I fancy myself as being kind of hip. Okay, that in itself is a really unhip thing to say, but you know what I mean—I doubt anyone thinks of me as an old fart. But for such a cool chick, sometimes I can be queer as hell.
When I was a kid, I had a collection of imaginary friends--all cowboys--and I liked to pretend I was Hoss and Little Joe’s kid sister. I even wrote to the powers that be at Bonanza suggesting they write in such a part for me. “I’ve never been on a horse,” I told them, “but I’m willing to learn.” (Very industrious, even at such a young age.)
As an adult, I still catch myself pretending. For instance, I hate washing my kitchen floor, so to motivate myself, I pretend Princess Diana and JFK, Jr. came back to life and are coming over to my apartment for dinner. Um, how queer is that?
Sometimes my sister Lori and I do the Buns of Steel video together. During the hard parts, she gives the guy the finger, but I put on a pretty-face smile because I pretend I’m auditioning to be one of the exercisers in the background. When I told Lori my strategy, she literally fell over screaming, "Oh my GOD, you are so queer!"
Shall I keep going? Okay... If I’m in a situation where I have to deal with someone who I think is a real a-hole but I have to be nice anyway, I pretend one of my family members needs a kidney and that person is the only suitable donor. Queer. And whenever I go out to see some music by myself, I sit at the bar and pretend the cutest guy in the band is my boyfriend. Superqueer.
So if I'm so queer, why aren't I a lesbian? Because I'm just not that smart.