tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73669800320574739472012-01-27T10:52:57.745-06:00It's not just a name, it's a lifestyle. A weekly blog of comic fiction.Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.comBlogger1101100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-36226661222176864822012-01-25T09:45:00.002-06:002012-01-25T09:45:59.915-06:00

Last night I headed back to my apartment after dinner, a video, and a tremendous fight with Autumn.  Who knew you could get into an argument with someone about whether or not Julie Andrews was convincing as a man in Victor / Victoria.  (Autumn said, “No way.”  I said, “In a gendercentric society, people see what they expect to see.”  She said, “No way.”  I said, “You’ve just got Mary Poppins

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-12962600123980082482012-01-21T06:00:00.002-06:002012-01-21T08:09:12.439-06:00

Chicago finally got it's first decent snowstorm last night.  Frankly, I think most Chicago residents were relieved to see the old white stuff start piling up a bit.  We all remember what happened last year when Odin waited until February to send his winter Ragnarok (see photo above).  Besides, some of us, namely me, had purchased new, stylish winter boots with which to challenge even the most

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-53443755287523344952011-12-31T05:45:00.000-06:002012-01-27T10:52:57.753-06:00

People ask me all the time, Sissy, do you plan to have kids.  I tell them, no, because I'm too busy with everybody else's kids to even think I'd have time to have my own.  I might change my mind once my friends' kids have gotten old enough to babysit for mine.  And there are plenty of candidates, believe me.  I have three friends who have twins, four others who have two or more, and a couple

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-25938169349337017442011-12-16T23:57:00.000-06:002011-12-17T07:37:20.599-06:00

Last week Autumn and I had "Date Weekend."  One weekend a month, we each get a little outside of our own comfort zones and try to enjoy the other person's interests without having to  find some happy medium between the two.  Typically, this isn't too hard, since we have so many overlapping interests.  The difference tends to be in how much we enjoy the other person's tastes. On Saturday

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-86616138782542240222011-12-10T06:52:00.000-06:002011-12-10T07:49:44.458-06:00

I was wrong, so very wrong last week when I said that there's nothing worse than working with a fighting couple.  Much worse is working with a couple of women who have fallen in love, all over again, and who are planning a spring wedding. I comforted myself with the thought that our boss, Elston, would put the kibosh on all this romantic nonsense at work.  Wrong again.  Elston could not be

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-58541892324449729992011-12-03T04:49:00.000-06:002011-12-03T05:19:25.939-06:00

Photo by Stuart Miles The only thing worse than being in the same room with a fighting couple is to have that room be an office in which you're stuck for eight hours at a time.   My co-workers and former roommates, Maureen and Jackie, had been fighting for the past three days.  I didn't suspect anything, at first, since the fight was mostly acted out silently: Jackie would enter the

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-72646250466240113442011-11-25T11:50:00.000-06:002011-11-25T16:23:31.320-06:00

Now that Thanksgiving is over, we are entering into my least favorite time to go shopping.  Tis the season to be bombarded with an endless barrage of Christmas Carols.  I can usually combat them with my special carol-cancelling earphones accompanied by some Led Zeppelin or Jimi Hendrix on my iPod.  However, a long shopping trip will drain the power and the batteries of  my defenses against

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-44270216162819585472011-11-19T06:00:00.004-06:002011-11-19T06:00:02.450-06:00

I called in sick from work yesterday morning, although I was actually more tired than sick.  If I'd really been sick, I would have gone in to work.  I never waste my sick leave on days when I'm feeling too ill to enjoy them. I didn't sleep very well the night before.  I had a fight with Autumn, my... the woman I've been dating. There's nothing worse than having a raging back and forth argument

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-54599105883269552372011-11-12T06:01:00.001-06:002011-11-12T07:13:50.687-06:00

With Autumn's question, "just how many women have you dated," still ringing in my ears, I decided to find out.  Autumn is a very easy-going person, but that doesn't mean she let's things go easily.  The question had been tabled for the time being, but it was neither gone nor soon to be forgotten.  I knew I hadn't dated  anywhere near 10,000 or even 1,000 women, since I'm not a rock star or

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-59668770430955961152011-11-05T08:22:00.001-05:002011-11-05T08:42:02.914-05:00

One thing I've learned since I decided to only date one woman is that there's a weird inverse relationship between availability and attractiveness.  The less available you are, the more attractive you become. This week alone, I've gotten two hook-up texts, a "baby I've missed you so much!" email, and a "sorry I didn't get back you sooner.  Call me!" voice mail, from women who two months ago

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-41365631479753816512011-10-29T06:00:00.000-05:002011-10-29T06:33:38.955-05:00

“You did what!?  Have you  lost your mind?”  This was my therapist, Greta’s, very untherapeutic response on the telephone last night when I told her that  I had broken up with Autumn.  "I just wasn't ready," I explained.  "Everything was moving so fast. Now that I'm finally ready to get over my relationship with Faith, I thought it would be best...." Greta interrupted

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-38598714361790032962011-10-28T10:26:00.000-05:002011-10-28T10:35:08.440-05:00

Good news for all my nonmonogamous friends who worried that I had gone over to the other side for good: I'm back.  Last week, after my session with my therapist, Greta Clewe, I realized that while it would be nice to have a steady girlfriend, I'm just not ready.   I told Autumn, the woman I've been dating, that I needed some time apart, and she said that she understood.  She was so

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-53557608764513855342011-10-22T06:00:00.000-05:002011-10-22T08:01:16.225-05:00

As I mentioned in my last post, I've been dating one woman more consistently than I usually do.  In fact, ever since I met Autumn, on the last day, in the last minutes, of my trip to the MichiganWomyn's Music Festival, I haven't even been able to think about anyone else.  Of course, I still notice the gorgeous women I run into every day, but it's like they're all in soft focus, while Autumn's

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0Chicago, IL, USA41.8781136 -87.629798241.6889521 -87.94565519999999 42.067275099999996 -87.3139412tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-37625728246798088062011-10-15T15:05:00.000-05:002011-10-15T15:05:53.772-05:00

In case anyone has been wondering where I've been over the last several weeks, lets just say I've been busy.  But, before anyone gets the wrong idea, I want to make it perfectly clear that just because, for the past ten weeks, I have chosen to spend nearly all my free time in the company of a particular woman, it doesn't mean that I'm monogamous.  Although, I am getting a little confused about

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-72756905609713983102011-09-12T21:31:00.002-05:002011-09-13T04:37:59.700-05:00

A few weeks ago I went through a mini-crisis when I discovered my first gray hair.  My friend, Randy, aka the Notorious F.A.G., recommended that I might not feel so bad about getting older if I went with him for a visit to the Old Queers Home, where he does volunteer work.  I took him up on his offer, and I am happy to report that there is still plenty of gay after gray. The Old Queers

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-34760942690415930292011-09-03T07:21:00.002-05:002011-09-13T05:18:05.323-05:00

Here is my final post on my summer music festival saga.  Looking back on last year's journey to the Michigan Womyn's Music Festival, beginning here, I can see that my life has settled down a lot.  I guess that's a good thing, like a sign of maturity and all, but I still worry, since it' s sometimes hard for me to tell the difference between getting more mature and getting old.  I know, one

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-79492831795027574522011-08-27T11:44:00.002-05:002011-08-27T11:44:28.018-05:00

If you think you can imagine the looks of horror a person would get upon driving up to the gates of the Michigan Womyn’s Music Festival in a Hummer (see previous post for details), you probably would fall way short of the reality.  First of all you have to contrast those looks with the joyous welcome that the people entering immediately before you and then immediately after you were getting

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-25902626907898743872011-08-23T21:10:00.000-05:002011-08-24T03:46:36.348-05:00

Happy August to all my (im)patient readers, many of whom have wandered off to blogs unknown, tired of waiting for my sorry self to post again.  Well, get back over here!  I’m back, begging all your pardons, and hoping to console you with tales of my latest nonsense, of which there has been many and much. First of all, anyone who knows me knows that, August means only one thing to me:

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-23129442271049660082011-06-12T20:30:00.002-05:002011-06-12T21:06:53.670-05:00

I was lying around with my friend, Constance, last weekend, when all of sudden she let out a piercing shriek.  Since Connie is a cop, and not known for shrieking, even in dire circumstances, I was more than a bit alarmed.  After a few moments, when I realized she was laughing, I stuck my head out from under the bed, where I’d been hiding. “What?” I demanded, indignant and covered with dust

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-23938790256101375762011-05-30T11:54:00.000-05:002011-05-30T11:54:02.482-05:00

It’s been a month since my last blog post, and there’s a reason for that – I’ve been depressed.  I had three significant rejection-related incidents hit me in the same week, and it totally threw me off my rickety Jenga tower of happiness into the dark Donkey Kong barrel of self-doubt and despair. Last month, everything was going great: Winter was (allegedly) over, and we Chicagoans were

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-49322384154554379042011-04-09T11:13:00.001-05:002011-04-11T21:40:55.383-05:00

Originally published by QWOC Talk With spring hovering on the horizon (a long, seemingly lost horizon for those of us who live in the frosty Midwest), it’s high time for all of us single ladies to get up, get out, and start dating.  Now please notice that I said “dating” and not walking around with a hand in the air looking for someone to put a ring on it.  I have observed that a lot of lesbians

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-7709203948209345872011-03-19T12:51:00.000-05:002011-03-19T12:51:03.541-05:00

My boss, Elston Caan, was in a foul mood last week.  This was made evident by fact that on Friday he fired everybody on the staff except for me.  True, there were only two other people, but that’s still 2/3 of the staff.  So, with the economy the way it is, I was a little worried that the Best Guess Testing Center might be having some financial problems. “Au contraire, mon cheri,” Elston

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-89458325181446206132011-03-12T06:47:00.000-06:002011-03-12T06:47:01.799-06:00

Sorry for the time lapse between blogs over the last couple of weeks.  I have been busy moving out of the labyrinth I described in my last post, and into my new apartment.  So far so good.  The only down side of my new place is named Jeremy, the little boy that lives in the apartment below mine.  At first I thought there were three different kids, from all the noise he made on his own.  The two

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-37694023237844885542011-02-12T11:59:00.000-06:002011-02-12T11:59:13.468-06:00

The good news is that, last week, I finally saved enough money to leave my crazy roommate situation and got my own place.  The bad news is that my new place totally sucks. When the landlord showed me the apartment, it seemed perfect.  It's on the second floor of a cute little three-flat in East Rogers Park, has great access to public transportation, and is only steps away from Lake Michigan.  

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-34476648595851409202011-02-05T09:38:00.000-06:002011-02-05T09:38:46.594-06:00

There were some very UNfunny goings on around my way last week, in addition to  the great Snowpocalypse of 2011: My friends were calling me all week, complaining about some insulting text messages they had received, supposedly from me. "Hey, I heard you tested negative on your IQ test.""Brains aren't everything. You should know, right?""You're nobody's fool. Maybe one day you'll be adopted.""

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-37046640662704004422011-01-29T07:00:00.002-06:002011-01-29T07:00:09.659-06:00

There’s nothing more annoying than trying to break up with someone who just won’t take “No, no, and no,” for an answer.  OK, I know I’m cute, funny, and smart, but that doesn’t make me some sort of limited natural resource in a big city like Chicago.  Apparently, no one has told Rose  that.  Ever since I wouldn’t have a “drink” at her place last week, she has been burning up my phone with text

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-5593469259728494602011-01-22T06:26:00.002-06:002011-01-22T06:45:57.674-06:00

As I mentioned in my previous post, part of my new job is entertaining clients.  This means that I have to spend a lot of time eating out in nice restaurants (poor me).  It’s been great because besides not having to cook, which I hate, I also haven’t had to do much shopping since my fridge is always loaded with designer leftovers.  So, not only am I making more money, I’m saving big.  In fact,

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-33440792298698219332011-01-15T07:22:00.000-06:002011-01-15T07:22:12.879-06:00

OK, so I promised that I wouldn’t complain, but I have to say it: wearing suits makes me feel itchy.  Phew, I’m glad I got that out of the way.  Now I can get on to the real business of talking about how much I absolutely love my new job. It’s the first 9 to 5 gig I’ve had since I’ve been in Chicago.  In my case, the term 9 to 5 is not really accurate.  It’s really more like 9 to 10, although

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-51600522841491676832011-01-08T06:07:00.000-06:002011-01-08T06:07:58.061-06:00

The year 2011 has already started out with a bang for me (literally), beginning with a mutual infatuation with the beautiful actress / model/ waitress that I talked a bit about in my last blog post.  We missed getting together on New Year’s Eve, but we made up for it on the New Year’s Day and the day after that.  In further news, it looks like I’m getting a new, full-time job. The job thing

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-44714497267385158912011-01-01T11:23:00.000-06:002011-01-01T11:23:49.605-06:00

I hope everyone had a happy and safe New Year's Eve, although, I suspect many of you won't be reading this until late afternoon, or when the room stops spinning, whichever comes first.  My NYE worked out very differently than I had planned, but in a way it was a lot better than I thought it would be.  Any time you can learn a valuable lesson, it's a good day, and last night I learned a couple

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-21061029603720587032010-12-25T06:32:00.002-06:002010-12-25T06:49:12.852-06:00

So last night my roommates had split from the house.  I was home all alone, feeling just like a louse.  I’d hung my damp socks by the radiator with care, because I hadn’t done laundry and had no others to wear.  I hoped that my roomies had taken their meds.  Without them, they tend to go out of their heads.  I went to the kitchen and made a night cap, then laid down on my bed for a quick disco

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-64126021781333845652010-12-18T09:48:00.000-06:002010-12-18T09:48:36.111-06:00

I don't know about you guys, but for me one of the worst things about the holiday season is that I can't step inside a store without being bombarded by the same old, dry as dust, Christmas songs.  Even if they try to jazz them up by having fresh singers and modern arrangements, it's still like "Hello, do I really need to hear 50 Cent rapping Jingle Bell Rock?"  It's not the songs so much as that

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-16390628878249372362010-12-11T08:41:00.001-06:002010-12-11T09:04:48.550-06:00

So, we’re getting to that stressful time of year when friendship seems to take on a monetary value.  To give or not to give, that is the question.  This is further complicated by the sub-questions: give to whom, and how much?  The how much isn’t really a problem for me, since I’m usually broke.  My true friends understand that between only working part-time, and my tattoo addiction, I never have

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-44199676808059392202010-12-04T10:57:00.002-06:002010-12-04T11:07:26.500-06:00

So, as I was saying, in my previous blog, after eight months of trying to eat vegetarian, the beef is back.  To tell the truth, though, I didn’t crave beef as much as pork.  To quote the wisdom of the (always) Nefarious OhSnap: “The pig gets us every time.”  I don’t know what it is about pork, and especially bacon, it’s like appetite perfume.  The only people who honestly believe that “fakin

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-38898646392437832692010-11-27T05:00:00.001-06:002010-11-27T05:00:00.635-06:00

Well, I fell off the vegetable cart this week, and now I'm back on the meat wagon.  The cause of my relapse?  Two words: Kalua Pig. I went to visit my folks in Hawaii for Thanksgiving on Thursday (I know, poor me), and instead of cooking dinner, we got tickets for a "traditional" (i.e. idealized, sanitized, hotel version) luau at the Royal Hawaiian hotel.  You know, that's the "pink hotel" from

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com1Honolulu, HI, USA21.290398075322347 -157.93945312518.731968075322346 -161.674804625 23.84882807532235 -154.204101625tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-27430483543604543502010-11-21T07:58:00.000-06:002010-11-21T11:00:10.115-06:00

Hey Sissy,      I’ve been enjoying your column and I thought you might be able to help me with my problem.  I’ve been dating my present girlfriend for about three months, and  I think it might be time to go back out on the market.  This year for Thanksgiving, I decided to put on a big feed for all my friends.  I told my girlfriend about it and she said she thought it was a great idea.  She even

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-15054949589372406782010-11-13T08:11:00.000-06:002010-11-13T08:44:24.673-06:00

Hey Sissy,      I live in St. Charles and I've been talking to this Chicago woman on Match.com for about a month now and we finally got together at her place two weekends ago.  She said she was going to make dinner for us and then maybe we'd watch a movie.  I brought some flowers and a bottle of wine and we had a really wonderful time.  She's a great cook, and she had candles lit all around.  It

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-86141377415447430092010-11-09T18:18:00.000-06:002010-11-09T19:12:08.298-06:00

Hey Sissy, What’s up with the ladies in this town?  I go out to a lesbian club and not one woman comes up to me to ask me to dance or even to talk.  It doesn’t matter if I’m there by myself or with some friends.  I’m sitting in a room full of women, and I might as well be there alone for all the attention I get.  Just so you understand, I am a very nice looking woman, and I keep myself in

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-89146190289256471922010-11-06T09:00:00.000-05:002010-11-06T12:08:40.732-05:00

Hey Sissy, Thanks for the dating advice.  All my friends are in relationships and they're not a lot of help at this point.  Anyway, my situation is that I think I've been dating a woman for about three months now but I'm not really sure since we never call it dating.  It could be just two friends hanging out but all I know is how I feel.  I am only really happy when we are together.  We talk on

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-43672743253775780342010-10-30T21:10:00.000-05:002010-10-30T21:10:52.962-05:00

 I was reading Dan Savage’s Savage Love column the other day, and I thought to myself: “I could do that.”  As I’ve noted in my blog before and before, a lot of lesbians have issues when it comes to dating (i.e. They can’t!).  Now me, being non-monogamous, I have developed some mad dating skills .  I couldn’t tell you exactly how many women I’ve dated, but it has definitely been a few dozen. 

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-54891341093375496892010-10-23T16:08:00.000-05:002010-10-23T16:08:39.081-05:00

Last week, I finally got rid of my van – aka my parking-ticket-generating-machine.  I’d been threatening to do it for a while now, although I don’t know who I was threatening.  Maybe the City of Chicago folks, since they are the ones who have the most to lose.  I just worry that the City may have to sell another Skyway or a few more parking meters, now that it's lost my $100 average monthly

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-41607282142648017282010-10-16T09:38:00.000-05:002010-10-16T09:38:06.678-05:00

With the bed bug plague happening across the country, I’m tempted to grab my tent and go back to sleeping out in the woods.  I know there are bugs in nature, but at least they have the good manners not to follow you home.  Not so with bed bugs.  For them, your casa is their casa. I can’t tell you how many pieces of sock lint I have sprayed into oblivion with my bedside can of Off, poked with a

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-64002546713610427472010-10-06T21:53:00.000-05:002010-10-07T02:19:39.759-05:00

As my most loyal readers may remember (both of you), when I was away festival hopping I'd asked my mother and some friends to do a little guest blogging for me.  My father, Admiral Cecil Van Dyke, had drafted an entry, but he was having a heck of a time getting it cleared by his legal department.  Finally, my father has made an "executive decision," and he's given me permission to publish his

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-71354532708762464072010-09-22T09:11:00.000-05:002010-09-22T09:11:24.096-05:00

Hello there from a humble, and slightly humiliated Sissy.  If you read last week’s post, I’m sure you’ll understand why.  I don’t normally make a habit of sleeping with women who are so obviously wrong, wrong, wrong for me.  I usually wait to find that out over time.  At least that way I can pretend to be surprised.  But when I woke up Sunday morning at the Michigan Womyn’s Music Festival, I was

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-307296957679748512010-09-12T11:26:00.000-05:002010-09-12T11:26:08.885-05:00

Hello again to all my blog pals.  I'm back with the second part of my adventure at the 35th annual Michigan Womyn's Music Festival.  My last blog left me sitting in my MichFest approved, concert etiquette chair, watching the final Night Stage concert of the year.  The music was great, and I was trying to enjoy it, but I kept getting distracted by staring at the back of Wanda A. Goodrich’s head.

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-14202399221335211342010-09-06T14:03:00.000-05:002010-09-06T14:03:20.974-05:00

As the folks who read my previous two blog entries already know, I went to three women’s music festivals this summer: the Sizzling Sisters Festival, in Nevada (too hot); the Women in the Music Business Festival, in Wisconsin (too cold); and finally, the mother of them all, the Michigan Womyn’s Music Festival (ah, just right).  I had considered riding my motorcycle to the festival, for the

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-25602463877518695662010-08-29T16:00:00.000-05:002010-08-29T16:01:31.478-05:00

As I mentioned in my previous post, I went to three Women's music festivals this summer.  The second of the three was the Women in the Music Business Festival (WomMusBiz), in Wisconsin.  After my recent desert disaster at the Sizzling Sisters Festival, I was bound and determined not to be caught up short when it came to the necessities of life.  I guessed that, since this festival was located in

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-5797700248497672732010-08-21T11:49:00.000-05:002010-08-21T12:06:55.806-05:00

Howdy again to all my patient readers!  Guess who's back?  Sissy's back: all sunburned, sun-kissed, and sunnyside upped after my relaxing, month-long foray into the land of a thousand women's festivals.  I only went to three, actually, with the Michigan Womyn's Music Festival as the jewel in my traveling crown.  As promised, I kept a record of my adventures, which I will share with you here.  But

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-38782917138418442832010-08-02T05:48:00.000-05:002010-08-02T05:48:04.115-05:00

Hello everyone.  This is Laura Van Dyke writing again, and this is probably my last entry since Sissy will be back in a couple of weeks.  She managed to catch a signal on her Blackberry the other day, long enough to give me a call and catch up with her blog.  She pointed out that I hadn't written very much about myself.  Well, I told her, there's not much to write, really.  I've spent the last 30

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-61953664356155356792010-07-26T05:29:00.000-05:002010-07-26T05:35:11.421-05:00

Hello, my dears.  This is Dixie Newoman jumping in on the blog bandwagon that Sissy so graciously left parked here for us while she's on vacation.  I'd like to begin by thanking my sweet husband, Frank, for helping me with this.  I am talking into a tape recorder, and Frank is going to ask his secretary, Margie, to type it up for me (thank you Margie).  My spelling and grammar are not the best,

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-62454433892183048042010-07-24T08:42:00.000-05:002010-07-24T08:42:24.958-05:00

Hello out there in the blogosphere.  This here's Gigi Thoroughgood typing in for my girl, Sissy.  Sissy's off running around naked in the woods somewhere.  All I can say is, better her than me.  She keeps trying to get me to go camping with her at one of those women's music festival dealies, but Chile, I am not the one.  The music part is tempting, but I did enough sleeping outside with I was in

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-28245390412731938712010-07-18T12:00:00.000-05:002010-07-18T12:00:31.937-05:00

Hello, my name is Laura, Laura Peterson Van Dyke, and it is just a name.  I'm Sissy's mother.  Sissy  explained in her previous blog that she would be out of town, traveling with her music.  While she's away, some of her friends and I will be filling in for her.  Of course, I was just tickled to be invited, even if it was accidentally, but I was worried at first.  I asked her, "what if people

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-10012302538907809862010-07-10T10:34:00.000-05:002010-07-10T19:49:38.784-05:00

Now that full-on summer has arrived, it's high time for me to get my musical act together and take it on the road.  Summer is music festival season, and I've mapped out a cross country route that should allow me to check out a few.  But all roads lead to the Michigan Womyn's Music Festival from August 3rd to 8th.  Since this is the 35th year, it is not to be missed!  I plan to be there with

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-16148773789083197332010-07-03T14:32:00.000-05:002010-07-10T09:24:12.659-05:00

Last Sunday I went to my first Gay Pride Parade in Chicago.  Let me tell you, I am still hoarse, and my ears are still ringing from all the pride being screamed around me.  What we Midwesterns lack in numbers, we make up for in volume. After having gone to the Pride Parade in San Francisco for the last eight years, I noticed several differences, and here is a list of my top five: You Know You're

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-1409633782879229872010-06-10T00:25:00.000-05:002010-06-10T01:00:21.266-05:00

Well, it's getting close to Gay Pride, so it's time I get my dating life together.  I'm not looking for a relationship or anything, just trying to get a feel (literally) for the women here in Chicagoland.  So far (four months), I've met a couple women to sleep with, a few I could talk with, but I haven't found a nice combination of both.  (Conversation before, after and maybe even during sex? 

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-72844645379796591222010-05-28T11:25:00.000-05:002010-05-28T17:45:49.114-05:00

Like a lot of folks these days, I've been having a hard time finding a full-time job.  I've been looking for about three months now, without a nibble.  But three months is nothing in Post-GW (Bush) time.  Still it's a drag.  Especially when you have a father who's an Admiral in the Navy, who voted for GW twice, and who "told me so" that I should have gone to Annapolis.  He loves to remind me

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-90205824615024780182010-05-17T06:54:00.000-05:002010-05-25T09:02:34.159-05:00

I'm thinking that I'm going to have to get rid of my van pretty soon.  Besides the cost of gas and maintenance, my ever increasing parking ticket collection has got me out looking for a second job.  I wonder if I can write off the City of Chicago as a dependent on my taxes?  Have you guys seen the new electronic ticket pads meter readers have been using lately?  Well, if you look on the back of

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-46475803942374561292010-05-13T17:20:00.000-05:002010-05-13T17:32:52.076-05:00

If any of you are as Facebook friendly as I am, and if you just happened to mention the word “lesbian” in your profile, you may have one or two or three lesbiaphile straight men hiding in your Friends List.  You can usually find them lurking behind pictures of sexy-looking women who may look vaguely familiar, especially if you browse Victoria's Secret catalogs as often as I do.  These

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-36428000304333076872010-05-09T10:37:00.000-05:002010-05-09T10:47:56.001-05:00

I saw a a picture of Elin Wood, Tiger Wood's wife, on the internet the other day.  After my eyes adjusted from the glare of her radiant prettiness, I said to myself, "dang, how good looking does a person have to be that her partner will not cheat on her?  I mean, if anyone could cheat on Elin, there is no hope for womankind!"   Same thing with Jesse James and Sandra Bullock.  Of course, a name

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-3328043832324632282010-04-28T06:38:00.000-05:002010-05-08T16:29:29.437-05:00

A couple weekends ago, I took a long bicycle ride from my place in Andersonville up to the Chicago Botanical Gardens in Glencoe.  It was great, and I've been wanting to take the trip again since, but it seems that the Chicago Weather Goddess – the Lady of the Lake Michigan – only hands out one nice weekend per customer every spring.  I hadn't taken a bike ride in a few weeks, so on my way back,

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-11154517544402428322010-04-11T09:35:00.000-05:002010-04-11T10:27:01.241-05:00

 As most of you know, I used to live in San Francisco.  I say I "used to live" in San Francisco because I recently moved to Chicago.  How I ended up here, I have no idea.  The details will all be explained in the sequel to my first novel entitled: Further Adventures of Sissy Van Dyke: How the Heck I Ended Up in Chicago.  The only problem is, I haven't written that book yet.  So, I am clearly

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-15931974837747569432010-04-06T07:09:00.000-05:002010-04-06T09:08:24.103-05:00

I was strolling past my local independent bookseller the other day, reading my Kindle, and I noticed the owner was giving me a really dirty look through the window.  I mean, if looks could kill, my Kindle would have gone up in a puff of smoke in my hands.  So, I put it away.  OK, I'm sorry for all you Kindle haters out there, but I just love, love, love my Kindle. Oh, the joy of having hundreds

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-85709585814059953532010-03-31T06:25:00.000-05:002010-03-31T14:46:52.761-05:00

Too bad there's no backspace or delete key that will work on your life.  They say hindsight is 20/20 but sometimes my foresight could use a pair of corrective lenses.  It seems that the universe gave most of my common sense to my mother.  Not one bad thing has ever happened to me that my mother hadn't warned me about, at one time or another.  Recently I figured out why that was.  It's because

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-25492376228220862702010-03-28T11:45:00.000-05:002010-03-28T12:12:25.206-05:00

<p><p><p><iframe src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=theadvofsisva-20&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-44706242098978515362010-03-25T06:53:00.000-05:002010-03-25T11:45:42.565-05:00

Sorry I haven't written in a few days.  I was having a fungus crisis in my bathroom that was taking up all my time and attention.  These days, you can't just kill pests straight out, everything is so process oriented.  You've got to give your pests a treatment and gently coax them out of your life.  If I get roaches I don't kill them, I sterilize them so that they won't reproduce.  If I get mice

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-8959770374451409972010-03-20T09:43:00.000-05:002010-03-20T09:43:25.336-05:00

I feel sorry for children who grow up in a ghetto, surrounded by drugs, crime, and addiction.  Kids are so impressionable, that it only makes sense that they will follow the examples of the adults around them.  I think that's what happened to these former child actors.  Because, if you think about it, Hollywood is a sort of ghetto,  A ghetto is defined as an isolated environment inhabited by

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-75818928406381824212010-03-17T07:00:00.000-05:002010-03-17T11:55:08.368-05:00

My parents are both atheists, so when I was in junior high school, I became Catholic just to annoy them.  We were living on a Naval base in Rhode Island at the time, and there were chaplains from most of the major religions all in one place.  So,  I was able to shop around a bit before I made up my mind.  I really liked the Catholic chaplain, Father Mallet.  He was a real bad-to-the-bone, former

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-13684717026552100702010-03-15T06:00:00.000-05:002010-03-17T05:45:15.148-05:00

So, it's been about a month now since I decided that I can't eat animals anymore -- except for fish, shrimp, you know, things that would happily take a bite out of me if they got the chance.  Maybe it's the facial expressions.  It's kind of hard to tell when you've hurt the feelings of a shrimp, so, I'm going to stick with seafood for a while.  That is until someone teaches a lobster sign

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-71369281321994326602010-03-11T05:14:00.000-06:002010-03-11T08:43:10.792-06:00

Last night I did a little matchmaking between two of my friends.  They were both former girlfriends of mine, but at least not at the same time.  I thought I was setting up a casual hookup, but when I went on Facebook this morning, both of them had changed their statuses to "In a relationship."  I thought to myself, "wow, there but for polyamory went I!"   I'm sorry women, I'm going to have to

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-30126591793366769962010-03-09T05:48:00.000-06:002010-03-17T05:44:42.594-05:00

I don't know if anyone else is getting this particular item but the header is: UPS Delivery Problem NR23792.  You open it up:Dear customer! We failed to deliver postal package you have sent on the 10th of January in time because the recipient’s address is wrong. Please print out the invoice copy attached and collect the package at our office. United Parcel Service of America. Oh, look,

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-5566215125813410882010-03-06T08:08:00.000-06:002010-03-17T05:44:05.379-05:00

First of all, stop frantically clicking "Ignore," Dorothy, it's just an image, not a real request. OK, so last night I went to bed with 162 friends safely tucked away in my Facebook Friends list, and today I wake up to find that I'm down to 161.  I know this shouldn't bother me, but it does, because it means that someone has "un-friended" me.  Now, in real life, if someone doesn't want to know

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-70529330246237326902010-03-05T05:57:00.000-06:002010-03-05T06:10:33.450-06:00

Remember that movie about the devil car, Christine?  You know, the car with the mind of its own?  Well, my friend Cabral has... had... well, it's a long story.  Let's just say that Cabral is not going to be driving anything for a while, since she lost her license.  The point is, her 2002 Trans Am is like a demon whose seductive voice (VROOM) lures one to drive like a maniac, for as long as

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-3167313536812596452010-03-04T05:02:00.000-06:002010-03-05T06:11:23.821-06:00

My friend, Gigi, and I were walking down Castro the other day, and this really cute leather dyke hands us a postcard inviting us to a "Women's Play Party."  At first I thought it was some sort of board game or theater group, but Gigi explained it was a party where women act out BDSM scenes.  I was intrigued and inclined to check it out. But Gigi, who knows me pretty well, just gave me a look.  "

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-60297741663179049942010-03-03T06:49:00.000-06:002010-03-03T10:00:40.477-06:00

I was at the library yesterday, and I noticed this little boy, about 9 or 10 (which I call, the age of 'should know better by now') staring at me.  I flashed him a little friendliness, which must have encouraged him, because he got right in my face, looked me up and down, and demanded to know, "are you a boy or a girl?"  His mother was all like, "Rupert! Don't be rude.  Leave that nice... person

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-49760650703698231522010-03-01T06:32:00.000-06:002010-03-05T06:12:45.996-06:00

So, it looks like the drug companies are winning the Health Wars.   Drug Companies: Health!?  Where's the profit in that? Now that the Supreme Court has opened the door to unlimited campaign spending for corporations, drug companies can purchase the support of all the politicians they need to make sure the big money wheel keeps right on turning.  I predict that it's only a matter of time before

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-85407002124576762782010-02-27T13:09:00.000-06:002010-02-28T05:42:54.586-06:00

My dad sent me an article this week with the headline: "Pentagon OKs lifting ban on women in submarines."  He didn't add a comment or a post-it note or anything to go with it.  He didn't have to.  He sends me things like this from time to time just to remind me of all the "fun" I'm missing by having decided not to go to Annapolis and into the Navy, as we, but mostly he, had planned.  My pop is a

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-6543204053215777652010-02-26T06:49:00.000-06:002010-02-26T07:02:24.733-06:00

As a polyamorous woman, I have to admit, Lesbian Bed Death isn't something I've experienced first hand.  For me, if one bed is dead, I just move on to the next one.  However, as a gal who gets out and about, I have met many, many women who say stuff like, "my girlfriend and I haven't had sex in ___ years!"  Fill in the blank with any number from one to 15.  OK, for me the difference between a

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-83721041090018100752010-02-25T06:48:00.000-06:002010-02-25T09:51:03.162-06:00

I heard this upsetting story on Radiolab this week about Lucy, a chimp that had been taught to communicate using American Sign Language.  Of course it ended in tragedy, like most stories do where humans try to make animals more like us.  When are we going to learn, we are not the best role models for the survival of the planet?  Anyhow, the story really messed with me, because as long as animals

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-37506718625428426172010-02-24T06:41:00.000-06:002010-02-25T09:45:34.387-06:00

People ask me all the time, Sissy, why don't you have a girlfriend?  And I tell them, "because I'm 24 and live in San Francisco."  They don't get it.  "Because I don't have to?"  I suggest.  Still clueless.  "Because I am polyamorous and don't want to limit myself to a single relationship."  Ah, that they get: "Because you're afraid of commitment!"  No, I argue, although I have to admit that the

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-78886898316950653552010-02-23T06:53:00.000-06:002010-02-23T12:03:21.740-06:00

Did you ever go to help someone with a "little thing" on the computer and you suddenly realize that, "oh no, this is going to take all day."  I call it the OhNo second, when I can kiss the rest of the day goodbye because there is just too much the person I'm helping does not know. My mom left me a message on my voicemail the other day, telling me that the mouse and the keyboard on her computer

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-10807246465143331742010-02-22T06:06:00.000-06:002010-02-22T11:51:17.089-06:00

You know, I've recently found a past time that's a lot more fun than drinking and getting wasted.  That's drinking only a little bit while your friends are getting wasted. I'll tell you, it's more real than reality TV.  I've started my own little program with my friends as the contestants, and I call it Beer Factor. Now, it's totally against the rules for me to encourage my friends to drink more

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-79047215011931352892010-02-21T05:14:00.000-06:002010-03-05T06:13:47.287-06:00

Don't you getting hit on by a straight man at a lesbian dance club?  I'm sure my gay men friends would say, "Well, it depends."  But it annoys the "try to be nice" out of me.  Here's an expert from my new book that illustrates that situation.  In this passage, I'm at Club Grrrl on a Friday night, and this drunk guy tries to put a move on me:     “Hi there, pretty lady.  What’s your name?”     “

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-49089989102093382402010-02-20T07:54:00.000-06:002010-02-20T07:57:01.785-06:00

So, ever since I saw that movie, Food Inc. I have seriously been trying to get my Veg on, with little success.  Even though I know that McDonalds is part of the evil, fast-food, empire, every time they bring back the McRib, I find myself going over on the Dark Side again.  I had to recognize my powerlessness over McFood, so I started looking for help. My initial search for Meat Eaters Anonymous

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-86644647415459478842010-02-19T05:57:00.000-06:002010-02-20T06:22:07.185-06:00

I was messing around with one of those silly iPhone apps the other day, you know the one where you put in a photo and age it 5 years?  I put in one of Obama's campaign photos to try it out, and I'll be danged if he didn't look almost exactly like he's been looking in the newspapers lately!  Let's face it, the man is aging before our eyes.  I look at him, and I feel like I'm looking at one of

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-35998727417196988762010-02-18T04:04:00.000-06:002010-03-05T06:13:21.293-06:00

So, I finally got my book, The Adventures of Sissy Van Dyke published, and I want to share a taste with you all, in hopes that you will be tantalized enough to want to read more and more.  Besides, I was going to write a bit about Lent, but my better judgment said, "no, don't go there!"  This is a little background about how I got my job working at the Stone Birch Music Store.         I started

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-46318787049586162622010-02-17T06:59:00.000-06:002010-02-20T06:20:31.829-06:00

I was in Nordstrom yesterday, looking for a birthday gift for my mom and to see if they had any post-Valentines Day sales on chocolate.  I'll tell you, that place is definitely not my natural habitat.  I was wandering all around, dazed by the cacophony of designer fragrances, glittering price tags, and striving-to-be-cool muzak. Women were beckoning to me from behind their pristine little

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-64662759642474096852010-02-16T06:57:00.000-06:002010-02-20T06:19:06.701-06:00

When I have a wild-eyed, crazy idea about something I want to do in the future, I have to be very careful who I tell about it.  I've found that sometimes the advice of people who don't like me very much can be more helpful than the advice of people I consider to be friends.  My non-friends will say stuff like, "Oh, Sissy, that's a wonderful idea.  You should totally go for it!" because they want

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-27621165152616743752010-02-15T06:58:00.000-06:002010-02-15T07:02:00.584-06:00

Yesterday was one of my favorite holidays, St. Valentines Day.  I don't normally like commercial holidays, but Valentines Day is an exception, because I love chocolate.  I don't exchange gifts and valentines and all that, and in fact, any woman who gives me a valentine wouldn't hear from me for a long time.  Stuff like that sets off my monogamy alarm.  Still, a box of chocolates in the shape of a

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-25187713762952910882010-02-14T08:29:00.000-06:002010-02-14T09:25:17.311-06:00

If you're like me, you usually have at least two, very different bookshelves in your house.  One is the front stage shelf that enjoys pride of place in my living room.  The other is my back stage bookshelf, that I keep near my desk and a comfy chair, where I actually do most of my reading. On this first shelf, I have my feminist and race theory books like Bodies that Matter; Black Skin, White

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-80488909242325595952010-02-13T06:58:00.000-06:002010-02-14T09:24:59.973-06:00

Last night I watched the opening ceremony for the Winter Olympics.  I loved the Native people, the mythic imagery, and the Cirque du Soleil style aerialists. The set designs were incredible!  Phew, they were really scrambling to approach the bar China raised in the incredible opening ceremony for the 2008 Summer Olympics in Beijing.  Let's face it, Canada may have the money, but they don't have

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-70364474572309973372010-02-12T08:35:00.000-06:002010-02-14T09:24:09.026-06:00

I can't tell you how many times I've been walking down the street, holding hands with a girlfriend or even a female friend-friend, only to have some baggy square tsk-tsking about me "advertising the gay lifestyle."  But last Sunday, I was watching the Super Bowl, and all the crazy ads they have on there for everything, including the "straight lifestyle" and I think to myself, "hey, why not!" So

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-5084287555079501452010-02-11T12:30:00.000-06:002010-02-14T09:23:28.195-06:00

I normally try to avoid karaoke nights at my local clubs, but last night I was having dinner, with friends and before I knew it, the bar dudes were setting up the ominous black boxes, and monitors.  I tried to escape, but I was hemmed in on either side by my friends, Phil and Mike.  They rejected my suggestion that we just wolf down our dinners, pay the check and leave for two reasons: 1) our

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-47646490321850044012010-02-10T06:13:00.000-06:002010-02-14T09:22:01.132-06:00

 My friend, Andrea, is a dyke and a single mother.  Like so many lesbians with children, child care can be a really big issue.  See, she has all these friends who don't have children, and they're always fighting each other for the chance to babysit.  Personally, I always stay up in that queue.  It certainly doesn't hurt that her four-year-old daughter, Kamika is like the smartest, cutest, most

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-80503624245383710302010-02-09T02:38:00.000-06:002010-02-14T09:23:04.093-06:00

  I made the mistake of taking a Philosophy course in college.  It was this really dense philosophy called: Phenomenology, which is the study of being with a big 'B.'  Hegel is the official god of Being, by the way.  Before he wrote about Being, we were just being but without being-as-such.  It's ironic that the only time during college that I seriously considered suicide was when I was studying

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-70121164560827680562010-02-08T05:41:00.000-06:002010-02-08T06:50:22.634-06:00

When I was first thinking about going to college I had a hard time deciding what subject to major in.  I'd thought about Media Studies, which seemed like a great excuse to continue doing what I'd been doing all through high school: watching TV, movies, and videos.  If they'd offered a degree in Video Gameology back then, I'd have gotten my PhD by now.  I was the undisputed neighborhood champion

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-62991462959937324572010-02-07T08:12:00.000-06:002010-02-07T08:15:36.783-06:00

 Well the schadenfreude  is running pretty high in the auto industry these days, and I feel kinda sorry for Toyota.  As much as a struggling artist can feel sorry for a multibillion dollar, international corporation, anyway.  Toyota is like Molly Ringwald in the John Hughes movie, The Breakfast Club, the "good' kid who's not used to hanging out with the '"bad'" kids.  I imagine Toyota going into

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-36374477046323352802010-02-06T05:35:00.000-06:002010-02-06T05:41:00.043-06:00

I saw that movie Food, Inc. when it came out last year.  All I can say is, "Thanks a lot, Robert Kenner!"  I can't believe that I actually paid money to see a film that has destroyed my ability to enjoy a fast food burger with a side of chicken nuggets forever!  I won't say that the movie single-handedly transformed me into a vegetarian.  It would take more than 90 minutes of uncomfortable truth

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-68894238099456344682010-02-05T06:37:00.000-06:002010-02-05T10:17:33.774-06:00

  There is nothing more annoying for me, as a single person, than hanging out with couple right after they've fallen in love.  New lovers are definitely looking at the world through a different lens.  It's this pretty, rosy, lens with lots of Vaseline on it and flowing draperies all around.  And the bad thing is that the cheerier they are, the grumpier I get.  New couples think giggling is a form

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-9340094673876549882010-02-04T02:43:00.000-06:002010-02-05T05:56:24.935-06:00

I belong to the YMCA, and I really love it.  The only thing is that if I ever feel like working out after 10 p.m. I'm just SOL.  That's when I hop on my trusty motorcycle and take a ride over to the nearest 24-hour Big Box Superstore.  I mean, those places are vast.  You can do a good 1/4 mile just between Cosmetics and Hardware. I usually start off with a few warm-up laps around the store,

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366980032057473947.post-20301539295257915152010-02-03T07:16:00.001-06:002010-02-05T05:55:34.426-06:00

Did you ever hear the name of a person you haven't met, and then get all biased about how you expect that person to look or act?  Like, if I hear the name, Bertha, I immediately visualize someone with a big butt.  The name Annie makes me think of a woman with red, very curly hair (and maybe white, Marilyn Manson contacts, but not usually).  Like, when people hear my name, Sissy, they probably

Sissy Van Dykehttps://profiles.google.com/114754397590718921244noreply@blogger.com0