Ladyfingers: How Sabby gets her booty back

By : Sabrina Ambra
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I don’t know how to say this, so I’ll just say it: I have recently come to the realization that I lost my booty. I’m not sure how or when; I can only assume at some point in the last few years it happened. I just know now that it’s definitely lost.

You’re probably just itching to find a full body shot of me from 2011 on the internet right now, aren’t you? Spoiler alert: it ain’t big, but there was, in fact, a time when I could truly shake what my momma gave me.

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The Last Page with Sabrina Ambra

By : Rick Claggett
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What kind of writing do you do for Watermark?

Viewpoint and/or comedic narratives.

What is the name of your Viewpoint column?

Lady Fingers.

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5.31.18 Publisher’s Desk

By : Rick Claggett
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I’m pretty sure I was 16 the first time I went to Gay Day at Disney. I was only out to my mom and a handful of friends back then, so it was a little awkward when my brothers and I rolled up on the second annual Gay Day at Disney. It became a tradition in my family that when one of the brothers graduated high school, we’d celebrate with a trip to the Magic Kingdom—just us boys. Turns out that celebration always happened on the first Saturday of June. We didn’t know what that day meant to so many people, but we picked up on it pretty quickly.

I remember being petrified my brothers would figure out somehow I was gay, as if just being in close proximity with so many LGBTQ people would cause me to grow a boa and hum the ABBA anthology. I also remember experiencing immense joy and comfort. It was scary being gay in the early ‘90s, not to diminish the struggle today’s 16-year-olds face with their own coming out. But that one day, every year, was a day of happiness in the happiest place on earth. It was a day to be normal, to be together and to be visible.

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Ladyfingers: Curing the V-Day Blues

By : Sabrina Ambra
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There is something to be said when a holiday is commercially manufactured to emit feelings of love and adoration, yet has the capability of garnering feelings of the complete opposite.

It’s quite remarkable, especially for something that is not technically a public holiday in any country. That’s right, folks. Valentine’s Day is upon us and that means the pressure is on. The levels and layers of standards and expectations will either make you dizzy or have you reaching for the bottle and/or a vibrator. I’d say the majority of my past Valentine’s Day celebrations have been spent feeling shitty about myself and scoffing at anyone and everyone who wasn’t self-loathing with me. Can you blame the bitter? We didn’t bring this upon ourselves! That’s like having no prior weightlifting experience and showing up to a CrossFit competition. I can’t even confirm that CrossFit competitions actually exist because I am that far away from a life of fitness regimes, especially branded ones.

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Ladyfingers: Spine-chilling buzz kill

By : Sabrina Ambra
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‘Tis the season for scary stories, I hear. Somewhere between the “Dr. Feltersnatch” OBGYN costume and the human skull beer funnel is the timeless Halloween tradition of inducing panic through the telling of horrifying tales.

They are passed down from generation to generation and then, at some point, from generation to Internet where they will live forever alongside funny cat videos and 2 Girls, 1 Cup. It’s like the circle of life, but with scat. That being said, I think there’s no better time than now to hunker down and write my very own frightening tale. And by write, I mean type “www.WikiHow.com” into the address bar. I would be doing a disservice if I didn’t mention that my address bar auto-filled the page for WikiHow: To Get Down From a Bad High (long story, short: Molly from Manhattan is NOT your friend).

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Splish, Splash; the Girls in Wonderland get wet at the pool

By : Jeremy Williams
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The Girls in Wonderland didn’t let the weather get in the way for their Splash pool party at the Sheraton Lake Buena Vista Resort June 3.

The ladies swam, drank and mingled as well as had some fun playing games, doing giveaways and a having a killer bikini contest.

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Issue 23.22: On the Radio

By : Jake Stevens
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The LGBTQ community finds its voice and its musical escape on the air in Tampa Bay and Orlando, local news, celebrity interviews, photos, events and much, much more!

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The LGBTQ community finds its voice and its musical escape on the air in Tampa Bay and Orlando

By : Billy Manes
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“Because you can’t see tits on the radio, I’ll give you five fingers for a one man show,” the Scissor Sisters belted out more than a decade ago. Well, some things have changed. For one, the industry that has typically been haunted by dusty faces that were, as they say, “made for radio,” have evolved into a different beast, for better and for worse.

On the one hand, the medium has been revitalized by the presence of satellite and internet stations. On the other, there are clouds from both sides now, wherein mainstream industry force presses up against a personality-driven culture, one perfectly suited for the huskiness of a DJ’s voice. More importantly, niche radio stations and mainstream ones alike have opened the door for LGBTQ culture to dance and be heard.

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11.3.16 Editor’s Desk

By : Billy Manes
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Billy Manes

Billy Manes

“Someone found a letter you wrote me, on the radio. And they told the world just how you felt. It must have fallen out of a hole in your old brown overcoat. They never said your name but I knew just who they meant.”

Those were the words that flew from Donna Summer’s gorgeous mouth in 1979, back when I was five, a latchkey derivative, a mess and a superhero all rolled into one. Those words resonate with me still today, and any time Blue Star – one of our cover stars – plays them to me (she does), I cry into the wood paneling, I wish for a lit up dance floor, I break a heel, but I never fall down.

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Ladyfingers: My hatchet list

By : Sabrina Ambra
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sabrina ambra ladyfingers watermark gay lesbian lgbt

Sabrina Ambra

I wake-up (1) after pressing snooze on my fourth alarm for the fifth time in one hour (2). My alarm (3) goes off every .306 seconds and yet my body still manages to return to a deep sleep. Once I have gotten out of my bed (4) and untangled my feet (5) from the cord (6) attached to my vibrator, I contemplate a quick dial on the rotary phone (7).

I spend the walk to my bathroom wondering how the fuck my cat has managed to set up such an intricate obstacle course (8) during those few hours (9) I was sleeping. I dry-heave over my bathroom sink 10 for about (10) minutes while simultaneously taking the acid-reflux (11) medication my doctor (12) prescribed years ago.

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