Baby Birding Boston


Our country was officially in the hands of Obama and I was on a flight to Mexico for an elite rugby tournament. Shmenn was staying home watching my dog and probably cheating on me, spoiler alert: she ended up cheating on me.

I was prettttty pumped, being that this tournament was at an all-inclusive resort and I was only 20 but I could drink in Mexico, so it was gonna be a real fiesta! I mean, mostly I was excited to play rugby with really talented individuals and be in Mexico for a week in November rather than in school.

As we were boarding the plane, an older girl with a strong Boston accent walked up and immediately took a liking to Courtney. And by took a liking to her I mean that she saw a very noticeable hickey on Courtney’s neck and decided to make her life a walking joke.

“Your name is hickey now. Hickson, Hicks, Hick. I don’t care what your real name is, but you don’t show up with a hickey and make that your first impression.” Courtney was doomed for this tournament, and let me tell you, nobody called her anything but a variation of Hickey for the whole time. We were off to a great start.

*Theme music and opening credits play*

Boston girl sat next to Courtney on the plane and was going on and on about her personal life. From the row in front of her I learned: she was a dental hygienist, she referred to her vagina as a “box” and she had “dabbled in being gay, but it just never stuck.” (That’s a direct quote and my most favorite description of anyone’s sexuality ever).

When we landed in Mexico the most beautiful man any of us had ever seen walked up, and was apparently going to be staying in our resort and playing with our men’s team. To give you an idea of what he looked like, imagine Shmis Shmemsworth, okay that’s it. He was literally Shmis Shmemsworth, Australian accent and all. All of us queer people were even swooning over his good looks, it was pretty confusing.

Being that we were at a resort where all the alcohol was free, obvi we were taking shots the minute we set foot in that bitch. And being that we were in Mexico we were double obvi going to be taking tequila shots and tequila shots only. We were partying like there was no manana. But if you know anything about all-inclusive resorts, just because something’s free doesn’t mean it’s good, quite the opposite actually. Fo Free is Fo me, but Fo free is also usually shitty quality.

Needless to say we were all hungover af the next day during our tournament, I may or may not have vomited right on the rugby pitch (next to a tarantula the size of my hand, I shit you not). To this day me and tequila are on shaky terms because of how miserably ill I was during this day, playing one of the most intense sports ever in some extreme Mexican heat — there are few worse scenarios to be hungover in, off the top of my head I can only think of a few: giving birth hungover, beginning a year long voyage into space aboard a rocket ship hungover, and attending a Catholic wedding hungover (all that kneeling and standing up, the worst!).

We won our tournament and so everybody wanted to celebrate and go out on the town. We were in a tourist city so it was pretty safe night life and our coaches gave us the go ahead, but I would be sitting this shindig (who says that?) out because my girlfriend back home did not trust me with foreign ladies in a foreign country. Here’s a bit of advice from me to you; do not let your significant other control your actions, especially if they’re based in a lack of trust that’s completely on them. You’re an adult person and you are ALLOWED to do things, if your partner keeps you from doing things then the power distribution amongst the two of you might need some reevaluating, because it will lead to resentment. I digress.

Little did I know that Shmenn was back home hanging out with a mutual friend, drinking wine and having an adult sleepover. You know, the type that lots of adults have that are totally platonic that involve lots of drinking and sharing a bed with someone who isn’t your significant other but is also neither a best friend nor a relative. No? None of you have heard of those situations that are totally cool? Me neither. Turns out that she was making some less than awesome choices back home and I would find out when I got back to the states, but that’s a story for another blog post.

I was fast asleep when Courtney and a few teammates burst into my room, shouting about Mexican police and someone being arrested. From what I could gather of their drunken retelling of the story, a police man had attempted to rob one of the Canadian rugby players at an ATM, so Shmis Shmemsworth used his rugby brain and skills and decided to tackle said police man. Then, realizing the gravity of his actions he took off running for his life before being apprehended by another cop, who loaded him into the back of a squad car. The cops then approached our group and informed them that they would let Shmis go for a small fee of $1,000 American dollars, we aren’t talking pesos here. The original Canadian rugby player only had $500 in his bank account but the cops took that and decided it was enough and let them all go. I guess my decision to stay in was possibly for the best, being that the night was cut short and I don’t particularly enjoy run-ins with the law, especially with corrupt foreign law enforcement.

Don’t be fooled, however, that was not the end of our night. Since everyone was back and still riled up we headed to the pool bar and kept drinking through the night. This night I learned about baby-birding. What’s baby birding you ask? Well, if you use your imagination you may be on the right track in thinking that it’s when someone feeds another someone food regurgitated mouth to mouth. Boston loved to baby bird people, which I found to be both interesting and disgusting being that she worked in the dental field. But she didn’t baby-bird food, she liked to baby-bird her favorite drink, tequila water, nice and warm, from her mouth to a super lucky someone. The trick here was that Boston was wicked hot, so most of her victims thought she was going in for a kiss, only to be force-fed warm tequila and saliva. If you just threw up in your mouth a little bit then you got a brief taste of what that probably was like. Yum.

*Next week on Nobody Scissors I return from paradise to some trouble in paradise* 


Yes We Can?


Shmennifer was moving to Texas. I know, I thought it was a little quick too, but who was I to complain about her being right down the street instead of only accessible through a computer screen? Besides, what were you expecting? The U-haul lesbian trope is one of the truest cliches known to man.

She hopped in her SUV and drove down to the Lone Star State with her new teacup chihuahua puppy and whatever fit in her trunk and backseat. This was a thing I would come to learn about Shmenn, moving meant nothing to her. The girl had lived in over a dozen places and she was only 20 years old. If this is a red flag to you readers at home then you’re right, but I was young and dumb and thought her spontaneity was attractive.

The question was, however, what was Shmenn going to do when she settled down in Texas? Go back to school? Well, she wanted to, but her credits didn’t transfer from her preforming arts college and she didn’t want to start all over. Work retail? She tried about two weeks of that at the outlets until she came home crying one day because apparently the store she worked at was full of Regina Georges who peaked in high school and they made fun of Shmenn for being larger than a size 6. So she was left perusing Craigslist ads, and I don’t even remember how she lucked into finding her path in Apartment work but soon she was a leasing agent at a very shady apartment complex right off campus.

*Theme music and opening credits play*

This place was a dump. But the property manager there was a lesbian, whom I had never met. Shmenn was at least amongst our people in this sketchy apartment building.

I will admit that I got weird over the idea of Shmenn staying late with this new gay girl, that she was ALWAYS talking about. It also didn’t help that with a name like Shmavery my brain had cooked up this studmuffin (who says that?) image of what she must look like. I know, I know, I stereotyped the andro name to mean she was some hot boyish thing, and it would come to light that she was really the most femme girl I had ever met and the furthest thing from Shmennifer’s type imaginable.

Shmavery had a girlfriend… boyfriend… partner… who had a lot in common with me gender wise (AKA we both thought gender was bullshit and had been dealt a terrible hand and even more terrible feminine birth names). They invited me and Shmenn over for dinner one night (at the aforementioned shithole apartments) and as me and let’s call him, Shmavis, sat on the porch sipping on beers he informed me that he preferred he/him pronouns and he hoped to transition, and that Shmenn had told him that I felt similarly.

I had never met another person who felt like me. I had only recently discovered the world of YouTube transition videos and had spent nights upon nights doing research about the topic, obsessing over the journeys of other gender non-conforming individuals, and daydreaming about going down that path myself. It explained so much about how I felt about myself. All that aside, I hadn’t broached the topic much with Shmenn, so I was surprised she was telling this guy I had never met that him and I had common “interests.”

Once I got past the feeling of being outed, Shmavis and I hit it off. He was the big brother I never had, and we would become inseparable. Weeks later he told me that Shmenn had made me out to be a total douche-hole, and that him and Shmavery hadn’t wanted to invite me over to dinner at all. I wasn’t sure why Shmenn spoke about me that way to strangers, especially one of whom was her boss, but I was pretty hurt.

I brought it up to her, just vaguely, asking why she had told Shmavis that I was controlling and mean. She insisted she had never said anything like that, so I let it go.

And then the voting incident came up.

Have you ever been lied to about something so minuscule, so bizarre that your brain kind of turns off for a second and is like “there’s no way this person is so weird that they’d make that shit up, right?” Like only pathological liars would lie about their dog’s name, what they’re allergic to, or having sex with Vin Diesel.

It was November and it was the Romney/Obama election, you remember the one I’m talking about. You know…. old white dude running against the first potential black presidential candidate?  If you don’t remember what I’m talking about you’re too young to be reading this blog.

Well, Shmenn was a Republican (I know, strike two! What’s strike one you ask? That whole strict Catholicism thing is really a no-go for me. I mean, yikes), and my entire friend group and I (being the young liberal queer artists that we were) were all progressive. Obvi we were pro-Obama (Probama?) and Shmenn couldn’t stand to be around when we watched the debates or had any sort of political discussion.

Election day rolls around and I know she’s going to vote for Romney, and you know what? Who cares! We can disagree and have differing views, that’s fine. But election night we are having dinner and the news is on, keeping up with the polls.

“Did they let you off work to vote?” I asked, genuninely curious.
“Oh yeah, me and a few of the other girls from the office went during lunch.”
“Oh cool! Was there only one precinct? I wasn’t sure, where did you have to go vote?”
“The elementary school, the line was so long!” She seemed believably exasperated.
“Eh, it didn’t take too long when I went. I wish I had read up on some of the smaller issues I had to vote on though, and I have no idea if I voted for the right candidates on most of that stuff.”
“Me neither! I just closed my eyes and circled random names.” She laughed. Oh boy.
“Shmenn… you know that voting is electronic right? Like you can’t just close your eyes and circle things…”
“…Like with a pencil?” I asked.
“Well, yeah, just in case I messed up. I could erase my choice and go back!” Shmenn laughed casually.
“Um… Are you lying about voting? Because, one: I don’t care who you voted for or even if you voted… but two, that’s a fucking bizarre thing to lie about and if you’re gonna be dishonest about something like that then where do you draw the line?” I was a little heated at this point — my “crazy meter” was going off the charts and I was a little scared. Both for myself and for the country if Romney won the election. Could Obama become president? Could me and Shmenn make it through this? Yes we can…maybe.

*Next week on Nobody Scissors, find out the fate of our country and I hop the border*