I have always envied people who seemed to know where they belonged. I've had more addresses and phone numbers than Republicans have sex scandals. Change has always been exciting to me; an opportunity, a carnival ride, an adventure. An old friend of mine once said, "The greatest challenge associated with aging is not morbidity and mortality; it's novelty. More precisely it's the hunger for novelty, a hunger that grows increasingly difficult to satisfy." And no, that wasn't a quote from Portia de Rossi. She's not old. That was my friend Richard "the lionhearted" Rothstein.

I don't know if Ellen and Portia are breaking up, but I do know that menopause is not what makes couples stop having sex. I know this because I went for a long time without sex and it had nothing to do with wrestling the menopause. It had to do with being in a bad relationship. The other thing I know is that this is my last post on Queersighted. Oh well, change happens. Sometimes we choose change and sometimes change chooses us. Either way, change is opportunity and opportunity is a gift. Wasn't it Glinda the Good Witch who said that? It was either Glinda or Dr. Phil, I can't remember.

During my short stay here in the mary old land of Oz, I've had the good fortune to work with talented, wonderful, fearless writers, who have inspired me, challenged me, made me laugh uncontrollably, and yes, occasionally worked my last good nerve. I wouldn't trade that for the world. It's been an absolute blast. I didn't get to know them all, but the ones I knew, I loved. Who wouldn't give up the safety and security of Kansas to hang out with a Scarecrow, a Tin Man and a Lion for awhile?

Hold the presses! This just in from the Crazy Christian Right: Kindness is good and Homosexuals are kind. I didn't make this up. It's right on their website, Dingbats For Truth About Homosexuality. Who would know more about homosexuality and truth than these fine folks? They spend nearly all their free time studying us. That's right, in between exorcisms, church pot-lucks, snake-handling and giving away their kid's college tuition to shyster TV evangelists with meth addictions, they are on "the homo" like white on rice. But, they're not just upset about our beloved Dumbledore ...

"The movement is afoot to include positive portrayals of homosexuals and the transgendered in all textbooks from kindergarten on up. I have no objections to textbooks including the important invention or discovery of a homosexual or transgender person so long as their homosexuality or transgenderism is not mentioned."

That's pretty Christian of the Dingbats for Truth. They don't mind that homosexuals are important inventors and scientists, they just don't want anyone to know about it. They won't tell you, but I will. There are so many queer scientists in Los Angeles, they have they're own website, Los Angeles Gay and Lesbian Scientists.

Guess what? We're not just good at science! And the Dingbats for Truth aren't the only Christians on the block!

My high school English teacher was a poet. My favorite line from one of her poems is, "I am not so old that what my students teach, I cannot learn". I always read that line from a student's perspective. Until last night, that is. All joking about old coots aside, there has been nothing in my life to age me. Not in a real sense. I have no children. My life has always been free. No alarm clocks, no nine to five. No looming retirement. I've moved so much I don't even have any old friends. Well, I have old friends, but like my old furniture, they were already old when I met them.

Last night, I had the honor of performing at an awards dinner for a local New York chapter of GLSEN, the Gay, Lesbian and Straight Education Network. There were a dozen or so high school kids there, along with teachers, GLSEN board members and allies. Four awards were given out to community allies.

One of the award recipients said something that stuck with me. She said, "I'm honored to receive this award, but saddened that an award needs to be given to anyone for being an ally of LGBT youth." She was right of course, but I couldn't see it that way. I am indeed old enough to remember when there were no gay/straight alliances, no GLSEN's, no discussions, no community centers, no support. I wanted to give everyone in the room an award just for being there.

When I was in high school, gay was not an option. I didn't really even know any gay people until I was living in New York and went to my first gay bar. We weren't really a community, we were just a bunch of individual gay people who managed to find each other. Sometimes we were just lesbians or just gay men, and more often than not, the two groups did not intermingle. Much of the time we were separated and some of the time, we were separatists. We didn't know better. There were girl bars and boy bars, but I don't remember any T's or Q's or B's. With the exception of my own biological sisters, I don't recall having any straight allies.

I sat next to a young woman in her twenties last night. I asked her to explain her definition of "queer" to me. She said, "Queer just means different. Some queers are gay, some are gender fluid, some aren't sure exactly what they are, but they're not straight. Queer is just different, you know, whatever. We just want whatever to be OK."

I looked around the room and I saw some gay, some straight, some old, some young, some feminine, some masculine, some gender fluid and some taking gender and bending it like a pretzel. We were all together in one room.

At my table was a woman who looked to me to be in her late fifties or early sixties. I assumed she was straight. She seemed straight. She looked straight. I even worried a bit when I told a mildly racy gay joke at the table, wondering if I had made her uncomfortable.

My girlfriend who had been seated next to that woman, corrected me this morning. It seems that my new straight friend had been married for a long time, divorced her husband and was now in a relationship with her former neighbor, another woman who had also divorced her husband. They did not leave their husbands to be together. That happened later. It just happened. So, I was wrong. Whatever.

For me, last night was an awakening. For the first time I understood what the queer community was. There were sixty of us in that room. Some straight, some gay, some whatever. We were all a little bit queer and it was delightful.

Forgive this old gay coot for not understanding. I'm a bit set in my ways but I am trying. "I am not so old that what my students teach, I cannot learn". That was the last line in a poem my English teacher wrote for me thirty years ago. I now understand fully what it means.

On a personal note, I have grown to love you wonderful Queersighted readers. That's not easy for an old gay coot to say. You have made me laugh (and think) with your comments. God knows, a good laugh is hard to find. I look forward to getting to know you all better. Now, off with you, dagnabit!
(The Fairy Lady) Susan Norfleet

You know what I hate? I hate the fact that my age sometimes prevents me from voicing my opinion about subjects some think I'm too old to have an opinion about. There's a little voice in my head that says, "no one is going to listen to you about this because you sound like an old coot". Well, you know what? I am an old coot. I'm an old gay coot! And don't you dare write in to tell me that I should have said I'm an old Lesbian Coot! Dagnabbit, I like the word gay. Gay Gay Gay Gay Gaaaaaaaay!

What in tarnation is a "tween" and where's the little knucklehead who left this comment? "I have no problem with older gay people, have some in my family that I love dearly. However, I guess I don't have the revolutionary fire y'all did." Listen to me whippersnapper ... I'll give you a revolutionary fire! I have newspapers in my house older than you! You will have a problem when I come over to Prince's blog with a gay history book and a switch.

I'm such an old gay coot, I don't mind being lumped in with gay men. I'm not a sassinfrassin' separatist! I like gay men. Especially old cantankerous gay men, like Richard Rothstein. Between us, we are 106 years old. We're old enough to be your gay grandparents. In dog years, we're 742 years old. That means were old enough to be your dead gay ancestors, so shut your pie holes for a minute and listen to your elders!

After perusing some of the blog comments of late, I feel we have been woefully inattentive to the many irrational religious fanatics and the just plain fanatically stupid, who visit us here at Queersighted. This is supposed to be a place of inclusion and tolerance, and yet no one has formally embraced them into our little queer enclave. We didn't exactly invite you, but since you're here, welcome to the neighborhood!






Of course I'm not going to hand out sex toys, that's just crude. People who like to perch on the moral high ground, don't want anything to do with sex toys! I'm talking about a Queer Welcome Wagon! The original Welcome Wagon was the marketing brainchild of Thomas Briggs, who borrowed the idea from the Conestoga wagons that greeted westward travelers with food and water. Instead of offering food and water, Mr. Briggs offered women an opportunity to welcome new residents to their neighborhoods with gift baskets and coupons donated by local businesses. Occasionally, a local car dealer would even offer a new car emblazoned with a company logo to a lucky new area homeowner.

Unlike those pesky spam penis enlargement emails we've all received over the years, Welcome Wagon always offered a warm and personal touch, a smiling face and a gift basket. I know I would be much more receptive to penis enlargement supplements if they were being offered to me by smiling neighbor ladies bearing gift baskets.

Closing arguments have wrapped, the jury's in and it's time for our second installment of Top Ten Worst Gay Jobs. This time we're tackling the "rough and tumble 4 ya" world of politics. Richard and I had some tough choices to make, but with the professionalism of David Vitter at a whore house, we got in there, did our business, and came away satisfied - that we picked the Top Ten Worst Gay Jobs in Politics.



Sure, we had a few disagreements. For example, while being a member of Larry Craig's family could most certainly be called a job, it's not a job in the true sense of the word. Richard fought hard for "Nancy Pelosi's hair stylist", which I did not find funny because I'm a lesbian with no sense of style for hair or anything else. Plus he ruled out Hilary Clinton's cleavage consultant.

I honestly thought "Barney Frank's Trans-gender Community Outreach Director", was a winner, until I found out that it was Richard's actual job. Anyway, here they are, not necessarily in order of worst-ness.

1. Congressional House Page
2. Diversity Coordinator for Pace-Dobson '08
3. Condi's eHarmony Representative
4. Mahmoud Ahmadinejad's Minister of the Census
5. Director of Seating at the American Institute of Bisexuality's Policy Dinner
6. Larry Craig's Communications Director
7. Men's Bathroom Attendant at the Republican National Convention
8. Comedy Writer for the Radical Lesbian Separatist Movement
9. Development Coordinator for the Mark Foley Junior Varsity Scholarship Fund
10. Mary Cheney's Manny

Note from Richard: Poor Susan and her hot flashes; they can be so blinding. I am not Barney Frank's Trans-Gender Community Outreach Director. I'm his sibilant coach.

I grew up in North Carolina, the daughter of a beloved father who had attended Duke University. I went to the Duke basketball games every weekend as a child and to this day, I watch Duke basketball whenever there is a televised game. Part of loving Duke is hating the University of North Carolina and North Carolina State University. Hate is a strong word, but It's what we do in the Tar Heel State. Remember Jesse Helms?

I mention my upbringing because the Log Cabin Republicans have launched an ad campaign against Mitt Romney, and when I saw the ad, I felt like I was watching a UNC vs NC State basketball game. I was oddly compelled to root for someone, and yet, I don't care for either of them.



I first saw Log Cabin's 30 second anti-Romney ad last week in Tim Grieve's "Killing him with kindness" post on salon.com. The ad is also available for viewing on the Log Cabin Republican's website. (www.ivelostmygaymind.com)

Coming out was not easy for me. Unlike many of my gay and lesbian friends, I was not born gay. In fact, it's pretty clear from photos and old home movies, I was an "in your face" heterosexual until about the age of ten. I wore dresses. Lots of dresses, some pink, with ruffles and matching shoes. I don't want to scare anyone, but there's a photo of me in a bonnet holding a purse. I was also a graduate of Miss Mary Ellen's School of Dance.

But that all changed in the summer of my tenth birthday. I was attending the birthday party of a close "hetero" friend at the local country club and had taken a break from swimming to get a snack from the snack bar. Unbeknowst to me, some ass named Timmy, yelled "Last one in the pool is a queer!" and I didn't hear it. By the time I figured out what was going on, it was too late. I had already eaten.

"Never go into the pool after you've eaten!" My mother had drilled this into me from birth. Needless to say, I was the last one in the pool. Cursed forever (and beyond: see bible, gay, hell) to the sordid an unseemly "gay lifestyle" of tea dances, disco infernos, hot girl-on-girl sex, exciting travel, two-income households and perpetual lesbian chicness. I was queer and the whole thing was clearly my mother's fault.

Comedy is surely a subjective thing. I never found America's Funniest Home Videos funny in the least, and yet it was one of the most popular shows on television for years. It had the word "funny" right in the title, but to me, it was just a series of unfortunate accidents caught on tape and set to wacky music. Subjective.

For years I did stand-up and never mentioned the fact that I was gay. My generic, gender neutral material was funny enough to get me work, but after about 12 years of doing jokes about my grandmother, lunging tweezers and stupid Southern people I couldn't stand stand up anymore. I quit.

The most fun I ever had as a stand-up was when I was working for RSVP cruise lines. My idea of heaven is being on a cruise ship stage with an audience full of happy, tanned, gay men. RSVP knew I was gay and their audience knew I was gay, but they didn't hire a gay comic. They hired a comic who happened to be lesbian. I was not so lucky with the Dinah Shore entertainment organizers. They politely told me I wasn't "lesbian enough". So I'm a lesbian who isn't lesbian enough working on a cruise ship full of gay men doing straight stand up. I am a queer queer. Sorry, a QQ.



I quit doing stand-up because I couldn't be myself. I couldn't be gay and funny and get enough work to pay my bills. Remember, I wasn't gay enough for the lesbians. I've actually had lesbians walk out on my show. Why? I do a Powerpoint presentation called "Debunking Gay Myths and Stereotypes", and the first slide that appears is, "Lesbians are humorless". I stand there for a few moments looking confused and then say, "I got nothing" and move to the next slide. Some lesbians are furious over this, but to me, a lesbian comedian, it's hilarious on a number of levels.

I understand that our own Queersighted blogger and octogenarian, Richard Rothstein, will be performing at La Mama soon. Like many of you, I read his post on Stage Fright and I felt a deep and sincere obligation to help him get over his fears. You see, I was a stand-up comedian for many, many, many, many years. I still do stand-up occasionally, when I'm not blogging or "wrestling the menopause".

We all know that Richard is a very funny writer. He wrote this line for example ... "As for Susan, she may remember some of these classics, but at the moment she's busy wrestling the menopause to the ground." See, that is hilarious.

But there is a big difference between funny on paper and funny on stage. I am a perfect example of this. For year and years and years and years, I basked in the white hot light of success as a stand-up, and yet, I have received somewhat, well ... luke-warm reviews from readers here at Queersighted. This one for example ... "while i don't support miss tequila, i think you're an annoying, pretentious, bitter c**t".

Sure, that hurt a little, but when your audience gives you lemons, try to make lemon-aid. That reader didn't really "get" my post on bisexual dating shows, but doggonnit, at least I can feel good about the fact that she "got" me. Richard often helps me with my blogs. He's the one who insisted I do the Bisexual Dating Show post.

That's why I want to return the favor and help him with some performance advice. The first and best bit of advice I can give you is to warm the audience up with what's known in the business as an "icebreaker". You're performing for a room full of drag queens and trannies. so you might want to start with, "Hey there, where ya from?" or "Say you're a good looking crowd!" or "So, how old's your vagina?" Better yet, here's some comedy advice from a seasoned comedy professional who is really good with first timers. Pay attention Richard. I want you to do well at La MaMa.

Here's a big fat follow-up to Lesbians Are Fat And Andrew Sullivan Is A Big Puss. Once again, the reader comments have prompted me to do more work. This time it was a suggestion from my friend JAM to look into The Beauty Myth, by Naomi Wolf. Just to clarify, JAM is a "Queersighted reader friend", not a "real friend", like on MySpace.

Wolf's basic argument is that women are pressured to conform to an idealized concept of female beauty. Yes, thank you fashion magazines, beauty pageants, Paris Hilton, and Eileen Chaiken. Even Jane Fonda, who had women everywhere working out to her exercise videos in the 1980's, admitted years later that between takes she was barfing up breakfast. She also added something about "good genes", in other words, "Let's face it, I was born beautiful". Jane Fonda is actually trying to help women by finally telling the truth. We're not all born beautiful. Some of us are heavier than others because we didn't get Jane's "good genes". Some of us will never be able to exercise our our way into a size 4. Jane's one of the few aging actresses who hasn't nipped and tucked her face into a permanent expression of surprise. I like her.

Look, I lost 30 pounds and feel pretty good about myself, but if I saw "style guru" Tim Gunn at a party, I would crawl through a heating duct to avoid Tim's "finger to the mouth, old queen look of dissaproval". (I love Tim Gunn and old queens, please don't write in)

Gay Republican and lesbian obesity expert, Andrew Sullivan, also weighed in, Naomi Wolf style ... "My hunch is that without shallow, physically-oriented men to appeal to, many lesbians feel even less need to stay in shape than many straight women do." My hunch is that Andrew is right and my other hunch is that Andrew's mother should have told him not to scratch his ass on National TV.

I have no idea why people think I'm mean. Yes, I occasionally have a go at church-ladies, gay republicans and illiterate bisexual pole dancers, but I'm not mean. Someone sent me an article today from the New York University Student newspaper, called "Fat and queer? Get clothes here", along with a funny note that ended with, "I wouldn't touch this story with a ten foot pole". Some people who think I'm mean obviously also think I'm competitive. A story no one will touch? Once you've wrestled the menopause, nothing scares you anymore.

Fat isn't funny to me because I've been fat. Of course all lesbians are not fat, but we are notoriously competitive. My girlfriend describes our backyard badminton games this way ... "We don't play to win, we play to see which one of us is the better human being". So, okay, I'll bite. I'm doing the story no one else will touch.

First stop: Google. Has anyone of prominence written about this already? After combing through several dry, uninspired articles on the subject, I spy a post on theatlantic.com by Andrew Sullivan called "Lesbians and Obesity". Bingo! Here's the story. Okay, Andrew's not a lesbian, but he is gay. He's not fat, well not fat fat ... he's skinny fat, but close enough. He obviously struggles with his own body image. You know when someone is self-conscious about a particular part of their anatomy, because that's where they're hands always go.




Andrew Sullivan is not really known as a man of few words, so I was sure he would explore the topic of lesbian obesity thoroughly. Here's what he had to say.

"It's such an obvious problem that the extremely p.c. lesbian community is very reluctant to discuss it. I hereby predict I will be accused of foul intolerance for even linking to a scientific study about it. But obesity is a serious health-problem that should at least be discussed. My hunch is that without shallow, physically-oriented men to appeal to, many lesbians feel even less need to stay in shape than many straight women do. Put that together with the obesity epidemic that affects everyone and you have a serious health issue. That no one is allowed to talk about."

I had fully intended to write a light, fluffy little piece today called "Celebrities Who Made Me Gay". Unfortunately, while skimming the Concerned Church-Ladies of America web site, I spotted a truly crazy article by Pat Boone. I'm drawn to crazy Christians, like a magpie to tin foil.

I liked Pat Boone when I was a kid. He seemed so sweet and caring, so hairless, so pretty, so polite. Budding lesbians love those qualities in a boy. Pat was the 1960's equivalent to the boy band member who is described as the "sweet one". The "sweet one", as you all know, is the one who eventually "comes out" on the cover of People Magazine. Of course, Pat's not gay, but we have other things in common. He played Ann-Margret's love interest in the movie State Fair. I played Ann-Margret's love interest in my head.



When Ann-Margret sang How Lovely To Be A Woman Like Me, in the movie Bye Bye Birdie, I really wanted to believe she meant "like me". She's wearing jeans, a sweater and a baseball cap, for god's sake! If I had ever heard one rumor about Ann-Margaret being a lesbian, I would have been the first comedian to come out on national television, and you would all be surfing my web site, aftersusan.com, right now. Ann-Margaret has always been hip. She dated Elvis, she sang a duet with Tina Turner and my favorite ... she was the kitten in the movie, Kitten With a Whip. What was I talking about? Oh ... Pat Boone.

Again, Pat Boone is not gay. Don't read anything into the fact that he hawks Merv Griffin albums on his website. Honestly, who knew Merv Griffin was gay? No one. If there was ever any doubt about Pat's sexuality or his sanity, he cleared it up by releasing an album in 1997 entitled, No More Mr. Nice Guy. Pat changed his "sweet one" image forever by doing bad covers of heavy metal songs and dressing in leather on the album cover. Yes, nothing says "straight" like a bare chest, a leather vest and jewelry. Somewhere out there is a gay art director who is still laughing his ass off.

Susan pitches:

Let me begin by saying that I am thrilled to be blogging for QueerSighted. I can finally and proudly say that I have a Gay Profession. Clearly, some professions are better than others, and so it is with Gay Professions. While I love what I do for a living, and am only 723 blogs shy of my mortgage payment, not everyone is so lucky. This thought compelled me to compile a list of what might be considered the World's Worst Gay Professions.

(Warning, Mature Content, Audio NSFW:)

I made one "itty bitty" mistake when the idea for this post first began dancing in my head. I emailed the idea along with an example to Richard Rothstein, who immediately responded with a funnier example. Not to be outdone, I responded, then he responded, then me, then he, then ... sometime around midnight, exhausted and fully satiated, we collapsed onto our respective desks, smoked a cigarette and fell gently into a self-satisfied slumber.

I was incredibly honored when Queersighted editor, Kenneth Hill, sent me a story he was sure only I could handle. The fact that my editor would trust me with an important story after such a short time on staff was truly humbling. I opened the article with great anticipation. Let's see, it's called ... MTV's boundary-breaking sleaze? Wow, that sound's dreadful, but I'm still humbled, and appreciative. Let me read more before I judge.

According to LA Times.com, it's "a serialized bisexual dating show starring Tila Tequila, mistress of MySpace."

I stop reading momentarily to search for an old Xanax prescription. I'm back.

"Tequila will welcome 16 straight men and 16 lesbian women into a mansion, where they'll all live for a scandalous season while vying for her affection. MTV's first serialized dating program represents a big commitment from a network devoted to the short-attention-span crowd, meaning we can expect as much squabbling, back-stabbing and pansexual make-out sessions as 10 episodes can hold."

Oh, I understand now. Richard Rothstein has passed on this and Kenny hates me. Or, Richard passed and I'm the only other writer old enough to remember MTV's humble beginnings. That's why I got this story. I'll never forget the day MTV aired the first ever music video. It was just a guy with a Victrola and some sock puppets.