Friday, September 30, 2005

The Gayest Weekend Ever!

I'm off for the weekend! This is the umpteenth annual Unofficial Gay Days at Disneyland -- not to mention my 35th birthday -- so I scheduled the weekend off from work and reserved a room at the Disneyland Hotel. No plans other than to wear red shirts (the official uniform) all weekend and to enjoy spending time with 25,000 gay men and women and their families. Not to mention all those straight families who decide to wear red as a way to keep their families together. Somehow, they never seem to receive the memo. Hmm.

So no posts from me until Tuesday. Have a great weekend, everyone!

Image from

Thursday, September 29, 2005

Book Whore Chronicles: Disgrace

I tend to follow somewhat of a pattern when I read: I find something that a like -- an author or a genre -- and read everything I can get my little hands on that fits into that category. During high school, I devoured anything in the horror genre, from Stephen King to H.P. Lovecraft to Richard Matheson. When it came time to begin college, pieces of "heavy" literature crept into my reading list, and I found myself reading everything I could from Yukio Mishima, Hemingway, Faulkner and anything considered a classic. Once I settled into post-college life and coming out, I searched for anything from a gay/lesbian author or that involved gay/lesbian characters: Larry Kramer, Rita Mae Brown, Felice Picano, David Leavitt, and the like. Today, my reading list runs the gamut from gay/lesbian and world literature to mysteries, non-fiction, sci-fi, and on and on.

But, nothing excites me as much as discovering an unexpected gay/lesbian character in a story. In the book Disgrace by J.M. Coetzee, I stumbled across one such character. The main story focused on a fifty-year-old college professor in Cape Town, South Africa. After being forced to retire in disgrace due to improprieties with a young, female student, he scurried away to his daughter's farm near Grahamstown, South Africa. The building and grounds once served as a commune until his daughter Lucy and her partner Helen took over the duties of running the place. My eyes opened wider. My heart beat a little faster. Partner? Did I read that right, or was I just impressing my own opinions about that word into the story? A few paragraphs later, and sure enough, Lucy and Helen used to be a couple until something about the house forced her to flee. My mouth actually hung open. I re-read the comments on the dustjacket flaps and found not one word about Lucy being a lesbian. (I know it sounds odd, but for me, it's like walking down the street and spying a $10 bill lying on the ground. I wasn't looking for it, but my day becomes more interesting because of that little find.) I stayed up until 1 AM to finish the book.

It's little instances such as that which make reading so interesting to me.

Wednesday, September 28, 2005

3 Is the Magic Number

I have been openly tagged by Brat Boy to complete a meme letting you all in on 3 things that you don't know about me. You'd think with a blog that I'd pretty much disseminated everything there is to know about little old me, but I do have my secrets. Most of them will stay that way, too. However, in the spirit of fair play, here's my list of three things that no one knows about me....

  • I have never read The Bible. Maybe a few sentences here and there, but never a full-blown-sit-down-and-read session.

  • My first celebrity crush was (and still is) Steve Reeves after watching his version of The Thief of Baghdad.

  • I am afraid of German Shepherds (the dogs, not people)
Okay, that should about do it. I'm supposed to tag three more unsuspecting bloggers, but I'm sure this will make its way around the 'Net.

Monday, September 26, 2005

Weekend of the Living Dead

He drove down from Long Beach on Saturday for dinner and a movie. We both had been hankering to see Tim Burton's Corpse Bride and chose the Mann Theater near my house as the best place to see it. (Plus, we needed a change of locale since I've been spending quite a bit of time at his place in Long Beach.) Surprisingly, no line trailed from the box office nor were many people seated inside the theater. We sat toward the back of the theater, fingers gently rubbing along each other's legs, previews flashing across the screen.

Then, the magic began.

Corpse Bride tells the tale of poor Victor, the son of middle class fish sellers, who is about to wed the plainly beautiful Victoria, the daughter of penniless aristocrats. During the wedding rehearsal, Victor can't seem to get the vows right and runs from the house, ashamed and frightened. In the woods, near Victoria's home, he practices and practices the vows until, getting them just right, he slips the wedding band onto what appears to be a gnarled branch, but instead changes into a skeletal hand that tries to pull him beneath the ground. Breaking away, the corpse bride Emily pushes her way to the surface to greet her new husband.

The stop-motion animation stunned us both, from the flawless movements of the characters to the art direction of the scenes themselves. It seemed hard to believe that these were puppets, they moved so fluidly. The world of the living came across as a drab, dreary place with people moving about as if they were dead; whereas, the land of the dead turned out to be colorful and, in fact, more lively than its counterpart upstairs. Danny Elfman's music and songs added just the right comic-macabre flair. The voice work, from Johnny Depp, Helena Bonham Carter, Tracey Ullman, Albert Finney, Richard E. Grant, Joana Lumley, Christopher Lee, Emily Watson, and the entire cast, fit perfectly into the entire scheme of things. And, of course, Burton added his own unique view of their world, with elongated or compact characters, people and buildings slightly twisted and askew, and a few homages to other artists (Victor/Victoria for Blake Edwards, the piano Victor plays is a Harryhausen, a character from Edward Gorey books).

We certainly enjoyed the film and discussed favorite scenes or songs all the way to the restaurant. I'd never eaten at Hurricanes Bar & Grill but heard that the food was generally good so I suggested checking it out. We first had to find the stairwell, as the restaurant overlooked Main St. from the second floor of another restaurant. Once inside, someone had painted an underwater scene on the stairwell walls, rife with lobster, shrimp, fish, seaweed and all types of sea life. However, I doubted the stale urine smell was meant to enhance the experience. We cautiously climbed the stairs and stood just inside the doors, wondering if we should venture any farther. The dining area consisted of hardwood floors, black walls, pine furniture that had been shellacked within an inch of its life, and something indefinable. I'm not sure why, but I got a bad vibe from the place; he must have felt the same thing because without a word, we both spun on our heels, quickly walked down the stairs and across the street to The Longboard for fish and chips.

Sunday, he made plans to visit his folks for the day so I used my free movie pass to see The Exorcism of Emily Rose. I expected something akin to The Exorcist -- you know, heads spinning, pea soup being vomited all over the place, Linda Blair performing unnatural acts with a miniature crucifix. For the most part, Emily Rose was a courtroom drama, dealing with the trial of Father Richard Moore, accused of negligent homicide in the death of Emily after a failed exorcism. That part of the story, acted impeccably by Laura Linney, Campbell Scott, and Tom Wilkinson, turned out better than I anticipated. But what really astonished me were the flashbacks to Emily's alleged possession. Jennifer Carpenter, who portrayed Emily, blew me away with her presentation of the young girl's ordeal. She was scared and scary and translated that from the screen to the audience. (The entire exorcism sequence was astonishing.) What I liked most about the movie was that it didn't try to say one way or another whether the possession were real; the facts were presented for both sides and the decision left to the audience. A truly thought-provoking film.

And, it scared the bejeezus out of me!

Once the movie ended, I called CS -- using my new cell phone, of course -- and we met for dinner at Ralph Brennan's Jazz Kitchen for some Drunken Chicken and a Double Chocolate Soufflé. Just what I needed to end the day.

Saturday, September 24, 2005

Is That a Cell Phone in Your Pocket?

Well, I've taken the plunge and finally advanced one step farther into the 21st Century.

First, though, I called the phone company from work and was told someone would be out on Saturday between 7:30 AM and 7 PM to fix the phone line. I was shocked and appalled at that time frame! That would mean canceling my plans for Saturday and waiting for the technician to come, not knowing just when that would be because I didn't have a phone!! The bland little girl on the other end of the phone really didn't seem to care. I hung up, ruminated a few minutes, then called back. I spoke to a different representative who acted appalled (though probably wasn't) with the time frame but said there was nothing he could do about it. He couldn't even narrow it down to a potential four-hour time frame. If I didn't want to wait that long, I would need to find the NID (still have no idea what that is) to check if lines might be crossed. Seeing as I was at work, I didn't think it would be feasible for me to drop everything and head home. Frustrated, I thanked him and ended the call.

Not three minutes later, another rep. called me at work telling me that the problem had been corrected. Seems that the problem was in their office and no one would need to fix a thing at my house. Thank goodness, but the inability to receive and to make phone calls started worming its way around my head, and I decided that I would get a cell phone.

After work, I drove to the store to check out the cell phone advertised on-line. I showed the cute, young sales representative what I'd printed; he informed me that they no longer carried that particular phone. However, he would give me the plan that comes with that particular ad and throw in the next phone up for free. So I threw caution to the wind and said "Sounds good." No bells and whistles with this one: basic functionality, instant messaging, connecting to the internet, no camera. Which is okay with me.

My friends were shocked when I called them on my new phone. They've been pestering me for months to get one, and now, I'm finally part of the new millennium. I even spent last night checking out wallpapers and ringtones to add. I'd better watch my pocket book....

**Update** It's a Samsung x495 that I purchased through T-Mobile. 600 anytime minutes, unlimited weekends and weeknights. I can IM, connect to the internet for Google searches etc., and the reception has been incredibly loud and clear, even in Disneyland.

Thursday, September 22, 2005

Moving into the 21st Century

I tried calling him tonight, but immediately after punching the last digit, a recorded voice came on the line, welcoming me to Express Dial Tone Service and offering detailed instructions for ordering it. Meanwhile, the line rang in the background, and he picked up and was treated to the same voice on a loop, repeating the spiel for a second time before blaring that awful note you hear when the handset is left off the hook too long. Then, the call disconnected.

He attempted calling me back but couldn't get through. I dialed him back, and he said the line kept ringing and ringing. I told him, over the perky recording, that I would call him tomorrow from work. We hurried a "Good Night" to each other before the hideous off-the-hook tone had the chance to deafen us.

I angrily tried calling this phone company's customer service. But the automated service mistakenly believed the recorded voice to be mine and couldn't complete the call. So I completed a problem report on their website.

They wanted a number to call me back.

And, I don't have a cell phone. gasp!

I left my work number instead.

Perhaps this would be an opportune time to get a cell phone....

Wednesday, September 21, 2005

A Helluva Movie

Saturday, he and I walked over to The Art Theater to catch the first showing of Hellbent, touted as the first ever gay slasher film. We arrived a bit early so we decided to check out a few of the antique stores near the theater, oohing and aahing over the great art deco pieces in one shop, secretly giggling at the cheesy retro 1950s furniture and accoutrements in another, and avoiding the vintage clothiers altogether. I didn't realize just how long we'd been in the shops until I looked at my watch, noticing that the movie was to start in 10 minutes. We rushed from the shop and darted across the street, speedwalking to the end of the line.

Only to find out that the ticket seller was standing outside the booth waiting for the key to open the lock box. He called the theater owner two or three times, occasionally stepping into traffic to look for the owner's vehicle. The owner arrived about 15 minutes later. The film started about 15 minutes after that, as the line of men wasn't all that long; I think all told, maybe 15 people watched that first showing. (I sense a pattern....)

Hellbent tells the story of Eddie, a young gay man who has a desk job with the West Hollywood Police Department. He originally started the process to become a full-fledged office -- like his father -- but, due to a bad accident, he was declared physically unfit to continue. After two gay men are found beheaded in a car, the Chief asks Eddie to distribute flyers around the West Hollywood area, looking for clues and for any witnesses. Later in the evening, Eddie and his friends -- Joey, Chaz and Tobey -- are off to the Halloween festivities in West Hollywood. Just to be creepy, Chaz parks the car at the same spot where the two men were found dead. They walk through the woods, inadvertently running into a mysterious horned figure who stares at them then vanishes. Creeped out, they head to the festivities and into the mix of gay men and women decked out in their Halloween finest. In typical slasher movie fashion, the mysterious man follows them to the festivities and starts picking them off one by one, leaving Eddie for last in a great, suspense-filled chase/fight scene in Eddie's apartment.

I found myself impressed with this movie. Writer/director Paul Etheridge-Ouzts managed to create a creepy without being cheesy slasher film that just happens to take place in West Hollywood. It could have taken place anywhere, with almost any cast of characters; what really worked well for Hellbent: the cast. Dylan Fergus, Andrew Levitas, Bryan Kirkwood, Hank Harris and Matt Phillips worked incredibly well together and came across as people instead of simply as gay men in West Hollywood. Also, the special effects turned out to be surprisingly good for an indie film. (The scene with the knife headed for an eye still sends chills down my spine.) A few of the scenes required some creative license -- like the woods near Santa Monica Blvd. And, sometimes the shots came across a little grainy, but I still enjoyed this great addition to the slasher film genre.

Oh, and for those of you who keep asking for more info about him, I'm respecting his privacy. I will say that he's incredibly sexy. Intelligent. Funny. And a good kisser.

Monday, September 19, 2005

Adventures in Dating: Something in the Air

Walking down the alley to the street, a few dark clouds hang over the ocean like a ceiling, leaving a light bluish band of faded sunlight. I turn around, looking at the foothills to the East, hidden in the dark behind the streetlights only to appear in the sudden flashes of lightning. Thunder grumbles through the air, shakes the little bones in my ear. No rain is falling. No winds blow fallen leaves or bits of old newspaper along the gutters. But, a storm is coming.

A strange beginning to the week after such a wonderful weekend. I spent much of the time with him, catching a local production of Urinetown on Friday, dining with a group of friends afterwards at Jerry's Deli and sitting at the table across from Maureen McGovern. Driving to see him again Saturday and cruising about Long Beach to celebrate the One Year Anniversary of a local gay book store and to support a new gay horror film. (I normally don't enjoy those films and avoid them at all costs, but sitting next to him, grabbing his arm when the killer strikes, and sharing a Coke, made it worth sitting through.) We even managed to become lost trying to find a restaurant only to end up navigating the maze that is the Port of Long Beach and laughing until finally winding up at The Yardhouse.

Sunday, we both spent with our respective families. My Grandmother celebrated the 89th anniversary of her birth, as a co-worker would call it. Swedish pancakes with lingonberries, strawberry crepes, apple waffles drowning in Sianking cinnamon: who needs a birthday cake?! While Mom drove Grandma back to her house, I sat with my Dad and reminisced about old Huntington Beach. He still remembered the Saltwater Plunge which consisted of two swimming pools filled with warmed and filtered salty seawater, direct from the Pacific. He remembered watching from a sea cliffs as a firecrew fought back the flames to cap an old oil well along PCH. He remembered when the street on which he grew up, in the very house not 60 feet from me, was actually an Avenue instead of a Street.

A few hours later, I sped North on the 5 to meet a few friends at Disneyland, then on toward home. I called him during the Emmy's, and we talked until midnight.

The lights are flickering. Rain is gently drumming on the roof. I'd better sign off for the night.

Friday, September 16, 2005

Adventures in Dating: Weekend Update!

- Last night, I dined with him and his two closest friends at a Hoff's Hutt in Long Beach. I think we hit it off. At least, I answered their questions, smiled, gave them two forms of ID and a copy of my birth certificate so they could run a background check. Well, okay...that's a bit of an exaggeration there, but we did have a good evening talking and getting to know everyone.

- Tonight, he and I are seeing Urinetown. I love a man who's into theater!!!

- Saturday, we're going to check out the gay slasher film Hellbent at the Art Theater near his house, followed by a stopover at Equal Writes which will be celebrating its One Year Anniversary!!

I look forward to spending time with him. Those are some of the few times during the week when I feel calm and that the world just seems to disappear for a little while.

Tuesday, September 13, 2005

Saturday, I drove with him to The Ahmanson to see a staging of Sidney Kingsley's 1935 play Dead End. Neither of us knew much about it, except that it had been a certified hit during its initial run on Broadway back in the 1930's, that it boasted a cast of 42 actors, and that part of the set design included turning the orchestra pit into a recreation of the East River complete with 10,000 gallons of water. I think that was the big draw for me, seeing the set design and how they were going to pull off the East River -- plus, seeing a play that isn't performed very often always piques my interest.

And, to make the show even more interesting, he and CS were to meet for the first time. (Just a little nervous about that, my best friend meeting the man I'm dating.) CS joined us outside the theater a few minutes before curtain call, hands shaken, pleasantries exchanged. I'm not sure what I expected, having read fictitious accounts of claws being bared and catty comments flying like a Chinese acrobat. The two seemed to hit it off, and I heaved a sigh of relief.

We found our seats in the rear orchestra, flipped through the program to see if we recognized anyone (one of his friends was in the cast), and read a bit of the history of the show. Sidney Kingsley wrote the play as a response to the social situation of New York City during the 1930s, showcasing the class separation, the poor living conditions, and the struggles of residents just trying to make it through another day. Eleanor Roosevelt saw three performances; she enjoyed it so much that she requested a command performance at the White House. The play impressed President Franklin D. Roosevelt so much that he authorized reforms and legislation to clean up the slums of New York City. William Wyler directed the screen version, starring Humphrey Bogart and the gang of young actors who would be known as the "Dead End Kids" in over 90 films.

The lights dimmed. The backlight lit up the scene behind the scrim, and we were impressed with what we saw. Three-story sets, complete with railings and metal fire escapes; a waterfront dock to represent the dead end of the street as it disappears into the East River; the street itself curving behind the building facade, allowing the audience to feel as if they were looking at a real street in New York City. The play began with the gang of kids jumping and splashing around the river, soaking the people in the first two rows. From then on, we sat mesmerized by the intertwining stories of gang leader Tommy trying to be a leader while his sister tries to protect him from the streets and from the class system; Gimpty, an architect who grew up in the slums and is hopelessly in love with a socialite -- who desperately loves him back but can't stay with him after she realizes how he lives; "Baby Face" Martin, on the run from the law and trying to reconnect with his mother and his ex-girlfriend. Fantastic acting from the entire cast -- especially Joyce Van Patten as Mrs. Martin who will have nothing to do with her gangster son and Pamela Grey as Francey, Martin's former girlfriend who's become a diseased prostitute. Some of the cast became more like living props as they didn't have any lines but moved about the set -- entering buildings, taking in laundry from fire escapes, lounging on another fire escape to cool off from the heat -- to make it feel more like a real neighborhood filled with people instead of a set. It was, simply put, one of the best experiences I've ever had at the theater.

We dined afterwards at Hamburger Mary's in the gayborhood, spending much of the time talking about the play, our favorite scenes, favorite performances, the social impact that the play had and our thoughts on what it means today. I enjoyed listening to the two of them hitting it off, too, talking about growing up, how did we meet, plans for the future -- all over a piping hot plate of Mary Tyler S'Mores (which we cooked at the table). We parted ways about 7 in the evening.

He and I held hands in the car, listening to music, chatting about the day, enjoying being with each other.

Sunday, September 11, 2005

A Director Walks Into His Agent's Office....

"I've got a great idea for a movie."

The Agent continues skimming through the contract on his desk. "Oh yeah? What is it this time?"

"I heard of a joke that comedians like to tell one another. An old joke, going back to maybe Vaudevillian times." He sits in one of the hard-backed chairs opposite the Agent's desk. "It's vile and disgusting, a joke filled with the worst kind of toilet humor imaginable. And they love to tell and re-tell it to one another, each trying to create something more vile and more disgusting than the last."

The Agent glances up from the contract. "So?"

"Well," the Director stammers, "I...I was thinking what a great idea it would be to shoot a documentary about the joke. You know, talk with some of the comedians about it, get their views on why it's been around so long, what makes them keep repeating it. I mean, it's not as if it were a funny joke so something must -"

"It's not a funny joke?" The Agent drops his pen. "Not funny? Why the Hell would they want to tell a joke that isn't funny?"

"Well, it's not so much about the punch line as it is about the filler between the opening and the closing. Those two things don't change at all. But, the middle part allows the comedians to riff as if they were improvising on a saxophone. The joke begins with a standard line and what follows has to contain a few specific elements. The teller can improvise whatever he wants with those, making it fairly tame or going for the ultimate in poor taste, throwing in feces, incest, vomit, sex with some kind of animal, or whatever to keep the joke going for as long as possible. The more audacious and rude, the better. Until the teller feels the time is right to unveil the punch line."

"And then, no one laughs," chimes in the Agent.

"Oh, I'm sure the comedians laugh. Not too sure about anyone who doesn't really understand what's going on."

"And you want to shoot a documentary about it?" The Agent furrows his eyebrows. "What on Earth for?"

The Director shuffles uneasily in his chair. "So that everyone else will understand what it takes make a joke. All the hard work and effort to make something funny, and the skill to come up with something out of thin air." The Agent continues staring at the Director. "I've already got about 100 comedians who are willing to give their take and insight into the joke."

"100?!" The Agent asks, his jaw dropping almost level with the desktop. "You've talked to 100 people who are willing to discuss what is an ultimately disgusting and unfunny joke? For a half-hour documentary?"

The Director forces himself to look directly into his Agent's eyes. "Um...almost two hours."


"Well, I've already started to film some of it...."

"You've got to be kidding me. The joke isn't funny, and you want to film two hours worth of talk about shit, piss, sex with animals, not to mention what other kinds of lewd acts can be thought up?"

The Director nods meekly.

"Holy shit." The Agent sinks back into his chair. "And what do you plan on calling this little ditty of yours?"

"I call it The Aristocrats."

Thursday, September 08, 2005

Adventures in Dating: The Human Touch

Labor Day, we sat next to each other in a booth at The Shore House in Long Beach, lunching with a close friend of his. Beneath the table, I gently pressed my left leg against his right. His gently pressed back, and our legs swayed together while we ate.

We dropped his friend at his house, then drove through the magnificent homes in Bixby Knolls, an expensive part of Long Beach. He lowered his right hand while driving and interlocked his fingers with those of my hand. I smiled, rubbing my thumb along his index finger as we toured the homes.

Sitting beside each other in those confining seats that can only be found in a movie theater, we watched Charlie and the Chocolate Factory -- his first time; my third. We both laughed at the reference to Hair, and I felt his fingers running through the hair on my right arm. I softly scratched my fingernails along his leg, stopping only long enough to laugh along with him.

Wednesday, September 07, 2005

Assembly Bill 849

While at The Gay & Lesbian Center last night, I came across this article on Yahoo!:

California Assembly passes bill to allow gay marriage

In the wake of Hurricane Katrina and the ineffectiveness of FEMA, this little piece of legislation made its way through the State Senate and finally the Assembly! While this is great news for proponents of gay marriage, learning that the 41-35 vote followed party lines I find disturbing. The U.S. is quickly retreating from being of, by and for the People and is plunging headlong into of, by and for the Party. Listening to NPR this morning drove that point even farther home when a Republican Assemblyman, arguing against the Bill, called gay marriage "a great experiment," seeming to equate it more with a passing phase rather than with real people who wish to be in a recognized, committed relationship -- just like everyone else. (A "great experiment?" Gay marriage isn't some high school science project, mixing two chemicals together over a bunsen burner to see if they will either combine or explode.) ***sigh***

So the fate of gay marriage in California rests in the hands of Governor Schwarzeneggar. You can send an email to, or fill out the electronic comment form at to ask him to sign AB 849 into law.

Monday, September 05, 2005

A Foggy Day in HB Town

I re-started my walking routine yesterday morning, heading down my street to the beach, enjoying the morning sun, the dozens of walkers-joggers-surfers-bicyclists, and even spotting a fishing trawler fairly close to the shoreline. My camera sat on my desk at home so I decided that the next morning, I would bring it along to snap a few pics of the Pacific Coastline. Little did I know that the fog rolled in during the early hours of the morning. I awoke to low visibility and damp streets. I almost decided against going out, but my desire to lose weight beat my rationality to bits. Camera in hand, I made my way to the street and onward to the beach. Within minutes of reaching the path along the beach, my sweatshirt was damp, appearing to be covered with frost as I walked along the coast. I made a detour into one of the restrooms for some paper to wipe the water from my glasses.

The fog provided a refreshing change from the heat of the past few weeks. I love living along the coast but am not much of a Sun or a heat person. I tend to burn, peel and return to whiteness unlike most living in Huntington Beach and would rather sit inside a movie theater, enjoying the cold blasts from the air conditioner. The walkers and joggers this morning wore warmer clothing, windbreakers, sweats, anything to keep the moisture out. Surfers donned their suits and carried their boards across the beach, fading into the fog. Families already staked claims to fire pits and sat in their chairs guarding them. I trudged along, head down to keep my glasses clear, listening to the sounds of the early morning city soften behind me.

I love mornings like this -- when the whole world seems to have disappeared, leaving you alone to think things through or to enjoy a break from the routine of life. I find myself paying more attention to my surroundings: sea gulls scrounging through the sand for food, ethereal surfers gliding through the fog, the grinding of bicycle wheels quickly approaching from behind, the two little girls laughing as they somersault and tumble across the beach. I lose track of time. I finally glanced at my watch, noticing that 45 minutes had passed since leaving my house. Almost 2 miles from my house. I reluctantly turned around and walked back to the city.

Friday, September 02, 2005

Lucky Seven

I've been tagged!! Can you see the orange plastic thing with a number hanging from my ear? I just know there's a microchip implanted somewhere on my person so scientists can follow my progress through Datingland. But in all seriousness, thanks to Tuna Girl for inviting me to join in the fun(?).

7 things I plan to do before I die:

1. Spend the night alone in a haunted house
2. Visit each of the 50 States
3. Learn to drive a stick shift
4. Be a paid extra in a movie
5. Perform unspeakable acts of sexual artistry
6. Touch the stones at Stonehenge
7. Publish a short story

7 things I can do:

1. Play the clarinet
2. Sightread music
3. Understand French
4. Listen
5. Cook
6. Find my way around the Disneyland Resort without a guide map
7. Balance my checkbook every month

7 things I cannot do:

1. Perform unspeakable acts of sexual artistry
2. Surf (and I live near the beach; go figure!)
3. Act
4. Sing well (not even passably)
5. Belch the entire alphabet in one take
6. Walk up to an attractive guy and introduce myself
7. Drive a stick shift

7 things that attract me to the same sex:

1. Handsome face
2. A shy smile
3. Toned arms
4. Hairy legs
5. Sense of humor
6. Goatee
7. Hairy chest

7 things that I say most often:

1. Hey.
2. What's up?
3. No way!
4. Excuse me.
5. Geez!
6. Anyway...
7. I'm not Charles.

7 celebrity crushes:

1. Eric Evans
2. Evan Farmer
3. Seann William Scott
4. Matthew Fox
5. Jorge Posada
6. Steve Kelso
7. Nomar Garciaparra

This meme's been making the rounds so I won't tag anyone. Except for Joel. And Garry.

Thursday, September 01, 2005

Them Heavy People

By them, I really mean me. Yes, I've fallen off the weight-loss wagon. Ever since my tummy troubles back at the beginning of the year, I've put on 10 pounds. I started feeling down and began again with the fries and sodas. So in an effort to get back in shape, to lose the weight, and to look good for the new man I'm seeing (great date last night, by the way; Chinese food, moonlit walk along the beach, and some nice together time). I would like to lose about 20 lbs. which would put me at about 185 lbs. According to some medical experts, that still makes me obese as my weight should be around 172 lbs. Um....That just seems unhealthy.

>My goal: to look like Eric Evans.... Okay, that's not really going to happen, but I think it's a look to aim for. Those arms, that hairy chest, those abs -- what's not to like? He just oozes sexiness. (The sparse leather clothing, metal arm bands, dark sunglasses and scruffiness don't hurt, either.) So beginning tomorrow (because I've already strayed from the desired weight loss path today), I will cut out the fries and the sodas. I will return to my regular weekly workouts and add morning walks along the coast on Saturday and Sunday mornings. I will use the stairs in my office building instead of the elevator. I will eat the foods that I should have been eating and not overindulge. I will cut back on the sweets which are prevalent in my office (evil vending machines!).

Goodbye to the belly pouring over my waist band! Goodbye to the lethargy and to the sluggishness! Goodbye to the feelings of not fitting in! Hello to the improved me!!