Vanguard: A Miscellany

Done

I think I might be done. 

For the past month or so, I've been glued to CNN, CNN.com, Slate.com, The Wall Street Journal, The Daily Show, Saturday Night Live, and website after website, hungry for anything new about the election--more specifically about the unravelling of the McCain campaign and the tug of war between the supporters and opposition to Prop 8.  I've sat down to dinner with friends and acquaintances and subjected patients to conversations about what may arguably be the most significant election day ever.

I've celebrated the gains the Obama campaign has made, but honestly revelled more in the foibles of McCain and Palin--his disingenuous "my friends" and that insincere grin, her ignorance of the Bush doctrine or of the names of magazines or newpapers from which she gets her information or of the responsibilities of the office of the Vice President or just her palin...I mean Plain...ignorance.  

I've seen a lawn sign go up for the No on 8 campaign and remain there for a few days.  I've seen a Yes on 8 sign go up subsequently on that neighbor's lawn, followed a few days later by several other neighbors putting up their own signs--for No on 8 as a sign of neighborhood opposition to bigotry.  The Yes on 8 sign never did come down, however.  

Frankly I never did see this coming.  After the past eight years and the smoldering culture war, I was in shock when the frontrunners for the Democratic presidential nominee included a black man and a woman.  I didn't believe that this country was prepared for a non-white man as strange as it may sound to the rest of the world to be Commander in Chief.  A country rife with creationists.  A country that still believed the War on Terror was indeed a war on terror.  A country that clings fervently to the illusion of a Leave It to Beaver America.  A country afraid of looking outside its borders and happy and complacent in its ignorance.

That's what the last eight years had taught me of the majority of my neighbors, the neighbors responsible for not voting for my chosen presidential candidates.

And yet here we are.  Here I am.  Holding my breath.  Hoping for change, but afraid to even acknowledge the legitimacy of the polls, unable to accept Obama's lead the way I had counted on Gore's or Kerry's.  

But the media has picked away a bit.  The numbers look good.  The opposition is imploding.  At least for the presidential campaign.  But even the Prop 8 fight has been closer than I had given it credit for.  

Then I watched one too many.  And I'm reminded that as strongly as I feel for my side of the argument, there are those who feel more strongly about the opposing side.  I can't muster the energy to hand John McCain in effigy.  Or leave a dead carcass on his doorstep.  Or shoot one of his supporters just for stealing my Obama lawn sign.  Or punch myself in the eye and scratch a dyslexic J onto my cheek.  Or raise money and hold rallies to add a constitutional amendment banning heterosexual divorce.  

Honestly watching the culture war in all its ugliness has finally taken its toll.  On November 4, I'll cast my ballot for Barack Obama and vote against Proposition 8.  I'll watch that evening as the world changes for better or worse.  But until then, I'm done.

Thirty Nine

Thirty-nine.  If there's one thing I'll remember, it is thirty-nine.

On October 19, I went to Bed, Bath and Beyond to buy my brother-in-law a birthday present.  It was a Tassimo coffee maker, the kind that makes single servings of coffee or lattes or cappuccinos.  A week before, Sunshine and Barbie had given me the exact same thing, and I loved it.  So there I was in the Beverly Center parking lot with purchase in hand, rifling through my pockets for the parking stub in front of the automated parking kiosk. 

Nope, no ticket in the front pocket. None in the back pockets.  Cargo pockets were empty.  I checked my wallet, no luck.  It wasn't in the car or the ground.  And strangely enough, it didn't turn up again in my front pockets, the back pockets, the cargo pockets, the wallet, the car or the ground.  Even weirder, it didn't show up the third time I looked in those places.  

Eventually I had to bite the bullet and pay the maximum $10 to get the hell out.

Whatever, it sucked.

That night Jewmex and I went out for dinner and a movie.  We saw Quarantine at the Grove.  What a bunch of shit, that movie, especially the end.  We talked about it as we headed up the escalator before realizing we didn't remember what floor my car was parked or the general vicinity in which it was parked.  

Oh and my front pockets, my back pockets, my cargo pockets, my wallet, the car and the ground again misplaced my parking ticket.  Again.

I pleaded with the parking attendant, and 20 minutes of checking the various floors and $3 later, we were able to leave the Grove.

Maybe it was just a bad day.  Could've been, right?

The following Wednesday, Fishering took me out for my birthday.  A wonderful restaurant called Ocean Ave. Seafood.  We caught up over fish and oysters and alcohol.  It was a really enjoyable evening...until I realized that I lost the valet ticket.  

Seriously, three tickets within the space of a few days and I've lost parking tickets despite making mental notes not to do so.  

So yes, I'll always remember turning thirty-nine years old because just a few days before, I got evidence that my Alzheimer's had started to settle in.  So yes, I'll always remember...wait, what?  

What was I talking about again?

Whore

It was 3 o'clock on a Sunday afternoon when he came to the realization that he was a whore. 

The morning was gorgeous.  And even though they were racing down San Vicente, late to meet the rest of the group, it was impossible not to notice just how sapphire blue the sky appeared.  It was nice to take a deep breath and feel the air, crisp and clean, a welcome change from the oppressive heat of summer.  It was almost sweet as it rushed up the nose and down the back of the throat, filling up their lungs.

They arrived at Temescal Canyon at 10:30, almost thirty minutes too late for the predetermined start time.  Sure enough, no one was at the trail entrance.  So they set off on their own taking the steep, dustry trail at a rapid clip.  They were new friends, and as they climbed the trail they talked, enjoying getting to know one another.  Through labored breaths, they discussed the McCain/Palin ticket.  Breuer's Wassily chair was the topic of conversation as they reached the vantage point that overlooked views of Malibu and Catalina Island.   At the foot of Skull Rock and closer to 11:15, the sun had warmed the day to the point that their shirts were soaked.  Those were soon off and tucked into the back of their shorts.  

One of the friends was older.  The younger was only slightly younger and fitter.  Abs clearly etched, despite the masculine dusting of hair that glistened, reflecting the midmorning light off droplets of sweat.  The older clearly appreciated the aesthetics of the younger.

And then, at the base of Skull Rock, they caught up with the hiking group.  Shirtless, sweating and out of breath...and relatively new the group, they felt somewhat like a bottle of Dom Perignon at an AA meeting.  The group was twenty or more strong,  twenty or more gay men strong.  

The older was completely new to the group, but they welcomed him warmly...except for one, the bodybuilder.  Of course it was the one he, at one point during the hike, could not take his eyes off of.  He followed the bodybuilder for a good part of the downhill portion of the trail.  The bodybuilder wore a dark blue, form-fitting tank top that hugged his back from the widest portion just under his armpit and tapering in a beautiful silhouette to his narrow waist.  As he talked to the other men that hiked on either side of him, his voice carried backwards, revealing a hint of an accent--some mix of British or South African.  Regardless, it added to the man's appeal.

But even at the group brunch, even when sitting directly across from the older, the bodybuilder clearly refused to engage in any meaningful conversation, nothing more than one or two word responses to the older's open-ended questions.  The bodybuilder barely even looked the older squarely in the eyes.  

And then it dawned on him.  The bodybuilder was familiar.  He couldn't place it, but he looked familiar.  He was stumped.  He thought that maybe it had been an exchange of photographs from Match.com that failed to translate into an actual face to face meeting.  At least that's what the older posited to the younger of the friends.  But frankly he just wasn't sure.

By two o'clock, the brunch was over, and the bodybuilder wished the older man a civil, but terse good-bye.  By 2:30, the younger had dropped the older off at his apartment.  And by 3:00, it hit him like a ton of bricks.  He knew the bodybuilder.  He KNEW the bodybuilder.  As in Biblically, he knew the bodybuilder.  He had known him twice.  

And at 3:00 on a Sunday afternoon, I realized I had become a WeHo whore.  I mean, he.  He realized he had become a WeHo whore. 

Fuck!

Week in Review '08.43

10/18 - All I wanted to do was run.  That was my goal...just to get in a run.  Of course there were other obligations, other plans for the day, but this is sort of all I wanted.

Of course, I had an early day scheduled at Job #2, and I couldn't get my ass out of bed early enough.  Maybe afterwards.  Strangely, despite the economy and the recession that we clearly aren't in (please note the dripping with sarcasm inflection in that phrase), it was busy.  So busy in fact that I didn't have a chance to eat breakfast and only had time for a quick bite for lunch.  I have to admit though that despite the busy-ness, I am enjoying it.  I'm doing some really cool shit that is getting the company some local and not quite so local recognition.

I finished up by 5:00.  The commute is about 40 minutes.  Dinner reservations were for 7:30.  I almost didn't run, but am so glad I did.  I clocked in my fastest pace and a distance of almost six miles.  I immediately jumped into the shower, got dressed, hopped in the car, and arrived at Fat Fish just before 7:30, and now I could enjoy my evening with the run out of the way.

This year it was small.  This year I wanted nothing, no celebration, no presents, no nothing.  But Razor Burn, Unicorn, Sunshine and Barbie wouldn't let it go, and so it was a compromise.  It would be small, with only the friends that they also knew or at least knew how to get a hold of.  Well with one exception--JewMex.  I had invited him last minute.  

And honestly, I had the best time I'd had in a long time.  It was intimate, but not boring.  Actually I think we were the loud, boisterous table whose guests for some reason kept switching seats.  It seemed everyone wanted face time with everyone else which is a sure sign of a group that meshes well (despite the varying levels of familiarity with one another, in particular JewMex who initially knew no one but me).  As cheesy as it sounds, there was something about that night and that group that was total fucking magic.  Funny when you throw the F bomb out there, anything becomes far less cheesy.  

10/19 - Sunday didn't suck either.  JewMex and I did Runyon Canyon again, then grabbed lunch at M Cafe.  He then threw out the suggestion of going to a Koreatown spa.  After the hike, he felt like a mineral bath and a wet sauna.  I was game.  

It was dark by the time we left, but oh my God it was so nice after the hike.  Since he had no plans, he suggested dinner--the Greek restaurant at the Grove, followed by Quarantine.  Turns out we both like horror/suspense.  Turns out we both disliked Quarantine.

10/20 - Trainer.  I've been running a lot and training hard, and some people have noticed that I've leaned out a bit.  So I fucked it up by ordering a Papa John's thin crust pepperoni and jalapeno pizza with extra cheese at 10 pm.  OK, OK I lied.  I ordered two.  But it's so much cheaper if you order two!

10/21 - Sunshine and Razor Burn wanted to go see W. with me.  So after work, we all met up, and guess what they wanted for dinner?  Yep, pizza.  This time at CPK.  Mmmm buffalo chicken pizza, why art thou so yummers?  Fucking pizza again.  Fucking lack of self-control...again.  And to top it all off, W. sucked Oliver Stone's hairy ass!

10/22 - In the five or so years of our acquaintance, Fishering and I have never had a change for some one-on-one face time.  Not that we haven't tried.  One time we'd tried only to choose a restaurant where two other friends had also chosen to brunch and then decide to join in.  

But this Wednesday, Fishering took me to an uninterrupted dinner at Ocean Avenue Seafood.  Mmmm oysters on the half shell.  

10/23 - I had the rare Thursday off.  So I decided to start with a run, except when I went outside, it was snowing.  Technically it was ashing, from the nearby fire that had left a thin layer of soot all over my car.  No way was I going to inhale that crap for an hour.

So I dicked around until my training session which was followed immediately by a Runyon Canyon hike with JewMex followed by yet another lunch at M Cafe.

I had some time to kill and did my own version of an economic stimulus package by visiting Bloomie's.  I picked a great day.  First, by donating $10 to a charity organization, I got a ticket that gave me 15% off all purchases that day.  Second, there were a lot of cool ass G Star crap.  Third, they were serving up free martinis and wine.  Fourth, there was a live DJ.  Fifth, there was a big old drag queen at the front who was to host the fifth awesome thing...the live men's underwear fashion show.  

Thursday was capped off by an evening at O-Bar, kind of a small joint birthday thing for me and Mercury.  Although I ran into an Austrian volleyball friend whose birthday was also on the 24th.  Obviously, there is a whole lot of fucking going on in February regardless of which part of the world you're from.

10/24 - So by Friday I was all over the birthday thing.  I had barely gone on any runs, and my diet had gone to shit, and with Halloween coming up, I was feeling like a fattie.  So what do my sisters have planned for the actual birthday day?  

I arrived at Vanessa's house. We were told to meet at 6 pm.  Me, Virna, Vanessa and the other birthday boy (10/24 also) my brother-in-law Chris (what did I say about fucking in February?).  I assumed we were going to some cool new restaurant, but when I got there there were three California Pizza Kitchen boxes.  Pizza?  Again!  I'm going to Halloween festivities dressed as a Muslim woman.  

We inhaled the pizza in order to leave the apartment by 6:30 and drove down to Long Beach to see...David Sedaris.  It was fantastic.  He's clever and funny and insightful.  He read several essays including his recent New Yorker piece where he likens undecided voters to airline passengers who are offered a choice of entrees--chicken or a plate of human shit...with bits of broken glass, and the undecided voter pauses, then asks "How is the chicken cooked?"  It was great.  We ended the evening back at my sister's apartment where she surprised us with my favorite dessert which also happens to be my brother-in-law's favorite pie--strawberry rhubard pie from Sweet Lady Jane.

Yup, I'm going out to buy my burkha today.

Week in Review '08.42

10/11 - Oh glorious non-working Saturday.  How I have missed thee.  Yes, a free Saturday.

So what did I do?  I woke up early, around 6:30 to clean the apartment.  Actually, I didn't quite finish cause I had an early morning visitor.  G Squared stopped by for a little bit before JewMex was scheduled to show up.

He was supposed to pick me up before 10.  I hadn't heard from him, and I didn't want to be a nag, so I just waited.  At 10, JewMex finally called, "Sorry, dude, running late.  I'll be there in about ten minutes."  Honestly I didn't care if we were late or not.  It was his hiking group, anyway.  By the time we got to Temescal Canyon at 10:25 , they had clearly started.  

So we just did the hike on our own, trudging up the steep, dusty trail with the expanse of the Pacific off to our left.  It was a beautiful day, the first day that felt like fall since last year.  The air was crisp and clean, and from our trail we could see the Santa Monica pier and Venice.  To the west we could see Catalina Island, and to the north, Malibu.  Almost didn't matter, JewMex was on some kind of mission, almost running the entire way.

I think the mission was to catch up with the remainder of the gay hiking group.  Which surprisingly, we did.  The guys were really nice, and after the two hour hike, we headed to Venice for a big group lunch at 3 Square.  It was then that I realized how big a whore I am.  But that's a story for another day.

JewMex dropped me off mid-afternoon, just in time to run some errands then meet up with Dutch for an early, mellow evening dinner with his roommate at the bar at Terroni.  I think I made it home by 8:30.

10/12 - I got up early, supposedly to run.  But I lollygagged, and before I knew it it was noon.  So I ran seven miles in the midday sun.  I barely had enough time to get ready for the wedding.  I had been invited to my first gay wedding as Dutch's guest.

I have to admit, it was a little strange.  Things I'd not considered before bearing witness to this wedding seemed strange to me.  There was no caveat about seeing the spouse before the wedding.  No march down any aisle.  No handing off of the husband by his parents to the other husband.  So yeah, it was a little strange.  But the strangeness was in the minutiae of the ceremony.  It was still beautiful.  

For me, the moment of the afternoon was in the receiving line as people congratulated the married couple.  I was behind and elderly woman, and I overheard her as she kissed one of the grooms: "Now I have two grandsons."  It was so cute.

10/13 - The fires!  The fires!  On top of the economy going down the shitter, now there were the fires.  And the fumes were so bad that several doctors suffered asthma exacerbations, prompting the administration to let us all go at 3:00.  OK, sometimes, fire good.  I know, I know, I'm going to hell because I'm happy that I got to go home early.

Then went to work out with my trainer.

10/14 - No building closure today.  Had to work a full day.  Then met up with Dr. Faux afterwards to run five miles.

10/15 - Dutch invited me to watch the McCain/Obama debate.  The cool thing about the invite was that it was a viewing of the debate in the theater of the museum in which he works.  It was really cool to watch McCain sneer and sigh and froth at the mouth on a theater screen.  We (Dutch, his boyfriend and I) later grabbed a bite (several bites actually.  Actually, several carb laden bites) at Chan Darae.

I had to only have one drink.  I was on call that night.  It wasn't too bad.  I got called in at 2:00 a.m. to admit an eighty something year old who had sustained a hip fracture.  

10/16 - So being on call, I sort of dragged on Thursday.  There was nothing I wanted more than to just finish with work which I did by noon.  Unfortunately I had an ophthalmology appointment at 2:00 cause my ares are shitty. Shitty, not slitty...well maybe a little of both.  I got there early, but still had to wait 40 minutes.  Being a patient sucks!

I got out by 2:45, just enough time to pick up JewMex for another hike at Runyon Canyon by 3:15.  We finished by 4:40 which was just enough time to get me to my session with my trainer at 5:20.  We finished at 6:20 which was just enough time to get me to OBar by 7:00.  This night was actually kind of special, because Sunshine and his wife joined in, and they always make everything funner.

10/17 - Gays know how to throw a party!  I haven't been to many recently, but Tiger threw one as a combo birthday, housewarming.  He'd rented out a penthouse apartment in WeHo with three other guys, and I'm getting annoyed that I'm still living in my craphole.  Not only was the apartment awesome, but one of his roommates (and apparently caterer for the party) is an amazing chef soon to be featured in a cooking themed reality show.  Yup, the gays do know how to throw a party.

Against

My "friend" [insert airquotes cause I did] said, "I hope you're not offended, but I'm going to vote yes on Prop. 8."  What was strange is that we were talking about the economy.  It was such a strange, jarring non sequitur.

You know that yes means you're voting against gay marriage, right.

"Right.  It's just that I just don't think that marriage should be between people of the same sex.  I mean you know I don't have a problem with being gay...you being gay.  I mean clearly I don't have a problem with that."

How can you say that?  You know that when you two get married, I'd be completely be in support...

"But if you get married, I'd be there for you too."

That's the point, in your hands I never will be!

<center>***</center>

"What a fucking jackass!  And that dude's supposed to be your friend?  Assholes like that are a waste of air."

OK.  The response was maybe a little extreme, but I can't say it wasn't nice to have that kind of passion for marriage equality from a straight man.  Unfortunately, Razor Burn wasn't planning on voting this November.  California was sure to go to Obama.

"What about the other issues?  Like Prop. 8?"

You know what, I'm gonna vote just so I can for for Prop. 8

"OK, you're awesome, but when you get out there, please please please vote AGAINST it."

<center>***</center>

The point is that at this point Prop 8 support has been buttressed by the $27 million raised by those who want to reverse the recent, but hopefully not temporary, strides forward for gay rights. The point is that the tide has recently turned in favor of those opposing marriage equality, with the most recent polls indicating 47% in favor of Prop 8 and 42% against.  The point is we are at risk of taking a step backwards.  

The point is we can't do it alone.  We can't just count on the GLBT community to vote this down; we just don't have the numbers.  But we all have straight friends, co-workers, relatives who may not be aware of the issue.  So before the election talk to them.  Secure the vote.  

Just make sure they know they're voting AGAINST and not FOR the stupid proposition.

Week in Review '08.41

10/4 - What else?  Job #2.  Oh and keeping up with the running.  Who'd have thought.  I think I have gotten to the point of addiction, however.  The day before, my trainer had me do squats for the first time in forever, so my ass and legs were sore.  I figured I'd just run four miles or thirty minutes whichever came first.  Instead, I ran five miles.  Yay me.  

It ended up a nice, quiet evening.  Razor Burn and Unicorn picked me up for a relaxing dinner discussing the stupidity of Sarah Palin and John McCain over tuna burgers at Gulfstream.  One slightly uncomfortable thing is that one of the three of us is a Republican, and it wasn't the doctor or the white male business owner, but the minority woman who works long hours for shit pay.  WTF?  

10/5 - I actually had a Sunday that felt like a Sunday.  It was so mundanely nice.  I got up relatively late then walked out to the Farmer's Market to pick up some snacks and fresh flowers for the apartment.  Haven't had fresh flowers in a while, but it felt like such a nice little affordable luxury while the markets around the world crash down around me.  Fresh flowers also seemed like such a Sunday thing to do.

So did meeting Sunshine and wife for brunch.  There's a little place on Ventura Blvd. in Sherman Oaks called Jumpin' Java that has the BEST blueberry pancakes (yes better than Toast).  I was trying to be good though and had the chicken lavash instead.

Then I hopped over the hill into WeHo to pick up JewMex for another Runyon Canyon hike.  

It was the best Sunday ever.

10/6 - I think I feel the fallout of the economic crunch most at work.  On Monday, I had two patients come in for physical exams.  Not because they needed it or wanted it, it was that they weren't going to have insurance at the close of the month.  They'd lost their jobs.  They just wanted to stockpile some reassurance that they at least had their health, and barring that have some knowledge of what kind of medical expenses they may have in the near future.

Working out with my trainer was a great way to shift gears (although I'm now thinking it may be financially prudent to start working out on my own again).  And continuing on my brazen fuck the economy Monday, I went to make a rare non-Thursday O-Bar appearance to send off a friend who was visiting from out of the country.

10/7 - Joan Benoit congratulated me on running my longest distance yet.  There are these cool little perks with the Nike plus running system including easter eggs like Joan Benoit telling you you've run your longest distance yet or Lance Armstrong telling you you've run the longest time yet.  It's cool little add-ons like that that really sets Apple apart for me. 

So what to do after my longest distance yet?  A burrito and two margaritas at Don Antonio's with Dr. Faux.  He's actually trying to convince me to do a triathlon with him.  I'd have to buy a bike, but I'm seriously considering it.  Or maybe just a marathon.  Not sure yet.

10/8 - I hate most pharmaceutical reps.  They drain my time and keep me from staying on schedule with my patients.  There are a few exceptions, however.  I've gotten to be friends with Ghetto Fab and her friend Bling (who for a brief time sort of dated my friend Guido).  So that was Wednesday, we all decided to meet up at Katsuya for dinner.  Here's the thing, they don't really know me all that well.  We've hung out in bigger groups, but never anything this intimate.  Well actually it wasn't that intimate because Ghetto Fab brought two of her friends with her--one a beefy, sharply dressed hair dresser and the other a 6'6" dancer who, two years ago, graced the pages of the Abercrombie & Fitch catalog.  

"So how do you know these guys?" I asked Ghetto Fab.

"Oh I know [hair dresser] from undergrad.  And I've had the biggest crush on [dancer] since we met, but unfortunately, they're boyfriends."

Sadly the pair had to leave early, and after they left I blurted out, "It's funny how there were no straight men at this table."

And that's when the conversation got good.

10/9 - Every first Thursday of the month, I get pulled out seeing patients earlier than normal.  I only see about four or five patients.  I'm on a committee that meets in downtown L.A.  Honestly, it is nice to get done with clinic that early.  

So after the committee meeting, I went to work out with my trainer.  That was at 2:15.  We finished at 3:15.

At that point, I went to go pick up JewMex for a midweek Runyon hike.  Holy shit, I love all the hot fucking out of work actors and models who work out shirtless there.  We finished around 5:30.  I swear to God, between the weight training and the hiking and running, if I'm not ripped by the end of the year, I am going to give up, park my ass in front of the TV and live off of Flaming Hot Cheetos, milkshakes and Papa John's.

I swear I'm on a mission.  Even the bartenders were shocked.  I walked into O-Bar, and not three steps in the building, Justin yells "Mango mojito and fowl strippers?"  He pretty much shit himself when I instead ordered chicken skewers and a Captain Morgan and diet Coke.

10/10 - I had three more Captain Morgan and diet Cokes at P.F. Chang's on Friday.  I met up with Razor Burn and Sunshine at the Chang's in the Sherman Oaks Galleria.  There is nothing better than friendly socio-political debate over a couple of drinks with friends.  Anyway the reason we ate there was to kill time before Razor Burn and I went to see Religulous--Bill Maher's indictment of organized religion's complicity in war and genocide and ultimately the extermination of the planet.  It was sooo funny!

Hey, Sarah Palin

Oh lots of great Sarah Palin shit!  Here's one of my faves.

Week in Review '08.40

8/27 - I was a little hung over from Friday's boys' night out.  Fortunately I only had one client at Job #2.  Razor Burn told me I should just go home and get some rest.  So I went home.  Rest?  Not so much.  I tried to take a nap.  I may have shut my eyes for a half hour, but I can't sleep during the day.  So I went out for a run.  6.66 miles at my fastest pace yet.  6.66, a little eerie.

Then for the night's event.  Actually the previous Monday, I had another weird little psychic thing.  I was on my way to work, listening to Kevin & Bean on KROQ.  Jay Mohr was the guest and was pushing a performance at the Canyon Club in Agoura Hills.  Yeah, it was Agoura Hills whereever the fuck that is, but I thought it would be fun to go.  And I thought that it was just the kind of thing Razor Burn would want to go to.  So I picked up the phone.  But before I could dial, it rang.  It was Razor Burn, telling me that Unicorn had been listening to KROQ, heard Jay Mohr, wanted to go, then called him to see if he wanted to go and was now on the phone wanting to know if I'd be interested in joining them on Saturday at the Canyon Club to see Jay Mohr.  Ta daa...psychic.

Yeah, so we went.  He was really funny.  And he did this weird bit that made everyone uncomfortable.  It was about he was gay for a little while.  When he was six, and his other friend was six, and they'd blow each other for an entire summer.  I wonder if I'd had early homo experiences I would've ended up straight.  Seems only the straight guys have had early guy on guy action.

8/28 - I had no choice.  I had to do it.  Six loads of laundry.  Then I went out on my hike with JewMex.  

8/29 - So I ran 6.66 miles on Saturday, hiked 3 miles on Sunday, and I wanted to get in at least 6 miles on Monday.  Wasn't gonna happen.  My calves were way too sore from Sunday, but I managed to get in 3.5 miles and log in just over a total of 100 miles on my NikePlus thingie.  Whoo hoo!

Who the fuck would've thought that I'd actually be all into running.  Of course by know you'd think I'd be all ripped.  

But you'd be wrong.  

Damn!

8/30 - My sister Vanessa called: "Hey, you have plans tonight?"  I didn't, so I met up with her and her husband at the Wilshire.  Great bar/restaurant except when the power died and between the 90 degree heat and all the candles, it got too hot and we all got kicked out.  Oh, a friend of hers showed up as well, really nice.  He lives in Santa Monica, a homeowner.  

After dropping me off at home, Vanessa asked, "So what did you think?'  

Of what?

"Of him?"

For what?

"For you know."

Not so much.

10/1 - It was an all errands day.  After work, I met up with the trainer, then took my parents to the airport.  Nothing else.

10/2 - I didn't get to go to O-Bar.  Instead, I was in the valley.  I was in the valley to give a lecture. I was in the valley to give a lecture to a bunch of cougars with fake boobies and sun damaged skin.  I should've gone to O-Bar.

10/3 - And on the seventh day, Van rested...well after going to see the trainer again. 

She's So Folksy!

Aaaargh.  I just got done watching the debate.  Aaaargh!

Please tell me no one is buying this small town, middle America, folksy bullshit!!!!!!  I swear if I have to hear the word Maverick again.  I can never, ever watch Top Gun again...not like I would, anyway.  You know, Tom Cruise and all.  But that word has now been forever tainted.  And by "taint" I mean despoiled by the frequent wiping of the word between her asshole and her girly parts.

And "ing" is not pronounced "in'".  It is voting, not votin'.  It is stabbing a sharp pencil into my ear, not stabbin' a pencil in my ear.  It is hearing fingernails on a chalk board, not hearin'.  

And what is it with you and your people?  Does turning a two syllable word into a three syllable word make you think you're smarter, that you're using bigger words?  Cause it's not.  It is and always has been nu-clear.  Not new-kew-lar.

And finally, answer a question you dumbass.  Or is Gwen Ifill's strange, elitist accent throwing off your understanding of what is being said, since you know, you're clearly not one of the Washington elite fat cats because you're from that far away land that has all those magazines from which you obtain your current events information.  And by the way, I do think it was unfair of Katie Couric to corner you on that issue.  She clearly doesn't understand that illiterate means you only look at the pictures and can't read the funny squiggly markings at the top of the thin, floppy books.  And besides who has time to "read" those when you have to sit out in your balcony keepin' yer peepers open in casethe Shah of Russia decided to do some monkey business.

Aaaargh!!!!  How are people still considering voting for this ticket?

And by the way, did anyone see the two people interviewed during the CBS post debate analysis who thought Sarah Palin did well?

To the first guy, the fat one with the "Old Glory America" t-shirt with the suspenders and ball cap and matching beer gut, the one who with that same folksy pattern of speech as the governor, and by folksy I mean home-schooled by mom and dad who behind closed doors refer to themselves as "bro" and "sis", the one who said he liked Palin because "I kind of kept track of who answered the question and kept on track of the question, and it seemed like Sen. Biden tended to go off subject."  I love that the interviewer interrupted you midsentence to ask where you were from, and you said "Idaho" and then he went on immediately to the next person.  Cause "Idaho"?  Yeah that answers a lot cause clearly you weren't quite mentally on track which I assume is not a new thing for you...I'm sorry new thing fer ya.  

To the second, rather large woman in the pink shirt and the Crystal Gayle hair whose intellect was clearly rivalled only by that of the first guy, the one who thought Palin did well because "Gov. Palin had the most connection with the American people.  It felt like it was one of us standing there on the stadium (btw what fucking stadium) you know on the stand instead of just her."  Really?  Are we doing this again?  The argument that this is someone who should run the country because it's as good as one of you running the country.  Sorry I don't want you running my fucking country.  I want someone smarter!  Call me an elitist, but yes I think I want someone better than you running the goddamn country.  You can barely squeak out a sentence using words with more than two syllables...oh except for American.