you can pity the fool

you can pity the fool
but don't pity the lonely

everyday millions of people classify themselves as lonely. some are launched into loneliness by way of betrayal, mistrust, and abandonment. others cling to it in attempts to become a stronger individual; proving no one is needed for their survival.

being alone has been vilified for years. it should come as no shock that so many regard it as a depressive pit of despair- we've been trained to think this way. it's commonly understood that the crazy cat lady lives alone and speaks to no one but felines. everyone knows the man seated alone at the diner must be waiting for someone to join him- he couldn't possibly be solo by choice.

somehow throughout time we've come to believe that sadness and loneliness go hand in hand; that no one could possibly want to be alone- let alone thrive when left to their own devices.

feeling alone and being alone are two different animals. truly being alone is something i've never been. lest it be family, partners, friends, coworkers, or friendly-faced strangers; i've always found something worth holding onto in other people. all my life, i've clung hopelessly to the belief that people are inherently good. it's a challenge to hold onto that mentality when those who surround you do things that (for lack of a more eloquent wording) make you sad but if you believe that everyone is rooted in evil...what does that make you?

the line, "you are the company you keep" continues to swirl around in my head and i can't help but shout back, "WE ARE ALL INDIVIDUALS, NOT CLONED SHEEP!" i've witnessed my friends do things i couldn't fathom doing. in turn, i'm sure they have seen me conduct myself in a manner they find foreign and bizarre. i know that the world is pretty fucked up, but i dismiss that as my mantra and try focus on the good.

alone is a tough title to keep while still remaining positive about the world around you. when you remove yourself from society, every one and thing has no choice but to live up to all of your expectations. how can anyone prove you wrong and encourage you to trust again when you won't allow them in? how could anything be more than you imagine when you don't give it the chance to?

the most depressing thing i heard this summer came out of the mouth of someone who was very close to me at the time. she was going through a rough breakup and was beginning to loose faith in humanity. with tear filled eyes she turned to me and said, "i know- i'll just sleep with her ex! that will show her!"

this sweet, kind girl wanted to destroy another emotionally to justify the pain she was in. i understand hurt- we all understand being betrayed but when did this mentality of 'getting people back' become king? i've been driven to loneliness by none other than myself, but the actions of peers have forced me to question my return. do i want to come back to a world that encourages us to hurt each other when we feel wronged?

the only thing i do know for certain is that i can only focus on my own actions. judging others for living in a manner that i deem unfit is no better than the bigots who flick off my car for my HRC sticker. it boils down to a simple difference of opinion. hate can be hidden in many forms, including that of 'concern for others'.

i can now admit that negativity and anger have clouded my vision for far too long this summer. while i'm still baffled by the behaviors i witness, i'm also ready to bat away the cobwebs and return to life. i can either live in the snowglobe-dream-world i've constructed for myself or i can engage with real life and take it as it comes.

being alone can be restorative and cleansing. my self-ostracization has brought me closer to myself and given me a greater understanding of how people interact with each other. to my lonely friends out there- remember, through this painfully connected world no one is ever truly alone. as long as you still have the strength to lift up your hand...someone will be there to hold it and even if no one is there, hope isn't lost. you are stronger than you could ever dream. you don't require anyone in order to become who you will be. we all have the ability to both rise and fall, it's up to you alone to choose what path you take.

pride in the sky

pride in the sky
the rooftop in rockville

this weekend is a big one in the lesbiworld around the dc metropolitan area. first you have the annual phasefest, hosted by phase one which starts this evening and lasts throughout the weekend. (get more infomation regarding phasefest here) if bands and bars aren't your thing you can hop on down to richmond, virginia for virginia pride. (get more info here)

but what about my maryland sisters? richmond is a haul for even viriginians and sometimes DC can be a daunting drive for our neighbors to the north. well fear not friends, all hope is not lost! there is an up and coming event that is steadily gaining speed in montgomery county. la tasca is a spanish restaurant and bar in rockville, maryland. they have several different locations peppered thoughout DC/VA/MD that host such events as live flamenco shows, dancing lessons, and the occational free sangria and tapas. at their rockville location this weekend they are hosting the rooftop party, pride in the sky.

on saturday from 8pm-1am every ones favorite, DJ rosie (of Bare parties at Cobalt) will be spinning. they offer a happy hour from 8-9pm with $3 beers, sangria, wine and rail drinks. the drag show goes on at midnight but the view from the roof is free all night.

it's also worth noting that several of my close friends are going to be bartending the event. now i say this with as much depth as possible, but they are aesthetically pleasing in every way and thus you should go see them and shower them with your hard earned cash. they even possess charming personalities to match their beauty; all of 'em are worth your tips and good times.

i hope where ever you land this weekend, you have a magical time and are surrounded by warm, loving people.

pride in the sky @ the rooftop in rockville
155 gibbs st., suite 305
rockville, md 20850
saturday 8pm-1am 21+ w ID
$5 cover until 10pm $7 after

event on facebook

it's that time of the month!

it's that time of the month!
bridget mcmanus presents: that time of the month

just in case you missed the 22 minutes of perfection that aired on LOGO last tuesday, here it is for your viewing pleasure...

Bridget McManus Presents: That Time of the Month Episode 5 - watch more funny videos

if you want to be a part of the show and love ladies checkout the guidelines for submissions here or you can email me at apacowayner@gmail.com

vaginas: natures fortune cookie

vaginas:

natures fortune cookie

every vagina is different. generally i'd follow that statement with "...and all are beautiful" but as my gynecologist delicately pointed out one visit, "there is nothing beautiful about open sores and communicable diseases...healthy vaginas are beautiful." i suppose being in a profession where on any given day you could find yourself forearm deep in the herpes-speckled snatch of a stranger, it's easy to see how one might lose sight of the specialness of vagina's and become jaded.

much like a fortune cookie, vagina's hide life lessons deep inside. when i was seven a vagina taught me that life is unpredictable and oft times uglier than we envision. even at that tender age, i came to the all-too-adult notion that the universe has some fucked up ways of exposing us to it's truths. very few moments in my childhood do i remember as vividly as my first encounter with another woman's genitals...please note: i do not say this with any sense of pride.

it was my first sleepover birthday party hosted by none other than the popular girls of elementary school. i couldn't contain my joy. new house, new smell, new experiences; it was going to be a great night, all i had to do was not be weird.

clearly, i was destined for failure.

as the girls huddled around a table full of glitter, markers, pens and paper, my nose pulled me elsewhere. in my own little world on the floor of the laundry room, i crawled around sniffing everything. instead of leading to a life of coke binges and huffing paint, i hoped that my keen sniffer would simply lead me to the smell source. after all, i was investigating a suspicious scent (which, to be honest wasn't as suspicious as it was just shitty). the other girls undoubtedly got a whiff but they lacked my nancy-drew-like curiosity for the unexplained and chose to color bears and flowers instead.

unbeknownst to me, slinking around an unfamiliar house and rummaging through boxes of christmas decorations is frowned upon- it might even cause one to never be invited back to said house. moments before i lifted a towel off what i would later find out was a dog cage (with one very ill, shit-covered dog inside) a dainty hand of shocking strength pulled me up off the floor and ushered me back to the party.

"wouldn't you rather be drawing poinsettias like the rest of the girls?" the birthday girl's mother asked in a tone that said, "seriously you little snoop- sit, color and stay outta my shit." she went on to explain how the dog was dying and i shouldn't bother him. her honesty was refreshing but did result in a horrified expression on my cherubic face. at the sight of this her story quickly changed to 'the dog ate chocolate, leave him alone' and my smile sheepishly returned.

her hair was wound tightly around rollers and her nightgown wreaked of zest. her blood red nails coupled with the bright blue veins bulging from her hands had me all but convinced that she was going to turn us all into rats later (a la witches) but after feeding us poisionless chinese food i figured we were in the clear.

the night began to wind down and the slumber bags were unrolled. as i wiggled my way deep inside the cocoon of cotton and polyester i felt satisfied. i had managed to survive the party being only borderline bizarre with one, lone witness- my friend's mother.

the line between being conscious and drifting into the REM cycle was finally beginning to blur when a loud sound awoke me. it was a person coming down the stairs. terrified that someone was breaking in, i shut my eyes as tight as i could and waited for them to leave.

that would have been a fine plan, had the stranger left promptly and not begun to walk around amongst the sleeping pre-teens. i could feel the footsteps march closer towards my beloved garfield sleeping bag until finally, the steps stopped. peeking out between the web woven by sleep, i could make out that this stranger was standing above me- a foot at each of my ears. now in legitimate fear for my life, my seven year old eyes opened as wide as they could to see my attacker and hopefully stave off death.

that's when it happened.

vaginatown.

turns out my 'attacker' was also my friend's mother who had popped back in to check on us. another fun turn of events was my friend's mother also appreciates the ease and comfort of pantie-less living. it's like that moment when you catch yourself staring into the sun. reason tells you that it's likely burning your retina and you should stop but some strange mixture of curiosity and self-loathing prevents you from doing that. her vagina stared back at me and gave me a sideways smile.

it was the only time i've ever been horrified upon the sight of another womans genitals. quite frankly, it's shocking i'm gay having such a traumatizing experience as my first vagina spotting. the entire ordeal proved to be a worthwhile one, for i did learn a valuable lesson that cold (but not cold enough for underwear) winter night. metaphorically or otherwise, we all are blinded by unpleasant truths in life. it might be uncomfortable or painful momentarily but in the long run- it's just life, it's just a vagina.

We hear you now PSA

We hear you now PSA

apacolyptic productions

We hear you now:

Public Service Announcment

Written/Directed/Produced:

ashley, apacolyptic productions

more colorful

more colorful
a thought

nbc's new fall slogan of "more colorful" television leaves me with more questions than answers. some might be prompted to glue themselves to the edgier, funnier, undoubtedly life changing programming they are set to unveil but others, like myself, ask simply "what color nbc?"

at first i thought, "it's a racial nod. 'colorful' oh i get it!" but the greater portion of propaganda with the 'more colorful' slogan on it has a slew of white actors in their 30s. it's clear the color implied wasn't the color of ones skin. sure, a few minorities slipped into some photo opts, but not enough to constitute a new ad campaign.

now admittedly, i don't watch tv with any sense of regularity and when i do catch a show that everyone is talking about i've more than likely witnessed it online. i have an acute awareness of the goings-on in the media world due to my job. work forces me to swallow commercial copy daily.

after reading (over and over and over again) a commercial for nbc the truth became all too clear. "nbc's new daytime lineup features: the nate berkus show, the ellen degeneres show and the real housewives! everyday is full of color on nbc." as the words tumbled out of my mouth an epiphany was bubbling up within me- their advertising department's intention wasn't rooted in race, but in sexuality!

my mother always accuses 'the gays' of being in your face and down your throat with their orientation. (so easily she forgets all the times that i personally have made efforts to not bring up my sexuality because it offends others...but i digress). i couldn't agree with her more in some cases, but more often than not it's only considered 'in your face' because it's not been an open topic in the past.

instead of vilifying nbc for not showing more minorities, we should thank them for placing our delicate community smack dab in the center of the dinner table. fresh on the heels of gay marriage, nbc becomes gayer than ever with their obvious nod to the homosexuals. with their "more colorful" take on television, nbc parks two homo-hosts next to each other...it's official world- the gays are taking over the media.

fecal matter face

fecal-matter-face

and that time of the month

when i emerged from my mother's lifehole 23 short years ago, i was covered in an adorable mixture of amniotic fluids, blood, and human fecal matter. not having ever experienced childbirth, it's easy for me to consider being a literal shithead upon delivery disgusting- vomit inducing even. the thought of a pristine newborn looking like a jackson pollock in various shades of brown reminds me that no one is perfect. whenever i accomplish something noteworthy in my life- something that might cause me to shout from the rooftops, i remind myself of one simple truth...you were born a warrior but your warpaint was shit- stay humble e cloi-face.

being humble isn't always easy when you are a good looking, ferociously smart young woman with a dazzling smile. but if you were a lady in your early twenties with gangly limbs and a borderline unhealthy love of dinosaurs, humility is something that comes naturally to you. it's hard to be cocky when you own both a fanny pack and a pt cruiser.

the perks of poo comes in the form of life lessons. i've learned it might give me pink eye if it finds its way in/around my optical area but no shit can't squelch my dreams. i've never had issue with taking pride in my work but i have always been quick to downplay my successes in attempts to stay grounded. (i fear resting on past achievements causes people to settle...i never want to settle.) i've made no bones about the past several months having been less than stellar. throughout the summer i assured myself that something spectacular was coming my way- i just had to muddle through waist deep shit to get there.

now it's rare that i toot my own horn but BEEP BEEP mo'fucks! i can't keep this to myself any longer! i sat on this information for a little bit- mostly because i had a hard time believing it was real- but a dream has come true in my world and i'm one step closer to finding the cure for aids.

ok- half of that statement isn't true but i did land a new internship. while i doubt it will put me on the path to curing aids, it is the gayest, most magical moment in my life to date. imagine witnessing a unicorn mount a vespa and drive on a rainbow colored road, all whilst wearing a top hat and handlebar mustache... THAT is how i feel and have felt since the news came down the line.

some of you don't enjoy reading and find lots of words in a small font boring. you probably didn't even actually read to this point you just skimmed for a paragraph break..for you (and loyal readers alike)

HERE IS MY BIG BIG NEWS:

i got an internship with the new show, bridget mcmanus presents: that time of the month

which in turn means, bridget mcmanus is aware of my existence.

the same woman who pillow fought with lena headey and is married to karman kregloe, emails me.

the show airs on LOGO and afterellen.com, hello gay meccas!

AND my name will appear as associate producer!

OMFG!

i'm sorry- i still have a hard time digesting the whole thing.

that time of the month, showcases the film and video work of lesbian and bisexual women. i owe yourdailylesbianmoment author, arlan, a giant thank you. if it weren't for her, my little email would never have been taken seriously by bridget, let alone found it's way to her inbox. she has been a tremendous inspiration and friend to me throughout my time in the blogosphere and posts photos/videos of incredibly attractive (generally half naked) women...thank you arlan- for everything.

my summer into fall transition has been an exciting one, to say the least. one might even go so far as to say that i couldn't ask for anything more...but i will. it's a modest request, nothing that requires too much from you. i ask simply that next tuesday morning come 4am EST, you park yourself in front of a tv, turn on LOGO and watch: bridget mcmanus presents- that time of the month! then it's required that you laugh hysterically and tell all your friends about this delightful, new, lesbifriend-approved show!

storms of shit are worth weathering. while in the midst of one it's not uncommon to wish that life could go back to the way it was before. the smell, the feel, the overall quality of life during shitty times is just that- shitty. but we all know storms don't last and nothing is as it was before. life is all about progress, positivity and learning to dance with shit on your face.

bridget mcmanus presents:

that time of the month

september 14th, 2010

4am est on LOGO

(if you are interested in being featured on the show and meet the requirements, don't hesitate to e-mail me: apacowayner@gmail.com and i will pass your work onto bridget...i can't wait to see what you ladies are working on!)

rough and tumble

rough and tumble lesbians
who are they?!

rough and tumble lesbians:
a new breed of mainstream lesbian; a monster mash-up of all your favorite stereotypical lesbian roles:
two parts dyke + one part femme + a pinch of 'yo-boy' + a whole bunch of dyke swagger

wardrobe consists mainly of:
board shorts
brightly colored skater shoes
flat-billed hats (only worn slightly cocked to the side)
thin, mildly form fitting, cotton t-shirts (preferably v-neck)

these girls aren't afraid to jump back and forth across the line between femme and dyke but they feel most at home in a pair of mesh shorts and a wife beater. with a wardrobe that would leave justin bieber speechless, rough and tumble lesbians offer more than the simple style of a preteen boy. to their outfits they bring color- neon to be exact. those who suffer from seizures should look elsewhere for a lover because these ladies love bold punches from the visual spectrum. from bright splashes on shoelaces to multicolored neon hats, everything is worthy of a kiss of color.

rough and tumble lesbians differ from your everyday dyke in two major areas- hair and makeup. dykes are known for their shorter, often gender-neutral haircuts. brash and bold in their hair stylings, the dykes love shaving their heads (or more typical of your modern lesbian- shaving half or simply the square above the ear) sometimes they even spice it up to the point that they shave some speed stripes in there! conversely, rough and tumble girls generally roll with long, straightened hair.

the myth that lesbians don't wear makeup couldn't be disproved more by our rough and tumble friends. with a flick of an eyeliner and a coat or two of mascara, these ladies aren't exactly breaking the bank at MAC. it might not be on par with drag queens but they do wear make-up, albeit a little.

be on the lookout for this new lesbian breed on the rise...

you should get naked...

you should get naked...

and other fun suggestions i passed on this weekend

this weekend, against my better judgment, i forced some friends to join me in a directionless adventure. our mission was simple: go to arlington to deliver a birthday present to a jordana-brewster-look-alike. being road-savvy, i thought i'd be in the clear leaving the GPS at home and following my remembered way into the beer-soaked streets of clarendon. that was a great thought, however i forgot to include in that line of thinking that i don't actually go bar hopping in arlington, nor do i have any idea where the bar in question was...hilarity ensues.

three ladies, collectively dressed to kill, slipped into my pt cruiser and within moments we were on our way. as a plan enthusiast i found it odd how excited i was to arrive at a location that kept changing as we drove. first one bar- then the one across the street- now the one that's catty corner to the metro station...the texts poured in from the jordana-brewster-look-alike. every location given was within the same block or two and that fact kept my nerves at bay.

our main goal was delivery of the birthday present. the jordana-brewster-look-alike had been out of the country all summer and this was my first chance to really wow her. in fact, it was my first time actually meeting her face to face. no pressure. after a 15 minute drive into arlington turned into a 45 minute tour of arlington we finally arrived at our destination.

it's worth mentioning that the bar we were willingly seeking out was a straight one. in the past, i've had some challenging experiences in hetero clubs and bars but i'm trying to let go of my 'straight-club-hatin' ways. well- more honestly, this chick is a friggin' jordana-brewster-look-alike!! i would have stopped by anywhere to ensure she got her birthday hug.

after elbowing our way through the entrance we were finally in sight of the dance floor. it was late- late enough that 80% of those dancing had sweat stains and a complete lack of basic motor skills. if i couldn't feel my ass cheeks the night would have been delightful. alas, my ass is a sensitive little sucker and i felt all of the man bulges and giant lady shoulder bags as they shimmied by. the dance floor was packed so we inched our way to the bar. it proved to provide little relief from the crowd but the promise of holding something in my hand was a comforting thought.

those of you who aren't excessive drinkers understand my uneasiness when my hands are empty while standing bar-side. everyone sees my paws without a drip drop between them and thinks, "she needs a drink." who's to blame them for jumping to those conclusions? i'm in a bar...it's pretty clear that the intention of an establishment such as that is to drink. to help myself assimilate into the bar scene, i've adopted the habit of always holding a corona light in my hand- empty or full, in my hand it stays.

try as i might to avoid the awkward it finds fun new ways to weave itself into my life. in attempts to play it cool, i told my friends we should stand stationary and wait for the jordana-brewster-look-alike to come around our way. this was a good call on two counts; one- we wouldn't have to bulldoze our way through a crowd and risk loosing each other, two- i wouldn't throw up on the short girls heads and have a panic attack while looking for my friend...WIN WIN!

i saw her gracefully bounce down the steps, smiling and saying hi to people along the way. "guys! i found her! but i'll just wait until she wonders this way...i don't actually want hunt her down." sure enough, within 10 minutes a hand cupped my back and a woman politely asked me if she could squeeze by. in true rico suave form i began smiling uncontrollably and saying bizarre, already established things.

why when i'm nervous i slip into stating facts is still a mystery to me. "ahh! there you are!""it's your birthday." in case she wasn't aware, never mind all of her friends standing behind her tossing 'birthday shots' her way OR the fact that she invited me to her birthday party. "this place is packed." she would have undoubtedly been lost without my assertions. thankfully i alerted her to her own location.

fake-jordana-brewster, my friends and i chatted for a little while longer until our convo was disrupted by two polo-clad fellas. "do you think we are douchebags?!" they asked as the sweat and booze trickled out of their pores. i wouldn't normally judge strangers so harshly but the tenacity of these two was a bit much for me. maybe it was the one corona light talking but i gave 'em some sass.

engaging with these drunk strangers wasn't the best move i've made recently. rather than causing them to scatter, my unparalleled wit (or the fact that we were rejecting them) kept them nestled close to our circle of five.

i began rattling off the reasons why drunk people can be douchebags and one guy went on the attack. he grabbed my scarf, "you know it's not winter. why are you wearing this scarf? it's silly."

at a lesbian bar, i would have been showered with compliments on the classic black kerchief tied round my neck. i told my inebriated new friend that i was on the pulse of fashion and he didn't understand. indeed he didn't- he then went into a tirade on how 'you don't need clothes to be beautiful'. "that scarf isn't you. those clothes don't make you beautiful- you make you beautiful..."

as much as i wanted to hear him out and accept his compliments (let's face it- we can all use a pick-me-up), his bloodshot eyes and the faint smell of vomit reminded me that he was wasted. the jordana-brewster-look-alike rushed to my defense. grabbing my scarf she shouted, "do you know what this means? it means her dick is bigger than yours."

for a split second i'm pretty sure he thought i was a M2F trans but then i clarified,"i'm aware of the fact that you are trying to be philosophical but all you are really saying is that we should all be naked. that's a really neat thought sir, but you are barking up the wrong tree- i'm gay."

being a mature adult he then called me a douchebag and gave me a firm scowl. i went on to remind him that any number of the ladies dancing around would gladly service him later; that our disinterest in dick was no slight to him but the damage was done, his ego crushed for the moment.

it would be easy to look back on the night and remember nothing but the adventure-filled drive and the 15 minutes spent giving the fake-jordana-brewster her birthday present. but where's the fun in denying all of the fun pickles that life puts us in?

rolling with the punches this weekend was something i'm proud to say i did with relative ease. stepping out of my comfort zone both physically and emotionally was a tough pill to swallow but with friends as smooth and thirst-quenching as mine, it was no sweat...aside from those drenched in it at the bar.

epic high fives

epic high fives
a thought to pick you up

hating thursday simply because it's not friday is no way to muddle through the week. every day should be praised (except mondays- they always suck). daily we all should try and focus on the threads of hope, humanity, and hilarity.

if you are more of a pessimist and find my unusually chipper demeanor annoying- you're an ass, lighten up sunshine. but even the negative nancy's of the world could use a smile. who doesn't enjoy smiling? (that's a stupid question. sometimes smiles, particularly from strangers, are unnerving. picture this- elderly man in loose fitting sweatpants and a beater looks at you from across the bus. his smile stretches from ear to ear. after returning the smile you note both his hands are down his pants- creepy right? that was of no relevance...i'm sorry) point being- we all can use some hints on how to bring more happiness into our worlds.

today's hint? high fives, man.

nothing quite compares to the joy one gets after a solid clap of the perfect high five. after locking eyes, i square up with my partner and while facing each other, our shoulders align. just prior to the approach my arm is fashionably draped over the corresponding shoulder. another breath won't enter my lungs until the one across from me mirrors my sassy stance. some might jump from this point directly into the arch just before the high five. those who do that are fucking high fivin' amateurs.

the one, lone key in the making of a perfect high five is the momentary glance preceding the high five itself. it's all about checking out those 'bows. often called 'the most awkward part of the body aside from knees' or 'wenis', the elbow holds all the cards. one fleeting glance in tandem with your high-fiving-friend ensures that you will get the perfect clap- every time.

after arching back and hurling my heart and soul into my approach- it happened. *CLAP* that sound; a thunderous, meaty, slap of skin. that feeling; epic, rad, perfection. that connection- open palm, open heart. no debate necessary- high fives can't be beat.

if you find yourself feeling a little bit low today, i remind you to smile and find joy in this moment by ramming your hand into anothers. with one solitary slap you can bring an explosion of bright light into your world. if you are too lost in the darkness and feel that no one is around you, fear not- high fives are always possible, no matter how deep the depression. as long as you have two mitts at your disposal (even if the both belong to you), you've got yourself some magic.

up high- down low.
happy day- fo' sho.