Zac and Kate make a Porno

Deleted scenes from "Heathcliff, The Musical."

what you won't do for love

A quiet storm classic.

(a previously unseen...and really cheesy...proto-video for one of my favorite childhood songs)

separated at birth? (holiday edition)

Inspired by by joe, pic stolen from
tjb.

very short review

I went to see Baz Luhrmann's Australia yesterday. It's an "epic" film set on a vast, magical, uncharted landscape Nicole Kidman's forehead full of great natural beauty Hugh Jackman .

howdy!

So, because I'm pathetic and usually get a bit lonely around the holidays, I put out a little solicitation for some platonic female friends.

(I mean, after all, this whole sex-with-men thing doesn't seem to be working out very well, does it? )

Anyway, I got one response, from what I'm sure is a lovely lady. There's just one thing that gives me pause. Ok, well, maybe five.

Email address:

TexanCougar4u@_______

Pretty much every part of that address scares me (and let's just say that the domain name is not helping her cause any either, if you know what I mean).

Of course, sicko that I am, I'm half hoping she's something like her.


But I'm just not that lucky.

thanks

So, I've been tagged by the lovely and talented Miss Janey to participate in her Thanksgiving Meme. She and others have posted such wonderful posts about their husbands and friends and devoted pets...such heartwarming testimonies to the power of love.

Yeah, well.

I'm having none of that crap.

No, this is all about the material objects, baby.
That's what I'm thankful for.
Here are three:

1. My car



My new, much more efficent, much cheaper, much less domestic, much smaller Nissan Versa, thanks to my near fatal accident on Good Friday this year.


2.Pot (oh, yeah, and this one too)



This is arguably my favorite object in the world. It's a pot that my mother gave to me when I moved out, a wedding gift from her own mother. It's the pot I learned to first boil water in back when I was just a lad. Look at that color! I love it so, and it's heavy enough to nail a nail in the wall, if need be.


3.My apartment



After what appears to be a month long stay at "the home" and possibly a lobotomy my neighor has finally stopped howling...for now (fingers crossed, crucifix lifted).

"a great activity to do with the kids!"

In doing my homework for Miss Janey's Thanksgiving Meme, I found this photo and got completely distracted:

I got it from a bizarre Canadian Renuzit Craft site. It reads:

If you have a knack for crafts, then have we got some fun and creative ideas for you! All projects feature Renuzit® LongLast® Adjustable air fresheners and a variety of inexpensive, readily-available craft supplies. Create fanciful projects for school parties and holiday and seasonal decor - a great activity to do with the kids!

What kind of fucked-up idea is this? I mean really.
Is this some sort of Canadian idea of "fun"?
Sick.

Crush Air

Every now and then, I find myself acting dangerously white. One of the hazards of being white is listening to NPR. Of course, I've developed some aural crushes while there:

Ira Glass and his girly voice make me all tingly.





(Seriously, could he be any cuter?)

Ari Shapiro is almost too hot for radio. Plus he has a husband, so I'd best step off.




And dear, dear Terry. Oh, how I wish I could have a gay marriage with her sometimes, just to hear her talk in bed.

thanks for the fabulosity

I have my best mantilla on. We're all mourning the loss our dearly beloved Fabulon. Thank you, Thom.

meh

Granted, I'm not really the audience (or am I?), but I just don't get the fuss about
him (it). Do you?

Things I kind of want

Two reasons:

1. Price: £4.54

2. A Kid's Review:
This book is very interesting as I am a fan of Nancy Drew but I also love cooking so this book was perfect for me!
The recipes are very easy to follow and simple with images and tips.
This is my favourite cookery book!!!

The mere words "favourite cookery book" are enough right there to sell me on it.



Classy but weird. Gray silk shade and gold leafed bronze goose legs.



Vintage S and P shakers. Guess which end the pepper comes out. Too cute.



Jonathan Adler Rhinoceros.
Why wouldn't I need this?

square joy

This past week I've been ignorning my body and overworking myself. Yesterday, I finally succumbed to getting sick.
I decided to take today off, feeling miserable.

One of the few things I've found that gives temporary relief is hot tea, so I've brewed a big pot of it.

The other night I went absolutely wild and bought some sugar cubes at the grocery.
(I'm slowly turning into a dowager. I can't wait for my monocle to arrive from Lenscrafters.)

Anyway, an older lady with whom I'm acquainted had offered me sugar cubes in a porcelain sugar bowl (with tongs!) a few months ago, and the cuteness of it completely infected me. I've been wanting some ever since (the tongs just might be next, someone stop me!)

Of course, being a philistine, I'm eating the things like candy, straight out of the box. It's obnoxious.

But given enough boredom, I may get around to building one of these:



Yes, it's the Mormon Temple in sugar cubes (Shouldn't it be salt?)

Of course, I might just have to have a bit of fun with a dousing of rum and a match with mine, but it does look pretty, doesn't it?

Four things seen from my car today:

Four young men, in full gansta gear: braids, grills, caps, white tees, riding alongside a busy city street on horseback. One waved as he and his Palomino passed in front of me and flashed me a proud smile with his platinum teeth, like the 16 year old boy he still is.

Two small cartons of milk symmetrically placed beside a jelly donut, a red Bic lighter carefully placed in the center of the donut, like a birthday candle.
One of several such impromptu shrines placed at various intersections by one of our ubiquitous crazy men (Early sixties black man, always in orange)

Ubiquitous crazy man number two: mid-fifties white guy, with 6 foot 4 long gray dreadlocks, walks everywhere with trash bags, swaddled in sweaters, even in July, standing in the portico of Winn Dixie eating a peach.

Pack of 12 large nutria being chased by an angry chicken, in the middle of an upper middle class suburban neighborhood.

8:15 this morning

Me: "...but that's a rhetorical question, right?"

Student, indignantly, to the girl next to her:
"He callin' me retarded?!"

Her classmate:
"No, girl.
But he oughta."

Me:
"So, anyway..."

Classy

(Or: bidets from Hell.)*



* redundant?

the non-set up

A few weeks ago, I got this message in my long dormant match.com mailbox.
Attached was the profile of a young Texan gal pretty enough to be one of those pornbots or Russian mail order brides who seem so hot for me.

So I was suspicious. Some kind of pyramid scheme? Online phishing? Online fisting?
I don't know. It had to be something sinister, right?
------------------

Hi,

I am writing because I know someone who would make a great match
with you. ______ is a delightful professional man who lives in New Orleans,
and shares similar interests as you. __________ is funny, smart and
outgoing. If you would like to get in touch with him let me know.
My name is
_________ by the way.

Good luck in your search!

P.S .If you are
interested, let me know your email and I could forward _________'s
info/pictures, which is otherwise not possible through Match.com.

----------------------------
Anyway, I did a bit of research, and she actually seemed to be on the up and up.
Match.com has some sort of promotion going in which you can match up your friends, or some sort of nonsense.

Anyway, having no shame
nothing to lose, I wrote back, telling her how pretty she was and how flattered I was, and what a good friend she must be (hey, all sincere...but, it never hurts to grease the wheel.) And I sent her my info.

I never heard back (from her, from him...nada).

The other day I mentioned the story to some friends, hoping I could convince myself that she'd gotten the wrong impression from my flattery, and that's what had scared her off. They didn't buy it, and neither did I. Even I'm not that naive. I'm sure her friend took a pass once she'd bothered him with my profile.
Whatever.

Still, I think it was kind of nice of her (to me at least). After all, my prime experience with being fixed up by a female friend is the notorious case of the pedophile priest).

move your boogie body

Oh, how I remember Judi Sheppard Missett, I remember being terrified of her.
With good reason.

As the genius Michael K. at d-listed reminds us, she's like "Carol Burnett on the bad shit."

conversating

Last night, listening to Jodie Watley over long island ice teas at
The 700 Club:

Me:
"So how is __________ (mutual female friend, recent divorcee)? "

Friend (rolling his eyes):
"Puh lease. She's in my bed right now, sleeping off whatever she did last night.

Me:
"How come?"

Friend:
"She and ___________ (other female friend, quadriplegic) went out last night."

Me:
"Really?!"

Friend (more sighing in disgust):
"Yes, indeed. I don't know. They hooked up with some guys up in the quarters.
___________(divorcee) got with some construction worker, said he had a trust fund.

__________got with his friend,said he didn't have a trust fund.
Sometime around one __________(divorcee) said she just had to get up out of there.

Trust fund's dick was too small, and ____________(quadriplegic) was moaning too loud down stairs for her to sleep."

Me:
"Damn."

Friend:
"Yeah, I know. So what you wanna do now?"

Me (shaking my head):
"Um. Let's go home.
I need to just go to bed."

Friend:
"Yeah, I feel yah."

I'm licking the stamp now....

Not quite what you might expect, but
still cute.

From the wonderful kitschy kitschy coo

Red state blues

My state voted overwhelmingly for McCain/Palin.
No surprise there.
I still see W bumper stickers on pickup trucks.

Last night, we re-elected Dollar Bill Jefferson as Representative, despite that pesky 90,000 dollars of FBI money in his freezer.
Our fine Republican senator is world famous john, David Vitter, a strident opponent of gay marriage, upholder of family values and devotee of diaper play with tax-payer funded hookers.
I won't even mention our joke of a mayor, or our gay hating young Republican governor (already being touted as a presidential candidate in 2012.)

I can't help but wonder what it must be like to live in a state like California in which, despite the passing of prop 8, there is actually the possibility of gay marriage.

Here we've just begun the controversial segue from a state that considers cockfighting to be a "local custom" to something maybe "illegal."

Cockfighting is about as close to gay marriage as we're likely to get here, I'm afraid.

But, despite my embarrassment for my state (again), I'm absolutely (naively?) ecstatic for what happened last night!

(My only fear is that Oprah's ego will now implode, and that we will be sucked into her irresistible vortex of Oprahdom.

But, even so, it's still worth the risk.)

job hazards

So, one of my coworkers had a heart attack today in the class room.
Dropped to the floor. Luckily, it was at work and not in the car on the way over.
She went into surgery and is doing fine.
(Freakishly coincidental article I heard about this weekend here)

In the eight years that I've been here, there've been at least five heart attacks happening at the work place...that I know of.

In those eight years, I've had two coworkers actually die in classroom.
Mondays can be hard.

Today was supposed to be a 14 hour work day, but I'm playing hookie for the last three hours. Screw them.
Oh, and I have to work tomorrow too. Let's just hope I'm not next.

open houses

Today, Marshall, Carlos and I took a little tour of a few of the houses of Bourbon St. All were lovely, but two were unfortunately suburbanly decorated. There's a plague of retirees living in the quarter, I'm afraid. It's less Boho and more Boca every day. Still, a chance to peek in wealthy elderly people's bathrooms is always fun.

Typical, stereotypical, courtyard shot. Note the chair preventing access to the upstairs.



Lovely little vignette (done by a gay, I'm sure.)


Painting of a Mardi Gras Indian.



A pool...on Bourbon St.! (And not of vomit.)


Huge freaky looking papier mache birds hanging in the courtyard of one of the more suburbanly decorated houses.

A pretty little 19th century marble statue in the courtyard. The sun was very bright.

Hideous, vaguely racist candle stick. It's made of plastic, set on green marble.

A crown, of course.