I have no desire whatsoever to go home.
Aside from the overpriced drinks and a shocking lack of Polly-O string cheese and the fact that we can’t seem to track down any psychedelic drugs, I could kinda sail like this for probably at least another week.
Seriously: beautiful children. Real love! The Republicans need to come here and see the most multicultural and well-behaved kids on the goddamn planet. Even though I sometimes wish they would put some duct tape over their mouths and get out of the hot tub.
Hav and I are in love with Susan Powter, who kicked our asses in yoga this morning and calls us “THE YOUNG ONES” and says things like “I don’t care about your issues, I don’t care about your trauma, every woman in this room has been traumatized and if you haven’t than you’re BLIND!” and “NO MORE refined white sugar, NO MORE refined white flour, ENOUGH refined white men and NO MORE OF THAT refined White House!”
We soak in the hot tub and lie in the sun and look at mountains and pick at kitschy t-shirts in Alaskan gift shops, eat vegetables in the dining hall (it’s like that, like college), and hang out with the other performers Hav knows and we try, relentlessly, to get a server to truly bring the dressing on the side. Rosie is hilarious and Kathy Griffin is AWESOME and Cyndi Lauper rocked (and our 80’s outfits, of course, ROCKED) and Jill Sobule was so fun and the Broadway singers here are totally breathtaking and we’d like to stalk Melissa Etheridge, but she pretty much wrote the book on stalking, I mean the CD, and we think she’s holed up with her preggers wife.
There is so so so much to say, but I want to wait til I get home and internet doesn’t cost 75 cents a minute and we can hook up Hav’s camera because we have remarkable photographs and I don’t have to just take random ones from the website.
In the meantime….
Lets do an FAQ:
q: What are you girls–like, 19?
a: Haviland is 25 and I am 24. We are not, in fact, 19, though we are aware that we still wear the clothing of young vibrant college girls, which is because we are beautiful, really, just gorgeous.
q: Are you like, the child of a gay? Or are you gay?
a: I am the child of a gay and I myself–as Matty once said: “half a fag.” But I am here with Haviland, not with my “mommies” and Haviland is not the child of a gay, but she is a gay, and also a star.
q: So are you guys, you know, like, together?
a: Um…uh….we don’t um… (stutter, look at each other, laugh, titter, smile)…uh, kinda? we don’t really uh…know? Um, friendster might say uh, “it’s complicated”? Um, whatever? I mean, open? Sorta not really but kinda?
q: How do you get so skinny?
a: Cocaine, lettuce and long walks on the beach.
q: How tall are you (to me)?
Follow-up them: Wow! I always wanted to be tall.
Follow-up me:If you can dream it, then you can do it. I’d like a pony and another drink please thanks.
q: Do you want a drink?
a: Yes, yes I do.
Hav’s a: No thanks.
My a: I’ll have hers. Honey, get a Corona.
q: Were you singing last night? (to Haviland)
Follow up: You were wonderful! Just wonderful!
q: Do you know what restaurants are open?
a: How do you feel about petrified cheeseburgers?
q: Are you going on any excursions?
a: As much as an $800 helicopter ride to the glaciers or a salmon bake or a kayaking lesson sounds terrif, I’m facing a truly monumental mini-bar bill and we don’t want anything to get in the way of our search for Diet Dr.Pepper.
q: What time is it?
a: There is no time.
Let me leave you with another quote from our favorite woman on earth (“I’m not a doctor, I’m a WITCH!”), Susan Powter:
“I’m your worst nightmare. I was born with a very good brain and a very nice ass.”