We love green eggs and Sam.

A little follow up to the Mr. Smarty-No-Pants post.

Sam was in town from NYC, and a little thrown by the 75 degree, sunny weather here while he had two feet of snow on his balcony back in Manhattan. Sam [friendster] briefly lived in the flat above Lance and is an all around wonderful guy who has become an all around wonderful friend. I joined him and Lance for brunch in the Castro, arriving after Lance's slapstick routine in which he elbowed a waitress with a tray full of drinks. By the time I arrived, they had (quite literally) been sent to the curb. I joined them at the sidewalk seating, which was much nicer anyway with the dog and the sunshine.


Lance and Sam at Catch
The three of us spent the day doing the gay/Castro shopping thing with Sam, which was excessively pleasant considering the weather and the company. Lance, who had taken two-step lessons with me years ago, asked if I was headed dancing that night. Both he and Sam thought that gay country/western dancing sounded like a lot of fun. And they were still committed even after I told them it was also their first underwear (optional) party. In addition to t-shirts and a pleather jacket, Sam also bought some snazzy underwear from Injeanious. The tighty-yellows matched his new t-shirt, and considering Sam's physique, it was our loss he never got to the point where he would drop trou. He did get some fun snapshots though (he took the one of me and Kyle at the end of the previous post).

In between shopping and dancing, Sam was anxious for a haircut. Lance went home to do some work on the house and get some work done for the office, and I stayed with Sam at the only salon in the neighborhood that could take him immediately. At It's All About You (which really, it is), Sam and I both experienced the tranny in training. Not training to be a tranny, she had that down, but training in cosmetology or whatever. She started on Sam's haircut, but had to be corrected reapeatedly by the Master of the House until he could take over. The owner/master of It's All About You is a caricature of a stereotype (if such a thing is possible) of the effeminate, fey, aging asian homosexual-- waifishly thin, loose wrists, mostly unintelligble accent, and lots of giggling. We would learn later that he used to work at another salon called "the Look of Love," which the neighborhood affectionately referred to as "the Rook of Ruv." (Don't get all PC police on me. I am told it was said with affection.)

The Rook of Ruv
After he took over Sam's haircut, the tranny convinced me to get a pedicure while I waited for him. After she drew blood, the senior pedicurist took over. Looking over the vast menu of services (what the hell is "nipple enhancement, men/women" and why does it cost over $200?), Sam thought he would also get his slight monobrow waxed. (To be honest, the hair between his eyes was barely perceptible. But I suppose if you feel a Bert coming on, you might as well wax that bit.) The sort of spa day was sort of nice, only to be defiled at the end. After the Rook of Ruv had cleaned Sam's brow, he leaned down into the chair, grabbed Sam's package, and asked if he needed anything else waxed. The offer was politely, and rapidly, declined.

The salon time was followed by sunset drinks at Club Jackson (aka Barney's) overlooking the Golden Gate with Barney and RMJ, Ing and Ing's fab girlfriend Ainsley.

RMJ and Barney
Now I mention all of this so I can talk about last night (Monday). Lance invited us all over for drinks after work as Sam and he were leaving bright and early the next day (different destinations). After a volley of e-mails, we settled on cocktails at 7:00 to be followed by beer and pizza and porn. Apparently, Lance's roommate has a new plot-intensive Falcon double-disc DVD set filmed in and supposedly about New Zealand, and Lance and Barney are Kiwis. We were looking to mock it.

Also, during the all day volley of e-mails, I had gotten sufficient grief (largely from Barney) about my dacing around in my underpants. I had threatened Barney with a reprise. And so I pciked up RMJ and Sam and arrived at the Dolores Park B&B (aka Lance's house) in my boxers.

The Freshmaker

By the way, Guys Gone Wild is the funniest damn thing I've seen. Although it must be viewed communally, with lots of beer and commentary. This was Spring Break 2005 Cancun. Or was it Aruba. We thought that perhaps that girl wasn't kidnapped at all, she is just getting laid. I am afraid, however, that next year we will see Girls Gone Wild: Girls Gone Missing!

So until Spring Break 2006 comes out, I've got my favorite wild boys right here.