Assisted Living : Passive-Aggressive

A little while ago, I noticed the OG was slowing down. I went to the handy interwebs and did a little research on the next generation of canes (we have progressed from a standard cane to one with 4 posts-Quad Cane

This seemed to work for a while, a long while actually, but now it was time to go to the rolling walker with seat

I assembled the walker after work, while he was watching TV. I asked him to give it a try. He said to me with astonishment and outrage: "I don't need that!". And because I am an IDIOT, I responded. I cited all the reasons that he did. Then after exhausting myself with my own craziness, I set the walker in the corner and left the room. About 15 minutes later, he came to me to ask me how it worked.

You would think that I would have already learned that lesson. Many days, when the temperature is cool, 75 degrees (I do know how ludicrous this sounds to those outside of southern California), He refuses to go in the "Hot" Tub-spa. But, I say (note the pattern here) "it is 104 degrees IN the tub, and you have a big fury robe to warm you up after." To no avail. So I go to my room, busy myself with drugs and alcohol, and soon he is walking down the hall in his swim shorts and towel.

Moral to the story: Concede early and shut the heck up!

The Story of FED UP FEM FOILS FELON

I remember the day. Warm enough to ride a bike and want to spend the afternoon in the movies. I went to Pink Floyd’s The Wall by myself. It was shown at the now defunct but much remembered St. Marks Movie Theater at 134 2nd Avenue and St.Marks. I just googled it and as of that picture, it is a clothing store; who knows what it is in 2013. People loved that theater because you could smoke pot in it. They had couches, but being the middle class California transplant I didn’t dare sit on them. I did love that they existed, tho. So the movie. I am not sure why I even went. I was not a fan of Pink FLoyd and I had no idea what the film was supposed to be about. Still don’t. I do remember that it had very violent images mostly against women. When I exited the film, I think it was around 5 or 6pm, I rode my bike towards 3rd on 9th. I was looking for a hip resto that I had heard about. As I approached the corner, I saw a kerfuffle. A woman of about 60 was distraught shouting about her purse had been taken, to my right down Stuyvesant St towards 2nd, a man was running with the purse, followed by another, whom I call the Good Samaritan. I began following both of them. Oh did I mention I was on my bike? They ran down 10th to 1st avenue and it was about here that the Good Samaritan lost his mojo, having less of an incentive to keep going than the perp. But unbeknownst to both of them, I was there. I followed at a safe distance,but close enough to see him when he turned onto East onto 11th St. and jumped into a sub-basement dugout that NYC has on many buildings. I rode past quietly to see him crouched down, rifling through the purse. I rode across the street to the pay phone (remember children, this was the early 80’s, and personal phones were only on Star Trek and in Beverly Hills) to call the police. They wanted me to give my name, and I almost didnt but they wouldnt let me go if I didnt. I am glad I did. I jumped off the phone to make sure he was still there. I waited across the street in case he decided to leave before the cops arrived, and as I watched a car go up 11th towards 2nd Avenue, he popped out, minus his jacket and purse. This dude was happy, as he made off with the crime, and was now heading to his dealer. But he didn’t figure the raging feminist following him. He was making pretty good time, walking fast but not running. An undercover cop car pulled up next to me and asked if it was the two Puerto Rican kids, and I said with glee, “no the tall white guy!” . Suddenly two unmarked cars did a “V” move, trapping him up against the chain link fence. He said, cocky and all “Is there something a matter, Officer?”. Since he did not have the purse on him, the cops looked to me. I said he was down in one of those sub-basements. I was a little confused with the moment and went to the wrong one, but then we found the purse and his jacket. BOOYA!
I rode to the WOW Cafe on 11th street, flush with excitement. No one there seemed to care. So I rode home. Just as I finished my 5 flights of stairs with my bike, my phone rang. A man asked "if I was Debra Miller, the Debra Miller who found the man who mugged my wife?" He was so grateful and happy and wanted me to have a reward. They invited me to dinner and gave me $50 bucks! They were great people in that fantastic apartment building, The Brevoort, on 5th Avenue at 8th.
But it didn’t end there. In NYC the way criminals are prosecuted is through the ancient “Grand Jury” system. A group of citizens are impaneled for a year (it becomes their job), where they decide if a crime warrants prosecution. These people had heard everything. They were over it. The DA is examining me and I am telling the above story. They still don’t react. Finally he says, "Ms. Miller, tell the Jury how you caught the perpetrator?" "On my bicycle." They all sat up. You must remember that in addition to no cell phones, bike cops had not yet been “invented”. I may have been the impetus but I’ll leave that decision up to you (Forrest G anyone?).
So how did the Daily News find out about you? Well, some time had passed, and I was telling a new friend the story (cuz ya’all know I like to tell my stories). She said that I was a Crimestopper. A what? Clearly, I was not a Daily News reader. She proceeded to write the story up and send it to the paper. They investigated, and viola! I am chosen.
My friend drove me down to the paper on the back of her Vespa, where I was interviewed. I had been up late celebrating an Opening Night with my friends, The SplitBritches, so my head was a wee bit foggy. The writer basically eek-ed the feminist twist out of me, but it wasn’t really too far from the truth, since we all know that I have been a proud Fed Up Fem(inist) for all my life!

Back to the Future (or a snippet of what is instore for me...)

I am starring at my keyboard, as if it will magically tell me the hysterical post I was going to write, but have convienently forgotten. Convenient because now I am free to write about anything, and of course, that is just the opposite of convenient becase it means I have to think. So what I observe is just how dirty my keyboard is. It looks like it should be at the desk of a 22 year old gamer, who lives in her/his parents basement and drinks coke and red bull. Whose alter ego, they call those avatars, Debra, is a buxom warrior (regardless of their gender in real life) who slays others with her sword and biting wit. But no, it is the keyboard of a sloppy boomer, too busy cleaning her fathers mis-haps in the the bathroom and making microwaveable meals.
I was going to write about something that Flaca said. It gave me a rolling giggle, and I thought that I would write about it if she wasnt going to. Damn. Its coming, it always does, but the retrieval is so
s l o w. Meanwhile, I will take a break. Maybe only a few hours, maybe days. But I will get back to it.

Oh yeah, the funny thing: Flaca just told me that for the end o' days, the apocalypse, instead of hording food and shot guns, she is going to learn to shuck oysters and wax eyebrows(ostensibly so she can look good and doesn't have to rely on others). I pointed out that a) its hard to wax one's own eyebrows, and 2) with your luck you would slice your hand off prying the suckers open (that is if you can find the oysters). Not to mention...WTF! Ok enough super silliness.

GAY GAY GAY

Yes, I am sure there are some people out there who are tired of hearing about it. I am tired of hearing about GAY MARRIAGE. So you know how it can all end? MAKE IT LEGAL. We will all shut up, some of us will get married, some of us will get divorced. All of us will spend LOADS of money in local industries to help out the economy (which doesn't ever seem to be acknowledged as a benefit to society). So far, I have not heard of ONE heterosexual couple who has been injured by legalizing same sex marriage. When I went to law school a 1/2 a lifetime ago, I remember two things from filing a law suit: standing (having an actionable connection) and an "injury" (which is often defined in a monetary loss). Neither of those things has occurred to my reading of the situations. Obviously it was brought on other grounds but I think it is important to bring these things up to people. Where is the INJURY?
I have been out since 1972. All we have wanted is equality under the law, and to live our lives in safety. You don't have to love or even like us; hell I dont like all of us. But really?
Thats all I got. Right now.

Hi My Name is Debra and I am a TV addict.

Just read a post where some brave woman admits to being a TV addict. So I thought I would come clean too.
TV has saved my life these past few years. Without the ongoing antics of, well, there are too many to name, since I am running out to the Paley Fest in Bev Hills, to hear the cast of NASHVILLE, talk.. but without those characters, I do not think I would have made it thus far. I admit to enjoying the acting, the stories, the productions, heck even a commercial or two. I know, heresy for a left leaning lesbian feminist. But they say the first step is admitting, and I am do that now. Plus, since my group meeting is during that early 6-7 hour I am not in fear of missing any of my shows. (Thank you TV G-ds for HULU, On-Demand and DVR). Ok now you can judge me.

And the Award never goes to: a comedy! Or my unglamorous life....

I really shouldn't complain. I had a fairly alternative glamour night yesterday (beware: name dropping to follow). I went to a huge art opening of the beloved and famous dyke photographer, Catherine Opie, where John Waters roamed looking at photos of Diana Nyad, the designing Mulleavy sisters, and my friends Julie Tolentino and Pig Pen. Among other well know faces were directors Kimberly Pierce and Jamie Babbitt; friend and producer Steak House, Valerie Stadler;my production designer boy wonder, Michael Fitzgerald, and my sidekick in troublemaking, the writer Michelle Meyers (Immaculate Complexion). It was crowded with interesting looking people who most likely did interesting type things. Then off to a small party in honor of an old friend, Holly Hughes, in town to perform and teach at USC. The performance artist/actor John Fleck as well as the lesbian folksinger (who opened for the Smiths in the early 80's)Phranc, were among the guests. So no, it wasn't the Independent Spirit award, and never would be the Oscars (that would mean a time machine, plastic surgery and talent), but it was something! And so it should come as no surprise that I blew my wad last night and today I am sitting at my computer, in a torn sweatshirt (formal gown at the cleaners), filling in my home ballot, before moving into the living room to watch the Oscar telecast with the Ol' guy. May the team with the most money for publicity war, win!

LESBIAN FAMILY VALUES

I am sick of people thinking that family values mean a primary typical family unit. I am here to tell you that it IS different for Lesbians (Dykes, Wimmen loving Wimmen, female homosexuals...). Many of us have chosen not to raise children. There are as many reasons as there are stars in the sky...but suffice it to say, we made a choice. The option of having a daughter (son...maybe) take care of you in your old age, say as I am doing for my father, is, well, none. What do we do when the proverbial cancer, MS, joint replacement, homelessness, hits the fan? We reach out to our, what is referred to as, the extended family of ex-lovers. This is very different from the hetero norm, or in my experience the gay men’s world.
I have so many examples of this, including my own, and one that is happening right now.
In my case, I needed a new shoulder (years of lesbian sex had taken its toll and I am proud to announce that...). I needed someone to take care of not only me, but my father, for whom I am responsible . Who did I call? Yes after Ghost Busters, my ex-gal pay from the 1980’s, (let’s call her Lynn). Now, Lynn had just been a year out of Chemo herself, and I had sent her some helping funds when she was recovering, since I could not get away (see above responsibility), but she volunteered to come out and take care of Dad and I. Did you see the date? 1980’s. That’s a long time to remain friends, ne, family.
Currently, an acquaintance,really,is going through a gnarly operation. She is staying with her ex and her ex’s current partner. Legions of friends visit her, and I imagine some are even her ex-lovers. Do you ever see that in the hetero world? Nope.

So in conclusion, I‘d like to say:suck on it right wing, cuz Lesbian have True Family Values.