Wednesday, May 31, 2006

When the world seems to shine like you've had too much wine

A while back I was daydreaming (pipedreaming?) about sharing coffee and biscotti with a hottie on the banks of the Arno at sunrise. I know, I know, he's outta my league. You had to burst my bubble? These are some of my favorite pictures from my trip to Firenza a few years (forever) ago. This was the view from my room. I think that's the Ponte Vecchio, but my memory is sometimes a victim of romanticism. Let's throw open the window and drink in the fresh Tuscan air, shall we? While you blow me, of course.Posted by Picasa Upon arriving in Florence, I walked up an alley to my hotel and was greeted by this view. Mmmm, carbineri. Men in uniform. On horses!? Does it get more Italian? Or more hot? This is most definitely the Ponte Vecchio. Shall we sigh together?

Aren't they a gem? I'll drink to them!

If you also read freakgirl, it's no secret that I'm a lil' obsessed with poon today. Specifically lesbian poon, actually. It's always held a certain fascination. Who doesn't love a lipstick lesbian? Oh, you're gonna judge me now? Whatev. I'm plenty gay. Anyway, add in my recent feeling that MEAT FRIDAY, while enjoyable, just isn't affording me enough opportunity to objectify celebrities, and the result is that I've decided to try out a new feature on Pipedreams: PIE WEDNESDAY. Can I get an amen? Anyone? Well, sod off wankers, I make the rules. And the inaugural pie belongs to Famke Janssen.Not a lesbian that I know of, but can you say HOT BITCH? I thought you could. I LOVED her in X-Men 3: The Last Stand this past weekend. Something tells me this won't be the last stand, though. $123 million at the box office opening weekend. That something. Where were all you freaks when I needed you for Serenity? Back to Ms Janssen. Here she is in all her glory. Famke. Famke very much. As for my dykes, allow me to paraphrase Sondheim: Here's to the ladies who munch! ::clinks glass::

Ev'ry hotsy-totsy Nazi stand and cheer

As seen at my gym today.

I am in no mood for this shit. Puke. Pre-apologies to the Catholics in the hizzay. I was one myself. What do I take from that? I like to think I abide by the few words directly attributed to the J-man himself. Don't judge. Love your neighbor as yourself. Let he who is without sin cast the first stone. What you do to the least of my brothers, you do to me. The meek shall inherit the earth. That kind of thing. Didn't he specifically say that it is not our place to judge? Even if you don't believe in any god/God/Gawd, I think those are OK words to live by. You'd think, if anyone, the German Shepherd would get that.

ADDED: Here's a church that gets it.
link via towleroad

Free, free, set them free

OK, people. Are you ready for me to get all Marlin Perkins on your asses? I know you like it when I go old school. That's right. Mutual of Omaha, bitches. Anyway, here's a lil' photo montage of my exploits in avian rescue. Enjoy. Here's my little brotha as I found him, perched on the garbage. (Bodhi, don't say I've never shown you my junk) Here he is after I nudged him, gently but firmly, toward sweet freedom.
Posted by PicasaAnd here he is free, free at last!
OK, so maybe the gaping garage door hole was only about 20 feet away, and maybe my intentions weren't entirely altruistic (I just washed my car, yo!), and never mind that I later almost ran him over with the lawn mower, still, aren't you proud of me?

ADDED (next day): Ummm, this little story has suddenly become way too circle of life for me. RIP little fella.

Tuesday, May 30, 2006

It's one life and there's no return and no deposit

I'm sure he won't mind, given the divine picture he's posted, if I tell you that it's Michael Guy's birthday today, y'all! Head on over to Temporary Trouble Spots and wish him well. While you're there, read some of his musings on life. He's the real deal, folks. I regurgitate showtune lyrics while he brings it with his unique thoughts and sentiments. He'll make you laugh and cry in equal measure. OK, mostly laugh, but a tear or two slid down my cheek this morning, Demi-in-Ghost-style.

Friday, May 26, 2006

When I think about you, I touch myself

In honor of Jared Leto pronouncing his gayitude (and before he retracts it), I'm offering up one of my favorite quotes from the show that made me pine for him as much as Angela did.
Sometimes it seems like we're all living in some kind of prison, and the crime is how much we all hate ourselves. It's good to get really dressed up once in a while and admit the truth -- that when you really look closely, people are so strange and so complicated that they're actually beautiful. Possibly even me.
The quote is from Angela and not Jordan, as you know. But she was the heart and soul of the show, plus Jordan never really made any sense, did he? Just stuff like this:
Jordan: Why are you like this?
Angela: Like what?
Jordan: Like how you are.
Angela: How am I?
Ahhhh Angela, you did earnest right. Not like that doe-eyed atrocity, Jennifer Love Hewitt.

When my baby smiles at me I go to Rio

Lately I've been starting the meat posts by saying, "Have I done him before?". Well this time I actually checked, and I haven't. Dudes, I'm plotzing because this guy is my husband. Seriously, I loves me some Hugh Jackman. Don't nobody better say anything bad about Hugh Jackman. {{So, do you think he's a big ol' bearded flamer like they say?}}In my mind, he can do no wrong. He's huge and he's kinda hairy and he's got that accent and he's charming and he even made fucking Kate and Leopold watchable, people. That's a powerful gift. And although I didn't see the show, only clips, when he danced and preened and pranced across the stage as Peter Allen in The Boy From Oz, he stole my heart for good. He needs no adornments, he just gets better with age, but I probably would drizzle him with a little extra virgin olive oil and maybe add a pinch of kosher salt. It's FRIDAY and he's the MEAT, y'all. And he's my boo.I hope to catch him in X-Men 3 this weekend. Thought I'd go today, but events have conspired against me. Oh well, a gay subtext underscores every word out of my mouth in real life, I guess I can wait one more day to for a like-minded cinematic experience.

Thursday, May 25, 2006

When will my reflection show who I am inside?

I lied a lot today, and guys, it's wearing my ass out. Maybe it's my fast approaching birthday that has me so prickly, or maybe it's just as Robbie says: You see the problem with me, I've got a head full of fuck. I know I go on about this, but you're my outlet, so love me or leave me. Back to the lies. That lack of honesty that pervades aspects of my life is fucking killing me. Every day I say things that are contrary to what I'm actually feeling. The opposite of what is in my head. It's a part I play. I can fool you. Or am I fooling myself? I started this blog last year and I was talking about the same damn thing. Age is just a number, of course, but it's a marker. I'm not afraid of getting old. I welcome it. I hate the number because it marks another year when I haven't sacked up and made the right changes. Ummm....I guess that's all. Even when I'm all pissy and conflicted like I am today, I can still smile at casting myself as fucking Mulan. Reflection lyrics. Heh. It's the Gemini in me. Having a lucky cricket sidekick would be awesome, though. Oh and that birthday? June 10. Gifts are now being accepted.Mostly this random babble is about marking time and making changes and being true...standing in my truth, bitch, as freakgirl says. But I guess part of it is about aging and was triggered by a lady who just left my office. She said she was trying to figure out which of us is older. She is only 47 and I'm about to be 41 (yeah, you heard me), a blink of the eye, I'll admit, but fuck me, sister looks like she been rode hard and put up wet. My reflection may not show who I am inside, but it does show a damn sight better than her mullet-having, tracksuit-wearing, onion-smelling ass.

Do I sound kinda bitter? Fucking 41. Brotha Mike needs to sack up, right? If bitter, it's directed inward. Well, mostly. Bitch was trippin'.

Added: Guys, WHILE I was just responding to comments, my phone rang. It was a woman who works for me. She and her husband are going to Chicago in July. Wants me to go with. Maybe see a show. Do some shopping. And oh, she has a sister who lives there. A nurse. She's 39. Lives downtown. I said, "Let me think about it." The fuck? Are the fates hitting me with anvils now? You might know I'd love to make a Chicago trip this summer, but my pursuits would be more aligned with these.

Wednesday, May 24, 2006

I've created my own prison

It's been a while since we shared a poem. What's that? Too soon? Oh, relax. This one speaks to one of my recurrent themes. You know the one: trapped in a prison of my own design. Yeah, that one that I'm always yammering about. Part of my own private prison has a closet, but that's not the part this poem addresses. It's the part where we can be trapped by our comfort, both our possessions and also the familiarity and ease of just doing the same things we've always done. Anyway, it's by Theodore Roethke. Hope you likey.
The Reckoning

All profits disappear: the gain
Of ease, the hoarded, secret sum;
And now grim digits of old pain
Return to litter up our home.

We hunt the cause of ruin, add,
Subtract, and put ourselves in pawn;
For all our scratching on the pad,
We cannot trace the error down.

What we are seeking is a fare
One way, a chance to be secure:
The lack that keeps us what we are,
The penny that usurps the poor.
For those of you not down with the verse, I have something else. It feels kind of cruel to make a stand-alone post about it, so I'll append it here. Remember a few weeks back when my Andy was the MEAT? A few of us were discussing his mother, Gloria Vanderbilt, and her preternatural preservation, as depicted in a Details magazine photo. Well, yesterday A. Coop was on Oprah plugging his book (dirty?) and who should show up along with but Momma Gloria V. I'll just say it. Her face is WRECKED, yo. They can do tricks with photographs, but videotape don't lie. OK, videotape is harsh, but this woman's face looks like a leering skull, only with puckers. Seriously, her skin is stretched so tight that she has these pleats next to her nose. And her face does not move. Only her eyes. It's like she's one of those paintings in a haunted house. And don't get me started on her teeth. She seemed really sweet, if that counts for anything. Oh, and Xiaoxia, if you're around here, Anderson described one of his early floppy coiffures as "Flock of Seagulls hair." It's time to face the music, darlin'.

The cinder or the shiny apple of its eye

So now my running shoes will be able to talk to me via a wireless link to my Nano. You'll have to excuse me for a moment. I just split my shorts.

So. yeah, I'm a gadget whore. I'm owning it. I'm standing in my truth, bitches.

Tuesday, May 23, 2006

Shot through the heart

See this? This is targeted advertising, my friend. Knowing your audience. Stay tuned for my review within hours of the opening showing.

There's music in the air and lots of lovin' everywhere

This is my current background screen at work. Love this shot from outside the Uffizi Gallery in Florence. Inside each column is a statue of a famous Florentine. At least I think they are all Florentines. I have a favorite photo of ME standing under Michelangelo. Anyway, it's perty, ain't it?

We're all mad in our own way

This whole gay marriage thing has me thinking. I know I should want it. Equal rights. Blah blah blah. The thing is, I'm just starting to expand my circle of friends beyond straight, married couples with children. So now are all the gay ones gonna bore my ass to tears, too? What's that? No, no, I'm not talking about you, dear. You're the exception. I LOVE the scintillating tales of backstabbing drama from your little angel's soccer league.

Added: OK, OK, to all the Married With Children out there (Are you? Out there, I mean?), of course I kid. I'll be the first to admit the strong feelings evoked in me from watching Will and Vince during the Will and Grace finale. Sure, the strongest feeling was the desire to fuck Vince, but I also had a covetous pang about their family unit. Again, not as strong as my covetous pang about Vince's unit, but there was a pang. I could be a good daddy, right?

Confession Added: Alright, I've always had a song picked out for that first wedding dance. Is that so wrong? For the longest time it was Anita Baker's You Bring Me Joy (still LOVE it) but now it's Stevie Wonder's Ribbon In The Sky. Mmmmm.

What's new, Pussycat?

Oooh, this is my song du jour, and thanks to inspiration from the man who leaks Dolce & Gabbana, I have to try sharing the video with you. Fair warning, though. If you're anything like me, you'll be tossing your panties onstage before it's over.

Stoned In Love by Chicane (ft. Tom Jones)

And while we're on the music tip, have you picked up the May Mix over at Lots of Co. yet? Why the hell not? It's chock full of Maxity goodness, kids.

Monday, May 22, 2006

Hey! You! Get offa my cloud!

When I'm at work, I have to be ON. No choice. Only it's not always my nature. I'm a Gemini. Things can turn on a dime. For years now, too many to count, I've been able to passably fake it. More than passably, actually. You'd marvel at my skillz. Lately though, when I have a break for a few minutes, I don't want anyone all up in my grille. I want to be able to walk into my space, announce "I can see you!" or "I'm entering!" Karen Walker-stizz, and have the help scatter. Is that terrible? I'm getting old and I need some DOWN time, guys.

Thanks for listening.

Spring is here again, reproductive glands

 I awakened this morning to find my hibiscus in full bloom. Just for you! Posted by Picasa

Sunday, May 21, 2006

So thanks for the cheer

Will and Grace is over, y'all. I'm missing it already. C'mon! It was funny! And it was very, very gay. Even if there was barely any boys kissing or anything. Queer As Folk is gone. Six Feet Under is gone. It'll be months before Project Runway comes back. There's no good gay left on television! What's that? Well, yeah, there's Ryan Seacrest, but I said good gay.

What did you think of the finale? I thought it was very well done. Fitting end. Listen in as Karen suggests that Jack, if he stands to make millions, will take a few rides on that miniature pony, Beverly Leslie:

Jack: I can't do it!
Karen: Oh, you'll do it. You'll do it the same way any other self-respecting woman does: Get on your back, point your heels to Jesus, and think of handbags.

Word. I'd substitute "shoes" for "handbags", but otherwise.

Each heart longing for its home

Wanderlust is gonna fucking kill me. Curse you TiVo (and of course, bless you!) for recording Samantha Brown chirping her way across Spain, Madrid specifically. Samantha really is kinda cute cute, isn't she? In a woodland creature kind of way. But I could do her job better with Esteban tied behind my back. Lord, I just wanna spend a day wandering around the Prado. Come with?Part of it (the wanderlust) is my own damn fault. I ordered Mr. TiVo to record Three Coins in the Fountain. The fountain in question is the Trevi, of course, and I was in love with this movie from the opening tableau of ALL the fountains of Rome. Then when that cad Prince Dino de Cessi shows up, played by a young and yummy Louis Jourdan, I was really hooked. His performance almost makes me forget his campy turn as Count Dracula. Almost. His Dracula is actually worth catching, if only for the scene where he crawls up the castle wall. Instead of actual crawling, though, he busts out a spastic fish out of water-esque flopping move. A hoot. But back to Three Coins , there is the memorable line near the end that seals it for me. The line that hearkens to the theme that I've been revisiting lo these many months. It's uttered by Dorothy McGuire as Miss Frances, the loyal secretary who's secretly in love with her boss, the famous author John Frederick Shadwell (Clifton Webb). When her hopes of finally having a future with him are dashed by his diagnosis with a terminal illness, she drunkenly exhorts a young boy playing with his toy boat on the edge of a fountain: "Bambino! Don't hug the shore with it. Be reckless! You've got your whole life ahead of you. See what the world is like!" Indeed.

Anyway, summer vacation anyone? Where shall we go?

It's high time you joined in the dance

This week I shan't wait until Wednesday to dole out morsels from the weekend. Not that anything momentous occurred. I did take Saturday off, so I had an actual weekend. I know I was just on vacation a month ago (exactly a month, I note, since my menatplay subscription expired today), but I needed a break. People were ghastly last week. Here's to a fresh new start tomorrow! ::clink::

Friday was Haircut Day and that's always good. That was followed by an evening trolling from loft to Open House loft, with a few bar stops interspersed, as beautiful downtown Dayton, Ohio was hosting one of its Urban Nights. The lofty spaces were typically high-ceilinged with exposed beams and plumbing. Hence the name, I suppose. I used to think I'd love a space like that, but the more I looked, the more they felt kind of sterile to me. A few were warmed up a touch, but as I get older, I want cozier. Nesty. I don't need much space. I have way more than I need now and I have this urge to purge belongings and simplify. We'll see.

Saturday's highlight came early. I've mentioned running recently. I've rekindled my love of it, after a brief lapse. I haven't run any races in quite some time, though. Saturday I did a 5K. Despite my lack of speed training, no intervals or fartlek or tempo runs, I did OK...for a man of my vintage. Is that enough qualifications for you? 21:10 for the 5K. Not stellar, I know, but since it was a small race, it was good enough to win my age group, hence the medal pictured. See the masks of comedy and tragedy? So totally appropriate for me, Gemini to my bone, that those should be depicted. I was feeling frisky earlier and almost posted a cheesy picture of my naked torso wearing only the medal, kinda like this guy did with his: Posted by PicasaThen discretion took over and I didn't.

When you give it to me, give it to me raw, no OJ, no straw

Man, I'm having a lazy Sunday. For proof, look no further than my recent analysis of the Q-tips box, which comes with a disclaimer, y'all. To wit:
WARNING: Do not insert swab into ear canal. Entering the ear canal could cause injury. If used to clean ears, stroke the swab gently around the outer surface of the ear only. Keep out of reach of children.
Who are they kidding with this shit? I don't know about you, but I don't buy Q-tips to detail the grout around the tub and I certainly don't dust musical instruments with them. So let's get down to the nitty gritty, shall we? If you've been around here long, you know plenty about my borderline obsessive personal hygiene proclivities, so you may as well know this: I am a Q-tips hog, people. Do I dare to enter my ear canal, you ask? Fuck yeah. Dude, I usually feel violated after. But in a good way. I don't do myself jailhouse-style, though. I lube it up with some mineral oil and go to town, muthafuckas.

So, now the question is this: can I get more mundane? Stick around. I'm just getting started. And while we're on the Q-tips tip (hee), be careful if you Google Image search for these wee swabs. It's a great big wild world out there and not for the faint of heart.

Come to my window

C'mon into my cozy sunroom. In case you've ever wondered, when I'm blogging, often this is the spot. Jimjams on, bare feet on ottoman, laptop and TiVo fired up.....did you just contentedly sigh, too? Posted by Picasa
PS Yes, the fig tree is silk. Fucking sue me. Those things are a bitch to care for when you don't really care to. Care for them, I mean. The peace lily is real at least, bitch.

Good love is when I'm feeling stoned in love

Mmmmm, is there anything better than when you discover something delicious that's been there all along? I've had XM radio in my car for over two years now. Of late, I haven't listened much, mostly suckling from the teat of my iTunes downloads. So I guess that's kinda orally aural, isn't it? Well, the other night I was driving home and started surfing through my XM presets. I had been marginally aware of U-Pop, but never realized what a savory nugget I'd been overlooking. On first tuning back in, it was an auspicious beginning: Sin, Sin, Sin by He To Whom I've Erected Many A Shrine (aka Robbie Williams). And then it never let up for 50 miles. Who else is loving Stoned In Love by Chicane/Tom Jones? Anyone hating it? I had my laptop tuned into U-Pop all morning for the Sunday paper and coffee ritual. Oh, and speaking of a newly discovered delicacy that's been there all along, if you're out there, thanks for chatting me up, darling. I can prolly pull my drawers back up now.

Friday, May 19, 2006

When I look to the sky

When I was parking at the salon, this was the view through my sunroof. Pretty sweet pic for a phone camera, methinks.

When the stars make you drool like a pasta fagiole

Oh, I know what'll make me feel better. It's Haircut Day! If you're wondering why we're not synched up anymore, I've gone to three week intervals. Nothing to do with the coiffure, the change was purely for psychological reasons. Oh, and meat. Meat will make me feel better. We must find solace where we can, people. There's no one more deserving of the Friday honors than this big, juicy meatball:It's Friday. He's Bobby Cannavale. Forks up. Mmmmm, now that's a meal, right? And you're not finished until you've sopped up every last drop with a biscuit. If you watched the Will and Grace finale last night, you know that Bobby's character, Vince, figured prominently. I know a lot of you abandoned that show years ago, but I'll miss it dearly. Even though it's waned recently, they still managed to fire off a few lines every episode that had me chortling. Or at least barking a "Ha!". Anyway, as if Bobby's looks are not enough (and they are...they so totally are), he's also played fetchingly gay on a number of occasions. I'm easily, pathetically charmed by that. Oh, and he's had at least two roles in uniform, paramedic and cop. You know, just a lil' FYI because I hear there are those who find that interesting and I'm here for you.

Hey pretty, don't you wanna take a ride with me?

Hey Pretty. Anyone remember that Poe song? I used to LOVE the remix version where her brother is dubbed in spouting his ridiculous poetry/prose. So cheesy. So good. Made me horny in the shower this a.m.. Here's a bit of her brother's (Mark Danielewski)stuff. Pronouns have been changed for my own prurient benefit.

Positioning my fingers on the shiny metal tab, small and round, like a tear,
Then murmuring a murmur so inaudible that even though I could feel his lips tremble against my ear, he seemed far, far away
Pinch it, he said, which I did, lightly, until he also said pull it, which I also did, gently parting the teeth, one at a time, down under and beneath, the longest unzipping of my life...
Then came Eve. Let Me Blow Ya Mind. Eve and Gwen are a heady mix, no question, but not necessarily bonerific, unless you get a little backstory. Remember that internet porn guy? Malcolm was used to jackin' for beats but I sometimes paid him to get aggressive and throw shit around. Remember him? Cabbage for wildin' seemed like a fair trade for both of us. Anyway, there was this one time when it was a little more overtly sexual. He was naked when I arrived. Eve came over the PA. I had him put his leather jacket back on. Cool black motocross one. Had him dance. He ended up putting three or four fingers up, which I didn't even ask for. How sweet is that?

SO, long story long, between these two songs, I pulled a nice one off in the shower. Don't worry, though. If you ever stay over, I have a nice guest bath. Plus, if you wanna use mine, I've been utilizing this.

The morning jerk usually perks me right up. So why am I in such a FOUL MOOD? The Cubans aren't due to be shaved for a few more weeks, so that won't help. What am I supposed to do now?

Wednesday, May 17, 2006

No one's gonna love you like me

An overbearing mother and a distant father is the recipe for gay. That's so old school, right? Well, you wouldn't know it by me. Spot on. Still, I love, love, love my mother. So unusual to hear that from a big homo, right? Heh. Honestly, she is the sweetest thing. And she'd do anything for me. Anything. She's got the bodies in her crawlspace to prove it. So as a token of my appreciation, I threw together a little pretty for her front porch (dirty?). It looks like this:Also, although I don't generally cook and I never bake, I made her this straight from the kitchens of Freakgirl and Dole:What? Oh, hell no, I didn't actually make the shortcake. I got it here. But I did stir together all those (3) filling ingredients. And...errrr...washed the strawberries. Now that's love, right? The cake was delish, btw.

So today I got an email from her. I'm sharing it with you.
Hi Sweets,
Thanks for all the work you put in Sunday. I love the flowers and the angel food cake and you. Can Dad and I come in sometime to put out your patio furniture and grill, etc.?
Thanks again for the great Mother's Day. I still have a sick feeling on that day. I miss my mom so much even after all these years. She just was a nice lady and I miss talking to her. Mom and I went through so much together from the time I was a little girl.
Love you, Mom
See? Sweetest thing ever. Sounds a little disjointed, I know, but that's totally how she thinks. And talks. And she's right. Her mother was an angel straight from heaven who raised four girls on her own when her husband was always out partying. Never heard the first complaint from her. I miss her too, even though she could be a big pain in the ass sometimes. I said she never complained. I never said she didn't have a fucking laundry list of chores for me all summer long.

Tuesday, May 16, 2006

I'm not gonna stand here and wait

I saw United 93 on Saturday night. I'll start with a confession. Had MI-3 been starting when I showed up at the theater, I'd have seen that. I knew United 93 would be harrowing. It was. My chest is tight even now thinking about it. Still, I'm so glad I watched it. It's easily one of the best things I've seen this year. I won't say that you should see it, or enter into the discussion of whether it's "too soon" or not. I do feel like, through seeing this movie, I have a better understanding of the events that occurred on one of the most important days in history that I've actually lived. And United 93, to my relief, doesn't editorialize. This movie just lays out the timeline and the facts, straight up. In some ways it feels like a documentary. You follow along as people go to the airport, wait at the gate, and board the plane. It seem like every other trip you've made to the airport. And there's an overwhelming feeling of dread, because it does feel so familiar, and because you know what they don't.

United 93 doesn't try to inflate these people into overblown heroes, either. Again, to my great relief. To my mind, that doesn't serve them, or us, well. It only removes them from normal and identifiable existence when they are normal people, just like us, who are thrust into extraordinary circumstances. We see how they react. We think about how we'd react. We see the terrorists, too. We follow their path to the plane as well. They are extremists, they are murderers, but they are also people with families and lives and hopes and fears. Please don't interpret that as apologizing for what they did. I think it helps to see.

There was a particular scene that struck me. It won't spoil anything because we all know from the cockpit recordings and passenger phone calls that there were desperate prayers being said all over the plane. Prayers to different gods. Whose god answered? My lasting impression from this movie is that there is no answer from gods. Gods are the problem.

Turn you upside down, don't wanna waste it

So often I ask for your advice and opinions around here. I figure I should offer some of my pearls of wisdom from time to time. I think I'll call them...ummmm.... Mike's Pearls of Wisdom. Collect them all and it'll be like I've given you a nice pearl necklace, darling.

Sure you like it plain, but try drizzling it with extra virgin olive oil, add a dash of kosher salt, and it'll be like a whole new party in your mouth.

Time keeps on slippin', slippin', slippin'

I mentioned it at the start of the season, but maybe you're new around here. If you're watching 24, head on over to my posts at Too Much Free Time and discuss! It's been a stellar season of one of my favorite shows. If you haven't been watching, why the hell not? And please, if you're gonna say, "Oh, I don't watch TV", just save it and go make a craft.This picture is of Jean Smart who is brill in her role this season as First Lady Martha Logan. She's a mascara-smeared, pill-popping, boozing, emotional wreck. Genius, y'all. Behind her is Secret Service agent Aaron Pierce. Sparks have been flying between these two and I'm loving every minute of it. Yeah, he'd like to be at her secret service alright. Hell, I would. Her boobs have me enthralled.

Sunday, May 14, 2006

A little voice inside my head said, "Don't look back. You can never look back."

I don't know, guys. Against my better judgment, I think I'm gonna be seen in these at some point. There's no actual age restriction printed on them, MPAA-style, but is there a commonly held guideline I should be made aware of? Or is it one of those "if you have to ask" deals that seem to thwart me at every turn?

Friday, May 12, 2006

Whispers at the bus stop

Oh my. Where are my manners? Grandma would be mortified, were she not already rigor mortised. It's after noon and I have yet to offer you some meat. Why the delay? I was doing a little self-google-desktop search to see if I'd previously featured Mr. Anderson Cooper on MEAT FRIDAY. Turns out he's been oft-discussed, like when I mentioned him as the seed for why I'm horny for hurricanes. Or when I fantasized about Sanjay Gupta and I being the bread for an Anderson sandwich. But I couldn't find him on the MEAT roster. I really should keep one of those to save time. Who the hell cares anyway, right? Who deserves the Meat Redux more than the man who nightly brings the Blue Steel to CNN?360 degrees, indeed. Who else would gladly go around the world with/on A-Coop? And yes, yes, he's nearly 40
::gasps from the twinkophiles:: but I promise that eventually, once again, youth will be served. As meat. Just not yet. Cuz right now, as has been apparent with my posts of late, nearly 40 is at the low end of my target demographic, or rather, the demographic that hits my target. Oh, and you know he's gay, right? Gay Sean Hayes-stizz, though. I'm not sure what I think about that. Is it just keeping one's private life private or is it being unnecessarily obtuse for some other purpose? Anyway, he's the HAWTNESS and he's the MEAT. Seriously, he covered Katrina with storm effluvia up to his knees, but he was wearing Prada up to his neck. Love.Special thanks to freakgirl for the suggestion. Gay guys, straight girls, we all love him.