At Last, a Hard Eight
I could pontificate about how the past week just flew by, but that would involve actually having to remember it ... which might involve thinking, and since Saturday is the new Sunday, I shall give my addled brain a rest. I do seem to recall there was a lot of work and a lot of laughs.
Instead, let's look to the day ahead. We're off to Connecticut for a quick weekend of relaxation before March roars by like a lion on crack. And what better way to relax than toss some dice while quaffing complimetary cocktails and then sit in a cozy theater, listening to Miss Lauper sing her new album (and hopefully a couple of old favorites). I've already packed the tissues for when she quietly and bravely bares her soul during Walk on By.
And the craps. Yay. Is there really a better game? Free booze, oftentimes cute croupiers (why pick a table unless there's eye candy?) asking me, "Do you want odds on your come?" Strangers, who become instant friends during a hot roll, shouting "Way to go, shooter!" Sometimes I share the love and toss down some chips, offering a "hard eight to the dealer." It's nice to share.
And if the table turns cold, ther's always the option to walk around the casino and check out the latest in track suit couture. Gor. Geous.
I guess I could blather on about all the places I'm going to end up this coming month, but that would spoil the suprise. Suffice to say, Miss Lauer's got nothing on me ... he only goes away for a week.
The dice are calling .... daddy needs a new set of traveling togs.
February 27, 2004
Don't Just Get Mad
If you read this site, odds are you're a big mo or know one pretty one well. Don't let Dipwad Dubya get away with making discrimination a Consitutional right.
Miss Cho has a new site with a slew of simple links to help you to voice your opinion to the politicians and organizations who can help stop George and his ridiculous plan.
And read this while you're at it. It's funny.
Don't make us move to Canada. It's cold there. Pretty, but cold.
I have met the devil. He's adorable. If only he could drink.
February 25, 2004
Not being Catholic, I usually don't do the Lent thing. But I decided to make a little sacrifice this year. Hmm, what to give up? Cigarettes or underwear?
Got a light?
February 24, 2004
Show Me Your ...
While being part of the sea of revelers on Bourbon Street can be fun, I always enjoyed the Mardi Gras view from above. My apartment was on Rue Royale, just across from the Wildlife and Fisheries Building, with a huge balcony overlooking the show. We would have cases of beads on the balcony, and toss them down to those especially eager and/or eyecatching. The case of rubber shackles was especially fun one year.
"No, not for you sweetie ... for your boyfriend!"
So here I sit in New York, far away from the carnival celebration, but am there in spirit.
And I've got some virtual beads. Show me something ...
Happy Mardi Gras!
February 23, 2004
A Year and a Day
What with all the hoopla yesterday, I didn't realize it was bobzyeruncle's birthday. We're a year old now.
Well that weekend flew by. It was going to be a quiet couple of days, playing catch-up for work, relaxing, and throwing a simple little SATC viewing on Sunday night.
The best laid plans.
Thursday night was The Boy from Oz, which was perhaps the worst thing I've seen since, well, Steel Pier. Hugh Jackman puts the zing in amazing, but other than that ... oy. As we walked out of the theater I told Larry I'd seen better Lizas in bad drag shows in Cincinnati. "I've done better Lizas," he replied. And sadly, that is very true.
Friday brought the real boy from Oz. My devilishly handsome friend Damian blew into town from Toronto (where he's become the Belle of Bloor Street) with a cartload of cuties who took up residence at the Cock. I was a good boy and eschewed the LES, as I had work to do on Saturday. Got thirsty on the way home and stopped into Barracuda for a little refreshment. Oops How did it get to be 4am?
Saturday was a day of rest (is it the new Sunday?) and I rallied later in the night and met the T.O. entourage at Hell. Which was really fun. Which turned into a very late night of group Therapy, and then trading beauty secrets at Moonstruck till 5:30am. Look mama, I am still a youngster. And now I have the most wonderful Aveda eye-recharger cream to help me prove it.
So on no sleep, I got up and prepared for the evening of sending Miss Bradshaw and her pals off into the sunset. A little shopping, a little arts and crafts (thank you MAK), a quick photo shoot (Damian will send pix tomorrow), and a lot of chicken hunting (thanks Larry) were done and, if I do say so myself, everyone had a dang good time. I did the looking into the fishbowl thing again towards the end of the evening, and once again, I'm so grateful for my friends.
So we begin another crazy four-week cycle or work/travel madness (with a week of diving thrown in for good measure), and all is pretty darn well.
(See Christopher, I didn't give anything away about SATC. You were sorely missed.)
February 19, 2004
I just had to admonish a woman in the elevator.
She was talking with her friend about the weather (which is teasingly lovely today) and said how she never gets into a Spring state of mind until April, because “there are just too many snow storms in March.”
“Shhhh,” I said. “Why would you even put that out to the universe?”
However, if the March snow should find its way here next month, I’d be happy for it to arrive between March 6 and 13, for I’ll be underwater in Belize, cavorting with boys and fishies, and exploring the blue hole.
I know, I suck. And apparently Mark blows.
Speaking of blowing, I’m seeing this boy tonight. I’m not sayin’ …
February 18, 2004
Full Service Doorman
My favorite doorman, Hector, was dragging out a big bag of garbage as I headed into the building tongight.
"Is Larry in there?" I asked.
"Only part of him," he quickly replied as he opened the door.
I expressed concern that the apartment might be bloody and he told me not to worry, "it's just a little messy in the basement. I'll get it cleaned up."
It's awfully early to be thinking about that Christmas bonus.
Croaking In It
Madge is dead. No, not Madonna. The real Madge.
To put the last nail in her coffin, I think we should all take the afternoon off, go to Beauty Bar, and have a manicure.
February 17, 2004
Who Can I Turn To?
Bidding closes in 4 days. Can anybody loan me 80 grand?
Addendum: Looks like it got taken down. Somebody was allegedly selling 212.867.5309 on ebay.
February 16, 2004
Just Zip It
I need to tie my damn Blackberry around my neck, or at least stop putting it in the unfastened side pockets of cargo pants and jackets.
Cheers to the cab driver who called us today asking if someone had lost their phone.
Counting my blessings ...
1. my health
2. friends and family (especially those in the intersection of the venn diagram)
3. Crif Dogs
4. my Amex card
5. cabbie karma
Just ran out of fingers ... I'm typing one-handed (again).
February 14, 2004
Healthy Valentine's Day
Today's gift exchange was all about the heart. I gave Larry a case of red wine, 'cause a (big) glass a day is good for you. Cupid has caught on to my gravitation towards gadgets, and brought me a fancy new workout toy.
It's brilliant. I'm moving at about 0.0 mph right now, and I hope to not go much faster for the rest of the day.
Now where's that corkscrew?
February 13, 2004
Okay all you Toronto readers. I have an adorable, sweet, little funster up there who needs a good 20-something straight boy to hang with. She's smart, sassy, viably employed and can almost hold her liquor as well as Larry. And she loves her Leafs and Raptors. Come on, you know you know somebody.
No freaks, please ... well, not overly freakish. If she wanted that she could just go hang out with my friends.
Please send viable candidates my way for screening. We have our standards, after all.
February 12, 2004
Best. Wiener. Ever.
I, on the other hand, had a blast. Congratualtions to all the readers ... you each were wonderful ... funny, sexy, a little dirty. Yay. It's all about hockey masks, gummy butts, instituional whirlpool baths, Chris Cornell, midgets, bloody cockblocks, unexpected watersports, toeless feet, strap-ons, tell-tale footwear, condom sausage, and a dabble of musical theater. Ah, the things a simple life is made of. Double congrats to the mistress of ceremonies for putting on such a great show.
And how did I not know about Crif Dogs?
Tonight we see my friend Nancy and that cutie Noah in one of their last tap dances across the Broadhurst boards.
MAK needs help moving tomorrow. I'll need help drinking. Choice is yours. Lift a box or lift a beer.
February 10, 2004
For some reason, I ended up emailing a friend stories about bathhouses today.
Several years ago, I was at some very classy club (name escapes me) in Houston, taking in a sauna and enjoying the view, as one does in such establishments. A nicely built gentleman, kinda bikerish (if bikers wore towels), came up along side and we started playing around a bit. A little while later he growls in my ear, "I'm gonna fuck you until you piss yourself."
I don't know why ... just didn't work for me.
Any winning lines that you've had to walk away from?
February 9, 2004
A Summer Song
Here's one for the vaults that I heard today for the first time in years. It made me think of warm sunny days and brought a smile to my face.
Here comes Brenda
Through she hasn't that much to say
She knows where the rain goes
She brakes, she brakes for rainbows
Window in the weather
Flowers in her hair
Footprints on the ceiling
How did they get there?
She knows where the rain goes
She brakes, she brakes for rainbows
I won't get hung up on the fact it's dedicated to a dead guy. Happy *and* sad ... isn't that the best?
February 8, 2004
Pills or Razor Blades?
We've seen the cheeriest movies this weekend. Last night was Before Night Falls. About a half hour before it ended I asked if we couldn't watch Sophie's Choice next. Today we went to Mystic River. I think I'll pull out Frances or Interiors tonight, call it a hat trick, and just kill myself.
No, not really. Truth be told, I've found a new reason to live ... Olivier Martinez. He was ohmygod so beautiful as Lázaro last night. This afternoon we were watching a trailer for Taking Lives, and whispered to Larry, "Isn't that my boyfriend from last night?"
Indeed it was. Out of nowhere, twice in two days. The universe is clearly telling me something.
Mystic River was a very good story with smart performances, and perhaps 30 minutes too long. Where have all the editors gone? Sean Penn didn't chew near as much scenery as I thought he would, but I'm still rooting for Mr. Depp in Pirates. Sean's not going to show up anyway.
Afterward the show, we were walking down 8th Avenue, comparing notes. "Who do you think gave the best performance in the movie?" I asked Larry.
He voted for Mr. Robbins. I told him that was a good choice, but sadly he was wrong ... clearly it was Marcia Gay Harding.
"Oh she always plays the same whining freak. I'm so glad they killed her off on Six Feet Under."
"What are you talking about?"
"Isn't she the same actress that was married to Nate?"
I stopped in my tracks, "You think Marcia Gay Harding and Lili Taylor are the same person?"
He said, yes, he thought they looked alike. I told him this was grounds for abandonment.
20 minutes later, warming up over lattes in the coffee shop down the street, he told me he didn't think he was going to get in all the best picture nominations this year, because he really had no interest in seeing Cold Mountain.
"Well that won't be a problem, sweetie," I said, just shaking my head. "It wasn't nominated."
God bless him, he's so clever with the current cinema that I've decided to start calling him Oscar.
February 6, 2004
Mommy Queerest — The Reality Show
My darling 6-year old niece came up to my sister the other day, holding a finger in the air, and said, "Now, um, mom, before you say NO....."
She wanted a pop, and, of course, permission was not granted.
Our friend Nancy was part of this email exchange in which this story was relayed, and she commended my sister on her mothering acumen:
As I see it, your work here is nearly complete - they already know the answer, so you just have to break them of the thought that they should still try to ask the question. As soon as they recognize the futility, you will soon be able to go to the bars and drink freely again!
I, on the other hand, simply responded, "Mean Mommy. Mean mean mean."
Apparently, this was the wrong answer.
I have just received the following challenge ...
Dear Uncle Bobby,
I was in receipt of your e-mail where you called your sister a "mean Mommy", "mean, mean, mean" I think you said. In response and defense of her Mommy status, where mind you I deemed her as Brilliant - I must now give you a "reality challenge".
I propose that for a period of ONLY one month that you and Larry switch lives with Karen and I - this will prove the test of her meanness. So, let me play it out for you - you will arrive on an airplane at the Greater Cincinnati airport where you will be greeted by either your 3 children or your 5 children - whichever Mom you choose to be. They will of course greet you with open arms, and open hands as they always have those out and want something put in them.
Regardless of which Mother you become, there are some basic similarities which you must now acquire - all ready cash must disappear, all except for the coins in the car ashtray or your purse and you will need to scrape that together to get out of the airport parking lot, so use it wisely. Additionally, your credit cards are all maxxed out, so don't even think about it. Everyone is always hungry so you better start thinking about what you are going to cook when you get home.
Peace and quiet as you now know ceases to exist, everyone must talk at once or they must all be sick and that is an entirely different reality that I hope you won't have to deal with during your one month stay - but it could always be added as an option package! You will not only have to care for the children, you must also go to work everyday, get everybody ready for school, fed, lunches packed, after school activities coordinated, making sure that no one is left standing waiting for you or their ride to get there, help with homework, laundry, - do I need to make out the whole list or is that enough to get started?
Now, you will have to worry about "things" much more that you do today, - things like, will we be able to make the bills this month is a personal favorite, next is will the car hold out which always comes back to will we be able to make the bills this month - see, you've got it now - it is a vicious cycle but the good news is you only have to last ONE MONTH, without getting mean!
To get out of the reality (that is our lives) you cannot get mean, not even once within that one month period - the kids are the judges and you can't just come in and be the nice guy and keep them happy with some futile effort and let them do what they want - there are basic things that must hold true - the grades must be kept at a minimum of their current levels, they must not miss school, they must not be late for practices/games, they must eat a minimum of 3 meals per day (and because of the $$$ situation it can't be McDonald's 3x for the 30 days, no new cavities, you can't get fired from your job, etc.
Now, the other thing - you are now a parent, so any vices that you have would need to be virtually eliminated - see, we used to drink a little more than we do now, smoke (oh, I still miss that), there were other vices too, like fun that has nearly been eradicated. You can have an occasional glass of wine - but not too much, it makes you tired in the morning when you have to get up to get the kids off to school. You are only allowed to go out once during the month of the reality challenge and you can't go out too early because you have to get the kids dinner before you go and you can't drink too much because you have to drive yourself home and you have to get up early, so you can't stay out too late.
Sounds like fun doesn't it? You are allowed to talk on the phone with Larry, but while you do, there must be a minimum of 2 children making a lot of noise while you do it. With that being said, I am hopeful that you and Larry are up for the Midwest mother reality challenge for just one month!
So, now for the other side - Karen and I will arrive in NY City, where we will be picked up by some of our fun friends, we will stop for cocktails on the way home, drink all that we want, stay out as late as we want and catch a cab. Once home, we will unpack our bags while sipping on some wine and listening to whatever music strikes us or perhaps the sheer silence it that strikes us. We will have to go to work where we are loved by our employers and collect our pay checks that we only have ourselves to spend it on - tragedy! We will plan our vacations while we continue to enjoy the sights and sounds and culture of the city. We will have money again! Did I say, we will have money again? Oh, yes I did! It will be a struggle for us, but I am hopeful that we could survive as 2 gay men in NY city for a month!
So, are you ready? If not up for the challenge, you have only one option, acknowledge that you were just not thinking when you wrote that mean statement to my brilliant friend AND send money - lots of money! NOW! If you fail to send to money, you will wake up the next day in the Greater Cincinnati airport and the game will begin!
We look forward to hearing from you!
Karen and Nancy, soon to be Bobby and Larry
As delightful a reality show as this may be, I propose an alternative win win situation. We leave the kids with their fathers, happily nestled in the Cincinnati suburbs and Nancy and Karen come to Manhattan for a long weekend, whooping it up with us gay boys.
We'll even buy the drinks. And pay for a massage, which they clearly need.
Just give my baby a soda pop.
February 5, 2004
Drea is Going to Get So Dead
I fell off the Sopranos (you remember, the HBO show before Six Feet Under came to the rescue) wagon a while back --- Olivia died, there was this stupid episode about a parade and it just all got too 'whatever' for me. Anyway, the trailer for the new season is brilliant, so my interest is piqued.
I've just seen the new poster ... "Hell Hath No Fury Like the Family" .. on a bus stop outside my office. Can't find a link to it, but I'm sure it'l be everywhere soon. Dead characters (Gloria, Pussy, and Ralph -- hey, who gave him his body back?) in the mud, a few family members in a small wooden boat (is that Steve Buscemi in front?) and Tony and his crew standing on the shore. Very dark. Very haunting.
And naked women (the furies?) hanging on to the boat. Hmmm, are we gonna get all mythical in season 5?
Bring on the ghosts.
It all starts March 7th.
February 3, 2004
Stick It In and Press Play
It's cold, gray and gross outside. I'd much rather be on a beach, all oiled up and sweaty with some swarthy specimen ... or at least in a warm bed with said swarthyness.
That being said, we need a soundtrack. I'm listening to Sarah Brightman's Dive right now and having a lovely daydream. Roxy Music's Avalon is also a good one, but I saw Lost in Translation last weekend and Bill Murray might have ruined that for me. I seem to recall Enigma working as well.
And then there was that night when Kate Bush was wailing "Breathing" ... all that "out, in, out, in ...". Neat.
What are your best sex CDs, or single tracks? Leave me a comment or post your own. Maybe we can get a nice little compilation burnt.
February 2, 2004
Larry’s been jockeying for a new job within his company for quite awhile, and last week it all came to a head. After a few days of office politics that made ColbyCo look like a day at the beach, all worked out last Friday and he’ll be starting a new job in a month. Woo hoooo.
In the midst of our
boozefest celebration Friday night, he says, “You know, I haven't had a turkey dinner since Thanksgiving, why don’t you make one on Sunday for Super Bowl?”
Without properly thinking things through, I sent out a quick 2 a.m. invitation via Blackberry and woke up Saturday morning committed to a mid-winter’s Thanksgiving feast.
So I shopped on Saturday, cooked on Sunday and had a small but tasteful (and tasty, I might add) gathering last night. We ate turkey, sausage stuffing, corn soufflé, carrots, mashed potatoes, kick-ass gravy. And some cocktails and wine, natch. Connie brought a pecan pie that was like candy in a pastry shell and MAK supplied a pumpkin pie that doubles as a delicious breakfast treat.
And we watched the game, Crash and his cute friend S. helping to ‘splain it to those who couldn’t tell a jock from a dance belt. Evidently it was a winning mix of people, ‘cause the conversation flowed and we didn’t even notice Janet’s boob [insert turkey joke here re: breasts being white meat]. Being the good gay children we are, we opted to watch SATC during the 3rd quarter.
We used to entertain more, and last night reminded me how much I like having people over. Towards the end of the night, Con and I were out on the balcony, sucking on fags (yes, I’ve become reacquainted with Mr. Marlboro Light) and I looked at the scene inside. I was struck by this great group of people, friends old and new, sitting around enjoying each other in our humble little abode. I’d go on about it being chilly outside and being warmed by the sight of it all, but I’m fresh out of insulin.
Suffice to say, I’m a lucky boy.