Three completely random sources of pleasure today.

God dag

My neighbors, as I've documented before, are a somewhat interesting lot.

Today, on the way out, I met a new one.

He's moving into the apartment of the older guy, who tells me he's been driven out by the hysterical sound stylings of Miss Apartment F.

I opened the door awkwardly. I was in a rush. I didn't have time to talk. He was carrying in a box. He smiled. He was tall and blond. He introduced himself. He had a slight (Scandanavian?) accent.

And my first thought was this:
Oh my God, it's Sven, Rose's cousin from "The Golden Girls!"

How gay is that? (Me, that is, alas, not him.)

"I've divorced better men than you...."

I'd actually checked this book out from the library a while back. It's a collection of personal ads from the London Review of Books. Those Brits are so damned clever.

Anyway, here are some cute ones:

'I've divorced better men than you. And worn more expensive shoes than these. So don't think placing this ad is the biggest comedown I've ever had to make. Sensitive F, 34.'

'List your ten favourite albums... I just want to know if there's anything worth keeping when we finally break up. Practical, forward thinking man, 35.'

'Not everyone appearing in this column is a deranged cross-dressing sociopath. Let me know if you find one and I'll strangle him with my bra. Man, 56.'

'Mature gentleman, 62, aged well, noble grey looks, fit and active, sound mind and unfazed by the fickle demands of modern society seeks...damn it, I have to pee again.'

'Are you Kate Bush? Write to obsessive man, 36. Note, people who aren't Kate Bush need not respond.'

'Stroganoff. Boysenberry. Frangipani. Words with their origins in people's names. If your name has produced its own entry in the OED then I'll make love to you. If it hasn't, I probably will anyway, but I'll only want you for your body. Man of too few distractions, 32.'

'Romance is dead. So is my mother. Man, 42, inherited wealth.'

amusing the bouche

Last night my friend Mark was in town, visiting from Toronto. It was great to see him. Unfortunately, he was here for only one day. He came to visit for the holiday. When last heard from he had been stranded in the airport since 8 am, because of the delays at O'Hare and the weather in Chicago. It was 4 pm when I last heard from him. I haven't heard from him since, so I'm hoping he's made it there safely in time to see the play at the Steppenwolf that he'd already bought tickets for. What a nightmare.

Since he had only a day or so here, the tour I could offer was perfunctory at best.
Actually, he knows the sites of the city better than I do, at least the posher ones.

He didn't see any of the "devastation," partly because of time constraints, but mainly because he'd rather ignore it.
Whatever.
I was happy to oblige. We spent most of the day in the quarter, which is cleaner than it's ever been before, and in the warehouse district, where he was staying.
We went on an excursion trying to find Brad and Angelina, but never did....unless the Asian family we saw walking on Dauphine St. was them, incognito. They do have access to prosthetics, as Mark reminded me.

I haven't seen him in nearly four years. When I went to New York, he'd come down to visit me there for a day. That was the last time I'd seen him in person. When he had told me he was planning to visit, I had, of course, invited him to stay with me, knowing his money situation, but I knew he'd refuse. He has a taste for the finer things, I'm afraid, and luxe hotels are one of them.

When I first met him, he was...ok, well, let's not mince words here, something of a kept boy. When he and the boyfriend lived down here, they lived in a lovely condo downtown, very posh. (The parking cost more than my rent does now, in fact.)

He spent his twenties and much of his thirties in the care of a rich boyfriend, living a lavish lifestyle. This is the ideal situation for a soul like him....so of course, fate being as it is, it had to come to an end.

He's never quite recovered from the end of this lifestyle, I'm afraid. It's not a pretty thing when a kept boy has to fend for himself.

It was good to see the semi-jovial Mark, rather than the chronically depressed one that arrives in my email. I wish I could see this happier Mark more often.

On the way to dinner he insisted that we pass through Saks.
"What do you need to buy?" I asked naively.
"Nothing. We're just going to scope out the well dressed men." He was disappointed by the offerings, needless to say.

We ended up at Stella!, a nice enough place, with an ersatz "French Provincial" decor, which didn't seem to fit well with the food.



All in all, it was just an excuse to get dressed up...which was nice.
The menu left a bit to be desired, however. I don't much like fish (insert Beavis and Buttheard laughter here), and these sorts of places seem fish-heavy for some reason. Maybe it's just a fad.

I ended up getting the lamb ("Honey glazed lamb shank on a puree of winter vegetables" to paraphrase). It arrived looking like something from a very elegant episode of "The Flintstones," a big bone sticking up ceremoniously from the plate, piled upon a mound of miniaturized vegetables.
Before the entrees arrived, the chef generously sent over an amuse bouche of raw salmon and some sort of lotus root garnish, which one was supposed to suck down from a Chinese porcelain spoon. I kept looking around to see if we were the only ones so favored, but never could quite tell. I'm sure we looked like philistines trying to suck down the raw fish in one bite and not drip the sauce all over. It wasn't easy.

Anyway, since I had already embarrassed myself, I figured what the hell, took the camera out and started taking surreptitious photos of the plate. Unfortunately it was too dark for the photos to really come out. I had to rush for fear they'd confiscate the camera and drag me back to the kitchen, putting me through some sort of waterboarding-like torture involving those amuse-bouche spoons.

You never know.

The waitress was already peeved at my little mountain of Sweet and Low packets, I'm sure. We'd started out on the wrong foot when we ignored the wine list and ordered tea. I could swear I could hear her grit her teeth at that. Hey, I *did* politely stack up the packets in a tidy little pile for her. I don't know what her problem was.

After dinner, we decided to go crazy and get a dessert. Mark had some sort of frozen ginger creme brulee with green tea ice cream. It sounded better than it was.
Looking over the dessert menu, we had a good snicker about the "Chocolate Cake with Hot Buttered Pink Lemonade."

So of course, daredevil that I am, I got it.
It was good, but nothing earth shattering. For the record, "hot buttered pink lemonade" is remarkably similar to drawn butter for the king crab legs at the Chinese buffet, with a packet of sweet and low mixed in it.
(Not that I'd ever...umm...do such a thing, of course.)

The nicest part of the meal was actually the last course, which came (by way of another snooty waiter) "compliments of the chef." It was a post-dessert dessert of meringues and two homemade espresso-flavored marshmallows.
I think the homemade marshmallows were my favorite part of the whole meal.
How does one even make a homemade marshmallow?

I think I'm going to have to look that up.

lego nola

Click to see the detail:







(thanks, Robin)

overheard

Two towering mid-thirties drag queens, both in hot pants, long silky smooth legs fluorescing in orange spray tan, walking leisurely through Target on the day after Christmas...dressed in what can only be described as Soccer Mom/Hooker drag:




Shorter one to taller one:
"We need to get you some new clothes. I don't want to see you in that Tinkerbell hoodie again."

Taller one, sullenly:
"Ok."

suburban family goes to theater

Seems like Brad and Angelina were at Elmwood today.
And to think I was just this close to going there today myself.

Dolly is always appropriate

Couldn't say it better myself:

A (pre-)Christmas Story

Back in October, when our local Oakwood Mall re-opened after two years of being shuttered following its looting and burning in the aftermath of Katrina, I went to scope it out with my mother.

We really just wanted to see if the Chick Fil-A was open, but no such luck. We've been without a Chick Fil A around here for nearly three long hard years. Actually, the mall was still nearly as dead as it had been two years ago. Nothing much had opened still. It was all rather disheartening.

Disapointedly, we made our way through the food court when suddenly I saw a familiar face at one of the tables. He was sitting there with an older man, who looked like a grandfather perhaps, but it was unmistakably him, I could tell.
It was none other than Peter Billingsley, Ralphie of "A Christmas Story"



I couldn't imagine why he was there, in fact I doubted that I was right. I mean really, why in heaven's name would he be sitting at food court table on the Westbank in a half deserted, half opened mall in October? It was too bizarre.

But as soon as I got home I looked through some old papers and surely enough, there he was, Peter Billingsley (with Vince Vaughn) both in town for a film festival at that very time.

I only recognized the adult Peter because I was one of the few who actually saw "The Breakup" in which he (with Vaughn and Anniston) starred.
Twice.
It's not something I'm proud of, but it did come in handy ultimately.

Egoiste!

A classic....one of my favorite commercials.

I can die now in peace.

"Each room lights up as a poem is READ by Kinkade!"

just because

Here are some pictures of the legendary house of Charles and Ray Eames.

It's always been one of my fantasy houses:

By the way, it's also the centennial of his birth I see.

french testicles and yarn wigs

Here are a few of the recent google searches that have brought poor unsuspecting strangers to my little journal:

"What does Depeche mean?"
(More than one fan has ended up here...tricked into thinking they'd find out)


"Sex with Jem's Band"
(Oh, how I wish I could tell them more)

"Andres Segura bd"
(Maybe it's him, googling himself, and he's happened upon my website...it could happen, right?)

"Tom Logan Grey Gardens"
(I'm happy to see so many are intrigued by him too.)

"Yarn Wigs"
(I get three or four hits from this every month it seems. Apparently there's a need for yarn wig information out there. Perhaps this is my niche.

"French testicles"
(Ok, maybe this is my niche. Unfortunately, the search only
leads them here...disappointing, I know.)

"Renuzit deodorizer cover"
(I'm in the top ten links, I'm proud to say.)

"How to help a family at a time of death"
(Which led them here
Oddly enough, I'm in the top ten links of this search too. Sadly, I can offer more advice on yarn wigs than I can on this topic.)

a little night music

Perhaps you remember January's covergirl Joyce
I know I do. I remember her every night.
But enough about me.

Here are some more unearthed treasures from the stacks:



(one word:
"Heino."
I don't know what it means, but it's now in my vocabulary.)



(Oddly topical, isn't it?)



(Daniel Day Lewis, are you reading?)

LV

I'm glancing through an old copy of Paper Magazine and what do I see, nothing less than Louis Vuitton's tote for $2,660.

Except for the garish LV logo, it is identical to the $5.00 original I bought at Pearl River in Chinatown this summer.
How ironic is it that LV is now copying Chinatown bags?

art

Is it Christmas yet? Because these are too fabulous:





There's more here, if you think you can handle it.

random craigslist whimsy

I really can't see what girl wouldn't be charmed by this...and a 22 year old who uses the word "alas!"
Too cute for words.

Waffle House - m4w - 22

--------------------------------------------------------------
Reply to: pers-483426537@craigslist.org
Date: 2007-11-19, 9:13AM CST

So I have a slightly strange hobby. Basically I like to travel to various Waffle Houses and review them. I used to have a partner in these adventures, but alas I no longer do. If you are interested in accompanying me on my adventures drop me an e-mail.

Location: Northshore

the curse of the evangelical turkey

Last year about this time, I met Lucifer himself.
He came to me in the form of Pat Robertson.
He gave me a tv.

I didn't have electricity, so it sat in my room unused until it was stolen by the migrant workers building our new campus.
(That's how Lucifer works, by the way)

He and his host of dark powers had seen fit to grace our devastated school with gifts. (Yeah, yeah, I know....gift horses, mouths...whatever...but this was Pat fucking Robertson, ok?)

One day, just before Thanksgiving break, two of his minions, a middle aged, corn fed, blond couple, eyes wild with Jesus, burst into my classroom, bearing frozen turkeys in their hands and frozen smiles on their faces.

Terrifying.

They bounded into my room like two golden retrievers, smiling maniacally, eagerly offering their frozen turkey to me...while I'm in the middle of a sentence.

Nothing irritates me quite as much as being interrupted in the middle of class. I can get kind of pissy at times, believe it or not.

"Here's a turkey for you!" They both exclaim, wild eyed with Jesus. "Blessed Thanksgiving to you, brother!"

"Ummm...thanks," I responded. "Can you put that in the freezer for me."
I smiled back stiffly and refused to take it from the husband's outstretched hands.

"Oh no, this is for you!" he insisted.
They wouldn't take no for an answer. I'm sure I sounded a bit rude, but what the hell was I going to do with a frozen turkey at 11 am?

Typically, when the school had given us turkeys (our holiday bonus)in the past, I'd given mine to the food drive, which we always had at the same time. I planned to do the same, but the scary Christians weren't having it.

So I took the frozen turkey and let them smile their way on out.

It sat on my classroom floor, next to the 1920's radiator until 4 pm.
It's been in my mother's freezer ever since.

She insists upon cooking it this year...despite my warnings.
Waste not, want not, right?

Pray for us.

Michael sent me this link the other day just after a video about the dangers of unsanitary hotel glassware.
Guess which one is bookmarked.

I mean really, how often am I in a hotel...that is compared to how often I'm listening to 8 track porn?

It's all a matter of priorities.

I read this description, and I was hooked:

"The character voices in this one, while not as ridiculous as Part 3, are quite the pair: a wholesome, perky woman with an overly stereotyped Irishman keep giving me visions of a wayward Florence Henderson blowing the Blarney Stone on a sex rampage (perhaps after her fling with the clown jewels)."

love tko

I think Teddy Pendergrast's may be one of the sexiest voices...
ever.
Even in a wheelchair he could make a soul swoon.

bardom

By a strange series of coincidences, I've spent 10 of the past 48 hours in
a gay bar...last night for the denoument of Vincent's going away party, and tonight with my friend Dennis, as the proverbial third wheel.
This is not the way things should be.
Tonight was the same serial killer stripper (as Michael calls him), the same tedious videos, and although a new set of faces, really, ultimately, the same crowd.

projecting

Like any self respecting gay, I found myself dusting off the television tonight to watch Project Runway. Also, like any self respecting gay, my attention was quickly diverted away from all that silly fashion nonsense and onto the cute boys.

Steve:



To quote Michael Kors quoting Renee Zellweger:
"You had me" at the words "works in the Museum of Science and Industry."
Besides, I actually liked the outfit he sent out too (not that this is about clothes or anything)

Rami:



I didn't actually like his dress....even if it did win.
I'm hoping he won't be too Uli-like...too one note...if you know what I mean, but he's certainly cute.

Marion:



A florist from Texas....named Marion?
Yet, he doesn't seem at all like any of those things, and that's high praise indeed.
And he's old! (like me)
Whatever the case, let's get to the point: I think he's cute, and I also suspect talented.

the other family

See more of this genius re working of The Family Circus at The Other Family

Too wrong.
Too funny.

Thank you, Pipedreams

nude bouffant

Thanks to Thom over at Fabulon, I
nearly didn't get to work on time this morning.

He posted a photo of Andres Segura, the Spanish male model, and that was all it took for me to drift off in a half an hour or so of idyllic picture surfing this morning, (get your mind out of the gutter, please)...completely, blissfully ignorant of the time.

Anyway, he's worth being late.

Of course I knew Andres as soon as I saw him. Let me tell you, I remember names of men who look like this.

Click here to see him in all his glory.

He's so hot, he can even manage to rock a nude bouffant....and, believe me, not many men can.

Bible Bread, with Garlic

On a recent jaunt to Big Lots, just to the right of the shrine to Halloween past, behind the orgy of Xmas plastic, not far from the enchanted aisle of garden gnomes, I found a lone box of Bible Bread, with Garlic.

Of course I bought it.
I feel holier already.

"I'm pulverized by this latest thing"

I'm a few days late, I know. Shame, shame, shame on me.
But hell, this whole month should be devoted to her as far as I'm concerned.

It would have been her 90th birthday this year.

stanley.

It's his 47th birthday today.
mmmm

I really need to buy a camera

As a public service, I'd like to point your attention to a blog post that I randomly stumbled upon, one infinitely more interesting than anything I could ever hope to put up.

too literal cake decorating

Sick.

waiting for "Waiting for Godot"

Last night I went to a performance of "Waiting for Godot" performed in the Lower Ninth Ward, near the Industrial Canal breach by the Classical Theatre of Harlem.

I think it's brought more people down to that area than there has been in two years.
The night before they'd had to turn away 200 or so people from the performance because of overcrowding. I don't know why, but this seems like a positive omen to me.

All in all, it's been pretty successful.

Waiting for the play was as interesting as the play itself. The crowd was mixed, lots of young creative types, some locals, and a good number of new emigres from up North. It was a bit chilly, a beautiful autumn night and the crowd was festive, especially when the Rebirth brass band performed.

I've never been much of a fan of Beckett, but the actors were really good, and the setting couldn't have been more evocative.

"hit that bottom....working the middle"

I see the crafty folks out there on youtube have remixxxxxxed Alexyss K. Tylor's classic.

(thanks for the memories, Julie and Rachelle)

voodoo

Tonight, I can hear the music drifting into my bedroom on a cool autumn wind.

Again.

just in time for halloween

"According to Australia's The Age, the above-pictured skirt looks like a pretty red dress under normal circumstances, but when flipped inside out over the wearer's head turns into a pretty dead-on soda machine disguise -- the perfect foil for some mugger or more violent criminal (at least in Japan, where street crime is rare).

Other fashion-forward, crime-prevention accessories the article cites are wraparound sunglasses so dark you can't make eye contact with perverts on the subway, and a "manhole skirt" that folds up all your valuables into something that looks an awful lot like a manhole cover, which you then place on the street should a criminal step into view"

read the rest here

"ain't nothing goin on but the rent"

Just because it's what almost always automatically comes to my mind when someone asks me "What's going on?"

Sometimes, like today in class, I slip up and say it aloud.
Thank god I have students who understand.

Here's the wonderful Gwen Guthrie:

"bitter old queens"

Just read this at Band of Thebes.
It's too early for April Fools, so I'm supposing it's on the up and up. Hmmm....
I'm not sure how I feel about this:

New TV Series: Bitter Old QueensRussell T. Davies who created Queer as Folk in Britain and is enjoying vast success with his revamped Doctor Who series told the Guardian that he is planning a new gay series for the BBC.

"It's going to be about forty-something gay men and how jealous they are of gay teenagers," Davies said in an interview. "I've been longing to write something for adults."

In the interview, Davies said that the inspiration for the new drama is a friend, a former Mr Gay UK, who split up from his boyfriend.

"He asked me: 'Why are so many gay men so glad we split up?' That remark's stayed with me for six years. I think there's a self-punishing streak in that gladness and I want to explore it."

The series, still untitled, will air in 2010.

I mean, there are many many things I'm jealous of, but gay teenagers are definitely not one of them. I remember all too well being gay teenager, and there wasn't much to envy there. And besides, being around teenagers every day, one quickly learns (or relearns) that it's not all it's cracked up to be.

overheard today in biglots

"1 2 3 4 5 6 9 and 10"
(Feist's "1234" being played overhead)

"Did you hear that?"
Woman tells an older man indignantly...in a thick westbank accent.

"Wha?"
"Dat..dat song....'1 2 3 4 5 6 9 10,'" she continues. "Children gonna hear dat and learn dat wrong."

"Yeah."
The old man agrees laughing.
"Ain't no wonder dey so dumb nowdays, huh?"

float on

"Libra, and my name is Charles
Now I like a woman who's quiet
a woman who carries herself like
Miss Universe."




Only one of my favorite songs of all time.

my first meme

Since Buffalo Void tagged me with my very first meme, here are my (rather dull) answers:

Taken a picture completely naked? No one needs that.

Made out with a friend on your MySpace/Facebook page? Who wrote this, a twelve year old girl? (Not yet)

Danced in front of your mirror naked? No one needs that. (Yes)

Told a lie? Maybe.

Had feelings for someone who didn’t have them back? Oh dear...all too much.

Been arrested? Almost...once. I dared a cop to arrest me. Thankfully he was intimidated enough by my craziness to not do it. He wasn't even cute.

Made out with someone of the same sex? Again, who wrote this? (Not nearly often enough)

Seen someone die? Yes

Slept in until 5pm? No. (4:59? Maybe)

Had sex at work? No. Not even an erotic thought.

Fallen asleep at work/school? Where I work, you sleep, you die.

Held a snake? Yes

Ran a red light? Yes

Been suspended from school? Nope

Totaled your car in an accident? Yes

Pole danced? Smoked? No. Yes.

Been fired from a job? Not quite. I was laid off once. And then Katrina came and I lost my job because the place was destroyed.

Sang karaoke? Yes. On a tabletop in fact. I believe it was to a medley of Cheryl Lynn and The Smiths.

Done something you told yourself you wouldn’t? Yes (answer a meme?)

Laughed until a drink came out your nose? all the time.

Caught a snowflake on your tongue? is this a euphemism? (yes)

Kissed in the rain? No (but that does sound nice)

Sang in the shower? who hasn't?

Given your private parts a nickname? I'd rather a sobriquet.

Ever gone out without underwear? No one needs that.

Sat on a roof top? all the time

Played chicken? ridiculous.

Been pushed into a pool with all your clothes on? No

Broken a bone? Popped one? Broken? No. Popped? I'm not sure.

Mooned/flashed someone? No one needs that either.

Shaved your head? Not yet.

Slept naked? once or twice. Not all it's cracked up to be.

Played a prank on someone? all the time.

Had a gym membership? No

Felt like killing someone? Not really

Made your girlfriend/boyfriend cry? No, and that's the sad part.

Cried over someone you were in love with? Yes

Had sex more than 10 times in one day? maybe

Had Mexican jumping beans for pets? I did actually!

Been in a band? I wish.

Subscribed to Maxim? Who wrote this?

Taken more than 10 shots of alcohol? at once? No

Shot a gun? Yes

Had sex today? No

Played strip poker? No

Tripped on mushrooms? No

Donated Blood? Yes...and even had to lie to do it (they refused to accept blood from gay men)

Video taped yourself having sex? No one needs that.

Eaten alligator meat? Frog legs? Of course

Ever jump out of an airplane? No

Have you been to more than 10 countries? I wish.

Ever wanted to have sex with a platonic friend? Not really

leTigre meets Jem and Mr. T.

In honor of Mean Dirty Pirate's
JemCon 2007, here's something I bookmarked months ago.

It's a video for one of my favorite songs, Deceptacon by LeTigre, as "done" by Jem and the Holograms:


just for fun, here's another homemade video of the same song, but as remixed by DFA:

hang up

"that's the girl you hate."
Big Edie (the birthday phone call)



(thank you, pipedreams)

dizuble dizutch

Here's a video of the aforementioned Frankie Smith classic
(made by a drawing class it seems):

a few random things done lately:

1. A Sunday with my friend Rudy at the home a certain local society doyenne. I'd heard of her from the society pages, but never known exactly what she had done. I still don't. Rudy tells me that her claim to fame is that thirty or so years ago she went to 22 (of the right) parties in one night once. And that's how one is launched into society I suppose. Who knows.
It was held in her courtyard in the Marigny, complete with pool. Scattered among the middle aged women were a number of minature dogs and even more miniature gays.
The afternoon devolved into a game of guess the hairpiece, which is pretty fun.
It was touted as a "Latin American writers salon" whatever that means. It consisted of listening to a few writers reading from their work and a lot of awkward small talk. One of the writers, a middle aged woman with the same name as my mother was dressed in a kitten costume (this was the first week of October by the way, and decidedly *not* a "Latin American Literary costume salon") who, feeling the compulsive magnetic attraction all middle aged women with the same name as my mother must feel, decided to corner us and advise us on "getting an agent." Everytime I looked up she was there again, advising us on "getting an agent." Because of the kitten ears, I was skeptical of her skill, but her story, part of which she read was actually pretty good. There was also a poet, looking a bit like Janice from "The Muppet Show," who read a poem in a deep baritone about her sex life with the extended tedious metaphor of Columbus "ravaging" the New World. That's when Rudy thankfully gave me "the look," and we could finally leave the bad margaritas and stilted small talk.

2.Went with Rudy again to the Hi Ho Lounge on St. Claude...to see two very short plays by his friend. Both were all right....nothing spectacular. One was about vultures eating shit. I'm not kidding. I think it was a comedy, but I'm not sure. The bar was pretty nice, however.

3.My first ever trip to an auction house. We walked up the stairs and right into a scene from a movie, paddles, auctioneers and all. Dennis' (with whom I went) friends (a young married doctor couple) had bought two really lovely charcoal drawings of nudes, framed, for $150 each. I was jealous. They missed out on a Chagall print (signed) also framed for $230. Not bad.

4.Went with a friend to a bar deep in uptown the last night. The bar is a straight bar except for a few hours on Friday, then like Brigadoon it changes back into an upscale fratboy bar. Michael, I think, had told me of this bar years ago, but I hadn't believed him. I thought it was just an urban legend. But it seems that it is true. It was actually pretty nice there. The music was different from your typical re-remixed divas. There was a bit of Marvin Gaye, the Frankie Smith classic "The Double Dutch Bus" (!), and some fairly innocuous other tunes, nothing earth shattering, just different. The crowd seemed made up of a mix of wealthy gay couples (one of whom I talked at length to, with his partner, celebrating their 17th year together that night) and a number of cute college boys. He's an artist being supported by his boyfriend, the engineer it seems. He went on and on and on about Hilary Clinton and thank God I'd had five rum and cokes by then or I think I might have gone insane. More thankfully still, Brigadoon turns back straight at 9, so there was an excuse to leave and eat.

are you a pimp who likes wild bikini briefs and smoking pot?

Well then JC Penney's is the place for you.

Here's a selection from their 1975 catalog:








Thanks to Michael for "turning me on" to this site

absolutely gratuitous

Ok, so I catch a whiff of desperation on his part, but who am I to look a gift horse in its ass?

Here's Tom Ford and his sexy self gracing OUT magazine (is that new perfume selling I wonder?)
Again, who cares?

Yoko in the morning

I'm driving around in my new Mazda Miata rental...missing my battleship of a car, but enjoying the cd player.

I drove to work with Yoko Ono this morning. I found two clips of "Walking on Thin Ice," which is a great song.
I don't know which one I like better...the remix or the original, but I'm leaning towards the original at the moment.

idle wondering...

Today, perusing our local Craigslist's Missed Connections, I stumbled upon this post.
It hit a chord because I know I could have written just the same thing when I was 25 myself, right down to the histrionics.
(Ok, ok, who am I kidding, I could have written it myself yesterday, with even more histrionics...well, almost):

opportunity - m4m - 25
Reply to: pers-442254448@craigslist.org
Date: 2007-10-07, 1:10AM
I must be ugly.

This is the thought that immediately runs through my head at 12:43am on a Saturday night (or is it Sunday morning?) as I sit on my couch with my laptop and a soundtrack consisting of...well...what most would call a lesson in depression.
So, I must be ugly.
Or is New Orleans ugly?
I think it has the potential to be. I've lived here for two years and, despite all my best efforts, I come up empty handed every time. That's not to say I haven't dated people here; sure, I've done that. It's simply that the results have been less than appealing.

I learned in college that there are three types of guys: 1) the guy who expects a blow job on the first date and gets it (this will not be a long-term arrangement); the guy who expects a blow job on the first date and doesn't get it (this one probably won't work either); and 3) the guy who doesn't expect a blow job on the first date, but would still really really like one. He's also the guy who wouldn't push the issue unless it's been made clear that the other party involved thought that this particular number 3 was actually a number 1 (this has the most potential for a long-term arrangement).

As the third type of guy, I feel like a fish out of water in this here city.

So, more likely than not I'm an ugly prude who should give up this game and, in finding a life of fulfillment practicing the art of solitude, enjoy my job ringing the bells at St. Louis.

Some might say there is a lesson of fortitude in all of this. I, however, am not one of those people. The wall of my constitution is crumbling steadily and, looking up to meet the gaze of a handsome stranger, I lack the confidence to begin a conversation. I look away and find myself the king of missed opportunities.

Tonight, I see some smart ass has written him a reply (why not send it to him directly I don't know):

re: opportunity - m4m - 25 - m4m - 35

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Reply to: pers-442876415@craigslist.org
Date: 2007-10-07, 8:44PM CDT

Well if you stopped behaving like a straight girl you might be happier. Why the hell are gay men adopting 'values' that were only meant to suppress women? WTF? Blow job on 'the first date'? Are you for real? Why would you go out with someone you didn't want to sleep with? Suit yourself, though ...

Now I think 35 year old here has a point in there somewhere...but then again, I don't know.

I was all set to write a response to them both, but instead I had some ice cream.

The thing is, this 35 y.o. seems to assume that all gay men (or all straight women for that matter) are the same. I don't think they are.

I've always envied those straight men, those gay men...and yes, those straight women (and I do know a few) who can enjoy casual sex.

Way back when, I tried it, very briefly. Didn't work for me...not at all.
I wish it had. So this boy and I and (surprisingly a number of straight men too I've met) trudge out here alone it seems.

But the 35 year old makes me think again...are this boy and I holding on to a demented heterosexual stereotype that is "designed to suppress women"? I've actually heard this argument before....
or is it that some people, gay, straight, male, female, whatever, are just not built for casual sex?
I don't know.

snippet overheard

Tonight I went to a housewarming party at my friend Geronimo's out in the Marigny. His roommate is moving back to L.A., so it was also a going away party (all too many of those nowadays)

It was all pretty low key.

Nursing a rum and coke, loitering over the vegetable platter, I overhear:

"Yeah, I always carry an icepick in my purse. Wanna see it?
Ever since I was shot,"

The 60 something pre-op trans-sexual lesbian/former Navy man tells the cute young lesbian couple on the couch.

"My son says I ought to move. He's stationed up in Virgina. He's a big Saints fan."

"raise your aim..."

I don't usually disagree with the gals at Go Fug Yourself, but I don't know if I completely agree with their fugging of Adrien Brody.

I mean, sure, he does look a bit Elvis-y here...but I like it.

When I saw this pic from the premiere of the Darjeeling Express, I thought, "Wow, he looks hot!" and I'm not even that much of a regular passenger on the Adrien Brody Express, if you know what I mean.

Anyway, it took me a while to figure out why I liked this outfit so much, and then I realized it.

It's 1982, and all I want is to have Martin Fry's gold lame suit:



I'd be wearing it now if I thought I could carry it off.

(this video, by the way, is one of the keys to my adolescent soul)

further funeral home news

In more funeral home news, I just read that the old Bultman Funeral Home will be converted to a Borders bookstore.

It's been empty since Katrina. I remember going to a few funerals there. It was beautiful, like a rambling plantation, a bit frayed at the edges.

What I hadn't realized was that had hosted services for both Jefferson Davis and Jayne Mansfield in its 120 years.

Now, instead of stale coffee from those ancient coffee urns, I suppose there will be overpriced frappuccinos from surly grad students.

Doesn't matter, I just want to be able to read a copy of US magazine on the spot that Jayne Mansfield's corpse once lay.

fun with transcription

Here's a fun video I found by way of Lady Bunny. It's a Bollywood music video, to which someone put his own English subtitles.
Hilarious.

"Sassified"

Last night's "party" was thankfully dull. I drove out to the westernmost suburbs of the city. We had dinner in a nearly deserted, garishly lit former Pizza Hut-cum- Mediterranean restaurant.

Lisa's ex husband sat at the head of the table and performed like the diva he is.
Lots of gesticulating hands.
There was an inordinate amount of talk about hysterectomies and melon ballers at the dinner table...not the type of thing one wants to hear while eating grape leaves.
Despite that, it was nice enough.

Then we were coerced into going to the casino.

I don't know if you've ever been to a suburban casino bar on a Saturday night, but you truly owe it to yourself.

It was like walking into a low budget David Lynch movie.
Seriously.

I'm talking 70 year old women in pink plastic barrettes doing the "Boot Scootin' Boogie,"
The morbidly obese pantomiming Clarence Carter's classic "Strokin',"
Midgets doing the "Electric Slide,"
And one tall skinny 60 something who did nothing but twirl in the center of the dance floor...for a good hour straight...sometimes without music.

The birthday girl had 10 long island iced teas, and her gay ex-husband won a thousand dollars.
I, however, had the unhappy job of entertaining her current boyfriend, the librarian, as he bombarded me with round after round of random trivia.

Fun times.

Anyway, here's dear old Clarence himself. If you can imagine this video recast by David Lynch, you might be half way there.

in praise of dull parties

Tomorrow is my friend Lisa's birthday.
On my machine she gives me the line up.
It'll be very simple, a meal at a Greek restaurant and maybe some party games.

Her guest list includes the following:
1. her live-in boyfriend,
2. her flamboyantly gay ex husband,
3. her non-live in boyfriend (impotent and of possible Nazi ancestry),
4. her ex-boyfriend who is straight.
5. her ex-boyfriend's girlfriend,
6. her ex-boyfriend from high school who is a priest (and possible pedophile, but amazingly a completely different one from the one mentioned below.
I know, huh?)
7. a former coworker who may...even more amazingly... be the most bizarre of them all (but that's a story for another time, like after a few drinks)
8. me

The last time she entertained was...ummm...interesting.
I'm hoping for a dull party.

going old school

Alice Ghostley's recent sad passing
made me remember "To Kill a Mockingbird," one of my favorite films....
not to mention the five, count 'em five, in-a-row synopses of the movie...uhhhh... I mean "book" (it's part of our summer reading list) I had to listen to today.

Anyway, on to the point here. Somewhere along the line I got to thinking that if I could invent a man, I think I might just have to invent Gregory Peck.
From that voice to those eyes....to the (albeit fictional) character, and, I don't know about you, but it's all enough to make me swoon.

update

As per request of sillymonkey, here's an update. I've just gotten my car back from the shop...for a while. It's now working, and they they did a great job repairing it...or so it seems. It looks almost like it did before.
It's supposed to go in again to have the bumper replaced, but that has to wait for a while.

The guy who hit us was caught. He was in jail (the last I heard).

He had borrowed the car (or stolen) not sure, from a friend. It's the friend's insurance with whom I have to deal. We may have to go to court, because he might not have had enough insurance to pay for all three of our cars' damages.
It's been a real hassle.

On the upside, I enjoyed using the cd player in the rental car....got to listen to music for the first time in two years!
I drove to work today listening to a disco compilation of music played at the Loft and Paradise Garage that Michael had made for NYC...and back home listening to St. Etienne...very soothing in the rain.