It Ain't Truth If It Doesn't Hurt

A Long Overdue Reunion...

I can not remember the last time that I was at three different night clubs in two days. I think my sister is trying to kill me.  But that's the best part...my SISTER is trying to kill me. Which means that I am actually with my sister...before Friday night...I hadn't been in the same room with my sister Jasmine for 12 years.

I was supposed to be in Minneapolis this weekend at Nikki and Jenny's nuptials but NWA is very tricksy...when they say you have enough frequent flyer miles for a free plane ticket..they actually mean that you can fly to Minneapolis when you'd like but if you want to fly home anytime before the Summer Olympics then that will be an upgrade to first class and 350 dollars please. I hope the mechanics go on strike again. So...when my dreams of streaking naked across the front of the church during Jenny and Nikki's heart felt vows were completely shattered...I decided that I would email Jasmine and see if she had any plans for this weekend. Other than her birthday...she didn't really have anything major going on.

So...after feeling like a shmuck for not knowing that this was my sister's birthday weekend. I set about making plans for the Kaiser and I to invade Sin City. The drive to Las Vegas was God's way of testing me to see if I could really stand to be with myself for eight hours straight. I almost cracked. No one should have to be with me for eight hours without a break. Especially me! Luckily I was distracted by the absolute heart-breaking destitution shoved up against some of the Big Guy's most creative and expressive landscape architecture. By the time I got to the Hoover Dam...I was ready to committ an act of terrorism. Luckily they made us all go through a security check point and had shut the damn down to one lane...or it would have been bye-bye wonder of modern engineering!

Now I've been in some pretty shaky situations. I've had to take some hard looks at myself...gone to confession...talked to the man in the mirror... wore white after labor day...but none of that made me as nervious as waiting for my sister to open the gate to her apartment complex. I was terrified that we would see each other and have nothing to say...then we'd stand there for a moment...avoiding each others eyes...and finally we'd say at the same time...uhhh...yeah...nice to see you...take care...see you in another 12 years. Then I would rush back to the Kaiser, slam the door, and bury my head in his dusty worn dash...hoping for solace...but instead receiving only cold German engineered silence.

What actually happened was the perfect opening scene for a thriller/comdey...a slim dark skinned figure moved across the parking lot, her coat wrapped around her lithe frame, the fur trimmed collar turned up against the desert night air...the sounds of Sin City waging war for our souls providing background music...I stood...transfixed...straining to see her face...dropping my duffle bag...I smile brightly into her instantly familiar face...take a deep breath and say..."Hey Lil' Sis."

I'm not saying that it's been in one of those reunion shows...like I Dream of Jeannie Twenty Years later. There have been some ackward moments...some careful and studied silences...and those sad times when I am reminded that Jaz's roommate knows more about my sister and my sisters life than I do. That has been the hardest part of the visit actually. I know that from some corners of our family...Jas has received more criticism than love. The choices she makes and has made in her life are hers to make. I'm proud of the way that my sister has taken care of herself. I won't support anything blatantly stupid that she might undertake...but I trust in her enough not to walk into the light...no matter what that little midget said in the movie.

Did I mention she's beautiful? She's funny. And when she puts on this one trucker hat she has she looks so much like my Dad with boobs that it's definately a mark in the column in favor of Dad getting gender reassignment surgery.

One other thing. The girl snores. You would think that someone that petite would be incapable of rattling the patio door windows. Not true. I've lost partial hearing in my left ear...and I think my right retina is bruised from her horn of Jericho exhale last night just as I turned over. I'm leaving tomorrow to head back to New Mexico. I'm dreading the drive back...I've got pre-boredom syndrome all ready. But I'm glad I stripped several gears in the Kaiser and made the trip down.

Valentine's Day---The Aftermath...

I spent my Valentine's Day this year...in bed...stuffing myself on "spring time" Oreo cookies...and watching a sappy French gay love story called Just a Question of Love. For dinner, I ate by the light of the TV and gorged on half of a DiGiorno's Supreme pizza. I was so bored with myself that I didn't even have the energy to end what might have been my most pitiful Valentine's Day to date by pleasuring myself. That's sad people that is truly truly truly sad.

I was out of the office sick yesterday, so I came back to an email account full of V-Day well wishes, tacky e-cards, and an email from Chris J. that was hilarious and will also keep me in therapy for several more years. Mr. Johnson will be getting the bills for all therapy sessions past the  year 2015. I'd cut and paste a copy of the picture that he sent me along with his email...but then I'd have to get one of those special webservices that guarantees that only readers over the age of 18 have access to my website. And this is a family blog folks. As long as family means over 18 and extremely mature.

But...since we are on the topic of love (puke), I thought I would share with you a little bit about the movie Imagine You and Me. I won't ruin the story for you, but there is a part of the movie that discusses love and that when you meet the person that you are meant to be with you will know instantly...in three seconds. You will look at each other from across a room and KA-POW...that'll be all she wrote. One of the characters in the movie goes on to say that the rest of your life after those three seconds are simply filling in the details. You know...I agree. There's this guy...I might have mentioned in him in this blog...today...and his name may included the initials C and J. When we first met...in the lounge at the Pride Institute was the first time I had one of those moments...when your eyes meet his...and your face bursts into one of those ridiculous clown grins. You know the kind..where everyone around you is laughing because you look like a shark on crack showing all your teeth...including those hard to reach back ones.

Chris and I tried our hand at the relationship thing. It was way too early in our post-Pride lives to have gone about doing that...but we've remained darn tootin' close friends...actually...the only thing that has changed in our relationship is that we haven't had sex since last June or so. Pretty much we are each others emotional support, we get on each other's nerves on a regular basis, we love each other, we are best friends, and really...well...I've told the Southern blockhead time and time again that I'm in love with him and will be until black folks get reparations...and we all know just  how soon that's going to happen.

I'm one of the girlie boys that has the privilege of being fairly in touch with my emotions and generally pretty unafraid of sharing those feelings with other people. Chris on the other hand...when it comes to recognizing his own feelings and sharing them with others...is on the short bus side of emotional self-cognizance. But he's coming around. Slowly. But I'm patient as hell. And I'm not afraid to use black magic.   

I've got more to say on this subject, but I'll save it, as I have to go and do some laundry, so I can hop in the car and make my way towards Vegas tomorrow morning. I'm going to see my little sister for the first time in 12 years. Wish me luck ya'll. I'm excited and scared as hell.