Pursed Lips

All I’ve got to say is that’s one hell of a nipple appliance! And a lovely breast to boot. I mean that. Janet’s lovely. Hey, as far as I’m concerned between Janet’s fetished body exposed, the nostalgia of a naked streaker being manhandled off the field, and New England winning in the last seconds, I’m one happy New Englander. Best football game ever.

Interesting. I’m toying with the idea of attending a crossdresser’s evening later this month. As near as I can tell, it’ll be mostly a straight tranny night with some serious MtF transitioners, so when I show up in guy gear, maybe I’ll put an unexpeacted spin on the evening. (I promise to be a gentlemen, ladies, OK?) Anyway, I’ve been daydreaming about what to pack, how to bind, and whether to hit that 70% off clearance sale for some men’s khakis and a wallet. I’ve been squirming over the logistics how to conceal or masculinize my long hair, thinking of slicking my bangs to one side and a hard rocker pony tail off the back. (But open to ideas, dear readers.) Still, can you imagine my imagination getting all fired up when, while shopping for casual boots today, I come across these boys? Man, oh man — BOY. Just that. Boy.

Yummy.

A teachable moment: Last night, my daughter joined me to watch Buddy Cole get married — to his audience, with whom he’s had his only lasting relationship. Funny? True, but if the vows were any indication, marriage ain’t gonna change the bon vivant one whit. And, yes, watching the show with my kid was yet another way to introduce her to queer culture, letting it percolate into her awareness. Shouldn’t be too hard. She recognized Alan Cumming without so much as a clue from mommy. “Was he in Spy Kids?” Yes, my dear, Spy Kids. “Well, he wasn’t really the bad guy, you know,” she told me. True — and he ain’t the bad guy here either.

Hey, I’m really busy with writing deadlines this week so expect blog-lite. You know, little entries of curiosity that entertain but don’t eat up my time. Enjoy!