Note to Self

Buy the frakkin expansion set!

Party On

Nothing new to report from the pool. But holy crap!!! I love this video.

Happy Grandparent's Day

I’m not sure if you knew it, but today is Grandparent’s Day in the US. Did you have the fun grandparents and the serious ones? I did.

The grandma I share a first name with was the one that bought me clothes for my birthday. She was also the first OCD that I know of in the family. Since my parents both worked two jobs, she baby sat for us a lot. I cut her a lot of slack looking back because we were brats.



The other grandma, my mom’s mom, bought me toys and she got it that dolls were wasted on me. She bought me toy guns. Unfortunately, she had an unhealthy lifestyle—she drank too much beer and smoked 2 packs a day and ate a typical southern diet of fried everything. She died when she was 51.

My grandfathers were both fun. My grandpa Tom took me to Cubs’ games and bought me my first baseball mitt. He also told the best stories about growing up in Al Capone’s Chicago. He lived on a street that had a corner known as “Assassin’s Corner” because on any given Friday night, a car would careen around a corner, slow down a little, and then a body would be dumped out.


My grandpa Cal rolled his own cigarettes. Every shirt he owned had holes in the front from hastily rolled cigarettes. He didn’t get gray hair until he was well into his 80’s.

[Fun grandpa Cal giving me beer while potty training.
I think it helped]

My grandparents are gone, but I hope if you still have some you call them today and tell them Happy Grandparent’s Day.

[originally posted on LezBang]

Butch Overboard IV: Practice makes perfectly boring

Question: So Rusty, how’s the teaching yourself to “swim” going?

Short answer: I’m teaching myself the Crawl stroke in a 25 yard lap pool that’s only 4.5 feet deep. At least the “Oh, god, oh god, I’m gonna die” part of the ordeal is gone. In fact, “just stand up” is my favorite survival technique ever.

Longer answer: It’s slow going. I’m still learning to exhale underwater. There is a series of online videos that have been very helpful* and I can visualize what I’m supposed to be doing. It’s just not happening yet. I have until December 13th (the date of the Tinsel Triathlon).

The Plan
I’ve been working under the theory that if I just practice exhaling enough times, I’ll get it. My plan was to stay in the water a minimum of ½ hour two days a week and practice exhaling under water. When I could do that I’d move on to perfecting the kick and stroke. (Both of which are easy for me compared to that breathing thing.)

Good theory — Poor execution. This is about as much fun as learning multiplication tables. Both are useful skills that will eventually be combined with other useful skills so that you can do fun stuff, but on its own — not fun. Rote learning sucks ass no matter what you’re trying to learn. I’ve been finding ways to get through the ½ hour in less productive ways, “Hey I wonder how long I can tread water?” Treading water is important, but it’s not my focus right now. I want to focus on breathing.

Change of plan. Instead of giving myself a time limit of 1/2 hour, I gave myself a task limit. As soon as I make the length of the pool and back 10 times I can get out of the pool. This works much better; I've stopped screwing around with time sucks. Do 10 and get out.

And Also
The 10 and get out approach works great once I get to the pool; unfortunately it's too easy for me to find excuses not to go. This morning I dragged myself to the pool and knew I had to figure out a way to make it more fun. I finished my workout and noticed a water aerobics class about to start. What the hell. It looked like a small class and my mom swears by water aerobics. After her back surgery, her insurance company stopped paying for her physical therapy (f'tards) so she supplemented on her own with water aerobics and it worked wonders for her.

Lesson Learned
That.Was.Fun. We worked with weights and ran in the pool and did all sorts of things that didn’t involve swimming.

I had so much to think about that I forgot how much I hated the water. I got my cross training in (bonus) and figured out a way to look forward to getting in the pool (another bonus). I added two water aerobics classes to my training regimen. But I still have to “swim” laps first.

*The online swimming series is good, but it says nothing about exhaling through your nose. It's not all that obvious to everyone. Just sayin.

Who Loves Boobs?

ME TOO!!! I love them a lot actually. But have you done anything to save them lately?

I don’t care if you call them boobs, breasts, tatas, hooters, knockers, the twins, the girls, tits, jugs, fun bags, lovely lady lumps, head lights, the rack, or bazoombas. The point is that we’re losing too many of them and the women (and men) they belong to.

This is my friend Carolyn West; she’s a breast cancer survivor and for the past 10 years she’s walked the Breast Cancer 3-Day to raise money to find a cure and provide support for those
fighting their own battle. She’s made the commitment again this year to walk 60 miles in 3 days (Washington, DC October 9-11). At night she’ll be sleeping in a tent.

Every year Carolyn's wife Lisa "loads up her car with plenty of goodies and has lots of hugs to share" with the walkers, too.


I did the 3-Day two years ago. I'm not doing it this year because the economy is in the toilet and in order to walk, you have to raise $2300. Take it from me, the walking is a piece of cake compared to raising that much money in any economy but this year it is horrific and Carolyn needs our help.

This is where her fundraising is as of Sunday 8/23/2009. If she doesn't get the $2300 either she has to put the rest in herself or for the first time in 10 years, she doesn't get to walk.


Please go to this link and donate. $10, $20, whatever you can afford. And then share the link so that we can get her to her Walk.

In Westies’ words: My 12th Walk in 10 Years
This adventure is truly the highlight weekend of the year for me. It is the only time when I can honestly say I am surrounded by kindness all day long. I love the togetherness that it shared and the feeling of being a part of something really important. I am looking forward to preparing for my journey, and would love to take you all along. Check back for more updates on my training, fundraising and team building.

Here’s her slideshow from last year's walk.


In closing, thanks for helping out and I have one more favor to ask. Below is the schedule for the remaining 2009 3-Day Walks. I'm not walking this year, but I am going to the San Diego Walk to cheer the walkers on. It’s an amazing experience and I encourage everyone to find the Breast Cancer 3-Day in your area and add your cheers.

Seattle September 11-13, 2009
San Francisco Bay Area October 2-4, 2009
Washington, DC October 9-11, 2009
Philadelphia October 16-18, 2009
Atlanta October 23-25, 2009
Tampa Bay October 30 - November 1, 2009
Dallas/Fort Worth November 6-8, 2009 Arizona
November 13-15, 2009
San Diego November 20-22, 2009

Everyone Deserves a Lifetime

Understanding the Smart-Lazy Continuum

“Progress is made by lazy men looking for easier ways to do things” ~ Robert A. Heinlein

An important lesson I learned in the Army is that if you have a vile, hateful job that must be done— hand it off to the laziest smart person in the unit and they will figure out the fastest right way to get 'er done.

This is a careful balancing act. If you have someone who is lazy but stupid they will come up with easy solutions that turn out worse than the problem they were trying to solve (See, Bush, GW and Iraq War). On the other hand, if you have someone who is brilliant but too energetic they won’t be motivated to look for the most efficient way to do things. They might get off on taking 3 hours to do something that could be accomplished in 45 minutes.

Here’s a diagram that illustrates this concept. Remember, you need the proper balance of smart vs. lazy to achieve maximum efficiency.

It has been my delight to be the laziest smart person in every job, both military and civilian, I’ve ever held. As a lowly private on a punishment detail I was tasked with removing 7 layers of old linoleum from the barracks floor. They gave me a screwdriver and a hammer. Are you kidding, me? It took me about 10 minutes to figure out I needed a blowtorch and a putty knife. Bam! — One fully stripped floor. Today, I have macros on my computer to do everything but go to the bathroom for me.

On the other hand, inefficiency makes me crazy. This was even true when I was a kid. I tried to play Barbies with the girls (mostly because that meant playing with the girls) but I always gave up halfway through the first wardrobe change. Trying to make those little shoes stay on tiny feet made me want to kill someone. I always quit and went to read or outside to play baseball, instead.

You might be fooled into thinking that I’ve gotten over that aversion because the Rusty Patti / Gray Shade action figure has multiple outfits.


I have a confession to make. But be WARNED: Some might find these images disturbing.

Three action figures — Three outfits — One head
The perfect balance of smart to lazy.

I wish I could teach you this skill, but as Dagwood Bumstead pointed out, “You can't teach people to be lazy - either they have it, or they don't.”

[originally posted on LezBang]

Butch Overboard – Part III

The nose? Who knew?

After my first foray into the pool I told my daughter I was going to buy a nose clip because I remembered what I hate about the water (besides the possible drowning) — the water up my nose. She asked me how I breathe while swimming so I showed her.

Damn. You're supposed to exhale from the nose and inhale through the mouth? I have no idea why I thought swimming was a full on mouth-breather activity, but now I need to unlearn that habit. Kickboard at the ready.

Butch Overboard – Part II

So, I didn't drown.

No time for a full post since I'm on deadline for the comic but I wanted to note that I made it to the pool and spent about an hour in the water. The deepest part was only 5' which helped a lot — one of my biggest fears is wandering off the drop and finding myself in 8'. I will get to that point, but for now 5' is good. I was surprised by how much I remembered from the swim lessons at the YWCA my mom insisted on when I was a kid. No execution, but at least I remembered what I'm supposed to do.

Step 2: For the next two weeks I'm going to go to at least two water strength training and cardio classes a week. My hope is that concentrating on the weights, etc will take my mind off the water discomfort.

Step 3: Get a kick board and work on the actual swimming part.

And no one tried to stop me from walking into the Woman's Locker Room. Bonus.

Butch Overboard – Part I

2009 was the year I planned on getting over my fear of the water and even learning to swim. So far no luck — not even an attempt — at either one. But two weeks ago I committed to competing in the Tinsel Triathlon this December. It's the simplest way of achieving both goals. It's not a full triathlon but it's still serious cross training. The three legs include:

- 5K Run
- 12 Mile Bike
- 150 Meter Swim

You have to compete as a team so I talked my sister and daughter into joining my team. We were going to train for each leg and then the week of the event decide who’d take what. Last week we discovered that my daughter can’t run because of her knees. That charming development puts me one step closer the 150 meter swim for realz.

Learning to swim is one thing; it’s completely brain scrambling to think I might have to jump in and look like I know what I’m doing for three 50 meter laps. What about the takeoff or whatever the hell you call jumping in fast? And turning around? Am I going to have to learn to do that flip thing?

Slow down & breathe. Time for a plan.

Step 1: What the fuck am I supposed to swim in?

Over the weekend I looked for respectable butch swimwear. I figured there’d be something akin to cargo shorts with a sports bra/t-shirt combination top. EPIC FAIL. Nothing I found came close to anything I’d allow my self to be seen wearing in public.

I went home and Googled images for “butch swimwear.” No help and NOT what you think it is.

Then I looked for men’s trunks that could be worn over a one-piece tank suits. No problem with the trunks but no way am I gonna wear any of the one-piece suits that I found. Underwire? Seriously?

Today, on a hunch, I went to Big Five Sporting Goods. SCORE. I’ve been living in California for the past 25 years. How did I not know about rash guards? They’re worn while surfing. The women’s version was definitely too femmey. The "i" is dotted with a flower for cripe's sake:


So I went with this one instead and picked up a simple pair of men’s trunks. I’m going to try them out tomorrow. I’ll report back. Unless I drown.

Are You the Fixer or the Fixed?

Raise your hand if you have mental checklist of the things you plan on fixing in perspective girlfriends. My exes all did. I did not. If your clothes and hair cut are good enough when we’re dating, they’re good enough when we become a couple. My exes did not agree.


As soon as we got together either my hair or clothes or both were “wrong.” My hair should be longer or shorter or curled. My clothes should be preppier or girlier (Who hooks up with a butch woman and then decides she wants her to be girlier, anyway?)

I’m not saying that I never found out things about my girl friends that I tried to change. One used racial epithets and I did issue an ultimatum over that. Another one had never voted in her life. I didn't make it an issue, but I did start taking her to rallies and we talked politics a lot. She decided on her own to start voting. She called me during the 2008 election to talk about the races and ballot initiatives and I admit that made me pretty happy.

But as far as suggestions on makeup and hairstyle, I keep my mouth shut. If I buy clothes, jewelry, or perfume as presents, I stick with what I know you like, not what I wish you liked.
[originally posted on LezBang, July 2008]

Cigars? Cigarettes? Tiparillos?

Thanks to a certain online buddy, a good part of my life is now spent in What would it take to make that into 1/6 scale land. I thought I’d share a very cool find with you.

I needed a pack of cigarettes for a certain action figure but a 1/6 scale pack of cigarettes on eBay costs about $8-$10; it would take a couple of weeks for delivery; I’d still need to mock up the design and paste it on.

Time to do it myself. I needed a template for a box of cigarettes. I almost bought a pack to take apart until I found out how much cigarettes cost now. Fuck me. Are you kidding? I remember buying them at the Commissary for $2 a carton. I think when I quit they cost $1.50 a pack and I bitched about that.

I looked for a template online. SCORE. The site is called Build your own death project. Here's the full size version.

I used MS Publisher. After I worked out the logistics with the full-size version, I reduced the image to 1/6 scale, cut it out and folded as directed. The blog with the 1/6 version in use is on the action hero site.

Here’s the tax stamp on the bottom of the box. It’s barely visible on the full-size version much less the 1/6 scale. But I know it’s there. Here a link to a seal generator that I used to design the stamp.


There are some very creative souls who took the concept much further than me. Bangers used the template and came up with some fun designs:
(If I missed one that you posted, let me know and I'll add it if you send the file.)
Update: Unfortunately, the link to the cigarette box template is now dead. but you can download my sample to use as a guide.

Bondage Thursday

[Originally posted on LezBang]
Curious Friend: Rusty, have you ever used any of your ties for “extracurricular purposes”?
Me: I have not, but I wouldn’t rule it out in the future.

After that conversation, I wondered which of my ties would be best suited for that purpose. I wasn’t sure. So, allow me to put on my Gallop cap and ask which one you’d pick? (Hypothetically speaking, of course.)

(From left to right: the Keith Haring, my favorite tie, plain black with a weave texture, bow tie)

When making your choice which of the following characteristics would be most important?
- Length?
- Width?
- Texture?
- Material?
- Color?
- Pattern?

As long as you're here and in a disclosing mood, show of hands:
- Have you ever secured handcuffs only to later discover you lost the key?
- Has your partner lost a key after cuffing you?
- Can you get a good deal from a police supply company?
- What’s your favorite safe word?
- Have you ever forgotten your safe word?
- Have you ever pretended you forgot your partner's safe word?

Rusty Patti Rebooted

The reboot is posted. The link to the Rusty Patti - lesbian action hero blog is on the right hand side of the screen.

Fred Phelps and his Westboro Baptist Church congregation (all 15 of them) are already gearing up for battle. (They think they can stage a quick protest against the Rusty Patti comic on their way to the Michael Jackson Memorial on Tuesday).

IT'S ON!

"It sucks for all of you to NOT be me!"

That's what I wrote on the LezBang Christmas blog when I received my gift from my online buddy, Neo. She made me a frakkin action-figure. I was giddy and that does not happen often.

I needed to find a damsel in distress and hire a side-kick. And music; I needed a theme song. All of those things happened. And there was even a comic strip. I haven't done anything with the comic lately, but that's about to change.

Be on the lookout after the 4th of July weekend for a reboot of The Adventures of Rusty Patti- lesbian action hero.

Broken Funny Bone

“Why did you and Beatrice (not her real name but I couldn’t think of one less appropriate if she ever read this) break up after eight years?”

Everyone wanted to know why. I told people it was for a lot of reasons that were too personal to get into. That was a lie. It came down to the fact that we were not comedically compatible. It didn’t take eight years for me to find that out. It took me eight years to realize that it was as important to me as it was.

She just didn’t think I was funny. Or at best, she thought that my sense of humor was goofy and I took jokes too far¹ . Every other girlfriend I had, thought I was funny. In fact, I got dates just because I could make girls laugh.

Shortly after we started dating, but before we booked the U-Haul, a couple of friends invited us to go to a Melissa Etheridge concert. She named off everyone who was going: Jane and Sue; Ann and Kelly; Flo and Mona; and Rose and Beatrice.” “Holy shit, when were we conjunctionalized? Was there a ceremony? Did we get nice presents?” Blank stare. OK, not brilliant, but I have a great delivery and everyone else laughed. I should have taken this as a warning sign but I missed it.

If we were in bed and I thought something was funny I went ahead and said it without any regard for the current level of intimacy. That drove her out of her mind and not in the good way.

Once we were in the grocery store in the “women’s products” aisle. She picked up a douche package. I said, “Get something else; I don’t like that flavor.” The woman next to me laughed. A couple further down gave me a dirty look and walked away.” But Beatrice just glared at me and said, “Why do you say that stuff?” “Um; because it’s funny.” “No,” she said, “it really isn’t. “

Every year during Lent I go out of my way to put together jokes appropriate for the season so I’ll have one joke for each day of Easter Week. The punch lines for my two favorites are “I can see my house from up here” and, “No you dummies, nails out of the feet first, and then the hands.” Head-spinning would not be an exaggeration to Beatrice’s reaction to my “Jesus on the cross” jokes.

So, I stopped trying to make her laugh. If something amusing popped into my head, I kept it to myself. And I resented it. I was still funny when we were around other people, and on the phone with other people, and eventually on the computer with other people. And that pissed her off; she considered it cheating. Finally, we were at a point where we needed to work to keep the relationship going and I just didn’t feel like making the effort. And that as they say, was that.

So why did we start going out in the first place and why did we move in together and why did I stay with her for eight years? We did have some things in common. We both came from large families that we absolutely adore and both families accepted the idea of “us” almost immediately. Also, she had a son and understood how much time my kids would consume. We had the same politics. Alright, already stop badgering me. She was really hot, the sex was great, and she is an amazing cook. Oh, crap. What did I do?

¹ In my opinion, Mel Brooks ended the campfire scene too soon. I would have included a crazy-eyed farting canine.

[Originally posted on LezBang.]

For Your Listening Enjoyment

Here's my 9-year-old grandson practicing for his elementary school concert. He started playing in November of 2008. I'm not an expert on music, but I'm pretty amazed and excited by how fast he's progressed.

How About You Just Mind Your Own Business Next Time?

This is directed to those folks who think they are improving our lives but who in fact, are trashing them. This particular edition is dedicated to the 1st moron who took out the jukebox and replaced it with piped in music. Like lemmings, others followed and you have all left me wondering, "What the fuck were you thinking?"

I have loved jukeboxes since I was an 8 or 9 years old and started sneaking off to the pizza joynt around the corner from my house. I would return empty Coke bottles and save the pennies until I could afford an order of garlic bread or sometimes fries. As I recall, the food was tasty but culinary delight was not the main draw.

I went for the jukebox and more important, the waitresses who fed it quarters. The best time to go was in the afternoon right after I got out of school and before the dinner rush. If they weren't very busy, they would mooch quarters from the bartender.

Over the years, I found out that you can learn a lot about a woman if you pay attention to how she uses the jukebox. It goes far beyond what type of music she decides to play. Sure, Patsy Cline, standards vs. dance music, Top 40 all yield clues about her state of mind. But you also needed to pay attention to her relationship to the jukebox. Was she dancing with the jukebox while choosing her songs? Did she play the same song over and over again? Maybe she asked strangers what they'd like to hear or even asked strangers for quarters.

And now that important resource for delving into a woman's psyche is gone. Happy, Motherfucker?

Why I Bought the 20 Oz. Pilsner Glasses

When I say, “I’m going to have a beer; would you like one?” There are only two possible correct answers.

“Yes please” or “No thank you.”

“I’ll just have a sip or two of yours,” is not one of your choices.

But, that’s what my favorite ex would sometimes reply. Not because she couldn’t belt back a cerveza or two. The woman could throw down when she wanted to. Maybe she thought I would find it endearing in a coupley kind of way. No, I did not. I've never had a taste for ½ a beer. What’s the point?

So, I bought 20 oz. pilsner glasses. After that, if she wanted to share mine, I’d open two bottles of beer. I would fill my pilsner glass and give her the remaining ½ of a bottle of beer.

My friends tell me that that’s why I’m single. Most likely, there are scads better reasons than that, but it’ll do.

Cheers.