If you know what I'm talking about

It's on.  Anytime after 1:00.

little bit of heart and soul

Overheard at Tribe's Monday night karaoke, hosted by Keith:

"Are you going to sing?"
"No.  This is my first drink."

Asked and answered.

And pretty much sums up karaoke night.

Hallmark channeling

Yipes. I was inside the enormous Katy's Hallmark Store in the Belle Meade area with Margaret, surrounded by post-holiday margin shoppers and way too many floral prints, offensive scenes, and God Squad merch. It occurred to me, this is what the inside of a Tomas Kindcade cottage must look like.

See also.

we don't need no stinking vadges

To the table next to us at Burger Up showing way too many ultrasound pics:

We don't need to see two dozen photos of the inside of your uterus at lunch.

Thank you.

(reference)

and to all a good night

As I snuff the candles and darken the tree, it's deeply sad to face that the fact that Santa doesn't live here any more.

Merry!

bad elf

I just passed a display of mini megaphones. Tis the season to blackmail siblings with small children.

The Word of My Year

Kummerspeck (German): Excess weight gained from emotional overeating. Literally, grief bacon.

Nom.

He just knows.

You better watch out.

Just sayin'.

tip o' the hat

Shopping with Niece Ellen:

Me: ‎"I think this hat is too small"
Ellen: "My Dad can't wear hats."
"His head is too big?"
"No, he just looks ridiculous."

We Wiss You a Merry Chrissmiss

They may now call it the All School Winter Assembly, and combine it with Grandparents' Day, but we know it's really still The Christmas Sing at the Ensworth School.  Although it's now less singing and more band and even some impressive dance.

  .  



Niece Ellen played the jazz keyboard for their electric version of Vince Guaraldi's A Charlie Brown Christmas.  And while the absence of Papa John was keenly felt, it was a heart-warming show for Franna. And she so loves (as have I in my recent years as escort) taking Ellen out afterwards as the kids begin their winter break.

.

Pancake Pantry!

all the things she said... she's unbelievable

Okay, it may be wrong how much I love this video: "Shit Girls Say."

It's funny because it's true.



Fast on it's heels came a parody of a satire, "Shit Gay Guys Say."



Which is also funny because it's true, but not as clever as the first one. If I want my sides to ache laughing at crazy shit gay guys say, I'll happily tune over to Louis Virtel. That bitch is funny with a capital PH.

take this job and dance it

So, well, there's this.

Guys can dance. And those legs are fierce.

jet set photo set

I tend to take lots of photos.  And generally I am playing with other shutterbugs as well.  It's sort of a pain to all swap photos later, or download which ones we want from sharing sites.  Now the cool people who brought us Hipsamatic for the iPhone now have a sharing/photo pool app based on the concept of the analog disposable cameras people used to provide for sharing at events.  You invite your friends to join via Facebook, set up a camera (24 exposures, naturally), and if one person takes a pic to that roll, the count is reduced by one, and the image shows up in the roll on everyone else's phone too.

The app is free and additional "lenses" cost about a dollar.


Hipstamatic Disposable from Synthetic on Vimeo.

Via Cult of Mac.

holidaze 2011

As I mentioned earlier, I've been a little nutters.  I have been manic with Things To Do and and still way behind.  I have bailed on most holiday functions and fun stuff (see SantaCon, leisurely shopping, caroling, tree trimming, cookie parties, baking...) in favor of productivity.  I fly back to Nashville tomorrow.

The events I could make time for included a farewell to our dear Reindeer Jim, the swanky Toys for Tots party (which while the "fancy" party of the season, has devolved into just a large cubed room with "A Gay"types roasting in the heat and paying $12 for a weak well drink.  Looking over the photos—I am supposed to be in there somewhere—I was struck by the near total absence of bellies or bears which have become hallmarks of the company I keep.  Hmm.), a wonderful house party complete with staging area and photo booth, and my annual favorite (now that this is on hiatus), the Sundance Saloon Holiday Party. And my new tradition of Photos with Santa.

.

Those, and the can't-be-missed new tradition of touring the downtown hotels and Union Square store displays and holding our own photo shoots.

.

.

As you may recall, museums are not off limits.



Right the Ho on.

Happy everything everybody.

boys for tots

Okay, so let's recap my past couple of months.  New job.  My father died.  Two long, emotional trips to Tennessee.  My sister-in-law's father died.  I took two weeks to clean out 40 years of hoarder crap/absolute treasures from my parents' attic, which is about a kajillion times the size of my apartment.  Thanksgiving. Office move.  More new job stuff.  Christmas shopping.  Parental tech support.  Parental emotional support.  Cleaning out three months of "i'll deal with this later shit" form my apartment so I could see the floor, clean the place, take the harvest decorations down, go to storage unit, go to storage unit, put holiday decorations up, amass family Christmas presents in organized piles in now tidy home.  Shop for relatives.  Ship for relatives (seriously, they want to close more post offices?).  Clean out closet of skinny clothes to make room for fat clothes inherited from fashion brother.  Make reservations to use all Groupons which will expire in about drive minutes.

So really, it is no surprise that (1) I am exhausted and (2) haven't been blogging much.

And that James and I could not schedule our mutual birthday dinner (birthdays are the last week in August) until the first week of December.  I had gotten a Groupon for Burgers for two with unlimited bourbon and tots at Bullit (named for the McQueen flick filmed in SF) on Polk Street.  The Marina end.

Here's my one minute review of Bullet:  Very marina, cruisy, meat market, understaffed, understaffed, understaffed, very capable and kind single waitress for a hoard, and the gayest —dancing with elbows above the shoulders gayest—soundtrack ever.  And awesome, awesome tots.  Hammina.  Salty freaking goodness.  Sure, Fatty McPhaterson over here is postponing diet and exercise until January and so could have gone through four of five baskets on our unlimited tots deal if it weren't for the entirely reasonable that is James.  Our deal was good for 90 minutes, the first 45 were spent waiting for service.  For 20-something straight people, go get a drink, pose, and pick up.  Everyone else, go for the tots, sip your drink, and play anthropologist watching the Marina Mating Rituals.  Eunce, eunce, eunce.  (That's the gay dance backbeat.)

That's what they're going to call my love life now

Expiration dating.

And on an unrelated note, I'm going to start referring to going out with much older guys as "carbon dating."

Watch out for that banana peel

Best overheard slip of the tongue today: "I was a pallbearer at his wedding."

"A hug is just a strangle you haven't finished yet."

For those of you who loved the Big Metal Chicken:

Beyoncé, meet Copernicus.

I'm in wet-my-pants love with the Bloggess.

best of autocorrect

I am getting really annoyed at the new iPhone-like autocorrect system in MacOS Lion. It seems to be correcting differently than before, and I am getting simple typos corrected to nonsensical messages.

Always here to show me how bad it could be, is DamnYouAutoCorrect.com. And here is their list of the 25 best of the worst of the year.

thanks, neighbor, but I just came over for a cup of sugar

Via the SFist: FDA Decides Fremont Man Is A Sperm Factory

Putting your junk in a Kleenex? Fine. Putting your junk in a cup for a couple to get pregnant? fine. Putting your junk in a hundred cups, the feds would like a word with you.

I'm all for government regulation when is comes to the financial system, but now the FDA is saying at some point X many cups of junk is too many to go without regulation. Dude has been privately donating to couples with seed need for eight years (reporting over 20k e-mails inquiring about his product). Now the FDA considers his body a lab and himself "a manufacturer of human cells," and in need of bureaucratic oversight.

Seriously? FDA? You have so much other work you need to be doing. Focus.

with your nose so bright

I think Rudolph was just drunk.

kind words

I kind of needed this today as I am getting more assignments for which I have not yet received either training or even the electronic privileges to complete, and was feeling that I am not performing to the level to which I'd like. I received an e-mail from someone I use to work for/with in another capacity. She was just thinking of me and in closing she wrote "I miss your silly way of getting everything done expertly."

That pretty much sums me up. Yes I am silly. And people worry about my honesty in the blog vis-a-vis employment. But I get to be silly, because I get my shit done, and done well.

Back to that pesky grindstone now.

this is why you are fat

and by you, I mean me.

Today's temptation, to which I succumbed: bourbon molasses chocolate pecan pie. Hand made by me with leftovers from thanksgiving baking.

At least I took the rest of the office down with me.

dance party/party of one

I just can't not love this. Super silly fun, AND holiday cheer? Sign me up.



This was shared by someone on Facebook, or maybe I saw it on another blog—funny thing is, either all malls now look just alike, or that is Green Hills back in Nashville.

Update: I read the notes below the fold. That is Nashville. How random!

Here's his first one of these "I had this idea to go to a public place (in this case...the local shopping mall) and dance like no one's business....the only catch is, there is an iPod in my ear, so no one else around me can hear the music.

Heads turned. Jaws Dropped. Hilarity Ensued.

Shot at Memorial City Mall in Houston, TX 7/18/11."

This guy defines balls out. He's fearless. I can think of so many people who would be too terrified or mortified to so such a thing. I try to live my life this way.

What's that old line? Dance like no one is watching.

be a coffee achiever

Via BinkieMcFartnuggets:

"How they kept on making these ads and still selling instant coffee is a mystery yet to be solved by mankind."



It reminds me of the time, as a practical joke, Geordi replaced all of the dilithium crystals with new Folger's crystals. And then everyone died.

Finally

It's nice to have the other kind of "one of those days."

Sunny, warm, and social on a December 3.

For collaborations, the pod beats the squid

As so many of our electronic and digital devices have big ol' power bricks/transformers at the plug/socket end, I heralded the advent of the power squid design over the multi-outlet strip. with it's too-close-together outlet configuration.

But for multiple devices such as lighting, laptops or other items which need to share power but not space, here coms the new Power Pods.  Such genius!

Via RedFerret:

Power strips are great for when you have several different items that need plugged in around the same area. But what happens when you have a few things that are several feet apart, and nowhere near an outlet? Suddenly you’re dealing with a tangle of extension cords and power strips, which looks messy and dangerous. Wouldn’t it be great if you could get a power cord that had multiple outlets spaced along its length? Soon you will be able to.

Over at Quirky, a project has recently gained enough funding to be turned into a full-fledged product. The idea is simple. The Pod Power is a 15-foot cord with a three-prong outlet at every three feet. Each length of cord will wrap around the previous pod, so that you only have as much cord exposed as you really need.

beer buzz gets crafty near Dolores Park

We've long been a fan of the tasty MateVeza brew, hand crafted with yerba mate which makes it also naturally caffeinated.  I got an e-mail this week from the kind folks at MateVeza (not spam, I subscribe) announcing that they plan to open a brew pub near Dolores Park.

All I can say is "cheers!" The SFist has more to say.  

take note

As a man of letters, I'm speaking of actual missives not just talking as a writerly person, I have found a new interesting blog. Well, it's new to me. Cleaning out my parents' attic over the past few weeks I came across several caches of priceless hand-written letters—letters from my grandfather to my grandmother during the second World War, letters from my cousin in Alabama chronicling her life as an early teen and attendant drama, letters to/from my brother from his college years at Davidson and at King's College in London (including a wonderfully saucy one from one brother to another)—and as I collected these tangible treats, I thought how my niece and nephew might miss you on such treasures, such tangible records of their lives, should all of heir correspondence be electronic. No more pens put to paper. No one will clean out their attics and ponder wistfully over old YouTube directories and Facebook posts.

The blog which caught my eye is Letters of Note, which singles out different physical epistles each post and offers insight, commentary or reflection on, well, letters of note.

As long as we're talking about the written word, another wonderful gem crossed my path this week: a startup company offering hand crafted antique books—be they law journals, medical tomes, or cookbooks—handcrafted to conceal a hand-crafted Italian glass flask within.

Now these are books I could really get into.

Bender Bound: Each item is made to order and takes six to eight weeks to fulfill, so no luck ordering for the holidays this year. Which is sad because I really wanted to get Jay one of those big boring law books with a bottle within for his office. Each one runs about $130, with pre-orders discounted to $100. The lads are seeking capital funding to continue and grow their business. On a side note, they proudly note that "No hipsters were employed during the crafting of our books."

Brinicle

From the BBC:

A bizarre underwater "icicle of death" has been filmed by a BBC crew.

With timelapse cameras, specialists recorded salt water being excluded from the sea ice and sinking. The temperature of this sinking brine, which was well below 0C, caused the water to freeze in an icy sheath around it. Where the so-called "brinicle" met the sea bed, a web of ice formed that froze everything it touched, including sea urchins and starfish. The unusual phenomenon was filmed for the first time by cameramen Hugh Miller and Doug Anderson for the BBC One series Frozen Planet.

See also:

Letter to Three Wives

The synopsis looked promising so I set TiVo to record it on TCM. Then I saw Steve Hayes's recent episode (#87) of Tired Old Queen at the Movies and I can't wait to watch it (Letter to Thee Wives). But maybe I'll save it to savor with friends...



As a film buff and major mo, it's hard not to love Steve Hayes.

Stuff it.

The best Thanksgiving cooking show ever. Eight minutes of joy and all you need to know to make a Thanksgiving turkey, even the vegetable dish should you use her advice on that too. LOVE her. Full of wisdom, not full of shit.

I learned last year at Turkey 2.0 that cooking a turkey is just baking another damn bird, and gravy makes it tastier. It's not stem cell research.

Celebrate with me by watching Chef Tante Marie, AKA Mary Riley of Mary Riley's Cooking School's "Put the Fucking Turkey in the Oven."



Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

he could have been a boy named Sue

I met a guy in Nashville at a party.  As we were making introductions he said, "They named me Benny Joe Junior...on my 18th birthday my father apologized."

Now on my list of things to be thankful for: not being named Benny Joe Junior.

Or Sue.

Is anybody hungry?

Hungry like the woof?

Uncharacteristically, it has been a very flirty several weeks for me.  I am not accustomed to being on the receiving end, so to speak.  Why is it that as soon as I am at my largest and least want anyone to see my body, there are so many digital knocks at the door I'm worried for my chinny chin chin.  Then again, if it's a big bad woof come to blow me down, I am totally okay with that.

I would also be okay with three little pigs.

be prepared

"If they make me go to a AA meeting, I'm taking a flask."

My new drag name

I love Miss Otis Regrets. And I have tried on Pearl Haggard and Tempers Flair. But I think from now on, if ever get into a drag persona again, her name will be Cheyenne Demure.

Update: I have been informed that this is hardly original (like my other favorite, Tequila Mockingbird). Just great queens thinking alike. I think I'm back to Tempers Flair.

Should the need ever arise again...

slim fit

Looking at the PYT passing by in the bar in Nashville, with slender hips and even slenderer backside, my friend says, "He must be taking Noassitol."
"Is that available over the counter now or only by prescription?"

too much for a pithy title

But absolutely required reading. After reading that, see the follow up.


"I'm Christian, unless you're gay."

enough

I am really looking forward to the second week of January, when I am hoping nothing will be happening.

sidelong glance

"That drag queen is best viewed with peripheral vision."

do not try this at home

"Realty" TV isn't even close. But it occurred to me, Tosh.0 completely is.

haunting melodies

I can't tell if my iPod is haunting me or consoling me. He's strumming my pain with his fingers.

I am alone in the attic, having mentally and chemically (coffee) revved myself up for the task of examining, evaluating, cataloging, storing and weeding three generations of deeply personal memorabilia in the attic, alone, and trying not to feel so deeply and fall into sobs with every visceral moment prompted by some piece of tangible evidence of my father's life and my father's love.

I brought one of Dad's iPod speaker docks up to the attic, plugged it into the corner and set it to shuffle. And loud.

Out of the more than 6,000 songs available, the last three in a row have been about love and loss:

Lady Gaga's Yoü and Ihttp://youtu.be/X9YMU0WeBwU

It's been a long time since I came around
Been a long time but I'm back in town
And this time I'm not leaving without you

Katy Perry's The One That Got Away

In another life
I would make you stay
So I don't have to say
You were the one that got away

All this money can't buy me a time machine
Can't replace you with a million rings
I should've told you what you meant to me

Gavin DeGraw's Not Over You

Dreams: that's where I have to go
To see your beautiful face anymore. I stare at a picture of you
And listen to the radio

If you ask me how I'm doing
I would say I'm doing just fine
I would lie and say that you're not on my mind
But I go out, and I sit down at a table set for two
And finally I'm forced to face the truth
No matter what I say I'm not over you

So I just stood there in the dim and dust, wept, and let myself feel it for a while. It occurs to me I can only cry like that when I am alone.

I first heard the wonderful Not Over You this week with Mom attending Ellen's highs school talent show performance. The freshman who sang it has some serious talent, and we were moved and impressed by his performance. (As well we should be I suppose, as it turns out that was Hank William's grandson). Only after his performance did I start hearing the Gavin DeGraw's single on the radio, and then I bought it off iTunes. I have been listening to it almost on repeat.

But the first time I heard it on the radio I was driving back from Mac and Emily's with Mom, and it felt so intimate in the car with her. The lyrics adding a knife's edge to her mourning. I had to wipe away tears while driving and just stay quiet. I imagined what she must feel listening to the words:

Dreams: that's where I have to go to see your beautiful face anymore.
I stare at a picture of you and listen to the radio.

If you ask me how I'm doing, I would say I'm doing just fine.
I would lie and say that you're not on my mind.
But I go out, and I sit down at a table set for two
And finally I'm forced to face the truth: No matter what I say I'm not over you.

Everyone asks her how she is doing. Every night she sits down at a table set for two. And of course she's not over losing Dad. None of us will be for a long while, and the bride of 53 years the longest.




Closing note: I thought about embedding the videos to these songs here, but the video to Not Over You is just so offensively awful it degrades the emotional connection I have with the song now and can't bear to view it again, nor to subject you all to it.

Nashville November 2011

I'm home in Nashville for the week to spend more time with Mom post-Dad. That, and the roof needs to be replaced and this time they're going to have to take the entire roof off so I am home to move everything, everything out of the attic. 40 years of stuff. It's day three and I have not yet moved an item, but there has been lots of prep and other work. Like tech support x4.

Also, more sad news—my trip was well timed as the day before I left Emily's, my sister-in-law's, father died. I landed in time for the family gathering and the visitation, funeral and wake the next day. Bill Johnston was a REMARKABLE man and dedicated cancer surgeon and father. Tragically, we was diagnosed with Alzheimer's at the young age of 53...16 years ago. Our families are close and losing both fathers within a month of each other has brought us even closer in the shared experience. Bill's siblings and their families flew in for the service and were all absolutely great people and a pleasure to meet—especially the kids. If they've found their way here, shouts to Darby and Max.

On a fun note, there has been a happy surprise— I got this e-mail from Davidson alum and fraternity brother Towner:


Guess where I am!
This was clearly the Pancake Pantry! And Tooner didn't know I was in town. Unfortunately, neither of us had the other's mobile number, so it took some calling among other Fiji's to find out. We did manage to hook up and his hotel is just a skip from Tribe so he joined me and Keith for drinks, dinner and showtunes night. He left this morning, and we got some more quality time in at MOnday's karaoke night, which is hosted by Keith. Towner pulled out a couple of numbers, including House of the Rising Sun and I started slow (I cannot carry a tune.) with the theme song to Three's Company, and closed with Who's Your Daddy? and Being Green.


I have, shall we say, a limited repertoire. (Seriously, me and signing do not get along.) But one does want to participate. I was searching for a song featuring only the three notes I can make, and was happy to come across this track in the catalog.


While I could never hope to perform this, shouts out to the awesome Dean Miller. We were friends though Cousin Clark "back in the day" when he was launching a performing career in addition to a successful songsmithing one. You may be more familiar with some of his dad's work, such as King of the Road.

Speaking of talented songwriters/performers, Ellen Hardcastle batted cleanup at the Ensworth High School talent show Saturday night, which is no small feat. She performed on of her original works for the piano. The baby-faced, adorable and golden-throated Sam Williams sang the penultimate number with the Joyce twins on piano and percussion. He family was sitting in front of us, and at dinner afterward at the Sportsman's, we all thought it was pretty cool to say that Ellen just performed for Hank Williams Jr. While Papa John remains on repeat in our playlists, we are also big fan of the piece she performed for the show, Esther. Here she is playing it at home, recorded with her laptop.


And while we're at it, here's to Papa John.


Okay, enough of this. I've got to hit the store, load up on caffeine and music, and start hauling stuff from the attic to the basement. Y'all take care.

David Mamet's Race at ACT

One word review: Preachy.

Five word review: A terrible play, beautifully acted.

In fact, all of the production values were impressive. But wow, was this hard to watch. Or rather, listen to. Not because the subject of race in modern America is uncomfortable, but I could not willfully suspend my disbelief enough to think that any first year law student could be so stupid, incompetent, and contrary to duty as these characters.  Much less could I accept this behavior from the seasoned, talented professionals that these characters are supposed to be. Pretty much any episode of Law & Order does a better job of portraying (1) legal drama or (2) issues of modern race relations. David Mamet was really full of himself in this one. Ugh. I imagine this would be painful for any actual lawyer to sit through without screaming. Or litigating.

Dia de Meurtos

Kevin and I try to spend Day of the Dead together and participate in the ceremonies in the Mission, and this year was particularly poignant for both of us.  The Mission event has gotten larger, and larger, and we consider sort of the "New Halloween," but hopefully with less trouble as it is not an ego-centric event but an other-centric event, and respectful and celebratory to our mutual dearly departeds.  I was impressed this year that the vast majority of attendees were fully participatory in victorian death garb and/or face paint.

We started at Chris and Tom's, who have generously and kindly kept me on their giant Day of the Dead party list these past several years. Chris and Tom also own/run Regalito's so their food was amazing. They moved their altar to the garden this year, which was gorgeous as always.  By the way, the cross of calla lilies is carved from wood.  Beautiful.


I added my tribute to Dad.

The whole night was rather emotional, and I didn't think it through beforehand that, yes, I needed to be participatory and face painted as is my way, but I didn't consider how much it might run every time I teared up.


The altars in the park ranged from intricate and creative to simple and unabashedly honest.






I added another memorial for Dad at one of the public altars set up, and Kevin placed this photos and remembrances of his brother and grandmother. We shared our grief and appreciation and celebrated their lives as we could.