Come to my voicemail

In the latest episode of the drama of running a lesbian ezine (if you’re not caught up, read this first), we discover, first-hand, the power of Melissa Etheridge.

Legend has it that Melissa Etheridge possesses the most irresistible vagina in the world. It was handed down to her by the Fanny God Mothers: Marlena Dietrich, Frida Khalo, and Eleanor Roosevelt. Ever since, she’s been breaking hearts and overflowing the delicate cycles of the world’s washing machines with innumerable dirty panties.

For this reason, the lesbian nest was in a stir when the news came through that the Goddess had agreed to let us interview her.

As a good editor, I made the difficult decision to remove myself from doing the interview. I was taught that editors are nothing more than nurturing mothers that encourage their children to be the best, even though they are shitty writers. So, for the sake of the group, I waited on the sidelines to watch the lesbians knock themselves out, ready to pick up the winner, wipe her bloody nose, and shove questions and talking points in her face.

To their defense, it wasn’t the blood sport I expected. There was only one injury, and it was more of an ego bruise, which will heal in 5 to 7 days.

After running resist-the-vagina drills and phone interview dress-rehearsals (hat included), I felt confident that at least 7 out of the 15 minutes would be heaven-like.

The day of the interview, I waited to hear from the writer like a patient father-to-be in a 1970’s hospital waiting room. And, when the call finally came, I picked it up at the first buzz.

“Hello?” I whispered. The conversation that followed lasted a little less than 7 minutes. Other than “Hello,” and “Bye,” I said one other phrase, over and over, which was, “I don’t believe you.”

Apparently, Melissa called. Twice. We know this because she left two voicemails. Two. In both messages she wondered why we weren’t picking up her call.

“Hello, this is Melissa Etheridge,” in all her raspy-voice-glory. “I guess we should reschedule.”

Later we come to find that all calls made to Sprint carriers were going straight to voicemail.

So, in a matter of 15 minutes, the power of Melissa Etheridge: (1.) turned Sprint in the “not Now Network,”  (2.) led a music writer to physically run-around a parking lot to check the reception on her phone; (3.) allowed me to remain calm, as I was convinced me that this was all a really bad practical joke; (4.) activated the lesbian emergency phone tree to find a landline; (5.) propelled a flurry of apology emails to publicists, assistant publicists, and executive assistants, and (6.) caused one of the co-owners of BOUND to have symptoms of a heart attack.

That’s the power of the most irresistible vag in the world.

Check on 10.11.12 to figure out if we landed the interview, or if that writer is still out in the parking lot trying to get a signal.

Six SoCal Cities in Six Minutes

Los Angeles, CA: The only actors you’ll find in this city are working at the Cheesecake Factory on Rodeo Drive. But, princes do live in Bel Air, along with sheikhs and sultans. Although the rest of the population is poor, they prefer to be called potentially rich.

Anaheim, CA: The only reason you’re here is to visit Disneyland. The good news is you can see it from the freeway, so you don’t have to pay the entrance fee to tour Walt’s first park. As a matter of fact, you can check-in at “It’s a Small World” on foursquare from the Denny’s across the street.

Santa Monica, CA: You can’t help but sing every Sheryl Crow song you know when walking around this city. The pier is a must see and there are plenty of musicians to accompany your version of “All I Wanna Do.” A word to the wise, you want to be there when the sun goes down, not up, over Santa Monica Boulevard.

La Jolla, CA: True to its name, it’s Southern California’s jewel and everyone that lives here has rare diamonds locked in the safes of their multi-million dollar homes. Whether you’re relaxing on the shore or seal-watching at the cove, you’ll feel like the million bucks you’ll never have. If you’re into interesting places, take the architecture tour of the Salk Institute. Make sure you wear an ascot.

San Diego, CA: Welcome to Panda Town, USA. The entire city comes to a halt just to watch a panda poo. Because it’s absolutely adorable. This only takes place in the San Diego Zoo, which is a must see, but everything else you need is in the gayborhood of Hillcrest.

Imperial Beach, CA: A blast from the past, this sleepy little beach town looks like the place where Gidget surfed. The population is 46 and 45 of them are professional dudes. Everything revolves around the beach, so don’t expect shops to be open if the surfs up. It’s just a quick car ride to Hotel del Coronado and Camp Pendleton.

Published on

At large

So this is what happened.

I started off writing horoscopes for a lesbian ezine. Everything was fine until the previous editor became consumed by a vagina she was consuming. The remaining lesbians consulted the oracle and chose me as their new content generator. I gladly accepted, as I thoroughly enjoy free drinks and wearing a VIP lanyard at every girl party around the country.

I would greatly appreciate your support in my new adventure: BOUND

Look what I got for Lesbian Christmas!