That was the most crowded class I've ever taught! Thank you, Single Ladies!
Here's tonight's class playlist:
"Bye bye Bye Vs No Scrubs" (Mashup) TLC and N' Sync
"So What" P!nk
"Twistin the Night Away" Sam Cooke
"Let's Get it On" Marvin Gaye
"Before He Cheats" Carrie Underwood
"Borderline/Open Your Heart" Glee Cast
"Cry me a River" Justin Timberlake
"Thanks For The Memories" Fall Out Boy
"Because of You" Reba McEntire and Kelly Clarkson
"Salute" Whitney Houston
"Fighter" Christina Aguilera
"The Power of Love" Huey Lewis and the News
"The Dance" Garth Brooks
"Irreplaceable VS. Single Ladies" (Mashup) Beyonce
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Mom email
After I emailed Mom this picture:
She responded with this:
To: Sean
From: Mom
Subject: Ralph Gay?
Is Ralph gay? Why is he laying on that gay pillow? Send me a picture of him with his teeth showing. The picture of you and Cricket didn't come out clear. I think it was taken too close. Please try again. If you can get a good one of the two of them, I can make it my screen saver. Poor Ralph, he doesn't know any better. I'll get him a "man" pillow for Christmas.
Love,
Mom
She responded with this:
To: Sean
From: Mom
Subject: Ralph Gay?
Is Ralph gay? Why is he laying on that gay pillow? Send me a picture of him with his teeth showing. The picture of you and Cricket didn't come out clear. I think it was taken too close. Please try again. If you can get a good one of the two of them, I can make it my screen saver. Poor Ralph, he doesn't know any better. I'll get him a "man" pillow for Christmas.
Love,
Mom
Friday, June 18, 2010
Junior High School Graduation, a Tragedy
The first time I ever saw a female nipple, it was La Toya Jackson’s, and a Python snake was slithering across it. My dad had gone to the AMPM to buy the playboy with her spread in it after my mother screamed in horror at the TV during her appearance on the Phil Donahue Show.
My mom has a limited vocabulary that consists of the following phrases:
Would You Like Some Peanut Brittle? C’mon. How will you know if you don’t try it.
And
(Shakes head)
The head shake was in full effect on Phil Donahue day. La Toya claimed that she did the spread to break away from her parents. My mother screamed at the TV, “Oh you must be real proud of yourself. This is not good for Michael’s image.”
When Dad showed me the photos, he did it in the most matter-of-fact way possible, Trying to be the communicator that his dad wasn’t. it was though my dad was trying to say, “Just so you know, the female body is nothing to freak out over.”
I wasn’t freaking out. At all. Like at all. In fact, seeing a snake slither across La Toya Jackson was just the reassurance I had recently come to. I mean, Fabio was never covered in poisonous creatures.
My mom was so mad that my dad showed me this that she packed me up and drove me to the mall. She was in a Casual Corner Rage tempered only by the soothing sounds of Christopher Cross humming out of the Orange Julius next door, and the 30% off sale on paisley print Skorts. That day we walked past a hair salon. A very thin black man with acid wash jeans and long dreadlocked hair walked by and smiled confidently at my mom and I and said, “heeeey” then he fluffed his hair in jest, put on an apron, and started cutting.
My mom said, “Watch out for skinny men like that Sean. They walk on their tippy toes and they tuck in their shirts. Then she flipped her hand and said. They like little boys. That’s why they talk to you. Perverts. Stay away from my son.” I remember this day very well. It was the day I learned to stay away from skinny boys, snakes, boobs, and the Drakar Noir counter at Macy’s. Long Story.
I was so terrified at that moment of being thin because I didn’t want to end up like one of those hairstylists. This was the day I threw up from eating too many cherry chocolate clusters at See’s Candy, and went back, and bought more, and ate them again.
Five Years later, I was back at the mall with Mom looking for the perfect button down “top” she called them to wear to my 8th grade graduation. It was harder to find clothes now, because I was 5’10 and around 240 pounds, 30 pounds below the heaviest I would ever become. I had been going with Mom to the mall three times a week at least by now. She would ask me to help her pick out clothes for herself, (I was the deciding vote if she disagreed with Mindy the cashier at Petite Sophisticate) and if I did it without complaining, she would give me $20-$50 and let me be by myself for the next 2 hours.
On this particular day, Mom said she wasn’t shopping for herself. It was about finding me a top, if it took all night long. Little did she know…
We couldn’t find a shirt we both liked. Everything was vertical, which mom pointed out made me look busty. Big boned. Husky. Chubby. Every time I put something on I felt uglier. Mom suggested I wear a denim shirt like Billy Ray Cyrus. Mom had seen him in concert twice now and commented on how cute he looked in Denim. But I was no Billy Ray. At best I would grow up to have a voice slightly deeper than Miley Cyrus. I was frustrated. I was tired. I was defeated. And that made me horny.
As an 8th grader, my pimples were only outnumbered by my hormones. Though I wasn’t into girls, I would go put a playboy inside a Boy’s Life magazine and read it at the Scribners. I literally read the jokes page, scanned the pictures, making sure it was all girls I wasn’t turned on by, not just redheads. But I really tried not to do this. I always started by going to Kay Bee Toys to look for a new WWF action figure. I did this partly because it was less perverted, and partly because once I bought them I could take them home and simulate marriages and sexual acts between the Ultimate Warrior and The Big Boss Man in the privacy of my own room.
I believe that the song Superfreak was written about a fat closeted teenager. For all the boys who’ve ever humped the tile floor of a bathroom stall of a Sizzler, or licked the nutsack of your Jose Canseco Mark McGuire Bash Brothers poster, this one’s for you.
Mom gave me $100 and told me to go buy a shirt and pants on my own. She was sick of it being all about me, and just needed an hour to herself with someone who treated her with respect. The commission paid shoe salesman at Nordstrom. Plus, one of her contacts had fallen out, so she had to take the other one out. And her eyes were hurting. The only medicine available were pumps and flats.
In June 1992, Scribners started supplying Playgirl as well, and unlike playboy, Playgirl was wrapped in plastic. But one copy on this day wasn’t. It was of a long haired blonde guy holding a gym class rope in a jungle. His biceps were oily and his pecs were big like breasts and the heading said “SEXUAL SHOWOFF” in big letters. I found that fascinating. Magazines were the only place I saw people being naked. And they were always alone. There was no one on the magazine aisle so I grabbed Playgirl and held it low, over my boner. My back faced the back of the store so I didn’t need to cover it with a Boy’s Life. I just needed to see a boy be a sexual showoff.
I’d never done this. Read the nudie magazine uncovered. Especially, not one with dudes in it. I was shaking. Yes. A guy climbing a rope is my python picture yes I get it…and then I heard her.
“Thank you for letting me in the back door. My son is graduating from 8th grade and I want to get him a gift certificate. He loves books and he’s always in here. In case he’s in here now I don’t want him to see me.” I fumbled, I shook, I dropped it…and then there she was. She looked at me. She looked at the magazine. And she said, “Is that porno.” I picked it up and flipped it backwords. There was a cigarette ad on it.
Mom, said, “Well, you’ve spoiled your graduation gift, you haven’t bought a shirt, and Sean, that was an awfully big woman you were looking at.” I think you need to have a talk with your dad.
My mom has a limited vocabulary that consists of the following phrases:
Would You Like Some Peanut Brittle? C’mon. How will you know if you don’t try it.
And
(Shakes head)
The head shake was in full effect on Phil Donahue day. La Toya claimed that she did the spread to break away from her parents. My mother screamed at the TV, “Oh you must be real proud of yourself. This is not good for Michael’s image.”
When Dad showed me the photos, he did it in the most matter-of-fact way possible, Trying to be the communicator that his dad wasn’t. it was though my dad was trying to say, “Just so you know, the female body is nothing to freak out over.”
I wasn’t freaking out. At all. Like at all. In fact, seeing a snake slither across La Toya Jackson was just the reassurance I had recently come to. I mean, Fabio was never covered in poisonous creatures.
My mom was so mad that my dad showed me this that she packed me up and drove me to the mall. She was in a Casual Corner Rage tempered only by the soothing sounds of Christopher Cross humming out of the Orange Julius next door, and the 30% off sale on paisley print Skorts. That day we walked past a hair salon. A very thin black man with acid wash jeans and long dreadlocked hair walked by and smiled confidently at my mom and I and said, “heeeey” then he fluffed his hair in jest, put on an apron, and started cutting.
My mom said, “Watch out for skinny men like that Sean. They walk on their tippy toes and they tuck in their shirts. Then she flipped her hand and said. They like little boys. That’s why they talk to you. Perverts. Stay away from my son.” I remember this day very well. It was the day I learned to stay away from skinny boys, snakes, boobs, and the Drakar Noir counter at Macy’s. Long Story.
I was so terrified at that moment of being thin because I didn’t want to end up like one of those hairstylists. This was the day I threw up from eating too many cherry chocolate clusters at See’s Candy, and went back, and bought more, and ate them again.
Five Years later, I was back at the mall with Mom looking for the perfect button down “top” she called them to wear to my 8th grade graduation. It was harder to find clothes now, because I was 5’10 and around 240 pounds, 30 pounds below the heaviest I would ever become. I had been going with Mom to the mall three times a week at least by now. She would ask me to help her pick out clothes for herself, (I was the deciding vote if she disagreed with Mindy the cashier at Petite Sophisticate) and if I did it without complaining, she would give me $20-$50 and let me be by myself for the next 2 hours.
On this particular day, Mom said she wasn’t shopping for herself. It was about finding me a top, if it took all night long. Little did she know…
We couldn’t find a shirt we both liked. Everything was vertical, which mom pointed out made me look busty. Big boned. Husky. Chubby. Every time I put something on I felt uglier. Mom suggested I wear a denim shirt like Billy Ray Cyrus. Mom had seen him in concert twice now and commented on how cute he looked in Denim. But I was no Billy Ray. At best I would grow up to have a voice slightly deeper than Miley Cyrus. I was frustrated. I was tired. I was defeated. And that made me horny.
As an 8th grader, my pimples were only outnumbered by my hormones. Though I wasn’t into girls, I would go put a playboy inside a Boy’s Life magazine and read it at the Scribners. I literally read the jokes page, scanned the pictures, making sure it was all girls I wasn’t turned on by, not just redheads. But I really tried not to do this. I always started by going to Kay Bee Toys to look for a new WWF action figure. I did this partly because it was less perverted, and partly because once I bought them I could take them home and simulate marriages and sexual acts between the Ultimate Warrior and The Big Boss Man in the privacy of my own room.
I believe that the song Superfreak was written about a fat closeted teenager. For all the boys who’ve ever humped the tile floor of a bathroom stall of a Sizzler, or licked the nutsack of your Jose Canseco Mark McGuire Bash Brothers poster, this one’s for you.
Mom gave me $100 and told me to go buy a shirt and pants on my own. She was sick of it being all about me, and just needed an hour to herself with someone who treated her with respect. The commission paid shoe salesman at Nordstrom. Plus, one of her contacts had fallen out, so she had to take the other one out. And her eyes were hurting. The only medicine available were pumps and flats.
In June 1992, Scribners started supplying Playgirl as well, and unlike playboy, Playgirl was wrapped in plastic. But one copy on this day wasn’t. It was of a long haired blonde guy holding a gym class rope in a jungle. His biceps were oily and his pecs were big like breasts and the heading said “SEXUAL SHOWOFF” in big letters. I found that fascinating. Magazines were the only place I saw people being naked. And they were always alone. There was no one on the magazine aisle so I grabbed Playgirl and held it low, over my boner. My back faced the back of the store so I didn’t need to cover it with a Boy’s Life. I just needed to see a boy be a sexual showoff.
I’d never done this. Read the nudie magazine uncovered. Especially, not one with dudes in it. I was shaking. Yes. A guy climbing a rope is my python picture yes I get it…and then I heard her.
“Thank you for letting me in the back door. My son is graduating from 8th grade and I want to get him a gift certificate. He loves books and he’s always in here. In case he’s in here now I don’t want him to see me.” I fumbled, I shook, I dropped it…and then there she was. She looked at me. She looked at the magazine. And she said, “Is that porno.” I picked it up and flipped it backwords. There was a cigarette ad on it.
Mom, said, “Well, you’ve spoiled your graduation gift, you haven’t bought a shirt, and Sean, that was an awfully big woman you were looking at.” I think you need to have a talk with your dad.
Jelly Filled Virgin
Jelly filled donuts are both my sword and my shield. There’s something about the glaze that protects the dough from getting bigger than it’s britches. And the jelly inside is familiar. It’s a PBJ sandwich from when I was a kid, but it’s injected into the aorta of a fried bun. The jelly filled donut is so unhealthy, that if it were a living thing, it would be dead by now. It would have passed out in the shower during a diabetic seizure that it caused itself when a person took a bite into it’s crispy, luscious center. I don’t know about you, but when I bite into a jelly filled donut, I don’t fuck around. I wrap my mouth around the center and work backwards.
As a kid, I lived .22 miles from a donut shop that opened at 4AM. It was called Donuts Here, and It was owned by asian people, and my mom didn’t like me going there because “Asians never hold the door for you at Mervyns. And they buy up all the silver.”
But every Saturday and Sunday I woke up around 7. At age 10 I had severe lower back pain brought on by obesity, and I never slept late. I’d go to piggy bank, empty it. .70 cents meant I could have one jelly filled donut and milk. 1.20 meant I could have one jelly filled and one maple bar and milk. But even when I had 1.20, I always impulsively just ordered two jelly filled donuts.
The donut was juicy, and crispy, and chewy all at the same time. My description of the donut is based strictly on the first three bites. After that I don’t remember much about how the event of morning donut inhalation ended. I do remember that this donut shop is where I learned to read the paper, because it was always scattered about. And it’s also the place where as a kid I felt far superior to my family and my community. I did it on my own, the bike ride there, the occasional change stealing from my dad’s credenza, next to where he kept his loaded gun. And I did it before everyone was awake.
Working in television is exciting and I’ve done it since I was 17. It’s exciting because you get to see famous people and you get paid well when you make enough people like you. But what’s kept me in the business so long is the jelly filled donut tray that appears on every single shoot and production office I’ve ever worked in from MTV to Discovery Health.
The donuts are always there, whether I was an NBC Page ushering Kansans to their seats on Family Feud to when I was promoted to my first gig as a producer on the reality show Meet My Folks. For the first time in my life I made more than $75 a day, and the donuts made me feel worth it. Like with them, the donuts were something I did all on my own.
As a kid, I lived .22 miles from a donut shop that opened at 4AM. It was called Donuts Here, and It was owned by asian people, and my mom didn’t like me going there because “Asians never hold the door for you at Mervyns. And they buy up all the silver.”
But every Saturday and Sunday I woke up around 7. At age 10 I had severe lower back pain brought on by obesity, and I never slept late. I’d go to piggy bank, empty it. .70 cents meant I could have one jelly filled donut and milk. 1.20 meant I could have one jelly filled and one maple bar and milk. But even when I had 1.20, I always impulsively just ordered two jelly filled donuts.
The donut was juicy, and crispy, and chewy all at the same time. My description of the donut is based strictly on the first three bites. After that I don’t remember much about how the event of morning donut inhalation ended. I do remember that this donut shop is where I learned to read the paper, because it was always scattered about. And it’s also the place where as a kid I felt far superior to my family and my community. I did it on my own, the bike ride there, the occasional change stealing from my dad’s credenza, next to where he kept his loaded gun. And I did it before everyone was awake.
Working in television is exciting and I’ve done it since I was 17. It’s exciting because you get to see famous people and you get paid well when you make enough people like you. But what’s kept me in the business so long is the jelly filled donut tray that appears on every single shoot and production office I’ve ever worked in from MTV to Discovery Health.
The donuts are always there, whether I was an NBC Page ushering Kansans to their seats on Family Feud to when I was promoted to my first gig as a producer on the reality show Meet My Folks. For the first time in my life I made more than $75 a day, and the donuts made me feel worth it. Like with them, the donuts were something I did all on my own.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Friday Night! New Performer Added! Free Giveaways!
Sean Hetherington
Junior High School Graduation, a Tragedy
Jessie McNamara
A Laura Mars Christmas
Amber Tozer
Queen Double Pillow Top
Andrea Gardner Bernstein
Boomerang
Sean Hetherington
Really Fat Virgin
Special Guest
Standup comedian
Nico Santos
Monday, June 14, 2010
Tomorrow night at the Improv
I'm performing in a special storytelling event called "Over the Rainbow" stories about coming out. It's not a Sean Hetherington Production but I'm performing with amazing people and I feel really honored to have been asked. It's $5 and starts at 8:30 in the LAB. No food or beverage is required.
http://www.laughstub.com/improv/buy.cfm?id=17228
http://www.laughstub.com/improv/buy.cfm?id=17228
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Dating Clues
"I find dating exhausting and uninteresting, and I really would like to skip over the hours of conversation that you need just to get up to speed on each others lives, and the stories I've told a million times....If you're on a date with me you can be certain that this is what I'm going to be evaluating you for--how good is it going to be, cuddling with you in bed and watching Damages?
Here's what I would like to do: I would like to get into bed with a DVD of Damages and have a line of men cue up at my door....one at a time, in intervals of ten minutes, during which I would watch Damages. I would have a clinician take basic readings...and illustrate which candidate was the most soothing presence for me...soon after, we would make love to mentally diseased animals on a meth Binge."
--Sarah Silverman, The Bedwetter.
And for any men who want to take my version of this test, here are the top ten greatest TV show episodes (in my opinion) of 2009-2010.
10. Weeds, Season 5, Finale
9. Nurse Jackie, Season 2, Finale
8. 30 Rock, Season 5, Dealbreaker
7. Parks and Recreation, Season 2, The Beauty Pageant
6. Design Star, Season 4, The Longest Yard
5. United States of Tara, Season 2, Finale
4. Damages, Season 3, Finale
3. Dexter, Season 4, Finale
2. Glee, Season 1, Home
1. Modern Family, Season 1, The Incident
Tomorrow, True Blood season 2 and Design Star season 5 start. Tuesday, It's Kathy Griffin: My Life on the D List season 6 on Bravo. On August 16th is Weeds season 6 and The C Word. My couch and a technician are standing by.
Here's what I would like to do: I would like to get into bed with a DVD of Damages and have a line of men cue up at my door....one at a time, in intervals of ten minutes, during which I would watch Damages. I would have a clinician take basic readings...and illustrate which candidate was the most soothing presence for me...soon after, we would make love to mentally diseased animals on a meth Binge."
--Sarah Silverman, The Bedwetter.
And for any men who want to take my version of this test, here are the top ten greatest TV show episodes (in my opinion) of 2009-2010.
10. Weeds, Season 5, Finale
9. Nurse Jackie, Season 2, Finale
8. 30 Rock, Season 5, Dealbreaker
7. Parks and Recreation, Season 2, The Beauty Pageant
6. Design Star, Season 4, The Longest Yard
5. United States of Tara, Season 2, Finale
4. Damages, Season 3, Finale
3. Dexter, Season 4, Finale
2. Glee, Season 1, Home
1. Modern Family, Season 1, The Incident
Tomorrow, True Blood season 2 and Design Star season 5 start. Tuesday, It's Kathy Griffin: My Life on the D List season 6 on Bravo. On August 16th is Weeds season 6 and The C Word. My couch and a technician are standing by.
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Fallin Out of Love
Every time I see Reba, I like to send her a little faggy fan note. Here's is the one from two years ago, followed by the one from last nights concert:
July 15, 2008
Ms. McEntire,
In 1997, I was in my first year of community college and living at home with my parents after all of my friends had moved away. I was obese at 275 pounds and had just discovered the internet when I won a contest to speak with you personally on the phone. I don't know how in the world I got so lucky, but 10 minutes with you changed my life forever.
My mom forbade me from going away to college until she saw an episode of Oprah where Oprah encouraged parents to send their kids Away to school. I wanted to go to Belmont very badly but my mom was nuts. So I came up with a plan. I could tell that if Oprah could convince my mom to let me go away, then you could convince her that I could move across the country to Nashville.
I taped our phone call, Reba, and I played it for my mom. I know that is a huge violation of some patriot law or something and I'm sorry, but I knew the only way I'd graduate is if I got the hell out of Folsom, California. And thanks to your call encouraging me to just do it, I did it.
In college I discovered that I was funny and I got cast on the Nashville Predators Puck Patrol. I even got to be in a couple of plays with two of your nieces. I graduated on that same stage where you shot "Is There Life Out There" and then over the next 8 years found myself. I lost 100 pounds. I came out of the closet to my friends and my family. I met a really good guy who I've been with for a year.
And this season, I was the first openly gay contender on American Gladiators. And even though I lost, before every event I competed in I listened to either "I'm A Survivor" or "I'm Gonna Take That Mountain" because I was so scared of having my neck broken by a guy named Wolf who weighed 300 pounds and seemed to want to eat me.
So, Reba, it was all because of that phone call. I wanted you to know that out of the hundreds of thousands of people who could have won that contest for a phone call from you, it's good that I got it. You said, "YES!" to me about going off to college and I'd never heard that before from anyone. It taught me that "yes" is right here in my heart whenever I need to ask myself for permission.
I saw you in concert last weekend in Primm, Nevada with my boyfriend for our one-year anniversary. We were stage left and you blew us a kiss because we were so loud and excited to be there. As I sat there looking over my life and how freaking sweet it's gotten in the last couple of years, I just felt so grateful and needed to say thank-you for always being the inspiration to help me succeed. And like you said about never taking it for granted that between those two girl singers' tapes, they chose you-I'll never take it for granted that I got that call from you 11 years ago.
Thanks,
Sean
June 5, 2010
Hi Again, Reba,
Last night marked my 23rd concert of yours, and I realized something: I mark my life's progression by your concerts and albums. Creepy, I know. I also realized something else: 90% of your catalog has never applied to me until now, because it was really break-up, broken-heart heavy. Don't get me wrong, "Does He Love You" is pure brilliance, if for no other reason the flaming boat and your sick smile at the end of the video--but I had never been caught in that cheating, other woman story. Also, I'm a boy.
Last fall that boyfriend and I broke up. Every ounce of dignity I'd ever mustered left my soul in the span of a 10 minute conversation. I felt dirty. I felt empty. I didn't think I was going to keep my shit together, but I had to keep moving. I try not to think about the break up now unless it comes up in a dream or the shower. It makes me sad and I'm too busy these days to be sad, so I've kind of been avoiding you. I'm sorry.
I guess what I'm saying is, I can finally appreciate what your music does for everyone in a way I couldn't before. And I think that subconciously, I knew this concert would be cathartic for me, in a way that therapy and journaling and drugs can't be--and that's the freaky part. I thought when I heard "Strange" last night, I'd be like "mmm-hmm...kick that man to the curb, Girlfriend!"
But that wasn't why I came here.
I guess I came for "Fallin' Out Of Love", your 1990 hit off the Rumor Has It album, a song you haven't done live, probably since then..and I didn't even expect it. When the 60 year old man next to me put his face in his hands during the first chorus, and the woman with the oxygen tank next to me on the other side looked at him, and then looked at me, covered in snot and shaking, she handed me a tissue and put her arm around me, and said, "It's ok, Sweetie. We've all been there."
And it was all from this line:
But then it got even more intense, as I realized this is the first time I've seen you perform as a single person again, as a person who tried at love, and maybe failed, but who lived to tell. I'm not the little fat closet boy from 1993 who sat and watched you sing "Take It Back" anymore. My life is in full color now. And I can mark this moment by seeing your show.
This break-up is the single greatest gift of my life, thus far, because it taught me to trust my instincts, to say no, and I realized I can do anything on my own. I had forgotten that part (Sometimes "Is There Life Out There" can only do so much). But hearing you finish the song last night was a treat even sweeter. Because for all the apologies, all the stages of grief, and the slutty acts I've committed since D-day trying to measure up, the weight lost, gained, and lost again--I am better. And looking at my life now--happy, productive, honest, compassionate, so, so, so, real and full...I realize it's all because I've been able to let go.
To letting go,
Sean Hetherington
July 15, 2008
Ms. McEntire,
In 1997, I was in my first year of community college and living at home with my parents after all of my friends had moved away. I was obese at 275 pounds and had just discovered the internet when I won a contest to speak with you personally on the phone. I don't know how in the world I got so lucky, but 10 minutes with you changed my life forever.
My mom forbade me from going away to college until she saw an episode of Oprah where Oprah encouraged parents to send their kids Away to school. I wanted to go to Belmont very badly but my mom was nuts. So I came up with a plan. I could tell that if Oprah could convince my mom to let me go away, then you could convince her that I could move across the country to Nashville.
I taped our phone call, Reba, and I played it for my mom. I know that is a huge violation of some patriot law or something and I'm sorry, but I knew the only way I'd graduate is if I got the hell out of Folsom, California. And thanks to your call encouraging me to just do it, I did it.
In college I discovered that I was funny and I got cast on the Nashville Predators Puck Patrol. I even got to be in a couple of plays with two of your nieces. I graduated on that same stage where you shot "Is There Life Out There" and then over the next 8 years found myself. I lost 100 pounds. I came out of the closet to my friends and my family. I met a really good guy who I've been with for a year.
And this season, I was the first openly gay contender on American Gladiators. And even though I lost, before every event I competed in I listened to either "I'm A Survivor" or "I'm Gonna Take That Mountain" because I was so scared of having my neck broken by a guy named Wolf who weighed 300 pounds and seemed to want to eat me.
So, Reba, it was all because of that phone call. I wanted you to know that out of the hundreds of thousands of people who could have won that contest for a phone call from you, it's good that I got it. You said, "YES!" to me about going off to college and I'd never heard that before from anyone. It taught me that "yes" is right here in my heart whenever I need to ask myself for permission.
I saw you in concert last weekend in Primm, Nevada with my boyfriend for our one-year anniversary. We were stage left and you blew us a kiss because we were so loud and excited to be there. As I sat there looking over my life and how freaking sweet it's gotten in the last couple of years, I just felt so grateful and needed to say thank-you for always being the inspiration to help me succeed. And like you said about never taking it for granted that between those two girl singers' tapes, they chose you-I'll never take it for granted that I got that call from you 11 years ago.
Thanks,
Sean
June 5, 2010
Hi Again, Reba,
Last night marked my 23rd concert of yours, and I realized something: I mark my life's progression by your concerts and albums. Creepy, I know. I also realized something else: 90% of your catalog has never applied to me until now, because it was really break-up, broken-heart heavy. Don't get me wrong, "Does He Love You" is pure brilliance, if for no other reason the flaming boat and your sick smile at the end of the video--but I had never been caught in that cheating, other woman story. Also, I'm a boy.
Last fall that boyfriend and I broke up. Every ounce of dignity I'd ever mustered left my soul in the span of a 10 minute conversation. I felt dirty. I felt empty. I didn't think I was going to keep my shit together, but I had to keep moving. I try not to think about the break up now unless it comes up in a dream or the shower. It makes me sad and I'm too busy these days to be sad, so I've kind of been avoiding you. I'm sorry.
I guess what I'm saying is, I can finally appreciate what your music does for everyone in a way I couldn't before. And I think that subconciously, I knew this concert would be cathartic for me, in a way that therapy and journaling and drugs can't be--and that's the freaky part. I thought when I heard "Strange" last night, I'd be like "mmm-hmm...kick that man to the curb, Girlfriend!"
But that wasn't why I came here.
I guess I came for "Fallin' Out Of Love", your 1990 hit off the Rumor Has It album, a song you haven't done live, probably since then..and I didn't even expect it. When the 60 year old man next to me put his face in his hands during the first chorus, and the woman with the oxygen tank next to me on the other side looked at him, and then looked at me, covered in snot and shaking, she handed me a tissue and put her arm around me, and said, "It's ok, Sweetie. We've all been there."
And it was all from this line:
But then it got even more intense, as I realized this is the first time I've seen you perform as a single person again, as a person who tried at love, and maybe failed, but who lived to tell. I'm not the little fat closet boy from 1993 who sat and watched you sing "Take It Back" anymore. My life is in full color now. And I can mark this moment by seeing your show.
This break-up is the single greatest gift of my life, thus far, because it taught me to trust my instincts, to say no, and I realized I can do anything on my own. I had forgotten that part (Sometimes "Is There Life Out There" can only do so much). But hearing you finish the song last night was a treat even sweeter. Because for all the apologies, all the stages of grief, and the slutty acts I've committed since D-day trying to measure up, the weight lost, gained, and lost again--I am better. And looking at my life now--happy, productive, honest, compassionate, so, so, so, real and full...I realize it's all because I've been able to let go.
To letting go,
Sean Hetherington
Friday, June 4, 2010
Thanks
Big ups to Miss Reba for that autographed picture delivered to my seat as I left the show. (swoon) How'd she know I was there? ;)
Road to Reba Part 2
I was bored on the drive, so I called Mom, who started to tell me a story about a wedding show she watches on the WE network. The story had gone on for 18 minutes by the time I started recording this and I have no idea what she was talking about, but I felt rude stopping her to tell her I HAD to pull over to Pee. Side note, she wrote the host a letter telling him I am single and that we could adopt grandchildren for her if he was interested in me, and that I'm not one of those gay guys who walks on his tippy toes, if you know what she means. Turn up your speakers, Jan knows how to Rock.
And I've arrived!
And I've arrived!
Thursday, June 3, 2010
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