The Annual New Year's Day Black-Eyed Pea Chili Party

Is on again.



Come for the chili, stay for the love potion.

Happy Holidays to All

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sleet and silliness

The busy and the fun continue here in Nashvegas.

And I'm about to pop a blood vessel with things I can't put in the blog.

I forgot to take any pictures at the Fuquas last night, not that the event was silly but more deeply heartfelt and I suppose I could wax on that later should I find the time. Clearly I won't today on Christmas Eve. Mrs. Claus is overworked and has 100 hours of work to do in the next four. As Head Elf, I need to get crackin'.

I met Keith and Michael out at Tribe last night. Michael's reuniting with his boyfriend has done nothing to abate my shameless flirtation. Although now it feels more like a game knowing it will not go anywhere (last time it was made clear that I'm too nice a guy. Jerks get all the action you know.)

Stephen W and Michael R

Arriving simultaneously at Tribe was Jeremy D's birthday party.

Josh, Amos, Jeremy, Eddie and Wilson

HIGHlarious. Keith has a great flickr set. Also there were Stephen W. whom I met and partied with along with Keith when I was home in August, and Eddie, who is always a pleasure to see and takes me back to feeling young again. Eddie was, well, my first time.

And of course, I had battery-operated pants.

After Tribe the party moved to the Lipstick Lounge, but the smoke was so pervasive I survived less than an hour before I called it a night. I am bailing early a lot this trip. I fear my tolerance and stamina are still not back to pre-illness levels. All's for the best I suppose as I slept too late as it is, it is noon now, I have loads of work to get done and it is pouring down rain.

Mrs. Claus is hollering calling. Gotta run.

Happy holidays everyone!

news and weather

I had lunch yesterday at Bread & Co. with Jonathan Harwell and Sinclair Kelly. Writers both. Jonny and I have been friends since we were three. Some times I forget how freaking funny he is.

I had a literal spit take and erupted in southern fruit tea.

Love the Jonny.

Oh look, Crill!

Keith invited me along to a sort of holiday pot luck last night. The idea being that the host was providing the bar and most of the meal, and guests were asked to bring a bottle or a side dish. Several of his friends were invited and he took me along as his plus one. It turns out that our host, although I only got to speak with him briefly as he burnt his hand preparing dinner, was Crill (Oh look! Crill!), whom I had met in San Francisco as he is a friend of Handsome Brad's. (You may remember Brad from such stories.)

Per usual on the Keith circuit there was Jeff R and Rob S, and as seems to be my habit, BP. Other than that, I was surprised actually at the lack of familiar faces. But me being me (Keith has to remind me to rein in the commentary from time to time) there were stories to be had.

But alas, not shared.


I do have a few comments and some photos to share.

1. The function was so well attended the turkey was pretty much gone by the time we got to the kitchen and all that was left was seven varieties of macaroni and cheese. Which while appreciated greatly, made for a bit of a rich dinner. And amusing. Perhaps only in the holiday season would a dozen gay men revel in a plate of cheesy carbs with no less than a stick of butter on their plate.

2. Lordy— I love southern parties if only for the pecan pie. Facebookers readily agreed with me.

3. I forget that in Nashville, there are always the "straight boys who hang out with gay boys but are so clearly fundamentally gay and will spend years and the occasional drunken nights dealing with it because it is so terribly difficult to be a Man and be gay in the South, especially when it has been beaten into them that being gay makes the baby Jesus cry and they will in all likelihood suffer for eternity not to mention what it will do to their mothers and they will lose their family forever because Christian love is unconditional unless you love someone unconditionally of the same gender." I put that in quotes because it seemed too long for a hyphenate.

Keith uses the more succinct appellation "conflicted."

These boys are also almost always tasty. Are they predisposed to handsome? Or is it the channeling of frustrated identity and desires into athletics and gym regimens that skews them to the aberzombie good looks? I don't know. Interesting corollary: fashion does not usually follow form/fag.

I'm just sayin'.

And finally,

4. While I am all for hot bartenders, I find it aberrant in San Francisco but usual in Nashville and Atlanta for house parties to feature shirtless or nearly naked help.


While I enjoy a show as much as the next gay, I tend to bristle at this. It just seems a bit... I don't know... tacky to me. Too many parties with Sam Henderson I suppose. Proper parties should be proper parties and frisky parties should be frisky parties. Rarely do they meet, expect for the proper party that has gone on far too late after far too much drink.

Not that I didn't get over it and enjoy my return trips to the bar. Nice guy too. But still, IJS.

Photos are up on flickr. And here are some to share:

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And finally, to which we were saying, "Is it supposed to look like that?



After the party (again, as usually in Nashvegas), we hit Tribe, then Play.

In the showbar, I was lucky enough to see Keith's two favorite performers.

This queen, who freaking worked her shit:





And this one, whom I sure is fabulous (well, she is fabulous) but I could only refer to as "the toothless tranny."



I sent Shilpa photos from my iPhone. She could feel the love.

Merry Christmas from the Hardcastles

A Very EJ Xmas!

I'm rushing off to church to light the advent candle with my family. Don't worry, everything I'm wearing is made of asbestos.

Last night was my favorite annual event: The Elizabeth James Dinner Party.

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A few quick hits before I get out the door:

1. EJ always goes all out. Even if at midnight I have to pop into my parents' house to get more vodka.

2. My DJ skills are worthless on a room full of 40-something stay-at-home moms. The DJ rightly selected only 80s tunes and "new dance hits" from a decade ago. Think "Cha Cha Slide."

3. The people on Facebook are really into it. And so I felt the need to update my status during conversations. Comments would be made during the party by people there.

4. A horde of drunk people can't tell at two in the morning that you've decanted your father's Popov vodka into the Belvedere bottles.

Photos are up on flickr.




And oh yeah, I love this:



You may recall: "This is my smokin' hand and this is my drinkin' hand." EJ couldn't find her smoking glove. That's a half-high stocking.

what a difference a Day makes.

When Lance and I went to hear Ant at the Rrazz room, we saw fliers for Spencer Day. RMJ and I remember Spencer not only from his big start headlining at the Plush Room as the smoldering 20-something crooner and "The New Harry Connick, Jr." but we also remember him from way back when at the Lush Lounge. Back when Polk was Polk and the Lush was The Lush. (Sigh.)



Robert-Michael, Spencer Day and Wilson Hardcastle
Lance suggested we get tickets together and he pulled together a good group for last Friday: Me & Lance (Gregg was taking finals), David Britt, Jeff & Bill, and RMJ and his new date Isaac.


I really cannot convey what a good show he put on. It was Spencer at the piano and microphone, with a drummer, bassist, and guitarist/cellist. The musical talent on that stage was beyond stellar. The show was warm, engaging, moving, and delightful. And sitting in the front row before Spencer and his guitarist/cellist Yair, the show was also beautiful to look at.


By the end of the night, we were all big Yair fans. (Spencer who?)


We all enjoyed the show immensely and I got to see some old friends in the crowd as well. Shouts to Brad Brewster (happy birthday) and his partner John, Jason Perez, and Brett.

Really a stellar show, and as RoMo put it, an unbelievable entertainment value. If you ever get the chance to go to one of his shows, do.

We were left wondering what to do with the rest of the night. Lance couldn't do much as his boyfriend was waiting at home with a bottle of vodka and the sense of relief that comes with finishing the last final exam of the year. And the rest of us needed to stay within walking distance of public transit be it MUNI or BART.

Just next door a barker pulled us towards a new "dueling piano" basement bar. We were thinking Martuni's anyway, and we were happy to dive down. Cheesy/tourist straights be damned. Actually, the cheesier the crowd the more fun I thought we'd have. The boyish door guy started to demand IDs (the crowd was very early 20s). The barker just laughed. "Dude, these guys are like in their 40s." Which was true enough. Half of us laughed. Half of us didn't. Which made the other half laugh harder.

Just sayin'.

The dueling piano bar whose name I never knew was totally cheesy and lots of fun. No cover, but they make that up in the drink prices. At least they take plastic. The pianists also play the auction bidding game for requests, and just as often start a bidding war not to play something.


You know, I don't think I have seen Lance or Bill drunk more than once before. OMG, hilarious. Several single ladies befriended us, and were disappointed to find that half of us had husbands, and the rest of us were equally unavailable.

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Louise, our new best friend, caught Jeff and I ogling these two:


Dude on the left thought we were talking about his chest hair, as it was all stubble. He was pretty drunk and boastful of his body (worth boasting admittedly). He bragged that he was "100% Italian" and had plenty of hair, he just "had a skin condition he had to shave to show his doctor." Yeah, because that sounds sexier than just shaving your chest to show off your pecs.

The dude on the left was solid and sexy, and Louise thought he looked like a young Bruce Springstein. And that line worked on the boy and she worked him with it as best she could. You GO Louise.


Both guys were hot in a lost-but-prowling, early-20s way. Aw.

We stayed and drank and danced and had a great time. I was taking it pretty easy, limiting myself to just a couple of Jacks (which doesn't get me drunk, just aggressively flirty).

The other boys though? Wow.

I have never seen Lance dance outside of Sundance. This was awesome.

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Britt was dancing too. And Bill. Such a mess. Loved it. I had to take a clip.



I'm just sayin'.

Flickr set.

mall diving

In past years I have tried to get at least some of my holiday shopping done sbefore Tnaksgiving. Two years I managed to get it all done and shipped by Turkey Day.

This year, buy December 10 I hadn't gotten a thing and had just as little in the way of inspiration.

I got home from work and decided to bail on a holiday party in favor of a rush though Union Square, Bloomies, and the like on a mad dash for family treats with a San Franciscan bent. (So far neither the Haight nor the Castro produced any gems.)

I got home to a message from James who had been back east for work and play for over a week and was elated to be back in SF. I invited him out for roadies and shopping downtown, an adventure to which he readily agreed.

I will tell you, cruising Bloomingdales and giant city-center malls with a tall cocktail is really the only way to do it and stay sane. We shared our family stories and caught up and got a wee bit accomplished in the way of shopping. I was on a mission, and James was impressed by my focus. Hey, I can talk, drink, and critically eye at the same time. Next store.

Seen on our tour:

Every child's Christmas wish: conjoined fetus twin pandas. Ew.



Coming soon: A chain competitor to Good Vibrations: You & I Cum!



WTF there? UniKum: where you and I can cum together.

And a very special sighting: Heather MacDonald Marriedname.



I got to be friends with Heather years ago through James, and we had the whole country music and librarian scene to share. Love her and haven't seen her in years. Clearly, finding the love of her life and marrying him agrees with her. Holiday hugs to Heather.

After closing down the mall, I was exhausted and eager for bed. James, a bit daffy from travel and jet lag and a stronger-then-is-usual roadie, was jonesing hard for some Pho. I was not. On my side, I had the fact that noodle joints were all closed by 10:30.

Until we passed this corporate/hotel lobby in 80's shiny black deco and neon serving Thai food late. I offered that we could get take out. James squatted determined for a full sit down. Of course, loving the James as I do, I acquiesced.

This may be our favorite new bar. So, so random. In all ways. The "band" makes the scene. They sounded very much like a college cover band.

"They" were an ancient asian guy with a voice like Bob Seger and who I image is his ancient caucasian wife playing the jar of beans. Makeup by Tammy Faye.

This was an attempted sly over-the-shoulder iPhone shot:



In the new year, we'll take y'all back. Have your requests ready.

on the road again

Hey kids. I went back to the clinic an basically demanded to be seen. After much more bureaucracy, I got my shot. She was stabbing me in the ass telling me that it was likely going to hurt because (1) it was a full 2 cc's, (2) of a thick serum, and (3) it has to go into deep muscle.

I said, looking back at my ass, that that was pretty much all fat.

She said it was a three inch needle.

Yipes. Glad I didn't see it before hand.

I could never be a druggie. I can't stand needles. Small favors.

I'm at OAK using free wifi while I wait for my flight.

Shout outs this week to everyone who called to check on me. Special thanks to James, who checked on my status, Bryan, who called but I couldn't talk to b/c of the sore throat (and who bumped up my status at MacWorld despite the week's turmoil), to RMJ for keeping me updated with the social calendar I was missing (RoMo- take a night off now and then, if you push yourself like I did you might find yourself in similar straits!), and to Guy for checking in on me and offering to drive me to the airport. I hope all of your exams went well!

And last but not least, thanks to Shilpa for checking in on me at home, covering for me at work, and dropping me off at OAK this morning.

A now, a little back-blogging is in order.

MAN am I sore!

Not only am I sick I am PISSED OFF now. I went in to the doctor first thing Tuesday morning, certain by my symptoms that I had strep throat. Not that I wanted it mind you, I was annoyed that I was getting it before the holidays and really did not want to spread it to any loved ones, especially my aging father who is susceptible to every infection these days.

My primary care physician couldn't see me, and while the doctor who could did correctly diagnose and treat the bronchitis, she refused to believe I could have both a sinus infection and strep throat. Only after much requesting on my part did she agree to do a throat culture to put my mind at ease (I really don't want to infect Dad.).

I haven't been able to get anyone in the office to listen to me or return my calls. The test came back on Tuesday. No one has gotten back to me. I call a couple of times a day. I have been getting worse every day. Speaking itself is excruciatingly painful. I had to take a handful of painkillers just to get down some broth.

I fly home in the morning.

And JUST NOW does someone return my call. Yet another doctor as the other ones I've seen are still out of the clinic. Someone finally looked at my test results. I have strep. I am not on the right meds for that. So basically, I have been (1) suffering needlessly and (2) NOT getting better or becoming less contagious for three days.

I need to come in for a shot. Fine. Oh wait, we might not have any penicillin here. We'll call you back.

Another hour and I am still waiting.

I waited thirty minutes before calling back. I'm still on hold.

seasons

Between work and social life I have stressed myself to the limit and am now pretty much done. Biologically that is. I'm sick as a dog (if only) and I'll resume posting when I am no longer delirious.

In the meantime, thanks to all for such a fun weekend!

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