GI Joe

No posts for a while. A diverticulitis flare up has put me down for the count. Back with smarm in a couple of days.

Gone fishin'

Saturday night.

After too many phone calls to friends who were either on dates, at the theater, or sitting around with other friends playing the most annoying game of “I don’t know. What do you want to do?” ping pong, I dipped into my if “I were a lushy, dishy, witty, sit-com character, what would I suggest?” persona and came up with a plan.

“Let’s get roadies and go to Fisherman’s Wharf and make fun of the tourists.”

We stopped at Safeway and stocked the cooler in the trunk with ice, Absolute Mandarin, and Callistoga, then cruised for parking down by the wharf. We stopped in Walgreens for a package of coffee cups and lids to make our whore's coffees.

I parked on a corner, and while mixing our drinks, a patrol car pulled alongside us and stopped at the intersection such that the officer’s window was perfectly in line with our open trunk. Considering the mania, panhandling, and pick-pocketing surrounding us, they seemed to merely shrug and go on their way.

This being the wharf, one presumes they had (ahem) bigger fish to fry. Or crabs. Whatever.

As lovely as Daly City was, we needed a cocktail to launch ourselves into the Saturday night.

With all the barkers, huddled foreign tourists, teens and twenty-somethings on vacation or dates, newlyweds, and package tourists, we were not wanting for entertainment. Yes, yes, sometimes we lowered ourselves and forwent "clever" for "bitchy" but with the array of "fashion" parading by, you would too. The most popular attire seemed to be either (1) matching outfits identifying family units/seniors social clubs or (2) the ever-popular "I'm wearing a SF-embroidered fleece because where I come from August/September is considered summer." Although truth be told, it was a great Summer San Franciscan evening, warm air and no fog in sight.

Of course, my companion and I sometimes have the same tastes in eye candy and would eye-lock the same guys from time to time. It also became a game of "bad boyfriend," picking out the guys on dates/married who would either (1) openly ogle her and smile/wink while holding their girlfriend's/wife's hand; or (2) the same sort of chap, but ogling/engaging me.

I love a parade.

I celebrate the wharf for proving the tourists a place to feel like they are on vacation, and for keeping them away from the rest of the City in the meantime. But at the same time I held some pity for them, fearing that they might be thinking this was their big Saturday Night Out In San Francisco, and that this was what SF is really like.

Not so much.

And while I love the fresh, live crabs down the crab alley, the sandwiches they hawk are just scary—I don't think there is so much mayo in all of Minnesota, and they are served on impossible-to-chew sourdough. Those that dared bore the markings down their fronts.

Eventually, we had our "Honey, let's eat here. Just wait in the bar for a moment while I go to the restroom" performance down pat so we could take advantage of the cleaner restrooms on the strip.

At the far end of the wharf a fire dancer, well, fire twirler is more accurate, had the pedestrians enthralled. He was an entertaining performer (but clearly not a San Franciscan, if only for the fact he referenced his mortgage when asking for tips and no one in SF can afford a mortgage on a sidewalk fire-twirling income) spinning his fire batons in nothing but fur boots and a loincloth.

I will say, while his Sharon Meadow juggling act held the interest of the crowd, it was the looking good in a loincloth that held mine.

I'm just sayin'.

I had S's camera out and decided to grab a brief vid for the blog. Now sure, I'm a fan of good baton twirling:




but this guy's baton was. on. fire.




Marjorie.




I could faintly overhear the couple next to S. I don't think the audio comes though on the YouTube vid. I made some sort of obvious quip like "And you think I'm flaming..." and the guys next to her thought it was hilarious and repeated it in hushed tones. When I had started taping, there was a large burly guy with his girlfriend next to S. I assumed it was this guy I was hearing but they had moved on (I didn't look over as I was recording). S reported that it was a cute tourist gay couple who were excited to hear some gayness on the Wharf. I wish I had known as I thought we should have offered to take them out to the Castro with us and show them a real SF Saturday night.

Walking back towards Ghirardelli, fireworks erupted over the Golden Gate. (We still don't know the occasion. Barney could see them from the view from Club Jackson.)



After a couple of laps, and refills, we reached that giddy stage of laughing too hard and too much and left the street performers tourists for the shops and "attractions."

And the choices here. Why is this dreck popular? Really? There's a line for the Rainforest Café?

It's just like being back in India...wait, WTF? Why is there an elephant in a rainforest?

And the wax museum still draws such a crowd? (BTW, Barry Bonds on display out front looks like a deranged serial killer. I don't know if that means it is lifelike or not.) I do admit that I wanted to go to the Ripley's Believe It or Not Museum, because it evokes such fond memories of going when I was ten on a camping trip to Gatlinburg, TN.

And while I'm on the subject, for my Tennessee friends I describe Fisherman's Wharf as the Gatlinburg of San Francisco, so it should also be illustrative conversely. But Gatlinbug makes a lot of and is known for it's taffy candies. Why does Fisherman's Wharf have so much?


It was in maybe a dozen shops. Is that just a tourist-destination thing?

And there is so much crap to be had it was delightful. And not just exceptionally stupid tee shirts and your name on a grain of rice.

Just earlier that day had I asked RMJ (who was towards Fort Mason) if perchance he had seen any tiny cable cars, names on tiny license plates, or shot glasses with pithy expressions.

Investigating the snow globes.

Interrogating the snow globes.

Also in such a store did we see this ad for Levi's (always a tourist thing too. Is this leftover from when one could trade Levi's for an automobile in eastern europe?):

Relaxed, maybe. Booty, sure. Straight? I'm guessing no.

While I am still clinging to the South Beach Diet lifestyle, we ultimately succumbed to the chocolateer for a chocolate-covered oreo.


And S demonstrated that I am not the only bear she loves. Or offers cocktails.


That was not the end of the night, but it is the end of this post.

hot real estate market?

not for cold-war era digs.

What will $1.5 million buy you in San Francisco? A nice two bedroom place in a good neighborhood. Maybe three's a view.

In central Washington? $1.5 million can get you a lot of square footage. Most of it, however, is underground. But you can trick out some sweet "James Bond Villian lair" sort of interior design.

Place you bid on eBay. That $1.5 MM you have laying around can buy you a Titan 1 nuclear missile Base. Price includes:

• 57 acres terrain one and a half hours west of Spokane, 10 minutes from Interstate 90
• 16 underground buildings including:
. • Three 160' Tall Missile Silo
. • Three (4 story) Equipment Terminal buildings
. • Two Antenna Silos
. • 100' Diameter Control Dome
. • 125' Diameter Power Dome

Actually, I think this is very cool. But it would cost way more than $1.5 MM to trick it out right. And holodecks cost a freakin' fortune these days.

Pics are on the Gizmodo site. I don't know if they left the equipment behind or not. here's a photo of the computers from the original installation.


You realize that the capacity of those bazillion cubic feet of computers used at this base is now smaller than a postage stamp. Add a one or two gigabyte SD card and you can double the storage.

What to do with all that space? I dunno, maybe turn the silos into seriously wicked climbing walls.

Will and Grace visit Queens

Or rather, Wilson and Shilpa go to Daly City.

Shilpa had been invited by one of her Badlands Buddies to a birthday party down in Daly City. And this is not Kevin's part of Daly City, but just up and over the scary part.

The people are, truly, good and kind. However, the whole affair was totally NPLU. Attempts to critique the experience in an entertaining fashion would only lead to bitchy, catty commentary, which they don't deserve.

Good people, just not very fun and not very skilled at the whole hosting/attending a party thing. Music and a bar would have gone a long way to livening the atmosphere.

The view was cool.


And I am always amused at how much the lezzies love the Shilpa.

Most impressive was the Barbie cake:


Most surprisingly, it was made by the butchest, gruffest man there.

I admit that I know how deceptively easy these cakes are to make from a kit. But I was genuinely impressed (1) with the time and patience it took for him to glue the individual necklace gems on the doll, and (2) that despite the hours making the cake proper, he took even longer to style and tease her hair.

Now that is a cake fit for a queen.

Shilpa and I made our appearance, livened up the party considerably, and made a good effort for about two hours. Will and Grace that we have become, we are quite fluent in each other's non-verbal and devised a graceful escape plan on the fly and made our goodbyes around seven o'clock.

We had not nibbled enough to count it as dinner, but enough that we weren't hungry for a full mean out. We called around to see what our friends where up to but no one was having an adventure.

And we needed one.

Will and Grace turned into Jack and Karen.

What hijinks ensued? Stay tuned, that's the next post.

Here are your clues: whore's coffees, an elephant, a pirate, fireworks, and fire batons.

Honestly, y'all should know by now that when I hanker for an adventure, I don't mess around.

When was the last time you used the words "fire batons"?

I'm just sayin'.

Delighful Dolores

Summer has hit San Francisco, and we took full advantage of it by heading straight from work to Dolores Park to enjoy the lingering warmth and sunshine. The days are definitely getting shorter and I dread the coming early darkness. Shilpa and I stopped for a little local delicacy, Hangar One Mandarin Blossom, and some soda and packed a cooler for the park where we were joined by Barney May and Paul Day.

Barney May and a happy Wilson.

The joy of the afternoon was marred only by some sad news from Barney [which will be revealed later].

Barney May dashes Wilson's spirit.

That truly pained me, and did the news that RMJ [also to be revealed later], and I was grateful for the rain on Saturday morning so I could stay in bed and be bummed about the looming [again]. That, and the some of the [again] discussion that followed the announcements.

But I digress.

The park was wonderful, and a very SF evening.

Shilpa was happy as a lark with her husband (me), her boyfriend

and her Barney.

We also enjoyed strangers' SF-apartment sized dogs (i.e. tiny) and the far too cute kids coming out to play with just-home-from-work daddies. This one was determined to make it down the hill by herself without any help.

She balanced precariously, not taking a step, for several minutes before her father ultimately took her hand and led her down to the playground. Crocs aside, which are just child abuse really, she was dipped in cute.

And then there was the martial arts guy across the park. PeeDee supplied the sound effects.



Afterwards, as we do, we hit happy hour at Badlands,

where we met up with RMJ.


And, by the way, I was touchably-soft and quite manly in my Nashville Grizzlies t-shirt, so thanks and shout out to David for that gift.

RMJ and Barney engaged the shall be unnamed but let's just say Batshit Crazy. They did not heed my "edit/delete" warnings until far, far too late. RMJ and Barney both called me later, after multiple incidents of psychotic behavior, to apologize for not taking my advice to avoid. Seriously, what do I have to do? Wave my arms yelling "Danger, Danger Will Robinson!"?

Meanwhile, the bar fly Shilpa was hanging out with her other gays. It cracks me up that she has become such a regular at Badlands that she has her own drinking buddies there who call her by name.

And invite her to birthday parties. But that's a story for the next post.

Alert Readers are totally gay

The results are in. Alert Reader Shilpa thought that the question "Are you a [Man] [Woman] having sex with Men?" skewed the results, so they took the Gayometer test two ways: as a man who has sex with men and a woman who has sex with men.

You would think that the "man having sex with men" would be a major gay point-winner. Not so much. (So really, WTF is this testing? My guess: the ratings for BBC 4.)

Results are in:

Gayness as a Gay Man:.........Paul Day 53% - Shilpa 60%
Gayness as a Straight Woman:..Paul Day 50% - Shilpa 46%
Any readers with a background in statistics are welcome to comment. This is how I read this: If Shilpa had a penis, she'd be totally gayer than Paul Day. If Paul Day weren't a guy, he'd still be at least half gay-man.

I just like the fact that if they both self-identified as men having sex with men, Shilpa is gayer. And ARPD is pretty gay (wardrobe excepted). I mean, I remember years ago someone once used the descriptor "could suck the chrome off of a trailer hitch."

I'm just sayin'.







Okay, this post may be edited later. The trailer hitch comment may have been one too far.

Sena(tor)-fold

During the Ted Haggard super-conservative-anti-gay-evangelical-minister-having-sex-with-a-male-prostitute-and-buying-meth-scandal, I totally missed the wonderfully-titled parody Supertelevangelistic Sex And Drugs Psychosis.

Now, to the tune of Centerfold, comes Robert Lund's My Men's Room Date's a Senator.

See the full lyrics here.

A song described as something "that'll get your feet tapping."

I flush to score!
My hot spot is a cold tile floor!
My men's room date's a senator
(Men's room date's a senator)

My john's hardcore!
His policy is open door!
[Doo doo da doo doo doo]
My men's room date's a senator

Gorgeous Georges

It's no contest as to who will get my vote for favorite gown at the SF symphony opening gala.

Then again, I think Jenny could win best gown if she showed up in a gunny sack.

It is not a popularity contest-- but still, I encourage you to go over to the SFGate and vote for Jenny Georges. Go NOW!

How gay is that?

How gay are you? Find out with the BBC's Channel 4 Gayometer.

Let's just say I scored on the way gay side of the gay. Which, honestly, sort of surprised me. I know it shouldn't.

You take the test and tell us how you fared.

Alert Readers Paul Day and Shilpa P are required to take this test. Mostly because I think ARSP may be more of a gay man that ARPD.

Results will get their own post.




See also wilsonissoverygay.

First Sally Field, now this

Sure, FOX bleeped out Sally Field's comment that if the mothers were in charge there wouldn't be any God damn wars in the first place, (And clearly it wasn't the "God damn" that was the problem)



but Jimmy Kimmel has gathered some of the best censored moments on TV this year...

boarding school

Southwest Airlines has been talking for ages now about getting rid of the cattle call and assigning seats on the planes.

They have announced their new boarding procedure—with the assertion, "you spoke and we listened." What morons liked the freaking cattle call?

The claim to have done away with the cattle-call feeling, but still board via open seating based on who prints out their boarding pass first. Basically, instead of camping out in lines for decent seats, you have to make damn sure you are in front of a computer exactly 24 hours in advance, and then wait in smaller subsets of lines.

I suppose this is an improvement, of sorts. But it certainly isn't a solution, or in any way more convenient than just reserving a seat. In fact, it sounds much more complex.

I'm all for out-of-the-box thinking, but really, is common sense "order a seat, get to the airport in a reasonable time instead of hours early, and board by aft seats first" such a complex, problematic model that it needs a radical new approach, displays, aisles, etc?

I'm just sayin', the new system is so different and non-intuitive for the great unwashed typical Southwest passenger, that they had to devise an animated, online "boarding school" to, basically, tell people how to wait in line in a whole new way.

I shudder to think of the years and expense that went into devising this plan. Time and money perhaps better spent figuring out how to secure planes without the obvious sham and inconvenience of the TSA methods and their war on moisture.

Overheard backlog

I've had bits of paper with notes scrawled on them accumulating in my pockets. Always listening for that unusual turn of phrase, here are some strange overheards I've been meaning to share.

----
Older nurse on hooking up with men who might have an STD: “That’s what the lemon juice is for. Back in my day, you squeezed a lemon in your hand then grabbed their dangle. If they screamed they had an open sore and you wouldn’t f*ck them.”

I’m thinking if you did that and they screamed you wouldn’t have trouble telling them they weren’t getting any. They’d be running away in pain anyway.

----
From a hair stylist in the bar, sporting yet another crazy but attractive new look: “I’m a fashion stylist. I’m not going to wear the same hair twice.”

----
For the Department of Phrases You Rarely Hear-
In a bar in Tennessee, on the topic of parents, particularly southern parents, and dealing with grown children’s homosexuality and relationships: “Luckily, I don’t have to deal with any of that. Thank God my parents are dead.”

----
Also in a bar in Tennessee: “There was something wrong with the cooling system and it was going to cost a fortune to fix. She looked at it and took care of it in five minutes. Man, you’ve got to love a tranny who knows cars.”

----
Found scribbled on a cocktail napkin from months ago:
“We’re going to Minnesota for the summer. We’re thinking of having some sort of stripper or naked waiters party. Can you imagine a hustler with all his teeth for only $100? That place is a bargain.”

beer me

From Alert Reader RMJ:

Carlsberg beer has made a deal to build a brewery and start producing Carlsberg labels in Viet Nam (see this from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of Denmark).

RMJ asks, "Will they probably be the best beer in Hanoi?"

I don't know, but how does one say "aw, shucks" in Vietnamese?

profile view

From Alert Reader Rick Marshall:

A blog/Web site that scours Manhunt (a social networking site for gay men trolling for dates sex) for the most atrocious profiles, and mocks them accordingly. The sit is almost necessarily bitchy, but funny.

It's pretty tame image-wise, but some of the comments are probably NSFW (not safe for work), but that of course depends on where you work. :)

Feel superior to others by reading critiques by people who feel superior to others at Hunters and Gatherers. And let this be an incentive for you all to clean up your online profiles.

When a stranger texts

I've been getting early-morning, like 7:00 AM, text messages from someone I don't know. The phone number is 843-473-4374. 843 is an area code for coastal South Carolina. I don't know anyone there, and the phone number doesn't match anything in my address book.

The message reads: "Morning how r u?"

I have not texted back "Who are you?" in case this is some sort of scam whereby my text ends up costing me $1,000 or I end up receiving lots of junk text or spam or some other malfeasance.

Any ideas people?

With my luck, the text will be coming from inside the house!

Buckle up!

You know, for safety.

Cowboy UP!

As usual, when I have the most to blog about I am too busy to blog. That, and work work work work work this weekend.

However I did find time this weekend to have a blast at the rodeo parties. Apparently I was in form on Saturday night at the Buckin' Ball. At one point I had to take a cab to Walgreen's to get an ankle brace so I could continue dancing. Benefits of cabbing to the ball include no hassle of parking and confidence in a sober ride home. However, confident in that I was not driving home, I drank enough to loosen my lips and seriously embarrass myself was overserved.

Hey Chris, seriously, I am not creepy stalker guy. (What? Two background checks and go through someone's garbage a couple of times and right away you're a stalker? Whatev'.)

Skot Land invited me to join him for the Sunday rodeo festivities and awards dinner. I usually just do the Saturday events, and Sunday's events tend to be more low key and less-attended than Saturday's. But wow did I have a good time. I met some really cool people and got to talk to "eyes met across a crowded room" again. Who, unfortunately, is now moving to Arizona for his career.

Sure, I meet guys and date and flirt and live my life, but that one—there was a connection with him that was different. Something that felt, I don't know really, honest might be the word for it. And honest, bullshit-devoid mutual attraction is rare. At least for me. The moment with EMAACR had the strange duality of both promise and finality. And I am disappointed I will not get a chance to explore that feeling with him.

Not that I am looking for Love, but I certinaly should answer the door if it knocks. Opportunity had to leave one of those Post-It notes. My spider-sense was telling me that Love might have just crossed my path, or at least joined the party already in progress, and I should pay attention.

Maybe, maybe not. Maybe that one evening of nothing that hinted at everything was it unto itself. Whatever it was, it was, and it was nice as it was. And now the Could Have Been is moving to AZ.

Moving on.

And rather efficiently actually.

Let me just say, hanging out with Skot Land (Having a time!) was awesome. He was a leading organizer of the event and on the rodeo grounds he was a freaking Rock Star! It was so much fun to see him shine in his element. And, of course, it made me popular by proxy. I have a much better understanding as to why they call them ranch hands.

I didn't take many photos, but I got some good action shots to use as banners/stock photos.

And I am loving my new MacBook Pro—I'm still tinkering, but this is fun.



Flickr photoset

About face

I've been urged by Alert Reader Paul Day to change my headshot in the corner.

Done.

Feel free to comment.

Life on the Fringe

Doesn't that sound like the title of a great country/western biography?

The Rodeo bar crawl is tomorrow night and I am expected to be participant, spectacle, and entertainment. And per the instructions "Cowboy hats and your most fabulously festive attire is encouraged."

What fringed monstrosity will I wear? None of that stuff breathes and is way, way too hot...

Whatever happens, I'm sure there will be pictures.

Time to go to da Ro-De-Oh.

The Best Buck in the Bay is back this week!

Unfortunately, I have to work this Saturday and can't go to the actual Rodeo, which I love. Last year was such a blast. All things considered, this is much better than the last time I couldn't make it.

And there are plenty of events surrounding the Rodeo this year, and I plan on making the most of all of them.

The San Francisco Bay Gay Rodeo & Festival Schedule--

Thursday, Sep. 13th
Rodeo Bar Crawl
8:00 pm - Midnight
Help us support some of our sponsors while having an outrageously good time with many of our out of town guests. We'll start at The Mint Karaoke Lounge (Market @ Duboce) and walk/crawl through the Castro hitting the Metro and Cafe Flore along the way, then ending the evening at Daddy's/440 Castro. Cowboy hats and your most fabulously festive attire is encouraged. Absolutely all are welcome to join us!

Friday, Sep. 14th
Rodeo Kick-Off Dance
7:30 pm - 1:00 am
Sundance Saloon
550 Barneveld - San Francisco
We're moving our Friday Night dance this year to our favorite dancing venue in San Francisco -- Sundance Saloon. There will be dance lessons, cowboy karaoke, a high-energy party, and of course lots of non-stop country western dancing. Shuttles are departing every 45 minutes from the Cathedral Hill Hotel and returning via a stop at The Powerhouse for all interested in a fabulous after-party. No cost for the shuttle. Admission to the dance is $8.

Saturday, Sep. 15th
Rodeo & Festival
Gates Open at 9:00 am, Grand Entry approx 1 pm
Wild Turkey Arena @ Driscoll Ranches - La Honda
We'll be running our 13 rodeo events all day beginning with roping in the morning and a mix of rough stock, speed, and camp events throughout the rest of the day. The contestant count this year is fantastic, the prize money will be high, and as a result you can count on some great competition. For directions to the rodeo grounds, visit our website (www.bestbuckinthebay.com). Admission is $15 per person and parking is $5 per vehicle. Interested in a ride to the rodeo? Consider jumping on one of the party buses heading to the rodeo on Saturday. Sundance Saloon is running a bus that departs from the Castro and the Imperial Court is running a bus that departs from Marlena's. For more information on the shuttles, visit www.sundancesaloon.org or stop by Marlena's to sign up for the court bus.

Buckin' Ball
8:00 pm - 1:00 am
Cathedral Hill Hotel
1101 Van Ness Ave. - San Francisco
It's the biggest, best country dance party of the year! There will be non-stop country western dancing in the grand ballroom all night long and some of the very best entertainment from the Bay Area and the gay rodeo circuit all night in the El Dorado room. This is one party not to be missed. Tickets are only $15 and are available at the door.

Sunday, Sep. 16th
Rodeo & Festival
Gates at 9:00 am
Wild Turkey Arena @ Driscoll Ranches - La Honda
It's back to the rodeo grounds for another action packed day with all 13 rodeo events, dancing under the redwoods, and plenty of festivity. Right after the rodeo is over, we'll be kicking off our Awards Ceremony & Dinner in the festival meadow. All are welcome and encouraged to come celebrate with the contestants. BBQ dinner tickets are only $15 and can be purchased Friday at the host hotel during contestant registration or Saturday before noon at our merchandise booth at the rodeo grounds. Don't miss it

Baptismal Font

(Would that be serif or sans serif? Depends on the denomination I suppose.)

My trip home was both fleeting and fabulous.

It started with a long wait at the Oakland airport, made more pleasant by the "don't I know you?" encounter with one of EJ's co-conspirators, Carol Scott, and her buddies who had been in town for the UT game.


A co-worker had noticed a sea of UT orange in a BART station. She reported to me that she knew they must be southern because "They were all so friendly and touched each other when they said hello."

That's a Tennessean all right.

Friday night was so much fun, but I've already posted a recap of that one. Again, "Hey" to Michael.

I've been playing Pinmonkey all weekend. And all day today.

Saturday I spent almost all day just doing updates and tech support on Dad's iBook, followed by lots and lots of prep for the formal Baptism reception. In addition to the formal reception, we were prepping for many guests to stay for rest of the Titans game. I was, perhaps not surprisingly, put in charge of the bar. I needed to make an additional booze/beer run and took a break from prep chores to go with Mom to the stores.

Most Southern grocery stores are more social than the Singles Safeway. I saw John Wallace's mother at the store (I justed talked to John Wallace last week, and his sister is moving to SF this week), and dear old friend George Crawford with his son Jack.

It should be telling that when Nashvillians see me coming, they snatch their children off the street for fear of corruption:


Saturday night continued with party prep and time with the parents. I was also fortunate enough to get some quality time with my good friends Van Pond and David Glasgow (whom I collectively refer to as "VanGo").


Van has entered into a successful new venture with the talented Ridley Wills, whose wife Betsy is a friend of the blog.

C them O at their site. The site is under construction, and I imagine by Van's "other" partner David, who is master of the Nashville Grizzlies ("Wanna ruck?") site.

Side note: Favorite t-shirt from the Hairrison Street Fair: "If rugby were easy, it'd be called your mom."

Leaving an exhausted D&V to go to bed (without me) I joined Keith, his BF, and their friends Heather and Chad at Tribe. I was surprised how much less of a party place the bar is on a Saturday compared to a Friday—but there was also the mass exodus to Play, the dance club next door, to contend with. Heather cracked me up as the girl loves her vodka like a gay man.


These guys are all big MySpacers (photos of the night are already up on her page), which I have never gotten into, but I'm thinking I need to update my profile.


And Sunday, well that was all about the baby.

I will say, Mom does a great job when she pulls out all the stops. I thought her centerpiece was clever, using the sterling baby cups from two generations.


It was an exhilarating and exhausting weekend, bracketed by two long days of travel. But totally worth it.

ACTing OUT

which can be dangerous with a blade.

Just before leaving for Nashville, Kevin and I had another Out with ACT night. This event was one of Kevin's favorites, Sweeney Todd, and we took Shawn, Kelly, James, and RMJ with us.

I hadn't seen Sweeney Todd since my brother Mac played the title role in a Davidson College production his senior year.

As usual, we had a great time. And hung out with the cast.

David Hess (Sweeney Todd) and Kevin Koberele

The adorable Edmund Bagnell, Kevin Koberle, and Lauren Molina

Wilson Hardcastle, Randy Taradash, Ron Raiche, and Kevin Koberle

It was a rare hot night in SF, and I wore a linen shirt I love and haven't worn in ages. I'm glad for my weight loss, but now none of my favorite clothes fit any more. It felt like I had borrowed one of Mrs. Ropers mu-mus.

James was quite confused about the free food and wine. I told him matter-of-factly: "It's gay night." This did not seem to be an adequate explanation. Which I suppose it is not. But hey, I'm just sayin'.


Flickr set.

May the post be with you.

.

Union Square, Powell and Sutter, San Francisco.

ending at double infinity, how appropriate

I missed this over the weekend.

Farewell to Madeline L'Engle, who died (of natural causes) at 88.

A Wrinkle In Time was a very important book to me as a kid and taught me a lot about independent thinking, investigation, the Spirit, and, of course, fourth dimensional travel.

A Four-Dimensional Tribute to the Late Madeleine L'Engle, from NPR.

Duke of Hurl II

This must be why the zombie is vomiting.

And you just KNOW Amy Day has already made her reservation.


Thanks to Alert Reader Shilpa Patel.

Granted. But still, can you be too rich?

This guy was so skinny...
(How skinny was he?)
...he was so skinny that when I ran my hand down his hip I got a paper cut.

Duke of Hurl

The vomiting Halloween decoration. Only $2,880.

flamers.

Comment in a pissy discussion thread:

From CAFEEN75:
"Internet fighting is like the Special Olympics. Even if you win, you're still retarded."

Overheard at work - 28

"This is just... crazy-making!"*



*And this was said by a neurosurgeon!

too bad I'm working Saturday

Of course, if I weren't working Saturday, I'd be at the rodeo.

But barring that, I'd be here.



This is what Northern Californians call a fun day at the beach!

fly away home

Way with the cute.

Smart Alec comments will return shortly. We now take a break for completely wholesome and entirely adorable.

Yeah we are.

I'll go to the store with you

just let me leave a note for the delivery guy.

sensing a pattern

Of course, I called Shilpa on the way home last night for a Michael report.

She texted me back this afternoon.

What? AGAIN? The VM was choppy. Hope you are having a fab time. Love to Keith. He's not allowed to kiss girls. Neither are you.

Focus.

chip chop cherrio

Mac has started talking to his infant solely in an English accent, so when he starts to talk he will sound all posh.

Alternatively, he may talk to him in an English accent, but make it a working-class cockney, so he sounds English, but rough.

Mac tells this story of visiting the Grand Canyon years ago, and encountering a family of British tourists. The youngest child was maybe three years old, and Mac clearly remembers hearing him saying, like Pip on South Park, "Fah-ther, this shirt if far, far too tight."

Mac said, "That kid isn't even three and he sounds smarter than I am!"

Which may, in fact, be true. (Heh heh heh.)

more "supper happy fun time"

I am SO regretting not taking my camera out with me last night.

• First of all, the kid is way with the cute.
• And brother Mac brought his new work vehicle which has to be seen to be believed. He's wrapped one of those boxy monstrosities to look like an ambulance...because it is the van/car/truck used by his publication Medical News Inc.
• The kid's stroller has a cup holder. For the baby.

I enjoyed dinner with the entire family, which is a lot these days. And dining at the Club was wonderful— I got to bump into old Nashville friends and the new head chef at the Club is amazing.

After dinner, I met up with Regular Blog Celebrity and Dear Heart Keith, the lovely and talented EJ, and the Saucy Sinclair at Tribe and we had a blast of a night. Again, wishing for the camera. Sinclair also brought "Cool Amy" who was a joy to meet, and is apparently a fan of the blog.

Shout outs all around.

I also met Keith's new beau, to whom I was slow to warm but left being a fan. Keith is the soul of human kindness and I get a bit protective. He has a history of men who done him wrong, and I tend to want to rise up and bitch slap anyone who does not honor the Keith.

I spent most of the night with Keith's friend Michael. They met via MySpace a while back and have become good friends. I thought Michael was a great guy— at once charming and disarming. I am glad I demonstrated genuine interest in him as a person before I learned that he is also the lead singer/visionary behind one of my favorite bands, Pinmonkey. I was concerned that afterwards I would come across as a sycophantic fan.

I have been playing tracks on my iPod all day.

It was cool that EJ was there too as I had introduced her to their music years back when I was back for the Swan Ball. And she then played their CD for her buddy (and friend of mine too) Leslie Roberts, who turned out to be their business/label something-or-other over at Sony. Small world indeed.

And I must say he looks much better with shorter hair. His profile pics are a bit outdated.

So on the off chance he's visiting this space, a big shout out to Michael. You're awesome.

home again home again

No posts today. Back in Nashvegas.

you spin me round round

Baby, round round.

Another great birthday present from my mom arrived today. From the cool kids over at ThinkGeek: a USB turntable.


Now I can rip all those old 45's I've been saving since I was a kid, as well as import some other old vinyl.

Dude. I am totally going to freak out my childhood friends when I send them an MP3 of "What Do You get a Wookie for Christmas (When He Already Owns a Comb?)." The mother of the aforementioned Jonathan Harwell would give his friends and fellow carpoolers 45 records/ singles every year for Christmas. I remember getting YMCA and others, but the crowd favorite, from which some of us can still sing the chorus, was "Wookie."

Awesome.

Like, totally.

quick amusement

Hey kids. I've still got comments/photos to post from Labor Day weekend, and of course from the shenanigans of last night. And a very scary new product.

But to amuse you while I am too busy to blog, I've got to share this.

I love these guys, and am appalled at their punishment, or even that they received a punishment at all. But I also support bong hits for Jesus, so go fig.

Via Bong Boing:

During a recent football game, Kyle Garchar of Hilliard Davidson High School in Ohio and his pals pulled a great prank on their rivals from Hilliard Darby High School. Before the game started, they placed a black or white card on each seat in three sections of the stadium where the Hilliard Darby fans would be sitting. Attached instructions urged the fans to hold up the cards at the start of the third quarter to collectively spell out the message "Go Darby." In reality, the cards spelled out "We suck." Yay! Garchar and his co-conspirators were rewarded with three days of in-school suspension and were banned from school activities for the semester. Boo!

He's also with stupid

Another reason to love Joe.My.God.



(He didn't write it, just pulled it from WingNut Daily)

Jonny's got a new puppy

Jonathan and I try to touch base every month or so-- he's been my best friend since we were about four.

Jonny's got a new puppy. And contrary to 37 years of standard practice, it's not a Jack Russel Terrier.

Truthfully, I don't remember what breed it is--I'm a mutt man myself.

But I got this great e-mail from Sinclair on Sunday. She and Jonny have been hanging out a lot over the past year. She totally has his number (emphasis mine):

So I heard it's your birthday, or rather was your birthday. Happy Belated to you.
Hung with Jonathan and his new pup yesterday. Not sure when you're getting your skinny ass back here but you must ask him to send you a picture. He's gotta be the cutest thing I've seen in a long time... the dog that is, not Jonathan, or whatever. you know what I mean. In true Harwell fashion he's turned to Cesar the Dog Whisperer for research, informing me of dog migration patterns and yadda yadda yadda, whereas I just want to throw the tennis ball.

seriously, that's the name you're going with?

"Scooch"?

I enjoyed a late Labor Day afternoon with PAD. Having taken in the variety of lovely views at Dolores Beach, we packed up when the fog rolled in and enjoyed a cocktail at Moby Dick. Moby's always has some sort of club music video compilation DVD playing.

We thought this was the worst drek, ever.

First of all, the clearly-manufactured/packaged tooth-decaying-sweet pop quartet has gone with the name "Scooch."

Seriously? Scooch? As in, "Scooch over and make room for me?"

And their dance moves are so late 80's NKOTB. Although "dance" is charitable-- more like choreographed neck pops. WTF?

We were transfixed for the first minute or two, then had to look away.

How much you can endure is up to you:


I am troubled too by the fact that a YouTube search on Scooch revealed many results--could it be that they are actually popular?

[[shudder]]