MISTER JACKHONKY

Dormant Blog....

2010-03-27T22:55:00.000-07:00

Hi Guys. Though I haven't blogged in a year or so, I thought I would give you all an update.

Just as an FYI, this blog is pretty much dormant, and will stay dormant while I concentrate on my other blog/project. Check it out at EatTheLove.com. It'll concentrate more on food and stories around food, along with recipes.

That isn't to say that I might not return here. But for the time being I'll be blogging at the above address.

Thanks!

My Dreams Tell Me Nothing.

2009-06-12T19:11:00.000-07:00

People always talk about how their dreams are SO revealing of their personalities. They're at a cross roads, with a major decision that they can't solve, and then suddenly they wake up (usually refreshed and rested) after having some dream that resolves their decision. They KNOW exactly what to do next.

My boyfriend has had dreams like that. He would occasionally remember them, and then tell his therapist. I mentally imagine his therapist leans forward as the boyfriend says those significant words "So I had this dream yesterday...." I can see in mind his therapist quickly scribbling down thoughts and ideas of what the dream is a metaphor of. How this dream can reveal so much of the boyfriend's unconscious mind. How this could be the big breakthrough, the discover of what his inner child/core issue/essential wound is.

MY dreams however, reveal nothing about me that I don't already know. Here's an example of my dreams:

Most people in the United States are familiar with the popstar Kylie Minogue. Though she's only had two major hits here in the United States (her 1987 remake "The Loco-Motion" which I have to admit that I played incessantly back in high school and her 2001 hit "Can't Get You Out of my Head" which basically everyone that summer couldn't get out of their heads), she's hugely popular in Europe and Asia - comparably to Madonna in terms of recognition. Certainly gay men everywhere know of her, as she is viewed as a gay icon the world round (including here in the United States).

Lesser known is her younger trashier sister Dannii Minogue. Dannii has always struggled with seperating herself from her older sister shadow, often with a slight inferiority complex. I once met a former flight attendant who told me a horror story of Dannii flying on his plane - and of the diva-like attitude she threw when someone referred to her as "Kylie's sister".

Dannii has pretty much released trashy eurodisco songs - songs that wouldn't quite make the cut on a Kylie album. Kylie sings "Can't Get You Out of My Head" and well, Dannii sings a love song to her vibrator....called "Vibe On". Kylie covers classic ABBA songs like "Dancing Queen" and Dannii covers "Xanadu".

Why do I insist on giving you a history lesson on the Minogue sisters? Well because in my dream that I had, I had discovered that there was a THIRD Minogue sister.

This THIRD Minogue sisters was very stealthy. She too released trashy eurodisco songs (trashier than Dannii), but strictly on the downlow. Her name was never put on the singles, instead they were released on "white label" singles, with just the title of the song. They were monster hits in all the big clubs but no one knew who sang the songs, and how they got released. The mystery just deepened.

In my dreams, I had discovered the origin of these songs. And I had discovered the reason why The THIRD Minogue sister choosed to be anonymous.

It was because she was only a pop singer by day. By night she was an evil secret agent, working for a clandestine black op organization bent on taking over the world. Think an evil pop singing version of Sydney Bristow from Alias. The THIRD Minogue sister couldn't have herself TOO MUCH in the limelight for fear of ruining her cover, but she couldn't give up her dreams of singing the pop tunes, and tripping the light fantastic. So she did both, secretly singer her big club anthems (popular among the Europeans, and the gay boys) and secretly carrying out evil espionage missions.

I woke up before I could find out if she really would take over the world (via her dance music, or via her sexy secret agent missions).

And that is when I realized that my dreams tell me nothing about myself. All it revealed to me was:

1. I am a true geek that apparently watches too many Alias/Burn Notice/Chuck/24.

and

2. I am very very gay. A flaming homosexual. Because who else would dream up a THIRD Minogue sister? Isn't two of them enough for this world?

Cute Approachable Gay Couple pt. 2

2008-11-09T01:08:00.000-08:00

Though I've written about it before, AJ and I are still being pegged as the cute approachable gay couple. This has it's ups and downs. Usually we don't mind it when random tourists come up to us and ask for directions. AJ and I can see their thought bubbles above their head "Oh my gosh! We're lost in the big city of San Francisco! Wait, there's a cute approachable gay couple! That's SO San Francisco! Look they are walking hand-in-hand! They don't do that back in Boise/Des Moine/Topeka/Little Rock! Let's ask them for directions! Then we can go back to our hometown and tell them that we interacted with the gays! Plus they are unlikely to mug us!"

Sometimes it's slightly annoying. Like the time AJ and I went to a wedding and the entire evening a woman became slightly obsessed with us, and followed us around the entire night. It was near the end of the event, when we were talking to acquaintances of mutual friends that the inevitable "We Are Family" came on. The woman (who we had finally shaken off) comes bounding up to us and yells "Why aren't you guys on the dance floor?!?!?" and then proceeds to drag us off to dance with her.

We're gay. But we don't have to fall into EVERY cliché.

AJ and I went to visit our friends Felisa and Chris and to see their new baby this weekend. Lily (who is utterly adorable) was born a week ago, and Chris' sister and parent's were visiting. Apparently Chris and Felisa had told his sister stories about us (no doubt "cute approachable gay couple" stories) and wanted her to met us.

It's rare that we actually go to Felisa and Chris' house. They have a cat and AJ is utterly completely allergic to cats. When he was in high school he went to an allergist and the allergist did the usual pricks of allergens on his back. When they did the "cat dander" one the doctor - who had been an allergist for over 25 years - yelped out loud "Oh. My. God. I have never seen a welt that big in MY LIFE!" Apparently the welt was so big that it encrouched on the two pricks next to it.

Needless to say he avoids cats and avoids hugging people who own cats.

Nevertheless this was a chance to see Lily (did I mention the utter adorableness?) and to meet Chris' sister and his parents.

So AJ drugged himself up with mutiple nasal decongestants and we arrived, ready to take off at the first moment of sneezing or eye itching.

After hanging out for a little bit and watching Lily sleep peacefully in AJ's arms, the whole group (parent's sister, friends and family) opted to take leave and go to a crepe shop in the Haight Ashbury area. It was on the walk there from their home that AJ and I got approached yet again.

"Hi. Can I ask you guys a questions?" said the guy on the street corner of Haight and Ashbury. AJ and I were wary of him at first. Whenever people approach us with the questions "Can I ask you a question" the immediately visceral reaction in San Francisco is to say "No. Sorry. We don't have any money...."

But the guy seemed relatively well dressed. Articulate. Didn't smell. Relatively young, and his clothes looked like they had been washed recently. In short - he had none of the signifiers of a homeless person panhandling.

Our long pause was enough to tell the guy that he could continue. "Um. Obviously you guys are gay..." he gestured to our hand holding. "So...Um. How do you guys feel about Christians and their attitudes toward you guys?"

AJ and I looked at each other, unsure how to answer. We had walked ahead of our friends, but we weren't sure if we had enough time to properly explain the mixed feelings that we both have toward the church, especially after the election.

AJ spoke first "Well, some Christians have been really supportive of us, and other not so much. It really depends..."

The guy nodded and continued. "Well, I'm here on a mission from my home church in Menlo Park. Some of the people in our congregation have been very supportive of gays and Proposition 8 and others haven't really been so much...."

The guy seemed to be getting much more nervous at this point. At which point, AJ point blank asks him. "Well, how did YOU vote?"

The guy fidgeted.

"Um. Well...I have to be honest. I voted against...um....against...." he mumbled something unintelligent. The guy shifted his feet and looked extremely uncomfortable at this point.

"Wait. Let me get this correct. Did you vote Yes on Proposition 8 or No On Proposition 8?" AJ enunciated pointedly.

"I voted Yes on Prop 8." the guy admitted.

It was at this point that all time froze for me. Had I been in the movie The Matrix, the cool but very outdated special effects of "bullet time" would have been enabled and the camera would have spun 360 degrees around me as I tried to process that information that there was a guy standing right before me telling me that he had voted to take AJ and my rights away.

A guy that, for whatever his reasons, decided that it was okay to approach AJ and I out of the blue and talk to us. Because, hey, we're the cute approachable gay couple right? What harm could we be?

A guy, who was on a mission for his church... a chuch in Menlo Park. Why the heck was he in San Francisco? From Menlo Park? What the heck? What was he trying to do? What was he trying to achieve?

So many responses came to mind. I wanted to yell out loud "Wait. You voted YES ON PROP 8??!?!?!" as loud as I could...in the middle of the Haight Ashbury. The historical center of the hippie movement. The center of the left wing radical socialist movement. The middle of San Francisco. My adopted home town. I wanted everyone around us to know that we had a bigot standing right here in front of us.

I wanted to tell him that he took away our right to marry. I wanted to tell him that he personally told 18,000 couples that their families weren't legitimate. I wanted to grab the next female that walked down the street and say "Hey. Wanna get married? Because right now, because of this man, and people like him, I can marry you, even though I don't even know you. But my partner here, of NINE YEARS. I can't marry him. This man took my rights away. So lets you and I go and get married because that will make him and others like him happy!"

I wanted to tell him that he destroyed the dreams of thousands of people including AJ and I.

I wanted to tell him that no one should have their rights taken away. That civil rights are not something that should be put up to vote. That the church, and every single person who attends that church is allowed to have their opinion, but seperation of church and state is in our U.S. constitution, and the legal marriages in California are LEGAL MARRIAGES... not christian or religious marriages. And they can keep their spiritual and their social marriages, but all we are asking for is our legal marriages. Our legal rights. Our civil rights.

I wanted to call him a bigot. I wanted to say, "You may not think you are...but no one wants to be called a bigot or a racist or a misogynist. The KKK don't even like to call themselves racists. But that does not change the fact that they are racists. And it doesn't change the fact that you are BIGOT."

I wanted tell him the many stories of friends, who married after 10 years, or 15 years, or 25 years of being together and all of them don't know what to make of their legal union now. I wanted to tell them the story of a couple that we knew that got married for the FOURTH TIME. The first time they got married in a commitment ceremony. The second time when they legalized domestic partners. The third time when San Francisco allowed marriages in 2004. And the fourth time (which they thought would be the final time) when it was finally legal in California as per the Supreme Court of California ruling it a constitutional civil right.

I wanted to tell them that I didn't want to have to attend ANOTHER wedding of theirs. Because four is enough. ONCE should be enough. But no they had to marry FOUR TIMES. Now they'll most likely have to explain to their adopted daughter why they will have to get married ONE MORE TIME....

Because no matter what the outcome of the court cases that are pending on Prop 8, there will be a day when marriage will be legal for same-sex couples. I know that. My friends and family know that. Arnold Schwarzenneger and Barbara Boxer and Diane Feinstein and Nancy Pelosi knows that. Heck even BARACK OBAMA said that exact sentiment, that one day same-sex marriage will be legal.

We all know that. It's just a matter of time. And we all thought this was the time. Which is why it's so much harder. Because we had that right. We had the civil right. And it was taken away. By people like this fidgeting man. Standing right in front of us. Looking at us.

So many things went through my head in so short of time. And before I could say a single word, before the magical Matrix special effects bullet time ends, AJ says out loud to the man..."I can't talk to you. You are a hater. I can't talk to you."

And we walk on.

We went to the crepehouse. As I walked into the door, I turned around and saw the guy walking behind us with his friends from his church. On their mission from Menlo Park.

And I know that they were talking to him. I know they told him "Don't worry. You tried. You really tried. It's not your fault. We'll pray for them." I know that's what they told the guy that approached us.

And when our eyes met, before I turned to enter the restaurant, I knew he knew. He knew that it was his fault. Him and people like him took away our rights. He knew that was wrong. He knew that he made a mistake.

And so, while his friends pray for AJ and I, I'll pray for him. I'll pray that he'll learn from his mistakes. I'll pray that he'll know the hurt that he caused. And I'll pray that he'll be able to forgive himself when he realizes the truth. Because right now I can't forgive him. Maybe later. Maybe with some time. But right now I can't.

Or maybe that's what I wanted to see in his eyes. Maybe he didn't know. If so, perhaps one day our paths will cross again. And on that day, when the wound isn't so raw, when the defeat wasn't so fresh in our minds, AJ and I could have a civil conversation with him and explain in a logical way, why what he did was wrong. Maybe. But not right now. And definitely not right then. On the street corner, with our friend right behind us.

Our friends asked what happened. They hadn't caught up to us to hear any of it, and we told them about the exchange. They were incredulous that anyone would approach us like that after voting yes on such a hateful proposition. But I wasn't. Because we're the cute approachable gay couple. And sometimes I wish we weren't.

Write to Marry Day pt. 2

2008-10-30T21:47:00.000-07:00

This is part of the WRITE TO MARRY DAY. It is a day late. I apologize for that.

Back on Valentine's Day 2004, I went home to St. Louis.

My mom had been diagnosed with late stage colon cancer a month earlier in January. They had put her on a traditional treatment for it, but were going to switch to a more aggressive treatment soon. I wanted to go and visit with her for various (obvious) reasons, and Valentine's Day 2004 fell on a three day weekend (President's Day).

AJ understood. He offered to fly out with me, but I told him that wasn't necessary. I wanted to spend some time with my mom, and had taken an extra day or two off, something he couldn't do with his work schedule.

While at home visiting, I remember coming down the stairs while my parents watched the news on their enormous rear projection television, and seeing on the TV the hundreds of people gathered at City Hall in San Francisco, celebrating their marriage. It was the first time in the United States that same-sex couples could get married. I remember being shocked, awed, and joyous at what I saw before me, all the while poignant and sad not only because I wasn't there to witness it in person, but because of the reason why I was not there. I was fearful for my mom's health, fearful for what was to come with her treatment, and selfishly fearful that my mom wouldn't be around when AJ and I did eventually marry.

I flew back home and AJ and I discussed possibly getting married right away. Who knew how long the courts would allow the weddings to continue? Who knew how long they would be legal? And (I thought secretly and ashamedly in my head) who knew how long my mom would be here in this world? The same-sex marriages in San Francisco was an unprecendented groundbreaking event and I didn't know how to respond.

Ultimately AJ and I decided not to get married back in 2004 for a number of reasons. We had never had a commitment ceremony before, and we knew if we were to get married we would want to hold a ceremony. We would want to have a some sort of event, completely with a reception and a cake and all the trimmings of a traditional wedding. We wanted the celebration of our relationship, we wanted the gathering of our friends and loved ones, and we wanted a party. A big fat celebration of our love and life together.

March 11, 2004 came and the courts stopped the city of San Francisco from issuing marriage licenses. Over 4000 same-sex couples' licenses were declared void by the state Supreme Court.

On May 15th, 2008, four years later, the California Supreme Court overturned the ban on same-sex marriage, ruling that it was a constitutional right for all people to be allowed to marry in the state of California.

AJ and I awaited this ruling with little expectations. On that day, I tried to find out about the ruling, but ended up getting sidetracked at work...and it wasn't until AJ called me at 10:03am, after downloading the PDF of the ruling and skimming it to find out the ruling - before the news outlets even reported (CNN actually reported it wrong at first).

AJ started crying on the phone to me. I choked up and went into shock. There were other gay/lesbians in the office, and I couldn't look at them or tell them about the ruling, for fear that I would start crying right there in the office. They ended up finding out an hour later, when one of them went online and then yelled out loud "WE CAN GET MARRIED!!!!"

AJ and I talked about getting married again. We were worried that our opportunity might pass yet again. There was this Proposition that was to be on the November Ballot - Proposition 8. It would amend the California constitution making same-sex marriage illegal.

In the end we realized that we did not want to feel pressured into getting married by a deadline. Why is it that our other friends gets to get married whenever they want, however they want? Whether it was a huge wedding and ceremony, or a small intimate event. Whether it was a shotgun Vegas wedding or big lavish affair at home or in an exotic destination?

The average wedding planning takes 12 months. AJ and I would have to plan our wedding, no matter how big or small we decided it would be, in just short of 6 months, because we were fearful that Proposition 8 might pass. We weren't having it. We would need more time, and we would need to have our wedding out love not out of fear.

So we hope and we pray that Proposition 8 does not pass. In the meanwhile, we watched the polls go up and down in support and against the Proposition. We threw a dessert party fundraiser where we raised over $1000 to help fight the Proposition. We donated money, more money than we could afford, to help fight an amendment that would eliminate our fundamental civil right as defined by the California Constitution.

We want to get married, and we want to have that ceremony that is both spiritual and legal combined...just like everyone else. We just have to fight for it....

Do not amend the California constitution with discrimination and hate. Please please PLEASE, if you can vote in California, vote NO on Proposition 8. Do not take away our fundamental civil right.

AJ and I will be fighting all the way to the voting booth... I learned a little bit about fighting from my mom. She went through some tough times, and the aggressive treatment they put her on for her cancer has side effects that she's still dealing with four years later. But she's still around and I know her and my dad would love to be at our wedding. When we have it.

Vote No on Prop 8. Vote No against Discrimination.

------------------------------

For more information or to donate in the fight against Prop 8 visit www.noonprop8.com.

For the arguments and truth about the all the lies that the proponents of Prop 8 have tried to use, visit www.protectmarriagecalifornia.com.

Write To Marry Day

2008-10-29T22:50:00.000-07:00

I was suppose to post something today about Voting No on Prop 8. Today was WRITE TO MARRY DAY, where bloggers were to take up their virtual pen and write about why you should VOTE NO ON 8.

Instead, I built a website that dealt with the lies that are being perpetuated by the yes on 8 campaign. It's being proofread now. I will post the link tomorrow.

In the meanwhile I ask all of you to VOTE NO ON 8. If you can, please help donate to this cause. I will post a longer entry tomorrow about this.

Thank you.

How are you so COOL? [OLD POST]

2008-07-02T11:39:00.000-07:00

*This is another old post of mine that I never finished. I went back to finish it and I realized the reason that I never really finished it was because I thought I was going somewhere with it. I wanted the post to be a meditation about being cool, and about how I pretend to know more than I really know, about not really being all that cool in the end - but the post never got to where I wanted it to go, so I just abandoned it.

So I present to you the post as is, without the radical rewrite that I know it would need to get it where I wanted it to go. My apologizes for the rough draft quality.

----

About six months ago, I went skiing with friends of AJ's. Though it's true that I am friends with them as well (they are his cycling buddies) I mostly still think of them as AJ's friends. I love them dearly, and think they are all great, but rarely do I actually hang out with them without AJ, and I have never called any of them up just to see how they are doing or what they up to.

AJ has become friend with most of my friends however. In fact, he no longer thinks of them as "my friends" (we have been together for over a whopping 8 years so this makes sense) but somehow his cycling friends have remained "his friends" and I am definitely not as close to them as AJ is. It doesn’t help that I do not cycle (though strangely, I do own a cycling helmet...which I have worn once. I wonder where it is*).

*Actually I later found out that AJ threw it away because it has gotten moist and then moldy. Damn those damp San Francisco winters!

In fact, this ski trip was the first time that they had seen me do anything physically active at all. Usually I join them for dinner somewhere (not active), meet up with them at coffee shops (not active) or walk a block and half from my apartment to eat ice cream with them at the Bi-Rite Ice Creamery (definitely not active). In fact, the only really active experience they know about me is when they come to our dessert parties - where I was obviously active enough to bake all the desserts, but since that activity is already done - this does not count.

And yes, I know baking 18 desserts in a row isn't the same as riding 100 miles on a bike in a day. I mean you need REAL endurance to be able to mix, scoop and bake hundreds of cookies and brownies, all the while rolling out pie dough, washing and peeling the fruits for the pies, baking and frosting cake layers, and prepping the banana bread and the custard for the deep dark chocolate banana bread pudding, all the while keeping in mind that you have to make at least one dessert that is wheat-free as one of your friends is allergic, and let's not forget to make something lemon based because several friends are obsessed with lemon, and then there's the Italian wedding cake that one friend swoons over so you should make that too, but lets try a few different desserts that we haven't made this year and hope that they turn out, because you really are bored with making the same thing over and over again. Yup, create 18 unique desserts in two and half days versus riding 100 miles - no debate, I win. :)

But this time AJ and I were meeting up with his friends in North Lake Tahoe to go skiing (the road trip up from South Lake Tahoe - a traumatic experience for AJ as he got his first moving violation in a speed trap. Oh wait, his second now that I think about it, the other one was when he was cycling up in Marin, but that's another story for another time). AJ had never been skiing with them before, only cycling. He wasn't sure what their ski level experience would be.

AJ guessed that they would either be total wimps and terrible - in which case we would blow them away (this was my favorite scenario) or exceedingly amazing skiers who would effortlessly glide down ungroomed triple diamond slopes like gazelles in a forest, leaving us struggling, and possibly crying as we risk life and limb to keep up. OK, maybe AJ would be crying. I'd just slide down the mountain on my butt and curse them. Oh wait, that's also what AJ would do - whilst crying. I'd probably just ski down by skiing across the mountain and fall over once I couldn't ski anymore and flip my skis the other way, and get up and ski across and fall over again, repeating the above scenario.

But it turned out that it was their first trip up for the season (it was ours too, but we had gone skiing the day before) and they were somewhere in-between. They were definitely better skiers than us, but we were able to keep up (barely) and one friend in particular repeatedly said to me "I am VERY impressed with you Irvin. I've never really hung out with you doing anything physical active." I just smiled insouciantly and shrugged my shoulders trying to act as if it was all in an average day in the life of Irvin.

In reality, I was in major pain and sore from skiing the day before. In truth, I didn't shrug my shoulders all that much, because I tried not to move more than I have to.

The day before had actually whipped AJ and my ass. The slopes were icy and slick, and we hadn't been skiing in a year. I hadn't been to the gym in about four to five months, and I was feeling EVERY single turn. But I was out to impress the cycling friends of AJ. I was able to keep up (whoo hoo!) and by the time lunch came (thank GOODNESS!) I was ready to take a break.

Lunch was surprisingly decent for a ski resort. After spending more money for crappier food at Heavenly, AJ and I actually enjoyed our meal at this resort in North Tahoe. Cheaper food and better quality.

AJ and his cycling friend Eric (the one that was suitably impressed with my athletic ability) was busy cruising down a boy during lunch. This is what AJ and Eric do when they hang out together. They cruise people.

During the AIDS lifecycle (which AJ does every year) they spend the entire time point people out to each other. They don't overlap too much in terms of who they find attractive, but on that rare occasion they do find crossover. However, they have no problem pointing out guys that they think are the other’s type. This boy at lunch, was definitely not Eric’s type, but definitely AJ’s type (meaning he was a slim young Asian boy).

"Hey. Check the boy over there in the hoody..." Eric slyly comments to AJ when he thought I wasn't paying attention. I, of course, noticed, and didn’t really care.

“Hmm. Cute.” Replied AJ, trying not to shift too much in his seat to look at him. This wasn’t because AJ was trying to subtle about his checking out the guy (AJ is rarely subtle) it was because AJ was also sore from our skiing the day before.

“He wouldn’t be interested in you guys anyway.” I responded to both of them.

“Why not? Not that it matters, we're just looking…”

“Cuz he’s in high school and is straight and probably lives in L.A. and even if he wasn’t straight, he’d only be interested in other guys that look like him.”

“How do you know?”

“His black hoody says ‘SHINY TOY GUNS’ on the back of it. They’re a new wave band from LA that straight high school kids listen to, and if a gay guy likes the band enough to be wearing a hoody from the band then they are really only into new wave indie kids that look like themselves, not older gay guys like you (I point at Eric) or you (I point to AJ).”

Eric looked at me in awe. “How do you know so much? How are you so cool. Irvin?”

“I just am.” I said, shrugging my shoulders again. But not too much 'cuz I was still in pain.

Eric shook his head and returned to his chili in a bowl. I went back to eating my burger and AJ took one more sneaky glance at the SHINY TOY GUNS boy and then returned to his lunch.

We skied the rest of the day and AJ and I were able to (mostly) keep up with the gang. It was a good time, and I look forward to doing more active things with AJ’s friends. Who I hope soon, I’ll be referring to as my friends. After all, I seemed to have impressed them with my physical prowess, as well as my pop culture literacy. What more do you want or need in a friend?

Boring

2008-06-30T21:48:00.000-07:00

I found this image on another blog and I have to admit that I often times feel it is very true.

7 Odd Things about my S.O. [OLD POST]

2008-06-22T14:09:00.001-07:00

From the Mixed Up Files of M. J. Honky. -
note: A very old blog posting written back in Februrary that I never finished, but finally got around to finishing. See my previous post about old unfinished blog entries for more info.

---

Hello.

Happy New Year. Both western, and chinese. I haven't posted in several months. But damn that Rita. She tagged me with a meme, and I'm powerless in not replying back.

The meme is 7 RANDOM/WEIRD THINGS ABOUT YOUR SIGNIFICANT OTHER. Those who know AJ probably already know some or all of these, but hopefully there might be a few surprises:

1. A.J. is completely clueless to popular culture (there are a few exceptions - Star Wars, Madonna, and few television shows like Alias and Buffy.). usually it's completely ignorance though - 80's popular culture, 90's pop culture, even today. Ever since our subscription to US WEEKLY ran out (I scammed my way into getting it for three years, but alas, they finally caught on and cancelled it on me), AJ has been clueless about celebrities (he never read the magazine. but it's surprising how much information is on the cover, which he would see when he brought it in from the mail).

Furthermore he has no real interest in cultivating any of this knowledge. This is not just current popular culture. I can understand people avoiding reading about the latest Britney or Paris gossip (AJ at least know who these people are, though if he ran into them at Urth Cafe he probably wouldn't recognize them). I made a comment today about Duran Duran's The Reflex. He didn't get the reference. I further try to explain it to him, including singing "the reflex. flex-flex-flex-flex..." He looked at me blankly. Crickets chirped. it was painful the silence. Painful I tell you. Then again, what do you expect from someone who grew up in the 80's and has never seen Goonies, Heathers, or Desperately Seeking Susan.

2. AJ was so obsessed with STAR WARS as a child that he developed his own choreographed dance to the Storm Troopers. He refuses to show me the dance. This makes me sad, but I have learned to let it go.

3. When he was a small child he used to eat balls of American cheese. He would peel off the plastic and roll up the balls in his hand. Unfortunately he would never actually wash his hands before he did this, and he was often perplexed by why the balls turned black. However, this did not stop him from eating the balls.

4. AJ also had a crush on Wesley Crusher from Star Trek: The Next Generation when he was a child. But then didn't we all?

5. AJ absolutely hates the taste of celery and green peppers. He's actually not that fond of dried cuttlefish either, but that's an asian thing, so it's understandable I guess. But celery? I've threatened to make a celery/green pepper casserole, but I know he would probably throw up.

6. AJ drinks glasses of water so fast that it has functioned as a parlor trick on more than one occasion. Big gulp size glasses of water. Down in seconds. It's actually quite impressive. Less impressive is how often he has to visit the restroom.

7. When AJ was a small child he wanted to grow up to drive a purple trash truck. He would sit on the street corner and wait for the garbage men to come and collect the trash, and when they did, he would tell them that one day he was going to grow up and be just like them. They loved him for that.

This also explains his absolute love of the TV show Sanford and Sons.

Oh a bonus one:

8. AJ rarely sings. He claims this is because his ex-wife (oh yeah, he used to be married, does that count as a rare/weird item as well? double bonus!) once brought up the fact that she was going to tryout for a church choir. The church had a policy to let anyone join the choir that tried out. Of course, his wife, turned to him once she found out and said point blank "but they may make an exception to that rule and not let you in, once they hear your voice..."

Ouch!

This, of course, has made AJ ever so sensitive and self-conscious about singing. He used to not be as self-conscious though. In fact, as a child when his mom took him grocery shopping (something he loved to do) he would sit in the grocery cart and when they checked out he would sing to each check-out clerk the line "Hey you SEXY THING" as loud as he could.

Of course the check-out clerks all loved him. In fact, at one point his father took him grocery shopping and had forgotten his Driver's License. When he went to take out his check book (back when you could actually write a check to the grocery store) they refused it at first. AJ had wandered off to look at the candy aisle, and when he came back around, they saw him and immediately said "Oh your AJ's Father! OF COURSE we'll take your check!"

Since hearing this little anecdote I've tried to get him to sing "Hey you SEXY THING" to me everytime he sees me, but he refuse. I think it's because his ex-wife had just embarrassed him too much.

However, there is one exception to his singing reticence. It's his weakness for John Cougar Mellancamp.

I discovered this singing kryptonite one time when we were discussing a couple that we met at the black tie fundraiser that we go to every year. We were seated next to them, and their names were Todd and Diane.

Afterwards, as we decompressed from the event I mentioned that their names sounds really familiar. Wasn't there a song that named checked a couple named Todd and Diane?

AJ looked at me as if I had uttered the most blasephemous curse EVER and then point blanked stated "NO. It was JACK and DIANE." and then proceeded to sing me "Little ditty about Jack and Diane...Two American kids growin' up in the heartland...Jacky's gonna be a football star..Diane debutant backseat of Jacky's car..."

Apparently growing up in Indiana, as a born and bred Hoosier, makes it a requirement that no matter how much you hate to singing, or have no interest in popular culture outside of Star Wars, you must love and have commited to your memory all songs by John Cougar Mellancamp.

And those are 8 random/weird things about my Significant Other.

Since this is a meme I am suppose to tag other people with it.
Since I don't think a lot of people actually read my blog anymore as I post so sporadically (not that I had that many to begin with) I doubt they will do this meme. But if they are reading, here's who I tag:

Ed
Karen (and her super secret blog)
Megan

and that is all. I have no more friends.

About not blogging.

2008-06-22T13:12:00.000-07:00

I talk about blogging all the time. Usually it goes something like this:

"Oh yeah, I have a blog. I don't really write in it very much."

or

"Well, you know, my blog, the one that I don't post on too much."

or

"Well, I have about seven or eight entries that I keep on meaning to finish on my blog, but I just haven't gotten around to it..."

or

"No really, I do mean to start blogging again..."

So here I am. Blogging again. I've decided that I will either finish the posts that I previously started, or *gasp* publish them unfinished. That's painful for me, but the only way for me to move on is to get those out the door. finished or unfinished.

Because this is getting ridiculous. This talking about blogging, or to be precise, talking about not blogging.

Shame on me. Expect a slew of random posts soon. All old posts will have [OLD POST] in the title. Just as a reference point for myself.

Can I Get Your Autograph?

2008-04-10T09:30:00.000-07:00

Recently my friend Steven Reigns was interviewed on Public Radio in Los Angeles about April being National Poetry Month, and was featured on a queer writer's blog by Lee Wind.

I love it when my friends get famous. Or at least, semi-famous. Well, famous enough to be interviewed on the radio (though, it's true that I was once interviewed on St. Louis Public Radio about being part of the Washington University GLBT alliance, but that's a dull story that I will not recount, other than to mention that you obviously don't have to be too famous to get on radio, as I was able to achieve it).

In fact, I've recently decided that I need to keep a list of people who I have met, or that I personally know, that have their own wikipedia entry. Turns out I can list Steven on that list!

The inspiration for this list came to me yesterday while I was in the lobby waiting for a job interview. I rarely talk about my job interviews to anyone (not even AJ) for several reason. One I rarely go on job interviews - as strangely, I send resumes but rarely get a call back about them. This lack of response has often led me to believe that my emails are either not arriving or are being dumping into a spam folder. The clear reality is more that they don't want to interview me because my work isn't that good; something I am firmly in denial about, as my work is as dazzlingly amazing as I am.

On a side note, my therapist recently told me that denial isn't necessarily a bad thing, and that we all have a reason for our defenses. This was a totally new idea to me. Previously I had thought that all denial was bad. But now I'm being told by a trained psychotherapist that denial can be a good thing. I'm beginning to like my therapist more....

But sitting in the office, waiting for the people I am going to meet with was an interesting experience. The job, and I'll be frank, is something that I think is a FANTASTIC opportunity. A company that I would love to be apart of. Exciting, rewarding, probably not a lot of money, but a chance to really change how people think and how people act - in a good way (not in a, hey go and buy this wine chiller/serving platter/buggy operating system, sort of way). Whether I get called back for round two interviews, or get hired is another story. Only time can tell.

But as I sat in this waiting room, reading some of the magazines they had (look they have Mother Jones here! I haven't read that magazine in AGES!), I looked up, and who walks by, but the founding president of the company. This is the man who is the same age as me, but has accomplished so much in his life. He's started his own national student organization while in high school, published a book, headed a national nonprofit organization, and started his own company, all under the age of 25.

I believe by the age of 25 I had just moved out of my parent's basement. hmmm....

And so, when I saw the man walk by, I casually nodded my head to him and said "hello" and he replied pleasantly "hello" and walked on by.

What could I do? I wanted to jump up and say "Hello. I heard you on NPR yesterday. Please hire me. Please. Please. Please. This place is amazing. I love what you are doing, and I love where this company is going. Why can't I be you?"

But what I really wanted to say was "Hello. Can I get your autograph? Because I'm trying to compile a collection of autographs of people who have their own wikipedia entries...." His reply would be "Really? How many do you have?" and my response would have been "Well, only you...so far."

But now I realize the list of people I know who have their own wikipedia entry is actually a little larger. This list includes a film director, an indie rock singer-songwriter, a network news anchorwoman, and a few others semi-famous people who I have hung out with/met, but probably would not remember me (though one of them did pinch my ass after I hung out with her all night long. Yowza!). However, I am most pleased to include my friend Steven on that list, as he is really the one that I am friends with, who I can call up and hang out with (if we were in the same city that is).

Steven and I have a long illustrious past, that include sneaking into the gay bars in St. Louis when we were in high school/college while underaged. I can't remember how he got in, but I used my brother's expired ID (because, you know, all us Asians look alike - especially to those midwest folks). I have fond memories of hanging out with him, at the gay bar that no longer exists, him telling me of his sexual exploits, and of how he couldn't wait to get out of his home, and out of St. Louis.

We stayed in sporadic touch when he moved to Florida, right out of high school (I can't even remember if he finished High School or got his G.E.D.), but have hung out more since he has moved to California. At one point I was trying to get him to move to San Francisco, but it never took. He seems to be enjoying L.A. right now, and more power to him. I love L. A. but mostly because of the friends that I have there. I don't know if I would like living in that city as much. However, it's nice to know that Steven is getting some recognition in L.A. and getting his name out there.

So here I give you the mental image I have of Steven in my head, the image of him, before he moved away from St. Louis, the "before he was famous" picture. Steven will always be this person to me, no matter how famous he becomes, or how large his wikipedia entry grows. This is a lovely photo of him from my college days (I believe he was still in high school then). Do note the fantastic 90's shirt and floppy hair. And the handcuffs he has on his belt. I believe those are my handcuffs. I wonder what happened to them? Either way, I'm sure that Steven will LOVE that I put this photo of him up on my blog.....

And for all my other friends out there, I have one question for you - "Why aren't you famous yet?" Hurry up already, I'm trying to make my wikipidia list longer....

Dirty Sites.

2008-03-26T13:12:00.001-07:00

This is probably one of the dirtiest things I have found online - and I've seen dirty things. Hell, I've done dirty things (not online, so don't bother to search for them - but feel free to email for the details if you want...).

But this is hilariously dirty.

***NOT SAFE FOR WORK (NSFW).***

In fact, it's so not safe for any mixed company. Just be warned.

smellmeand.com

And take note. It is not a perfume, it is beguiling scent which is purely a substance for your own smelling pleasure.

Also I have to give them snaps for the logo mark. I LOVE that. As a designer it's awesome and perfect for what they are marketing. If only I could have that in my portfolio.

Be sure to watch the video too. It pretty much is word for word what the copy says, but the narrator is an awesome sexy German woman and the lecherous guy is way too awesome to miss. Plus the closing line of the video was such an "Ohhhh... That makes so much sense now!" for me.

Heh. I think it's actually more awesomely dirty than the Shai Sexpacking website that used hardcore porn to sell their clothing. Though that was so ridiculous that it was awesome too. Unfortunately the website is off line now, but you can see archive video from the ad agency that created it (www.agence7seven.com - just click on any of the videos on the Shai Wearing Sexpacking content. Again NSFW). Sadly - it is just a Quicktime movie of the video, and not the interactive flash format, which is really what makes it. Watching the video is pretty much just watching porn but with better music.

And yes the Shai Sexpacking site had three versions, man and woman, man and man, woman and woman. Though it's pretty obvious the woman and woman version was made by a straight guy, and not by lesbians. The women are both ultra femme.

I need to blog more.

2008-02-22T00:23:00.001-08:00

The title says it all. Rita tagged me with a meme about posting 7 things that are Random/Weird about your significant other. Problem is everything I ended up writing about were things that all my friend (the people who might actually read this blog) already knew everything. I mean everyone knows that AJ loves Star Wars so much that he had his own special dance to the Emperor's March Theme when he was a child. Everyone that he owned a monkey when he was child as a pet. Everyone knows he used to be straight and was married. Damnit, the man is an open book.

So after I wrote half that post, I never finished it. Don't worry Rita, I'll get to it, I just have to dig a little deeper.

In the meanwhile, I have nothing witty to say. Stay tuned. I'm sure my wit will return. I hope.

Geeky in my dreams.

2007-11-06T16:07:00.000-08:00

Last night I realized that I am boring. At least in my dreams I am boring.

Granted the dream isn't the sort of boring dream that my friend Felisa had. I'm not that much of a dullard (sorry Felisa).

Nope. I'm boring in a completely different way.

Apparently in the dream it was morning time, and I was getting out of bed. I was back in college, living in a dorm. The dorm was nothing like it the actual dorm I lived in with my freshman college roommate Andy Weinstein at Washington University in St. Louis (I use his full name in case he ever googles himself. Hi Andy!). Nope. This dorm in my dreams still had the requisite cinderblock walls painted white but there was nothing on the walls. It had bunk beds wherein I slept on the bottom bunk and my roommate in my dreams (who was not Andy Weinstein) slept on the top bunk. On top of that, in the dream there was only two thing in the dorm room other than the bunk beds, a boom box (remember those?) and cheap wooden shelves that ran from floor to ceiling.

You can see from this picture of my actual freshman dorm room (the only year I actually lived in the dorms) that my sense of decorating was to cover EVERY SINGLE INCH OF AVAILABLE WALL SPACE with stuff. Even the corners of the rooms held photographs. At one point during the school year, I believe a friend of mine walked into the room, looked around at the chaos, and stated with satisfaction "YES. This is what a college dorm room is suppose to looks like." I was pleased with that remark. Looking back, I am also pleased that my roommate was so understanding.

Do note how cool and timeless my musical taste was back then. As I have album slicks (that's the name of those square poster like items on the wall that look like album covers) of Sioxsie and the Banshees, Erasure, Electronic, My Bloody Valentine and The Pixies. Just ignore the fact that I also have The Farm's Sparticus above the Electronic slick (who's The Farm? Exactly). I believe I would still listen to all those albums right now (if I had them in a digital format on my external hard drive). I rarely listen to anything that isn't on my iTunes database nowadays.

What you can't see in the picture, of course, is the numerous Barbra Streisand album covers with a handmade poster that said "BARBRAFEST!" that I put up next to my bed claiming to be ironically funny (but not really because secretly I really liked her "Broadway Album" as I went through a brief but intense Broadway musical phase, and I did think Barbra was great in Funny Girl, just going to show that I was terrible at hiding my homosexuality...something that every single person on my Freshman floor probably could attest to).

Also note in the photo that my freshman roommate Andy Weinstein at Washington University in St. Louis is using a state-of-the-art Macintosh IIsi computer. We had people coming into our room envious and jealous of the computer.

And yes, that is a Fido Dido doll sitting on top of my boombox on the top shelf. I acquired it from someone at summer bible camp (another story for another time) and was quite pleased with it. I wonder whatever happened to it? Probably in my parent's basement. Everything is in my parent's basement.

But I digress. In the dream, I had none of these decorations. Stark blank white walls, and one single boom box. And rows and rows of bookshelves. And on these bookshelves I had rows and rows of comic books.

Yes. In my dreams I am geekier than I am in real life. Is that possible? I don't know. Quite possibly. I don't really collect comics anymore.

So in the dream, I had just woken up from a night's sleep and the first thing I decided I needed to do was to organize my comic book collection. I don't remember how I had them organized, but I had decided (in my dreams) that it was all wrong. And so I started to sort through them all, and started to re-bag them. First you take them out of the original comic book plastic bag and look to see if any of the bags were starting to yellow. A lot of the bags weren't the acid free mylar, but the cheap polypropylene bags that weren't always the most archival. If they were yellowing, I'd throw them away and put them in a new bag, along with a new stiff backing board to keep the comic from bending.

It seemed like tedious work, so I decided to put on some music to help pass the time and to help wake me up. My musical selection: Belinda Carlisle.

Now it's true, Belinda is no Siouxsie Sioux. She is no Johnny Marr, nor is she a Kim Deal and she is definitely no Kevin Shields. Okay, maybe she's closer to Andy Bell. But let's face facts. Belinda started out with The Go-Go's, a band that had it's roots in the LA punk scene (Johnny are you Queer?). And so I say with pride that I chose Belinda Carlisle in my dream, to organize my comic books.

As I was bopping away to Heaven is a Place on Earth, my roommate (not Andy Weinstein from Washington University in St. Louis) pops his head up from the top bunk and asks me... "Are we listening to.... Belinda Carlisle?"

Why yes, we are! It turns out my college roommate is my friend Glenn Gortney! One of the BIGGEST fans of THE GO-GO's that I know! He's hung out with Jane Wiedlin (my person favorite GO-GO) as well as Charlotte Caffey. In fact, he's done GO-GO's pilgrimages with his friend Kim Brisack, traveling up and down the west coast following them around to venues and shows all over the place!

So Glenn pops his head up, asks me about the musical selection and then proceeds to tell me that if I REALLY want to listen to some Belinda Carlisle, all I have to do is ask him, and he'll make me a mix tape with all the REALLY cool Belinda songs on it. Because apparently he has the completely discography, including those really rare singles that you can only get on import from Japan and Belgium and such.

I'm enthusiastic. So I tell him YES! Make me a mix tape. I can't wait! I'm so glad we're roommates!

And then I wake up. AJ abruptly asks me if I have a therapy appointment this morning. "Ummm. Yes." - though it comes out of my mouth "urrmmmm..yeeessthh." Well your alarm is set but not turned on. Don't worry though. It's only 15 minutes after the alarm was set to go off.

I get out of bed grudgingly. In the shower, I wonder...is this the sort of dream that a person brings up to their therapist? And what would he say in response?

"Well I had this dream last night. I was organizing my comic books and listening to Belinda Carlisle in my college dorm. My roommate offered to make me a mix tape of rare Belinda Carlisle tracks."

"Hmmm.... Interesting.... I would say the comic books represent sexual frustration as it is obvious that you are not having any sex if all you want to do is organize comic books."

or.

"Hmmm... Interesting... Perhaps the Belinda Carlisle music represents your mom, and your friend who is offering to make a mix tape, is telling you that there is more to your mom than just what you and everyone else knows about. The fact that he wants to make you a mix tape of rare Belinda Carlisle music is his attempt to show you that you mom has hidden facets of her life that you are not aware of."

Though more likely than that, my therapist would just say "Hmmm. How very interesting. It seems that you. are. very boring. and extremely geeky. Even in your dreams. You are complete geek. With very common taste in music."

Ultimately, I decided to talk about something else in this morning's session.

Susie Sue Rocked the Lace Dress.

2007-09-12T10:50:00.000-07:00

I got back from my friend Sue Lay and Tony Nickles' wedding over the weekend. (I use their full name in case someone actually googles them.). It was the first time I have seen Sue in about 10 years. I realized several things whilst in Portland.

1. Sue is frackin’ gorgeous. I mean drop dead gorgeous. It’s not that I had forgotten about that, but it’s more that I had just taken it for granted when we were hanging out together – something the distance of 10 years alleviated. Granted it WAS her wedding day and she WAS suppose to be super beautiful, but looking at her, it’s totally clear that this just how she looks. Always amazing.

Why the heck are all my friends so fabulously attractive?

Sue, of course, was the one who told me about psychological aspects of attractiveness. Apparently “like” attracts “like” in terms of people attractiveness levels. Thus a relationship often works out with people who are on the same level of attractiveness. The classic example being Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie on the higher end of attractiveness, and Danny Devito and Rhea Perlman on the other end of the spectrum.

Sue, being who she is, had brought up this theory in college, when a friend of her was trying to set her up. Apparently her friend was going on about the guy she wanted to set Sue up with, and Sue was afraid the guy might have been TOO attractive…. As if.

On a side note, when I once made comment to a friend of mine (at the time, using the example of Tom Cruise/Nicole Kidman and Danny DeVito/Rhea Perlman) she immediately came back with the very pertinent question – “yeah, but who would you rather hang out with?” of which the obvious answer would be Danny and Rhea.

On another completely different side note, this theory apparently does not apply to Janet Jackson, Jennifer Lopez, or Beyoncé.

2. The actress Kate Beckinsale looks like Sue in a vague sort of way. No, it’s not that my friend Sue looks like Kate Beckinsale, it’s the other way around. AJ couldn’t see it, but then I think he has a sketchy idea of what Kate looks like. Plus he says that hair color makes a huge difference in the way a person looks, and he couldn’t get over the difference in hair color.

I really only realized this resemblance as the wedding progressed. Why I never noticed it before I have no idea. But it COMPLETELY explains why I liked the movie UNDERWORLD. It was like watching my friend Sue kicking ass in tight leather pants. I even had fleeting moments of it, even as I watched her take her vows. I always thought the movie reminded me of Sue because she had that thing for vampires, but now I know the real reason.

3. Sue seemed genuinely pleased to have AJ and I there. I didn’t have a chance to talk to her at all that much (it was as if EVERYONE there knew her! Like it was a big party JUST FOR HER!) but everytime she talked to me she kept on going on about how happy she was that I came all that way for her.

The thing that I never had a chance to convey to her – and something I have only consciously become aware of, is that getting invited/going to a wedding is a privilege for me, not the other way around. The chance to see a couple, any couple, publicly announce their very private love for each other is nothing short of amazing. And when you are close to one or both of the people in the couple – it’s magical.

AJ and I were lucky to be invited up to the wedding. This was the third wedding in the past six months, with two more to go in the next six months. Each different, each amazing in their own right. Sue’s wedding was fantastic and beautiful.

4. I love Sue. It had been 10+ years since I’ve seen her. She hasn’t a changed a bit. I want to hang out with her, and see her more often. Hopefully I will. Portland isn’t that far away. And one of these days, I’ll drag her ass down here to SF. I want the opportunity to just hang out, watch TV (we had an unhealthy obsession with Prime Suspect back in the day), and get to know her husband Tony. He seems way cool. Anyone who plays Coolio and Echo and the Bunnymen at their wedding reception is okay in my book.

Congrats Sue and Tony. Let’s hang out - Portland and San Francisco aren't that far apart. I miss you.

Obsession

2007-08-21T19:26:00.000-07:00

Some obsessions come and some obsessions go. On the righthand side of my blog I have an ongoing list of things that I obsess over - ever rotating, ever changing. I've written about various obsession that I have had in the past. It's not that my obsessions ever change completely (though it's true, some fade with time, or are fleeting). It's just that there are always one or two things that bubble up to the forefront and demand attention RIGHT NOW. Those are the ones that make it on my "current obsession" list.

Growing up I obsessed over Wonder Woman (the TV show). She was Fabulous. She had a magic lasso that was indestructible and forced people to tell the truth. She was super strong, could bounce bullets off of her bracelets, and every now and then would decide that instead of chasing after a villain (such an easy task for her, as she was super fast and could pretty much catch anyone) she would use her magical golden tiara that acted as a boomerang knocking over the evil doer, and gracefully circle back to her out stretched hand.

Plus the invisible jet. Hello. How cool was that?

Wonder Woman rocked. Even the theme song was pure magic to my ears ("fighting for you rights, in her satin tights"). I obsessed over the show and watched it every day after I came home from school. Thank goodness for syndicated reruns. It's how I learned to love television. Ranking up there with Wonder Woman was The Facts of Life (all the gay men love Blair, but my fave was Tootie - I think it was her mushroom haircut and the fact that she wore rollerskates the entire first season of the show because the director thought she was too short), Hart to Hart (but not the show that followed it Quincy M.E. - too boring for me) and Out of This World (not to be confused with Small Wonder - an inferior sitcom that is oft confused with it).

From these television shows, I learned that you shouldn't never date an illiterate college bound star athlete (or help him cheat), that you should never be friends with Jonathan and Jennifer Hart as you will either be dead or ended up the murderer (a philosophy that also applies to Jessica Fletcher and Remington Steele/Laura Holt), and if I had the power to stop time I certain would do more than just get into the minor mischief that would take Evie the rest of the half an hour show to get out of.

On a side note, Jonathan Hart was able to solve a crime by figuring out that the suspect was lying when he referred to the city he used to live in as "Frisco." HA! Just like Encyclopedia Brown!

I believe that certain obsessions are markers in my mind of friends, family, and acquaintances that I know. If you don't obsess over anything, I probably don't have much in common with you. And it is a fact that all my truly close friends have something they obsess over - whether secretly, out in the open, little and small, or large and overwhelming. Perhaps this is why I meet people and think "hmmm. we have nothing in common. you are boring. because you don't have that sort of personality that would obsess over something."

My friend Damon (hi Damon!) is obsessed with many things. One of his long standing obsessions is with the movie The Karate Kid (I and II). He will acknowledge the third one does exist, but with some scorn, and like most of his other friends he tries to ignore the existence of the fourth one (The Next Karate Kid - the launching pad of Hilary Swank's career). It never really works when they try to introduce a new character to take over the existing franchise. It works even less when they "switch genders" - often trying a female role in what used to be a male role. Bombed with the female "Robin" (from Batman and Robin) and it didn't really work with Supergirl either. Though strangely, Damon's wife Rita claims that she loves the Supergirl movie.

I have yet to see it. Though it is on my Netflix, mostly because they are getting the actor who played Supergirl (Helen Slater) has been cast to play Supergirl's Aunt in the new season of Smallville. Smallville has a habit of using actors that are affiliated with the Superman franchise in the show. Annette O'Toole is a regular cast member as Martha Kent, Christopher Reeves and Margot Kidder have appeared on the show already as has Terence Stamp's voice (General Zod!), and the new season will feature Helen Slater as well as Dean Cain playing a villian. I wonder if they'll be casting Terry Hatcher to do a cameo as well? Though she might be a little busy over on Wisteria Lane.

But I digress. I think of Damon pretty much every day that I come home because of the Karate Kid. Why you ask? Because spraypainted on the sidewalk, in the same block as my apartment is a stencil of Ralph Macchio, as the Karate Kid. How can I not think of Damon?

This sort of obsession connection marker is exactly what I am talking about. Whenever I see anything related to David Copperfield I think of my friend Rita (Damon's wife, the same one that love Supergirl). Whenever I see anything related to Star Wars I think of AJ, and anytime I see bubble skirts I think of Karen. Karen loved bubble skirts back in the 80's. Why she doesn't wear them now, I have no idea. She'd look great in them.

Gingham and Brooks Brothers reminds me of Peter. Marc Jacob reminds me of Annie. Bras remind me of Stephanie, and every time I even hear mention about a scavenger hunt Felisa and her obsession with the Amazing Race runs through my head.

The list goes on and on. So next time you hang out with me and we're out and about on the town, watch my facial expression. If I suddenly blank out a little bit, it's not because I have a short attention span. It's because I saw something specific, something that may seem trivial to you, but is a huge deal to me or one of my friends. Something to obsess about.

Catchin' Up.

2007-08-20T23:58:00.000-07:00

Summer flew by! I'm in "catch up" mode, wherein I realize that there are too many things to do and not enough time to do them.

This blog is a perfect example of that. I have (and had) every intention of keeping it up, but alas it fell to the wayside.

So a quick recap from when you last heard from me. Back in May AJ and I went to the the Meals on Wheels Fundraiser. I still dream about the food. I was pleased though, to have taken so many photos of the event. Flickr came in handy and I uploaded the photos. Since then, I've had a couple people contact me about these food photos. Who knew that people loved food photos so much?

The first person was someone from nowpublic. It was an article about terrorism and cheese. They wanted to use my photo for the article. If you go to the article, my photo is #10 in the slideshow of 27 photos of cheesewheels. It's not the best photo I've taken, but for whatever reason they wanted it. And how can I refuse?

The second request was from administrator of a flickr group that wanted my photo of my crab cake for the "crab cakes" group. Talk about specific niche market. I joined immediately. Who wouldn't want to be a part of a group that revolved around crab cakes I ask you?

Funny thing though, I'm actually not a HUGE fan of crab cakes. I mean I like them, but they aren't the first thing that I think to order when I see them on the menu. For an appetizer I usually gravitate towards calamari or some fried tuber/root vegetable (mmm. onion rings. mmm. french fries). That said I think a group of people who love crab cakes sounds rather amusing.

So, finally, after much struggling I am have decided to upgrade my flickr account to "pro" and make the most of it. This happened after I discovered the wonders of Adobe Photoshop Lightroom. How I ever lived without this nifty little program is BEYOND me. Easy browsing, organizing and mass processing of photos. I like I LIKE. I'll be uploading loads more now. Because I love taking photos, and my new camera is pretty and easy to use, but I hated trying to process and figure out which photos I wanted and what I didn't. I've barely used Lightroom, and I already know I love it.

In the meanwhile the month of May passed on, and AJ finished up with school. Then he rode off in early June for Los Angeles - on the AIDS LIFECYCLE. I've blogged extensively about the ride here and here so I won't go into it any more than to say it was as heartwarming and emotional as it always is. Alas, I also was not able to see him arrive in Los Angeles, as I was in Atlanta for a conference the weekend that he arrived in LA.

AJ flew out from LA to Atlanta to meet up with me there right after my conference. But I will save the trip to Atlanta (and the side trip to Savannah) for another post. Just know that the summer is over - AJ is officially back to school teaching (or will be by Wednesday, he's in pre-class meetings Monday and Tuesday). And that means life is settling down just a little. Expect posts on Georgia, Gay Pride, my brother's wedding and our trip to St. Louis, LA Summer Camp - including the San Diego Comic Con, and our most recent party - the DQ party.

But first I'm going to sleep. Cheers.

Golden Compass

2007-08-06T10:14:00.000-07:00

I took the test over at The Golden Compass website. Apparently my daemon is a Gibbon - which is a small ape (otherwise known as a lesser ape). What do you think? Does this match my personality?

By the way, the preview for the movie ROCKS. AJ and I took a gander at the props that they had at Comic Con and they look AMAZING - especially the Alethiometer. AJ and I were able to get our photo taken with Iorek Byrnison - You can compare the image of AJ and I with the actual movie poster. Do note the incredibly unflattering photo of me looking stunned and shell shocked (Comic Con was sensory overload). I do think that AJ looks cuter than Lyra though. Just look at his grin!

Do note that AJ is indeed wearing a Yoda backpack on his back. I bought it for him at Disneyland and made him wear it throughout ComicCon. He was adorable.

I have many more posts to write - about Comic Con, our trip to LA, our recent DQ party, Gay Pride, our trip back to the midwest about my brother's wedding where I was the best man, etc. etc. It's been a crazy busy summer. I'll get to them all. Really I will. I just need to sleep first.

Meals On Wheels Gala 2007

2007-05-21T22:25:00.000-07:00

** WARNING ** This is for all you FOODIE readers of my blog (all three of you) This is one of my extensive NOVEL like posts. Just a warning, feel free to just skim the post, or just scroll down and look at at all my FOOD PORN pics. Then go eat a sandwich. Because it'll probably make you hungry.

A couple of weekends ago, AJ and I attended our annual Black Tie fund raiser. The Meals on Wheels Star Chef's and Vintner's Gala happens every spring, and let me tell you, this year was just as fabulous as years past.

This year, however, was the 20th year anniversary, and the sixth year in a row that I have created signage for the event. I was determined to document the event with my new digital camera (the one that all my family chipped in to get me - the Leica D-Lux3) and that made me very happy. I could finally show the world (or at least all four loyal readers of this blog) the fantastic food that AJ and I gorged ourselves in.

AJ had gone cycling earlier in the day - a multi-tasking event, as he is in training for the AIDS Lifecycle (it's still not to late to help him out by donating!) as well as finishing up his semester. He biked down to work to photocopy his final, and then biked back. This worked out well for him, as he was able to both work up an appetite for the event, as well as feel guilt-free about all the food we were soon to eat.

It's also nice to be able to put on our tuxedos. I purchased my tuxedo for a black tie wedding years ago in New York (at Syms - oh how I wish we had a Syms here in San Francisco) and I love any excuse to put it on. AJ got his four years ago, for our first chance at going to the Meals on Wheels fundraiser, and I have to say, he looks quite dashing in his - the minute he put it on, well, let's just say I wanted to rip it off of him again (but I didn't as we were running late).

Regardless, the event was fantastic. The way the event is set up, you arrive for appetizers, created by 25 different chefs and restaurants in the bay area. Each chef has a booth where they serve the appetizers, and you can pretty much fill up on them by themselves. We made that mistake the first time we went to this event.

I actually do freelance work for the Meals on Wheels, creating the giant signage for the event. After a couple of years of work, I was invited to just the appetizer portion of the event. As AJ and I were walking out, the coordinator of the event pulled us aside and told us she had a couple of spare seats at the main course as well. We had already filled up so much that we could barely fit dinner in. We haven't made that mistake again.

The food start before you even register, with two booths outside the event - Globe & Zuppa's Chef Joseph Manzare serving Panini Bollito on a Panne Pugliese with Salsa Verde (roast beef sandwich with green salsa), and Town Hall's Chef Eric Markoff serving Smoked Andouille Sausage with onion marmalade and zatarans mustard. As we walked in, our hands full of food, we were handed glasses of champagne from Veuve Clicquot as well. I was too dazzled with the food to take photos of any of this.

After registering, the first booth we hit when we arrived around 5:30pm was Yoshi's - a Japanese sushi restaurant over in Berkeley. I've actually never been to Yoshi's but I've always wanted to. They have live jazz there, and quite a reputation for excellent Japanese food. The food description of the booth was a Chef's Omakase "Tsukiji Sashimi" - a variety of fresh sashimi from the Tokyo Fish Market. Imagine all you can eat fresh sashimi - with amazing sauces created to go with each - we nearly didn't leave. And, of course, they were serving delicious sake along with it (just brewed and distilled earlier that day).

We tried not to gorge ourselves too much - though AJ had hard time limiting himself to six pieces of red tuna. I kept it at two, because I knew that there was much food to be had. I over heard a woman talking about how she loves the sashimi, but she really wanted to save her stomach for other dishes, because she already knew what good sashimi tasted like - she wanted to see what else awaited her. With this in mind, I turned down seconds, and ventured forward (AJ either didn't hear her, or chose to ignore her wisdom and went back for seconds).

I quickly snagged two spoons with a mini Dungeness Crab Cake on safron aioli from One Market Restaurant. Totally delish. This was quickly followed by a savory puff pastry stuffed with an anchovy and crab salad (a Spanish tapas, the fancy name for the appetizer was Boquerones & Crab Salad Profiteroles). After that, it was a Shrimp Cupcake (deep fried rice cake filled with shrimp, green onion, and lime chili fish sauce) from Bong Su Restaurant and Lounge. If this is any example of their food, I am so going to dinner there - think Slanted Door but a little more greasy. In a good way.

Speaking of Slanted Door, they were conspiciously absent from the appetizer section of the event (though we later found them serving an adequate but not amazing opera cake during the dessert section later on). However there was plenty of other Asian restaurants serving up delish bites and morsels. Asia de Cuba was serving a Tuna Pica - think of really good fancied up Tuna Poki, while Pres A Vi - Global Cuisine was serving up Hamachi Tartare with small tobiko and micro shiso, New Zealand King Salmon - Tataki Style, and Cha Soba Noodles, but our favorite was the Balinese inspired food from Poleng Lounge who was serving Walu Kinilaw (don't ask what this is, we didn't taste it as we were distracted by...) and Balinese Lemongrass Satay Sampi (an incredibly tasty meat blend of beef, pork and balinese spice paste on a stick). AJ loves his meat on a stick. We later found out that Ponzu was there serving Seared Day Boat Scallops as was Chaya Brassiere serving Tuna Tartare three ways, but alas we missed both of them.

We did, however, find our way over to Eureka and Chenery Park where they were serving Confit Quail (AJ had two), Two who had a bacon and egg ravioli with sage brown butter, and Scott Howard which had a beef short rib, orzo macaroni and cheese, king trumpet mushrooms and a tomato relish. Oh and nearly forgot the steamed mussels in Fino Sherry by Terzo. I love me some steamed mussels.

It was pretty much all meat and fish. There were a few exceptions like Millenium who was serving up fine vegan cuisine with their roasted beet tartar on a crisp papadum (scrumptious, if you like beets, but AJ hates beets), Greens was there serving empanadas with yams (we actually couldn't find them so I can't report if they were good or not, though know Greens, they were yum), and Americano which was serving Warm Date and Manchego Cheese croquettes (these even AJ, a complete carnivore, enjoyed). Navio Restaurant at the Ritz Carlton - Half Moon Bay had an Asparagus Flan (vegetarian-ish if you picked off the lobster sitting on top of it) - which I avoided, as I had something similar last time and it was *ahem* not to my palate, and I think I saw a chilled spring pea soup from Lark Creek Inn (which looked vegetarian friendly, until you tasted the bacon in it).

Not everything was fantastically amazing though. Hipster restaurant NOPA showed up with a lamb riblet that looked amazing, but tasted rather greasy, mealy and gamey (not in a good way). The Cosmopolitan had a great idea with their foie gras corndog on sweet hot mustard, but alas it tasted a little more like corn dog than foie gras (it was pretty though). And AJ nearly gagged on the watermelon gazpacho (I didn't mind it) that accompanied the prawn and bacon BLT sandwich (the bread was like stale melba toast but the fresh Louisiana Prawn with Bacon, Lettuce and Heirloom tomato was decent, if uninspiring) served by Taste Catering.

In between gorging ourselves and drinking ourselves silly (highlights of the wines being served were Artesa's 2003 Tempranillo, Chiarello Family Vineyards 2004 Zin and 2004 Old Vine Petite Sirah, and Duckhorn's 2006 Sauvignon Blanc and 2004 Paraduxx Napa Valley Red Wine), AJ found time to bid on two Diesel watches in the silent auction. He won them by waiting until they called out 30 SECONDS and then frantically scrawling his name down and then standing in front of the sheet blocking anyone else's chances of writing a competing bid. His technique worked, and I will certainly have to remember it next year - if we come across any other items worth bidding on (the best deal that I saw was a Sapphire Movado watch retailing for $1500 going for about half that price - not that I could have afforded a Movado watch, but still).

Like always though, we missed out on some of the booths. As we were sitting down for dinner I was going over the hors d'oeuvre menu and I saw that we had missed the Chaya Brassiere and Ponzu that I had mentioned above, as well as Frisson's Farmhouse terrine of foie gras, sweetbreads, spicy mustard and pickled vegs, and Cortez's baby eel salad. I was lamenting this fact, and AJ said I had time to probably run out and find them, but I refrained. I knew I had plenty of food awaiting me.

Once the appetizer section is over (along with the end of the silent auction), dinner is served, where they do a live auction. Three course, each created by three different master chefs, of different celebrated restaurants. Which restaurant you got depended on which part of the room you were sitting in.

While eating up a storm, we had great time just people watching the elite and society scene of San Francisco. This year seemed particular interesting, as AJ and I didn't feel like the absolutely youngest attendee (I spotted a much younger woman there, who had a faboo hot pink silk skirt on. She is SO my new fag hag).However, we still felt like we were on the younger end, particularly of the gay crowd (Donna Sachet was there, of course). It was definitely an older gay crowd by far - though much more gay than in past events. And though AJ and I did stand out a little bit, mostly by virtue of your youth, and the fact that we were unapologetically a gay couple, we didn't stand out as much as some of the other attendees.

When we found our table, there were two other couples, significantly older than us. I nudged AJ to sit next to the fabulous one with the glasses. Older her crazy colorful glasses matched the blouse she was wearing. Her fabulous husband reminded AJ of every single character that Eugene Levy has ever done in the movies rolled into one. He was from Fresno, and once I found that out I tried to (but couldn't) work that into the conversation the phrase FresNo? FresYES! to him. Alas the conversation turned to the more mundane topics like what you did for a living, and if we had attended this event before.

Once we sat, we were joined by two other couples, a gay couple (amazing! we've never sat with another gay couple before at this event!) and a couple that worked for Nestle, the corporate owner of Pellegrino and Aqua Panna, who were providing water for the event. The gay couple were remodeling their kitchen, the water couple did not get free chocolate, but did get a significant discount on water.

Our first course in our section of the room was by Chef Stuart Brioza at Rubicon. A lovely charred asparagus and baby leek with macerated strawberries, crescenza cheese, and walnuts. As much as I love asparagus, it's really hard to gussy it up into a fine dining experience. The appetizer was decent (and I loved the tiny little flowers that they sprinkled on the dish that tasted like onions) but I wasn't blown away by it. However the Rombauer Vineyards 2005 Chardonnay was quite good - better than I was expecting, as I am not big fan of Chardonnay.

Our second course created by Chef Mourad Lahlou from Aziza Restaurant was a seared longline caught Yellow Fin Tuna, fennel crusted with roasted tahini and tunisian salad. It looked so good I forgot to take a picture of it (actually I do have a photo, but it's of it half eaten dish). Both AJ and I agreed that the tuna was good, but not stellar, though we both enjoyed the roasted tahini flavor with the tuna medallion.

The final course was by Jardinere - a favorite restaurant of mine. AJ took me there once for my birthday, and it was the first time I had a taste of Tokay - a delicious dessert wine (that is mentioned in the Dark Materials book by Philip Pullman, for those who read that sort of thing). Chef Traci Des Jardins created for us a Colorado Lamb Loin with star route favas, nicoise olives, and breadcrumb salsa verde that was outstanding. The Silver Oak Cellars 2002 Napa Valley Cabernet was fantastic along with it. In fact AJ ended up drinking both his and mine and having a third glass of it.

At this point you would think we would be completely stuffed (which we were) but we had to stick around for dessert. I snagged some cupcakes for the table while we were watching the live auction take place (I wanted to bid on auction item #7, the Viking Kitchen Extraordinaire which would have included a Viking Range, Hood, Refrigerator, and Dishwasher, along with 25 hours of kitchen design consulting, a dinner cooked in the new kitchen by TV chef Joey Altman for 8 people and a magnum of '95 Chateau Lafite Rothchild, but then I thought about the tiny one bedroom apartment that AJ and I rent, and I refrained. Good thing too, as the item went for way above it's estimated value of $21,000). After the auction finished, we moved onto desserts, and watched the drunken socialite crowd dance up a storm.

We couldn't locate any dessert wine, but I had to taste as much of the the desserts that I could fit in. AJ looked like he was ready to explode, but he agreed to help me out. After eating all the cupcakes at the dinner table from DeLessio Market and Bakery, I wandered over to Taste Catering who had a huge selection of desserts, with one table as the "classics" such as Passion Fruit Chocolate Bombes, Milk Chocolate Ginger Tarts, and fancy schmancy macaroons (with lychee and rose petals). Taste's other table was "modern" with acai-blueberry-pomengranate shots (I loved the tartness, AJ nearly spewed when he tasted it), saffron chocolate tarts, and hazelnut dacquoise.

The Slanted Door had the above mentioned Opera Cake with Vietnamese Coffee Caramel, and the Presidio Social Club had Mini Banana Creme Pie and Chocolate Mouse Brownies. Bon Appetit catering had lemon and white chocolate tarts, almond pear cups, and some sort of double chocolate thing. There was also the requisite cheese table (which AJ dove right into, but I decided to skip) by Andante Dairy and Illy was there with coffee and espresso.

Boulevard was a crowd pleaser, as they were doing super sweet fresh strawberries wrapped in cotton candy - which they did on the fly (the chefs didn't quite know what they were doing with the cotton candy maker which made watching them all the more amusing). Salt House tried to serve more "sophisticated" desserts, like a Cherry Lemon Verbana Parfait (hmmm. tastes like grass)..But it was the Village Pub and Spruce Restaurant that had the most sophisticated display of desserts, including Salted Popcorn Chocolate Cups (which were surprisingly good, but could have used more salt), Buckwheat Yogurt Black Pepper, and Japanese Cucumber Ice, Coconut Sorbet, and Carmelized Pineapple skewers sitting on Dry Ice.

All in all, it was a fantastic time. The only and only time I have ever been to Hawaii, I learned that they have a saying that loosely translates to "eat until you are exhausted." AJ and I did just that.

If (for whatever reason) you want to see even MORE pictures of the event, including all the food I couldn't fit into this enormous blog entry, you can hit my flickr account and check out the Meals on Wheels Set.

Cheap Chinese No More

2007-05-19T23:30:00.000-07:00

It was with much dismay that I found my favorite cheap Chinese place that AJ and I used to go to, closed.

Granted we hadn't been there in a couple of years (okay, like four or five) but that didn't lessen the blow to me. The reality is, the place was never the same after we stop getting free food there.

Free food you ask? Why yes, AJ and I would get free food. Which appealed to my incredibly cheap ass (yes I am that Chinky - free food and I'm there), but also doubly functioned to me as a nice safety net, as I used to have a paranoid fear that I would be homeless and not have a place to stay or anything to eat.

It's an odd fear, something that I have since gotten over, but back when I first moved to San Francisco I used to figure out ways to eat on the cheap/free just in case I ever became homeless/jobless.

It was easy at first. After all, I moved here in 1998 the height of the dot-com boom. I probably could have had a free meal every single day if I wanted it, by going to dot com launch parties, dot com recruiting events, and the random party that friends of friends (at that point I only had three or four friends) were having. Digital wealth was everywhere, and people seemed to throw the money around as if it wasn't real (turns out it wasn't). I don't know how many theme parties I was invited to back then - 70's disco, wear a mask, dead celebrity, the fashion faux pas, if you want a theme party, let me know, I have a back catalog of ideas due to the fact that everyone and their roommate was having a theme party.

In the meanwhile, I took note of where and what I could eat, and how I could survive if for some reason I had no means to buy food.

Sadly the dot com boom went belly up bust, and there went my meal ticket. But soon I met AJ and we started to frequent this Cheap Chinese Place in the Castro, and I knew that I could survive if things got bad.

What made it so great? Well the food was actually decent - as decent as a Chinese place that had pre-made all the food and left it on a steam table can be. I knew to avoid the egg rolls (fried never really lasts all that well on a steam table) as well as the dim sum (dim sum really isn't all the good unless it's from a dim sum specialty place). But their pork ribs were delightfully sticky sweet, and AJ had a fondness for their chicken teriyaki.

But a funny thing happened as we went there more and more often. The young woman who worked there started to recognize us, and give us larger and larger portions of the food. We'd ask for a small carton, or a combo meal, and she would pack the carton until it could barely close. The sheer amount of food became so ridiculous that AJ and I took to ordering just one combo meal and splitting it between the two of us. Something that, if you know AJ's appetite, is saying a lot.

Soon, however, we noticed that she was starting to charge us less and less. A combo meal usually ran $7-8 (two items, plus a starch of your choice - all mounded so high, that the sucker need a small forklift to carry it home), but soon she was charging us $6. And then $5.

Soon it was $4, and then $3. And then Chinese New Year came around. I told AJ that it was Chinese New Year, and that he should tell her Happy Chinese New Year. It always sounds more impressive when a white person wishes someone Happy Chinese New Year. Well, either more impressive (that they know it's Chinese New Year) or creepy (ooh Creepy Rice Queen - stay away). He obliged and she started to jump up and down and wished him a Happy Chinese New Year back. Then she gave us our food. We went to pay with a $20 (not even asking how much we owed), and she went to the cash register. She returned with our change. As we left, I asked AJ what we paid. He looked down and counted our bills. She had given us back one $10 bill, and two $5 dollar bills. We had got our food for free.

Soon when we went, we would order the food, and she would serve us, and then look to us blankly when we tried to pay. She took to looking puzzled everytime we pulled out our wallet, and finally she would just tell us "oh... you already paid." No pretense there. She was giving us the food for free.

After about a year, AJ and I moved in together, to our current apartment, and it was about four blocks farther away from the Cheap Chinese place, so we frequented it less. In truth, as much as we loved getting free food, it always was slightly awkward, and I think we ended up going there much less because of that. We didn't want to take advantage of her generosity - though obviously she didn't care - but we just started to go less and less.

Finally one day, we noticed she wasn't working there anymore. Apparently she had given too much food away for free. Perhaps she went off to college, or finally graduated and moved away. Perhaps she was caught giving away the food. Or perhaps she just got sick of working at steam table at a Cheap Chinese Place and has a better job. Either way I'd like to think that she's having fun and enjoying life out there, with a better job, being generous to other gay couples.

Either way she wasn't there any more, we no longer got the free food, and we pretty much stopped going.

But now the Cheap Chinese Place is closed. I guess it's okay though. I can afford to buy my food now - and I no longer have that fear that I will be homeless or poverty stricken on the streets. But part of me is sad that the Cheap Chinese Place is out of business. I just hope that all the free food that we got wasn't the reason they closed. I just hope that whatever business the family who owned that shop opens up next does well. And they hire someone who doesn't give away the goods for free...

AIDS RIDE #6

2007-05-10T22:35:00.000-07:00

AJ is doing the AIDS LIFECYCLE ride again. I wrote about last year's ride when I first started this blog (I can't believe I actually have been blogging for a year - and have gained all of four loyal readers). Regardless I am writing this time to let everyone know BEFOREHAND so that they can help him out with donations.

He's in the midst of fundraising, and every little bit counts. You can donate money in one lump sum, or spread it out over a several payments. Keep in mind all money goes to the SAN FRANCISCO AIDS FOUNDATION or the LA GAY AND LESBIAN CENTER.

Also keep in mind that my boyfriend is going to be biking a whopping 545 miles from San Francisco to Los Angeles.

HELLO!

545 miles. That's just crazy.

I've always been incredibly proud of him when he goes off on his ride. I have friends and coworkers who are HIV+ and the fact that AJ takes a week out of his life to ride through the state of California for them and others like them still amazes me.

In fact, all the Lifecycle bikers and roadies amaze me.

Every year he takes off, I realize how much I miss him. I do love that crazy guy.

This year is more bittersweet for me. Every year, I spend the entire week alone missing him. And then I take the Friday off at the end of the week, and drive down to meet him in Los Angeles as he rides in. This year, due to a scheduling conflict, I'll be in Atlanta for a design conference. AJ will be flying out to Atlanta to meet me, but I won't be able to experience the closing ceremony and AJ biking in. I won't see his biking friends, and I won't be able to first hand experience the love, friendship, and amazing finale of this year's AIDS LIFECYCLE.

If you are in LA and want to experience something amazing, you should check it out (the closing ceremonies are really moving and are open to the public - information is on their website).

This is AJ's 7th year doing the ride. He's raised over $25,000 alone over the course of the previous 6 years just by doing this ride. Please consider donating to his ride this year. His homepage over at the AIDS Lifecycle is here. His participation number is #4116. You can donate online, or download a PDF and snail mail it the address on the form. Just be sure to write in AJ's name and participation number (#4116).

Cheers. And thanks.

PS. The photo on the right is of AJ and his tentmate Ted. I feel very secure with AJ tenting with Ted. Ted was on security duty for Nixon (post-resignation) back in the 70's and 80's. He could kill you with his pinkie. I planning on bribing Ted into watching AJ's back by giving him a packet of dried cuttlefish (squid jerky) as a present. He requested it last year out of curiosity, but I forgot to buy some for him. AJ is not pleased about this arrangement, as he hates dried cuttlefish and thinks is stinks. I often trick him by eating some and then going for a long deep kiss with lots of tongue. AJ makes very amusing faces after I do that to him.

I don't expect much deep kissing between AJ and Ted though. I think that's something that will stay between AJ and I.

80's Redux: the Obligatory Music Post

2007-04-30T00:39:00.000-07:00

Snaps to Fred Ball.

While people (myself included) have been raving about Mark Ronson (music producer du jour) with his fab new album VERSIONS (fantastic covers of songs popular and obscure - his cover of Britney's TOXIC is hilarious and entertaining) Fred Ball has been quietly producing and creating fantastic songs on the down low.

He's cowrote and produced Bertine Zetlitz's last two albums Rollerskating and My Italian Greyhound (someone I'm sure you have never heard of, but trust me, she's incredibly popular...in her homeland of Norway - I'd call her the Norwegian Annie, except...well Annie is the Norwegian Annie), as well as worked with Brett Anderson on his latest solo album (former lead singer of Suede, and the band The Tears). Sadly Brett's album is rather boring. Oh well.

Nevertheless, Fred Ball has his own project to fall back - Pleasure. And what a pleasure it is. Full of 80's inspired snappy hits, it's been on constant rotation on my iPod. Well, that is, if an iPod that is driven by flash memory can truly be "in rotation". The video for his single Out of Love is an 80's inspiration. Double snaps to him for that.

Taking inspiration from Fred Ball's Pleasure project, I've become utter obsessed with the 80's recently. But not in some sort of retro ironic way. Nope. I'm in love with the 80's as they are being used in a completely modern contemporary way. It's an 80's redux in fashion, design, and music, and I for one think it's faboo.

It's true that the 80's revival has been around for the past couple of years. Just take a look at the "electroclash" sound of three years ago, along with the influx of hipster indie bands like Interpol, the Killers, heck, even 2003's biggest indie hit The Postal Service is the 80's all over again. Strangely, everywhere I turn I hear 80's inspired music - and it doesn't seem to be letting up.

That said, I've created the first of what should (hopefully) be a quarterly event. I've made a mix CD. The first of many I hope to offer here on my blog.

Yes, yes, how very 90's of me, I know. If I were really being hip and up-to-date and current, I'd probably be doing a podcast, but podcasts are so last year. I really should be doing vodcast or installing an MP3 flashplayer on this blog or something but I'm not that cutting edge. In fact, I just figured out how to text message about a month ago.

How's that for sad.

That said, here's the ground rules of my Spring 2007 Mix CD. All songs have to be inspired by the sounds of the 80's. BUT they can not be song from the 80's, they have to be current, contemporary acts - hopefully new groundbreaking acts (though there are some exceptions). I also created the stipulation that the bands can't be from the 80's. In other words, I can't fill it full of new Erasure and Pet Shop Boys or the newly reformed OMD (not that I have anything against them...). That would be cheating.

All other mix tape rules apply - ie. No repeating of artists, all songs should segue properly into the next song, and... um I can't think of any other rules. But no repeats. That's the big one.

Of course, I did cheat a little. Fred Ball occurs twice (once as a producer, once as an artist) and one band occurs twice (Junior Boys) - once as the artist proper and once as a remixer. And though most of the songs are from the past year, there one or two songs that probably got released back in 2005, but I didn't discover them until later (I think Kelley Polar is one artist that falls into this category). We're going to ignore the bending of the rules though, because I'm the one that made up the rules in the first place...

So here it is. I tried to pick songs that not only had a strong 80's influence, as well as artists and songs that you probably haven't heard of. If you have, let me know - I'll try harder next time. Here's the track list:

1. Say Hi To Your Mom - Sweet Sweet Heartkiller
2. Small Sins - Stay
3. Kelley Polar - In Time
4. Softlightes - The Microwave Song
5. Stars - Sleep Tonight (Junior Boys mix)
6. Pleasure (ft. Heidrun Bjornsdottir) - Out of Love
7. Vivek Shraya - Chemistry
8. Patrick Wolf - Accident & Emergency
9. Bertine Zetlitz - Never Let You Go
10. Shiny Toy Guns - Turn to Real Life
11. Sarah Nixey - Strangelove
12. Robyn - Robotboy
13. Calvin Harris - Acceptable in the 80's (Radio Edit)
14. The Rapture - Whoo! Alright - Yeah...Uh Huh
15. Clear Static - Make Up Sex
16. Dragonette - Magic Fantasy
17. The Secret Handshake - Summer of '98
18. Young Love - Find a New Way
19. The Bird and the Bee - Fucking Boyfriend
20. The Sounds - Queen of Apology (Fall Out Boy Remix)
21. Paper Moon - Last Goodbye
22. Junior Boys - So This is Goodbye.

Some of these songs are all the rage on the blogsphere - or at least they were a couple of months ago. I swear I found out about The Bird and the Bee's Fucking Boyfriend three months ago, before it was all over the internet - and the same goes for Patrick Wolf who seems to be everwhere nowadays... And yeah, it took me a couple of months to find songs that fit together. Most of the songs are more on the electro-pop synthpop side than on the jangly smiths/housemartins side. I had a few of those songs, but I cut them, as well as the soft pop sound from the 80's (no wannabee Supertramp songs - ie. The Feeling).

Anyway if you want a copy of the CD, post a comment telling me what your favorite 80's band was (see this is just me really being a comment whore) and then drop me an email with your snail mail address. No guarantees, but I'll try to get it out to all who want it.

Cheers.

PS. oh yeah, here's a pic of the cover I designed. I didn't want to go the obvious route with the 80's nagel/new wave look (despite almost all the songs on the CD sounding synthpop new wave-ish). So I took inspiration from old New Order covers (I heart Peter Saville) as well as old 4AD Cocteau Twins covers (I double heart Vaughan Oliver). Enjoy.

I did it AGAIN.

2007-04-25T18:32:00.000-07:00

I should have known better. But I didn't.

I fell for it one more time. and I got screwed but good.

So now I know how Charlie Brown getting the football pulled out out from under him by Lucy.

Fox canceled the show DRIVE.

What's that? Another show that FOX canceled that was genius and brilliant and funny and dramatic and exciting and thrilling and that had tons of potential?

What's that? Another show that somehow, I was actually able to coerce AJ into watching with me (he's very stubborn and resistant to new shows) and he liked it, and I liked it. And we were looking forward to the next episode.

And it just got canceled. Four episodes, three airings (the first two episodes were aired back to back on a Sunday) and just two weeks (the third episode aired the next night on a Monday, and the final episode aired yesterday).

Two weeks, and it gets yanked off the air. That's faster than Wonderfalls. Another brilliant show that was canceled abruptly. Wonderfalls, by the way, is probably on my list of top ~~ten~~ five TV shows ever. Perfectly formed, I love it, and alas, it was not to be.

Grrrr...

And since only six episodes of Drive were filmed (I think) we won't even have a full 13 episode series to put on DVD. 13 episodes were plotted out, with the race not finishing, but ending at a "logical" place. Resolution which we, the audience, hopefully will find out via leaked scripts.

I can only hope.

But no resolution on screen. No finale to be aired. Nothing. Nada. Zip.

There goes my chance to see Nathan Fillion, Katie Finneran, and Amy Acker back on TV again on a regular basis.

I hate you Fox.

What was BARNEY'S thinking?

2007-04-14T00:32:00.000-07:00

Shame on Barney's marketing dept. I'll have to give my friend ANNE (who works at Barney's marketing department directly under Simon Doonan) a little talking to.

I received in the mail a couple of weeks ago, a promo catalog piece, announcing the opening of Barney's here in San Francisco (finally!).

But what did it say on the front of the envelope?

Good job Barney's.

Alienate the entire city you are opening up a store in, by calling it the dreaded "Frisco" name. You'd think just a little bit of research (like asking anyone who has ever lived in the city of San Francisco) about this nickname that all SF-ers hate would have been an obvious.

I actually learned that you weren't suppose to called San Francisco the "F" word not when I first moved here to SF - something you learn very fast when you move here. No, I had learned about "Frisco " back in grade school. From a children's book - the classic Encyclopedia Brown.

Our trusty protagonist Encyclopedia Brown was able to figure out that the criminal was lying about his alibi by one of the mistakes that he made. It was Encyclopedia Brown's theory that every criminal makes at least ONE mistake when he commits his crime. And Encyclopedia Brown was always there to catch that one mistake.

In this short story, the accused had previously claimed that he lived in San Francisco, and was flying back home, and thus could not have committed the crime. This flight was his alibi (I have since forgotten the actual crime) but he called his "supposed" hometown "Frisco" and Encyclopedia Brown knew that no person who actually lived in SF would refer to it as "Frisco."

See! Even Encyclopedia Brown, a fictional tween detective with above average intelligence knows to not call this city "Frisco."

I have to admit, though I read a lot of Encyclopedia Brown growing up, it was, as usual, the secondary, less popular "solve-it-yourself" mystery books that interested me. It was the knock-off imitation Einstein Anderson that I love to read. Einstein Anderson was an ersatz Encyclopedia Brown, down to the female best friend/foil Margaret (Encyclopedia Brown's best friend was Sally Kimball), and the school bully Pat (Encyclopedia Brown's bully was Bugs Meany). Yet somehow I was drawn to Einstein Anderson because he solved ALL his mysteries through SCIENCE FACTS.

I loved that. Looking back, the premise of Einstein Anderson is even more ridiculous than Encyclopedia Brown, but still, I have fond memories of Einstein Anderson. I wanted to grow up and solve all the crimes that I came across with obscure science facts.

Unfortunately I became a graphic designer. And as a designer I understand the appeal of using the phrase "HELLO FRISCO" with the overlapping "O" even though I hate Hate HATE stacking letters to form a word.

But what do I hate more?

The name "Frisco."

I bet you Einstein Anderson would never had call this fine city I live in FRISCO.

*sigh*

Quick Thoughts.

2007-03-28T01:17:00.000-07:00

1. Spotted while entering the Muni Underground Transit Station: Homeless person panhandling for spare change. Not a very novel sight here in San Francisco where there are homeless every few feet you walk. However the homeless person was sporting Apple's signature white iPod earphones.

Perhaps she only had a first or second generation iPod? I'm guessing that would make her poor by San Francisco standards indeed.

2. My friend Annie asked me why I was going to the gym so much. Other than the obvious, losing weight, getting fit, becoming more healthy etc. etc. I told her I was in training.

"Training for what?" she queried.

"For Gay Pride." I stated

Puzzled, she replied back "You say that as if it's a race or competition..."

How little does she understand gay culture.

3. As entertaining as it is to watch the man on the treadmill in the short shorts running full speed ahead while lipsyncing and dancing with his arm out at my gym, infinitely more entertaining is it when the man is a middle-aged graying-haired slightly gone to seed Latino man with bad 90's wired-rimmed glasses.

Wearing business casual wear.

In the L Taravel Muni Train.

Slightly past rush hour, the man was standing there, shaking his junk to his iPod.

And yes, he did wave his hands in the air - like he just didn't care.

I tried to take a picture with my phone camera, but alas, it was out of juice. You'll just have to imagine it.

I'll have a Gym Martini - Shaken not Stirred.

2007-03-23T19:15:00.000-07:00

Today's gym-tastic experience included me running, not one, but TWO 10 minute miles (with a short 3 minute break in between).

This is a milestone in many ways, mostly because I've never done it before, and mostly because I have actually NEVER been able to run a mile. "Running the mile" in gym class in grade school, junior high, and high school was always the bane of my existence. Each year, once a year, we were taken out to the track and told to run around it four times, and we would be timed. And each year, I would have to stop halfway around the first lap and walk the rest of the way.

I was always the last person across the finish line, along with the class fat girl, Patty (I'd like to say her nickname was Patty the Fatty but Patty wasn't her real name). Patty, by the way, also always ended my square dancing partner whenever we got to that section of the gym class. Patty and I could "allemande left" like no one else.

Looking back, I think Patty had the makings of a fag hag. But that goes without saying doesn't it?

Regardless, the personal triumph of actually being able to run a mile (granted the mile was on a treadmill and not outside, but still, I'll take what I can get) non-stop was doubled today by my two mile run. And that felt very empowering.

I also realized, while running said two miles, that Waterworld was playing on Bravo, and that the little girl in the movie was the same actress that plays Mac (the ersatz Willow) on Veronica Mars - Tina Majorino. I was ever so pleased to see that at least ONE person from that film was able to have a substainable career - even if it on an excellent but rarely watched show.

The gym, of course, was filled with the usual miscreants. The man with the onesy- wrestling suit was there, just starting his work out as I left. The cute but boring guy who AJ and I both agree on as being cute (but boring) was there as well. He once tried to invite us to join him...at gay paintball. We declined. You'd think someone who does gay paintball and who looks cute wouldn't be boring. You'd be wrong. There were no aging porn stars today at the gym, but I did see the creepy white guy that lingers in the shower for long periods of time enter the locker room as I was leaving as well.Which is a good thing. He really creeps me out.

As I finished my workout though, I walked into the locker room to shower and change and as I entered I saw liquid on the ground, and heard someone mopping it up. As I rounded the corner, nearly bumping into the cleaning crew member, I heard the unmistakable sound of broken glass under my shoe.

So my question is this. What sort of IDIOT brings a bottle of Smirnoff Vodka to the gym and then drops it on the ground? And I'm not talking a little mini bottle like you would find on an airplane, or even a beer bottle size bottle - like it was Smirnoff Ice. I'm talking a CostCo size, 1.75 liter bottle of vodka. Shattered on the ground - in a locker room full of people walking around in various states of undress.

Who does this? The bottle obviously was not being carried in a paper/platsic bag (there was no bag on the ground) because then I might have understood, someone went to the store and picked up some Friday night supplies, and decided to go to the gym first. But no, there was no bag. In fact from the looks of the liquid on the ground, the bottle probably wasn't even complete full (1.75 liters is a lot of liquid). So apparently someone brought a half drunk CostCo size bottle of vodka to the gym and then proceeded to get hammered after their work out and then dropped it on the locker room floor where it shattered into a million pieces, so that everyone that is showering or changing can shred the feet.

Idiots. People are idiots.

At least the vodka was cheap Smirnoff. Had it been a better vodka it would have been even more of a waste.

Go me!

2007-03-20T23:22:00.000-07:00

I'm riding the 38L Geary Limited to work. My therapist has moved from a rather convenient office in Hayes Valley (where I could walk to, and then later walk to work from, as I have my sessions in the morning before work) to a more inconvenient location that doesn't even have a proper neighborhood name (Divisadero and California - is it Upper Western Addition? Inner Inner Sunset? Lower Pacific Heights?). Taking the 38 Geary during rush hour puts me pretty much on at my office's doorsteps, but standing on a crowded jittering bus full of people heading to a full day of work in the financial district is not something you want to do after you've just processed your angst and fears a mere 10 minutes ago.

Nevertheless I managed to find a seat near the exit, next to a middle aged man, with white hair, and sunglasses. The man is wearing a royal blue jacket and I noticed that the sunglasses he is wearing has a matching blue sports strap on the back of the glasses - to keep his glasses from falling off his head.

Snappy.

I take out my Spanish pile of papers to study. I've been taking an intro to Spanish class with friends and for whatever reason, ever other person in the class seems to be picking up the foreign language faster than me.* Unfortunately the language continues to be baffling - resisting all attempts at comprehension and has remained - alas - foreign to my brain.

Perhaps it does not help that I have never really properly studied an actual usable foreign language before - other than elementary Chinese (which would have been useful, had I actually learned anything) and my high school Latin (which in theory should help me with Spanish, but hasn't).

Perhaps it does not help that I go to the once-a-week class, and then actually don't study all week, until the next week, the day of the class, where I thereby try to cram all the information into my head in the short time that it gets a crowded bus full of cranky people from point A (Outer Japantown?) to point B (Downtown - Financial District).

Perhaps it does not help that I can not roll my "r's" and my ñ's sound exactly like n's.

As I take out my pile of papers (another impediment to my learning - I take horrible notes) to review them and I notice that the man next to me also has a folder. It's blue - like his jacket and his sunglass strap. He must like blue.

Then I notice as he opens up his folder that it's full of numbers - specifically fractions written out on blue-lined notebook paper in pencil.

That's when I thought to myself, "Go him!"

Here's an older man - someone who probably had a hard life, and he's back in school learning elementary math.

Perhaps he's worked menial tasks all his life, or has had a blue collar job out in the Richmond neighborhood, and he's decided to give himself the gift of education. After all it's never too late to educate yourself. Perhaps he dropped out of school because his father passed away early and he had to become the basic breadwinner for his family at a young age. Or perhaps he, being of a different generation, had a learning disability (like dyslexia) that prevented him from furthering his education, and it was never properly diagnosed until recently.

But now he's taking classes at City College - Continuing Education, just like myself. In fact, here we are, to people from different walks of life, sitting on a bus next to each other. Both of us trying to learn something new. Him - fractions, ratios and cross multiplications, and me - Spanish, a language that is actually useful and practical (especially in California). Ah, the beauty of public transit. Though I rarely interact with the people on the bus/train, I do appreciate that it's a cross section of San Francisco society.

And I felt like I understood him. Here I am struggling with my Spanish, trying hard to understand the difference between "ser" and "estar" the two "to be" verbs in Spanish, while he is struggling with addition and subtraction of fractions.

I felt empowered. For him. For myself. Go us!

And then I looked closer at this man's paper. I looked at those numbers, those fractions. And I realize they were actually part of a diagram of a room. And the numbers and fractions were actually measurements of a door. The man was building something, and this was just a construction project for him. The numbers had nothing to do with a math class. He was just building a door, or a room, or desk or something that require exact measurements.

And then he got off the bus.

I'm taking Spanish just for the hell of it. And I'm going to learn it. Go me.

---
*At one point I was not the worst student in the class. That title belong to a specific woman who sat in the front of class, someone that all the other students mocked because it was obvious that she really didn't get anything the teacher was trying to explain. The reality though, was that I liked having her in the class, as it kept me from being the dumb one. Alas she dropped out two classes ago. We haven't seen her since, and that meant I inherited the title of dumb one. *sigh*

Back to the Gym.

2007-03-14T22:42:00.000-07:00

I'm back at the gym.

I took a short break from working out. A four month break. But I'm back now, and that all that matters.

Any day now I expect my "muscle memory" to kick in. I am hoping that this myth of "muscle memory" is an actual fact and not an urban legend that people seem to badger about in the weightlifting community.

Like I know anyone in the weighlifting community.

But I have to say that after day three (first day was a week ago, where I did cardio only, second day was Monday where I actually lifted weights, and then today where I did more weights and more cardio) I feel good. A bit sore but good.

But let me tell you something about going to the gym that I forgot about. The gym is a constant source of amusement for me. I had completely forgotten about the man who wears wrestling suit as he works out - though thankfully the man with the Kenny G hair who wears the lycra pants and the tank top three sizes too small wasn't there (the pants are SOOOO tight - the entire gym knows whether he is circumcised).

My favorite singing dancing man wasn't at the gym today either. The man who invariably is able to get on the treadmill on the right hand side, so that he's first person you see when you exit the locker room. Somehow the man is able to score this prime position each and every time I see him at the gym, even though there is always a HUGE line for the treadmill. And everytime he gets on, he's sprinting hard and fast, with his hands in the air raising the roof and singing along to his favorite disco hits. I keep on watching him, like a trainwreck waiting to happen, to see if he will trip up and fall, but he never does.

But there was the bevy of effeminate asians at the gym. The one that is my friend Annie's favorite wasn't there, but his friends seems to be. Because, strangely all the effeminate asians are friends with each other.

And no, I am not friends with them.

Annie's favorite is the uber-effeminate one. The one that head and hair flip above all other effeminate asians. He works out in his artfully customized tank top (let's create a v-neck, by taking scissors to it, and while we're at it, let's give the tank top some fringe as well by cutting vertical parallel strips at the bottom). I'm all for customizing your own clothing, and the whole DIY, readymade look, but some people take it to an extreme.

Annie's favorite part is when he uses the weight machines. He puts the bar on the very lightest setting (or perhaps takes the bar out competely) and then pulls, pushes, or moves the equipment in the gentlest of fashion. Some people actually grunt or yell when they work out. He sighs.

And though I am not one to mock the gym boys and girls and all those that fall in between (lord knows I've fallen off a treadmill or two, or actually dropped a weight on my chest once or twice - an incident that had me going to the doctor because I was fearful that I had cracked a rib) I do find the myriad of people at the gym fascinating as a cross section of San Francisco.

But let me ask you all (and I say you all, as if there are multiple people who are reading this blog) something. From all the things that I say (and I haven't even bothered to get into the numerous sexual acts I have witnessed there - though more often at other gyms, and not the one that I frequent). Why is it that today of all days, I had to see something that totally grossed me out?

Today I saw a man shower with his socks on.

Perhaps he was scared of the shower floor. Which is understandable (when I said that I more often than not see sex acts at other gyms, the operative word is "more often than not" as some things do occur). But the floor is cleaned with rather powerful cleaning fluid daily. I've seen it. Or perhaps he was worried he would get some horrible fungus, or worse, had some horrible fungus that he didn't want to pass on. Or perhaps he was just trying to be hygenic.

Regardless it freaked me out. The socks were gray and dingy tube socks, with a dull navy blue strip around them. And they were socking wet. Was he going to actually wear them home or did he have an extra pair that he could switch to. Were these socks the ones that he wore all day, or the ones that he worked out in? If they were the ones that he worked out in, that meant he showered in his already damp wet sweaty socks.

Or what if he always wore socks when he showered even at home? What if that was his "thing"? What if his feet never got washed, never got properly cleaned? What foul disgusting things would be hidden under that grubby cotton?

The gym never fails to entertain me. But sometimes I get a sitcom, sometimes an HBO dramedy, and every now and then I get a psychological thriller/horror show.

Thank goodness I always pack a set of flip flops for the shower.

Party People 2006

2007-01-21T22:48:00.000-08:00

Recently I came to realization that AJ and I have a fairly rich, active social life.

AJ has known this all along. In fact, for years I would tell him that we really only have three friends that live in the city (you know who you are!) - though in reality we have many more (granted a few moved here in the past couple of years, and a few we made in a the past couple of years). Yet AJ has always pointed out that we do know a lot of people, and that we in fact have a lot of friends who we do a lot of things with..

This really never registered until our most recent Holiday Party. Every year we throw a dessert party where I put my life on hold for three-four days and bake until I can no longer look at flour, sugar, eggs or butter. Every year, I panic and think that I haven't baked enough desserts for the party and every year I some how, miraculously come through with the baked goods.

This holiday season was no different. The months of October, November and December were one big blur. Again, AJ and I once differed in our view of this time period. The minute October would roll around (specifically my birthday in early October) the year was over for me. My birthday, then Halloween, then Thanksgiving, and then Christmas. Between prepping for each holiday, recovering from each holiday and the myriad of projects that I ambitiously set up, the months spin out of control and the next thing you know - it's the next year.

But that doesn't stop each year from being crazy fun, and for me to make each year even more ambitious then the last.

After several years of witnessing the holiday tornado of our lives, AJ had admitted that the holidays are indeed crazy. And after several years of living in denial about not having friends, I have finally given up and realized, yes I have friends in San Francisco. Super close friends that actually function as family. Close friends that we hang out with on a fairly regular basis, but for a variety of reasons we don't see as often, Not as close friends, acquaintances, and that quirky category of friends who barely know, but we would LOVE LOVE LOVE to know more. The type of people who we have a blast hanging out with but their lives are busy, our lives are busy, and we don't REALLY know them all that well. We always mean to hang out with them more, but, then, it never really happens.

Perhaps it's just as well, as we don't know them that well. What would happen if they ended up being really really boring? How sad would that be? Then we'd be stuck having made friends with boring people. And I really don't need more boring people in my life.

Of course, all these various types of friends came to our holiday party. The days of me fearing no one will show up at our parties are over.

There were a million other stressors going on in my life when AJ and I decided to throw our holiday party. Yet it has become a tradition, whereas there would be big gaping hole in our season if we didn't throw our party. So we threw caution to the wind and sent out late invites to all our friends.

And then I came up with a plan of attack. And here's where I leak my secret on how to do a proper dessert party.

Clear your freezer of EVERYTHING. The freezer if your new best friend.

We throw our dessert parties on Sunday. Earlier in the week (Wednesday and Thursday) I do what I call "light baking". Items like cookies and brownies. Bake them earlier in the week, stick them in a ziplock back (suck out all the air with a straw) and they'll taste fresh baked when you thaw them out.

Friday I start baking pies, tarts, custards, cheesecakes, and a cake or two. Anything that either needs to be refrigerated to set up, or anything that will sit well for a night or two in saran wrap. Saturday more of the same, and then Sunday morning I make all the frostings, icings, and decorate all the cookies and cakes. Oh yeah, and powdered sugar is my new best friend as well. Running out out of time and don't have time to make icing? Just sprinkle some powdered sugar over it, and it's good to go. Trade secret - a little powder sugar goes a long way.

I also learned a couple of years ago, to make labels for everything. It saves you from having to answer the question "so what is everything?"

Of course this can backfire on you. Especially if you make the labels in advance, and you don't quite get to everything that you meant to. Such as my Cranberry Cointreau topped New York Style Cheesecake. It ended up justing being a New York Style Cheesecake. Oh well, it seemed to be one of the most loved items - as it was finished by the end of the party (along with the Lemon Shaker Pie). And that Five Layer Dark Chocolate Cake? It's actually Seven Layers. Oh well.

I can usually average about four baked goods a day. I ended up with fifteen desserts. Not a record for me, but on the higher end (our parties range from 12 to 16 desserts usually). The list is as follows: Shaker Lemon Tart, Seven Layer Dark Chocolate Cake, Walnut Truffle Bars, Orange Cheesecake Brownies, Old Fashion Apple Bundt Cake, GF (Gluten Free) Lemon Cake*, Pumpkin Financier, Iced Hermits, Black Forest Crinkle Cookies, Chewy Molasses Ginger Cookies, Toffee Congo Bars, Cinnamon Cocoa Brownies, Peppermint Chiffon Cake, Dark Chocolate Banana Bread Pudding, and the New York Style Cheesecake (sans Cranberry Cointreau Sauce).

And once the desserts are out, I can enjoy the party. And once again, I looked around at the party, and I realize... AJ and I have a lot of friends. What the heck? Who were all those people at our party? I haven't a clue. Were you there? If not, why not? We were eating leftovers for days afterwards....

Keep an eye out for a potential summer party. We always talk about it, but we never actually follow through. Perhaps this will be the year.....

In the meanwhile I'm going to hang with my friends. My good friends. But I could always use some more. Let's hang out sometime. Just don't be boring.

*Gluten Free? Yeah, I have a friend (she falls in the category of "I wish we hung out more, but we never do because we're both always super crazy busy" though I know for a fact that she is NOT boring) who is has a wheat allergy. A WHEAT ALLERGY! That sucks. I LIVE on wheat products. I heart my carbs.

So anyway, I always make sure that there is something that she can eat at my party. Last year it was a flourless mousse cake and peppermint chocolate pudding cups. This year I decided to do a gluten free cake - just to see how it would work out. I labeled it GF so as not to scary anyone else from it. People didn't seem to miss the wheat. All that was left was one small slice.

Funny thing though, no one knew what GF stood for. The general consensus from what I heard was it stood for "Good Fuckin' Lemon Cake." Heh. If only they knew.

---

Oh yeah, if anyone is interested, my friend ED over at IS IT ED-IBLE posted my recipe for the DARK CHOCOLATE BANANA BREAD PUDDING. The recipe isn't nearly as daunting as is looks....

Free Schwag

2006-12-08T23:44:00.000-08:00

According to UrbanDictionary.com "Schwag" has two definitions.

1. Any free or give away promo items. Often time given at events or to employees/workers.

2. Poor quality brown marijuana. The cheapest variety available, the least potent.

I was not aware of the second definition of this word but it makes sense. The stuff that you get for free at a conference is often the cheapest crap out there. Crappy pens, and ugly cheap water bottles with a company logo plasted on them. My coworker once got the world's worst WOK (who knew they made free schwag woks?). But I have to admit, I still love the free stuff. Mostly it's because it's free, but every now and then you get a gem. Mugs, Umbrellas, Candy, Tshirts, Frisbees, Squeeze toys, hackey sacks - my desk is a depository of random crap, and I'm always on the look out for more. It's the reason I love to go to MacWorld and other events. Not to actually look at the new and latest programs/hardware. Nope. It's to get the free superball that they are giving out promoting their latest program/hardware.

But I realize that not all free stuff is the same.

Take for instance a mug my friend had. His mother was psychiatrist, and hence had a ton of psychoactive drug paraphanelia around the house. His favorite mug was given to his mom by a drug rep. The drug it was promoting was for ZOLOFT - an antidepressant, similar to Prozac.

The mug said "Have a ZOLOFT morning."

I so want that mug. I still do. It has to be one of the best promotional items I've heard about, and I don't know why they still don't use the phrase "Have a ZOLOFT morning." Sheer marketing brilliance.

Being in advertising, I get to see a lot of freebie promo crap. Hell, I've worked on a lot of projects and campaigns that have giveaways (probably a good 60% of my campaigns now that I think about it) - some successful and some not so successful (at my current job and my previous jobs). The dot-com era from 8 years ago was full of promotional schwag - from CD cases and polar tech pullovers embroidered with dot coms that no longer exist, to socks that say "Our product doesn't stink" and a myriad of tshirts that I can't even wear to the gym because I'm embarrassed that I still own them (I really need to clean out my closet). Stick a logo on something and it's free schwag. I've pretty much seen it all.

At my current job, I've worked on schwag that has ranged from squeezie foam stress grips in the shape of penises (our most popular item - it promoted Syphilis Testing) to a bling-tastic Mardi Gras style necklace that said Homoboy to the more mundane pens, iPod cases, magnets and t-shirts. My most recent schwag item that I have worked on is a "magic 8 ball" where the answers all tell you to go and get an STD test. Yes, this is my job boys and girls.

That said though, my favorite schwag is often from pharmaceutical companies. Perhaps it the juxtaposition of what the drugs are suppose to achieve, coupled with the blatantly mundane items that the logos are placed on that I love so much.

In college my roommate had a ton of freebie pens from a pharmaceutical company that his father worked at. And when I say a ton, I mean he literally had brown paper shopping bags and boxes of pens floating around the house. We were never want for something to write with in our apartment, and I took to carrying them around by the handful and handing them out to my friends in class, those who forgot to bring a pen (what college student is without pens? apparently all my friends...).

The best thing about the pens though, wasn't that writing quality, or the comfort, or the design. The pens weren't all that great, a generic ballpoint, white with the logo of some drug on it.

Nope. The pens were the perfect conversational starter because the drug was pulled from the market. Apparently it was the cause of several deaths.

We were all writing with death pens. This explained why my roommate had so many floating around. The drug had hit the market, the company did a big push for it (it was a cold medicine drug actually that was suppose to be really great, very few side effects - well except for the death thing) and then all of sudden people were dropping dead. What do they do with all these pens? Give them to their employees and their employee's sons I guess. After a semester I started to see the pens popping up all over campus - in the hands of people I didn't know, and of friends who I know I never gave a pen to. I believe through the magical distribution of my roommates and I, we had distributed the death pens all over campus.

The pharmaceutical schwag is ubiquitous though. Look around you next time you take the subway or are out and about people watching. You'll probably come across at least one item that has a drug logo on it. Whether it's a mug, a shirt, or a pen, the drug companies have money and they give out tons of free stuff.

Take for instance the pharmaceutical schwag I saw today on the subway. A middle aged Asian woman was riding the train next to me. She was the type that you see wearing comfortable shoes, and usually carrying the ubiquitous pink grocery bag full of chinese groceries, dressed in slightly outdated hand me down clothes (acid washed jeans? tapered faded black jeans? khaki pants with burgandy orthopedics? you get the idea).

Instead of the pink grocery bag though, she had a stiff dark gray cloth bag. It looked like a sturdy disposable bag - something meant to be used once, but would probably be reused for about a month before it disintegrated. Tastefully stamped on the front of the bag was the logo "Viagra (sildenafil citrate) tablets".

She looked completely nonchalant about carrying the bag. Had I had a camera on me, and if there was a way for me to actually take a photo of her without her noticing, I would have. This is why I love pharmaceutical schwag. The juxtaposition of the drug in a mundane setting. Genius.

Of course, ever now and then freebies bite me in the ass.

My brother is a forensic psychiatrist (and before you ask me what that is, and how he analysises dead people, forensics really just means anything to do with the law). If you watch Law and Order: SVU, the character that B.D. Wong plays (Dr. George Huang) is a forensic psychiatrist. And apparently his character is very much like my brother (I still haven't seen the show).

Regardless, due to the psychiatry part of his job, my brother gets a lot of freebie schwag from pharmeuceticals. He was doing his residency in Missouri years ago, but came out to San Francisco for the American Psychiatric Association conference awhile ago (this is before he moved to Sacramento). He scored some great schwag at the conference (everything from pens and clipboards, to a cheap film camera and a pair of binoculars). But the item that he gave me that I loved the most was a cheap umbrella.

The umbrellas was kind of ugly. Institution green and pee yellow, it was the cheapest sort of umbrella, liable to turn inside out at the merest hint of a wind, the type where the metal stem immediately would bend and break. But I loved using it, because emblazoned on the umbrella was the drug RISPERDAL.

What's Risperdal? Glad you asked. It's an anti-psychotic drug given to people with severe schizophrenia. In other words, it makes people stop hearing the voices in the head.

I LOVE that. I love that I had an umbrella advertising a drug that would stop the voices in people's head. I love that most people never knew what the drug did (obviously it's not a frequently subscribed drug) and that they would often ask me what the drug did. And I could answer "It stops me from hearing the voices in my head."

Then one day I was running late to work. I was working at a bookstore at the time and it was raining that sideways misty San Francisco rain - the type that an umbrella is pretty much useless for, but you use one anyway. I was using my Risperdal umbrella when I ran into the bookstore, and my coworker was there. He started to tell me that I was late, and then he looked at my umbrella and he instead, in a puzzled voice, asked me "Why do you have that umbrella?"

I was delighted that he asked me. "My brother gave it to me, he's a forensic psychiatrist. Do you know this drug?"

He replied back "Yeah. I was on it for awhile. It never really worked though. It only sort of muffled the voices." and then proceeded to cash out of his drawer and leave.

I never used the umbrella again. I believe AJ still has it in the back of his car as an emergency umbrella though.

In the end, as much as I love the free stuff, I've realized that I don't really have room in our ever growing small apartment to store the stuff - especially if it is stuff that I won't use. So we recycle it. Next time you invite us over to a gift exchange/white elephant/yankee swap party, just be warned. You might be getting a pile pens with various printing company's logo on them, or a tshirt advertising a new plastic based paper. But if anyone comes across that "have a Zoloft Morning" mug let me know. That's one mug I'd never give up. No matter how many coworkers I know that take Zoloft.

Ever Elusive Always Exclusive

2006-11-14T23:26:00.001-08:00

Just like most gay men, I love to shop. More importantly though, I love to hunt. My addiction to finding the ever elusive always exclusive deal dates back to childhood where I would pester my mom into taking me to the grocery store. There I would sit in the shopping cart pointing out things that I wanted my mom to buy. I was always on the lookout for my favorite cereal (BooBerry) mostly because I knew it was hard to find on the shelf. The cereal's Count Chocula and FrankenBerry were much more popular, but BooBerry - that was the rarity on the shelf and consequently I loved it all the more.

Plus it made my milk turn blue. What kid wouldn't love that?

Once in Third Grade, while playing over at my friend Chris' house I spotted a box of BooBerry nestled in the top of the shelf of his kitchen cabinet. I distinctly remember being disappointed that someone else had discovered this cereal. I thought I had the exclusive rights to this brand and flavor! It never occured to me that there were others out there that were connosieur's of this hard-to-find cereal.

Chris did not seem like a likely candidate. First off, he dressed poorly, in ugly printed shorts (the precursor to the '80 surfer jams) and ill fitting shirts - and since he was the oldest, he didn't have the same excuse I did with hand-me-down clothing. His tight curly hair was always a mess - and looking back it definitely fit the definition of a "white man 'fro" ala Larry Bird.

Plus he was Catholic. I'm not sure why this mattered, but in my young mind Catholics were not connosieur's of exclusive difficult to obtain items. Catholics were too busy going to confession and eating Mrs. Paul's fish sticks on Friday (something that seemed the exact opposite of "hard-to-find"). No, this mindset was something only us Asians, and my fellow Jewish friends understood.

In short, I didn't think Chris had the taste that was needed to really love BooBerry. But I was also slightly thrilled that Chris might be one of my kind. Was he someone who understood that BooBerry was special because it was so rarely available at the local grocery store? Had I misjudged him from the get go (our friendship was more of proximity than anything in common - he lived at the other end of the street in our neighborhood). Was he more than the sum of his parts?

Alas I had not. He hated the cereal, and his parents bought it for his younger brothers (they were fraternal twins) who both adored it. I had a new found respect for them (despite being Catholic) but my friendship with Chris did not last. He moved to a different subdivision the following year, and though we still went to the same school, I rarely hung out with him anymore.

As I grew up my desire for the limited edition item evolved. After my brief flirtation with comic books (ask me anything about the X-men circa 1986) I started collecting music. Music became my passion from high school throughout college and beyond. I still have a huge music collection, but most of it is digital - which is a good thing, as AJ and I are slowly but surely outgrowing our "cozy" one bedroom cozy apartment. I use the word "cozy" strictly in a real estate term meaning our apartment is small and full of stuff. Because it is - mostly my stuff, but still. Stuff.

My obsession with buying music had me seeking out rare and deleted 12" singles and remixes - hard to find items that were even harder to find in the suburbs of St. Louis. Once my friend Seth got his driver's license I would pester him into driving our group of friends down to Vintage Vinyl in the city, where I would peruse the used CD's and records, in the hopes of finding that rare CD's and vinyl records such as the out-of-print limited edition pressing of the Talking Heads' Speaking In Tongues where Robert Rauschenberg had designed the vinyl edition.

side note #1: Seth was the first one in my group of friends in high school to drive because he was a year or two older than everyone else. He was held back in school, because of health issues. He had a rare chronic condition similar to severe arthritis that made it too difficult for him to actually walk on his own, though he had the use of all limbs. Thus, despite the fact that he was in a wheelchair, he was the only one of us that could drive.

We would have to put his wheelchair in the trunk of his Ford Mustang convertible as he drove us around, and then pull it out when he parked and wheel it to the driver's side of the car for him to get in. We would cruise down highway 40 in his convertible listening to The Steve Miller Band singing along to "I really love your peaches.. I wanna shake your tree..." a lyric that his girlfriend Debra would get completely offended by.

One of our favorite things to do was to go to McDonald's (where one of my best friends Carrie Collins worked) and go through the drive thru and get a Big Mac and fries, and eat them in the parking lot. Every now and then Debra would pull out his wheelchair - while Seth was still sitting in the car, and wheel herself in the wheelchair around the parking lot. When she saw someone who was coming out of McDonalds, she would slowly get out of the wheelchair, shaking as if she was weak, and tentatively start walking. Then she would raise her hands in the air and proclaim "It's a MIRACLE!" in her best southern baptist born again voice. A feat all the more remarkable, as Debra was Jewish, complete with a full on jew-fro. Occasionally she would pretend to collapse onto the asphalt right after her proclamation of a miracle, just to see the customers reactions. I think the manager of McDonald's finally caught on to us, and we stopped hanging out there.

Of course, I could be recalling it all differently in my head as opposed to what really happened, as I have a rather faulty memory when it comes to that sort of thing, but I will say that we always got great parking whenever he drove us anywhere. He would often say "Membership has it's priveledges" as we would pull up into a parking lot....

side note #2: I did eventually find a copy of the Talking Heads Robert Rauschenberg edition of Speaking in Tongues, but not until much later. My friend Renee came across it while we were shopping together at the same Vintage Vinyl in college and came over and showed me her find. I begged and pleaded with her to let me buy it instead, and finally she gave in, even though I know deep inside she wanted it. I have always felt guilty about that day, but when I tried to give it to her a couple of months later she refused.

My love of 12" singles and remixes and limited edition musical releases evolved to a point where I was tracking down hard to find bootlegs and promotional copies of CD's that had unreleased tracks by random obscure artists. It didn't matter that most of the bootlegs I got were crap sound (six generations down cassette dubs...), nor did it matter that I really didn't like or listened to most of the obscure remixes that I had discovered while working at the college radio station (KWUR 90.3FM - a radio station that operated on 10 watts of power, or as we kids like to say "10,000 Milliwatts of power! - you could barely get receive it in the dorms). Did I really need a copy of Sinead O'Connor's Jump in the River (extended remix) featuring Karen Finley ranting on it? Good question, and at the time I would have told you ABSOLUTELY. Now, I'm not quite sure.

Nowadays, with the internet, P2P file sharing, and websites like EBay and eil.com tracking down out-of-print or promotional only copies of CD's and other music rarities aren't a big deal. I no longer have that drive or desire to search for that only released on dubbed cassette copy of the side project by the lead singer of Tsunami and the member of Ida. That's not to say I haven't spent many hours online trying to track them down, but I know eventually it will find it's way to me. And if it hasn't, I really didn't need it (if anyone knows where I can find a copy of that project, by the way, which is called SLACK, please pass it my way).

Every time I think I'm slowing down and no longer obsessed with something, this quirky part of my personality flairs up again. A couple of months ago, AJ and I became obscenely obsessed with a game called Killer Bunnies. Killer Bunnies is card game with a silly name but an complete addictive gameplay. We've played it with a multitude of friends and most (not all) have fallen under the thrall of it. One of friends ran out and bought the game right after playing it with us the first time.

Killer Bunnies has many expansion packs. Each pack changes the nature of the game, and though this isn't a problem per se, the problem lies in the fact that there are these limited edition promotional cards called "the Omega Series" circulating around. LIMITED EDITION PROMOTIONAL CARDS!!!! Once I found out about those, I knew I was in trouble.

Half the promotional cards are no longer available. The company that makes Killer Bunnies were kind enough to send me the ones that were available though. And though I love those, I feel sad knowing that I won't have every single card available out there.

On top of that, the next expansion pack (the Ominous Onyx Booster Deck) is suppose to be the last pack. What are we going to do when that is released? We'll have NOTHING TO COLLECT!!!!

*sigh*

AJ and are working on this though. Our obsession has grown to the point that we are currently planning and designing our very OWN booster pack. All originally designed and created on our inkjet printer. We can't simulate the paper stock of the cards, but we figure, if we have enough cards printed, it won't matter. Most booster packs have 55 cards. We have 40 card ideas already. I'm sure coming up with another 15 won't matter. I'll keep you informed, and if you ever want to stop by and play with us, let us know. I promise you the expansion pack will dazzle and delight you.

The Killer Bunnies obsession has actually waned a bit recently. We haven't played the game in weeks, and our obsession with making our own booster pack was put on hold for various reasons. We have every intention of finishing it, but I think it might be a longer term project for now. Along with my other longer term projects like creating our vacation scrap book/website slideshow (see my unfinished prototypes here and here), reworking my design portfolio/website, and writing that novel that I was suppose to write in this month of November.

For now though, my obsession with that game seems to have been replaced with an obsession with finding the perfect t-shirt. Actually this T-shirt obsession started way before Killer Bunnies, but was just waylaid a bit during the KB time period. As the KB obsession wore off, the t-shirt obsession has come back with a vengeance.

Of course, being a gay man, my obsession and hunt for the rarest find naturally translated to clothing. This is all them more difficult as there really is no such thing as a the perfect t-shirt. This has not stopped me from become utterly obsessed with t-shirts of all sorts. I have found myself online surfing away, trying to find the cutest, funniest, coolest, most stylish, or just plain cleverest t-shirt that I can find. I find myself shopping after work or during lunch, going to the new mall across the street, or to H&M or Urban Outfitters trying to see if anything new has come in or has gone on sale. In short, I find myself utterly obsessed with t-shirts.

The absolute worst though, is when the t-shirt is labelled as "limited edition." Damn them. I hate being a target market, but that is exactly what I am.

And the reality is that I actually am a target market. As gay man, I'm inherently going to be overly concerned with my appearance. As a graphic designer, I'm going to inherently going to be attracted to a well designed shirt, a clever graphic, or a nice use of type. And as someone who reads incessantly, and writes long winded blog entries (hey I do have an English degree) I'm going to appreciate a witty pun, or a well-worded phrase used on a t-shirt. Add that all together, along with someone who loves to hunt for something that few others have, and you have the makings of a t-shirt whore.

But labelling t-shirts as limited edition is really the icing on the cake. Because the reality is, most t-shirts are limited edition. Who prints the same design t-shirt indefinitely? It's what they call "seasons" in the fashion industry. But you tack the phrase "limited edition" on to the design, and I'm so your bitch. Limited run, Limited edition, Short run, Hard to find, Supplies limited, Rare, Collectible, One-of-a-kind, Out of Print, Difficult to find, or Unique are all key words that make me drool. The idea that I could have one of only a few, that I won't actually be able to get it once they are all gone...it's enough to make me cry.

Thankfully, I have some rules for myself. I try to buy shirts that are made from small companies (not big chain stores - though I do occasionally buy shirts from Urban Outfitters, Old Navy or H&M) mostly via the internet (unless I can find it bargain clearance in a local store - or it's from a small boutique that sells local designers, or independent designers). I try to cap my t-shirt price as under $30 (it used to be $20 but I've since raised the price, and I think I have even stretched it out to $35 recently - but only if I really love the shirt). And I try not to have more than one delivery of shirts coming at a time. Thus if I have a shipment of shirts (a shirtment if you will) coming, I won't order anything until it arrives.

I still have a lot of t-shirts regardless of these rules. And in fact I know that I am completely obsessed with t-shirts when I start thinking of everyday items in terms of t-shirt prices. If I go out to eat for lunch I usually spend $10 a day. That's $50 a week. That's at least TWO T-SHIRTS that I could have purchased if I had just brought my lunch instead!

I used to think in terms of CD's (purchasing five lunches out during the work week equals five used CD's) but then I discovered burning CD's from friends and P2P downloading. Then I discovered TV on DVD, and that's how I judged costs (five lunches equal one season box set of a TV show). Then I discovered Netflix. Now it's t-shirts. If logic follows, my next big purchase will be a silk screening kit and then who knows that I'll be obessed with next.

And in the end I realize this is what life is about. Life isn't about the actual elusive item itself. It's about the search for the elusive item. And just as I go about trying to find that elusive item, I realize it's the hunt that is more important. It's the process of hunting that I enjoy so much. And it is process of seeking and looking that is so important.

Because that's where I learn who I am and what I want. And I though I may never find that perfect t-shirt, or that rare Carnivore 7" by Liz Phair, or that out-of-print Killer Bunny Omega Card, I will have found something more important. I will have found myself in the process. The person who is always looking for perfection. The person who is always looking for the next best thing.

And when I can't find the next best thing, that's okay. Because I will be the person who makes the next best thing. Because that is what life is all about. Striving for the best. After all, we're all limited edition of one. I'm just trying to milk that edition for all it's worth.

Midwest Tour 2006 pt 3 (Return of The Lou)

2006-11-06T23:05:00.000-08:00

I TOLD YOU THIS WAS COMING! This is part THREE of a the Midwest Trip. It took me forever to write - and you can see why. It's HUGE. Sorry about that - but you get a prize if you actually read the entire thing. Well, actually not really, but if I could give each and every one of your who reads this a prize (all three of you) then yeah, I would....

By the way, feel free to SKIM down and just look at the pictures. They tell the story pretty well without having to actually read everything I wrote.
----

I had called my mom once we were on the road, just to make sure that our house had electricity. This was a big concern of mine, as St. Louis had been under severe thunderstorms a week earlier, knocking out electricity for most of the city. My mom's house had been without electricity for about five days, and when I had called in Indiana, I had not been able to get ahold of my mom - as I later found out she was staying with a friend who had electricity. The idea of trying to stay with my parents in a house with no electricity or air conditioning in the heat of summer did not sound appealing. Luckily I was able to get ahold of her on the road trip there, and we were good to go - the electricity had been turned back on the night before.

On the road to St. Louis , just about the time that we came across another John Mellancamp song, we drove past a kid waving a sign for lemonade right near the state highway that we were on (the highway actually winds through some towns and small neighborhoods, it was all very rural). Though AJ said he comes across lemonade stands all the time when he's cycling up in Marin, I haven't seen a lemonade stand since I played the video game "Lemonade Stand" on my Apple II+ computer back in 1980. We stopped the SUV and backed up to purchase some refreshing lemonade.

The boys running the stand (the mom supervising the endeavor seemed absorbed in a novel so we didn't actually talk to her) seemed like they were in grade school, and we later found out that the main one who sold us the lemonade was actually going into 7th grade. We asked him why he was selling lemonade (band camp?) and it turned out that he was just trying to raise some money so that he and his best friend (who hovered in the background, a little more shy, going into fifth grade) could go to the movies. I was never that enterprising when I was his age. I just asked my mother if she would give me money. She usually said no.

Regardless, we bought six glasses of lemonade at 20 cents a cup and six strawberry cookies (thumb butter cookies with a dollop of strawberry jam in the middle) for 25 cents each. We ended up giving them $5 for everything though.

It was all very Stand By Me.

We did one more pitstop of notice, and that was to get shakes and fries from Steak 'N' Shake. The NON-midwest people on the trip seemed to determined to partake of any indigenous food that was available in the landlocked red states we were visiting. They apparently have never even heard of Steak 'N' Shake. I explained to them that it was a 50's style diner chain - open 24 hours. I had spent many a night hanging out there post bar. It was either Steak 'N' Shake or Denny's (though later as my friends and I became more sophisticated we hit the local St. Louis 24-hour diners of Uncle Bill's and South City Diner).

The gang seemed to enjoy the fries and the shakes (though Karen said she preferred the extra thick shakes from the McDonald's that we had gotten on the road trip from Chicago to Indiana. How could anyone pick a McDonald's prefab powder shake over a homemade shake from Steak 'N' Shake is beyond me.) I told them there were many frozen dairy concotions to come in St. Louis. They avoided the actually hamburgers (which at Steak 'N' Shake they don't call hamburgers, they call them "Steak Burgers" because it's made from ground steak) as several people on the trip (including AJ) are concerned about Mad Cow Disease.

Random Aside #1 - Personally I think Mad Cow is so 2004. Shouldn't we all be worried about Bird Flu now? AJ and I eat Turkey and Chicken with abandon, but AJ continues to avoid ground beef. Thank goodness for Ground Buffalo. There's a reason why it's called Mad Cow and not Mad Buffalo.

Random aside #2 - We recently found out the husband of a friend of ours works for Gilead. Gilead is the make of Tamiflu - the only official drug that combats the Bird Flu and that is no longer available to the general public as the government is stockpiling it. I learned this from my wacky dentist (who AJ recommended to me) who took a day long seminar on the Bird Flu and then typed out a three page report to give to all her patients. She told me (all the while chipping away at the tartar on my teeth and reprimanding me for not using the swish in your mouth fluoride rinse that I told her I would use more often) that she wanted ALL her patients to survive the Bird Flu, thus the workshop and handout. AND since Tamiflu is only available right now for George Bush and his pals, I figure AJ and I should buddy up with any connection possible to get Tamiflu. Anyway our friend with the husband at Gilead is so our new BFF (Best Friend Forever).

Random aside #3 - I love my dentist. She's the first dentist I've ever been to that has ACTUALLY been able to get me numb. Apparently I have some sort of freak nerve system in my jaw that does not allow me to get numb like everyone else. For 30 years of my life, I had to suffer through cavity drilling, getting a bridge put in, and a root canal, all the while having partial or full feeling in my teeth. But NO LONGER! My dentist told me that she would never drill on me unless I got fully numb. It took two - 2 hour visits (the first time she couldn't get me numb enough) to finally get me numb enough to fill my cavities. So if anyone needs a dentist in the bay area, just let me know, I'll give you her info.

Driving through Indiana and Illinois to get to St. Louis, we, had to go through the metro east area of St. Louis (Collinsville, Granite City, East St. Louis). Damon asked if any of those areas were worth touring through, and I had to explain to them that you probaby didn't want to go to East St. Louis. Ever. After all, the main street of East St. Louis is Martin Luther King Drive. You know the old Chris Rock routine about that....

Everyone seemed very excited to see the Arch (even I think is a cool piece of architecture) as we drove over the rickety Poplar Street Bridge of the Mississippi River. AJ referred to the river as "M-I-Crooked Letter-Crooked Letter-I-Crooked Letter-Crooked Letter-I-Humpback-Humpback-I" which I had never heard before. He seemed awfully pleased with that and continued to refer to it afterwards in this way. Ask him how to spell Mississippi and that's the response you'll get (even now).

Now seeing the "welcome to Missouri" sign , I have a confession. I was feeling performance anxiety about my hometown. Everyone had a great time in Indiana. A FANTASTIC time really. How in the world am I going to compare? Are there things to do in St. Louis worth doing, worth seeing? I had no plans and all five other people were relying on me for a good time. This is St. Louis - the midwest. Nothing is going to compare to either coast. I was feeling the pressure.

I relayed my fears to AJ and he sorted me out. It will all be fine. They'll love anything you take them to, because it's all new to them. And that's when I realized he was right. We'd have a great time anywhere we were, because it was us. It's like the ending of Romy and Michelle's High School Reunion. "I think you are, like, the most funnest person I know." "Me too. With you."

We are all the most funnest people I know.

We arrived at my parent's house around 10pm. I immediately ordered us Imo's St. Louis Style Pizza.

Uh Oh.

If you've had St. Louis Style Pizza you probably are groaning right now. If not, you're probably asking "What the heck is St. Louis style pizza? Is it anything like Chicago style pizza?"

That would be a big RESOUNDING NO! It's nothing like Chicago style pizza. I had to brace everyone earlier in the car for the pizza that was to come.

"Okay. So I am thinking of ordering everyone some St. Louis Style Pizza when we get in. But you might not like it. A lot of non-St. Louisans can't really appreciate it. Do you guys really want to partake of EVERY indigenious food?"

The answer was a firm yes (well a firm yes from Rita, I think it was a rather lukewarm response from everyone else) - though they definitely wanted to know what St. Louis Style Pizza was, so I described the pizza the best I could, hoping to give everyone low expectations. "Well. It's got a thin crust. Some would say it's almost cracker thin - but more tasteless like...cardboard. It's got a pretty thin slightly flavorless herbless slightly sweet tomato sauce, and the usual toppings like sausage or mushrooms, but nothing fancy like California pizza (no BBQ chicken or artichokes), but the really important thing about St. Louis Style Pizza is the cheese. It's a processed cheese that you can only get in St. Louis, called PROVEL. Provel is a mix of cheddar, swiss and provolone and is pretty melty, sort of stick to your teeth sort of cheese. I believe my friend Kate refers to it as 'welfare cheese'."

This description did not deter them.

Most of my friends in St. Louis love St. Louis Style Pizza. Most. But I have yet to really meet anyone outside of St. Louis that likes it. The gang seemed up for anything though, so I went ahead and ordered it along with a couple of orders of Toasted Ravioli (another St. Louis indigenious food). Toasted Ravioli is meat ravioli that has been breaded and deep fried. You dip it into marina sauce. It's hands down delicious - but then I like anything deep fried.

Well to my surprise, everyone seemed to like the pizza (that or they were extremely hungry/extremely polite). We polished off two large pizzas two salads and two orders of T-Rav's. Go us.

Side Note #1 - My friend Peter and Grant who went to school and lived in St. Louis for a chunk of time were horrified that we had St. Louis Style Pizza. I believe their immediately reaction on the matter was "Why would you order that? It's disgusting!" AJ came to it's defense and said it actually wasn't that bad, and that he like it. Perhaps my lowered expectations helped in the matter.

Side Note #2 - Apparently you can now get St. Louis Style Pizza delivered frozen anywhere in the country. So YOU TOO can partake in a slice of indigenious St. Louis food without traveling to a landlocked Red state that has now outlawed Gay Marriage. Ain't life grand?

Side Note #3 - For a long while, I never realized that you can not get certain things outside of St. Louis. You take certain things for granted like Toasted Ravioli and Gooey Butter Cake (both indigenious St. Louis foods). Most St. Louisans also take the food for granted, and if you mention to them that you can't find said foods anywhere outside of St. Louis, most will look at you like your crazy and say "Really? Are you sure? How strange." St. Louis is a very insular place. Because it's such a part of your everyday life in St. Louis, you really don't ever have a craving for the food, until it's taken away and you are told you can't get it anywhere BUT there. That said, I was pleased to discover that you can actually get Toasted Ravioli ANYWHERE in the country by just going to Olive Garden. Apparently it's on the menu in the appetizer section. Go figure. Of course, I never go to Olive Garden, but if I ever have a fixin' for T-Rav's I know where to head.

After late night dinner, we all headed to our respective rooms and slept a good long much deserved rest. The next day was going to be a long one.

We awoke late (well everyone except AJ who woke up early - headed out for coffee and got us all bagels at the St. Louis Bread Company). I decided that today was the day we were all going to head to the Jefferson National Expansion Memorial.

Otherwise known as "The Gateway Arch" this is probably St. Louis claim to fame. It's pretty darn spectacular and was pretty much the first stop that everyone goes to when they visit St. Louis.

The Gateway Arch is the tallest memorial in the United States. Standing at 630 feet, made of stainless steel, the arch is meant to capture the spirit of western pioneer. It's a unique figure on the St. Louis landscape, and it pretty defines St. Louis as a city, much like the Empire State Building might define New York or the Golden Gate Bridge might define San Francisco. And no, it has nothing to do with the McDonald's Golden Arches.

The Arch is situated on the Mississippi riverfront. We drove downtown, parked and got in line to enter. I was concerned that there might be a huge wait and huge line for the elevator. Though there was a short line through security, my concerns were unfounded. We went directly to the ticket agent, got tickets and were on the elevator tram in under 15 minutes.

The elevator ride up is pretty interesting. You're enclosed in a pretty tight eggshaped capsule with five other people that has to ride up an arch - it's not a straight shot up. It's diagonal, and as such, the capsule itself tilts back and forth to go up. It was all built state of the art...back in 1963. It's over 40 years old, and let me tell you, I think of that everytime I go up there. At any moment, those elevators could stop working and we'd be trapped with our new best friends... and not enough room to stand up in. With the electrical issues that were plagueing St. Louis at the time as well, I was just a wee bit nervous, but I held my neurosis to myself.

The trip up went smoothly, and the view from the top of the Arch was quite nice. I have to admit it was cool to be up there with all six of us, showing them the site of the city from far above. I pointed out the casinoboats on the river, and tried to point out the McDonalds on a boat (the only floating McDonald's in the U.S.). Turns out that the McDonald's had closed four years ago. Damn. It's been a long time since I've been up there.

I did point out the St. Louis Old Courthouse which I thought might be a place of interest for Damon who was a lawyer. Yes, that's the place where the first two Dred Scott trials were held. Some how, Missouri is proud of that moment. The court case where it was decided that slaves were not people, but property. Is it no wonder that St. Louis has such a race problem?

After exiting the top of the Arch we wandered around the Museum of Western Expansion, where we marveled (and were slightly frightened of) the animatronic models, as well as the stuffed water buffalos and beavers. I had been there one too many times to find the displays about Sacajawea and Lewis and Clark all the novel, but everyone else seemed to find it interesting and educational. AJ seemed especially pleased to have found a stuffed bear, while I posed with the gay frontier man with the manbag. We later found ourselves at the gift shop where Rita bought herself a whistle shaped from a twig. She seemed delighted in tooting it as we left - in a very jaunty Huck Finn sort of way.

After a quick snack at a local dive chinese mall food place (where some of us had Crab Rangoon, a very midwest food that consists of a wonton wrapper stuff full of cream cheese and miniscule amounts of imitation crab meat, all deep fried) with a couple of Vess Soda drinks (an indigenious soft drink company) we took off for a quick tour driving tour of where I used to live with my ex-boyfriend.

Embedded Citation #1 - St. Louis is full of indigenious foods, as I have already mentioned. I made sure that everyone on the trip had a chance to eat as many indigenious foods as possible while in St. Louis. I am not quite sure why St. Louis cuisine is so regionally specific, but it is. Even the wikipedia entry of St. Louis has a specific category for St. Louis cuisine. I was pleased to see that we were able to eat all the major ones on the list (though we did skip the "fried brain sandwich" which is just as well)

Embedded Citation #2 - Vess Soda is example of what I call St. Louis Ersatz Companies. St. Louis, for whatever reason, has a number of local "off brand" substitute companies that replicate chain or big name companies - companies that actually have a presence in St. Louis as well. For example, St. Louis has several Chevy's restaurants, but they also have a local chain of restaurants called Casa Gallardo that is equivalent to Chevy's. St. Louis has Olive Gardens, but they also have a local chain restaurant called Pasta House that is pretty much the same thing. Vess Soda is only really available in St. Louis, but it is the equivalent to buying Shasta or Faygo or your local grocery store brand Soda. Vess comes in a variety of fruit flavors, like Lemon/Lime, Orange, Grape, Strawberry, and more, as well as the standard Cream and Cola Soda flavors. The Vess Cream Cola is a bright fluorescent highlighter pink, and for a long time, I didn't realize that there could be a different color to cream soda. It was only when I moved to San Francisco where I discovered that Cream Soda came in a more natural brown color. Oh and in St. Louis, we called effervescent soft drinks SODA, not POP.

On the side trip back from the Arch, I had the gang drive by my old apartment in South City. It was the apartment I lived in with my ex-boyfriend Bill. It was another time and another life when I was with Bill - only AJ and Ben had met Bill before. You can ask them what they thought of him. :) I also had everyone drive by my old art studio, and then the location of the museum that I worked at, and where the museum was now (they had built an a new building since I left), as well as the Central West End where I used hang out, as well as the bookstore that I used to work at (Left Banks Books). Everyone seemed strangely fascinated by my old life. I have to admit I felt a little nostalic as well.

Then it was back to my parents, where some of us showered/napped/changed and then we all piled back into the SUV to go to dinner at one of my favorite restaurants in St. Louis - Trattoria Marcella.

I had organized a dinner for 18 people at the restaurant - the six of us, my mom, my friends Hadley, Stephanie and her mom, Renee (who I've blogged about before) and her husband and their adorable baby boy Sam, Stephanie's friend (and my friend too) Mark and Walter (the other token gay couple), and Nikki, Stacy, and Kate (I actually didn't know Kate, but she seemed to fit right in, I wish I had a chance to talk to them more actually).

It was a blast seeing my St. Louis friends with my California friends. Some of them have actually talked to each other via email, but they had never met. I was pleased that they were able to finally meet face to face, and I was pleased that my mom finally met Stephanie's mom.

Stephanie's mom is amazing, I love her immensely. When I came out of the closet in college and told Stephanie, she immediately told her mom. I asked her why she would do that (slightly horrified that she would tell her mom something so personal), and Stephanie told me in a matter of fact manner, that she told her mom because she knew her mom would support me. I have never told Stephanie or her mom but this meant the world to me. The fact that there were parents out there that wouldn't freak out, who would unabashedly support someone coming out was so foreign to me. I can see why Stephanie turned out to be the fantastic fabulous person that she is. How can you not, with a mom like that?

But there was another, more important reason that I was glad to see Stephanie's mom and to have my mom meet her's. My mom was diagnosed with advanced colon cancer two and half years ago. When I found out, I had flown back home to hang out with her, and to help her through some of the chemo. Stephanie was there for me, and she personally understood how hard it was, as her dad had passed away from cancer 10 years ago, and her mom was a breast cancer survivor (remission 15 years - and after being diagnosed stage 4 with prognosis of six months to live!). I had made my mom call Stephanie's mom to talk about it all, as I felt it was important for my mom to talk to someone who had gone through it, and survived. My mom had talked to her over the phone, but they had never met face to face. I'm glad that they finally had that chance.

Dinner was super fantastic fun. I had ordered the St. Louis traditional Toasted Ravioli, along with Roasted Mushrooms with Fried Polenta, Whole Stuffed Artichokes, Bruschetta and their signature Fried Calamari with flashfried Spinach for appetizers. We had a couple of salads and a choice of entrees. One was the veal rolled with prosciutto, mozzarella, tomatoes, grileld with spinach and mushroom which AJ got and said it was delicious. The Straw and Hay (which was egg and spinach noodles with marscapone cream sauce and ham, mushrooms and peas) is a very popular St. Louis dish. I believe Damon got that, while (I think) Karen ordered the Chicken Agro Dolce (chicken with pearl onions, golden raisans, almonds and creamy polenta). Rita and I had both ordered the Lobster Risotto, a house specialty. Rita says she thought it was lovely, with large chunks of lobster.

I haven't a clue what Ben ordered, but I'm going to guess the Lobster Risotto.

During dinner I was handed a stack of CD's from Mark. Apparently I had made a mix CD of gay dance hits for Stephanie (and my friend Hadley) ages ago. Mark had come across it and was duly impressed with my selection of songs. He said he was going to make me a mix a couple of years ago and it never happened. He apparently made up for lost time! It's great that I have these CD's as I've been listening to the same indie rock block of music forever. It's time for me to get to my fun disco roots, and his CD's have me shaking my booty all over again.

Gratuitous aside #1 - I met Mark for the first time when we all went to see SPICE WORLD (the Spice Girl Movie) on opening weekend. Stephanie and I were absolutely positively excited to see it (both in irony, and without irony, if that is possible). We bonded over our love of Scary Spice and how Posh Spice may look slutty good in a little black dress, but she couldn't sing at all. There's a reason why she never gets a solo on any of the songs.

Gratuitious aside #2 - I still harbor a secret love of the Spice Girls. I occasionally look up the individual members to see what they are up to. Did you know that Mel B. (Scary Spice) played MIMI in the cast of Rent and released an album called L. A. State of Mind back in 2005? What you didn't? I'm not surprised, as the album only sold 5000 copies worldwide. It was pretty horrible (I found a copy floating around the internet and snagged it out of curiousity), about as equally horrible as her first album HOT (even with the single featuring Lisa "Left Eye" Lopez, and Missy Elliot producing a couple of the songs, her first album is terrible).

During dinner Stephanie told us to go to the Missouri Botanical Gardens, which had an exhibition featuring the glass artist Dale Chihuly. My mom had urged us to go when we first came in, but I wasn't 100% sold. I'm a bit of a snob when it comes to art, and Dale Chihuly's work is all show. But the Botanical Gardens were open until 11pm on Thursday, so I figured, let's do it.

We rushed home and dropped my mom off, and then headed back east to the Gardens. Once we got there it was already 10:15pm. The Botanical Gardens were going to close in 45 minutes!

We rushed to the gate and I accosted the sassy young black woman who was reading a magazine at the ticket counter. We were all hoping to have her let us in for free, as we really only had 45 minutes.

"Hi! How are you? I love you hair. How much are tickets?"

She looked up at me. Thanked me for the compliment, and then told us that they were sold out of tickets for the night.

"What!??! But we just got in from California, and we really wanted to see the show...everyone has been raving about it...."

I wasn't sure what to do. Had we busted ass, wasted precious St. Louis time, only to be turned away at the door - Complete denied?

"Look, we're completely out of tickets, but if you can find someone leaving the exhibition, just ask them for their wristbands - that's all you need to get in." said the sassy young black woman who was now my new best friend forever.

She handed me a pair of scissors.

Damon and I immediately leaped on a group of senior citizens and brandished the shears in their face.

"Hi. Are you guys leaving?" As I waved the sharpened metal object in their vincinity.

They looked at my warily. Luckily Damon was around to hold me back from cutting their wrists off.

We were able to procure six bands (from two different groups who look at us as if we were crazy) all the while hyperactively jumping up and down under the blue and white Dale Chihuly piece hanging in the entry foyer. As Damon and I entered the Gardens, nonchalantly walking past the people checking for wrist bands (yes, they were actually checking) we started to jump up and down (right behind the guards) yelling "We got in for FREE! The Midwest LOVES US!!!!"

Not the most subtle, but we were on a pasta carb high.

We rushed into the Botanical Gardens and headed for the Climatron where 75% of the Chihuly Glasswork was installed, though there were pieces floating around the grounds as well. It was pretty damn amazing.

The Climatron installation was fantastic. I take everything back about his artwork. The drama of the lighting on the glass and the installation of the glasswork in the tropical rainforest environment was magical. Every corner we turned, we were in awe at how magical and mystical it looked. Glass flowers, crystalize balloons, Neon like tubes, and flamingo shaped vessels were around every turn. It was like being in another world, a beautiful, gorgeous world.

Slightly Off Topic #1 - I once had to create a logo and identity for The Climatron at the Missouri Botanical Gardens for a class project in college. I spent many a days there at the Climatron researching it and trying to come up with the perfect logo and typeface. Did you know that the Climatron was the first geodesic domes used for a lighthouse? And that it won the 1961 Reynold's Award for architectural excellence in aluminum? Do you care? Probably not. The project stayed in my portfolio for a couple of years, until I brought it out and took a better look at it. I spent a half a semester trying to create the identity and in the end it sucked big time. *sigh* At least the other half of the project dealt with the environmental signage for the entry way, and it was decent (I still don't include it in my portfolio though, I have way better projects now). I hadn't thought about that project in years, until I was confronted with the geodesic dome that is the Climatron on this trip. Good times. Good. Times.

Slightly Off Topic #2 - I worked at a Craft art gallery once in St. Louis (during my summertime college days) where I learned that the same glass artwork can look totally unremarkable, or amazingly spectacular. It all depends on how you light it. If the glass artwork does not have the proper light, it will sit there, without a chance in hell of being bought. If it's lit properly, the sucker will move immediately. Just a little bit of retail advice if you ever are in the position to sell glass artwork. Oh yeah, and I was "let go" at the Craft art gallery, via a phone message on my answering machine, completely out of the blue. I was pissed. Chihuly's work, by the way, was lit perfectly.

As the park was closing, we tried to find the last Chihuly piece, the one that was a heart made of glass vessels hanging from a bridge in the Japanese Tea Garden, but the gardens were closing. We dodged security vehicles, and ran around in the dark, encountering sheep and security guards, but alas, we weren't able to find it. But we left the garden, one of the last people there, satisfied that we got our money's worth.

It was past 11pm, but the evening wasn't over yet! I directed everyone to a St. Louis tradition, Ted Drewes!

Ted Drewes is a place specific to St. Louis. It's a frozen custard stand, and they are amazing. This is one place that St. Louis is proud of, and in truth, lives up to the hype. Their signature a item is the "frozen custard concrete" which is a blended frozen custard shake similar to a Dairy Queen Blizzard but so thick that you can turn the cup upside down and nothing drips out. Often the kids working the stand will hand you the cup upside down to show that it really does not drop out.

The concretes come in a variety of flavors. Everything from the usual chocolate chip and oreo cookie, to the fruit flavors like strawberry or blueberry to the more unusual flavors like devil's food cake or my favorite APPLE PIE (where they blend in real slice of apple pie, crust and filling and everything) into the blizzard. Pure heaven. If there is one thing I really miss about St. Louis is a hot balmy day, and a Ted Drewes Concrete.

Oh and don't be fooled by the Concretes and frozen custards that you can get at the grocery stores in St. Louis. That's like buying some frozen White Castle in the freezer section of Safeway here in San Francisco - completely missing the point. You need to experience the Concrete fresh from the stand.

We pulled up and the stand was still open. They apparently have a sliding schedule as to when they close (I asked and the high school kid behind the counter said they just closed when the crowd thinned out). Damon asked me what their best flavor was and if there was something that they were known for. I told him to get a concrete, in whatever flavor he wanted (Ted Drewes actually has a bunch of other options like sundaes and banana splits, but I've never known anyone to get anything other than a concrete there). I can't remember what flavor he got (Rita got the oatmeal cookie) but I remember he was incredulous about turning the cup upside down. I goaded him to do it, and he was suitably impressed.

Everyone seemed to enjoy their concrete, and it seemed the perfect ending to the perfect day.

The following day I made everyone get up early. We packed ourselves into the car and headed out to Laumeier Sculpture Park.

Laumeier Park is a 98 acre park that has outdoor installation scultures placed out and about. They have some gorgeous works, and some rather not so interesting works. Their signature sculpture is a huge red sculpture that looks like it's made of crushed tubes. If you look closely, that's Karen at standing at the bottom of the sculpture in the picture. I had taken AJ to the park a couple of years ago, but I hadn't been back to it in the summer for ages. We had hoped to get there before it got too hot, but alas the midwest heat had already hit.

Nevertheless we wandered about and took photos and looked at the artwork all the while trying to figure out which ones we liked best. Some of the pieces looked truly grand and sculptural, while others blended into the environment so much, that we nearly missed them. It actually had us guessing as to which items installed in the park actually was artwork, and which ones were just random parts of the park. Was this cement barrier with the electrical box behind it, really just a cement barrier with an electrical box or was it art? We left confused but much more cultural (I think).

Since we were out in the suburbs already, I took us on a short detour of my childhood. We drove by my old house (not my idea mind you, but Rita really wanted to see it for whatever reason) in the West County of St. Louis (where I hopped out and had a photo of myself taken there) and then we drove over to my old high school (again not my idea) which has had many new additions since I attended. We actually parked our car and ran around the inside, where I showed them the art department (where I used to practically live in when I was in high school) along with most of the school.

The school itself was much smaller than I remember it (I think I thought it was huge when I was in high school), though they had added additions (including a huge new gym). Rita and Damon were fascinated (well Rita at least) with a midwest school. Apparently the whole "eating inside" thing always confused her as they went to school in Southern California - where everyone just ate outside. "I've always seen movies of high school students having dances inside schools but I never could figure out where it was when it wasn't in the gym." She thought it was strange that people actually ate inside during school. I think it is strange that people actually eat outside. High school is a completely enclosed environment for most of the midwest.

I think it's weird that Rita actually had seperate building that she had to go in between for high school to get to classes. Now that's weird. Coincidentally though, my high school was originally built like a Southern California school with different buildings to house different departments. They quickly learned that it wasn't very practical - kids just didn't want to be running outside and inside during the winter snow. So they had to build these long hallways between the departments, and that's why in some of the hallways there are all these leaks. During the winter and the rainy thunderstorm days, the hallways would be littered with buckets to catch all the leaks.

After the art department, I dragged them through the main part of the school, past the library (which Rita and Damon said looked big compared to their school) past the English Department and the History Department and toward the Science Department I eventually found my senior locker ( I couldn't quite remember which one it was, but I could show them the general bay of lockers that I was part of) and AJ took a photo of me with it.

Then the Fire Alarm went off.

We swear it wasn't us that caused it.

Either way, we worked our way out (which was hard, because all the fire doors had actually automatically closed) and it seemed that everyone there wasn't very nonchalant about the alarm. Apparently they were just testing it. Oh well.

We took off from West County and drove back into the city for some lunch. I made them go all the way over to South City where we went to a St. Louis institution Uncle Bill's Pancake House.

Here we gorged ourselves with comfort foods. I had the biscuits and gravy, something I miss dearly. San Francisco has decent biscuits and gravy (the Pork Store probably has the best I've been able to find in SF) but nothing compares to the midwest biscuits and gravy. Of course, I've never been to the South, where I'm sure the Biscuits and Gravy would just blow St. Louis away, but it's all relative.

From Uncle Bill's we headed to Forest Park, the largest park in St. Louis. Forest Park is actually larger than Central Park in New York and is the center of most of the cultural sites in St. Louis. It houses the Muni (the Municipal Theater where I contemplated taking everyone but we were all too exhausted to go there at night), the Zoo, the Art Musueum, the Missouri Historical Society, and countless other attractions. The best part of it all though is that ALL the attractions are free. Yep. There is NO admission fee to any of the major city owned and operated museums and parks. St. Louis rocks with the cheap thrills.

I still grumble internally everytime I have to pay a fee to enter a museum.

After driving around the park for awhile, where I pointed out different cultural landmarks (there's the Jewel Box, there's the World's Fair Pavilion) we ended up at the Missouri Historical Society, where we checked out exhibits about the World's Fair and Charles Lindbergh.

From there, we headed to the St. Louis Art Museum where we wandered about and looked at the modern and contemporary art. I called my friend Stephanie to see if she was there (she works in museum) but we kept on missing each other. We did end up paying to see a special exhibit called Remote Viewing (invented worlds in recent paintings and drawings). The recorded tour used iPods which were great, though my iPod was jacked up and kept on skipping to the middle of the artist interviews everytime I pressed play. I only figured this out three-quarters the way through the exhibit, but oh well. Some of the artwork was really amazing, and some of it was crap. But that's what you get when you see art. Some of great. Some of it makes me ask why I gave my doing art, as I obviously could create better work than this dreck.

Of course, I give props to anyone out there doing art. It's a hard life, and I don't really envy them. One of these days I might take it up, but I won't hold my breath. I have enough "side projects" to keep my occupied. I keep on coming up with more of them too. If only I had the time to do all of them.

From the Art Museum we went to my alma mater Washington University where we ran around the campus (but unfortunately couldn't get into any of the buildings as they were all locked). But I pointed out the quad that everyone hung out in, and the Art Department/Building (they are actually in the process of building a brand new Art School that will house the art school, the art history department, and the architecture school) and the English department where I had most of my classes. We even headed over to the bookstore to see if we could get some Wash U paraphenalia, but alas it was closed.

After the exhausting day, we headed back home to clean up and go to dinner. We picked up my mom and went to Momo's, a mediterrean tapas restaurant around the corner. Stephanie, who I finally was able to get ahold of, was going to bellydance in the restaurant that night, but it turns out that she had called in sick. So we saw her friend bellydance instead, and she was great...even did a little "Stephanie" move that totally reminded me of how Stephanie bellydances. AJ, of course, got up and danced with her much to the amusement of everyone in the restaurant. The food was great, and we headed back to my parent's house to chill out, play some board/card games and generally collapse from exhaustion.

The following day, we woke up late, packed up the car, said goodbye to my mom and drove over to the Washington University Campus Store where we ended up buying T-shirts and mugs and other random logo-fied crap as souvenirs of our visit to St. Louis. It was back to Chicago for the final weekend.

The trip back to Chicago was uneventful, though we did do a quick stop at a Dairy Queen. The DQ had a "love tester" where you could test how much loveable you were. AJ (of course) scored BURNING HOT!

Karen loves the DQ blizzards, and how could we skip out on it? I have a special fondness of the DQ after seeing Parker Posey in Waiting for Guffman. It's too bad there aren't any DQ's here in San Francisco, though it's just as well. I don't really need the additional calories.

We arrived in Chicago in time to shower up and meet up with a friend of Steve and Anjana's named Ricky. Ricky is Australian but had moved to Chicago awhile ago. When he first moved to Chicago he wanted to get to know the city a little better, so he became an architecture docent for the city. When all of us found out about this back at Memorial Day when we met him (at Steve and Anjana's wedding) we told him that we were going to make him give us a tour of the city.

And we did. He gave a shortened mix of both the classical and the modern architecture tour and we learned all about why we should appreciate Mies van der Rohe's minimal skyscrapers ("the God is in the details" and "less is more" are both quotes by him), what the Chicago School of Architecture is, and what the Armchair Profile is in buildings and why they are so prevalent in Chicago and major urban cities. Ricky rocked, and despite the fact that he hadn't given a tour in years, it was awesome.

We went to dinner afterwards at a fantastic Japanese Restaurant (that I can't remember the name of) that served delish sushi and japanese food. When I lived in the midwest I was always a little tentative about ordering sushi in a landlocked state. But the food was faboo. We treated Ricky for the tour and Anjana and Steve because they were just awesome hosts.

It was really wonderful to get to visit Steve and Anjana not just once but twice, bookending our midwest trip. If I haven't had a chance to say it before, Anjana and Steve were amazing. They live in West Town (near Wicker Park and River West) in an amazing condo. Steve has a music studio in his basement where he can record and produce his music and others. Check out his band Jigawatt Trio or become his friend over at myspace. They rock.

At the end of the trip we were all exhausted - but it was such a fantastic experience. It's true that I wasn't 100% sold on going to the midwest, especially in the middle of summer. Like most other people who ask me why ANYONE would want to go to the midwest in the crazy heat of midsummer, I thought Rita was crazy when she suggested it. But what I figured out in the end was that Rita didn't necessarily want to visit Chicago, St. Louis, and Indianapolis per se. She wanted to visit our hometowns. She wanted to see where we grew up, and how we grew up, and to see what formed us into who we are. She wanted to learn more about who we were and thus who we are now. In short she wanted to get to know everything about us.

And that's why we ended up in the midwest. In the middle of the summer. In the boiling heat driving around in a giant SUV that seated eight people (though it only fit the six of us and all our luggage). And that's what made me realize how amazing it is to have friends like Rita and Damon and Karen and Ben. These people were willing to take valuable vacation time, and spend money on the flight and expenses out there to learn more about AJ and I.

And in the end, I realized that I do love my hometown. For all the issues that I have with it politically, I realize that I am a product of my upbringing. It's so easy to dismiss the landlocked states when you live on the coast. But in the end I realized that St. Louis (and Indiana and Chicago) have so much to offer. The trip gave me a greater pride in both my hometown of St. Louis and who I am. But it gave me even greater pride in my friends. The fact that they wanted to do this trip, and even loved it made me so crazy happy afterwards.

I'll most likely never move back to St. Louis. There are things about it that I hate. But I'll always visit and I'll always think of it as home. But home is where your heart is, and my heart is here in California, with AJ and my friends. It's good to be home.

---
Endnotes: You read part one of the Midwest Trip here. Part two can be read here. And if you have the need to see more photos feel free to hit AJ's flickr account.

Got Milk?

2006-11-01T23:59:00.000-08:00

So yesterday was Halloween, and AJ and I went out to the Castro. No we didn't get shot at - at least not with a gun (plenty of cameras shot us though!)

Strangely, this year was probably the most mellow of all the years that AJ and I have gone out in the Castro. In the past, it's been crazy packed, but this year was rather mellow. Well, if you don't count the 9 people who were shot at. But since we weren't there to witness that, it was mellow to us.

I have been stressing out over Halloween for the past two months. Every year, I feel the pressure to make a costume, any costume. At first the pressure is to out do the previous year. But soon I let go of that ambition and I would be happy with just a decent idea. In the end I usually cobble together something at the last minute, and this year was not different.

AJ says that he comes up with bad ideas, so he doesn't even try to come up with anything. Instead he let's me come up with an idea - and then he helps with the execution. In the past we've always gone as a costume couple - that is, our costume related to each other. We've gone as Milli Vanilli (Girl You Know, it's true), as the Wham (Wake me Up... Before you Go Go), The guy on the Pringles container (AJ was Regular, I was Cheez-Um Flavored), and last year we went as crayons (AJ was Red, I was Yellow).

This year I was at a loss. The only thing I could come up with was boxes of cereal. I had ambition plans to build huge boxes of cereal, complete with packing styrofoam spilling out of the top of the box as if it was the cereal itself. AJ would go as FRANKENBERRY and I would go at BOOBERRY.

But alas it was not to be. Ever ambitious, I bought the cardboard the day before halloween, and we ended up watching Mission Impossible III that night instead of working on the costume. It was down to the wire.

So an hour before AJ got home, I had a change of heart. We were going to go as Milk Cartons instead. AJ and I were going to be the "missing child" on the back of the carton and things would be peachy keen (no makeup!).

AJ seemed incredulous that we could build two milk cartons and have time to go out and enjoy ourselves. I had faith though. I can do wonders with cardboard, an X-Acto blade and a glue gun. I didn't go through four years of Art School for nothing.

So after a quick dinner (mmm. homemade moons-over-my-honey roasted turkey sandwiches) we got started. It was 8pm.

I had mocked up a quarter scale model of what the milk carton should look like before AJ got home, and so we proceeded to measure and scaled it up to 100% on cardboard. We only had a limited amount of cardboard, so there was no room for error.

We measured once, measured twice and cut once. I showed AJ how to score the cardboard with my bone folder, and then I proceeded to glue gun together the pieces, as we rushed to get out the door.

I had also previously printed out the MILK CARTON copy (I decided to keep the design completely utilitarian and plain - mostly because I didn't have time to design anything fancier), and after the cartons were assembled, and the head/arm holes cut out, we glued on the MILK CARTON graphics.

It was done. And it was only 9:15pm!

The Castro seemed pretty mellow, and to our surprise, we were a huge hit. We have never had that many people ask us for pictures (people started to ask us if they could take our picture before we even got to the Castro!). It seemed that we were able to get around fairly easy because of the bulk of our costumes. People saw us coming!

Strangely, and this happened a lot last year - we were quite popular with the busty women. Large breasted women seem to love us, and many asked to have their picture taken with us. We, of course, obliged.

At one point we had our photo taken, and the guy came up and asked us our names and said he was from the Chronicle. He said to check sfgate.com - but alas we never made it on the photoslide show. Oh well. It was exciting to be asked.

This year's costumes were decent, but nothing stellar. We missed a chance to take a picture with the Fat Albert gang (including MushMouth), but we did snag a photo of the group of flight attendant drag queens, the group of cocktail drinks, and my favorite, the bagged Spinach (now with e.Coli!!!!).

I love topical slightly offensive costumes.

Strangely a few people were offended by our costume. I guess if you had a missing child, our costume would not be funny. Luckily it was only one or two people who seemed offended or saddened by it. We did have to explain our costume to a few (very drunk) people and a few people seemed obligated to hit our costume. Why does wearing a large cardboard box give people the permissions to hit you?

Most of the Asians out on the streets seemed to get a kick out of the type of milk I was as well. But AJ looked incredibly adorable walking around in the milk carton. Maybe it was the way his head was sticking out with the glasses, but I swear he was a walking cartoon character....

And in the end it was a good Halloween. We walked back to our apartment and as we started to open the gate and climb up the stairs, a car drove by saw us, rolled down their windows and asked if they could take our picture. We obliged, of course, pleased that even though the party was over, we still had people wanting our photos.

On getting home I immediately logged on to SFGATE.com to see if they had uploaded our picture (miraculously fast). AJ scoffed at me (with good reason, as they obviously did not have time to upload them). And that's when we found out about the shootings.

So this might be the last year for Halloween in the Castro, and I can't say that I blame anyone. Actually, no I CAN blame someone - I can blame the fool that brought a gun and shot at the 10 people. Our experience was mellow - we were completely clueless as to what happened when it happened. On the way home AJ and I walked right by where the shooting occured and completely obliviously, we asked "why the heck are all the police here in riot gear?"

I used to live right in the heart of the Castro. It was chaos and the neighborhood always got completely wasted. Worse, each year has seemed to have less gays and more annoying bridge and tunnel straight people coming in and trashing the place.

But I'd be lying if I said that I would NOT miss it. I love the energy, the costumes, and though I stress out about it, I love coming up with an idea for the costume and making it. I can blame my friend RITA for that - as beforehand I was never a huge Halloween person. But she showed me how fun it was to make a costume and dress up.

Next year though - if they don't cancel Halloween in the Castro, I'm totally planning early. I'm going to start making the costume at least a day ahead of time.....

I HEART FOOD

2006-10-20T00:44:00.000-07:00

I have several obsessions. Most are obvious (music, reading, watching television shows that get cancelled right away), a few not so obvious (shampoo is but one example - I currently have 10 bottles going right now and I bored with all of them). But two of my obsessions are colliding - food and clothes.

I love food. Anyone that knows me, knows that I love to eat - food of any sorts - high cuisine (mmm... someone take me back to French Laundry...) to low food (mmm...love me some Popeye's Fried Chicken...). I love to cook (for friends and family - I find cooking for AJ and myself a bit more of chore, though I enjoy cooking with AJ), and I love to bake (you're invited to my next dessert/baked goods party - whenever AJ and I throw one...probably in December)

But one thing that I do NOT like, is how food is making me not fit into my clothes. I've mentioned on and off how I am on a LFBFSF plan (Lose Fat Before Folsom Street Fair) and unfortunately that has not happened.

Folsom snuck up on me and arrived a couple of weekends ago. Strangely, AJ and I did NOT go to it. This is unusual for us, because we usually revel in the sordid events that Folsom brings. In fact, this year, due to circumstances (the midwest trip - yes the last midwest post will be up shortly, I finally finished it, but need to insert images) AJ and I missed the other leather fetish event of the year, Dore Alley. This made us sad, but Folsom and Dore Alley will always be there. And last year, both were a bit of a disappointment for us, so it is just as well that we missed it.

I do have to admit that I have been going to gym regularly, but despite AJ's assurances that the gym is working (he swears that my arms look bigger, but I think he's on crack) my pants have not started to hang looser on me, nor have I had to shift my belt notches in (the empirical evidence I need to show that all that sweat is paying off). I know it will take more than a month or two of regular working out for a noticeable shift in my body fat, but patience has never been one of my virtues.

I realized though, that my love of food has not been helpful in this endeavor. Losing weight is not just going to the gym, but rather, it's going to the gym AND eating well. And though I eat fairly healthy (I love my fruits and vegetables) I realized that I probably should cut down on my caloric intake ever so slightly.

That said, I gorged myself on the last weekend of September (the weekend of Folsom Street Fair). AJ and I decided to take a weekend away from SF and go up to Russian River. As all the leather bears migrated to SF for the Folsom, we did the reverse and went apple picking, wine tasting, and restaurant hopping. It was a grand time - and a very gay time - though gay in a very different way than going to Folsom.

Due to circumstances that are way too boring for even I to ramble about, AJ no longer had his car, and so we decided to rent one for the trip - specifically we decided to rent a convertible. Let me tell you, AJ and I have vowed to rent a convertible at least once a year from now on. The world is SUCH a better place when you are driving around in it in a convertible. With the wind whipping my hair about (as much as it can with all the product in my hair) we drove up to Sonoma to make our 2pm apple picking appointment.

I've been mildly obsessed with apple picking since my childhood memories of picking Golden and Red Delicious apples at Eckert's Farms in Missouri (actually technically it's across the river over in Illinois, but whatever) during the fall had reared up in the deep recesses of my mind. The crisp air and the wholesome fun remains nestled in my brain with sunny nostalgia. I believe the scenes that I remember are also hand tinted a pastel color, with vague outlines of ink, much like a Norman Rockwell painting. Of course, in my memories, I am also white, and wearing overalls, and have a baseball cap on.

But the memories of Eckerts Farm were actually quite sweet. The farm itself is quite a festival of activities. Not only is their apple picking but there was hay rides and cotton candy, and the shop itself that sold caramel apples, candy apples, apple butter, apple cider, and pretty much anything else you can make with apples. Eckerts Farm was where I had my very first funnel cake (and now that I think about it, it's very possible it's the only time I've ever had a funnel cake - I always say that I love funnel cake, but I never get it at street fairs. how odd).

The apple trees themselves were enormous. I'm sure they would be much smaller to me now as an adult, but as a child they towered over me - like the redwoods but with gorgeous dazzling enticingly tempting fruit hanging off their branches. I remember getting all excited about apple picking and going on a hay ride at the farm, and then arriving in the middle of the orchard, with the huge trees, and trying to reach up to get to the apples at the top.

The farm had these ingenious broomsticks with wire baskets at one end. Attached to the wire basket were two parallel 90 degree bent wires that acted as forks to pull apples into the basket from high above. I coveted these items but so did every other grade school kid. The best apples were high above, unreachable by human arms - and hence the apple picking sticks that everyone wanted.

Driving up to Gabriel's Farm in Sebastopol, Sonoma CA, I was excited. Last year I had brought up the idea of apple picking to a bunch of my friends, but alas no one seemed overly excited and thus the season passed us by. This year I dragged AJ up to relive my childhood.

The Farm was a bit hard to find (the Mapquest directions being a bit obtuse) but after many U-Turns, we found our way to the U-Pick Apples.

Turns out that picking at an small family owned organic farm in the middle of Sonoma County is very different than the huge Eckert Orchards in the middle of ~~Missouri~~ (fine, Illinois). The apple trees were barely 5 feet tall, and bursting with fruit within hands reach. The only other people in the orchard picking were a nice lesbian couple who seemed to want to keep their distance from us. AJ and I picked apples over the next hour weaving our way in and out of the trees and enjoying the bucolic environment.

The weekend we went up, Gilbert Blushing Golden Delicious were ripe (they had harvested the Rome and the McIntosh already). Sweet, crunchy and slightly tart, they tasted like all the best traits of Golden Delicious (sweet and sunny) and Granny Smith (tart and crunchy). We ended up with 16lbs. Luckily apples keep for months in the refrigerator. I have made an apple pie with them, but mostly we've eaten them straight from our refrigerator, and they are delicious. I keep on saying I'm going to make something else out them (apple cake? apple cinnamon muffins? apple dumplings?), but it's so much easier to just munch away at them out of hand.

We also bought a selection of Asian Pears (who knew that Asian Pears came in so many varieties?) which they had harvested earlier in the month. Apparently ripened Asian Pears are a bit more difficult to tell by the average person so they don't really let people U-Pick. Some of the pears were sweeter, some more watery, some with hints of rum, and some with touches of citrus lemon & lime. AJ was smitten with them all, and we left with another bagful of them.

After apple picking we drove over to the West Sonoma Inn in Guerneville where we had reserved a lovely room last minute (the night before). The Inn owner was totally friendly, and offered us a bunch of different rooms - of which we picked the one that had the king size bed, the kitchenette alcove, the sitting deck, and the fireplace that turned on with a switch. I love that. My parents had a fireplace that turned on with a key that you had to insert in the floor next to it. The switch is so much more convenient.

The Inn owner also ended up directing us to a few wineries that we had never been to, so we after dropping our stuff off, we hopped back in the car to see how they were.

In the end we only had time for two wineries (we left the Inn at 4:15pm) and the first one was Hook and Ladder. A relatively young winery (founded in 2004), the owner had previously helmed the De Loach Vineyards 30 years ago. A former fireman (thus the name Hook and Ladder) the wine tasted a bit young, but decent none the less. We ended up buying a bottle of The Tillmerman Red Wine, all the while amused that they offered a 15% fireman discount (meaning if you were a fireman and showed your ID, you got cheaper booze.)

However, it was the second winery, Suncé, down the road that was the real find. Most the wine we tasted at Suncé was delicious - but the best of the bunch was an amazing malbec wine that they made. AJ and I had become enamored with malbecs when we were in Argentina last year. The dark inky red wine is perfect with steak, and incredibly cheap over there, but malbecs are hard to find here in the US. Unfortunately 85-90% of the malbecs that are produced in Argentina are drunk domestically - in Argentina for the Argentines. So we were both excited to find a locally produced malbec that tasted great.

AJ ended up joining the wine club there. It was a good deal, as the malbec was quite expensive, but significantly more reasonable with the wine club membership. On top of that, they have wine bottling parties, where you can go up there for a day and help them bottle the wine. They cater a breakfast and lunch, and at the end of the day, they send you home with a case of the wine that you bottled. I'm all for working for my booze....

After driving back to the Inn we headed over to the restaurant GTO's over in Sebastopol. We got the recommendation from the people at Suncé when we asked where they would recommend for steak. After drinking all that red meat, we were in red meat mood. Well actually, AJ was in a red meat mood. Now that I think about it, he's always in a red meat mood. And when he's not in the mood for red meat, he's in the mood for sushi....

GTO's ended up being a Seafood House, with a cajun/creole twist. But they had a great filet stuffed with bleu cheese (which AJ had). I ended up getting some fried seafood sampler which was good, but probably not the best option. I could have gotten fried seafood pretty much anywhere. But it's hard for me to turn down something labelled "sampler"....

At GTO's we ended running into the farmer's family from Gabriel's Farm. They stopped at our table and said hello to us and asked us how our dinner was. AJ was a little concerned that they saw us, as he was talking about the farmer during our dinner, just before they came over. He and I were both amused with how much the farmer, who had gone to Santa Cruz to study organic farming, before taking over Gabriel's Farm was exactly like someone you would expect an organic farmer to be. Attractive, healthy in a natural sort of way (like she worked out in the fields all day - which she does - but not like she overworks herself in the fields), wearing overalls, slightly crunchy but not too Berkeley crunchy, friendly with a down home attitude. Hopefully they didn't hear us talking about them, but really, we didn't say anything offensive (I don't think)...

We also ran into the people from Suncé, the ones that recommended the place. We had only been in town for one day, and already we were meeting people that we knew! Sonoma is like that.

The next day proved that all of Sonoma was really small. AJ woke up early and ran out for coffee and ran into our friend David from SF. He was up in Sonoma celebrating a friend who had finally finished his thesis. Did no one stay in SF?

We jumped in the car and took a drive over to the coast, something we wanted to do with the convertible. We figured we could find a nice breakfast place that overlooked the ocean, but alas the coast was completely fogged in, and we couldn't find any place to eat. So we headed over to Bodega Bay for some grub. We arrived too late for the breakfast menu, but I had a faboo crab cioppino. It was delicious and AJ was highly amused at the waiter who insisted I wear a bib as I ate the cioppino (and in fact put it on me without even asking if I wanted it or not). Good thing though, as the crab was messy, and even with the bib, I was able to get a little bit of the tomato based seafood stew on my tshirt sleeve (which unfortunately was not covered by the bib).

After brunch we headed back to Guerneville and to check out the Wine and Food fair, but ended up skipping it due to sticker shock (we were feeling cheap - though we later been told that it is totally worth the price, so perhaps next time). We ended up heading over to our favorite winery in a shack, Porter Creek for some wine tasting.

Porter Creek is actually one of my favorite wineries. The tasting room really is in a tin shack, and it's probably the most down home winery you'll taste in. But the wine is tasty, and the person who pours is always amusing - and often drunk by the time we get there (usually around noon - it's the first one on the Westside Road that we usually drive on to go wine tasting). We were the only ones there on Sunday, so we ended up getting friendly with the pourer (is there a name for someone who works at a wine tasting room? Coffee Shops have baristas, don't you think that someone working at a wine tasting room should have a special name?)

The wine pourer (we still don't know his name) is a big old gay bear. But my coworker SWEARS that he is straight. I've argued with her on several occasions about it (because NO ONE in their right mind would EVER be able to peg him as straight), but she continued to insist that he is DEFINITELY STRAIGHT (even though he lives in Guerneville, and has volunteered for AIDS organizations up there in Sonoma County and, well, he looks like a big gay bear). My coworker was the one that found all this information out - but refused to let any of the information sway her. In her defense, I am sure that there are straight men who volunteer at AIDS organizations in Russian River....but I just haven't met them yet.

This time, I was determined to come back with some sort of unrefutable evidence for her - something even she couldn't deny.

So during the tasting, I was able to procur this vital information about the man: He moved up from San Francisco about three years ago with his dog. When he lived in San Francisco, he lived in the Castro. He had a significant other who had children, and they raised their children together. He is no longer with his significant other, but they are very close. His significant other is paying for him to go a cruise. It will be heaven for him (his words), as he gets his own room, along with 4000 other single men. The cruise is a gay cruise. His ex-significant other is male.

When I ended up presenting this information to my coworker, she weakly tried to argue that maybe... okay she finally admitted that he was gay. "But he wore flannel!" she used as a defense.

"Yeah, like the guy in the Village People who wore flannel."

*sigh*

It's obvious that her gaydar is complete off, as we all have suspicions about her boyfriend, the ex-chef, now massage therapist with an ever so slight speech impediment and a love of the color pink. But we won't go down that road.

After Porter Creek, we decided that we were done with wine tasting, but still wanted to drive down West Side Road - it's a pretty ride. I had to go to the bathroom pretty bad so we stopped off at Roshambo Winery. And, of course, we run into our friend Peter and Grant and a couple of their friends as well. Apparently none of the gay men that I knew in San Francisco stuck around the city.

We hung out for awhile at Roshambo, ate some crepes (delightful) and then took off for the city. The trip away from San Francisco was over.

I had originally wanted to go up to Sonoma to go apple picking and to relive my old memories. Instead, I had a great weekend, full of food, wine, more food, friends (new and old), and the love of my life AJ. I never really had a chance to relive my old memories of apple picking, but instead, I was able to create new memories. And if my waist is a casualty of those memories, so be it. I heart food. I always will.

New Posts

2006-10-12T00:24:00.000-07:00

I am not dead. They are coming. Really they are. It's just taking me longer than usual to ramble....

Stay tuned....

Dear Mr Shopper,

2006-09-12T22:16:00.000-07:00

Dear Mr. Shopper,

This is an open letter to you. You know who you are. You are the man that stood three customers ahead of me at Loehmann's today. The line was extruciatingly long, and moving very slowly. We made eye contact (by accident) and you seemed extremely nervous and (dare I say) fearful of me - quickly averting your eyes, lest you convey some sort of "attraction" or mislead me into thinking you were interested in me.

I realize that it might have seem like I was making a pass at you, or cruising you down. But you are mistaken. The line took forever, and I couldn't help but look at EVERYONE and ANYTHING while I waited to use my $20 off coupon (on any $50 purchase) that expired today. Apparently everyone else was also using this coupon, and the clerks at Loehmann's aren't the fastest.

Nevertheless, I take offense at the fearful quick averting eye tactic you made. But, perhaps I misinterpreted your expression. Perhaps the eye aversion was merely politeness. And perhaps the quick turning to the vacuous blonde Marina girl next to you, in which you said something witty and flirty, to assert your straightness was just that - a witty flirty comment. The Marina girl seemed to appreciate it, laughing out loud and giggling absurdly at whatever you said. Perhaps it really was quite funny, with the savage wit that you straight people are known to have (that wacky hilarious fat guy on King of Queens cracks me up every time!). My, how I wish I did not have my iPod on so that I could have revelled in the hilarity.

Let me assure you though, that I, by no means, confused you with a gay man. Perhaps it was the ill-fitting shirt you were wearing that clued me in on your sexual orientation. You know, the one with the slogan from some B-B-Q joint which might have been cute had it actual fit you (hint: flairing sleeves on the arm of a T-shirt = straight man, fitted sleeves on the arm of T-shirt = gay man). Perhaps if the shirt had been worn in an ironic sense, like you had just found it at a used/thrift store instead of looking like you actually got it for free by going to said B-B-Q joint I might have mistaken you for gay. Or perhaps if you did not have the bad overgrown hair ontop your head, with the male patterned baldness there could have been another case of mistaken sexual identity. But a gay man would have clipped it short, or had a stylist disguise that balding spot in the back of your head. You seemed to not care about your hair at all, which screams "I watch Spike TV."

But I generalize and stereotype. Perhaps you were gay, but just found me unattractive. Or perhaps you have been trained in the big city ways - to avoid eye contact lest you be accosted by crazy homeless people. And for that I apologize. But if you were what I think you were - an uncomfortable straight man, I have a piece of advice for you. Don't shop in Loehmann's in San Francisco. It's full of gay men, and sooner or later, there will be eye contact.

Wherein AJ enters his mid30's and I have weird dreams

2006-09-07T21:47:00.000-07:00

A couple of Mondays ago (August 28th) AJ had his birthday. The boy turned 34 - so everyone email him and tell him happy late birthday! As he said, he's now firmly in his mid-30's, and can no longer say that he is in his "early 30's" ha! And in the next two months, I can say that he is a whole TWO years older than me.... heh heh.

I took him to a fabulous restaurant (Quince) which I wanted to feature as a "new restaurant of the month" choice, but when I called they told me the max they could accommodate would be 12 in the chef's kitchen table - and that there would be with an $80 prix fixe menu.

So I decided that was a bit rich for everyone.

I had known about Quince for quite awhile because of my fascination with the quince fruit. I once made a quince pie (back when I first moved to SF) which I believe Rita, Damon and our friend Cara tasted and it was lovely. I have yet to make the pie again, but one of these days I'll get around to making it again. I don't think I knew AJ back then, so he's actually never tasted a quince before. They are a bit hard to come by - though I'm sure if I were to go to some of the myriad of farmer's markets in SF I'd be able to find them during the fall season. I actually found them at my favorite produce market (22nd and Irving) out in the sunset so maybe this year will be the return f the quince pie....

We had actually tasted an appetizer of some of Quince's food from one of the Meals on Wheels fundraiser and that was what really inspired me to want to go there. I think it might have been a liberty duck with bing cherries that they made that was absolutely delicious. Or maybe I'm wrong - I can't quite remember. Mmmm. Duck. I love duck.

So since I wasn't able to do it with the "new restaraunt of the month" group, I saved the restaurant for AJ and I and it was amazing, but after seeing it, I understand why they couldn't fit large parties. It's a pretty small restaurant. And it was fancy. Not just fancy with italics, but fancy with curly q - italics wedding invitation script type fancy.

I love that.

I had lunch with Karen and Felisa at the Educated Palate the day after. I told them all about the dinner and went into details about the evening and the food.

Side Note: Educated Palate is part of the City College Hospitality Program. It's an actual class where students run the restaurant - taking the order, cooking the food, serving and clearing. Tuesday was the first day the restaraunt was open to the public for lunch (Fall semester just started) and all the students were nervous. Unfortunately our experience was a complete "F" if we were to grade them on service. Our food took over an hour, and finally we had to tell them that we needed it to go because everyone had to get back to work. We decided that we were going to go back at the end of the semester to see if they have improved at all. Check back with us about that.

For AJ's birthday dinner at Quince, when I had made the reservations the hostess had asked me if this was a special occasion. I told her it was for my boyfriend's birthday, and she asked his name. So when we were seated, I sort of expected the menus to say something like "Happy Birthday A.J." on them. But alas they did not. So I figured that maybe they would be lighting a candle on some sort of dessert at the end of the evening. I did assume that AJ would be spared a group of waiters singing to him (this was no Buca di Beppo).

As were getting situated at the table, a different hostess came up, apologized profusely and said "I'm so sorry, but he gave you two the wrong menus. Here you go." And lo and behold - these menu's said "Happy Birthday, A.J." on them! AJ seemed touched and pleased by that.

After deliberating on the menu for awhile (which included asking the server to expain each and every single item on the second course as they were all pasta dishes written in Italian - like I said, it was fancy) we had made our choices.

For our first course AJ had a Salmon Tartare with grapefruit and bacon avocado (on the cutest toast points that were cut out in the shape of fish!) and I enjoyed delicious stuffed squash blossoms with cheese (I must find some and do this immediately, because they are so my new favorite thing ever). AJ and I split the second course which was a sort of pasta that I can't remember the name of (starts with a T), but it was folded and sliced thick, almost as if they were pasta sheets, but denser and chewier - as if they were large square flat gnocci noodles, covered in a rich basil pesto sauce. Extremely tasty. The final course for the birthday boy was a medium rare liberty duck with grapes and fingerling potatoes, while I had the veal rack with chanterelle mushrooms and spinach. The duck was amazing, and the veal was very good (though I had the tiniest bit of food envy with AJ's duck - it really was superb, and as I stated before, I love duck).

We opted to skip dessert, as we still had leftover pie from our pizza and pie night on Saturday that we had invited people to. The waiter seemed surprised and a little disappointed but we explained that we had dessert at home. So he brought out a small scoop of anise ice cream anyway and lit a candle on it, and everyone in our corner of the restaurant wished AJ a happy birthday! No singing commenced (though the guy next to us tried to sing a little bit to AJ but I think he might have been a wee bit drunk).

The restaurant is located over at Octavia and Bush which is sort of Pacific Heights, lower Marina. And, as usual, when we go to restaurants like this (where the clientele seems mostly older, or mostly straight) they lump us in the corner with the only other gays there. Even when we get out of the gay ghetto of the Castro we get put in the ghetto in the restaurant. I used to think it's coincidental, but it's happened so many times, that I just assume that it happens either on purpose, or unconciously by the host/hostess. I don't mind so much, but I do find it amusing.

We couldn't quite figure out what the other three gay guys were doing in the restaurant (other than enjoying a damn fine meal - I was envious of their cheese selection that they had made - though I think it had more to do with the fact that I love it when food is wheeled to me as the cheese selection was wheeled to them. This might explain my fascination and love with dim sum).

Not that AJ and I were eavesdropping at all, but the three gay guys obviously did NOT know each other at all. Perhaps it was a three-way date? They were a bit older, but very well dressed and this is San Francisco. They might have been on a business meeting, but all three of them seemed a bit guarded the way you might be when you haven't met the other person before. One had an ex that had slept with the model on the gay.com billboard in the castro. One lived in West Portal. And one had moved to SF to be with his now ex.

Okay so maybe we did eavesdrop a little. Shame on us.

After explaining the dinner to Felisa and Karen, Karen said that she didn't really care for fancy restaurants. In fact she would much prefer to eat at hole in the wall dives. Not that I can't completely understand that sentiment, as I love a dive joint as much as the next guy (j'adore Tu Lan), but you can't live on greasy imperial rolls for extended periods of time (trust me, I've tried - Tu Lan is a block and half away from work). Of course, this is coming from the woman who actually once told me that she doesn't like a high thread count for her sheets. Karen claims that she actually prefers her sheets ever so slightly scratchy, because they feel cleaner than a smooth high thread count sheet. Ah Karen, Karen, Karen....

After getting home AJ opened his presents (camera bag! new cereal bowls! t-shirts galore! and much more!) which is all the more impressive as I had to run around and buy him all the presents during my lunch and after work, as I had not had time to get him anything before hand, and hadn't a clue what to get him. When in doubt I opted to go the route of "BUY ANYTHING and EVERYTHING that AJ might possibly REMOTELY be of INTEREST" which seemed to work out well. Go me.

We then partook of pie and Haägen-Dazs vanilla bean ice cream. AJ had the summer berry (blueberry, strawberry, and raspberry) pie, while I had the peach pie. And then we went to bed - where we did what couples do....

After falling asleep the fun didn't end for me though. Apparently all that rich food and the extra rich ice cream triggered my mind to work over time, because I had some vivid dreams.

When I was a younger, I used remember the dreams I had at night rather vividly. I even kept a sporadic dream journal where I would write down my dreams. I had gotten so in tune with my dreams that I once (only once) figured out that I was in the middle of a dream, and that I didn't like it (I think in the dream, my friend Nancy Algranati from high school was coming onto me, and flirting with me and I really didn't see her like - what with me being gay and all - and I really didn't want to date here, and then in the dream I found out she was pregnant, and she said it was my child, all the while I was trapped in her car in her garage with her...the dream was all very uncomfortable), I jumped out of it, and force myself to dream about something else.

It was all very Nightmare On Elm Street Pt. 3 (Dream Warriors).

As I got older though, I got lazy and stopped keeping my dream journal and I pretty much stop remember my dreams (or having any sort of super powers in my dreams). My dreams slowly faded away into my subconcious, and I never really paid that much attention to them anymore.

But that night, I dreamt extremely vividly - to the point where I actually remember them after I woke up.

In the first dream I was part of an elite group of people who were tasked to get into a high security vault. The vault was located inside a large skyscraper complex, and we had to sneak into the building unseen. It was all very Sydney Bristow - Alias.

I was one of only three people who knew what was in the vault to be stolen. I apparently was also head of the team as well. The item that we were stealing, the precious valuable commodity we were tasked to find and retrieve was....a special brownie.

When we broke into this vault, the other two people who knew what we were stealing decided they wanted to taste this incredibly valuable brownie. They argued that if they were doing all the work, they needed to experience it. I tried to stop them but they would have none of that. They both took a little corner and nibbled at it.

And it turned them in to monochromatic zombies. They slowly transformed into these strange slightly fuzzy (as if they were covered in felt) zombies, in unnatural colors. And the zombificaiton of them was contagious. Soon the world was full of these monochromatic zombies, all blue, all green, all pink terrorize the world, walking around like zombies do.

And there wasn't a thing I could do about it. That damn special brownie.

AJ once ate a special brownie (his one and only experiment with illegal substances). It did not turn him into a monochromatic zombie. However it was the day that he actually met me. He warned me right after he met me that he was "under the influence of an illicit drug" and that I shouldn't be alarmed if he acted strange. Since I had never met him before, I had no baseline comparison. To his credit he didn't even seem that spacey or high (I later found out that after meeting me, he really tried to suck it up and act as normal as possible, as he was interested in me...awwww....). His friend Bryan though, he was a total space cadet, staring at a kitchen cabinet for hours on end...

I, on the other hand, have never had a special brownie. I was offered one and actually took a special brownie last year at halloween at a party. It is still sitting in my desk drawer though - nestled amongst removable scotch tape that I never use, an A/V i-pod cable that I never use, and an old mouse that I never use. I felt like it was waste to throw it away, but now that it's nearly a year old, I think it might be time for it to be tossed. It probably has lost it's potency by now anyway.

The second dream from the night of AJ's birthday was of me having an affair with someone from college - Stephen Spivey. We had our tryst in a mansion (it was unclear if it was his mansion or mine). Regardless, the tryst wasn't anything too exciting. In fact I remember (in the dream) that I was rather ho-hum about him throughout the entire affair, and the one thing I remember the most about it was that I loved the gorgeous dark gray marble tiling in the master bedroom bathroom. It was just beautiful and so cooling to the feet.

In college Steven had long dirty blonde hair (actually I recently read in InStyle magazine that the color is no longer called "dirty blonde" - instead it is referred to "honey blonde"), that he kept in a pony tail. This sounds unattractive, but actually it looked quite nice on him, as he had amazing flawless skin and killer cheekbones. He was tall and slim and attractive, and had a really great boyfriend (who I cannot remember the name of at all - oh wait, his name was Kevin) who also went to Washington University. At that time, it was pretty rare for gays to be out on campus, and Steven and his boyfriend (in my eyes) were as close to A-list college boys as you got.

I think it was because they were the only out gay men that I knew on campus that were actually attractive. A few years later I believe a number of gay men came out, but my freshman and sophmore years, there were scant gay men that I knew of, out and about.

Steven still had his long hair with the ponytail in the dream. He had cut it off by his senior year, and I have to admit, he looked much better without it. But in my memory he'll always have that ponytail. And apparently in my dreams he does too.

I hadn't thought about Steven in years - probably since graduating from college. Though he was attractive, I never really personally found him attractive. I'm not quite sure why, but I think he was the sort of person that others found attractive, and you could always see why they found him attractive, but it never really peaked any personal interest.

Even my friend Renee (who did NOT go to my college) was friends with him (though I can't remember how) and apparently had a crush on him. She once showed up unannounced at his apartment, only to knock on his door and find him unwilling to let her into his single bedroom apartment. Awkward silence ensued, where Renee jokingly asked Steven if he had picked up a co-ed at the local bar, or maybe he had an unmentioned girlfriend over. Steven told him that he really wished that she had called first...when Kevin walked by the door to go to the bathroom. Renee was truly embarrassed by that, and never called on anyone again unannounced.

Regardless I haven't thought of him in ages, and I'm not quite sure why my brain decided to recall him that night. But it did. And strangely I didn't feel the least bit guilty about having an affair with Steven on the night of AJ's birthday when I woke up (often times lingering feelings from the dream are left over for me - I once in college, had to call my mom to make sure she was alive, after I had dreamed that she had passed away). I think this time I had no guilt because I knew that I would never really have an affair with Steven. It was so preposterous since 1 - I never found him attractive to begin with, 2 - I have no clue where he is, having lost track of him years ago, and 3 - obviously, even in the dream, I didn't really enjoy the affair all that much, what with me being more interested in the marble floor and the bathroom that he had in his mansion than himself.

But it has me wondering now, if Steven is out there actually living in a mansion. I wonder if he is having luxuriously long bubble baths in his master bedroom bathroom which is the size of my apartment. I wonder if Steven walks around barefoot on his cool gray marble floor and sleeps at night dreaming about having an affair with me.

And I know if he does have all these things, and he does have the dreams about me, he'll have to keep wondering about having that affair with me. Because, though I don't have a mansion, with cool marble and a giant bathroom, I have a boyfriend who just turned 34. He doesn't have honey blonde hair, or a ponytail. But he has something that Steven will never be able to get. AJ has my heart, and my love. And that's something everyone else can only just dream about.

Happy Birthday AJ. I love you.

It was always inevitable.

2006-08-31T20:06:00.000-07:00

Obligatory Apologetic Note (OAN): Third Midwest post still coming...

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It was always inevitable. As much as I tried to fight it, and try to avoid it, I knew that I would eventually submit. It was fate, and it was meant to be.

I have become Californian.

I now have an acupuncturist. And the fact of the matter is, it doesn't phase me in the least that I might actually be going down the slippery slope of new age homeopathic flakey Californian. Nope. Going to the acupuncturist seemed completely natural.

I was fairly well grounded before I moved to California. I was a normal everday sort of midwestern boy growing up. Sure I was Asian, and gay, slightly obsessed with musicals, and knew a little bit too much about fashion to be considered average, but on the whole I had that hearty Midwestern attitude, the one that says "if I work hard enough, I'll be able to achieve anything in my life."

I did go through a phase where I became a super Christian (hey, it's was the midwest) where I listened to a lot of Amy Grant (pre-Peter Cetera duet "The Next Time I Fall In Love") and Michael W. Smith ("Friends are Friends Forever....") and went to Asian Christian Summer Camp. But it was a fluke that didn't last (Amy Grant sold out anyway - singing that stupid song Baby Baby... she should be ashamed of herself).

When I first moved to San Francisco though, I was quite fearful that I would turn all flakey new age talk to the trees type. I already knew a little bit too much about the zodiac (I'm a libra) but mostly it was because my friend Lowell was deeply engrossed in it, and it rubbed off on me. It didn't help that pretty much everything Lowell said about libras was textbook me. Apparently us libras are sensitive to the needs of others, and will bend over backwards to help out other, often times to the detriment of ourselves. Or perhaps that's just me, I can't remember.

Regardless I avoided talking too much about the zodiac, other than joking about it with random friends, but then I found myself dating a man who believed it through and through.

I met this man, with my friend Rita at an art school open house. At the time I had a string of really bad dates, and had given all of them nicknames. "Right On Jimmy" was just one of the many that I dated during that time, but he gave me one of my first tastes of what I came to call New Age California Crap.

Right On Jimmy was pretty interesting. He seemed very normal, attractive, well put together, and very gregarious. Rita had invited me to the California College of Arts and Crafts (CCAC) open house (they had bought and revamped a brand new facility in San Francisco and had invited the public to view it - in what turned out to be the "gala event" of the season) where she was to start working under a magazine that they had just acquired - DBR.

The magazine DBR stood for Design Book Review and they...well they reviewed books on design, mostly architectural design. Rita never knew how to properly explain that to people. At cocktail parties people would ask her where she worked, and she would tell them that she was an editor at a magazine called Design Book Review. Inevitably they would ask what the magazine was about, and she'd have to say,..."well, it's a magazine where we review books...on ...design". And then she would feel foolish and they would feel foolish for asking, and the conversation would come to a screeching halt like the needle being pulled off the record player, with that loud scratching noise.

The night started with us walking through the guest line because Rita has VIP passes (something she didn't realize the power of) as the line was at least a 2 hour wait. It degenerated from there as Rita and I were on a roll all night long, witty banter flowing between the two of us like Lauren Graham on crack, making jokes, laughing up a storm and making hilarity ensue with the simpliest of phrases. I have a tendency to talk EXTREMELY LOUD when I am having fun, and pretty much don't realize it. When I talk loud, my voice projects, and the next thing you know, I'm the obnoxious guy at the party or the restaurant that everyone it turning around to look at. Rita and I had developed a code at that evening during one of our numerous witty banter moments, where everytime my voice raised above a certain arbitrary decimal level, she would say "HALFTONE" meaning I should cut my volume in half. It also referenced all the graphic design students work that we were looking at where we were having way too much fun.

It was all much more amusing at that particular moment than it probably sounds. You'll just have to trust Rita and I on that one.

Regardless, we met Right On Jimmy under a poster on display where I was telling people randomly that Rita was the designer of the poster, and I was the model in the poster (you couldn't tell really tell what the model looked like, as the model had fallen into a box). Like I said before, it was all very amusing - to us at least.

And apparently to Right on Jimmy as well. We got to talking and he invited Rita and I to the now defuncct Club Universe (big dance club where all the circuit boys hung out at when they weren't at circuit parties - may it rest in peace) where he was doing a launch party for a CD single by Jeannie Tracey for the record label that he ran. Jeannie Tracey is a disco diva from the 70's that was still around doing dance singles - she's probably most famous for being half of a duo called TWO TONS O' FUN where the other ton was Martha Wash of The Weather Girls "It's Raining Men" fame. At least I think that was her. I might be wrong. Those large African American house divas are all the same to me.

Anyway , turns out, Right on Jimmy was an A-List Gay. I am SO not A-list. This became apparent when we started to date.

A couple of dates in, I had learned a little bit about Right on Jimmy like he was an Aquarius (which apparently was a really good match with Libras - so props to me for being born in October!), that he could read auras, and had done the "The Forum" EST training program.

Jimmy also always constantly used the phrase "Right On" and "Fantastic" over and over. Right On Jimmy sounded better (and funnier) than Fantastic Jimmy as a nickname and so it stuck. It was after an overnight date, he invited me to "church."

Now "church" for Right On Jimmy was not the same as going to church for most people. Right On Jimmy's church was held on Sundays at the Swedish American Hall on Market Street in the Castro and was called "Radiant Light." That should have been enough of a clue that Right On Jimmy and I weren't meant to be.

The Sunday that we went to "church" happened to also be the Sunday of Mother's Day. Radiant Light was to capitalize on this, as I was soon to find out.

I really didn't know what to expect when I went to Radiant Light. I walked in, and it seemed very informal. No one was really dressed up, and in fact, it seemed that there were a number of gay muscle men who had stayed up all night long partying hard at the club (most likely Club Universe) only to come to "church" afterwards.

The first person who got up on stage gave a few announcements, and then proceeded to hand the mike to a man who I assumed was the leader/reverend/priest whatever you call the person in charge who gave the sermon at this "church." He started off by thanking everyone for coming and wanting to acknowledge that he knew how hard it was to get up this early on a Sunday - especially after a night of partying. He then said, he wanted to help WAKE EVERYONE UP and proceeded to pressed the "play" button next to the boombox that I had failed to notice sitting on the floor next to him. The next thing you know, LOUD TRANCE MUSIC filled the room and the entire audience were on their feet raising the roof.

I hate trance music.

Apparently the gay muscle men were still tweaking on crystal because they were the loudest and the most riotous. I half expected them to bust out and start flagging, but the song was only 5 minutes (a short remix, thank goodness) and we all sat down, adrenaline pumping (the dancing probably kicked everyone else adrenaline up a notch, but I think it was pure fear on my part, in terms of "what the hell did I get myself into?" that got my heart racing).

The sermon was about Mother's Day and how to get in touch with your inner mother. I can't really remember much more about the sermon itself (there was a lot of meditating and a lot of visualizing your inner mother and then talking to her as if she was in front of you). It's quite possible I have blocked it out of my memory. However I do remember that after the sermon ended, I thought Radiant Light was over - only to find that there was one more thing the group was to do.

We had to form a Healing Circle.

Now no one explained to me that we were forming the healing circle. Apparently I had missed the memo for it, but the entire congregation formed a circle with our arms wrapped around each other. Long pause where I am confused as to what were were doing (is this a group hug? Will there be some sort of ritual sacrifice in the middle of the room?) and the next thing I know, the woman next to me kissed me on the cheek.

Huh.

Well, I figure that she was friendly, and I'd much rather get a kiss from her, than see a virgin goat bled to death in the middle of the circle, when I noticed that there were others getting kisses on the cheek.

Confused, I looked around at the other people who were new to this strange cult like activity. They looked equally confused, but a few of them were kissing the cheek of the person next to them as well, in the hopes that this facilitate them getting the hell out of there.

So apparently I had broken the cycle of kissing, because they had to start all over, with the leader kissing the next person, and that person kissing the person next to them. This was the healing circle. One person kissing the next until it had passed all the way around without the circle breaking. You'd think they would have explained that to us newbies, but perhaps that was part of the "healing circle" - perhaps everyone had to figure it out. Or perhaps I had stopped listening to the sermon halfway through when they had me talking to my inner mother. Perhaps my mom's nagging and blatant guilt trips in my head kept me from actually listening to the part in the sermon where they explain that you will be soon kissing a random stranger on the cheek. Either way, I made sure to kiss Right On Jimmy next to me when the woman next to me kissed me and the circle continued until some other confused newbie broke it.

Two or three kisses in, the circle was complete, with everyone figuring it out.

Right on Jimmy didn't work out, and there were many reasons why. He did become the source of many stories (he's the one responsible for me being able to casually use the phrase "well, the time that I was on the porn set...") and I keep on being reminded of him randomly - even now seven years later. Last I heard he had moved to New York, and I've seen him in not one, but two different B-Level gay magazines in the gay papparazzi section (Instinct, and HX) in the past three months. The boy gets around.

After we stopped dating, I met AJ and being from the heartland as well (Indiana) I didn't have to really worry about anything too flakey. At least not from him. We dated for 7 months, and broke up for 5 months (but were best buds during the breakup, with a little sexual tension thrown in all leading to a fateful reunion which is a story for another time) and that's when I had my second face to face encounter with the New Age California Crap which I had been avoiding fastidiously.

AJ had invited me to a theme party (The Dead Celebrity Party! - come dressed up as a dead celebrity). It sounded fun, but I was a little unsure about going, as AJ and I weren't dating and I didn't know how it would be going to the party with him. But then I found out that his ex-wife was going to be there, and well, I had to go and meet her.

I ransacked my closet, and came up with an outfit for the dead guy from Milli Vanilli (a costume I would later recycle with AJ for halloween the following year). The host of the party didn't get my costume ("are you a...pirate?") but everyone else got it immediately, and I was quite the hit (I just figured the host was super drunk). AJ dressed as Oscar Wilde, and we hung out with Kurt Cobain (complete with flannel shirt and bullet wound in the head), Dana Plato - the Diff'rent Strokes child actress that ODed (complete with pills affixed to her face) and Ling Ling the Panda.

Sadly Ling Ling was a great idea, but poor execution. The woman (Nina was her name, if I can recall correctly) had come wearing regular everyday clothes, but had a red and white "hello my name is..." sticker on that she has sharpie-d the name "Ling Ling the panda."

Ling Ling (Nina) was actually pretty cool - or so I thought. We ended up chatting for awhile outside on the patio deck and compared notes about living in the bay area (she had moved up from Southern California) and ex-boyfriends. I told her about AJ who was at the party, and she told me about her ex-boyfriend who she had just broken up. She was a hip cool Asian girl with a sense of style and a sassy attitude, and as I had only a handful of friends in San Francisco, I thought to myself "hey, maybe we could hang out sometime..."

We bonded over the fact that we were both thinking of getting back together with our ex's which is always a little awkward. I told her I wasn't sure, but I might. She told me she's contemplating it as well. "You know, I really think he's changed."

Now, this is usually a really bad sign. When someone says "You know, I really think he's changed..." often you are setting yourself up for heartache. I felt Ling Ling really was heading for the worst. Until I heard why she thought he had changed.

"It was really hard for him to understand me. All the trauma that I've undergone - in my past lives. I mean I have a lot of baggage from those past lives, and he can't deal with it. He just didn't get it. But he's trying so hard now. I mean, I really really think he's changed. He's taken up YOGA for me!"

I love it when people talk about their past lives in a completely non-ironic sense. I get all warm and fuzzy inside. And then I excuse myself and try to walk on the other side of the street whenever I see them.

I "went to the bathroom" shortly afterwards. It's not that I have anything against people who believe in reincarnation, or, for that matter, any other of religious belief (except for Scientologists who really DO scare the bejesus out of me). It's just the way that people seemed to be able to talk about it so casually to a complete stranger. I'm from the midwest - you NEVER talk about religion or politics. But people love to do it in California (talk politics and religion) all the time.

After eight years of living here, I've finally adjusted (I think).

Which comes to me going to an acupuncturist. I was uncertain about going but one of my therapists (one of? Yes, one of...I have three therapist at the moment, but that's a story for another time) suggested it, and I figured, hey, if I have three therapist, why not try acupuncture as well. Especially if your therapist recommends it (damn I must be really stressed if he's suggesting it...)

And you know what? After a few sessions, I sort of like it.

I'm not sure if it is working or not. In fact I don't even know if I believe in it or not. When he sticks the needles in me, and I feel the tiny sharp buzz that is suppose to be him hitting my qi, I sometimes think "well that could be the qi he is hitting - or that could be him just hitting a nerve of mine..."

But I like the fact that I go to an office, and have someone stick needles in me to fix my qi and I'll eventually have an extraordinary sense of "well-being" from it. I like that every time I go, the acupuncturist (a non-judgemental older gay man) asks me how my week was, and I get to relate to him all the things I relate to my other therapists and he sympathetically asks me questions from a competely different perspective.

It's as if I have a FOURTH therapist, but one that will fix things without me having to do the work. I don't have to do the hard thinking, I don't have to explain my fears to him, like I do to my therapists, and have them question me as to why I have those fears, or if I think those fears are there for a reason. In fact, I don't really have to think at all, the needles do the work! And I don't have any responsibility to the problems that I have - I can blame it on my qi!

I love that!

But in the end, even if part of me wonders if the acupuncture is all a bunch of hooey, part of me feels like I am getting something out of it, even if it's not a more balanced qi (whatever that is). Maybe it's the therapy (-ies) or maybe it's the acupuncture, but I am feeling more whole, more grounded. Maybe I am getting in touch with my inner mother. Maybe I'm ready to confront my past lives. I don't know. All I know is that I find myself more able to deal with life and everything it offers.

I'm finally at the stage of my life where I'm willing to admit to myself that I'm scared of certain things. I'm willing to voice concerns over things I'm unhappy about. And I'm willing to accept that there are certain things I can do, and certain things I can not do. But on top of all that, I know that none of these things will kill me. I can be scared of something, but it will no longer paralyze me. I can be unhappy and it won't cripple me. I can get through it all - and I will get through it all.

And that knowledege is worth it's weight in gold.

So now I'm at a critical juncture of my life. The problems that brought me into therapy in the first place haven't changed. But I have. And I no longer feel like the life that I have is going to end. I feel like the life that I don't have yet will begin. And call it what you will - New Age California Crap or just a 30something epiphany, I'm doing my best to face it head on.

I'll be scare. I have and probably will cry from sadness and frustration. I'll probably be hurt and be confused. But I'll deal with that when it comes, just like I've dealt with it in the past. And I know I'll get through it, and I'll be better and stronger while it all happens and when it happens.

But if ever go vegan raw, just bitch slap me. In the meanwhile, I'm going to look into yoga classes....

Stalking Michael Bauer

2006-08-23T18:51:00.000-07:00

Obligatory Apologetic Note (OAN): I'm in the process of writing up a third post about the Midwest trip. I've written about 2/3rds of it, and it's about TWICE as long as the second post. In the interim, here's another post. I'll post about the midwest trip more, but really, it mammoth sized....just be warned....I'm actually in the middle ofwriting a few posts, so we'll see what gets put up next.
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When I was a young gay man (back in the day) I had habit of stalking people. I would become slightly obsessed with them, think about them a lot and then make mix tapes to send to them.

It usually did not end well.

Today at work I went on SFgate.com to kill some time. I was rather bored, and ended up clicking on some of the blogs that the Chronicle staff has. I was entertained by the staff writer that was trying to do the Master Cleanse Fast (the one where you only drink spicy homemade lemonade for 10 days) but after 5 days she had to stop. Apparently she never reached the peaceful nirvana where you stop being hungry and crabby and everything becomes crystal clear and in focus. I have contemplated doing the Fast myself, but I have never gotten around to it. One of these days. Perhaps.

Either way, with no more fasting exploits to read about, I ended up at the food critic's blog by Michael Bauer. Mr. Bauer was complaining in his blog that he has a hard time finding people to dine with who were accommodating in thew ay that needs them to be when he goes out to review a restaurant. It turns out that people are always asking him, but in the end when he does invite them out, they inevitably are picky and want to order something like the Ribeye Steak, but he needs them to order the fish instead, as he already tried the steak last time round.

A more difficult issue is when he tells his dining companion that he/she needs to have the pig's feet terrine or the trippa ala Fiorentina (stewed tripe) for an appetier instead of, say, the more safe House Salad.

Well my immediate thought was, HEY, I'll eat anything. Especially if the meal if paid for. So my thought is this... Why doesn't Michael Bauer have me as a dining companion?

I posted as much on the comments section of his blog, stating that I was available as a dining companion, and I have the added bonus of being Asian.

Now why does this matter - me being Asian? Well (as I wrote in the comment) it's usually the white people that I am friends with that have a limited palate. Sure there's the occasional vegetarian buddhist Asian guy, but on the whole, it's my friends that are "people of color" (meaning latin, black or asian) that will eat anything. We don't have a limited palate - and as I pointed out on in my comment - if there were to be some sort of giant catastrophe to occur, it's the people of color who would survive. We'll eat the WHOLE ANIMAL. Hands down, we win when it comes to utilizing anything edible off of a living creature.

And that's when I got busted by my friend Felisa. She apparently trolls the SFgate blogs as well, and emailed me and said she had read my posting.

I told her I really only posted because I was trolling for a free meal. I'm cheap that way. And she agreed, and said that we should stalk him together.

And so that's what I going to do. I'm stalking Michael Bauer - in the hopes that he'll take me out for a free meal. I figure I can work the Asian angle (because, you know, there aren't that many Asians here in San Francisco.). And if the Asian thing doesn't work out, I'll work the gay angle (One person who posted alluded to the fact that Mr. Bauer had a "partner" who he brought with him to his meals - and though it's true that "partner" could be either sex, and in fact could be something as mundane as a business partner or a food critic partner, I'm just going to assume that Food Critic + San Francisco = Gay Man).

Of course, the gay angle probably would be just as successful as the Asian angle (what with the lack of gay men in the bay area). But you gotta work with what you have. On top of all that, I have my wit, my gregarious nature, the fact that I am relatively social adept (I'll have to be, because let's face it, it's not as if I can ask him when we get together over a meal "So... what do you do for a living?"), and have a fair amount of knowledge of food (though he has said this doesn't matter, at least we would have something in common to talk about) though I have a diverse amount of interests (as shown on this blog) that we would just have to talk about food.

Plus, added bonus, by no means am I snooty about food. I'm comfortable eating at French Laundry as I am eating at the local tacqueria. Hell, I ate a Burger King a week after I read Fast Food Nation a couple of years ago just to prove to myself that I could still eat fast food (though really, I was just craving a Whopper).

I actually don't eat at Burger King anymore now that I think about it. I'd rather go over to Burger Bistro and get a burger there. It's made from Niman Ranch cows (I believe those cows are the ones that are referred to as "the California happy cows") and I feel they are less likely to have mad cow disease. Well, at least that is what AJ tells me to think. Plus Burger King doesn't offer a brie and bacon burger like Burger Bistro does.

So maybe I am a little snooty about food, but I doubt that fast food chains are to be reviewed in the Chronicle. So we're safe on that front.

And mostly it's the fact that I will eat and try anything pretty much once, that I am hoping will convince Mr. Bauer (okay, okay, Michael - after all if we're dining together we might as well call each other by our first names). So email me Michael, and let's do lunch. Or dinner. Or hell, let's do breakfast. I'm not picky.

Just a long as I don't have to resort to making you a mix tape.

Midwest Tour 2006 pt 2 (The Hoosier Strikes Back)

2006-08-09T01:07:00.000-07:00

Obligatory Apologetic Note (OAN): Sorry this took so long. I was awaiting photos to add to this post. Here's part two of the trip...
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The midwest trip was just starting. The ending of Gay Games was amazing - as was seeing AJ race and win a Silver medal. But we were in Chicago. And though Chicago is most certainly in the midwest, it's a big metropolitan city. One of the biggest in the nation. I love Chicago because it's a perfect blend of big city and down home midwest. It's a larger version of my hometown of St. Louis - the big city sister to where I grew up. But in my mind, the midwest trip wasn't about to start until we left the big city for the more down home towns of Indianapolis and St. Louis.

On Sunday we had brunch and took off for AJ's parent's house. His parents had moved out to the country six or seven years ago from Indianapolis (actually from Speedway - home of the Indy 500 if you want to be exact). They now lived near a lake about 45 minutes outside of Indianapolis proper. This worked to our advantage as we didn't have to drive so long.

The road trip was underway! We had rented a giant SUV which technically fit 8 people (it would have been a tight fit for 8 though) We only had six, people but we had a LOT of luggage. Thank goodness that AJ is so good at TETRIS. He was able to finagle all our luggage into the car and left room for six of us.

I love roadtrips. I mean I REALLY love roadtrips. I'm not quite sure why. Maybe because of the constant scene changes. Maybe because you're being productive (traveling from point a to point b) but you can relax and hang out and talk. Maybe it's because I love listening to music or just chit chatting away my friends. Either way, road trips rock.

The SUV was equipped with Sirius Satellite radio and we had a fun time trying to find the appropriate channel to listen to. Mostly we listened to the 80's station and the 90's station, reliving our high school and college days, though that idea did backfire on occasion (Good God. Is that Hootie and the BlowFish? Turn that channel now!). We stumbled across a channel called THE BLEND which suited us well, as it was rather random mix (blend) of songs and genres. We were really trying to find something by John Cougar Mellancamp (him being from Indiana and all). Sirius really needs a channel called "The Heartland" or "The Midwest" that plays songs by John Mellancamp and Sheryl Crow. That would have been perfect for our trip.

Little known fact #1 - AJ actually taught at a high school (right after he finished his teaching program in Indiana) where John Mellancamp performed for the prom. Go figure.

We did eventually find a John Mellancamp song, by the way (BTW). I can't remember what it was, as all his songs sort of sound the same to me, but I remember that is was not a little dittie about Jack and Diane.

Little known fact #2 - AJ knows all the lyrics to Jack and Diane by heart. It is probably the only non Madonna/Dee-lite song that he knows completely word for word, with inflections and everything. I learned this a couple of years ago, when I made a passing reference to the song and he busted out singing it. Something he NEVER does. I was on the floor laughing. I swore I would make him sing it at karaoke, but we've never been able to find since then.

About an hour outside of Chicago we realized that we were going to drive right through Purdue, Indiana. AJ had gone to Purdue for a semester for Chemical Engineering, before transferring over to Indiana University! So we got a little bonus side trip out of it as well. We got the whirlwind tour of the campus as he pointed out to us the dorm that he lived in, and the buildings he took classes in and the giant football stadium that Purdue had. Apparently football is all the rage in Purdue Indiana. Who knew?

If you look closely at the picture, AJ has a look of resignment and slightly amusement at this side trip down memory lane.

It was about another hour into the trip after Purdue that Rita saw the cornfields.

Rita was SO excited about the cornfields. Actually I think everyone was excited really. Well, maybe not AJ and I - though I think we were excited to see everyone else excited. Rita immediately wanted to pull over and take photos of the corn and us next to the corn. We were on a highway with little or no shoulder. We explained to her that it probably wasn't the best place for us to pull over, perhaps we could do it later - at a better/safer place.

Rita was not down with this suggestion. "What if this is our only opportunity? What if there isn't another cornfield for us to take photos in? This could be our only chance!"

AJ and I explained to her that there would PLENTY of chances to take photos with corn. We were in the midwest. Cornfields make up a good 65% of the driving that we were going to be doing. The rest would probably be soybeans. Unless you are driving through Kansas. Then you'd get fields and fields of sunflowers.

She was not convinced, but she let us drive on.

We later stopped about 15 or 20 minutes later at a side road and took photos with the corn and in the cornfield itself. I don't think I've actually ever done that, so I was amused and excited along with everyone else. Surprisingly the entire group seemed fascinated by the cornfields. I made sure that there was documentation of the two midwest gay boys hanging out with the corn. Who doesn't love corn?

We arrived at AJ's parent's house in about four hours from Chicago. Their house is amazing. His parent's had stayed up for us and we had a late sandwich dinner with german potato salad.

AJ gave everyone a tour of his parent's house. His parent's moved there about seven years ago. The house wasn't originally going to be the house they lived in. They had lived in the city and had bought the land out near the lake for a vacation area. They had hired people to build a simple frame house and for years it was pretty much empty. When AJ's parents retired, his mom and dad decided to move into this lake house and remodel it. Well actually, his dad was to remodel it. His mom gave him a five year deadline, and said if it wasn't done by then, she was hiring professionals. Fast forward five years, and the house was 90% done. Today it's complete and gorgeous. His dad did the ceiling, the floors, the woodwork, the fireplaces, the walls and wall treatments, even the stain glass. It's amazing and beautiful. We got a tour of the outside with the patio area and the bridge and the goldfish pond as well as his workshop.

Of special note was the numerous awards and achievements that AJ received in his prestigious academic career on prominent display at his parent's house . AJ's mom said that she took them all out of storage to show them off to us.

Including in this display was a write up in the local newspaper about winning the academic olympic brain game. Having been to their home in the past, I know that this piece of laminated paper is actually on permanent display.

Yes, my boyfriend is a true nerd.

Then we all crowded in upstairs and moved his mom's collection of dolls aside (she has several hundred dolls...) and had a big slumber party upstairs. We were wiped.

The next day we all piled into the SUV (sans luggage) and AJ's parents got in their van with the boat attached, and we went out to lake to try our luck with waterskiing.

The boat, unfortunately couldn't hold all of us and pull someone to waterski as well, so we had to split up into groups to go waterskiing. But first we all six of us piled in to have a quick tour of the lake. It was super fun hanging out on the boat, as AJ's dad drove around the sparkling water with the wind in our hair. We all felt very glamour Duran Duran circa the RIO video. I just needed feathered hair and an unconstructed white blazer to complete the experience.

I've been waterskiing once in my life before. About four years ago. - with AJ and his parent's in this same boat. After three or four tries I was able to get up then, but I was a bit concerned that it was fluke and that I wouldn't be able to get up this time.

It would have all been fine if I hadn't learned later that his parent's were very impressed with me being able to get up that first time I had gone waterskiing. In their eyes, it was a sign of strength that I was able to get up - AJ's ex wife was never able to get up, and hence they always viewed her as weak. But not I. I got up on my first time out.

The question was...what if I couldn't get up again?

It wasn't a problem. I got up on my first attempt with a problem, and it all came back to me. AJ had borrowed a telescopic lens for his new DSLR and took numerous photos, including ones of me making a spectacular ass of myself as I tried to jump over the wake of the boat (though, to my defense, AJ and Damon and everyone in the boat goaded me into doing it- those bastards).

Note the look of intense concentration on my face as I skiied. Go me.

Damon had some experience waterskiing as well when he was a kid, and was able to get up without a problem. AJ, having grown up going to the lake and waterskiing all his life, blew everyone away, making it look easy breezy. He was jumping the wake and swing back and forth with the ease of an old pro.

The rest of the gang didn't fare so well. They all tried really hard, and were able, at certain points, to get up - but they never stayed up, and I think they often times were so surprised that they got up at all and ended up dropping the pull bar. Everyone seemed extremely sore the next day (okay the people who couldnt' get up seemed extremely sore). It truly was a valiant effort and AJ claims that his parent's no longer think in terms of non-waterskiing people as weak. So they shouldn't be concerned with that. :)

That night his parent's "cooked out" which meant we got barbecue! His dad's barbecue rocked, with a homemade sauce and a slow cooking charcoal grill. They had bought eight 1lb porterhouse steaks, as well as made chicken skewers and a ton of sides. We were hungry after all our waterskiing on the lake and gorged ourselves.

The next day we toured Indianapolis AJ style. We got chance to see one of his childhood houses, and his old high school Ben Davis, as well as the Daycare Center that AJ's parent's used to own and that AJ worked at. (The Daycare Center was called The Kiddie Country Club when his parent's owned it, and was originally going to be spelled out The Kiddie Kountry Klub until AJ pointed out to his parents that when you abbreviate that, it would be KKK. They opted to go with a more traditional spelling.) We ran around the Indy 500 racetrack museum and saw gorgeous race cars (yeah, that's Rita looking fierce in the car at the museum). We got Long's Donuts (an Indiananpolis institution) which is situated in a "rough neighborhood" as his parent's called it (that meant there were people of color who lived there). Their yeast donuts rock - more substantial than Krispy Kreme but not as heavy as Dunkin' Donuts.

One of the highlights of the day (for me), was going to the Indianapolis Art Museum. Not only is it on a gorgeous plot of land with some faboo artwork (note the giant LOVE sculpture that Robert Indiana created which we all took a photo of ourselves climbing all over until the security guard came and told us not to), but it has specific history for AJ. It was the sight that AJ had proposed to his (now) ex-wife. He was a good sport about it finding the specific area that the proposal took place, though it took him a bit of time to find it ("It's over here. No. Wait. I think it's over in the garden area. No, hold on, I thought there was a well around there?"). We found it eventually. Everyone gawked in awe at the site which used to be so important in AJ's former life. Okay I gawked. I think everyone was just slightly amused.

After a day of running around in the hot sun, we drove over to meet up with AJ's sister and his family and then the neighborhood Broad Ripple for dinner with his brother and his daughter. As we parked the SUV, AJ pointed out the bar that he first got drunk in, and where he danced with two or three frat boys - and realized that he really liked it. He came out to his wife two days later.

After dinner with AJ's parent's and his brother Jeff (the rockstar accountant) and his daughter Rachel (AJ's niece), and two of AJ's friends John and Jen, we headed back into the city to drive around the "Circle" which is the center of Indianapolis. It's a beautiful statue/fountain, and we spent some time walking around and taking in the architecture of downtown Indianapolis. Though I've driven around the downtown and the Circle Center (and I've even been in the Circle Mall that is associated with the circle) I've never actually walked around the circle itself and it was pretty nifty.

The next day we had a quick breakfast, and looked at baby photos of AJ (he was ADORABLE!!!!) and then took off for St. Louis! But first we detoured and stopped at Indiana University where AJ showed us the dorm quad that he lived in (it was the "alternative dorm" apparently), the church he went to with his ex-wife, and art museum designed by I.M.Pei, and the buildings where he took classes - and taught classes in when he was TA in graduate school. We ended up sneaking into a classroom and experience a slice of what it would have been like to have AJ for a teacher.

IU has a gorgeous campus, and it was huge. We ate at a great deli that made homemade potato chips. I LOVE homemade chips. They were delish. We also stopped into a gay kitchen supply place (the owner seemed EXTREMELY pleased to see two gay boys in his shop) as well as a cute game shop where we picked up a Killer Bunnies calendar (yes we are obssessed with that game). We then got some coffee and smoothies to go at SOMA, a hip coffeeshop in Bloomington.

SOMA (by the way) is a reference to the drug in Brave New World, and not the neighborhood South of Market in San Francisco.

We also drove by and pointed out two of the three gay bars in Bloomington, Bullwinkles and Uncle Elizabeth's. Bullwinkle's is the gay dance club. If you have been to one gay dance club in the midwest, you have pretty much been to them all. Imagine some lights, a disco ball, a wall of mirrors, and a lot of plywood painted black. You know the club is fancy if it has a television monitors here and there. Bullwinkle's wasn't that fancy. But it was definitely a black plywood sort of club. Nearly every city in the midwest has a variation of the black plywood bar/club. Even San Francisco has a black plywood bar - The Café in the Castro.

Now Uncle Elizabeth's is starter bar, the place that everyone went to early to get a drink at, before they headed over to Bullwinkles (the other gay bar in Bloomington was called "The Other Bar" and from what I understand wasn't really all that happening. I've never been to it). What makes Uncle Elizabeth's special is that it is in a double wide trailer. Life doesn't get better until you've had a drink in a double wide trailer that's been converted to a bar.

My favorite part - the restroom had that rigid plastic accordian curtain/door that I had to pull shut for privacy while I did my business. I never felt so glamorous.

Random Factoid #1: Uncle Elizabeth's is named after the cat in a play called I Remember Mama. There were various incarnations of this play, including a musical version, a feature film, and a spin off television show.

Random Factoid #2: I Remember Mama was once performed at the Ben Davis High School - the high school that AJ attended (Sophmore to Senior Year). AJ was cast and performed as Uncle Chris Halverson in the play. This play is pivotal in his life, as it was the play that he met most of his long standing friends from high school (a group of friend affectionately called "the posse"), including his ex-wife Eve. AJ won "best supporting male" for his portrayal of the patriarch of the family in his high school awards ceremony.

With the Bloomington tour done, we loaded up on IU t-shirts and we were off to my hometown, the Gateway to the West... (more on the way...)

Midwest Tour 2006 pt 1 (A Gay Hope)

2006-08-01T00:57:00.000-07:00

I'm back! (didja miss me?)

Our friend Rita had convinced a bunch of us that we should tour the midwest and see AJ's and my hometowns of Indianapolis and St.Louis, as well as visit our friends Steve and Anjana in Chicago. Most of our other friends thought were we crazy. Going to the midwest? In the middle summer? A landlocked state that voted red (well okay, only two of three states we were visiting voted red but still)? Rita is a bit crazy, but I love her for it (not despite it).

When Rita had originally suggested the idea to us, I don't think I totally took her seriously. Why in the world would anyone WANT to go to St. Louis and Indianapolis? Why would anyone willingly spend money for an airplane ticket and use up precious vacation time to visit the midwest. Aren't there way cooler places that we could visit? Aren't there more interesting locations to vacation at?

And in truth I sort of ignored the idea. Sure, I agreed to it, but in the back of my head, I always thought that Rita was joking just a little bit. And even as the plans firmed up, and Rita and Damon requested vacation time, and Karen and Ben bought their tickets, AJ and I ignored it. When we eventually gave in to the reality that we had to buy our tickets or else it would be impossible or outrageously expensive to get tickets to the landlocked states, I still thought to myself that the midwest trip wasn't real. It wasn't going to be a vacation in the real sense of the word. Vacations are foreign places you go to, places to relax like Hawaii, or places you sightsee like Paris. St. Louis and Indianapolis are neither relaxing beach towns, nor are they sightseeing meccas. And they certainly weren't foreign to AJ and I. This wasn't going to be a vacation in our definition. It was just a quick jaunt home and back - but we'd have a few friends in tow who were going to be bored to death.

I was wrong. It ended up being a vacation in every sense of the word. It was chill, it was fun, we saw the sights, and we bonded by road tripping and played card/board games. It was reinvigorating and energizing and relaxing all at the same time. Who knew that the midwest could be so fun? We piled into an SUV and drove around the middle of the country, and we sweated a whole lot. We even spent a day at a lake water skiing (or for some - tried to water ski - more on that later). It gave me a whole new appreciation of home and of vacation. It was just what I needed.

I flew out on a redeye last Thursday to Chicago to see AJ race for the Gay Games. The rest of the gang were going to meet up with me on Saturday. AJ was on summer break (ah...the perks of being a professor) and had flown out in the beginning of the week to compete in cycling. AJ loves to cycle. He's done the AIDS lifecycle/CA AIDS RIDE 6 times and he's signed up for a 7th ride next year.

AJ had originally signed up for the Gay Games four years ago (they were in Sydney then), but the cost of flying out there and the lack of time he had to train for it didn't quite work out. He never made it. So this was his first Gay Games competition. In fact this was his first time racing since high school.

Obviously he was nervous. As usual, he was exceedingly neurotic about racing, and was upset with himself about the lack of training. At one point he contemplated pulling out of the race, but I convinced him that he needed to go. I told him that he didn't have to think in terms of winning, but in terms of just going to the race and having a good time. And what gay man could not have a good time at an event called GAY GAMES?

In truth, I knew that he would inevitably win a medal or two. He was unsure. But I had confidence and faith in him and his ability. And win he did. The Monday after he left, he called me up at work extremely excited. He had just won the gold medal for the criterium race!

Well I was excited as all get out. But I had high expectations for the upcoming races, as well as the final race that I was flying out there for. Our friend Steve was awesome and picked me up at the airport. We drove back to his place to drop our stuff off and then I showered and took a 45 minute nap. Rested, we took off to see AJ compete in the team trial race!

The race took place in the middle of nowhere. I hadn't a CLUE where it was, but it wasn't in any part of Chicago that I was familiar with. It was out in the woods somewhere - pretty much the middle of nowhere.

With only 45 minutes of sleep (I so can not sleep on planes) I hung around watching hot men cycle around shirtless, as AJ and his teammates warmed up. Of particular note was a Dutch hottie named Marteen. Even AJ fully admitted that he was hot - despite being slightly older and white. It probably helped that he was incredibly nice, had a hot accent, and was an incredibly stronger cyclist with a killer grin and killer body.

I also got a chance to chat up the St. Louis Team (including a cute cyclist who claimed to be straight...but AJ and I am not quite so sure about that) as well as hang out with some non-cyclist friends of competors, one who had driven up from St. Louis to see her ex compete, and another who lived in DC and it turned out works with our friend Cara in Los Angeles. Small world.

It was amazing to see AJ and his teammates (the Gutterbunny Boys) start the race, taking off in formation. They looked fantastic the way they went from the starting line to single line formation. They finished strong, with all five on their team ending together - something a lot of the teams did not do. Unfortunately they weren't strong enough to win. AJ and his team (the GutterBunnies Boys) ended up taking silver in the race. To their credit though, the only team that beat them were a group of gold medal triathletes - the Chicago Razors.

The rest of the day was spent napping after the race. We later all met up for dinner with the cyclists and their friends and then walked over to the John Hancock building where we were able to get seated before everyone else in our elevator at a window both no less. We later tried to sneak into the women's bathroom (which is where our friend Anjana said has the best view of Chicago) but we were busted. Alas.

The following day AJ and I met up with Karen and Ben and Rita and Damon and celebrated AJ's FOUR medals (three silvers, and the one gold) at the Gay Games closing ceremonies. We were entertained by the Cheer Chicago Cheerleaders, Dallas Cowboy Linedancers, a twirling rifle corp, and Cyndi Lauper decked out in a rainbow dress and rainbow flag singing True Colors accompanied by a solo violinist.

AJ is wearing three of the medals in the photo to the left. He said that all four were too heavy so he had me wear one (yeah, I felt like a poseur wearing it too). It's a tough life AJ has, having so many medals....

AJ was also able to finagle a Team Indiana visor from someone from Team Indiana (which is what he's wearing on his head in the photo). He's a hoosier through and through. Go figure.

Post closing ceremonies, the gang headed over to My Pie (a local pizza joint) and got some deep dish goodness. We headed back to Anjana and Steve's to get some much needed rest and to play card/board games. The trip was just getting started and we had already done so much!

Sunday we had brunch, packed up and left for Indiana. But that's a post for another time. Check back for more on the midwest trip - and in the meanwhile, jump over to Damon's blog entry for an introduction to the gang who were foolharded enough to travel to the middle of this fine country in the middle of a crazy heat wave. What were we thinking?!?!?!

Away

2006-07-20T11:18:00.000-07:00

Hey Hey.

I'm gone to the midwest for a week. I'll be computerless there, so most likely no posts. Check back in the beginning of August for exploits and wacky zany misadventures as AJ and I travel around the heartland with our friends Rita, Damon, Karen and Ben...

Hopefully we won't die of heat exhaustion....

Sports Fan.

2006-07-16T01:21:00.000-07:00

There are very few sports that I really enjoy watching. I grew up in the midwest, but by Junior High, the national football team in my hometown (St. Louis) had been traded away and the city would not get another football team for another 12 years. By that time, I had graduated from college and a few years later, I would have moved away to San Francisco.

To this day, football confuses the hell out of me. AJ used to play center in junior high and comes from a family of football players. Whenever we end up watching football (usually by accident, or during a group watching of the Super Bowl - which I watch usually because I want to see the commercials and to keep an eye out for any more "wardrobe malfunctions" - hopefully on a male singer this time...) I am constantly pestering AJ on all the rules of the game. "Why are they stopping the game now? What's a down? Why are they kicking the ball now instead of running with it? How come that was only worth 6 points instead of 7? The list of questions goes on and on.

I was forced to play soccer when I was in grade school (something about character building, plus I think my mom hoped that I would lose some of the fat that I carried around). I hated it and hence have never really watched it since. A brief year abroad in Holland in high school made me appreciate soccer (football over there in Europe) as a spectator sport but since American had pretty much ignored soccer as a sport, I quickly lost the momentum when I came back here. Besides which, the US soccer teams always sucked (still do - though they are getting better). This year's World Cup probably has increased our nation's appreciation of soccer, but I'm probably too old to be jumping on that band wagon.

I probably would have liked hockey as a sport to watch (all that violence) and St. Louis actually had a decent hockey team while I was growing up (The St. Louis Blues - who at one short brief time had Wayne Gretzky) but alas I never got tickets to see them. My parents weren't sports fans either. The only tickets to sports games that we got were the Straight A tickets in the nosebleed section of the baseball games.

And so baseball became the default sport to watch growing up. And let's face it, unless you are at the actual game itself - with the hotdog, coke, popcorn, and chips, baseball is really boring. People strike out, there are balls, and if it's a good game, there are few runs. But mostly baseball is slow. Nothing to hold your attention unless you are hardcore fan, and I wasn't. Nine innings could be excruciating to a small child with the attention span of a gnat, and my family usually left after the fourth or fifth inning. I still occasionally enjoy going to a baseball game here in San Francisco, but mostly for the sausage, garlic fries, and the novelty of watching people throw a ball around. The best thing about the going to the game is that you can hang with friend and eat junk food, and talk all the while the game is going in background and it's not considered rude. Well, not in the seats that we get anyway. The rules are pretty straightforward in my eye (much more so than football) but I refuse to actually pay for a ticket, so alas the chances to see a game are pretty rare (I think I've been to four games since moving here - all free promotional tickets).

I won't go into the lack of basketball in St. Louis (absolutely no team worth watching) or golf (soooo boring) or tennis (back and forth. back and forth). I occasionally watched the Olympics, but only certainly sports made my cut. Diving, swimming, gymnastics, figure skating, all perked my interest. But my favorite Olympic sport was RHYTHMIC GYMNASTICS.

It's also probably the gayest sport to watch. Ever. The little girl running around with a ribbon or a hoola hoop dancing and jumping just amused the heck out of me. Gay men might flock to watch diving, or men's gymnastics (the Russians on the rings, doing the iron cross seems to make most gay men drool) but rhythmic gymnastics is probably the gayest. Who else is going to watch a teenage girl run around doing flips and cartwheels while jumping through a hoola hoop? And when they had to throw that plastic ball up in the air and do four cartwheels and backflips and then have to catch the ball BEHIND their back... well I just think that's dandy. If only all sports could be this graceful and dramatic.

But the reality is rhythmic gymnastics really only occurs every four years. And despite my praising the loveliness of it, I really don't watch it even when it comes on. And that leaves me without a sport to root for or watch.

Becoming a sports fan didn't seem to be in my cards. Or so I thought.

This weekend AJ was out of town and my friend Amy and her husband Jeremy were in town. They were staying with my friend Jenny, and Jenny told us about a hip little event that is all the rage with the kids these days.

Roller Derby.

Why I was not hip to this amusing little display of violence is beyond me. The game itself is fairly simple. There are two teams with two "jammers" (one from each team) who score the points and blockers (three or four from each team) who block. I don't really understand the entire strategy or all the rules, but basically the jammers try to get around the blockers by pass them. If they can do that, and then loop around again and pass again, they get points. All the while the blockers are doing their darndest to beat the hell out of them and push them out of bounds or knock them over.

It's one vicious sport.

And it's (indie) rock and roll fun.

Starting the game was a faboo group of old school hip hop dancers. Five ghetto fabulous girls came out with a boom box (ghetto box style cassette player) and popped and breakdanced to old school Run DMC and LL. Cool J. The routine culminated in the two lead girls taking off their earrings and "dancing off" old school style. The crowd ate it up.

Then to the game. Most of the roller derby players had drag queen/wrestling names to go along with their rock and roll demeanor. Names like Janesaw Massacre, Genghis Blonde, Hurricane Skatrina, Annie Agony, Lemmy Chokeya, Keely Kills, Rolita Raunchita, or Dis-lo-Kate were all duking it out on this time rink trying to get past each other and shoving each other. The game consisted of three rounds - and though the teams seemed evenly matched in the beginning, the Treasure Island Gold Diggers pulled ahead by the second round by a good 20 point over the Alcatraz Escapees.

Most, if not all, the players were the sort of hipster San Francisco women that you see rocking the Mission. And not the bridge and tunnel Mission folks that come in on the weekend and complain that there's not parking. I'm talking the piercings, tattoos and dreadlock women that don't give a shit about what they look like, and all the while look hot regardless (or perhaps because of) this attitude. Jenny's friend Dan kept on raving on and on about Iva Vendetta (one the kick ass jammers for the Escapees) and how she was a viagra on wheels. Jenny later said that's how he normally is - I believe the phrase she used was "He's a walking sperm."

Amy was fascinated by all these women who looked alike, with their dreadlocks and their punk rock tattoos and piercings. "It's amazing how they all seemed to have found friends that look just like them! That's so great!" We had to explain to Amy that it was a pretty common look here in SF. Throw a stone on Valencia Street, and you'll hit one (and they'll probably come and kick your ass for throwing a stone at them).

Amy and I were rooting for the Treasure Island Gold Diggers. They had better outfits - black with gold accents. Some of the skaters had gold short shorts, or gold sequin minis. They kicked ass. But our allegiance was not solid. We would normally root for the Gold Diggers - especially if the girl with the dreadlocks was the jammer (we couldn't see her name as it was covered by her dreads, but I think it might have been Injure Rogers) but every now than a cute kick ass jammer would take the lead on the Alcatraz Escapees and we would start rooting for them. Our favorite was Panda Monium. She was sassy! She had painted her eyes black to look like panda bear eyes, and we just thought that was adorable. She apparently had a following too, as I saw more than one person wearing a baby blue tshirt with a picture of a panda head and a couple of cross bones underneath.

The half time show featured Ultra Gypsy, three bad ass tattoed punk belly dancers. I've seen some serious bellydancing in my time (shout out to Stephanie, Michelle, Erin and all the other bellydancer I know) and I have to admit, I liked what I saw. Granted I stopped watching after the first set - having seen better and more interesting shows before - but they were pretty decent for what they were. The crowd was half hipster indie kids and the other half lecherous old men, but both halves seemed to be enjoying the dancing.

By the second half things were brutal. The Treasure Island Gold Diggers were much in the lead, but The Alcatraz Escapees definitely were catching up. Near the end of the game, they were only trailing behind by 2 measley points. The final score - Gold Diggers 74 to Escapees 61. A comfortable margin but one that was cost them sweat and tears.

With the Roller Derby as just an appetizer I now plan on becoming a full fledge sports fan. Granted Roller Derby is probably as off the beaten path as you can get, but still. It's a rock and roll good time, and I plan on being there every game I can catch.

The other reason I'm all prepped to be the new biggest Sports Fan ever is that AJ had left this weekend to go to the Gay Games. He was competing in cycling. Now most of America has caught up with the cycling craze thanks to Lance Armstrong. But watching the Tour de France with Lance leading up those hills can be nifty for short periods of time, but anything longer than 15 minutes and I quietly sink into boredom.

But with my boyfriend competing it's a whole different game. AJ went with his friend Eric on Monday to cheer and rally for their other friend Robert (Dr. Bob) who they cycled with during the AIDS lifecycle and who was on their cycling team. Robert was competing in the cycling criterium - which is a crazy race on a track where everyone is next to each other cycling as fast as possible, constantly turning on the track. AJ had already stated that he didn't plan on competing in it because it's just scary. But at the last minute, Eric and him decided "Why the hell not? We're here already!"

So they competed.

And AJ won GOLD!!!!

Robert was the only person who beat him in his heat, but Robert is in a different age category and hence AJ ended up getting gold in his division!

Whoo hoo!!!

And I CANNOT believe that I missed it. AJ competes in a solo time trial on Wednesday and the entire team (including Robert who won the gold, and Eric who won a bronze) compete on Friday. I'm taking the red eye out Thursday night to see them all compete on Friday. I can't wait. I'll be the one cheering and yelling and rallying them on. I'll be their biggest Number One Sports Fan!

Because I am ready this time. I know how to cheer.

And they better win GOLD!

Nature Walk Part II

2006-07-16T00:59:00.000-07:00

AJ and I went hiking yet again (last weekend).

This marks the second weekend in a row that involved nature and the outdoors (going to Opera in the Dolores Park or other free summer events doesn't count). I believe this is the second time in the last two years that I have gone hiking.

I am not an outdoor person. Beside that though, I am not a morning person, and hiking often entails waking earlier than necessary on an otherwise blissful morning of unconciousness. I have the opportunity to sleep in two days a week, and I try to exercise that option as much as possible.

I was, however, very excited to wear my hiking boots. I purchased my hiking boots two years ago when AJ and I (along with Rita, Damon, Karen and Ben - the same group of people who I am going on the Midwest Trip with later this month) visited Hawaii, the Big Island of.

AJ and I had brought along appropriate shoes to Hawaii, but through circumstances too boring to talk about even on this blog (and let's face it, I talk about some boring things) we ended up over on the Hilo side of the island ready to go on a hike to see the flowing lava with flip flops on - well AJ only had flip flops - I think I had fashionable but totally tractionless sneakers acquired three season earlier on clearance at Banana Republic (this was when I used to shop at BR).

The park rangers advised against walking on molten earth with footwear manufactured and marketed by Gap Inc. and their subsidiaries. This, of course, included my tractionless uncomfortable (but still kinda cute) BR sneakers, and AJ's Old Navy flip flops. We were screwed.

So we left our friends and drove over to Hilo to see if we could find appropriate footwear. We ended up at WalMart, where lucky us they were having a two-for sale on Hiking Boots. Why any one person would want to buy TWO pairs of hiking boots for themselves if beyond me, but it worked out perfectly for AJ and I. We now had matching hiking boots ($12 each or two for $16) and let me tell you, they were the best $8 I spent in Hawaii.

Our friends ended up meeting up with due to the weather we all bought cheap umbrellas and went over to the Hawaiian Botanical Gardens. We never did get to see the lava flow that trip - as the lava had inconveniently decided to flow to an area of the island that would require a six hour hike over dangerous terrain. But perhaps next time.

Nevertheless, I brought my $8 hiking boots back to San Francisco and held on to them in the hopes that AJ and I would hike again. This was difficult as I am an avowed shoe whore and really don't have room to hold onto shoes that I never use. Nevertheless the hiking boots went into a plastic shoe box bin (courtesy of The Container Store) never to come out. Until last week and this week.

This week's hike was significantly more strenuous than last week's shady walking-down-a-gravel-fire-road hike. In other words, I actually got to utilize said shoes traction.

We hiked in Point Reyes with Peter and Grant. Peter isn't as outdoorsy as Grant, who, being the plant biologist, is inclined to actually enjoy nature in all it's glory. A simple example of Peter's woodsy nature is exemplified by his choice of socks. While AJ, Grant, and I wore white atheletic socks, Peter chose a more dignified pair of argyle socks to wear with his atheletic shoes. This is why I love Peter so much.

The hike out to Point Reyes was beautiful and AJ had brought out his camera. After taking several shots of the coastline (we hiked the Bear Valley trail) he commented that no matter how beautiful the coast is, pretty much every shot that he's ever taken of the coast looks pretty much the same. This is kind of true. Nevertheless we enjoyed ourselves immensely, because photos never do a that sort of scene justice.

The trek out to the ocean was easy breezy (cover girl), relatively shaded, on a pretty nice wide area, next to a cracklin' creek (I love the aliteration that goes with slow moving water - cracklin' creek, stuttering' stream, babblin' brook, etc.). On the way back, we later took off all our clothes and waded around it the creek strutting about as if we were in a Bruce Weber-Abercrombie and Fitch photo shoot - except A&F would never feature two Asian boys and two hairy white boys in their ads. There was an old tire hanging from one of the trees, and so we took turns swing off of it and jumping in the water and generally make fools of ourselves in a very Tom Sawyer sort of way. After awhile the cold water got to us and we lazed about in the sun and shade for the rest of the day, in vaguely homoerotic positions hoping a couple of attractive park rangers would come across us and tell us "I'm sorry, but we don't allow that here. We're going to have to punish y'all...."

No, actually we went down to the creek and dipped our hands in the water to clean them off, but there was no skinny dipping. That only occurs with AJ and Peter get drunk during High Spring Day.

On the trek out to the ocean, Grant decided to point out plants that would make us itch - which was important because apparently the West Coast has different poisonous plants than the midwest/east coast. No Poison Ivy out here in California, but definitely Poison Oak, and Nettles. AJ taught us all a lovely reminder that he learned in camp - (or in cub scouts I can't remember) about poisonous vegetation - "Leaves of Three, Let it Be" as well as showed us some sort of hand thing he was taught (where he put his hands on top of each other, one palm to the back of the other hand) and said that he was also taught in camp/cub scouts if the plant had leaves like his hands configuration that it was also poisonous. Grant seemed amused and said that AJ had just described 95% of outdoor plants, and perhaps it would be better to just avoid anything green. AJ later said that he didn't really learn anything useful in cub scouting... other that marijuana might kill him (you can ask him for that story).

The ocean was beautiful (with huge seagulls that flew over) though the rock at the end of the trail was labelled "Arch Rock". We saw no rock, and though the name to be a definite misnomer. Shame on the park services for misleading us.

We ended up hiking back a different route that was much longer and not in the shade. The trail was in the sun and rather exhausting but relatively enjoyable. It was on this trail that I realized there was one big reason that I really didn't care for the outdoors and nature.

The bugs.

I love hiking, I love vegetation, greenery, the babbling brook and the potential for any sort of Abercrombie and Fitch homoerotic scenario (that really never occurs, but one can always hope). But those damn insects are just plain annoying. I, of course, blame the horses that came through the trail leaving their droppings everywhere, attracting huge horseflies that irritated the hell out of me. Peter took to whipping his shirt around his head during portions of the hike to discourage the flies. I was amused, but considered it myself. Those flies were annoying.

And that's when it all fell apart. Because as much as I was having a great time, those bugs were... well they were bugging me. And I could no longer enjoy the trees or the green grass, or the lovely rocky vista. No all I could do was swat away the flies in the hopes that they wouldn't land on me.

I really hate bugs.

And that is where I realized I can only take the outdoors for so much. I love hiking, and I love going on a day trip, but anything more strenuous and all of sudden all the little things become big things. I need a hot shower and a comfy bed.

AJ and Grant love the outdoors and most everything that comes with it. I am sure that they don't really care for the flies and the bugs, but it's not a big deal for them, that there are bugs - it's just a minor inconvenience. They don't think a second thought about hiking out into the wilderness with backpacks to camp overnight - something that they have talked about doing with our friends Ben and Chris. But our friend Felisa and Karen agree that if they do that, we'll just go for a day hike. And then we'll go back to a lodge where there's climate control air conditioning, running hot water, and where we don't have to dig a hole in the ground to take a dump.

Felisa and Karen call it "Frou Frou Camping" and Peter and I are all for it. I say let them go on their hike in the woods. We'll meet them the next day. Because as much as I'd love to go hiking out in the woods and frolic in the stuttering stream, I'd much rather go hiking in the woods and then shower under rapidly running hot water.

FIVE by FIVE

2006-07-11T19:02:00.000-07:00

Well apparently I've been tagged by a meme - which makes me feel like I'm officially part of the blogosphere. That and getting listed as a newbie of the week on Best Gay Blogs. Big fat kisses to all those involved over there and to everyone who stopped by via that site.

Of course, I was unaware of my tagging, as I am rather sporadic about checking my friends blogs. Shame on me. My undergraduate friend ED, one of several gay Asians that graduated from my alma mater tagged me a couple of weeks ago. I just found it now. *sigh*

I had been to his site recently, but alas, I hadn't gone farther than his lovely posting about the fried white trash food items available at SF Gay Pride. I had seen the funnel cakes booth (which was a first sighting for me in the bay area, I had never seen funnel cakes out here at the street fairs in San Francisco, and I had always wondered why that was, as I LOVE funnel cakes and partook of them often in St. Louis - probably a reason why I so husky back then). But I did NOT seen the FRIED TWINKIES/DEEF FRIED HOHOS/CHOCOLATE DIPPED OREOS booth.

DAMN.

So when Ed blogged about it, I stopped reading and thought to myself. DAMN. DAMN. DAMN. I missed another chance to rediscover my white trash roots (AJ is often telling me that I am the most white trash Asian boy that he has ever met, and having met some of the Asian boys that he knows in SF, I probably would agree with him. Apparently I am also the butchest Asian boy he's ever dated - and again after meeting some of the Asian boys that he's been with, yeah, no contest there - talk about nelly).

So no deep fried Hostess treats for me. It's just as well. I'm on my LFBFSF (Lose Fat Before Folsom Street Fair) plan - not that I'm sticking to it. I just had Spicy Louisana Fried Chicken for lunch today with Peter. Rita would be so proud, as I ordered my leg and thigh with mashed potatoes and extra gravy. The gravy wasn't as great as I remember the old school Kentucky Fried Chicken gravy use to be - when they would give you a container of mashed potatoes (with that totally runny completely-uniform-made-from-reconstituted-potatoes consistency) and a same size container of gravy - which, try as I might, I was never ever able to finish off. I mean who uses a one to one ratio of gravy and potatoes? Not even I could justify that. Gravy, alas, is a condiment, not a beverage. But that gravy back then was the best. It had that unappealing gray brown matte look - but tasted so darn good. The Spicy Louisana Fried Chicken place had decent gravy (and the potatoes did have that uniform consistency that only comes from potatoes flakes), but it was no competition to those memories.

But back to the meme. Here's the dish:

5 items in the freezer

12 Quiescently Frozen Confection Fudge Bars by Lucerne (the Safeway House brand). During a random one-day heat spell here in SF (O.M.G. it's 80 degrees in SF!) a couple of weeks ago, AJ and I were at Safeway and went a little crazy in the frozen novelties section. The Fudge Bars are currently sitting next to the Original Brand Popsicle Firecrackers (they are red cherry, white lemon, and blue raspberry, and very very phallic), and the Breyer's brand All Natural Pure Fruit Swirl Bars (in blueberry-lemon, strawberry-blueberry, strawberry-orange, and strawberry-lemon) in our freezer. The heat spell (of course) ended and we haven't open any of the boxes of frozen treats (anyone want a popsicle?)

Belvedere Vodka. AJ loves a good martini. His brand of choice is Belvedere, while I prefer Hangar One (but mostly because it's so exclusive - I'm a sucker for anything hard to find or available only for people in the know. When I was a child I used to eat Boo Berry cereal not because it tasted better than its brother cereals Franken Berry and Count Chocula but because it was harder to find.) AJ acquired his taste for martinis in New York a couple of years ago, where he realized that it was the most effective way to get drunk in the NY bars. A martini was only one or two more dollars than any other cocktail, but it was ALL alcohol. So he switched to martinis and he's never looked back. He likes them dry with lots of olives and slightly soiled - that is - not dirty with loads of olive juice but just a hint of olive juice. Shaken not stirred, of course. Note the image of Boo Berry cereal and not the image of vodka. That tells you how much I really drink and where my true interests are.

Homemade Turkey Stock. I made turkey stock over Thanksgiving with the carcass of the turkeys (yes that's plural - we made two turkeys for Thanksgiving, one for presentation and one to be carved and eaten). AJ asked me what I was going to do with all the stock, and I said we could either use it to make soup, or keep it frozen for when we wanted to make a nice demiglace. He asked me what a demiglace was, and I admitted I hadn't a clue, I was always just reading about it in my fancy cookbooks. The turkey stock has stayed in the freezer ever since.

1 lb Ground Buffalo. AJ is off ground beef right now, because of mad cow. He's been on-again/off-again with ground beef ever since bovine spongiform encephalopathy surfaced in the news, but right now he's off of it. So now any recipe we have that calls for ground beef is substituted with ground buffalo. After all, they don't call it mad buffalo disease.

Totino's Original CrispCrust Party Pizza - Supreme and Three Meat varieties. Yes the super cheap pizza that you use to eat when you were a kid. From the same people who brought you everyone's favorite slumber party snack Pizza Rolls. The Party Pizza was on sale for a $1 each (actually Safeway had them for 10 for $10 but even I am not that white trash to buy 10. I bought 6). I guess AJ was right, I am a little white trash.

5 items in my closet (just to clarify, we have four closets in our apartment, all these items are from my personal closet, not the ones that AJ and I share - unless otherwise noted.)

Two Wigs. I used to have three, but Peter has borrowed the afro one (along with the hair pick that I made him take to got with it) for the drag queen brunch happening up at Roshambo winery. The wigs are pretty nasty and are shoved in one of two paper grocery bags full of random halloween costumes (Pringles Guys, Crayons, Wham, a mime shot to death, a china man, a pantone swatch book page and a few others, I can't remember are shoved in to those bags). I believe one of the wigs belongs to Damon who wore it when he went dressed up at Catherine Zeta Jones' character from Zorro (Rita went as Zorro) for Halloween. They gave it to me when AJ and I went dressed up as MILLI VANILLI for halloween a couple of years ago. Girl you know it's true.

Fifteen (or is it sixteen?) Manbags. Growing up I was always envious of my mom who had a purse. She could throw tons of stuff into it (and she did - she carried EVERYTHING in her gigantic purse) while guys were relegated to a wallet in the back pocket. How I longed for a purse of some sort. The closest approximation of a purse was the backpack, and I wore mine all the time. But it wasn't the same as the stylish bags that my mom would sling over her shoulder. I need something that would allow me to carry my walkman, a book to read when I was bored (probably something girly like From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler), and maybe some candy (I always had a sweet tooth) - all in a fashionable way. I was so pleased that when it became socially acceptable in the late 90's to carry a manbag. It all started with the YAK PAK and I've haven't looked back. I believe I have about four or five more that I've retired to our bedroom closet.

A Flip-n-Fuck. A green vinyl folded foam mat. Our friend Bryan coined the term for it (as he had one as well). Our friend Michelle borrowed it ages ago when she was between beds, and returned it to us awhile ago. We thought it might come in handy to keep - and hence the storage at the top of my closet. And yes, it has lived up to it's name.

A shoe box of old 1.44 MB 3.5" floppy disks. Why haven't I thrown these away? I don't even use zip disks anymore. Who uses floppies anymore? I do have an external USB floppy drive, I don't even know where it is. How's that for sad?

Thousands of old cassettes (in the shared living room closet). I used to be (and still am) a huge music whore. Contained in those cassettes (that I can't bear to throw away) is the history of my tween and teen life told through music. My very first cassette tape purchase (Irene Cara - Oh What Feeling and Cyndi Lauper - She's So Unusual). Mix tapes from high school featuring Erasure, New Order and The Smiths. Bootlegs of Tori Amos shows (Little Earthquake era mind you). Random rarities like The Cure's Entreat - a live album that was released as a promotional item. And complete throw away trash tapes like Stacey Q's Better Than Heaven (you know you loved "Two of Hearts" back then, and really Stacey gets extra props for guest appearing on not one but TWO episodes of Facts of Life). I keep on telling myself that one of these days I'll convert them all digitally and burn archive audio CD's or compressed lossless audio files (FLAC) archive DVD's. But who knows if that will ever happen.

5 items in my car (Damn. I don't have car. AJ has a car, but really, it's his car, not mine. Oh well, I shall pretend that I have one and this is what I would have in it.)

A cassette tape converter to an audio jack for my iPod. My pretend car would be old and beat up and wouldn't be fancy enough to have a CD player, much less an actual iPod jack. Nope. It would be oldschool, stick the tape in with the wire hanging out and plug the iPod in and rock to a tasty mix of Gnarls Barkley, The Stars, the new Yo La Tengo (hey, it's a pretend car, so I can pretend I have the new YLT album), and whatever disposable pop star I currently am listening to.

AJ's fingernails and eyebrow hairs. AJ, of course, would ride in my car every now and then. And inevitably he would get nervous and start to peel off his fingernails and pick at his eyebrow hairs. And inevitably they would end up on the car floor. Yes it's disgusting. But I love him anyway.

Cheap emergency sunglasses. Probably an old pair of retired sunglasses would have migrated to my glove compartment in case I had forgotten to wear a pair. That or I would have forgotten them in there. I love sunglasses. One can never have enough accessories.

A sweatshirt in the trunk. You never know when you might get stuck somewhere and all of sudden become exceedingly cold. I probably would throw an old polartek shwag pullover shirt from the dotcom era (I'm thinking of the blue one from a defunct dot com company called TimeDance.com that I had help design the collateral for back in the day).

A bunch of cassettes. You never know when you might forget the iPod. And listening to the radio in this day and age is not an option (not counting the occasional NPR show). So I'd probably have a couple of old school tapes in there too. Probably mix tapes now that I think about it. Because who wants to listen to the same musical group over and over again?

5 items in my purse. (See! Having a purse is cool. But I have a manbag. The difference - a manbag strap is worn across the chest, while a purse is hung from just one shoulder - unless you are a paranoid tourist that is).

A Thursday Next novel. Right now I'm on the second book - Lost in a Good Book. I'm obsessed. I keep on giggling through the book, and I think even AJ would like it, but then AJ is illiterate so I doubt he would actually read it. Shout out to Felisa whose blog profile turned me onto them. Oh and RITA - if you haven't read it, you'd LOVE them.

a bag of cough drops. I have a sinus infection. In fact I've had this sinus infection since Memorial Day weekend. It has not gone away. I have extreme post nasal drip. Which makes me cough a lot. It is not pretty. I have always had bad sinus issues. It is why I earned the nickname in college of "Phlegmy Spice."

Two iPods. I have an old school 4G 60GB Photo iPod. Six months ago I got the "sad iPod" face. Three weeks after my warrantee expired. I've been living on borrowed time ever since. I bought a shuffle soon afterwards via Craigslist to work out with and to go skiing with. I will never go skiing without music again now! Whoo hoo! I figured the shuffle would be a good thing to tide me over when my iPod died as I waited for the long talked about "full screen" video iPod. Luckily my iPod has not died yet, as said rumored video iPod has not been released. Oh yeah, and the video iPod to left is totally a fake mockup. I just thought it was fun to show it.

Gum. I used to get free gum from my friend who works at Google. She would sneak me a pack from their snack room whenever I sent her an email reminder about it. Usually my emails go something like this "Hey. I need gum. My breath stinks." Alas my gum of choice (Orbit) is no longer available in the snack room thus leaving me with the ugly business of actually spending mony on gum, or chewing the boring Wrigley's that Google still has to offer. I've opted to spend the 89¢ per pack because no one like haliotosis and Juicy Fruit does nothing to help my breath.

Puffs Plus with Aloe Vera Lotion Facial Tissue. See sinus infection above. I never leave home without some sort of tissue.

Tag 5 people

AJ at White Trash Hors d'Oeuvres
Rita at rhcrayon: The Blog!
Damon at DJ 52 Stories
Felisa at Silly me, what was I thinking?
Megan at The Minkz

Wow. That was really boring wasn't it?

THREE BITS.

2006-07-05T00:11:00.000-07:00

three short (for me) posts.

1. I was in Safeway last week, post work. I was picking up a few things for dinner and the guy behind was dressed in a slightly wrinkled button-down shirt and navy blue work pants (slacks) from Banana Republic or some other nondescript business casual retail store (Eddie Bauer? No - they weren't "broken in" enough. J.Crew? No - they weren't preppy enough. Club Monaco? No they weren't euroskinny enough. I'll stick with my first guess Banana Republic). He obviously was coming from work as well.

My basket of groceries held various items for dinner - pork chops, corn, broccoli, cherries (which I'm currently obsessed with). I placed them on the black conveyor belt and then added the courtesy separator bar after my grocery selection.

He placed his items behind me - one large 1.75 liter of Skyy Vodka, two 1 liter bottles of tonic, and 2 limes - unbagged, placed directly on the conveyor belt.

I looked at his groceries. And then I looked at my groceries. And then back to his.

I wanted to lean over and ask him if he was having company or if it was just a really hard day at work. I didn't. I figured it was more interesting not knowing and having to guess.

2. AJ and I were at Cafe Floré last weekend. I was working on my previous blog entry, and he was working on his. A slightly daft woman with bottle dyed red hair walks by and hands us a flyer for CUAV. Apparently they were looking for volunteers to help lead talks about violence in the gay and lesbian community.

She was the sort of woman who you'd think would be in recovery, but as she sat down next to us she had in hand a bloody mary. She proceeded to loudly chit chat with the gentleman across the table, about various people they knew and what happened in her life for the past week.

She then turned to AJ and I and again reiterated that they were always looking for volunteers for CUAV, and asked if we knew what CUAV was.

I pointed to AJ and said he used to be high school teacher, and that the CUAV people had come to his high school several times to talk about violence in the GLBT community. She nodded pleased that we knew of the organizations.

"You know, we really REALLY need speakers and volunteers. It's a great organization. That's why I am always handing out the flyer, even when I'm not working. I'm that dedicated." she gushed all the while sipping her bloody mary.

"And you know we could really use you especially." As she points to me.

"Oh." I respond, not quite sure how to take it. " Why? Because you need more people of color?"

"Oh no. It's because we need younger people." she explains.

"Um. Actually we're the same age."

I haven't let AJ live that one down yet.

3. AJ and I went hiking on 4th of July before the fireworks. We got a late start and ended up going over to Mt. Tam for about two or three hours. It was quite fun, though it's obvious that I haven't spent that much time in nature in ages. I kept on proclaiming "look! a lizard!" everytime I saw one. I think AJ was amused by my excitement about wildlife, no matter how small it was.

I will say that we did see other wildlife during the hike and picnic and drive including a hawk flying over us a couple of times (my guess is that it was a red shoulded hawk, but I might be wrong, I didn't get a good look), along with two wild turkeys. I asked AJ if he thought they might have been feral turkeys, but he said that it was highly unlikely that any local residents had turkeys for pets and they had escaped back into the wild. After much thought, I agreed with him.

After the short hike, we stopped by an Albertson Grocery Store to pick up some water. We had brought a few cookie bars with us, and though they had aged well, they were also incredibly sweet, and thus needed some water to wash them down with. We had consumed most of our water on our hike.

Strangely the Albertson was going out of business. I have never been to a "going out of business" grocery store sale. It had me very wary of all the perishable goods there. What if they just left the food out, unrefrigerated or beyond the expiration date? What did they care? They were going out of business - it's not as if someone could come back and return it or sue them.

The numerous "ALL SALES FINAL" signs that dotted the landscape of the store did not instill any sense of security either.

AJ and I stocked up on some wine (20% off!) and some Perrier (it was bottled water, we figured the worse that could happen was that it was flat) and some tea (hey it's already dried out).

I also impulsively bought some gum, some mints, and three packs of JONES SODA CO carbonated candy. These babies come in FUFU BERRY, BERRY LEMONADE, and GREEN APPLE. I (of course) had to buy all three. They were 20% off of 50¢!

The checkout clerk was cracked out. She had the nappiest braided hair extensions that I have ever seen on a white woman. I also think she might have had Lee Press On Nails.

In short, she made the ghetto shopping experience that much more authentic.

During the check out she carded AJ, who was very flattered. When he stated as such, she went on a diatribe about how everyone in town started drinking early. They start as young as 9 years old she said, all matter of fact. And they look it too, coming in to buy liquor at the age of 21 looking like they were 40. She said that both of us looked younger than most of them, after they had been drinking hard for 12 years of their life. And she said that we both looked the same age. AJ seemed especially pleased by this statement.

I wanted to ask her when she had started drinking, but I refrained. We left the grocery store with our alcohol and our breath mints (she had charged us for four Jones Soda Co. Carbonated Candy packages but we didn't feel like making a stink for 40¢) and with the hope that it would be a long long time until we visited another ghetto grocery store.

The Jones Soda Co Carbonated Candy is disgusting by the way. Avoid it with all your might.