ok, about that quiz, "All about Joe": I'm embarrassed to say that I got one of my own answers wrong when I set up the test. So people that have taken it might be surprised to find they got No. 7 wrong. Sorry! 
I don't seem to be able to access the original file to fix the quiz either.
Oh, well ... and I know that this leaves me completely open to abuse from Boyer!!
I am shamelessly copying an idea from Chris Br1xt0n's blog, the quiz. And more shamelessly, I'm making the quiz about me just so I can talk (write) about myself!
Take my quiz and learn more about me! ME ME ME
thanks for the idea, Chris!
of course, I think Boyer should be next. If not, I will write one about him that is funnier (read that as "bitchier") than anything he could come up with.
from Simon Doonan's "Nasty":
"Don't judge me too harshly: if you're not going to be a trendy, superficial poseur in your twenties, when are you going to do it?"
although our friend Missy says the book only has 2 funny lines, I beg to differ. It's loaded with 'em. If the quote here isn't enough to make you read it, I don't know what will.
Perhaps pick up some lovely Republican screed instead.
The Sundays Styles section of the New York Times says that 10 minutes late is the new on time. Love it.
http://www.nytimes.com/2006/01/29/fashion/thursdaystyles/29age.html?_r=1&oref=slogin
Left work early-ish on a mission: We were out of chile powder. Chris needed it right away. So, no problem; walk to Whole Foods @ Huron & State, then hop on the Redline @ Chicago & State, just one stop farther up the line than usual. Be home in plenty o' time.
So, making good time, even hopped a bus to zip me along. Going up Huron, though, what emerges from out of the cold Midwest winter darkness but a shining beacon of a new shop on the corner where nothing was there before: The new Jonathon Adler store!
Now, I knew it was coming, but hadn't really paid attention exactly where. And Paulie & Pamela forgive me, but I had to run in. And as I approach the door, taking in the blues and whites and vivid oranges pouring out in beckoning light, who do I see but Pamela's former main man, Dwight. I knew he had left Stitch, but didn't really know/remember where he landed.
So we chatted and I checked out the store, and Paulie & Pamela forgive me, again, but the shop is hot! But everyone has already seen it but me since you have one out there in SF too.
Bought a little something for Daddy/Simone, but cannot say what it is in case by some off chance he actually monitors the BGN site. Just say that it was a small, ceramic vessel that made me scream like a queen at a Gucci sale and then grab it up right away. Perfect for D/S.
And me? I want a pony.
from Slate:
Starbucks Economics
Solving the mystery of the elusive "short" cappuccino
By Tim Harford
Here's a little secret that Starbucks doesn't want you to know: They will serve you a better, stronger cappuccino if you want one, and they will charge you less for it. Ask for it in any Starbucks and the barista will comply without batting an eye. The puzzle is to work out why.
The drink in question is the elusive "short cappuccino"—at 8 ounces, a third smaller than the smallest size on the official menu, the "tall."
The short cappuccino has the same amount of espresso as the 12-ounce tall, meaning a bolder coffee taste, and also a better one. The World Barista Championship rules, for example, define a traditional cappuccino as a "five- to six-ounce beverage." This is also the size of cappuccino served by many continental cafés. Within reason, the shorter the cappuccino, the better.
More here, but what Mr. Harford doesn't point out explicitly is that Starbucks is basically making a boatload of money by selling people oceans of milk.
since most of y'all (or maybe even all y'all?) are down with Alan & Justin in Laguna, we're sending great big New Years kisses your way.
Chris & I ended the year with a 5k so-called resolution run in Lincoln Park. Jacob, who talked us into it, ran as well. At 6 p.m. start time, the temp hovered at about 40, a mild night for a run by Chicago standards and maybe a portent of the rest of winter? If there's going to be global warming anyway, we may as well get a warmer winter.
Then it was off to Jacob & Chip's for cocktails (vodka-saketinis, which I very un-pc-ly christened a Nagasaki for its devasting effect), sushi and games.
Sorry to miss the bash! Resolution in 2006: Have more fun.
Greg's post deserves a picture to go with. The original Annie Proulx story describes one of the characters as "cave-chested." Didn't quite understand that, myself, but one gets the idea that these two dudes were not modern gay perfection.
Novelist David Leavitt, whom I have admired and consumed since his first collection of stories, "Family Dancing" in 1983, points out (in a deftly written piece that covers much more) that the actors chosen for the film are more handsome/beautiful than the characters described by Proulx. No matter. One can easily understand the need/desire for Ang Lee to make the actors who carry his film at least look stunning.
One cannot easily deny him this. And yes, who among us is not grateful? What, Lee should have cast some geeks? We want the visuals, man!
Still, the power of the story can come through.
I saw it on Saturday during the big sellout weekend with a group of boys. We all walked out tentatively and talked about the movie a bit over drinks but it needed to seep in. On Sunday, I found I really needed to talk about it as the layers and layers of the film shook me. Later that night I finally cried.
Heath Ledger. Amazing.
Looking forward to seeing it again soon.
so, Chris, Jacob and I ran an 8K (5 mile) cross country run last Sunday on a horse farm an hour northwest of Chicago. It was hilly, not San Fran-hilly, but hilly (c'mon, our only hill within running distance is man-made!), slick with snow and cold ... how cold? To paraphrase Ligotti, quoting one of his fav films: "It was 11."
But the cold meant that the swamps and the creek were frozen; that is good. I wasn't looking forward to wading up to my hips in cold water then running several miles ...
Jacob has run the race before and yes, ran without sweatpants. Brrr. But several high school boys ran without shirts.
Andrew Sullivan's blog has become difficult to read in recent months. He's on a crusade to get the Bush administration to reverse its torture policy. Most days consist of long rants. I admire him taking on this important issue and perhaps as a Republican he understands how very poorly history will look upon this administration and the irreparable damage it has done. Nonetheless, Andrew also wrote an interesting article about the future of gay life. Today he quotes an email from an 18 year-old who thanks him for the article and the appreciation it has given him for the struggle that gay people had to go through in the past. He himself does not have that struggle today; Out to friends and family and absolutely no issues. Now self-congratulation is total Andrew ( I feel I can call him that because I seem to constantly be reminded here that he is a friend of X or Y) but if this is the direction of things, I am warmly impressed.
I am reading Thomas Friedman's "The World Is Flat" about globalization. It's hard to believe that Netscape went public only 10 years ago and how quickly technology has changed and is changing or world. It's heady and scary.
Speaking of which, what is going on in the world of the Tribune, Joe? The newspaper industry seems to be going through some shocks of its own.
I forgot to include: The wine is called Caprice and costs $220. And after my first posting, a second bottle came in. Vive la Veuve!
oh, and the first picture doesn't show the full extent of the Pucci-ness. The bottle comes enclosed in an over-the-top bag. Then inside that is another bag, skin-tight with a zipper. For a good time, unzip.
literally ...
Sweeties, have I said that I love my job?
Well, ya never know what the mail will bring. Opening wine boxes can be like Christmas: Who knows what will emerge from the plain brown cardboard. Today, it was Pucci-wrapped Veuve.
But it wasn't just Veuve. It was Grand Dame.
And it wasn't just Grand Dame. It was vintage Grand Dame!
and no, I won't be taking this home. I will have to share with colleagues at work during our next champagne tasting.
Cheers!
Coyotes have been in the news now and again the past few years in Chicago because naturalists and other researchers have noticed how well they're adapting to city life. So today when the NY Times included an article about a recent study tracking coyote behavior in Chicago suburbs, it wasn't that new.
About the newest information was that the coyotes are eating Canada geese eggs, which is keeping the population of these foul fowl down, which is great. The article also was fresh in its canny and sometimes funny approach, especially the observation that these efficient predators won't bother people as long as we don't feed them:
"Leave nothing tasty outside in an open trash can or food dish, and definitely nothing small and fluffy at the end of a leash."
Yes!
The coyote is now hero in the urban environment, ridding us of, or at least keeping in check, such nuisance animals as ever-pooping Canada geese, maybe rats (don't know for sure) and other rodents, like rabbits that feed on expensive park landscaping, and a much, much worse varmint: the much-hated yappy dog!
Shih Tzus beware!
persimmons from Alan & Justin's yard.
pretty, no? read about 'em here (but only until wednesday)
Thanks, guys!
so for the second time in nearly 12 months Chris & I attended yesterday a gay union at Unity Temple, Frank Lloyd Wright's masterpiece church in Oak Park. I imagine that couples choose it because of the welcoming nature of the congretation and ministers, but the modern gay man's love of architecture has something to do with it, no?
It was a nice ceremony, with happiness, frank emotion, parents and other family, humor. Afterward, the guys were toasted with bubbly (a tasty cava) and treats were served.
But for me, the big splash was at the lunch reception at the nearby home of some of their friends. Hosted by another gay couple at their cool bungalow with huge kitchen (and huge commercial quality oven! jealous much?), it was pretty impressive. The backyard was decked out with several tables dressed in fall colors, flowers were everywhere, the appetizer buffet was beauteous and even a themed cocktail was being served on the front steps as you walked up to the house! (It was Irish meade with a saying explaining the significance; pretty good actually) A huge buffet was served up inside later; the bartender was pretty busy out back.
Before going I thought to myself, "can't wait to be out of this party; hope it ends early." But we stayed and stayed to like 3; talked, visited, and I wasn't even getting looped. No, I had fun 'cause it was a nice party. (And as an aside I found the hosts to tell them what a great job that they and their caterers were doing, only to find out the guys did it pretty much all themselves. No caterers, just the willing hands of some friends. Pretty impressive.)
But it all made me think that Chris & I have been to two ceremonies, yes, in the past year, but we never got to celebrate with any of you California boys.
Sad, sweeties! Sad.
a dated post but oh well - i am posting aren't I jospeh so quit your kaviching!!!!!
later part of last week Greg invited Paul and I along for a night out with he and a few of his friends - all except for dean - were new faces to us . . and ALL were very handsome boys - where has Greg been hiding these boys paul and i pondered after the show . .
anyway we did a quick dinner at flippers in hayes valley and then off for an interview show with amy sedaris . . . think actors studio meets charlie rose meets graham norton (amy was graham of course) . . . simple set 2 big comfy chairs and some modern / hip (tacky) rug
the interviewer (i forgot her name - she is from the sf chronicle and i believe did a stint with bbc) was good ( no terry gross - but good) - Amy just made me laugh - she is writing a new cook book that will come out next month and sounds like it will be a must have for you joe - maybe a christmas present so don't run out and buy it . . . then there were some q&a from the audience - some good some bad - but overall the format was good - it really gave me a greater and deeper appreciation for amy and her humor . . . i continue to be a fan for sure! (besides she smokes pot now and again! - who wouldn't like a lady who admits that in front of a live audience?)
highlights of the evening were meeting greg's "other" friends and realizing that san francisco does not corrupt all young men . . . being in the spectacular (sooo Moulin Rouge) herbst theatre and spotting and talking with one of my fav trannies, ms. Chocolate, at the show as a boy.
Of course the night ended all too fast - hope we can do something like this again soon - spontaneous and fun!
found this video on Snarky. pretty alarming, really.
It's a short piece in which a phony TV reporter goes out to what looks like a mall or shopping strip and asks people which should be the next country that the US invades.
From the reporter's accent, I'm guessing he's Australian; and I'm guessing the interviewees are American. But I wish I knew where the interviews were done. Clearly a red state, though.
Wait, are we red or blue, I always confuse that.
so, like, a week ago, Alan, Justin, Moneka, Erin and company went to Madison. Something about a football game or something. I don't know. Two branches of the Mustelid family versus each other? Or some such thing. Beers were drunk.
Anywho, before all that, they came by here, Chicago, for a few drinkies.
So, we got to meet Erin, LOVE HER!, and we got to hang with her and Moneka while waiting for the Alan-Justin-Dave-Auggie Minivan to roll in. A van full of gays rollin' around the Midwest? The ultimate revenge.
After the guys finally arrived, after suffering flight delays and who knows what else, pizzas were applied to hunger spots. Wine was applied to thirsty spots. Then ...
We went out to the gay bars, the Sidetracks, the Roscoes, Hydrate. Auggie, Alan & Dave seemed to be pretty damn thrilled that Plato (sp?) silver shots were only $5.75. (I took it a little easy since my race was only a couple days away, see previous postings. So I only drank just the right amount too much.) Soon after Dave tried to recreate a dance-floor stunt performed by more muscle-y and much much younger dudes and instead landed on his head, it seemed like the time to go. Since it was only 3, Dave, Alan, Auggie and Justin climbed in a cab (leaving the minivan safely in our garage, smart!) and went to eat. I went home (where Chris was fast asleep and would be rising in only 90 minutes or so), along with the girls.
It's always good to see our West Coast friends! We hope to be heading out there soon. Great to meet ya, Erin! You and Moneka are such a cute couple.
Justin, thanks for the avocados and persimmons! I'm still ripening the persimmons on my desk at work. Those suckers are stubborn. I'm thinkin they'll be ready for their close up on Monday. The avocados, the ones that have ripened, have been great: creamy, buttery, rich. Thanks for thinking of us and can't wait to see your garden.
Photos have been posted for our race. Go here, click on "2005 Scallion" for about 3 pages, then click on team 144.
Julia is the tall one; Jane is the dark-haired woman; I'm the guy.
Jane, Julia, Joe: The J-Team
Wild Scallion Adventure Race 2005
Start and transition area: Grassy spot just southwest of Montrose beach house.
Saturday, Sept. 24. Start: 11 a.m.
CP1: First, one blader (Joe) and one two teammates taking turns on a scooter (Julia & Jane) follow lakefront bike path to Checkpoint 1 (CP1) in Olive Park near Navy Pier, about 5.5 miles south of start. Receive first playing card (designates you've completed task); blader removes skates and 2 teammates each carry one.
On to CP2: Run and take turns scootering to northwest corner of LaSalle & Wacker: Eastland memorial site (where a steamer ship capsized and sunk in Chicago River in 1915, drowning more than 800 people aboard); about 1.3 miles. Each teammate takes a red carnation, runs down the steps to the river, reflects on the victims, then tosses the flower in. Receive card, a 2.
CP3: Run/scooter down to Franklin, just south of Adams, the east entrance for the Sears Tower; 0.7 miles. Turn in scooter; drop gear. Armed with only water bottles, enter tower, climb stairs to top. 99 floors. Once achieving 99th floor (and enduring horrid singing of well-meaning 20something girls at floor 66), enjoy view for 30 seconds, enjoy a nice poo, retrieve card no. 3. Then descend stairs, not by elevator.
CP4: Retrieve gear. No more scootering (scooters returned to organizers), for now. Run to Redline station at State, north of Jackson; a few blocks, 4/10s a mile. Buy gatorade and a few sandwiches you'd never touch in real life. Take Redline north to Bryn Mawr stop, enduring delays for track maintenance; wolf down ham&cheese sandwich, which tastes great. Exit train, head east to lake and the Hollywood Beach "lighthouse," which is really more of a beacon. Rain begins as we leave train. Becomes steadily more heavy. Lightning and thunder toy with each other. Sky is dark. It's about 2:45 p.m. A cutoff deadline is looming. Pick up card No. 4 from concerned-looking volunteers as rain continues.
CP5: Head south along shoreline toward Foster Avenue beach. This is "coasteering" leg. Must stay right at shoreline, going over worn and pot-marked revetment stones (large limestone blocks placed by Army Corps of Engineers about 100 years ago to protect shoreline). As we near beach about 1/2 mile away, another volunteer (now getting quite soaked) says we don't have to run in the water when we reach the beach. Concerns about lightning, ya know. Nothing is said about the fact that the open ground at lakefront is still about the worst place to be. Run along beach concerned a lot less about the rain and lightning as we are about meeting the cutoff time back at the start (or transition area). Pickup card No. 5.
CP6: Continue along beach, hugging shoreline; this time, Montrose Beach, the far southern end of which lies the beach house and beyond it our goal. Now clear that we have plenty of time to make it before the 4:15 p.m. cutoff (if you miss cutoff, you're out of race). This portion of beach has long, long stretch of limestone revetment (which are huge stones, about 5 feet long, 3 feet wide, 3 or so feet thick), and it's all in worse shape than further north. Looks like a tidal pool, with water everywhere and what are probably rare beach grasses growing happily. Watch your footing; it's like a boulder field in the Rockies. (Remember, Al?) Chris & friend Debbie waiting in the rain to cheer us on (but not to provide any help, which is strictly forbidden; a picture is taken, however). Rain continues, but finally achieve CP and card no. 6.
Transition area: Drop skates. Grab more food, water, gatorade, de-gassed Coke (gets simple carbohydrates, sugar, quickly into the system; better than Clif Bars, etc.). Check maps, grab bikes.
CP7: Pedal to Gompers Park, Foster and Kostner Avenues, about 6 miles. Descend fun slope (hey, it's Chicago; it's flat here), pick up card No. 7. You know what's coming next because it was the same trail in 2002. But, you don't really know what's coming next.
CP8: Follow dirt trail along North Branch of Chicago River, through woods, etc., about 3 miles. This is pretty much an unsanctioned off-road, unpaved trail. The rain has stopped, but it has been raining steadily about 2 hours and about 65 or so of the 83 teams in the race have been through before us. It's all mud, sister. And the funny thing is that mountain bikes with their nobby tires don't really like mud. Huh. Who knew? Trail is familiar to me, which gives me the confidence to push teammates when they have doubts (is this the right trail?) or hear doubts from other teams. (When one opponent asks if this is the right trail, only smile and say: "I'm not saying." Then pass him by, the silly gay boy!) But what happens with the knobby tire bikes is a build-up of mud that basically jams brakes and gears until the bike won't move. I laugh (inwardly) at the first people with the problem: A fussy, young gay boy. Then see a team of 3 Trixies (Lincoln Park latte-toting, cel fone jawing, SUV-driving privledged 20 or 30 somethings) stuck. Stop laughing when it happens to my teammates. I help teammates remove mud. J-Team, go, J-Team! (My bike, thought a mountain bike, is clad with slicks, a training choice for last year's major bike race.) Trail twists, turns, goes up, down. Mud is thick, treacherous. Many bikers go down. It hurts. We have to cross under two train trestles (forbidden from crossing over), which means wading through Chicago River. Water is ankle deep or about shin deep. Cold. Wet, too. We see small herd of deer, some that must be fawns; 4 all told? More hiding? Trail finally gives out onto clearing where volunteers we last saw at Sears Tower greet us warmly. They tell us that there are about 15 teams behind us. We're psyched as there were only 4-6 teams behind us at the Tower. Collect card no. 8 and tool on out of there.
CP9: Headed up Central to Caldwell to Devon to entrance to Northwest Bike Trail or whatever it's called. But this trail is paved, well maintained and the spine of a very nice, huge park that hugs the river all the way to the botanical gardens. And, I know it well, having trained on it last spring/summer. I lead the team, going as quickly as we can. Seems like lots and lots of teams have lost time to the Mud Monster. We've got about 3 miles to go to a clearing in the woods, a spot called Miami Woods. We pass a team of cute lesbians, who are much younger than us. Ha! At the clearing, we enter pavilion for instructions for our first orienteering leg. Orienteering is the sport (in military it's a discipline, not a sport) of using a compass and map to find hidden locations. It's 5:40 p.m. All teams must be out of there by 6:30. Volunteers figure we have no chance of finding all 9 spots in that time, so we and other teams are instructed to find as many as we can. We get our map, Jane pulls out her compass, and off we go. Becomes clear quickly that we cannot figure this out by strict orienteering guidelines, so we decide to try to read topography and any physical features of the land (roads, trails, river, streams) and site clues visually. Becomes clear quite quickly that the fucking river is in the way. We decide to walk downstream, figuring there must be a bridge or something as organizers would not have us wade across that nasty river. We find bridge, and soon find 3 orienteering spots, punching our clue-card at each one. It also becomes clear that we need to wade across the river to make it back in time! I go first. No one dies. We retrieve card no. 9.
CP10: It's 6:25 p.m. Back to the bikes. We head out trail, then quickly realize we shoulda left the woods and gone onto surface streets. I think I know how to get us out quickly and speed ahead (see more deer grazing on the way). Darkness is coming, but worse, we've got to get to the next CP before 7 p.m. or we're out of the race. We're headed to Montrose Cemetery, Pulaski just south of Bryn Mawr, about 5.5 miles. But we're tired, it's getting darker, and there are traffic lights to waste out time. I'm bringing up the rear because Julia's lights are out on her bike. We hook up with a few other teams as we zoom down there. Everyone's watching the time, and dreading the next orienteering course that's waiting for us at the cemetery (they call it "cemeteering"; cute, or just annoying?). A cemetery, where it will be dark. Nice touch. The teams are jockeying for position and getting all tangled. They are annoying us! Especially this one team of not cool, not cute gay boys. We all pull into the cemetery at virtually the same time, about 3 minutes after 7. The organizers don't kick us out. We're relieved, but no time for that. We have to do the course and get out of there. I've had to pee since about, oh, 3:45? There are 9 spots to find, but organizers tell us to find just 5 because they've got to vacate the cemetery (do the families of the departed loved ones know that a bunch of muddy, smelly, desperate crazy people are zooming around the place on bikes?). The J-Team is careful to not bike anywhere on grass, let alone anywhere near a grave. We quickly find our 5 and get out of there, with card no. 10.
CP11: Sprinting as fast as traffic, nightfall and tired bodies will let us, we're heading down Wilson straight to Montrose Beach, about 5.5 miles. Seems to take forever when you really, really, really have to pee. You remember some story about a guest at a royal banquet in the middle ages who was too embarrassed to get up from the table and excuse himself for a whiz that his bladder burst and he died. You remember a Tour de France "color" feature in which some bikers talked about the standard practice of whipping it out while speeding along on the bike and letting it fly. Every stoplight is an eternity. Why can't those J-Girls peddle faster? As soon as we're in Montrose park, I find a tree. Back at the transition area, get off the bikes. Put on dry socks, wolf down Clif Bars, grab more de-gassed Coke (thanks, Chris!). Put on blades again; girls pick up a scooter each. We'll be scooting along faster this time! Check out of transition area (where we see several people who are done and packing up their cars to go home), picking up card no. 11 on way.
CP12: Head south on bike path toward Recreation Drive underpass to get under Lakeshore Drive. Damn! It's closed, and seriously closed with chain-link fence. We're headed to Clark Street near Newport, about 2.5 miles, so going further south will be extra distance. But the blades are zooming along great, there's not much light from street lamps, but enough, and there are few obstacles on the trail (but we do see a racoon). We cross under at Roscoe underpass and head down Roscoe toward Clark. Traffic is light, though it's 8 p.m., or so. Gay boys are not yet out in force. As we approach Clark, Jane's front wheel catches in a pavement crack and she almost does a face plant. We head up Clark, CP12 is in view. This one is easy. But at the big 3-street intersection of Clark, Sheffield and Newport, an opposing team's scooterer cuts across my path. Nice. I wheel around him, saying "thanks for cutting me off." We pick up card no. 12; the offending opponent apologizes, "I thought I cleared you." Nice to apologize, but "clearing" someone is not good enough, especially when someone's on blades, and it's a deadly intersection in Wrigleyville. Jeez. ... Onward.
CP13: The last CP, only 2 miles away. We'll have a full suit of cards. Free beer awaits. We're zooming down Newport, going wrong way down one-way street, at night, with few streetlights and lots of heavily canopied trees. But who cares? We've got blinking lights and we're going to make it to the end without death, serious injury (bruises? no problem) and before the cutoff time of 10 (which sounds really, really sadly late all of a sudden). As we near end of Newport where we'll pick up Southport and follow that to the finish, the annoying gay team (with the clueless guy from CP12) catch up and ask about the bike path on Southport. Jane explains as we wait for traffic to clear. Then their blader catches his wheel in something and takes a nasty looking tumble. He goes down hard and screams; screams like he broke an arm. We all stop and turn back. His teammates are right there, checking him out. The J-Girls are moving in, "Are you OK?" I ask too, but from dark place inside the feeling rises up that I just want to make sure he'll live and get going. When the injured guy says he's OK but he hurt blah blah blah something, I say to the J-Girls: He's ok. Let's go. The last 13 blocks of the race are a straight shot down Southport to Clybourn, where an oktoberfest is in full fest mode; beers await. We're blessed with few traffic lights and stop signs where cars actually stop & let us pass. The gay boys catch up, but are not trying to sprint past us. I let up on my harsh assessment of them. Another team of gay boys (these are a bit cuter) come up from the east, looking lost (why'd they go that way, sheesh). Jane gives them help, improving our Karma that I had blackened. We all end pretty much together. Photos are taken; it's about 8:55, nearly 10 hours of racing. But we made it, got card no. 13. The beers are cold.
(results and photos not posted yet on urbanadventureracing.com, but should be up soon?)
p.s. Image function doesn't seem to be working so can't add photo. :-(
You're too cool out there, while out here we were too hot most of the summer; even September has been as hot and dry as July.
But I'm not concerned about Napa Valley. The region is teeming with winemakers pricing their precious cabs as if they've already achieved cultdom (no, not all of them, of course). Maybe a bad harvest will bring prices down; maybe it will continue what the grape glut started but wasn't able to quite finish.
In the meantime, drink deep from Sonoma; Green Valley has been getting some pretty good notice in the wine press. Washington and Oregon are under rated. Pinot noir from New Zealand anyone?
Went to a farm dinner and drank Kunin Syrah. That was good.
The cool, foggy summer in San Francisco continues here well into September. I think it's been the coolest summer since the gang of us moved here in the late 90's. Earlier this week I thought I might be experiencing a little cabin fever. I now bitch about the weather AND George Bush every day. Earlier in the week, I heard a report that the wine makers in Napa are getting very nervous about the lack of warm weather. The guy being interviewed indicated that he is typically 65% harvested by this time and this year is now at 15% and praying. If the rain comes too soon, he says 2005 Napa Valley wines may be nearly a complete wash out.
Last year about this time, Paulie was here for Festival del Vino. Last weekend, we went again, but this year, we took Missy, Chip & Jacob in Paulie's place. We missed you, Paulie!
Among the 70 or so wines, there was a lot of prosecco. So we started there. No real standouts to tell you about, though they were pleasant enough.
We moved on to medium-bodied reds, like Chianti (mostly Classicos since there were so many Chianti, I told everyone to stay with the best) or dolcetto. After several of those, keeping people in any kind of order was a lost cause. I tried. Oh, well. We had some good aglianico, including a Taurasi but I think it was too young and tannic for most tasters.
All the while, a parade of singers are crooning too loudly on a PA system that carries their Frank stylings throughout the open air pavilion. And it was hot, steamy 90-plus hot.
But the people were nice, we were tasting wine and chatting. We met up with my colleague Renee, who is also Italian (her dad came over from Sicily) and a lot of fun. She brought a posse too.
After all that (and after we bought a few bottles that enchanted us, a moscato d'asti, a la chryma christi), we headed back. Everyone had a short break for naps and outfit changes and stuff, then we had an Italian grape harvest celebration meal. No, there was no actual harvest, but who needs it? All we needed was the theme. The above schiacciatta* was a star appetizer.
We drank some more vino. Our neighbors, Taso and Theodora, joined us. It was a great night on the deck.
Next year, y'all come, ya hear?
(*Schiacciatta shown is actually the practice one baked the week before)
Tom is visiting from Seattle to celebrate his 40th birthday in the city where he's from. And he brought his posse. Everyone's converging on our house for a cocktail party tomorrow. Some 12-20, counting out-of-towners and locals.
40 already. Who'd a thunk? Seems like just a few years ago he was visiting me @ the Ashley House. Remember, Dave & Paulie? Back in '91, or so?
Anywho, reports to follow ...
Friends, yesterday saw the publication of my first cover story. It was pretty difficult/time-consuming to research/write, but meeting and getting to know the Nishimura family was a blessing. Check it out here in the next week while the link is still up.
Just when I think the Bush administration has reached a new low, they are exposed again for some new low form of ineptitude or twisted ideology. Diddy got it exactly right last year when he launched the campaign, "Vote or Die" which has become hugely ironic when one thinks about the people of the Gulf Coast. I believe that only a full scale recession will tip the sentiment of the country into real pressure for change in the Bush admin. (That may happen if we get booming inflation as I believe will happen soon when $70 barrel oil really spreads through the economy) Even at his current rock bottom approval ratings, he does not waver. So f-ing frustrating.
With all of the sadness over the destruction that the BITCH Katrina and her waves (get it?) have created I felt it would be good to share some of the good news still happening in this questionable country we all call home . . .
OK, so, this time, Chris and I were walking home from dinner at our friend's pizza/pasta place (where we will be glad to treat any/all Ashley types & friends who visit), about 9 p.m. Saturday.
It was a decent summer evening, not too hot; the Cubs had played a day game, so the drunken young'uns were pretty tame by then. Along a dark stretch of Sheffield Avenue, a 20- or 30something boy passed us, and Chris said: "He's got a squirrel."
This time I caught on much more quickly. I stopped, we both stopped, and looked back. Sure enough, walking away from us was a guy with, though it was dark and shadowy, you could tell, a squirrel on his shoulder.
A boy and his squirrel, how charming.
On Monday I discovered that my new doctor looks and acts just like Shad. Next Monday I have to go back to him for a digital rectal exam. I have nothing more to say.
JB was in town for the SF Marathon a few weeks ago. It was good to see him and he finished the half marathon in 1:39, a good time. JB has always been a bit ahead of the curve on certain music and (sometimes) fashion. ( He did own an unexplainable pair of red rubber D&G sandals months before they took Miami by storm). He recommended the Australian studio art band, Architecture in Helsinki and their new cd, In Case We Die. A mixture of vibes - lounge, alt rock, show tune, electronica. All I know is that it needs to be in heavy rotation at ATYS.
Check out track 11 called Rendezvous: Potrero Hill.
Alan & Justin came to play for Market Days.
Beers were drunk.
Trannies were critiqued.
Shades were worn.
Boys were watched.
Weiners were long.
It was great to see you guys!!
And in case you cannot readthe small tye below the photo . . .
" On a recent Wednesday, Kim Dower, a Denver pharmacist, arrived at her job of 10 years wearing a cream chiffon blouse, long crepe skirt and black flats."
Let's see . .(from L to R) HE looks like one, sounds like one and married(now divorced) the daughter of the world's biggest gay icon? . . . HER mama married one, she takes lots of pills and drinks a little, and she was married to that gay piano player Peter Allen? . . .SHE/HE . . . that one - oh come on you have to wonder? . . . and SHE is so fabolus and such a giving person to our community I will leave her alone(and check out thoes pearls! girls) ! ! !
Go ahead - you decide.
To take over as "BlogMaster" and turn this into an over the top (keep it clean!) gay site! Is it possible you ask?
Well - you decide!
My plug here for "Me, You and Everybody We Know". It's a wonderfully quirky movie with some possibly uncomfortable scenes involving young people exploring sex. It's written and stars performance artist Miranda July and contains some very memorable visuals. It has really stuck with me.
The title of this post is a film reference that is quite priceless.
what up, homies?
well, Ming Tsai is doing up a pork tenderloin in soy marinade, and I thought I'd blog a bit. oh, no! the little crawl thingie just said "fennel compliments most pork dishes"!! oh, no! they just did it again! (they shoulda said "complements," for those of you who are English-challenged, Boyer). Who is writing/editing this? Obiviously, no one is editing it.
Hey, last week I was cataloging wine at work, and what do you think we had? Why, it was a Monterey gewurztraminer from Boyer Winery! No, really.
Today was fucking hot in Chicago. But let's not talk about the weather or our wilting flowers. No. What I did today was just hang out, try to stay outta the heat. But Chris, who hates the heat, decided to go out front, dig up part of the lawn extension (that strip of land between the sidewalk and the street) and install a nice red brick circle around one of the trees and one of the parking meters, then put in mulch (for the tree) and red gravel (the meter). Looks really good, but today? Jeez.
Anywho, like the good boyfriend that I claim to be, I took him a tall ice water, complete with little umbrella, of course. And, I helped just a wee bit. Of course, I didn't go out right when he started the project. No, I waited a bit. Most of the heavy lifting was already done. But it wasn't my fucking idea!
so, last weekend I was pretty wrapped up reading HPaTHBP (that's "Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince," for those none Harry fans). It was great! Won't tell no secrets or hints or anything; Chris is about right in the middle of it, ya see. Can't wait for Book 7, now; but, actually, will have to since it will take J.K. Rowling about 2 years to write it.
Now, reading "The History of Salt," and that's pretty great too. Probably not getting much reaction out of anyone else out there. I'm thinking maybe that Gregorio is a fan, no? And I know that Justin Bog isn't much interested since he's waiting until all 7 books are published before he reads 'em all. Heya, Justin! Happy 40th!
Justin Bog is 40 now, y'all realize, dontcha?
and, yes, I would still love a chocolate martini.
What the fuck?
So, Paulie came to stay a short while. He was on his way and back from a sad event, a funeral for Pamela's father, so it was a haven we were glad to offer on either end of his trip.
On his way back from St. Louis, Paul stopped with us. We threw together a simple summery dinner on the deck and heard about his travels in Mid-America, a long unseen twin and odd relatives. We watched a black column of smoke rise to the south from what turned out to be a burning grocery. After, Paul and I went on a walk through the 'hood (Chris went to bed; it was 10 o'clock, ya know), since it was a great night out, except for the acrid smoke that left a haze over a huge swath of Lakeview.
So Paulie and I are walking up Halsted. I'm pointing out new shops & restaurants. Paul is grooving on the design. Lots of other people are out. On the way to the bars, whatever. All of a sudden, Paul barks something out. Staccato. Short phrase, repeated. Urgent. He steps aside, off the sidewalk.
Now, ol' Joseph has a little secret. The hearing is going. Yes, sweeties, at 43! Sometimes, Joseph just pretends he heard you, nods his head, whatever. But then he has to ask when he can't figure it out from context.
Turns out, a boy, 20ish, cute enough, not a freak, is walking toward us down Halsted, 10:30 on a Sunday night, carrying in his arms his pet skunk. And a lovely specimen it is, with lush fur, looking perky and happy to be on a walk.
So: That explains why Paulie was freakin. In about any scenario that one might imagine, it was pretty OK to freak upon seeing said skunk. We both stepped aside. Boy and skunk passed by. We continued on our walk.
Paul loved the design of the new Alice Gardens flower shop; we made a pit stop home then out again for an ice cream at the locally gay-owned Windy City Sweets wear the staff is all skinny little things.
But ya gotta wonder if the skunk & boy went to Sidetracks or the Roscoe's.
A skunk, but not THE skunk.
the heat in the mission can be quite surprising when the cool air abounds everywhere else in the ciudad. my first visit to the van ness gas and car wash was like hanging at a tijuana truck stop with birds and freaks on bikes circling
and hollering. after filling up then negotiating verbally "the works" car wash option, i drive around the station, to begin the procedure.
you want coco? pina colada? yasmine? raspBerry? frescia? oceana? she says, ring curls and a clipboard.
these were the pleasant scents offered in abundance and the only thing noted for the 23.99 the works.
for the 25 minutos of down time i pass through a beverage station which reveals a secret oasis of awning-covered drivers sitting in scratched corona beach chairs. dykes on cell phones, moms with kids on yoyos, chairs aligned like church pews watching the cars final hand rub down. shiny happy people on pause.
The parade for us was almost "The Parade We Missed" when brunch ran long.
Parade monitors closed Halsted early, so Chris got shut out of the garage when returning from a luxe car test drive in BFE (butt-fuck egyptian suburbs) that morning.
Everyone else at the modest, but prideful, brunch here (Chip, Jacob, Missy), continued with the mimosas until he arrived (after an hour or so of circling ever farther away to find parking). But really, 3 bottles is not that much for 5 people, no? With everyone well-lubed and hungry, how could the food be anything but a smashing success? Chip made fantastical French-like scrambled eggs. There were thin thin pancakes as only Bisquick can make them. Plus lots and lots of organic fresh fruit in an insalata di macedonia. After, we lingered over the remaining bubbles, then decided we may as well jump out the garage door and check out what was left of the parade. Living at Ground Zero has advantages.
A few sparkling wine minis (the latest rage, according to Trib) were discovered in the back of the fridge and go-cups were produced. Out the door we went to the street, where the crowd was 4 and 5 people deep.
The highlight was Crobar's volcano float pulsing music and erupting in a million pieces of confetti that rained on dykes and boys and hotties and everyone just as the music crescendoed. Everywhere it went, caught on the wind. A week later, we're still finding it on the deck, in the flowers ... no tickertape parade in NY was ever as gay.
The parade, then, was almost an afterthought. We repaired to the deck to chat and rehydrate. The pride was just being out and being gay and hanging with friends.
But for the most fab pride pictures and party report, who can top (ha!) Chris and his description of Gay Pride: House of MORE! Style?
Last night I went to dinner at Medjool, the Pan-middle eastern tapas restaurant where Moneka revealed Golda's man-grab. Dinner was with a group of guys that I was mostly unfamiliar with (acquaintances of Dean). We were shuffled up to the rooftop where we discovered a fabulous city view and a large group of twenty-somethings cooling their heels over small plates and drinks in some sort of dot-com flashback. After some adjustments of heat lamps and table space, we were seated and I discovered that the guy sitting next to me, Ronnie Giannelli, was from Taylor. He was fascinated that there would be other Taylor refugees living in San Francisco so I immediately offered a Taylortucky symposium in the near future.
We finished the evening with a rather bizarre series of sci-fi film shorts for the GLBT film festival. It was the usual mixed fare.
Note to those making the recommended trip to Medjool: the rooftop is cash only, so fill those Prada bi-folds before taking the elevator up.
Happy Pride All!
... from our Simone LaCharles watcher:
No one has heard from Simone in over 10 days.
Liza fears abduction by extraterrestrials.
Please keep Simone in your prayers.
The hetero-normative ownership paradigm is a tyrant belief system that deserves to be undermined on every front, from political protest to petty thievery.
from Lockpick Pornography, an online novella, by Joey Comeau
Joseph and Chris - you MUST join us - Joseph see if you can use the Tribune's AirStream Jetty Jet for the week-end?
See the little movie link below!!
FINAL%20KABOOM%20TIMELINE_v2.mov
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Oh, my kingdom for a camera.
I know the West Coast boys are probably sooo tired of reading of trannier-than-thou postings from mere Chicagoans, but this was really a great one.
Walking home from the L, along Belmont and all the vintage/shoe/takeout places there, I spied in one of the too-many shoe shops a man, a big man. He was tall, about 6-foot-something, and 270 pounds or so. He had a huge belly, large and rounded, like he was 18 months pregnant ... with triplets. Over this proud, upstanding belly was stretched, nearly to the point of splitting, a white undershirt. His face was plump and rotund. He was the type of guy you'd expect to see drunk, starting fights at a dive bar way out in the sticks, except for the very very short flouncy tight white skirt printed with huge, bright red flowers and the perfect white/blond wig that curled at a-just-under-his-chin length.
I wish I remembered the shoes.
I wonder, what was he doing there ...
@ 20 Alex not only got the ettention of the media- he got the attention of the 872 fridge! . . . . . .hmmm 20+49(ers) = ?
so, like, tonight after work there was a tasting, the Wine Spectator Grand Tour, about 210 wines. There was the 1996 Dom. There was Taittinger. There were several Bordeaux chateaus, lots of barolo, etc. So, midway through, the other two guys I went to the event with tracked me down and said I had to try this wine. So, we went back to that table. It was Gunderloch, a German maker; it was their dessert riesling, a riesling trockenbeerenauslese. One of the guys I was with is a sommelier with an amazing palate. He was wetting his pants, the wine was so good. So, we tried it. But first, I needed a rinse. I had been drinking several reds, so my glass was pretty coated. So, what you do is ask for a rinse, which is just a little pour of the next wine you're going to taste. You swirl it around in your glass to clean out the previous wine(s) and you dump it. So, the nice, tall, lean, attractive, blond Germanic woman poured us each a rinse saying: "Fritz would kill me if he knew I was doing this." That will become clear in a second, but as soon as she said that, I was worried. But, onward. She poured us our tasting, and we tried it. It was fantastic. Easily one of the best wines there, if not the best. If you are a person who thinks he doesn't like dessert wines nor rieslings and definitely not dessert rieslings, you'd still have to try this wine first. It was fantastic. Now, the wine retails for $375 a bottle. That's a 375 ml bottle (or a half bottle). Only 400 bottles of this 2002 were made (it is a wine that is not made every year; only made when the conditions are right). 24 of them were given by the vintner to the Grand Tour (which is a 3-city tour, none San Fran; sorry). Sam's Wines, the largest wine shop in the nation and a Chicago institution, maybe has 2 or 3 bottles, according to our pourer. So, here's the point: Basically, I swirled and then dumped a $10 rinse.
That is not right.
Cheers, sweeties.
A quick recommendation for Jorge Drexler's new cd, Eco. He is the boy who did the theme from Motorcycle Diaries. It's beautiful. Pass the sangria.
From the Simone Report:
A few months back after a party at Jane Fonda’s in Atlanta, Simone LaCharles and Liza got to talking in the limo on the way back to the Ritz. Liza talked about all of the things that Jane has done with her life, including her workout videos, and suddenly Simone screamed, “I have it Liza, I have it!” Liza, shaken, and spilling her cosmo on her Milano Blahniks, said, “What Simone?” Simone yelled, “Jane Fonda got women across the country working out. You and I are going to get them all pole dancing.” Liza shrieked, “Simone, you are brilliant.”
Here’s the abstract. The studios are called, “Erotica”, and the first one is opening in Cherry Hill, New Jersey. The target market is suburban housewives who have a need to put a little “oomph” into their sex lives with their husbands. Secondary markets will include desperate 40 year-old unmarried women typically found on the bar stools of Holiday Inns across the country. David Boyer, a dear friend of Simone’s, thinks that yet a third market may be drag queens. Edie Falco is under contract for a series of prime time television commercials to be conceived, produced, and directed by avant-garde business film producer Stewart Clifford.
Jim Cullion is designing the poles. Jim believes that the poles should fold up like umbrellas so that they can be carried in a purse. Jim stated, “If a woman is out on a date and she decides to go over to a man’s house at the end of the evening, she can get his juices going by pulling out and expanding her Ralph Lauren dancing pole, securing it via the floor and ceiling in the man’s bedroom, and doing an exotic pole dance choreographed by Simone and Liza.
Wayne Williams will be the fashion consultant for the project. In a meeting with Simone about Erotica, Wayne said, “I think that we should create a whole line of pasties and sell them at Neiman’s.”
OH, IT NEVERS ENDS!
SIMONE, SIMONE, SIMONE.
WHERE WOULD THE WORLD BE WITHOUT HER!
I got my favorite email ever from Move On this week. After signing their petition to oust Tom Delay, an automatic email was generated with a subject line that read: "Thank you for asking Congress to fire Tom Delay". That made me so incredibly happy.
On another note, is it time to unsubscribe from John Kerry.com and subscribe to FriendsofHillary.com?????
This just in from our special correspondent:
Simone LaCharles is on her way to Rome today for a secret meeting with Philippe Xavier Ignace Cardinal Barbarin to discuss becoming the first female pope of the Roman Catholic Church.
Simone, exhausted from her work as the story editor of Nip/Tuck says, "If they need me, I will go. I have led before (editor’s note - Afghanistan) and I will lead again!"
... says design star Jonathan Adler in today's SundayStyles section in the Times. During the "Road-tripping with Jonathan Alder and Simon Doonan" article, the 21st Century's premier couple of kitsch make several funny and adroit observations; it's must reading. If you haven't read it yet, put down that Il Papa special section and read this instead.
Other Adlerisms:
totes: short for "totally"
gorge: gorgeous
demitasker: description of Simon who can barely handle one task at a time, let alone be a multitasker.
A few weeks back, Moneka and I were having drinks and dinner at Medjool, the newish fabulous cafe/restaurant/hostel. Total girl place. SF needs more of those. We were sampling the prawns with tomato jam and sipping a nice Spanish blend when she asks me if I have heard from my ex, Joe, in a while. I explained that we don't talk often (his choice) and never more than pleasantries. He's dating Ron Albucher she explained. Dumbstruck moment. Moment passes. Next moment: Indignation about learning this from Moneka over North African tapas follwed by the realization that I couldn't think of a better way to find out.
Since then I mentioned to Ron that I know and he seemed relieved that this was out on the table. This explains why he behaved so oddly when I first approached him a few weeks back and offered to show him around town. I feel like I am supposed to have some kind of reaction like in the title of this post, but,in fact, I have had zero reaction. This may be the ultimate test of having truly moved on. I suppose I should wish them well to demonstrate how "healthy" I am but I'm honestly not really feeling that much either. I do "get" them as a couple - they have some interesting stuff in common.
Surely Simone has an opinion about this turn of events.
So, like, the other day while walking home from the train, Chris and I passed a tall, slim woman waiting on the corner a block from our place. A trannie, obviously. And at that moment—for some odd reason—I thought: Sure, Alan, Justin, Dave, Paul, Moneka, Greg, they all live in Gayland where trannies abound, but we, we have them right on the block, everyday life, waiting for a bus.
So then, last night, after watching "Deadwood" on HBO, I didn't turn the TV off right away while reading something, and what came on next but some porn doco. Well, it is HBO, but some of the stuff on that show, I just didn't need to see. But what did pop up (pun intended) before I turned it off, was a trannie, in full bloom. That is, she was at some tackie convention hall show with lots of people around, and she was standing their, svelte, beautiful, young, brunette, naked, with nice breasts, and her skinny, longish dick wavin in the wind. Now, what was that? Trannie freak show? The trannie had to show her stuff like she's some oddity?
Well, America, don't fear the trannie.
And, at that moment we knew: Boyer must know her!
And Chris summed it up: "Boyer is a trannie hag."
Great idea Joe!
1. One thing on your nightstand: A copy of Ian McEwan’s Atonement. One of those books I gave up on but feel entirely too guilty to file because people I respect love it so much.
2. One thing on a wall in your living room: Iron Chinese symbols for “strength” and “dream”.
3. One thing you have in your house from your childhood: Black and white photo of all my brothers holding christmas stockings in front of the fireplace.
4. Three condiments we would find in your refrigerator: dijon, black olive tapenade, black bean dip (do those qualify?)
5. Three things we would find in your medicine cabinet: Sample size shampoos that work better for the gym, six month supply of contact lenses, unopened toothbrushes for (un)expected sleepover guests.
6. Do your dirty dishes go in the sink or dish-washer? In the sink. I’ve developed a somewhat alarming habit of leaving them there too.
7. Color of your living room sofa? Electric blue. It’s a color I spotted on a Japanese design website for my Lignet Roset Togo and immediately had to have. My ex-boyfriend, John nicknamed the sofa “Big Blue”.
8. Maker of your everyday dinnerware? Crate and Barrel circa 1998 or so.
9. Maker of your fine china? Like Joe said.
10. What is the biggest collection in your house? A box of Legion of Super Heroes comic books that I have not been able to part with.
11. What reading material would we find in your bathroom? The latest issue of Cargo magazine. Love the gear, the clothes and the tips. Don’t own any of it, but it sure is fun to look at. Dwell. Last Sunday’s New York Times Magazine.
So, ya know that Q&A in the back of Vanity Fair in which they ask some celebrity of the moment a bunch of questions? It's called something like the "Proustian Questionnaire." Rather too grand, really, but ya can't help reading it. Well, a certain Midwestern newspaper's H&G section does something similiar. Since I've always wanted to be a celebrity but never will, I'd rather just answer the questions myself. Then, I thought, what if we all do? It could be fun! Questions taken from said paper; I think VF's are better. Maybe those later, but for now, here is me:
1. One thing on your nightstand: A faux stone grotesquerie given to me by my hubbie to ward off creatures of the night. And also a glowing, bean-shaped, color-changing light that needs recharged.
2. One thing on a wall in your living room: Vintage poster of buxom Italian lass in an olive orchard, pouring fresh olive oil from a glass ewer into a huge bowl of fresh tomato salad. We call her Marcella. She is the patron saint of the kitchen (most y'all know this).
3. One thing you have in your house from your childhood: A black and white photo of my siblings and me sitting on a bench at the Rome zoo. We're all wide-eyed. I'm holding a lion cub.
4. Three condiments we would find in your refrigerator: Mostardo with pears, vincotto (in both fig and orange flavors) and hot pepper jelly with lime and cilantro.
5. Three things we would find in your medicine cabinet: No dolls, unfortunately. Just things like Emergency Eye Repair Lotion and a caffeine-spiked facial cream.
6. Do your dirty dishes go in the sink or dish-washer? Both. Then the Mister restacks the dish-washer coz I don't do it right.
7. Color of your living room sofa? Canvas-ish, except for the many coffee, wine and chocolate stains; some of them caused by Bumbles, others by me.
8. Maker of your everyday dinnerware? Almost Round, which is even less round now, after a few years of chips and dings.
9. Maker of your fine china? Get real. This is a custom of the very rich and is sadly aped by the middle class with pretensions.
10. What is the biggest collection in your home? Pottery, early 20th century.
11. What reading material would we find in your bathroom? None, really, unless you count the three classic Calvin & Hobbes strips mounted at eye-level for those who pee standing up.
Anyone else? Gregorio?
David, I did no such thing. You just stop.
also, too, in addition: I think that blogger went blogout and ate Greg's post.
Greg, can you repost?
(artwork from outerborrows.com)
Where did your post go? I sewar you had one on there aboutthe art opening we went ot.. now it is gone! vanished! is joseph doing his witchy editing thing?
thursday - art opening for a handsome mexican boy's work
friday - the mudge boy - a sundance 2004 winner running on showtime - a must see for all gay boys - a sweet and homoerotic (hot!) "coming of age and being odd" story
saturday- Michele Borgs birthday party - who knew a fellow Taylor girl could put together such a " L Word" event! pretty girls, pretty boys and then there was me!
sunday - fresh! the dance party of the month - who knew you could have sooo much fun and see so much skin on a sunday at 6:00 PM - kinda like going to church for me! justin wore leather pants- even commuted on Bart in leather, we all danced to steve miller - " Come on and Dance", we did.
dance.wav
mix in some painting - living area - chocolate brown cleaning, editing, estimate writing and bits of Ab Fab’s "Pop Specs" episode and you have got yourself a action packed week-end.
Ok, so I was a bit unsure on my post about the film Donnie Darko just after I had watched it. A few days later and I was completely haunted and have been for weeks. The director's cut is available on DVD. Also check out Gary Jules remake of Tears for Fears "Mad World" which plays beautifully over the credits. It is available on Itunes. I am an Itunes whore.
I bought an Ipod for my train rides to Oakland that, in fact, have become a source of pleasure in my days.
250 pages into Tom Perrota's "Little Children" and loving it. He wrote "Election" which was later turned into a wickedly good film with Reese Witherspoon.
By the way Joe I love "Fourbucks".
so this is it, as Alan says, the end of an era. For us, you two will be just as far away, but it will be harder to see everyone in one visit. The trip over the bridge is a bit shorter than SF to LA.
But the margaritas sound great.
David, can you take Al by the hand to show him how to post photos of the places in Laguna?
Rumors are that Daddy was out snowmobiling—and generally butching it up—and saw this bear.
While some nasty wags questioned the story (is that a real bear? is it a stuffed prop? is that the same "bear" that Boyer saw 20 years ago on Monaghan's island?), more generous souls wanted to believe the butchness of Daddy. Afterall, he is, well, Daddy.
Simone could not be reached for comment.
Love the tag line, David. Can I steal it?
Did you think it up yourself? (Really, I have no idea how to ask that without sounding bitchy.)
Well well I must admit i have been absent as of recent from these
wonderfully crafted bloggs. One blog reads just as cleaver and well
written as the one prior and the next. Greg has a way with saying
and visualizing so much with so few words. Joseph - well he reads like
he has consumed a few glasses of red for lunch - but still good storytelling
and somewhat amusing! And the others – just as clever and fun as Greg.
No my absences it is NOT because blogs tend to not contain pictures!
My reason is that i am fearful that Joseph will again ridicule me for miss-sphelt
words and language usage of improper types. (see ain't eye funny).
so if i get a promise (and $,1000) from my fellow bloggers - specifically
Ms. Chicago Tribune herself - to not impede my creative flow
of consciousness and weird thoughts with their critical reviews of my
spellings and verbiage use maybe i will return.
I threaten you that!!
(why the hell don't they build in a check spelling gizmo to this thang anyway?)
glamour is a choice.
drama is necessary.
nothin much to say, but don't mean I can't blog. Ain't that the definition of blogging?
Here in Chicago, we've lately had temperatures 20 degrees below seasonal norms. Only mention that coz it makes you California types feel good about your decision to move out there; makes you feel good about yourselves, self-satisfied. Whatever the hell happened to global warming?
I would describe to you the zeigest of our times, here in the ol' gay hood, but I have no fuckin idea. Maybe that's good. I walk past the local chain coffeeshop (Caribou, not Fourbucks; they also call it Gayibou, Cariboi, etc) on my way home from the bus stop (fermata del' autobus), and I see through the window so many boys with laptops. Checking on their adverts, I would guess. Personals sent out darkly into the night. Whatever happened to going to the bars, drinking too many beers and hoping to meet someone, anyone? These kids today! Just can't understand 'em.
Happy to be married up, let me tell ya.
Which reminds me of Greg's shoutout. Hey, happy anniversary, y'all! Big kisses to Alan & Justin and to David & Paul.
Anyone talking about the Tranie Shack show?
Happy anniversary to Dave and Paul and Alan and Justin!!!
You made it through a whole year! No Britney Spears faux weddings for these boys.
Good on you for the fab 'do Joe. Blogging is all about good hair!!
This is my first week of commuting via Muni/BART to Oakland. I so looked forward to my romanticized version of taking the train to work replete with caddish Jude Law look-alikes sneeking glances at me over the top of his Wall Street Journal. Alas, reality has been more like "Woman on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown" than "Lady on A Train". It's cattle call, freaks and more freaks, dirty people, pushing, shoving and Asian women coughing within spitting distance. Where's the glamor??????
today, I'm having a good hair day. Spiky, but artfully so, showing to best advantage my new 40-buck+tip doo.
how is everyone else?
(inspired by Greg's post)
The Mister and I watched half of the very dark "The Magdelene Sisters" while making homemade pasta. He made the dough, then we both cut and shaped it using my new hand-carved, imported wood corzetti stamps that I've been looking to buy for a year. You just can't get them in this country; I guess the little old men carving them in Liguria are spending too much time drinking grappa (as Boyer says, "grandpa's socks"). One uses the stamps to cut about 1 1/2-inch discs from thin sheets of fresh pasta, then one presses the discs between the two halves of the stamps, leaving behind decorative impressions (this set is carved with the retailer's logo, so not that cool; still looking for more traditional ones with cool design) top and bottom that help sauce adhere. Can it get any gayer?
Yes, it can: Sauced them with a shrimp/broth (homemade, of course)/pancetta (imported, of course)/arugula(organic, natch) combination from my favorite local Italian chef's new The Spiaggia Cookbook. Then we watched "Carnivale"--very gay, with its freaks and psychics who don't fit in the world, not to mention its many homo-erotic scenes, such as the lead character, cute Ben, being tied down in a dark shed ... -- during dinner, saving the other half of the Irish movie for another night (Netflix is so gay). Oh, opened a pinot grigio (from Velio, a good producer at great price; no Santa Margherita crap for our house), for its acidity to contrast the rich shrimp.
Gay gay gay.
anybody else?
Guess I should have been giving updates on the job thing. I spent the last 2 months consulting at a sound editing equipment company called Digidesign in Daly City as Interim Controller. They offered me the job full time but in the meantime, I continued to interview for full time gigs and tomorrow I start a new job at Clorox Corporation in Oakland. I am excited about this especially becoming a regular BART commuter. I've always had that overly romanticized vision of taking the train to work and now it will be reality. The acquisition of Gillette by Procter and Gamble has a lot of people speculating that other consumer goods companies (like Clorox) could be acquisition targets. That has me leery because my last two jobs ended when the companies were acquired. The modern workplace - zero job security.
I skipped the Super Bowl and rented Donnie Darko instead. This tale of time travel and a scary bunny consistently appears on favorite lists on all the social networking websites like Friendster. It's still sinking in, but so far I just don't get the passion people have for the film. I find Jake Gyllenhall only marginally dreamy.
Ok, so I only attended one film but that's probably more than Paris Hilton.
Park City is your typical "California-ized" mountain town with new construction "chalet look" condos rising everywhere and art galleries selling overpriced Southwest inspired art. The L-Lay and NYC attitude made the people watching a little less than perfect. That was somewhat salvaged by the stunningly handsome bloke from West L Lay who chatted us up in the movie line and by the Courtney Love look alike who seated herself next to me in a coffeehouse babbling nonsense into her cell.
We saw the winner of Best International Drama, "The Hero" from Angola. It was a great film. The director provided commentary through an agent before the film and simply provided the fact that there are 10 land mines in Angola for every one citizen.
The ski resorts were nice though the snow conditions a bit rough. My host, Bob, ran into a tree on his skis on Sunday and shattered his kneecap. I have to admit I had fun in the infirmary joking with the staff, looking at the different patient X-rays and overall just making a nuisance of myself. When it comes to ski injuries, it's always better to be in the Rupert Everett, helpful best friend role instead of splayed out on the table.
Love the new color scheme for BGN! It's very Wallpaper without being an IKEA knockoff of it.
The new feature made possible with this lovely template is the Comment action. At the end of each post a Comment option is automatically created (when creating a post, one can opt to select No to prevent the comment option).
Comment allows anyone to make a quick note on someone's post without going to the trouble of an entire post.
Look for it!
Feeling down about the prez and his latest or previous lies? Need a pick-me-up? Launch this song for a little break: I hate Republicans
Many times have I stolen post ideas from the genius that is Snarky, the best blogger on the planet (says me). So, why not steal again?
"The Exorcist"
This site she found is also genius (lots o' genius going around): Classic movies told in 30 seconds, by animated bunnies. What kind of crackhead comes up with this? The genius kind! See for own self: Go to the bunnies
well, not quite. Apparently, the info has been out there, but I just caught on. Do you find it annoying while posting a blog that you cannot easily do bolds, itals, or post links and photos? Well, some browsers have easy buttons for this and some do not. Safari, our prefered browser at Skyloft, for example, does not have these easy to use buttons. Netscape 7.2 and the latest Explorer do. Check out this article on Blogger, Blogger Browser Matrix, for details.
Hey, gang!
Decided that the new year called for a new template, and coming back from the blackout was a good time (not sure about the dots, but ...). Hope to figure out the code a bit more to add back the fav links.
A big, "HEY" to Greg and his picks of 2004. I always have trouble picking my best of anything, but I have to agree with "Spotless." Here are some others to continue Greg's discussion:
Best new-found* band and best concert: Scissor Sisters, of course! Thanks, Dave & Paul!
Best album: Not really good at this one, since I don't buy that much music anymore. Scissor Sisters by default. Or Greg's pick of Loretta's disc.
Music listened to the most: Lots of Sam Phillips and Rufus Wainwright
Favorite newly-discovered* cuisine: Vietnamese, probably; love that pho!
Best wine: Tensley Syrah, hands down! Consumed at Alan's birthday dinner at Bouchon. Thanks, Al! Very small production from winemaker Joey Tensley of Carina Cellars. Santa Barbara County wines were one of the big stories of 2004 (thanks to "Sideways" and just a lot of good wine coming from the county's three AVAs), and Tensley's fruit is sourced there. His Tensley Wine Co. brand is a side project. Along with being winemaker at Carina, he has been winemaker, also, at Beckman, another favorite! Trick is, you can't find Tensley wines out here! I bet nearly all bottles are pre-sold or go straight to restaurant lists (like Buchon's). Keep an eye out for me guys, eh?
Job thrill of the year: Spoke to my idol: cooking teacher/cookbook author/legend Marcella Hazan, on the phone, in Italian!
Recipe of year: Well, it could be shrimp and grits even though it was published just this week, we tasted it in the TK (test kitchen) in December, prompting me to make it for Christmas brunch in Charleston, S.C.--ironically the birthplace of the dish--whereupon it became an instant hit and tradition. But since my list seems to be becoming more and more All About Me, then I'll tout my own recipe for chicken thighs with onions and arugula, which was picked for the Top 10 recipes of the year by our staff.
But, enough about me!
Best cookbook: Pie: 300 Tried-and-True Recipes for Delicious Homemade Pie; or maybe Bouchon, but haven't cooked from it yet, myself, coz the boss has a death grip on it; however, it's beautiful, large, lushly-photographed, and has received great reviews elsewhere; or maybe Quick and Easy Thai: 70 Everyday Recipes, everyone loved the dishes we tested.
Best Web launch: Stitch, of course. And I still want that Jonathon Adler pony.
Best service industry addition: Netflix ... and thankyou Blockbuster for your lame attempt at competition (lying about "no late fees" is stupid genius), which did nothing but make Netflix cheaper. Yeah!
Best TV show (or should that just be HBO since regular TV can't compete: Deadwood; love that Timothy Olyphant! (also check out Go photos)
Best fashion development: Wouldn't know! Are you kidding?
*Meaning not necessarily "new" but new to me in all my slow-to-pop-cultureness!
Ok, so I don't think I saw enough films or listened to enough new music to name a top ten list, but I'll take my swag at my favorite films and albums of 2004:
Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind remains my far and away favorite film of the year. Eternal is a brilliant story about the important role that memory plays in our lives. Are we simply the compilation of a lifetime of memories...or can we truly swipe the slate clean? It asks these questions and provides the analysis in an entertaining and beautiful way. My runners up are Bad Religion, Pedro Almodovar's smart noir film that keeps you guessing and features stud boy Gabriel Garcia Bernal in drag throughout and The Incredibles, the Pixar animated film about a family of super heroes making heroics out of everyday living. Pixar took full advantage of animation to achieve scenes a camera and live film could never duplicate.
My music choices are also simple and somewhat mainstream. Green Day's American Idiot is an amazing rock opera for this decade. Not quite as trascendant as Nirvanan's Nevermind, it nonetheless rocks throughout and nicely presaged the results of the Presidential elections in its theme of church versus state. Runner up for 2005 is Loretta Lynn's Van Lear Rose. Jack White was smart to mine the underutilized talents of this country legend. Loretta brings gusto to the lyrics in a way that Jack's sister Meg or any other modern female songstress could never do justice.
stayed up to watch SNL with Colin Farrell and the Grammy-nominated Scissor Sisters, and staying up that late (all the way until midnight) is very difficult for me. Just ask anyone from the Alan Flatt Birthday Brigade.
Colin was pretty good in some bits; not so in others. But in everything, he was pretty handsome. The Sisters did "Take Your Momma Out" and "Comfortably Numb," their Grammy song. Jake Shears didn't disappoint baring his chest in both performances, although the Oscar-night gown-like pants suit, open to the navel, with big swooping lapels and a completely open back down to his ass was a touch odd.
So they didn't do the Tits song, and so they didn't say tits on live TV, but at the end of the show Colin did his little thanks bit and said "shit" ...
well, if you can say "shit," then can't you say "tits"?!
just wonderin
Hi All,
A quick blog entry to tell you that I am just back from 9 days in Costa Rica with my friend Dean. The trip was fun but definitely a bit more third world than even I expected. One thing I have learned about travel is that it teaches you so much about yourself. Each trip helps refine what you like and don't like. On this trip, I learned that I really like the fact that we can toss toilet paper into the bowl after wiping instead of into an open container next to the toilet. Ditto for paved roads, accurate road signs and sidewalks. On the flip side, the canopy tour in the cloud forest was one of the coolest things I have ever done in my life. River rafting was awesome too. Dean and I agreed we could have made an occupation out of staring at the ass of our hot 21 year old rafting guide who was going commando beneath his tight surf shorts.
On the trip we ran into a group of guys on an Alyson Adventures gay tour. One of the guys was Wes, the winner of Bravo's Boy Meets Boy competition. Wes was beefier in person than on tv so Dean decided that victory must have meant consuming the competition. Wes was very cute but a total attention hound. The starfucker in me was totally smitten when he started making fun of how my shorts looked in the blacklit rooftop bar we were standing in. He has a website, wesculwell.com
Hope all had a wonderful Thanksgiving holiday!
hey!
yes, yes, the monkey won, but at least Illinois and California did our bit.
moving on ...
and the newest news in town, the event we've all been waiting for, the retail and design debut of the season, of the year ... Stitch's Web site! In a word: fabulous. Chris and I are already on the board. so start your shopping, folks! (of course, always remember to shop at Atys, too!)
stitchchicago.com
it's been added to Fav Links, boys and girls. easy shopping while you get caught up on the latest blogs
From the latest Onion:
MINNEAPOLIS—Jerome Ostrowski and Barry Lipner engaged in the practice of banal sex Monday, sources reported. "After we got home from Don Giovanni's, the restaurant we go to pretty much every Monday night, Barry started giving me one of his predictable mood-setting backrubs," Ostrowski said. "After five minutes of that, he mounted me and put in a hundred or so quick thrusts. All in all, not one of our more memorable encounters." Lipner said that Ostrowski's reciprocal act of fellatio was "serviceable."
Last night I saw Maureen Dowd interviewed at the Herbst Theater. It seemed that all in the audience were frustrated that JFKerry is running such a weak campaign and Maureen is as well. Perhaps the problem is just that he truly is a weak candidate and that is the one thing we may never get the swing voters to look beyond.
Loved the Pedro article, Joe.
"One of the happiest moments of my life was when I got to Madrid for the first time. If you are born a person like me, you are condemned to live in a village for your entire life. The good thing about living in such a small town is you realize very soon what you do not like. ... To live in that town for the rest of my life would have been like death. I came to Madrid with a definite ambition: to make films."
required reading in the Times Sunday Magazine
is my fav.
