I'm just sayin'...

This weekend kicked off the holiday party season. This weekend's cavalcade of parties culminated Sunday in the lovely—in style and attendees—Toys for Tots SF cocktail party held at Harry Denton's Starlight Room. Thanks to fab organizers and hosts Brian Backus, Derek Barnes, Julie Candice, Chris Carnes, John Caruso, John Crandon, Ellen Goodman, Marc Freed-Finnegan, Arthur Goodrich, Tony Jenkins, Gregg Lynn, and Will Spendlove.

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Brandon Miller and Mark.........................................Aaron Rainey and Robert Heymann

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Scott Thibodeaux & Steven Spencer-Steigner ................. Natesh Daniel & Wilson Hardcastle

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Lance Holman and Matt Fadness............................Ross Fischer (and Matt's head)

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Brian Lammers and Jason Dorn.....................Brandon Miller and Wilson Hardcastle
Some of the more hard-core holiday revelers managed to get in a wardrobe change afterward and join me for the final few hours of dancing at Sundance Saloon. Which really is the best way to shut down a weekend. The Sundance Saloon holiday benefit/Toys for Tots party is next Sunday.

Flickr set.

Labels: Christmas

Can't get enough Glee? Take a sample of this pretty great performance of UC Berkeley's Noteworthy at the Ninth Annual West Coast Acapella Showcase.



As I've said before, I love people who embrace the silly fun. And these kids perform as if everyone's watching, and they love it.

After a long hiatus, I finally got to catch up with Guy on Friday night, and we went to the very funny drag rendition of The Golden Girls: The Christmas Episodes! Starring Pollo Del Mar, Heklina, Cookie Dough and Matthew Martin. It runs through December 26 and is an unusually delightful holiday treat, like that battery-operated sweater you can't believe your aunt sent you.


Go and have a good time!

Ho, ho, ho and ho.

Labels: drag, Pollo Del Mar

Elegantly Wasted 5: Happy birthday Jason Dorn (happy 40th!), Michael DG, Scott Showalter, and Tim Steele. Taken at Fly (formerly Brick at Sutter and Larkin) in San Francisco.

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Shilpa and I ducked down to Union Square over the weekend, and while I usually try to avoid Union Square and the insane shoppers and oblivious tourists, in the Christmas madness there is a fun energy to the whole thing. And of course I love all of the ridiculous decorations.

Standing in the star in front of Macy's, I decided we had to take photos. This, however, meant stationing the camera across the street and visually dodging traffic. It was all worth it though, and we both felt a giddy sort of rush from the abject silliness of it all. Only after posing did I notice the two professional photographers covering the "shopping bonazna" scene, and they quickly pounced to catch my pose. And later Shilpa's. I believe we made it into some papers somewhere.

The whole laughable experience made me realize one thing (which bore tweeting):


Life is more fun when you have no shame.

It's sad what joy people don't feel because they are afraid someone will look at them.

Dance like no one's watching! I'm just grateful I can hear the music.

Just listen to the music of the traffic of the City.



Flickr set.

To be too busy to blog!

I sat down to crank some out tonight, but it is so cold my fingers are shaking over the keyboard. IAnd I've stayed up far too late back-blogging bits from November.

You'll have to make do with the FaceBook updates while the crazy continues :)

Wilson to Shilpa: Oh my God. You are gayer than I am.
Shilpa to Wilson: It's called being a girl.

Skot Land and the Shilpa came over this weekend for a little nog and apartment decking. For these elves, the holidays are just all about the hats.



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Ho.

November was crazy with the busy. After a manic week before the Nashville trip was the manic week of the Nashville trip, followed by an unrelenting work schedule until life-long friend Margaret stopped into town for Thanksgiving week. (Then, of course, was the mania of Thanksgiving itself, which then hurled me headlong into the Holidaze.)

Margaret and I grew up almost next door to each other and have been friends since birth (well, hers, not mine, being older and all). Basically, I refer to Marg as my "pseudo sister." As with many other friends, FaceBook has enabled us to feel close while far away.

And both of us are a little like junkies on the FaceBook, and it became a running gag to mobile upload photos and status updates on everything we did. And using FourSquare, my friends where getting up-to-the-minute notifications of our whereabouts. The constant stream amused many, and understandably annoyed some. We thought we were hilarious, which is all we cared about.



Margaret McAllister likes this.

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I found an excellent B&B (basically, an in-law apartment with a garden) in the Castro and we managed to cover the town during the week leading up to Thanksgiving.

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OMG the macarons at Paulettes! (Hayes Valley) Ridiculously good. Be sure to try the raspberry ones.

Shilpa and I were furloughed for the week (budget cuts at work) and she was kind enough to host dinner for me and Marg and some of our southern friends, Georgia bulldogs, or otherwise friends. She and Lindsay, fellow Kappa Kappa Gamma sisters and sports fans, became immediate BFFs and it turns out Lindsay's sister works in a department similar to Margaret's at Margaret's company in Atlanta. Small world indeed. I thought I had left my phone at home, so the only shot I took was with the iPhone.


With my iPod now fully loaded with music videos, by the end of the night we turned Shilpa's apartment into the Midnight Sun. And as so few of us were working on Tuesday morning, the "end of the night" was around four.

Margaret also managed to convince me to drive over to Berkeley just so she could get a salad at Café Intermezzo. ("All the way to Berkeley for a salad?! It's not like it's going to be fresh." "No! They make everything fresh!" "I meant the produce. It's winter. It's not like the tomatoes just fell off the vine...") But it was a beautiful day for a drive and a walk around Berkeley. And of course the salads were amazing (what IS it about their poppy seed dressing? On second thought, given Berkeley's reputation, I probably shouldn't ask.).



Margaret McAllister likes this.
There were even colorful vestiges of fall around campus.


We finished the afternoon with a tourist-required and tasty trip to Ghirardelli Square.



After disco naps we joined Skot Land for a sneak peek (thanks Riley!) of The Fantastic Mr. Fox. Skot and Marg were perfect company for that romp of a flick. After a late and light dinner at Harvey's, where we unwittingly walked into stand-up comedy night (Harvey's was a must-see for Marg considering all of the notes and photos she gets from me there.). We were tired but thought we would hit a Castro bar or two just for the experience, even though it was the Tuesday before Thanksgiving and all but dead. As people had been making Midnight Sun jokes at the dinner over at Shilpa's, we thought we'd stop in there. Luckily for us, we passed the lovely and talented Ryan Rigazzi on his way home from BBB—I had not taken Margaret to the show as last I heard they had to cut back the Tuesday performances, but they are now back on a holiday schedule. Alas!

Ryan was still a bit wired from the show and joined us for a drink at the Midnight Sun before walking home up the hill. And so Ryan shared our WTF moment when we walked into the disco video bar and there was neither disco nor video, but a drum set, keyboard, and signs for "open mic night." Seriously? It was all rather odd.

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Finally, Wednesday morning came and Margaret had to leave to join her family at brother Andrew's in San Diego.

Definitely an awesome visit.

But all good things must come to an end.


And Margaret had to leave the magical City by the Bay.


Margaret McAllister did not like that.


Flickr set.

Nashville November, Part 4.

The theme for ArtRageous 22 was "Sweet Inspiration," which basically translates into "Willy Wonka." And gleefully, a lot of people stepped up to the theme.

There's not a lot to report beyond the super-happy-fun-time, other than that yet again me and mine failed to pace ourselves over the nine-hour mobile party and while we may have started out as cream, by the time we hit the late party we were whipped. Some of us were butter. I still can't believe I made it through the after party. Highlight of the event was, as usual, partying with Keith, and meeting the extraordinary new man in his life, Ray.

There was Betsy on pixie sticks, Oompa Loopas, girls with bad orange spray tans that made them unintentionally look like an Oompa Loompa, several Wonkas (including the event Chairs), lots of thematic sweeties, and even a shirt made out of candy. (Spot these in the photo sets).

All in all, friendly faces and much fun.

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My Flickr set. And Keith's.

Labels: about face, ArtRageous, Keith, Nashville

Nashville November, Part 3

After the EJ lunch, I had carved out time to visit with close friend Carrington and long-time lost friend Dabney. It's hard enough to get Carrington to sit still, but trying to find overlapping open time slots with two working women with three and four kids was daunting. But worth it. Dabney and I were childhood friends who reconnected at the end of high school and after college. Carrington and Dabs were big buds in high school too (we didn't all go to the same school, boys at MBA and girls at Harpeth Hall). I was even in Dabney's wedding to Ian (Scottish, fun, and like 6'6" of Highlander), but hadn't spoken to her since I moved to SF 14 years ago. I've had a post-it note on my computer reading "Dabney" for almost a year as a reminder to get back in touch. And I am so glad I did.

I rushed over to C'ton's after lunch, only to run into brother Mac again who was dropping off a belated gift of a bottle of wine. While at the liquor store, he saw something that made him think of me (you know, because my life with Mac is now basically one big gay joke. But that's okay, because Mac is actually funny.) Seriously? Bubble-gum flavored vodka. The bottle design makes it look like it's target Brand Vodka (especially from the back), and it smells incredibly sweet. We did not try it. But we will. (It's still in Nashville, another casualty of the Bush Administration's War on Moisture.)

Carrington was just back from a speaking engagement before the Centennial Club. Which is kind of a big deal. (She's, like, a grown-up and famous writer and stuff now.) She came back with yet another amusing anecdote, as when she got dressed in her open-toed shoes, she forgot that she had her Halloween color.


Nice.

Unfortunately, I found out during lunch that I had to be dressed and downtown for ArtRageous about an hour and a half earlier than expected, and subsequently had to cut our catch-up time short. Dabney is new to facebook, and loving it, and I expect to interact with her a lot more int he coming months, and see the kids over Christmas!

And yes, if you haven't caught on, we are extremely Southern.

Catch-up cocktails on the veranda with Carrington Nelson Fox, Dabney Ledyard Hopkirk, and MacDonald and Wilson Hardcastle.

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Welcome home indeed.

Nashville November 2009, Parts 1 and 2.

Labels: Nashville

Nashville November, Part 2

We love the Elizabeth James. Capital L sort of love. And we is not just me but all the Hardcastles. Well, maybe not Bradley. He's all unemotive teenager these days. But that's not the point. The point is we wanted to do something special to express this love, and Mom in particular wanted to do something special for EJ as she was so immensely helpful in planning her 50th anniversary dinner and generously wouldn't accept any compensation. EJ and I always try to have a meal or a drink together when I'm in town and I was able to turn that scheduling into a surprise party from the family (and including fab friend and EJ's BFF Leslie Roberts Dabrowiak).

Carrington Nelson Fox has taken over as Nashville's prominent restaurant critic, and the Nashville Scene published her best ten picks (I got it forwarded in an e-mail, can't seem to locate it online at the moment), and "Belle" at the Belle Meade Mansion Plantation was included as an excellent new choice for lunch (and now dinner).

While suspect of a museum/historical landmark eatery, "belle" (lowercase theirs in the design) was a beautiful surprise. Belle not only features a kitch- and theme-free formal dining setting, but a menu that challenges the most snobby of diners. Everything about Belle is suitably formal, while somehow retaining a local charm and informal welcome. I felt a little thorny hosting a surprise party with presents and toddler in this dining room, but staff and patrons alike seemed to welcome the festivity.

In this era of plastic water glasses and paper napkins, the service and setting of Belle was refreshingly and contextually appropriately proper. This was nice, as it accented the superb nature of their cooking.

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Brother Mac and Mother Fran______________Papa John enjoys his Bloody Mary
Papa John and I opted for breakfast foods, he ordering the steak and eggs which looked amazing and I for the southern take called the Belle Benedict, which included country ham on some of the lightest and tastiest biscuits I've ever had (so much better than ham on an English muffin!). Baby Leland's "chicken fingers" were large gourmet southern fried chicken breast meat that were the envy of the table. Even the French fries were served in over-sized juleps. But the belle of this ball was the "205 Burger" (I am assuming this refers to our 37205 zip code). Land sakes and all my stars and garters is this a bit of culinary heaven. The 205 burger is a sirloin patty stuffed with braised short rib meat, pepper crusted, with red onion jam and tomato concassé. I can't wait to go back.

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Lelands's gourmet chicken strips__________Leslie and the 205 Burger
The sweet tea, Bloody Marys, and other libations were lovely too. And as for the surprise party, EJ felt the love.


Belle that she is.

Flickr set. Nashville November 2009, Parts 1 and 3.

Labels: EJ, Nashville

Sure. These days the term "fag hag" is obsolete. Cooler dudes refer to the lovely lady friends of modern 'mosexuals as "fruit flies," or "'mo 'hos."

But still, there's something to the universality of the term "fag hag." But let's face it, the term is no longer derogatory, and "hag" in this sense is a compliment.

Think about it, these days any female friend of a gay guy is freaking HOT. Conservative cows in line for the Palin book signing could only wish to be Fag Hags. They're just hags. Like the kind that used to haunt the seas. When "only scurvy" made their man a catch.

And it is in this sense of honor that I recount the following:

After four days of berating from her nutso, judgmental, sometimes as shallow as a puddle on a sunny day mother, Shilpa told me she needed some Castro time (universal center of unconditional love. And happy hour.). To which I had to cry (mimicking CPR compressions): "Hag down! HAG DOWN! Quick! Get me 20 cc's of vodka and two units of irony! STAT!"

(Of course, by "stat" we mean "Facebook status update.")

After three weeks of play hard/work hard/eat hard, I took the Saturday to deep clean and get some of my life in order. I just did five loads of laundry. Why did that exhaust me so? It's not like I was pounding it on a rock down by the river.

Later: Christmas decorating with the Shilpa, debriefing, and egg nog. Much more fun than fighting the retail rabble.

Deck the halls!

This was making the rounds last week and I resisted reposting, until I realized that I am at heart a Hensonite whose love for muppets is almost religious. As such, how can I not celebrate this particular rhapsody?

Tis the season for everyone and their cousin to ask me about computer purchases or upgrades. Some people, like my brother, ironically named Mac, think that I answer without critical thinking and reply with blind idolatry, "Get a Mac." I honestly believe my brother Mac's deep-seated and unrelenting dislike of Apple Macs started with sibling rivalry and he's never been able to shake the cognitive dissonance. (I even urged him to get a free e-mail account when dotMac started so he could be any number of names@mac.com. The refusal was pathological.)

It's plain and simple, at work and at home Apple computers just work better, make you more efficient, require little to no maintenance, and when service is necessary you can handle it yourself most of the time, and when not, there is a phalanx of Geniuses ready to assist you.

Anyone who says "PCs are better/easier." or "I need a PC (i.e. Windows) machine for work." is not doing the math. Or are resistant to change. Which is fine, but then don't ask me for advice or complain about technical issues again. Most offices use PCs simply because they always have. While some business software is platform specific, it is tradition rather than investigation that makes the workplace PC-centric.

Granted, I've been pissed at Apple and some of its corporate policies more times than I can count (App store approval process, AT&T partnership, limited interoperability of mobile devices, acting like dicks), but being blind with rage is a fairly typical Microsoft experience. And the Apple OS itself has never been a source of irk.

The claims that PCs coat less is short sighted. Dollars exchanged at checkout may be fewer for some Windows machines, but that's to be expected. There are no "comparable" machines to those models because Apple, as a policy, does not make crap.

Costs to consider other than ticket price: software, ease of use, productivity, RELIABILITY, SERVICE, and user experience. Consumers spend far more on Windows machines long after they have left the store.

A tech consultant, who services both PCs and Apple machines, recently vented in a post about his experience resolving identical technical problems, one on a Dell and one on an Apple. And his experience is typical. According to this professional, the service experience may be Apple's secret weapon.

Don't for a moment be fooled into thinking that a PC either costs less or works better. And the magical thing is, it's you that work better when working with a Mac.

I'm Just Sayin'.


(if you didn't get the title reference)

Labels: Apple

There's a great sale at Threadless now. All t's $9. Use my link and I'll get referral points!

And a question:

Is it still considered a "wine rack" if it's just loaded with vodka bottles?

What they sent me:



...and the box it came in.



Seriously?