Connie is in France this week. She turned 50 on Sunday, and said that she was looking forward to being in Paris "on his own" on that very special day.
She was packing for at least three months before leaving for this trip. When I met her for dinner the night before she left, she showed me around her new digs as we stepped around piles of clothes...pretty much as it was in his Concord house, only darker. He has a ground floor apartment, with a private, gated entrance (I believe they're known in the ghetto as "bar doors" because they are made of iron bars...clever, eh?) His bedroom window looks out directly to the sidewalk, and the only chance for direct light in the place.
He slyly let me know that he plans to explore his sexuality while he's in Paris, and he's been studying up on "dirty French" as well as collecting advice on different "scene" places to try. I guess he noticed my disdain, or assumed it, when I suggested that there are a great many things to do in Paris that don't involve having sex.
"You take the easy way out," he said. "With Jeremy and all of that."
I remember a year or two ago I hosted a dinner party. Matthew, Mike, and Connie were here, and Mike was excited to tell us about all the "super hot" men he had had sex with in Brazil. He described how he would instruct his cab driver to go slowly through a certain part of town, and when he saw someone he liked he would have the driver take the cab to the curb. He'd then roll down the window, and the Brazilian boy would come forward and pull out his wares for closer inspection.
"They'd let you do anything for, like, $2US!" he exclaimed.
"Oh my god, and they're dripping with venereal disease!" I shrieked, which I guess didn't make a friend of mine in Mike Finn. Connie, however, concurred that they are "filthy" and was most visibly disgusted by the whole idea of purveying flesh in the slums of Rio.
So is it more chic to be prowling for anonymous sexual partners, oh, pardon, "liaisons" in Olde Europe than in the New World?
Apparently so.
Friday, July 27, 2007
Golden Girls
Matthew joined me tonight for dinner and the show. He kept mentioning how well he knows Justin, and they've been such close friends for so many years, and Matthew knew him back when they were performing "South of Market" all those long years ago. I reminded Matthew that he STILL performs South of Market...and just North of South Van Ness. He didn't want to say "hello" after the show, and high-tailed it home for a night of frantic smoking and packing before boarding a 6am flight to Seattle where he and his cohorts are doing a hit-and-run with a couple of "Golden Girls" episodes in drag. Heklina is quite the producer, having created "Trannyshack" ten or twelve years ago he continues to put together a monthly revue, and licenses the rights to produce "Trannyshack" events internationally.
In the true spirit of the thespian artistry, he sells the tickets for cheap and jacks up the prices on the two drinks minimum. Oh, and these are the "must-see" sold-out shows of the season. Really. I had to apologize for not making it to Theater Rhino to see him perform as a marine in Iraq, and it really was a shame because the experience really taught Matthew a new way to look at the war. (I didn't mention that "enthusiasm and energy" aren't necessarily terms that are used with the intention of meaning "good theater."
Matthew shared a horrific tale of a near brush with death experience he had while performing a "Golden Girls" episode at the home of Mike Finn, former circus performer and cat sitter whose favorite cat-sitting clients left him their cat, and their Victorian home in their will. Well, they were doing this without any sort of permit, four nights only (sold out!) and raking in the bills selling shots of hooch. Saturday night they had so many oversold seats, they pushed the audience forward into the space that had been considered downstage. Matthew had to step over legs and feet in the dark as he took his place in a straightbacked kitchen chair, when he heard a nearby crashing of glass. The lights came up to reveal Matthew in a pink peignoir, the large plate glass window directly behind his head in large, grizzly shards.
Being the professional that he is, he didn't turn around to look. He barely acknowledged the audience's gasps, but when it came time for his character to turn to the window and comment on how much she enjoys the rain he cleverly said that she enjoys "looking at the rain through the broken window."
It. just.doesn't.get.any.better.
In the true spirit of the thespian artistry, he sells the tickets for cheap and jacks up the prices on the two drinks minimum. Oh, and these are the "must-see" sold-out shows of the season. Really. I had to apologize for not making it to Theater Rhino to see him perform as a marine in Iraq, and it really was a shame because the experience really taught Matthew a new way to look at the war. (I didn't mention that "enthusiasm and energy" aren't necessarily terms that are used with the intention of meaning "good theater."
Matthew shared a horrific tale of a near brush with death experience he had while performing a "Golden Girls" episode at the home of Mike Finn, former circus performer and cat sitter whose favorite cat-sitting clients left him their cat, and their Victorian home in their will. Well, they were doing this without any sort of permit, four nights only (sold out!) and raking in the bills selling shots of hooch. Saturday night they had so many oversold seats, they pushed the audience forward into the space that had been considered downstage. Matthew had to step over legs and feet in the dark as he took his place in a straightbacked kitchen chair, when he heard a nearby crashing of glass. The lights came up to reveal Matthew in a pink peignoir, the large plate glass window directly behind his head in large, grizzly shards.
Being the professional that he is, he didn't turn around to look. He barely acknowledged the audience's gasps, but when it came time for his character to turn to the window and comment on how much she enjoys the rain he cleverly said that she enjoys "looking at the rain through the broken window."
It. just.doesn't.get.any.better.
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Dead Zone Frogs
To live in a wooded area in California is to be aware of the elements of fire danger. Trees are tinder, grasses tender. We are advised that we should maintain a cleared 100' "safety zone" around our properties, to prevent the spread of flames from foliage to structure. We cut down the trees, then, and mow the grasses, to abate the fire hazard, until...voila.
We should implement a forestry study at Irish Beach, in which a map is made of the area indicating the location, size, age, and species of every acknowledgeable spec of flora. From such a plan could be determined the relative nature of each growth, whether benign, melignant, or benevolent.
The scenic pond is brimming with life: singing frogs, crickets, insects, bats, birds of prey, bears, and mountain lions. An abundant insect population is sufficient to support a proportionate number of bats. If humans were to suddenly eradicate the bat population, there would be a sudden surge in the numbers of insects looking for a meal.
Tonight we also learned the value of "sachet" in repeling insects. It appears that the buggers can't smell how tasty you are under your lavender halo.
I can easily imagine the insects eating us alive...
We should implement a forestry study at Irish Beach, in which a map is made of the area indicating the location, size, age, and species of every acknowledgeable spec of flora. From such a plan could be determined the relative nature of each growth, whether benign, melignant, or benevolent.
The scenic pond is brimming with life: singing frogs, crickets, insects, bats, birds of prey, bears, and mountain lions. An abundant insect population is sufficient to support a proportionate number of bats. If humans were to suddenly eradicate the bat population, there would be a sudden surge in the numbers of insects looking for a meal.
Tonight we also learned the value of "sachet" in repeling insects. It appears that the buggers can't smell how tasty you are under your lavender halo.
I can easily imagine the insects eating us alive...
Monday, June 18, 2007
Waning Crescent
So apparently there has in fact been a moon these past few nights, but it was very slight and tucked in much too early for me to have seen it.
Tonight's moon was on the way out. The official name seems to be a "waning crescent."
Pugs snoring, smell of poo...tonight after a delightful soak under the stars with a nightcap of Frenet, Lulu was sitting just inside the door. She was acting suspicious, so I lit a torch and followed my nose into the kitchen where...ooops...she did it. She was obviously sorry that she had had that accident, and she had done such a splendid job of chasing away some skunks earlier in the evening that I couldn't be at all upset.
There are countless sounds at night. Whooshing and scratching and rustling round sounds
Thursday, June 14, 2007
You get straight what you need to get that way.
The new Element is the exact same color (different names, though..this one is "Atomic Blue" because Honda engineers are predicting the planet Earth will be reduced to an area of materials which are an-atomically incapable of contributing to their own self maintenance nor reproduce their own number to carry on on their own behalfs.
The Honda dealership in Walnut Creek has a completely opposite approach to selling cars than the Toyota dealership "across town" on the more southerly end of Main Street. Oh, no.
So the weirdest thing about this deal, besides the different attitudes toward the sales pitch (the Toyota salesman was very forceful, very direct, gave me his card with the name and number of the "Director of Internet Sales" at the dealership at the mention of the Eye-word.
Back at the office, I searched the Toyota dot com site and came to a "Buy" link, which let me query certain cars and ask for prices (I had told my salesman that I intended to shop the Web) and I heard from three or four Toyota dealerships in the area, including someone from the WC dealership who claimed to be the "Manager of Internet Sales".
Was that just me? Was that for my benefit?
I told my Honda salesman that I had felt violated by the Toyota dealership on the "other" side of town, because I had been told one thing and then discovered on my own that someone had been flexing the truth.
This was the same salesman, Dave, who laughed when I told him that the Element "didn't get me hard" and then offered me $4700 trade-in on the Rav, although I had mentioned that I was late for lunch and feeling hungry, and since he was already playing with himself how would he feel about letting me help myself to a little bit of protein while I help him as well?
It feels as if I must have fought very hard not to respond in kind to the blatant suggestions being made by the hot salesman. Heck if I had let things happen, I would have been much happier with the trade-in offered being a full three thousand below KBB's suggested price.
I wonder if, around the dealership, it's a known feature of this extremely successful salesman's service that there are times when certain parts of the "deal" don't go through.
When the salesman brought the Rav back to the sales lot, to return possession to me, he didn't announce his return. My brother Edward noticed him, as he backed the Rav to the "Customer Parking" fence and went inside to fetch some window cleaner and a rag. "It's amazing what Windex will take off." he said, as he removed the yellow "Not For Sale" sticker from the windshield.
It wasn't until we returned home that we noticed the Rav's rear end.
While the "In-n-Out Burger", "Pornstar" squiggle text blue oval, and the gallery's No Place Like Here signage were still bearing witness, there had been a disrespectfully rough attempt to remove my "My Child was Inmate of the Month" and my "Masturbation is Not a Crime" stickers.
Three words.
Irreplaceable.
The Honda dealership in Walnut Creek has a completely opposite approach to selling cars than the Toyota dealership "across town" on the more southerly end of Main Street. Oh, no.
So the weirdest thing about this deal, besides the different attitudes toward the sales pitch (the Toyota salesman was very forceful, very direct, gave me his card with the name and number of the "Director of Internet Sales" at the dealership at the mention of the Eye-word.
Back at the office, I searched the Toyota dot com site and came to a "Buy" link, which let me query certain cars and ask for prices (I had told my salesman that I intended to shop the Web) and I heard from three or four Toyota dealerships in the area, including someone from the WC dealership who claimed to be the "Manager of Internet Sales".
Was that just me? Was that for my benefit?
I told my Honda salesman that I had felt violated by the Toyota dealership on the "other" side of town, because I had been told one thing and then discovered on my own that someone had been flexing the truth.
This was the same salesman, Dave, who laughed when I told him that the Element "didn't get me hard" and then offered me $4700 trade-in on the Rav, although I had mentioned that I was late for lunch and feeling hungry, and since he was already playing with himself how would he feel about letting me help myself to a little bit of protein while I help him as well?
It feels as if I must have fought very hard not to respond in kind to the blatant suggestions being made by the hot salesman. Heck if I had let things happen, I would have been much happier with the trade-in offered being a full three thousand below KBB's suggested price.
I wonder if, around the dealership, it's a known feature of this extremely successful salesman's service that there are times when certain parts of the "deal" don't go through.
When the salesman brought the Rav back to the sales lot, to return possession to me, he didn't announce his return. My brother Edward noticed him, as he backed the Rav to the "Customer Parking" fence and went inside to fetch some window cleaner and a rag. "It's amazing what Windex will take off." he said, as he removed the yellow "Not For Sale" sticker from the windshield.
It wasn't until we returned home that we noticed the Rav's rear end.
While the "In-n-Out Burger", "Pornstar" squiggle text blue oval, and the gallery's No Place Like Here signage were still bearing witness, there had been a disrespectfully rough attempt to remove my "My Child was Inmate of the Month" and my "Masturbation is Not a Crime" stickers.
Three words.
Irreplaceable.
Wednesday, June 6, 2007
Car Deal
After the Ravioli died coming off of the freeway two weeks ago, I got worried. The road to the beach house is windy, unlit, mountainous...there's sketchy cell phone reception, at best...the nearest tow truck could be fifty miles away...I had visions of Isabella, Lulu, myself, a mountain lion and a black bear, all hungry, in the dark night...
so I test drove a 2007 Rav4 which has a choice of 4- 6- or 8-cylinder. WTF?? Apparently Toyota is using the same frame for all of their SUVs these days, so there is no more such thing as a "casual" SUV. They're all huge to ginormous. There's also no more standard shift. Retardville!
Huge.
The new Rav4 would not fit into my garage without major reshuffling.
The next day I thought I would try out the Honda CRV and then the Element. The salesman was handsome, and sexy, and he kept touching himself through his pants...I swear to you! I didn't enjoy driving the Element at all, and told the salesman that it "didn't get me hard," and yet...here it is, in my garage. The key selling point for me was its cleanability, and doghair impregnable upholstery. You can literally hose the interior out!! I'm also attracted to the suicide doors, and total flexibilty of the interior as far as seats folding up/folding down/coming out/going down, etc., etc. For 4 cylinders it's a peppy box - I consider it a "camionette" because it's so much like a small truck. It's 4wd, and has an automatic transmission - this so that I can let my chauffeur drive me around, as well as run to PetSmart for pug kibble.
When I was test driving, it was already lunch hour and my blood sugar was low. So was my blood alcohol, no doubt. I signed up for 2.9% financing, and traded in the Ravioli for $4700. In sudden remorse, I finagled the Rav back from them in exchange for a check...it felt devious, but justified when I saw that Kelley suggested a $7700 private sales price. I had made the deal on Friday, and owed them the title...on Sunday I called to ask the hot salesman if I could buy the Rav back, and he put me on hold before telling me that it was "absolutely too late - sorry." The next day(Memorial Day) the finance guy called to see if I had dropped off the title, and I asked him the same thing...and, voila! he was willing to do anything to keep the customer happy, so of course if I would simply bring them a check they would give me back the car...
and then the meager accessories that I bought at the same time I bought the car - a cargo net, a floor mat, and a roof rack - came in, and we scheduled installation for "all day saturday." The special storage armrest (for property keys, methinks) had come in on Wednesday, but they wouldn't install it for me because, technically, I had not bought it as part of the new car contract. I had ordered it the day after I signed the contract. Oh, and just as I was picking up the car on Saturday evening, the parts department turned off their light and closed, so I couldn't take the arm rest with me to install myself. Well, when they called me to find out how happy I was with their service, I told them exactly what I thought about the armrest situation and they offered to install it for me. I felt like such a cunt, but, heck, it took them all of 15 minutes and they had kept the car ALL DAY SATURDAY Joke 'em if they can't take a fuck. I'll write them a nice thank-you letter, and name names. Management loves that the most.
so when I was pulling into the garage on Saturday, with my newly installed roof rack, I drove forward very slowly. I know that there would be very little clearance now with the blue bicycle hanging from the ceiling. Nothing...nothing...nothing...then BLAM-BLAM-BLAM!! The roof rack had not only made contact with the bicycle, but at my delicate pace it had lifted the bicycle off of the pegs, and dropped it onto the roof and hood of the car. Nice work, at 312 miles, eh? You will be thrilled (I hope) to learn that I was able to leap from the Element and, reaching around the door, grab the bicycle with my left hand and hold it up, preventing it from tumbling onto the TT. Phew! Cunt karma stings!
Then the wheel turned again, and I sold the Rav for $6500 - even with black smoke coming out when it's started. Oops.
so I test drove a 2007 Rav4 which has a choice of 4- 6- or 8-cylinder. WTF?? Apparently Toyota is using the same frame for all of their SUVs these days, so there is no more such thing as a "casual" SUV. They're all huge to ginormous. There's also no more standard shift. Retardville!
Huge.
The new Rav4 would not fit into my garage without major reshuffling.
The next day I thought I would try out the Honda CRV and then the Element. The salesman was handsome, and sexy, and he kept touching himself through his pants...I swear to you! I didn't enjoy driving the Element at all, and told the salesman that it "didn't get me hard," and yet...here it is, in my garage. The key selling point for me was its cleanability, and doghair impregnable upholstery. You can literally hose the interior out!! I'm also attracted to the suicide doors, and total flexibilty of the interior as far as seats folding up/folding down/coming out/going down, etc., etc. For 4 cylinders it's a peppy box - I consider it a "camionette" because it's so much like a small truck. It's 4wd, and has an automatic transmission - this so that I can let my chauffeur drive me around, as well as run to PetSmart for pug kibble.
When I was test driving, it was already lunch hour and my blood sugar was low. So was my blood alcohol, no doubt. I signed up for 2.9% financing, and traded in the Ravioli for $4700. In sudden remorse, I finagled the Rav back from them in exchange for a check...it felt devious, but justified when I saw that Kelley suggested a $7700 private sales price. I had made the deal on Friday, and owed them the title...on Sunday I called to ask the hot salesman if I could buy the Rav back, and he put me on hold before telling me that it was "absolutely too late - sorry." The next day(Memorial Day) the finance guy called to see if I had dropped off the title, and I asked him the same thing...and, voila! he was willing to do anything to keep the customer happy, so of course if I would simply bring them a check they would give me back the car...
and then the meager accessories that I bought at the same time I bought the car - a cargo net, a floor mat, and a roof rack - came in, and we scheduled installation for "all day saturday." The special storage armrest (for property keys, methinks) had come in on Wednesday, but they wouldn't install it for me because, technically, I had not bought it as part of the new car contract. I had ordered it the day after I signed the contract. Oh, and just as I was picking up the car on Saturday evening, the parts department turned off their light and closed, so I couldn't take the arm rest with me to install myself. Well, when they called me to find out how happy I was with their service, I told them exactly what I thought about the armrest situation and they offered to install it for me. I felt like such a cunt, but, heck, it took them all of 15 minutes and they had kept the car ALL DAY SATURDAY Joke 'em if they can't take a fuck. I'll write them a nice thank-you letter, and name names. Management loves that the most.
so when I was pulling into the garage on Saturday, with my newly installed roof rack, I drove forward very slowly. I know that there would be very little clearance now with the blue bicycle hanging from the ceiling. Nothing...nothing...nothing...then BLAM-BLAM-BLAM!! The roof rack had not only made contact with the bicycle, but at my delicate pace it had lifted the bicycle off of the pegs, and dropped it onto the roof and hood of the car. Nice work, at 312 miles, eh? You will be thrilled (I hope) to learn that I was able to leap from the Element and, reaching around the door, grab the bicycle with my left hand and hold it up, preventing it from tumbling onto the TT. Phew! Cunt karma stings!
Then the wheel turned again, and I sold the Rav for $6500 - even with black smoke coming out when it's started. Oops.
Sunday, May 6, 2007
Starving Birds
I feel responsible for untold numbers of bird deaths.
Since moving into a log cabin in November of 2005, I have been trying to maintain a critter-free human and pug only habitat. This part of the coast was heavily forested until the turn of the last century. Migrating populations have relied on finding what they need for their survival on a leg of their long journey that has this spot as a verified safe home. Like the large number of ocean birds that washed up recently, dead of starvation, is a very similar indication. Last year at this time of year, you had flown for 2500 miles and were ready to crash in your sweet little mud bed. You had been returning to this nest every spring since 1991. You were hatched in this very spot. It had been built by your great-great-great-great grandparents when the house was new. Swallows had built nests wherever they could, and by carefully selecting which nests to knock down and which to allow, successive generations would return to the same nest year after year. As families grow, they will expand their mud network of nests in that same permitted area.
Since moving into a log cabin in November of 2005, I have been trying to maintain a critter-free human and pug only habitat. This part of the coast was heavily forested until the turn of the last century. Migrating populations have relied on finding what they need for their survival on a leg of their long journey that has this spot as a verified safe home. Like the large number of ocean birds that washed up recently, dead of starvation, is a very similar indication. Last year at this time of year, you had flown for 2500 miles and were ready to crash in your sweet little mud bed. You had been returning to this nest every spring since 1991. You were hatched in this very spot. It had been built by your great-great-great-great grandparents when the house was new. Swallows had built nests wherever they could, and by carefully selecting which nests to knock down and which to allow, successive generations would return to the same nest year after year. As families grow, they will expand their mud network of nests in that same permitted area.
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