleaning, I had to take the bus home. As I got up to get off, I spotted my neighbor B. He asked how Pride weekend was for me. I said, "It was..." and racked my brain for the right words.
"The end of the game," said some skinny blond dude next to us as he looked at me intently.
"The end of the game?" I didn't quite believe my ears.
"The end of the game."
Mercifully, the doors opened right then and B and I got off without our interlocutor. "I don't know what he meant by that," I said, "and I'm not sure I want to."
"Yeah," said B, "I noticed him earlier. He's on something, and I'm pretty sure I know what." It isn't hard to guess: meth. You see, my bus spends most of its route on an ugly arterial that runs the length of Seattle's lily white north end, with one concentration of substance abusers downtown, another one at the far end of its trip, and relatively more tech industry stiffs like B & me in between**.

From the Dept. of Happy Thotz, when the Tickler bailed on Pride she said we should make plans. You know I don't sleep on that stuff; we have a hot date planned for Saturday.

*I once referred to myself as a hausfrau in front of my first queer kiss. She told me that her mother did the same. Holy Oedipal Lesbian, Batman!
**I speak of Lake Union, Queen Anne, Fremont, Wallingford, Phinney, Green Lake, and (south?) Greenwood.
sistawendy: (butterfly)
I got gussied up Saturday in my new red satin halter dress and took my son to the Greenwood car show, which was just up the ridge from my place and a lot of fun. It's a combination history lesson and nostalgia trip, with a little culture mixed in: m'boy didn't know what a low rider was, and there were some beautiful examples. (I had to explain them to my mom over the phone later.)

There was one bummer, though: Sitting in a lawn chair near one of the cars was a lady in her sixties. She complimented me on my outfit and asked, "Do you do shows?"
'Uh oh,' I thought. "No. In fact, I'm not sure what kind of shows you mean."
"Drag shows."
"Aren't you a man?"
She apologized profusely. "I understand your confusion," I said.
My son was standing with me the whole time. Once we were out of earshot I said, "Welcome to my life." I suppose it could have been worse, but it could have been a whole lot better as well. Happy Pride, indeed.

On to the Broadway street fair - the Wendling declined my invitation - where I got to see a few queer peeps. Plug: Asylum Leathers. I tried their posture collars, and got a nice leather mask for sleeping. No, really, that's what I use them for.

I ran into the Siberian Siren, who lives nearby, and grabbed some Indian eats with her. When we eat together, she complains about work and I complain about dating, which seems fair to me. The SS had decided to pre-funk her party, which was a nice way to take a load off but conflicted with the Dyke March. On the way to her party, I got to sheepishly answer one friend's question about why I wasn't marching. I'd rather not do that again.

The Siren's party got off a slow start. It took us a while to get a table all together because we weren't on time; the SS's chronic lack of punctuality seemed to have infected the whole party. But once it got going? Oh em gee. I don't want to look at another alcoholic beverage for a while.

Sunday? Parking lot party and parade. No SS or AJ, though: laid low by the party the previous night. It was heartening to see [profile] dementiana walking - for the first time since '05, she said - with the Goths. I learned that in addition to the regular Leather Pride flag we all know, there are leather boy and leather girl flags.

This is my major complaint about Pride this year: all my lady friends - the Tickler, E from work, even the SS on Sunday - bailed on at least part of the festivities, so it was kind of lonely for me. When I got to the Seattle Center, I remembered a few years back when I went with Temptress - her first time - and we got to be dirty old women together. Dammit, I need a girlfriend who's into Pride as much as I am. I need a girlfriend who's into a lot of things as much as I am.
sistawendy: (stern nun)
Last night I skipped the Trans Pride march to set up & staff the table for Lambert House at the rally in the park that followed. That was more intense than I expected: I must have spoken to at least a hundred people in ones and twos over the course of three or so hours about the house.

Categories of people my fellow volunteer S and I talked to, in decreasing order of number:
  • People who just wanted to know what we were about - we're a safe place for queer kids to be together, basically, plus activities, and a few social services. I got the impression that there are people who instantly understand the value of a safe space by and for queers, and there are people who don't. I'll give you one guess as to the queerness of each group.
  • People who wanted to volunteer! I only had a handful of paper applications, so I sent people to the web site and handed out volunqueer coordinator B's business card liberally.
  • People who wanted to know how the fund raising is going. Many people knew about the eleventh-hour loan we got last year and the consequent capital campaign. I know what's going on with that better than most volunteers by virtue of hanging out with the director to do reports, but even I don't know much. I do know that we need six- or better yet seven-figure donations in the next few years if we want to keep our house.
  • One therapist. I got to give him the special clipboard.

I got mysteriously cold after the sun went down, possibly a blood sugar crash from the absurdly early dinner I ate so I could be on time. S took pity on me, saying she'd tear down - I'd done most of the setup after literally running down the questionably parked B, who's no good at giving directions. I administered Molly Moon's ice cream and warm Guinness at the Merc immediately, but I completely struck out at finding anybody I knew who wanted to party on the Hill last night. Even the young Burning Man campmates I ran into were calling it quits early. Weird.

Picked up Saga, vol. 2 - so much tasty plot! - and came home to m'boy, was reminded how much I don't miss his clutter & mess in my apartment, and went to bed.

Today's plan: work out, get gussied up, Greenwood car show & pizza with m'boy, hit the Hill for the street fair & dyke march, and the Siberian Siren's party. If you want to meet up with me, late afternoon is your best bet.
sistawendy: (butterfly)
I mentioned on Zuckerberg's data mine a few days ago that I was going to be tabling for Lambert House at the Trans Pride march & rally this Friday. On Sunday, Elaine Wylie, one of the organizers of Trans Pride, who I know socially from way back, said that Lambert House hadn't registered and that we'd better hurry up if we wanted a space, and we'd have to bring our own furniture because that ship had sailed.

I sprang into action, emailing and leaving the justifiably hated voicemail for the LH volunteer coordinator, B. As luck would have it, I had trans group last night, so I got to see B. He says that a) he had thought that was as good as done earlier, b) now it really is mischief managed, c) LH has chairs & tables, and d) I'm a Hero of Socialist Queerdom for sounding the alarm. Another fine coincidence is that B had just called an unprecedented meeting of the trans group facilitators to talk about what we can do to boost attendance. That table should be a good start.

And oh by the way, there's another LH volunteer, P, who I know from the poly community. She's tall, zaftig, and cute. She's an amazing dresser. She says smart things in a deep, sexy voice. She's queer - yeah, nearly all LH volunteers are. And she'll be at the table for Trans Pride along with your ever-hopeful nun. Now that I type that, it occurs to me that she may not be as cisgender as I thought. Mrowr!
sistawendy: (butterfly)
You'll find it surprising as sunrise to learn that I've made plans for most, but not all, of Pride weekend. That's the 23rd through 25th, for those of you who'll be in the Seattle area. I inexplicably haven't posted about it yet, so:

Friday 6/23 - The Trans Pride March, starting at SCCC. I'll be tabling for Lambert House at the rally to follow. Later that evening I don't have anything scheduled, but I intend to hang out on Capitol Hill and see what develops.

Saturday 6/24 -
  • The Greenwood Car Show and lunch with m'boy for his birthday.
  • Strolling around Broadway all femmed up at and near the street fair because need you even ask why?
  • The Dyke March. I don't know who with, and I don't care. I belong there too.
  • Witness for the Siberian Siren & A's anniversary dinner. Aw. Ordinarily I might be shaking my booty at Neighbours or something, but I ♥ the SS and the fact that she's finally found a good woman - she even gives me some credit for talking her into making a go of their relationship - so of course I'll be there. Booty-shaking may happen later, of course, but I make no promises.
Sunday 6/25 - The annual super-queer parking lot party at the SS's hair stylist, which is conveniently near the parade route. Fabulous food & drink, enough so that I feel compelled to raise my game. Attractive queer women who are of course half my age.

This isn't all that different from the last couple of years. Why no lady friends? Well, Brown Eyes will still be recovering from surgery. The Tickler turned me down as well, but I forget why.
sistawendy: (drama)
I've been waking up too early this week, no thanks to my bladder. I'm guessing I need to cut down on salt.
Remember that dream I had about my niece a few nights ago, the one Evil Sister has prevented me from seeing for years? I told my mom, ending the email with, "Goddamn [Evil Sister]." Mom forwarded the email to ES without my knowledge. ES's response? "Nice."

Why did Mom do that? I'm not sure, but probably to remind ES of what an asshole she's been. I'm not too bent out of shape about it because it's a fait accompli without tangible consequences for anyone, but I'd rather Mom didn't do that.
Since I didn't do Norwescon; I'm not doing the Vampire Ball this year; and it's been a cold, grey winter & spring even by Seattle standards, I'm starting to get a bit stir crazy. I'm starting to make plans for Critical, to which I haven't been in five years.

I wonder if it's too soon to ask my ladies about Pride plans. Cruising the Hill with the Siberian Siren, especially on the Saturday afternoon before Pride, has become a cherished tradition. My son's birthday is also that day, so I figure he'll want to go out to dinner that evening. And hey, any of you local queers who'd like to join me for the aforementioned cruising or any of the three marches - trans, dyke, and everybody - hit me up.
sistawendy: (butterfly)
Went to my second annual pah-tay with the Siberian Siren & her partner A at the SS's hair salon, Collage, on 5th Ave. Best piece of Pride gear: a BiBi-8 t-shirt. Yes, BB-8 in bi Pride colors, worn by one of many cute queer black women about half my age. As always, first rate food & booze because (co-ed) urban queers.

The parade is on 4th Ave. Since it's such a long parade, I don't feel too bad about missing the beginning & end of it. Indeed, A & I agree that the best part of watching the parade was watching the Siren watch the parade. Here's this hardass, hard-headed Russian, who in many ways has had a hard life, turning into a wildly enthusiastic child right before our eyes. Happiness.

The SS didn't want to do the sardine scene that is the Seattle Center, at the end of the parade route. She was under the impression that there was more Pride-related stuff happening on Capitol Hill than there turned out to be. Nevertheless, we still had a lovely walk, yummy dinner at Chop Shop*, and Molly Moon's for ice cream. (That last was my idea. It's a personal Pride tradition.)

Oh: there were four of us. A & the SS had a houseguest, H, a younger bi woman who was crashing under their stairs, Harry Potter-style. She was raised very Jewish, so talking about it with H was a weird blast from my past. Her advice: don't be a tall or fat straight woman in Israel; her sister is both.

One member of Chop Shop's staff, a fellow with an accent that may have been east European, tried to direct me to the men's restroom. Not happening. H was right behind me in the women's, and I asked her, "Did I just experience a transphobic bummer?" She said, "Yup."

Netflix and chill at the SS's place. This is not a euphemism for a lesbian orgy, for better or worse; we really did watch TV & veg out for a while. I took the train to the UW, then the 44 to Fremont and walked the rest of the 30+ blocks home so I could burn some ice cream and watch the sunset from Phinney Ridge.

For Pride next year:
  • I've never been to R Place. Yeah, I know it's huge and full of kids and lowest-common-denominator music, but I have to do it once, right?
  • Dimples & Blondie are not wrong about the Wildrose: it's better for dancing than drinking on Pride. The gay men's joints, e.g. Purr, the Cuff, and Pony, might be a better option.
  • The Merc on Pride didn't suck. [ profile] seelenschwester did a Lambert House benefit, which is of course dear to my heart. But I'm a regular at the Merc, so it seems somehow un-Pridelike.
  • If I'm going to take a lady friend home, it needs to be well before midnight. I'm too old to stay awake otherwise.
  • For heavens sake, mass transit from the Hill is useless after 0030.

*Our waiter was a chatty beardo, and the food was oh so hip & hipster. But damn, it was good, and the price wasn't out of line. I'm so conflicted when I eat at places like that.
sistawendy: (butterfly)
By the time I was fed, exercised (perfect day to ride around Green Lake yesterday!) and all gussied up in my figure-hugging red retro dress, it was 1530. I got to the Siberian Siren's pretty late even by her high standards. Yes, it was all very lovely - a salmon burger with a wide variety of dykes - but the SS told me about a(nother) transphobic bummer. A group called the Lavender Menace had invited her to join them in the dyke march. She asked them if they were cool with trans women. Their answer was something like, "We don't know any trans women. They have such a different experience from us." In other words, a mealy-mouthed variation on "No." The SS firmly declined their invitation, which is reason #742 why I ♥ the Siberian Siren.

During the dyke march I saw the aforementioned Lavender Menace, complete with t-shirts and signs. I asked one of them if she knew [the Siren]. She did not, she said. I hope they talk about that amongst themselves.

My co-worker E found me during the march. We ran into our CEO at the end of it, then got badly needed caffeine. Much chat & scone at the nearly empty Cafe Vita.

Then off to the Mercury for a date with the Islander! What's weird is, that may have been the least drinky date I've had with her. It's a good night, though, when there are... items strewn about the living room for you to find the next morning just minutes before a neighbor arrives in the courtyard with his three-year-old. The Islander and I were serenaded this morning by the sound of my upstairs neighbors vacuuming their bedroom. At 0900. On a Sunday. Nevertheless, we managed to sleep in, which I desperately needed. Yeah, we're old dykes who cuddle a lot.

Next: Finish my tea, shower, put on my scissor leggings and "I ♥ Beaver" tank top, and off to the parade!
sistawendy: (butterfly)
Got into work late because of insomnia. No, really. SFDs: my leggings with the Pride flag on the front & stars 'n stripes on the back (zillions of comments about those), black camisole, black hoodie with tails, Pride-themed accessories, cowboy boots. In other words, an outfit suitable for both marching and flirting.

But then! Left work early to take the train to the Trans march! This year we gathered, conveniently, right outside Capitol Hill station. Met up with Dimples, [ profile] fullcontactmuse, [ profile] bork, [ profile] arjache, and a gazillion other trans friends, including one who I didn't know was trans until then. (!)

So yes, marching & chanting. Turnout looked significantly larger than last year, but it's always hard to judge these things when you're in the middle of the turnout. There were a lot of journalists and people on the sidewalks with video cameras & tripods. I'm not sure what that was about, but I'm sure I'll find out soon.

And then the sky opened up. Dimples needed dinner, so at her recommendation we found the Ezell's fried chicken truck (Lives up to the hype!) and ate it hurriedly under a tree while we got soaked. We dashed into Elliot Bay Books to dry off. We checked out and, in my case, bought queer-themed books, duh. (I felt guilty for dripping on the hardwood floor.) Dimples found a lesbian sex manual with perfectly reasonable text, but photography that looked aimed squarely at the male gaze. We suspect either clueless or evil publishers. Oh yeah: Dimples's chum Blondie joined us.*

Off to the Wildrose! There were a great many NSPP QIFs (pronounced "nispie queefs"). Dimples & Blondie were taken aback by the high cover & low drink value, so we hit the Comet for a little bit. They don't seem to have realized how straight the Comet is**, but hey, cheaper and better booze.

Back to the 'Rose, where I got to entertain D & B by going wibbly over a high femme Middle Eastern girl half my age. I did manage to tell her I loved her outfit.

Oh, the night's lone bummer: the 'Rose has two bathrooms, women only and unisex. I realized belatedly that the staffer at the doors was about to shunt me into the latter. After I peed, I told her, "I'm a woman. You can send me in there." To her credit, a few minutes later she found me and apologized.

Missed the last train home. Took the 49 to the U District, where I found out that I'd apparently also missed the last 45 to Green Lake. Uber took me home by a bizarrely circuitous route needlessly involving two different bridges, but get home I did.

Today: I get to be the high femme. There will be the Capitol Hill street fair, a BBQ at the Siberian Siren's, and the Merc with the Islander. The Tickler made plans to meet me next weekend, which works out perfectly.

*I have a lamentable history of assuming queer women I meet together are, you know, together when they're really not. This was once again the case with Dimples & Blondie. They're college chums and, I believe, used to be an item.
**Since the early '90s, I'd walked past the Comet hundreds of times without ever going in. This would explain why I didn't notice that the Comet has apparently ceased to be a live music venue and has blandly if profitably gone upmarket. Yeah, the old Comet was a place I wouldn't want to go into alone, but damn.
sistawendy: (butterfly)
But first: I took m'boy out for a birthday burger, not at Red Mill thanks to its transphobic ownership, but to Bent Burgers down by Seward Park. There are some things Bent does better than Red Mill - spicy burger, fries, cleanliness - and some it doesn't - bits of ice in my shake, order not together, meh buns. On the whole, though, it's a perfectly decent joint. I just wish it wasn't at the far end of my long 'n skinny city. That'll be a special occasion for me, but not for him because his mother lives about a mile away.

He begins the last year of his teens. He asks smart questions about current affairs. Now if he would only launch already.
There was a bashing last night near the Wildrose. It happened to a friend of friends whom I haven't met, an AFAB enby*. The assailant was a white guy wearing an orange sweatshirt with "scruffy" brown hair. The fucker said "Happy Pride" before bashing his victim.

I want to see him in an orange jumpsuit someday.

Yes, I'm still going to the trans march and the 'Rose tomorrow with Dimples as planned. No, the rest of my Pride weekend plans haven't changed. Yes, I'll be careful, i.e. alert and not alone. No, I haven't told my son, who takes anxiety meds for a good reason, any of this, nor will I. Any lingering feelings of guilt I might have had for having it so much easier than the folks who were out in the '90s have largely evaporated. The '80s and '70s? Well, those were different stories.

*Assigned female at birth non-binary.
sistawendy: (taco madonna)
On Previous Pride weekends I've clubbed all up and down Capitol Hill alone. Sure, it was lonely at times, but I got to meet new people, e.g. adoptive lesbian couple J&J, and I loved the spontaneity and not knowing quite was going to happen.

This year? Maybe not so much. One of the women from my night with the Welcoming Committee, a dimpled and spicy-brained cutie of about 30, has proposed meeting up after the trans march on Friday night and hitting the - wait for it - Wildrose. I accepted, natch. Then the Siberian Siren asked if I was hitting the street fair on Broadway on Saturday afternoon. Of course. Well, then I need to bring something grillable for a barbecue at her place Saturday night. And today the Islander proposed going to the Mercury on Saturday night. I'd been considering hitting the Merc anyway, even though it's a usual haunt, because hey, these days it's hands down the most trans-friendly bar in the city. Oh, and the Tickler wants to meet up sometime this weekend - I proposed it first, weeks ago - but we haven't nailed down a time.

So yes, lady attention! Which I've craved for years! But is it a good thing just this weekend? Watch this space either Sunday night or Monday to find out. I'm not about to look this gift horse in the mouth and disappoint my fans.
sistawendy: (butterfly)
It took me so long to get around to posting because I was too busy with everything below.

Friday: the trans march. Ran into a young lady who used to be in my Lambert House group; it gives me a warm fuzzy to see her doing so well.

Marched with the Siberian Siren. Introduced her to a Burner chum, upon whom the SS will soon be working her wiles. Didn't find any of the peeps I was looking for, but I did have a nice chat with [ profile] bork, who sent me an Ingress invitation that I'm terrified to use.

Coffee milkshake at Molly Moon's because I needed caffeine & something cold and liquid-ish. I think this is a Pride tradition for me now.

Shook booty at the Madonna mashup night at Neumo's. My initial fears of a gay sausage party proved groundless. Flirted with a lady who claims to be "damaged goods". Maybe I should heed that warning. Ran into [ profile] domestinatrix & friends! I guess straight people are allowed to dance to Madonna mashups on Pride weekend, too.

Saturday: I spent the early afternoon biking over Phinney Ridge (Uff da!) to picket a bank in Ballard that had refused service to a trans woman. That's a different kind of warm fuzzy feeling. Yes, the state is investigating, but it's really quite shocking that the bank has done nothing to try to make it right. The trans woman in question (the only other trans woman out of the 20+ people there!) is older, doesn't sound the least bit feminine, and hasn't had any hair removed from her face. That shouldn't matter, but I'll bet it did.

Got cleaned up, dressed like a hippy, and headed to the street fair on Broadway to see & be seen with the Siren. Dinner at Americana, where I introduced my favorite Russian to corn dogs - Andouille sausage corn dogs, but still, she'd never tried them before.

We were in desperate need of a disco nap, which we took at her place ("You can sleep in my bed." "I snore, remember?" "You can have the couch."), but that meant we missed the start of the dyke march. The Siren gave up, but I went opposite the parade route and found them coming the other direction. As so often at Pride, the people you end up talking to aren't the ones you're looking for.

Got dolled up in the royal blue '50s retro dress that I wore to my son's graduation and headed for Kiss Off at Kremwerk, which had acquired air conditioning since the last time I was there. Good house, and wall-to-wall hot queer women. Life really doesn't get much better than that for me, but it made a reasonable attempt. Read on:

There's this woman who belongs to the same organization of queer poly women that I do who has the unusual and mysterious power of looking drop-dead sexy in an orange Mohawk. And she was wearing a tutu with rainbow fiber optic tentacles and a corset-y top similarly lit. And she's charming. I confessed that at our (ahem) previous meeting, I'd chickened out on her. She said, "We should make out sometime."
Blink blink. "When would be convenient for you?" I asked.
Chronic pain issues, which I knew she had, meant not right then, but still! I told her she made my evening. Ms. Mohawk makes me kind of melty.

My outfit for the parade this morning:

I met the Siberian Siren - eventually because she doesn't do punctuality - at her stylist's shop near 5th & Bell. I thought we were just going to grab some stuff and then stake out a spot along the parade route on 4th, but neau. There ensued a party in the parking lot with excellent food and booze. Oh, and hot younger women, upon whom, I am proud to say, I refrained from hitting.

The Siren insisted on seeing the dykes on bikes because red-blooded lesbian. I got to see the Taller Woman from Tinder march with HerCo, but she couldn't have heard me over the general din. When Microsoft marched past, I yelled, "Steve Ballmer turned me into a girl!"

Oh, best drag name ever? Faygele ben Miriam. You have to know something about Jewish culture to get it.

I have three out queer co-workers, and I ran into two of them at the Seattle Center.

I meant to have dinner with my son, but when I got home, I was simply too tired to drive. I lay down for a nap, and awoke seconds before Aspiring Ex called to ask where I was. Oops. I did go over and show my fabulous outfit to m'boy; he insisted I put a t-shirt on before we walked Bigpuppy.

In summation, Pride is exhausting, hella fun, and sometimes even a little productive.
sistawendy: (angry cartoon)
I've been spending too much time on the internet again, so I'm seeing a lot of the usual, almost ritual grousing about recent Pride celebrations, to wit:
  1. Big Bidness has discovered that queers can be customers, and so Pride is now too commercialized.
  2. The greater queer rights movement ignores or marginalizes or otherwise defecates upon [insert your particular subgroup of the queer population here].
Let me take these in order. First, if the degree to which certain industries - I'm looking at you, alcohol and tobacco - have glommed onto Pride bothers you that much, get involved. Become one of the event organizers. I'm sure it isn't that hard, because people burn out at non-profits like that pretty regularly. Talk to businesses. Talk to the press.

ETA: Don't forget that Microsoft paid for my sex reassignment surgery at a time when very few employers and no private insurers would do so. (Oh wait, that time is still here.) Those people marching in the corporate contingents? About 95% queer and 5% true blue allies, judging from what I saw as a Microsoftee. They are us.

As for the greater queer population being x-phobic for your value of x, yes, this definitely happens. We also need each other. If you're trans, cis queers outnumber us around twenty to one and out-earn us by more than that, qualities that are really handy in allies. If you're cis & bi, the homos & trans people have visibility outside the queer community that you have yet to acquire. If you're cis & homo, the bis can about double your numbers if you include them, and they're a much-needed reminder of the complicated truth about sexual orientation. And we out trans people are walking reminders that assimilationism is bunk.

In other words, do what you need to do to get what you want, and spare me your whining & cynicism. It's worse than useless.

Besides, you know I love to party, and this is the big queer party. That alone is still reason for me to go to Pride events. If you need more, party to let the x-phobes know that we're queer, we're here, we're fabulous, we're better people most of the time, and we're having way more fun than they are. Party to let queers in India or Texas or Everett, WA or Rainier Beach high school in Seattle know that there is a better place for them, and if it's too far away, they can make one of their own.

Pride plans

Jun. 8th, 2015 02:06 pm
sistawendy: (oh yeah)
For them what want to know, here's what I'm going to be doing on Pride weekend:
  1. Friday, June 26th, a.k.a. the anniversary of telling Aspiring Ex - The trans Pride march, starting at SCCC. (Maybe. The organizers seem dubious due to the new streetcar.) To be followed by Bootie at Neumo's, probably. Possibly Strict Machine at the Merc, but that may require dressing more than I want to, especially because I'm going to the trans march right from work.
  2. Saturday, June 27th - The Dyke March, followed by Kiss Off at Kremwerk.
  3. Sunday, June 28th, the honest-to-goodness anniversary of the Stonewall riots - The parade & Seattle Center. Duh. Will I march with Lambert House? I could stand & watch with friends, but I think my outfit will be too fabulous for that.
The Siberian Siren will be joining me for much of this; indeed, Kremwerk was her idea. She's either the worst wingman on the planet because hotness, or the best because she & butches are all about each other.

Mental note: make sure Much Younger Woman gets this info.

Yeah, it's a lot like the last couple of years, but you know what? So's $your_favorite_major_holiday, too.
sistawendy: (contemplative red)
I've almost recovered from the physical ravages of Pride; my ankle is only sore when I first get out of bed in the morning.

Speaking of Pride, I saw something happy-making as I was on my way home from a walk that I couldn't help taking in last night's warm twilight. At 74th & Fremont, in front of a newish-looking house, is a tall, stout flagpole with a Pride flag on it. As luck would have it, a couple of the residents were on the porch. I wished them happy Pride, and they thanked me. Oh by the way, there's another Pride flag hanging from somebody's third-floor balcony on 74th & Winona, which is on my way to the bus to work.
Worried about an imminent rise in my rent. I'll soon be spending more than 50% of what I put in my checking account (as opposed to what I send to the one Aspiring Ex uses*) on it.

On a related note, I'm all gussied up for a date with Temptress, but she postponed due to ill health. That's just as well: I don't need to spend money on restaurants at the moment.

*Before anyone gets too worked up, let me point out that AX pays both our credit card bills and nearly all m'boy's expenses out of that account. She doesn't wanna, but we haven't gotten around to splitting all those joint accounts yet. If we did, she'd likely be screwed.
sistawendy: (butterfly)
After dealing with work stuff, etc., I got to the Hill and wandered around the street fair that happens every Pride weekend on Broadway. You know what happened next: I ran into everybody. One of the vendors was Juliet, a Burner and Goth whom I bought from at a Goth yard sale maybe ten years ago; she's sewn for the Siberian Siren, because Seattle is that small. Sarah, one of my future Burning Man campmates from Camp Beaverton, re-introduced herself. Indigo Blue, the local burlesque celeb whom I met back in grad school, raised her big sunglasses just long enough to bid me happy Pride - she was traveling incognito, she said. Candace, the tall, blond, leather-corseted, and of course really cute (current?) officer in the Seattle Girls of Leather complimented me on my outfit* and told me to work it. Yes, ma'am.

A bowl of pho with the SS & A later, I was in the Dyke march with one of my Lambert House crew. Yup, the naked girl from years past was there on her roof again, only this time with a crop top and her pubes covered with what looked like construction paper.

Fetched my stuff from the Sanctimobile, which was parked on 15th; was pleased to note the absence of a parking ticket; and waited for the SS & A to return from the wedding they couldn't get out of. I guess gay people can only stop straights from scheduling their weddings on top of Pride by being the best man, matron of honor, or genderqueer person of distinction. To kill time, I helped L out with 'pooter things.

The SS got back with A at 2200, which meant she wasn't ready to go out until 2300. Got into Grimm's for free because A was working there that night. You get what you pay for, because it was tragically het: we saw a frat boy attempting to twerk. We soon migrated to the Wildrose, which is a place I'd long wanted to go for Pride. It had much of the streets in front of it fenced off, as did some of the other more popular establishments. Cover was pretty high, but at least it was a queer space. The SS did what she does best, namely charm everybody. She berated me for not getting the contact info for the girl I was flirting with in the bathroom line. Believe it or not, I'm not kicking myself.

Got home at: 0330. Temptress arrived at: 1200. We took the bus down and caught a little of the parade standing right behind a gay Boy Scout troop, chatting about various queer non-profits with an older fellow in an air force uniform. The previous sentence tells you how much has changed in the last ten years.

Yummy sandwich from the stall run by Skillet; I'll have to go there. We sat on the grass and later had a beer, checking out all the various sweet thangs. We both noticed that we have strikingly similar taste in women. On the way back to my place, we sampled the glory that is Red Mill Burgers. Then our own little Pride celebration, and then it was time for her to go south to her man and me to go east to m'boy.

Was it a good Pride? Sure, but partying with the Siren is hard work. Temptress is a much easier person to make plans with.

*Hankie-hemmed, square-necked, black-and-peach ultra-hippy dress with gladiator boot sandals. Horseshoe nail necklace, silver triangle earrings.
sistawendy: (butterfly)
Did the second annual Trans Pride march with [ profile] gement, who looked fabulously genderqueer, and the Siberian Siren. No, the Siren's not even a little bit trans, but she's awesome that way. After march, the three of us had yummy, bad-for-you dinner at Witness. (Shrimp & grits, brussels sprouts, a Sazerac, and beignets. To die for.)

The SS & I, after a pause for digestion at her place, headed down to Kremwerk, a club that recently opened on the same block as Re-bar. The closure of the Electric Tea Garden left a lot of us techno fans missing an intimate, funky place for cheap, fun, and occasionally out-there bleepy goodness. Kremwerk goes a long way toward filling that void. It's in a basement - and therefore warm enough that the SS was grateful to me for talking her out of wearing her leather pants - with lots of exposed concrete, but they've done a good job of sprucing the place up with a budget that wasn't unlimited. There's plenty of seating, considering the size of the place, both quiet and with a view of the dance floor. Bar? Prices about average, service better than average.

Downside? The SS got hit on grossly and repeatedly by straight dudes while I was running across town to fix a work issue. I got treated like a bro by a drunk guy, but the SS says he does that to everybody.

As the SS & I were leaving, one of the owners of Re-bar, Michael Manahan, walked in. Competitive research? We shall see. Personally, I think having those two clubs so close together is a good thing. That area is bit of a desert otherwise - I do not count El Corazon.

Tunes? Codebase did Seattle proud with his laptop, vocals, etc. The SS & I had the traditional house heads' argument about just which flavor of house it was, sort of like Siskel & Ebert with beats. I said deep & she said disco, and that disagreement speaks well of Codebase.
sistawendy: (butterfly)
But first: Bigpuppy is ill. She's been lethargic for two days. I knew there was something wrong last night as soon as she didn't put her paws on the utility sink to get skritches the second I walked in. Aspiring Ex will be conferring with the vet.
But on to Pride! Der Plan:
  1. Tomorrow at noon I will be giving an updated rerun of my talk, "How to Change Sex the Easy Way!", at work. Yes, you read that right. They're that cool. There will be video. It will be awesome.
  2. Friday will be the Trans Pride march starting at SCCC at 1800. I owe the Siberian Siren's sweetie L an appearance at her night at Kremwerks. Other than that, I've no idea.
  3. Saturday night I'm hitting the street fair on Broadway with the SS in the afternoon, go to the Dyke March at Cal Anderson and then she and a gang of her friends including me will terrorize the Hill. The plans have been deliberately left vague, and I think that's a good idea because Pride.
  4. Sunday is the parade, natch. I'll probably joining Lambert House again, considering how much hair-tearing I've done over their database. Temptress will be meeting me at the Seattle Center afterwards.
sistawendy: (dolly)
Some of you Burners may recall that for my first Burn, I camped with the Space Virgins back in '07. It was a loverly first Burn, and I've had a soft spot for the Virgins ever since. They had their 20th anniversary party cum fund raiser last night, and I have to say it was a success: mighty fine DJing from Riz Rollins, Levi Clark, et al. Eye candy both walking and otherwise.

This Burner party was unusual in that the median age of attendees seemed to approach my own. I got to ask people, "Before or after my time?" I stayed out crazy late and wrecked my voice. I've spent most of the day sleeping.

And I think I've found the secret for parking in Belltown on a weekend night, and against my better judgment I'll divulge it: 5th Ave. - yes, under the monorail tracks - between 8:00 and 10:00 PM.

I ran into the Siberian Siren's main squeeze L, and I mentioned to her that the SS was taking over my life on the Saturday before Pride but that I had no plans for Friday night. Naturally, she handed me a flyer for her crew Shameless's record release at Kremwerk that night. I don't have a better offer, Shameless doesn't suck, I've been meaning to check out Kremwerk, and L's got some love coming from the universe. I believe I have a plan. If I'm to walk there from the (2nd annual) trans pride march earlier that day at Cal Anderson park, I better wear my comfy shoes.
Science is hard. Let's go shopping... for more equipment & supplies.
sistawendy: (stern nun)
Just in case you thought I was done with the Lambert House database, think again. Non-profits that get funding from the city of Seattle have to fulfill several statistical reporting requirements, some of which are baroque when expressed in any language known to humans or computers. Lambert House, perhaps unlike some other non-profits, prefers not to pull these numbers from its butt. We have the data; we just have to crunch it in a way that doesn't burn time & money. That's where I come in.

If you've been stalking me, you might remember that one night while my mother was in town I stayed up past 0200 doing the annual & Q4 report with the director. Luckily, Q1 is the easiest quarter, so I was at the house less than two hours last night.

What's even better in the long run is that the director & I finally have a handle - more or less - on which numbers we might need to report. I'm hoping to [Gasp!] do some programming when we don't need the report done the next morning, and maybe I can get these two hours down to 20 minutes. No, it won't ever be lower than that because the results need to be copied into Excel and printed.
I've been in contact with the Siberian Siren, who just returned from Hawaii. My Pride plans are evolving rapidly. It's looking like Re-bar won't happen because the SS's main squeeze just quit after many years there, but she & I & an undetermined crowd of her friends will be tearing up Capitol Hill on the afternoon & evening of the 28th. This should be a good time. If we run into the Lambert House Monday night crew and experience an inelastic collision, so much the better.

I might not be in the parade this year, but if not I'll definitely be watching it.


sistawendy: (Default)

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