In 1996, when I bartended at Kaya on Peachtree, Maxwell and David Justice used to bring some fine-ass white bitches in the club.
Your self-confidence shouldn’t be dependent on how attractive other people find you, but … because I know I would have reacted the same way if I’d been part of this project, I’ll get down off my high horse just long enough to say, “Ladies, we really need to stop being so hard on ourselves!”
Chances are, you’ll take a second look in the mirror after you watch this. Or maybe you’ll just ditch your mirror altogether. Wouldn’t that be nice?
David Sedaris is my favorite, my love, the biggest influence on me as an aspiring writer, plus he’s cute and smart and nerdy. Mrs. John Jernigan-Sedaris
quotes from my future ex-husband’s book:
“Hugh consoled me, saying, “Don’t let it get to you. There are plenty of things you’re good at.”
When asked for some examples, he listed vacuuming and naming stuffed animals. He says he can probably come up with a few more, but he’ll need some time to think.
“The rabbit of Easter. He bring of the chocolate. The Italian nanny was attempting to answer the teachers latest question when the Moroccan student interrupted, shouting “Excuse me, What is an Easter?”
it would seem that despite having grown up in a Muslim country, she would have heard it mentioned once or twice, but no. “I mean it,” She said. ” I have no idea what you people are talking about.”
The teacher called upon the rest of us to explain.
The Poles led the charge to the best of their ability. “It is,” said one, “a party for the little boy of God who call his self Jesus and… oh shit.” She faltered and her fellow country man came to her aid.
“He call his self Jesus and then he die one day on two… morsels of… lumber.”
The rest of the class jumped in, offering bits of information that would have given the pope an aneurysm.
“He die one day and then he go above of my head to live with your father.”
“He weared of himself the long hair and after he die. the first day he come back here for to say hello to the peoples.”
“He Nice the Jesus.”
“He make the good things, and on the Easter we be sad because somebody makes him dead today.”
“Potential boyfriends could not smoke Merit cigarettes, own or wear a pair of cowboy boots, or eat anything labeled either lite or heart smart. Speech was important, and disqualifying phrases included “I can’t find my nipple ring” and “This one here was my first tattoo.” All street names had to be said in full, meaning no “Fifty-ninth and Lex,” and definitely no “Mad Ave.” They couldn’t drink more than I did, couldn’t write poetry in notebooks and read it out loud to an audience of strangers, and couldn’t use the words flick, freebie, cyberspace, progressive, or zeitgeist. . . . Age, race, weight were unimportant. In terms of mutual interests, I figured we could spend the rest of our lives discussing how much we hated the aforementioned characteristics.”
“In New York I’d go to the movies three or four times a week. Here I’ve upped it to six or seven, mainly because I’m too lazy to do anything else. Fortunately, going to the movies seems to suddenly qualify as an intellectual accomplishment, on a par with reading a book or devoting time to serious thought. It’s not that the movies have gotten any more strenuous, it’s just that a lot of people are as lazy as I am, and together we’ve agreed to lower the bar.”
@squeakjernigan, atlanta, Birmingham, culture, dating, depression, funny, gay, gay men, heartbreak, humor, john jernigan, LGBT, Life, love, perspective, queer, relationships, St. Petersburg, Tampa Bay
So far, my love life in St. Pete has sucked, I haven’t met anyone, I’m still lonely and insecure and unhappy. I have met someone, though, on the facebook. I was creeping around on the interwebs one night and found him, a friend of a friend, friend requested him, and we fell in love. He lives in Alabama, he has a good job, a cute dog, he’s 5’8, 50-something, his words are spelled correctly, and in communication he is such a gentleman.
Over these last few months I’ve let him know how much I like him, and he likes me too, as witnessed by the multiple crotch shots he’s sent me (no naked pics, remember he’s a gentleman).
Some of our magical conversations:
Me: I lived in Birmingham 2-3 times…maybe you breezed by me one night at the Quest and your raw sexual magnetism cast a spell on me…?
Him: Lol, that had to be it!!
Maybe it was your sexiness that cast a spell!
Me: So I’ve rented a little pool house and I’m looking for a place in St. Pete…ever travel to these parts? So that you can proceed with the sweeping me off my feet…
Me: Well let’s be friends…let me get settled, then who knows? Maybe one or the other could host and we could go on an actual date or 2…unless there’s something something wrong with you (or me)…I think you’re lovely
Him: Sounds good!
I hope nothing wrong with me, lol
Me: I want to handle us as carefully as possible…I am still holding on to the idea that I am special (not short bus special) and that there is somebody out there for me…too much? are you special btw?
Him: I think so
Me: I am part Romany, so nothing would keep me from picking up and moving to an exotic locale for love…
Me: So I take that last bit back…way too much too quick….don’t want to scare you off…have a good night my little peach…I’m gonna call you food pet names ok? peanut, pudding, cookie, nugget, pickle etc..
Him: Sugar plum
Me: I am halfway moved into my new place so I want to go ahead and invite you down for anytime you can come…I’ll pick you up and take you back to the airport and feed you ( food and…) and entertain you as well…and either fall in love with you or end up just being friends…but I hope to fall in love just to let you know 🙂
Him: Awww! What a wonderful compliment.
Me: how close to retirement are you?
Him: Oh geez, it depends
You going to let me retire to Florida?
It could be as much as 10 years or as few as 6
Depends on how much $$$ I can stash
Me: Well here’s the thing…I did sign a year-lease in St. Pete, so I’m here until next July…but St. Pete barely won out over Birmingham as my living choice…so I’ve kind of talked myself into moving back to Birmingham next year. I was wondering if we might possibly be able to visit one another maybe, a time or two, there or more preferably here. If you took a 3-day weekend I could put you up and feed you…or maybe you should stay in a hotel so I don’t feel pressured to sleep with you…just something to think about, no pressure…I think I’ve told you I’m incredibly fond of the you that I’ve imagined in my mind…but what if you really are that special? My high standards have unfortunately left me lonely and single for too long now…
Him: Aww. You know I saw one of the old pictures you posted and I remembered who you were from years back, maybe, like the 90’s???
Me: you can always send me naked pics or sext me up or something…
Him: I can? Will you do the same?
Him: Why not?
Me: I changed my mind…I have you in this ivory tower, braiding your hair, all virtuous and shit…
Me: I’ve been going to work out/play ball at lunch everyday…and maybe less sugar intake…I want to make a good impression if/when we ever meet..
Me: you know what my job is, right? (Adoptions) Have a look on my blog at my baby O…you want to adopt him with me?
JK…I want a little Asian baby…or a raccoon
Him: Or a raccoon?
Me: I just like them…Rascal the Raccoon…except they get rabies real easy
Him: Yes, and they invade houses and do damage
Me: that’s okay though, he will be curious and inquisitive and I will dress him up and love him and let him have anything he wants…wait, are we talking about the raccoon or O?
Me: A raccoon is probably easier to potty train…trust me on that, I almost had to change O recently
Me: don’t worry, I’m a social worker, I’ll change you when you get decrepit…or all fetish-y
Me: Don’t say ewww, I like older men, very distinguished
Him: Here is a slightly risqué photo
Over the months I like him more and more, I think about him all of the time, I even tell him that I have imagined him to be my perfect man, my knight in shining armor. I talk to my friends about him, I have wet dreams in which he stars, I start thinking about moving to his city, I’m crazy about him.
Me: Hello handsome…I was thinking about vacationing with my family (dogs) in Birmingham for the Thanksgiving holiday…were you possibly going to be in town? regards John Jernigan
Him: I am going to be at the beach at doggone it !!!
Me: well I’m not going to Birmingham then
Him: Damn wish it had worked
Me: Good morning, I am now considering going to Pensacola for Thanksgiving. If I did, would you like to share a meal or 2 on that weekend? Have a good day at work, I’m headed in early
Him: Keep me posted, will be at the beach with friends, family and hubby
I am kind of crushed. I start to cry. I’ve been crying for a couple of hours now. I know I’m not just crying over this man, I’m crying because I’m lonely and unhappy and I’ve lost my confidence as well, but I’m mainly crying over this guy. How can a guy I’ve never met hurt me? I wanted him to see how special I was, how unique, how different…I wanted him to make me happy, I wanted us to live happily ever after. In my own sad way, I must have started to love him, else why am I still crying? I am crying as I remember this fantastic, romantic, loving guy that I only imagined, the man who was going to change my life and make me happy.
Dry is the story of Augusten’s battle with alcoholism. Having battled my own demons (and continuing to battle), this memoir really resonated with me. Augusten Burroughs and David Sedaris are my two biggest writing influences, gay men who see life in a different and funny and sometimes cynical way. I chose my baby Cricket because Augusten had French bulldogs. I love your work, Augusten Burroughs!
“I’m lonely. And I’m lonely in some horribly deep way and for a flash of an instant, I can see just how lonely, and how deep this feeling runs. And it scares the shit out of me to be this lonely because it seems catastrophic.”
“I think part of the reason I’m attracted to Foster is because he’s such a mess. I mean, the people I have loved in my life have never been easy to love. I’m not used to normal. I’m used to disaster. I don’t know, as messed up as he is, he’s also sort of exciting, sort of a challenge. I’m accustomed to working for love.”
“What I really want is to sit next to someone on an L.L. bean blanket on the beach in the fall and drink coffee from the same mug. I don’t want some rusty ’73 Ford Pinto with a factory-defective gas tank that causes it to explode when its rear-ended in the parking lot of the supermarket. So why do I keep looking for Pintos?”
“Sober. So that’s what I’m here to become. And suddenly, this word fills me with a brand of sadness I haven’t felt since childhood. The kind of sadness you feel at the end of summer. When the fireflies are gone, the ponds have dried up and the plants are wilted, weary from being so green. It’s no longer really summer but the air is still too warm and heavy to be fall. It’s the season between the seasons. It’s the feeling of something dying.”
“You’re at the crack addict’s apartment? Having a little sandwich?” he says. From the tone of his voice, you’d think I just told him I was hanging out at a playground wearing a NAMBLA t-shirt.”
@squeakjernigan, boston terrier, Cricket the French Bulldog, dogs, french bulldog, funny, gay, Halloween, humor, john jernigan, LGBT, new orleans, pets, Squeak the Boston Terrier, Tampa Bay, trick or treat
Cricket is ambivalent about Halloween, she can take it or leave it. Squeak does Not care for it, in fact she hates it. What happened to cause this emotional reaction to this holiest of gay holidays was that one year Thing 1 and Thing 2 came to my door trick or treating and scared Squeak real, real bad. She didn’t know what the hell they were, some kind of animal or!? She was getting ready to tear ’em up, but I restrained her and threw her out in the back yard. Since I’m such a good parent, and due to her undiagnosed mental health issues, the Jernigan clan decided to just chill at home this evening on the couch. Everybody settled in to watch Love & Hip Hop, when Paul the Pastel Bear (a known homosexual) growled at Squeak or something. I’m not sure if Squeak was holding on to some residual Halloween anger, or if she is homophobic, but the next thing I knew, she howled at the moon like a werewolf, grabbed up gay Paul and tore his belly out! He’s dead, killed, murdered. That’s how we roll, 3rd Ward Magnolia ya heard?
Cricket always jumps up on my desk and watches Central Ave. People walking by stop, look up and talk to her. A group of teenagers just came by and one said “Damn, look it’s Stitch!”