Going… down?

I almost always think of Aerosmith’s “Love in an Elevator” when in an elevator– and then I make an inappropriate joke. And snicker. 

But that’s not what this post is about. 

This weekend, the Twin Cities gay men’s chorus was in Kansas City to sing a joint concert series with Heartland Men’s Chorus. It went well and was a lot of fun. 

But that isn’t what this post is about either. 

We stayed in the downtown Marriott in Kansas City which was a fairly nice hotel.  Much nicer than I generally go for (as I’m a cheap bastard).  And at this hotel I was introduced to an elevator “process” that I hadn’t yet seen:


Outside the bank of elevators were these touch screen displays. You summoned the elevator by waving your hand over the touch screen to wake it and then selecting which floor number you desired.  An algorithm would then choose the nearest elevator (which I believe were staged strategically at different levels), a car was called and you were then directed with an illuminated arrow and letter to the correct car location for you: A, B, etc. 

Elevator wait time was maybe 10 seconds. At the very most. 

Once inside the car there were only 4 buttons: door open, door close, emergency stop, and emergency call.  The doors would close and you were whisked basically express elevator-style to your floor. 

I think the only time I suffered additional stops was when people on lower floors were also going to the lobby level. And that was one time and only perhaps two stops. 

Seriously- WHERE HAS THIS BEEN ALL MY LIFE?!?

No more getting into a car going up where people press like 8 different floors, thus trapping you in close quarters with the rabble when you really just need to get to your room to pee. No additional delays of more people getting on and off like the slow cattle they are. And no suffering children pulling that Dick move of pushing all the buttons before jumping out.

Minimal wait time. Everyone going to similar floors or areas. Fast. Efficient. Easy. Breezy. Beautiful. 

I love shit like this, where someone took an everyday situation that we all suffer through “just because” and then came up with a reimagined, fairly elegant solution.

For this one magica weekend, I glimpsed the future, and it was glorious!

Le sigh……

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Kansas City, here I come!

This weekend is a chorus exchange. Members of the twin cities chorus are heading to Kansas City to partner on a concert.  And then I two weeks KC will come to us. 

I hope it goes well. 

This has been a slightly abbreviated preparation period as we had to wedge in two concert series this spring. I’m ready– but I do worry about how well we will represent ourselves. 

Anyway, at least I’m not at work. 

We’re doing Midwestern premiers of “Tyler’s Suite”-  a 9 movement Suite composed in memory of Tyler Clementi (gay suicide after college roommate filmed him on a date and then broadcast it to the school).

So…. lighter fare. 😐

Part of me hopes I’ll meet some really cool new people and make new friends and have fun on the 7 hour bus rides. The other part of me hopes I don’t fuck up the music. 

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Woofy Wednesday

I’ll tumble 4 ya


And because fur rules—

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Dare to Hair

So, I “may” have been inspired by my ever-so-dreamy soccer player “boyfriend”.  I decided I needed to alter my hair a bit.

So I trimmed it up a bit this weekend. And then cut a really well defined ‘part line’ into it. 


It’s not the best angle, but it gives you an idea. Oh, and it’s not as pronounced as it appears:


Just something to add some “interest” up there. 

PS– do you know how flippin’ hard it is to cut in your own part line?

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Nicolás Otamendi

While running at the gym, I like to have a couple of sports to watch. NCAA basketball was on the big screen, so on the treadmill screen I popped on premier league soccer. 

And saw this:


Nicolás Hernán Gonzalo Otamendi. 

It was a game between Manchester City and Liverpool. From the zoomed out view, the dot-like players were drifting about the field, but my eye kept coming back to one defender for Man City.  Player #30.

He was all hustle and tenacity. And seemed to be part of every play at that end of the field. 

Then the camera zoomed in.




Argentinian. Plays defense for Man City and in the Argentine national team. 6′ tall. Tattooed. And Bearded. 

Muy Delicioso!


Suddenly I’m a big fan of Manchester City!

P.S. This?  THIS is my kryptonite. Otter build. THICK beard with an auburn hue. Tattoos. Hipster haircut. Athletic….

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Li’l Bastard Comix

After a L O N G hiatus, I decided to resurrect he Comix. Because, why not?



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Woofy Wednesday 

Is it Wednesday already??  No wonder I’m thirsty!


Oh my dear lord, yaaaaaas!



And again, because I like asses– especially furry ones:


All’s well that ends well. 😃

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Snow mas!

It snowed. 

I guess we should expect it here in March as this is one of the snowiest months in Minnesota. But lately we’ve been having such warm weather, I kinda forgot about it.

It was powdery and we got like 4″. Not too bad, just more annoying really. 

But It’s also in the teens today– which are January-like temperatures. And that’s not so very nice. Especially being like a week from the first day of spring. 

I’m sure I’ll survive but the snow and cold coupled with the time change has just really kinda made for a tough Monday. 

I just want to crawl in bed. 

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Next on “Hoarders”….

Actually this title is patently unfair. My mom really isn’t a “hoarder”, at least not in the classic sense. I mean, she doesn’t keep trash and magazines and feces and stuff. She just has cluttered closets. 

And cupboards. 

Her actual living space is in decent shape.  It’s tidy and doesn’t really have too much furniture or anything. And she’s really pared down the knick-knacks, although there are a few too many left for my taste. But any space that can be closed from view (i.e. The closets) are just sort of a disaster. 

While I was home taking care of mom, I noticed that she still hadn’t opened the new cookware I got her for Christmas. She was still using the old, scratched, teflon crap!!

So I dug out all her old cookware and replaced it with the new stuff. 

Which then precipitated me cleaning out her kitchen cupboards.

There was so much accumulated stuff that I made the executive decision to “recycle”.

Like all her grody, stained plastic gladware and sandwich containers.  And paper bags. And Mason jars. And broken pot handles. And mismatched lids. And multiple plastic, squeeze water bottles. 

And then it was the upper cabinets where I found like 20 cheap coffee mugs. And two sets of wine glasses. And a couple old glasses from her previous glassware set.  And several old, mismatched plates from three sets ago. 

And then it was on to her baking cupboard where I found like 10 cookie sheets and like 15 9×13 cake pans. And several muffin pans. And two bundt cake pans. And three sets of mixing bowls. And more. 

To make room, I then tackled her spare room storage closet– where I found about 50 cookbooks. I’m not joking:


This isn’t even all of them. 

But with those cleared out, I was able to move bakeware and crap to this closet. So I could then move small appliances to the kitchen.  

Which allowed me to move all her booze to the storage closet. Which allowed me to turn her spare living room closet into a cleaning closet (vacuum, dusting, swiffers, etc). 

I also tackled her hall closet (basically a linen closet) and I got rid of sets of curling irons and blow driers and old playbills and old towels and scented candles and…

Okay, you get the picture. 

Now, before you all gasp– all of this was done with my mother’s blessing. And several things have been donated (wine glasses, mixing bowls, cookbooks, etc).  And I kept all the things mom still used. 

The best part is she has more room and less clutter. And things more at “point of use”.

And I got a set of mixing bowls and an old cast iron skillet out of it. And a bottle of Johnny Walker Red label. 

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Woofy Wednesday

It’s a bit blustery here– I think I need one of these guys to hold me down!




And just because I’m an ass man….

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