My wife recently gave birth to our first child, a little boy.

Weird things I've learned now that I am a Dad:

  • You really need to get the new nappy on fast
  • An upside down index finger in the mouth is magic for a screaming baby
  • Pirates like to walk dogs. Well, apparently. My son has an outfit that says "Little Pirates" on it, and the matching shorts have pictures of Pirates walking dogs. "Now that we've looted and pillaged, I'll go and walk little Rover. Arrrr."

Hello, it is your friend Berhardt Goates, who has not been about for some time on the internet website here due to a change in employment! While I still keep my hand in the till at Civil War Action Figures, Ltd., I have also gotten a new line of work. This new work came to me in a vision of splendor one night as I was sleeping in my Baltimore home on the sofa which I own (payments are all made as of 5/05). I thought that if only I could get into local schools I could create a craze that would tear through this muddled society and make me wealthy beyond dreams of rainbows and butterflies. I would make bolo ties very popular again while maintaining a large inventory of bolo ties available for sale, having the means to meet the need as it arrives rather than much later. The Johnny Come Latelies would fail where I would succeed.

What I did was call various schools in the Greater Baltimore Area and tell them I was a pioneer in nuclear science, having invented and then discovered the nucleus. While some questioned my background and credentials, many did not, and thus I entered many schools in the area under the guise of nucleus discoverer.

My presentation began with a made up story about how I had invented and then discovered the nucleus. I explained that you take a common atom and look dead center and there you will find the nucleus. The kids were astounded at the showing I was showing them and begged to hear more. Teachers seemed suspicious but I paid them no mind.

One science teacher who wore a hairpin in his preposterous hair called me to the mat. He challenged me in front of the students to prove my theory and so I requested that he present me with a common atom, which I knew was a trick he would never pull off God rest his soul. He called me a "head case" and demanded I get out of his classroom which was a directive I was not ready to comply with because I had not yet made the presentation to the students regarding the wearing of bolo ties, which as you might remember was the reason for the nucleus engineer cover story.

I began, or more to the point continued to concern myself with how I was going to keep my show together under the heated glare of this obviously incompetent science teacher. As I busied myself with this kind of worrying, one of the students yelled to me from his desk. His yelling was in regards to my bald head and it involved name calling and a swear word. At that point I just lost it. I rushed onto the floor of students and grabbed this young man by the collar of his shirt and dragged him to the hallways, uncertain as to what I would do with him once I removed him from the classroom setting. Then the idea came to me quickly and with certainty of its correctness in action.

I brought him to the bathroom, a shared public facility of the high school with four urinals and two round-lidded crappers and an emergency shower for head lice cases. With the help of a janitor and a substitute gym teacher with credentials more suspicious than mine, we pinned him against the wall while Agnes, the suspicious gym teacher, got a bar of soap. While I smiled and nodded anxiously, she floated the soap in a hot water filled sink until she produced a highly sudsy mix of soap and water. Using a funnel and a five gallon jug of some kind the janitor had on hand, we damned sure forced him to drink a total of twenty-five gallons of soapy water before we denied him use of a toilet of any kind, including the urinals, for the next two to three hours. The punishment was without a doubt just.

Agnes, who was suspicious to begin with, then started telling me how she needed another good reference from another teacher so she could help out with the cheerleading team. What she had on her mind was watching the cheerleaders getting dressed and helping them take off their uniforms and then giving them hardcore Swedish massage. She was full of moxie and it was not hard to see it bubbling over. As the kids on the online internet say these days in their coded speaking, it was wicked boiled over.

I offered my reference for the position to Agnes in return for her help in getting me an audience for the bolo tie operation I was still involved in, up to and including this point and even afterwards. She agreed, and within a half of an hour, she had lured a cheerleader into the girls' bathroom (we were in the boys up until that point) and I had a whole class of special education students to speak to openly about bolo ties and the nature of the nucleus. I sold two bolo ties and have phone numbers for families of the kids, which I will use to set up appointments. By next year even you will have bolo tie by this method.

Thanks.

I declare this "no paragraphs" day. Try to follow along. Last night the family went to the YMCA. Wifey went to a body pump class, and I lifted weights and worked out on an elliptical machine, a.k.a. a cross trainer. This is a machine that makes your body move in a way that's part cross-country skiing, part walking, part Dance Dance Revolution. It burns more calories (metric: ka-lo-reez') than a simple treadmill without the high impact brutality of running, which I hate with a purple passion. Anyway, this was my first time exercising since being sick for a week or two, off and on, with a cold. I did 30 minutes (metric: mee'-nutz), and then I lifted weights. It was miserably crowded so I could only do so much. I worked out until I was queasy, which I was sure at the time was sufficient. Then I went home with the baby while Wifey continued to abuse herself. I bathed the child and put her to bed, and then I watched about a half hour of L.A. Confidential, which I got from Netflix only because I had seen about 80% of it in small, non-sequential chunks over the years on basic cable. I totally dig noir films. During the night, I had coughing fits until I dragged my ass out of bed and killed off a bottle of Nyquil. I had the most disturbing "teeth falling out" dream ever, but that's for a dream log. Today, I have to get an application out the door. It's done. All I have to do is arrange for web server space and have the files moved. Then I am done!

This is a facet of my life that I have grown out of. It seems, indeed, that it was just a phase. It's still an integral section of my life, however, so I'm not taking this down for any reason. ~J Teager, 2/3/2008

There comes a time, I think, in everyone's life where they finally bring up the nerve to tell a secret to their parents. Be it like my mother, who, upon moving out, told my grandmother that she used to shoplift candies from the grocery store. Be it like my father, who took many years to share with his parents that he was planning on going into the army, and dropping out of college. Or be it like my Uncle, who upon reaching Rice University, sent them a letter stating that he was gay.

I reached that time last night, and it is certainly the option behind door number three.

As I talked with my girlfriend last night, I realized that before we met together as a couple IRL (we'd known each other IRL before, but not together), my parents would probably like to know who I am. For those of you who don't here, I'm transgender. Not like it's much of a secret here, it says that on the outies group-node.

We spoke, and I got up the nerve to start formulating an email. I'm awful at articulating what I want to say orally, which is unfortunate but true. However, text has always been a worthwhile medium in which for me to communicate, so that's what I decided to do1. I then ran the letter by her, which put her to tears, and by a close friend, who was also moved by it. Moving people wasn't really my intention, but hey, whatever works. So I sent it off last night at 11PM EST, knowing mom and dad wouldn't read it until the morning.

I awaken to a phone call, from my father. Seeing as though I said in the email "please don't call me", this gave me quite a fright. However, checking my voicemail, it was just to find out my drivers lisense number for the FAFSA. I send it to him in an email, hoping that that will lead him to read the other, in my mind more important, email. He does.

However, I decide to sleep for three hours, shirking calculus. How can I think at a time like this! Ten minutes ago I awoke and checked my email, to find a reply. With apprehension I opened it, only to find complete acceptance and understanding. I don't think it could have gone any better.

So this is Amanda Robin Teager, signing off.


1The following is the complete text of the email I sent. I hope it helps somebody out somehow.

This is going to you and mom, Dad, though I'm only sending it to you. There is some stuff I've been wanting to tell you for a while, but have frankly been scared out of my wits to. It's not classes or anything, so don't worry about that. Those are fine (though yeah, C in Physics, but it'll be better next quarter).

I should probably just cut the pretense and say it. First, I'm Bisexual. I know you know what that means, so I won't define it. I'm also pretty sure you're cool with that.

The part I'm more nervous about is... I'm Transsexual. I just... I don't feel right in this body, as a male. Thinking about myself as a female feels... incredibly comfortable. Very "right". This is, to put it lightly, probably coming as a shock to you.. I've known for over a year now.. at least I've had a name for the feeling since then.

I'm sorry I'm sending you this in an email.. I'm awful at articulating my thoughts vocally, and this is really the best way for me to say it and say exactly what I mean to. I love you, both of you, so much. The main reason I've put this off, aside from fear of your reaction (which was probably foolish of me to put, I hope), was that of not wanting to burden the family any more than we already are.. we've had a rather tricky time as far as everything goes with our lives, and I didn't want to add a strange new variable to the mix.

This is why I'm online all the time... it's where I can really be me, be Amanda Robin Teager, instead of Justin. I'm still the kid you raised. Just... a daughter, not a son... it's so odd to say, I guess, to you.

Uncle David knows. I felt that if I was to tell anybody in the family, he would be a superb first choice, given circumstance. Most of my friends know, too... I'm sorry for keeping it from you all this time.

I'm going to be calling the Younkin Center once Spring quarter starts. They're the "success and councling" center. I have 10 therapy sessions "per year", wherever that starts, just by being a student here. They have a number of therapists who have expertiese in talking with Transsexuals and helping them out, and I want to do that. It's... a long road ahead of me, and I guess I'm asking if you're willing to support me.

I love you, both of you. And I will always be proud to be your child. Always.

If... you want to talk more about it, reply back. Phone is /probably/ not the best course of action.

~Amanda Robin Teager

Wilson
thanks for supporting me with crazed trip. that shit really took it out of me. Still sick today. Sorry for my lack of partying. At least we have the invitation to the Phat Farm villa to brag about. Crown Jewel of vegas trip may have been yesterday morning, when I continued our search of the town for a Bank of America or Wells Fargo ATM. Finally discovered that the casinos only have proprietary ATMs that charge $4 service fees. Broke down and coughed up the service charge because cabs do not take credit cards. No other way to get to airport. Ended up splitting a cab with sweet British couple on their very first trip to US. GOOD GOD! I emphasized that they should not make generalizations about US based on Vegas, and encouraged them to visit the large coastal cities next time. They insisted on paying for me and leaving the cabbie a $10 tip. Wish I got their names. I loved those people. I love/hate Vegas. Must send followup emails to all tradeshow contacts. You are goooooood! Sorry for incoherence. Am manic.
I loved how the professional flirts at the Moods of Norway booth took one look at our shoes and said, “How are your feet?” Next time, if there is a next time, I am wearing trainers to tradeshows. over and out
Gruner



Gruner-
I had a feeling there was some sort of vast conspiracy surrounding lack of decent ATMs. Figures.
Next time, and there WILL be a next time, we are not only wearing trainers, but I am contacting our VIP who owns New York, New York and making sure we are taken care of.
Was that British couple staying at our hotel? Did he seem like he used BrylCreem? I ran into a cute British couple who looked to be in their 60's when I was waiting for my cab to the airport.
It was a very informative trip. Am going to study further so I can be of actual use to you. Are you going to start putting together some sort of look book to narrow down your shop's focus? If you do, copy me on it and I will keep my eyes peeled. Will keep them peeled anyway.
Wilson



Wilson,
If there is a next time, I am going prepared with four days' worth of provisions. Some kind of astronaut MRE from Whole Foods, if that exists. Something nutrient-rich and more savory than Clif Bars. Will also make sure I get a hotel that AT LEAST provides a coffee/tea pot in the room. Have determined this is my bottom limit. There can be polyester coverlets on the beds and stains on the carpet as long as I have the ability to make tea.
The British couple were in their 50s or 60s, well dressed. Man was very tall with short curly hair. Do not recall any Brylcreem. Woman had long dark hair and was quite pretty and stylish. They also have a home in Spain. God knows why they were staying at that dive. Possibly because every last room in Vegas was booked. They loved Vegas and thought everyone was super nice. It touched my heart, even as I was educating them on Vegas' hideous, gargantuan, cartoonish, expensive non-reality as compared with San Francisco.
over and out
Gruner



why did i read what i knew i should not?
the same reasons as any voyeur -
i only wanted to feel close to you

but when i opened pandora's box, i found horror

i don't want to know what i learned
i want what i did undone
you aren't here to dispel a single thought
and i'm halfway around the world, alone
armed only with fading memory to fight vibrant cruel imagination

if mere illusion it was before
i still want that illusion restored

when i told you i loved you you answered the same
but you added that i was your second
it thrilled me that we were alike in this way
but i guess my meaning was different than yours
and every conversation we've had
you've had with one person or another before

do i pretend this never happened?
do i confess?
am i stupid enough to ask more questions,
to hear answers i'm not prepared to accept?

will i be another precious scar on your past -
words kept, but voice forgotten?

or maybe i never mattered to you
and me, you'll erase completely
Below is the musings of a teenage crossdresser. Written to help the reader gain insight into a understudied topic.

Tuesday 28th February 2006 – The Appointment

Third attempt at seeing someone. First time they were ill and the second time I didn’t turn up because I didn’t get the message. Woke up late and didn’t really feel like eating very much. Got changed and, after much deliberation I chose to wear my favourite pair of panties under my jeans with a belt to make sure that they wouldn’t be seen. I did this to kind of make me feel more confident about what I was about to do. Mum and I drove to the clinic in Wycombe and arrived a bit late because of the traffic. We signed in at the reception and sat in a very childish waiting room. I was terrified as my stomach was contorting and my heart was beating very fast. I brought my school clothes and bag along in case I felt like going to school afterwards. The adolescent Psychiatrist was late so we sat around for a bit long. She arrived and went through to the room and we waited some more. She returned and we were ushered to the consultant room which was engaged, with us I suppose. There was another woman in there with a pen and paper ready. The room had plenty of seats to choose from. I asked where she wanted me to sit and she said I could choose anywhere. I didn’t want to distance myself from her so I chose the seat side on and closest to her. She asked what the problem was and I, after a pause I disjointedly told her that I wasn’t sure what was going on in my head. Lots more discussion about my childhood etc. the situation I was in when I told mum. The broken ankle, the divorce, the change in school, the change in house. More discussion and mum was asked to leave after about forty minutes. I was then quizzed on my own about when I thought. She concluded that I was just a normal crossdresser who, under stress, reverts to the safely of my childhood dreams about becoming a girl. This confuses me no end. At the moment I am under lots of stress so I should want to be a girl, which I do. Driving out of the clinic in tears I saw girls walking around and felt a huge powerful hit of jealousy and I want to be a girl. I want to wear pretty dresses and be fancied. I want everything they have and it is tearing me apart not having it. I suppose this is because I am under stress but the power of it feels like something much stronger. I don’t know where to go from here. I really want to tell Harri about it but I don’t know how to explain it. She wouldn’t understand if I can’t understand or explain it. I want to meet another boy like more or a girl who understands so we can dress up together.
That would be a dream come true. I remember the first night I slept in my nightie. That was truly amazing. The feeling I had was so close to all of my childhood dreams. I was so happy. That moment was possibly the happiest have been for many, many years. I want the happiness to continue. Recently I had my hair cut short very short. I hate it. I am going to grow it from now on until it is long and girly so I can do girly stuff with it. I hate short masculine hair because it reminds me of what I am or was. Very depressing. Right now I am highly sad and confused about what to do. I think I would like to live as a full time girl whilst at mum’s and live life normally the rest of the time.

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