Lookin’ for Love…

… I mean “Condos”. In all the wrong places.

So, I did the mortgage preapproval thing through my bank. The good news is that I am approved for more than enough to cover what I am looking for.

The bad news is that it has to be an FHA loan, and not a conventional mortgage.

Damn my lousy credit score!

Anyway, this just means I appear a bit more like a deadbeat. And can only look for condos in Buildings that have FHA approval.

Unfortunately the one condo I have liked best so far is in a NON FHA approved building.

Devil!

Another other wrinkle in the search is that the bank is a bit hinky about loaning money for condo purchases. Evidently the lions share of foreclosures involve condos.

So the bank also has to research the condo building/group for viability and sustainability. And then approve it before any loans can be made.

Joy!

Add to this the fact that one of the realtors I’ve contacted really didn’t listen to what I am looking for and sent me listings for a lot of… well… shitholes.

I ended up doing all the condo research for her and giving her a list of what I liked.

This is really almost more work than it’s worth.

Allergic to Gayness

Boy are my allergies going nuts today! They started in earnest that night, and I think it was an allergic reaction to all “the gay”.

It was Pride weekend here, so I had loads of gay exposure. Too much, really.

By the end, as always, I was completely gayed out.

The weekend began with those two BBQ’s that I wrote about in the last post.

Then on Saturday I had two “dates” and another BBQ.

And yes, by “dates” I mean bouts of randy poopstabbing. Two different dates as well. One in the early afternoon, one in the evening.

I know– poor planning. But it was Pride weekend after all, and that’s just the way everything worked out.

Between shagfests, I replenished my energy at my third BBQ of the weekend. Great food, as always, plus a huge missed opportunity.

Let’s just say there was a cute guy at said BBQ who waited to say goodbye to me. But I failed to get his digits because I had an audience of five friends totally staring at us and eavesdropping like 3 feet away.

I should have just asked, but the whole scene was just too damn awkward.

And as it turns out, he was the guest of a guest, so nobody has any of his contact info.

Damnit!

Anyway… after the BBQ, it was time for Bachelor #2’s “date”. A very nice guy, who’s assets are quite…erm, sizeable.

We finished up a couple hours later, and then he suggested capping off the evening by going out.

To the Eagle.

Now the Eagle is about the last place I want to be on Pride. It is crazy busy and you can’t get a drink to save your life.

But after #2’s “administrations”, I sort of felt obligated to go.

The Eagle was everything I feared it to be. Oh, and I got kissed and hit on by an insanely drunk guy.

Good times.

I got home at 1 am, only because Bachelor #2 had an hour plus drive home ahead of him.

Thank the baby cheeses for small favours.

Then it was up early on Sunday for brunch with the fellahs. Or so I thought.

As far as I knew, the Sunday plan involved avoiding all things Pride by sitting on a rooftop deck, brunching and drinking for a couple hours.

Which we did.

As the Pride parade finished below us.

After which we went to the park with all the Pride booths and festivities and seething mass of gay folks and we walked around for a couple hours.

And then we walked to a gay bar to have more drinks and gayness.

Which was about two hours past my gay threshhold, I think.

It was while sitting in the final bar (wedged between happy couples) that I had my epiphany about Pride.

The whole Pride thing is really for three groups of people: New gays, oddballs, and couples.

For the new gays, I think it’s good. They get to see a ton of gayness in one place and feel “normal” for a change.

The “oddballs” get to use Pride as a safe haven to display their freak wares to the public.

And the couples get to walk around kissing, holding hands, pushing their adopted Chinese babies in strollers and generally rubbing all our collective noses in their coupley-ness.

The rest of us are Pride outsiders, relegated to the sidelines to watch it all- simultaneously horrified and fascinated.

With a fair bit of jealousy tossed in the mix.

Yet as horricinating as it all is, we outsiders are also desperately trying to avoid being raped in the face by gayness at every turn.

Sign this gay marriage petition! Join HRC or die!! Look at our his-and-his matching dachsund puppies!! Can I spank you with my glitter wand? Lesbians with a stroller– comin’ through!!

No wonder my nose is running and my eyes are itchy today.

P.S. In two weeks time, I’m invited to another BBQ– at Date #1 and his partners house.

Oy vey.

Pride BBQs

Wow, look who’s a social butterfly!

I am invited to no less than THREE Pride BBQ’s this weekend!  And I did two of them last night (and miraculously am none the worse for wear today).

BBQ #1 was with “the Beav” and his friends.  I met the Beav through mutual friends of ours.  I actually went to school (grade school through high school) with this couple.  He met them for the college years.  Anyway, when I moved to Minneapolis I was given a letter of introduction by them, and have known the Beav ever since.

Anyway, the BBQ was in the tony warehouse district in Minneapolis.  Many gays were present, and we had slider burgers, and gin-n-tonix and tons of other food.  The company was great fun and the food excellent and quite filling.  I almost didn’t want to leave early, but I had my second BBQ obligation…

BBQ#2 was at a fellow Blogger’s house (Alex)!  His blog is “I Drive a Dodge Stratus” which is tenuously in my blogroll.  But don’t visit, because he’s a naughty blogger who never updates (hint, hint).

Technically the BBQ was at another guys place, but he was helping to throw the bash.  This was my blog-stalker (not really) whom I met randomly at the Eagle one evening when, as I was passing, he shouted out “Mangina Monologues!” Or something.

Anyway, I showed up and felt a bit out of place.  I knew approximately half of one person before going (Alex) and upon walking in I felt like I had suddenly entered a frat party.  It had that vibe… plus everyone was younger than me.

But as the night wore on, and as I sucked down a few of Alex’s brews, I actually found myself having a good time!  Generally I don’t do well at large parties where I don’t know a soul and everyone is thinner and prettier than I am.  I’m much more proficient at the small, ugly, cocktail party.

However, I got a chance to become better acquainted with Alex and his partner.  AND all of their female friends who were really a ton of fun to be around!

But the later it got, the more ‘frat’ it got.  Things that made this a frat party included:

• a fire pit where all manner of things were burned
• a daring alcohol-fueled liberation of some lantern lights from the foreclosed neighbor’ balcony
• pretty, skinny, built boys
• lots of beer and jello shots
• people urinating outdoors
• no soap in the bathroom
• people pooping in the bathroom (right before me!  uggh!  Who defecates at a party??)

It really was like being back ‘in’ college for a few hours… but not ‘of’ it.

Unfortunately I had things to do and a busy Saturday ahead, so I bid my adieu sometime after 10pm and drove my sorry ass home.

Good times, though.

Li’l Bastard Comix (celebrity death edition)

Here are the comix this week. Hope I get a few “too soons” from ya!

And remember to bastardize that last one– what’s little Billy asking his mum?

Enjoy.

That Little Bastard!

Great captions as always my peeps!  But props this week go out to the following:

Dead Robot for the screwdriver “sounding”… ewww!

Mathias in Oz for ‘nearly’ winning with his fresh from the Matrix comment.

But the winner is Evilganome with his little retro gem:

Tramsformers 2…

… Electric Bugaloo.

Well, I saw the new Transformers movie last night. In IMAX no less.

My one sentence review?

Meh.

(And now to expand on that review with only one teeny spoiler which I will warn you about ahead of time)

It was ok. 2 or maybe 2.5 stars out of 5. It’s very bombastic and loud. Both visually and aurally.

The movie sort of screams at your eyes for like 3 hours.

There is lots of robot-on-robot violence which is difficult to follow, mainly because of the sheer scale of it all.

The CGI is good. Really good.

But the plot and the writing? Bad. Really bad.

When it comes to sequels, I subscribe to the “Misery” principle. You can’t just wildly invent crap that wasn’t in the story before and be all stupidcrazy with it and expect it to fly.

“Misery was buried in the ground at the end, Paul, so you’ll just have to start there.”

I’m also a fan of the KISS principle. Keep it simple, stupid.

Without going into details, the plot of this movie simply has too much random shit in it.

And when you think they’re done adding shit, they throw in MORE shit.

It’s a bit ridiculous really.

And then there’s the plot holes and discontinuities.

****SPOILER ALERT****

At one point Shia and company need to reanimate a robot to help them read this old robot language. They find the robot–

– at the air and space museum in DC. He’s the old SR-71 spy plane.

Well, after magically reanimating him, he goes on a wee rampage and exits the building–

– and starts tearing up that old airplane graveyard in the desert.

In California or Nevada somewhere.

How the FUCK did everything go from the Air and Space museum in DC to fucking NEVADA by exiting a building?

Or are we simply supposed to think there have always been mountains and a desert in the nations Capitol?

****SPOILER COMPLETE****

And this was just one of MANY plot points that bothered me and completely disrupted my suspension of disbelief.

Then there were the racist Jar Jar bots. Seriously. Michael Bay should have hired at least ONE black person to vet this shit.

Lastly there was Megan Fox. She goes through hell and STILL somehow maintains perfectly glossed and colored lips.

Which she uses on Shia. Why???

That just took more suspension of disbelief than I was capable of.

My recommendations? See it, but at a matinee. And I’m not sure the IMAX cost was worth it.

Why I Like Drum Corps…

And it’s not just because I’m a band fag, either.

First of all, Drum and Bugle corps basically represent the pinnacle of the marching & music “medium”.

I’m not about to call it a sport, like competitve cheerleaders do. It’s an activity.

But an activity that takes a great deal of skill, coordination and athleticism. Which I totally respect.

To anyone who doesn’t understand this, I invite them to tote a brass instrument around a football field (bell to the pressbox) in the dead of summer dressed head to toe in polyester while playing symphonic music (dynamically and in tune) while simultaneously keeping your upper body still during movements (sometimes involving running) to 130+ exact memorized locations on a sparsely marked field while performing additional body and horn motions along the way.

I was never in better shape than the summer I marched with the Cavaliers.

But this isn’t why I love it.

Drum Corps also represent programmed synesthesia to me. At a show you not only get to hear good music, but you get to see shapes, patterns, and bursts of color.

But this isn’t why I love it either.

Corps also continually introduce me to new composers and new pieces of music. I’d never heard the Planets before the Cavaliers performed them.

And thanks to the Blue Devils I fell in love with Don Ellis, Chick Corea, and Stan Kenton.

Cadets brought me Bernstein. SCV? Copland. The list goes on and on.

This year the Cavies introduced me to Johann deMeij and “Extreme Makeover”. I had to make an mp3 from Youtube just to get a recording!

But this isn’t why I love drum corps either.

I love Drum Corps because they deliver those perfect brass choir moments that make my heart stop beating.

80 brass instruments, in tune and playing a major chord at full volume. But with absolute sound transparancy. Perfectly balanced bottom to top.

Sometimes so well in tune that you hear harmonics.

The sound hits you like tsunami of fog- completely engulfing you it it’s glory.

And the wall of sound doesn’t relent– it grows and swells and pushes and it’s so gorgeous and wonderful that you think your heart is going to pop.

And then the corps rips the sound away. A precision cutoff that sends the chord careening about the stadium and caroming off into the distance.

Then the chord gets reflected back off of distant buildings and trees and hills and you get one last shadow taste of the perfection.

I think those that “get” drum corps will completely understand the moment I have described.

And those that haven’t experienced a moment like this– well, I truly hope you get to. Or at the very least something similar.

And THAT is why I love drum corps… And always will.

A Pussy Says What?

Wow is it HOT here in the Twin Cities!

Today it’s supposed to hit the upper 90’s. With like a bajillion percent humidity thrown in for added pleasure.

This totally reminds me of North Carolina summers… but without rednecks and black people.

The bad thing about Minnesota weather is that it never seems to ‘ease’ you into hottness or coldness.

In the fall/winter it’s like 40 for weeks on end, then suddenly it’s zero.

Or like now- it has been cool and dry for months. Barely out of the 60’s. Then WHAM! 90+ and oppressively sultry.

At least in the Carolinas you get a rampup to the insane heat and humidity so your body gets used to it.

I know I really shouldn’t be bitching. After a freaking cold winter, this weather is long overdue. And in general I really like warmer weather.

But remember… I’m a sweater. And in weather like this I’ll soak through a shirt in 10 minutes or less.

And that’s with no physical exertion, like, say… walking.

And don’t get me started on my “crotchal region”. Unless I stay ensconced in 60 degree AC, it gets moist like a snack cake down there.

We’re talking “Duncan Heinie” moist.

It’s quite disgusting really.

You should have seen me after volleyball last night. Not a dry square millimeter anywhere on me. I had even completely sweat through my kneepads!

And that was after playing indoors.

With AC.

I think I finally stopped sweating sometime around 4 am this morning. Fun!

To top it all off, this is PRIDE week here. And here’s little ol’ me suffering from swamp-ass and clammy-crotch.

Just perfect.

What cute gay guy is gonna want to talk to someone who is sweating more than his ice cold beer bottle?

Jesus hates me.

And because it’s Minnesota, revenge is best served as a hot dish.

Drum Beauty…

That was the name for the Drum and Bugle Corps show that I saw in Stillwater on Saturday night.

Kind of a lame name… but a good night!

This is still very early in the season– technically this was only the second show for these corps.  And as the first show was rained out… well, we got to see the debuts!

My Cavaliers came  away with the 1st place trophy and really were the best of the night.  Even Kyle said so… with almost no coaching on my part!  And what was even MORE of ‘teh awesome’, we got to hear the Cavaliers show again, as they did a standfast performance while the judges tabulated the results.  Major Squeeeee!!!

I’m now going to subject you to photographs and narrative:

This is the Minnesota Brass.  They are a senior corps based in Saint Paul.  I could actually audition and march with them (as they have no age limit).  And let me tell you… they’re damn good!  I was completely impressed by them.  They did a difficult show of jazz music and they rocked the house.

Anyone who truly knows me knows that I am tickled by heavy colorguard girls.  And this one in particular was hoofing it up during a desultory “Harlem Nocturne” number.  “Hoofing” being the operative word here.

Seriously, this number was so painful it made my heart hurt.  And the boobs… my god!  The boobs!

One of the cool things was that it was so calm on Saturday evening that there were hot air balloons floating above the stadium.  They got to see Spirit of JSU perform.

Here’s the Madison Scouts looking all dashing.  One of two all-male drum and bugle corps in existence.  My Cavaliers are the other one.  I am really hoping that Madison can improve their show and really crank it up– I miss them being in the upper eschelon.

Here are the Blue Stars with their props of tables and sewing machines.  Their show was called “Factory” as was meant to symbolize the industry surrounding WWII.  It mostly worked.

Oooo, Phantom Regiment in their wintery white uniforms… and the Drum Major in all black.  Look at all those asses packed into the tighty whiteys!!!  Mmmmm!  And Phantom’s hornline can PLAY!

Ah yes.  And here are my Cavaliers.  They totally rock!  The theme this year is “The Great Divide” and the colorguard are dressed as mountaineers.  With rope and everything.

This is a shot from the standfast performance that they played after the show.  Their music is really good this year (Adams, Ginastera, De Meij, and Debussy) and they sound incredible.  And look at all the contras!!!  16 of ‘em!!

All in all, I thoroughly enjoyed the competition and can’t wait to see how the season progresses for these corps.  Go Cavies!!!

Down the Bastard Hole…

It’s time for another Li’l Bastard Comix installment. And as a special treat this week, BILLY drew the Family Circus.

Tres droll!