I am such a cheap slut for the most paltry compliments. I received the following in my email sort of recently, as have a number of my little blogging pals, and reprint here:
I noticed your deliciously mrpeenee blog. Fun stuff! I’m also a blogger, but from the other side of the border… Montreal. I provide content for The Montreal Buzz, it’s Tourisme Montreal’s official blog. I’m was wondering if your readers would be interested in a contest we’re holding called “Queer of the Year.” It’s the international search for a fab individual who will be crowned (you guessed it) the “Queer of the Year.” Here’s what’s at stake: · 5 free trips to Montreal · Spa package, fancy restaurant dinner, and $3000 shopping spree for the winner · The title of “Queer of the Year” Heck, YOU should be entering! We still need an entry from San Fran! Anyway, all the deets can be found at www.queeroftheyearcontest.com. And if you have any questions about the contest, let me know. Let me know when you’re in Montreal. I’mma buy you a drink. PS: We just got posted on The Advocate yesterday! (http://www.advocate.com/News/Daily_News/2010/07/07/Montreals_Search_for_Queer_of_the_Year/)
He called my blog delicious. Isn’t that adorable? I feel like voting for him as Queer of the Year based on that alone. As for casting myself, alas, I do not make the videos.
Also, while noodling along over on the famous gay blog http://www.towleroad.com, I stumbled on an odd comments war between men who embraced the term “queer” and those who felt insulted by it. How bizarre. I thought this whole thing was a relic of the 80’s. I remember the older generation of gay men then saying almost exactly what these guys (who mostly identified themselves as under 30) were saying in this comment section. So now many of us seem bracketed by fellow travelers who still take exception to our calling ourselves queer. Again, bizarre.
I remember the defiant thrill of taking up the label, of applying a name to myself that seemed to thumb my nose at those who would use it to deride me. I still do. But for those ‘mos who are upset by it, I say OK, just don’t get in my face. Or I will call you a nancyboy.
There is no evidence that this young man is a poofter, sissy, knob jockey, fag, shirtlifter, fairy, pansy, fudge packer, queen, ladyboy, bender, flit, Mary, pillow biter, sodomite, or queer. I just prefer to think that he is.