More Wonder Woman realness: mythic, epic, and grounded

I really dug the last fan-made Wonder Woman trailer that made the rounds, and I live this sone even more. The universal responses have been (1) kick-ass awesome!; and (2) why can fans get Wonder Woman right, but the studios fail completely at every attempt?

This fan-made trailer combines a bit of the 300 with the most recent Man of Steele. She is a ancient Greek/Roman warrior. An Amazon. Her challenges need to be as epic as she is, and she shouldn't be treated like a typical film female. She's a hero.

Read about it at Screen Rant: 'Wonder Woman’ Short Film Takes Diana in the Right Direction

And watch it here:

game night!

I can sometimes forget how much I love game night with the right people. This was a belated birthday present to myself to have fun people over here for a night of "celebrity" (we really need a better name for this game as there are five other categories). I did feel very Game Show Host pulling out my phone and flicking the game play directions up to the large flat screen using AppleTV.

As part of the present to myself, I was happy to host (I get to drink all night and not worry about getting home!) and even happier to cater and use paper plates. No cooking, less cleaning. And delicious nibbly bits and tasty Indian pizza. It was a great mixed crowd, and shouts to contestants Jenny, PeeDee, Sara, Skot, Purdy, Kevin and Rizzolo. These are some clever and funny people.

While it was a belated birthday for me, it was Thomas' actual birthday so we surprised the sweetie with song and cake.


Such a great night, "anal bleeding" notwithstanding. We really need to work on our penmanship.

batting his whiplashes

It's amazing how fast you can witness a new relationship go from awwww...


to ...awwwwkward.

lunch mood

Me, walking into the kitchen and encountering a coworker having lunch there.

"That looks good."
"Is is. My fiancée made it...but it's a bit cold." (stands to put it back into the microwave)
"You don't mean emotionally do you?"
"No, no...we're good. Wait, is that a taste of sadness?"
"Some meals are made with love, others with resentment. Although the resentment is more of an aftertaste. As it usually is."

power up by shutting down

I have wanted a napmosphere for years. Now I know it is also good for me. They should be tax-deductible. And all grown-ups should get nap time.

Bring it!

Via i09: The science behind power naps, and why they're so damn good for you

kick up your heels!

My awesome friend and massage therapist Alex took several months to hike the Pacific Crest Trail, in heels, to raise money for MS. He called it: Pumps to Portland! Seriously. Like I said: Alex is awesome. He's finished his trek and has an amazing story. And he is still raising money.

The SF Bay Guardian ran a piece on him and his journey. Go read it!

Out with ACT: 1776

Wow. This was written in the 60s, and revived in 2012, and it still every bit as relevant today: Congress is a bunch of fucktards who can't get along and the private, corporate interests will always sway the compromise from liberty and American ideals. ACT's 1776 is well done, if a bit like an overly long civics lesson. And whether it is true or not it appeared to be by far the largest cast I've seen on the ACT stage. And a well-assembled cast of talent it is. It is not so much a "musical" as a "drama with some songs in it." History buffs and general citizens alike will enjoy it, but the history-types will appreciate it a bit more. Unfortunately my take away is that Pennsylvania is a colossal dick and South Carolina will obstruct anything to get its way, which in this case was slavery of the African people. Soooo...not much has changed.

Fine acting all around. And a super sexy Thomas Jefferson to boot. Good writers are always sexy, Brandon Dahlquist just fleshed it out. So to speak.








Kevin and I were our usual ACT Fabulous.

Thanks as always to Randy.

And poor, poor Tom...

Kevin and I started theater night with drinks at the Burritt Room and pulled Amy, the Oracle attendee, single-mother-of-three from rural Pennsylvania into our madcap trolly and she was happy to jump on board. I love meeting fun people temporarily on their own, andI think we gave her a San Franciscan experience.

And a new title.


Meet Amy. Or QUOTA.

Because she is the Queen of the Amish.

We bookended the night with the two extremes of tourists: the cool and the clueless. No matter how messy we may have been on the way home, we were still better off that this person, who drove her car down the closed part of Powell Street and into the cable car turnaround.


And finally a shout out to Mr. Brown: a never more delightful case of mistaken identity.

they're going to make me stay, and listen to all they say

I have a mandatory four-hour, department-wide training on critical thinking in an hour. We are supposed to bring pad, pen, and two appropriate problems to solve. So far the only problem I can think of is Maria.

I've seen love from both sides now

I do love the moments when I realize how rich and diverse my life is from day to day. And in many cases from hour to hour. Monday night I enjoyed a amazing dinner at Globe with parts of my southern aristocratic family, the eldest Granbery son and his family, and and his mother Anne Parsons who is perhaps my most favorite relative. I have always adored Anne and with every encounter I love her more. She is a grande dame who is so ridiculously fun to be around that she borderlines on being a fictional character. And she is also just genuinely a fine person. Rest assured she'll appear in my books in one form or another.

"Well, 3:30 is almost 4:00..."




I say my life is full of rich moments as I enjoyed a quality fmaily-time dinner at an impeccable restaurant with the "Nob Hill" of Nashville, and then directly scooted myself over South of Markewt to celebrate with proprietor Scott the 16th birthday/anniversary of the Powerhouse. Or in other words, it was the Powerhouse's "Sweat 16" party. Leather, cocktails, and sexy fun people all around. Same fabulous coin, very different side.

wet and mild

As I was tourist hosting this weekend, I couldn't do the full rodeo weekend of action and adventure. But Curt and I did drive down Saturday morning. Curt had been watching the weather forecasts and was worried about rain. I assured him, "It doesn't rain in September." The forecasts I saw also only reported 30% chance of rain, in the evening. Curt was sure it was going to rain. I went shopping for sunscreen and parasols.

Curt had better weather reports than I did.

If it started raining cats and dogs, that would be only if it let up a little. Animals were lining up two by two. And the storm followed us all the way down the coast. Once at Driscoll Ranch, after we were a little soaked, it would let up intermittently, even enough for the sun to poke through, only to downpour again.

Curt was mostly dry as he was clever enough to bring an umbrella. I'm a a jacket-and-hat kinda rain guy which did not help the boots and jeans. I took me a moment to realize Curt wasn't using hip slang when he got into the car.

"You brought an umbrella. Did you buy that yesterday or did you bring one with you?"
"I brought it with me."
"Oh, is it a good one?"
"Totes."
"And fer reals. Oh. Nevermind."


Every conversation went like this: "Can you believe it's raining?! It doesn't rain in September!" Even standing in the middle of the downpour I wouldn't accept that it was raining. I felt like a Republican on global warming. Or the economy. Or a tea-bagger on any conversation that includes evidence.

The ridiculous rain did make for a good crowd though, in quality if not quantity. These were the campers, the die-hards, and the awesome guys who are okay getting a little wet without melting like a bwitch. Down for their first rodeo were new friends Robbie and Chris and I wish I could have spent more time down there. When the hundreds of photos were posted on Monday and Tuesday, it looked like a lot of fun. I usually take loads of photos and make the annual videos, but this year my pics were few. And wet. I did have to laugh and the cowboys using the trash bags as ponchos, as they were branded by a sponsor, who makes lube.














As it was, we only stayed about an hour (Curt is like a cat when it comes to rain), and we needed to crash for about three hours once we got back to the City. We both severely needed naps.

Partying in the City goes like this: Lather, rinse, repeat.

Curt, but not brusque

This weekend we welcomed fellow '93 Davidson Wildcat Curt B. to San Francisco. While we were not close in college, there is a bond among the LGBT alumni, especially considering there are only three of us in our entire class. But it's a small school, and rather conservative then, so there's that.

The Curt tour included Castro crawls, a visit to the very wet rodeo, and Mission Soul Sunday brunch at Chapel/the Vestry.


Hard on the heels of Hard French, Motown on Mondays (or MOM-SF) is really worth a visit. Check out their events around town. The brunch at Chapel was nice in that it is one of the few outdoor places to dine and has an interesting menu, but the actual brunch execution, while above average fare, didn't live up to the foodie aspirations. Our server Shane was charming and knowledgable, but for some reason the only server on duty for about an hour so service notably suffered. The kitchen and bar didn't seem to have their act together either as the coffee Curt ordered appeared only after the meal, and our bottomless mimosas went without refill for about as long, and portions of the food order were completely forgotten. However, still a nice place to spend a sunny Sunday morning.

The additional bar staff (Max, Brandon) as afternoon rolled around took care of us, and we really enjoyed the MOM beats in the front of the Vestry. I wish I had paid attention to the DJs more or asked their names. the first DJ was amazing and mixed some pretty spectacular Motown on the fly, creating entirely new versions of beloved classics. I want to know who he is so I can be sure to catch another show. It was pretty magical. once the turntable was handed off however, the crowd stopped danced and we fell back into chit-chat and mimosas. The music was still really good, but not "fun" per se and not anything that inspired dancing.


But a ridiculously good Indian summer Sunday time. After dropping Curt off at the rental car depot at SFO for his trek to Gilroy, Skot and I continued the vacation-esque revelry in the Castro, and even made a happy adventure out of stopping in the StopAIDS truck outside of the Edge for a rapid test. It was the equinox and that's a good time to have the responsible man's twice-yearly test. Does that make us blood brothers?

This is what happens when you tell Skot to stick out his middle finger...


Lastly but not least was the raucous spontaneous game night that erupted with Brett, Arthur and Manny at the Edge at the end of the night. If you are at all a party game person, download Heads Up (iTunes link)—it's charades, celebrity, and a host of other games for your iPhone to be played with friends. When looking for the app link just now I learned it was co-created by Ellen Degeneres:


Fun times. All around.

Hey Johnny, where ya been?

Take a break and visit this interactive map that pops Johnny Cash faces on all the points where Johnny Cash has been.

And he's been everywhere, man.

just....don't

Don't.

Don't do it.

Don't let the turkeys get you down.


Just...don't.

what's in your underpants?

I have always thought that the word "underpants" was inherently funny. Drop "underpants" into a sentence, or drop your underpants in the middle of a conversation, and you've got comedy.

Puritanical freak-out parents fixing problems they don't have because they can't fix the problems they do, think not so much. The most banned book last year? The whimsical children's book Captain Underpants.

Makes me want to run out and buy a copy. And a costume.

tune in to KSHL

I found my grandfather's old radio. But it only gets one station. And it sounds like the ocean.

Also, it's a seashell.

Spilson!

Reunited and it feels so good!

a couple of tarts in Chinatown

The Gay Rodeo fast approaches and I am taking a friend whose skin is so fair I am concerned that in that level of direct sunlight he might burst into flames. So I took a little mid-week adventure down to Chinatown last night to find a not-hideous paper parasol and was joined by PeeDee for roadies and rowdies, including return trips to the bakery for hot-from-the-oven egg cream tarts that are worth the wait.




The frequency of "jeans tights" and weapons windows were a bit surprising. And all of the "jeans tights" mannequin legs had creepy heads on them. On for all of the exotic weaponry (including Woverine claws), all I could think of was "All of this and not a single bat'leth."


The masculine-ish parasol search was successful. And while we were surrounded by tourists, which was its own brand of fun, I felt I blended well with the travelers by rocking the San Franciscan Indian Summer sartorially.


Man, I do love living here. That this is what running after-work errands looks like.

winding down the summer

More accurately, winding down and sliding down the "official" summer season while the SF Indian summer just heats up. It was closing day ay Waterworld last weekend, and while I was invited with friends for a "Bears Get Wet" bear day at Waterworld, it was really "Sundance at Waterworld" day, not Sundance Saloon, but Sundance the circuit party. So there wer maybe a dozen bears there, then lots and lots of muscle/twinks in bathing suits smaller than bandanas. There was enough eye candy to rot my sockets, but it wasn't really my crowd. However, a great time was had by all.




The boys of summer indeed. Let's get wet!

spruced up

We The Three had an amazing lunch at Spruce this week. It was almost ridiculous in its perfection. They send out a weekly newsletter of their Harvest prix fixe menu, with wine pairings, and it was just spectacular. As was the ambiance and the service.




However, the Ponds should not come here to dine.


Prisoner Zero has escaped.