June 2007 Archives
I just had to do a little post about the True Colors concert on Sunday here in Houston. I had decided to buy tickets rather late in the game (about a week before), but went with my two friends Eric and Frankie.
The tickets were expensive -- $125/ticket unless you sat on the hill. The hill was $20/ticket sold in sets of four. So, we obviously did the hill. And the hill ... it was wet. Like saturated wet. Eric had bought a quilty blanket thing for us to sit on -- and I was like 'this is going to absorb the minute we touch it." And sure enough it did. So Eric and I had wet asses the whole nite. We eventually rented these little lawn chairs, because as much as I enjoy sitting on the wet ground, I don't enjoy pin worms.
However -- let me just re-emphasize that the ground was exceedingly wet and muddy.
The first act to perform was what I was really excited about: The Dresden Dolls. How I love them and their rather angsty music. They performed five songs to a largely unappreciative crowd. Coin-Operated Boy was well received. They opened with Sex Change and ended with Girl Anachronism (which i detest). Then it was done, and I was left feeling happy, tho slightly unsatisfied. And then they said the Dolls would be signing stuff down at the north entrance. So I grabbed Frankie, and off we went.
We stood in line for prolly a good 30 minutes (enough to completely miss Debbie Harry) and were completely surrounded by emo teenagers with enough acne to replace the tread on my tires for several years. So as the line crawls up there, I kept having the feeling that I was standing out like a sore thumb in this crowd of misfit toys. We get up there to a rather unenthused pair of sweaty, balmy performers. That, my friends, was a little disappointing. Not that they were sweaty or balmy -- but that it was like ... *omg, why are we here. I'd rather be inside cutting myself.*
Anyway, the next great thing was Erasure. I've seen them perform live several times before and have never been disappointed. Always a great show -- and the crowd loved them. It was cool being on the hill listening to everyone.
I do have to say tho, the best part of the show was when we were sitting talking, and this very large, fat latina princess came walking by us on the hill carrying a margarita, pretzel, and nachos with this tub of fake cheese. The bitch slipped and completely fell on her face. And when she fell ... her nachos hit the ground and that tub of fake cheese flew threw the air and landed in her hair. So now you have fat latina princess with cheesy hair.
She was sad.
We were all trying desperately hard not to laugh. Somewhat unsuccessful tho.
Cyndi Lauper came out and sang her stuff and did a very respectable schpeel on Matthew Shephard and erasing hate. She sang (except for when she didn't know the words) Erasure's Blue Savannah and Celine Dion's I Drove All Night. And at the end -- randomly enough -- everyone came out and sang ....
Take a Chance on Me.
Not what anyone was expecting. Then when it ended, Cyndi sat down at the keyboard and sang True Colors with everyone.
Touching.
Well, it was kinda. But by then, it was kind'a rainy, and everyone was sticky and balmy. Any Bell from Erasure compared it to a cum facial if that is any comparison for you.
Was an enjoyable evening tho. I'm glad I went -- if only for the fat cheesy woman.
Mysticism has always fascinated me. Astrology, psychics, numerology, child sacrifices ... all that jazz. Quite intriguing. Well ... intriguing when it's somewhat accurate.
Last night, I had my cards read. They were read with traditional tarot cards and Buddhist tarot cards. The guy who was reading my cards looked oddly like grown up Greg Brady. I don't know if that had an effect on my fortune or not -- but he sure did make a lot of ooohhhing and aaaahhhing while he was laying out the cards.
Apparently, I'm going to be starring in a gay Harry Potter because there were a lot of queens and a lot of wands. Not sure what all that is about. But he said that this a year of abundance and financial prosperity -- tho, like the rest of my life -- not a time for building of relationships. In fact, he said that it seemed likely that some people in my life will be leaving by the end of the year. I have some speculation on that, which makes me a little sad. However -- yes, this year has indeed been unusually prosperous for me.
He also said something about me possibly making a change toward the end of the year -- either changing jobs or moving. I had been thinking of moving into some place larger. Plus, I'm tired of being the guardian of the Nether Realm.
The Buddhist cards said basically the same thing in 10 less cards. Abundance and prosperity, as well as the propensity to give. I'm a giver, baby.
You'll have to forgive yet another posting about urinals and mens' potty habits. I am absolutely astounded by the audacity of some men. How is it that a man can go into a public bathroom and KNOWINGLY piss on the floor? Or leave toilet paper shredded all over the place --- what were they doing exactly? Nesting?
I went into the bathroom to drain the vein (omg, i can't believe i actually said that.) and walked in to the smell of a sunny morning in Hell. The smell of shit and sour urine was almost overwhelming, to the point that i audibly made a grunt. However, my audible grunt was nothing in comparison to the grunt of the man who was either birthing Satan's child or bench pressing the toilet. (And given the amount of "fluid" on the floor -- i suppose it could have been either, really.)
So I careful sidestepped the puddles of ammonious liquid and stood at the urinal in absolute horror (and not just horror -- hand-to-my-chest-HARROR.) Someone had managed to spit chewing tobacco down the lip and side of the urinal. It looked like someone had a very serious case of the squirts -- and not only that -- and I seriously almost threw up over this -- there was a ... *gag* ... pubic hair ball resting inside the urinal. Not just a hair or two. Or even three of four. It was as if someone had been routinely brushing their black pubes with a steel wire comb for a week and then cleaned the comb out in the urinal.
My first question is -- 1.) Who does that!? My second question is 2.) Who does that!? Do they do this at home? These are the people we read about in the news who never take out their trash, and it piles up to the ceiling and comes crashing down on them, fatally pinning them to the floor beside of an empty box of Kraft Mac 'n Cheese (the creamy kind) and three half-full bottles of flat Bud.
And yes, for the record -- the boogers are still there. And yes, I did take pictures of them, I just haven't taken them off my camera yet.
I had a conversation with my friend Joz about my over lubification, and how disturbing it is that there really are all these gross flavors. I mean ... really ... Strawberry-kiwi!? Nasty!. Mint!? Maybe if i was a DoubleMint girl.
So I was like "why don't they have flavors that are actually something that could be good?" So Joz and I came up with a list of new flavors that we would like to see (so listen up ID people).
*Disclaimer, the following list is slightly offensive to Middle America.
- Popcorn (for the movies, of course)
- Garlic and Sun-dried Tomato
- Creamy Tomato Basil
- Pizza
- Pretzel and Peanut Butter
- Brownie
- Sashimi and Edamame
- Sushi (for the lesbians)
- Bacon and Eggs (for when you want him to stay thru breakfast)
- Prime Rib & Caviar (when you're datin' your sugar daddy)
- Twinkies (for all of those boys who like super chub)
- Bertie Bott's Any Flavor Lube (never know what you're gonna get...)
- Pimento Chees (for all those boys who are uncut)
- Cottage Cheese (for the boys who don't like to work out)
- Pork Rinds (for those who are carb-conscious)
- Fried Chicken (for the Dinge Queens)
- Refried Beans (for those who are Bean Queens)
- Lamb and Curry (for the Sand Queens)
- Tofu and Seaweed (for the Rice Queens)
- Cocaine (for the Snow Queen)
The gods must think me their play toy. Two weeks ago, I went to the Pride Idol competition (like American Idol, but for Houston fags) at Guava Lamp. We watched everyone sing, and someone got kicked off (tho not the person i was hoping would). Then, when everything was said and done, they had a raffle drawing. There were 3 prizes: Some Sky vodka, some wine, and a small basket with 50 travel size bottles of ID lube. You know, lube ... *cough* I laughed because -- really now -- what am I going to do with lube?
Sunday was the Houston Pride Kick-Off party at the museum of natural science. Lots of people there. Josh Duffy performed, and the oh-so-talented Alan Lett performed as well. So Eric, Frankie, Alan, Korey, and I all hung out for a while, and the drinks were way strong. So I was quite buzzed by the end. There was, of course, another raffle that evening with bigger prizes, like flights on southwest. So i bought 8 raffle tickets.
Wouldn't you know that I wouldn't win the damn flights. What DID I win?
Lube. Lots and Lots of lube.
Anyway, it was nice evening. I got to spend some time talking with Korey and getting to know him better. Although, he seemed considerably more excited about the lube than I was ..........
So, back to the gods. Why can't I ever win something practical? Like a car or a house? Or geez, I'd even settle for the lottery. Why's it always gotta be lube!? And worse -- MINT LUBE. *sigh* Maybe I should hold my OWN raffle and resell this stuff...
This is my Kidaj, my very own nappy headed ho. I love him to pieces, even tho he bugs the fuck out of every morning until he gets fed. Some people inappropriately refer to him as "Scurrcat" (which is offensive and racist). He is a Cornish Rex, and a Grand Champion at that.
So suck it, Tanya.
It's no secret that I have to wee several times a day. Several of my friends detest the fact that I use the word "wee" to describe my urinary outings. Perhaps they confuse it with my use of "wee" as a synonym for dick, ie - stop touching my wee! But that's another topic altogether. Here at work, the little boy's room has one urinal and two stalls (one of which is a handicapped stall). (Side story: We work on the 2nd floor of the building. The first floor is largely professional services like dentists, real estate peeps, etc. They keep the bathrooms locked down there -- perhaps because people were pissing in the floor or smearing shit on the stall walls, I dunno. I can only let my imagine dictate the possibilities. Anyway, obviously if it's locked, not everyone can use it. There is a sign that says that the Handicapped-accessible bathrooms are on the 2nd floor. How does that make sense.)
Anyway, I typically use the urinal unless it's occupied or someone has pissed all over everything (which seems to happen more often than I'd like it to). I think everyone who has used a urinal is familiar with the whole processing of peeing and looking at the wall in front of you, or letting your eyes wander to whatever graffiti may grab your attention. It's not uncommon to see the usual graffiti, pubes, corrosive marks from urine splatterings, and, ... of course, ... boogers. I don't know what is so compelling about standing at the urinal, dick in one hand, finger up your nose -- but apparently it is quite the favored past time of male urinators.
It's become very apparent by the vast field of crispy, dehydrated boogers clinging lifelessly to the backsplash of the urinal. Some of them -- I kid you not -- have been there for at least 3 months. You'd think the cleaner people who (presumably) clean the urinal would scrape those fellahs off. Perhaps they like them and think it adds some style to the decor-less restroom. I'm tempted to bring my camera in tomorrow and take a picture to document the collection.
In a perfect world ...
