Thank you SO MUCH for your votes!
(click for larger view)
Oh my. And here I am, all tatty-terry-robe goodness, sucking down a venti to which I've added a mysterious pale-yellow liquid (in my house, that would likely be cat pee), glue-gunning the last of the pink chiffon to the shelving units that contain my sizeable collections of plush toys and Lladró figurines, and absently wondering at the amazing foresight of the God of my heart to plunk me down some months ago in a neighborhood where one can shriek "Cocaine!" on a regular basis and people will either (a) ignore you completely, or (b) come knock at your door and say, "Hey, Imma help you out wit dat...", when all of a sudden happy tweets and FB posts start coming in to congratulate the blog on winning "Best Forum, Message Board, or Blog" in Faxo's Twitter contest!
And now I'm all "I-didn't-expect-to-win-so-I-have-no-speech-prepared" deer-in-the-headlights spazziness. I'm sure this would never happen to someone who, oh, let's say, writes for New York Magazine. I'm sure someone who wields such great power and influence--because imperiously deeming what's "in" and what's "out" fashion-wise is surely the foundation upon which we can feed starving children, help homeless veterans, and finally win the war on terror--sat up late one night years ago typing up her speech for that moment when she finally wins the big one and she will no longer have to feel like an outsider, shifting from foot to foot in a crowded but exuberant apartment with her deep insecurity covered in carefully chosen layers of all the best summer colors but still leaking out in words of subtly poisonous snark fueled by jealousy of people whom she recognizes immediately as the cool kids--one of whom, she also understands both immediately and repeatedly, she will never be. No, that writer has carried her speech in a special compartment in her designer-label purse for years, possibly laminated, often fingered late at night like a rosary, as she waits, perfectly prepared and never in last season's shoes, for her moment.
She's everything I'm not.
For which I am so grateful.
I'm just a blogger. And it's just a silly little Twitter contest. But it was really, really nice of people to vote, and thanks are in order.
So thank you all so much for voting! And thank you for reading!
And most of all, thank you, Johnny Weir, my completely captivating muse, without whom this blog would not be possible.
Your fierce brilliance burst into my world, shattered the old dusty glass that encased my own long-dormant fabulousness, and brought me to life--and to embrace life, in all its glorious highs and lows that can only be fully experienced if one is fully present in them.
You understand that we only get one shot at this thing, and every moment is meant to be lived, and most of them to be savored, remembered, and cherished (and some forgotten as quickly as possible). But there are none to be wasted on sacrificing yourself to please somebody else, or on worry or what-ifs or should-haves or if-onlys.
And so you inspired me to step out and do a small thing I had never done before, to find the voice I had almost lost along the way, and to finally stop thinking that in order to please God, I had to be invisible. No. What is pleasing is for me to be fully and completely myself, the self I was uniquely made to be; to wholly embody who I am; and to not care what anybody else thinks about it.
I wish I had known all this at age 26. But I'm so grateful you helped me discover it now.
As my dear friend and fellow fan Mimi Dzyacky always says, "Johnny Weir changed my life!"
And so, I continue to blog, because you continue to fascinate, and to provide endless inspiration with your talent, wit, grace, and fearlessness, and your willingness to keep taking risks and inviting all of us along for the ride.
Oh, and with your photos. Sweet Weirsus. The photos.
Which brings me back to my absent pondering of stuff that flits through my mind late at night--maybe it's the glue-gun fumes, I dunno--like how come there are so many grown-ups who act like this is still junior high? Also: We've talked for centuries about how many angels can fit on the head of a pin, but what I want to know is how many pinheads does one Fallen Angel have to put up with before it's OK to cuttabitch?
And: What if Johnny had been twins .... ?
Oh my. Imagine the possibilities ...
... thank you, fan Annarel Solosogni, for your genius in creating this, and for putting all this stuff in my head now ...
... pass me the pale-yellow liquid, would you please ... ?
... fanfic, anyone?
Twitter voting roundup!
Thank you again for voting for the blog!
Vote here for Johnny to win "Follow Me."
Current rank: #1
23 voting days remaining.
Vote here for Johnny to win "Sexiest Twitter"!
Current rank: #3
(gaaaah! @JoeFlanigan--seriously?--is still #2)
17 voting days remaining.
17 voting days remaining.
Vote here for Johnny to win "Mr. Twitter"!
Current rank: #3
13 voting days remaining.
Vote here for Johnny to win "Best of Twitter"!
Current rank: #7
(YES! He's holding steady ahead of Sarah Palin!)
13 voting days remaining.
13 voting days remaining.
Vote here for Johnny to win "Actor of the Month"!
Current rank: #31
3 voting days remaining.
Vote here for Vanya and BonBon
to win "Best Pets" (awwwww....).
Current rank: #8
13 voting days remaining.
Hey! You can enter to win a virtual styling session
with Johnny and a $500 shopping spree
from BlueFly.com!
Just submit a photo of the most
outrageous item in your closet!
Johnny will be choosing the winner in 2 days!
More info here!
Coming soon: More in the series
of translated interviews from the Mook Book
courtesy of the fabulous Akiko Nakata!
copyright 2010 / Binky and the Misfit Mimes / Lynn V. Ingogly / all rights reserved
Coming soon: More in the series
of translated interviews from the Mook Book
courtesy of the fabulous Akiko Nakata!
copyright 2010 / Binky and the Misfit Mimes / Lynn V. Ingogly / all rights reserved
