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.

iPerbole

The iPhone hype continues to rage out of control, as are stories about the hype. And waaaay too many stories on people offering their "wait for you in line" services for a fee.

But I am enjoying all the hubub. I am enjoying the energy of all this six-month, pent-up anticipation building to a total Applegasm.

Wheeeeee!



Update: Joe.My.God weighs in on "iPhonies:"

I passed by the midtown Apple Store yesterday where people were already lined up for Friday's iPhone release. Some of them have been there since Monday. I'm trying to think of anything in the entire world worth waiting for five days in 90 degree weather. Maybe a winning lottery ticket. Suddenly I'm hoping for torrential thunderstorms. Maybe some hail. I am a terrible person.

Overheard at work - 25

"It could be [somethingoranother diagnosis]. Alcohol is an irrantant."
"You're telling me. I know when you have alcohol it certainly is irritating."

unamerican activitives

The Patriot Act(s) continue to be anything but.

Librarians Describe Life Under An FBI Gag Order

three ringed

I love XYZ but haven't seen him in quite some time. He checked in last night asking if I was going to make it to Princess Kennedy's birthday party at Trannyshack. (That would be a no. I have been exhausted and under the weather post-Pride and curled up with my pillow and a DVD.)

XYZ also had a date planned with someone who has been a crush person of interest for a little while.

The guy? Not just a choreographer, but a circus choreographer. XYZ tends to date only the handsomest/most physically fit of the species. And for this to be found in someone atypical, let's say a circus performer, is itself, rather typical.

His is the Cirque de so Gay.

Circus Abs chose a cozy, romantic French restaurant for the encounter, but never ordered any food. Several wines and no solids later, XYZ was beyond hungry, but Circus Abs was food averse. It seems he already had a protein shake (we're quoting here: "because it has fewer sugars than Muscle Milk").

I have impressed upon XYZ the appreciation of the novel sentence. (There are only so many ways to arrange the words in the English language, and one should really pay attention for the sentences or sentiments you've never heard before.) XYZ now tries to remember these for me later.

Last night's bon mots: "well, I should tell you, I am really working on my silks right now and I need to focus on more protein, less fat."

Poor XYZ went home ravenous to an empty cupboard with only a nearby pizza place as possible nourishment. (Sort of the opposite of Circus Abs' diet.)

At least XYZ got some acrobatic and contortionist entertainment before he went home.

I'm imagining the video: The Three Cock Ring Circus.

Pride 2007 weekend recap

Pride weekend was, as always, busy, fun, and exhausting. With lots of surprises. I've got a thousand other things on my plate, so I'm telling this tale in pictures.

To be honest, I'm over the parade. Have been for years. I've done the early-watching thing, the watch from a party thing, the sleep through it thing, the march in it thing, the dance in it thing, and now I'm just happy volunteering for a group during.

My waning interest in the parade is matched by my growing enthusiasm for Pink Saturday. That's where the fun it.

We started off meeting up with Coco Flores, Jimbo Myers, Shilpa Patel, and Jeff Javits at the Metro. And had perfect window seats (unintentionally) for the Dyke March. That was a sight to see. And sometimes, as we do, mock.

The Dyke March lastd for hours it seems. Strong stock those dykes.

After that, we all crammed into a cab to head up to David and Sean's—Javits and Jimbo were proper invitees, and Coco, Shilpa and I were the plus one three.

Javits took me, Kevin, and Kelly last year, and we not only had a lovely time, but also totally fell in love with David and Sean. (Of course, back then I didn't know they were an "and" as I flirted shamelessly with Sean.) As always, David and Sean were wonderful and generous hosts.

Wilson Hardcastle and David O'Connor

Imagine my surprise as we crossed the threshold, and David greeting each of us, including Shilpa, by name. It seems that David is a total lurker and big fan of the blog.

David O'Connor and Shilpa Patel

I left a couple of my comical cards last year, and David checked out the web address. Since then, he has been checking the blog a couple of times a day. He's a total fan of the blog (so flattered) and a fan of Shilpa's. He knew everything about our bid'ness (asking about our recent exploits, auto theft, Shilpa's deal with her mother etc.). Much fun. So a huge I'm Just Sayin' shout out to Alert Reader David O'Connor!

There were other familiar faces, and lots of pink.

It was a perfect weekend for Pride, with a pink sunset to usher us into the Pink Saturday night.

Where I again played demented Easter Bunny, and met up with lots of friends.

Sean Ray and Wilson Hardcastle

While Pink Saturday was the highlight of the Pride weekend, here are a few comments on Pride Sunday—

I had signed up to volunteer at the boot check for the Sundance Saloon stage, and planned to spend the bulk of the day two-stepping in the sunshine. Something I really love about Pride. That, and how so many pretty little things are so brazenly cruising for cowboys. It's like being a candy story surrounded by kids.

I was, no surprise, late for my shift, but that was totally the fault of the N-Judah. It should not take over an hour to get from Cole Valley to Civic Center.

But I loved the people watching. For example: dude standing next to me, a 'mo tourist in town for Pride.

Yes, Mary, you're all butch and shit.

With your big bad bear self:


and tats.

and boots.

But you sort of ruin the whole straight/manly/I don't care about fashion queers look with the Prada shades.

You just one big beary label queen aren't you?

Again this year, the country stage was packed.





I was impatient throughout my shift as I could not wait to get out on the dance floor. Having checked other people's boots for two hours, I was ready to get mine out.

Small problem: in my rush to leave the house in the morning, and pack everything I could conceivably need for the day, I made a little oversight—

I packed two right boots from separate pairs. That suuucked. At least I still had a backup frozen roadie, which only slightly eased the pain of being stuck in sneakers all day.

I thought about going home to change, but considering the nightmare I had getting here in the first place, I decided just to walk around and enjoy this unbelievably gorgeous day.

There were some sights to see:

Yay for gays!

Yeah you are!


Awesome.

The well-balanced lesbian.

Who says gay values aren't family values?

And this last one is just WTF?

It's Gay Pride people, not fetish pride, or freak-show pride, or, you know Kiss pride.

tunnel vision

Every couple of months, maybe twice a year, when I have decided (as usual) not to spend ten bucks on a cab but instead hike from the Castro to Noe and Duboce for the N to take me home, I find that some moron has driven his (or her) car into the Sunset Tunnel and lodged the vehicle onto the tracks.

Then I walk back to the Castro for that cab.

Sometimes I am surprised at how often this happens, but other times I can see how drunks/ tourists/ drunken tourists could make this mistake. However, whenever I have witnessed this the divers have since bolted, and the car is always some crappy old Chevy-something (and not likely a tourist's ride).

This is the first time I have seen a car stuck in the tunnel from my side (Cole Valley). And it is a Prius no less. However, judging by the way the car was facing when it was towed out of the tunnel by the train, it had to have entered from the Duboce Triangle side (aka the East Portal).

And the fine? Only $55. And parking on the sidewalk is now up to something like $150. But parking on the railroad tracks in a tunnel? $55. Weird.

All of this just seems a little Wile E. Coyote.



More at the N-Judah Cronicles.

i love a parade

and, well pear-ade. Any kind of ade really (lemonade, lime-aid). Nice mixers those.

I did not see much of the Pride parade this year as by the time an N with standing room showed up, it was going to be late for my shift at the Sundance Saloon country dance stage boot check booth.

Joe.My.God reports from the Mermaid Parade on Coney Island last week.

Imagine this at a Pride parade: and entire float/contingent of people who love dick. Signs reading: "We love Dick!" and "We Support Dick!"...

...followed by a guy named Dick.

Really.

I love it. Very "Mikes on Bikes."

fragile

What is it with popping bubble wrap?

Back in the late 90's, little flash-sheets of "virtual bubble wrap" started popping (ahem) up all over the internet.

But this is just weird. Man, those Japanese make anything and everything. Which, admittedly, is kinda why I want to go visit. Me likey the gadgets.

Portable Bubble Wrap Simulator

good question

Overheard from the aforementioned Sean, during a conversation about a fab faux fur jacket, which turned to PETA/animal rights activists attacking people wearing fur and dousing them in red paint

"But they're hypocrites. The activists keep screaming that fake fur is just as good and 'just like' real fur. If good fake fur is indistinguishable from real fur, how did they know that the people they were attacking weren't wearing fakes?"

headline of the day

Verdict Reached in $54 Million Pants Suit

What were the other judges wearing?

Post Pride

Welcome back to a beautiful, sunny, post-Pride Monday. It's a gorgeous day, and I hope to spend the evening uploading photos and sending out the shouts.

And hopefully I can get some Club Jackson pix to share from the other Irregulars. That shit was just crazy.

And yet, somehow, typical.

Love to all, and a special smootch and shout to Fan of the Blog David O'Connor and his loving (and quite lovely) husband Sean. Great guys and spectacular hosts. (I will offer a simple rule of thumb for pride weekend: gays = vodka. I'm just sayin'.)

Pride Appropriate

I am begining to love these inspirational moments from Britain's Got Talent. The hilarious homo at the FAGAT's Guide posted this clip.

FAGAT writes: "All credit goes to nymag.com's Vulture blog for unearthing this clip from Britain's Got Talent. We'd be embarrassed that we teared up at the office before noon when we watched this, but we did shots before we left the house this morning - so we're a little bit past feeling judged."


I admit to a little mistiness around the eye area myself. (I did not do shots before leaving the house this morning, but there might be some lingering effects of last night.)

[watch the clip before continuing]

Read the comments over at the original post. Most are just cute, but some are just really funny.

From BigMouth:

You know, we just watched this video again with a straight girlfriend, and it became very clear that only gay people are so easily played like an emotional puppet by this scene. After all, our friend pointed out, it IS just a fag twirling a baton.

Man, straight people don't know anything.

such a total farce

Last night was another Out With A.C.T. night, and Kevin and I were in form again.



I don't have much time so here are the highlights:

GREAT performance. Nancy Dussault owned the play, but the young redheaded suitor often stole it. It was Molière's The Imaginary Invalid, as adapted by Constance Cogdon. Very funny.

Kevin did not find it quite as amusing as I did, and found it at times to campy, at one point going so far as to call it a farce. I pointed out that this IS farce. This is were farce comes from. Molère basically invented, and if not invented then cemented, the genre. It's supposed to be camp. This was new at the time— we are talking about 16th century France.

But that's not the point and I have to rush.

We loved Nancy Dussault (and you may know here from her many stage and screen appearances, but she is famous for her role as the mother on Too Close for Comfort. She was kind enough to join the Out-ers after the show. She was so sweet (and amazing in her role).

And she was all interested in blogs but had never seen one. So I gave her my card and now she gets to be on one.



Love you.

Also high on our praise list is Promotions Manager Randy Taradash. Randy is always a superlative host, and Kevin and I have enjoyed getting to know him over the seasons. He ushered us behind the scenes for a little tour and we may have a venue for Kevin's 40th.

Randy has also undergone some serious measures for weight loss. I thought I was doing well on the South Beach Diet (I'm three notches in on my belts now), but Randy has lost 150 pounds over the past several months. Wow.

And looking good, Randy.



Also shout to Randy's friend, and now ours, Jason. (tasty morsel)

I'm willing to post a plug for Zazil ("Coastal Mexican Cuisine") who sponsored/catered the reception. Their ceviche was a little spicy for me but really good, and the bbq/molé or whatever the chicken was tasted wonderful. I think they are located in the new Westfield Center, near Bloomingdales.

Another plug to the very entertaining Shawn Ryan, who with his trio performed at the reception and will be playing the Herbst in August. Go.

If I think about it I'll update this post later to include the somewhat amusing accosting/exchange with Nancy, company regular.

But for now I will dash off with final shouts out to the Kids in the Corner (nobody puts Baby in a corner): Emily, Scott, and Brett.



Note to Scott: I'm not kidding. If Brett is not your significant other, e-mail me. We're going out.


Flickr

shear genius

I just got my hair cut over lunch today, and since Luis split, I need a new barber. And with the new shorn look, I need a daddy/bear sort of barber who knows how to cut short, trim beards, and make them both look hot.

I found it in Danny over at Joe's Barber Shop at the top of the Castro on the 19th end.

And I love their logo. I have always been a fan of clever designs, especially those that can tie the endeavor of the subject into the design of the name.

Here's their logo:



Why is it cropped like that? Because this is their tag line:


I bought a t-shirt, from Joe himself actually, because it reads "My barber can beat up your stylist."

say hi

Inspired by Ellen's skill with the iMac, cousin Barry has learned how to use the iMac PhotoBooth mail feature to say hi.


Y'all say "Hey" to Barry.

focusN on me!

The very loveable Cousin Barry sent me a copy of this month's Nfocus magaine from Nashville. It's been a long, busy morning and the UPS guy just delivered it to my desk and it has made my day.

I know I still have not gotten around to writing down all the tales from the Nashville trip, but one of the highlights was meeting the sweet Sinclair Kelly, who also happens to be an Associate Editor and Photographer for the magazine.

Sinclair covered the Hunt Ball for the magazine, and as she spent a lot of time with the Hardastle family that night (because we are the super-happy-fun-time people), we were featured in the coverage.

You may recall the whote "dyed my hair blond thinking it would grow out during surgery recovery and no one would see it but then teh surgery was canceled " bit. I had a haircut before going home, but that just left me with blond tips, which in no way pleased my mother.

The week before the "Oh God! Oh God! Dear God stop the burning!" heat wave in Nashville, it was like seven degrees. On Easter. It was crazy, and all the flora got severly frost-burned. And all the new recently tender-green growth was frozen to a light brown.

When I got off the plane and my mother grimaced, paused, sighed heavily, touched my hair and said, "Well... you look like the boxwoods."

I, of course, thought she was crazy. And you know, my mother being crazy wasn't exactly a news flash. Until I got home and saw this:



That night at Tribe I got some comments on the hair and I mentioned what my mother had said. Jon Glassmeyer did a spit take he laughed so hard. Gotta hand it to Fran-- she gave me the best line of the week. Even though I had originally had no idea what she was talking about, every one in Nashville knew exactly what she meant.

I told the story at the Hunt Ball and it became a pull quote in the feature. I have gotten more e-mails on this than you would believe.

The photos from the Hunt Ball are great (but not on the Nfocus Web site). And it's so nice to be featured/remembered in the social pages even though I am so far removed.

Gotta keep that face fresh in the scene you know.



So--

Love to Sinclair for being such fun and throwing my story out there; and
Love to Barry for sending me a copy!

Dewey

Unshelved is a comic I love and is set in a library (in a mall, in Mallville).

Sadly, but humorously, this says a lot about the state of library/bibliographic instruction in many schools.

what about rhinestones?

[on Country Music celebrity and "hunk" Darryl Worely]

"Isn't he the gay one?"

"No, the one with the gay rumors is Ty Herndon, but he's actually dated some friends of mine. Darryl Worely now has hippie-long hair, and just posed for Playgirl. He was so hot in the Tennessee River Run video, when he had shorter hair and hair on his chest. Now he has Fabio hair and clipped his body hair. And his ass was huge, not that I am one to talk..."

"Are you casting the first stone?"

"Well, I live in a plexiglass house."

2 Q t

I received a photo e-mail from my newly twelve-year-old neice, asking "Do you notice anything different?"


The sweet thing has pierced her ears.

And sent me a kiss.


I freaking love the new iMacs. Family doesn't seem so far away any more.

Dancing at Studio Fourteen Fifty-Four.

Barney, Verde, and apparently, Cousin It.