MY WISH LIST

[August 18th, 2004] My birthday is this month. Big whoop-de-do. Time to crawl into the cave where old, fortysomething queers go when they've lost their style. But before I go, tradition dictates that I blow a few candles out on my now fire-hazard-worthy cake, and that I make a birthday wish. Always the birthday hog, I'd like to make several of 'em. So in honor of my special day on Aug. 27, here's what I'm wishing for:

A marriage certificate. I kick myself for not listening to my partner, Juan, and getting hitched back in March. Instead of watching from the sidelines, now we could be marching on the front line of one of the most important civil-rights battles ever to hit Oregon. Besides, we'd have already received most of the items off our extensive gift registries at Target and Pottery Barn.

An outdoor toilet. There's something about taking a crap outside that appeals to the "bear" in me. Provided that I had the proper equipment (New York Times, Charmin, and an intricate plumbing system to flush it all away), a roofless, open-air port-a-potty would really help me get in touch with my too-often-sequestered inner Iron John.

A chance to be a contestant on The Amazing Race. I cry during movies in which animals look like they might be in peril (the bear in The Jungle Book, the vultures in Patton, the horse in Hidalgo). I refuse to drive a car. I am scared of foreigners. That's why I'd like to be a competitor on THE BEST SHOW EVER: The Amazing Race. Not only would I get to face my fears (without eating worms or pig rectums, as is required on shows like Survivor and Fear Factor) but also I'd get to travel the world. And if the pint-sized dwarf that makes up one-half of the dynamic Armenian duo of Charla and Mirna (a.k.a. "Schmirna") can stomach two pounds of caviar and still ride a camel, so could I.

Two VIP tickets to see Liza Minnelli live in Seattle this Friday. Oh wait, I already have these. But just because I have the tickets in my hand, that doesn't mean I'll actually get to see her perform--she's got a bit of reputation for canceling at the last minute. So I guess my REAL WISH is that La Liza makes it onstage.

A full-body massage. I know. All I'd have to do is fork over the bucks, right? Wrong. I am too damn cheap and too far in debt to pay for an hour of indulgence. Still, I am intrigued by the classified ad I saw in the back pages of this paper for "exotic Hawaiian" bodywork offered by a guy named Robert. What does that mean exactly? Mai tais? Grass skirts? Getting lei'd? I don't know, but it sure sounds like it would be fun to find out.

Carb-free bread that doesn't taste like shit. OK, so I've been on the low-carb kick for more than a year now. And, yes, I've kept most of the weight off. That's a good thing--especially if I have to look in a mirror. But the downside is that for over a year now I've steered clear of such as essential daily diet items as Doritos, Vanilla Coke and bread. Just the thought of a yeasty loaf makes my mouth water. Damn you, Dr. Atkins!

Yeah, in these times, I know I should be asking for a return of the fully funded Oregon Health Plan, but I'm confident all you smart voters will deliver such Democratic ideals anyway come November.