Happy Boxing Day!

Yesterday was Christmas Day. A very long Christmas Day, entirely by my own design. I will tell you about my Christmas festivities, but first, let's talk about the world's.

For several months, issues of faith and the Church have haunted me. Most of my complaints are ideological -- related to the policies and politics of the Church -- but occasionally I find my self bothered by the theological, for example, the existence of Hell.

One thing I never doubted was that Christmas was an important day -- the second most important even -- for Christians. I was wrong.

Despite the rhetoric about the war on Christmas, Christians themselves have fired the shot heard around the world. With all of the talk about "Happy Holidays vs. Merry Christmas" and the anger at retailers not embracing the birth of the Lord, it's hard to figure out whose side I want to be on. I'll still likely wish you a "Merry Christmas" -- and hoping that if you don't celebrate Christmas, you'll tell me, or even better, share with me your faith tradition -- but I'm just fine with the people taking my money, and the credit card interest payments along with it, not harping about my Lord.

And then, when reading a story about a church in Glendale burning down, I read this nugget, "Because Christmas falls on Monday this year, many churches are not offering Christmas Day services, instead having celebrations Sunday morning and late Sunday night. (LA Times, 12/22/06)

Sure enough, an informal survey (including the largest Evangelical church in my hometown) shows that many Evangelical and Protestant churches offered no religious services on Christmas Day. Maybe they thought that with people attending on Sunday, it would just be too inconvenient to offer it again on Monday -- when we celebrate the birth of our Lord. Or maybe church attendance just gets in the way of the presents to be unwrapped and cocktails to be consumed.

I take great solace in knowing that my Church offered 6 Masses for the Sunday obligation, and another 11 for Christmas, of which 5 of those were actually said on Christmas Day -- whether a Monday or not.

In this spirit, I'd like to share a little reflection now that the Season is winding down and credit card bills are going out in the mail. It's a song originally recorded by Jackson Browne called, "The Rebel Jesus."

All the streets are filled with laughter and light
And the music of the season,
And the merchants windows are all bright
With the faces of the children.
And the families hurrying to their homes,
As the sky darkens and freezes.
They'll be gathering around the hearths and tales,
Giving thanks for all gods graces,
And the birth of the rebel Jesus.

Well, they call him by the prince of peace,
And they call him by the savior.
And they pray to him upon the seas,
And in every bold endeavor.
As they fill his churches with their pride and gold
And their faith in him increases,
But they've turned the nature that I worshipped in
From a temple to a robbers den,
In the words of the rebel Jesus.

We guard our world with locks and guns
And we guard our fine possessions.
And once a year when Christmas comes
We give to our relations.
And perhaps we give a little to the poor,
If the generosity should seize us.
But if any one of us should interfere
In the business of why they are poor,
They get the same as the rebel Jesus.

But please forgive me if I seem
To take the tone of judgement
For I've no wish to come between
This day and your enjoyment.
In this life of hardship and of earthly toil
We have need for anything that frees us.
So I bid you pleasure
And I bid you cheer,
From a heathen and a pagan,
On the side of the rebel Jesus.

More Perspective

I've written endlessly about how important perspective is in my life. It's amazing how different things seem when you change your perspective... for example:

some boys

Really are worth the trouble. Some aren't.

In the annals of unforuntate names...

... this one is a doozy.

Read this article from the Los Angeles Times:

A state panel on Tuesday ordered a Santa Barbara County judge removed from her job after a series of offenses, including driving drunk and hiding the source of campaign funds.

The conduct of Superior Court Judge Diana R. Hall, 56, shows "an alarming disrespect for authority" and "an inability to control her behavior," the Commission on Judicial Performance concluded in a harshly worded 30-page decision...

Hall, the sixth California judge removed by the panel since 2001, "undermined the fair electoral process with her deceit and misrepresentations," commissioners wrote. "At a minimum, there is an appearance that Judge Hall holds her judicial office as a result of election fraud."...

Hall's legal problems centered largely on a romantic relationship she had with an aerospace executive named Deidra Dykeman.

Yes, folks, Judge Hall was brought down partially because of the contentious relationship with her lesbian lover. Her lesbian lover named Deidra Dykeman. Dykeman. I'm just saying...

The Things People Say

I've heard that I've lost weight. I don't really notice it much, especially since I lost most of it about a year and a half ago. Nevertheless, every time I see someone that I have seen in a few weeks, I hear about all the weight I've lost. I must've been really fat.

As a rule, I try not to tell people they look skinnier. Or better. I try not to tell people that they look "rested" or "happy." I think that natural extension of that thought is, "How did I look earlier?"

I think, generally, people don't think about what they say. In high school, a friend of mine lost her mother after a particularly grueling illness. I remember her hearing things like, "At least the suffering is over," or, "I know what you're going through must be difficult." At least the suffering is over? I think most teenagers would rather have a mom in pain than no mom at all. And how do you know what someone is going through? My personal choice, "I can't imagine what you are going through. Please know that I'm here for you and I'll keep you and your family in my thoughts (and prayers -- only if I know they are spiritual/religious)."

I think I've told you about the Atomic Tumor. He lost his wife last month and has documented most of it through his blog. She died suddenly of a fast illness. As in, she was perfectly healthy at the beginning of the month and dead by Thanksgiving.

He donated her organs.

Then the donation organization sent him a note telling him how they were used. (Which, I guess could be comforting but probably not just a few weeks after the loss. That seems like a card that could wait a few months.)

He wasn't very happy. He felt her organs went to losers -- Wal-Mart employees and truck drivers. Certainly these men weren't deserving of his beautiful wife's final gifts.

Of course, his response was probably a little extreme, but after what he went through isn't he entitled to extreme emotions? You should read the comments. The things that people -- most of whom I'm sure don't know him in real life -- think are acceptable to say to a grieving husband and father. Damn.

Things You Should Know

Here's a new feature called Things You Should Know. Look for future installments.

These are a few things I've learned this week:

• Fully mature elephants have testicles that weigh 13 pounds.
• 98% of all people on death row couldn't afford their own attorney, thus relying on court appointed representation.
• Los Angeles City Council members make $70,000 more a year than California Assembly members. Members of the legislature are responsible for a state of 35 million people and an annual budget of $100 billion. The City Council is repsonsible for a city of 3 1/2 million people and a budget of $4 billion.
• Sales in the United States accounts for more than half of all drug company revenues worldwide.

A few things for your Thursday...

Yesterday, I was shown/found some fun things on the Internets and I wanted to share them with you.

First are a couple of Mac vs. PC parody ads about New Jersey's pending Civil Unions. I think these are pretty creative and really hope that they are going to be put up on the air.





Oh, and do you hate Family Circus cartoons? Well, apparently someone has figured out how they were originally meant to be and invented the Nietzsche Family Circus. Check it out and go back often. Every time you reload the page you'll get a new one.

And finally, many of you will want to stop with this post at this point. For those of you who don't easily offend or who promise not to hold this against me, I'd humbly present "A Charlie Brown Kwanzaa." (If you are watching this at work, you'll want to put on headphones. Unless you work at the Klan. Or the Republican National Committee.)

UPDATE: That was too offensive even for me. You'll need to find it on your own. I just can't be responsible for someone watching something that awful and blaming me!

"Nobody (Takes the Bus) in LA"

I wanted a Robek's juice bad. Real bad-like. The only problem working downtown is that there aren't parking lots for any of the Robeks -- although there are like 3 Robeks downtown. Okay, another problem is that unlike most people who say they work downtown, I don't work among the glistening office towers that provide easy access to restuarants, shopping, and, of course, Robeks. I work about 2 miles east of that pristine wonderfulness in the midst of real live "crack hoes" and urine drenched sidewalks.

No parking. Urine drenched sidewalks. How will I ever get my Robek's? I could take the bus. It's a straight shot for about 5 minutes down 7th Street. I've done it before, even commuted by bus when I lived in my last house.

So, I get on right outside my office and get ready for a fun ride through Los Angeles' Skid Row -- one of the largest concentrations of homeless people in the Western world. And to my delight, the MTA has installed video screens on the bus.

Who would have thought that I would have been on a city bus in Skid Row breathing through my mouth when I would learn that Vaughniston was no more.



It's a cruel, cruel world.

When?

When is it okay to act?

This haunts me in so many of my life decisions. In dating, I don't play games. If I meet someone I'm interested in, I want to go out with them. If I go out and have a nice time, I want to tell them. If they had a nice time, I want them to tell me. I don't want to wait 3 days. Sometimes they understand and aren't spooked. Sometimes, they are.

I'm impatient.

When I go on a job interview, I want to know if I got the job right away. If I have to wait a week, I've already ruled it out.

When I think about changing something, I want it to happen right away. When there is a refrigerator in my dining room, I want it put away fast.

Mostly, life itself has a different plan. I have to wait. But, for how long?

My brother was married before. It was unfortunate and strange. His current wife and the mother of his 3 amazing children, who I love as much as I could any other person, was actually his high school girlfriend. They dated in high school and college and broke it off. He met another girl, dated her and 2 years later was married. (No Davis boy dared get married before finishing college. He waited a month, I think.) Within 3 years, he was divorced. During the messy divorce, while he was stationed alone overseas, he started talking with his old high school girlfriend. They spoke a lot. They went on a trip together. They flew between her home in California and his in Colorado. Then they wed. And I, all of maybe 17 or 18 at the time, couldn't tell anyone.

Why? Because when I did, the immediate reaction was always, "Didn't he just get divorced?" Who cares that they had known each other for over 10 years. Who cares that he had dated her for twice as long as his first wife. Who cares that he was happy and his new wife was amazing. All people cared about was how his life fit into their timeline.

I've been reading this blog, Atomic Tumor, for what seems like forever. Turns out, its been a little over 3 weeks. Back then, his wife was alive. She passed away on the 19th I think. On November 1, one month ago, he told us that she had the flu. Today, he's not wearing his wedding rings. Is that too soon? Is he trying to move on to quickly?

How long do you have to wait? If he "mourns" for 6 months, who's to say 10 years from now the reality of his wife passing won't suddenly hit him and wear him down? Does he need to wait a year? Two years? What if he can live and mourn at the same time?

How often, when we are waiting for something to pass, do we miss an amazing opportunity? I think we need to live more in the moment, less concerned about the future, the past, and definately less concerned with others.

Who cares if I just broke up with someone? Should I shuttle the opportunity to meet someone new, maybe (and from this perspective definately) better?

40,000,000

Today is World AIDS Day. Today, 40 million people are living on this planet with HIV, the virus that causes AIDS. Today, almost 14,000 people will find out that they are HIV positive.

Tomorrow, almost 10,000 of those living with AIDS today will be dead -- 250 just here in the United States.

These are my thoughts:

This is World AIDS Day because HIV/AIDS is a global pandemic. There are 40 million people living with HIV. More people are living with HIV than live in Canada or Iraq. More people on the planet are living with HIV than live in Australia and the Netherlands, or than call Chile, Ecuador and Cuba home. More people are HIV-positive than come from Sweden, Switzerland, Austria, and Israel combined.

There are more people living with HIV than living in 100 of the 235 recognized nation-states: Bhutan, Macedonia, Namibia, Slovenia, Lesotho, Botswana, Guinea-Bissau, The Gambia, Gabon, Estonia, Trinidad & Tobago, Mauritius, Swaziland, East Timor, Fiji, Cyprus, Qatar, Comoros, Djibouti, Réunion, Guyana, Bahrain, Montenegro, Transnistria, Cape Verde, Equatorial Guinea, Solomon Islands, Luxembourg, Macau, Suriname, Guadeloupe, Malta, Martinique, Brunei, Western Sahara, Maldives, The Bahamas, Iceland, Belize, Barbados, French Polynesia, New Caledonia, Vanuatu, French Guiana, Samoa, Netherlands Antilles, Guam, Saint Lucia, São Tomé and Príncipe, Abkhazia, Channel Islands, Nagorno-Karabakh, Saint Vincent and the Grenadines, US Virgin Islands, Micronesia, Grenada, Tona, Aruba, Kiribati, Antigua and Barbuda, Northern Mariana Islands, Seychelles, Dominica, Isle of Man, Andorra, South Ossentia, Bermuda, American Samoa, Marshall Islands, Greenland, Faroe Islands, Cayman Islands, Saint Kitts and Nevis, Monaco, Liechtenstein, San Marino, Gibraltar, Turks and Caicos, British Virgin Islands, Palau, Cook Islands, Wallis and Futuna, Anguilla, Nauru, Tuvalu, Saint-Pierre and Miquelon, Saint Helena, Montserrat, Falkland Islands, Niue, Tokelau, and the Vatican.

It is 25 years after the discovery of HIV and we are still fighting over condom use, and medical marijuana, and who should shoulder the greatest burden. It took 6 years for an American President to even publically say "AIDS." Millions were dead before the most powerful nation in the world took notice. This year, we'll spend about $25 billion addressing HIV and AIDS; most of the money will be spent here at home where fewer than 2% of the world's AIDS cases are. In the coming days, the President will ask for more than $100 billion for the Iraq war.

Today, you are much more likely to contract HIV than to die in a terrorist attack. I'd be willing to bet that a monogamous, heterosexual housewife who has never used drugs is more likely to contract HIV than die in a terrorist attack. And our leaders are debating whether condoms are effective in slowing the spread of HIV. (They are.)

I do not have AIDS. I've never had a friend die from the disease. But here, in Los Angeles, 30,000 people have. Most of them have been gay men. If I was just 5 or 10 years older, I imagine that I couldn't have written that. Would I, or my friends, be part of the statistic, part of the 500,000 Americans that we've lost in 25 years.

We've lost artists and teachers and scientists and parents. We've lost activists and preachers and healers and, most devastatingly, we've lost children. We've lost 28 million lives. Maybe one of those lives held the answer to bring peace to the Middle East. Maybe one of those lives held the answer to Global Warming. Maybe one of those was the next Picasso, or Mozart.

How many more will we lose? Will it be someone I love and care about? How many more of my friends will take the ultimate gamble with their own life?

No night of pleasure is worth the risk. No single relationship is worth the risk. Be smart. And get active.

There are 40,000,000 of our fellow global citizens that demand and need our action. We must do more. We will be paying penance for our six years of silence. Can we afford more?

Cruise People?

Are you cruise people? You know, the kind of person, who when planning the dream vacation, would choose a cruise. The kind of person who like the structure and rigor of pre-planned, provided-for activities. The kind of person who like buffets, unlimited food, midnight snacks and all-inclusive dining.

I am realizing that I am clearly not "cruise people." Is it wrong to judge those that are?

The War on Christmas

It seems that "Christmas" has been completely dropped from the end-of-the-year, wintery retail selling time. "Happy Holidays." "Seasons Greetings."

Retailers are shying away from that second holiest Christian holiday, opting for the more inclusive and less-Jesusy wishes. This is an outrage.

Actually, no. The outrage is that "real" live Christians are offended by the de-Christianizing of this overly commericial season. The holiday that is celebrated in America's shopping malls is the not birth of the Lord, but rather of the amortization of the American future. The credit card debt, the personal bankruptcies, the commericialization of the childhood mind: these are the reasons for the season.

Christians should celebrate the severing of ties between the birth of Jesus and the new Playstation 3.

Coats

Every time someone from Los Angeles moves to a colder climate, we have to hear about their need for coats. Last night, I came home about 10:00 PM and noticed that it was particularly cold. This opened my eyes to the fact that in Los Angeles, it does get cold enough to wear coats. Why don't we?

On my way in to work, I was thinking about mass transit and possibly moving somewhere where I could easily commute using public transportation. Then I realized that I'd need to wear a coat.

We Angelenos don't need coats because, in the winter, we don't spend a lot of time outside. We go from our homes to our cars to drive in to work alone, to the office and back to the car. We use artificial heat in all these places.

Shh... Don't tell anyone...

I'm a little bit of a voyeur. Not in the nasty sexy pary of the definition, just the prying, spying part. That's why I love to read blogs. It fun to found out what's going on in other people's lives, how you might handle the same situation, or laugh along with (or at) them.

I love hearing about Dan Renzi's (someone I would at least personally recognize on the street because of my teenage obsession with the Real World) crazy misadventures at job interviews. I always enjoy Rick's witty perspective on his crazy celebrity life. And recently, my heart has ached for AT over at Atomic Tumor. Sometimes, I catch myself telling friends stories off a blog like I really know the person it happened to.

But you know what I like as much as prying into other people's lives through their blogs? Finding out who is prying in to mine.

A little shout out to this weeks returning visitors from Abbotsford, BC, Anaheim, CA, Catonsville, MD, Columbus, OH, District Heights, MD, Lake Forest, CA, Long Beach, CA, Los Angeles, CA, Lowell, MA, Mandeville, LA, Nashville, TN, New York, NY, Northridge, CA, Rochester, NY, Roseville, CA, San Dimas, CA, Somerville, MA, and Worcester, MA.

I love you people because you care about me, and frankly, you should. I'm fucking awesome!

Marriage

I've written about marriage equality alot. It's an important issue to me and much of the gay community. Personally, I think it has less to do with actual marriage than with society's acceptance, tolerance, of our human condition. Gay men and women don't want to pushed aside as nuissance, or worse, as a subclass.

Yesterday, I was talking with co-worker, one of the few I really like and a genuine progressive in every sense of the word. She just returned from a trip to Israel and this ignited a conversation about the Israeli High Court's decision on same-sex marriage. (Side note: So far more progressive than the United States: Netherlands, Denmark, Spain, Canada, England, Israel, and friggin' South Africa!)

I observed how frightening that the ultra-orthodox Jewish and Islamic leaders (and even a few Christian figures) could set aside their differences to hate the gays, opposing the effort by the mostly secular Israeli government to pursue fairness under the law.

My concern was immediately shuttled when she said that "Israel has more important things to worry about than marriage and the government shouldn't be concerned with this right now."

What's more important than equality? How can people settle a dispute about identity when its laws still allow the open discrimination and hostility to some sets of people? South Africa understood this when choosing recently to legalize same-sex unions -- they recognized that the once apartheid state could not seek a oneness of identity, black and white equal under the law, if they still allowed for codified discrimination.

Unfortunately, the twit at work thinks that you can do things in pieces. Ah, to "tradition!"...



PS: Damian and Chris, I can't help but think back to when y'all (plus Blair and my old roommate) helped prepare that dinner at the homeless shelter and we spent a few hours locked in the kitchen playing, "Tradition!"

Kick 'Em Out

This past Sunday, I joined my brother, nephew and a friend at the San Diego Chargers game. I'm splitting some season tickets with my other brother, dad, and friends and this was my 3rd or 4th game this season.

It's been an exciting season. The Chargers are doing well, leading the AFC West. The games have remained exciting and suspenseful. Oh, and after 28 years, I finally learned most of the rules of football. I finally understand the game.

I do not, however, understand the stadium beer sales rules.

Especially when the raiders play.

Apparently, Raiders fans have a little bit of a reputation for unruliness. For the first time, we saw mounted police officers. They must have been helping enforcing beer rules that limited sales to one beer per person per purchase. Typically, it's at least 2 beers. Beer sales were stopped at half-time. Typically, you have about an extra 45 minutes, through the end of the 3rd quarter, to buy beer.

Is this really justified?

Well, we saw a man get his nose broken in a fight in our section. That same fight sent a man down 5 or 6 rows of seats and resulted in the arrest of about 6 people. We saw another man fall over the railing into one of the tunnels, about 10 feet. By fall, of course I mean he was thrown. Or chased.

Clearly there is a problem with Raiders fans. What happens if a few teams in the league just refused to play them? Why should owners face the potential loss of hundreds of thousands of dollars in beer sales just because a team's fans have demonstrated a total inability to be civil?

And who ever thought I would ever blog this much about football?

This Short Life

As should be expected, Thanksgiving weekend involves shopping, relaxation, too much family, and Christmas decorations. My house hasn't gotten hit -- mostly because the most crafty roommate is traveling and the crack-head one is out the door this week -- but my brother's house isn't as lucky. We spent much of today decorating, including the exterior lights.

Brother's house is tall, 3 stories and gabled and all. After what seemed a few hours, we realized that the only adequate display would require a feat of great heights -- a trip to the upper roofs.

Of course, the sniveling bro decided that he was afraid of heights and wouldn't go out on the roof near the 3rd floor. Finally, I took the bull by the horns and took action. I crawled out the third story window on to the short and steep tiled roof to have the living shit scared out of me!

I've never been afraid of heights but it took me about 15 minutes that far up -- without a net or rope or much of anything to hold on to -- for me to totally give up! My heart was racing. My legs were weak. Apparently, I'm afraid of heights!

Gay-munition

I've given a lot of thought to my moti-gay-tions recently, probably inspired by a day of post-Thanksgiving shopping. What about the fairer sex has scared me off for 28 years? Sure, this might not be the most progressive approach to my sexuality, but am I gay because of an attraction to men, or I strong aversion to women?

This might be why gay men get a reputation for sexism; I don't think I'm sexist. I certainly think that as a whole the females of our species are far superior to the males, but there are certain traits of women that help reinforce my homosexuality. These are the gay-munition that have created this monster:

• Women will pay with exact change, slowing down the line, annoying the sales rep, and taking away valuable time from my shorter-now life. Men never carry or pay with change. We are more likely to throw change on the street than to count out exact change. Who am I kidding, we use plastic almost exclusively these days.

• Side fat. Obesity disturbs me but I've never been bothered by people who are a little "fuller." However, when women (mostly young women) wear snug, low-rise jeans and the side fat is squeeze out the top, that my friend is my limit. This is one of the most revolting parts of a woman's body.

... This list will be a work in progress but will avoid the obvious, you know, like the vagina.

Easier Reading: Introduction of Labels

Since Google owns Blogger, they've been making some fun little changes. One was the addition of "labels." At the end of each post, I get to label them based on their subject matter. Check it out!

Good News vs. Bad News

How do you take your coffee?

Pretty much the same thing with news. My last post had a little cliffhanger attached to the end about my mood.

I had a job interview today. I hope I get the job. I also have a weird condition with my skin. I am extremely itchy, not sleeping it's so bad, but you can't see anything on my skin: no redness, no dryness, no scaling. The itching is painful and burning. This is my problem. I'll go to the doctor and hopefully things will be okay. Hopefully, I'll get the job. I even have a date tomorrow.

La vie boheme!

Well, I didn't get the job. I know. It's Monday and I've already heard back from them. Crazy shit! They called me on Saturday and gave me the nicest rejection possible. They are my new heroes. That's how I want to treat people from now on, honestly but kindly.

The skin stuff isn't a whole lot better. My sister-in-law suggested an anti-histmine and that doesn't seem to have solved the problem so I'm off to the doctor this week. It's made a little worse by the fact that I looked like a contestant in Fight Club. I fell down the stairs of the diveboat yesterday and am all black and blue and in a lot of pain. But, how do you take your coffee? How about with three spoonfulls of awesome diving with great visibility, some fun challenges and an enthusiastic class of students that brings tears to your eyes? Yep, even with the fall down the stairs, the day was amazing!

And the date? Awesome. Really swell guy with a lot to say. We did some fun things, but that's for another time. Everything happens for a reason. It may not be easy but you're almost always better for it.

This week's edition of This American Life told the story of a famous, popular, and successful evangelical Christian minister who had a change of heart and opened his mind to the "Gospel of Inclusion." He lost his pastors, most of his congregation, nearly all of his success, but he saved his soul. It was an inspiring hour that awoken the faith inside me. Check it out.

How do you measure a year?

One night this week, after fixing my closet and doubling its space, I was watching the film version of Rent. I have to say, I don't really like the movie. Spoken lines that were sung in the stage version gives the film an eerie tone, making it that much more sad. I wasn't a huge fan of the stage version, either. But it will always mean something to me.

Rent opened in 1996, during my last semester in high school. I wouldn't see it for about two years, but I read the press, I heard the news. It was a play about AIDS. And gays.

I was 17 years old and living in fear in the closet. Here was a huge play about gays. I had to see it.

Would I relate? Probably not. I was an upper-middle-class white kid from Saugus, California. I'd never done any drugs in my life. Had a few drinks but not many. Barely had ever had sex. This was a story about broke twenty-somethings living in Manhattan, kicking heroin, and living with AIDS. Wow.

I did finally see it. It spoke to me but differently than I had imagined it would. I guess it was like when a black kid of my generation read about the lynchings of the 20s and 30s. I mean, at the same time Rent premiered, so did protease inhibitors and retroviral treatments that slowed the progression of HIV. People really were living with AIDS.

In my 28 years, I've never had a friend, or even aquaintance that I knew well enough, die from AIDS. I know that's not true for other gay folks just 10 years older than me. Even just 5 years older than me. Unfortunately, I know more people that are HIV-positive than I would hope, but they are living and for the most part are indistinguishable from you or I.

AIDS has shaped my entire community, but not me. Rent reminds me of that. That show, that I don't really like, leaves an important image in my mind about what could have been. Had I been 5 years or 10 years older, had I experimented carelessly, had I not had the wisdom and love of a wonderful family, Rent could have been my story. This could have been my story.

Now we are fortunate as a community. We are getting to fight over things like marriage equality and open (and honest) service in the military. Ten years ago, we were trying to stay alive.

I had a job interview today. I hope I get the job. I also have a weird condition with my skin. I am extremely itchy, not sleeping it's so bad, but you can't see anything on my skin: no redness, no dryness, no scaling. The itching is painful and burning. This is my problem. I'll go to the doctor and hopefully things will be okay. Hopefully, I'll get the job. I even have a date tomorrow.

La vie boheme!

Good Times. All Around.

When I was in college and working at the water park during the summers, we used to have to communicate a lot with hand signals. Need a bottle of water from across the pool? Signal it. Need to take a pee? Signal it.

My friends and I had this silly little sign we used to either demonstrate how we felt, or to cheer someone up a little. The narrative was: "Good times, all around." The signal was two-fold. It started with a little clenched-fists-at-the-chest dancing, following by swinging your arms in a circl over your head. How could you see that and not smile?

Kind of like this video.



Jason of Jason's Room shared it today. Thanks Jason. I guess he's in a crumby place and needed something that just makes you smile. I don't know Jason -- sometimes reading blogs regularly you forget that you don't really know these people -- but I can tell something is up based on a recent post. I don't know what's wrong, but Jason, I've been there recently, and just getting out and living life and keeping perspective really helps. That and silly little hand gestures from your friends. Finding videos like this one helps, too! Good times. Good times.

Thou Shalt Laugh, Bitch!

Our friends over at the Pen15 Club told me about a new comedy DVD that came out on election day featuring my homegirl Patricia Heaton.

The DVD, from the producers of the Blue Collar Comedy Tour, is called "Thou Shalt Laugh" and is a collection of "Christian" comedians dropping jokes. This is what they have to say about their DVD:

Who says Christians aren't funny? Today's most talented comedians are brought together on Thou Shalt Laugh, a hilarious stand-up comedy concert whose stars, producers and director are all Christians. Two time Emmy® Award-winning actress Patricia Heaton ( Everybody Loves Raymond) hosts this uproarious night of stand-up comedy from the producer of the enormously popular Blue Collar Comedy Tour: The Movie. The line-up features seven world class comedians including Thor Ramsey, Michael Jr., Jeff Allen, Teresa Roberts Logan, Joby Saad, Gilbert Esquivel and Taylor Mason. If you are looking for funny, your prayers have been answered!

Some thoughts:

"Who says Christians aren't funny?" We don't say they aren't funny. We say they don't have a sense of humor. That's why they get their panties in a bunch over things like South Park, Borat, and the Daily Show. Oh, I guess we also say they aren't funny, that's why all their TV shows and films -- 7th Heaven, Highway to Heaven, Passion of the Christ -- all suck!

"a hilarious stand-up comedy concert whose stars, producers and director are all Christians" See, we allow a little discrimination for that Def Jam Comedy and the righties run with it. Poor Christians. Always in need of a little affirmative action.

"The line-up features seven world class comedians including Thor Ramsey..." He's done porn, right?

"...Michael Jr...." I barely get the one name thing in the first place. I'll give in for Cher, Madonna, and the Pope. But if you choose to only have one name, is it really legal to name your son after you?

"...Jeff Allen, Teresa Roberts Logan..." Two last names, Teresa? Sounds like a lesbian to me.

"...Joby Saad, Gilbert Esquivel..." When I worked on Rendez-View, Gilbert was one of the guest hosts who was paid to mock a dating couple, a couple who could potentially wed in the sacred act of matrimony. Gilbert was mocking the sanctity of marriage. Some Christian.

The Human Mind

Let's follow me through a thought from beginning to end:

For the past couple of weeks, my skin has been a little itchy. It's becoming really uncomfortable and I can't figure out why. Perhaps it's because of the Santa Ana winds that plague Southern California this time of year. But maybe it's also because I'm a little dehydrated. I haven't really been drinking enough water recently. How do I know this? Because I haven't been peeing as often.

Starting today, I'm drinking a lot more water. Consequently, I've already peed a number of times. All this peeing involves me undoing my pants more often. Under my pants, of course, is my underwear.

Do you know what bugs me? When the legs of my boxer briefs get all stretched out. By the end of the day, I'm basically wearing boxer shorts. I've been wearing boxer briefs for about 10 years now. Prior to that, I was a boxer man. These days, I'm starting to mix it up again, switching sides periodically. Mostly because I've fun some crazy fun boxers prints.

This is what I'm thinking of today. That and Mr. Pregnant. I'm getting a new roommate in a month and he sends me this link today. Check it out.

PS: Apparently this isn't the first time I've been totally pre-occupied by my own underwear.

Let's Party

I don't live close enough to many of you to get my party on with you. This makes me sad. So, I decided to bring the party to you with a little re-telling of one my Halloween outings this year. Thank you, photographer, for making this all possible.

---

I had to make some changes to my Halloween plans because of the split, so at the last minute I came up with a new costume idea. It was a little cerebral, but I liked it and that's all that matters. I went as Madonna. Not "Like a Virgin"-Madge or Sex-book-Madonna, but as recent mother-an-African-baby Madonna. Also known as that-baby-stealing-bitch-Madonna.

Here is Allen and I at our staging ground for my first Halloween party of 2006.



Allen is a "Bad Boy Scout." Our friend Amy is with us tonight, too. She's a naughty cop.



It's time to get this party started. Let's hit the road.



We met up with some other friends, including Dorothy, Mario, and Luigi, and we hit the party. It was all innocent enough. A quiet apartment party in Bev Hills.



Would you like to have a refreshing cocktail with us? We can even put it in one of these festive Halloween cups. Orange or black? Your choice.



The best part of a good party is the intellectual conversation. See, above you can see how engaged I am with my fellow party-goers.

Here, let me let my hair down and unwind a little.



I think that this is a really wonderful party. The libations are flowing and tasty. Oh, and there's cupcakes. Let me tell Allen about the cupcakes. Allen. ALLLEN! Come here.



You know, Allen is really annoying me. I think I'll take a little nap.



Much better. I feel so relaxed after I was so politely awakened. See.



Is it time to go, already? Okay, I'll head to the car.



Are you coming? Why are you taking so long?



Oh, Amy seems to be distracted by the police car that has arrived. That's what's keeping you.



Well, if you are going to be a while, I think there is something I should take care of.



Now, can we leave already? Dorothy and I are ready and Dorothy and Madonna basically run everything for the gays.



You just don't understand how long of a ride home it is from Bev Hills. It's really, really long.



But finally, we reached the house. It was a very long walk from the car to the door, but Madonna did it fabulously nonetheless.



Waiting for elevators can be an enchanting experience with good company.



Especially when after a long night, the company looks as good as this.



Alas, it's time to find the apartment, but what's this? Is there another party going on in the buidling?



I guess we'll have to make an appearance!

Speaker Fucking Pelosi!

That's all I got! xoxo

Perspective.

I want you to know I'm okay. Apparently, I'm bouyant. (Thanks JenMac.) And she assures me that doesn't mean I'm fat.

I believe in the power of perspective. Somewhere, someone has conquered a struggle far greater than your own.

Yesterday was a yucky day, but it was nothing that a Monday night of baking Election Day cupcakes and watching cheesy television couldn't fix. Today is better. And there is always tomorrow, what awaits me?

In a under 2 weeks, a trip to Curacao awaits me. It's sudden but it will be awesome. I'll provide full reports.

Life is worth living. But what makes someone think it isn't? When I need a break, I watch movie trailers on apple.com. Today, I saw a trailer for a new documentary called the Bridge. Watch it.

Why? How can it be that bad? What can I do to help those who think that the Bridge is their only option?

Seriously, she said it.

Dear, dear friend who hates me so:

Tweetie gh: how's doin'?
BDavisdotcom: shitty, but alive so I guess thats good!
Tweetie gh: it is good- and it will get better. you have always been the bouyant type.
BDavisdotcom: did you just call me fat?

Friends Possible?

It's been just over a week since the break-up. Sure, it's not as monumental as Diana and Charles, but for me, it's still big. I think I'm handling it well. Blogging helps. Blogging allows me to think out my feelings.

Of course, you might be thinking that I've only done one post and one mention. Not true. I've written more. I've just had the sense to delete other posts before they were published.

I just can't wrap my head around it at times.

I am a brutally honest and up-front person. I'm an open book. When I have to shit, I say, "I have to shit." When I'm horny, I say, "I need to get laid." I rarely concern myself with timing or appropriateness. Who cares that I'm in a church or chatting with a friends grandma. If I got to poop, then I got to poop. Afterall, everyone poops.

I'm also horribly inpatient. I want answers now. I want to do things now. I might be dead in 15 minutes, so there's no point in waiting. Hell, I want to poop now. I'd hate to die from a blocked up colon.

Here's the dilemma. These factors create a situation in which I am becoming more and more angry with the ex each day.

I'm not holding out hope that we'll get back together. After giving me his reason, there's no way. He picked the one non-negotiable that hurts my feelings, is unchangeable, and not my fault. There's no fixing or changing on my end. I just need to be content with who I am and move on. And I think I am ready.

His reason for the break-up, while iniatially brutal, also helped me realize my own self-worth and recognize his weaknesses, his failings, as a boyfriend. While up until the minute the words came from his mouth I saw a bright future, his feelings quickly framed everything. The epiphany that followed a couple days later, that dumping me was both a very honest and real decision on his part and extremely opposed to his own personal best interest, set me up to "be friends."

That's what he wanted. That's why he said he made all those plans with me but wasn't lying to me. But his actions belie his words. How does this happen?

How do you stay friends with an ex?

Where does the friendship pick up?

For me, to protect my own ego, the friendship would rely on his initiation. I don't see that happening. Since dumping me, he hasn't initiated any contact. He seems content with just letting things fall where they are. That's not me. I'm a planner. A problem solver. And inpatient as hell.

I'm afraid that there is no future. Not unless he really wants to be friends and reaches out. And really, what future is that? I have a lot of friends. I have a great family. What is he bringing to the table that's unique and different besides heartache and disappointment?

Thanks for indulging me.

I'm a Problem Solver

Of all my traits, all the ways to describe me, I think I am most proud of being called a problem solver. Certainly it would be that I'm attractive, because we all know the truth on that one! :) I like that I am good at solving problems, even though sometimes my solutions are a little whacky and in hindsight not always the easiest way... Like Ernie... He got what he needed...

I'm bored...

I don't want to work today and don't think I should have to, me being gay and it being Halloween. If you aren't going to give your faggy (and dykey) employees time off for Pride, than you should give them time off for Halloween, right?

Some folks at work dressed up and I'm liking them more already just for it. That bothers me. I shouldn't be liking them at all. There's a killer bee, a minnie mouse, a Fidel Castro (of course). There's also a bunch of stuffy lawyers that can't be bothered to put on a silly t-shirt.

This Halloween, this is what I'm thinking:

I hope I never reach an age where I don't dress up for Halloween. My dad is 64 years old and he still has several costumes each year. I hope I am that cool when I'm his age.

If you can't wear a costume on Halloween, don't leave your house. I don't want to see your sorry ass walking up and down Santa Monica Boulevard so you can check out all the "freaks."

I might do a dramatic job change in the coming months. I don't know. It'd be huge and totally change everything in my life, but I don't know about a future with it. Am I letting that "mythical future" get in the way of happiness?

Based on yesterday's anouncement, I'm thinking of changing my top friends on myspace. I don't want to hurt "anyone" but it seems silly to keep him in the top friends now, or at least as high up as he is. But my top friends really aren't ranked. They're just the people I talk to the most often and I do it so its easy to find their pages.

How do you stay friends with someone after seeing them naked... like that? I don't know. I've never done it. I'm kind of crappy at staying in touch anyway because I hate the telephone, so really, is the ball in his court?

There are a lot of people that I wanted to "stay friends" with after our circumstances changed -- most often after changing jobs -- but I so rarely do. Maybe I should make a point of getting touch with Tina, Doug, Jan, Troy, Chris, Afnahn, Patrick, or Brooke (not that one!).

At church on Sunday, the pastor suggested a little November/Thanksgiving ritual that he likes. Each day, he tells one person in his life how thankful he is for them and what they offer. I think I want to do that this year. Will you get called?

Gosh, I wonder when I'll have sex again? Hopefully not another 3 year dry spell. It was so much easier when you knew where it was coming from.

Is it weird that I swing straight to sex after church? I am Catholic after all, I guess unrelenting emphasis on sex is as appropriate for us papists as it is for Congressional Republicans.

Oh, and Happy Halloween! Make it spooky!

74 posts later.

It was 74 posts ago when I slipped in this little nugget: "I also met a gay, who was in my friend Amelia's class."

That night, we had a date. I didn't tell you that. It's wasn't until 7 weeks later when I mentioned him again. That was a wonderful 7 weeks. Just under a month later, he made another appearance. He called me from his ship. This fellow was really special to me. If you read the emails he sent from sea, or heard our calls, you would think he felt the same way.

He came home unexpectantly early in September. That was wonderful. We had time for our relationship to blossom. To grow. We spent a lot of time together. Back while he was gone, I made what I thought was an insignificant observation: I hate being vulnerable.

You know what? I really do. My lovelife has been entirely retarded (Suzanne: I mean that in the technical definition of the word, not the too-common insult that flows from my pie hole) because I hate the idea of being weak. With this boy, I let it happen. I surrendered.

Shit, 74 posts later and I learned my lesson. I got dumped last week. Sorry for waiting a week to tell you. I alluded to it a little. It was a crumby week. I let you guys know that, too. The boy is/was wonderful. He was perfect for the time in my life and getting over him won't be easy. But it won't be ugly, either. I am beginning to reconcile how it all went down. It was a total shock to me -- and most everyone that knows us. But I know he didn't want to hurt me. That's probably why he let if linger so long, making it only that more painful. The lesson to be learned is to always be honest no matter how bad you think it will be.

I have thought over and over again this week about the little lessons from childhood that shape these very adult moments. I remember getting scolded for telling a lie. Mom would scream in her shrill but loving way, that the lie doesn't matter. It's the ability to lie that scares her. If I could tell her a little, meaningless lie, than I could tell her a devastating one.

The boy lied to me for a couple of months because he didn't want to hurt me. Because he really wanted to give it a chance. (And honestly, I think because his own personal well-being -- read "job" -- was tied to our relationship.) Everyday, he was telling little lies. About how he felt for me. About how "hot" I was. About "our future." He was lying because he wanted it to work. I believe that. But, where could the relationship go if it was full of these little lies? A house of cards. He should have opened up early and maybe things could have been worked out. He could have demonstrated a propensity for the truth, and any future relied on the truth. Now, there's not much future.

I think we'll stay friends, though. He's a neat guy and with time, wounds heal. (I'm not a diabetic afterall.) There's definately someone out there for me. Hopefully someone better. Maybe even a lot better.

What do I have to show for it? Well. I have 74 posts. Some happy and funny. Some angst-filled. A few are rageful. I have a lot of memories. Some are fun. Some still make me want to cry. That day of the phone call. That was big. Almost as big as last Tuesday. He's not the last.

I've scrolled through the blog since I met him. How has my life changed? I don't drink Tanner's coffee anymore and have returned to the Coffee Bean. I've certified nearly 40 divers and truly loved every class. I have a new roommate and lost a bosslady. I came out to last people in my life I haven't confronted. I aged with friends. I've made some new ones. Lost some old ones. Lost some hair (it's growing back). I discovered the meaning of life.

Oh. And Lance Bass is gay. Damn. It's been a crazy five months.

PS: Yes, this means I'm single. Accepting applications with 3 references and a credit check.

Patricia Heaton, you are a useless twat!

As a gay man, I've never found much use for twats in general, but of all the twats in the world, Patricia Heaton is the most useless! I hate her.

I hate her because she was the most shrill and obnoxious one on the most shrill and obnoxious TV show ever.

I hate her because her mindless television commericials for Albertsons portray her as someone who has ever done her own grocery shopping. I will give $100 cash to someone who can provide me a real photo of Heaton in a grocery store buying real groceries. I will give $1,000 cash to someone who can provide me a photo of her buying oversized, black dildos by the gross!

But mostly I hate her because of what she represents: conservative, Hollywood-type political activists. For years we've listening to blowhards like Rush Limbaugh and Ann Coulter condemn limosuine liberals like Barbra Streisand and Rosie O'Donnell for mucking up the political discourse. Rob "Meathead" Reiner apparently has no right to a political opinion because he had a different career first -- except Rush can be the political go to guy for the right even though his resume has less Oxford Debating Society and more "Rush Hour Drive Time Host of KPIG Albuquerque".

After getting their fill of Streisand types, Republicans in La La Land have come out swinging. Patricia Heaton -- the anti-abortion crusader -- has done a number of activities on behalf of the GOP. Her newest is an ad campaign against stem cell research in Missouri.



Patricia Heaton... a bunch of athletes... and Jesus himself. Why are they in this ad? Because stem cell research proponents, including Democratic nominee for Senate Claire McCaskill are running an ad, a much better ad, featuring Michael J. Fox.



See. It totally makes sense. Michael J. Fox is an actor. So if we get other actors -- local celebrities too -- to debunk what the "actor" says, we'll win. Right? Except, the idiots forget that Michael J. Fox isn't "just an actor." Since giving up his primetime sitcom several years ago, Fox has dedicated himself 100% to the promotion of stem cell research and other potential cures for diseases like Parkinsons. He has Parkinsons. Thus, the passion.

First complaint: If you don't think liberal celebrities are entitle to publicize their political opinions, than conservatives ones can't either.

Second complaint: Try to find celebrities that have some sore of credible credentials to the issue. Years of delivering the unfunny on Everybody Loves Raymond does not train you to be an expert on Stem Cell Research.

Final complaint: Stop mucking up the debate with rhetoric and exaggeration. And leave Jesus out of it!

Patricia Heaton, I hate you! You are contributing nothing to this campaign. And when one of my loved ones dies from a disease for which stem cell research may have offered hope, than I will blame you personally.

Go to your reunion, young one.

Saturday evening has come and gone. I've had some time, not nearly as much as you'd figure, to digest the evening. My one line summary -- the take-way from the ordeal -- for you dear readers is: Go to your reunion.

I am so glad that I did.

In high school, I wasn't popular in the traditonal sense. I certainly wasn't unpopular either. I had a core group of friends -- mostly from the swim team and it included about 6 - 10 of us at any given time -- and a few from other places. I was in this "gifted" group in Junior High and stayed friendly with most through high school, especially in the honors courses we shared. I also got sick in my junior year and shifted out of the honors courses and mixed with the reular folk -- who had so much more fun and for whom school wasn't so miserable. I also had some friends from church -- typical Catholic obligatory stuff, not "Church is my Teen Life" stuff, and some friends from the yearbook staff. All this is to justify, to explain, that yeah, I had some friends. People knew me.

The reunion decision was tough, but my best friend and I decided we'd rather go and be miserable then miss something like this. We called up two others from "our core group" that we still see periodically and they agreed. The four of us would go, along with some dates. One husband. One girlfriend. One gentleman friend -- more to come.

Prior to the reunion, we went to visit spawn. The married SoCal couple popped one out over the summer, and since the little one can't hold her liquor, she wouldn't be at the reunion. We went to visit. It was fun.

We met at the house of someone still living in town and prepartied. My gentleman friend looked dapper. I looked liquored. We rolled into the cars.

The crowd was thin and clearly I was the only 'mo in the room. Who cares. We stopped for a picture for some memory book that no one was buying. This picture will be awkward for some time. More to come on that too.

Straight to the bar. This wasn't so important as I brought along a flask. I guess I needed something to mix or chase with. I got it. Now let's see who we'll meet. Girl who I went to college with her sister and thus constantly confuse their names. Check. Pretend high school girl crush who is over six feet tall and is wearing 5-inch heels. Check. Delinquent who got me drunk at 15 and her new fiance who was my boss for about 5 years. Check. They were all here. And they were fun.

The reunion itself -- the meal, entertainment, facilities -- was lame. The people were awesome. We left the country club around 11 and hit a bar near the mall. They closed at midnight so we moved to another. They closed at 2 and we decided that the reminiscing was over. Now everyone can go back to their cars and talk about how Brian is now a big, ol' fag.

Need a hug?

From Dan Gillespie, recently out frontman for the British band the Feeling:

Nobody in Soho ever really feels beautiful or desirable, do they? Because everyone's going around like peacocks... Everyone is oozing sexuality, but they're quite clearly dying for a hug.

More to come...

Google Bombs!

A Google bomb is an effort to skew Google's patented and superior search results to call attention to a web site. Google's search system scans the web for how often a search term appears, increasing its relevance and position on the list of found sites.

Since the mainstream media -- especially the pop media like the networks news, CNN and Fox news -- have abdicated their responsibilities as stewards of the public trust, as journalist seeking truth, and as reporters of fact, some progressive activists have decided to raise the "profiles" of certain Republican candidates for higher office.

To do this, they need blogs and web sites to link these candidates with heavily researched articles that paint them for the slime that they are. This post is my contribution to the Google bomb. Check out some of these stories and look at who the GOP is putting up for Congress this year.

-AZ-Sen: Jon Kyl

--AZ-01: Rick Renzi

--AZ-05: J.D. Hayworth

--CA-04: John Doolittle

--CA-11: Richard Pombo

--CA-50: Brian Bilbray

--CO-04: Marilyn Musgrave

--CO-05: Doug Lamborn

--CO-07: Rick O'Donnell

--CT-04: Christopher Shays

--FL-13: Vernon Buchanan

--FL-16: Joe Negron

--FL-22: Clay Shaw

--ID-01: Bill Sali

--IL-06: Peter Roskam

--IL-10: Mark Kirk

--IL-14: Dennis Hastert

--IN-02: Chris Chocola

--IN-08: John Hostettler

--IA-01: Mike Whalen

--KS-02: Jim Ryun

--KY-03: Anne Northup

--KY-04: Geoff Davis

--MD-Sen: Michael Steele

--MN-01: Gil Gutknecht

--MN-06: Michele Bachmann

--MO-Sen: Jim Talent

--MT-Sen: Conrad Burns

--NV-03: Jon Porter

--NH-02: Charlie Bass

--NJ-07: Mike Ferguson

--NM-01: Heather Wilson

--NY-03: Peter King

--NY-20: John Sweeney

--NY-26: Tom Reynolds

--NY-29: Randy Kuhl

--NC-08: Robin Hayes

--NC-11: Charles Taylor

--OH-01: Steve Chabot

--OH-02: Jean Schmidt

--OH-15: Deborah Pryce

--OH-18: Joy Padgett

--PA-04: Melissa Hart

--PA-07: Curt Weldon

--PA-08: Mike Fitzpatrick

--PA-10: Don Sherwood

--RI-Sen: Lincoln Chafee

--TN-Sen: Bob Corker

--VA-Sen: George Allen

--VA-10: Frank Wolf

--WA-Sen: Mike McGavick

--WA-08: Dave Reichert

Into the Belly of the Beast

Tomorrow is my 10 year high school reunion. After much deliberating, I – along with my best friend and others from our “group” – decided to attend. I’ll be taking my boyfriend.

Wow.

I wasn’t out in high school. Now, I’m very, very out. I’m really happy about it. I don’t know how it will go over. For 10 years, I’ve spent my energy surrounding myself with like-minded folks for whom gayity isn’t an issue – under any circumstances. Tomorrow night, I’ll be partying in a room of a couple hundred of people, many of whom may really, truly hate gay people. I’ll be partying with my wonderful boyfriend on my arm. With these people.

It’s easy, living on the Westside of Los Angeles and working in social services, to forget that not everyone like gay people. I need to remember that there are some people, probably too many people, who truly hate us without provocation.

Sitting at home tonight, Friday, I’m waiting to pick my best friend of from the airport and it’s late. With little to do, I’m watching Real Time with Bill Maher. One of tonight’s guests is Barney Frank, the openly gay Democratic congressman from Massachusetts. Congressman Frank just reminded me how much we really are hated.

Taking the conversation to the subject of gay Republicans and the recent outing of GOP Senator Larry Craig (eww!), Barney Fag – he was once called that by the majority leader of the United States House of Representatives, a man named (get this) Dick Armey! – pointed out the foulness of the modern Republican Party. The modern GOP truly believes that my lifestyle should be illegal, that my relationship is a crime.

Hyperbole, you say? Not so fast. Remember, just a few years ago the Supreme Court was faced with this very question in the Lawrence vs. Texas decision. The state of Texas wanted to jail a gay couple for having an intimate relationship in the privacy of their own home. In Texas, their relationship was outlawed. They were criminals because of whom they loved. This was just a few years ago.

President Bush said he supported the Texas law and wanted it upheld. He was joined by most Republican leaders including prominent conservative voices like Justices Antonin Scalia and Clarence Thomas. They really believed that homosexuality was a crime. Their disappointment was palpable when a five-person majority on the court came down on the side of reason.

They hate us.

I hope not too much. I don’t want to get beat up at my high school reunion. That would be sad.

UPDATE: First of all, this is a clip of Barney Frank on Real Time with Bill Maher:


Second, the reunion was a blast and 100% positive. I'll write more about it later today if I time.

Is my bag of M&Ms trying to tell me something?

As seen on my desk this afternoon...

Good Morning, Captain Douchebag

So, John McCain supports gay marriage? Oh, no. He goes on to say that, ""I think private ceremonies are fine. I do not think gay marriage should be legal."

Well, I think John McCain could be innaugrated President. I mean, like a little ceremony and all. Certainly, it shouldn't be legal because this man is a moralless pussy.

What's worse, an arch-conservative, bigot looking out only for the wealthiest in the country, or the spineless "moderate", former POW who is called a traitor and who's multi-racial family is mocked but who then goes on to campaign for the re-election of the bigot who attacked him? John McCain -- wow -- he sure likes to... um... FLIP FLOP!

As Andy Towle, of Towleroad, says: "And blacks can sit in the front of the bus, just as long as it's the back and they're pretending it's the front."

What to do?

I have a problem which I have decided to solve by doing nothing. I don't think it will work.

We live in a duplex -- my roommates and I share the 3-bedroom upper unit and our neighbors share a 2-bedroom lower unit. There are 2 parking spaces in the building's carport and and a space in front that is small, but can hold a parked Honda Civic, like mine.

The downstairs neighbors moved in because my old roommate knew them and told them about the place, so we know them a little, although I know them the least of everyone. Since they moved in in January, we shared the 2 carport spaces -- one each -- and our unit dominated the front space saying we had always had it. Occassionally though, the short fat one parks his truck -- which only fits by blocking in his roommate -- in "my" space.

The facts: No lease, neither ours nor theirs, discusses the parking assignments. We have a 3-bedroom vs. their 2-bedroom. We pay more rent because of this. 98% of the time, the space is mine. He only parks their when the parking on the street is bad.

I'm afraid, though, that this trend is becoming more common. What should I do?

Should I say something to him? Should I demand he stop parking in my space? Should I create a schedule which we use to share the space? Should I slash his tires and his on his upholstery?

Help!

Good-Bye Ron: An Argument for Same-Sex Marriage

There are few issues that I am more passionate about than marriage equlaity. I support full marriage rights for same-sex couples. I oppose any half-assed compromises that cheapen human relationships and the concept of full equality under the law. Only uncompromising civil marriage rights will protect all American families. I've written about this in the past. Today, I have first-hand evidence.

From March 2004 to November 2005 I lived in a 3rd floor apartment of a 100 year-old Victorian house in Los Angeles. The "apartment" was actually the old servants quarters that had been converted several times over the years. The owners of the house were a quirky gay couple, Bruce and Ron.

Bruce and Ron had been together for probably more than 30 years. I don't know for sure. Bruce was an artist and all-around handyman. He could do amazing work around the house. Ron was a retired postal worker with a long career in government service. They had owned the historic home since the 1970s. When they bought it, it was in disrepair having once been used as a boarding house. They spent much of the 70s and 80s restoring the house to its original condition only to be devastated by the Northridge earthquake in 1994. The house slipped off the foundation and much of the insides were destroyed.

Ron and Bruce were a couple of moderate means. Being that Bruce didn't work a "day job" and was so handy around the house, he would fix the house himself. This is no small feat and to this day he's not close to being done. Ron played the role of supportive, patient husband.

Ron is one of the most gentle souls I've ever met. Truly a sweetheart and everything I'm not. Unfortunately, some time back he was diagnosed with a likely-fatal condition that I believe is similar to leukemia. When I was still at the house he was in and out of the hospital at City of Hope. Thank god for that government pension and health care.

I heard this week that Ronnie has passed away. Clearly he was suffering and I have faith and hope that he's finally at peace. I am heartbroken by Bruce's loss.

The pain that Bruce is going through will likely be made worse by the reality that his life of more than 3 decades ceased to exist when Ronnie passed. As a committed same-sex couple, in the eyes of the government, Bruce is no one. After sharing his life with Ron, after nursing him through illness for almost 2 years, after sharing every pain and joy with Ron, Bruce has no legal connection to Ron. And so, unlike the countless spouses of government employees before him who stood to collect that pension -- or a portion thereof -- Bruce has nothing. Ron worked as hard as any of his peers but will receive less compensation because he was gay.

I imagine that in the coming months Bruce will face a tough reality. How will he support himself as he approaches retirement age? Where will the twilight of his own life take him? Will he have to sell his beautiful home that he built with his partner, lover, and husband?

Thirty years and nothing to show for it.

When I lived in the house, Bruce decided to remodel our apartment. It took him forever, but the work he was doing was amazing. When he gutted the kitchen, he stripped off some panelling put up in the early 80s. Bruce had done that work himself as well. At some point during the work he had taken a pencil and scribbled on the wall. "Bruce. Lover of Ron." This was uncovered more than 20 years later but was as true as the day it was written.

Always Look on the Bright Side of Life

There's someone in Washington (either DC or state) thanking his lucky stars he lost an election back in 1994. Who? This guy:



Thank the lord, for George Nethercutt. In 1994, Congressman Foley -- Tom Foley -- and Democratic Speaker of the House lost his re-election fight. If he hadn't, there could quite possibly be 2 "Congressman Foleys" in Washington DC, and well, there might be some confusion when you read these headlines about "Congressman Foley":

US congressman Foley: A modern day online Jekyll and Hyde?

Disgraced Congressman Foley was a Moderate "Pro-Choice" and "Pro-Gay Rights" Republican

Local Party Representatives React To Congressman Foley's Resignation

Disgraced Ex-Congressman Foley Caught Logging Online Tuesday While Supposedly in Alcohol Rehab

...and there's plenty more.

So, the lesson: Be careful with your name. So says, Ambassador Tom Foley. (The former congressman who was run out of town by the voters and not a bunch of pissed off male pages...) You wouldn't want to get caught up in that one!

Benefits of iPod Hell

It's 2006. I finally got an iPod. Go figure!

I've been using, and loving, iTunes for some time now. I like the format. I like the user interface. And, I actually like paying for things that I am using. Freak.

So, for my birthday, my folks got me an iPod. I thought it would be the most wonderful thing ever. No more burning CDs. I can just listen to all the fabulous songs that I've found.

The iPod-life isn't as grand as I imagined. I'm disappointed that you can't use it to "sync" multiple iTunes -- for example, making my work iTunes and my home iTunes the same. Don't even get me started on the crappy iTuner thingee that is supposed to tune my iPod into my car radio. LA has way too much radio clutter.

The benefit of these downsides? Today, I said, "Fuck it, I'm gonna listen to my new Scissor Sisters tracks if it kills me." So I've been sitting at my desk working, wearing earphones and rocking out to "Ta Dah".

And because I'm wearing earphones, no one wants to disturb me in my office. It's fabulous... a little forcefield to repel the idiocy that is my workplace.

I love my iPod.

Abercrombie & Fitch Scares Me...

Last night I headed to the Grove, near my old hood, with the gentleman friend (he's back... more on that later) and another to catch a flick. The film was decent and the movie-going experience was mostly uneventful. However, prior to the movie, I had the sh*t scared out of me.

Casual friend in the company needs a new hat. He lost his last one. Trying to figure out where to go in his search, we suggested that staple, Abercrombie & Fitch. The Grove has had an A&F store for some time. Well, apparently they changed it. Casual friend was afraid of the store. "Hogwash," I said. He dared me to enter it. He'd be waiting outside.

Now, let me put up a disclaimer. I'm not a huge Abercrombie fan. I really only like their baseball caps, a trend that started in college when my residents bought me one for a birthday gift. Since then, I've own probably 2 or 3 things from the store. I used to like one of their scents. I had a sweater from there I loved. But I'm not a huge A&F billboard. Mostly because I think the store's attitude sucks.

My first trip to Abercrombie was about 1998. I was in college and the brand was slowly becoming really popular. I was an RA and one of my residents worked at the South Bay Galleria store, so I checked it out. It was weird. The sales staff didn't do a lot of selling. They basically ignored you. Over the next 8 years, I'd learn this was by design.

They always hired pretty people and told them to ignore the customer. That get's old really fast. My dollars found their way in to friendlier stores.

I've always like the look of the Abercrombie & Fitch stores though. Clean. White. Easy to find stuff, which is important because the staff ain't gonna be much help.

The new store at the Grove, one of 2 flagship stores (the other is on NYC's 5th Avenue), really was scary.

All the white is gone. The posters of have naked men greeting you at the windows gone. Simplicity, gone. The windows have been covered by massive shutters blocking any view of the inside. All the wood is dark, and it's everywhere. The lighting is dim and the music is loud.

Oh, and the clothes, they are under glass! All the jeans are stacked high to the ceiling behind a counter with display numbers under glass. Each counter is staffed with a salesperson. Presumably, you look at the jeans you like under glass and the salesperson will retreive your size for you. Like buying jewelry. And since each pair of jeans will likely require a second mortgage on your house, the jewelry buying experience may be quite appropriate.

The store is huge. To give you an idea, I found this photo of the center staircase. It's big. The store is 3 floors and spreads out much farther than before. It's got a crapload of beautiful employees. All judging you. And now, you have no choice but to talk to them. Abercrombie & Fitch scares me.



Fortunately, I just turned 28, and really, I shouldn't be shopping there anymore any way. Lest I become one of "those" guys.

Drinking Patterns of Animals

You are at a bar. You are thirsty. You want a nice buzz, and wouldn't mind preventing urinary tract infections as well. What do you order?

Something tangy. Red. Made with vodka for a smoother hangover. Maybe a lime wedge. You can picture the drink. What do you order?

Do you order a "cranberry (juice) and vodka" or a "Cape Cod"?

This one, simple question is as accurate a way to determine one's sexuality as attaching electrodes to your genitals and watching a variety of porn.

Last night was my birthday. I like big birthdays, but being the control freak that I am, I also insist on coordinating it myself. I just don't trust my flakey friends. It was a "mixed" crowd, except the gay contingent was actually quite small in comparison. The vast majority of the party goers were straight. So to mix it up we end the evening with cocktails at a gay bar.

Boy are drinking patterns among gays and straights different!

1) Gays call their drinks cocktails. None of my straight friends did. They call them drinks. Bah!
2) Gays drink light beers out of bottles. Straights drink bold beers out of glasses.
3) Straights drink Jagermeister. I didn't even know this bar served Jager until last night.
4) Gays use the fruit that comes in their cocktails. Straights ignore the fruit in their drinks.
5) Gays mix with clear mixers (tonic, soda) or light mixers (cranberry juice). Straights like dark mixers like Coke.

Oh, and I definately would order a Cape Cod. Except I gave them up a few years back when I switched to a crisp vodka tonic.

Brian's No Good Very Bad Day

I am in a bad mood this morning like you've never seen. That bitch Hurricane Katrina has nothing on me today. So, word to the world, "Don't fuck with me or I'll mess you up, bitch!"

Being that, so far, you've been cool, let's dish on some other douchebag: a Mister Tony Tripoli. This fag is appearing as some fag in the mother of all fag shows, no doubt brilliantly written by the hilarious, handsome, and (I need another H-word) horny Rick Andreoli -- who I am sure already knows his last name bares a remarkable similarity to "areola". Mister Self-Important Nobody, not Rick but Tony, has an interview in the icon of journalistic integrity, the Paper of Record of sorts, if that record is what you use to beat off too and then simultaneously use to clean up the resulting mess. Miss Trip is interviewed in Frontiers Newsmagazine. (As if the "news" part was an afterthought.)

Clearly the Divine Miss Slut was interviewed because of the press machine behind Fashion House -- which I am sure is the greatest show on television. (Unfortunately, the cable people won't let channel 13, or rather, My13, come on in High Def and I just can't tolerate the pixelated "old stuff" on the roommies rediculous television.) But for some reason this bitch spends the majority of the interview, or what the writer chose to write, talking about Kathy Griffin.

Apparently, he was one of KG's "best gays" and was even featured on her reality show, which, honestly, I've never seen. After a decade of being in her shadow, I mean, of being her friend, KG and TT split -- along with his roommate and friend Dennis Hensley. TT and DH haven't spoken to KG in over a year. It's all her fault. How do I know? TonyT tells me. Even though, he doesn't want to...

You see, all Big Fat Tony wants is "to live in a world that has a little more kindness." He actually said that! The bitter fag actually said he wants to live in a world with a little more kindness. Do you know what else he said?

Kathy is the sun in her world and everyone else is planets revolving around her.

One friendship that has endured is the one between Tripoli and Hensley. Their chemistry was apparent the first time they met at a party, among a group of people watching a Vanessa Williams biography on the television. Both were annoyed by her speaking voice, which they decided was just a bit too self-important... “I made a rude remark, he agreed, and we just knew in that moment we were best friends who hadn’t met yet,” Tripoli says.

But before they began working, Tripoli was a little concerned about working with the actress, who is a staunch Republican.

Once the show airs, I’m hoping I can walk in here with a little bit more of an attitude. I can’t wait to have an entourage. That’s my plan for 2007, to be totally insufferable.

Mother-fucking-Teresa! Call Pope Benny, make this bitch a saint, today!

Assaulting a "former" friend and her ego. Political bigotry. Self-importantly ridiculing the self-important. And he wraps it up with a little auto-fellatio. Baiscally, he's the UN and Miss America all rolled up in one. He's flowers, and dew drops and puppies! I bet he cums Wendy's Frosties and keep fresh fries bedside for you when you're done. He's all kindness.

Of course, I'm not. But then again I've never longed "to live in a world that has a little more kindness." I like my world edgy and hostile. It makes me look like a fucking prince.

It's funny because at the end, he says that he aspries to be the Gay Oprah. Hey, bitch, we already got one and her name is Kathy Griffin.