So I've mentioned my weekly column, it's called Ladyfag's Little LALALA'S. They're basically my rants, raves, spiels and squeals that I've sent out every week for a over a year to my faithful mailing list readers. Here's last week's.... watch the video for Meryn Cadell first (just trust me!) it's a Canadian classic, I once bought melamine dishes from her garage sale when she lived in my Kensington Market neighbourhood and I couldn't eat off them without thinking about the sweater....
LADYFAG'S LITTLE LALALA'S #56
I'm not gay. Like a white man will never know what it's like to be black, like a short man will never know what it feels to be tall. I will never know what it's like to not love dick. I will also never know what it's like to be straight. Be it a shag, an oriental, or wall to wall carpet. As long as she isn't a doormat...I'll munch it. On one side of the ring I've got the lezzies begrudging my buggerdom and in the other corner the straights wanting to reform me from my lifelong phase. It doesn't make it better that some of these verticals want to horizontal me like a cheap novelty from the five and dime so that they then can sit at Cipriani's and discuss how they were once bisexual as though it's like trying on a sweater and realizing that while you like the way it looks you're actually allergic to wool. Gurl, I am not your size so don't even think about trying to come to my store and touch my rack. I am not bisexual like you. I'm not bisexual at all. Speaking of wool, like a lamb in sheep's clothing I've led many a tranny chaser to their slaughter. So while I'll never know what it's like to be a tranny I've walked in they're proverbial cheap platforms before. I swear I tried to tell him the truth he just didn't get that it's been the truth since the day I was born, and who am I to take candy from a happy baby. If he thought my nutter was butter before is it really so wrong that I fed him swedish fish? Please don't take offense it's just that I'm queer as fuck not queer as folk since I don't come in closed captioning and my realness is too real for even reality tv. Maybe I could do a show called "so I married a man....the new unbothered face of gay marriage." When I told my mother that me and my then fiancee, who happened to be a gay male, and is now sort of my ex-gay husband could move to Canada if they don't allow us to marry in the US, she pointed out that we're actually man and a women and always had the right to marry. I saw the look of horror run across her face when she saw the look of bafflement on my face at her explanation....yes my drag runs that deep. And no contrary to popular belief I am not a drag queen either. I don't want the right to be the same, I want the right to be different. If equal means the same then I'd rather take splenda, but I think I have the right to choose the honeypot if I found it sweeter, and that sugar, is what equal means to me. Imagine if every faggot married their dyke best friend and the world was full of these gay straight couples. Then everyone gets the equal rights they always deserved and the pigs in NY senate are left trying to figure out how to fuck us while we figure out how to fuckin get divorced. So go ahead call me gay, call me bisexual, call me a Ladyfag, I'm not bothered. You're wasting your time trying to figure out if this wool is merino or not, if you're worried about your allergies your missing out on the softness of the blend. Unlike Meryn Cadell's... this sweater has no label.
Besos Y Brujas,