The blog of the thirty-something fag- June 2006 Edition

In the beginning there was nothing. God said, 'Let there be light!' and there was light. There was still nothing, but you could see it a whole lot better.

– Ellen DeGeneres

"Nothing to do, no where to go, and no hopes of anything getting better.
Yup, sounds just like Saturday night at my house!"

–Eeyore of Winnie the Pooh
June 29th, 2006

You didn't need that today, did you?

I'm stuck in San Diego today, and chewing my nails.
A series of mishaps on the part of my current clients means that a certain number of checks that I have been counting on may not be delivered to me today, moments before the entire City of San Diego leaves for their 4th of July 4 day weekend.

I'm in what many might call collections limbo, no word on whether the check will be cut or not, and company policy, outside-the-office meetings and contract mismanagement impending my progress to get paid in a timely manner.

It's not like I can just pop in tomorrow and pick it up, and I have a sea of Orange-county freeways to travers to get home to L.A. If the proper pieces of paper land in my lap THIS MINUTE I may be able to get home within the reasonable time frame of 2 hours.

Doesn't look likely though . . . . DANGIT!
Who does a girl have to growl at to get paid around here?

". . . I'll be out of the country for the next 10 days . . ."

I just love the sound of that on my voice mail. it sounds so jet-setter, even if we're only going to Canada. Canada DOES qualify as another country you know . . .

We're going to Montreal, a city neither of us has been to, but the closest I'll come to France this year, I'm sure. Bang may be there in the fall, but I'lll be staying behind.

My sister is geting married on the 8th, so we'll be back in Northern NY for that at our fav B&B, The Butterscotch house, then futzing around the Adirondaks until we come home on the 12th. There, you have been fully updated on our travel plans for the month of July, where are you going this summer?

DOES THIS SHIRT SHRINK?
One of the myriad of questions riders have been asking lately about the donor T-shirts for ALC5.
The donor T-shirt is quickly gaining new popularity. I have 68 new orders, if I get a few more, I'll have the minimum quantity to get them for $9 each.

If you're a rider, and reading this, get in contact with me soon about Donor T's, a small number can get me over the mark, and save us all a whole bunch of $$~


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June 22nd, 2006

The enchanted life unravelling
Let me apologize from the bottom of my heart for my infrequencies in this blog project. The truth is, it's for your own good. The work I have been doing has been fun and fascinating for me, but for you the reader, would most likely be coma inducing.

The old new saying is, "if you don't have anything interesting to blog, don't blog at all"

After all, I'm doing this for you, not just to hear myself type.


Cho Mama
Bang's friend Jason got us into a benefit show to see Margaret Cho at El Cid last night.
I was so thrilled, I've always wanted to meet Maggie(I'm certain that her closest friends call her Maggie, She's such a Maggie, don't you think?) and we met outside the restaurant and slowly decended the crumbling brick stairs to El Cid's courtyard.
Jason was carrying two gift bags, and Bang asked who they were for.
"Oh, they're for Eva and Marge, I thought it would be nice to get them something to say thank you"
"Marge?" I asked, wondering who he was talking about.
"Oh, that's what Eva likes to call Margaret, they've been best friends forever"

First, I was crushed that they weren't using my preference "Maggie" as a nickname, but I suddenly realized, I was going to meet the infamous Eva, the best friend Margaret Cho admitted to eating during a hungry binge during a diet, in her stand up movie "Notorious Cho"

MaCho"Um, Like, Don't be mad? But, I like totally just ate EVA!"

"So, You're THAT Eva! Cool!" I said, unaware the dorkometer that is mounted upon the wall, like those installed in all the hipper Silverlake establishments, was going off, flickering lights and popping springs all willy-nilly.

She dismissed me quietly, with a flick of her wrist. I was enchanted.

The show was called "Sensuous Woman" and it was a benefit for a local charity. They said the name outloud several times but I just couldn't catch it. The show was primarily burlesque revisited in lesbian colors. I caught that fact by the inordinate number of pasties,compounded by all the mustaches where there oughtn't have been mustaches, scattered throughout the mostly female audience.

A quiet, unassuming couple in khaki left after the first number. This told me I was in good company, and I should order more drinks.

About the Lineup:
The band was imported from England, the show had female impersonators, belly dancers, strippers(Including Maggie herself, what Knockers!), rappers, puppets and midgets. It was like the party wagon you always hear about that arrives 5 minutes after you left.

After the show we went backstage to meet Margaret, and after 15 minutes of waiting, I crammed throught the crowd to get a picture with her. I felt bad afterwards that I rushed it, I would have liked to take my time, but the crowd made me very uncomfortable, and I don't do groupy well.

I wrote Margaret a letter today, apologizing for being a snap-happy celeb f*cker. I hope she reads it.

Overall we had a blast. Sangria, fabulous Tapas, and top notch entertainment. We really got lucky. It was a grown-up variety show, and the evening went quickly.

Feedback to this article HERE
June 14th, 2006
Sean Connery would be proud
Did I tell you I bought a car?
A Toyota Highlander, and I love it.

First SUV
First CD player Standard
First Leather Interior
First Sunroof
First Automatic Transmission
First Power Windows
First Power locks
First Keyless Entry System
I think I'm in love . . .

Feedback to this article HERE
June 14th, 2006
Home again
The AIDS/Lifecycle now is a blur of whirring tires, traffic lights, red dresses and butts on bike saddles, stretching lycra to girths and shapes exceeding well beyond it's intended proportions. The food was good, the physical challenges were many, the people were attractive, silly, and fun. It was better than before, but I can't decide if it was because I rode without a boyfriend, my ride buddy rode without a boyfriend, or the fact that I used an air mattress this year. Regardless, it was more than I expected and I'm grateful for the opportunity.
On day 5 I did the Stand-up comedy-thing for the talent show and finally broke my "Get in front of the Mic and Make 'em Laugh" cherry. Glad that's overwith, and I'm vaguely pleased with my success.
Some that don't love me, know me well, or are aware of my fragile self-esteem issues told me I was a 6 out of 10, but I dismissed them. The praise of one person far outweighs the unenlightened criticism of a few minor dozen dennizens of the deep.
reality shall take no hold in my head at this time. As far as I am concerned, I wowed them, and I'm sticking to that.

Here's one for the record: Years ago I got a Tarot reading from a gypsy princess(I think her name was Milton?) who told me she could see my future.
She said I'd be making history, sitting in a plastic box, taking a dump with a helmet on, far away from home.
and I thought to myself, "Well, ya . . . . . Astronaut!"

Feedback to this article HERE

June 14th, 2006
Where did all these kids come from?
On the train again. After 7 days of dwelling in the utopian community created by the volunteers of the AIDS/Lifecycle, I find myself thrust back again into the "Real World" my teachers and elders warned me about. This reality really sucks.

One thing I am now noticing about the AIDS/Lifecycle community is that there were no children there, and I miss that.
Here on the Amtrak Surfliner there are several toddlers for some reason. A toddler, by my definition is a human child whose communication skills have barely progressed to eloquent chatter from baby talk, but who somehow have mastered that uncanny skill needed to produce the ear-piercing squeal that rips a gash through the heart of any poor bastard within range.

What is that? Does it have a name, and why aren't we using it as a weapon in Iraq?

There are so many very young ones on this train, crying, screaming, running about and coughing profusely on people with their mouths open, toungues thrusting forward as if to take one last taste of the vile disease they are both immune to, and free to scatter like pine nuts upon on the rest of us like so many Johnny Appleseeds. I'm beginning to feel as if maybe I got onto the wrong train, and we're actually careening to hell.

Perhaps this is a transport for mutant retarded dwarves destined for some asylum.
One can only hope.

Please, take me back to the days when I rode my bike hundreds of miles a day, to wait in line for food and water, and to sleep in a tent hundreds of yards from the nearest port-a-potty. That reality is Eden compared to what I'm suffering today on Northbound 562.

Feedback to this article HERE