Beefcake and Blogging
February 01, 2009 // Link
I was standing on the subway, bending my legs a bit and pushing to balance against the turns and jolts of the train. Maybe I was a little drunk. Or maybe the train was. I was thinking about blogging, and I was not coming home from a strip club.
The reason I was not coming home from a strip club was because of Sara’s boobs. Sara’s boobs were not allowed into the club that night.
The five of us (Jeff, me, Sara, and Sara’s boobs) had all been looking forward to a night of silly debauchery. The goal was to visit a gay strip club as a diverse group: one gay guy, one girl, and I would represent the middle class straight white male oppressor figure. Typecast again.
We first met up at Jeff’s flat, a stunning two-level penthouse suite decorated in a mix of Eastern motifs. Dark woods, leather, glass and the constant sound of a small fountain (soothing for some; makes me have to pee). Balcony the size of my first apartment. Baby grand piano with opera sheet music on it because an opera singer practices here. Don’t eat near the big white shag rug, it can’t be vacuumed. The kind of place that square dinner plates were made for. Jeff is staying there with an elderly Asian mentor figure with advanced and hilarious Asperger’s syndrome. I have interesting friends.
Jeff served dumplings and danced to John Meloncamp (nee Cougar) songs. Sometimes he’s not very good at being gay. He and Sara are American, and they proceeded to tell me how Mr. Meloncamp captures an essential part of the Midwest in his lyrics. I mentally added “Canadian” to the list of things I was representing this evening.
Then the three of us departed for the gay strip club. I braced myself for interesting times. I’m a computer nerd, and not exactly the sort who you’d normally find in a female strip club let alone a gay one. I wondered if I was perhaps not nearly drunk enough for what the evening would entail.
Walking to the club Sara told us how she’d always wanted to be a drag queen despite her gender. Jeff and I discussed whether she’d be able to pass as a guy passing as a girl, and we decided she probably couldn’t.
We were right, because when we got to the door Sara was spotted immediately as a gal and we were turned away. Turns out this was one of their men-only nights. It’s a triple-X place, but no double-X chromosomes would be admitted this evening. Jeff and I were welcome, but Sara and Sara’s boobs were not.
Sara’s boobs were pretty sad about this, according to Sara who knows them quite well.
Rather than let this setback spoil our evening, Jeff hauled us around the corner to a dance club instead. A gay dance club, naturally. I wasn’t going to get out of being a minority for the evening that easily. So we caught the end of a Tina Turner impersonator’s song set, and then hit the dance floor.
We boogied until the small hours, and I discovered that a lot of gay men have no concept of personal space in these clubs. Hands to yourselves, fellas! I felt like a debutante on prom night, or some such metaphor. Turns out if I was gay I’d have far better luck in clubs than I do now as a straight guy. Oh well, we are what we are.
Riding home on the subway tonight, and thinking back on the evening while trying to balance drunkenly on the drunken train, I thought two thoughts: one, this wasn’t really an atypical sort of weekend evening, and two, I probably should get back into blogging. I’ve got stories to share.
Cake 1, Carrington 0
February 07, 2009 // Link
I made my first ever not-from-a-box cake last night. I cut and decorated it like a gift box with lid askew, including ribbon and a tag. At least, that’s what it was supposed to look like.
The result was a bit of a mess, but perhaps a good first try.
I know, I know: pics or it didn’t happen. Am I allowed to pick option #2? No? Okay, fine:
Expanding windows
February 11, 2009 // Link
I spent many years happily using 13” and smaller monitors. It took just 1 week for my new 25.5” high-def display to seem a bit cramped.
Rhymes with “I’m Pissed-a”
February 11, 2009 // Link
Microsoft just announced they’re going to give free upgrades to Windows 7 for all Vista users.
Translation: “Vista: from the folks who brought you Microsoft Bob.”
Caveman hair nets
February 12, 2009 // Link
Awesome National Geographic find: “Oldest Human Hair Discovered in Fossilized Poo.”
My first thought: the DNA will show it’s an ancestor of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup marketing exec. This is why I don’t get to do real science.
P.S. Happy Darwin Day, fellow monkeys.
Everyone needs a signature move
February 13, 2009 // Link
Tonight in Salsa class I perfected a figure best described as “Whoops, Sorry I Ripped Your Arm Off.” It’s best done without a dip until you build up confidence, and get waivers signed.
Ah, The Carrington: minutes to learn, years to perfect.
Static 1, Carrington 0
February 13, 2009 // Link
Mouth: “Sure, I’ll install the upgrade for you. It’ll only take a minute.”
Brain: OK, hand, let’s take the iLife ‘09 DVD out of it’s clear envelope and put it into the MacBook Pro.
Hand: You got it, Brain! It’s you and me, buddy. Hey, wanna pet a dog after this? Or maybe plunge me into a sack of beans like Amelie did? Didn’t that look cool?
Hippocampus: Here’s a memory of seeing that movie at the Cumberland Cinema. And here are some Audrey Tautou images. I’m standing by to free associate on the name Audrey: the gal who introduced us to our first girlfriend, Audrey Hepburn, the Audrey Two plant in Little Shop of Horrors—
Brain: No, gotta focus. Hand, don’t touch the DVD’s surface.
Hand: I’ve done this before, Brain.
Brain: Just being careful.
Eyes: Here’s an image of a little white stringy thing lying right in front of the disc slot. Just FYI. No shiny things or pretty ladies to report.
Brain: Little white stringy thing? I wonder if it’s light enough to be picked up by the static on the disc? Let’s all pause for a sec while I ponder this.
Hand: Ponder schmonder, I’m staying on target.
Hippocampus: “Stay on target.” Star Wars reference. Gold Five. Hmm, Audrey Two, Gold Five ... kind of like a sports score. Want to think about sports?
Brain: No, shut up. Hand, this is not a ponder schmonder situation. Stop while I think about that little white stringy thing. It might have implications.
Hand: Oh, you’re always thinking. Thinking thinking thinking. Too much thinking, not enough waving and punching and touching and finger wiggling. Touch now, think later. I’m going in!
Brain: No! Nervous System, stop that hand!
Nervous System: Nervous System checking in. No itches to report. Not on fire. Wouldn’t mind a bit of caffeine—
Brain: I said STOP THAT HAND.
Nervous System: Sheesh, OK. Hold your horses. I’m not a teenager any more you know. Now, where’s the reverse...
Hand: Woo hoo I made it! I’m too quick for me! Ooh, feel that disc get pulled away from me and into the drive. That’s TACTILE, baby!
Eyes: Here’s an image of the disc going in the slot.
Ears: Here’s the sound of the disc drive sucking in the disc.
Eyes: Beat you, Ears. Speed of light FTW!
Ears: I’m 360! Let’s see you gloat next time there’s a car coming up behind us.
Brain: Stop your bickering. What happened to the little white stringy thing? Gotta focus.
Eyes: I don’t see it any more. Must’ve been picked up the by the static on the DVD and pulled into the drive. Here’s an image of the empty desk space in front of the drive.
Nervous System: Here’s a little shudder of dread. Is that fast enough for you?
Ears: Here’s the sound of the DVD drive grinding on something. Hey eyes, look who’s not kept out by a little thin layer of aluminum? “Oh boo hoo, my wimpy light waves bounce off solid objects...”
Hippocampus: Here’s a memory of how long it took the last time you had to disassemble a laptop and replace the DVD drive.
Brain: Shit, there goes the afternoon.
Mouth: “This might take a bit longer than I’d thought.”
Hand: Wanna do the Amelie beans thing now? You’ve got some time on me.
Brain: I wish I was in a jar.
Family Day
February 16, 2009 // Link
I dig the day off, but “Family Day” sounds like the holiday equivalent of a player to be named later.
Mr. Snow Miser
February 17, 2009 // Link
It looks warm out today, but you don’t fool me Mr. Snow Miser. Whatever you touch... turns to snow in your clutch... you’re too much.
You’re making that up, cha cha cha
February 17, 2009 // Link
Last night I was practicing a set of Cha Cha and Rumba figures when my dance instructor said, ”OK, try this: Natural Top into Fan, followed by a Hockey Stick and then a Turkish Towel...”
Hockey Stick? Turkish Towel?! Oh, come on. It was at this point I realized I’m not learning Ballroom dancing, I’m being punked.
I can’t believe it’s taken me almost two years to catch on.
Sneezy head
February 18, 2009 // Link
[Ah-Choo!] Must stop sneezing. [Ah-Choo!] Two days. This is getting ridiculous. [AH-CHOO-THUMP] Uh oh, that didn’t sound good.
‘Tis the region
February 18, 2009 // Link
Don’t just tell me your video isn’t available in my country. Give me the BitTorrent link. It’s just good customer service.
Ads on pens
February 20, 2009 // Link
I had to look up telephone number of a supplier, and then jotted it down...with a pen that had their number printed on it! Doh.
Shows how well pens work as ads.
Chop Chop
February 20, 2009 // Link
I’m slowly fleshing out this new blog design. Still no RSS feed and such, but I’ve brought a couple of pages back online: my Bookmarks and my List Of Things To Do Before I Die.
Speaking of the latter, I only accomplished two measly items from the list in 2008:
- Get a tattoo
- Learn to dance
On the other hand, I added more than two new lines to the list last year so technically my progress was negative. Drat. Bad show, old chap.
For 2009, I’m itching to scratch a lot more than just two items off my list. (See what I did there? “Itching to scratch.” Thanks, I’ll be here all week. Tip your waitress. Try the veal.) I’m pretty confident I can do at least these:
- Build a radio
- Go camping by myself
- Take a hot air balloon ride
- Wade in a public fountain
- Chop down a tree with an axe
Those all seem pretty easy, right? I’ve been told that chopping a tree down with an axe is harder than it looks, but then again that’s what they said about neurosurgery. And I’d better get moving on building a radio while there’s still a broadcast left that hasn’t exchanged air waves for web sites (feel free to sing that to the tune of either “Big Yellow Taxi” or “Wish You Were Here” according to your retro decade of choice). ’ I’d also like to get to at least one of the travel destinations. Some of those places (e.g., Mount Rushmore, the Algonquin Hotel) are easier to ride a Vespa to than others (e.g., Easter Island, the Ruins of Pompeii), but I’ve got two passports and a building sense of wanderlust.’ In the meantime, I think it’s time to go axe shopping. Anyone need some firewood?
Leaves of grass business cards
February 21, 2009 // Link
Going Salsa dancing tonight. Want to come out and get down with me and some pals? Call, email, text, or sound your barbaric yawp accordingly.
Treading the boards in 5” platform heels
February 22, 2009 // Link
Home from 1 pub and 2 clubs. I think Shakespeare put it best: “I love the nightlife, I got to boogie.” (Midsummer Night Fever, Act IV Sc 2)
The Oscar grouch
February 23, 2009 // Link
I bet heavily on “don’t give a crap” in this year’s Oscar pool, and I made out like a bandit.
Mush better
February 24, 2009 // Link
Maybe chef’s right and my tastes are unrefined. But I still say ALL soup tastes better with crackers in it.
A fine romance
February 24, 2009 // Link
I just read a BBC report about the world’s fattest man getting married in Monterrey. He met his sweetie while he tipped the scale at over 1,200 pounds and was engaged to her less than two years later. As a quick reminder: I don’t even have a date this weekend.
So, even a guy who is “only able to leave his house by being towed through the streets on his specially-made bed” has a more successful love life than I do. Terrific. ;-)
Fakin’ the bakin’
February 25, 2009 // Link
Cake class last night (yes, cake class, let’s move on) was pretty hilarious because of the introduction of a small box of “DIY Cake”—a little sewing kit for making a single slice of fake cake out of felt. The cake features “100% natural sweet love” and you can “take your action right away!”
I don’t know what that means, but I am pretty sure I want my action right away. Who wants to wait for their action? Not me.
The ingredients listed on the side proclaim that the cake is made of 20% heart, 20% sugar, 20% flour, 20% egg, 20% chocolate and 20% butter. Yes, it has 120% ingredients, which is probably why you can take your action so fast. With all those yummy ingredients, it’s pretty clear why this cake is “real delicious creamysmooth.”
My new name is DJ Creamysmooth. I’m available for weddings, bah mitzvahs and yacht launches.
Monsterously small
February 26, 2009 // Link
If the netbook name dispute drags on, I suspect Monster Cable will just step in and sue ‘em all for infringing on their “frivolous claim by a bunch of asshats” patent.
If you knew sushi like I know sushi
February 26, 2009 // Link
Oh my tummy. Two days in a row of too, too much sushi. So full, can’t move.
I feel like a seafood pinata.
Two people, one name, zero interest
February 27, 2009 // Link
You know you’re truly famous when you pick your partners based on your combined couple-name.
Wait, did I say “famous”? I meant “hollow.”