Ariel Shepherd-Oppenheim

Lets face it - for a long time the fate of sketch comedy wasn’t looking good. Lost Moon champions something called “Event-Style Theater.” The fact that Lost Moon is headed by an entirely female production team and is, well, completely full of gays (both male and female) is just gravy. Recently, I was able to sit down with one of the stars of the show, an awesome and out lesbian comedian named Lauren Flans, to learn a little bit more about her and the show.

I am still riding SUPER HIGH (off of energy) from LA Pride this weekend. It was absolutely wonderful and the best experience I could have hoped for. The parade was a promenade of beautiful, rainbow and glitter-filled floats that were at once endearing and spectacular. From a drag queen cheerleading team to the Los Angeles Gay Men's Chorus, the parade was such a wonderful gaystravaganza that I was practically shitting rainbows out of happiness by the end. Dear Sara-So I saw you have an orgasm on TV earlier this weekend...

This weekend I went to the BEST WEDDING EVER. First, it was a lesbian wedding and I had never been to one. Seeing the couple so happy and in love and ready to share a life together (combined with lovely poetry made even more fabulous by being read by a British chick) was the most special thing on the planet.

This has been a disappointing mutherfucking week. First, I got down to the final two for a job that I would kill for. I didn’t get it, not did I get the opportunity to kill anyone to prove my worth. Second, I saw Dita Von Teese live. Boobies can only get you so far. The only burlesque show I had seen in the past was part of the Queer Arts Festival associated with San Francisco Pride last summer.

There are very few movies that, from about five minutes in, I can tell that I’m going to be buying it on DVD. Bridesmaids is definitely included in this group. It is the belly-laugh producing, somewhat disgusting, girlfriend-bonding movie promised in the trailer. Kristin Wiig and co-star Maya Rudolph have excellent chemistry and really feel like best girlfriends, something mot mastered by many fun chick movies lately.

Yesterday a girl friended me on Facebook, saying "Lovely to meet you at the Lesbian Easter BBQ!" It took me a moment to place her, namely because I had hit up two Lesbian Easter BBQs that day. And in between the BBQs I had a lesbian lunch. The strange thing was that it did not occur to me until that Facebook message how gay my life has become. 

During my night at MUG SHOT (my favorite LA gay night), a friend pointed out a woman in head-to-toe leather and spiked six-inch heels, but I wasn’t particularly interested until the friend said she was a professional dominatrix. Holy Baby Jesus and All His Archangels, Seraphim, and Jillian Michaels-eque Personal Trainers. This was going to get interesting. Instead of bringing out some girl in a spiked collar or well, I wasn’t actually sure what kind of person she would bring out but let’s just roll with it for a moment, she brought out someone… in a bunny suit. 

Sometimes I have good ideas. These include showering, feeding my dog, and locking my door in case my schizophrenic ranting neighbor decides to kill me and eat me in the night. Bad ideas include… going on a date to a strip club. I am ashamed as a write these words. No one wants to be that gross person that is really into strip clubs. Maybe one Tuesday 50 years in the future I will be that old lezzie with a beard and a plate of hot wings with her spot next to the stage.

Something spectacular is approaching fast. It is large, stranded in the middle of the desert, and accessible only through a rented house and lots of wine coolers. And, like Ahab chasing after Moby Dick, I am about to put on my rain pants and goggles (that’s what he wore, right?), stick a pipe in my mouth, and go after the White Whale. This ghost of beast, the goliath to my David, is, of course, the one and only, THE DINAH.

An Ode to Butches --This post is dedicated, with love in my heart for carpenter jeans and flat-tops, to all the butch ladies out there that actually get things done and moving. Because I can tell you that if things were completely my responsibility shit would just not happen. 

Amigos, to help you through this difficult transition where you learn about this new side of your recently gay friend, I have some pointers for you, which may or may not involve lesbians and scissoring. Because, and I know this is hard to believe, but if you aren’t super excited about their gayness, there are about a million folks (especially if they’re hot) who are more than willing to be their new best gay-friendly buddies. 

While Judith Warner's fluff piece on women and Yoga was clearly edited for typos and run-on sentences, I’m curious if anyone actually bothered to consider the ideas that it put forth. This article masquerades as a self-help guide to liberate the modern woman from some of the intensity of running a home, but in actuality it is promoting the idea that women focus on inward perfection in the confines of the “Downward Dog” position instead of worrying about why their problems exist in the first place.

Why hello there lovelies! Hope you’re all nice and fattened up from the holidays. My sister and I decided to play Spot The Lesbian at the Memphis Airport. I thought my gay-dar was malfunctioning after going off for a straight woman with her kids, but it was actually just because of a damn celebrity haircut that all of the straight women are copying even though it looks gayer than flat-top. Kate Gosselin is the poster girl for the bad haircut, something akin to bringing back the mullet. The lesbians in San Francisco know how to party - and leave hilarious messages tagged on bathroom stalls at clubs.