Preparation… H?

A short clip about my NYC trip preparations:

And knowing is half the battle…

Hat tip to Adam (straight, married, musician dude who lives in my ex-house and contributor to This Blog) for cluing me into these.

There are a ton of these on youtube and this is just a smattering. The first one is stereotypical yet funny. The second is so random it makes me laugh. And the third one makes pork sandwiches shoot out of my nose!

Go JOE!

Li’l Bastard Comix returnz

After a one week hiatus in order to do more Glamour Shots (which nobody seemed to enjoy), I am posting a new series of altered comix.

Here’s hoping you don’t shit all over these, too!

 

Digital Picture Frame Fun

Yesterday, one of my coworkers was explaining to me (at great length) what he and his children were doing for Mother’s Day this year.  Like I care, but it gave me a chance to catch up on my Kegel exercises.

What they were getting “mom” was a digital picture frame.

During the course of our endless discussion on the matter, I offered up some suggestions for the first loaded pictures.

cb:  Oh!  You should have pics of each of you sticking your tongue out at her.  OH OH!  Better!  Flipping her the bird!  Happy fucking Mother’s Day!

coworker:  Or how about “hey honey” (and he mimes mooning the camera).

cb:  Excellent!

But all this got me thinking.  How much fun would it be to get one of these digital picture frames, and then load it with nothing but nasty porn pics?

Pictures of buttsex.  Rimming.  Bukkake.  Pictures of Hustler vaginas stretched open so far you can see their tonsils.  Distended Rosebuds.  You name it, the more shocking the better.  And then have it diplayed ever-so-prominently in your home.  I’d opt for my piano or a mantle.

It could be a real “conversation starter”.

But then I had an even better idea.  How about loading the picture frame with nice vacation pics.  Something tropical and soothing… like Hawaii, for instance.  And then every so often have a nasty porn picture flash by.

It would be infinitely more shocking to catch people unawares.  And funny!

But THEN I had the best idea.  Go to someone’s house who has one of these and sneak in a naughty picture!  How funny would it be to haul out your junk, take a picture of it, and then somehow wedge it in to the lineup?

Unsuspecting family:  Oh, here’s a pic of Nonny enjoying her 90th birthday.  Isn’t she precious?

Guests:  Awww.

UF:  She had trouble blowing out the candles.  We all pitched in!

Guests:  Awwwwww!

UF:  And here is… OH!  I don’t remember THAT at Nonny’s party!

Guests:  Ohhhh…. she blow that out next?

I gotta figure out how you upload the pictures and how hard it is to do.  Plus I figure the only chance to do it is if you are house sitting or have some sort of ‘alone moment’ with the frame.  Regardless, I am completely onboard with this idea.

This could be the next best thing to “upper decking” someone!

 

P.S.  No, that’s not my junk.  That’s Colton Ford’s junk. 

The Trouble with Madonna

Or is it “M-dollah”?  I get so confused these days.

With good ol’ Madge back in the publie “eye” as of late, it has given me time to examine how I feel about her.  And the verdict isn’t good.

Truth be told, I do this every time another one of her albums drops (except the American Life one which came and went before I even knew she had crapped it out).  The height of my Madonna-lovin’ came with “Ray of Light”.  Yet with each successive album my affinity for Madonna diminishes.

Don’t get me wrong, I still appreciate her talent.  What gifts she lacks in the vocal department she MORE than makes up for in the shameless yet brilliant self promotion department.

Besides, how can I not like her?  I’m gay and the Madonna Pathos is one of the cornerstones of your “Coming Out” box.  (Along with the guide to choosing appropriate window treatments, a box set of Anne Rice novels, and the video on how to dance with your arms above shoulder level.)

That being said, I feel the need to offer up some much needed criticism of the old (material) girl:

FIX YOUR GODDAMN EYE MAKEUP.

Hell, fix ALL your makeup!  I mean, Jesus wept folks!  She’s got more than enough money to burn a wet mule.  Why does she insist on appearing in public as if a cat just spritzed her face?  What look is she going for here precisely– Clockwork Orange?

While she’s at it, she might also think about sopping up some of that oil.  Christ, she looks like Cameron Diaz!

Between Madge and Cameron, I think we have an untapped oil reserve that could potentially solve our growing energy needs.  Just a few donated blotter pads and ANWAR would be safe for another generation.

This is a woman who has set music and fashion trends for decades.  DECADES people!  And this is how she appears in public??  Like she just finished up a 3 hour Bikram yoga session and ran a 5K to get to the press party.

I’m sorry, but I expect more from the Queen of Pop.

Awkward Conversations with Mom

Mom and I don’t really ‘talk’ much.

Oh sure, we chat about music and movies and our jobs and politics and general life stuff, but we don’t talk talk.

And by talk talk I mean talk about anything gay.

The gay side of my life is basically ignored by my parents.  They want grandchildren and I want cock.  Naturally we’ve achieved a sort of detente because of this.

Actually it’s more “DADT” than anything else.

I came out to them.  They cried.  They questioned why.  We talked briefly about it all.  And when it was all said and done, some silent contract was signed which stated that the parties of the first part would never speak of this “thing” again with the party of the second part.  And vise versa.

In perpetuity.

They don’t ask if I’m seeing anyone or how I know my friends.  But they also don’t pester me about grandchildren either.  And I don’t offer up any significant details about my life.  In fact, quite frequently I have to construct plausible lies to explain away ‘being busy’ or ‘who I’m going out to meet’.  This is done mostly to avoid any possible questions which would necessitate breaking the contract.

I’ve become quite deft at half-lying over the years.

But because being gay is part of who I am, I’m sure y’all can understand that shunning this aspect of me makes most of the conversations with my family somewhat stilted and rather superficial.

Plus it makes family get-togethers quite awkward for me because I don’t know if the rest of the family knows about me.  I mean, I’m pretty sure they would have to be stupid NOT to know, but you know how families are.  Sometimes they just turn a blind eye and refuse to “see”.

Part of this, I’m sure, stems from a reluctance on my part to actually talk about this facet of my life.  I just don’t feel “comfortable” talking about gay stuff with my parents.  Perhaps I’m projecting a bit, I think they are a bit embarassed and disappointed about having a gay son and don’t want to be reminded of it.

Honestly, it feels like the dreaded ‘birds and bees’ talk… only in reverse.

Anyway, this past weekend I guess I sort of renegged on our contract.  I told mom about the gay blogger weekend in NYC.

I think it was a subconscious decision on my part, because at dinner I accidently blurted out that I was going to New York in two weeks time.  We were talking about my diet and my workouts and it just sort of came out.

And I had not prepared an adequate lie as to exactly WHY I was going to New York.

You see, normally I am very calculated in my conversations.  If I’m going to mention something like a visit to New York to my parents, generally I have already concocted some reason for the visit– because I will be questioned about it.  It’s never as simple as “Oh, how nice!  Have fun!!”  No, its more, “Why are you going there?  Who are you going with?  What are you going to do?”

I have the general untruths all set up in my mind beforehand and then improvise as the conversation dictates.  Thankfully the conversations are short-lived, as I can only successfully navigate these rocky shoals for so long.

This night I didn’t have any of that prepared and already my mother was starting the barrage of questions.  Something snapped and I said “fuck it”.  So I told her.

I told her that I was going to New York to meet a bunch of bloggers.  Gay bloggers.  Gay bloggers whom I’d never met before and whom I had only chatted with on line and occasionally by phone.  And we would be doing things like going to gay bars and stuff.

I might have also mentioned sightseeing and going to the Guggenheim.

This conversation took place in about 5 minutes over dinner.  Then we were blissfully interrupted by a stretch hummer disgorging 20 or so prom kids.  The girl’s dresses (and the pretentious fuck at the table next to us who brought his own wine to the restaurant in a special case) kept us occupied for the rest of the meal.

I swear the wine was Ecco Domani even!  But I digress…

The next morning we had to get up early.  One of the first things out of my mother’s mouth after the alarm went off was “So, tell me more about this blogger weekend thing.”

Great.  She’d obviously been stewing about it all night.  So I tried to explain things a bit better.

I had to explain what blogs were.  And then clarify that I read the blogs of the people who were going to be there and that’s how I started getting to know them.  (This is a very foreign concept to her).  And that this was an organized event and involved mostly gay bloggers- and by the virtue of being homosexual, we all have something in common.

I also mentioned that I write a blog– but I told her flat out that I wasn’t going to tell her the name of my blog or anything because I didn’t especially want family reading it.

I think this last bit was unnecessary on my part, as I really don’t think she would especially want to read it.  Even as snoopy as she is sometimes.

Her final comment on the matter was, “Well, I’m going to worry about you.  Be careful.”

And my final comment to her was, “Mom, you were in New York last year.  Did YOU get knifed in a kidney while you were there?”

And that was that.

The rest of the weekend was spent rebuilding our fragile detente with conversations about my band concert.  And Ironman.  And Hillary vs Obama.  And Ikea….

Just like normal.

Why I Love Bears

Good Weekend Recap

This was a good weekend, albeit a busy one.

First off, I had my big concert this weekend.

It was the 10th Anniversary of the band in which I play.  We even commissioned a piece for the occasion and gave the “world premiere” of it!  This was also the piece where I had a solo.  (Small solo- but still!)  Truth be told, I had numerous little solos throughout the concert.

Yes- INTENTIONAL solos, you catty bitches.

For those band geeks who are curious, the lineup for the concert was as follows:

• American Fanfare
• Children’s March (by Grainger)
• Arutunian Trumpet Concerto
• Down a Country Lane (Copland)
• Spring Divertimento
• Gavorkna Fanfare
• Mozart Flute Concerto
• Milestone (the commissioned piece)
• Toccata Marziale (Vaughn Williams)
• Circus Bee

Oh, and remember the Asian dude who was going to steal my thunder and play in the concert and “help” me on first chair?  Yeah, well he didn’t feel “comfortable” with his preparation level, so he bowed out of the concert.

Yeah!  You got SERVED, bitch!

According to the feedback that I received, the concert went VERY well.  Evidently it was the best concert of the year.  Kyle was there, along with his friend Scott.  Jim was there with his nephew Matthew.  Cable Access was there recording it.  And my MOTHER came up for the occasion.

Of course having mom here meant several things:

(a) I had to ‘defag’ the place before she arrived

(b) I didn’t get to whore online

(c) I didn’t get to work out

(d) I ate like crap

(e) I slept on the couch

Having mom in town also meant entertaining her- making sure that we had “activities” to do rather than just sit on the couch watching Lifetime.  On Saturday we explored the unique shops on Grand avenue.  And on Sunday, I took her to Ikea.

She’d never been.

GASP!  I know!  Never been in an Ikea!

Once there, she fell in love with the place and found a table and several other items that she wanted.  And I found this chair.  In the As-Is section, no less!

I call it my “Wonder Woman” chair.  Because it reminds me of her invisible jet.  I use it for my desk chair because the style totally compliments my Mac.

I was going to pay full price for the chair– but they didn’t have any in stock.  When I found ONE of them in the As-Is section (marked down 25 dollars), I took it as a sign and scooped it up.

***RECORD SCRATCH SEGUE***

I also fixed my bike this weekend!

After mom left on Sunday afternoon, it was all of 10 minutes before I was getting dressed to go on a bikeride.  I needed to burn off some serious pizza and beer calories.

Unfortunately I’ve still been having occasional derailleur trouble with my folding bike.  I have been forced to make several cable adjustments during my previous rides because the gearing tended to skip some.  I would fix the issue mostly, but would still have intermittant issues, especially with 3rd gear for some reason.  And I never quite solved the issue which royally pissed me off.

Well- before my ride today I flipped my bike upside down and tried to cycle through the gears to verify that all was working well.  It wasn’t.  As I got up to 7th and 8th gears I noticed that nothing happened with the derailleur when I changed between the two.

Which caused me to start poking around back by the derailleur hub.  That was when I found this:

Yes- the yellow arrow and the red/yellow lines are the “derailleur adjustment setting” marks that were described oh so poorly in the instruction packet.  And naturally the alignment was NOT close when I started.

Those bikeshop fuckwads didn’t know how to set the goddamn thing.  It took ME to figure it out– and I’m GAY!

(Here, I am using the term ‘gay’ in a stereotypical context which assumes that I am mechanically incompetent and more inclined to call repairmen to watch them bend over rather than attempting repairs myself.  Which of course I am.)

On the bright side, all of my bike’s gears are working now, and my ride was quite enjoyable.  Here are some pictures from my bikeride:

This is the view from the top of the Mounds Park trail.  As you can see, spring is JUST starting to sprung up here.

I have never seen sculling on the Mississippi before.  The current must be a real bitch.

Framed Art

This is the piece that Kyle got me in Cinqua Terra, Italy.  Here it is shown on the exposed brick wall in my apartment.

And here is Hello Kitty– all framed with this baroque-classical frame.  I LOVE it!

There’s always room for Glamour!

People keep uploading these for some reason, which is just like supplying an addict with fresh crack.  I just couldn’t help myself!

And here I thought you had to be shitfaced to attempt the Amy Winehouse look.

“Can we hurry this up? Smells like I gotta change my pad.”

Black and white really captures the moment here.  Along with the bags under her eyes.

Anbesol commercial, take 27.  And…. ACTION!

I think the acid wash on this jacket just gave me Bell’s Palsy.

It takes a special woman to pull of a hat like this.  With special jowls.

Let me guess!  New… bedazzler?

I absolutely LOVED you in “Tootsie”. 

The wrinkled backdrop really matches your eyes.

I’m ready for my abduction, Mr. Demille.

This isn’t a glamour shot.  I just put it in here as sort of a sorbet to cleanse the pallete.

If I stand still and blend into the background, maybe death won’t find me!

Does this uniform make my vagina look lesbian?

Damn, I’m so hungry right now I could eat Kelly Clarkson!

You’re right.  I never would have guessed those were Kmart Blue Blockers!

For the last goddamn time… NO, I’m not a fucking drag queen!

If you were going for Ernest Borgnine does “Gypsy”, you nailed it!

How many houses did you have to sell to get that jacket?

Joan always subscribed to the philosophy “less is more”.  Here she opted for “less” face, and “more” everything else.

Phil Peters- starting nose tackle for the St. Louis Rams.

Nothing says “festive” like a royal blue pleather shirt!

Nice “deflowered” symbolism ripoff from American Beauty.  Well, at least it goes with the “pearl necklace” your uncle gave you.

Jocelyn Wildenstein (age 15) stars as Rocky Dennis in her high school production of Mask.

I totally just queefed.