An EJ X-mas

Apparently, when your mother swings open the door to your room at 10:15 on Sunday morning and screams "Church?!" --

"No thank you." is not the correct answer.

Thank (ahem) God for long-winded prayer leaders. I totally feel asleep with my head bowed and eyes closed. And I think LBJ is okay with that. He's been raging at his birthday parties this month. That water-to-wine party trick never gets old.

Last night was Elizabeth James' famously fabulous Christmas Dinner Party. As with last year, she had loads of furniture removed and turned every room into a dining room. And again with the fun extras like the snow machines above the entrances/windows, exceptionally entertaining catering staff, and bar treats.

And of course the formal outdoors smoking lounge.


EJ also hired a DJ, who had a great mix of house holiday music. With the house so crammed with tables and people, the only place for him to set up was in the bedroom.


And of course, there was the a hoard of super-fun pretty people (beautiful people both inside and out).

Not gay but so gay friendly.

Cannon may just work it for the attention as he is charming and cute as a bug (as opposed to other unnamed guys who just get drunk and get annoyingly aggressive with the hands and lips.)

And our favorite barmen.

The bar was also stocked with drink labels-- the cocktail equivalent of wine charms. At first I thought we were supposed to label ourselves. I chose "Flirty" but as they were designed to cling to glasses and not fabric, it fell off almost immediately and I couldn't find where it went (only to discover it on the heel of my boot many days later).

In keeping with my title/cards, I went with "Huge Enabler."

"Wallflower?" Hardly.

"Sacred?" Perhaps.
(or maybe it was supposed to read "Scared.")
Click to embiggen.

(Ahem.)

Those two were together on the sheet of labels and just seemed appropriate to keep together.

While there was no snow, there was freezing rain (usual for Nashville at Christmas). Some were caught unprepared and EJ made makeshift ponchos. Very classy.

How I hate to go out in the storm.

(But if you really hold me tight, all the way home I'll be warm...)

I didn't take too may photos of the night as I was having too much fun. The finale, however, did merit a little documentation.

Such as the "overserved" who passed out on the sofa.


EJ gave out blinking red noses as party favors.

Now we're just mocking.

For the full effect of "blinking nose put on the passed-out girl" effect, I felt the need to take a video clip.



Which isn't nearly as funny as the fact that the catering staff started taking photos with their camera phones.

Classic.

Now that's some holiday cheer.

Flickr set.

Random Holiday Saturday

Barry called me to be her Apple Man for Saturday. She very much wants an iPhone, and judging by the comments from her husband, Santa is bringing her one for Christmas. Regardless, she wanted to check them out and get some lessons at the Apple store, and in lieu of buying an iPhone, she could, like a good southern girl, check out the accessories. And Lordy, I thought I was an enabler. Even though I know why I am holding out for the next gen, she pushed the hard sell for me to get one this week too. This girl could sell a drowning man a glass of water.

We spent at least an hour on the iPhones and such at the store, and even though she is a big fan of the blog, when I mentioned that this much time demanded a photo for the blog, she got shy all of a sudden.

Ginger was going to join us for a late breakfast/brunch/lunch, but apparently had too much cheer at a party last night and was functioning on less than all cylinders and couldn't make it.

After our morning at the mall, Barry and I headed to the new Hill Center development (we're both Hills, and I hadn't seen the redevelopment yet) and lunch at the California Pizza Kitchen. A new culinary delight for Nashville, irony for me.

Imagine our surprise when Barry recognized Ginger's car when we entered the parking garage— and in a non-space no less!


One of Barry's pet peeves is people who park wherever they damn well please, and here she noticed Ginger car in front of the parking entrance to the CPK, and in a clearly marked "no parking" area. She stopped so I could take a pic.

And even without a voice, my boisterous laugh carried to Barry in her car. I had gotten out of the car to chronicle Ginger's infraction to mock her in person and here in the blog, and I had to guffaw when I round about the driver's side:

Let's take a closer look:


I was also amused at the implied threat that carries no actual weight in law or practicality.

Barry and I sat at the bar and had a tasty lunch of cobb salads and hot toddies. Ginger was having lunch with another friends and we celebrated her rare and amusing completely hung-over status.

Later that afternoon, Ginger and I got our quality catch-up time in at her favorite spot: Cosmo Nails. Coming from SF, Nashville manicures sort of suck. But I was there for the company and the cosmos (byo), not necessarily the service. We had lot of dishy fun in the mani-pedi chairs.

Even though Ginge' was often interrupted and managing her crackberry with freshly painted nails. Perils of the professional entrepreneuse.

I did feel the need to take a parting shot:

I call this one: Shrine of the Severed Hands.

Kinda creepy don't ya think?

Friday night of ho, ho, hos.

I spent some of yesterday afternoon catching what quality time as I could with Carrington. This meant riding along in her SUV to run errands and pick up her litter from day care. Carrington, my life-long friend, has three boys. I am a huge fan of families with three boys (being the youngest of three myself). Carrington has three boys: the oldest is just four.

Having three boys under five is just chaos. I got to witness this first hand. But I will say these kids are so totally cool. And I expected no less considering their parents.

Part of the errand running was going by Office Depot to pick up some printing for her mother. Never let Office Depot convince you they are a printing service. Neither printing nor service transpired.

I thought that as long as we were headed to a printers, I could whip up some seasonal calling cards for my visit, take them on a flash drive, and drop them off for printing while we did our other things. While that turned out to be a complete waste of our time, a Kinko's had recently opened down the street and I was able to drop these off for pickup by close.

Friday night I got to go to an open house hosted by another friend since I was four, Eleanor Fuqua Williamson, and enjoyed catching up with a host of other friends I haven't seen in far too long, but whom I have also known and loved since we were in first grade. Some story-telling, some catching up, and some gossip. And as I was still mostly without voice, lots of Jack Daniels. For purely medicinal reasons, I was assured by the otolaryngologist husband of my first kiss.

Keith had invited me along for a night of gay holiday party hopping. Despite lifetimes of biblical abuse, many southern gays still raise the roof for LBJ (Little Baby Jesus). Well, really, it's just an excuse to dress up and host if you have just redone your McMansion. But still, happy happy fun times.

And it's nice to know that even as out of the loop as I am from the Nashville gay scene, there are always familiar faces when I drop into these random events. The hosts couldn't be lovelier, and I loved their sense of environmental responsibility, and humor.

I felt as if I should have brought some myrrh.

Unfortunately, after this party, the evening went downhill faster than an Olympic ski jumper. We crashed went to one party waaaaay out in South Bejessus (just past Nipper's Corner). The condo here was in some creepy beach/nautical theme throughout the house. Every room, every nook and cranny was nautical/pale blue. It was so pervasive it was rather disturbing.

Keith, in his awe, took many, many photos. I'll have to check if they have made it to flickr.

And I won't get into a rant here, but WTF with people paying for caterer/bartenders who don't know how to mix a drink? No bartender worth his margarita salt should ever have to use a jigger. Much less for every. single. drink. And a vodka soda not only does not need measuring, it does not require washing out a cocktail shaker, shaking, and straining over ice. Do not wonder why the entire party is waiting in line at the bar.

From there we went to a party that was surely closing down (no I just called!) over in Germantown.

Germantown is a cool, urban part of Nashville. This place was not even Germantown adjacent. Just between two sets of projects and rival gangs, someone scraped a condemned house and put up two cookie-cutter condo townhomes. And some silly fags bought them.

You know you are at a gay party when you arrive past 11:00, there are still a dozen people there, and you are the first one to crack the seal on the bourbon. That, and the owner kept alternatively cajoling and chastizing his microdog, whom he repeatedly called by its full name: Coco Channel.

Somehow, that's even gayer that owning a timeshare in a sling at a SoMa sex club.

I'm just sayin'.

From there it was just a short hop to a very cool space in The Mills, which is an ancient (cotton?) mill renovated into beautiful lofts. There was another third-degree friend tag along aprty to go to, although the guys I was with weren't too keen because it was "basically a straight party." Whatever.

By this point in the night, my voice was no longer hoarse, it was completely kaput. Just whispers and aspirations now. Out of habit, I started signing, and was pleasantly received by two women who also signed and we had a nice conversation once I conveyed that I could hear, but I couldn't speak. After another glass of Jack and soda, and some snacks, my voice began to slowly recover.

We were there about 15 minutes before two of my companions felt the need to warn me, somewhat alarmed and breathless, that, "Uh, this group of people are all from Club Ménage...uh, this is a swingers party. Are you okay with that?"

I had clued in a little bit when I saw the husband of one couple I had met emerge from the bathroom with the wife of another couple, and they were both pulling their pants back on.

That, and the freedom with which the women felt my person during conversation.

Once confirmed, I totally played it up. I adopted a persona and joined the fray, if only in banter. Wife-swapping and multiple partners was the general play of the field, but only a few of the guys were into other guys. And even that came with a tinge of shame. It seems the swingers scene here was about bisexual wives, and their husbands who are cool with it because it means three-ways. But rarely MMF.

Keith and Swinger

An interesting Christmas party.

You may have noticed from past flickr sets that Keith is ever ready for the arty shot. Here is is taking a shot of discarded shoes. Now that I think about it, he should have enough shorts of discared shoes to start a series. Or some sort of fetish coffee table book.

Another image that could become a theme: the passed out girl.

And then there's this young hottie and his date.

He recognized my name. His first job was working for my brother Mac. I keep meaning to mention that I ran into him (just not from behind).

Keith's flickr set from the night.

eek a mouse

My parents have a mouse in their kitchen. I came home to find an old-fashioned spring trap baited with peanut butter next to the stove.

Mom heard rustling in the stove drawer the other day and called for Dad. (it's an electric stove; where a gas oven would have a broiler the electric one has a drawer for pans and such).

I don't know what they thought they were going to accomplish. Dad, in his 70s, with Parkinsons, leaning on his cane with one hand and a skillet in the other, was going to bend over, open the drawer, and take a look. My mother, business and civic leader that she is, was doing her impression of the Mammy in the Tom & Jerry cartoons, standing high on a chair and screeching "Eek! A mouse!"

Okay, that's not really how it happened. But I think the only think keeping Mom from jumping on a chair is that the kitchen chairs have cane weave seats.

Mom tells me that Dad was leaning over to open the drawer and "have a look."

Mom asked, "But what are you going to do if there's a mouse in there?"

Dad though for a moment and said, "We'll bop him on the head."

Dad is in no condition to bop anything, on the head or otherwise, much less a quickly moving mouse. I told Mom it sounded like the Little Bunny Foo Foo method of pest control. I saw her lift her eyes and silently go through the lyrics in her head before she started laughing.

I think it is a genius idea: branding Little Bunny Foo Foo Mouse Traps.

Picking up the field mice, and boppin' 'em on the head since 1927.

This begs for a t-shirt.

flying through a sunset

During my flight from BNA to OAK just over a week ago, it was the first time I had ever flown through a sunset. I thought it was pretty cool. Looking out the window, the clouds around us gave off this surreal orange glow.


Surprisingly, I experienced the same effect on this trip to BNA.


The camera shots don't capture the glow very well. But still: pretty.

stealthy

okay, enough with the e-mails that the sequined jacket was a foolish choice for Hide and Seek attire. Not only did I look fabulous, but it turned out to be a genius choice: the jacket has such a sleek lining, it was easily reversible to a black satin dinner jacket. Even with blue ribbons on both sides of the sleeve, I was able to flip the jacket and blend in with a tour group on more than one occasion.

Very stealthy.

welcome and whispers

Warmly welcomed back home. Cough is gone, but so is my voice.

It's easy enough to explain that "I lost my voice" as it seems so have others. However, I do get the occasional "How did you do that?" which to me seems sort of odd.

I've been saying things along the lines of "I was supposed to leave my heart in San Francisco but got confused/left my voice instead." or "I sold it to the sea witch to get legs."

let's talk dirty to the animals

I forgot to mention earlier...

Seek and Ye Shall Find

Hide and Seek at the Legion of Honor will rank up there as one of the best days ever.

So. Much. Fun.

Long-time readers will know that I am a big fan of Improv Everywhere, and that I have threatened to launch something similar in SF. And I'm almost willing to fly to NYC for No Pants! 2008.

It turns out there are several small, cooperative and competing, groups in the Bay Area who organize and sponsor missions, activities, and general adventure; each to varying degrees of success. Herbie Hatman organized this even via SF0 (ess eff zero), which hosts several "teams," and teams and members earn points for completed tasks. The SFZero community is pretty active, but I do not yet identify with any of their teams descriptions, and I may have to create one of my own. The SFZero members also have alternate identities to their real lives, so I have to think a bit about who I might be on SFZero.

So here's the set up:

Alert Readers Shilpa Patel and Jeff Javits met me, Stephen Handorf, and Skot Land at my place at 1:00 Sunday afternoon. We had some pre-nibbles, wardrobe adjustments, and running starts then made our whore's coffees and our way to the Legion of Honor.


There was already a small crowd gathered at the fountain, and I was surprised to see more folks in Dickensian attire than formal wear, but they looked very cool doing it. Herbie Hatman, the organizer, set out the rules of the game:

Pick a team, and it is more fun if you and your friends are on different teams. each team has a color, and you wear that color ribbon on your left arm. The first It is identified by a round of yelling "Not it!" and then it's a matter of who gets tagged next by It.

Team IJS entering the museum

It has to begin/return to the foyer and the naked Rodin sculpture (who is so clearly gay), cover their eyes, and count, out loud, to 23, instering an audible Mississippi or Alligator between the numbers. Then It has to say, loudly, "Ready or not, here I come!"

Jeff Javits, yellow team, counts as It.

That is much more fun than you might imagine. As it turns out, being It is the most fun.

Teams scatter throughout the museum. And of course, being a museum, you must obey certain rule of behavior, such as no (well, limited) running, no rough-housing, and such.

It looks for people on their color team to tag. The goal is hide or to blend in with others in the museum. In my sequined dinner jacket, I sort of stood out. And clearly, I was on the blue team. (And yes, I know sequins are not wise for Hide and Seek, but I have lost so much weight my black blazer, tux jacket, and other formal wear did not wear well.)

The real trick to this game working is (1) unless you got a really good look before play started, you don't necessarily know who is on your team; and (2) after the first It tags someone, you don't know who is actively It unless you witnessed the tagging.

Clark, the handsome man in the morning suit and large top hat, was the blue team's first It.


Stealthily entering and leaving chambers of the museum felt very Thomas Crown Affair, and was amazingly fun, and made the security people so incredibly uneasy. But this is a public place, half of us had Member's badges, we were well-dressed, and while we were acting somewhat cagey, we weren't doing anything particularly wrong. This was hilarious, and only one old guard was upset at the whole "pesky kids" thing and actively gave dirty looks or would intervene with a scolding.

Having your friends on other teams meant you could walk around and dodge and weave together, being pursued by different Its and not game for one another. I had successfully avoided Clark, until I carefully turned one corner and almost directly into him. It was a very stoic, "well, there's nothing I can do but sprint and that's a little out of the question in this room so, you got me." So I was the second It for the blue team, and it was much more fun being the hunter than the hunted.

Javits tags another player.

And we certainly got to know the museum in intimate detail.

It's all "game." Get it?

Over the course of the afternoon, I would say we had 70 or so players.


And I will say this, the participants were awesome. I expect putting out a call for a game of hide and seek in formal wear in a public museum on a busy Sunday during a holiday season attracts a non-random sample of San Franciscans. These were fun people. And quite lovely. Although I do suspect that Team IJS pushed the average age up another bracket.

Oh yeah, participants were also invited to bring a teacup and a flask. A tea party was scheduled on the lawn for after the game. It turns out, tea time was 5:00. With a start time of 2:00, that was a bit late. As much exhilarating fun as the game was (the fun of the game combined with the thrill of doing something you know you are not supposed to be doing in a fine arts museum, and the distinct feeling you are getting away with something) ran strong for a good hour, and abated for most by 90 minutes. And we were all done by 4:00. By then, most of the original participants had congregated in the café with food and wine.


Some had been there since 3:00, needing to replenish their sugar and/or wine levels. (I did cringe at paying more for a glass of wine at the café than I would for a bottle of the same label at the grocery.)


Spending time around a table instead of chasing each other about gave us a better chance to get to know each other, and I'm hoping to run into some of these folks again.

Natalie and Wilson

Wilson and Abby

One player had a particular prophetic cap to her soda:

Click to embiggen.

All the way around, getting dressed-up, enjoying a museum, and having a good game of Hide and Seek was a great way to spend a Sunday afternoon. I am going to have to craft my own group at SFZero, and sponsor some I'm Just Sayin' style adventures.

The core group

My friends and I had had our fun and we ready for the next event by 4:00. The sun was setting, it was getting cold, and we had other places to be. By 4:15 we were on the lawn where Herbie was unloading the large containers of hot water, which would sometime later become tea. We expressed our thanks and piled back into the car.

Jeff invited us to join him at David and Sean's holiday party. Shilpa and I loved the last party of theirs that we went to, but we felt a little bit like we were crashing. I had a Christmas mix CD I had meant to drop by earlier in the week, but we didn't think to bring a bottle of anything until after we had found parting at the top of the hill. Luckily for me, I had something still in the car bar I could bring. Having missed the opportunity to use our teacups at the event, we brought those in as well.

When we found David inside, he said immediately, "I know where you've been! You've been playing Hide and Seek at the Legion of Honor!" I had forgotten that David was a daily devotee of the blog. I feel so pretty!

Also inside were family favorites Jim (Jimbo) Myers and Darien & Timothy (see also).

And Lo and Behold, what should I see across a crowded room, but Eyes Met Across a Crowded Room. Last time I saw him was at the Rodeo, when he told me he was moving to Arizona in short order. In our e-mail exchanges, I had joking referred to his imminent departure as a clever ruse—a morning remorse to not calling me back. Now it was feeling less clever and more ruse.

Knowing what am Alert Reader David is, I started telling him this story, "Remember back at the Rodeo, the guy I referred to as Eyes Met Across a Crowded Room? Well, that's him."

Eyes Met Across a Crowded Room, who was opposite to me talking to Shilpa, turned and said, "You know I can hear you..."

Eyes Met and I talked for a while. I told him that I had mentioned him by code name in the blog, and that David is a daily reader, hence the kismet. It seems that the relocation is still a consideration but just under consideration. He was sweet and sexy, genuine and genuinely contrite. Although I didn't ask, he appeared to still be single, and as an apology he promised that he would be the one to follow up with me this time.


While that has not yet come to pass, it's just as well as the acid reflux thing and the cough thing have completely robbed me of my voice this week, and I wouldn't have been able to talk anyway. He's away for the holidays this week, and he'll be in Palm Springs (of course he will) for New Year's, so he won't be available for the Black-Eyed Pea Chili Party.

David and Sean's party was as lovely as could be, and great fun. We sort of "brought it" with our teacups and formal wear, but friends are not shy and were in the spirit and immensely entertaining. As was Sean's mom. Loved her.


We departed David and Sean's in time to make a late arrival at Sundance Saloon for their holiday party and a long night of merry making and yuletide dancing.

An exhausting and exhilarating Sunday, which, literally, left me speechless.

I'm off to the airport in the morning, and will likely only lightly post from Nashville.

Love and Joy come to you, and to you your Wilson too.

Photos:
Wilson's Flickr set of Hide and Seek
Jeff's Picassa album of Hide and Seek
Shilpa's Flickr set of Hide and Seek
Wilson's Flickr set of David and Sean's (only six photos)
Shilpa's Flickr set of David and Sean's Holiday Party

Stand by the Fran

Stand By "The Fran"
as written by Mac Hardcastle

Sometimes it's hard to be a woman
Livin' all alone with four men
She'd have bad times and We’d have good times
Doin' things that she don't understand
But since she loves us she'd forgive us
Even though we’re hard to understand
And we love her, and are so proud of her
Cuz after all she's just the Fran

Stand by the Fran, give her warm coffee to come to
In a Styrofoam cup to cling to when nights are cold and lonely
Stand by the Fran and show the world you love her
Keep givin' all the love you can
Stand by the Fran

Some times it's hard to be the Fran
And she tries hard to make us understand
She’s still a hottie, but can’t make potty
So she always travels with a Ziploc of Bran

She’s in the groove and always on the move
She may be older, but she’s no geezer
And she loves to dance, and can still wear size 2 pants
After all there are older things in her freezer

Stand by the Fran, give her warm coffee to come to
In a Styrofoam cup to cling to when nights are cold and lonely
Stand by the Fran and show the world you love her
Keep givin' all the love you can
Stand by the Fran

She knows it’s hard to be a fat man
So oils and fats are under a house ban
She may be hazy
On recipes from Miss Daisy
But she’ll never forget one from Dr. Kautann

But since she loves him, we’ll forgive him
For fat free brain washing our dear Mommy
Chicken with no fat
Or even skin taste like crap
In fact it’s dryer than Mitt Romney

Stand by the Fran, give her warm coffee to come to
In a Styrofoam cup to cling to when nights are cold and lonely
Stand by the Fran and show the world you love her
Keep givin' all the love you can
Stand by the Fran

Stand by the Fran and show the world you love her
Keep givin' all the love you can
Stand by the Fran

Fran's Favorite Things

More from the Celebration of Fran Hardcastle—

(There's video of this somewhere)

Fran's Favorite Things,
as rewritten by Jay Hardcastle

A voyage in the islands with the Sheppard Place Navy
She'll throw up her breakfast if it gets too wavy.
Brad Buds and Bran Flakes and high fiber things,
These are a few of her favorite things.

A house in the mountains, a beach to go swimmin',
[Wilson:] A son who can two step,
[Mac and Jay:] and two who like wimmim.
Chicken so dry you'll forget it had wings.
These are a few of her favorite things.

Highlands and Cashiers and Monteagle Mountain,
Ellen, and Bradley and Leland and countin'.
An aging Mercedes with an engine that pings,
These are a few of her favorite things.

When the head aches, when the shins scream,
When John's all pooped out.
She thinks of a few of her favorite things,
And the she goes right...back out.

Ripe southern peaches and rotten bananas.
If you see a brown one, don't touch it, it's Franna's.
Of Shortbread from Scotland and toffee she sings,
These are a few of her favorite things.

Cake that is caramelly and buns that are sticky,
Walks up in Cashiers all buggy and tickie.
A blue dress from Alfred with butterfly wings.
These are a few of her favorite things.

Vodka with olives, served up with a toothpick.
Jazz at the Bistro gives her a Vermouth kick.
Dancing too late 'til the fat lady sings,
These are a few of her favorite things.

When the head aches, when the shins scream,
When John's all pooped out.
She thinks of a few of her favorite things,
And the she goes right...back out.

Sparkle/Keith update

For fans of Keith (from his exploits in SF) and Sparkle Josh (from his exploits on Design Star), this just in from Keith regarding the X-tavaganza:

Thanks to everyone that joined us, Saturday-- each of you helped make the party a blast! :) A special thanks to Rich for doing a run to refresh the bartenders' stock.

Please note that a camera was lost at the party. If you or someone you know picked up one by mistake, please let us know.

Thanks to everyone that took photos:
Dan Birdwhistell at NashTown.com
Heather Byrd at Nashville Rage magazine
Carman Gery at Sumner Lifestyles magazine
Mael at MyL Photo Production
Amanda McDowell
Sonny

I have consolidated all the pictures here:

You may appear in one or more of the sets. And if I got any names wrong or if you want to fill in any blanks, please send me a message.

Please continue to watch my Flickr account for additional photos, since I expect more on the way. And if you have photos to share, please email them to me and I'll upload them for everyone to enjoy.

Cheers, and Happy Holidays, everyone!
Keith, Josh & Michael

cold front

A dark and bitter storm blew into the Bay Area last night.

And into my chest. I have been knocked out with a terribly unattractive and pretty nasty chest cold. As it seems, has everyone else. Fred is home with the flu, PeeDee is on his way down, and Shilpa may be changing her name to Petree Dishi. 'Tis the season? I dunno. Maybe at one of our holiday parties someone was serving death on a cracker.

Instead of an office holiday lunch I'm staying in bed. I'll get to you after I get back up and steam my lungs.

In the mealtime, a little merry measure this morning from Alert Reader Ryan Mason:

Stand by the Fran

Photos submitted for inclusion of the Tribute to Fran Hardcastle videos are now available online.

As are photos from the event itself.

Barney May, then again Barney May Not

Per your requests, the photos featured in the Barney May Goes Away collage are now in their own photoset on Flickr, so you can grab whatever prints you like.

Christmas Sparkle

Keith and "Sparkle" Josh had their annual X-mas X-travaganza this weekend. I was sick to miss it, but had a blast in the City.

There are already several photosets online from the Sparkle Josh and Keith Show.

Alert Reader Question: iPhone

Alert Reader Barry Maddux has asked why I'm Just Sayin', enormous Apple nerd that we are, has neither purchased an iPhone, nor asked for one from Santa.

Basically, the iPhone is still in its first iteration, and I'm waiting for the next round before I adopt. We need the iPhone to pass a certain level of features before the cost/benefit, in terms of dollars and bother, tips it over to adoption (even though we are already an AT&T subscriber).

We do text a lot, although hundreds fewer texts than certain Alert Readers (PeeDee), and the iPhone text interface does not lend itself to particularly fast texting or easy one-handed texting. The size, fragility, and general not-easily-one-handed-navigation are also negatives the other features would have to make worthwhile.

For us, the iPhone will be worth the price tag and the cost of changing habits when it has been upgraded to include:

• 3G network support (instead of AT&T's crappy Edge network)
• GPS, and
• Video capture.

We're guessing announcements next summer, and products by next fall. Who knows what January's MacWorld will hold.

yes, yes, yes...

I'll be with you in a minute.

It was a full weekend, and so, so much fun. (And I have completely lost my voice.) Photos and recaps to come today.

In the meantime, I was just checking my e-mail. I have to take a moment to note that oldest brother Jay, in all seriousness, actually used the word "perfectomundo."

Really? A Fonzie reference? This is how hip he is to pop culture. I think I'll get him this for Christmas.

reading rainbow

James texted me early Wednesday morning:

Just found two John D. MacDonald books at the bus stop. Want 'em?

Me: Yes please.

James, my most literate/literary friend, knows I love John D. MacDonald books, and how much I love the cover artwork. I am a huge Robert McGinnis fan and I love his pulp fiction covers (as I do the genre). I don't think these covers were done by McGinnis, but these paperbacks still fit the genre, visually and verbally.

My brother Mac collected the whole Travis McGee series. We used to listen to them as books on tape as a family on the long drives from Nashville to Sanibel Island, Florida for spring break. After a while, they are all pretty much the same formula, but all are a lot of fun. Before the whole "A is for Alibi" series, there were the Travis McGee mysteries, each with a different color in the title (hence the title for this post).

James bagged the paperbacks for me and brought them over the other night. I'm looking forward to a little nostalgia (re-) reading these. I think we listened to A Tan and Sandy Silence Silence on one road trip when I was a kid, but I have no memory of the story so it will be, hopefully, new again.

T2

They should have made Terminator 2 dolls out of this stuff.

Pig Toy Retains Its Shape after Being Squashed

Miss Clark if you're nasty

I just did a quick search so I could add a link to the post below, but it appears that I never posted about our euphemism coinage last year.

We try to use any other word we can for what Oprah calls her va-jay-jay.

And I think it was after a recap of a Will & Grace scene wherein Karen compares the vagina to a blossoming flower, that I decided we would now only refer to a woman's hoo-hah as "the petula."

It sounds like a flower, and it brings a whole new meaning to "going downtown."



And in this "Top of the Pops" performance, I think for the male dancers, this is as close to a Petula as they ever got.

Fish on Friday

This is a totally inappropriate post and nasty and should not be posted at all but it's gonna be because I know that even though there are lots of readers out there who will be appalled by this, there are many other who will think this shit's hilarious.

So if you are remotely offended by anything, especially mentions of lesbians or girlie private parts, stop reading right now. I absolve myself of any responsibility as you've now been warned.

(And yes, I know I am writing this in the style of a fifth grader.)

So I was walking down the street with Shilpa the other day, and we were talking about lesbians at work. And then we were talking about one in particular she had seen on the work Web site "Out List." Shilpa was all "I knew it!" and I was all "she's pretty hot." And Shilpa was all "ew!" And I said "she's a totally hot sexy power lesbian." and Shilpa disagreed, saying "She has those big ol' knobby hands." and I said "that might be a good thing...holy crap that fish smell is nasty!"

At which we both laughed while I had to quickly interject "Unrelated!" because at that moment we were walking past by a seafood delivery truck that REEKED and it was just bad timing that the instant we were implying lesbian petula fingering, there was a slap in the face of rank fish smell.

I'm just sayin'.

And I'm just sayin' that considering all of that, it is nothing compared to this.

OMFG!

It's just words, but probably still not safe for work.

It's a Q&A with hood advice columnist Ask Tionna: "Your Vagina Is Your Center. Always Remember That."

Oscar's been reading my mail

For some reason, Kevin hasn't been getting any of my e-mails for the past months, which explains a lot of the mis-communication. He has been getting messages from others when they "reply all" to group invitations (such as the one for the hide and seek day at the Legion of Honor). Kev made it out to Sundance last night and we caught up for the first time in a long while.

He reported this morning that Yahoo had in fact been diverting my e-mails to his bulk/spam folder:

You were right. It had put you in the trash. I think of you more as being in the gutter, if that makes you feel any better.

phone calls

I was syncing up my mobile phone before my trip to Nashville and finally downloaded some of the shots taken with the camera phone.

I am much, much more immature than I thought.

Sign at OAK airport security listed all of the asinine and benign things you can no longer carry on a plane. Hand-scrawled in sharpie in the lower right, you can barely make it out, in apparently uneducated handwriting, someone thought to add to the list "knives."

Drinks, water, juice.... nope not allowed, and you might not think of that. But adding "knives"— you think that one would be obvious, and if not, preprinted in bold somewhere on another sign.

This shot I took as I thought it was just such a sign of the times, and the place. I'm young enough to have had mall experiences growing up,

...but the mall food court never had a sushi bar. Much less in Nashville. This is so Cali.

I spent one Saturday helping Barney box up all of his things for shipping or storage, and schlepping them around town in the car. We stopped for lunch at this great Euro bistro place we love on Potrero Hill. Considering the Italian-ness and hotness of our waiter, we knew what we wanted for dessert. And it was even on the menu.


Wet, Italian nuts indeed.

And lastly, shopping at Whole Foods with Barney and Marco for the final farewell to them and to Club Jackson, we were amused by this to no end.


If I had a dime for every time I've heard that.

O Muirwoods Tree, O Muirwoods tree

If you can't make the hide and seek, there is this local adventure sent in by Alert Reader Jeff Javits. (No link for further information was provided.)

Muir Woods by Candlelight

Once a year Muir Woods is transformed into a luminous nighttime landscape. Late on the afternoon of the winter solstice, the trails are lit by luminarias, and hikers are invited to stroll along candlelit paths Muir Woods Winter Solstice through some of the oldest and tallest trees on the planet. This annual winter-solstice event is a family-friendly celebration of one of the Bay Area's most beloved parks. The occasion includes stage performances, story telling, and bonfires, as well as a special "Solstice Menu" that typically features hot apple cider and other bone-warming beverages. Bring your favorite mug, winter jacket, and blanket, and savor some solstice enchantment.

The celebration is Dec. 21 from 3:00 p.m. to 8:00 p.m. Parking is limited, so it's wise to arrive early and carpool. No dogs. Bring a flashlight.

time keeps on slippin, slippin, slippin, into the winter

It's winter, so my watch has stopped.

Every morning when I get into work I have to take off my watch and hold it in my armpit.

Let me explain: I can't wear a wrist watch. Ever since high school, if I wear a wrist watch I break out terribly and painfully. Only this year have I been unable to tolerate the ring I've worn since 1987.

So I wear pocket watches. And ever since my first boyfriend gave me one in 1997, I've been wearing hangwear, or clip watches. My first HangWare watch was awesome. Doug gave me one with a brown leather strap, and I bought an additional black one (to dress appropriately). Last Christmas my father gave me a nice Dakota watch. I preferred the indiglo face of the HangWare to the red external LED of the Dakota, but the leather had worn through on the HangWear and the Dakota featured a metal carabiner. Although the black coating you see on the clip to the right has almost entirely eroded after less than a year.

However, they both suffer the same flaw. Sure, they both are water resistant to 100 meters, because pocket watches are so popular with divers, but they both have components that contract significantly when cold.

HangWare and clip watches are, by design, intended to be worn "outside," not close to the body. Without the wrist to provide the watch body heat, the internal mechanisms contract (a long time issue with portable timepieces). Unfortunately for these machines, while the quartz keeps time, and its shape, the lighting mechanisms do not.

During the walk to work, the internal bits cool and change their shape sufficiently to turn on the lighting element, and stay there. So the indiglo or flashlight remains, often unnoticed, in the "on" position until I've gone back indoors for enough time for the innards of the watch to warm again. For someone like me who hikes, or walks to and from work every day, this is a considerable issue.

So unless I notice and put the watch under my arm for a while, the watch battery is drained twice a day.

Which does not make for an accurate timepiece.

And so this is my winter excuse for why I cannot be on time.

Amateur

This in from Alert Reader Coco Flores, with one word of commentary: Amateur.


Man nearly dies downing vodka at airport.

seek and go hide

Herbie Hatman has organized a formal Hide-and-Seek game at The California Palace of The Legion of Honor fine arts museum this Saturday SUNDAY. If you/we have time, it could be very cool.

Dear appreciators of fine art,

Please allow the Growing Artist Guild to cordially invite you to an affair to be remembered.

This December the 16th will be a most delightful day at the museum. The Growing Artist Guild will be working with The California Palace of The Legion of Honor Fine Arts Museum to facilitate an afternoon of whimsy intermingling with fine art.

The game Hide-N-Seek will be played starting promptly at 2PM. Punctuality is key as the synchronicity of this game of observation depends on it.

Players are invited to take part in a tea party following their participation in the game.

As we will be in the lovely surroundings of one of the finest art museums Formal wear is encouraged for the afternoon.

We hope that you will join us for this delightful afternoon of Fine Art and Whimsy. The most up-to-date details of this affair will be available here.

Best Regards,
Herbie Hatman
Events Coordinator
Growing Artist Guild

label maker

There's an LGBT work hoo-ha tonight. As my usual work gays no longer work here, I extended the invitation to Shilpa, as numero uno hag.

She hates the term fag hag, and I admit it is not flattering. Generally, she and I refer to gay men's female admirers as fruit flies. However, I've decided to coin the "straight girl friends of homosexual men" as "MoHo"s.

The Homos and their MoHos.

Just making the yuletide gayer.

birthday bon mots

PeeDee and I took Shilpa out to celebrate a slightly belated birthday (neither of us could make it to her do on Saturday, and her actual birthday was just Sunday).

So a big Happy Birthday Shout Out to Alert Reader Shilpa.

Lines from the evening:

Stranger at the bar to Shilpa: "And how old are you?"
Me: "She's 45, but that's just her age in liver damage."

Sign of the times:
"Well, when his phone's not ringing that's me not texting."

On discussing Wham's original Freedom and George Michael's Freedom '90, and PeeDee not knowing there were two:
Shilpa (referring to PeeDee): "Oh my God. I'm gayer than you."
Me: "Well, you're not gayer, but you are a bigger fag."
Shilpa: "I know I should take that as a compliment, but it sounds like it's not."
Me: "That's because that's the manner in which it was intended."

Feel the love.

hit or mistletoe

Where's the love?

Oh, here it is...




From the camera of Alert Reader Keith Hinkle.