as a pang of hope dances across my mother's heart

why am I getting the Victoria's Secret catalogue in the mail? I have never purchased ANYthing from there by person, mail or otherwise... Unless Marilyn is using my credit to by panties which would make me vomit up my kidneys...

But seriously... one or two was wierd, but now my boyfriend is starting to wonder. People are talking. "Honey... is there some part of your life you'd like to share?"

I might not be Butch like Cassidy but I'm not a screaming queen nor am I a cross dresser. (btw: stay away from "Breakfast on Pluto"... You could spend your two and a half hours more pleasureably; perhaps working for the Bush campaign or getting a prostate exam from Captain Hook)

I have nothing against cross dressing, though I don't particularly like the drag shows that parade one of two things: A) Barny Rubble in a dress B) a masogynistic charicature of misplaced feminine angst and bitter retribution. My sole experience with dressing in drag came in college when I was visiting friends in Santa Cruz. I smoked too much pot to care about the world, at which point my girlfriends (or here, I should say; friend-girls) decided that now would be the opportune time to play dress up.

Picture me, in a green, leather skirt, platform shoes, a knit midrift, a pink feather boa, with pot-induced lazy eyes, outside in the driveway smoking a cigarette while the girls survey their work... (they, too, were high - as is obvious from their fashion choices). Of course, this was the time when the hottest postal worker came up to deliver the mail. He had the look of a surfer and the body of Eric Bana. He was wearing shorts and I was obviously staring at his... package, as he handed me the mail with a smirk and a wink.

But I digress.

I live in West Hollywood - blocks from the only city haIl with a fishbowl filled with condoms and lube on the reception desk. I have a reputation as a homosexual to uphold. I can't have people thinking I'm jacking off to a magazine filled with walking anatomy lessons with bee-stung lips, demarol eyes and questionably resistance levels.

Of course, I'd have no problem getting Undergear ... but that's a different story. I much prefer vapid beefcake that live off of protein shakes and tuna to vapid cherry pie that lives off of cigarettes and tic-tacs.

That is all.