Monday, December 31, 2007


I'm over at Tommy D and Kirstanthemum's for a little New Year celebration. A bitch is tore down and fucked up! While they are in dispose I've hijacked the computer just to put some mushy, lovey-dovey words to all the readers of The Butch Stroll (all six of you). And to those of you who are my friends "in real life", just know that there are but a few of you and that only means that you are the cream of the crop, people I think are AWESOME and in tune, and who I couldn't live without.

Happy New Year! Thank you for coming here to read my nonsense and thank you for the kind words throughout this year and the past years I've been doing this drivel. In 2008 there is going to be a whole new Butch Stroll, and a whole new, renewed, reborn me. I'm seriously going to take it to another level in '08 with "big thangs poppin" as the kids say. Lots of projects and promotions are on the table for me, and I'm going to take the bull by the horns with Operation Fabulous 2008 on the front burner. I might even post pictures of myself because I am the painful combination of hyper-vain, mad-ugly, and strangley-interesting to look at, and I'm hoping The One will stumble through and be confused enough to think I'm cute.

On a final and serious note, I love those of you who pay me visits and leave me comments and have even a modicum of interest in what I have to say. Happy New Year -- may it be your best yet.


Thursday, December 27, 2007

Love is a Battlefield.

Shouted down by the highway right outside
Closed doors with a chain lock and a dead bolt,
Tired, so tired from driving,
The magic gun fires and everything is lost,
Spilled out like a bag of marbles.
This time of year everyone expects
Miracles, laughter, and joy, wrapping paper
Covering boxes full of toys
And no one’s the wiser about sharp objects.
Those last few hours were marked, on my new watch,
By arms outstretched hugging the world,
WhenI heard train whistles and car horns
And that was that.
A new year is coming with confetti
And disco balls dropping from on high.
This is a time to start over, to write
Promises in chalk on sidewalks
And shove those angels back in their caves,
But they’re already running,
The moherfuckers are so far gone and you know this.

They couldn't give a damn.

You sound like an artist.

I just did my little "workshop" at the camp, and promptly hauled ass back to my hotel. Today I had the middle school aged kids, who were pretty good actually. I had to ask one of them who was like 12 years old to help me set up the projector. I played this game with them and tried to tie it into the subject matter, but damn were they ever competetive. Tomorrow I have the high school kids who will likely be a much tougher crowd, so I'm trying to think up something different to do with them.

The one kid that helped me with the projector -- until one of the staff people informed me that "the kids are not supposed to touch the equipment" was a riot. He quite clearly had attention deficit disorder, but I'm glad he was there because he kind of livened up my sometimes dry subject matter. He was funny and, surprisingly, interested in the material. Once the game was over he kind of saved me as I resorted to PowerPoint.

Anyway the moment I always expect when working with groups of people, young or old, is the moment of being "clocked" -- being called out for being a big ole queen up in Emmitsburg. This queeny voice has haunted me since I was able to say my first word. Sure enough the little dude comes up beside me and says to me, in complete seriousness, "You sound like an artist."

I laughed and caught my breath. That's a new, gentle way to put it.

Benazir Bhutto

I woke up in my hotel room to the news that former Pakistan PM and current opposition leader Benazir Bhutto was killed this morning. This follows open vows by various groups to assassinate her, and many attempts to do just that.

Hamid Mir is on the phone with CNN saying that no one in Pakistan is thinking about Al Queda -- but rather a letter from Bhutto to Musharraf in which she stated that someone in his government wants to kill her. (They did have her under house arrest for a while.) The accusations are towards Musharraf's regime.

This is really a sad event for the world and a great danger for nuclear armed Pakistan. Bhutto was an increasingly rare sane voice from that part of the world, and a woman who was brave right up to her death.

Wednesday, December 26, 2007

Dear Emmitsburg, MD

I realize that people really just come here to stay between skiing, but can we punch things up a bit around here? I mean damn. The "Jubilee" grocery store is IT.

Dear Mr. Lee in Room 210

I'm sorry I just left you a message on your phone at 11:00 PM. I know you are probably sleeping and have no idea who I am. I'm here for the conference thingy, and I have no idea where I'm suppoed to go tomorrow morning, and I'm terrified of giving my little presentation for TWO HOURS when it will really only take me TEN MINUES. So I have a game devised to play with the first of two sets of SEVENTY sixth through twelvth graders who will be sitting in on this little workshop and probably shooting spitballs at me and calling me fag. I know none of this really concerns you anyway, because YOU ARE THE WRONG PERSON. It was meant for Mr. KONG who is not even HERE YET. I'm sorry I just went with the first Asian sounding last name I heard. Hey, btw, my middle name is Lee, isn't that cool?

Dear EZ Pass Users on 495 towards the Queens Midtown Tunnel

I'm sorry that I had to be the jackass holding up the toll booth for a good ten minutes in rush hour traffic. The rental car company put EZ Pass in the car, so I just assumed it would work. I'm also sorry to the very angry police officer who was manning the situation. Thanks for letting me through. And just stick that five bucks for the toll in your pocket because I'M SURE THAT'S WHAT YOU DID.

Love Comes Quickly, Whatever You do...

Well I hope everyone had a merry Christmas and Happy Holidaze. So far as Christmas at home goes, for me it was what is to be expected. A lot of food, a lot of chatter, a maelstrom of denial and repression. I can count on my grandmother to fill me in on the dish I’m not getting from my parents, as that woman keeps her ear to the ground, I tell ya. That might be where I get it from.

My little 4 year old cousin G is buck wild and I liked to have fell on the floor laughing when his grandmother told him at one point: “Santa and Jesus BOTH are listening to you today!”

Enough about the homestead, though. In the off hours I met my little internet friend and I am so in love with him. So sweet and pretty. I would give it all up for him. I met another little friend of mine too, and I did give it all up for him. I am fucking in love with him, for real. But I don’t want to come off crazy so of course I’m keeping that to myself. At any rate I expect coldness and shade as is the story of my life upon finding one I want to keep, even if he is a thousand miles away. I ain’t gonna be in the Big, Rotten Apple forever, so I’ve got my eyes open globally. But sadly I think this one might be done with me, with limited response to messages and what-not. He also happens to be deaf, and he can’t speak a whole lot either -- the perfect man. But que sera sera. Another flash in the pan.

Walk It Out: Fosse!

From the comments: "the dance that those bitches do was fuckin' meant for this song... and this song only."

Saturday, December 22, 2007

Ode to Jamie Lynn Spears

Judi Dench:

Wednesday, December 19, 2007


You know that's what Mama Spears said when she found out that sixteen year old Jamie Lynn Spears, Britney's little sis, is pregnant. Parents of tween girls recoil in horror. I wonder what this will mean for her lucrative Nickelodean career. The Zoey in Zoey 101 can't be a teen mom, can she? Well, we still have Hannah Montana aka Miley Cyrus, who I hope is well informed about her birth control options. Jeesh. Those Spears girls can't stop pushing out babies that will forever attach them to some man who's gonna take a shitload of their money. Seriously I need to go on Nickelodean to announce to these girls of today that you have to wrap it before you tap it!

I'll always love Britney, I'll admit, even when she's drunk and stumbling around with fat rolls hanging out. Especially when she's drunk and stumbling around with fat rolls hanging out! Blackout is kind of good, and I love "Piece of Me", which is, like, her response to all her bad media and stuff. Now Jamie Lynn's gonna have to write one.

Wednesday, December 12, 2007

Text Message Exchange

Both touched my heart and made me laugh:

Sent to K: "I need a miracle. Like the oil on Hanukka."

Reply from K: "Girl, u r the miracle."

Monday, December 10, 2007

Follow the Yellow Brick Road

Wicked is -- and this might strike you as extreme -- one of the best books I've ever read. There is a part towards the end when Dorothy arrives via tornado, and the Wicked Witch of the West -- our hero -- comes to learn that Dorothy has been instructed to seek her out and kill her. A little boy who has been tagging along with the Witch is in discussion with her about this Dorothy, who is so innocent and pure and mysterious that everyone loves the little bitch, despite her irritating yappy dog. The Witch doesn't know if she should pity her or fear her, she just wants the shoes she has, which are rightfully hers, thank you. The boy mentions that she and her motley crew -- tin man, scarecrow and cowardly lion -- are all going to the nefarious Wizard in hopes of having their wishes granted. Dorothy's wish is simply to be sent home. The Witch asks the boy, "What would you wish for if the Wizard could and would grant it?" to which the boy replies "A father." Awww.

He asks her the same question.

"Some peace and quiet," she says.

I relate to that green Witch in profound ways.

And on that note I'm going out into The Loud at 11:00 PM on a Monday night. Holla.

Friday, December 07, 2007

Other Duties as Assigned

I think that every job description in the history of mankind has included "other duties as assigned," which basically means that no matter what they've hired you for, if they ask you to do some bullshit you still have to do it. It's a seemingly innocent little addition that means you've signed your life away to an employer.

The other day I had my performance evaluation. It went well, I guess, as I am told I "meet expectations in all areas, and exceed them in some." Woot. During this exercise in futility, where we went over my review forms line by line, my boss says to me, "and thank you for doing all those administrative tasks without ever saying 'that's not in my job description!'" because we are without an administrative assistant, so I basically do that full time job too, though she want's to hire someone for it "on a part time basis." But what gets my goat is, rather than just leave at that and make me feel good about my obedience and servitude, she has to throw in, "of course those things are covered under 'other duties as assigned.'" So why even thank me for doing them? I mean you know if you tell me to go shovel piles of dog shit behind the building, you know I'm gonna do it.

Today was The World Church of Assimilation Holiday Extravaganza and Staff Appreciation Event, for which I was on the planning committee. It went off without a hitch, but the whole time I couldn't help but think if this is a staff appreciation event, then what about the six of us who are planning it? I appreciate myself, indeed. During the set up there was a need for a table and couch from another floor, which I got singlehandedly because I am awesome and all powerful, but managed to crush my foot under the huge glass tabletop.

Lately I feel increasingly like I work at the wrong place. I like my job. I like the little perks, and there are a few. But if I have to sit in a holiday party that I planned and listen to a gospel choir and endless prayers -- one to open, one before the food, one to close -- I'm really going to lose it. Religion haunts me and I can't figure out for the life of me how I've ended up working for one in a career capacity for longer than any other job I've ever had. Maybe God is trying to tell me something, but I doubt it, and I doubt my doubts.

Wednesday, December 05, 2007

2 Girls, One Cup Song

If you do not know about "Two Girls, One Cup," do not try to find out about it. Seriously: do not try to find out. You will be sorry. For the rest of your life. For the love of God, don't view it. I can't express this strongly enough. You've been warned. Just don't go there.

But if you have discovered "Two Girls, One Cup", you might find this funny:

I'm bitter, honey

with apologies to whats-his-name

December is the cruelest month,
With its violent lists and mandatory participation.
It is pretty enough,
Snow white, blonde and hateful.
It doesn’t hear a word you say
And it sees through your picket signs.
It shrivels your dick up with a long breathe
And stuffs its turkey with your heart and hard work.
It dresses up like Santa and kills your family
Over milk and cookies. It takes your last dime
To shoot your children up on heroin
the color of piss on snow.
December comes once a year
With a grudge and a bag of bloody tricks
To manipulate you with its proof
That everyone loves red, green, knit hats
and a good snow in December.

Monday, December 03, 2007

Something to think about in the age of "Internet Hookups"

The internet has largely replaced places like bathhouses and cruise spots -- though not entirely -- for finding quick gay sex. Everyone who uses the interent for this purpose knows the dangers and has heard of real-life scenarios like this one: Another Adam4Adam murder. You can click through for the video of the news segment. Very sad.

To tell your children that Santa is real

is to tell them a lie. I'm sorry, I know people get all bent out of shape over this. I'm not saying you're a bad person. Or a bad parent. It's still a lie though.

Saturday, December 01, 2007