How does it feel like to let forever be?

Here at Pipedreams, it's not only about beefcake and bon mots, people. We're here to serve as well, and in light of that we offer this link to a number of simple, informative online tests that assess your health. They are very easy, kinda fun, and may help you get a handle on your current physical and mental state. Mine were mostly good. Mostly. Damned if that niggling mood disorder didn't wreak havoc with my G.P.A. once again. Devil! Anyway, have at it.

As part of my ongoing quest to optimize my fitness, it's HAIRCUT DAY today. What? A day at the spa is as good as therapy. Oh, and I'll finally be getting that pedicure I tried to schedule last month. I get off on denial, so it'll be that much better for the wait.

Added: I thought I'd pass along a little update from my Salon Day. My first pedicure? Divine. Or, to borrow a word from my new taste and style sensei: divoon! And I know it's already the weekend Down Under and the Aussies have left the building, but Bodhi, the nail specialist was the most delightful 21 y.o. man/boy with highlights, jewelry and tattoos in the most pleasing combination. Think Justin's violin playing sweetie from Season 2.

Burn, burn like a wicker cabinet

If you’ve been hanging around here very long you’ve noticed that normally I prefer my MEAT marbled. I may not love chunk to the degree this guy does, but I like a lil’ fat on it. Oh, and I also like it aged and....errrr....oh fuck it, I like it older and a bit hairy and hyper-masculine. ::sigh:: Sorry, but these MEAT metaphors are wearing me out, y’all. So it’s MEAT FRIDAY again, and...... I’m gonna go against everything I just said. Again (see yesterday's models). Like those runway models, this guy is younger and he’s hairless and he’s very pretty. In honor of seeing Superman Returns this weekend, I had considered Mr. Brandon Routh. But instead, we’re feasting on a supporting cast member. He’s James Marsden and he’s the MEAT. I love him in the X-Men movies. Is it weird that I really get off on the idea of Cyclops burning me to a cinder?James is currently working on Enchanted, a Disney movie that combines live action and CGI stuff. That’s not normally a formula that would excite me, but the cast also includes Susan Sarandon, Patrick Dempsey, and Idina Menzel (!). Oh, and I know a girl who’s been hired to sing for it. Yay!

So sexy it hurts

Yes, I realize it's not Friday. I'm teetering on the precipice of manic-depression, but I'm not crazy. Who says we can only look at pretty men on Meat Friday? Oh. I guess I kind of did. Well, I'm tired of playing by the rules of someone else's game. Oh wait. I just said it was my game. Call me crazy, then. I'd be in good company. My saintly grandma did two stints in the nut hatch and she came out a better woman each time. I have the pottery and woven crafts to prove it. RIP, Lizzy.These pics are from the recent Spring 2007 show of DSquared2, designed by the hotty Canadian twin Caten brothers. Honestly, one word is sexier than the next in that phrase, isn't it? You know I love a man in a suit. I also love a man out of a suit, a man in shorts, and a man in minimalist swimwear. Of course these bodies do not occur in nature. Duh. That's the best part. A special note should be made of this guy's fabulous shoes.Methinks someone is so ahead of the curve. We'll close with the money shot, which actually started the show. ::ring, ring:: "Hello, Marketing? Yeah, that target you were looking for? Bulls-eye."link via Queerty

I'm not meant to live alone

If you've been around here long, you've heard me go on ad nauseum about selling my house and making a new start far, far away from here. You won't be surprised to hear that you're not the only one who has to listen to it. I tell anyone I can pin down for a few minutes. So last night my phone rang. It was a cold call from a friend of a friend of a client who heard I might want to sell my house. They are moving here within the next few weeks and really want to look at my place. So I guess this is where we see if I really mean business, huh?

Ain't she sweet?

Here's another pretty for you. I have a pair of these greeting me every day by the garage doors when I get home from work. I used to fret about being too precious and girly with these pots, being the mui macho single stud that I am, but then decided this style fits so well with the house and garden and neighborhood that I should just embrace my yin/English cottage bad self. Yin is the female side, right? Oh yeah, that's right. Yang rhymes with whang. Where was I? Oh, my house is kinda traditional ranch-y from the front, so these fit, and kind of glass and patios California-style from the back, so I do more simple things back there. Anyway, sweet, no?
ADDED: Speaking of sweet, I was just watering those roses I showed you a few days ago, when I looked up and saw this little guy (click to enlarge the cuteness).I think he's a baby turtle dove. Normally, I'm not a big fan of them (to me they are a spare step below pigeons/rats on the Nuisance Fauna Scale), but I must admit the wee version is adorable. All together now: "Awwwww!"

Love how she shimmers, the way she shines

Normally I am very open to you expressing your opinions about my likes and dislikes. I welcome it. Well, today is a little different. I still welcome your feedback, but....ummmmm.....tread lightly, bitches. This is my queen. The apple (PIE) of my eye. She's Steffi Graf and she is a goddess walking amongst us. Don't get me wrong, I realize she's not the most gorgeous thing to trod the earth, or even a tennis court for that matter, but she is and always was full of class, dignity, grit, tenacity, spirit, and joy. And just try to tell me you wouldn't kill for those legs. She has tennis accomplishments that are unparallelled.She won 22 Grand Slam singles titles, which is just insane. 22. Six French, four Australian, seven Wimbledon and five US championships. Not only that, but she won the Grand Slam, which is winning all four major tournaments in the same calendar year. Only one other woman in the history of the sport has done that. She gilded that Grand Slam by winning the Olympics that same year so they had to make up a name for it: the Golden Slam. She retired while she was still near the top of her game, and unlike so many sports stars, she stayed retired. She receded from a public life, married fellow tennis legend, Andre Agassi, and she seems to be involved in some commendable charitable work. Oh, and she's a mommy of two. LOVE. HER. I think the cuteness in her lap makes this week's serving PIE ala mode.

No burden is he to bear

Have you read about the latest gay study? Apparently, the more older brothers you have, the more likely you are to be gay. Significantly, the statistics held for biological brothers raised apart, but not for genetically unrelated brothers raised together. It's another argument that queers are born and not raised. It's something we know, but I think the validation is a good thing. You? Do you feel it's helpful or necessary? How about we do our own little informal study? If you're gay, what was your sib situation? I'll start. I have one older brother, but the study indicates that they counted gestations (to include pregnancies ending early or with stillbirth, if the sex of the baby was known) and not just births, so in that case I have two. The reason they did this is because they feel that a mother's immune system may play a part in creating the gay. It recognizes a male fetus as "foreign" and may react to it more strongly with each exposure/gestation, possibly affecting the fetus' brain chemistry or development. If you care to share your family situation, get comment-y, yo.

I'm thinking maybe six feet ain't so far down

OK, this is the last time you'll have to hear about it. I finally (finally!) finished the last season of Six Feet Under last weekend. I had planned to parse it out over a few weeks, thereby extending the farewell, and the enjoyment. Heh. I watched it in 3-4 days. I know that for those who watched it as broadcast it's been almost a year now, but humor me a little, won't you? See how I pretended that this whole damn blog isn't an exercise in humoring me? I'll just say it, guys. This was the best, most satisfying series finale I've ever seen. And that for a series that is easily in my Top Five All-Time (and mightily wrestling for the number one spot). The finale was wonderful--joyful, sad, tragic, quirky, human, fantastical....fitting. And it allowed me to bawl without apology because this was real stuff (unlike when I get manipulated to tears by those bastards at Extreme Home Makeover...which I refuse to watch anymore...I feel soiled after). I loved every episode of the final season, but a post about those would go on and on. A few highlights from the finale:

• Ruth and George come to a prickly understanding. Ruth is unconsolable, but George asks to hold her and he sighs deeply as she lets him. Maybe it wasn't love anymore, but it was something they both needed. Is it wrong that I'd settle for that right now? And don't you think Frances Conroy has a bit of genius? The whole SFU cast is amazing, but she did some crazy shit and yet it was unerringly believable.
  
• David and Keith come to a prickly understanding with each other and their kids. Only with these two, you can really feel the love, and David wouldn't be an easy guy to love, would he (I)? They understand each other's fears better (as a couple and a family) and come to some acceptance. But they are still kids and parents, rude and flawed and real.
• Claire's boyfriend. Ummm....YUM! Who else wants to snack on some Ted? I keep coming back to that scene when Ted takes his naked walk to bed and then he and Claire pose and play with the camera. Divine. The lighting, the white sheets, the quick cuts showing the camera shots of their faces-- I loved it.
  
• Brenda's baby is healthy. She, like David, overcomes her demons. I always assumed that the ghosts in this series were actually manifestations of the fears of the haunted. I re-watched this episode with Alan Ball's commentary and was really interested to hear him say that explicitly. Oh, and baby-wise, I love that they started this final episode with a birth instead of a death.
• David's demon being himself and when he's exorcised it, he wakes to see Nate with the sweetest smile ever.
  
• The closing Breathe Me segment with Claire driving and the montage of the future and each family member's death was brilliant. I couldn't have loved it more. Just perfect. I cried and laughed and cried again in the span of a few moments. Did I already say it was perfect? Oh, and one of David and Keith's boys is gay and has a cute Asian boyfriend. Yay!
  

I've loved, loved, loved other television shows, sure. I've lamented a show's end and missed the characters like I'm missing friends. Yep. But nothing like this. I've never before had such a strong connection to fictional characters (Television characters, anyway. Books are another story). Call me crazy, but I've been mourning their loss the last few days. I can't quite believe I'll get no more peeks into their lives. At the same time, this finale makes me glad I won't. Fitting, satisfying and oddly, comforting. Now I may just have to begin again. Cue Season One. I promise not to talk about it.

Then I'm glad to be back in my own little corner

You are a Social Liberal (73% permissive) and an... Economic Liberal (23% permissive) You are best described as a: Strong Democrat Link: The Politics Test on Ok Cupid Also: The OkCupid Dating Persona Test

link via the lovely and talented J Go

To me you're like a growing addiction that I can't deny

Here are a few blooms from around Casa ME. I often dream of purging all this and getting a tiny apartment in a vibrant city. Would I miss the gardening? I don't know. I don't think so. I'd adapt. I'd fill up my life with other things. I think. Devil! Damn my indecisiveness. Below are the shrub roses I planted a couple years ago. They are just coming into their own, but this pic misses the peak blooms. They were GORGEOUS last week. Still perty, no? The coreopsis pictured above is spreading like mad underneath my bathroom window. To get the full splendour, you should join me for some champagne and a soak in the garden tub. They look best in the late afternoon sun. So it could be after. Oh, and did you see Mr. Buzzy who flew in just as I snappped the pic?
 

ADDED: That's my yard in the picture, but the house is the neighbor's.

Take me through the darkness to the break of day

There's a Latin phrase used in legal circles: res ipsa loquitur. It means "the thing speaks for itself". I think it applies here.But you know me and you know I have to throw my two cents in. My two cents amounts to three words: Queer. Jewish. Ballerina. 'Nuf said, right? Belly up to the buffet, boys and girls. It's FRIDAY. He's Genre coverboy Micky Friedmann (aka the MEAT).

If you need me, let me know

I've had a traumatic week. Guys, I left my neti pot in Detroit. Not as lyrical as leaving one's heart in San Francisco, but surely as poignant. If you're not an afficionado of the nasal douching, you don't know how huge this is. And it's totally irresponsible (are you sitting?), but I did not have a back-up pot. I know. Reckless! But with today's mail, comes sweet relief. He came. Look at that spout, will you? Just the angle to hit my spot. Also, stainless steel for easy and hygienic clean-up, and who would argue against easy and hygienic being the twin totems when it comes to clean-up? I can hardly wait to break him in.My other current love, in lieu of some olive-skinned confection in jeans and barefeet, is the coffee you see before you. Seriously, as I sit here typing, just thinking about deeply inhaling that fresh bag has me tumescent. No, really, I had to re-adjust the laptop. I've used it for both espresso and for drip coffee, and it never disappoints me. It's warm and rich and nutty....full-bodied....complex and hearty....versatile and well-rounded. Ummm, if you'll excuse me for a moment.

When the rain washes you clean you'll know

A great and terrible storm ripped through here yesterday. I had no power at work for a few hours. I haven't been LOVING work as it is, but with no lights, no A.C., no radio.....dude, you have to focus on the people. No. Power was eventually restored, the workday was done, and I returned to the twisty-laned environs of my suburban tract. All seemed well. Or, all seemed Pleasantville. Then as I cozied in to munch on my big salad and catch up on hours (hours!) of lost internet time, the bottom dropped out. No cable. The fuck? What am I gonna do now? Clean? Read? So I whacked it and then continued devouring the final season of SFU (haven't I been talking about watching that for like a year now?). And promptly fell asleep. So now it's 4:00 am. I've been up for about a half hour. Wanna hear about my dream? There was this huge old house and I may have been living there, but it felt like I was visiting. There were a bunch of people I know there as well. I didn't feel a particularly strong connection to any of them. The house was completely white, but not sleek, contemporary white. More like everything is crappy old so let's whitewash it and hope nobody notices white. It looked kinda cool on the surface, but it was rotting underneath. There were rooms where the floors were all bowed and would give a little under your feet. The wiring was all buzzily haphazard. Oh, and there was this thing where you could slowly, almost imperceptibly, become trapped there and the white would start to fall away and behind it would be this really crappy mall filled with vacant-eyed people grasping at you. Yeah. My dreams? Not so much with the enigma.

Speaking of SFU, here's a lil' exchange between Nathaniel and Nate from that last season. The one I'm finally watching?

Nate: Dad, you have forty more years.
Nathaniel: Yeah, but the next forty fly by much faster. It'll be over before you know it.
Nate: Time flies when you're having fun, huh?
Nathaniel: No. No, time flies when you're pretending to have fun. Time flies when you're pretending to love Brenda and that baby she wants so much. Time flies when you're pretending to know what people mean when they say love. Let's face it, buddy boy, there's two kinds of people in the world. There's you and there's everybody else, and never the twain shall meet.

Gimme that Fünke, that sweet, that nasty, that gushy stuff

A few weeks ago when we started serving PIE here at the Pipedreams Cafe, it was an innocent thing. The reason? I love women. I enjoy them. Especially if she has a fabulous outfit and really good hair and her tinkus is covered, then I enjoy looking at a woman. It was all good-natured fun, right? Til freakgirl came along and started throwing down gauntlets. I swear that girl is always with her lines in the sand, isn't she? Anyway, now the mission, since I choose to accept it, is to come up with some PIE that will have the sparks flying off resident lezzie Jen's fork. You might be thinking I have my work cut out for me, but if you are thinking that, you are sorely mistaken, my friend. Cinchy. Easy peasy. I've tied three appendages behind my back before attempting this trick. So without further ado, I offer you Miss Portia de Rossi Degeneres. I didn't feel a strong need to choose a lesbian, but I figured ::cue Uncle Morty voice:: it don't hurt. Irrespective of that, P.dR. is smokin' hot, albeit in a strange sleepy-eyed what's-with-her-nose way, she's funny as hell, as her turn as Lindsay Bluth on Arrested Development attests, and she's even got the right (meaning: left) political leanings. Oh, and I'm guessing the accent gives Jen as much of a boner as it does me. Go ahead. Just try and tell me she doesn't moisten your sheets, lady.So, I feel confident. I toyed with a few other offerings. I considered Nelly Furtado, but then I remembered it was actually fur taco that Jen is always raving about. Anyway, if I'm wrong, then next week I get served. Served PIE by Jen and we'll get a taste of how a transplanted Ohio dyke rolls. But if I'm right, it'll be more queer faves next week. Someone like Jean Smart. Love! Her!

Yo Mike, check this out, see if this one moves you

Remember the bar mitzvah from last weekend? It turned out to be a lovely service, and quite moving actually. I joked around here about dressing the Torah, but of course I was appropriately reverent. Dude, I'm polite. Nothing like a childhood pervaded with the threat of physical harm to reinforce a behavior. Holla, Dad! My godson did a great job. He rolled through his Torah passage and his Hebrew was the bomb. The rabbi's spiel was the moving part. Can I call it a spiel without totally blowing the polite claim I just made? Anyway, Schwartz hit on a lot of my recent talking points from here at Pipedreams. You know, the ones about having only one life and having to take chances and overcome adversity. Yeah, those. The same ones where when I get going you skim and say blah de blah blah blah in your head? Those. Nice guy. And funny. At the start of the service, I thought I'd like to do Moscovitz (the back-up rabbi), but by the end, I would have been all over Schwartz, no question. Both straight, though, so I was left scoping out the buffet line for a Jew of my very own. I've said it before, and I'll say it again (in the interest of extending a stereotype): they will go down on you for DAYS. Here's a picture of the sanctuary:Lovely, isn't it? If you'll notice, they have a verse in English on the left and Hebrew on the right. I'm not a huge God guy, as you know, but I think a lot of religions could stand to keep it simple, like these words do, and the world would be a happier place: It has been told you what is good and what the Lord requires of you: Only to do justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God. That's it. And that's enough, I imagine.

Added: I can't resist mentioning the post title. From Boyz II Men. Get it. The bar mitzvah. I had to.

As I throw each one of you a kiss

I've been busy as a beaver these past few days, but damned if I can figure out if this dam is really worth building. Instinct (and my teutonic heritage) takes over, though, and I just work, work, work. I do enjoy the structure and the commerce and the service of it all, but I'd rather be doing it someplace like here (my current screen background):You know how I seem quiet and distant sometimes? It's cuz I am. It doesn't mean I love you any less. Or that I'm any less receptive to you putting things in places.

Did he create just me in his image, or every living thing?

I'm not a believer in religion, or God even, but I still find this heartening.

And I'll be your gay friend

This is a note straight from Robbie, fresh from my INBOX, so of course I'm sharing it with you. What's that? Why post it? Ummm....Robbie pic....fresh from my inbox.....der.

Make me feel crazy, make me feel so mean

In honor of the World Cup, I had thought of doing a footballer. There are many pretty and healthy cuts there, but guys, they all look SO YOUNG. I already did that with tennis and the French Open. Instead, I'm going with a guy that I adore who's actually older than me. I shouldn't say "actually". Much of the meat has been prime cut, hasn't it? And damned if this guy doesn't keep getting hotter every year. Just plot the graph of time on x and his hotness on y and that hard line must stand a good 60 degrees. Wait, let me look. Yep. At least 60. Well, this guy has been in a lot of stuff, but he first grabbed my attention with his fabulous turn as Keen Eddie. That show was the BOMB, y'all. Why the hell didn't you watch it? Anyway, his name is Mark Valley (even his name is hot) and he is this Friday's MEAT.He's currently appearing on Boston Legal, which I didn't realize until I did the googling. I've never seen that show. Any good? My parents are hooked on it, but that tells me nothing. They and I share Grey's Anatomy, but precious little else. Mom loves Bill O'Reilly for fuck sake. Back to Mr. Valley. He's kinda strawberry-blonde and a little chiseled and a bit furry and oh so completely edible. I'm salivating. No, seriously, that's not continuing a metaphor or anything. He rings my bell. Pulls my crank. Deloittes my Touche.

I wanna man who's gonna rock me like my backbone was his own

Inspired by the immeasurably hot (and surprisingly dom) Charlie, I decided to share the contents of my (heart?)(401K?)(psych eval?) fridge. Or more specifically, the contents of my grocery sack, which contained the following: Will you heap me with praise or derision? When did I get so fucking SENSIBLE? And TIGHT-ASSED? Does the wine help at all? I blame it on Fitday, which I've gone on and on about, for making me so conscious of my food choices. Also, some blame should be shared with my persistent notion that if I have a really tight chassis, maybe somebody will love it. I mean me. Love me.

'Til you drag your feet to slow the circles down

Riddle me this, Batman: A Buddhist, a lapsed Catholic and an Episcopalian are dressing the Tora at their nephew's bar mitzvah. One is related by blood, one by marriage, and one by half a lifetime of tears and laughter. Which one is the butt pirate? Give up? ME, silly. Isn't it always about ME? I'm heading up to Michigan this weekend to attend my godson's bar mitzvah. At thirteen, he is now a man, y'all. A smallish, hyperactive, annoying man, but a man nonetheless. At the ceremony, yours truly will be "dressing the Tora". I asked the rabbi if that meant I'd get to undress it later, since that sounded kinda hot. I can't decide if he looked confused or disturbed.

On the botanical tip (upon which I've been balancing the last week or so), the fairie circle is back, guys!For the newbies amongst you, this same backyard phenomenon occurred last year. Legend has it that it's the mark left by fairies frolicking in a circular manner in the wee hours. I'm so there tonight. I'll be pitching a tent. Wanna come?

Someone could be looking for a someone like you

If you're a someone like me, you'll be watching (or setting the TiVo for) Live from Lincoln Center on PBS tonight. They are showing The Light in the Piazza at 8:00P EST. Musical theater set in Tuscany? Yeah, I'm there. You can preview a few songs here.

Remember me to one who lives there

I promised to share more of the fruits of this fruit's labours. Here's the pretty yarrow which blooms in my front garden. Not a fruit, I know. He's a herb, I think. Like parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme, hence the post title. The honeysuckle and the dogwood tree that share his space are so big that they don't let Mr. Achillea millefolium get enough sun anymore, but moving him is more work, and fuck me if I don't have enough of that already. Meanwhile, he's a sunny yellow, isn't he?

Never trust a big butt and smile

I'm working in my roses this afternoon and though I've never been afflicted before, I think I may be a victim of the ivy, poison variety. I'm not sure yet, but I've got a blotchy area on my leg that has a burning sensation to it. Go ahead and run with that sentence, if you must. I do have sensitive skin (it's a trait often coupled with light hair and blue eyes), so it may just be from kneeling in the flower bed. Still, until I'm sure, there will be no touching the schmeckel without surgical gloving first. I sometimes go a whole weekend doing that anyway, so as precautions go, no biggie.

Fever 'til you sizzle, what a lovely way to burn

I love the Tonys. I know. You're plotzing. I wasn't familiar with most of the award winning plays this year, but that machts nicht. It's my favorite award show because it really seems to mean something to all the winners. Everyone is exuberant. The acceptance speeches are invariably hilarious and often literate and usually gay. Plus, there's lots of same-sexy couples in the audience. This year I was especially charmed by one of the presenters. She's Sara Ramirez and she's this week's PIE. Note: click on her link and you'll be cue up her singing Fever. Yuuuuummm. I didn't see her in Spamalot, and though she's made a lot of tv appearances, I wasn't aware of her until her turn as George's orthopedic surgeon love interest, Callie, on Grey's Anatomy. She's great in that. Simultaneously brash and vulnerable. You know, real. And, dudes, she's a Tony winner.I googled her after the awards this year and it only took a few minutes for me to become an acolyte. She's gorgeous and smart and can sing her ass off. Oh, if you've never checked out the Spamalot site, it's a hoot!

The earth stopped cold at dawn

Tick tock, y'all. I posted this now, but I was sehr close to making Stephen Hawking this week's MEAT. Rockstar hot.