Monthly Archives: January 2010

Moving on. Good Times

Thanks to all of you for reading More Marga. The last entry which was unusually vitriolic got the most hits ever. Y’all like a little drama. It felt good to vent and I appreciate your comments. And I’d like to brighten the mood with a few pics from this otherwise fabulous gig in Mexico. I’m also thrilled to share quality time with the Wau Wau Sisters who are the girls pictured in More Marga’s Banner.

I know when I'm pissed off about anything I feel better if I find other pissed off people to be around like Chef Josie and Michele Balan

They say the love of a good woman will get you through the tough times or get with Tanya the Wau Wau Sister

Wau Wau Sister Adrienne is reenacting the role of people who are afraid of me on airplanes

My surprise performance today in Zihuatenejo was an unqualified SUCCESS!

See something. Say something. Then shut your pie hole.

I’m steamed. It’s 2 am in Mexico. I just did tequila shots with Chef Josie and Michelle Balan and danced on the beach to Sylvester’s “Mighty Real” on a warm night after a fun gig but thinking back to earlier events tonight makes me want to slap a ignorant bitch and her partner.  Here’s how it went down. After my show I was to do a ‘meet and greet’ with the audience and sell my merchandise. But I haven’t made any cds lately so I brought merchandise to give away, silly stuff, herbal tea bags and boxes of corn flakes that we get free at breakfast here in Club Med.  They look good with autographs.

Necessary boring logistics to feel my rage: I have been here in Ixtapa two nights so far- only two and it’s been great except for the two stupid brown-phobic she devil squares I endured tonight at the meet and greet.  I flew here from SF on a 6am flight.  When you fly at 6 am you head to the airport at 3am  so that’s one night without sleep. I have had to catch up on sleep during flights and what I do is listen to white noise on headphones and because I’m cold  I wear a hoodie up. And I wear sleep shades. Finally my hands get cold so I wear a pair of knit gloves on the plane. And I’m Latina with that brown skin that seals the deal for  white fuck vigilante from stupidville.

So tonight. I finish my show I report  to my ‘meet and greet table’ sign a bunch of tea bags, all goes well until these last two wackos show up with a question no comic ever wants to hear. “Are you looking for material?” They weren’t even looking at my tea and corn flakes. Ok fine. Tell me I say.  First they pepper me with questions as they smile proudly.”Did you fly here from LA? ” they ask. Yeah I say getting bored already- I changed planes in LA. Do you want an autograph or what I wonder? They press on “Where you sleepy and did you sit in the aisle. Did you wear gloves? We sat two rows behind you. We thought you were a terrorist.” I managed to keep my meet and greet smile on my face through all this but then they really pushed it. “We reported you. We told the flight attendant ‘keep an eye on her'” This, after a show where I spent ten minutes on racial profiling. They claimed this act of racial profiling to me without any shame. WTF did they want from me, not an autograph it seemed.

“We saw you go into your suitcase and get something.” she said” I saw the gloves. And I thought about the undewear bomber so….” She giggled. “And then we saw you on stage tonight and I asked my partner. Is that her? Hee Hee. But we did, we told the flight attendant.” Word for word my friends.

What twisted her granny panties on the plane was- once we reached cruising altitude  and we were allowed to get up- I got my gloves out of my overhead bag, put my sleeping gear on and slept for 3 hours till we landed in Mexico. And she sat there two rows behind me on her screwed up sphincter pushing her call button like Gladys Kravitz. ( a reference to Bewitched- only old people get that one)

I sleep on planes and that’s how I do it. She and her partner may not be the first white folks to  think I’m suspicous and accuse me of shit. Well who knows how many times it’s been done to me on flights and to other travellers who look “foreign. ” But that the two of these ‘ladies’ had the audacity to approach me about this after my performance, when everything should be lovely, and not in a confessional tone, not as an apology, but as a proclamation of their clueless nasty narrow minded glee – makes me reconsider “meet and greets.” And this makes me sadly acknowledge not everybody lesbian is my friend. Like these two who judged me on my skin color and “napping garb” on a plane. I have shit in common with them.  I hope they find this blog someday and know how I fucking hated being cordial with them. I wanted to pelt them with my corn flakes boxes. I only held back because I don’t fight at my gigs. But if you two finger pointing finger bangers ever read this I want you to know- that you were terrorists of  my night. You like judging people by appearance – you look like apple head dolls. That’s not a judgement but you look like apple head dolls. And when I told you tonight that your story was “kinda weird” what I meant was both of you FUCK OFF!

I’m throwing a party. Paxil for everyone!!