June 30, 2005
it must be the drumsticks
More fuck'd up shit from Texas (aside from Mr. President, that is): gifted male singer in the countertenor range isn't allowed to compete against his soprano peers in state vocal competitions, due to his gender. Again, I see gender issues as the core factor in what freaks people out about gays and any sort of difference in sexuality, orientation, or identity. Calling GenderPAC...
June 29, 2005
I suppose I could wait until they play a block away from me on August 8 at DC9, but I can't wait, so I'll just go twice. I'll try not to squeal too loudly for Fitz' sake. Break a leg!
I can't remember exactly when I met Fitz, it was like 2000 or something, I'm sure he remembers better. I actually first met his partner Will waiting in line for an HRC party for Ellen's coming out episode. We couldn't get in, so we went to my roomate's place to watch it instead with the gang. I think I read Fitz' blog first, and then met him one night at the Eagle, as we both recognized each other from our blogs. When they have extra tickets to the Orioles games, we've gone a few times, although we all have different things on our minds during the games. Fitz liked playing with my brother gleefully on the public art near the waterfront. I like that picture, it captures both Fitz and my brother well.
Hey Kids! WaPo now gives out free National Zoo horrid animal death trading cards! Collect all 5! Learn more about how Indah the Orangutan slowly died of untreated rectal area abcesses, or how Kraken the komodo dragon perishes due to lack of regular exams!
Renegade geckos plague The District. Just when you had forgotten about Snakeheads, a new menace arises.
"You have my cooperation. You have my respect. You have my ear," Williams said. "In turn, the citizens of Washington, D.C., do not need disrespect or second-guessing."
What may be "brandished" with a swagger for defense in Texas is freely used to pop a cap in your ass here in The District. I've seen it with my own eyes, and it's not pretty. How many fucking Texans or Republicans have seen someone get shot in their home states, live, and in person? Leave us to our own legislation, assholes.
Bush: "Blah, Blah, 9-11, Blah, Blah." Your speechwriters are geniuses, I'll give you that. I'd love to be their understudy to later undermine what you've done to the easily malleable minds that seem to dominate this country's thinking.
Can you tell I have not been sleeping well lately?
June 28, 2005
water polo, rugby & gay sports
I used to play water polo before I played rugby. I was OK at it, but I did not excel at it due to not having an ectomorphic body shape. Those long limbed-types would simply use their Mr. Fantastic extenda-arms and dunk me when and if I would get the ball. Plus the team never played many matches, so I switched to rugby, as they play games almost every weekend in the spring and fall. Water polo was an incredible workout though, and it was very challenging, which was the point.
Last night waiting for the Metrorail I saw an "old" player from the rugby team who is leaving town to go to school elsewhere. We talked about how many on the team have "retired" due to pain or lack of time. Now when I say "old", this guy is in his early- to mid-20's and has played a year, which is a lot by rugby standards. It seems like I'm a rugby grampaw for only having played 5 years. The turnover is high once people realize there is a high pain and injury factor involved. I'm not saying I'm immune to pain. I've had some hard years. This year was a good one, despite throwing my back out picking up a goddamn Q-Tip.
I also believe some people have more "hit points" than others (Dungeons and Dragons reference) and can just take more hits, despite their size or stature. Younger people recover faster, and it also helps to just take a break once in a while too. I consider myself more of a Jack Russell Terrier than a rugby bulldog. I'd like to play as long as possible, as long as it does not hinder my ability to bike or run, which I would like to do for longer than that. When I bike through the city or down the trails I feel like I'm jacked up on amphetamines, and it feels good. Running is a necessary stress reliever.
I like to be athletic, and always have. I do not use the term "jock" lightly, as many do on their online cruisey profiles. I was in track and cross country in high school, and did the 400m, 800m, mile run, mile relay, and pole vault. I also come from a fairly active family - us Barretts are hyper folk. My grampa liked to hunt, as did my dad and one of my brothers. The other brother is a tennis and windsurfing fanatic. The hunting brother is a workout monster and has a bod that would put any circuit queen to shame, although it would shock him to know that another man would look at him that way. (That's another issue to address another day.) Anyway, I work out to feel alive, to use my body to perform a function, albeit for a generally useless recreational purpose. But that's the reason for a hobby, it's something that produces nothing other than to give you joy or pleasure.
That is why it kinda stung when another blogger said to me during an in-person blogger gathering a while back that people join gay rugby teams to fullfill unmet masculinity issues. This is not always so.
Yes, our team and many other gay or mixed teams have attracted their fair share of jokers who are attracted to the sport for its image, their perception of the hypermasculine qualities of the game, or to fulfill some pervy muddy rugby fantasy in their heads. After a match or two, such jokers quickly disappear, and/or we are quick to identify those types these days and find ways to get rid of them. I'm happy to say that our team has matured a lot over the years, and the drama factor from such folk has been reduced considerably. We had a very serious year in 2004/2005, and benefitted from the focus. I have personally gotten a lot more focused during practices too.
Anyhow, some people play rugby to inflict pain on others, as they consistently do in other theatres as well. Others play to simply keep in shape. I play for the pleasure of using my body in a coordinated fashion in concert with a bunch of other people to succeed. It is a beautiful thing to get the ball out of a scrum and get it to the backline for a fluid series of passes to the wing, or do dig out a ball from a ruck and run it forward. Even tackling can be fun, if I do it well.
And there is a definite addiction factor to it all as well. After 80 minutes you can feel quite "high," especially after a win. Most of the time you just feel tired, however. I don't know if rugby is any more healthy an alternative to the circuit scene - at least you don't get your head bashed in at the White Party or ribs bruised at the Blue Ball.
I do not play to prove anything other than that I can do it, and that I am still physically able to do right on the field. The sunshine and exercise don't hurt either. After 5 years, I can now see past the hot sweaty dirty meaty thighs in the scrum without getting a hormonal jolt to my crotch. During a match I am no longer distracted by the scruffy faces or the beckoning chest fur pouring out from the 'V' in the enemy's jersey neckline. While I am playing they are simply people to be stopped, neuter beings to be passed by and defeated. I can love them later when I've shown them who's boss, or vice verse.
June 27, 2005
new student needs rental unit in Gainesville, FL
Just a shout out if any of you readers know of a gay-friendly rental unit close to the University of Florida in Gainesville for a non-smoking crunchy mellow and studious Ph.D. candidate starting his studies down there. Drop me an e-mail if you know of anything off the top of your head.
Posted by jimbo at 9:43 PM
"Ask not what your partner can do for you..."
E-Vites are boils on the otherwise smooth face of summer. Just when you've either committed to a party 600 miles out in Gongwanaland, Virginia, or struggled with the ethics of ducking out of another in a remote part of West Virginia, yet another E-Vite comes in for a party in less than a week.
Sorry, the excuse not to come is easy in this instance. I'll be chillin' out.
I'm thinking about cancelling my E-Vite account - just to get away from it. I know I abused it in the past annoying my invitees for a party a few years ago, so I'm guilty too. Or perhaps I just need to "Just Say No" more often. For some reason the electronic missives seem demanding and that I'm compelled to say 'yes', even when I can't. Plus, I'm more likely to say 'yes' when I don't have to get some sort of transporation to go to Gongwanaland, VA 600 miles out in Virginia to celebrate someone's work promotion. Being carless sucks when you get invites to Gongwanaland, VA, or for grocery shopping.
Speaking of boils, the topic of popping zits came up during an e-mail exchange with Brent (BMW) the other day in relation to my posts last week about my bad back and good boyfriend. (Brent references my mention on Archerr's podcast about hardly being able to wipe my own ass when I threw my back out last week.):
BMW: "I'm sorry to hear that you could barely wipe your ass, lol! Now you know how I felt having two broken arms."
Jimbo: "And how did you do it? Right now I can wipe from the front, but not from the back, and you know how you sorta need to wipe from both sides to do a really good job."
BMW: "LOL, OMG I know EXACTLY what you mean. I could not bend my arms, so reaching around to the back was too difficult. I had about as much trouble reaching between my legs, but it was hard to get all the way back there. About the only thing that saved me was a boyfriend that didn't mind soaping and scrubbing me in that area every night in the shower. Try it with the guy you are dating."
Jimbo: "We're only at the neckline hair clipping stage of the relationship so far. I'm hoping next is the whole popping zits on the back thing, and then maybe ass scrubbing when we're at a more intimate level. But not just yet, we're not anywhere near ass scrubbing at this point."
BMW: "I love you Jimbo."
Jimbo: "I love you too Brent, but I'm not ready to wipe your ass yet."
So I pose this question to you, blogstalkers and bloggers with boyfriends or girlfriends, what gross things will your partner do for you in times of crisis, ranging from trimming the neckline to wiping your ass? It seems like there is a continuum of tolerance and level of intimacy for such primate behavior between loved ones.
June 23, 2005
bo duke is my real boyfriend
Just so you know this blog is not going to turn into a 'Boyfriend Blog' where all I blather on about is the wonder that is my date and all the wonderful things we do together and how wonderful we look together when we go out in matching outfits. "Boyfriend! Boyfriend! Boyfriend!" That's just nauseating and you can kill me if I ever do that. Plus, there's so many other people to write about I couldn't possibly spend all my time typing about a single person. And there's so much of ME to talk about that I cannot possibly spend so much time writing about some other person, so don't worry.
Plus, I've never really broken up with my first and only true boyfriend, Seann William Scott. I would go see a Seann William Scott show even if he was playing the role of Annie Sullivan in an off-Broadway production of The Miracle Worker directed by William Shatner. And I will surely be seeing remake of The Dukes of Hazzard on August 5.
Plus Jessica Simpson is in it, and that would be enough reason to go anyway. She can neither sing nor lip synch to her own frikkin' lyrics, but can she act? Let's go find out and have a fun time doing it. And Johnny Knoxville is a hoot too. And Ohmigawd LYNDA CARTER AKA WONDER WOMAN IS IN IT (for what purpose, I don't know). Good casting at the very least.
Click on the scruffy image below for an even better desktop image. Then take a careful look at the desktop image: in the picture his arms are furrier than they used to be. Will he have possibly let his chest hair grow out? Will we get to see him fully furred? We can only hope and we'll have to find out.
The love child of me and Seann was first spotted by Jack from Fstclss Ramblings. Our love child, named William James Franklin Scott-Barrett, is a hunky concrete contractor working on Jack's house:
Jack wrote that he looks like an amalgam of me and SWS. When I read that my ego blew up like a bunker buster bomb in Afghanistan. I like his cute budding tummy, and the thick auburn mop of hair on the guy. And the work boots. Wuuuuf.
The Sea And Me
Apparently if I don't blog for two days people think I'm dead. No, I did not overdose on my medication, although it's highly likely I could be hit by a car crossing the street during rush hour, just because it felt like a good idea at the time. Or death by multiple spider bites.
In case you didn't make it to the end of my entry yesterday, Archerr interviewed me for a podcast after some heavy painkiler dosage (me, not him) and I sound a bit cracked-out on my babbling about back pain, drugs, sex, bloggers, boyfriends, and many other topics.
In the Podcast interview I speak of The Hunky Leprechaun. I have made vague references to him in the past. We have been seeing each other for some frequency since mid-February. I guess that would make it 5 months now. Some of you have even met him, especially at our Gay Pride parade a few weeks ago. I believe it is now time to reveal his secret identity, since I have been on the down low about it due to fear of jinxing anything, and that he may not feel comfortable about it. Perhaps now it is time to write about him.
I first remember a brief message from the Onion Personals from him with a teensy postage-stamp sized picture of him taken from 400 yards away. Y'all know how I feel about image resolution and fuzzy pictures, so I ignored the message. Too risky to eventually find the guy would not quite look like the picture.
Then many months later he mesaged me again to say hi on Friendster. This time he had more pictures, many of them quite handsome, like this one:
I also learned a little more from his profile in this format. He liked stuff like Buffy, Gremlins and The Dark Crystal, all of which I like as well. And he had pictures of himself at work, working with critters and stuff. At first we corresponded via Friendster while he was doing field research in Panama, and eventually met at Mr. Henry's on Capitol Hill in mid-February. Conversation was easy and he seemed first like a normal, adjusted person to me. And he still remains a normal and well-adjusted guy. I coerced him to walk to the L'Enfant Plaza Metrorail station that night, one which I knew was seldom used that late at night, so I could sneak a kiss as we went down the escalator. I could tell he was a good kisser from just that small sample. A good sign. I've since found he's even better in other departments.
The next time we met out at the New Carollton Metrorail station so I could see his workplace which is an outdoor research station. He was so excited about us meeting again he locked his keys in his car in the parking lot. It was cold out and a long time before the locksmith came, but cute because he was so flustered about seeing me again and so concerned about screwing up. I was a little nervous too.
Now I have rarely met many gay men in DC, or even elsewhere, to have done the field work that I have in the natural resources area. Needless to say I get excited to meet anyone who has had similar experiences, because they get that part of me. Sometimes I feel very misunderstood here when I talk about such things, as I often feel like I am the only person I know with a mote of knowledge about wildlife or biology. When I talk about such things people here will glaze over and quickly switch topics of politics or urban issues, or just stare at me with a blank look of incomprehension in their faces. Sometimes I don't even think they believe what I am saying. People even try to argue with me about some very basic ecological or biological concepts. I try to be patient when that happens. When I marvel at the stars, thunderstorms, cicadas, wood ducks or spotting a Peregrine falcon on the National Mall I've often had people say to me things like, "What's the big deal, it's only a thunderstorm!" So I shut up and switch to my urban persona, and pretend not to care like they do.
But when someone is impressed that I can tell the difference between a male or female red-tailed hawk, or that I know the twittering flying grey things in the city are not in fact bats, but chimney swifts, or that I can tell a peregrine falcon is overhead just by noticing how the pigeons are freaking out, I nearly get a hard-on.
Sea is one such special person. "Sea", a nickname for an even cooler name which I will not reveal. Sea is short for seabird, the reason for such name I will also not share. We see each other with as much frequency as we can, for he lives out in Southern Maryland, working at a biolological research station. He is a biologist, and a damn good one too. If you dare question me on my bird identification skills, Sea's I.D. skills are godlike and even more impressive than mine and will destroy you with their depth and breadth of detailed knowledge. Any snarky overeducated Ivy League contrarian will be crushed in the biological field of knowledge by such a person. Be warned, contrarian Smarty Pants folk of The District - Sea is in town with his deputy ranger Jimbo, so you better lay low and keep yer mouth shut.
I really really like him a lot, and wish I could see him more often. We are two peas in a pod and I have not been this excited to know someone like this in a long time. He is not someone you would normally meet in the DC crowd. I am the city mouse and he is the country mouse and we meet somewhere in the middle. He is crunchy, spiritual, unconcerned with material things, unapologetic, and strong of heart. And he is cute and red-haired all over, and is ticklish in an endearing way. I like to give him 'zurburts' and watch him giggle and quiver. And most importantly, we get along and I enjoy my time with him.
But I am his first relationship, and there are challenges and anxieties on both our parts to that. But I also believe each relationship is always different, and require different challenging approaches. And he is moving away to Florida in the fall to go for his Ph.D. in biology. The romantic side of be thinks that perhaps things can work out, while the rational side of me knows that in most cases it doesn't. But I remain optimistic, and at the very least we will remain friends and that he will always have a very cherished place in my heart. He has a good head on his shoulders, and has a very mature outlook of how to try and conduct a relationship. We are both learning, and he's already got a pretty darn grip on the how-to manual of relationships.
So here's to enjoying what time we can have until August. There are plenty of opportunities to be had, and I'm looking forward to them, and I hope the summer slows down a bit just for me and Sea. For now, I'm approaching it like how Sandra Dee and Danny Zuko did in Grease before their main storyline in the movie Grease developed:
Summer lovin' had me a blast - summer lovin', happened so fast
I met a girl crazy for me - I met a boy, cute as can be
Summer days driftin' away, to uh-oh those summer nights
Or perhaps what Gwen Stefani sings:
You're a salty water ocean wave
You knock me down, you kiss my face
I know the storm will likely come
But I'd still love to have you around.
A rollercoaster built to crash
But I'd still love to have you around.
Don't go away my love
I want you to stay in my life
Don't go away from my life
I'm happier when we spend time.
Or like Garth said:
And now I'm glad I didn't know
The way it all would end
the way it all would go
Our lives are better left to chance
I could have missed the pain
But I'd of had to miss the dance
Or maybe some Edward Lear:
And hand in hand on the edge of the sand
They danced by the light of the moon,
They danced by the light of the moon.
June 21, 2005
Holee shit...them muscle relaxants really do the trick. I feel like sending a Thank You card to my doctor for getting them prescribed without a visit to the office. I love you Dr. Woof. I know what I need, and I know what works, and I know I feel very good now. Granted, the sleeping aids made me sleep until Noon, but when I got out of bed I didn't gasp in agony like the day before. Now it just feels a little stiff. I will be ready to go to work tomorrow, albeit slowly and with a sense of euphoria.
When I first took the crack, I thought I heard bells going off in my head, but realized it was the nearby school bell going off for summer school.
Then I thought I saw spiders all over in my room. Then I realized I was in a basement apartment, and there really are spiders all over in my apartment. At least they're not crawling all over me and erupting from some hidden egg sac in between my layers of skin. I will give offerings to Lloth to live in peace with her children.
Then I felt like doing a Pink job like in the movie The Wall and shave my nipples off, but decided on some spring manscaping instead. By spring, some of my chest hair is freakishly long. Don't worry, I only do this once a year:
I love my Twister-style shower curtains.
At Homer's recomendation I got ahold of Archerr who does podcast interviews. Archerr caught me for one after some dosage and I sound a bit cracked-out on my babbling about back pain, drugs, sex, bloggers, boyfriends, and many other topics. And I talk about a bunch of bloggers, except for you.
June 20, 2005
Thanks for the encouragement and advice y'all. But I've been through this twice before though, and there's a routine. I'm not a fan of the muscle relaxants and painkillers, but there's nothing much you can do until the muscle stops smasming. A visit to the chiropractor is in order of course, who I've been seeing regularly. It's a very local spasm in a muscle right next to an impacted vertebrae, which is stressed out all the time due to being in a fucked up alignment. I have minor scoliosis which causes this on occasion. The chiropractor knows what the story is and adjusts me accordingly, but it's just the way my back is. It just has to relax with the help of adjustment and drugs, and simply takes time and rest to stop spasming.
This is the price for having a nice ass. The overextended curvature of my lower spine that makes my ass stick out a bit more than most folks' is also what causes the occasional lower back spasms and pain.
June 19, 2005
give me crack!
Reaching for a mere Q-Tip in my bathroom this afternoon, my back siezes up...
~ tweak ! ~
And that's all it takes. My third back spasm thus far, and I'm truly walking around like a grampaw. I've been seeing a chiropractor fairly regularly for preventative measures, but it seems to be a rite of passage every time I move into a new place. Might be some kind of stress and fatigue combo, as it's happened right after I move into a new place 3 times in a row now.
Tomorrow I'll be getting more specific back-related crack from my dial-a-crack doctor, painkillers and muscle relaxants. Probably won't be going to work. Right now I'm flying well on an emergency dosage of crack thanks to the rugby team crack network. Another friend offered some milder stuff but I got a better deal from one on the team who has 'the good stuff'.
Yesterday's pics were not from my birthday, it was for someone else's, fyi.
I probably should have cancelled D&D tonight, as the spasm happened just before. Needless to say, the sesson didn't last long, and I was cranky from the pain and frustrated because I was just getting back to a good workout regimen again.
But at least I got a long bike ride in before that, and it felt good. We have actually experienced a true spring here in DC, with mild cool weather. For the weekend it has been dry and sunny and in the 80s, which is fabulous.
And Gurl and Bubbles and Jon hooked up my DSL, which I am enjoying right now. Looks like I'll be needing a new video card and memory to play City of Heroes, which I thought I could do this winter with a phone connection. My fairly new computer's tech is being driven by gaming needs.
make funny face for jimbo
I went out to Titan Saturday night for a birthday party. The light is always bad in there for my old camera, but a few turned out. I did not ask these people to make funny faces for jimbo, but they did anyway:
She's not even drunk yet. Nice picture.
Here's a hot bartender from Titan. For the longest time I thought he was theseanshow due to the tats, but learned recently he wasn't. He's still hot even though he's not a blogger, but you wouldn't know from the grimace. He reads while he's taking a break, which is hot, but he smokes so it's over between us. Do the signs on his shirt read 'H.O.T.'?
June 18, 2005
a little wish
I'm hurt. Hunka-dunka Scott Bolton was at our Pride festival and he didn't tell me!!! I hope he wasn't performing, I'd be pissed if I missed that. Instead there was only shirtless gay fiddlers, drag mimes, and scary puppeteers. That's OK, I was with a hunkier hunk. Scott can't tell the difference between a pipefish and a seahorse.
Posted by jimbo at 5:22 PM
June 17, 2005
happy father's day
Father's Day continues to become more commercial and in your face like a lot of other holidays. So far that doesn't bug me, but of course it might some day. The general assumption that everyone has a father has yet to bug me too. I just never had one and that's the way it is for me - no need for condolences this late in the day. My father died 3 months before I was born in a drowning/hypothermia accident while duck hunting. His body was not found, and no, I'd rather not wonder if he's still alive, so don't ask (And people do. How rude!). The tides are strong, cold and throrough in that part of the world. It has just been the way it is for me, and I'm not really sad about it, as he is simply someone I have never met. But it would have been neat to have met him.
The awareness of his absence due to mortality gave me a very pragmatic view of death at a very early age. Probably my very first simple life lesson that I can remember: people die and that means they are no longer there. It is sad that you won't see them, but life goes on with our own life, and it is best to get going with that. I am aware that I am probably a lot less moved by death than most people for this reason, so I try hard to be more sensitive when others lose parents, because I know it is harder for them to learn this later in life. When parents die they are gone, and that is the way it is.
My mom did a great job raising us 3 brothers by herself, and it kept her busy. I remember her trying to date like twice, but it never worked out. Plus it was wierd to me. Once I tried to celebrate Father's Day by giving my grandpa a card, but that felt wierd too. A Grampa is not a Father.
In the 70s and 80s it was a ghastly concept for a mother to be single with kids and be just fine in my small home town. It was generally assumed by others that we would be troubled kids and in need of financial assistance because we didn't have a father (destitute indigents, etc.), even though my dad was a Vet and we were well taken care of by security benefits (Pell grants allowed me to get through undergrad in the black). Those kind of small-minded perceptions about alternative families probably helped me come out as gay, since I was aware at an early age that there are different ways of being a family, and that you can do well (if not better in our case) being a different kind of family or person. Even if I wasn't gay, I would still give a hearty "F-U" to those family values folk that think a family consists of only a man, woman and children. Other versions of families exist and do just fine. I know this to be a fact, from personal experience.
I was actually encouraged to go to a Youth Conservation (Concentration) Camp for "troubled kids" by our high school guidance counselor. I ended up liking it, however, as we worked in parks and forests and it was fun with very beautiful places to work. Our "troubled family" produced 3 out of 3 college grads, 1 with an MBA, one with an MS on the way, and two who've been around the world. Last year at my class reunion, I realized I've done pretty well for myself for being so horribly troubled. A big F.U.-Friday to all you small-minded hometown haters in my high school administration who assumed I'd be troubled from being raised in a single-parent household.
Anyway, of us three brothers, I think I look the most like my father, as far as I can tell. I'll try to look for a picture tonight. I have his general body shape, smile and ability to make funny faces. It would be interesting to have met him, as from what I gather he was a fun and intelligent guy. I'd like to think I got some of that from him.
June 16, 2005
red blog, blue blog
They over-utilize the color red in their designs.
Red hurts and distracts the eyes, and is to be avoided for online media. Now I understand your reasoning due to the whole Red/Blue state partisanship and its symbolism, but it's a design no-no. Blue just happens to be more pleasing to the eye, no political bias intended. In general, 'hot' colors like orange, yellow, and red should be used sparingly. Cooler colors such as light purple, blue and greens are better for large areas of space without text.
I'd love to read your blog more often, but it's orangeness hurts the eyes of the elderly.
Admittedly my Kylie scheme, while a cool lavendar, bugged me. Her boobs distracted from the content. FYI: rumours about her Diva behavior and pink color scheme while in the hospital were highly overblown.
While I'm at it, grampaw jimbo also has a hard time reading light text on black backgrounds. I've already e-mailed him about this. Yeah, I see you can change the color scheme too.
don't believe the hype
Gawker editor Nick Denton succinctly sums up the recent hype about blogs:
"The hype comes from unemployed or partially employed marketing professionals and people who never made it as journalists wanting to believe," he said. "They want to believe there's going to be this new revolution and their lives are going to be changed."
I'm guessing this is coming from a survivor of the dot-com era. It was the hyped up promise of the Internet that led to the unsustainable growth of the industry, eventually leading to the inevitable crash. Hopefully some rational thought about reasonable growth and development of the technology will lead to a better economy for the blogging industry. Until then, this blog remains a tool for my rants and as a journal to supplement my poor memory, AT NO CHARGE TO YOU, Dear Readers.
While stopping for a bite to eat on Tuesday I noticed some kinda "Blog Today" spot on CNN that was recently spoofed by John Stewart (can't find the link right now). It looked rather silly seeing two reporters at LIVE COMPUTERS covering what is being covered by what was lifted off someone else's blogs on some guy's blog whom I've never heard of.
June 15, 2005
why I kinda like DC
Neither the plumber, telecom technician, nor the UPS men mentioned in yesterday's post were hot, fyi, but they were all helpful and remarkably efficient and friendly for DC. After reading the local blog WhyIHateDC, I'll have to say I've either adapted, become numb, or have just been here long enough to experience positive urban experiences, I don't actually hate it here. And I have never had a bad experience at the DC DMV either.
Even after biking around in yesterday's 100-degree heat index weather, I found myself saying, "Oh, it's not so bad, it could be worse in, say, New Orleans or Houston" (neither of which I will ever move to). But ask me again in August - you might get a different response. For now I understand why Southern folk walk slowly - they have to or they'll die. I just put up with the sweaty underwear and look forward to a cool shower at the end of the day.
Any city has its pros and cons, and there are enough pros here to keep me from moving - so far. Omitting typical gripes for any major city, here's a breakdown, positive to negative, unique to my attitude about DC:
- free museums
- lotsa cultural events
- fun nightlife
- smart, professional people
- lotsa smart, professional gays
- (many of them are generally good-looking - good dating pool)
- cherished group of friends
- good growing season
- pretty good mass transit system
- lotsa education opportunities
- always a job out there somewhere
- mostly bikeable, lots of bike trails
- easy access to NYC, Philly, Baltimore and West Virginia
- usually progressive Maryland politics, tolerant DC politics
- plenty of opportunities for gay rugby & other gay sports teams
- dead quiet holiday season, as everyone is elsewhere
Grown Used To:
- the heat, the humidity
- DCs sleepy style of service
- shady people hangin' out on the corner
- yammering, meandering tourists
- distance from family in Wisconsin
- high number of gay Republicans
- stuffy New England/Mid-Atlantic attitude & stand-offishness
- proximity to Virginia
- lack of critical mass of crunchy, freaky or radical thinkers
- loud people, noisy city
- "Ohmigawd I just got here and I work for Senator _Drop Name Here_."
- "I can't tell you where I work, it's confidential."
- overzealous security measures in Federal buildings
- high number of Type-A workaholics
- high level of litter
- general zoo-, bio- and eco-ignorance in the region
- crackheads, crunkheads, panhandlers
- witnessing murders
- the new crop of mean white meth-freak carny folk with no teeth that just got off the bus in DuPont proper for the summer to panhandle aggressively
- the cat that keeps crapping on my backyard doorstep
- (at least it's not a crackhead that's doing it)
- mulberry and crown-of-thorns plants
- unattainable and insane real estate prices for the low- and medium-income bracket
Disclaimer: this entry was written on a full 8-hours worth of sleep and low caffeine level. Other entries on related subjects written at different times, moods, and chemical balances may vary.
June 14, 2005
Feng Shui vs. the Junk Drawer
I gotta hand it to the Verizon phone guy - he was certainly thorough this morning hooking up my new phone jacks. Turns out what I thought was melted plastic in the phone jacks was in fact a gel of some sort that keep the connections from rusting, but I needed to have them moved and set up for DSL anyway. To date, from home I have been using a mere phone connection to blog and surf porn. So while he did that, he ripped all the redundant cables out from my walls which had been painted over several times, making a big mess of lead paint chips and plaster all over the house (mmm...lead paint chips). Of course the plumber showed up at the exact same time, and they both needed the same 5' square space to work, which was fun. During all that they tracked in the damnable mulberries from the sidewalk outside, which basically make glops of sticky jelly when tracked in.
My intent was to "work from home" today, but they were working in the same space as my computer, so it didn't work out that way. That and I forgot to bring a CD of my work files home with me, only bringing support papers, so that plan was scrapped. And afer the technicians left, I had to sweep paint chips, vacuum plaster dust and mop mulberry jelly off the floor. Luckily, the UPS man showed up while I was doing all this with my DSL kit so I have my package ready for hook-up this weekend, which doesn't start working until the 21st. I will assign Gurl to do the hardware and telecom connections duties. While I am a "Power User" in terms of advanced graphics, FTP, web and desktop publishing programs, I don't actually know much about true programming, the workings of servers, and hardware - SO DON'T ASK ME TO FIX YER COMPUTER, OK!? I can help you with Photoshop, makin' web pages, layout, and editing, however.
While the technician and plumber were here, I also finished unpacking my final boxes, and realized just why I have been avoiding those last boxes. They are full of what is best known as "Junk Drawer" stuff. You know - sunglasses, batteries, rolls of film, needle and thread, and useless CVS bonus cards that I never remember to bring with me to the store. Stuff that you might use someday, but not often, but should keep. Good Feng Shui dictates that everything has a place in your home, and there is no such thing as a Junk Drawer. I'll have to disagree with Miss Shui. Where does Feng Shui say my extra AA batteries go? The Junk Drawer of course. But I do not have a Junk Drawer available, thus the avoidance of sorting through my Junk Drawer stuff.
I think I need some storage bins for under the bed for such stuff and for winter clothes. I currently keep such stuff in boxes up the unused staircase that goes upstairs to a blocked door. I'd like to keep that place for my recreational stuff like my bulky backpack, tent and gear. I cannot wait for the next yard sale my team puts on, as it's a good place to get rid of the things I've decided need to go, like my old IBM with Windows 98 and humongous monitor. It's trusty, and once I remove my personal files and old porn imagery, it's good to go to a new home. Lemme know if you want it - I could use the space.
June 13, 2005
wilting with pride
It was a nice weekend, and I didn't get so Proud as to be overloaded with gayness. One can have too much. Saturday I had a decent workout followed by a bike ride up Rock Creek Park, where I formulated my plan at the Amazonia exhibit of the National Zoo to scoop up a couple guppies from their tanks while the docent isn't looking. There's like a million of them, freely breeding, so don't worry. Many small chores followed by backyard pot planting, then off to Blowoff. I was pretty beat from the day, so I didn't stay long, but these monkeys were there, amongst many others:
On Sunday I was up remarkably early awaiting the arrival of the now-famous Hunky Radiant Leprechaun, who made his debut as bloggeratti at Pride later that afternoon. He was a little taken aback at folks who would say, "So YOU'RE the Leprechaun?" and by blog readers from Texas who just up and say howdy in the Metrorail station. Here's a pic of my friend Jon, his partner Gabriel, their friend Brian and the Hunky Radiant Leprechaun in front of what Federal building? I have no idea what that building is, but I should know:
Why all bloggers at Pride were wearing white, I don't know. I must have missed the memo. But here's (left to right) Rich, Joe, Dan, Ed, Chrisafer, and 'boo. The glamazons on the far right may or may not be bloggers. This photo is like the Steel Magnolias of the blogosphere. Oh, and Dan, in addition to being a beefy hunkstud, loves visits to his blog. Dan, Dan, Dan, go visit Dan's weblog. Dan. Dan.
Didn't get enough of Dan? Here's Dan on the far right, with Carl (start back left again), Rich, Joe, and again, Dan
Ladies and Gentlemen, President Bob Mould. Vice President Richard Morel is currently at Camp David, and Dan is not in the picture here. AWESOME photo courtesy of JoeMyGod.
Bob's great performance was followed by a banshee woman-creature screeching out The Star Spangled Banner. We could not flee the main stage fast enough.
Later on the Hunky Leprechaun and I went to the Johnson IMAX Theater at the National Museum of Natural History for a screening of Into the Deep, which was pretty cool. Fishes and sea lions flying into your face. Better than that market in Seattle where they throw fishes at you.
June 10, 2005
swelling with pride
Saturday night I'll be going to Blowoff. JoeMyGod is comin' down for Pride and he'll be at Blowoff too. Here's a photo taken from Metro Weekly that never made it to print (the whole twink/bear representation argument and all that), but is a nice photo of the typical Blowoff crowd:
And then on Sunday I'll be takin' the Hunky Radiant Leprechaun to the festival, which should be fun. He has never been. I warned him of my time limit in the sun on the asphalt in advance. I suppose if I passed out from the heat he could take advantage of me.
blogger devoured by same-sex partner
I have been encouraging Chrisafer's partner Bubbles to try water polo. Some people don't care for the damage you can get from rugby, and water polo is an even bigger cardiovascular challenge. Bubbles wants to get into something other than just the gym. So earlier this week he took the plunge and finally went to a practice.
I had warned him that he would be ravenously hungry after practice, and after a regular practice regimen he would be able to eat anything he wanted to, anytime. It's true, and all that'll happen is you get totally ripped. And Bubbles is already a continuously hungry person. Tuesday night I recieved a text message from him on my cell phone, typed after he went to practice:
"must. eat. everything."
And I think he did eat everything. I have not heard from Chrisafer since.
Before the practice Bubbles pondered the thought of getting Lasik so he can see better during water polo play, since you can't really wear glasses and contacts will wash out. And I am long-tired of my glasses as well. I suggested we could be like Jessica Simpson and her friend on the episode of Newlyweds: Nick and Jessica where Jessica and Casey get laser eye surgery.
Casey quotes: "Nobody wants to screw up their eyeballs...you need to see with those."
And Jessica: "Ohmigawd. I can't see."
I'd be Casey, the smart one, and Bubbles would be Jessica, the cute one.
Tip to pet owners during the Pride Festival this weekend: gay men, lesbians and everyone in between - please keep your dogs at home, don't bring them to the festival. While your dogs are very proud of you, the asphalt is very hot for their feet! I always wince when I see people with dogs on concrete in the middle of the day. Birds and reptiles, perhaps, but mammals don't do well all day out in the sun. I can barely handle it myself without a hat.
June 9, 2005
a morning with jimbo
I took some pictures yesterday of my walk to work, mostly for Mom and fans of my new U Street 'hood:
There are a lot of monuments in DC. This is the African-American Civil War Memorial located just south of U off of Vermont, which I walk past every morning to get to my Metrorail station.
This guy polishes one side of the monument every morning. Most monuments in DC are managed by the U.S. National Park Service. I coulda got a job doing park ranger stuff in DC when I got here, but historic interpretation to me isn't as interesting as environmental education.
This is my favored entrance to the U Street/African-American Civil War Memorial/Cardozo/Whatever Metrorail station on the Green line. Very few people enter thru this one. In fact, my walk to the subway is quite peaceful.
I think it is interesting that these homes abut the monument proper. I guess they have parking in back? So basically they usually enter their homes on foot via National Park Service property. They keep their homes pretty tidy.
Here's where I work out on campus at the university where I work. I prefer this gym over Washington Sports Clubs in the summer as there are fewer people there. Plus, during regular school semesters, the scenery there is too distracting for me to have a productive workout. Then I go to WSC so I can focus.
Here's my aquarium at work. The fishes you see are swordtails, and there are smaller guppies in there too. I want to get a plecostomous and a small school of angelfish. Sometimes it's distracting to watch and everyone else likes to come in and look at it and chat about it too. The white sea creature is a plastic item made with a 3-D prototype maker from our department. Like a photocopier for 3-D images made into real things. I asked the folks in the lab to make me an aquarium creature.
My boss is the chair of my department, and is a thermal management professor too. This is a representation of what he's thinking most of the time, drawn on a whiteboard. It's the type of thinking on most professors' minds where I work, so concepts like communication, aesthetic text layout, and marketing are difficult to deliver sometimes.
June 8, 2005
baseball makes me horny
Now I've had pics of this guy in my pornucopia* for years, but never knew his name until Dunner pointed him out as Geoff Jenkins of the Milwaukee Brewers, a baseball clone of Brett Favre. Dreamy, nice hair, nice clothes, killer smile, smoove moves, and it doesn't hurt that he can fly. I can't really tell what his BHI* is, but one can only hope.
I am mildly intrigued by the Brewers' sassy new logo, featuring a sheaf of grain (hops?), cuz they're brewers ya know.
Nothing else of value to write about today.
* Pornucopia: a collection of images, movies or items utilized for sexual arousal. Often found in the masturbatorium, a chamber intended for self-arousal.
* BHI: Body Hair Index - the level of body hair coating on a human. Index is scaled for the male of the species only.
June 7, 2005
Screen on Stead
This summer, The Center presents Screen on Stead - three nights of movies under the stars in Dupont Circle's Stead Park.
June 22 Mommie Dearest
July 20 The Rocky Horror Picture Show
August 17 The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert
Free admission, donations appreciated. Stead Park is located on P Street NW, between 16th and 17th Street NW. Movies begin at sundown.
I don't know who The Center is, but it looks like this is modeled after Screen on the Green, another fun (but hot) favorite thing to do in the summer here.
So my friend Mike in the DuPont/17th St. area says he heard a flyover last night at 1:15am, and looked out to see a fixed-wing fighter plane some 1000' above the cityscape, at his approximation. I also heard a big noise, as I was also up at that time and was playing on the computer (sans Internet connection...grrrr). However, I assumed it was the Crack Copter or the thunder that was going on much of the evening. Naturally, such sketchy things are not in the news at the moment. Did any of you DC people also spot/hear such a thing? Sketchy.
In unrelated vapid news: woofy shortstop breaks collarbone carrying groceries. May I help you with that bag, Sir? Hot bearded Cardinals pitcher Matt Morris. I believe my honey pot flameth out.
DC's lamely named baseball team, the Washington Nationals, is currently ranked #1 in the National League East. The Nats say "Ptttht!" and raspberry the frogs in Montreal who never believed in the Nats' incarnation as the Expos. Formerly last, now first, so there. I just wish Brad Fullmer hadn't moved to the Angels, then to the Rangers, before the Expos moved to DC. Sigh.
Last night when I got home I tried to get my mail from the upstairs foyer mailslot, for which I have a key. As I was fumbling with the lock like an arthritic granny, cute scruffy Jewishy soccer boy neighbor appears to give me aid. All smiles and cheerful, and then he offers to take me grocery shopping! Polite and helpful is hot. Swoon. He sleeps directly above me. Does the fact that this turns me on make me a perv? I am Hitler's master plan gone awry: a blue-eyed gay Aryan with Jew-lust.
Sad news with the medical marijuana ruling. While I am not a pot smoker (Please. Synthetics only.) I understand the medical needs for some people and how pot can help them. Crimeny, we drug our children and ourselves into obiesance with antidepressants, and people can't smoke pot? While pot smokers may occasionally annoy me when they can't shut the fuck up, I never met one who was aggressive or obnoxious. Jeez, all they do is yammer all day and eat lots of food, so what's the harm? This country is going down the tubes with such uptight legislations.
June 6, 2005
jimbo goes grownup shopping
I have been sharing housing situations for many years, either with roomates or exes, so when I took out my dishes from storage that had been in there since 1998 or so I looked at them and said, "No. Way." Most of those dishes were from college, stored while I was away in Peace Corps. Think 1990 through 1994 or so. And those dishes were hand-me-downs or yard sale items even before I bought them for use in undergrad. So Homer could possibly date them back to the early 80's. And like the items he digs up, they belong back in a midden somewhere.
Clearly, it was time for grown-up furnishings and kitchenware.
So this weekend Gurl and I went on a massive exhausting shopping mission both Saturday and Sunday. Saturday we did scouting missions via Metrorail, then Sunday had a Zipcar ready to pick up the chosen items. We finally came upon a decent kitchen table and 2 chairs, and lots of small items like decent pancake turners, frying pans, and outdoor pots for my back yard area.
- A small cheap clock for my computer so I don't lose track of time when I'm playing Civilization III or City of Heroes (when I get DSL).
- A complete pot set.
- I bought too much soil. I need a huge pot, at least 10 gallons, to put the soil in. And maybe a plant too.
- Ant traps. And I spotted a big fat cockroach too. I have a lot of spiders, which makes me think of Addaboy whenever I see one now. I am hoping some sort of predator/prey equilliburium will develop so I don't have to use poisons.
- A dehumidifier. Damn it gets moist down there.
- Coffee bean grinder.
- Fold-out, hide-away (deck?) chairs of wood that match my dining room chairs for use when I have 4 guests instead of the usual table setup for 2.
- Some kind of couch that will fit in my small living room. That will be tricky, as there ain't much space.
No more IKEA, no more yard sale items, no more hand-me-downs, ever.
Some plusses: I have free cable! They say the phone will be hooked up today. And Command hangers and adhesives really work! ALL HAIL GLENNALICIOUS, PATRON SAINT OF THE HAIRY-ARMED AND HANDY. I also found out that many of my walls will take a nail too.
This weekend I would like to invite the geeks over for D&D at my house. I would also like to maraud the Hunky Radiant Leprechaun.
June 3, 2005
june is gay pride month
I was just thinking that before the usual round of discussion this time of year regarding the dominance (pun indended) and percieved misrepresentation of leather and drag queens in June Gay Pride parades begins, I'd be proactive and say, "If ya don't like it get your 'normal' straight-acting masc suburban ass on a flatbed and dilute all that misrepresentation with your presence in the parade. Or shut up."
But then I realized that if the gay community were actually represented with a fair ratio of 'normal' to 'freak' in a Gay Pride parade, it would be very, very boring. That is why straight people play insturments, twirl batons and put big fuzzy marshmallows on their heads during Straight Pride parades for Thanksgiving, 4th of July and Memorial Day. If they didn't put big fuzzy marshmallows on their heads or avoid playing sousaphones, their parades would be very, very boring. Is this uniform any less silly than this one? One is made of wool and hot to wear during a summer parade, and one is of leather and is hot to wear in a different way.
Mmm...Scott Jones. What was I talking about?
Anyway, I believe that slings, wigs and dildos are the band insturments for the gay community, and drag and leather are the band uniforms for gay people for our parades. Deal with it or git yer own band uniform.
famous girly catfights
The other day I mentioned an offhand reference to Tiffany vs. Debbie (Deborah) Gibson, the classic battle of good girl versus bad girl. There have been many before and after. Now it's all about Britney vs. Christina. I think Christina will endure. Britney is already fat, smokes and has a raspy voice like Selma Bouvier Terwilliger Hutz McClure. Anyway, let's try to think of all the girly catfights in pop culture, shall we? here's what I can come up with before 10am:
Madonna vs. ? (The Universe? Cyndi Lauper?) Madonna didn't really have a nemesis, did she?
Britney vs. Christina
Tiffany vs. Debbie Gibson
Tonya Harding vs. Nancy Kerrigan
Ultrasparky vs. Glennalicious
There is a bit of an ex-roomate catfight in yesterday's comments section regarding adhesives. LOOK OUT - RUMBLE IN THE SWANKTUARY!!!
There must have been a catfight pairing in the 90's, but I can't think of one right now. I really have nothing of greater substance to say today, other than I'll be spending much of the weekend finishing unpacking (there isn't much to do after the help I got) and shopping with Gurl for a great many things.
June 2, 2005
talkin' 'bout my slacker generation
Earlier today I was ranting to my buddy Mike (at right, not woofy mike at left, or 'tard in the middle) about all this Deep Throat news, and how little I care about it, and how much I resent the whole Baby Boomer media feed that has been going on since about 1980 or so. Ever since the advent of the film The Big Chill I/we/people of my generation have had to hear over and over and over about how wonderful the Baby Boomers are ad nauseum, with a soundtrack for it to boot. Please do not ever play "Heard it Through the Grapevine" in my presence.
No wonder we were labeled as "Slackers" - we simply appeared lazy because we were running off to some corner to try to avoid hearing about the latest malady affecting the precious Baby Boomers. When our eyes were rolling to the back of our heads with disgust, it probably appeared to others that we were falling asleep.
And now we have to hear it all again with the glorious Deep Throat crap. Someone exposed corruption. Good for you. Let's move on to the current corruption affecting the people who are paying and working for the Baby Boomer's retirement. Namely: me.
I do not mean to discount the historic value Watergate or all the other momentous events that took place in that era: Vietnam, Kennedy assassination or that one muddy concert that still gets publicity. I am just saying I would like to see my generation get some credit once in a while for not having drama, and for our resilience as well.
Andrew Sullivan said it in a slightly less frothy way the other day:
"For people of my generation, this dispute will always be a little inaccessible. We came of age after the great disillusionment of the late 1960s and 1970s. Rather than disillusioned, my generation was and is, I think, merely unillusioned."
Unillusioned because we were taking care of and cleaning up things ourselves, as we do so well. As Latch-Key Kids, we were self sufficient as the Reagan economy forced our parents to both be at work, and for them to work late. I suppose when we entertained ourselves on the corners we may have in fact appeared to be Slackers. But since Clinton had done all those cutbacks to pay off Reagan's debt and there were no jobs to be had, what other passtime did we have? We had to Just Say No to some of the most tempting drugs ever made, and learn Safe Sex during some scary times. While Gen-X did not invent the Internets, we were the workhorses behind the code and the innovators for some of the better inventions from that short period. We crashed from that dot-com ride, got up and brushed ourselves off even after the twin towers fell around us.
And now we look forward to paying off an expensive war and yet another foolish Republican President's debt. Later on we will get to wipe the Baby Boomers' collective spotty asses when they retire, while supporting a feeble promise of retirement for ourselves. All this and the media still raves on and on about Baby Boomers, and not us. We have been cleaning up our own shit, we cleaned up your shit, and we'll clean up even more shit when we are old.
As Jimmy Durante once said, "I don't get no respect!" Perhaps we should be renamed Generation U, for "Unsung", J for "Janitors," or SS for "Support Staff?"
June 1, 2005
spice girls shelved
My informant Palochi tells me that The Spice Girls have now been gutted from this summer's Live Aid over the pond. Apparently they have been branded "too trivial," even though Destiny's Child has been welcomed. THERE WOULD NOT BE A DESTINY'S CHILD WITHOUT SPICE GIRLS, YOU IDIOTS! 'Girl Power' is "trivial"? Bob Geldof will pay for this transgression. He had the promise of world peace, ending hunger, and bad lyrics in his hands, and he blew it.
Stuff I need for my place:
- frying pan
- short couch or loveseat
- small kitchen table
- chairs to go with said table
- for a window without a screen, one of those screeny pop-in thingies
- a handyman with a drill
- a handyman with beefy hairy forearms and a large penis
- placemats for new table
- seat cushions for new kitchen chairs
- kitchen towels, kitchen mitt
- big fuzzy bathroom rug (small, it's a tight fit)
Long stories, but I lost a lot of stuff in the move before this, the flight from the ex's house. Plus a lot of my stuff is old, or is simply crap from IKEA. I need grownup stuff now.
And how does one hang prints on walls made of concrete? How does one make the frikkin' corners of Central Asian wool rugs stop curling up? Help, I need a Justin! It wouldn't hurt if the Queer Eye boys came over and just did it all for me.