Please tell me your name is Sarah

Hi. I’m Sarah. Call me Sarah. Do not call me Ishmael. Because that is not my name, and it feels just a little bit too much like cultural appropriation. And I may have stolen that from Jennifer Lawson. Or possibly Moby Dick.

I am writing this, because we may be meeting for the first time at the conference named BlogHer ’14. But before we talk about that let me thank you for making it all the way here. If you like reading enough to actually look me up on my blog, I’m guessing that you also got that literary reference I just made. We’re so smart, me and you. But just a warning, my smartness does not actually include remembering your name, especially if I am tired, which is all the time.

allkindsofSarah

All kinds of Sarahs. Just kidding. They are all me!

When some people become fatigued they get cranky, but I lose the capacity to recall proper nouns. This is when I start yelling “dog, get out of the kitchen” and “children, go to bed” at the end of a long day. Oh, and I am probably cranky, too.

What is your name? (Put it in the comments. Seriously. I have no idea what your name is.)

Secretly, I am hoping your name is Sarah, because I collect those. My dream, actually, is to have friends who are only named Sarah. That way, I’ll never forget their names, and they will never feel offended, except when I offend them by saying other things like women should have the same rights as men and the same pay.

Recently, I have been actively looking for people named Sarah so I can approach them about being friends. I’m getting superstitious about this. And I have even paid to meet people named Sarah, like funding this Kickstarter for Sara Benicasa because duh. And she also said it was gay and there would be cheesecake, so obviously I should be there.
 

So anyway, it’s nice to meet you, Sarah.

Let’s be friends on all the social media:

Me on Facebook
This blog on Facebook
This blog on Twitter
Me on Twitter

I also write for BluntMoms, The HuffPost, Village Q.

See you there!

(Don’t forget to add your name to the comments.)

Sometimes awesome stuff happens on Twitter. And then it gets more awesome in real life.

If you have been following along since last week, you know that last Friday and Saturday I was at the first gay social media conference ever: SalonLGBTQ.  And as promised, it was pretty gay. Or maybe just gay enough. And lots of stuff happened. Way too much to tell you about. So instead of telling you everything, I’m going to tell you about two things. The first one is about a mistake that turned into a gift. And the second thing is also about gifts, but we’ll get to that in Wednesday’s post.

So, about a month ago, this happened on Twitter.

tweet typos

And at first I thought it was just funny. I love typos, actually, for this reason. And then I started thinking, that we (me and The Other Sarah) could make a diorama of the Golden Girls using pickles. Why not? And so we did. Because I love to give gifts to people. And Deb definitely deserved one after this weekend.

And it turned out like this:

Golden Girls

And I gave it to Deb Rox, who unbeknownst to me at the time was a or possibly THE mastermind behind the conference. So when I got there, I felt like a pleeb making an offering to a wise master. But it was all good, because she is terribly nice.

And why should you give a shit about any of this? Because it is art, people! This is how art happens. People make great things in the world, like the Golden Girls, then people make wine-induced spelling mistakes when talking about them, and then other people turn their mistakes into dioramas that they take to gay conferences. The fancy word for this is innovation.

But seriously. Have you made a mistake, lately? It might just turn into something awesome. It all depends on how you look at it.

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© Sarah Ann Gilbert and Seven Little Mexicans, 2014. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Sarah Ann Gilbert and Seven Little Mexicans with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

An open letter to my new friends at Salon LGBTQ

First, I am thrilled to have a reason to write an open letter. All the cool kids are doing it. Please feel free to flame me, because I’m sure that we could both use the publicity.

Second, I have free gifts. The first, obvious one, is the opportunity to meet me in person, even though I’m nobody, and I’ll just be tweeting lame stuff from the audience. But I plan to redeem myself with free t-shirts, buttons, business cards and a special gift for Deb Rox. I don’t even know her, but that is what the internet is for — to be creepy with people that you’ve never met.

And for those of you who are staying home (what?!), a little explanation: I’m going to the first ever social media conference for gay people on Friday and Saturday. I think they are letting some straight people in, but not too many, because it’s really cool now to be gay and we want to keep it to ourselves. It’s exclusive. And by that I mean sophisticated. Which is why I’ll be wearing this new shirt on the red carpet.

black shirt

I’ll look like this, only I won’t be standing in my bathroom (ideally).

And as I’ve said before, I think this is the second gayest thing I have ever done. The first is getting into a long-term, committed relationship with a woman and having two kids. But that’s old news.

What am I doing going to a social media conference? Well, I’m here so you can meet me. Or so I can meet you and tell people about it to improve my social cache. And I write this blog. And I’m on Twitter. And I’m writing a book about having babies (gaybies!), because it seems like we’re all still confused about that. I am. And also because for a very long time, I didn’t think I needed to say anything about homophobia. But it turns out that I do. So I am. But I don’t have room for everything I have to say about it right here in this post. So I plan to take up one whole book talking about it. I hope you’ll read it some day. But until then, I’ll be on this blog trying to redefine the word “family” for the American people. That’s all.

I hope you’ll stay in touch. Because this is an open letter after all. We can be pen pals, but on social media, because that’s what all the cool kids are doing. Now excuse me while I go and ride my giant ball attached to a chain and lick a hammer. Or tear up a picture of the Pope. Or possibly all three.

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Salon LGBTQ

 

© Sarah Ann Gilbert and Seven Little Mexicans, 2014. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Sarah Ann Gilbert and Seven Little Mexicans with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

I’m not going to the wedding. And no, it’s not because I’m gay.

A friend that I adore is getting married in two weeks. (Holy shit, it’s in two weeks!) But I’m not going to the wedding. I went to the bacherolette party, as you might recall. Except that you might not, because I think the whole post may have been overshadowed by my coming out as a strap-on dildo owner.

But after the party, I was torturing myself about whether or not to go to the wedding, because it’s hard for me to leave the house. Literally. I have children. And my parenting is only 50% good, so it takes two of us to make this thing work. And when one of us goes away, like we’ve each been doing a lot this summer, then the whole thing works half as well. And the strap-on dildos start complaining about EVERYTHING, because they are lonely. And the kids don’t like it much either. And the dog does not get walked.

So, I wanted to write this post to publicly explain myself, because I’m gay, and I’m defensive. And I just want to be sure that everyone knows that I’m not going to this wedding because I’m LAZY, and NOT because I’m resentful that I can’t get fully, legally married. Or that straight people make me uncomfortable. Some of my best friends are straight. For real.

s-and-e

But I don’t call them straight to their face: “This is Lisa,* my straight friend.” Because that would be awkward for her. But I do like to ask them if they know other straight people that I know. And if they are single, I always try to introduce them to my other straight friends, so they can hook up. Because I don’t want them to be lonely, like my dildos.

So this is just all to say that I won’t be at THE wedding. But I hope you’ll still come to my wedding next September, friend (the straight one). But if you don’t come, I’ll understand, because some of my best friends are straight, after all.

*Names have been changed to protect anonymity

Follow this and a lot more on Facebook: www.facebook.com/sevenlittlemexicans 
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© Sarah Ann Gilbert and Seven Little Mexicans, 2014. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Sarah Ann Gilbert and Seven Little Mexicans with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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