Oh dear,

How dare this ghost from the past (in her comedic pulchritude) even dare to show her fat face. I thought she had a self-indulgent hissy fit and promised to destroy her livejournal.

Unfortunately for you, her fatness has had a shitty New Year`s eve... ergo, you shall die.

Like now.

Fuck you.

Love,

Me

Scratch the deletion of my livejournal. It was perhaps a fit of pique.

Besides, without this tool, how might I keep an eye on all of you?

I still won't be posting much, though.

There is a mass of folks walking down 12th in front of my house right now. I think it's for breast cancer (although I thought that already happened earlier this summer, but more the better, I suppose.)

So while I truly support walk/run/jog/cavort/skip/caper things for any kind of illness, I do not support...

MY FUCKING NEIGHBORS WAKING ME UP BY STANDING ON THE SIDE OF THE ROAD SCREAMING, "YAY! WAKE MY NEIGHBORS UP!" and therefore, waking me up. And we all know that waking Patrick up is not a pretty sight.

Am I being a Scrooge here? It's not even 9:00 in the morning- what happened to the Emily Post rule about not waking folks up before 9:00?

So I totally loved Lisa Turtle on Saved by the Bell, but I just watched this former child star thing and Lark Voorhies is totally a creepy Jehova's Witness.

I. Seriously. Had. No. Idea.

Sad.

After a couple weeks of that Paula Abdul reality show, I've determined that Miss Paula is pretty much myself- but as a celebrity, 15 years older and a woman. (Although... I guess I'm kind of a woman. Whatever.)

Pay attention to the show.

When she's exhausted, she sounds about the same as me when I'm drunk. Or exhausted. Or both... or either.

That is so fabulous. In kind of a sad way, but, oh well.

It's almost all over- the end of spring to midsummer or further insanity. Thank god. There is a big part of me that loves all the craziness, but physically it becomes draining. May through August of go-go-go is quite a trip, but I will be happy when it's reached an end.

Anyhow... this coming weekend will be quite busy, and y'all should come out-

Friday - See if you can catch the Sisters during our Nuns of the Above candlelight procession from CC's to the Eagle. We will be leaving candles with pictures of those Sisters who serve in the hereafter at every bar we get to. At the Eagle, we'll be joining in the fun at Detention... watch out we don't send you to see the Principal Buffalino! (Actually, I'd be happy to be punished by Tony Buff any day.)

Saturday - Come come come to Nuns Gone Wild: Sisters Behaving Badly!. I know everyone's enjoyed our last two shows, and this one should be just as fun. Again, it's at Re-Bar, $10 at the door or tickets available at Brown Paper Tickets. Door 7, show 8.

On Sunday, there's a brunch I'm attending for the Saints of the Seattle SPI, and after that... well... I get a weekend off! (Then it starts again with the Queen City Cruise, TRC Foam Party and Vancouver Pride... oh well!)

Anyone have plans over the weekend of the 20th-22nd? I'd like to be (relatively) normal and non-made-up for a weekend this summer. Let me know.

Why is it I end up feeling so unprideful at the end of nearly every Pride?

So... currently, my world is bliss.

The Exorcist

+

Bacon and Eggs

=

Bliss

WOO HOO!

So I retreated to Issaquah yesterday and will be here for a while today. It's been a nice mini-vacation with the parents and aunt in honor of Mother's Day.

Anyhow... now I'm watching my mom and aunt scream at each other over the operation of the hose. Roberta (my aunt) insists it's time to water the pots on the deck, even though rain is impending. My mom disagrees and also feels Roberta is using the hose somehow incorrectly, which will clearly lead to the destruction of the water line, house and world in general.

I love my family.

Is there any lovely soul out there who has some fabulous pictures of myself? I have a serious dearth of them- in drag, nun-face or otherwise.

Please help if you can. Thanks!

So how did a weekend that seem relatively low key at the beginning of this week suddenly turn into yet another ball of crazy?

Oh well! It shall be fun, though.

There are so manny veins running through my hands.

ARAARARARARARAREARARARARAAAAAAAAAAAGH!

I hate being on a different schedule than everyone.

Everyone should be quite aware that I am cognizant of the fact that all heterosexuals are not shitbags. Indeed, the ratios of crappy folk in both the heteroseuxal and homosexual communities are probably pretty similar.

However, the specific chunk of Pike I mention (more definitively, it's the area between Boylston and 11th-ish after the hour of 11pm) is lousy with idiot fratboy types, wannabe thugs and the like. Walking through there is a bit of a trial, and, really, I should not be called "faggot" on Capitol Hill.

I refuse to be complacent about the deterioration of a former safe zone.

At the risk of sounding like an asshole, and also un-Sisterly to boot...

GET OFF THE HILL, YOU FUCKING BREEDERS.

(This entry brought to you by the "Walking Down Pike Between The War Room and The Comet Is Really Irritating Comission.")

Dear You,

My god, have I been busy. Work is working me to the bone, and on an odd schedule, too. Lots of late-late-then early-then earlier-then later-finally earliest shit, although my official training is over this week, so hopefully it'll calm down. At least it's a five day store so I can sleep on weekends. Which I've been doing. Either that, sleeping, watching bad TV in a half-comatose state, or doing nun stuff. I have been a very busy bee.

I went to the Red Dress Party in PDX this year and had a DIVINE time. Much better than the year before, which was marginal, as the party was overfull, badly organized and frigid. This year, I got to work the door with Sister Greezelda Greedlay, from Vegas (whom I adore) and had a blast when not on shift, besides. I ended up staying up until 6:45 Sunday morning, as there was an unofficial afterparty at the Jupiter Hotel, which was where the other Seattle girls and 90% of the Red Dress out-of-town guests were staying. I haven't done that in a while and it was much needed stress relief.

I will be seeing many of you all tomorrow and look forward to it, and this Saturday I am one of the command performances at the LaFemme Grotesque contest. It's at Neighbours- door 6, show 7, $3.00. It promises to probably be a helluva lot more entertaining than the average pageant, as it's scary drag queens, which is amusing, and it's not put on by the Court, which means a minimum of pageantish bullshit.

Hurrah!

Love,

Me

Since Shaun insisted, we got cable. That means I have a functional TV for the first time in like four years, which means I've been a TV whore. Beyond the Food Network and reruns of Girls Next Door and The Simple Life on E, I watch Bravo, because I'm just that gay.

There's a new series starting called Shear Genius, which has haircutting people cutting hair, or something. I saw a preview and, to the answer to, "which hairstyle would you be?" the following hottie lisped, "a fashion week chignon."




I AM IN LOVE. We all know how I like the flaming queens who say, "chignon." Anyhoo... I wonder if his carpet matches his drapes. Probably not. That'd just be too perfect.

In any case... all good daughters will Fetch Him for Mommy.

I've decided that while spring is lovely and divine, I kinda hate it. Okay, let me specify - I hate allergies and I hate the major case of the classic spring horny fever I get every year.

So! Hurrah for warmer weather. Boo for a head like an ovveripe melon and an overcharged libido with no outlet.

In other news, this week was my first week in my new position at my new store. All goes well. I enjoy my new co-workers and I shall be kicking ass.

That is all.

Oh my. So I've moved. It all happened rather quickly and I'm kinda still getting used to it.

It was time to make a change, and dragonabsolut and I parted ways on perfectly amicable terms. Which is fabulous... didn't want to upset the kids. Anyhow, I now live on 12th, in the building between Topolino Pizza/Burrito Express and the Broadway Pet Hospital. My roommate is Shaun AKA Sister Daya Reckoning. He's great and has just about as much shit as I do, which means our place is stuffed to the gills with all sorts of useful and really fucking useless things.

I love the place. It's pretty damn big. I'm no good with square footage and stuff, but I think it's around 1000-1100 square feet, with a huge ass balcony. I've decided it must be referred to as "the lanai". One of the big highlights is the fact that I have my own bedroom! Yay! Finally! A DOOR! I'm pissing with delight.

We will be having a housewarming. I will keep everyone apprised. If anyone would like to visit, feel free to give me a call, of course!

As most of you know, I am an adoptee. After years of internal conflict on the issue, I have recently decided that I at least want to find out who my birth parents are and potentially even contact them. I have yet to break this news to my parents, although I'm sure they in no way would try to prevent me in my search, although as to how they'd feel and whether they'd share those feelings with me is another issue entirely.

I was born and adopted in Oregon, and all adoptions in that state are open. Which means that finding birth mom and dad should be relatively easy. The hard part will be figuring out if to contact them, and what to even say if I did so.

I mean... what would I say when calling up a birthmother on the phone? "Hey! I'm Patrick! You gave birth to me 25 years ago or so when you were 17. Wanna talk?"

Jesus, this is kind of strange...