workplace joke

just to amuse you:
-------------------------------
The Boss had to fire someone. He had narrowed it down to one of two people, Debra or Jack. It was an impossible decision, they were both super workers. Rather than flip a coin, he decided he would fire the first one who used the water cooler the next morning. Debra came in the next morning with a horrible hangover after partying all night. She went to the cooler to take an aspirin.

The Boss approached her and said: "Debra, I've never done this before but I have to lay you or Jack off."

"Could you jack off?" she says. "I feel like crap."

In case you're wondering

Why, even though I went to library school, I do not work in a library.

iStalk

iPhone ad from The Soup:

for those of you not in the market

Okay, Madame's "appearance" on the radio with Fernando and Greg yesterday was hilarious. But if you don't know who they are, you might not get it. Energy 92.7 has the only morning show with two gay guys: Fernando, who is a mixing DJ, and Greg, who is "The Gay Sportscaster." Their show is pretty funny, and they are often more ribald than I think is allowable on free airwaves.

So adding the very dirty, saucy, bitchy Madame to this mix was just explosive.

For the friends and fans unfortunate enough not to live in San Francisco, here is a profile on Fernando and Greg from one of those PBS sort of Out/Documentary/In the Life sort of shows. But, you know, interesting.

This feathered lady is no dummy.

Madame is back and she's still a hoot and a holler. Madame and Joe Kovacs were on 92.7 with Fernando and Greg yesterday and she was hilarious. Kevin and I were so excited to see the performance at the Plush Room. Kevin's grandparents used to go to Madame shows in SF and Reno all the time.

We got to the neighborhood early enough to secure parking, then walked down to one of our favorite after-theater spots for some before-theater drink and food (clearly, in that order).

It was a beautiful evening.


Welcomed by the ever-lovely and ever-charming Leti Saucedo at brick, we took a perfect perch in the window and regaled each other of our recent escapades (I had Pride and other stories, Kevin had some work material, and Kelly had just returned from two weeks in Europe).

One of the things we love about the Polk/Nob Hill in-between area are the locals. Some, like us, were metro and stylish. Then there are also the trannies and hookers. Love 'em all.

This Miss Thing strutted by our window. After some discussion, I decided I should try to grab a snapshot for the blog.


The discussion was: Tranny? Hooker? or Tranny-hooker?

After a very tasty dinner, it was showtime.



I will say that Joe Kovacs is Madame and she's hilarious. The opening minutes were almost verbatim Madame shtick from the 70s/early 80s, so I was a little worried. But it soon became clear that this repetition of material was to honor the lost Wayland Flowers, and to assure the audience that this is still the one and only Madame. The only thing that has changed is the man with a hand up her dress.


And honestly, for a woman as fabulous as Madame, you can't expect her to stay with the same man all her life.

There were a couple of slow spots in the show, but I really think it was just that the crowd was difficult to warm up, and the crowd should have had a few more drinks in them. Madame's is a silly fast-pasted wit and she needs the room to run along with her.

As much as I love Madame, I totally swooned for Joe Kovacs. Talented and wicked handsome (and yes, I did my "lawn dart" impersonation after the show).


I could see myself dating him. Kevin hoped I ended up with him so I could tighten up his act. (And after my recent experience in Nashville, I know that I am actually quite good at comedy writing, and skilled at taking other people's work and crafting it into a successful bit.)

I wonder if Joe is as saucy as Madame.


Hanging out with them in the bar afterwards, I realized I did not know the etiquette for such intimate "three" way conversation. I kept looking Madame in the eye while talking to her, which I then realized was sort of crazy. But is it disrespectful to the artist not to, when that is the personality you are engaging?

more iPerbole

The Cult of Mac blogger passed the downtown Apple store on his way to Caltrain this morning. He writes:

Though San Francisco’s Union Square Apple Store didn’t develop an iPhone waiters line until yesterday evening, the line has grown to quite the monstrosity as of this morning, running from the store’s front door for a good block and then rounding the corner. There are tents, a bizarre pie-throwing booth, and the people look restless.

clearly working for the wrong company

In college and after, I always wanted to work for Apple. After commuting past the campus on my way to classes (during grad school), I decided no matter how cool the job was, the commute would kill me. And I am unwilling to relocate to living in Cupertino or San Jose.

However, with this news, I am not so confident in my choices:

All full time U.S. employees receive a free iPhone. All part time U.S. employees who've been at the company for more than a year get a free phone. Everyone gets the 8GB model, and presumably this includes Apple retail store employees, too. This is for US employees only at this time.

Coming Attractions in the Plush Room

Kevin: "Ooh. Joan Rivers! I think Joan Rivers in this room would be awesome."

Wilson: "I think Joan Rivers in this room would be Donna Sachet."

But would she fork him?

Overheard at the bar last night:

"She is the type of girl who spoons with the drummer from Green Day."

What? No Ms. Condom?

in the news today:

India looking for Mr. Condom

Thailand had their own "Condom King" and now India wants one.

The search for Mister Condom continues. Question: Will the female counterpart be the Rubber Maid?

since I'm in a "bitchy" mood

DMV/DUI-- Laul Lynde quizzes Dean Martin to renew his driver's license.
How wonderfully bitchy. How did this pass for sub-text in its day?

Madame and We

Kevin got us tickets to Madame tonight!

I am so looking forward to it. She was on the 92.7 morning show this A.M. and was high-larious.

See earlier.

Madame and Me: A Come Back from a Broad.



From the old Madame in Manhattan:

good brown gravy

So what are you if you are Latino/Latina and love country music?

In good company.

And the word for it, apparently, is Latonky.

And you have your own Web site: Latonky.com.



Note: "Good Brown Gravy" is a great country song written by Verlon Thompson.

Mac and PC, meet Internet and Library

Unshelved has been doing its own riff on the Mac & PC ads.

e-mail from my mother

Relax. It's not what you'd expect.

HOW MANY SEC STUDENTS DOES IT TAKE TO CHANGE A LIGHT BULB?

At VANDERBILT: it takes two, one to change the bulb and one more to explain how they did it every bit as good as the bulbs changed at Harvard.

At GEORGIA: it takes two, one to change the bulb and one to phone an engineer at Georgia Tech for instructions.

At FLORIDA: it takes four, one to screw in the bulb and three to figure out how to get stoned off the old one.

At ALABAMA: it takes five, one to change it, three to reminisce about how The Bear would have done it, and one to throw the old bulb at an NCAA investigator.

At OLE MISS: it takes six, one to change it, two to mix the drinks and three to find the perfect J. Crew outfit to wear for the occasion.

At LSU: it takes seven, and each one gets credit for five semester hours.

At KENTUCKY: it takes eight, one to screw it in and seven to discuss how much brighter it seems to shine during basketball season.

At TENNESSEE: it takes ten, two to figure out how to screw it in, two to buy an orange lampshade, and six to phone a radio call-in show and talk about how much they hate Alabama.

At MISSISSIPPI STATE: it takes fifteen, one to screw in the bulb, two to buy the Skoal, and twelve to yell, "GO TO HELL, OLE MISS".

At AUBURN: it takes one hundred, one to change it, forty-nine to talk about how they did it better than at Bama, and fifty to get drunk and roll to Loomer's Corner when finished.

At SOUTH CAROLINA: it takes 80,000, one to screw it in and 79,999 to discuss how this finally will be the year that they have a decent football team.

At ARKANSAS: None. There is no electricity in Arkansas.

e-mail from Marc-o

Marco, former denizen of Club Jackson (and seen here modeling a "fake fur" coat last weekend*), responded to one of my e-mails this morning.

He is interviewing for a new job and is being recruited all over the world. This morning he wrote that he was in Paris.

He describes it, in typical Marco fashion, as "very French."

He himself is Italian with dual-Canadian citizenship, so maybe there's some subtext I'm missing.




*By the way, Marco thinks he's fat these days. I want to slap him.

just because

Just for amusement, a Gonzo number.

And what's with Dennis Quaid at the intro?

bedtime for Gonzo

How did we miss this?

Gonzo Unleashed: Muppet star tells all

There is a specal Muppet history/exhibit/presenations/events at the Yearba Buena this week. It's almost over and we've already missed the good bits. Although considering my schedule last week, i wouldn't have been able to go anyway.

Sigh. So much happens in SF on a daily basis it's hard to keep up.


Muppets, Music & Magic
Jun 21–24, Jun 28, Jun 30 & Jul 1
$8 regular, $6 seniors, students, youth & teachers
$6 YBCA Members

We pay tribute to one of the world’s most inspired and innovative film and puppetry artists, Jim Henson. A visionary TV producer and a worldclass puppeteer who created indelible characters like Kermit the Frog, Henson brought a unique combination of childlike wonder and adult sophistication to his groundbreaking work for children and adults alike. The daytime screenings feature films for younger audiences, while evening programs focus on Henson’s experimental work, rarities, and films for older kids and all the adults who never grew up. This two-weekend series will explore all facets of this true American genius.

(I am disturbed that the puppeteer of Gonzo looks so much like Donald Rumsfeld.)

why are you so testes?

I just came from my HIV test (I didn't study for it either.). I called my brother afterwards because it turned out to be such a humorous experience, and everyone became such complete and total smart asses—which is why it reminded me of my brother Mac. (And we will always assert that being a smart ass is better than being a dumb ass.)

My family doesn't get the whole "regular testing" thing. For them it's a freak out thing— something you do because there is a reason, and therefore something to fret about. For me and most of my kindred, it's like changing the batteries in the smoke detector. It's just something a responsible adult does every six-months (or, if you are half-responsible, every year). I don't worry about it, it's just something on my list to do around the same time I get my teeth cleaned (making it about every six months and that serves as a good reminder). XYZ gets his done when the clocks change.

Anyway, I had a sore throat recently and went to the doctor. My primary care doc couldn't see me, so I saw another. He asked "Do you have sex with men or women?" (Men.) "When was the last time you had sex?" (Uh...) He mistook for awkwardness what was just flat out unable to remember. Which reminded me of two things: (1) I have GOT to get a better love life; and (2) I just got my teeth cleaned and it's time for a test.

So I made an appointment at an anonymous/confidential center I have frequented before and went after work today.

I waited my turn, met with a counselor, and then he escorted me to the lab for the test. I usually write a check to this agency each year to support the community, and as such always opt for the least expensive test (least expensive for them). I was assured that they are all the same cost now. In the past they have always drawn blood from my arm and I have had to come back in a couple of days for the answers. This time they did a finger prick and the results were back in 20 minutes. As much as I hate having blood drawn, the finger prick is equally dreadful (that is to say, producing dread). But this was no lancet finger prick— they used some sort of plastic snap thingie that was unbelievably fast. The anticipation was considerably worse than the experience, which was as close to painless as one can get and still make one bleed. And there were no pipettes, just a teensy, tiny bit of blood collected by a tiny little loop at the end of a stick, using only surface tension to collect the sample.

So really, if anyone is reading this who has not had a test in a while, go. The process is streamlined and is as painless, physically and emotionally, as it really can be. E-mail me directly if you want to know information on the local, free, and confidential or anonymous services.

Clearly, that's not the funny part.

So, counseling and tests all over, Dave (the counselor) offered and encouraged their range of STD tests. Now I am pure as the driven snow (and by that I mean chains advised), but health tests are always a good idea so I said "sure."

He told me there were two tests: one is an oral swab and one is a rectal swab. He went on a bit before telling me that "oh no, you collect the rectal sample yourself." Well talk about burying the lead! WTF. That idea was much more stressful than the HIV test. But still.

David walked me back to the lab, where we exchanged witty banter with the phlebotomists and then he left me alone. She took an oral swab, which is not nearly as much fun as it might sound. Then she started instructing me as to the rectal swab. She called it by its trademarked name PharmCo Rapid Bunghole Test or some such. I said they should really just call it the PharmCo Eclipse.

"Because it sounds sexier, like a car?"

"No, because you stick it where the sun don't shine."

Yes, she's holding a stick I am expected to insert into my rear and I am doing shtick. Pun intended.

It just went downhill from there.

"It's the only STD test that actually does require a No. 2 pencil. You just have to shove it up your backside..."

The test kit consisted of a small vial with a screw-off cap with foil-seal top layer, and a cotton swap on a long wooden stick. The swab was still in its paper wrapper and she indicated to me how far it should be (ahem) inserted by placing her finger to a point along the shaft. My eyes nearly popped out of my head and I clearly registered alarm.

"Are you kidding me?" (I had the presence of mind, at least, not to ask if she were "shitting" me.)

She clued in. "No! NO! The cotton is on this end! Just an inch!"

"I was thinking, for fuck's SAKE!"

"Okay, there is some glycerin in the test tube and you can dip in it there first. I hear it makes it much more pleasant... I say as if I have not done this too. Now it's very important that you screw the cap on and off carefully. Do not break the foil."

"Oh, so I don't stick the stick into the vial through the foil like it's a juice box."

"No. This is not a Capri Sun."

"Honey, if I go in there and come out with a Capri Sun, I've got much bigger problems. And those require much more expensive tests."

Ultimately I went to the men's room to take my sample. (Yeah, I know, ew. Grow up for God's sakes. This is being an adult.) My primary complaint was that there was no place to hang my coat. Bigger ew.

I returned my tube to the lab. And I'll tell you it's an awkward feeling to walk into a room and talk to people who are fully aware that you've just walked out of another room where you were sticking something up your butt.

I'm just sayin'.

I entered the lab and she asked (somewhat obviously) "All done?"

"Yes, but I don't think it respects me anymore."

"Don't think it will call you?"

"Well, it told me it loved me but I don't think it really meant it... Sluttly little swab."

"Tramp."

"It was partly my fault I guess. I suppose if I didn't want it I wouldn't have dressed this way."

what is it with my friends' dates last night?

First it was the circus choreographer. And then this crazy trick. And I'm just talking about today.*

Last night, PAD (not Alert Reader Paul Day, despite the similarity of the acronym to his initials) called me from the train back from San Jose.

After midnight.

And he was hammered.

He was listening to Mika and was in danger of (1) dancing and (2) getting kicked off the train. Having been worn out post-Pride with a sore throat this week, I had curled up with my pillow and a DVD and gone to bed. I told him to call Shilpa (I am not pure evil, but I dabble). However, fairly altered and still new to the whole "cell phone" thing (Luddite), PAD kept calling me back, then dialing her number, as if he needed a dial tone. I eventually just turned my phone off.

PAD called me this afternoon and told me about the rest of his night. He detoured to the Cinch on the way home and picked someone up. They went back to his place, got naked, and started fooling around. At one point, PAD playfully (PAD claims "lightly") spanked the boy's rear end. (I qualify "lightly" as I have been on the fully-clothed business end of one of his smacks before and ouch.) According to PAD, the kid SHRIEKED then cried out, "No! That's how Daddy used to do it when he [molested] me!"

He then grabbed his clothes and fled down the stairs and into the night.

Wow.

Full sensitivity to his abuse. But wow.

Now that's an awkward date.

Then again, PAD went cruising at the Cinch. I mean, that's like shopping at the (more than one) day-old bread store. These are not the freshest baked goods.

(But may in fact be "baked," if you catch my drift.)

I am also a little creeped out as I have a vague recollection of a friend or acquaintance who hooked up with someone who could only get off if he replicated the conditions of his childhood molestations ("You have to do it like Daddy/Uncle Touchy used to do to me when I was little" sort of thing.). Which to me sounds really effed up. But I am not a mental health professional.

I'm just sayin'.

And really, my love life (or rather the lack thereof) seems so much more comforting. I'm totally grading on a curve.





*Okay, this is a pale and late-night recreation of what was a lengthy and pretty funny post. But $@#&^*!! Blogger freaking SUCKS when it comes to adding images, and DELETED the body of the post (and the saved version) when it added the image! I am so livid I could spit. Enjoy the recreation while I seethe.