October 2009 Archives

Transformer, The New Gay's monthly 60s/70s/80s queer dance party, will have a Halloween twist on Friday at the Black Cat. They will have a costume contest with prizes, and Cazwell will be there performing a few numbers, including his hits "I Seen Beyonce at Burger King " and "All Over Your Face." Doors open at 9:30, $5 to get in.

On Halloween night the hottest ticket in town is the annual Miss Adams Morgan pageant. If you didn't get tickets for that many months ago you're shit outta luck. Otherwise I recommend the Madonna 'Celebration' greatest hits release party (at left) @ OmegaDC, 2122 P St., NW WDC DC 20037.

What will happen to the man who gets a pumpkin facial? And how to hide your effeminate son with a more masculine Halloween costume.

NAKED CLOWN CALENDAR. That's the scariest thing ever.

Looking forward to seeing Clint Eastwood's Invictus, starring Morgan Freeman as Nelson Mandela, and Matt Damon as a hunky South African rugby player!

D.C. Council member David Catania vs. Bishop Harry Jackson SMACKDOWN. Sadly many of these hateful African-American religious leaders just aren't making a connection between the oppression of one group and oppressing another. It goes to show that no matter what the facts are or the history of how we treat each other, if a person wants to hate they will despite the facts. FYI the majority of people who testified were in favor of gay marriage in DC. Interestingly enough most of the anti-gay haters do not live in The District...

Charlene Hilton will not be joining us tonight for the Annual 17th Street High Heel Race, but she e-mailed me with some tips to share for tonight's runners. This morning's Washington Post Express quoted some professional trainer, but he doesn't know what the hell he's talking about, and Charlene needed to set the record straight:

1. No gowns, no crinoline, and no hoop dresses. This isn't a Gone With The Wind LARP, it's a race. Stick with a sassy cocktail dress made of stretchy material.


2. Don't stop for anything. Heels aren't designed for deceleration, and you will wipe out if you try to slow down or stop. You can't stop until you cross that finish line.


3. Jump! Be prepared to leap over drag queen pile-ups, because you can't slow down or weave around them or you'll wipe out.


4. It's important to point out that sprinters run on their toes anyway, so the misconception that you can't be fast in heels is just plain wrong. While you won't be able to stop, there's nothing keeping you from running as fast as Carl Lewis.


5. Work it. Booger drag is a hoot, but you're going to be prancing with the best, so prepare to be fierce!


6. Be drunk. The founding sisters of this event were trashed when they ran from JRs to Cobalt. You must honor that tradition. A discreet lady's flask in your purse is allowed, and of course sauce up during pre-race preparations.


7. Pit crew. You'll need some friends to hold your purse, fix your hair and hold you up after you finish. It's actually hard work to prance around and run in heels if you haven't been training for it.

And most of all have fun!

Top right photo by Gurl, photo at bottom by Joe Tresh.

It was a busy and rough week. I'm pretty tired and don't think I'll make it to Bear Happy Hour (BHH) at EFN Lounge tonight.

Other than that, my greatest accomplishment this week at work was to finally get the building managers to fix the goddamn HVAC in my part of the building. Every time they start up the building heat, my section of my floor tends to be hotter than anywhere else. I'd say it was just me and my hyper metabolism, but other coworkers were uncomfortable as well. I'd been saying since last year things like "It's hot in here," "I have Swamp Ass every day," and "I think some fan somewhere is turned off." Sure enough when the HVAC dude finally showed up and started messing around above the ceiling tiles and flipped some switch, the air circulation started up like it should. My coworkers now address me as Bringer of Air. Perhaps I should get into the plumbing and HVAC business?

Word on the street is that renovations are complete at the former Hamburger Mary's/Dakota Cowgirl/Titan's Ramrod/BHH site, now a foofy beer joint. I hope the beer isn't ridiculously expensive.

Ever wonder what 'stached Colt cover model Pete Kuzak (at left) is up to these days? After a brief stint as a landscape architect, he shaved his whole body and became a yoga instructor. News like that really ruins my day. Cue super-duper sad trombone sound. Fortunately we still have a furry Chris Leabu (above), occasionally smooth.

At last, the complete script for Mad Max 3: Beyond Thunderdome. And script and recordings of a Steve Martin classic short story: The Cruel Shoes, clearly inspired by my purchase of Earth Shoes last weekend.

How about them apples? All of them.

One more 'Single Ladies' cover, but a good one and the bass player/drummer is kinda hot in an adorkable kind of way.

"It's Decorative Gourd Season, Motherfu*kers," By Colin Nissan.

I would have tried to grow some motherfucking gourds so I can arrange them decoratively in a fucking horn-shaped basket this year, but I had to fucking move. Now I'm limited to some goddamn terra cotta planters but I'll do my fucking best. The arrangement will look great with a fucking sprig of sorghum tassels too, I'll bet. Next year I'm gonna get all Martha Stewart Halloween on your asses, I promise.

Hi. Busy week at work and not much to say. Move along...

Things were quiet here in the 'hood this weekend, mostly because of about five days of constant rain. I can't say the same for my old neighborhood though. Anyway, the rain was misty, heavy, horizontal, drenchy, cold, windy or any combination of the above and never stopped. No danger of drought at the moment.

I did manage to empty many more boxes. There are only three small boxes left to unpack: two are full of CDs waiting to be liberated from cumbersome jewel cases into a folder book, and one box filled with wires and cables. I am waiting for a nice volunteer to help me make sense of the mess and hook up my entertainment center that I never use.

I wasn't receiving any text messages on my cell phone the weekend of the Equality March and Kylie concert, while plans with friends seemed to move forward without my knowledge. Then on Monday I got some 30 messages all at once. It didn't ruin any plans but made for some confusion and frustration with friends at times. Then I hear iPhone users with AT&T service were faring much worse. Could the complications have been due to all the homos in town for the March using Grindr at the same time? Send any news stories or press releases if it's true. While only my text messaging was delayed, several of my iPhone using friends were frequently irritated. That made me laugh like this happy baby:

I thought iPhones were flawless, but I guess not.

Nothing else to report other than a collection of links to pass your time:

Yes I've received the link of Jason and his woofy buddies doing "I Say A Little Prayer." 53 times to be exact.

David Beckham has a nice scraggly beard goin' on at the moment. Of course it won't last as he changes looks on a monthly basis, but I'm still happy about it.

Fanboys of the Universe features a scruffy covergeek of the month. At last we have arrived.

Britain's Sheffield Hallam University rugby team is making another nude calendar. Please support them.

And on YouTube: Bloody Mary and The Yes Dance. "You've got a drinking problem!"

Here's a pic of me on Saturday, Oct. 10, 2009 at Wallenberg Field behind the National Holocaust museum. I was playing scrumhalf and we won, 17-10:

Photo by Brettie.

Starting from the rear (tee hee!), me and Skwurl went to Blowoff on Saturday night so Lady Gaga showed up briefly while Morel spun her song. She had round smoked Daddy-O sunglasses and a platinum wig on, and kind of resembled the arch enemy of Morticia Addams. The upset is notable in where she _did not_ show up, namely at Town. Clearly The Ga favors the Bears over the Twinks. Actually the cast of Glee showed up at Town that night, so the twinks had something to chew on as well. And I'm not that big of a Ga fan but it was a fun highlight to an already crazy night, and it's clear The Ga knows where her bread is buttered.

We got on the Bolt Bus the next day to head to New York City for the Monday night Kylie Minogue concert. Back when I reserved the concert ticket well in advance of the National Equality March date, I assumed the march would take place on a Saturday. Turns out it happened on a Sunday, the day I planned on travelling to NYC. Oh well, it sounds like y'all had a lovely day and the weather cooperated.

That night we made it to the home of Darth Jersey and Hoboken Hellboy at the Pavonia Death Star base of operations, and were offered a magical view of Manhattan:

A brief note to all you Kylie haters and music snobs: Neko Case has never performed with a Muppet, nor has she been on an episode of Dr. Who. So I will continue enjoying my sugary-sweet pop music written by Cathy Dennis as performed by Australians, and you may continue pooh-poohing what you consider to be lowbrow music, and listening to your sad "indie" music as you do so well. Keep hatin', music snobs.

While staging before the concert, my friends and I stopped at Bitter Burger for a bite to eat. As one would assume, what should we do when we're at the epicenter of gayness with hotties walking around nearby? We ignore them and go online of course:

Neither of them got laid, by the way.

The Concert was great, and it was clear she was there to perform a complete retrospective of her hits. In fact many of the numbers in the first part of the concert were unknown to me. I was stationed at a gulag in the Siberian steppe during the mid-90s, so that might explain my complete ignorance of many of her mid-career hits. To be honest I'm more of a fan of her hits after 2002 (Fever, Boombox, X), and she played those as well. Her dancers were hot and the stage setup was great.

At one point I stopped to chat with a certain hot 20something Manhattan wolf cub socialite, who wasn't even watching the concert. He mentioned that he had seen many of the stage effects or moves at the Madonna concert, and that Kylie had ripped off Black Box or something. I wouldn't call it ripping off, more of a nod to the original dance club hit and reinvention of one of her songs. Anyway, it was clear he was jaded and bored with it all, a sentiment I've witnessed before in a few New York City residents. I'd like to start a foundation to help these people enjoy life a little better. Maybe I'll call it The Jimbo Foundation for Jaded Manhattan Gays or something. I'll pay for their airfare and lodging in some barren town in South Dakota; Appleton, Wisconsin; or Missoula*, Montana for a year. As part of the foundation's internship, the jaded Manhattan gay will have to stay in the town or village for a year. For the duration of the internship, they cannot travel back home to Manhattan, and must experience what life must be like for a lonely gay in the village for a full year. After such an experience they might gain some perspective and appreciation for what they have in the big city, and be able to actually enjoy themselves when Kylie comes to town.

* I know of some Missoulans who would be delighted to receive hot wolf cub interns throughout the year. Curing the jadedness in them would be another issue...

Don't forget the Renegades will start play at 1pm this Saturday on the field behind the National Holocaust Museum versus our pals from North Bay, alumni, whores and fans are encouraged to come to this set of matches. There will be a b-side match featuring moi (starting around 2:20pmish) and possibly some visitors in town for the National Equality March. It should be a good day for rugby at a unique pitch with fantastic scenery on and off the field. Keep in mind there will be no Green Line service at L'Enfant Plaza that day due to track maintenance, so plan your travel accordingly. Perhaps the 14th Street bus line might work better.

This week there was a very nice feature article, photo gallery and video in the Washington Post about the Baltimore Washington Eagles Australian Rules Football Club. Aussie rules is nearly a different game than the rugby I play. I was once told by my coach that I should not even watch Aussie Rules rugby as it will confuse my rugby league technique. Anyhow the article was part V in a nice series on "Our Lives Through Sport: A Look at How the Games Played by Washington Residents Help Define Our Region."

I've only begun to scratch the surface of the very Twitter-friendly rugby community, but came across this gem of a desktop image associated with U.S.A. Sevens rugby. Best rugby blog/site name ever? Scrum of the Earth.

Rugby-friendly Ximena Hartsock was rejected from the D.C. parks and recreation director position this week by a sad coalition of racist and sexist city council members playing games with the mayor. Certain council members who should know better raised concerns that she would form a Latino-only coalition of recreation interests, among several ugly accusations. Basically we need to send the eternal victimist Marion Barry back in time to the late 1960s where he can whine and moan and be a hypocrite all he wants. The only games being played should be on the diamonds, fields and pitches in this city, and not in that council chamber on this particular topic. Hartsock understands this city's recreation needs and her rejection from the position is a tragic loss to the kids and players in this city To date she has been the acting director of the DCPR and has been doing a good job. But the city council does not reward efficiency or good work. It only opens its ugly, rotten mouth to spout vile statements and waste time. The only loser in this match are the residents and taxpayers of the District of Columbia.

D.C. United bares all, including a clipped and shorn Ben Olsen. Ben, why'd you have to do that? Goddammit you can't find decent fully grown pelt in this clean-cut town. I'm starving for fur.

Was it murder or an accident at the 14th Street "Pee Palace"? It sounds like it coulda been a poppers-induced fall down a steep flight of stairs. These narrow DC rowhouses have very narrow and steep stairs. Or he slipped on a puddle of cum.

This coming weekend might end up being gayer than my Donna Summer/Fire Island weekend, as there will be the super-gay National Equality March weekend events to contend with. We will host our fall homecoming rugby match at 1pm Saturday on the field behind the National Holocaust Museum. All that will be followed by Kylie Minogue live in concert on Monday in NYC. How much gay can I handle? We may never know, because I'll be taking the bus up to NYC on the day of the march so I will miss the actual march. I've made the last three marches in DC so I think I'm allowed a break. Plus I secured the ticket for this concert long before news of the march came out.

Kylie wins out, but best wishes to the marchers and haste to legislation in our favor. Full plate my ass - Obama get to work doing what I voted for you to get done, or else I vote for no one next time and the Republicans will win. Is that what you want? No repeal of DADT, then no vote and certainly no money. I don't give a shit if you're speaking at an HRC dinner. Speech is immaterial, legislation secures my rights. I want more the latter and less of the former. "Blah blah blah I support your community blah blah blah we should all be equal blah blah blah." STFU with your empty platitudes and lift the stupid ban on gays in the military for starters. Then work from there, it's quite simple. I've been out since 1990 and have heard your crap before and gay is not as grey as you think it is. It's a black and white issue and you are either for or against me. Right now with your inaction on issues important to me as far as I'm concerned you're against me.

There will be a Blowoff Saturday night at the 9:30 Club and Taint Sunday night at DC9. But there's also Homo/Sonic at the Black Cat that day as well. So how is an alterna-fag supposed to choose? It is recommended that the Urban Outfitters homos go to Taint while the Indie Rock and Hipster homos go to H/S at the Black Cat. You are not allowed to go anywhere else on Sunday night unless you are in a different category. Or you can stay home and fondle your iPhone on Grindr all night if you like because if you go out and fondle your iPhone in public you might as well have just stayed home.

If I were a DJ or a VJ here is what would be spinning at my club all week: The Loco-motion, I Should Be So Lucky, What Do I Have To Do, Dancing Queen at the 2000 Sydney Olympics, Come Into My World (Kylie as Queen of the Cybermen), Your Disco Needs You, Especially for You with Kermit the Frog, Wow (CSS Remix), Love at First Sight, and Slow (Chemical Brothers Remix).

Let me start off by saying that I'm aware it's not really the iPhones that are bad, it's the behavior of the device's users. It's clear that the iPhone is a very useful device in many ways, but the users' bad behavior overshadows any benefit from the technology at this time. That will change some day when people discover their boundaries when using the device in social settings. Every new innovation or technology brings with it the need for new social structures and etiquette. For example, we've learned over time to make sure toilet seats are down in a home with females. Don't drive drunk. Don't forward every e-mail joke you receive. Stuff like that. It seems like most owners of handheld devices think they're exempt from the need to be polite in social settings, particularly gay iPhone owners who have the Grindr application.

Grindr is a program you can put on your iPhone that detects every other person with Grindr on their iPhone. Sort of like a locator beacon that gays can use to hook up. I would contend this application is a major force driving iPhone purchases in the gay male community. Some of you may be horrified at the idea of broadcasting your location to everyone nearby, but believe me it's extremely popular with the gays, particularly with the attention-deficit disordered and sexually compulsive.

Recently I was at a five-star restaurant with great food, fantastic service and lovely atmosphere with a group of four. The place was a bit pricey and I don't go to such places very often, and such an event is certainly not the kind of place where I would want to squander the experience. Three of of the gays at the table had iPhones, two of them with the Grindr application. During cocktails before the dinner the two with Grindr had located a hatchet-faced truck driver 19 miles away, and were competing for the truck driver's attention. I guess that's fine during cocktails but after a while conversations centered around your handheld device or a stranger none of us has met gets kind of old. Discussion about your handheld device certainly shouldn't dominate any conversation. But I let it pass.

But when we were seated at the restaurant the devices came out again not long after the entrees were ordered. Again they hungrily tapped on their devices to see who could get the hottest response from the truck driver. I looked around the restaurant and noticed no one else was holding a handheld device. It was a nice restaurant and most level-headed adults knew you shouldn't do that sort of thing at the dinner table. The two at my table were the exception. Or they thought the other people at the table would make an exception for them.

At one point I had to relieve myself and was told by the other odd man sans Grindr that there was complete silence while I was away, because the two wooing the truck driver were so intent on chatting with someone somewhere else.

The entree arrived and was delicious and they stopped tapping for a while but still addictively glanced at the screens tucked in their laps like strung out coke fiends looking for a fix. And before the dessert menu arrived the devices were pulled out again so we could all learn about what the truck driver from 19 miles away was thinking. One of the two finally realized he was being rude, but the other one would not stop. Finally I had to say, "Listen: if the company at this table is so boring to you, clear your check and get out of here." If it was so important that he hook up with the hatchet-faced truck driver, then let him go hook up as far as I cared. Dinner conversation had been squashed an hour ago by attention to the devices, rather than to the actual, real, physical people at the table. Yet another tragic casualty to socialization and person-to-person communication due to improper use of a handheld device.

I would wager that none of these rude iPhone users would do such a thing among straight company, or at a work function. Ignoring the people at present company in lieu of someone 19 miles away is not only rude, but inherently homophobic as well. Why? Because some gays think they can be rude to fellow gays but we wouldn't be as rude to heterosexuals. Straight people wouldn't put up with it and you'd look pretty addicted to the device and appear sexually compulsive from their perspective. Feel free to challenge me on this but I've noticed gays are more apt to be rude [while fondling handheld devices] to fellow gays than they would to heterosexuals. It's a channel of homophobia as far as I'm concerned. Anyhow, I hope such an experience doesn't happen to me again, but I'll try to avoid such situations in the future by being more selective with whom I dine. If they're known compulsive handheld device abusers they won't be invited out to eat because it's usually very clear they've lost the ability to socialize.

Other things I don't want to hear:

• Your iPhone bleeping every time you receive an e-mail or text message.
• "OMG Grindr burns so much battery power." I've heard that 50 times already. Boring.
• "OMG this hot guy is only 50' away in the next building." Again, I don't care, and you're probably not actually interested in hooking up with him anyway. You're just looking for validation.

Some suggestions:

• Leave it at home, turn it off. You don't need to be connected 24/7.
• Don't assume everyone wants to talk about your iPhone or your latest application.
• I don't care if your iPhone broke or ran out of power, so don't mention it on Facebook or Twitter.

In fact, the rest of us are really tired of hearing about your iPhone, so put it away, thanks.

This blog entry is dedicated to my curmudgeonly friend Rob "Big Rob" Conner, who claims he doesn't know who Kylie Minogue is. I mean really...if you live on the Pacific Rim surely you feel the tremors of fabulousness coming from Down Under, right? It's all coming from HER...