A Nun

By Sr. Organza Pettingfield, OLBQ

Blanche Devereaux once said that the name says it all – nun. Girl. There’s more to life than sex. Although nowadays I rather wish I hadn’t vowed to avoid all that. I wonder if making out counts? I digress. Thank god for “men” like Stephen Miller to think about during those trying times or I would be in big trouble with a number of go-go boys. Yes. I am a nun. Years ago I was an outspoken drag queen. But the Order of the Bitchy Queens of WeHo was calling and as it was, would let virtually anyone in as long as they’re wearing Christian Louboutin. I wasn’t since I couldn’t afford those on the budget of an out-of-work drag queen. But what I could afford was red spray paint and heels from Hot Topic.

Despite the less than glamorous exit from show business and the rather embarrassing entrance into the convent with my homemade Louboutins, I remained committed to being outspoken. In today’s world you are either complicit, an idiot or you say something worthwhile. The Abbot is more eloquent than I am, but I’m way funnier. (Sorry boss…and Jesus.) But I have something to say damn it!

One might ask, why did I choose to get involved with St. Gertrude’s. I can tell you, it ain’t the pay. The Abbot has a cowl, a rope belt and a rosary. That’s it. I can’t afford a Chanel habit on that kind of budget. But what the Abbey does offer is an outlet and a resource and that’s why I’m here. The Abbot asked me to come on board to give the place some balance. If you couldn’t tell he’s a bit academic and I barely graduated from a community college with a certificate in VCR repair. (Yes. I’m that old.)

The point of all of this is an online community. While the blog came first (how very man-ish of it) we are here to provide levity and eventually a book club, a bazaar (that was my idea) and a resource for people who feel lost, frustrated, afraid and angry. You aren’t alone. Sr. Organza is here and is feeling it with you. Honey, what the hell is happening? Our world is upended.

JD Vance murdered the Pope not understanding how conclaves work and that DT would never be Pope as he’s Jehovah Witness. Fine. You caught me. DT is not a Jehovah Witness but can you imagine him on your doorstep asking about the Lord? “I’m the best missionary. I invented the position in fact. No one does missionary better than me.” I’d drown myself. We have a whole bunch of women who now dress in pink with big giant diamond crosses on their necks like flight attendants on the most horrifying airline you can imagine. I know a cross is supposed to frighten and intimidate but this is another level of terror. If that wasn’t enough, the middle class’s retirement funds go from “Yas Qween- ready to retire!” to “Jesus Fucking Christ ramen again for dinner?” on a daily basis. Then we have prices of shit that quite frankly should humiliate DT. Eggs? Wine is cheaper. Wine. I can buy a bottle of rose for less than a dozen eggs. That probably explains this post. As an aside, did you know you can drink wine out of a regular glass? No one does the damn dishes in this place. You do what you gotta do.

It’s hard to keep up and it’s hard to even wake up for lots of people. I myself don’t get up until noonish. (That’s a lie. My morning skin routine is a bitch and I’ll discuss that another time. But it involves virgin sheep placenta, Dead Sea mud and vodka.) We need to be here for one another. Maybe the Abbot was right and we need to make life a little easier for each other. Maybe he was dipping too much into the communion wine. (Sure. He can’t afford a proper belt but wine from a artisanal winery is apparently within the Abbey’s means?) Who knows. Look, the point is that there’s a lot of bullshit literally pouring forth from the mouths of millions of Americans. The purpose of this site is hopefully to give you boots to get through it. Can I get an Amen? (But not in a RuPaul way as we don’t have the funds for a trademark infringement lawsuit.)