Tuesday, April 10, 2007


Steven died of AIDS.

You can read about it here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here

And finally he died.

Finally his frail old-before-its-time body quit on us all and Steven became free and young and unencumbered once again.

And I breathed a sigh of relief for him.

So you can imagine that in my daily life the word AIDS rolled off my lips with great frequency.

Here's the text message I got a moment ago:

Hi Housewife,
What number did you find Steven on?
Tell me something...
Steven, what was the cause of death?
I never asked about the illness?
Did Chloe figure out the probate?
I hope so...
When you have time....
(an incredibly wonderful man)
And because I'm me I texted back:

Probate is a long process, I'm uninvolved
If you need a martini with lunch please come over, I have a shaker.
And it appears I will have a lunch guest today.

I hope and pray he wasn't a lover of Steven's. I don't think I have it in me.

The good news is that he can blow dry my hair like nobody's business.

Ahh, for an hour I'll be a fag hag.


Bigg said...

That's good, 'cause the world needs more fag hags. They're a dying breed.

Rosie said...

We are indeed the Clan of the Great Hair. Or, at least our guys are. My lot are still fixated on mullets.

Kenn Chaplin said...

Oh, we love our self-identified fag hags. :)

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