July 2004 Archives
A few weeks ago, I headed down to the neighborhood art house to see Ghostlight - partially because I just can't seem to get enough of Martha Graham and partially because the trailer has one of the best lines ever spoken in a film (check out the music video on the site to see what i mean).
Although parts of the movie just weren't very good - it 'wasn't very good' in that gritty I'm-still-really-glad-they-made-this-movie sort of way. I mean, really, when are you going to be able to check out a movie with Isaac Mizrahi (why do I love him so much?), Deborah Harry (I know why I love her so much), Mark Morris, and the very very VERY talented Richard Move (of Jackie60 fame)? If you get a chance ... check out this film.
Although parts of the movie just weren't very good - it 'wasn't very good' in that gritty I'm-still-really-glad-they-made-this-movie sort of way. I mean, really, when are you going to be able to check out a movie with Isaac Mizrahi (why do I love him so much?), Deborah Harry (I know why I love her so much), Mark Morris, and the very very VERY talented Richard Move (of Jackie60 fame)? If you get a chance ... check out this film.
Spammers must have the worst Karma. And if they don't, I wish they did.
I'm turning off comments for a while until I can figure out how to deal with the 60+ 'postings' i get from porn sites a day. No way in hell am I going to let them piggy back on my blog to boost their own search engine rating. Fuck that.
Anyone have any idea how to stop this sort of thing? I'm wasting all my time manually erasing comments and don't have any time left over to actually post.
Update: Fixed! With the help of Black List. You really gotta get this if you don't already have it.
I'm turning off comments for a while until I can figure out how to deal with the 60+ 'postings' i get from porn sites a day. No way in hell am I going to let them piggy back on my blog to boost their own search engine rating. Fuck that.
Anyone have any idea how to stop this sort of thing? I'm wasting all my time manually erasing comments and don't have any time left over to actually post.
Update: Fixed! With the help of Black List. You really gotta get this if you don't already have it.
When a bartender slams down a shot glass in front of you, overflows it with tequila, and says, 'enjoy, this is from me', you don't refuse. You don't push the glass away (even if you've never had tequila before in your young life). What you do is clear. You bring the glass to your lips, make eye contact with the bartender, and down the fucking shot. ... It's just being polite.
As I walked back to my apartment that night, I was happy. Very happy. Friends in tow, I turned to them and slurred slightly, 'Tequila is my friend.' Some frat boy walking the other way called out after me, 'Hey buddy, tequila is no one's friend.' Right then and there, I had learned all I needed to know about tequila.
Unfortunately, that was 7 years ago, and some leasons are forgotten with time. Last night, N. came over for some long overdue Margaritas on my roof. For a change, I went with the frozen variety. As I was blending them, I realized that maragritas are basically all alcohol. 'Sweet,' I thought. A few hours (and some good conversation) later, I was in a good mood ... so ... after N. made her way home, I headed out to meet some friends at a local watering hole ... where I met my good friend, Tequila, yet again. This time, she manifest herself in the guise of free shots (administered directly from the bottle). The bottle was in the expert hands of a hot go-go boy dancing directly behind me on the bar - and he had tapped me on the shoulder to see if I wanted one ... well ... i guess it was more like he grabbed my mohawk and tipped my head back ... but just the same. I should have known better - really - I should have. But, it kind of took me by surprise, and I had been waiting to buy a drink anyway, so I figured, why not. I opened my mouth, looked up, and only then, did I realize that the hot stud sending the stream of mexican goodness down into my mouth was the go-go boy. He either had no hard feelings OR he was trying to give me alcohol poisoning - cause all I know is that I was standing there swallowing mouthful after mouthful ... after mouthful ... after mouthful of my good friend tequila for a long time. My buddies swear it was half the bottle, but I can't imagine that it could have possibly been that much - I am, after all, alive today. The rest of the evening progressed rather uneventfully - but was fun none-the-less. I do vaguely remember, however, swaggering down the street on my way home slurring to no one in particular, "Tequila is no one's friend. No one's friend at all."
Lesson learned. Again.
As I walked back to my apartment that night, I was happy. Very happy. Friends in tow, I turned to them and slurred slightly, 'Tequila is my friend.' Some frat boy walking the other way called out after me, 'Hey buddy, tequila is no one's friend.' Right then and there, I had learned all I needed to know about tequila.
Unfortunately, that was 7 years ago, and some leasons are forgotten with time. Last night, N. came over for some long overdue Margaritas on my roof. For a change, I went with the frozen variety. As I was blending them, I realized that maragritas are basically all alcohol. 'Sweet,' I thought. A few hours (and some good conversation) later, I was in a good mood ... so ... after N. made her way home, I headed out to meet some friends at a local watering hole ... where I met my good friend, Tequila, yet again. This time, she manifest herself in the guise of free shots (administered directly from the bottle). The bottle was in the expert hands of a hot go-go boy dancing directly behind me on the bar - and he had tapped me on the shoulder to see if I wanted one ... well ... i guess it was more like he grabbed my mohawk and tipped my head back ... but just the same. I should have known better - really - I should have. But, it kind of took me by surprise, and I had been waiting to buy a drink anyway, so I figured, why not. I opened my mouth, looked up, and only then, did I realize that the hot stud sending the stream of mexican goodness down into my mouth was the go-go boy. He either had no hard feelings OR he was trying to give me alcohol poisoning - cause all I know is that I was standing there swallowing mouthful after mouthful ... after mouthful ... after mouthful of my good friend tequila for a long time. My buddies swear it was half the bottle, but I can't imagine that it could have possibly been that much - I am, after all, alive today. The rest of the evening progressed rather uneventfully - but was fun none-the-less. I do vaguely remember, however, swaggering down the street on my way home slurring to no one in particular, "Tequila is no one's friend. No one's friend at all."
Lesson learned. Again.
Q: How drunk is too drunk?
A: When you try (repeatedly) to take out your contacts lens without actually realizing that you don't have them in. Oops!
And yes, thankfully I still have my corneas.
OK, I'm really not a lush - but I realized last night that having a few drinks while extremely tired probably isn't a good idea. I should have know the night would take a turn for the worst when I finished my first drink at Starlight and found a little surprise. I almost didn't notice it. I had already taken my last swig of rum&coke and was standing there, discussing the fact that gay men seem to have lost all fashion sense, when I happened to glance down into my empty glass.
"Hmmmm," I pondered. "What's going on down there at the bottom?" I held the glass out to B. in true taste-this-it's-terrible fashion. "Ahhhh..Get it away!" he screamed. Holding the tumbler over a candle, I was even more horrified at the unidentified mass - which seemed to be organic. Was it a space alien? Was it a scab from someone's elbow that had somehow made it to the bottom of my glass?
I called the bartender over and asked him to have a look. His only response: That's nasty, man. What the hell is it?
"Um, I was hoping you would know." He quickly grabbed the glass from me and tossed it into the trash. Interesting. "What were you drinking?" he asked as he held a new glass up to the light to make sure there were no surprises. "Rum and coke," I responded - hesitantly. "You sure you want to stay with that, buddy? I mean, that shit was nasty" ... At that point, I really should have just politely declined my free 'replacement' drink and went back home to my empty, but comfortable bed, but no... I had duties. I had responsibilities. I had to show my friend a good time on his last night in town. "Hey, I'm brave." I told the bartender, "Oh, and make it strong ..."
Famous last words. Famous last words, I tell you.
A: When you try (repeatedly) to take out your contacts lens without actually realizing that you don't have them in. Oops!
And yes, thankfully I still have my corneas.
OK, I'm really not a lush - but I realized last night that having a few drinks while extremely tired probably isn't a good idea. I should have know the night would take a turn for the worst when I finished my first drink at Starlight and found a little surprise. I almost didn't notice it. I had already taken my last swig of rum&coke and was standing there, discussing the fact that gay men seem to have lost all fashion sense, when I happened to glance down into my empty glass.
"Hmmmm," I pondered. "What's going on down there at the bottom?" I held the glass out to B. in true taste-this-it's-terrible fashion. "Ahhhh..Get it away!" he screamed. Holding the tumbler over a candle, I was even more horrified at the unidentified mass - which seemed to be organic. Was it a space alien? Was it a scab from someone's elbow that had somehow made it to the bottom of my glass?
I called the bartender over and asked him to have a look. His only response: That's nasty, man. What the hell is it?
"Um, I was hoping you would know." He quickly grabbed the glass from me and tossed it into the trash. Interesting. "What were you drinking?" he asked as he held a new glass up to the light to make sure there were no surprises. "Rum and coke," I responded - hesitantly. "You sure you want to stay with that, buddy? I mean, that shit was nasty" ... At that point, I really should have just politely declined my free 'replacement' drink and went back home to my empty, but comfortable bed, but no... I had duties. I had responsibilities. I had to show my friend a good time on his last night in town. "Hey, I'm brave." I told the bartender, "Oh, and make it strong ..."
Famous last words. Famous last words, I tell you.
