I like Erin Judge. She has girl balls. Well, not literally because then she would be a hermaphrodite. Then again I shouldn’t talk like I’m the authority on what’s between Erin Judge’s legs. I’m here to talk about what’s between her lips. As Judge says, “I am bisexual. And if you don’t know what that means…you’re my type.”
In her debut album So Many Choices Judge plays both sides of the fence, literally and figuratively. She makes jokes about her high school town of Plano, Texas while also expressing her alienation among her ex’s “well adjusted-Midwestern lesbian friends.” It seems she just can’t fit in anywhere.
Erin moved from a Texas high school to a Massachusetts all-girls college, which is kind of like switching careers from cattle ranching to corporate finance. It was a major change in worldviews. For example: Massachusetts girls had community volunteers and workers from Planned Parenthood teach the sex education class. Erin had a football coach whose best advice for sex was, “If she says ‘No’ give her another beer.” However she was eventually able to fit in and even went on to Harvard…as a secretary.
But hey Erin, I’m not JUDGING you. (I know, I probably deserve to die after that one). We’ve all had to slum through terrible jobs just because we want to make enough money to keep the lights on so that weird smoke monster from LOST won’t swallow us in the void of the night with nary a cry for help. But I digress.
One of Erin’s jobs was to perform on a gay cruise. A cruise she describes as the “gay bathroom of a gay dance club on the planet gay.” Where men are flamingly dedicated to episodes of the Golden Girls and the deck floors are stickier than the inside of a Cinnabon.
Filled with rants on Cosmopolitan Magazine and funny one line non-sequiters, Judge knows how to make you laugh. She has a good humor of herself and a biting sarcasm about the world. In Judge’s world condoms are for copulation AND cocaine storage. Her friends and colleagues eat cinnamon buns but only if they’re free range. She likes to go to the gym in the morning until she actually wakes up. She’s a hexagonal peg trying to fit into a triangle shaped hole. She’s got so many choices and they all suck.
About the Author: Nate Rankin writes Comedy Reviews and Fiction because no one taught him any better. His fiction has been featured by Workers Writes, theNewerYork! and Used Gravitrons and is forthcoming in The Green Blotter. His work can be seen here: http://iamseamus.tumblr.com/writing You can find him on the Tweety Box @CommanderSeamus If you'd like to submit a review inquiry please send to nrankin22[at]gmail[dot]com