Creampuff Revolution

Creampuff Doesn't Even Know Where to Start

We're back! So much blah blah to share! And pictures! Thank you all for your well-wishes and other hilarious comments!!

When I'm so behind on the blogging, I never know where to start, but since a few of you have specifically asked how the whole CBC Canada Writes national radio gameshow thing played out, perhaps I should just begin there.

The short answer is "it ended in humiliation and defeat!! HA ha!!". But here is what I remember:

• I show up at the CBC building on the morning of my wedding day, fresh as a daisy after three hours sleep. When I ask the security guard where to go, he tells me that I'm late and that they've already started and I need to run! Run! I doubt him but wander down the hall anyway. On my way back to tell him he's an idiot, I meet fellow finalist and blogger Ben Boudreau from Halifax. We mock the security guard amongst ourselves, but quietly, in case he's armed.
  
• The other finalists, Amy Neufeld (Edmonton), Jenny Ryan (Saskatoon) and Derek Krismanich (Kitchener) arrive. The lovely producers have promised brioche for breakfast and we are all excited. Because we are hicks.
  
• We go upstairs, get a quick tour and then grab some breakfast in a conference room. All the other finalists are sweet, smart, funny people and I like them all immensely. Goddamn it.
  
• One by one we meet the host and the judges as we chow down. They are all very friendly. So friendly that it almost makes up for the fact that THERE WAS NO EFFING BRIOCHE.
  
• I get lost going to the bathroom.
  
• We all pile into the studio for the taping of the "first day". It's cozy. But at the end of this round, two of us will be voted off the Canada Writes Island, leaving more room for the victors! This is good, because with all 5 finalists in there, there was barely room for my ass. I still have the marks.
  
• The taping begins. Contestant Jenny Ryan describes us, her fellow finalists, as "very good looking" (it's true - stunning, all of us).
  
• I make a crack to host Jian Gomeshi about how Katr said she might not marry me if I didn't come back bearing the coveted Canada Writes "Golden Mouse" award.
  
• Judge Elvira Kurt cracks wise that perhaps, if I am dumped by Katr, Jenny "all the other finalists are very good-looking" Ryan might sleep with me.
  
• I'm the first finalist up to read my "Canadian classic" movie pitch. The reading part goes okay. And then the judging begins.
  
• I hear my fellow finalists quietly vomiting behind me as the previously jovial judges tear into my light Victorian lesbian romp the way I tear into an eggnog cheesecake - viciously. Judge Terry O'Reilly makes good points about what my pitch is lacking. Judge Dionne Taylor might have said something, but all I remember is her scrunched up "me-no-likee" face. Judge Elvira Kurt says (among other things) that it's just a mess of cliches and she's surprised it took me a whole hour to write it. Through the sleep deprivation and general nausea, a single thought flickers into my foggy, foggy mind as my Canada Writes journey comes crashing to halt. The thought is "Heeeeey! I might make my hair appointment after all!"
  
• I sit back down. I survey the bloodless faces of my suddenly terrified fellow finalists. Jenny Ryan holds up her notepad, on which she has written "I'll still sleep with you." Then Derek Krismanich holds up his notepad. It says "Me too."
  
• One by one, the rest of the finalists present their movie pitches, with varying degrees of approval from the Dragon's Den. It's pretty clear overall, though, which two of us are not going to make the cut. Hint: one of them is ME.
  
• Ben Boudreau and I each have 10 seconds to convey our final thoughts once we are voted off. I hope that one of us throws a diva fit, drops the F-bomb and stomps out. Sadly, we are both too Canadian.
  
• I say something both polite and very true about what a great experience the whole thing had been and how fantastic the other finalists are. Elvira Kurt cracks "Oh, she's not bitter at ALL." I laugh and think "Oh, Elvira Kurt. How I used to giggle at your childhood tales of sleeping in your bathing suit. And now - now, you are dead to me."
  
• The remaining finalists get their next challenge (an hour to write a 200-word humour piece about their childhood) and we all leave the studio. There are hugs and goodbyes and best wishes and everyone is lovely. Still a little shell-shocked, Ben and I wander out to the hallway, where the videographer tapes an exit interview with us. I haven't watched it yet, but remember thinking that we were HILARIOUS. Then we both take a whiz and leave.
  
• I whip out my cellphone and call Katr. "I got voted off first!!" I holler into my phone. "Will you still marry me if I don't  bring the prize laptop to our marriage as my dowry?" Lucky for me, the answer is a resounding "yes" and not just because we've paid a huge catering deposit. I hop in a cab to meet up with my love and her friend Tagu. And then . . . I get my hair done for my wedding. Jealous? HA ha!

[okay, so it looks a little scruffy in this picture - but the flowers! So cute!]

So thank you, CBC, for providing me with some additional fun and frolic on the morning of my nuptials. It really was a blast. And as for the parts that weren't a blast - well, let's just say I drank to forget.

Up next - the wedding! Followed by the honeymoon! Pictures of stuff! And this thing I wrote before the whole wedding happened about how our stupid bathroom at the Holiday Inn destroyed my innocence forever!

While you're waiting for the next installment, do head over to DropDeadHappy for Edition 2.6 of the International Carnival of Pozivities. Read - learn - get involved in the fight against HIV/AIDS - and be sure to leave comments for the contributors!!

Creampuff to Cancun!

I got married!

It's pretty hilarious that I thought I'd have all kinds of time to blog in the week leading up to the wedding. HAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAA! Holy shit!

Thanks to all of you fabulous people who came out to perform and drink and dance and celebrate with us! It was a pretty effing fantastic and there will be pictures later.

We're off on our honeymoon right now, where the water is warm, the drinks are plentiful and the other honeymooners wonder why those two fat sisters are making out. See you in two weeks!!!

Creampuff's Hope Chest Complete

Know what I don't get a lot of in the mail? If you said "Gina Torres' underwear", guess again. Give up?

SOCK MONKEYS!!

That's right. Our adoptive mothers Melle (maker of sock monkeys) and Sherry (sock-choosing maven) saw fit to complete Katr and my hope chests by mail with two adorable, hilarious sock monkeys! I'm not going to lie. There were tears of joy. And then some monkey-touching.  Katr chose the smaller of the two monkeys and has named her The Lavendar Ninja. She already has a theme song and sound effects. As for me - I chose this one.

I think I will call her Stretch.

Look at the personality on that face!

This is a monkey who'll wrap her long arms around you while you tell her your troubles. And then, when you're finished, she'll say tenderly: "Are you fucking kidding me with that? You think you have problems? Please. Have you SEEN my arms? I have to make an appointment to scratch my own ass! Now get me a banana and a beer and turn on Wild Kingdom."

I took this shot after she'd had a few beers:

And then I had to haul her drunk, gangly ass off the dog:

I think she'll be right at home here.

Thanks, other moms! We're the luckiest fat lesbian adopted daughters ever!! I look forward to a future with no wedding planning, in which Stretch and the Lavendar Ninja start a band and make music videos for YouTube. Stay tuned!!

Creampuff Likes to Keep It Simple

I really didn't think they'd let the "Pa took the biggest dumps in all of Kansas" girl get this far. But the fine folks at CBC's Canada Writes informed me Friday night that I'm one of five finalists chosen to compete in the national radio gameshow set to air November 20, 21 and 22 on CBC Radio One! Fame! Fortune! Possible humiliation and defeat! Either way I get to meet Elvira Kurt! Woooooooo! 

The only catch is that Canada Writes is not live. Shhhhh! It's true! They are taping the competition on Saturday, November 17th. If that date sounds familiar to some of you, it's because Saturday, November 17th is the day I'm pledging to forever intertwine my life with Katr's at our Big Gay Wedding Cabaret and Topiary Festival.

Hahahahahahahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!! Yeah!

I knew that Katr was 'the one' from the minute I read her personal ad that fateful night four and a half years ago.  Oh sure, we've had our ups and downs - a certain postcard from "Louise" comes to mind - but my conviction that we were meant to be together has never wavered.This certainty was cemented further on Friday night when I told the producers I'd have to check with my beaverancée before I committed to spending the bulk of our wedding day writing hilarious shit jokes at the CBC and Katr told them "Just get her to the church on time!"

Seriously. Unconditional love and support AND a quote from My Fair Lady? How did I get so lucky?? I do not deserve her. But don't tell HER that, 'cause she's still got a couple of weeks to back out of this whole deal.

In other news, Happy Hallowe'en! I was hoping to gad about town in this little number tonight:

You all know I would have rocked this outfit, if by "rocked" you mean "looked like I ate a small nun and then stuffed myself into her teeny tiny outfit". But instead, I had to turn my attention to another important costume - my big gay wedding ensemble.

Back in August, Katr and I found a lovely and experienced dressmaker who agreed to make our wedding attire from scratch. She told us that she was going home to Poland for a visit in September but would be back in time to ensure we'd be clothed for the big day.

About two days before we were supposed to meet up with her again, I got an email from her saying that her father was dying over there in Poland and that she had promised to stay until his last breath. But she would probably still have enough time to make our dresses. Probably. Depending on when the man passed on.

I don't know about you, but we felt that keeping our chubby fingers crossed that some poor old man takes the long dirt nap quick so that his daughter can jet home and make our wedding duds seemed like a poor choice in every possible sense. So I sent her our sincere condolences and thus began a flurry of online searching and ordering which culminated today in Katr and I busting into a dressmaking and alteration boutique with giant dresses and panicked eyes.

The ladies in the shop were awesome. Once they'd finished their pinning and laughing at our fat jokes, we were both extremely pleased with our new silhouettes. On the way home, Katr said "I am so glad we went there. They really seemed to know what they were doing. And now that woman can go home on this lovely Halloween night and tell her kids that today she altered a dress for Mothra."

Photo credit: Pink Ribbon (on our wedding invite) by Lex

Creampuff Glamour

I usually avoid the cosmetics department. I don't really wear much make-up (a little mascara and '80's style eyeliner) and every time I walk through one of those places I either:

a) get hassled for a makeover, until they get a good look at my ass and realize that I might crush their delicate, distressed wire stools or

b) get guerilla-spritzed with Sarah Jessica Parker's Covet.

But our big gay wedding is coming up and we'd like to look good in our pictures and our lovely friend Mach volunteered to do our wedding makeup for us and we don't actually own any makeup, so yesterday found Mach, Katr and I deliberately entering the cosmetics department of the Bay for some makeover fun. Jealous?

We had initially planned to go to MAC, but they were very busy and important at MAC - too busy for last minute creampuffs. We were then drawn to the super-cool packaging at Benefit, but, while there was a makeover station all set up, there was no one working the counter. We waited around for several minutes, touching all the stuff and then finally asked the girl at MAC where the Benefit girl was. She told us that she'd never actually seen anyone working at Benefit. Good job, Benefit.

The MAC girl then pointed us towards Cargo, where the stools were sturdy, the brand was Canadian and they had Halloween candy in a bowl. It's like they knew we were coming.

There was some initial confusion over why we were there:

Mach: They're getting married and we need some makeup.

Cargo Lady: It's for a wedding? Which one of you is getting married?

Us: We both are.

Cargo Lady: Wha-? At the same time?

Us: To each other.

Pause while the Cargo Lady got it.

Cargo Lady: Ohhhhhhhh! Well, hey hey!

Minutes later I was perched on a stool, being brushed with foundation by makeup artist Kelly, while Katr was prepped on another stool and Mach looked on, taking notes and eating tiny Coffee Crisps. Kelly, who also does makeup for tv and movies, had some helpful tips for good "picture" makeup - nothing that's shiny and lots of contouring to create shadows. As she "minimized" my chins and created some cheekbones, I was reminded of that scene in Roxanne when Steve Martin tries to downplay his Cyrano schnozz with some dark shading action. I laughed a little to myself, then choked on the powder. Then Kelly nearly poked my eye out with a Q-Tip.

I expected to feel spackled, with all the foundation and powder and contouring powder and blush and eyeshadow and eyeshadow and eyeshadow and cream eyeliner and powder eyeliner and mascara and lipliner and lip gloss and I also expected to look, as my grandfather used to say, like a hoor. But it all felt very lightweight and I have to say that in the store, under the very bright lights, I looked pretty good. Still like me, but faker.

The lovely Katr was pleased with her look too and when it was all over, we bought alot of Cargo stuff. Probably too much stuff. In fact, between what we bought and the "gifts with purchase" I think we may have enough to go into the makeup business ourselves. We'd call our line Argo - Gently Distressed Cosmetics and all of the packaging would have mysterious holes right in front of the "Argo".

Starving and exhausted by the glamour of it all, Mach, Katr and I took our bags to a nearby eatery and chowed down. Later, in low light of the bathroom at the restaurant, I checked out my face - still looking good. But when we returned to our hotel, I saw the makeup for the first time under regular light.

It was like Sigourney Weaver, when she gets possessed by Zoul in Ghostbusters, had mated with the giant Stay Puft Marshmallow Man and I was their demon love-child.

Good thing the wedding is at night. Mach - work your magic!

In other news, it's October 26th! Strange Sisters at Buddies in Toronto! Urban Tales 10 - BiFurious! at Northern Light in Edmonton! Have a fabulous weekend!

Creampuff Wedding Bounty

Warning: This is a post about big gay wedding things. If you hate weddings and think they are lame, maybe skip this. Or just drool over the pictures below.

Ever since my beaverancée and I got engayged, folks have been asking us three things about our upcoming Gay Wedding Cabaret and Topiary Festival:

1. Who's the man? (Me, I am the man, because I will be wearing pants.)

2. What are you wearing? (Actually, as it turns out, I'm wearing a dress. NOW who's the man??)

3. Where are you registered?

The whole idea of a wedding registry seemed challenging for us. We've lived together for four and a half years and have all the kitchen gadgets and towels that we need. The truth is, the fact that people are coming from near and far to celebrate our big gay wedding with us seems like the greatest gift we could ask for, so that's what I told people. And then they would say "Aw, that's so sweet! No seriously - where are you registered?"

So we thought long and hard about what to register for, because I had a sense that Kate's standard answer of "We'd like that set of $200.00 HD cables from Best Buy" wasn't going to fly with my relatives. And that's when we decided that the gift we'd most like for our November wedding was to go and have a fat lesbian honeymoon afterwards! Yeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaah!! And because the internet is a beautiful, bountiful place, we found a cool way to register for our honeymoon at a great little site called BuyOurHoneymoon.com.

I have to say, I fucking love this idea. You can customize your wish list and register for everything from deeply romantic honeymoon experiences to hepatitis vaccinations to sock yarn. And Shelley and Andrew Green, the couple who created and run it, are fantastic and helpful. I highly recommend it to anyone who's getting hitched but doesn't need china.

Some people, however, like young Melissa, prefer to go "off registry" for gifts. And so it came to pass that a package from Thomas Haas Chocolates arrived at our door yesterday. We swooned immediately upon opening it. But before we opened the case, we took a photo. Because we are geeks.

Please excuse the blurry photos. My hands were shaking with excitement.

Surely it can't - surely there can't be . . . TWO LAYERS??

Oh my holy Jesus, Melissa. Thank you. I . . . thank you.

So . . . that's a lot of truffles, folks. If we eat two of them a day, they'll last for nearly three weeks. Which is perfect, because it says on the box that they're good for three weeks. I will be reporting on the truffles on a daily basis; partly because I know some of you will be curious and partly because it's three weeks into September and this is my first post of the month and it's embarassing.

And so, the first two truffles:

Blackberry Honey * Smooth milk chocolate ganache laced with blackberry honey. (Delicate and sweet and heady - like me)

Marc de Champagne * Milk chocolate ganache perfumed with Champagne and Eau de Vie from Champagne grapes. (Tingled in my nether region)

Elves Don't Appear to be Planning Creampuff's Gay Wedding

I know it's ridiculous, but somewhere deep down, I really thought that if we hired a caterer and booked the hall, all other wedding planning and implementation would be carried out by elves. Maybe gay elves who look like Scott Thompson and also pay for everything.

It's not so much that I don't enjoy planning the big gay wedding, 'cause that part is fun! It's the actual doing of things that's holding me back a little. Because I am a lazy, lazy person.

Fortunately, Katr and I included a "day of big gay wedding stuff" on our whirlwind visit to Toronto last week and we managed to pack quite a bit in. We started by meeting our caterer for a tasting and I had to have a private moment with the wild sea bass skewers marinated in saikyo miso. I think the caterer was a little taken aback by our expressions of delight. I guess they must have sounded kinda dirty from the kitchen. We nixed the things that tasted like ass and signed off on the evening's delicious menu. Check!

Then we moved on to flowers, which went less well. So, uh . . . hopefully there will be some flowers and stuff. Hmmm. Semi-check!

We rounded out the day by meeting and immediately booking the photographer the Viscount of Knockers recommended, so I'm looking forward to lots of cleavage shots. I knew she was the right photographer for us not only based on her lovely portfolio, but also because she took it in stride when I told her that every photo of me on the big day had to include me making finger guns. That's the sign of a professional, people.

We were about to leave the area, feeling heady with accomplishment, when we ran into my friend Bejo and her camera on the corner of Queen and Dovercourt. "Hey!" she exclaimed, "Are you here for Cathy's thing?"

"What thing?" I asked. 

"She's crawling on her hands and knees from Kensington to the lake in her wedding dress to get divorced today! Come on!"

Who could say no to that? Well, Katr could, because she had a meeting. But I stuck around and chatted with folks as Cathy crawled into view with her entourage.

I don't know Cathy well, but I took a great writing workshop from her once and I'm a big fan of her performance work and her now ex-husband Steve did the sound design on a show I directed years ago. Plus he introduced me to one of my favourite words: "squoze". As in:

Steve: I was sitting in [name of restaurant withheld] and I felt a mouse run up my leg. So I clapped my hand down on my pants and caught in it there. Then I thought "Now what?" If I let go, the mouse would run up to my junk. The thing started biting me and I made instinctive decision. 

Me: What did you do?

Steve: Well . . . I squoze.

And so it happened that on the day Katr and I had our hors d'oeuvre tasting and ordered the big gay wedding flowers and hired an ace photographer, I watched Cathy Gordon and Steve Marsh get legally divorced in the basement of the building I'll be getting married in three months from now. It was quite sweet, really (photos of the whole day are here). They signed the papers and kissed before Cathy crawled off to her next stop and after saying goodbye to the folks I knew there, I hopped on the streetcar back to the hotel. I thought about synchronicity and how interesting it was that our wedding planning path crossed Cathy's divorce path that day and how lovely it was that Cathy had friends to hold the train of her wedding dre - OH HOLY FUCK, WHAT ARE WE GOING TO WEAR??

Yes, folks, this is the latest in many gay wedding panics. Now that we've left it so late, will we be able to find someone to make our creampuff wedding clothes? Fortunately, my friend Jeba has just spent the last two days stuffing my inbox with Vancouver creampuff designer ideas and some of them look extremely promising. I'll keep you all posted, but you can rest assured that at least we won't be getting married naked in a traditional Betazoid ceremony.

Yes, yes, it's true. Ich bin ein nerdlinger.

Creampuff's Gay Wedding Is On Like Donkey Kong

When Katr was in town a couple of weeks ago, we scoped out a few possible venues for our Gay Wedding Cabaret & Topiary Festival. Because - and I'm not sure if you know this - just because you've picked a DATE and told everybody doesn't mean that the wedding is totally planned.

One venue we looked at was the Steamwhistle Brewery, where they gave us a free six pack, so obviously that scored a lot of points. We also looked at the Great Hall on Queen, where I performed the coveted role of "witness" at my friend Rela's wedding a few years ago. There are many things to recommend the Great Hall, not the least of which being that they let you bring in your own hooch. Also, there's a disco ball. Also, it looks like this from the outside:

and if we can't LIVE in a big Victorian mansion with a turret, we can damn well get married in one! Also, there's a stage. 'Cause we're not kidding about the cabaret.

We liked the Great Hall and our date was available but we needed to know a little more about the preferred caterers (i.e. is their food good, will they give us attitude for not wanting a sit-down dinner, will they get really confused about who's the "groom" at the lesbian wedding just because one of us might wear pants, etc.). Lucky for us, there was an open house at the Great Hall Wednesday night to show off the space and introduce the various caterers and other service providers to event planners and brides and mothers of brides and the occasional groom. Free booze! Free snax! Free wedding magazine! Jealous? Since Katr's back in Vancouver, I brought my man of honour, Padu. Ah, sweet Padu. Best man of honour ever.

While I was waiting for Padu across the street from the Hall, I accidentally made a movie.

We floated up the tulle-draped staircase into the main room to find the open house in full swing. Four caterers, a flower shop, some valet parking people, a DJ and a videographer were there and the centre of the room was dominated by three vastly different table settings. Ice clinked in glasses - beef tenderloin sizzled - cheque books trembled. Padu and I began our rounds. Here are our notes:

Flower Lady - seemed a little shell-shocked. Too many poppies, perhaps? Those crazy flower people. But she did seem to think that we could get all the flowers Katr wants and their shop is right across the street and it's chick-owned, which we like. Their website, however, is impossible to find via search engine. Think they'd give us a break on the flowers in exchange for a little search engine optimization? Yeah. I don't think so either.

Caterer #1 - best food, best drinks, best service, best package, best rep with the best name (Star) and the biggest price tag. Although I must say, I feel that if I'd made my standard "HOW much? Do I get a hand job with that?" joke, she might have said "I can work that hand job into your budget." Because she was THAT GOOD.

Caterer #2 - very good food, very good service, very nice rep, no package but definitely best presentation ideas around the whole cabaret thing. Also, they win points for sending me a charming, non-pushy e-mail the next day.

Caterer #3 - by the third caterer, we'd already had two drinks and we were pretty relaxed. The poor blond girl at the table looked terrified as we came over and it became clear that she was really just someone's assistant and had no idea what to do. Unlike the previous caterers, there was no glad-handing, meaningful eye contact, exchange of personal information AND, more importantly, she didn't offer us a drink, even though there were some very yummy looking skirt drink martinis on the table behind her. She handed us a package and pointed us towards the mini-Yorkshire puddings. We waited for her to try and sell us on the catering. She waited for us to leave. We did.

Caterer #4 - what can I say about Don? He was the only caterer to drop the F-bomb. Plus, he gave us jelly beans. I loved him.

I must say that I was impressed by how gamely Padu and I were greeted by all of caterer folk but you could tell that their initial thoughts went something like: "Does that poor fat girl know she's marrying a gay man?" They all seemed relieved and enthusiastic when we revealed that no! It was a lesbian wedding! HA ha! Feed us more wasabi risotto, monkeys! It kind of felt like that great moment in Elizabeth when the Duke of Anjou fakes Elizabeth out with the flute playing, laughs at his own joke and then whispers how he's excited to stroke her private areas. That guy was all class.

Speaking of class - we're not doing a sit-down dinner, but if we WERE, the table setting would HAVE to look like this:

I really think that all that was missing from this BDSM chic table setting were the teeny tiny ball-gag napkin rings.

On our way out, Padu made sure to grab a free Wedding Bells magazine and thank god he did. 'Cause nothing raises the tone in the ladies shitter like wedding magazines.

So, after consulting with my lady love, I think it's fair to say that we're going with The Great Hall as our gay wedding venue. We had asked the event planner, whose name rhymes with "Bandy", to put our date on hold until after the open house and I e-mailed her yesterday to let her know that our gay wedding at the Great Hall? Is ON like DONKEY KONG. At least, I think it is. It's been 24 hours and she hasn't e-mailed me back to confirm. Hmmm.

And so it begins.

Gay Wedding Bells for Creampuff

Ladies - gentlemen - get your frilly seafoam green outfits primed. Katr and Roro are getting married!!

And now for the Creampuffs Are Getting Gay Married FAQ:

FAQ: Roro? Getting gay married? I thought you always said that the great thing about being gay is that you weren't expected to get married. And that even if you COULD get gay married you wouldn't! Because queer people should be creating their own rituals and striking down oppressive social mores!

Q: Well, I changed my mind, for a variety of reasons that I'll no doubt elaborate on in later posts. But yes, on the one hand, as a queer person, I DO find it problematic to be participating in and perpetuating a heteronormative ritual which has historically cast women as chattel BLAH BLAH BLAH look at our RINGS!!

Katr's Ring:

My Ring:

Q: Roro . . . is that a plaid flannel pillow case underneath your ring?

A: Actually no, that's my wedding outfit. HAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAA! No, seriously, it is.

Q: Soooo . . . who proposed?

A: Officially? I did. And since we'd already gotten our rings, I proposed via a new video iPod instead! And I had it engraved. It says "Marry Me!!" on it.  More an imperative than a request, but I wasn't taking any chances.

A: You proposed with an iPOD?? Isn't that kind of . . . impersonal?

Q: Well, she's been DYING for one and she LOVES gadgets and it was the first time I really surprised her with anything and she totally cried. HA ha! So I feel like it worked out okay.

Q: Soooo . . . if you proposed, does that make you the man?

A: Yes. Yes it does. I am the man.

Q: Have you told your parents yet?

A: Yes - because there's nothing like finding out your kid's getting hitched because you READ IT ON HER BLOG.

Q: What'd they say?

A: Well, they think that Katr is the Second Coming (and hey, sometimes she is! If you know what I mean. And I think that you do) so they were totally thrilled. We're seeing them for Christmas this weekend, at which time my father plans to have The Talk with Katr - the same talk that my mother's dad had with him when my parents were getting married. You know, about her roles and responsibilities as my spouse. Plus - and he would never say this - my dad is itching to get rid of these dowry goats he's been keeping for me. Num-Num keeps chewing on his files.

Q: Did your mom immediately call her 4 sisters, 2 brothers and her parents to tell them the news?

A: Since I've always gotten the news of my cousins' (I have 16 first cousins, 14 on one side, 2 on the other - Dad's family is not so Catholic) weddings secondhand, I assumed that the aunts disseminated the news. I learned on Sunday that, in fact, it is de rigueur for the person who's getting married to call everyone. And so that's how I, Roro, Phone Phobic, spent all of Sunday evening on the phone telling all my mostly-Western-Canada-living, church-going aunts, uncles and grandparents that I was getting gay married. My dad's family? One phone call. My mom's? Seven. You'd better believe I called my lesbian aunt first. But of course, they're all totally coming. Because they're effin' AWESOME.

Q: Why do you keep saying you're getting "gay married"? Isn't "gay married" and "straight married" the same in Canada?

A: Yes, yes it is. But saying "gay married" is funny. So zip it.