Dr. Shad
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.
"I'm putting you down in my best girlfriends notebook ... "
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.
Posted by Greg at 2:39 PM 6 comments
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.
Posted by Greg at 11:58 PM 2 comments
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!!
Posted by joe at 8:37 PM 0 comments

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."
Posted by boy_dj at 1:26 PM 0 comments

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.
Posted by boy_dj at 2:42 PM 1 comments

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!
Posted by boy_dj at 2:29 PM 2 comments
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.
Posted by Greg at 9:42 AM 1 comments
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.
Posted by joe at 9:46 PM 3 comments
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.
Posted by joe at 9:32 PM 0 comments

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.
Posted by Anonymous at 1:42 PM 1 comments
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?
Posted by joe at 5:02 PM 0 comments
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!
Posted by Greg at 11:00 AM 1 comments
... 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.
Posted by joe at 7:42 AM 1 comments
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
Posted by joe at 9:35 AM 0 comments
uh, someone has linked to us. Kinda odd for such a personalized, narrowly focused, but, yes, it has to be said, fabulous, site as ours.
But anyway, seems like a fun site: go here
Posted by joe at 5:27 PM 4 comments