Margaret McAlliser likes this.

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.

Wilson Hardcastle likes this.

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.

ArtRageous 2009: Sweet Inspiration

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.

southern visitation

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.

belle of the ball

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.

faggotry flattery

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.")

washed out

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!

Muppet goodness

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?

it's the service economy, stupid

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)

Like cool t-shirts?

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

Happy Thanksgiving

And a question:

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

nice package

What they sent me:



...and the box it came in.



Seriously?

im'palin

My Lord. Palin supports must have been impaled by the stupid stick. Which should have been obvious in the first place by their support of Sarah Palin.



Sadly, this also makes Ohioans look like morons too (some of my best friends are from Ohio!). I love/hate to see a video taken in Tennessee.

MM, good

Hey kids. yes, post have been annoying light this past week. Nashville was an intense time and I'd plan to write that up in about four installments. I record these things things to entertain you, certainly, but mostly to write it down for myself and use some of this silliness as writing exercises. This past week has been crazy for work and for play as I have been trying to manage a crunch at work, unpack from the last trip, and clean up and prepare my life for Margaret's visit this week. Add to that, I had to pack up my entire office and desk for renovations this week. Sort of like trying to fix the boat while you're in it.

We are furloughed this week which might have made for some good writing time, and Christmas shopping and such, but I'll be spending this week hosting and playing with Super Happy Fun Time Margaret McAllister, my "pseudo sister." Margaret and I grew up down the street from one another on Sheppard Place and now that I think of it is probably my oldest friend as we we've been playing together since we were babies. She lives in Atlanta, was in LA for work, and would be coming back west to San Diego for Thanksgiving with her brother, so instead of criss-crossing the country during the most busy travel time of the year, popped up to SFO yesterday and will be here until Wednesday.

So, time for highjinks? Yes. Time to blog about it, no.

Shouts yesterday to Bryan Michaels and his fabulous housewarming (and seriously? One door down from the Eagle? That is just asking for trouble. The "beer bust every Sunday kind.)

Shouts to Jason and Lindsay Grinstead who joined me and Margaret (and Skot Land) for a long night of dancing at Sundance Saloon. So. Much. Fun. (Lindsay and Margaret are two peas in a Kappa Kappa Gamma, football-fan, corporate-planning pod.)

And special shout to Nina Brown De Clerq, who did not bring her husband dancing, but herself stopped by Space 550 to drop in to find us and say "hi" on her way home. What errand she had in that neighborhood I'll never know and don't think I'll ask.

On a final note, just because I think it's funny: There was an old, long-white-haired dude in full leather walking up and down the alley where Bryan's apartment is. He could tell we were looking for the party, and a place to park, and directed up to a nearby parking space. Generally I am annoyed at homeless people in this area that "help" you park, and tacitly extort cash from you with an unspoken "or perhaps I'll trash your car" sort of situation South of Market. But this guy was so good-natured, and, seriously, an ancient leather daddy who survived the ages is going to get a couple of bucks from me with a smile. It turns out his name is Gypsy, and he knows the people in Bryan's building (including Bryan), and he is an employee of the Eagle Tavern next door. His job: to patrol the alley between the bar and the entrance to the residential building and prohibit drunk bar patrons from (1) peeing or (2) having sex.

That cracks me up as it both entirely reasonable and so very San Franciscan.

Hopefully, the next post will have some photos!

hey now, what's that sound?

I new an English woman who would make her husband wait in line and go in behind her for bathrooms in public places like pubs and restaurants. She always made him use it after her, whether he needed to or not, so that anyone else who followed would think that whatever bodily stank was left in the toilet was left by him and not her.

I think she would like this iPhone app. Cover Up: for only $0.99 you get an app that plays bathroom sounds like running water or a hair dryer to cover up the sounds of your pooting in public toilets.



Cracks me up. As much as Cult of Mac's review: "Trying to mask the sound of a giant anal raspberry is like spraying deodorant to mask a pooey smell: it never really works. But it may be useful if you’re known to the person in the next stall."

Joyner joiner

Nashville November, Part 1.

I'm finally getting around to posting some of the fun bits from my recent Nashville trip. Mostly, the trip was about hanging around and spending time with Mom and Dad. Dad's decline continues, but he continues to aim for good spirits and I am glad for that. While I am trying to make a visit home about every other month, I can still plan the visits around super happy fun times. This trip was scheduled around ArtRageous, which you already know if you've been reading this blog with any regularity.

I arrived Nashville late Thursday night and had planned a surprise party for EJ Friday night. We had to switch that to a Saturday lunch to accommodate Jay Joyner's birthday party. Jay and I were in the same class in high school, and hung out a lot with each other and Hampton junior and senior year, as baby gays are wont to gravitate toward each other. I haven't spoken to Jay much since high school, and was surprised to learn that he has become EJ's new BFF. Although knowing that, I should not have been surprised to see so many of EJ's/brother Mac's friends at his birthday dinner as he would have met them through EJ.

Chuck moved back to Nashville last Christmas and as another gay MBA alumnus he and Jay have connected as well. So despite my relative estrangement from Jay, I knew almost everyone at the dinner party. Chuck, while he does have his own tag in the blog, has no last name in the blog. When you are made of the pretty, it makes for some sicko stalkers. And of course there was the whole job-search last Christmas when the economy tanked.

Chuck remains a super happy fun time.

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EJ had offered to pick me up, but surprised me by showing up with limo bus and driver. And some Dom. The chauffeuring was a good idea as we had to head out to Bumfuck Franklin for drinks and dinner.

After pre-drinks at Jay's, we went for dinner at Sol. Really, I came from California to Franklin Tennessee for Mexican food? The vodka must have made be doubly foolish as I thought that the seafood enchilada was a good idea at the time. Flash forward to 2:00 AM and I am power-expelling it by any and every means possible. Not so much Sol as S.O.L.

Chuck has a new boyfriend since his relocation to Nashville, and this was my first opportunity to spend any real quality time with him.

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Like the Josh. Good guy. And a personal trainer, which explains why Chucks biceps are now obscene. But is with all the Nashville guys shaving their chests? Even if they have muscles, fur just makes them look better. Stubble? Not so much. It's a simple three step process: (1) grow the muscles (2) keep the fur (3) call Wilson.

I'm just sayin'.

(By the way, that's the fun Carol Scott also in the photo, who I've only seen a few times since I ran into her at the Oakland airport after a UT game.)

Chuck and Josh could not make it to ArtRageous because they were, and I am not making this up, at the Miss Georgia pageant. As a trainer, Josh had three clients competing, and not a Carrie "Miss Busy Fingers" Prejean in the bunch.

Of course, all that talk of Miss Georgia World devolved into an endless round of Suzanne Sugarbaker impressions.

And when she threw that baton into the air, it flew higher, further, faster than any baton has ever flown before, hitting a transformer and showering the darkened arena with sparks! And when it finally did come down, Marjorie, my sister caught that baton, and 12,000 people jumped to their feet for sixteen and one-half minutes of uninterrupted thunderous ovation, as flames illuminated her tear-stained face! And that, Marjorie, just so you will know, and your children will someday know, is the night the lights went out in George-JAH.

Flickr set.

Nashville November, Part 2.

it's in the cards

I've been cleaning out my desk at work. I'm not leaving, just temporarily moving during renovation. In my desk, I found copies of old greetings cards I made years ago. These still crack me up:


Outside: Having a wonderful time.
Inside: Wish you were queer.



Inside: Midnight in the Garden of Gin and Tonic.

ah, good plan.

An aside overheard in a meeting this morning, on institutional response to the budget crisis:

"Hope is not a strategy."

I don't know if she were quoting something well-known or not, but they are wise words nonetheless.

we are a part of the rhythm nation

While I was in Nashville to see the family and attend ArtRageous (posts and photos to follow when I get a block of time), Shilpa, PeeDee and Mali drove down to L.A. to celebrate Mali's birthday with a Janet Jackson flash mob/flash dance. Okay, it technically wasn't a "flash mob" but rather a "marketing event." Even though it was advertised well in advance, it was billed as flash dance, and while corporately sponsored was still pretty much fan-fueled.

Folks were able to learn choreography online and attend a rehearsal in L.A. before appearing at three spots and spontaneously breaking into dance, then dispersing (in the style of Improv Everywhere, who inspired Searching for Maria).

Check out the "official" video below. PeeDee is pretty easy to spot as the tall white guy in the green shirt. And see the Shilpa bust a move starting at the 3:07 mark.



Other clips are all over YouTube, including this one with shots of Janet watching from a balcony.

Or "Miss Jackson," if you're nasty.

When Catholics become anti-Christian

Stephen Colbert rips both the Catholic church and the RI Governor for inexcusable gay bashing. The Catholic church has threatened the city of Washington D.C. that if they approve legal marriages between citizens of the same gender, they will stop aiding the sick, poor and homeless of D.C. (Yes, because that just SCREAMS "message of Christ".)

Colbert quotes scripture:


The RI Governor vetoes a bill that would allow partners to claim the bodies of their dead loved ones and prepare their funeral, apparently because love, suffering, and even dignity in death is a threat to heterosexuals' marriages. And that leads to last night's Wørd:

The Colbert Report	Mon - Thurs 11:30pm / 10:30c
The Word - Skeletons in the Closet
www.colbertnation.com
Colbert Report Full Episodes Political Humor U.S. Speedskating

playing by the rules

Nashville sunshine.

Had a wonderful lunch at the Belle Meade Plantation to celebrate EJ, and am now off for afternoon cocktails in the garden with Carrington and Dabney. Yes: Wilson, Carrington and Dabney having cocktails in the garden. I am that southern.

I've got you, under my skin.

The tattoo interface. Under your skin, powered by blood.

Sing it Mary!

happy wi-fi

Google is providing free wi-fi at 47 airports for the holidays.

This is cool, but I think their graphic is even better.

Good Touch

Last night's fall version of what I call "the Sean Ray Cabaret," Positively Touching 5, was its usual splendor. Sean Ray has a talented group of friends with some seriously fierce pipes. The Sean Ray Cabaret benefits, even with the increase in ticket price, have always been an entertainment value. And the Positive Being center carries out important work and is more than worthy of the full ticket price. This was the first such event Ive been to that wasn't sold out. But filling a cabaret space on a Monday during the holidays is a bit of a tough sell, especially as people are curtailing their entertainment budget.

But seriously, this is some good show.

A special shout out to Ryan, whose soulful love ballad nearly wrecked me (and by the looks of it, him) in the second act. I learned only at intermission that he is no longer with his partner of many years. Laughter and tears and some powerful voices always make these shows memorable. Thanks and applause to Jeanne, Wade, Beth, Jorge (and his hubby Ron, even though he didn't perform this year), Ryan, Pia, Steve, Darla, Thena, and of course Sean Ray.

Shout also to the always lovely Darla Wigginton whose comic timing in An Old Fashioned Love Song had me in guffaws and made me forget for a moment that the dead-on comic Laura had moved away and was no longer of the ensemble.

And final shouts to the now-referred-to-as Constant Cutie/Theater Staple Brett Baker, my lovely table companions Matt Fadness and JohnDerryberry, and emcee Eric Hanson.

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