I'm keeping my name when I get married

In my professional life today I came across the Fox Chase Cancer Center in Philadelphia for the first time. Am I the only one that thinks that's a funny name pairing? Maybe it's just because I started planning the Steeplechase trip last night and have fox chases hunts on the brain. I'm still surprised the Fox Chase center doesn't have a pink coat in its logo (animal rights/bloodsports controversy notwithstanding).

While Leno (Jay, not Mark) has cornered the market on bad marriage name pairings, I think the corporate partnerships are less noted.

I am reminded of my friend Kevin Sharp who broke off from his law firm years ago to found his own firm with his partner James Drescher. To all of their friends' dismay, they named the firm Drescher/Sharp.

I understand that as a new firm they wanted to appear as professional and reliable as possible, but I think the alternative would have made the world a brighter place.

What kind of planet are we on?

Please think about this when you vote. It does matter.

Glee wants your love

and it wants your revenge.

hysterical girlfriends,

we've got your back.



Now imagine if that nice Capulet girl had had sassy gay friend. Or Romeo had been a fag stag.

Hello? Veronaphone.

day by day

I really thought that February would be a chill month. Not so much. On the calendar this week:

Monday: Brain Farts at the Lookout—this week's theme: Love Songs

Tuesday: "A great BIG night of Live Music & Dancing at Yoshi's" looks awesome and I got the notice from the super fun couple we met at Bardot a Go Go at the De Young last year, but I may proactively plan a recovery night at home this week.

Wednesday: MBA (Montgomery Bell Academy) alumni function at Hotel Monaco; followed by the Pink Party in the Redwood Room at the Clift Hotel, benefiting the Breast Cancer Emergency Fund (6:00 to 8:00). Facebook link.

Thursday: Inner Sunset Community Event at UCSF, GLAAD Media Awards Kick Off Party, 2011 Bare Chest Calendar Semi-Finals, Ejector's album release party at DNA Loungue,and Sundance Saloon.

Friday: Celery Design (international green design firm) reception at the Plant Café on the Embarcadero (invitation only)

Saturday: Drag Queen Flash Mob to repeal Prop 8 (don't see the connection, but sounds like fun). 2:00-4:00 at Union Square.

Update: The "drag queen flash mob for marriage equality" is in response to little Miss Beverly Hills (beauty queen) shooting her mouth off against marriage equality and the biblical damnation of the gays.

pole position

By the way, thanks to Skot Land we are now substituting "Santa" for "God" in all online, cursory and blasphemous expressions. Once you embrace it, it's really catchy. I find myself doing it unconsciously now.

I had to delete my initial response to the discovery of Jeffrey Jackson in the Facebook comments, as it occurred to me that "Oh. My. Santa." would confuse, confound, and potentially offend some of those participating in that thread.

Santa damn it.

action jackson

Jonathan Harwell has unearthed the whereabouts/life story of one of our lost cohort from elementary school. Jeffrey Jackson was my best friend for many of those young awkward years. After eighth grade graduation, I never heard from him again.

Gail Doyne posted a pre-first class photo to Facebook and one by one most of us got tagged. Brandi Cartee, a name often bandied-about for comedic effect as a name from the past never heard from again has joined the page. Facebook is the great reuniter. Upon "discovery" of Brandi, Jonny sought out the remaining missing.

He found Jeffrey Jackson, and Lord do I now feel sorely underachieving. And clearly, his blog is very different from mine.

it's a strange life

Yesterday afternoon I went into a bar for a fundraiser and came out with sore nipples.

Does this only happen in SF?

Olympic performance

The "just one hour" plan for the after work/end of a crappy week happy hour turned into a seriously intense Castro bar crawl with my mates. Or what I started calling: "competing for the gold in the men's downhill."

you may have lived in SF too long when

You might have lived in SF too long when you get back to your car on a Sunday afternoon and both the fliers stuck on your windshield feature half-naked men. And you know them both on a first-name basis.

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My friends are terribly, terribly shy.


(I stand corrected. Matty's level of dress isn't anywhere near halfway.)

presidential stimulus packages

or otherwise entitled "have you all had your shots?"

We shined the quarters and pennies and pressed the ones and fives as the only portraits in sight for President's Day on Monday. It was the end of a long weekend of Valentines and International Bear Rendezvous parties, among other gratuitous "it's a three-day weekend" events around the City. Without photos, I can report that the Sundance Saloon Sweethearts Ball: Boots, Bras, and Briefs was an enormous amount of fun. And those that look good wearing next to nothing wore just that. I swear the skimpy attire at these parties is getting smaller and smaller. Next time I won't be surprised if some guys wear a postage stamp. But I do admit, they'll look first class doing it.

As an annual tradition, Pollo Del Mar hosts Recovery Monday at the Lookout (for Presidents' Day, Labor Day, and Memorial Day).

We had a great crowd, including the elusive Jon Heintschel (now that he's all happy in love and stuff) and the always fun time, and as of Saturday freshly crowned Mr. Powerhouse, Lance Holman. For a Monday, we couldn't have asked for a better afternoon.

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Hey! That's "Wilma and Hilma!" We did note that despite the fortunes we spend in this establishment, they still have some bills to pay...


I think this one sort of captures the spirit of the day, even if the photo looks a bit familiar:


Another favorite caption:


"I only order drinks that match my outfit!"
The revelry just sort of went from there...

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Debauchery and linen sales—I'm sure that's how they envisioned honoring Washington's and Linclon's birthdays.

Flickr set.

Avast!

I flove SF. Not just the City, and certainly not the rental or real estate market, but true Bay Area personalities. There is a lot of fun to be had here, because so many of the people from here/drawn here are genuinely fun people. And I am fortunate enough to have them in my life.

The Super fabulous TV and Ing left the City and Club Jackson to buy a house and start a family. While Vallejo has not much to offer (the City itself is bankrupt and rather janked), they found an absolute GEM of a neighborhood and a beautiful home.

And start a family they did. Baby Varis turned one this month, and what do cool parents like them do to mark the occasion? Pirate Party. And not a child-centric one either.

TV and Ing's little enclave ("Vallejo Heights") is special, and their neighbors are a good tight-knit bunch. And just down the hill, less than a block really is a prewar building that was once a small school and is now a theater and community center. The neighborhood is the driving force for its renovation and it has recently featured art shows and some successful community theater productions, and it is where they hosted the Pirate Party.

When Shilpa and I decided that we were going to make the trek for the celebration, we decided we were going to bring it. Go big or go home and all of that. If we were going to drive 40 minutes to a pirate-themed party, Johnny Depp would say "Nice costume."

Love TV and Ing.

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And we were in good company with the costumes. I loved that there were only a two or three kids there, and almost all of the adults were very much in the spirit. And I suspect they dressed out of their closets. This chatty little girl was adorable. Her mother was the pirate, and she was the parrot.

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Shilpa and I, of course, looked awesome. And I had a prate Shilpa tattoo.

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The building and the theater are just wonderful. At the risk of sounding all Cali, it has a great vibe. And it was fun to get a private tour, and play on the newly constructed set of Brighton Beach Memoirs.

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I was having all sorts of high school theater flashbacks and from back stage I even called my high school sorta girlfriend who was the lead in 42nd Street. All I could hear in my head walking around the theater was "Allentown! Did you just say Allentown?!"

I tried to get some good shots but the lighting was tough and my new camera not so great in those conditions.

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The labels on the phone read: "This is not a phone." (Ceci n'est pas une pipe indeed.)

It was a great party, even if one of the photographers was a bit over enthusiastic about Pirate Patel's heaving...seas. By the end of the night, we were calling it the "Pirate Prom."

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I did make Shilpa go out in full costume when we returned to the City and the Castro. Kavita and Kevin found us via FourSquare and joined us at Moby Dick, an appropriately sea-faring final destination. We also had decided on rum drinks to keep in theme. While Shilpa was a bit embarrassed to be in costume for no reason readily apparent to other bar-goers, I felt like if you're going to go out in a look, just own it. And we looked good doing it.

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Apparently the bilge rat, or perhaps rather the cockswain, was a good look for me. Ultimately, we had to engage the "shiver me timbers" protocol.

Flickr set.

janky

I have a friend who got a bit sensitive when another friend noticed and asked if he had chipped a tooth. Sure enough, he did, likely on a pair of guys. He's very conscious of his appearance/the chip and is having it repaired as I type.

I am not helping matters. But I am cracking myself up at his expense.

Is that wrong?

Randy at the Mic

This week saw the birthday of our favorite producer and Out with ACT host Randy Taradash. It was great to see Randy take the stage for a change.

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Waldorf was in sad need of his Statler though. Those were some performances.

shallow gay guys need head

I don't know what this is about, but it showed up in the "promenade" at Castro and Market the other weekend.

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I suppose if I were curious enough I'd call the "Gay(er) for a Minute" number tacked to the back to find out.

But I'm not.

rogue gay

Wait, is that a dead rogue guy or a dead rogue gay?



Eh. Doesn't matter. Either way I'll take one.

Love in the afternoon

Happy Valentine's Day. And Bryan, your visits are too few and far between.

fit to be tied

I just love this shot.

sidelined

Some flu virus, I'm guessing not H1N1, has been being passed dutifully around departments at work, and I was one of the unlucky recipients this week. This thing knocked me OUT. It occurred to me why I hate being sick so much—other than the suffering: it takes up all my time. (not even the energy, inclination, or information to blog. sheesh).

And what a week it's been to be sidelined in SF: MacWorld (and Bryan!), Boylesque at Push, Lick It, Mr. Powerhouse for IML (Go Lance!), a week of events and dances for IBR, and a cavalcade of Valentine's-themed events. And nothing says "be my Valentine" like rumbling wet cough. And my left ear hasn't unpopped in two days. Sexy.

I have been consoled that while this week has been full of fun things to do, it is still a fairly typical SF week. The week is always full of cool events and I'll just jump back in the game later.

So Happy Valentine's Day to those of you who have one (still on the 0 from my recent 0 for 3 run, married man not withstanding).

I am still looking forward to the Sweetheart's Ball tonight, and have rested up all weekend for it.

You know how much I love not wearing any pants.

Mr. Bluebird on my shoulder

I love having interesting people like Ainsley and Ing in my life who make interesting/fun/happy a lifestyle. They are going to be (are) amazing parents.

People wonder why my albums are full of candids like this.



I'm just happy they are.

More to come on this event.

I'm starting with the man in the mirror.

Boo.

smell me

no, seriously.

"Your man could smell like me." The last line is just genius. It sounds like something Carrington, Jonathan and I would have written, and would have laughed ourselves silly over.



And I love Old Spice's official note to this video: "We're not saying this body wash will make your man smell into a romantic millionaire jet fighter pilot, but we are insinuating it."

wetting the bed

After my New Year's Day party, I found that someone had hidden an emptied bottled of Ketel One behind my toilet. WTF with that? It has become a bit of a running gag with some though (mentioning it, not doing it). Coco hosted a pretty cool Superbowl party yesterday, but after pirating to the break of dawn, I was a bit too tired to totally revel.

However, before I left, I hid our empty bottle of Malibu Rum (continuing our pirate tastes) behind her commode. And an empty bottle of Skyy between her pillows. And an airline bottle of rum in her pillow case. And a can of the nasty Bud Light with Clamato Juice in the shower.

She found the tiny bottle in her pillow around 2:00 AM. The full-sized Skyy Bottle between 3:00 and 4:00. I don't know how she missed that as it was in the center of her bed between her pillows.

She did love her little nighttime surprises though, and took it in the humor with which they were secluded.

No word on the bathroom easter eggs though. Hmm.

Child, Child! How can you see with all that light?!

Americans have loved Auntie Mame for years. If not the original book, then the iconic Rosalind Russell play and film—the latter a cult classic and handbook-to-living among gays. I personally love the book (which differs greatly from the play and film) and have been half-assedly working on an annotated version. I think I should pick the project up again quick.

At 55 years old, Auntie Mame has become the "new" bestseller in Italy. And love the hip new cover.

I wonder how well the quippy phrases translate? "Care for an olive Mr. Babcock? Auntie Mame says it takes up too much space in such a little glass."

Suck it bro, I have a genetic advantage.

Brother Mac and I at times joke about competing to be the cooler uncle. Now that Brother Mac has a ridiculously cute kid of his own, the uncle-attention has waned just a little bit.

I think I pulled far ahead last year in the category of "Inappropriate Uncle," and if the mother of niece and nephew were to be queried, I would win that category hands down.

However, some reachers have posited, and their work supports the theory, that the gay gene may have a definite evolutionary role for humans. Some, well, mostly right-wing bigots, claim that gayness is unnatural because gays cannot, on their own, reproduce. However, the continuation of the gay gene and the generation of gay (and in theory) non-reproducing males does play an important role in the success of the family and the tribe. (I am reminded of Marco Vignuzzi's ground-breaking research a couple of years ago on the genetic progression/evolution/success of some viruses as a tribe, wherein certain genetic traits of some which do not successfully reproduce alter the environment to the benefit others that do and makes the species thrive.)

This evolutionary advantage, the spawning of homosexual children who grow to be gay siblings is being referred to as the "Super Uncle" advantage. Basically, gay uncles rock and provide a disproportionate level of attention and support to their nieces and nephews, contributing to their future success.

The Gazette (Candada) reports on the new research findings: Gay men may have 'super uncle' evolutionary advantage.

Studies have largely been conducted in the Pacific Islands, while studies of the role of the homosexual uncle have been stymied in North America: "Vasey has a few theories about why researchers conducting similar studies in the U.S. and in England found no difference between the way gay men and straight men treat their nieces and nephews. In Samoa, communities are closer geographically and families are more tightly-knit, while North American families are more dispersed, he said. Homosexuality is expressed differently in Western culture — where it's also less accepted, he said."

"Expressed differently," and "less accepted." You bet. And I think to the detriment of our families.

But my sibs have noticed what others fortunate enough to also have a pink sheep in the family have too: Their kids are lucky to have a gay uncle.



It turns out that may be by the intelligent design.

whine for wine!

My friends and family in Tennessee are still battling special interests, corrupt politicians, and retard Bible thumpers in an attempt to change state law to allow the simple sale of wine in grocery stores. The movement is called "Red, White and Food."

The local NBC affiliate is hosting an online poll: "Should wine be sold in grocery stores?" Go vote for wine!

kernels of carnal knowledge

After sharing my romantic woes with Mau, he asked, "Is it true then that ALL gay men know each other? I mean biblically." I had to say that it seems that all other gay men know each other biblically. I just know them Cliff's notably.

Tales of Mo

I've been sharing my woes with my favorite local singer/songwriter Maurice Tani (aka Mau, pronounced "Mo"). I'm excited about his show tonight at the Hotel Utah with 77 standards Mike Anderson on bass, Christopher Fisher on drums (hotties both, just sayin') and special guest David Phillips on pedal steel (don't know him). Early show. 8:00. $6 (includes two shows after theirs, benefits the Randall Museum). Go.

Considering my storytelling and Mau's "Trailer Park Operettas," I think Maurice's new album should be called Tales of Mau. Of course, a compilation of gay songs would be Tales of Mo.

Hey nonny nonny.

Marvelous Apple mod

There have been some clever appliques for the MacBook Pros, and I've preferred teh ones that incorporate the glowing Apple logo.

This is awesome for both comic and Apple fanboys. It went up on etsy (the homemade cool stuff for sale website) today, and sold out today.

This one I really considered getting. Alas.

party game my ass

Okay, whoever thought that making "pin the tail on the donkey" an inflatable game did not think this one through.

I'm calling "bad idea" on this one. And what's worse than these idea getting approved and manufactured, is that there are competing products.

As seen in Target:

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To anyone who has ever been to a bachelor party or adult nvelty store, this is way too familiar.

Ew. Or rather, ewe.

Dolores Park CLOSED for renovation?!

Yep. The park is in dire need of some upgrades (Oh DEAR GOD those bathrooms are nasty), but the renovations were originally planned to be in phases. Now it seems, and has been confirmed by Bevan's office ("Hey" to Bev), that the park will be closed for a full year while they fix up the place.

Holy crap. This is an exceptionally popular and constantly-in-use park. Its closure will have a significant effect on the neighborhood and the City this summer and fall.

post-holiday blues

Yes, it was a manic holiday season, followed fast and followed faster by the Upteenth Annual New Year's Day Black-Eyed Pea Chili Party, then furniture/media renovation of Studio 54(5), and culminating into Mark Casey's annual Post-Holiday Blues party. It's been a busy January.

With some Christmas gifts and savings I splurged on a big ass television. My brother and I have a theory that there is no such thing as television that is too big. I have tested this theory in my tiny apartment and empirical data so far supports the theory. Of course, this necessitated all new media furniture. Now I need a better job to afford a bigger place to wrap around my television. This thing sort of snowballed. But now all I want to do is sit and gape at HD television and Blu-Ray DVDs. It's all kinds of awesome. During this media revamp I purged all my videocassettes, VCR, tape deck, CD changer, and boxes of mix tapes. It was painful to ditch a decade of meaningful mix tapes, and I stayed up all night one night just playing through them and remembering the times.

During the manic January I did manage to schedule some quality time with dear old friend Ryan Rigazzi, back from a midwest holiday break from Beach Blanket Babylon, and the Ryan dinner sort of flowered into an intimate dinner party with other hard-to-schedule friends, and a round of Pryamid. Shout to the lovely and charming old friend David O' (whose husband can never join us—s much so I'm beginning to think it's me), and the also lovely and charming new friend Johnny. Love is all around. Johnny had a friend who was a bit down that night and so he brought him along for a little cheer, and with Shilpa in the mix this rounded out the game set nicely.

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And it was fun to have an opportunity to cook proper—pork loins, southern potatoes and slightly-cajun okra with a banana pudding back. And Ryan was ecstatic to take my mix tapes.

Also in the mix in January was Amy Day's MBA graduation party at Cosmopolitan. I have a few shots, mostly of Shilpa's gams, but the really good photos are in Kevin's camera and I have yet to get copies.

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I am particularly interested in a great shot I have of Kirk re-tying his bow tie (someone didn't believe it was "real" and pulled it loose) and using an hors d'oeuvres tray as a mirror.

After that party Kevin and I joined Lance and gay Greg for the Florence Henderson performance at the Rrazz Room. My GOD that was awful. The banter was tired and slightly desperate. And while Lance would hear not a sullied word for his beloved Flo, Greg commented, "Wow, every song sounded like she was gargling broken glass."

Ouch.

Last Wednesday was the Out with ACT night for their performance of Phaedre, but Kevin was in Tahoe so we're out tonight. Just not Out. Well, I'm sure we'll be Out enough for everyone. As we do. This month ACT's home theater celebrates 100 years, and ACT hosted a special day (before the Cosmo and the Flo) of behind-the-scenes tours and demonstrations. Kevin and I ATE THIS UP.

We got to tour above the domed ceiling, below the stage in the trap room, and all sorts of other goodies. I don't have his photos from that day either, but my set are online here. Statler and Waldorf got to stake out their box, and there were plenty of cute MFA students on hand with reams of material they had to memorize giving history of certain sections of the theater. And we wrapped the afternoon with the superb specialty cocktails at the Drake.

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Stateler and Waldorf are planning their own commentary show. And are prepared to be kicked out.


We made some new friends I am sorry to have missed at last week's Out night, but hopefully there will be fun and familiar faces tonight.

Closing out the month of madness was the always awesome Post Holiday Blues party hosted my Mark Casey. My set (be warned, and likely NSFW) is online here, and other folks' are all over Facebook. My friend Bryan bucked the sea theme and totally brought it as Daddy Smurf.

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I can't believe it's already February—and the midwinter social calendar is filled up already.

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.