Sanctioned by the NCAA?

Arkansas Razorback players Clarke Moore, Brett Goode and Casey Dick need to stop hanging out on the sidelines!

Le meme

Another meme swiped from the incomparable Dixie.

Comment and I shall give you a letter. Go back to your site, and write ten words beginning with that letter, including an explanation what the word means to you and why.

Dixie was kind enough to give me the letter L.

1. Laughter - I love to laugh. I love making people laugh. And, except for Biaxin and Vicodin, it really is the best medicine. Or is that revenge?

2. Lactase and lactose - My body doesn't make enough of the former so I can't have much of the latter. It makes for an interesting breakfast (when I'm disciplined enough to eat breakfast).

3. Lennon, John - My hero in round specs. He is my conscience and my inspiration and I miss him still.

4. Leather - Whether it's a soft, age-worn jacket or the harder B&D variety, I'm hooked on it.

5. L Word, The - Yeah, it's a show about lesbians. So what? It has Jennifer Beals making out with other hot women.

6. Lovemaking - Not just sex. It's sex plus. It's the eye contact and the way you kiss and touch each other. It's the whispers and the meaning behind it all.

7. LMFAO - My favorite chat and text-messaging acronym. I use it often and I do it often.

8. Lathes - Until a few months ago I would have said, "Huh?" But I now work for a company that sells $35,000 - $100,000 super-precision lathes. So I guess they'd better mean something to me.

9. Lingerie - Just one thing that I love buying for the woman in my life. There's something so intimate about selecting the style, the fabric, the color, the cut -- and imagining it on her body while I do so -- that keeps my heart rate at a healthy level.

10. Love - It's everything to me. Especially if it's returned in kind.

Let me know if you want to play too.

A meme of a different color

This is a questionnaire I swiped from the L Word Message Boards. Feel free to comment and/or add your own answers.

1. Spell your first name backwards.
bocaJ

2. Story behind your myspace name?
I got rid of my myspace account but it was my initials (jhct... aren't I original?). My blogspot page refers to my transition.

3. What month were you born in?
June

4. Where do you live?
Chicago suburbs

5.DESCRIBE YOUR WALLET?
Brown leather tri-fold from Wilsons Leather

7. Toothbrush:
Oral B battery-powered

8. Jewelry worn daily:
A bracelet I made a few years ago, and any one of eleven watches currently in my watch box.

9. Pillow cover right now:
600 TC Dark sage tone-on-tone stripes

11. Underwear:
Right now? Hanes briefs. But I also wear boxers.

12. Best Friends:
Cyndy, Kimberley, Lynn, and the woman I love

13. Sunglasses:
Brooks Brothers rectangular bronze frames with prescription lenses

14. Favorite shirt:
A yellow and French blue pinstripe dress shirt.

15. Cologne/Perfume:
"Chrome" by Azzaro, "Good Life" by Davidoff, "Reaction" by Kenneth Cole.

16. CD in stereo:
Kathy Valentine - "Light Years"

17. Piercings:
Both ears but they've been empty for 20 years

18. WHAT ARE YOU Wearing now
Gray sweat pants, white T-shirt, white sweat socks

19. Wishing for:
Love

20. Wanting:
Love

26. The last thing you drank:
Diet Coke

27. Something you are deathly afraid of:
Falling from heights

28. Do you like candles:
I love 'em, especially in a romantic setting

30. Do you like the taste of blood:
Ugh- no

31. Do you believe in love:
Absolutely

32. Do you believe in soul mates?:
Absolutely

35. Do you believe in God:
Yes, but He makes it hard to sometimes

RELATIONSHIPS:

47. Are you shy around your crush?
Sometimes

48. Still have feelings for anyone in a past relationship?
Does hatred count?

49. Do you know what it feels like to be in love?
Yes.

FASHION STUFF:

51. Where is your favorite place to shop?
Old Navy

53. What is your favorite thing to wear?
At home - Sweats and a T-shirt
Out - Well-fitting jeans and a dress shirt

54. What is a must have accessory?
A good watch

55. How much is the most you've ever spent in a single clothing store?
$650.00 on a suit that was on sale at Brooks Brothers

56. Who is the least fashionable person you know?
Osama Bin Laden

57. Do you match your belt with your hair color?
I most often wear a brown belt, and my hair is brown, so it's purely coincidental. But I mostly wear brown boots. I match my belt to my footwear.

59. How many pairs of shoes do you own?
14

60. What is the worst trend you see today?
Baggy-ass pants

61. Do you do drugs?
Only by prescription

62.What kind of soap do you use?
Suave Naturals moisturizing body wash with aloe & vitamin E

63.What are you listening to right now?
The neighbor kids playing outside, and my fingers on the keyboard

65. Who was the last person that called you?
Mark at Precision Screw Products. He wanted to order 24 sets of 1/2" B11 cast-iron collet pads

66. Where do you want to get married?
Wherever she wants. The woman is important. The setting is incidental

67. How many buddies are online right now?
Just one right now

68. What are essentials in your life?
Family, friends, my cats, a paycheck, and the woman I love

69. Do you send out holiday cards each year?
Yep

70. Hair right now?
Short, dark brown with natural red and blond sprinkled in and some silver on the top & sides

71. Mood:
Melancholy

Going to the Store

Does anyone need anything?

Anyone? Anyone?

Fine. Don't say I never asked.

Thank U

I am a deeply appreciative person. If you do something nice for me or make me feel good, I'm gonna let you know. I don't believe in letting good feelings lie under the surface because God forbid I don't say anything and then I get hit by a bus. Then how would you know that you've made a difference in my life?

So thank you to my angels and my saviors, my friends and family, my lovers and confidantes for making me the man that I am. For believing in me when I didn't believe in myself. For lifting me up and holding me high. For kicking me in the ass when I needed it and kissing me where it hurt.

I love you.

I mean that.

The Greatest Light

I was looking through a box of articles and papers and speeches I've written; and hidden amongst the crap and the mundane and the sometimes brilliant, was a speech I'd written to introduce Dr. Marilyn K. Volker as the keynote speaker at the 1994 South Florida Gender Symposium for medical and mental health professionals.

I won't get into the flowery details, but the crux of my introduction was to verify Marilyn's importance in the gender community to the attendees, and I opened my speech by quoting Edith Wharton in Vesalius in Zante: "There are two ways of spreading light: to be the candle or the mirror that reflects it."

I added that Marilyn was both: she was the candle, showing us our way out of the dark; and she was the mirror, reflecting our light and helping us to see ourselves more clearly.

How lucky I was that Marilyn was not only my therapist in the early years of my transition, but also my good friend. I helped her to educate her Human Sexuality classes by sitting on a panel comprised of various members of the gender community several times a year. She was there whenever I needed her, and counseled me when I was in the death throes of a long and abusive relationship. When I married a few years later, she sent a wonderful wedding gift with her apologies for being unable to attend the ceremony.

She was my savior when I truly needed saving, and I miss talking to her; especially when I need a few words of wisdom sprinkled liberally with her unique brand of humor. And a reminder to practice safe sex.

I need to write one more thing. I need to write Marilyn a letter.

Twelve Things You Never Knew About Me

1. I have a chart that I refer to when I need to wear a dress shirt and tie, and it tells me what goes with what. I have so many of both that it saves me a lot of time. And God knows I'm not about wasting time.
2. My grandfather called me "Stick" when I was a kid. I was tall for my age and quite gangly, so I suppose it was appropriate. I miss my grandfather.
3. If I had a son I'd name him Jacob Howard. Howard was my grandfather's name, and when I changed my name I took his middle name as my last name.
4. When I like something, I tend to buy multiples. Especially clothing. It works for me.
5. I taught myself to read when I was four years old, and shocked the shit out of my mother.
6. When I was thirteen I carved an "X" in my nine-year-old sister's forehead with a nut pick. She still has the scar and my mom just about killed me.
7. I can recite the Preamble to the Constitution but I have to sing it. "Schoolhouse Rock", ya know.
8. Nude portraiture is my specialty. And I'm damn good at it.
9. I once went four days without sleeping when my pulmonologist prescribed a new pill for my asthma.
10. When I was a bridge captain many years ago, I had an injured,very unhappy pelican in the bridge house while I waited for my friend from the bird sanctuary to arrive. Unhappy pelicans are not good houseguests.
11. I can drive a tractor.
12. If I could do it all over again, I would. I'd just like to be able to see a few roadbumps next time.

A Smack in the Kisser

I realized this morning, as I stood in my secret vault walk-in closet surrounded by my friends clothes, that no one is as obsessed with interested in what I wear as I am. And I don't know why, for I look fucking hot am a really sharp dresser.

Love in black and white

I swiped this meme from my dear and beloved Dixie, who in turn swiped it from Traveller One. Those of you who know me well are aware that I would absolutely die without reading material, and the better the book the happier I am. Books are friends, and I love my friends.

Meme instructions: Look at the list of books below. Bold the ones you've read, italicize the ones you might read, cross out the ones you won't, underline the ones on your book shelf, and place parentheses around the ones you've never even heard of. Extra commentary by me on select novels.

The DaVinci Code - Dan Brown... Read it twice, looking forward to the movie. "Angels and Demons" was a more fascinating read, though -- at least for me.
The Catcher in the Rye - J.D. Salinger... The hero and the anti-hero rolled into one frustrated teenager. I love you, JD Salinger.
The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy - Douglas Adams... I believe I was high the first time I read this book. It's interesting and often quite funny, but I'm not really into that kind of fiction. Maybe if I had an Alice B Toklas brownie...
The Great Gatsby - F. Scott Fitzgerald... One of my favorites. It takes a bit of patience to get into if you're not a Fitzgerald efficianado, but it's well worth the effort.
To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee... It's always been a favorite, and now I can't even hear or read the title without thinking about my friend Finch, whose mother was a fan of the book as well.
The Time Traveler's Wife - Audrey Niffenegger
(His Dark Materials) - Philip Pullman
Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince - J.K. Rowling... I'm sorry, Dix, but I am so not into Harry Potter. Chicks dig him, but I don't.
Life of Pi - Yann Martel
Animal Farm - George Orwell... "Everyone is equal, but some are more equal than others." Need I say more?
Catch 22 - Joseph Heller... John Yossarian is my hero.
The Hobbit - J.R.R. Tolkien... I heart Bilbo Baggins.
The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time - Mark Haddon
Lord of the Flies - William Golding... Disturbing even today but one of the greatest novels ever written.
Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austin... Flawless. Timeless. I heart Elizabeth Bennet.
1984 - George Orwell
Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban - J.K. Rowling... See "Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince"
One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez... Richly-tapestried storytelling. One of my all-time favorites.
Memoirs of a Geisha - Arthur Golden... Okay, I cried when I read this. They were manly-man tears, but I cried. I love this book.
The Kite Runner - Khaled Hosseini
The Lovely Bones - Alice Sebold... The single-most riveting book I've read in the past few years; and, even though it opened old wounds from my own childhood, I couldn't put it down.
Slaughterhouse 5 - Kurt Vonnegut
The Secret History - Donna Tartt
Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte... As much as I love this book, I always wanna smack the shit out of Catherine and Heathcliff.
The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe - C.S. Lewis... I haven't read it since I was nine. Maybe I'll read it again this weekend.
Middlesex - Jeffrey Eugenides... I love his writing, and this is a book that you fall into. Lush and inviting.
Cloud Atlas - David Mitchell... Bought it but still have to read it.
Jane Eyre - Charlotte Bronte... The ultimate class-war novel.
Atonement - Ian McEwan... Once upon a time Ian McEwan dreamed and when he did, he channeled Gabriel Garcia Marquez. Beautiful writing, interesting characters.
The Shadow of the Wind - Carlos Ruiz Safon
The Old Man and the Sea - Ernest Hemingway... I loved this book when I was 13. Now I hate it. Sharks 1, Diego 0.
The Handmaid's Tale - Margaret Atwood... Not enough sex.
The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath. Every time I have a suicidally bad day, I take this book off the shelf and wonder what she would have done with a bottle of Prozac.
Dune - Frank Herbert... UGH. No fuckin thanks.

Ignorance Is Bliss

I've been spending the past few weeks at work cursing the ground my boss walks on keeping busy while I'm updating the company's website because my boss is Hitler revisited apparently I'm the only one in the office who looks like a doormat fears the reaper knows html.

It wouldn't be so bad if he wasn't such a fuck had bothered to give me the information on all of the 200 machines we sell when I asked for it. Or if he wouldn't curse my name blame me for the delay when he waited until 2.5 months after it was supposed to be finished to shit on my head toss the project on my desk.

So I can't wait until the damn thing blows up Terry drops dead it's done because until then I'm Terry's butt boy taking it up the ass somewhat stressed.

And How Was Your Day?

I woke at 1:09 a.m. feeling sick. Not just a headache, not just a jumpy stomach. It was full-blown sick, and I thanked God that my bedroom is actually a master suite with its own bathroom, just fifteen short feet away. No need to bother with a robe or worrying about waking Julie.

After praying in short bursts to the porcelain god for a half hour and seeing my supper make a round-trip, I sat on the cool floor and waited for it to subside.

It didn't.

I found myself praying, too, that it wasn't that bullshit killer flu that's going around. Joe, who works in the front office with me, spent several days shuttling between work, home, and the hospital because both of his young sons have had it. Ron, our new sales guy, was sick for a week.

Now, I have a compromised immune system, and my family calls me "Bubble Boy." I was born that way, and I've gotten used to diligently avoiding viral and bacterial infection at all cost. I'm not always successful, and when I do get an infection I'm down for the count. I was off work for two weeks in January with an upper-respiratory infection that had set up camp and claimed squatter's rights; and in the process I used up all of my sick days for the year.

So you can see why I was praying that I didn't have the flu.

At 2:00 I decided that a hot bath might make me feel better, so I filled the tub and grabbed the book I'm currently reading for the third time ("The Family", by Mario Puzo).

I read 72 pages without having to jump out of the tub to hurl again, so I toweled off and went back to bed. By this time I was completely exhausted but my alarm would be going off in less than two hours. I wasn't going to be much good at work, and I couldn't call in sick, no matter how shitty I felt.

After hitting the snooze bar a few times, I dragged myself out of bed at 6:15 and stood in the shower for twenty-five minutes. I wasn't puking anymore but I felt like someone had filled my intestines with ice water. To say that the feeling was not nice is an understatement.

I dressed, wishing for the millionth time that I could wear this to work instead of this. I checked my messenger bag to make sure I had my wallet, meds, outgoing mail, cell phone, and every other thing I can't go the day without, and left the apartment.

I got sick on the way to work. It sucked.

My day was spent staring at my monitor and watching the clock. I'm sure that I must have accomplished something today, but I can't honestly tell you what it was.

At 4:30 I switched my phone over to voicemail and drove home. I fed the cats, who are sweet to begin with but always give me special consideration when I'm not feeling well, and went to my room to change.

And as I was brushing my teeth I noticed a zit.

With An Offer Like That...

I clicked on my Outlook Express icon a couple of hours after I got home tonight, and gave it a few minutes to download all of my mail. Some days this task takes a little longer, particularly if A and I have been shooting e-mails back and forth while we're supposed to be doing real work; and the more we e-mail, the more I have to sync with my home PC.

And I don't care because our e-mails and text messages and phone calls are the best parts of my day. But I digress...

So Outlook Express finished syncing and I minimized my hand of Free Cell to see what had popped up in the last few hours; and, mixed in with items I've been watching on ebay and jokes from my friend Donna in North Carolina, was a reminder that I need to update my spam filters.

CumOnMyTits! screamed one message from within the once-safe recesses of my Inbox; and, once I had successfully suppressed a bone-deep shudder, the angel on my shoulder whispered in my ear.

Her name is Margaret Cho. And when she whispered in my ear, the next time I read the subject line of that unwelcome message it was delivered unto my brain in her voice.

CumOnMyTiiiiiits! Margaret shrieked, the invitation blended into one long, breathless word, and I found myself laughing hysterically, laughing only the way she can make me. I'm talking crossing-my-legs laughing.

Whenever I need a pick-me-up I'll pop in one of her DVDs -- Notorious C.H.O. is the best -- and laugh myself silly. There's nothing like the expletive-laden comedy of a Korean-American fag-hag to brighten my day.

Especially if she's screaming CumOnMyTiiiiiits!

The Drip-Dry Brain

I could just spit nails.

I'm a member of the L Word Message Boards (yeah yeah yeah, I know; just call me a male lesbian) and I have some fun reading and posting to everyone's threads.

Today, however, another member created a thread suggesting that we transgendered brainwashed ourselves into wanting something different, and that we should have just accepted what we were given.

Now, I always have to remind myself to try and not be offended when people think that I should have ignored what's in my head even though it in no way matches the shell I was born into.

I accept my gender because it's male. What I did not accept was my sex. There's an enormous difference between gender and sex, especially if the two differ. Gender is what's between your ears; sex is what's between your legs.

Why would someone suggest that I put up with it and be miserable every fucking day of my life? I have every right to be happy, too. And how on earth could they even suggest that I brainwashed myself? Guys like me don't just wake up one day and say, "You know, I think I'll be a man now." We live this every day from the time we're little kids -- we just didn't know why we felt "wrong" when we were little because we didn't understand how these things work, and we certainly didn't know the words to express them.

I am insulted and offended. I get used to being called "freak" by ignorant assholes, but I never thought that someone in the community would suggest that I had brainwashed myself and should have just accepted the shitty hand I was dealt.

But that's just me.

Excuse me while I toss my brain in the dryer.

The Best Is Yet To Come

So I'm listening to "Lick It" by God-des and She, and wondering why no one thought to record a song like this before.

It's an instructional song, you see, for men and women alike; an explicit how-to in the fine art of giving oral pleasure to a woman. I've never felt the need for such tutoring myself -- it is, after all, my favorite side-dish -- but the song is good fun anyway.

Now I'm hungry.

The Velveteen Rabbit Comes Out

God granted us a brutally abbreviated time on this Earth, and the majority of us piss it away like it's water. Scratch that. Water's fucking precious too. I like to make the most of what I've got. Is that smart or selfish? You can't buy happiness in 48-bottle cases at Costco.

Eleven years ago I was compared to The Velveteen Rabbit by a wonderful young woman I had met online. We e-mailed and IM'd daily and became fast friends, and then one day she asked if she could meet me. She was, to my surprise, attracted to me.

It was then that I told her, as I have had to tell other women since, that I am transgendered. What you see, you know, isn't always what you get. If it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck, is it a duck?

Actually, that's not a fair analogy. I look like a man and talk and act and think like a man but, sadly, I can't fuck like any other man. I have (thanks to Doc Johnson) the accoutrements necessary for fucking and I can not only be any size a woman wants, I can last longer than any other man.

I love women and they love me but that one point -- that sadistic truth -- eviscerates me. I'm the perfect man, according to them, because I'm sensitive and intelligent and witty and compassionate. But in what order of importance do my desirous qualities fall? And is that enough to negate the one thing I'm missing?

My friend -- that dear, sweet young woman who wanted to meet me -- was not offended by what I had told her. Instead she compared me to a literary icon, a tattered, life-worn bunny who wanted nothing more than to be real. And to continue to be loved.

Is there anything wrong with that? Why shouldn't I have love -- real, unconditional love -- like anyone else? Why shouldn't I be real?

The sad truth for guys like me is that the closest we're gonna get to real is through the rose-colored glasses of love worn by a few very special women.

I have, since that time eleven years ago, been bathed in the love -- however briefly -- of a very few such women. And it was wonderful.

Because they made me real.