French nonprofit cancer charity the Mimi Foundation told 20 cancer patients they would give them a makeover. All they had to do was keep their eyes closed till it was finished. Of course, when they opened them, the patients expected to see themselves looking glamorous, you know, how you do when you get a makeover, but what they saw was God-awful.
In partnership with SMITH Magazine’s Six-Word Memoir Project, we asked you to submit your queer life stories—succinctly. Every day until we run out, we will present the most touching, poignant and hilarious entries in meme form.
Our LGBT Six-Word Memoir Slam was a great success, but we still have a bunch of memoirs to post. Today, a funny one from Joshua Durando, who you can see him perform this Sat., Oct. 26, in Bearlesque at Tabu Lounge and Sports Bar.
Been keeping up with our LGBT Six-Word Memoir Project? Click here to see all our entries to date.
A local cartoonist and blogger who goes by the name of Sissy Biscuit has dedicated a week of her blogging and painting to the wonders of Philly’s food scene. Her funniest cartoons of the last week include a depiction of Geno’s as a monstrosity straight out of Beetlejuice (above) and Sissy’s dire need for Zahav every night. Check out these foodie doodles along with her other quirky entries at SissyBiscuit.com.
I’m at that age when many of my friends are either talking about having kids or they already have a couple of wee ones in their designer strollers. Before reaching my mid-thirties, I even knew a few folks who started early (one friend my age has a daughter in college!).
By most accounts they all seem to be happy parents who like to share their photos of the kids on Facebook almost as much as I post about my dog or the new restaurant that opened down the street. But as my own biological clock ticks and tocks, I’ve come to a conclusion that doesn’t always make the rest of the world quite so happy: I just don’t want to become a parent.
As more women opt to work outside the home (or in my case, in the home doing outside work – confusing, I know), this shouldn’t be such a surprising statement. Plenty of people wait longer to have kids if they ever decide to have them at all.
For a long time, being surrounded by gay people usually guaranteed that this conversation never came up. Picture it: a table at happy hour outside of Knock. The drinks are flowing and no one – no one – mentions anything that might not require at least a PG-13 rating.
But things are changing. And they’re changing fast.
I was one of the lucky ones who got to grow up at the Jersey Shore. My family lived a block from the bay in Wildwood. I was a 10-year-old tomboy, the second-youngest of five, whose favorite hobbies included fishing and crabbing. After school and on the weekends you would always find me down at the bulkhead with my pole and nets trying to reel in something brag-worthy.
But one day I met Mr. Davis, an elderly gentleman who had a house with a private dock where he invited me to fish and crab whenever I wanted. I started showing up in my usual tomboy attire: Converse high-tops, a Phillies jersey and denim shorts, topped with a raccoon hat. My parents never liked the get-up, but it was my favorite. And deep down I thought I was a boy and, ultimately, had no problem convincing Mr. Davis of that either.
The first time he saw me in the raccoon hat, he asked, “Where’s your sister Stacey?”
I wanted so much to be a boy back then that I lied and told Mr. Davis that I was Stacey’s twin brother Mickey.
You may recognize her from Logo’s Big Gay Sketch Show. But now comedian Kate McKinnon is believed to be joining Saturday Night Live starting on April 7, according to a report from Deadline. McKinnon has played several famous and lesbian characters throughout her career, but she may be among the first out lesbians to join the show. In the past, SNL cast Terry Sweeney, an openly gay man in 1985. And Danitra Vance – a black lesbian – also made history on the show’s 11th season.
Here’s McKinnon in action:
We’ve all been there. It’s 7 a.m., your alarm clock is going off, you’re still feeling the effects of yesterday’s nightcaps, and the Hollister report is due at 11 a.m. Screw it, you say, leaving your boss a message that you’re not coming in. But you can’t call in sick, because you sure did seem okay at last night’s office happy hour. You’ve reached the food-poisoning-excuse annual limit. And you’re reluctant to say that a pipe burst or that Nana’s ill, because, well, you believe in karma just a little. Read more »