Jul 31, 2008

America's Next Bondage Star

I watch too much HGTV. It's not good, but it's calming. A few days ago MrPeenee asked me in a comment about HGTV's "Next Design Star." Of course I've been watching it, I have no shame. He mentioned that the finale was taking place in what the show termed the "9th Ward" but which didn't look like it to him. Unfortunately, I missed that show. I don't watch faithfully. I tend to put it on as a tranquilizer, background noise. Besides, I'm sure it will rerun. This is HGTV after all.
I'll see it then.

Anyway, onto the gay porn. One of the contestants, I see, who was booted out not long ago, "Mikey V."seems to have something of a past in gay porn. Do NOT click here. There's gay sex here. I repeat, do not click here.)

(I'll wait for you all to get back)

Ok, everyone back?
Actually, he seemed rather sweet on the show, and sadly, he's lost his police job now because of the scandal. I don't see what the big problem is frankly. What's a little bondage? It shows that he's good with both discipline and accessories, traits any good decorator/policeman needs. Though I have to admit he's better on camera for the porn than he was on the show...more emotion.

Anyway, the porn clip can never compete in hotness to this (totally safe for work) clip of the other Michael at his elimination:

"I want my mommy" indeed.

Jul 30, 2008


This afternoon, on the way home, I notice the car in front of me, a cream colored Cadillac. The license reads:


Of course, I imagine the driver:

Not quite, but almost.

Jul 29, 2008

Birthday boy

Today, I read, is Tim Gunn's birthday. His 55th, it seems.
(And he's a leo like me!)

(Off topic: You know the sad highlight of my own birthday was that Jennifer Lopez (with whom I grudgingly share the day) was listed as "40" on at least one of the official birthday lists I saw. I'm sure someone was fired for that, and by "that," I mean being accurate.)

But I digress. This is about Tim, not that bitch.

Anyway, a while back, Frontier Psychiatrist mentioned that he didn't much like Tim Gunn (I paraphrase).
I can empathize. I mean, I haven't always taken to him either. In the early days he irritated me. When I first saw him, he struck me as a caricature of the prissy gay man we all know, but as I've read interviews and seen him more and more, I've warmed to him and now like him quite a bit.

Much as Michael explained so eloquently, "I think it's just because he's so damn FUSSY. Makes me wanna squeeze him."

Apparently, we're not alone. So does Heidi. Here's a cute clip I've shamelessly stolen from Carlos

(Oh, and if you visit Vincent's site you can hear his clip of Tim saying "Holla at your boy!" priceless.)


Pretty much every last thing in this article irritates me.
(Starting with that cover.)

Here it is in a nutshell:

"It's funny, I keep hearing Ashton Kutcher say how he was responsible for trucker caps,” says Timberlake, 27 ... (we) 'were wearing them when we were seventeen.'"

Jul 26, 2008

Rodeo Drive

Driving southward on the expressway I noticed a bill board, similar to this, but with the addition of woman's face smiling from it:

It took me a few minutes before I realized it was not advertising the Annual Grand Isle Tampon Rodeo.

In my defense, I remember wrestling those things out of the nets many times when I'd go crabbing.
They do put up a good fight.

Jul 21, 2008


From what I've read, all the gays, it seems, are atwitter about Keith and his nipples on the new season of Project Runway.

But not me.
As is traditional for me, I'm rooting for an underdog, but not necessarily for his talent(though he does seem like he might have some with his plastic cup dress).
No, I think I've developed a little crush on Daniel:

Of course, I've only seen him in the first episode, but I think he's adorable.

The rest of you can have Nipsy McNipples to yourselves.

Today, actually, on Towleroad I read that he might be involved in a burgeoning romance on the show. I'm not sure how I feel about that.

Before the series began, the guys at Project Rungay related Tim Gunn's comments about each contestant
Here's what he said about Daniel:

“He’s intense — not the workroom jokester … I called him ‘the sweater.’ As in perspiration."

Which only made me love him (and Tim for that matter) all the more.

Jul 20, 2008


So today, having nothing better to do, I took my lonesome on a date.
I saw the French romantic comedy "Priceless" (Hors de Prix). It was a bit of fluff, sort of like "Breakfast at Tiffany's" set in the South of France in 2006.
It was cute.

While waiting I had an iced coffee at Starbucks. The guy behind the counter took my order, asked my name and slowly, carefully wrote it on my plastic cup.
He handed me my change, but it fell short and rained onto the floor.
He apologized profusely. I picked it up and gave him a large tip.
Like the movie, he was cute.

I took my cup and noticed that he'd written "Jeison."
I mean really, who doesn't know how to spell Jason?

He was cute though.

Jul 19, 2008

It's a full moon.

And it's back.
That is all.

The Flight of the Dark Hermaphrodites

I just got back from seeing "The Dark Knight" with my friend Jennifer and a couple million other people. It was great, but really, why are movies nowadays sooooooooooo long?
And now I'm here online trying to figure out the plot at 2 am. I'm not sure I'm still clear, but then plot has never been my stong suit. There was a lot going on.

Don't get me wrong, the movie is great, and Heath Ledger is, well, predictably incredible in it.

Anyway, on the way back, to leaven the gloom...I had a listen to Jenn's "Flight of the Conchord's" cd, a show I've only had the pleasure of seeing twice, not having HBO.

I borrowed it from her to prolong the joy. Here's perhaps my favorite song of theirs, "Ladies of the World":

How can one not love any song referencing "hermaphrodites" and using the word "erudite" all while rollerskating?

Jul 18, 2008

"How can I resist you?"

Mr. Peenee reminds me with his own post, that secretly, I'm not much of a fan of Abba, (please try not to hate me for my heresy).
When I was young, I actually hated them. They grated my last nerve. In the intervening years, however, I've grown to appreciate them more and more. I'm still not quite a fan, more of an amused bystander. I've already read a few reviews of "Mamma Mia", and they've been very bad. Apparently hearing Pierce Brosnan sing "SOS" is akin to a session of waterboarding...or something like that.

Aaaaaaanyway, all that said, I will surely see this movie. I mean:
Meryl Streep! Cute older men! Cute younger man! Mother issues!
Why wouldn't I?

Anyway, in the trailer I keep seeing the young love interest, and I keep trying to remember from where I've seen him. I know I have somewhere.

I see his name is Dominic Cooper. That rings a bell.
It's finally dawned on me, that he was in "The History Boys",which I'd seen a few years ago and really liked. I recommend this movie, though I've heard the play is better. It's chatty and provocative and leaves you with a lot of intriguing questions about homosexuality, friendship, love, and education.

The exact same questions that "Mamma Mia" will leave me with, I'm sure.

Jul 17, 2008

gay people I actually like

One of my favorite gay couples is Simon Doonan and Jonathan Adler. I'd known about Simon for years. I'm not sure how he first came into my consciousness, but now he seems to be everywhere. I've actually read all of his books, I think. He was a former window dresser who made his mark at Barney's. His best book, I think, is Confessions of a Window Dresser, which deals with, well, his life as a window dresser, but more.
He's funny, but never quite bitchy. I like that.

His most recent book, Eccentric Glamour was a bit dull, but with a good heart. "Girls, don't make anyone make you get a wedge haircut if you don't want one," as he says up there, and that is as good advice as any.

His partner, who is near my age, is the adorable Jonathan Adler a "young potter" (as Simon refers to him in his autobiography) turned decorator (or David Hicks revivalist?) turned celebrity judge (Top Design). One of the best sections of Simon's book talks about their meeting, and how shocked he was to find a younger man interested in him. Here's a clip of the two of them together talking about Jonathan's pottery.

Anyway, I'd love to have these two as friends.

Jul 15, 2008

How I Spent My Summer Vacation

The beach, swarming with poisonous jellyfish.

The condo kitchen, nicer than any of ours. It goes unused...except for the blender with which I do battle to get the daiquiris made.

The Mullet Wrapper. Unfortunately, not all mullets in Alabama are wrapped.

In Flora Bama Julie tries valiantly to catch a live lobster, at 2 dollars a try. If you catch it, you get to eat it. A drunken admirer (of her or the lobsters, not sure which) informs us that "lobsters move backwards." Too bad he didn't too.
She didn't succeed, unfortunately. Those lobsters have probably been there for a decade.

Starfish, found alive on the beach. Somehow or another during its slow torturous death, its legs fell off.

Comparing our kitties at Flora-bama. My kitty got wet.

Table at Florabama. Tells you everything you need to know.

The crime scene at the dolphin cruise dock. I wish I could say that the dolphins had been involved a crime spree, holding up liquor stores or something, but it was only an oil spill.

Gay porn playing cards brought by Julie. We never got around to playing them.

We did do a lot of reading and watching of Project Runway. Apparently, according to Cosmo, one can tell all about a man from his manscaping, Pubestrology, I call it. Too much trimming = porn addict, so they say. I say he's a Cosmo reader.

A magical sight. Two big bubbas and two lesbians peacefully share a pool. Unfortunately, the lesbians at the left had stopped holding hands just as I snapped this photo. Perhaps the three sets of cameras flashing at the same time from the balcony distracted them. Shame.

The ferry landing across Mobile bay. Note the oil rigs.

Oysters in Mobile bay. I'm sure they taste like crude.

Non-photographed moments:

It's 4 am on Monday morning. We are dead to the world. Suddenly, the fire alarm goes off, and a robotic voice tells us to evacuate by way of the fire escapes. We obey, stumbling down five flights of stairs to the parking lot and watch the the rest of the guests leisurely take their time, ride the elevator, look down at us from the balcony. People are idiots.

At the outlet mall, we separate. Jason tells of seeing a boy in baseball cap trying on pumps. Julie sees a young man prepped out in seersucker (?) and an eye patch. I see a six foot tall cracker transsexual buying hush puppies.

Somewhere in Mississippi, in the blinding rain, a Mack truck, a huge cross of white light bulbs shining on its grill, barrels towards us. "Christian Truck kills Carload of Fags" is the headline I can see clearly in my mind.

On the way home, somewhere near Biloxi, Carlos spots the billboard for "Vicki Lawrence and Mama: a Two Woman Show!" and gets excited.

Ok, so do I.

(thanks to Marshall {and me} for the photos above)

Big Lots, 2 pm

"I don't give a shit what my kids say.
I'm 63 years old and, yeah, he 49, but they can fuck themself.
I don care.
All I know is ever since I got with him...he a carpenter...things been gettin' done. You saw that new covered car-poht, I got?
Nice, huh?
Shiiit, and when he stop doing it, girl, I'm gone drop his ass."

"Yes indeed. Go 'head on."

Jul 10, 2008

redneck riveria

This weekend, I'll be visiting the lovely Alabama gulf coast. I'll be going with
Interstital Matters, The Marshall Chronicles, Monkeyshines, Always the Hours and Brandon (who doesn't have a blog).

We'd all stayed in Destin a few years in the past, and had planned another trip a few years ago, but the hurricane just before Katrina (who can even remember her name now?) destroyed the condo we were going to rent. So it's been a few years since we've all gone together.

I'm looking forward to it, even if I've heard conflicting reports. I've never been to the Alabama coast, only through it.

My hairdresser, the Vietnamese Victorian Beckham herself, a tough customer when it comes to luxury, tells me that she was "surprised" at how "nice" it was out there.
Not sure what either of those terms meant to her, but I'm giving it the benefit of the doubt.

A friend of a friend, however, recently told me (without knowing I was planning to go) that it was "nice enough" but that "I wouldn't want to meet some of the
crackers I saw out there in a dark alley." (I paraphrase)
Either way, it promises to be fun.

Outlet malls, confederate flags, jellyfish maybe even Flora-Bama. How could it not be?
I'm bringing the rum just in case.

Jul 8, 2008

three scenes from the multiplex on a dull mid afternoon

"Two senior price.
'Sex and the City,' please."

Two white haired seventy somethings gigglingly go in.
They share a medium popcorn.

On the right, with his parents, a sullen looking young man looks distractingly like a young Andrew Shue.

They've just finished shopping for dorm supplies at Linens and Things, it seems.
All three sit together in front of me in "Get Smart."
Only the father ever laughs.

In front of me in the ticket line, a fifty something straight man, with gray hair and high waisted jeans, t-shirt tucked neatly in, braided leather belt and white tennis shoes.

"Ffft....can't wait fuh pay day, man," he laughs nervously.
The ticket seller says nothing.
He pulls out change from his pocket and a stream of nickels hits the pavement.
He scrambles to pick them all up.
(He's paying for the matinee in nickels.)

"One fuh 'Kit Kittredge,'" he says.
"Thanks, man."
The ticket taker says nothing again.

Jul 7, 2008

holy porn

Is it wrong to lust after sexy Jesus?
Anyway, here's Playgirl's Mr. May, 1974

If you're nasty minded like I am, you can see the entire '74 centerfold of Mr. Garrison Wayne at Blackdogue's Vast Compendium of Playgirl Magazines (a site I think I've had bookmarked for nearly a decade).

Somewhere in the 90s the men there start to look plastic.

Jul 6, 2008

pickled boys

Here's a clipping from the November 1957 issue of Good Housekeeping, called "The Date Line: Facts & Fancies for the Girl in School" by Jan Landon.

This creepy little craft project lends itself to all sorts of sociological/psychological questions, doesn't it?
Like I wonder if Martha Steward had one on her teenage vanity? Heck, she might have one now.

I think it's due for a resurgence.
Whom to put up, that's the only question.
Anyway, it certainly looks more fun than those stupid sand bottles paintings we were forced to make in grammar school.

Found by way of kitschy kitschy coo.
Read more there from this issue of GH:
sassy put-downs like "Your mother must have bought you with Green Stamps," or the kinky craze of wearing necklaces made of clothesline, and the clever Midwestern pimping game called "the Fix-Up Files."

something I don't need

Browsing aimlessly on craigslist, after ad after ad of mind numbingly banal furniture, I found this ad and suddenly developed a fit of object lust.
As you can see, it's an old card catalog, and beautifully made too. And reasonably priced.

Of course, I have absolutely no room for such a thing, or purpose.
I'm just hard wired to want it. I can't help it.

I only hope it will fall into deserving hands.

Jul 3, 2008

dinner and a show

Tonight, Dennis and I went to The Country Club. I'd never been before, but heard about it for years.

Happily, or disappointingly, not sure which, it was not quite the Sodom I'd been led to believe it was. Not at all.
I'd heard the stories, and I'm sure they're all true, but it was very nice.
They've put a restaurant up front, and the food is pretty good.
We had dinner with a group of one of Dennis' friend's friends.

During dinner, I was flirted with awkwardly and shamelessly by a strapping young bartender from Hawaii with bad lower teeth and a labret piercing, a pleasant novelty to be flirted with by anyone.

At the head of the table was a very effeminate young man.
He was very excited. Tomorrow will be his first day as an official NOPD officer. He'd just finished the year long training.

"I just love the drama! I love everything, the bullets the guns, the ghetto!" he squealed...too adorable.

I had a nice dinner of duck confit and tasted Dennis' truffled macaroni and cheese, which was really good.

Then everyone went out to the pool and got naked.

Well, except us (Dennis and I) but of course, you knew that already.
Ain't no way you're getting this bluestocking old maid in such a place.

But we did have a looksee. I mean we aren't stupid .

The pool was really beautiful. It was lit from below and glowed softly in the dark. There were a number of very attractive...and a few rather unattractive...naked men lolling about in the dark corners, under the ferns...and one very pretty young woman, whose rosebud breasts all but brushed me in the dark.

All in all, a lovely evening.

Jul 1, 2008

In honor of Canada Day.

This Canada Dry commercial by Ann Margret is super-trippy.
I mean really, it sounds like she's making this shit up off the top of her head, doesn't it?
Love it.

(Completely gratuitious personal information here: I learned more about AM than I ever thought I would by way of the last guy I think I dated. Anyway, he was an actual friend of hers, in fact, a childhood fanatic who had become a friend. He wasn't creepy about it though, well, much.)

(Clip found by way of the ever-wonderful Lady Bunny)

"the beautiful mothers of new orleans..."

I saw this craigslist post a few days ago, and saved it. It fascinated me, as it was both creepy...and beautiful...and, well, ok, kind of hot too.
I'm just saying, if I were a beautiful mother of New Orleans, I'd be all up on this, creepy or not.
There, I said it.
I just enjoyed his writing, that's all.

The Beautiful Mothers of New Orleans - m4w (Uptown)

Reply to: pers-729256164@craigslist.org
Date: 2008-06-23, 2:15AM CDT
Missed Connection:

We see you leaving the specialty grocery store wearing workout shorts. We wonder what the material would feel like between a pinched finger and thumb. You have a 5k t-shirt and an expensive purse. We wish we could see where your careful tan turns pale.

This is how it will work. We will see you poring over the selection of dark chocolate in the second aisle of the store.

"That's good," we'll say.
"Is it?"

We will talk. You'll hold out your taut arms as you gesture, each word another chance to display your personally trained body and layered hair. We listen to your slightly raspy voice, which sounds like wisdom or at least experience. We listen and watch your loose gold watch dangle on your wrist.

"Do you need a ride home?" you'll ask.
"Yes," we'll say, though we live next to the grocery, or behind it, or are proud owners of a 1997 Volvo. The car would stay in the lot.

We help you pile all the groceries in the back of your SUV. Baguettes protrude lewdly from paper bags. The milk is skim and we'll touch your forearm when we nestle it behind the salmon and organic bagels.

"You should have lunch with me," you'll say.
"OK," we will reply.

And then, suddenly, we'll be out of the SUV and in your strange house, our arms filled with bags. We'll look around and see the art preening on your walls, the vases evaporating water, and the little signs that a whole family lives here: a stray video game controller; two dropped corn chips; the benevolent face of your husband staring from the mantle.

"Would you like a drink?" you'll ask.
"It's 12 noon."

You'll pour red wine into expensive glasses, and as it flows we press you against your marble counter, hands on the edge of a cool electric range. Your gym shorts are in between our fingers and they feel like shoelaces and satin. Your hair smells like citrus shampoo and your kisses taste like healthy fruits.

We won't go to the bed because this won't be about simple blasphemies or betrayals. We stay there in the kitchen, and when we look down at you we'll notice that the tile was a custom job. The tile will squeak when you twist your body but we will both stay silent.

When it's over, we'll ask you for a ride back to the grocery. We'll sit in the front seat and notice, for the first time, the child's soccer schedule on the dashboard.

"What position do they play?" we'll ask.

You won't answer, and that will make us happy. You'll drop us off at the grocery, our hands shoved in our pockets, waiting in the heat until our own sweat will wash off yours.

It won't be until you're gone that we'll realize you took our groceries.