antenna to the lord

We have a hill in our backyard. It has multiple layers to it, that separate the neighbors on the top of the hill, and ourselves. We cut out a nice lil sanctuary on our levels.

On the 3rd level and hammock that sways in the summer breeze. The sunlight dripping down between fresh green leaves, reborn from their winter sleep. The 2nd level was classed up a couple years ago, as I laid down a make-shift patio out of 73 pavers (I remember the number cuz I had to carry them ALL up the stairs). They made a nice base for a couple of Adirondack chairs, by design, force you to lean back and enjoy the few months of sunny weather we have here in upstate NY.

The final level is our actual backyard. A small patch of grass and a slate patio for entertaining and BBQ-ing. My girl may not have been born with a silver spoon in her mouth, but she was born with a blooming, green thumb. Our yard is usually an explosion of color and fragrance. I love to sit and look at the hanging baskets and bursting flower pots, a wayward tiki peeking from them, and the sound of our bamboo fountain.

Our sanctuary is usually hidden by giant trees, standing watch and draping us with their full branches. Like crazy green, thick wigs, blocking out the neighbors above. This year the trees were confused with our late cold snap and lo....have yet to don their hair and block our view of the shittious, dilapidated, crap shack at the top of the hill.

The neighbors, who I have taken to calling "The Bumpasses", spent all of last summer, not trying to improve their homestead, nor trying to fix the back porch of the house that looked like it was falling off, nor try and actually match the siding which seemed to stop halfway around the house...alas...no. They spent last summer trying to erect a 50 foot radio antenna to the back porch roof!

Once there, it clung to the roof, a bit crooked, through the hard winter, winds and all. Till sometime in March, when the weight of it, finally took off the roof to the back porch! The Bumpasses didn't fix the roof...oh no. That was dragged to the edge of the property, where we can just see the peak of the roof and a few strips of green siding (the old siding...not the newer stuff). Their effort was put into re-erecting the antenna, that was so tall it probably tickled God's ass, into the nearby trees.

I almost missed it among the tall growing trees...if it wasn't for the fact the leaves weren't in yet and the white, ginormous poll stuck out like a sore thumb.

Just last weekend, the Bumpassess stood, staring at the tree where their antenna hung. Laura and I sat, wishing for leaves and trying to guess what the hell radio frequency they got on that thing. I'm sure the signals were making them crazy, as their roof still laid, two months now, in the back yard.

"They are going to work on that antenna", I said to Laura.

"Nooooooo....why would they do that when half their house is in the back yard."

Just then, Mrs. Bumpass shimmyed up a tree, socket wrench between her teeth, and loosened to bolt that held the antenna to the stand mounted on a tree. Mr. Bumpass, dropped the antenna to the ground, as Mrs. Bumpass got out of her tree and started to coil a cable that was laying on the ground.

THEY WERE LEAVING!! The house had been condemned and they were packing up their precious antenna, which we were sure now was sending radio signals to Al Queeda, and probably taking nothing else with them.

It brought joy to our hearts! Someone would come in, clean up and take that eye sore from the top of our sanctuary!!

"Wait....she's climbing in the tree again," Laura said.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

Sure enough....Mr. Bumpass, struggling with the antenna, got it back on the base and Mrs. Bumpass clamped it down.

Crestfallen, we just assumed they had to change the cable out. Maybe the roof fell on it and cut out their communications.

We settled back into our seats, on our patio, in our exposed sanctuary....and prayed for leaves. I wonder, if we had prayed with the power of that antenna....if Mother Nature would have heard us sooner?

AMEN!

On a whim, I decided to become a minister. With the possibility of gay marriage being legal in NY, why not? Who better to do marriage ceremonies than a drag king? I have the theatrical presence to perform in front of large crowds. I love a good party. Plus I would orchestrate the most sappiest of sappy moments.....which I just LOVE. I get choked up every time at weddings!

Plus I think it's just the perfect "suck it jesus" moment to have a gay ordained! Doesn't that just fly in the face of everyone of those preachers that want us to burn in hell?

My certificate is in the mail and I get a wallet card, for an extra $5. I thought it was worth it. The Universal Life Church Monastery asks that if I get tips for performing a ceremony, to think of possibly giving back to them.

I'll think about it.

Maybe I could start my own web church! I could broadcast on Sunday's, in my jammies, with a webcam. Anyone that wanted to log in and "go to church" ...in their jammies too! I could be the Holy Church of Perpetual Flannel. And when it came time to pass the plate for donations, I could set up a Paypal account that my flock could click contributions.

I'll tell ya what....it would be a church that taught love and peace and being green. None of this "obey" and "guilt" crap my Catholic retardation taught me. I don't think you have to preach fear to get folks to follow. Love you neighbor, love the earth, love the idea!

I wonder if they make a rainbow stole in my size?

"...such as and such..."

Beauty Pageants....2009. Really? Do we need them?

I understand the history of them. They gave women a chance to get full scholarships and give America the chance to see what the perfect lady would look like. It gave young girls an image to look up to. But that was when the contestants looked like....well...WOMEN!

The nipped, tucked, boobed stuffed and fat sucked fembots that parade across the stage today do nothing but give insecurity and shame to 99.9% of the young girls out there. No one can attain the look of modern "beauty queens" unless they have tons of money and a good plastic surgeon.

They seriously look Barbie like! Shiny and pulled, their lips ever stretched and inflated in a frozen smile. Teeth like Tijuana Chicklets, big and tight and white, chomping on the words they try to force out about world peace and orphans in Africa.

10 women sharing one brain, who's major in college was eyeliner and have the IQ of toast. What a FABULOUS image to give to our young girls who see emaciated, stick figures everywhere they turn.

Maybe we could replace the beauty pageant with rewarding girls that could actually use the scholarships and then actually get a job after that would help America.

THAT.......would be beautiful!

Shut your Peep Hole!

Easter stopped being important to me when religion stopped being important to me. I tried to hold on....honest, I did. I love the idea of a big ol' group of folks, peacefully praying for good to come from the world. It's an awesome feeling to hear all the voices in unison saying the prayers and singing the songs.

I liked church......the catholic church just doesn't like me!

The new pope, who I call PapaRatzi, decreed that if the Lord called you, to not even bother if your gay. Well this steamed my holy host! If you cut out the folks that want to serve the lord and NOT live the gay lifestyle, then you sure as shit better not judge me for my lifestyle, as you set me free on the road to sin!

I was one of the gays that, at the start of my awakening, thought I would be better off being a nun, then to act on the 'wicked' thoughts that made me think of my 5th grade math teacher in an unholy way. She was beautiful, blond and French. I would get in trouble in class so she would hold me in at recess to clean the chalkboards.

But you can't be gay and be Catholic!

So when I was in high school I took a walk past the neighborhood convent by my grandparents house. I asked the nun outside how one would get in? She looked me up and down with a knowing glance. It may have been her years of wisdom....or my plaid shirt, Levis and work boots, she said, "Listen to me...go...live your life. When you're old and wrinkled like me, then come back and you can serve Jesus."

Good enough for me!

So let me see if I got this right....pedophiles can serve the lord, and the alter boys, to the point that they are protected under church law. Moved from parish to parish like a high priced witness relocation project. But if you would rather practice your religion than be a circuit party boy at a bear's club, you can't even apply?

They say religion can be an eye opening experience. I gotta say...my eyes are wide open now. I guess that was the LAST favor my religion did for me.

"Please deposit another 25 cents, thank you."

Money is tight for everyone right now. We don't make enough, we don't have enough, our returns don't return enough. The cost of goods are up. The total of your pay stub is down. It doesn't take a Mensa think tank to come up with: These are hard times.

So I find myself gathering money from the car ashtray to try and buffer my checking account. A few dollars from the laundry, some change that's been on the dresser for some time now that no one seems to lay claim too. I just need enough to cover things till I get to the 15th. That's payday. I only get paid, what little I do get paid, twice a month. It's hard, I gotta say.

I'm not good with money either....so that doesn't make it any easier. Money makes me cry more than anything. It frustrates me. I don't have enough, I can't get anymore, but the bills keep coming.

For instance: I have a plan for retirement and includes stocks that were bought with money I got from my fathers death insurance money. I'm not suppose to touch it. I did. My financial guy loves to grind it into my face that I would be a millionaire if I hadn't touched it.

Well...that was before the 'new recession'. When that happened, word is, my lord of the finance ran to the men's room and puked. HA! He's nervous??!?

I had wanted to do right by everyone over seeing the future of my wealth and happiness by putting $150/month to my stock program. So much for THAT! I should have spent it ALL. I would have been starting from the same place I am today, for the love of Oprah!

This is the first time in 11 years that I've actually got money back from the Fed. They must feel sorry for me. Or they want me to save it so I can bail out my bank later. Ya...when does that have to be paid off, cuz I REALLY don't have an extra trillion laying around.

Don't get me started!

For now I shall tread, just keeping my head above the ever rising water that is debt. I should have taken those swimming lessons when I had a chance. Now I'm too poor to buy the water wings!

You know your old when....

I love music. I would listen all the time, 24/7 if I could. I like all sorts of stuff too. I try not to pigeonhole myself into any one sound. There's a lot of stuff out there to explore. I'm a sucker for a good beat, I'll admit it. Spent my days in dance clubs with dj mixes and redubs. I even took a spin as a dj in the local girl's bar back in the day!

For the life of me...I don't know anyone on the Grammy's anymore! Sure you got your occasional rocker who shows up, and you gasp cuz they look like a used ash on the end of a long drawn on cigarette. But music talent, these days, are produced in widget factories! The build them, produce them, make them slick with a snappy, hook filled single that sucks you in. Then they toss and repeat the process. If they have any longevity, it's by dumb luck, really, or they are nice to look at. I mean, do you really think the Pussycat Dolls will be wearing their postage stamps and butt floss outfits in another 1o years?

Don't get me wrong...I'm sucked into that stuff as quick as anyone else! I can't help myself as "When I Grow Up" plays. I wiggle where I am and do the white girl head bob.

There's just somethign I miss about vinyl.

Back in the day, you use to buy an album, and after you studied the cover art, back and front, you'd slip the record out, praying for liner notes and extra art on the sleeve. I loved the "thank you's" they would put on there. It gave you some insight to the artist. Way before they were telling you everything on Facebook and Tweeting their every bowel moment to their fans, that little block of text on the sleeve was the SHIT!

I can still remember the smell of a new album....like the smell of a new radio or record player out of the box. There was something magical about it. That flat black disk that somehow produced sound.

Would I give up my ipod....NAH! But it just seems that, with the dawn of the info overload generation, the simplicity of the vinyl record will be missed.