Archive Page 13

20
May
09

I Heart Betty White

We’re down two Golden Girls, with two to go. Oh, it pains me to think of losing Rue McClanahan and Betty White. Yet it’s hard to resist the speculation: Who will be the last Girl standing?

Meanwhile, this is hilarious! Betty White calls Ryan Reynolds an “ab-crunching jackass,” and he tells her to suck a hot cock. And Sandra Bullock slaps Reynolds around for picking on poor Betty.

I know I’m totally falling for this viral marketing, but I’ll probably never see the movie its meant to promote. The worst part: I have an irrational dislike of Sandra Bullock, but this clip is actually making me like her.

14
May
09

Ab Fab is Dead. Long Live Absolutely Fabulous!

Good news: Fox is giving up on its ill-considered remake of Absolutely Fabulous.

It might have been brilliant … but it was more likely to be a travesty — despite the worthy efforts of Kristen Johnson and Kathryn Hahn. Alas, the world will never know. Frankly, I think we’re better off.

american ab fab not happening
A lady always knows when it’s time to leave the party.
[afterelton.com]

E

13
May
09

Gay Blood? Don’t Bank On It.

Shall I be insulted by, or merely appreciate the irony of, a sign posted outside my office in the elevator lobby encouraging us to donate blood. As corporate social service initiatives go, it’s a fine idea in concept. But since 1985, gay men have been banned by the U.S. Food and Drug Administration from making blood donations.

This floor is occupied by Logo, the GLBT network. I guess they’re going after the handful of folks across the hall who work for Nickelodeon?

To their credit, the Red Cross and the American Association of Blood Banks want all donors to be treated equally. Right now it’s a lifetime ban, but they would have the deferral period be reduced to a year, which is the current rule for heterosexuals who may have been exposed to HIV risk.

The FDA is undergoing a review, but who knows when they’ll make a final decision.

I think they’re still missing the point, though. The risk comes not from man-on-man action, but from the absence of condoms. Straight folk may have unprotected sex within a year of their blood donation and pose no apparent risk.

That’s still kinda discriminatory, no?

Fortunately for me, I can’t give blood anyway. I have such anxiety about needles, whether it’s an injection or an extraction, that I’m likely to pass out and hit my head on something. That, to me, is a more immediate threat to my health than the idea of getting blood from a gay guy.

06
May
09

Not Quite Gay Enough

My office conducted its second annual bake-off last week. As if a bake-off isn’t gay enough, ours is now annual. And it inspires some fierce competition.

Last year we had two teams. It was the programming department versus the online production department. This year, we had so many people take interest that there were three teams.

2009 Bake-Off
That’s me in the back of the second team, striking the Charlie’s Angels pose with an electric mixer. This is what gay cable networks get up to when no one is looking — in case you were wondering. I wonder what Bravo does.

The rules are simple: We are each to make a sweet dessert, each one containing at least three ingredients and yielding at least 15 servings. And we must bring out own serving implements.

The entire staff may vote once for the desserts they think are the best in three categories: Gayest, Most Original and Outrageous, and Best Overall. The team with the most accumulated points among its members wins.

My boss and I teamed up last year to win the Best Overall with deep-fried apple pies. He made the dough, and I made the filling and schlepped the deep-fryer. And our team won. So this year it was a grudge match for Programming.

I briefly considered some heinous concoction or other from a ’50s-era, Good Housekeeping, Lutheran church basement pot-luck social cookbook. Something with lime Jell-O, marshmallows, cottage cheese and mustard. Or something. But the online department had a theme: All our desserts were to contain some sort of booze. We called ourselves Alco-Locas, our not-subtle tribute to Nina Flowers.

Grasshopper brownies with creme de menthe seemed a bit more palatable, but it didn’t seem gay enough. I wanted something a bit more fancy-pants and challenging. So I settled on a friend’s suggestion, Lillet-flavored marshmallows.

Lillet marshmallows
We called them ‘Get Lillet’d Marshmallows’

For shits and giggles I made them pink and cut them into triangles. How gay can you get?

Apparently it wasn’t gay enough.

A chocolate-and-nut confection rolled in coconut won Gayest. Yummy Balls they were called. How coarse! Can you believe it? Over pink marshmallow triangles — flavored with a French wine aperitif!

Well, I have to hand it to my proud and worthy competitor for a well-named dessert. People just couldn’t get enough of his balls. So many people had his balls in their mouth that day. Coworkers would ask each other if they’d had his balls yet.

And so on…

Here are a few of the notable competitors.

2009 Bake-Off competitors
From top left, clockwise: Yummy Balls, Macadamia Nut Pie, 80-Proof Irish Car Bomb Gay-teaux, Eat My Cookie Cocktail, Tarte au Citron, Poached Pears in Red Wine with Lime Mousse.

Team 3, “Sons of Batches,” won in a delicious upset with the most accumulated points. But the Programming department had the most individual winning desserts. And Online… well, let’s just say we got served.

Best Overall Dessert was a tie this year between the Poached Pears and the Irish Car Bomb Gay-teaux. (Those cupcakes sure packed a wallop!)

Most Original and Outrageous went to a dessert involving a ginger-sugar rimmed champagne-ginger cocktail and a gingersnap. The Eat My Cookie Cocktail. Yes, it was very ginger. Very precious. Like me, its maker was disappointed he didn’t get Gayest. But I do absolutely think he deserves the title he got.

Some other notable entries included:

  • Benedictine Ice Cream Sandwiches with Peanut Butter Cookie Tops and Bottoms (Quite a mouthful!)
  • Cumquat Galettes and Cherry Dark Chocolate Galettes With Homemade Ice Cream (Note the intentional, naughty misspelling. Can you get away with this where you work?)
  • Guinness “Bottoms Up” Brownies
  • Tira-mi-so-horny

I’m already studying up for next year. I can see I’m gonna have to pull out the big guns. It’s gonna involve fire. Baked Alaska? Cherries Jubilee, anyone?

06
May
09

Four Readers

Native New Yorkers are like unicorns. Everybody who lives there seems to be from somewhere else. And everybody comes together on the subway.

I am sitting among three people with books open on their laps. To my left, it looks like this woman is reading something in Chinese, if time spent strolling through the Lower East Side has given me any foundation.

To my right, an older gentleman is reading something in English, and beyond him, someone is reading in Russian, at a guess.

I can see a woman across the aisle with what looks like a Hebrew holy book of some sort. The worn, cornerless pages looked either well-loved or tortured; I couldn’t decide. The lettering on the cover had faded into dark brown of the book’s leathery skin.

Sometimes I wonder how we all understand each other. I think maybe we never really do.

05
May
09

Going for a Song

A bartender the other day was telling someone a few stools down from me about a regular he served the night before. He was some corporate lawyer drunk who the bartender theorized had a need to subdue his conscience with booze.

“It doesn’t work, but he has fun trying,” he said. And they all laughed.

“You can tell when he’s wasted because he reads the closed captioning.” He gestured toward the TVs stationed behind the bar. “He sings it. He sings the closed captioning.”

I looked up at the television sets. Words scrolled, line by line, disappearing up into a netherworld of text. It just keeps coming and coming, with spelling errors, with missing words, missing phrases. Sometimes it’s just gibberish for a few seconds until something, a computer or a human, catches up.

“He always said the closed captioning looked like Morrissey lyrics,” continued the bartender.

Well, I’m not sure if this says more about the lawyer or about Morrissey.

01
May
09

You Better Work

Start with a strong-woman ensemble piece like the 1980 film 9 to 5. Add music written by gay-fave country diva Dolly Parton. Throw in an orchestra, some sequins and a bit of razzle-dazzle, and you should have a recipe for a little slice of gay heaven.

9 to 5: The Musical,” which opened at New York’s Marriott Marquis Theater last night, comes pretty close.

More

24
Apr
09

A Sign of Desperation

A sign posted in the window of a modest business seen recently on Greys Ferry Avenue in Philadelphia:

CHECKS CASHED
MONEY ORDERS
KEROSENE

Almost poetry.

24
Apr
09

Distance Over Time

On a bus between here and there, a lot passes you by. Cars, buses, trucks, a lot of gray. Most of it goes without notice, but sometimes something sticks out.

I saw an ad for a brand of running shoe once on the side of a truck. I can’t remember the substance of the ad, but the words were simple: “Distance over time.”

Speed, I thought.

In 10th grade physics, it’s simple and basic. But it struck me for the first time how, in another context, that phrase might mean something entirely different.

Distance over time. Two meanings: mathematics vs. poetry.

In terms of running shoes, speed is measured in the distance traveled divided by the time it took to get there. But to a more poetic heart, distance is something that can be achieved over time, with patience.

24
Apr
09

Last One’s a Rotten Egg

Once, when we were stopped in a traffic jam on the New Jersey Turnpike, I saw a line of cars peeling off of the left lane, passing through a space in the median and entering into the opposing traffic on the other side, just to avoid whatever was causing the slow-down — until a state trooper pulled up in the vicinity and spoiled the fun. Unassisted he was able to stop two vehicles and issue tickets. Naturally, no one attempted the maneuver after this. Forty people must have made that illegal turnaround, but the last two got stopped.

I think episodes like this justify my inability or unwillingness to make a decision. Just ride it out, no matter how bad the accident ahead my be, because the alternative could be met with sirens and flashing lights.

Or… Just make the decision sooner.




the untallied hours