Showing posts from January, 2006

Beaver vs. the Dam

Safe sex and protection should always be a priority when we are about to romp around town or find ourselves entangled with a new sex partner, but not everyone cares whether or not they use protection. Not every woman believes they can catch an STD through having an intimate moment with another woman. As lesbians, we have challenges as far as sexual protection paraphernalia goes. Heterosexuals and gay men have it so easy when it comes to protecting themselves. Lesbians, well, they have dental dams. Why do we have to settle for a piece of rubber that is much like a fruit roll up on our partner’s genitalia? If only this lovely invention tasted like a fruit roll up, it wouldn’t be half bad. The only option for avoiding that horrific latex taste is to use Saran Wrap. What a romantic thought, huh? “Hold on honey, let me grab the Saran Wrap!” Heterosexuals and gay men have it fairly easy when it comes to this option. They can roll a condom on their penis, and have it stay there. Lesbians have

You Never Forget Your First

It’s just awful. I eavesdrop on conversations when I’m sitting at a bar. I can’t help it. Sometimes a certain topic makes my ears tune right in —except of course, if they’re talking about sports. Madelene will always be right in the midst of telling me a story---and then she notices my eyes have that ~ not paying attention to you~ glaze. “What?” “Oh nothing.” I say—hoping that Madelene will forget that I missed the entire story she just told me. Of course she’ll turn around to see what’s going on, to see what I’m really tuning into. So here’s last night’s eavesdrop story… Meet 'Dick' and 'Jane'. Dick invited this lovely girl out for a drink. It was obvious these two had a history together. Dick was begging Jane to come back to him. Dick broke up with Jane after five years for another girl. (Boooooooooo!) After eight fun months of frolicking with another woman, Dick realizes that Jane is a better catch. Jane starts crying hysterically. She tries to hide her tears beh

Had Better Days

Quite the dilemma. What is? My stay at a bar. Well what do you mean? It’s just overkill. Why am I even holding a dialog with myself? It’s not even a dialog if one is speaking, right? Does it then become a monolog? Mon·o·logue: v. mon·o·logued, also mon·o·logged mon·o·logu·ing, mon·o·log·ging mon·o·logues, mon errr…..What’s worse than that? mon o·log ic (-l j k) or mon o·log i·cal (- -k l) adj. mon o·logu ist (m n -lôg st, -l g -) or mo·nol o·gist (m -n l -j st, m n -lôg st, -l g -) n. Definition: A long speech made by one person, often monopolizing a conversation. In other words, shut the ~^bleep~^~ up already! What blog doesn’t monopolize a conversation? It’s almost as bad as reading some long-winded email from a friend. Or it’s almost as worse as spying on someone else’s email if you’re just a ‘lurker’. Even worse, it’s like talking when nobody’s listening. Now I’m depressing myself. Where was I? Oh did I just pull a “ Mike ”? Sorry. I’ll try not to follow his style. Nor will I tryta

Mama Knows Best

If you all didn’t know by now, I’m the world’s biggest hypochondriac going. Anything that seems alarming to me—I’m at the doc’s office for a checkup. In the past year, I’ve been rushed to the emergency room more than twice, and rushed to the doctor’s more than a dozen times. Symptoms range from chest pains, which ended up to be an anxiety attack—or a muscle strain from lifting weights, and major headaches; which I seriously though I was having an aneurism or stroke. The scary part is, anytime I have a pain or scream for help—I’m not taken seriously anymore. Madelene always takes me seriously, but she goes by protocol---she knows the drill: try to comfort her…if that doesn’t work, throw her in a bathroom full of steam…if that doesn’t work, off to the emergency room we go. A lot of my chest pains stems from my chronic bronchitis that turns into a full-fledged asthma attack. And at other times, it could just be anxiety. I can’t determine which is which. Thoughts in my head scream, “I’m d

Cross to Bear

PLEASE READ THIS FIRST: This content contains religious and Christian-related material that some of another religion or sector may find offensive. I speak from my faith, and *not* to impose my religion on anyone. I always like to warn my readers before they start reading my beliefs and religious rants. Having faith in God is a personal thing. Of course, in my beliefs, God loves all of us; regardless of flaws and imperfections. If God made us all ‘perfect’ ---than we wouldn’t need Him. Through our imperfections, we can experience what it means to fail and to succeed. I mean that in a positive way. We all need to hit rock bottom, before we can realize how good we truly have it. A commenter on my previous post wrote, “Isn't the term ‘Christian lesbian’ an oxymoron???” The assumption that gay & lesbians cannot be Christian makes me feel sad. Do people really think like this? If I love my partner of twelve years, does that mean I’m going to hell? Does that mean that I can’t

Dreaming of Vacation Already

Another snow day, after the weather has been spring-like. It actually looks so beautiful when the snow is freshly fallen on the trees, and the mountains are topped off with snow caps. I’ve always appreciated the view from my house. It’s actually breathtaking. I never took it for granted after all these years. The beauty remains outside the house. For what’s inside is a whole other story. It’s Madelene’s turn to PMS. She has become one with the couch —in fact--- I think I’ve lost her. She’s not coming back. Her tea consumption has reached its all time high, and her love for the travel and history channel has me inside my office blogging. I wanted to leave her alone for a bit so she can relax. I usually bug the hell out of her when we have the day to ourselves. We’re already discussing going back to our beach house in Montauk. We go there every May, and we’re excited to be going again. This place just screams ‘relaxation’. Last year when we went, I got a bit tipsy, and well, almost bur

Deb's Mental Status

The day is bright, the sun is out, the weather is spring-like and I’m in love! The snow has melted and I can see the grass. The trees are bare, but the birds are perched on the first available branch; chirping songs that makes my heart sing. Don’t worry. This is temporary. It’s the strong espresso I drink in the morning. It’s almost like crack to me. In about a half hour, I’ll crash. The sad thing is, I don’t go for another fix until the next morning. My crack dealer is Shoprite. They supply my grinds to give me that morning high. Buzz kill: “The plumba’s comin’ova to look at da’pipes. Dare’s a noise comin’ outa’ da’ well, and we dink’ itza’ leak.” My father says, as I make my way down the stairs to greet my parents hello. “Today?... This morning?” I was disappointed that I couldn’t have my Saturday morning in peace without some large man screaming out to his partner, “Get me dis! Get me dat!” He was over about a month ago with his little sidekick putting in a new toilet for me. He’

Doc’s Diagnosis: Normal

Tons of trips to the psychiatrist’s office and a million rides heading up to the emergency room, everyone doubts my anxiety attacks and mental status. Doc told me during therapy that I was ‘too put together’. I seemed to be very personable and “normal”. He doubts that there is anything wrong with me. The most productive thing in therapy is when he writes my scripts. The only people who truly know my anxiety and depression is my girlfriend of course, and my ex-girlfriend. Think about it, we often show our true colors to the people we love the most—outside from our family. Madelene gets to see me in my raw state of mind at times. Aside from that, she goes off to work, in fear that she won’t see me ever again. My anxiety has become her anxiety; her fear of losing me ‘for good’. I’m okay though. Doc says so. Doc says that it’s normal to have anxiety & depression. I even told doc about my thoughts about suicide. I often back the statement up with my fear of going to hell—and that I wou

The Sky is Falling!

This winter has been up and down. Between 60 degree weather—to a zero degree freeze. One morning, you’ll wake up with a pile of snow on your front door, and the next morning—it’s a summer downpour with a warm breeze. The weather almost has the same personality disorder as I do. Has the weather gone to therapy yet? Does it have bipolar disorder? Or is it simply PMSing? “Oh the glaciers are melting! It’s global warming! It’s the end of the world!” Oh what—we went up one friggin’ degree and these people on the Discovery channel want to get their ratings up and tell you that the sky is falling. Let’s get everybody into paranoia-mode. Great. More money for our fellow psychiatrists. “Did you hear about New York? There’s going to be a category five hurricane. It happens every 70 years, and we’re due for one!” One girl says to me, as I’m on line at the pharmacy picking up my medication. Luckily I was next in line in case I really freaked out. Just pop a few pills and pat the girl on the back

911!!! 911!!!

Trying to build up my ability to walk into a crowded grocery store is quite a challenge. Between my agoraphobia and anxiety attacks, I always worry about how long it will take the ambulance to arrive while I’m knocked out cold in the produce section. Yesterday I got my answer. While rummaging through the Italian parsley and basil at the supermarket, Madelene says, “Look—I think someone is hurt.” I turned around, and there was an older lady lying flat on the floor. One of the employees rushed over to help. She was knocked out cold. Madelene quickly called 911—as all the other people were standing around this poor lady. We weren’t sure if it was a slip and fall, or if she had a heart attack. Madelene noticed some blood coming out of her mouth. “Someone call 911!” The employee shouted, but I guess out of his anxiety, he didn’t realize that each and every one of us was on the phone making that call. The crowd quickly grew with curious people—but no one helped. I stood back, near the prod