And the award goes to …

A friend once told me, if you live long enough, you’re bound to get an award for something.

I was reminded of this when Mr. Waste and I attended the eighth annual awards dinner for The Colorado GLBT Bar Association, a professional huddle of attorneys, judges, paralegals, law students and their allies. They honored our friend Mindy Barton as the Outstanding GLBT Attorney of the year. Barton serves as the Legal Director for the The GLBT Community Center and is a great player piano chanteuse.

Before the award presentation, we were diving into our plates of veggie risotto at the J.W. Marriott in Cherry Creek. We always order the vegetarian option at hotel events. Besides the health benefits, it also means we can avoid chicken that’s been sitting out far too long, turning into sawdust.

Barton, sitting next to us, said, “I don’t see why I am getting an award for something that I do every day. I’m usually the one giving out the award.”

And it is true. TV news channels are always covering some stranger/dog/drag queen who dragged their neighbor/owner/porn collection from some flaming building, receiving a police/fire/Chi Chi LaRue award for bravery. So many awards are for going above and beyond the call of duty.

Awards are also given for complete accidents. Sir Alexander Fleming received the Nobel Peace Prize in 1945 after he noticed mold was growing on his Petri dishes, preventing staphylococci from growing. He received a frickin’ Nobel prize for having a messy and moldy lab.
And finally, awards are given out for things you do every day. It may seem commonplace to you, but to others, it’s award winning. And that’s what Barton has done. Besides having a hand in the five major pieces of Colorado legislation that have moved toward LGBT equal rights in our state, she also manages The Center’s Legal Helpline, providing yearly legal assistance to more than 350 individuals, including those living with HIV. To them, she is more than just an award winner. She is their hero. When you are about to lose a home you and your husband/wife spent years building together because some cold-hearted relative is circling like a vulture, Barton knows what legal bullets to load in the gun you use to keep the predators away.

We should get awards for things that we do every day. Just like my last boyfriend, what matters is not the size of the heroic deed in your pants, but what you do with it. It could be as simple as picking up that piece of trash on the sidewalk. (The paper kind, not the human kind. Though we could probably do with fewer hookers on Colfax). It could be as grandiose as starting a foundation to erase hate when your son is killed and left to die on a wooden fence in Wyoming. Thank you Judy Shepard.

Every morning when we climb out of bed, we have a chance to make it an award-winning day. Just be sure to have your coffee first. Nobody likes a grumpy hero.

High-fructose corn syrup. It will never win an award in my book. Unless the award is “The Unnatural Food Additive That Has Contributed The Most to Obesity in the American Diet.”

Ever since watching the documentary “Corn King,” I’ve been obsessed with eliminating this sticky calorie-whore from my dietary repertoire.

My mania drives Mr. Waste mad. I am constantly reading Queen Sooper food labels to avoid filling my basket full of corn syrup. A drag queen has to watch her girlish figure, and the fewer calories the better.

Once I gave high-fructose corn syrup the big bye-bye, I dropped 10 pounds as fast as slick on snot. Goodbye size 14, come to momma size 12. Your results may vary.

Once you start paying attention, you’ll be amazed at all the places where corn syrup hides. Walk into your kitchen right now. See that yogurt? Yep. Ketchup? Yep. Box of cereal? Yep. Salad dressing? Yep. Ice cream? Yep.

I now order grapefruit juice with my vodka cocktails. The bulk cranberry juice used by many bars contains high fructose corn syrup. I might be drunk at the bar, but I am not going to be drunk AND fat at the same time. That’s just not a good look on a gay. Or a drag queen.