I have a job interview tomorrow at some place called "House of Brews". In midtown no less! What in the world made me answer that ad? Was I drunk? High on Clonazepam? I don't even drink beer. I'm probably going to skip it, unless I decide to go for the blog-fodder.

Fine, I'll watch Celebrity Duets tomorrow. You'll all be sorry.

Spiral Frog announces deal with Universal Music and offers free music downloads. Kind of huge. For Apple.

How cute and way way gay was Tim Gunn when he showed up on the flight to Paris? How harsh was it to bring them all the way to Paris just to send one home? Talk about a shitty flight back.


And finally, Justin Hartley, the actor recast to play Aquaman in the Smallville spin-off show, has been recast again and will join the cast of Smallville for a multi part story arc. His new chracter? Green Arrow. As in shoots boxing glove arrows and arrows that carry net-traps. But they're green. Get it?

So yesterday I decide to make myself a hearty lunch/brunch. It was a rainy day but I managed to get a break to get the dog walked. While I was takin' care of his bidness I had on a pot of black beans and rice. After I got him home and fed I went back down (5 flights !!) for a newspaper, a dozen eggs and some chips. I was hoping my deli had some Frito's Scoops! They only had the regular size. So I opted for this here bag of Ruffles Cheddar and Sour Cream:


Once the rice & beans cooked up and I scrambled up 4 eggs and a slice of swiss, I poured myself a V8, laid out a handful of vitamins and acidolphous and settled on the couch to have a meal. I opened the bag of chips and the newspaper, and started eating my meal and absentmindedly munching on some potato chips. Engrossed in the lurid details of how the guy that supposedly killed JonBenet Ramsey was no longer charged (even though he's obviously guilty of something totally perverted) I ate a forkfull of eggs and rice, followed by another dip into the chips. that's when things went horribly wrong. My fingers closed on something far too solid to be a chip. Pulling my hand out of the bag, I was confronted with a nugget of unknown origin:


It was about the size of a Chicken McNugget. I was a little repulsed, but having already eaten half the bag it seemed a little pointless to freak out. It wasn't rat shaped, and I didn't observe any whiskers, hairs, or human fingernails. Still, this clearly didn't belong in the bag. I did eat a couple more chips, but eventually I couldn't be brave enough and threw the rest of the contents out. I didn't talk myself into being sick or nauseous or horribly poisoned. The title of the post is totally for effect. I'm hardly traumatized.

Eventually I decided to document the experience with my lovely replacement digital camera. I finally broke the nugget in two and determined that I had a chunk of whatever they coat the Sour Cream and Cheddar chips with. That's all:



Although I'm confident the Frito-Lay company doesn't intend to send this kind of product out for public consumption, I don't think I have grounds for a lawsuit. And I abhor how litigious this country has become. But I've definitely decided to forward this post to the folks at Frito-Lay. If for no other reason than I'll post the response and maybe I'll get some coupons and free shit.

Dear Frito-Lay people, I like Frito's Scoops! and anything Ruffles. I detest the entire line of anything "Baked".

I actually flipped between the Emmy Awards and The Discovery Channel special on New Orleans and the hurricane. That's when I wasn't watching Cristy have a total meltdown. In all the coverage there was a lot of controversy about the plane crash opening. What the hell? It wasn't a plane crash opening. It was a parody. Part of a series of parodies. They did Lost, they did The Office, they did South Park among others. And of course it was filmed in advance. If they had cut the Lost opening the whole piece wouldn't have made sense. I am so sick of this PC bullshit. Why don't they stop showing Lost altogether until people "recover" from the "trauma" of the plane crash? Don't get me wrong, I'm sorry people died in a plane crash. I just don't think we need to eliminate all references to planes, crashes, corn fields, corn chips, ears of corn and (Project) Runways until some sort of appropriate time (decided by who?) passes. It's comedy, and all the lazy, dumbass "professional" newspaper writers should know better.

Oh, and I agree with him. Candace, what the hell were you thinking? No, no, a thousand times no. Image and fug - via Go Fug Yourself.

While I'm in full-on irascible crank mode, I was perusing a few other blogs and came across this post on Towleroad. Now, the post itself is innocuous enough. Quite frankly, I could care less about it, and I'm sure there are literally thousands of gay couples attending US Open matches. I may go myself. Obviously not as a gay couple. The part that totally frosted my balls is buried down in the comments. To wit: the comment/"joke" by one Jared that whatever is perceived as "wrong" with Lance Bass' face is because of protease inhibitors. Because they're gay. And all gay people are HIV +. Cause they all have a disease. From being gay. Funn-nee! So I sent him a little note:

Hello. I read the little joke comment you left on the Towleroad blog. I’m assuming the “joke” is that all gay people are HIV positive. Real clever. Since you decided to post in such a public forum, I have no hesitation in letting you know I found it completely unfunny. You’re a bigot and a complete asshole.

I feel better, anyway.

In a semi-related vein did you hear? NYC gave away 12.2 million condoms last year as a way to help stem the spread of HIV. Do they have any that say I (heart) NY? Cause I would totally use them. Maybe there's some at the US Open.

I like to do a test run whenever I get new pills from Dr. Nick. In case they've slipped me a placebo and I find out while waiting in the dentist's office. Since I was already in angry man phase it seemed like a good time. I'm happy to report I'm quite high. Wheeeeeee!

It was the best. intervention. ever. It almost seemed like a bad movie of the week. Watching her guzzle vodka straight from the bottle and the crazy meth writing was horrifying. Even worse was watching her entire family of enablers let themselves be manipulated by the little fiend. It was great.

OK While I'm around the subject, check out Life Or Meth.

I was expecting a UPS delivery of a "prescription" of happiness I ordered. I think the "doctor" is the "Hi Everybody!" Doctor Nick from The Simpson's, and we've never actually met, but so far, he's never refused me anything I've asked for. Basically, I've found that you can get almost anything by prescription if you hunt hard enough.

What I wasn't expecting was my camera to be delivered as well so that was a happy surprise. Coincidentally, I noticed a ridiculously cheap sale on a digital media card. It meant a trip to the hated Best Buy, but saving about $45 made it tolerable. It's a 1GB card so even at the 5 megapixel setting on the camera, it stores over 600 pictures. Considering I've never taken more than 50 at a time that should be plenty. The camera arrived in good working order. Now I've got spare charger cords, software and USB cable as well. Should come in handy if my chew-happy dog strikes again.

Also not expected today was my new ID to come in the mail. Last year on a trip home I was shunted to a suspicious character line because my ID had expired. That was the trip I had borrowed The Hellcat's luggage. The luggage that then tested positive for explosives. Don't ask. It ended up to be pretty funny. I also couldn't get an advance on a credit card a few months ago because my ID was expired. I want to go home to see the family soon so it was time to brave the DMV and get a new ID. Surprisingly, aside from the two hours it took, it was pretty painless. The DMV office has been updated and computerized, so it was mostly a matter of waiting in line to show your documents and get a picture. Besides, here's a fun fact: I've never had a passport. Except for Canada I've never left the United States. I mean to change that in the future. Getting the ID put me in a retardedly good mood. My hair looks absolutely horrible in the picture, but I confess I spent about 10 minutes comparing the two pictures, almost a decade apart. I giddily and vainly report I'm actually holding up pretty well. I guess I don't need to search the internet for Botox just yet.

Went to a HIV+ support group that meets every Thursday evening. I was late all day yesterday so I missed the first 1/2 hour but I still found the discussion lively and in progress. I don't go every week. Sometimes something else is going on, sometimes I forget it's Thursday. But every time I do make it I end up walking around in a much better mood the rest of the night. Even if the conversation gets heavy or raw. It makes me think, and that's always good. And I guess I leave feeling, not so much less alone, but with a sense of camaraderie. For better or worse a part of something with a lot of other people. If you've never been, I highly recommend trying to find one in your area.

A new class of HIV drugs called integrase inhibitors show real promise in virus supression.

Out of Control: AIDS in Black America. Watch the video links. Read the articles. This is here. This is now. This is home.

Spent the rest of the last couple days shoring up my vast financial empire. Everything isn't perfect but I feel like the wolves are no longer howling at the door. I still know they're out in the woods though.

And Also ...

I spent the rest of this afternoon and evening answering help wanted ads on-line. I love The Internets and how it's become perfectly acceptable to apply on-line. I remember very well when you had to pound the pavement for jobs only to arrive at a "bartending" job at a diner with 3 stools. Plus it was exhausting.

I got a fit of determination late today and finally located the missing remote to my bedroom TV. Now I don't have the daunting task of adjusting the volume with the button on the TV. Whew! And while I didn't locate the extra printer USB cable I bought the other day, I did find the one I thought I threw out that I bought the replacement for. AIDSheimer's, it's not just for breakfast anymore.

And is it just me, or does anyone else have a dog that sits directly in the doorway of the only way in or out of a room, looking at you like he can't imagine how this is a problem for you? If I didn't love him so much I'd punt him like a football.

Polish surgeons are reporting a successful proceedure to remove a male patient's cancerous tongue. They reportedly replaced the tissue with sections of the patient's buttocks. Doctor's are expecting a full recovery and estimate the man will be talking out of his ass within 3-6 months. Thank you! I'll be back at 10. Try the lamb.


Pluto voted out. Goofy's name officially changed to "Fuckin' Goofy".

Offensive T-Shirts. Get yours today!

Here's some stuff I failed to whine about that's been happening:

I got my bank card stolen, AGAIN! I've been carrying my card around in my back pocket for years. Nothing has ever happened, and I like having a means to pay for something in a pinch. But now twice in the last six months it was stolen, and used. This time over 500 dollars was charged to one Home Depot and over 400 dollars to a Lowes. Why are these stores accepting HUGE charges with no ID? I couldn't access my checking account all week and it will be at least another week before the charges are straightened out. So I've been living on a credit card cash advance and my rent check almost, but didn't, bounce.

I lost my digital camera. I had it with me during the Liza concert and I took it out several times for pictures. I assume that one time I thought I put it back in my bag but missed. Or it fell through a rip in the bag. Either way I didn't have it the next morning. The only saving grace, the pictures that I managed pretty much sucked. I found a replacement on EBay that I'm hoping to win at auction tomorrow. But I still have to replace the media card as well and the whole thing is an expense I don't need right now. Of course, this whole whine is retarded. I do have a 2.1 megapixel digital tucked into the back of my closet. But my better camera is 5.1 megas. So I'm in effect bitching because if I had to, I would be forced to use my second inferior digital camera. I'm an asshole. Sorry.

I got up yesterday and The Hellcat's dog was there to greet me. But once again no Hellcat. I was cursing him out in my head as I took Jet down for a walk and then The Hellcat's dog. Shortly after The Ex got up and informed me that The Hellcat was out of town for the day and that The Ex agreed to take care of the dog. A couple hours later The Ex went to an afternoon party, and didn't return till after 9 pm. Of course I had already walked and fed both dogs a second time. Well, since they were taken care of, The Ex assured me he would walk The Hellcat's dog in the morning. Like the poor thing couldn't use a walk before bed. You know that at 3 am I was walking Jet and at 3:30 The Hellcat's dog went down. May I remind you it's a 5th floor walk up? Good thing I'm in sound cardiovascular shape. So today I get up and confirm by e-mail that The Hellcat's dog was walked. Yep. And fed too. Problem was The Hellcat didn't leave any food for today, and The Ex is an idiot. So he gave him the last of Jet's food. Which I discovered after I had walked down and up 5 flights to go to the grocery store. So apparently the second class citizen in my own home now extends to my dog. Sucks to be my kid.

Judging by my e-mail and sparse comments, people have noticed the dearth of real sex posts lately here. It's not that I've found god (I didn't even know he was missing) or suddenly got prudish. It's that except for the occasional slap and tickle at the gym, I'm not having sex. My ongoing digestive problems, coupled with a general lack of self-esteem due to not being able to keep a good steady job, have left me feeling decidedly undesirable and un-sexy. I don't really want to meet anyone. I don't want to explain why I have a Wednesday afternoon free to hook up. And my hair is getting really long. If I go a couple of days without shaving, I feel like this crazy unkempt old guy. So. Not. Hot.

Dog related story. I was walking Jet tonight and came upon a car sized tarp under which, I assumed, was construction material. Not a stretch at all. In my neighborhood you'll find two schools, three hospitals, a synagogue, a city park and the Police Training Academy. Something is always being built, repaired or tore up. But because it was big, and it wasn't there yesterday, Jet began to growl and bark at it. As I do, I went up to it, reassuring Jet that there was nothing to be afraid of. I slapped it with my hand a couple of times.

"It's OK, Jet. See?"

From under the tarp:

"Yeah?"

"Oh! .... Sorry... Someone's living in there Jet. Let's go."

I should have known. In Manhattan, if it's big enough for someone to live in, chances are someone's living in it.

UPDATE: Thank you for the complement Randy. And I won the Ebay auction to replace my camera. I don't bid a lot on EBay I usually just go ahead and buy it if I find something, and the few times I bid I lost. That was exciting. I see why people get hooked. Anyway, I replaced my camera for 1/3 of what it normally sells for. Sucks that I had to do it, but oh well.

I confess, I watched the Teen Choice Awards, eagerly ogling hot men. I read somewhere that the top of the most desirable demographic in America is the age of 49, so I can still do things like that. For a few more years at least. I'm happy to report one of the hottest men on the show was one Johnny Depp. Totally my age and one sexy muthafucka. I've had a boner for him ever since he got sucked down (ha!) into his own bed in the very first Nightmare On Elm Street. But I was really tuned in because I couldn't resist the worldwide debut of the endless talent about to pour forth from Mr. Britney Spears. I was a little surprised when the baby factory herself appeared on stage to introduce hubby dumbest. What wasn't surprising? She didn't even bother to take the gum out of her mouth beforehand! She ain't country. Our Brit is pure, 100% American trailer park. The performance? What's the word I'm searching for? Oh yeah! SUCKED! Not that I have an iota of influence, but if this guys "career" doesn't dry up and fizzle, America not only has no talent, it has no taste. Seriously, it was bad y'all. And it's not just that I don't particularly like rap. It was bad rap. Crap rap if you will. Badly written, over performed. An approaching 30 white guy trying to bust out the street cred and sounding like a whiny punk.

After that horror, I happily tuned in to watch the Comedy Central roast of William Tiberius Shatner. I figured it would be a great show, as T.J. Hooker has been a pretty good sport about making fun of himself over the years. It turned out to be a bit uneven. Nichelle Nichols gets only a few seconds of screen time, just long enough to botch a joke. Sandra Bullock sends over a pretty hilarious video. And then there was Farrah Fawcett. What do you say about the great train wreck that is Farrah? One too many visits to her nip/tuck doctor. She's wisely learned to use her hands to cover up her oddly re-shaped upper lip. What she doesn't cover, is how completely fucked up and seemingly drug addled she's become. Here, she can't even get out a single line. That's when I wasn't totally distracted by her droopy bra strap. She's like a crazy old Aunt that you invite to Christmas and then search her oversized bag for stolen silverware. Oh, and I totally had an 80's crush on T.J. Hooker sidekick Adrian Zmed, pictured here with one-time j/o fantasy Scott Baio.


Not so much now.

One of the standouts? None other than Golden Girl Betty White. Sue Ann Nivens has always had a kick ass delivery, and she hits 'em well here. And it was totally worth tuning in just to hear Betty White say "cock ring". Fun-neee!

Yep, sure do:

DC Comics Hawk & Dove #1-5 mini-series.

DC Comics Deadshot #1-4 mini-series.

X-Men Unlimited #1, and #3.

Marvel Comics Heroes Reborn #1, and #3.

X-Man issue #1 (lot of 9)

and hilariously:

Quasar! yes, Quasar.

Last night the pooch and I headed out to the pier at Charles St. to catch one of the last outdoor movies for the summer. Well, obviously the dog couldn't care less, but I wanted to see the movie. It was one of my favorites. Willy Wonka. The far superior original. Not that I hated the Johnny Depp remake. But the first movie is soooo much better. One of those times when advances in movie technology doesn't mean a better movie. The one thing the remake totally screwed up was the Oompa Loompas. When I was a kid they disturbed me a little but I loves me some Oompa Loompas now. I would love a set of Oompas for my very own. I would have them manufacture something to sell for a charity which in reality was me. And I would have them constantly cleaning up dog hair.

It was a couple of days ago when The Hellcat asked me if we were "on" for Liza on Thursday. I hesitated for a minute before telling him that I was in fact going to the show "but not with you guys". I offered to revisit the topic later in private but he said it wasn't necessary. We just sort of moved on from there. Not a lot of tension or drama. I had toyed with the idea of bringing Jet on a stroller outing but decided that while the trip was doable, getting him to sit still for an entire concert seemed problematic. So I headed out alone, arriving at Coney Island around 6pm. Two cheese dogs and a lemonade later I was ready for Liza.

Liza was ..... Liza. I seriously thought after her opening number she'd never get through the concert. I don't think she warms up at all anymore. I think she just hits the stage. Her voice got stonger throughout the show. But she's lost a lot. Fortunately, she's Liza. She's forgotten more about performing than we'll ever know. She's got a huge bag of tricks and doesn't hesitate to use them all. She cheats in to or out of a note. She cuts out and let's the band cover. She talks instead of sings. She gestures. She pops a leg. And it all still works. She's Liza.

Her show was full of gasps and giggles and stutters. We were "fabulous". The band was "fabulous". She's 60. She lost 26 pounds (presumeably the weight of David Gest's head). Her laugh is now more of a dirty rasp. It works for her. She got through Ring Them Bells. Some sort of sense memory took over as she did Cabaret for the ten thousandth time. New York, New York was the encore. The fact that she couldn't sing it lost on the audience on their feet. It's time for Liza to drop the bombastic numbers and put together an act of easier, smaller songs. She learned a long time ago how to tell a story with music. She ought to show it off more.

I spotted The Hellcat and his no-class cunty bf as I was packing up my stuff to leave. I didn't say hello. And I had to pee for over an hour so I had priorities. Once that was taken care of, I thought about wandering around Coney Island at night to get some pictures but I opted to come home instead. Unfortunately, The Hellcat and his bf decided not to come home at all. Which would have been fine except for the fact that his dog wasn't walked or fed. When I woke up this morning and realized they never came home, his dog was already in the kitchen, whining for some help. I carried him downstairs and then fed him. He ate it all immediately. While I was gone, Jet peed in the kitchen.

I got a note from my Aunt Tina today in the mail. Uncle Al never told her that I was skipping school. My story made her smile and cry. Today is a good day.

I know. Seemingly not me, but we all have our guilty pleasures. And I do love dance. And dancer butt. mmmmm. Where was I?

Yeah, so I loved the final show, as well as the final four. I pretty much agreed every time someone was offed from the show. Donyelle was the weakest of the four, but she is freakin' gorgeous on camera. It's nice that she's not a little size 00. Unfortunately, her current weight seems to hold her back. She seems to tire out at the halfway point of most of her numbers, and if you watch closely, she has a tendency to cheat. She doesn't always finish her movements. And her body line is off. I was kind of surprised Heidi wasn't in the final two. Not that I thought she deserved it, I'm just surprised the voting went with two guys in the final. I would have been satisfied with any of the final three at the end. They were all great dancers.

If I had to pick, I would have gone with Travis. I'm not saying Benji wasn't good. In fact, he is the better showman of the two. He's better at selling the number and telling a story through both his body and his face. Benji is ready now to be on Broadway as a dancer. But Travis is technically the better dancer. He's stronger, his body line is prettier. He hits his marks harder and more convincingly. And if he's this poised at 18, he's only going to improve from here. Besides, I haven't found any pictures of Benji in drag. Travis, well....



As long as I'm on the reality show kick. Did you see Project Runway this week yet? Not to worry, Bravo will re-run it nine hundred times. Was anyone else traumatized by seeing Laura's tiny, sagging middle-aged titty peeking out of her dress? Ah well, at least it got me over the trauma of viewing Survivor winner and convicted felon Richard Hatch's weiner at the end of Another Gay Movie.

News reports from my native Buffalo concern a man facing animal cruelty charges. Apparently, while visiting an acquaintance he suddenly and impulsively decided to quick-fry 5 six week old kittens in a pan with hot oil and pork chops. Clearly, this man is absolutely crazy. Everyone knows kittens are surprisingly not tender, and need to be boiled in a stew pot with carrots and potatoes.

I'm repeating but it's still funny.

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SEND YOUR CONTAC INFO, RESUMEN AND PICTURE

I'm very energic but I'm not sure if I qualify in goo shape.

Several of the comic books I put up sold on E-Bay. Unfortunately, because I failed to put a minimum bid price on anything they all sold for the bargain opening bid of 99 cents. Between what it will cost to buy shipping envelopes and the price of the ads, I lost money on every deal. Ah well, it's a learning curve, I won't make that mistake again. Besides, I mostly put up comics I didn't give a rats ass about.

I'm six kinds of annoyed with The Hellcat. He broke the toilet yesterday fiddling with it unnecessarily. He made all these broad pronouncements that he would take care of it today, and then stayed out all night tending bar at a private party and getting drunk. Before he went to bed during the day today he managed to flood the bathroom as well. "Fixing" the toilet consisted of calling the "super" (translation: useless Irish immigrant) who said he couldn't fix it today and would be out of town for a few days. At which point The Hellcat went to bed and slept all day and night. As if it would be acceptable to have to reach in the tank and manually flush the toilet for a few days until the "super" got around to fixing it. So of course I did it myself. It cost all of six dollars and took about 20 minutes but that's hardly the point. Around 10 pm The Hellcat sent his no-class cunty bf off to work, at which point he marveled that I managed to fix the toilet, promised to wash all the towels and rug that got wet in the flood tomorrow (NOT) and then said he was going to bed. Apparently he was exhausted from laying in bed all day accomplishing nothing. Asshole.

So yesterday the plan was to head out to Coney Island where the B-52's were giving a free concert. Our group consisted of me, The Hellcat, his bf and a friend of the bf. This was potentially problematic as I don't know the friend at all and the bf and I currently don't speak, at all. But I decided to go with it anyway, telling myself that I could leave the group or go home any time I wanted to, and honestly, I thought maybe I could at least find a little common ground with the bf and take a couple of baby steps to at least being cordial around each other.

We had decided to leave several hours early, in order to scope out the concert venue and possibly enjoy some time on the beach or in the amusement park. Up until a couple days ago, the weather report for the day was sunny and warm. Of course, since plans were made, it began to seriously cloud up as we headed for the subway. By the time the train emerged outside to cross the bridge into Brooklyn it was pouring rain. We forged ahead. The rain stopped and the sun began peeking through the clouds. By the time we arrived at Coney Island it was partly cloudy. Unfortunately the clouds that were gathering were dark and soon we began hearing thunder rumble. Wandering, unsure where exactly the concert was taking place, we made our way up the street and off the boardwalk just as it began to rain. The four of us huddled in another downpour under some trees and two umbrellas. It offered poor protection and we all got kind of wet. In August in NYC that isn't really a bad thing. We all talked and cracked jokes. When the cloudburst ended we found that we were indeed near the concert venue. It was a large outdoor stage with several hundred chairs set up and a large lawn on either side and behind. The tech crew was there getting the stage ready for the show, and we walked over to ask a few questions. They were seriously really friendly and eager to help. We found out that the concert was reasonably rain or shine, and they were pretty sure it would take place. Also, the free portion of the concert was the lawn area, where you could set up your own chairs, blankets, etc. The seating could be had but you had to pay a (small) ticket price. We agreed, considering the rain, that the seating would be worth it. Oh, and they also said there was an opening act, but they didn't remember who it was. We decided to head back to the boardwalk for a while. I wanted to eat, and the boys wanted to at least ride the Cyclone, if not other rides, as the beach wasn't an option.

Back on the boardwalk, I had me some fish n' chips, while the boys had some food and another round of 52 oz. beers. I enjoyed a lemonade. Big beer is so not me. After walking around a bit, the boys decided it was time to ride the Cyclone. As I previously wrote, I don't "do" rides. I agreed to smile and wave in support. Like my mom. By the time we got there, it had started to sprinkle. By the time they finished the ride, it had begun to rain. I watched the backpacks and waved from under my umbrella. Like my mom. Apparently, if the park isn't busy you can pay another fee and re-board the coaster, so around they went again. According to the boys, the front of the coaster is way better than the back and riding in the rain is "awesome". It was time to head back to the concert. The rain stopped again.

The line to get seats was longer but not at all huge. I stepped in with the friend, while The Hellcat and the bf headed to a local bar for more beer to help pass the time waiting. Some local politician was onstage making announcements, and thanking corporate sponsors. It was while waiting in line, not really listening, that he tossed out the name of the opening act. Two words. Martha. Fucking. Wash. As in Weather Girls Martha Wash. As in 5 #1 dance singles in the 90's Martha Wash. I grabbed my pee-pee and squealed I was so excited. I realized, judging by our place in line, we were going to score pretty good seats. We ended up center stage and six rows back. After securing our seats, the friend went off to the bathroom. The Hellcat and the bf soon showed up. After putting their things down, they decided there was ample time to go back to the bar they just came from. I remained behind, listening to music and lightly napping. Before the concert started the rain returned. It started to get heavy and a lot of people scattered. Ever the petite gal, I was able to sit under an umbrella and stay out of the rain in my chair. As it was subsiding, The now tipsy Hellcat phoned me. He, the bf and the friend were on their way back from the bar. And they found a liquor store and were bringing wine.

Sometime after 8 pm the rain stopped and they hastily started the show. The Hellcat and I knew full well who Martha Wash was, the bf and the straight friend, not so much. But say what you will, the bf is a card carrying fag and he instantly recognized the dance classics this diva belted out. Her voice is still incredible and we were up and dancing, as were the other homos scattered throughout the crowd. What can I say, we're gay. We dance. It's our way. She tore through three or four numbers before launching into the gospel dance classic "Carry On". And just as the rain returned, as if on cue, the former Weather Girl started to belt out "It's Raining Men". Half-way into the number it began to pour. Our shirts went flying off and we danced and sang along in the rain. It was about as near-perfect a moment as you're likely to get.

By the time she finished it was pouring and this time, there was thunder and lightning. The Hellcat and the friend decided to set out on another run for some sort of alcohol. I remained behind, two empty seats separating me and the bf. He busied himself talking to people in the next row as I attempted to cover myself with a trash bag The Hellcat had provided in lieu of raincoats. It wasn't working too well and I decided to give up. I removed the cover and let the rain wash over me. It was a little cold at first but I got used to it and enjoyed being out and soaked in a summer rain. The storm went on for quite a while and given the intensity I began to doubt the concert would happen. Tons of people left completely. Finally after what seemed to be 1/2 hour if not longer, the rain subsided, the lightning moved off and the politician announced the B-52's were due to take the stage. I had a comparatively dry towel in my shoulder bag, and after drying myself off from a chill, I offered it to the bf. He declined. The Hellcat and friend returned, having bought more wine from somewhere. The B-52's were on stage and wine was passed all around. I took a cup of red, tasted it, and was instantly transported back to a high school hayride. It was "wine" of the twist off cap glass jug with handle variety. I'm no connoisseur, but my palate is developed enough to find this swill undrinkable, as well as diarrhea (an area I need no help in) and hangover inducing. I handed it back and refused repeated offers throughout the night. Everyone else seemed to tolerate, if not enjoy the stuff.

The B-52's were, as expected, fantastic. My favorites, Fred Schneider and Kate Pierson both looked terrific. On stage, I love their less is more approach. The music is good, the lyrics are kitschy, no need to jump around like mad. A hip shake or a well-timed shimmy will do nicely. That's true in life, if you ask me. In no particular order we got "Love Shack", "Channel Z", "Mesopotamia" "Planet Claire" and my favorite "Roam". Of course "Rock Lobster" was in the two song encore to close the show. It wasn't a particularly long concert, probably a blessing due to the iffy weather, but it was about 10 songs, all pretty upbeat and typical for "the world's greatest party band". I couldn't have been more satisfied, as I'm sure the crowd that did stick around was. Curiously, at some point early in the show, the friend excused himself to go to the bathroom, never to return. We had to re-connect after the show by phone, where he turned up well and truly drunk. The Hellcat and bf were feeling no pain either as we made our way back to Manhattan. Bottles of beer were magically produced along the way, open container law be damned, as The Hellcat and friend passed back and forth beer and later, the last of the "wine".

We got back much later than I planned, sometime after midnight, and I was surprised and thrilled that Jet made it 12 hours without peeing in the kitchen. I took him for a walk right away, and returned to the boys sitting in the living room with the music channel turned way up and singing far too badly and loudly, considering The Ex had just gone to bed and had to work in the morning. I decided to not be the mom anymore and point this out, opting instead to let them all hash it out if it became an issue. Still and all, I had a fantastic night. I really really loved seeing Martha and the B-'s perform live. I was a little disappointed that despite a couple of attempts to have even a brief exchange with the bf, he chose to ignore me and not respond at all. That coupled with the fact that when his friend arrived at the apartment, he didn't even bother to introduce me to him leaves me to confirm what I sort of knew. The Hellcat may care for him, but as far as I'm concerned, the bf is a no-class little cunt that I want nothing to do with. We all have plans to go to next weeks' concert (It's LIZA! gay-ola!). If it's a better day weather-wise I'll be going, but not with those two. The Hellcat and I still hang out on occasion. That'll have to do.

I still have underemployment money coming in but I'm bored, bored, bored. I seriously think I'd like to go to college and get a degree. I'd be starting from scratch, though. In the meantime, I'm suppoded to head out in the afternoon to get some beach and sun at Coney Island, followed by a night-time free concert courtesy of the B52's. Love Shack, baby!

Hey look who checked in with a big update. I'm happy you're OK you little shit.

I assume it came with a recent update, but I noticed I got my own portrait link courtesy of the highly entertaining and lady of impeccable breeding, Mrs. Astor. I am humbled and thank you so much.

Went out with The Hellcat last night. Nothing major just a movie and a bite to eat after. I wanted to see Another Gay Movie. It was covered in the local gay mags. Articles about the cute guys in the movie. Interviews about getting the movie made, that sort of thing. It's a comedy, I wasn't expecting it to change the world. Maybe some of the stunt casting should have been a giveaway. Graham Norton, Scott Thompson, Lypsinka and Survivor Richard Hatch to name a few "stars" that make appearances. What I don't understand is why in all the coverage nobody bothered to state the obvious. The movie absolutely SUCKED. Seriously. It was beyond bad. Everything about it was a painful waste of 10 dollars and an hour and a half of my life. The acting, the (lack of) direction, the writing, even the costuming was bad, bad, bad. It was a comedy that didn't make me so much as chuckle. There was nothing funny about it. The gay content was beyond stereotypical into downright stupid and offensive. And I'm notoriously hard to offend. I would have left after the first half hour, but it was like a car crash at that point. I couldn't look away. I went to the website for the movie and found a "director's statement". He actually thinks his "film" is some sort of political statement pushing the envelope against censorship. It's not, it's total crap. I'm not the curmudgeonly type, but folks, if this movie makes it to your city don't waste your money it's a really, really BAD MOVIE. At least here you can count on getting the truth.

Well, a few hours have passed since I woke up in an absolutely foul mood. I stand by the fact that I thought that movie sucked ass, but it explains why I sound so angry on re-reading it. I slept really poorly and woke feeling exhausted but unable to get back to sleep. I hung out for the past few hours in my room and read a book. I'm feeling like I can be civil now. And I'm hungry.

Anyway, here are some links to the comics I put up for auction on Ebay. Some of it's pretty good stuff:

Havok & Wolverine: Meltdown #1-4.

Batgirl graphic novel.

Wolverine: Rahne of Terra (another graphic novel)

DC Comics Millenium #1-8 (complete series)

Power Girl mini-series (complete)

Guy Gardner plus bonus

Notice according to my feedback rating I'm 100% positive. HA!

I spent the last two days cleaning the apartment. I mean really getting to it. Bathroom, toilet, tub. I changed the bedsheets and flipped the mattress. The Ex garbage picked a big bookcase that one of the neighbors had thrown out. He thought it would increase our storage. I'll be damned if the fucker wasn't right for once. I was able to get a particularly unruly corner of the living room under control and a lot of other clutter that I had no space for made it to the bookshelf as well. No matter what I moved where, I was rewarded with great clouds of dog hair. I had fooled myself into believing that Jet had stopped shedding so much. The other day I started vigorously rubbing him in the middle of the living room. Enough hair went flying off to knit another dog if I wanted. I sweep the floors daily. More if we really wrestle around the house. I do brush him at least once a week but he still sheds, sheds, sheds.

In The News ...

two articles of interest to me. Maybe to you.

Although I think it should have been titled aging with HIV ...

And I don't necessarily agree with some of the quotes in this article, it's worth reading and talking about. There's some vid-links you may want to explore as well.

I'll be back later to link you to my EBay comic book auctions. For now, it's a summer Sunday, I'm off to find some shirtless Latinos.

No sooner do I read a scandalous post on kitty rim jobs, then what do my wandering eyes come across? I can barely type the words. Dog Porn! Oh, the humanity. Think of the children!

Con Ed is promising a credit to Queens residents who suffered in a week-plus blackout. Lucky, lucky residents can look forward to a whopping 3 DOLLAR credit in their next bills. I can't even believe they had the nerve to say it out loud.

A genius Brooklyn crackhead sent an envelope containing a white powder to a police station house. "Ha Ha, [you] thought it was anthrax. F - - - you," Abdullah Date, 18, allegedly scribbled. He also taunted: "Catch me if you can." Then he wrote his name, birthday and street address on the envelope.

There's been a lot of talk online and in the local papers about the new Oliver Stone movie World Trade Center. People are debating whether it is too soon to make this film. I wouldn't presume to say definitively yes or no. I can say I've had a visceral and negative gut reaction to the trailer ads. I'm not saying it looks bad or it's not well done. I'm saying I wrinkle my nose and turn my head away. I don't want to sit in a theater and relive this. It's too soon for me.

I'm finding it ridiculously annoying to have our multi-billionaire mayor go on TV and scold us about how we are selfishly using up precious power, and if we don't cut it out, we're going to plunge the city into the Dark Ages. And it will be our own fault. Sorry Mike, I'm not running a dishwasher. I can't afford one. I'm not running a washer/dryer. I use the laundromat around the corner. I have an air-conditioner and a TV and a computer. That's it. And if they all keep running, I'm set. So pardon me if that's selfish. I'm trying to keep cool and mildly entertained. I don't feel the least bit guilty about that. And it's why I'm rather annoyed that manhole (giggle) fires on the East side caused Con-Ed to reduce power to most of the East side. Including my neighborhood. We got power but no juice. The air conditioner is on, and it's not as hot in the bedroom but by no means cooled. The lights are flickering and the TV keeps shutting itself off. Power dips mean the internet phone keeps re-cycling and is for all intents useless. Ditto for the PC. The connection drops when the power fluctuates. So I've temporarily de-camped for West of 5th Avenue. I'm currently in a Starbucks so I can get my internet jones fed. Then it's off to the gym to ride out the rest of the afternoon heat. And yes, I realize what a spoiled, over-entitled white American I sound like, complaining that I had to go across town for my five dollar Tangerine Frappuccino and compose a blog entry on my years away from being paid for laptop computer but I'm a New Yorker, it's my right to complain. It says so on the lease to my ridiculously small but moderately priced apartment.

Oh good god, I just left the bedroom and the rest of the apartment is an inferno. I spent most of the day holed up in my room. Away from the "deadly heat". Do we really need the mayor to tell us to drink plenty of water? I figure the people too stupid to know what to do in a heatwave are unlikely to be watching the news. It's just nature culling the stupid. Sort of like the alligators in Florida. I did pop out to the gym for a light workout.

Yesterday in preperation for the extreme heat I went out and bought a buttload of reading material. My intent was to be able to curl up in the air conditioning with Jet and watch some movies and best of all, read some books. If you haven't figured it out yet I love to read. I stopped in at Barnes & Noble and had to stop myself at four books. I had picked out six, but four books should get me through August for sure. That is unless I travel. Then I can get through a book in a day or two. And I am thinking of traveling. I'm overdue for a trip home to Buffalo, and I'd like to at least do a 3 day trip somewhere else. Anyone want me to come visit? Then I guess it's back to work doing .... something. Here are the books I've selected, in the order I intend to read them:

Dry - Augusten Burroughs. I'm hooked on him. 'Nuff said.

Another Bullshit Night In Suck City - Nick Flynn. The title alone got me, and if I was going to change my name, Nick Flynn would be a definite contender.

The Tender Bar - J.R. Moehringer. A leap of faith. I have no expectations for this one. Which means I may be pleasantly surprised.

Marley & Me - John Grogan. John and Jenny and a devil dog Lab. What's not to love?

This is hysterical, and so very very wrong.

This sounds like a fun game. Give it a try why don't you? Here's my contribution:

The contestants are shocked when it's revealed that Uli has a secret past. She was born a man. Her true identity is actually the long lost Swedish designer Ulysses Von Fistentaker, of the IKEA Fistentakers. However, this is not enough to be kicked off the runway. It's further revealed that as Ulysess s/he had a clandestine affair with a teenage Vera Wang. That union produced a love child, now all grown up and known as Kayne. It was the teenage Wang's intention to have Kayne placed and raised in a Mormon orphanage, but instead he was kidnapped and raised by a rogue pack of woodland Keebler elves. It is Kayne who is kicked off the show, when it's revealed that he has secretly been using Elfin magic to accomplish his "uncommonly good" designs. And Fudge Shop cookies. After cleaning his "area" *snicker* Kayne leaves the show in disgrace, but not before Laura wraps him in a giant taffeta collar. Vincent looks on giggling madly, completely naked but for a wooden salad bowl hat.