DADT Rant

Last week a huge civil rights victory was won by gay and leabians in the US ofA. Gays can now serve openly in the military. We can fight and be brojen and injured and killed for their countey and they can be gay too.

I have heard alot of slamming of Bill Clintin for having put this…custom…into place. And quite frankly it really pisses me off.

Have many vwterans been kicked out for being gay? Been injured and killed by thwur fellows for it? Lost life carers because of it? Yes, absolutely.

But for those of us who were around when DADT was adopted remember the context in history at that time and we should never forget it.

Whar DADT did was to eliminate the direct question on the recruiters’ interviews. No more are u a homosexual yes then get the hell out of my office. It was a huge, huge victory for all of us, not only thos who wished to serve and who were gay.

Were we as a minority satisfied with this policy? No. But it was a very, very impprtant step, shifting the military’s priorities and policies one step closer.

I recall very vividly Bill Clinton’s first week in office. Don’t recall what it was about exactly but it was a positive report on the issue of homosexuality. Wow. I recall being blown away that we were in the paper for something other than the freak-show that was Chicago’s Gay Pride Parade at the time.

I remember thinking wow, can we actually be visible? It’s impossible to fight when ypu’re invisible. Bill Clinton made the world aware that there was a gay community in this country. Which has set up the honest conflicys we are blessed to be fighting today.

Was Bill Clintin the perfect President? No. Of course not. Was he a scuzzball? Very likely. But in taking off the direct question are you or have u ever been a homosexual, he took the first major step towards equality.

So don’t rant on Bill Clinton for establishing DADT until ypu have the historical context. It was a miracle at the time.

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Bullying is Nice and Packageable

It amazes me how many resources have been allocated from whatever other things they were doing to the issue of child bullying. As a lesbian, I was horrified but not surprised when in one week several gay kids killed themselves because of torment brought on by other assumedly non-gay kids. I was out as a teenager in the mid-seventies. It was not easy. I had other things going on in my life that made it easy for me to not really register the cruelty of my peers. But I was just lucky that they didn’t get to me, too.

There’s all this stuff about bullying, where do bullies come from how they’re all over cyberspace, what if my kid is a bully, how do I ensure my kid doesn’t become a bully. I saw something on twitter yesterday that said that over 70% of parents’ greatest fear for their children is that they’re a bully. Really, your greatest fear for your kids?

Celebrities have popped up all over the place, decrying bullying, contributing to support for gay teens, doing press releases and their celebrity thing. Donations donations donations. PR PR PR.

I will say this once and will erase any comments that ignore it: this is a very, very important social issue. Bullying is brutal on both parties. There is little protection a parent can give their kids if they’re victimized. Gay adults are bullied around by our government but kids–that’s just plain interpersonal cruelty at a very fragile time in a person’s life. I would never want to be a teenager again.

However. All this sudden and socially popular focus on bullies and their victims seems to me to be a tremendous luxury. Again–I am not diminishing the pain these poor kids have to deal with. There needs to be greater attention paid.

But when one looks from the eyes of a former child whose life was threatened and nearly taken, who has been thru horrendous sexual assault….I have got to say I find it all abit offensive.

Here’s the issue. Bullying is a new thing here, there are issues related to schooling children, teaching them compassion, fixing them if they’re violent little jerks. Is it the schools or is it the parents? Genetic? Tabula Rasa? These are questions that can be looked at without anybody’s hands actually getting too dirty. Oprah and Ellen and Alec Baldwin can stand up and say Hey There Don’t Be A Bully and it’s a neat little package. Sure, a few kids died, but nobody has to do any real soul searching, any digging up bodies, any dealing with mass wreckage wrought on little girls and boys by (mostly) people they know and trust. As has been going on since time began. Nobody wants to count the suicides.

Nobody has to deal with un-PC issues like sex trafficking, or RA or how survivors get thru their lives. That stuff is hard, the visual images and storytelling don’t really fit daytime or primetime TV. And who wants to hear about stuff that is so grotesque, so horrific such a nightmare.

We are out there, an army of CSA survivors. We tell our stories when we can, and many of us do. There’s an entire wing of psychology that tries to help us live the best lives we can from amongst the wreckage. There’s no secret, it happens every day. Every single day. To countless little girls and boys.

But despite our presence, nobody is going to galvanize in a couple of weeks a national effort to help us. There’s a line in the sand of what is dealable and what is not and nobody wants to see us. We’re not hard to find, it’s just…nobody wants to know. There will be an occasional sensationalistic thing on some tv show about a woman with 52 personalities and how weird she is. But nobody does a Purple Twibbon for us.

Where’s Ellen? Where’s Alec? Where are they? Patting themselves on the back for doing such a great job on the latest socially current fad. Where are the financial resources? Where’s the help? It’s sitting over here in my neighborhood, Heinousville. Just on the wrong side of the tracks.

Once again. I’m a lesbian, I think it’s horrid what kids have to deal with. There are always some cruel kids and there are way too few resources to help their poor victims. But I have waited for 48 years to get my cause to walk down the red carpet and get all the interviews. It’s sad and demeaning to get that you are just too dirty.

Get off your ass and save your children. Save your friend’s children. Package a Cause and sell it to America in a three=hour concert with texty donation setups. People are raping your children and you are not listening. Their lives are interrupted and stolen from them. Probably by somebody you know. Teach your kids how to say NO. To daddy, to mommy, to anybody who’s doing bad stuff or who says bad stuff. Pay attention to keeping them alive because a third of your daughters will face sexual assault by age 18.

What the fuck is wrong with you people?

Is Proud Really Necessary?

It’s Gay Pride weekend here in Chicago and it is a big, big deal. There maybe up to a million and a half people watching the big parade on Sunday by conservative estimates. There have been festivals and dances and singers and performers all month. There’s a big street festival in the lesbian ghetto tomorrow. Everybody dusts off their most outlandish behavior and just goes nuts.

It didn’t used to be this way. I went to see my first Pride Parade in 1976. Police arrested people for lewd behavior/public drunkenness/whateveredness just because they could. There were a couple of crappy little floats from big bars. It was over in 1/2 hour. People were afraid to go back in those days what if somebody sees me? Well, they’re there too right??? But whatever. People still had slot of fear of being out of the closet.

I was arrested one year for holding my fuck-buddy’s hand. I was involved in a big riot one year when a cop arrested several leather guys for something I don’t even recall. The demonstration went all the way around the cop station.

Newspaper coverage used to be atrocious. The day after the parade there would inevitably be a front page slam of the event, complete with a picture of two guys humping or some especially odd drag queen stunt.

It used to mean big big trouble to be out of the closet or to be outed. Job/family losses, shame..well you know. And yetthe costs of living a lie were just as grave if not moreso.

I think back on those days and I suppose I can be proud of the activism of those first few of us who refused to be intimidated and who were able to do the activism work to start the acceptance ball rolling. All minorities need to fight their battles for acceptance.

As I look at DADT and the unhappy state of the Marriage fight I have to wonder if perhaps it’s time for us to return to that old-school fight. Yell more, get arrested more. Dmarch more. We are trying to reason with the unreasonable Nd it just is not working.

We need to be out. We need to be visible. We need to create a ruckus. Old-school.

I was in AA for 2 years or so after I quit drinking/drugging. It seemed to me that these people who were going for five years, ten years, fifteen…..were still alcoholics but who just weren’t engaging in the behavior. They were fundamentally defining themselves as beings connected to alcohol. Which was really just not the case for me.

I suppose that is how I feel about being a “Proud” lesbian. I don’t think I should have to be proud of who I am
Any more than I should make it a point to be proud of my many many many freckles. Or of the fact that I have three cats.

But I have to be Proud. Because I am a part of a minority that is being denied basic civil rights I have to keep the fight going. I have to have a gay flag on my car. I have to put hashtags on my tweets. I have to stand up and be counted. Because somebody else out there feels that they cannot and somebody needs to fight the fight for them.

I am proud of my part in the fight I suppose. That I insist people deal with me. Proud of how far my city has come.

But I’d really prefer to be able to just be me, to be proud of Stonewall and the history of my people. But not especially of my life now.

@TheLesbianMafia thinks CSA is funny

Wow, talk about not getting it. Talk about billinh yourself as “politically Savvy” and thinking jokes about child sexual abuse are okay to tweet to your 22,000 followers, who have of course RT’d you.

These chicks last weekend told a joke about not taking candy from strangers unless they offer you a ride. Obvious association to child sexual abuse, right? When it came across my tweetstream on that day I sent them a response to the effect that I’m sure you mean no harm but CSA is never funny. A few hours later an RT on the joke came across my stream from a complete stranger. I blew up, telling @TheLesbianMafia that people are RTing them, that they should know better than to promote tolerance of these horrid crimes by joking about it. I asked them to delete the message and told them for shame you have a responsibility to not continue to proliferate a culture in which making light of CSA is acceptable. I said you know better. Which, if they are “politically savvy”, they should know better. For shame. I sent the link to my blog detailing the impact of their actions on me. Every couple of days I’ve been saying you can apologize any time now….

Today I received a note from Unfollowr telling me that they had unfollowed me. No apology no fuck you, no nothing. Apparently they stand by their commitment to make light of child sexual abuse and think nothing of letting their followers spread their toxic beliefs.

I suppose I was not really surprised that they unfollowed me. Some people are unable to take responsibility for their actions. I expect this kind of toxic thing from pedophiles, from men. From people who are into perpetuating rape culture in this society. But I did not expect this from them.

I suppose it’s not fair to adjudge “politically savvy” people to a higher standard than for the population at large. But not from my own people. Not from people who position themselves in the ways they do. Now that I know they’re not going to take responsibility for their actions I am going to block them. I don’t need people in my life who joke about the loss of my childhood, about child sexual abuse. But it still pisses me off that now I have to work that tiny bit more to undo the damage they’ve caused by propping up the notion that it’s funny, that it’s not real, that child sexual abuse is somehow something to be laughed away. But this is not over. Bitches.

Gays pay $36B more in tax

Per the us census bureau for 2003 there are 57,320,000 households in the US. if 12% of Americans are gay, that’s 6,878,400 gay households. Per worldsalaries.org, in 2005 the average individual gross income is $42,028.

Per the IRS, single persons w/one exemption paid monthly on this income pay $4860 in annual federal income tax. Under the same assumptions, also for 2010, married persons pay $2208 in fed tax.

Which is a variance of $2208 per individual and $4416 per household.

When you do the math of $4416 per household x 6,878,400 gay households you come up with $30,375,034,400. More tax that gays pay.

I think I am going to be sick.

LATER. I was invited to review my math. The delta between single-deduction for singles vs married is actually $5304. W/extrapolation out on # oh gay households (vs singles) is actually $36,483,033,000.

Took my Girlfriend to Prom:1978

Okay. So a young lesbian in Mississippi wants to bring her girlfriend to the prom. The school fights back, in the immortal stupidity inherent in the Deep South. They cancel Prom altogether. They also contend that it’s against school policy for a girl to wear a tux on school grounds, which is appareny what the girlfriend wants to wear.

This young Lesbian is suing the school for her right to take her lovey to the Prom. Brave kid, bu I just cannot understand what is happening in this situation.

In 1977 and 1978 I took my girlfriends to the prom. Once we both wore dresses and once my girlfriend wore a tux. I had come out publicly in I believe 1972 of so, when I was 12. At both dances we received abit of crap from drunken football players but that’s about it. We were not the only gay couple there and it was just not an issue.

This took place in the hyper-affluent suburbs of Chicago. So yes, Jim Crow was never a tradition there. There was no black polling, no burning crosses no lynchings. Being socially liberal was what one aspired to.

But let’s face it. That was 30 years ago. So the state of Mississippi is 30 years behind? More like 100 years, folks. I recently saw a documentary about this town in Alabama where they were having a “mixed” prom for the first time in 2008. What was the “mix”? White and black students together in one prom. No segregation.

I will admit that I really dos not have a white-hot desire to go to my Proms. But I did have a burning desire to make a solid potical stand and lef’s face if, get laid at the end of the party hah

I just do not understand this st all. How backward some areas of our nation truly truly are. Big kudos for that babydyke from the land where segregation is kept to a minimum. My heart goes out to her!

Rapist Client Fired, Is Enraged

Right. For reasons pawing understanding I had agreed to fire the client who raped me last week. I really do not understand why this is so important but recognize that perhaps in this area my judgements may be off. And so this morning that is what I did.

I don’t know what I expected from this woman. At the time it happened she seemed to have no violence or rage in her, only a rather odd straight woman’s interpretation of what sex between women is supposed to be. She seemed to assume that I felt the same abou Doing It as she did. Although there was no asking for permission in it, se just flat-out jumped on me and off we went, to that far-away place where you’re watching events as they unfold.

As I’m walking up the stairs to her place I become aware of many, many confused splinters all vying for attention. I feel like I’m gonna be sick. Knock knock. Door opens.

Hi there well hi how are you today Nd how’s things going with the pup? (chat about how, again, dog is making no headway).

Deep breath. Well, I have something to tell you that is rather sad, but I am going to have to terminate our relationship. The look of shock and utter dismay, classic. The woman had no idea where I was coming from. Unbelievable.

Why? Do you want more money because I’ll give you more money. I’ll start working harder with the dog (bargaining, bargaining).

No actually it’s about what happened last week. Oh THAT? What’s the problem with that? Well, you see you jumped all over me without my consent, right? But you’re a lesbian aren’t you? I mean, that’s who you Do It with. So what’s wrong I do no understand.

Yes, you know that I’m a lesbian. But that doesn’t meanthat I desire to or am willing to have sex with every woman who crosses my path. Actually I am in a committed monogamous relationship and if Katharine Hepburn would stand in front of me asking for it I just wouldn’t go there.

I feel tha you have violated my person and my trust and I just cannot worm with you any more.

ANGER, certainly a fighting the shame and being rejected thing, begins to rave. You led me on. How did I do that do you think you were so nice to me. You seemed to really aNy me to be better to you know have a better life. Yes that is true and those things are right but that is not the same as wanting coerced sex. Oh come off it you’re a dyke for god’s sake wha does that mean iteans you do it with women anyway, it’s not like sex anyway you’re naming a really big deal out of this. Well, I take my body and my right to do with it what I consent to very seriously as should we all. Yes–that was sex. Even though there was not a penis in the room. Shoving your hands down your pants flicking my nipples and trying to go down on me–those things are sex.

Well says client you gotta do what you gotta do. You led me on you made me do what I did and I’m not sorry about it. It’s not like real sex anyway go screw yourself.

The end. Feeling like we don’t really know where to begin to deal with this. It’s really all just too much.

Who Has Better Sex by Aunt Jan

I was talking the other day with Jan, my favorite of many aunts. Jan is 79 years old and has the lifestyle and health of someone who’s maybe 40. Except that of course she’s retired.

The think I love about my aunt (awnt, not ant) is tha she will talk with great frankness about just about anything. She has been married and divorced three times, twice to the same man. Aunt Jan can start up a fascinating conversation ranging from sabertooth tigers to how her basic bodily functions are going. She lives in Tucson in the winter and in
My family home on the ocean in Maine in the summertime. Which house is very haunted which is always entertaining.

She called me up the other day, wanting to talk about Valentine’s Day. It seems that as she was playing Mah jongh with friends the other day the discussion turned to sex. I envisioned something akin to the Golden Girls as she was describing the conversation.

Apparently the talking was mostly about whether or not lesbians can actually have good sex without a living penis present. Since the gals had concluded that bigger penises are better in general, what could one actually DO without their presence was a fascination.

In a nutshell my aunt Jan announced that she has a lesbian niece and she would do the research and report back to the group the following week. Enter this phone call.

I mean, we just can’t imagine it she says to me. I mean, you’re dealing with such small parts And all, how do you even know where you are? How do you figure out what feels right? Is one of you (me and wifey) like the one who does it and the other one gets it, or do you take turns? That would have to be pretty I mean frustrating for the one who’s just waiting around, wouldn’t it? And how can the one who’s doing it actually feel any you know sexual thing since they are so busy doing the doing?

I am on the floor, just about crying I’m laughing so hard. I decide to just let her keep asking me her questions. Remember, this woman is 79 years old. She’s complained to me in the past that it’s been so long since she’s Gotten Any that her vagina must be clogged up with cobwebs. And yet she really seems interested so I just let her ramble on.

And what is the deal with bisexual women she asks. Will they just sleep with anything that crosses their path? I seems like that is what they do that they’re so into getting their Rocks Off that it doesn’t even matter, the anatomical parts? I don’t get that deal it seems like they should play on one team or the other, you know what I mean?

Her attention shifts back to women. How do you know I mean if you’re the doing one how do you know when the other one is done? Is there really an orgasm thing that happens? How can you tell if the other um person is doing that or not? Why don’t you want to have orgasms, if you even do, at the same time?

And how, really honey, I mean how do you do it, technically speaking? I mean I assume you have some sort of fake penis thing I mean how else could you Do It…where so you get that kind of thing? Are there stores where you go in you know and you pick the one you want? Who does the picking? Is it like attached to one person, and frankly what is in it for them, you know what I mean?

I just don’t understand this at all, none of the ladies do, and so I though I would call you to find out and to tell them all about it. You know how I am, when I get to wondering about something I can’t rest until i figure it out…..

Ahem, well. This is not a conversation I had ever a ticipated with my 79 year old aunt. Because she’s my favorite I felt I had to endulge. No, you don’t need to have a penis to have an orgasm. You’re right there you know so of course you can tell. Of course women can have simultaneous sex for many that’s the raison d’ĂȘtre. Haven’t you ever had a man do oral sex on you? Well of course a man doesn’t feel what you feel but a woman does. Yes, I think we probably are better at that then they are. Yes there’s a thing called a strap-on a d some women like them. I don’t know so much about that personally but I know they’re very popular.

Of course it’s a sexual thing for the one who’s doing the doing. As well as the do-ee. It has been my experience that most women do both sides of the coin but that’s for sure not true for everybody. Fingers. Yes that’s enough. No the size of the fingers doesn’t make somebody better at it or not.

I think most women get into oral sex. Not everybody but it seems to me that’s pretty common. Well, you know, tongues. Yes of course you can tell if you’re doing it right, I mean you’re right there, right? You can just tell if you want to know more about that you will just have to get with one of your friends. Hah.

Yes I have orgasms. Of course…yes, really. Lots of them
Most of the time. Yes. No, I don’t think it takes an average of ten minutes for most women but here again I only know about my experience. No that doesn’t mean it takes longer to feel anything it means we get to just keep going because there’s no big wait time like there is for men, y’know? Seriously. Of course that’s true.

About the bisexual thing I don’t really know you’ll have to find one And ask her. No I don’t think it’s necessary to pick a side and no I don’t think it means that their libidos are necessarily any higher than anybody else’s. Honestly I think that bisexuals are fortunate because they choose sexual partners based on that person alone. No I’ve never had sex with a bisexual because I am a lesbian and lesbians are what I am attracted to.

Yes there are adult toy stores. Yes you can get all kinds of stuff there. You should go to one if you never have and find out what they have that way. Maybe you’ll find something that will swipe away the cobwebs hah. Yes, of course I masturbate. Yes of course sometimes wifey is there. Why would that be embarrassing? You’re just old hah.

I think that there really are no rules between women when it comes to sex, just what the people involved decide together. Really. Yes I think most lesbians are less uptight. Yes, we really do get off.

Apparently aunt Jan has the answers she needs to take back to her game. Because her next question is how did you like that bread recipe I sent you?

Weirdness never ends.

French-nailed Lesbian

I came out to the world as a lesbian in 1976, when I was 16 years old. Had come out to parents and family at five but since I wasn’t all that sexually active before my mid-teens it never really came up.

Back in those days, baby lesbians didn’t really have alot of choice as to gender identification. The only way to get to be around girls in any real, interpersonal way, was thru sports. And certainly it was the only way to get to see them naked. Locker room time was what I was in it for. There was a sort of requirement to be a “tomboy”. To throw and hit various balls in various ways. The better one was at it the more gay one seemed to be.

Frankly, I suck at sporty stuff. But back then it was the only option. So I joined teams. I played softball and golf and rugby and basketball. Well, if one could call me running around trying to not get hit by people or missles really “playing”. But it got me action and so I adapted.

I was fast. As long as I was a le to avoid tripping on my feet my coaches always found a way to use me. Stealing bases and so forth. Hated it.

I went to college in a southern state, where the rules were very different. One could be of three primary camps and you had to decide what you “were” from the get-go. There was Butch (do-er, fix cars, etc). Femme (do-ee, cook and clean the house). And something called ki-ki, where you got to be both a do-er and a do-ee. Which was what I knew and so.

Unfortunately most Southern lesbians of that time despised ki-ki women. You might as well be (gasp! The horror!) bisexual. They didn’t know what to do with it.

Most of the students were from Northern states so the general butchy thing applied. Four more years of sports. However, I found Crew, which is a really tough sport, and built a body like Mortal sin. Which is never a bad thing. And at least no balls or javelins or other projectories were involved so I was pretty safe.

I have been arrested for holding my girlfriend’s hands in public. I have marched in Chicago’s early Pride parades and gotten arrested there, too. I am living breathing example of the history of our poor battered fight for equal rights in America.

As time has marched inexorably forward I have slowly divested myself of my butchy little past. I suppose I am a lipstick lesbian although the times now are such that I no longer even need that label. I live a fairly traditional lifestyle with my butch wife. I’m a do-ee for the most part (except for my birthday and Christmas and when wifey wants to really spoil me for some reason). I am an animal psychologist but it’s really a part-time job to keep me busy. I am definitely the caretaker in my household.

I was recently accused of no being a feminist by a well-intentioned but totally wrong acquaintance. Apparently my French nails are just too much for the woman. Apparently I am supposed to be some amalgamation of male and female, that metrosexual thing that’s so popular nowadays.

Feminism is all about rights to be what one is. It’s about being politically involved in the so basic right to reproductive freedom. It’s abou raising awareness of the plight of women and children in this country. It’s about fighting the held belief that we are somehow inferior to men. In a nutshell, feminism is about fighting all of the subtle and not-so-subtle expressions of misogny that is rampant in our culture.

When I was a kid I didn’t get to clearly express my sexuality. And now, all these years later, after all the inner turmoil I have been thru in finding out who and what I am, I am not about to change. I am a woman who shops at Victoria’s Secret. I do not “look it”. And I do not have to.

Go femmes go!

Sports Survival Tips For Femmes

This is not a good time to be a femme in America. Starting tomorrow our lives will be kidnapped by the sports bachanalia that is the Superbowl and the Winter Olympics. I don’t know about any other femmes out there but I suspect that many of you will be living a forced three-week stay in a foreign land about which I care zip and that frankly I secretly despise.

My wifey is in sports marketing. We have enough sporty crap in our home to fill A good-sized retail space. From bobblehead hockey players to signed soccer balls–we have it. One sporting event or another is generally on the boob tube until I insist that can we pleeeze watch something about which I give a crap.

The secret to wifey’s overdone relationship to sporting events is that it really doesn’t matter what particular sport is on. Professional Bull Riding, soccer announced in foreign languages, professional Mixed Martial Arts or little league baseball. Doesn’t matter. Just…sports.

But in these next few weeks my wife’s sportslove will be kicked up to a higher notch. There’s the Superbowl of American football followed by the Olympics. She’s foaming at the mouth already.

Apparently even though the Superbowl is an evening event my darling has planned an entire day of festivities. She has a new tshirt and chicken wings and a pizza seems to be required. And that horrid French onion dip that congeals before it hits the stomach.

My strategy for surviving the Superbowl is to grade the commercials from best to worst. I assign points per product according to cinematography message and overall humor. This year there’s been quite alot of controversy surrounding what CBS has allowed in (prolife) and allowed out (us). So there’s something of interest there. Otherwise I plan to make bread and say “wow! Hey! Really? Great!” alot.

I suppose I could try to learn something about football. Like why in the world any parent would ever allow their child to start playing it in the first place. Or why the ball itself is so oddly shaped or what’s a “spiral” or why they pat each other in the butt all the time and don’t see that as homoerotic. But I made a conscious choice to hate sports as a little girl and I am not about to change now.

Then. The Olympics. My darling wife will be setting her alarm at odd hours to watch things like The Luge and Curling. She will be calling me in the middle of the day to confirm that I’ve indeed set the DVR for the hockey game between Latvia and the Czech Republic. She will go to Costco and buy tubs of weird spreadable cheeses and cheetos. She will be in heaven and the television will never be off. For days and days and days.

My calm and diplomatic wife will curse at a flat screen. There’s been talk of getting a new one, a better one, so she can see the beads of sweat more clearly on the faces of male speedskaters. She will throw things and yell at the cats. She will text her butchy friends incessantly, whining about the quality of judging in Couple’s Dance Skating.

This femme’s strategy for surviving the two weeks of Super Sporty Time is to take my wii ping pong and hide in another room. I will cook up a storm. I will, when required, commiserate and congratulate and pretend to cry when the Nation Anthem is played for some young person who has dedicated their life to one of these functions, especially the ones who have inevitably overcome huge obstacles to be up there on that medal stage.

And when it’s all over, blessedly over, for another two years I am going to demand to be laid until my eyes roll back in my head and they stay that way for a week.

Eyes on the prize, femmes. Eyes on the prize.

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