Cranky Lesbian

Look what the homosexuals have done to me!

Category: Stories of Triumph and Inspiration

Sia’s “Hostage,” and a Walk Down Memory Lane

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On June 25, 2022

In Stories of Triumph and Inspiration

The first time I saw my wife it was February; I was as miserable as a woman could be, and unfit for human company. Still, there was a jolt of recognition, a feeling that if we met in better times, we would surely become friends. Our maiden introduction had gone absolutely nowhere, but when our paths crossed again that summer, a tentative bond began to flourish.

It was soon apparent that she was interested in something more, but I felt incapable of it. At the same time, I knew that if I ever rejoined the living she was someone I would’ve pursued. She was intelligent, mature, rational, kind and terrifyingly ambitious, all qualities I greatly valued—and she could quickly and unerringly select the right Arrested Development quote for every occasion. More than anything, I admired her emotional strength, deep reserves of empathy and dedication to a job that required every bit of both.

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Low to the Ground, Loves to Chase Birds

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On April 1, 2022

In Stories of Triumph and Inspiration

Muriel, looking disreputable.

Springtime is here and soon I will celebrate the anniversary of my dog’s adoption. We’ve packed a lot into the last four years, both good and bad, and this is my tribute to her—including a rare photo of your mysterious blogger in the wild. Without further ado…

Part I: The Doggening

Muriel was a promise made to my wife early in our relationship. When she moved into my house from her studio apartment, amazed my mortgage payment was less than her rent, she wanted to adopt a dog. I wasn’t as enthused. “There’s too much going on,” I said. “We’ll get one when you’re done with fellowship.”

Fellowship seemed far away. She was a resident then, in year two of what felt like 8,000 years of training. That meant a paucity of free time—she regularly pulled 30-hour shifts—and a tremendous amount of high-interest debt. Her med school loans were more than double the outstanding balance of my mortgage.

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It’s the Last Day of the Month

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On September 30, 2009

In Stories of Triumph and Inspiration

And guess who just won a completely meaningless bet? I did, that’s who.

Will I Post More Than Twice in September?

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On September 1, 2009

In Stories of Triumph and Inspiration

It’s the question all of America is asking. (By “all of America,” I mean seven people, including two in the UK and one in Canada, none of whom will care enough to check back for an answer later this month unless they’re really, really bored at work or forget to clear their browsing history and accidentally select “Cranky Lesbian” on their drop-down menu when they mean to click something else.)

While Vegas oddsmakers don’t think it’s going to happen, I bet that it will. I wouldn’t place a large bet—I’m anti-gambling, mostly because I value my hard-earned money but also because Kenny Rogers put me off it—but maybe a dollar or two…

A Heartwarming Mother’s Day Post

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On May 11, 2009

In Stories of Triumph and Inspiration

Not to spoil the movie or anything, but Gwyneth Paltrow’s head is in that box.

My dear, dear mother doesn’t know about this blog (my siblings give her enough to be distraught about as it is), but should she ever learn of it, one of the first things she’d do is search for mentions of herself — to see if she has grounds for a libel suit. Well, Mom, you’re going to have to find another reason to sue me, because I only talk smack about you in private, and I’m only mentioning you now so I can tell you Happy Mother’s Day and have it recorded for Internet posterity.

Thank you for never having any freak-outs about wire hangers, and for never starring in Trog. To the extent that I’m capable of loving anyone, I love you, and I’m sorry for writing that salacious tell-all in the ’70s. Next time I’m mad at you about something, I’ll sleep on it for a week or two before inking a book deal. And to anyone reading this who’s also a mom, provided you’re not the kind that gets calls from Child Protective Services, Happy Mother’s Day to you, too.

A Great Way to Bring a Conversation to a Grinding Halt

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On March 1, 2009

In Stories of Triumph and Inspiration

“I met three men in a Tiki bar once in Texas who were married to each other.”

So said Chloë Sevigny in a recent Los Angeles Times interview with her Big Love costars Bill Paxton, Jeanne Tripplehorn, and Ginnifer Goodwin. Here’s the reaction to Sevigny’s remark:

[Silence]

Paxton: Wow.

Tripplehorn: That was a conversation stopper! What do you call that? Gay-lygapous? Gay-lygamy.

Sevigny: They loved the show.

As well they should! By the way, for anyone who has ever asked him or herself “Gee, I wonder what Bill Paxton thinks about gay marriage,” you get your answer here. In response to a question about the Mormon campaign to pass Proposition 8, Paxton says: “I just feel like, God, live and let live. As long as somebody’s not trying to make me live a certain way, or people are consenting adults, I have no problem with it. But I’m a libertine and a liberal.”

So there you have it — the guy from Twister (and my personal favorite Apollo 13 astronaut) supports your right to get gay-married. No word on whether the stars of Volcano, Dante’s Peak and every other disaster movie Hollywood hurled at us post-Twister are of similar minds.

P.S. As a parting bonus, here’s a kind of gross clip of Jeanne Tripplehorn making out with Salma Hayek in Time Code. (For those of you who haven’t seen it, it’s an experimental film in which four story lines are followed by four different cameras simultaneously and in real time with no edits; the audio you hear in the YouTube clip belongs to the action taking place in another quadrant of the screen the YouTuber didn’t bother showing. Tripplehorn plays a typical nutty lesbian character in the movie, which was oddly appropriate given her involvement in Basic Instinct.) If you prefer the retro butch look, you can check out Chloë Sevigny in If These Walls Could Talk 2. A few of the search results will probably be age-restricted, but some of you pervs might like that.

If Sam Cooke Was Okay With Cupid, Cupid’s Okay With Me

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On February 15, 2009

In Stories of Triumph and Inspiration

Those of you who remember the way I bitched about Thanksgiving and New Year’s Eve might have expected me to write something dismissive or contemptuous of Valentine’s Day. Dear reader (I love it when columnists write “dear reader;” it always sounds so cloying), I will not. For somewhere today, probably in the Deep South, a redneck hid a cubic zirconia engagement ring in a bucket of KFC Extra Crispy and broke into a nervous sweat, hoping to God (or his favorite NASCAR driver) that his unsuspecting girlfriend wouldn’t accidentally swallow it.

And when that girlfriend found that ring, slathered in grease and rat droppings and whatever else those poor chickens are fried in after they’ve been decapitated by the ever-smiling Colonel, her eyes went as wide as they did that time in her junior year of high school when she peed on an EPT stick and got a false positive — and they filled with tears of joy as she accepted his proposal.

Yes, this is called our most romantic holiday for a reason, and for the sake of romance, which has given us so many great movies and songs, I’m willing to overlook the most preposterous things about Valentine’s Day. Take, for example, its crass commercialism, with all its stupid suggestions that women only care about jewelry and chocolate. I won’t say a word about that.*

Nor will I dwell on the fact that countless couples who are happy tonight will have acrimoniously split by this time next year. After all, that’s hardly unique to Valentine’s Day. (There are people who are single now who weren’t single on Columbus Day.) Instead I will wish you all a Happy Valentine’s Day, one I hope was filled with Preston Sturges films and old Drifters records, or whatever it is you like. (Maybe you’re more the Breaking the Waves and bondage type, which is cool. You might have to be a masochist to visit this site with any regularity.) Oh, and I hope you took care not to pass STDs to anyone, that should only be done at Christmas.

*I’m making a real sacrifice here because there’s a lot I’d like to say about the fact that Nights in Rodanthe, which was easily one of the worst films of 2008, is currently selling at a respectable clip on DVD simply because it was released to coincide with Valentine’s Day. If hell exists, a seat must surely be reserved there for Nicholas Sparks.

A Date Which Will Live in Infamy

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On January 16, 2009

In Stories of Triumph and Inspiration

The woman who inspired a thousand drag queens (and one irritable teenage lesbian).

On this day in history three of the great American women of the last hundred years were born: Ethel Merman, Susan Sontag, and yours truly. No need to send me a present, I don’t want anything and hate having to feign enthusiasm when opening gifts anyway. But if you want to bake me a cake, that’s fine, just wash your hands first. And no chocolate cake, please. No ice cream cake, either, because there’s just no reason for that. Oh, and no cheesecake. Cheesecake is fine if you’re on The Golden Girls, but until I’m in my sixties and have my own lanai, I’m staying away from it.

On second thought, let’s nix the cake idea altogether. Cake is overrated, in addition to being the name of a so-so band. The only thing it really has going for it, at least in my book, is its importance to the immortal Hole lyric “I want to be the girl with the most cake.” So let’s let Courtney have her cake, and we can have cookies and toast my parents for not aborting me or putting me up for adoption. That was very generous of them and something I’ll take into consideration when the time comes to choose their nursing home.

In honor of Ethel Merman’s birthday — she’d have turned 101 today — here’s a clip of her singing “There’s No Business Like Show Business,” from the film of the same name. When I was a kid I used to torture my dad by watching it every time it was on AMC, and in retrospect I probably owe him an apology for that. It’s a horrible movie, and 55 years later it’s still impossible to imagine why anyone ever thought it was a good idea to cast Mitzi Gaynor in anything, but I was fascinated by Ethel — and by Marilyn Monroe’s “Heat Wave” performance. Two early signs that I was a lesbian, but it would take a little while longer for me to realize that.

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