Tania Katan is Towel Girl

Flying with a terrycloth cape can be tricky

It’s Time to Face the Facts

Thumbnail for Tania Katan article It’s a race. One that I haven’t trained for, that I can’t train for, that I keep running and can’t seem to stop. I want it to stop, but every morning I find myself running it, like a reoccurring bad dream, only it’s real. I’m really in this race every morning and I can’t stop the cycle!

Allow me to explain. It starts with a walk. A walk across the street to my favorite little coffeehouse. After strategically placing my chic Italian computer bag down on my favorite table, so no one else will take the table, I saunter up to the counter. En route to the counter, I’m mentally preparing for the writing that will take place in the next few hours at the little round table. Although my mind is focusing on rewriting my one-woman show, Saving Tania’s Privates, which I’ll be performing at Phoenix Theatre in September-October 2010 (pretend that wasn’t a plug; thank you), I am also thinking about my first, and only, caffeinated drink for the day: a double dry cappuccino. Ok, that’s a fib. I’m also thinking about the sexy barista woman whose schedule I have not memorized, but if I needed to guess, I’d say she should be here today. And she is. And the race has begun.

I approach the counter, slightly disheveled, playing the part of the genius writer. So disheveled and genius, in fact, that I’ve forgotten to bring any money with me to the counter, so I slink back to the table and grab my wallet. Now, back at the counter, she is standing in front of me, the sexy barista. The one who looks Jewish or Amish, I can’t tell what her lineage is, but it doesn’t matter, all I know is that she’s staring, ish, into my eyes and her full-under-the-age-of-thirty-lips slowly open to ask me a question, “What can I get for you, Tania?”

Ok, ok, I know she only knows my name because I get my coffee there six times a week, but let’s just pretend that she’s memorized my name, maybe even asked a coworker, “Whose that hot lesbian who appears to be a genius, but always forgets her money?”
I can feel the blood in my heart pumping faster than necessary, the adrenaline has kicked in, the gun has been shot, and the race is underway. “I’ll have a double dry cappuccino.”

“Would you like that cold or … hot?” she asks, punctuating the question by smiling at me too long, staring directly into my eyes. I know if I really thought about it, you know, clearly assessed the situation, then I’d concede she’s just skilled in customer service, but I find that thinking sometimes clouds reality and I’m all about creating my own reality, you know, living in the waking dream and all that stuff. Plus, I’m a writer, so it’s my job to either embellish situations or incite embellishments within situations. Either way, I get paid to dream, not think. And in my waking dream, when I say to the sexy barista, “Yes, I want it hot.” She says, “How hot do you want it?”
“As hot as you can make it.”
“Scalding, Tania. Scalding.”

Oh no, I’ve awoken from my waking dream with the facial equivalent of a huge boner! The blood from my heart has swum upstream and into my nerdy face and now all the sexy barista can see is my huge Face Boner. Red and hot, engulfing any indication of my race, the boner has taken over ma visage! And the race is on to try and hide this bright red indication of attraction, this unexpected facial confession. But nothing seems to be working, nothing ever works, and I’m trying all of my tricks, like taking off my glasses and vigorously rubbing my eyes, and pretending that a huge bug just bit my face, and itching my red cheeks like I’ve got a rash, and dropping my keys hoping that the sexy barista thinks the blood just rushed to my face upon bending over, and what I really want to do right now is bend HER over and … SHIT, the Face Boner is back!

Gay men think they have it bad because at any given moment, while noticing an attractive man they could get a boner. I’m sure that sucks. Sorry guys, really. Bu 0405-tania-katan t come on, a slight rise in a man’s underpants can easily be covered up with a cloth, or napkin, or cloth napkin, or baggy pants … but what about us? Huh? Ladies who find ladies attractive? Did anyone ever stop to think that maybe having a penis is a better proposition than having a FACE BONER?! There’s no hiding a big, red boner on your face, is there? That’s rhetorical. I KNOW there’s no way of hiding it.

Because I drink a lot of coffee, and there is no shortage of attractive baristas, I’m asking for your help, I need some solid advice from queer athletes as to how to stop this never ending race to cover up my red face. Please e-mail your advice to: This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it .[or comment below] I promise to give it a try and let you know the results.

Tania Katan is the author of My One Night Stand With Cancer; please visit her at www.taniakatan.com

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Towel Girl Counsel

Not much of an athlete, or a gay for that matter, although I do work out from time to time and regularly sport tight pants, so that's something I suppose. I'm also plagued, or blessed, depending on your perspective, by the occasional spontaneous and inopportune boner. Holstering, as we kindly refer to the tucking under the belt method, is rather effective for the below the navel surprise sausage, but a boner of the countenance requires more, shall we say, drastic measures. I recommend an over-sized hijab that you can slide into like a turtle shell, or if that seems overtly disrespectful, perhaps a Western bandanna of sorts. Something with a little flair that shouts, I'm a delightful, lesbian CowGirl and I want to ride you like a Chilean Corralero. And I'll also take a double dry cappuccino.

Sig Nessuno , June 24, 2010 | url

Boners

As a gay man i find hiding anything only makes it more apparent. After years of jock boners, ive found accepting it and being proud is the way to go. Next time a hot barista asks you "how hot do you want it" let her see that it can never be as hot as she has made your boner. Be proud of your boner, rub your boner, enhance your boner. Let her know, and everyone else, that you still "have it", that your blood still boils. If they can see your boner they are imagining what you can do with it. They are all flattered that they caused your face boner

Dio avalloneski , June 25, 2010 | url

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