thought for the day...

Christmas time in New Orleans

I notice he doesn't mention the need to drag out the short pants again.
 I guess he couldn't figure out a rhyme for that.

and now a word from our sponsors...

Last minute christmas shopping ideas....

thought for the day...

Miss Clairol

Just this morning I was waylaid by the clickbait headline I stumbled across:
"The First Black Trans Model Had Her Face on a Box of Clairol"

I dare you not to read.
Well, I know I couldn't help it.  It turned out to be the fascinating
story of one "Tracey Norman"...
 (by Jada Yuen and Aaron Wong)...and it made me late for work.
It was still worth it.

 Here's the first paragraph:

"Tracey “Africa” Norman always knew that the question wasn’t if she’d be found out, but how long she could go undetected.
To be black and from Newark in the mid-1970s and get plucked from a model casting call for Italian Vogue by Irving Penn — it was the kind of success story that was unheard of, especially for someone like her. She was signed by a top agency, photographed multiple times for the pages of Essence magazine. She landed an exclusive contract for Avon skin care, and another for Clairol’s Born Beautiful hair color boxes: No. 512, Dark Auburn, please. She went to Paris and became a house model in the Balenciaga showroom, wearing couture and walking the runway twice a day. Norman was never as big as Iman, Beverly Johnson, Pat Cleveland, or the other models of color breaking barriers on international runways or on the cover of Vogue. But she was riding that wave. It was more than she could have ever hoped for when she was a kid in New Jersey. Back when she was a boy who knew that, inside, he was a girl."

and now a word from our sponsors...

via

thought for the day...

Dear Santa....

Here's a preliminary list of some things that might be nice to receive.
Thank you.

a ring (I don't mean on the phone)

Some sexy shades

 A nicer tv

some new oven mitts

A new phone

a subtle reminder

and now a word from our sponsors...

Corn holding

Looking though my pictures the other day, I realized that I'd (inexplicably) been taking photos of corn on the cob holders.  

My life is pretty exciting, I know.  

Try not to be too jealous, ok?   

Anyway, it struck me that they're probably a good guide to personality.

Somehow.  

Which would you choose?  

 (I don't even own any.  I'd rather burn my fingers than waste that extra minute and a half trying to puncture the cob.  Read into that what you will.)

the classic (the sort we used to have when I was growing up)

The adventurous roleplayer

The overpriced European

 

The quintessentially American

    

thanks

Oh, hi.
It's just me.  It's been a while, sorry.
 Been working too much, caretaking for two count 'em two parents (ahem)
and, oh, nursing a vicious case of the post-breakup blues.
It's been exhausting.
I haven't had the energy to even post a single stupid picture. 

Meanwhile, thank you all out there...oh, and happy thanksgiving.

I Thank the Virgin...

One of my favorite sites is the wonderful I Thank the Virgin, which is a repository of sorts for retablos from various shrines around Latin America.

Here are a few that I love



St. Jude Thaddeus, thank you for sending me happiness. One day I was walking to Cuernavaca and I wanted some cold beer. I went to a bar, and there I met Ernesto. This young man dragged my attention right away. Also I liked his mole. In short we started talking, and now we’re a couple. I won a lottery with this guy. We are madly in love.

Edgar Alvarado
Temisco, Morelos, 1965

Thank you, Saint Charbel, for sending me the love of my life. Let my friends be critical about me for he’s much younger than me. But it’s not important because love sees no age. I want to open a restaurant for him because he’s a chef, a marvelous chef. Thank you, Saint Charbel.
Antonio Manzanarez
Mexico City, 1960

Dear Saint Augustine. We believe that having a female Pope is a great idea, and we give thanks to God for her. Equality is an important lesson in the Bible and of Jesus, and finally the Church is following that lesson. We only hope that the next Pope will be gay – then we will feel that there is equality.
 
 

Saint Jude Thaddeus, thank you for the happiness you gave me—for The Cheeky. Every day on my way to the bakery, I saw a guy who stared at me. I always looked away and ignored him but one day I noticed that he was following me. Another day he slapped my ass. I felt embarrassed and became very nervous. That’s how I met Sotero and we became a couple.
Isaias Lugo
Guadalajara, Jalisco, 1960

 Saint Jude Thaddeus, I thank you for your support. My masochistic partner had a doubt about his desires. We argued heatedly about it, until the day of the breaking up came. However, four months later he couldn’t stand the separation, and thanks to Saint Jude we returned to each other. He realized what he wanted and accepted who he was. So now, before going to sleep, he asks me to spank him really good.

Mariano Larios
Mexico City, 1960

thought for the day....

Ten years...

I saw this old weather worn sticker the other day on the back of a stop sign. I had to stop. It's from the Book of the Dead.

So, ten years ago today, I was lucky.  I mean, in the space of a few hours, I lost my home,  everything I owned, both sentimental and material, my job, my very place of employment...good friends to other cities, and two relatives to death.

But I'm still lucky.

 I'm grateful for the friends I still do have, that the city is even better in some ways than it was before, but most importantly that my parents are still here.  I just hope ten years later I can say the same.

thought for the day...

Did I mention the heat index projection down here is like 124 degrees today?
(I might have missed a couple of zeros there, however.)

and now a word from our sponsors...

Eight easy steps to losing weight and getting free food

 Brought to you by today's lunch:

1. Order something light, like grilled chicken sandwich
2. Split it with your dining companion.
3. Get distracted from eating by the hot guy across the bar, in the too tight shirt.
4. Remove any cheese or bacon or mayonnaise (from sandwich, not guy)
5. Find a hair on bun, (on sandwich, not guy), a short and red hair
6. Put sandwich down.
7. Stop eating completely as lady in Lexus crashes into dining room because she overshot the parking lot.
8. Get meal free!  (No, I won't be needing a to go box, thanks)

Ain't nothing going on but the rent

Did I ever mention seeing Jessica Lange at the grocery store?  Well, it was a while back, and it was completely uneventful.
I guess that's the point.  It's no big deal any more.
The point is these Hollywood types (and such) are driving up my rent.

Thankfully, my landlord allowed me to renew my lease a while back.
 I begged and crawled, but I'm a very good tenant.

My rent has gone up however, a good bit.
My salary has not.
My last "raise" was a gift card for a free meal at Popeyes stapled to my contract.
But I'm not complaining. That's more than I've seen in the past five years.
woo hoo!



Anyway....

When I went down to my landlord's plantation mansion to re-sign the lease,
I met the guy who now lives below me.

He was paying a full year's rent in one fell swoop.
Who has that kind of money???
Oh, wait, lots of people.

 He works in the film industry, it seems....wafted in from Hollywood.

It's all good for the city, of course.  It's not the city it was ten years ago, and for that I am grateful,
but, sheesh, I'm just trying to not be driven back into the suburbs by all this gentrification.
ahem


Hit it Gwen:

And now a word from our sponsors...

via

Seems apporpriate....

...considering this infernal heat.

(#I'llseemyselfoutthanks)
 

and now a word from our sponsors*

 

 *from Ruth Buzzi, with whom I'm lucky enough to share a birthday today

boxes

So tomorrow is my birthday.
 Today I received another lovely package in the mail.
One that I still haven't been able to bring myself to open.
They're from my friend, Mark.

He's in the later stages of ALS, (Lou Gehrig's disease) a disease I would not wish on my worst enemy.
It's been beyond heartbreaking to watch him go through this.

He, however, has gone through this with remarkable grace. I doubt I ever could be that brave.

He is preparing to die soon, and has been sending me some of his beloved stuff, mostly books and dvds and such.

I am so grateful to have a bit of him, something physical that I can treasure....but I haven't been able to make myself actually open them yet.
 I'm a terrible friend.

Somehow I feel like if I open them, it'll all become real.
Like really real. Stupidly, I want to stay in denial, ignore the truth.

But I'm going to make myself open them tomorrow
I'll have a good long cry, I know.

I just feel so impotent. He lives thousands of miles away from me now, so all I can do is write, but I never know what to say.
 There isn't anything much I can say, except to listen to him....and remind him that he is loved.

And pray. I do a lot of that.
I mean, it might not help, but it can't hurt, right?
That's what I always say.

Anywho, if any of you have any spare good energy or prayers, please send it up his way.

I know it's what I'll be blowing the birthday candles out for again this year.

thought for the day...

"Book Club" or "On checking Grindr in the convent bathroom"

A few months ago, at a repast, a friend of my ex's talked me into her little book club.
She's a social sort, a genteel southern lady.

The books sounded interesting, and I'm always seeking to meet new people, trying to be less of a homebody.
Can't say I don't try.
And she does know a lot of people.

Oh, and there was that time or two she'd shown up with one of her friends, you know, the young gentleman below.

 I mean, I might have remembered that too, I'm not sure.

Alas, nothing like that showed up at the convent for the book club.
Nope.
Not at all.

Just a gathering of older, erudite ladies....and me.
We met at a convent.
Because, of course we did. Where else would we meet?

After a bit of conversation and snacks, the ladies and I dispersed.

Before leaving, I availed myself of the bathroom, washed my hands and absent mindedly checked Grindr before leaving.
I mean it can't hurt to check, right?
Nada.
(for which I was both disappointed and relieved)
 

and now a word from our sponsors...

A piece of advice

Ever order something just because of the name?

Because it sounds like a whimsical fairy tale character?

Don't.


Here's my Tôm Mayonnaise.

thought for the day*...

*bastille

and now a word from our sponsors...

"Bedside Tables" (or "My mother is so rude")

The other day I had this conversation with my mother:

Me: "I'm looking for some new bedside tables. I hate the ones I have."
My mother: "I don't know why. Nobody but you is going to ever see them."

Bitch.

But she's probably right.
ahem

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaanyway... When I moved (post losing everything in Katrina),
I had nothing, including money.
 In haste, I bought the two cheapest tables I could find.

You know them...the kind in your grandma's house under the chintz.
Meanwhile, they've been sitting next to my bed harboring dust for a decade.
A decade!


Every time I looked at them I felt disgust
Not a good way to wake up.

Spurred on by my mother's rudeness, I hunted all over the thrift stores and consignment shops in the metro area for new ones.
I never could find what I wanted for a price I could afford, so again I had to settle (compromise).
I got tired of looking. 
One day, I found two....not my ideal, but on sale!....and with drawers!...and legs to keep the dust bunnies from hiding! and suitably faggy for even me!

Of course, both, however, had hideous paint jobs.  That's why they were so cheap.
One painted like a distressed pumpkin, the other in what my mother calls "baby shit" green.
 Ick
So I got them home and repainted them something boring and neutral (like my soul)...and voila!, now they're not-being-seen-by-anyone-else-but-me all across the globe!

recent random randomness...

The past few days I've been blessed by being able to visit with friends.

I tried for like a whole minute to figure a clever way to organize these photos into a cohesive narrative with a message and a theme, but...um.... I'm just too lazy.

Sorry.

Instead, here's a photo dump of badly taken cell phone photos.
Enjoy!

Anyway, I was fortunate enough to spend the 4th with the ever-charming Mr. Peenee and the completely wonderful Diane. Delightful!

First up are these books found by kismet on Independence Night. They were nestled in a pile of  strays left on some poor soul's stoop (no doubt being evicted for inability to pay her rent)  Finally... at last.... I'll now know what to do with my life.

At Goodwill, Diane's legendary thrift store mojo led me to this.  Some sort of handmade snow dowager.  Is there anything sadder than a widowed snow-woman?

Aaaand, why yes, apparently there is something sadder.

Yesterday, one of my best friends, Michael, unexpectedly came into town.  Naturally, we went record shopping. He bought some.  I did not. Frankly, I don't have the energy to be dropping needles on records.  It's all too exhausting.  I did, however, snap a few pictures.

I found these two in the "beautiful manly hair sings" section.  

Speaking of " beautiful manly hair sings"

Afterward,  we had a drink at the newly renovated St. Roch Market, which seems to have been turned into a very yuppie food court, but that's not necessarily a criticism. 

I had something called the "Mary Pickford".  Because, I mean, of course I did.  Michael had the manlier (ha!) drink (some sort of mongrel margarita with black pepper and salt around the rim)

We took a walk to the newly opened Crescent Park, which seemed like less a "park" than a really nice open air space.  This is a view from the walkway to it

And here's a view of the city from the "park"