WWW January 26, 2011

It’s the last Wednesday of my favorite month and this is what’s weird, my friends. Pets are the children of our generation. Your typical lesbian cat jokes aside, bear with me. For some of us, when our parents were our age now, they were thinking about getting married, married or married with us in the oven. When my parents were my age, they had two children, multiple degrees and steady jobs. Come on, we all read the articles, see the news reports and experience it first hand, we are taking longer to grow up than our parents did. One reporter has generously given us a “window of emerging adulthood,” through which we have until 31 to climb. Phew.

What does your gaydar read, kitty? Gay or nay?

If you are anything like me, the idea of having a child’s physical and mental development under your sole umbrella of responsibility is a notch below terrifying. However, don’t think I don’t understand that undeniable instinct to mother something. Some express it through relationships with friends or girlfriends, making sure everyone is warm and well-fed (or happily drunk, whichever applies). Some may take in double the recommended dose of Teen Mom shows to suppress the urge. And a lot of us fulfill that inclination to take care of something through our pets. They give us a reason to end the night early. You know, to make sure Fluffy has kept his promise of remaining house trained and not pooped in the closet. I suppose I should only speak for myself. Perhaps not everyone is accustomed to putting down a bottle beer, filled halfway with beer, the other half with guilt, and dashing out the door to rush home to “the children” (aka 1 dog and 1 cat who have been home for 1 hour).

Cat lover fashion! Photo found by my sister who is obviously great at finding photos.

Our pets are our gateway responsibilities into the bigger and (not better but) different venues of our lives in which we will need to be competent enough to take care of a living being other than ourselves. I know. I know it’s incredibly weird to heat up my dog’s food and to say goodbye for 15 minutes before actually walking out the door, but hey, I’ve never been as responsible for anything as I am for my dog. Hopefully I can say that about a couple of kids someday.

How much do you love your pets? What do you do that’s weird? I sometimes put my dog’s food bowl on the table so we can eat together. So bring it.

WWW January 19, 2011

You have a bicycle. You’d like a new one. But you’ll need a little more cash than you’ve got to buy that Peugot you’ve been eyeing. You’ll also need the space that your rickety old Raleigh takes up, the one you decided was a good idea to paint rainbow from top to bottom. (In your defense, you were the flashiest dyke on a bike in the pride parade).

Geneviève Bujold rides a bike.

You don’t really know how to disassemble the thing, so eBay-ing it to a distant location is out of the question. And you’d rather not hassle it around town trying to get $5 for parts from local bike shops. No, you want someone to love it as much as you did. You want someone to really appreciate the sentimental value you’ve spent the last couple of years pedaling into this gem. You also don’t want to get out of your pajamas, so you’d prefer them to come to your house and get it from you. Welcome to the future, ladies. Craigslist it! You put it up for sale on craigslist. And your phone is ringing off the hook. You had no idea that the common thread between you and the fabulous queens of your town is rainbow glitter anything. So the bidding begins. As do the visitors and strangers asking you questions you’ve never even thought existed about a bicycle. Some potential buyers are so skeptical, you wonder if they were actually in the market for a glittery rainbow-painted cruiser or if they skeptically respond to craigslist ads around town for sadistic fun.

You finally sell it to a lovely man named Hillary who has his partner drive home so he can ride his new shimmering whip across town and you are finally content that you have done the right thing. But this is not the point. The point is that selling things on craigslist is weird, y’all. I had my car up for sale this past week and the first guy who looked at it arrived, looked at it for a minute or so and said nothing until the “Thank you for your time” before he walked away. Strange, my lady friends. Strange. After that I started having people meet me in the grocery store parking lot, Which is a whole different Weird Wednesday.

We all have or know of at least one, so what are your weird craigslist experiences? Weird Wednesdays lives for these things. Happy humpin’.