compare and contrast (or not)

seen today at lunch

A 60 something year old man,
Blublockers jauntily pushed back on his shaved, tanned head,
dressed in the following:

Khaki cargo shorts,
White Nikes
Sport socks,
A denim shirt, sleeves rolled up,
the better to show off

A collection of 5 or so Kenneth Jay Lane bangles.

Three items I didn't know existed

Until tonight's trip to T.J Maxx


Breast cancer awareness cutlery.
(Irony anyone?)




Bacon chocolate bar.
(which at first thought seems wonderful, and at second....well...doesn't. )

Ed Hardy candles
(For those who want their homes to smell like Axe Body Spray and Rohypnol)

Casanova Brown

Cross reference under:
"same titled songs which are not the same", and "things that could only possibly ever interest me".

Compare and contrast:



"supercool dude, 'cross the room, diggin on me..."



"Than Howud HUGHES had MUHnay...."

twilight is it

I'm tired of hearing about both.

more sexy (sans peen)

A.

B.

C.


D.


E.

F.

G.

H.

I.

J.

mostly by way of the wonderful sissydude and scab

(in need of) an education

I just returned from taking myself to see "An Education". I was the sole person in the theater.
Kind of sad actually, since it really is a lovely movie. I thoroughly enjoyed it.
See it if you can.

I do intend to use the line:
"You want them to think you're un jeune homme sérieux, not a Teddy Boy, do you?" somehow in daily conversation.
I just have to think of an occasion. Maybe I'll tell it to my mother.

Oh, and go to the dog races.




Anyway, why couldn't Peter Sarsgaard (sporting a British accent no less) rescue me from the drudgery of conjugating Latin verbs when I was 16 and whisk me off to 1961 Paris?

That's what I want to know.

Or even now? I'm mean, I'm still here...and so is Paris, right?

Hell, I'll even drive.

gobble gobble

It's never too early to get started on the holiday decorations. As you can see, I've been working hard on my tampon turkey here. Isn't he lovely?

It's both cute....and handy especially when those nasty cranberry sauce spills occur.


More clever tampon crafts here

Poboys

Today Marshall, Carlos, Julie, Brandon, Dennis and I (plus Debbie and Bart) all met up at the annual PoBoy festival. They've finally finished re doing Oak St., and it looks great.

It's always nice to see huge vats of boiling grease for frying shrimp on the sidewalks.
There were lots of people. Among others, I ran into my former landlord with his much much younger, very handsome bought-and-paid-for boyfriend, whose nipples were leading the way.
It was a bit chilly out. I was too dazzled by those nipples to get a picture. Sorry.




Oak is rapidly gentrifying, but it's still pretty old school, thankfully.

Ubiquitous Saints paraphernalia. The worst crowds were gathered around the big screen tvs on the corners showing the game.

House on the way to the car

Crowds of people. Doesn't it look like a small country town?

Another house.

Garçon avec des canapés a la poboy? Or something like that.

Even the sushi place had a special Japanese style poboy menu. They looked good actually.

Zotz
Bananas in November
Carlos's finger pointing out the cute boy(s) he wanted me to photograph.

Chargrilled oysters, behind a police barricade...for the oysters' own safety I'm sure.

Popcorn carriage
Carlos's big sausage.

The photo I'd taken of my own meal, a delicous poboy from Emerils, of fried green tomatoes, shrimp remoulade and bacon, unfortunately disappeared. I don't know what happened. I dropped the camera somewhere in the art market and, poof, there it went.

Even sadder is when I went to get a fried bread pudding poboy which Dennis said was great, they had run out. Bummer.

I had to settle for gelato.

A front lawn/art installation on the way back to the car.

don't say that's just for white boys

Way of the West
So good!

Home from the Wind

I couldn't round up anyone else, so I went to see a showing of "Gone With the Wind" today by myself. I'd never seen it on the big screen, and it was well worth it.
I stupidly love the movie, no matter how politically incorrect it may be or how creaky it may seem. It's one of my favorite of all time. I sat there in my seat saying all the lines along with the characters. I wasn't alone.

Maybe they should start staging a Rocky Horror style production. I just need to sew myself up a green picnic at Twelve Oaks dress. I'd better start putting buttermilk on my shoulders right now though.
(Ok, ok so maybe more likely, I should just get myself a red head kerchief.)
Anyway, one could throw radishes at the screen. Think of how much fun that would be.

Today it was miserable, rainy and cold, the perfect day for a long movie.
I was nestled between two uptown matrons who chatted throughout the film about the good old days of slavery "gentility" and a Brazilian couple who translated parts to their young daughter in Portuguese. I myself was well medicated. I didn't want to risk a coughing fit in the middle of Melanie's death or something, but that only made me more drowsy. I've noticed with the classic movies I've seen on the big screen just how beautifully composed they are...each scene is like a beautiful photograh...and also how much funnier they are than when watched alone. You notice humor better with an audience, I guess.

Two large diet cokes and five bathroom breaks later, I'm home, trying to think of something to do with the rest of my Saturday night. Another movie is out of the question, since it would suffer by comparison, and because my movie sitting patience quota for this month is already expended.

I think I'll just spend the rest of the night perfecting my "fiddle dee dee's" and "great balls of fire!" I'm almost there.

employee of the month

So. yet again, my scintillating Friday night was spent in a Big Lots.


Anyway, not once, but twice, I got this question:

"Excuse me, sir, do you work here?"

"Oh, no," I smiled...thinking all the while,
"Excuse me bitch, do I look that white trash?"

(don't answer that)

O

As you've no doubt heard, today came the announcement that Oprah's 25 years of screaming celebrities' names (as gawker cleverly puts it) comes to an end.

In a year.
Great.

So that means a whole year of Oprah this and Oprah that. Non- stop Oprah media saturation. I've managed to safely put her away in the far reaches of my mind for the past 15 or so years. Now, however, (media genius that she is) she'll bully her way front and center again. I don't know if I can take it.

I don't know how you feel, but I can't stand her...haven't been able to for at least a decade or more. Of course, I have to admit you can't really hate someone without having loved them first. But that's long in the past.

Anyway, now that she's leaving a huge vacuum, I'm hoping for a triumphant return of "The Newlywed Game", "Press Your Luck" and even maybe "Match Game" that she dethroned so long ago! How great would that be?

come on feel the twee!

Last night I got four hours of bad sleep total. I was up late with Michael and his friend Laura, listening to the (suprisingly loud for a twee Scottish band) but completely wonderful Camera Obscura at Tipitina's.

They were great, but then I knew they would be.
And there was a good crowd for a Wednesday night, but I fear I'm getting way too old for such things. Ok, so I've always been too old for such things. Now time is just catching up, you know?

I'd practically lost my voice the day before, a very sexy cold sore was on its way...and the late night meal of a two inch thick hamburger from the Port of Call and a baked potato that must have had a half a stick of butter on it pushed me over the edge.

Oh, but it was so good.
I came out dazed and confused, mute...and a now nearly deaf, one and a half steps away from Helen Keller-hood.



All things considered, I held up pretty well today at work...I didn't die or anything. Now however it's time to pay the piper. I'm even skipping the finale of Project Runway, practically the only tv I watch. It's been kind of boring anyway, and I can read about it tomorrow, right? Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going put myself into a Robitussin coma, and try to sleep away the cold sore.

o tannenbaum, etc.

This is my little christmas tree...well, not so little. It's almost 7 feet tall, but I put it on a table, to make it taller. It looks kind of like a big pipe cleaner, but I like it.

I bought it a few weeks ago when Target first put it out, because it was on sale. I I liked that it was so slender...and what they call "champagne" colored...kind of a slightly tarnished silver. There's no good reason for me to have wasted money on it, since no one will probably ever see it...no one ever visits really...but it cheers the place up for me at least.

My place is so small that I needed something thin. I've moved it everywhere I could think of in the place, but it didn't look quite right anywhere, so it's ended up in the corner....in a time out.

I've decorated it with just my old silver ornaments and a few white ones. I'd thought of buying new green and blue ones, but decided not to. Partially because I have no money left, and partially because it would probably be too busy. I have put all the blown glass icicles that I've stolen from my mother, however. We used to use them on the tree when I was a kid. They look like fancy swizzle sticks.

Once I brave her attic again, who knows what kind of stuff I may recover up there.

moove eet een like diss

Charo!

Jason's Book Club selections for the fall

Too much work

Too much wood.
Too difficult.

Too subtle

Just right.

Let's go surfing

The Drums

dead fly art

Now I know what to do with the dead roaches around here.

from here