Showing posts with label I'm not Sayin' - I'm Just Sayin'. Show all posts
Showing posts with label I'm not Sayin' - I'm Just Sayin'. Show all posts

Monday, December 22, 2014

GayProf's Holiday Gift Guide 2014

Holidays always seem like a period of extreme endurance to me. For weeks we struggle with crowds of shoppers, awkward conversations with distant relatives, and even more awkward conversations with close relatives. Everybody scrambles and agonizes over what gift to buy that special somebody in their lives. For me, I don’t need lots of things just to prove that people adore me. No, no. In the immortal words of Pearl Bailey, just give me a five-pound box of money. Cash, after all, is always the perfect size and always the perfect color.

Not everybody, I recognize, has my pragmatic sense of the world. Many of you want to send just the right message with a present this year. To help you all out, here is my [almost]annual gift guide. Allow me to decipher just what those hidden messages are behind the gifts we give.
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    THE GIFT: Tortoise shell hair combs with jeweled rims.

    WHAT THE GIVER MEANT: I clearly had not anticipated that you were going to cut your hair like a Coney Island chorus girl. Why, oh, why did I sell my grandfather's gold watch for these damn things?

    WHAT THE RECEIVER THINKS: Hey, at least my hair will be long and luxurious again in a few months. Good luck growing a new gold watch.

    ***

    THE GIFT: A 500-page summary outlining the CIA’s illegal and ineffective use of torture.

    WHAT THE GIVER MEANT: Your Congress is hard at work and on top of things – thirteen years after they happen!

    WHAT THE RECEIVER THINKS: If somebody actually ends up doing jailtime for this, it would be the best Christmas present ever!

    ***
    THE GIFT: A commemorative statue of Batman’s 75th anniversary.

    WHAT THE GIVER MEANT: You’re kinda a nerd.

    WHAT THE RECEIVE THINKS: A statue of Batman -- the lesser Zorro.

    ***
    THE GIFT: An announcement by Jeb Bush that he will be running for President of the United States.

    WHAT THE GIVER MEANT:This nation has been foolish enough to let two other members of this mediocre family become president. Why not me?

    WHAT THE RECEIVER THINKS: Isn't there a way to keep this family sequestered on an island somewhere?

    *** THE GIFT: A poem about a visit from St. Nicholas

    WHAT THE GIVER MEANT: Aren’t I clever?

    WHAT THE RECEIVER THINKS: Other children get actual gifts from St. Nicholas. All I got was a cloying set of sloppy rhyming couplets. Worst. Christmas. Ever.

    ***
    THE GIFT: Normalized relations with Cuba.

    WHAT THE GIVER MEANT: This has been a complicated and difficult set of diplomatic negotiations that will have lasting impact on this hemisphere and beyond.

    WHAT THE RECEIVER THINKS: Finally! I will be able to get a bottle of Havana Club rum without having to smuggle it across the U.S.-Mexican border.

    ***
    THE GIFT: Flesh, wine, and pine logs

    WHAT THE GIVER MEANT: You shall dine well tonight and be warm!

    WHAT THE RECEIVER THINKS: Uh, that’s nice for tonight. What about the other 364 days when I live in grinding poverty? This neighborhood is a dump! We get landslides from the mountain; the forest fence needs repair; and I can't even remember the last time that Saint Agnes’ fountain actually had water in it! Your cruel tyranny has allowed the accumulation of wealth among the few.

    ***
    THE GIFT: Crystal wine glasses

    WHAT THE GIVER MEANT: Your stemware situation is grievous.

    WHAT THE RECEIVER THINKS: These are better than drinking out of a bottle in a paper bag I suppose.

    ***
    THE GIFT: A collection of money to replace the missing deposit that your uncle was supposed to make for the savings and loan.

    WHAT THE GIVER MEANT: We are a shockingly selfish set of humans making a token gesture. We will never really acknowledge our parasitic dependence on you or that our lives would have certainly turned to crime and/or alcoholism had you not been around.

    WHAT THE RECEIVER THINKS: Great, I get to avoid jail time for a mistake that I did not actually make. Otherwise, my life remains focused on playing nursemaid to an entire community. God, I hate this town.


    ***
    THE GIFT: A diamond tennis bracelet.

    WHAT THE GIVER MEANT: Television tells me to buy these.

    WHAT THE RECEIVER THINKS: If I look closely, I can almost see the blood inside each one.

    ***
    THE GIFT: A video of our employees making paper airplanes out of boarding passes.
    WHAT THE GIVER MEANT: You all are sheep and won’t notice the cripplingly expensive airfares we charge despite the low prices of fuel.

    WHAT THE RECEIVER THINKS: The holidays are that special time of year when I become nostalgic for the era when our nation actually enforced its anti-trust laws.

    ***
    THE GIFT: A three-month gym membership.

    WHAT THE GIVER MEANT: I plan to break up with you soon, but I want to make you feel as badly about yourself as possible beforehand.

    WHAT THE RECEIVER THINKS: Gee, if ever I begin to doubt what a small person that you are, I can just think of this gift.

    ***
    THE GIFT: A “shared services” center designed by an outside consulting firm for $11 million.

    WHAT THE GIVER MEANT: Faculty who protest this should really just shut-up and teach.

    WHAT THE RECEIVER THINKS: Apparently I work at a university that values its employees at the same depth as a Texas Wal-Mart.

    ***
    THE GIFT: The opportunity to carry flesh, wine, and pine logs through the bitter cold so that I can look like a saint.

    WHAT THE GIVER MEANT: Walk in my footsteps and you will find the winter’s rage freeze thy blood less coldly.

    WHAT THE RECEIVER THINKS: You know what would freeze my blood less coldly? If you handed over your ermine cloak, you selfish bastard.


    ***
    THE GIFT: A blog post after months, or even years, of absence.

    WHAT THE GIVER MEANT: I can still be funny, right?

    WHAT THE RECEIVER THINKS: Oh, are you still alive?

    ***
    THE GIFT: The complete DVD box set of WKRP in Cincinnati.


    WHAT THE GIVER MEANT: Aren’t you nostalgic for the time when AM radio stations played rock’n’roll?

    WHAT THE RECEIVER THINKS: What is a radio station?

    ***
    THE GIFT: The opportunity to guide my sleigh through a blizzard.

    WHAT THE GIVER MEANT: I used to think you were a cruel freak of nature. Now that you have some marginal use to me, I am more than glad to exploit your labor.

    WHAT THE RECEIVER THINKS: After tonight, I am converting to Judaism and running away with Hermey, my gay lover.

    ***
    THE GIFT: A Republican controlled Congress.

    WHAT THE GIVER MEANT: I hate America.

    WHAT THE RECEIVER THINKS: Looks like I picked the wrong holiday to quit drinking.


Well, on that final cheerful note, I will simply extend my best non-sectarian, non-denominational winter greetings to you all. Enjoy the gifts whatever their hidden meanings.

Friday, June 28, 2013

Baby, If You've Ever Wondered

Another year has elapsed in the adventures of GayProf. We are starting the end of my thirties and it ain't pretty, people. Fortunately, I was able to have per-celebrations visiting VUBOQ and his Amazing Friends. There was much eating and drinking and climbing of broken escalators.

Apparently the Supreme Court also decided to give me an early gift by declaring me almost-human. Well, almost-human as long as my home state's legislature or court thinks of me as such. Whatever the case, as we all know, I use my birthday as a time to take stock of my life by making comparisons to others’ life journeys, real or imagined, at the same age. It is a little macabre habit tired gimmick ritual that I have. I’m not sayin', I'm just sayin'.

    If I were Andy Travis at age 39, it would have been six years since I moved to Cincinnati, Ohio from my hometown of Santa Fe, New Mexico.



    If I were Dolly Parton at 39, I would contradictorily record two songs entitled “Real Love” and “Don’t Call It Love" this year.

    If I were Paul Lynde at age 39, this is the year I would make my first appearance in the television show Bewitched. My role was not Uncle Arthur (which I would originate at age 40), but rather the outlandishly mortal Harold Harold who attempts to teach Samantha how to drive a car.

    If I were Mr. Carlson, it would be another five years before I hired Andy Travis as Program Director of WKRP.

    If I were Paula Deen, I would be a racist idiot.

    If I were either of my parents at age 39, I would have three children. The oldest would be nineteen and the youngest would be twelve.

    If I were Oscar Wilde, this is the year I would produce my play A Woman of No Importance.

    If I were Lyle Waggoner, this is the year that I would leave The Carol Burnett Show to play the role of Wonder Woman’s boyfriend, Steve Trevor. Aside: The realization that I was the same age as Steve Trevor sorta made me feel better about aging.



    If I were Harvey Milk, this is the year that I would move to San Francisco for the first time.

    If I were Che Guevara, I would be executed this year after failing to incite revolution in Bolivia.

    If I were Dick Sargent, this is the year I would replace Dick York as Darrin Stephens in the television show Bewitched. Apparently, Elizabeth Montgomery liked to hang around the gays. I'm not sayin', I'm just sayin'.

    If I were Les Nessman, I would have met Andy Travis last year. Aside: The realization that I was the same age as Les sorta made me want to kill myself.


    If I were Adam West, this would be my last year playing Batman. I would, however, continue to do the Batusi on demand.

    If I were Venus Flytrap, it would have been ten years since Andy Travis convinced me to quit my job as a science teacher and become a DJ.

    If I were Marylin Monroe, I would have been dead for three years.

    If I were Miguel Antonio Otero II, I would have been governor of New Mexico for two years.

    If I were Mary Richards, I would have been fired from WJM-TV two years ago.


    If I were Johnny Fever, Andy Travis would have freed me from playing music by the Hallelujah Tabernacle Choir in order to play rock’n’roll last year.

    If I were Jesus, I would have been dead for six years.

    Anna Nicole Smith died at age 39.

    If I were Pearl Bailey, it would have been ten years since I appeared in Variety Girl with Bob Hope.



    If were Leonardo DiCaprio, this is the year I would bore audiences with yet another film version of The Great Gatsby.

    Activist Harry Hay officially launched the gay-rights group known as the Mattachine Society at age 39. Given it was 1951, he was considered quite daring.


    If I were Sofia Vergara, this is the year I would be voted the “most desirable woman”.

    If I were Billie Holiday, this is the year that I would first tour Europe and release my LP Billie Holiday for Clef Records.

    If I were Alois Schicklgruber, this is the year that I would change my surname to “Hitler.” It would be another 13 years before the birth of my evil-incarnate son Adolf.

    If I were Audrey Hepburn, this is the year that I would marry Italian psychiatrist Andrea Dotti.

    If I were Dinah Washington, a.k.a. “Queen of the Blues”, I would die of an accidental overdose of sleeping pills in my Detroit home this year.


    If I were Jennifer Marlow, nobody would know my age by my own design.

    If I were Octavio Ambrosio Larrazolo, I would be practicing law in Las Vegas, New Mexico. It would be another twenty years before I would be the first elected Mexican American governor in the United States.

    If I were Jenny McCarthy, this is they year I would pose for Playboy. Everyone else would wonder how I ever became famous in the first place.

    If I were GayProf, I would be under the delusion that people still know this blog exists.

    Jaclyn Smith at 39 was reigning as the “Queen of Television Mini-Movie” by starring in both George Washington and The Night They Saved Christmas.

    If I were Kate Jackson, I would be diagnosed with a malignant tumor after my first ever mammogram. It would be my last year as one of the titular characters in Scarecrow and Mrs. King.

    If I were Cher, I would have created the film production company Isis and filmed one of my most memorable roles as Florence “Rusty” Dennis in the movie Mask at age 39.

    If I were Jacqueline Kennedy, this is the year that I would become Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis.


    If I were Barbie, I would become a Nascar driver this year because, why not?

    If I were Spartacus star Andy Whitfield, I would die this year of non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma.

    If I were Franklin D. Roosevelt at age 39, this is the year I would contract my paralytic illness.

    If I were Farrah Fawcett, I would win critical acclaim for my acting in the film Extremities.

    If I were Wonder Woman, I would age another 2,452 years before joining Patriarch’s world to fight crime.

Monday, October 15, 2012

The CoG Best Sellers List

Time sure is flying. With the start of the semester, I barely have time to read blogs much less write one. Apparently I am not alone in being in such a time crunch. It seems that the President is so busy that he doesn’t even have time to do those little things, like send flowers to Michele for their anniversary or prepare for a nationally televised debate. I’m not sayin’, I’m just sayin’. . .

The good news from GayProflandia is that NERPoD is having some modest success in terms of sales. Have you purchased your copy yet? It is also available for your nook or kindle.I'm not sayin', I'm just sayin'. . .

Of course, no academic book can compete with the dozens of political tell-alls or "road maps to political oblivion" that appear each election cycle. All of this political publishing has me thinking about one of my favorite recurring features on CoG: The Best and Worst Seller List. Allow me to help you navigate which books would be likely to fly off the shelves and which would be reduced to the bargain bin.

    Best Seller: Occupy Sesame Street, by Big Bird

    Bargain Bin: Mr. Snuffleupagus is Real, George W. Bush

    Bargain Bin: Horse Dressage is More Interesting than My Husband and Other Regrets, by Ann Romney

    Best Seller: The Horrors of Horse Dressage, by Ann Romney’s Horse

    Best Seller: Who Lets These People Have Pets?: An Argument for Stricter Pet Adoption Laws, by Seamus Romney

    Best Seller: Blogging for Career Success! by Historiann and Tenured Radical

    Bargain Bin: Blogging for Career Success! by GayProf

    Bargain Bin: My Indian Heritage, by Elizabeth Warren

    Bargain Bin: My Mexican Heritage, by George Romney

    Bargain Bin: Tastes Like Type II Diabetes: Favorite Southern Recipes, by Paula Dean

    Bargain Bin: Tastes Like Hate: Favorite Chic-fil-a Recipes, by Dan Cathy

    Bargain Bin: Tastes Like Gerrymandering: Favorite Recipes for a Republican Victory, by Republican Controlled Legislatures

    Best Seller: A Bunny’s Tale: My Time as a Playboy Cocktail Waitress, by Gloria Steinem

    Bargain Bin: A Dumb Bunny’s Tale: My Time as a Cosmo Centerfold, by Scott Brown


    Bargain Bin: Union Busting Ain’t Just for Republicans Anymore, by Rohn Emanuel

    Best Seller: Not Enough Money in the World: A Fair Salary for Teaching Your Spoiled Brats, by School Teachers Everywhere

    Bargain Bin: Basic Female Biology, by Todd Aiken

    Bargain Bin: Smart and Fair Immigration Reform in Arizona, by Jan Brewer

    Best Seller: My Secret Life as a Podling, by Jan Brewer


    Bargain Bin: Say Anything: My New Plan to Get the Votes of the Despicable Leeches Who Compose 47 Percent of the Nation’s Population, by Mitt Romney

    Best Seller: We’re Not That Stupid, by 47 Percent of the Nation’s Population

    Best Seller: Hope and Change, by Barack Obama, 2008

    Bargain Bin: Lowered Expectations and the Status Quo, by Barack Obama, 2012

    Best Seller: The People Have Spoken and Now the People Must Suffer, by Hillary Rodham Clinton, 2008

    Best Seller: My Life in Pictures, by Michelle Obama

    Bargain Bin: My Life in Pictures, by Chris Christie

    Bargain Bin: Fifty Shades of Crazy, by Michele Bachmann

    Best Seller: Tips and Tricks for Being an Effective Public Speaker, by Bill Clinton

    Bargain Bin: Cigar Aficionado, by Bill Clinton

    Best Seller: Where Am I?, by Apple iPhone 5 Users


    Bargain Bin: Where Am I?, by Jim Lehrer

    Bargain Bin: The Gym is My Closet, by Paul Ryan *cough* What? How else do you explain a self-proclaimed "devout Catholic" with only three children? Either he is risking eternal damnation by using birth control or . . . I’m not sayin’, I’m just sayin’. . .

    Best Seller: No Respect: My Life as Politics’ Rodney Dangerfield, by Joe Biden

    Bargain Bin: Living a Clean, Natural Lifestyle, by Lance Armstrong

    Best Seller: Hulk Smash: My Life with Lance Armstrong, by Sheryl Crow

    Bargain Bin: Derivative Dribble Sells! by Adele

    Best Seller: That Adele Bitch Stole My Act, by Shirley Bassey

Wednesday, December 08, 2010

Inside the Blogging Studio with VUBOQ


Over the past five years, blogging has allowed me to meet some mighty cool people in real life. On that list is the ever effervescent VUBOQ (not to mention his superfantabulous cuzin who happens to be my superfantabulous neighbor). The time had come for us to sit down for a special holiday spectacular:

***

VUBOQ: As you all know, GayProf is Full of the Gravitas. However, I am lucky enough to know the GayProf in the Real Life (yay! You may all envy/worship me). And, since I know him in the Real Life, I know that he is not always Full of the Gravitas. Sometimes he is Full of the Light-Heartedness and Fun and, sometimes he can be a little bit silly (especially after a couple of bottles of red wine).

GayProf: Ugh – I was full of the Spanish red. Man, I still have a hangover from your visit.

VUBOQ: So, for this joint post, my goal is to show the rest of Blogtopia this side of the GayProf. We are going to discuss the fun, the frivolous, the sparkly, the glittery, and the tons of f**king sequins.



But, we are going to start with the Food (and the booze!) ...

I had the very good fortune to visit GayProf in Midwestern Funky Town recently (you may have read about it!). During that visit, he taught me and my superfantabulous cuzin how to make tamales. For those of you who don't know, GayProf is from New Mexico, which is not a foreign country (*cough* right *cough*). BUT, they do make foreign food ... like tamales! Normally, the tamales are made with the pork products. Such as pork. and lard. However, GayProf, knowing that I am vegetarian and have eschewed all meat, made his beloved tamales without the pieces of shredded and mutilated dead pig. Our tamales were made with Crisco© (*gasp*) and beans.


GayProf: I still can’t believe that I grew up believing that Crisco© was somehow a healthy alternative to lard. They lied to me! Lard is really the only way to go. It is the secret ingredient to all great Mexican cooking.

VUBOQ: Piglet (no matter how delicious he may be) did not die for our tamales. And they were YUMMERz. Really. Ask the GayProf's Sparkly Contingent of Gays who were at his little dinner party (we'll be discussing the place settings later ... trust me).

GayProf: You’re not going to mock my dishmania, are you?

VUBOQ: Never. I may playfully poke fun, though. Anyway, his willingness to cast aside his love for Cruelly Raised and Brutally Slaughtered Pigs just for my eating preference is yet another reason I totes *heart* the GayProf.



GayProf: It turns out that I was eager to try a tamale alternative to my usual (absurdly delicious) pork filled versions. Beans worked out pretty well. It does make me wonder, though, why Mexican food in general doesn’t get the respect it deserves. To my mind, it is one of the classic world cuisines: easily identifiable and supremely influential. Yet, the only time the mainstream media gives it any credit is if a white boy adopted it (i.e. Bobby Flay or Rick Balis).

VUBOQ: Which brings us to the main point of this section: VEGETARIAN COOKING. It really isn't that difficult. And modifying UberMeaty recipes into something a vegetarian can eat isn't that difficult. Right, GayProf?

GayProf: Vegetarian cooking is hell. It’s only because I adore you so that I even attempt it.



You see, I only know how to make basically six things. Five of them involve meat in some form or another. I was glad that the bean tamales turned out somewhat okay. Otherwise it would have been quiche forever.

VUBOQ: There is nothing wrong with the quiche. Real men eat it, I hear.

GayProf: Don’t get me wrong, I admire the vegetarians (less so the vegans, who just take things too damn far (Hate mail for GayProf can be sent in care of VUBOQ at blogspot.com)). If I spend anytime thinking about the way animals suffer for our food, it makes me want to be a vegetarian. But, then I don’t think about it. La-la-la-la-la-la – Can’t hear you. I am pretty weak willed when it comes to meat, as it turns out.

Still, I’m not somebody who has to eat meat everyday. I am more than happy to have a basic bean burrito as my meal. Plus, I adore tofu. As I recall, somebody was supposed to give me a cooking lesson with tofu while he visited. **cough-cough**

It does remind me of those faux vegetarians we talked about while you were in MFT. I’ll do my best to accommodate guests who are really committed to vegetarianism (or who have similar religious convictions), but I have no patience for the people who are “vegetarian,” but make exceptions for seafood. What evidence is there that a tuna is somehow less likely to suffer pain and panic than a chicken? Frankly, it seems likely to me that a tuna is probably a bit smarter than chickens. And, as cooking goes, few things are more cruel than lobster and crab. Vegetarians who eat seafood are like people who claim that they are kosher, except they love a side of bacon in a thick cream gravy every now and again. I’m not sayin’, I’m just sayin’.

VUBOQ: Yes, the fake vegetarians grate on my last nerve. Although, I have found that their calling themselves “vegetarian” is because they don’t know the correct word for their particular eating habits. Fish-eating vegetarians are pescatarians, derived from the Greek root “pesce” meaning “not a vegetarian.” Vegetarians who eat chicken (or any other meat product) are Filthy Dirty Liars.

Haha! I kid. Vegetarians, who sometimes supplement their diets with the flesh of dead animals, are flexitarians. See? You can learn something and still be sparkly and fabulous. Now, go forth and educate the masses!


GayProf: Flexitarians? I thought that was a category on Manhunt.

***
Tune in tomorrow at VUBOQ's place for the conclusion of our musings.