The Cult of Melinda

The gAyTM is closed! No gay rights, no gay $$$!

Friday, September 29, 2006

Mama Zuma's Revenge

Okay, I've discovered Route 11 potato chips, a rather decent brand sold here in Virginia. The best part of the chips, however, is on the outside of the bag.

Now, read what is on the back of the bag:

Get too close to Mama Zuma and you will taste the snap of her green chile pepper whip. Mama Zuma is so accurate that she can hit just the tip of your tongue and you'll want her to hit it again and again. Sure, it's twisted. But ever since Mama Zuma's lover was killed by an exploding spud, she's been hell bent on getting revenge one chip at a time.

Crack, anyone?

Tuesday, September 26, 2006

Diary of a Sick Gay Woman: Part Trois

I don't know if I can explain how exhausting this all is. I haven't had any major episodes since Tuesday, just a lot of minor ones that pass quickly. But I feel like I'm going to fall asleep at my desk. I want to sleep forever. Problem is I have two and a half hours until I'm supposed to get off. Might leave early so as not to fall asleep. Can't really get much done anyway when I can't think of anything but a bed. zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Monday, September 25, 2006


A book that changed my life:

There are too many. Can anyone mention just one? Jeez. Okay, hmmmmm.... Nope, can't name just one.

A book I’ve read more than once:

Can't name just one. What's with the singular in these questions?

A book I would take with me if I were stuck on a desert island:

Other than a survival guide? The Talmud

A book that made me laugh:

Any of the books from the Idiot Girls series

A book that I wish I had written:


A book that I wish had never been written:

The Protocols of the Learned Elders of Zion

A book I’ve been meaning to read:

The Talmud

I’m currently reading:

Ethical Realism (for a review) and I REALLY want to throw it in the trash. Having to read this thing SUCKS! I'm totally okay with people having different perspectives on the same facts, but making up facts and blatantly lying? Accusing the entire American left of communism and being in love with Joe Stalin? Ugh!

YODA: Caption Contest?

Okay, this might come pretty close to blasphemy, but please don't riot. It's all in good fun. I think the Master would enjoy it. Anyway, saw these and funny thoughts come to mind, but I KNOW that some of you probably have screwed up comments that even my bizarre mind couldn't conceive. So, here's my first Caption Contest. Post your captions in the comments, then I'll put up all of the "entries", and announce the winner for each pic. The winner gets "The Cult of Melinda Jedi Award" and that's about it. (Yes, I'm bored.)

My contribution: "The force inside you do you have? Like some would you?"

My contribution: "Inside us is the force? Or the force inside are we? Cosmic the answer is duuuuuuuude!"

My contribution: Explains a lot this does. Irish Yoda is who knew?

My contribution: Who's the green master jedi who knows just what you like? Yoda! That Yoda is a bad mother....

Your turn.

Wednesday, September 20, 2006

Diary of a Sick Gay Woman: Part Deux

I HAVE THE BIGGEST OVARIES ON THE PLANET! Why? Because my recent "illness" may very well have been a minor heart attack... a heart attack I treated myself. Okay, that actually makes me a big idiot.

I'm now on watch. Any nausea, cold sweats, vomiting, chest discomfort, etc. and I have to go directly to the ER. I must not pass go. I cannot collect $200.

I HATE THIS! I'm 30. Yeah, that seemed really damned old as it loomed before me years ago. But it's really young. There are so many things I haven't done yet.

I'm nowhere near finishing my first book. (Although the outline is fleshing out nicely and the research is leading to some interesting discoveries.) I haven't seen New Zealand or Greece or Israel. I haven't slept with 7 of 9. I haven't gotten married. I haven't seen my nieces and nephews grow up to have little ones of their own. I haven't watched Rob grow up to have little ones of his own. heh.

Fear not for I am Melinda. This lesbian takes a lickin' and keeps on tickin'! I laugh at death. I taunt it mercilessly in a bad French accent. Then I taunt it a second time. Death is a pussy!

Tuesday, September 19, 2006

Diary of a Sick Gay Woman

As some of you know, I suffer from a condition known as prinzmetals angina. I became symptomatic when I was 26, but was misdiagnosed for two years. During those two years, the spasms in my coronary arteries led to a ventricular arrythmia and irregular heart block (which progressed to type one second degree heart block a year ago). I also had the good fortune to experience my first minor heart attack at 28.

In the last two years, my prognosis meter has generally hovered around screwed. The difficulty of simultaneously controlling the arrythmia, heart block, and coronary artery spasms has required that I take a combination of meds that is not recommended. (If you hit the link, you can read more about it in the "Not to be used in" and "How can this medicine affect other medicines?" sections. Hint: I'm also on calcium-channel blockers.) Placing me on these meds was a last ditch effort at one of those moments in the last couple of years that the doctors were sure I was going to die. There have been too many of those. (But I... I laugh down my nose French-like at death!)

A month or so ago, however, my prognosis seemed to change for the better. There were no guarantees but my cardiologist thought I should be able to go six months without a visit. Six months without being hooked up to machines. Six months without being topless in front of perfect strangers. Six months without having to wash electrode tape or ultrasound goop off of my chest. The very thought of it was heaven.

I'd still have to take pills every day. I'd still be tired most of the time. I'd still have to monitor my blood pressure and pulse. I still had a standing emergency room order. But it was freedom! Relatively.

Trust me. Your standards for happiness really lower in this kind of situation.

I, however, am Melinda, so things must go wrong. (If you know me, you're nodding your head right about now.) Labor Day weekend, I travelled to New York with a couple of crazy friends, a wild weekend compared to what I've been able to do for the last two years. In the car on our way out of town, I began having a medium-sized spasm, which feels all-in-all like being suffocated for 10 minutes. It sucked, but the look on the Kahuna's face really took the edge off, especially since he was trying to "order" me NOT to have a heart attack in his car. Heh.

It passed, so I decided to just go on with my weekend and my life. Seems like the end of the story unless you know that I'm Melinda. (Remind me to describe "Melinda luck" or "pulling a Melinda" to you sometime.)

Anyway, this Sunday night, as I snuggled down early for bed, I became outrageously nauseous and ended up making out with the porcelain princess. I raged at the Kung Pao chicken I'd ordered for dinner, took some pepto, and went back to bed. Yesterday afternoon, at work no less, I began to feel really nauseous. I fought against the rising tide for hours but the porcelain princess' siren call was too much. So, there I was on my knees the second I walked into my apartment, trembling and sweaty and finally acknowledging what was really happening.

I took the wise course and strapped on the wrist monitor to check out the old b.p. and pulse. Blood pressure: Normal. Pulse: 120. That, ladies and gentleman, is tachycardia. How loverly. After an early dose of my meds, my stats returned to normal and my stomach eventually went back to sleep. But now I wait to find out if my "parole" has been revoked. My sweet freedom may be far too fleeting at last.

Sometimes, I hate being Melinda.

Monday, September 18, 2006

Stacey made me do it!

State three for each of the following:

Favorite food you eat till you puke and don't mind eating it again and again and puke it all over again:

1. General Tso's chicken.
2. Nathan's hot dogs.
3. Hummus.

Favorite stores to shop till you drop (and might never fit in their clothing, but you buy their stuff anyways, because you are in denial):

1. GAP
2. Old Navy
3. Target
Yeah, shut up! I shop in the men's section.

Favorite shows that you quote like madness and will totally attend a convention if ever existed:
I don't really quote television shows (more of a movie person, myself), but here's the ones I would...
1. Star Trek... any series.
2. Xena: The Warrior Princess
3. House or Bones (it's a tie) Yeah, my two favorite current TV characters are both atheists. Go figure.

Favorite movies that you just never get tired of:

1. Anything by Monty Python
2. Anything by Mel Brooks
3. Independents/foreign films with hot lesbians (NOT cheesy porn where they do it wrong and I want to smack 'em!)

Things you wish to do before you die:

1. Win the Pulitzer (or a Nobel... I'm so cocky).
2. Have equal rights so that I can die free in my own damned country!
3. See the world doing all those crazy things my heart can't really take anymore.

Places you want to go before you die:

1. New Zealand
2. Greece
3. Israel

Things you fear the most:

1. Dying before I'm finished here
2. That my meds will stop working
3. Obscurity

Things that make you happy:

1. Writing
2. Hanging with my crazy friends, who'd better come to DC soon!
3. Doing wild and somewhat insane things.

Things that you wish to excel in:

1. Writing
2. Commentary and analysis.
3. Public speaking

You feel strongest about:

1. Give us us free!!!!!!!!
2. Impeach George W. Bush.
3. Uniting the left (minus the crazies) so that we can actually get something done, dammit!

Your favorite quote:
Not necessarily my favorites, there are so many, but just a few from one of my favorite writers and the one who has probably had the most influence on my thinking, George Orwell.
1. All political thinking for years past has been vitiated in the same way. People can foresee the future only when it coincides with their own wishes, and the most grossly obvious facts can be ignored when they are unwelcome.
2. But if thought corrupts language, language can also corrupt thought.
3. During times of universal deceit, telling the truth becomes a revolutionary act.

Tag 'em:

Tuesday, September 12, 2006

Flashback: The Big O

Picture it. The University of New Orleans' Bienville Hall dorms. Fall 1998. I'd been having a rough time that semester. My suitemates, the two girls who lived on the other side of our communal bathroom, had decided two months into our "friendship" to inform me that, as a homosexual, I was a violation of G-d's holy plan. (Strange, considering they hung out with a few other gay people.) One's boyfriend had written "gay hoes R us" on my door. Ironically, he was the boyfriend of the roommate who, a year or so later, would come out as bisexual. One night, they allowed a severely drunken gay boy into my room, which ended in my being assaulted. (How fortunate for him that I'm a pacifist.)

Despite numerous requests, the dorm manager refused to move me because I "had" to be relocated as a single room. Now, I hadn't paid for a single room, a highly prized commodity in limited supply at Bienville Hall. I was assigned one because it was the dorm manager's position that no heterosexual woman should be forced to live with a lesbian. So, despite the offer of several friends sans roommates to have me live in their rooms, I was denied a transfer. Later, after protesting to the administration, which denied any wrongdoing and didn't seem to understand why I'd protest having a single room regardless of how I'd come to have one, I managed to get an end put to that practice. (Month's later, the "innocent" dorm manager they had defended was fired for taking bribes to allow non-students and part-time students to live in the dorm. Don't ask how I know. Let's just say I know people.)

Anyway, things were rough and I needed a real pick-me-up. Enter the sci-fi clubs "usual suspects," including the Big Kahunah, his future ex-wife, the Emperor Canardius and the future Housewife in Flip-flops. The most relevant character to this story is the lovely Housewife in Flip-flops, Stacey:

Gorgeous, isn't she? Anyway, Stacey had been supporting me by helping me to take "creative revenge" on my tormentors. In one particularly silly moment, we had scripted a musical tribute to my rather "unintelligent" and decidely corpulent homophobic roommate: "Je suis une Redneck et je m'appelle le Breeder. Moo. Moo. Moo." It was also funny to randomly speak French whenever we were stuck in the elevator with her. The corpulent one, of course, thought we were speaking Spanish. She also thought we were speaking Spanish when Stacey and I faked a "conversation" in Taiwanese which had us saying things like "I love you. Drink tea. Shut up!" It was great fun.

Okay, back to the main story. The crowd gathered in my room for a rousing game of that party favorite: Truth or Dare, which (as always) included the question, "Melinda, how many women have you slept with?" (At least, this time, no one was shocked to discover that I remember all of their names. Jeesh! You'd think I was a slut or something!) Anyway, it was my turn and I had the lovely Stacey at my command. What would be the dare? Fake an orgasm in my bathroom to freak out the homophobes. (Do you really expect maturity from someone playing truth or dare?)

It was awesome. The panting. The moaning. The groaning. The oohs and ahhhs. The oh yeses and oh G-ds. Then she screamed... THE WRONG NAME!

Bad Stacey.

Looking for a Few Good Hobbits

A musical version of Lord of the Rings? J.R.R. Tolkien is either a.) spinning in his grave or b.) laughing his ass off. Somehow, I think it's b, maybe just because I want to believe that Tolkien had a sense of humor. Most sci-fi and fantasy people that I've met have a wicked sense of humor, a love of satire and self-deprecation, and the humility to realize how really funny some of our... er... obsessions really are. Honestly, I'd really love to see it myself, seems like it'd be a lot of fun. Of course, I'm under 5'7" and can hold a note better than most, so maybe...... hmmmmmmm. I've wanted to spend more time in London since my trip there in '99. Might be fun. What do you think?

Monday, September 11, 2006

Say It Ain't So, Captain

This man: William Shatner, aka Captain James Tiberius Kirk, is scared of going into space.

I must say I'm devastated. I just watched Free Enterprise the other night, so I know that Captain Kirk says we shouldn't confuse the character with the actor... but still! It's James Tiberius Kirk and he's wussing out of taking a potentially dangerous Virgin-backed trip into space at the age of 77 (which he'll be in 2008)! Say it ain't so, Captain. Say it ain't so.

Of course, this destroys my dreams of Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock speaking from space one of the greatest lines ever written: Jews in Spaaaaaaaaaaace! The sorrow is unbearable. I must weep now.

Video: It'd Be Funnier If It Weren't True

9/11 and Iraq. This video will remind you why so many Americans still believe that they were connected.

Sunday, September 10, 2006

Katrina Diaries: The Opening

My adorable imaginary wife and very good friend, Angela Weddle of Sketch Hunter, has just achieved her first major art opening as part of Galeria Tonantzin's Katrina Diaries series. A heartfelt congratulations to Angela, who is definitely one of the most talented people I know. If you happen to be anywhere near San Juan Bautista between now and October 1st, drop on by and support Angela and the other New Orleans artists participating in the show, who have recorded the grief and loss of Hurricane Katrina for posterity through their art. If you happen to be nowhere near San Juan Bautista between now and October 1st, drop by Sketch Hunter to see more of Angela's work and to support a gifted artist on her way up.

Friday, September 08, 2006

Photo: Zeeblox Had One Too Many

Okay, one more then I really do have to get back to work:

Photo:'s photo gallery

Stupid Photo: Volkswagen Arachnid?

Photo:'s photo gallery

Do you know your arse from your elbow?

This is a hilarious quiz from I can't believe I only got 6/14 right. I guess I'll have to study a lot more arses. Now, that's a homework assignment I won't put off until the last minute.

Are You Stupid?

You have to love the folks over at for bringing us the finest collection of stupid, insane, and disgusting toys, candy, and gifts ever put together under one roof... er... website?

After all, who doesn't need earwax candy?

And of course, the talking golem key chain is simply nerdtastic!

And let's not forget, the talking trailer trash doll, also known as the Brittney Spears action figure: has been one of my favorite sites for a while. I've yet to make a purchase, but it's always fun to go over and check out all the bizarre and utterly useless stuff that's on the market. I really would love to meet the freaks who come up with some of this stuff.

Thursday, September 07, 2006

Flashback: Why I Love Pool

Every once in a while, I'm going to post flashbacks from the bizarre life of Melinda. 1.) Because these stories are too funny/interesting/absurd not to be shared. 2.) Because I love to brag. 3.) Because, as I face what may be the last years of my life, I'd rather these stories not die with me. To those who remember the events behind these flashbacks or are privy to the unedited versions: I ask that you not reveal private information that would embarass an innocent third party. Feel free to embarass me. So, here's the first Official Cult of Melinda Flashback.

Picture it. New Orleans. August 2005. Pre-Katrina. I decide to go out with a friend to meet her new squeeze and we end up at a gay bar in the historic French Quarter. Suddenly, three women walk in the door. One of them is, without question, my perfect woman. I'm all aflutter! My friend, Lynn, insists that she's "with" one of the other women, so I pout and return to my diet coke.

Moments later, the perfect woman (who is NOT "with" the other woman) approaches and asks if anyone wants to play pool. I find out in quick order (since I obviously said 'yes') that her name's Sermin and she's from Turkey.

"We do not play this game in my country," she says. "What do I do?"

In my best butch "Let me help you there, little lady" tone of voice, I explain the basics of pool. First game: she wipes the table with me. Second game: she wipes the table with me AGAIN! Apparently, they don't play American pool in Turkey, but they do play a similar and much more difficult version of billiards. I've been had...not that I'm complaining.

Of course, what she doesn't know is: I've been playing pool since I was 12. I can play right-handed and left-handed. I've beaten some exceptionally good New York City pool sharps. I'm playing without my glasses. And I just need a few games to warm up.

Third game: She decides to make things a little interesting. "If I win," she whispers in my ear, "you go to dinner with me." Hell, yeah! As I begin to turn the tables on the little scammer, she adds "Okay. If I win, you buy dinner. If you win, I buy dinner." Hell, yeah! AGAIN.

Why do I love pool? Because I won this:

Of course, I also let her slip through my fingers. The thrill of victory. The agony of defeat. Ain't life grand?

PHOTO: Stolen from Sermin's Friendster account. Shhhhhhhhhh. Don't tell her. She's not speaking to me as it is.

Queer Eye for the Frugal Guy

"We're here, we're queer, and we're not going shopping without coupons."

This is the funniest finance site I've ever seen! Leave it to gay people to make balancing your portfolio F-A-B-U-L-O-U-S! Yes, I know. We rock!

Wednesday, September 06, 2006

Why a second blog?

To share the many things I find interesting or cool or boastable or downright nerdtastic without having to compromise my "serious" work or remember everyone's e-mail address.

Warning: The Cult of Melinda is not a place for the faint of heart. Proceed with caution.


A new reason to worship the Death Star! Rock the hell on!

Rest In Peace

Dwarf Planet Pluto. We hardly knew ye.