Anniversary – Let’s Remember Well

In 2001, I flew back into the USA just a couple days before Sept. 11th.  A friend and I had been on a trip to Southern Greece that changed my life forever (in good ways).  On the 11th, I woke up to images of NYC and the WTC.

I knew people in the building that day.  I can only imagine their horror.

I know people who were and are members of Islam after that day.  I don’t  have to imagine their horror.  I know the abuse they received after those events, and that they continue to receive to this day.  People are lazy in their thinking – all Islam is the same, just like Roman Catholics and Southern Baptists are identical.

Sept 11th, 2001 was a day that changed a large portion of the world, but not for everyone.  That day, and today, remain just another day of struggle to survive for food and shelter, and escape from war, abuse, and poverty.  To many people, what happened in NYC, DC, and later in Afghanistan was and remains a non-event that didn’t touch their reality – let alone their world – at all.  Again, I don’t have to imagine their horror.  It’s there to be seen, and not all of it occurs outside the borders of the USA.

Today, let’s remember well, and let’s remember that we can do better than what we’ve done.

Nun World Order: 30 Years of the Sisters and the Hunky Jesus Contest

Looking Over Nun World Order

Yes, I’m back.  I have to get into the habit of doing blogs again.  Now, I must have two, but that’s a story for a different time.

This past weekend, I was cajoled into attending the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence Event: Nun World Order.  It marked the 30th Anniversay of the Sisters aka SPI, and their annual event for Easter in Dolores Park which culminates in the (wait for it) Hunky Jesus Contest.

I got there first, and was soon joined by Adi and Kevin, then Xophe.  We all brought way to much food.  I was really still wrapping up my cold, so I didn’t have anything to drink until afternoon, but the other boys got started before noon (lushes).

It was a gorgeous day.  The musical entertainment was hit and miss, the highlight probably being the SF Cabaret Singer of the Year (don’t remember her name or the actual award title), singing about her dating life with the ditty:  “They Turn Gay!”

We had a great spot at the top of the hill (good choice Ed, oh, wait, that’s me).  The only time it was a disappointment was when the Hunky Jesuses got on stage.  They were tough to see.  In trade, we got to keep our hearing (big speakers that were LOUD).  I don’t even know who won, but my first choice was “Internet Jesus” who was on a big cross he was carrying about with two thought bubbles:  (BRB) and (LOL).

Priceless.

A Sticker for Your Donation!

The SPI have bills to pay, and so they come around and ask for donations.  I think they get enough from this event to cover their costs, and make a little money.  They give plenty of money to charity, so we were happy to give.  <cue Tina Turner>

In return for your donation, they give you a sticker.  You choose where it goes.  Xophe chose below his navel, hence, the photo above.  (I chose my neck.)

Somewhere along the way, “Mike” (formerly Feraz) showed up with Cristos/Cristo/Christo … never could remember what variety of that name he is.  Ran into many friends, and met an online chat friend I’ve chatted with for over a year (Hi Aaron).  It was all really nice.

We ate too much, some of us drank too much (not mentioning any names, but the first initial is ADI), and headed out when the contest was over.

We didn’t go to the Afterbirth Party, though …

The Golden Angel of 18th Street

On my way up to the ’stro, this very nice and handsome man was heading down the street and consented to a photo.  It’s hard to tell, because I haven’t optimized the color (unretouched), but he’s covered in gold body paint.  He was very sweet, and 45 seconds later, he was on his way …

It’s good to be back!

Oh, alright … we have to have *one* HJ image from the contest day.  Here ya go:

THIS is Hunky Jesus???

Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!

Celebrity Collage by MyHeritage

This was too funny not to post …

MyHeritage: Family tree – Genealogy – Celebrity – Collage – Morph

Odiferous

I’ve been calling my ride down from SF to San Ho not the shuttle, but the shittle.  The bus isn’t that old, and while it has wireless that sometimes works (I’ve come to rely on my data plan on my cellphone’s modem now), there is a toilet that is, well, not brilliant kept, nor appointed.  You can use it, but … you can’t wash your hands.  Not even hand sanitizer.

For the last 9 business days, there’s also been no toilet paper.  Actually, they’ve been switching buses on us, and even the “new” bus is toilet paper free.

About 2 to 2.5 weeks ago, we started getting a new driver … he started in the afternoons.  The man is a combination of nervous and, well, not the brightest bulb on the string of Christmas Lights, if you catch my drift.

His opening day performance, we get on the bus, and one of my coworkers, greeted him, and tried to be really nice, saying how glad he was he was there.  “Well, I’m not,” he says.  “I missing out on my free sandwiches.  On my other route, they bring me free sandwich.  And I’m not getting them now.  This isn’t my regular route …”

On and on and on … it would have be freaking hilarious if he weren’t so rude to someone trying to be nice to him.

That first day, he didn’t know how to get from San Jose to SF.  I had to give him directions, as I was foolish enough to sit behind him.   When he didn’t know what to do and just barked out “Where do I go?”.  He still doesn’t know the correct stops in the morning – each day is an adventure, seeing whom he almost flies by in the morning, and where he’ll stop in the afternoon.

Today, howver, it went to a whole new level.  The bathroom on on the shuttle is good to have, but its condition is always marginal.  There is no sink, and there’s been no TP for days.  Whenever the back of the bus crowd gets on, they open the roof vent near the back for air.

So, the driver arrived about 5 minutes early today – heading in the wrong direction, but he does come up from SJ.  We saw him pull away, and turn the corner, like he was coming around the block.

2 minutes go by … then 5 … I started wondering where the guy was … then 8 minutes.  Finally, my stop-mate says, “Okay, where did this guy GO.”

Within *seconds* the bus, appeared … the door opened, and honey … let me tell.  We knew where he’d gone … RIGHT IN HIS PANTS.

Okay, probably not, but when I got a whiff after my first step up on the bus, I knew he smelled bad, and then I got up to seat level … and I knew what horrors had happened in the back cubicle.  It brought a tear to my eye.  All I could think of was that SCTV or SNL imitation of the then famous kitty litter commercial, where the woman comes in and says, “CHRIST!  Did a  COW Shit in HERE????!!!”

Maybe it was just me, I thought.

Then others started getting on … I won’t repeat the commentary, but I will say the guy who usually sits in the back and opens the vent said, “Hell, I’m not sittin back there!”  He put his stuff, down, took a deep breath near the front of the bus, held it … RANNNNNN to the back and opened the vent … then RANNNNNNN back to his seat in the third row.

Usually, almost everyone gets two seats to themselves.  Today, the regulars were sitting doubled up in the front.

The kicker to all this is … another shuttle had failed to pick up people from another division of where I’m contracting … just didn’t show up.  By the time we got to the last stop, there were 3 seats left.  It wasn’t pretty.

I wonder what horrors await this afternoon’s ride … if I’m not back soon, it’s because I’m being treated in some hospital for inhalation related injuries.

Snoring a Schnarrrrrk

I come from a family of champion snorers. On my mother’s side, at least, we have people who snore with such vim and vigor that it makes freight trains sound like a hummingbird chirping in comparison.

My mother and I were travelling in 2006 through Greece – after a brief stop in Germany fist – and this topic arose. When it comes to snoring, there’s no more fire power on the planet, than what comes out of this little 5’3” woman’s body. It’s loud enough to wake HER up in mid “skkknarrrrf” …

We were on the way over to Frankfurt from Philadelphia, and the best I could do was 2 aisle seats, one row apart. Well, the Mom Unit fell asleep – it was like having a jet engine inside the cabin. I don’t know if I ever discussed it with her, but the woman sitting next to my mother was NOT amused. I thought she was going to say something to my mother a couple of times, and I was ready to smack that woman upside the head.

We got to Meteora in Greece, and the mom unit was in complete denial. She inSISTed that she didn’t’ snore. So, while I was out on the balcony, loving the view, my mother was inside falling asleep. She was recovering from a head cold – which she shared with me, thank you – and was tired.

Well, soon enough the Wooly Mammoth sounds started emanating from the room. So, I crept back in, switched my camera (the old one) to “movie mode” and made a movie.

Yes … six-and-one-half minutes of my mother motionless and snoring.

When it was done, I very quietly picked the camera up, and went to the laptop. I downloaded the movie, and relaxed on the balcony for a bit longer before going to sleep.

The next morning, I said, “Come here, there’s something I want to show you.” She walked over to the laptop, and I fired up the clip.

She hissed, then laughed.

I usually only snore loudly when I’m DEAD tired. I remember the DemonEx™ complained one night. I felt bad then (now, of course, it’s funny).

Sadly, I now snore much more frequently, and it turns out … I’m pretty loud on the shuttle. Or, more bluntly – one of the two LOUDest.

I’ve awakened myself to my own snore now on many occasions, thinking for the first few days, “That wasn’t me. That was that guy back there.”

Not.

It’s loud. It’s embarrassing. It’s hilarious.

“Schnarrrrk!”

I’m about 2 hours from the ride home, and I’m dead tired. You do the math …

Pranks

I love Pranks.  Never mean ones … at least, they’re never intended to be mean.  But I love to prank at work and at play.  Last night we were reviewing the pranks I’d pulled on the Midnight Sun staff.  (The “Sun” is a video bar in the Castro district of San Francisco.)

In the past few months, the Sun has hired some new staff.  One of the barbacks looked *very* familiar to me when I first saw him.  VERY distinctive looks, in a throwback to the 80s-90s sort of way.  Mid twenties or so, I thought.  It was driving me nuts after about a week, so I finally cornered Dan, the manager whom I’ve know for about 16-17 years.  I asked him, “Dan?  Does he do porn?  How do I know this guy?”  I figured Dan would know because, well, Dan was in porn and was partnered to one of the biggest porn names in the business in the 80s and 90s.  Dan said no. (Someday, I’ll share the Dan prank … that was fun). 

I was lost … until one morning, I popped onto chat early, and there was this screen name on the list: Gen*    Ahhhhhhh HAAAAAAH!

So, I waited for my chance, but Gen* doesn’t like to make eye-contact a lot in the bar, so it was tough.  Then, one night, I caught this same guy, the really leatheresque, punkerish, pierced barback doing a flawless Julia Sugarbaker from Designing Women … the episode where she defends her sister to some beauty pageant princess with the closing line, “… was the Night the Lights went Out in GeorGIA!” 

 

About a week later, my aussie friend Dean brought Gen* over and I had my moment, “Ed, this is the sweetest man.  This is …” and I interrupted … “THIS is Gen*”  And both faces froze as I continued, “Who does a *flawless* Julia Sugarbaker in here.”  It was much fun.

 

About a week later, I was online again, looking at somebody’s buddy list, when I saw a familiar face.  It was the *other* new hire, whose handle is Kitchen*

 

I dig through his photos, and there it was … a hilarious photo of him where someone caught him totally obliterated, sitting on a toilet, leaning against the towel rack, eyes rolled up into his head, wearing *only* a t-shirt, which he is pulling down over his privates by a single thumb.

 

So … I printed it.

 

I arrived on his first day of work the next week, with the image printed in low quality, and folded in half.  I went up and he asked if I wanted my usual, and I said yes, and oh … would he do something else for me?  “Would you autograph something for me?”  He made a funny face, but said, “Yes.” 

 

“Would you sign this ‘To Ed Love Kitchen*’ please?”  In the middle of which, I opened the folded image.

 

Kitchen* shrieked, grabbed the paper out of my hand, and ran into the back of the bar.  A few seconds later he came stumbling out, laughing his fool head off.

 

He signed it.  I have it.  I showed it to many people … I think he showed it to more, though.  :{)

 

(Reminder … names with the * are partial chat screen names.)

 

Independence Day

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Independence Day means so many things to people. 

For me, this year, it was the beginning of my re-independence from my flab.  Okay, I haven’t gained THAT much weight back … but enough.  This week, I restarted the cardio.  On Independence Day, I restarted the weight training. 

My complex has a new Bowflex unit.  I’m completely thrilled … our old equipment was getting to be, well, in it’s twilight years.  After doing my cardio for the day, I started with the Bowflex, and although it seemed pretty easy, I definitely felt it in the morning.

I had to cut it short, though, in order to make it into SF in time to meet friends, and then be home for fireworks.  You see, from my place, you have the Sausalito fireworks being set off directly across the bay from my balcony.   There’s nothing but water ahead of me.

I got into town, and I had to break a $10.  You can’t do that and get change that works for MUNI at the Civic Center station, so I went, broke the $10 at Walgreens, and then walked 2 blocks to the Van Ness station underground.  Well, I get there, and the quarter machine isn’t working.  I’m literally 5 Bloody Cents Short!

I walked to the Castro, which I’ve done on several occasions now.  It’s not unpleasant, but I was constrained for time, and it took 25 minutes!   To my surpise, I learned today that it’s 1.9 miles … I could have skipped my cardio earlier and concentrated on the weight training!!!

To my surprise, a group of friends from gay.com chat were at the front birdbath when I arrived.  I didn’t recognize the one because … well … I’d never seen him with clothes ON before (see the dinner party story from SF Gay Pride/Pink Saturday).  There was a veritable CLUMP of chatters there … they seemed to have a good time.  I hear some went to dinner at Poesia after (see previous post on Poesia), and there was a small … indiscretion.  I think everyone had fun, though!

I joined my posse at the back, and we were carrying on.  One of Peter’s stalkers … a certain “Dr. Bill” as we call him … was already ensconced at the middle birdbath.  They were all but locking arms and signing Cumbaya when I got to them, in an attempt to keep Dr. Bill at bay.   I was able to join, and it was funny.  The recently married gay couples had pulled away from the rest of us.  So, of course, we single folk are saying things like, “Uh Huh.  Seeeeee how they are now?  Too good for us …”

It was all in good fun, though, and we had a lot of laughs.  At one point, I said something that cleared everyone from the table, including me, to laugh like fools.  I was there for about 90 mins, before heading out, grabbing a bite, and heading for the bus.

When we rounded the bend on the bus, they’d just started the fireworks.  After the bus driver nearly killed me in the aisle (no offense to the driver – he hadn’t heard the bell go off because he was having to concentrate on all the illegal parkers, and had to slam on the breaks to make the stop), I ran down to my place, and got the camera out. 

We were lucky – it was clear, and I had a great view of the fireworks!  I’m going to add a couple photos below.  A very safe and pleasant fourth, here.  I hope yours was, too!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Insignificant Others

A short time ago, a chat buddy, who’s become a real world friend – I call him Malameena now, which is a play on his chat handle – asked me if I wanted to go dinner and the theatre.  I said yes, and since I knew we’d be joined by his best friend (Vicky) and her husband (Rick), I knew it would be a fun evening.  I’d met Vicky and Rick several weeks before at a cookout at Malameena’s, and we’d had a fun time. 

On the program for the evening was a musical called Insignificant Others, a small production that I’d heard about and was curious about.  I knew it was some mix of gay/str8 stories, but didn’t know much about it.  I didn’t read the reviews beforehand, so I went in fresh.  When I realized it was just a few days after the parade, it seemed consistent with the whole Pride Week theme. 

I don’t know many locals who go to Pier 39 on purpose.  It’s one of the biggest tourists traps in the history of mankind.  Not only was the show there, so was our restaurant.  Double whammy.  We had dinner at Swiss Louis.  Our food was quite good, and I was fairly confident that I would explode by the end.  Fortunately, we had time to wander a bit before getting seated at the theatre.

There were t-shirts and CD and other paraphernalia.  It was interesting.   

I think the theatre was where they used to do the “Earthquake Demo” on Pier 39 years ago.  Whenever the lead actress moved, WE certainly moved.  And she wasn’t THAT big.

What can I say about Insignifcant Others?  I gave my opinion at the half-way point to Vicky, and she said that’s what the reviews she’d read had said: Tales of the City meets Rent. 

I mean, the parallels were NOT masked.  One of the Tales books is called Significant Others.  The lead character marches into SF from Cleveland!  She’s naive.  One of her best friends is a browner, gurrrrrlier Michael “Mouse” Toliver.  Then the show moves along and the Mouse character morphs oh-so-not-subtly into Angel from Rent.  (And I’ll say this … the actor would have made a *fine* Angel.)

The first half of the first act is just … well … painful.  It’s all disjointed, and it doesn’t make any sense.  The Angel/Mouse character is particularly perplexing and vexing.  You can sort of guess what’s going on, but he’s just so *randomly* tragic, it doesn’t make any sense.  And, of course, the end of the first act is SO Angel, it was almost painful to watch, and not in a good way.  (His return to stage was far less moving than what is done in Rent.)  Also, Eric’s solo in the “club” is pleasant, but I was scratching my head as to why it was there, or how it moved the story along.  The song was agreeable, but had nothing to do with anything else going on …

Now that said … somewhere in the middle of the first act, we get to a song called “Plumbing,” I believe.  Hilarious.  The lead actress finally had a vehicle she could sink her teeth into … so to speak.  A little later, there were a series of vignettes about Starbucks – implied Nazi-style takeover of many things in the presentation made it funny.  They had Starbucks partnering with everyone from Safeway (true) to JiffyLube (false … so far).  The lead played a stereotyped German barrista-a-la-nazi-woman … it was fun.

The first 8 times.  That’s another problem the show has.  Too repetitive.  The songs are often about 2 verses too long, and the sight gags are repeated about 2 times too often.  The first Starbuck’s slam was funny, when the Safeway logo appeared inside the Starbuck’s (projected on the back of the stage).  The last one with Jiffylube in the middle would have been *hilarious* had it been 2-3 sight-gags earlier …

All of this is no small irony with Starbucks apparently announcing thousands of layoffs – although, that is just something I heard in chatting today.

My hat is off to the woman playing the lead, and to some extent to the guy playing Luke/Mouse/Angel.  The Luke actor plays it a little TOO over the top.  There isn’t that much girl in ANY five women, five drag queens, and five Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence … combined.  (With no offense intended to any of those groups.)

I actually think this play could be a *lot* of fun with another rewrite.  It needn’t be such a sledgehammer on the head in copying Tales and Rent.  Right now, I’ll be generous and give it 3 Stars out of 5.  If you go, be prepared for several wonderful moments, and some wonderful laughs, but they are often far apart.

The most disturbing thing of the evening, though, was finding out that Vicky hasn’t read nor seen any of the Tales of the Citystuff.  I’m demanding Malameena’s Queer Card back … such a bad homo …

AIR!

I got up this morning, and looked for the sunrise.  The sun was the scariest ever … it was like late evening near the aegean, with super hot temps.  But, it wasn’t hot, just smokey:

Can’t see the sun there?  Here’s a close-up:

When I stepped out to take the shots, I thought, “Boy.  Is this gonna suck.”  I got out side, and voila:

AIR!

I couldn’t believe it.  There was real, clean good air.  The winds had shifted to the west, and the fog had come part way in.  It was a miracle!  I ran around opening every window and door I could.  The breeze was strong and chilly, and sitting at my desk, my hands got blue from the cold.  I didn’t care.  There was AIR!

One Hour … Two Hours … Three.   It was yummy.  The fog came in further and further, and I thought, “I’m going to be able to breathe today!”

The huge gust of smoke came in the window.  I damn near spewed my coffee on the keyboard. 

The winds had shifted to the North.  The breeze had not slowed at all, just shifted.  Now the smoke was barrelling down on us.  In one dramatic shift, everything changed.  It went from being a gorgeous corner of the world again, to the worst smoke day in Sausalito this season.  As I rewrite this blog – which I’m doing because once again WordPress’s software isn’t publish, and *is* crashing – I can no longer see further than about 1 mile.  Angel Island – visible in the pictures above – is all but gone now.

<sigh>

Cabinets and Carpets

It’s facinating to me to sit on MUNI or in a coffee shop … or even in a club … and listen to what people are talking about.  The Hill v. Oba show is often fun … often bizarre …

What slays me, though, as I slide into my Late Twenty-Twenties (thank you Elayne Boosler), are the conversations that I hear the most.  Doesn’t matter the sex, gender, or sexual orientation of the people in the conversation … it’s Cabinets and Carpets.

They’re the hottest thing, apparently.  Even in bar/club repartee.  The conversations typically start out, “Hi, Bill.  How are you?”  Normal enough … pleasantries are exchanged.  And then someone asks the question that gets the conversation really flowing, “What are you doing/did you do this weekend?”  Then it starts …

“Oh, it was a nightmare … I’m having the kitchen redone, and the cabinets were just a dissaster.  They don’t match the carpet.”  Notes are compared … and then people either go home to their spouses/partners, or they make a coffee date if they’re single.

Did you know this was hot stuff?  This is Bar Banter™ !!!

THIS is flirting???

Call me old fashioned – and many do, among other things I shouldn’t type here - but how about a good old, “I really like the way you look this evening.”  Or, how about, “Did you see the latest Almodovar?”  Or, and call me a geek, what if they tried “Did you see the article about the new exhibit Tut Exhibit at the De Young Museum?” 

In a real pinch, of course, there’s always, “I think you’re so sexy/beautiful/funny/warm/<pick one or insert your own here>.  Shall we go some place where we can chat more privately?”  It’s a little dated, but it shows interest in the other person directly, at least. 

I guess an invitation to see the offending cabinet/color combo works.  I know I’d be stimulated … mainly to look and see if the paintings in the living room matched the couch …

“My cabinets don’t match my carpet.”  THIS is conversation and flirting today.  If I heard it once in a while, I’d be less torqued about the whole thing.   It’s everywhere. 

Personally, I’m going for new shoes … my Nike Brasils are wearing out …