By request...
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Girl, Interrupted
I don't know how much more of this I can take. With paparazzi and the Internet I just can't get away from it. Why Mickey? Why do you want to break my heart?
Sadly, that pasty dude looks better in a leather thong than I would. Maybe that's why he gets to stand one down from the Mickster.
Sadly, that pasty dude looks better in a leather thong than I would. Maybe that's why he gets to stand one down from the Mickster.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Celebration Chronicles
Do you like Dungeons and Dragons? If so, and if not, then you should love this wonderful video from Brad Neeley, entitled "The Role Play Tournament".
Why would I post this? Because it's an 8 hour drive from Atlanta to Orlando, and Traci, Russell and I drove it singing this ALL. THE. WAY.
This was back in March. We decided to drive down to the land of Disney and visit our friend Medloc, aka April Fresh, who attended the Savannah College of Art and design, aka SCAD, with Traci.
A warning to all travelers: Orlando is BLAND. Its nothing but highway and chain restaurants and family hotels; you know, Disney stuff. Medloc's house is a bastion of cool in an otherwise intolerable land. Med has the distinct privilege of working at the Parliament House, a resort that caters exclusively to gentlemen, and the place where we spent most of our time. It's fantastic. Something like 5 different bars (patio, disco, piano, Western, etc.), a restaurant where we ended up eating two nights in a row, and a small theater with weekend drag shows. Parliament House is also the home of the two pageants that Medloc owns and produces.
On the way down I was hoping that Orlando would have great ethnic food like other Florida communities, but I was wrong. All food in Orlando is as bland as Disney itself. The first night there we ate at Carraba's, where we were served by the highest waitress in the world, which did NOT make her better at her job, and the last day we had lunch at Red Lobster, mainly because Russell had never been exposed to the magic that is Cheddar Bay Biscuits. We did eat in a decent, but not authentic by and stretch, Mexican restaurant. It's on the train tracks and if a train goes by, you can get 25 cent shots.The best food that we had was made in Medloc's home; Orlando is nothing but an argument to save money by cooking at home.
But oh, the drinking. Traci isn't much of a drinker, but she behaved like a champ. Let's see, we drove down on Friday, so Saturday was truly our day of marathon drunkenness. medloc and I started with some clandestine screwdrivers, then we all piled in the car and headed out to Winter Park, a suburb of Orlando that I affectionately refer to as "Suck City". It sucks so fucking much. As bad as Orlando is, it can not prepare you for the pretentious Starbucksian sucking of Winter Park. Avoid.
But, Winter Park does have a museum of Tiffany glass and jewelry called the Morse Museum. it's an impressive collection, but do not EVER, under any circumstances, go to a museum with two archivists. Traci and I can ruin anything for anyone by explaining exactly what said museum has done wrong. Seriously, this place had watercolors on paper hanging over real potted plants. It doesn't take a master's degree to figure that one out.
We followed Winter Park with lunch at the Mexican spot, then went straight to the bar. Unfortunately the bar Med took us to didn't open until 5 (sinners!), so we shopped for engagement rings for Traci in nearby antique and junk shops, where we met lots of crazy people. Why are all "vintage" stores actually run by crazy-ass pack rats? No ring was found, but Traci did find some atomic Fiestaware. No really, one of the colors is radioactive if you get it warm.
Finally, the bar opens. I can't remember the name, but it was dark and cold like a cave, save the white-lighted lucite boxes that the go-go boys danced on. All bartenders and waitstaff wore bow-ties and underwear and believe me, if you are wearing nothing but briefs to work, you need to think long and hard about your shoes. A lithe young twink in $60 underwear with ratty-ass Vans? No, no, no. Also, young twink, stop bending over whenever I look up. Your sac, encased only in the thinnest, white cotton, is not something I want to see.
Than, as all of my stories go, we got even drunker. A quick trip back to Med's for some much needed rest (you know from all the drinking and complaining) then to Parliament House for the Saturday night drag show and dancing. Yes, I danced, but only because Jeff, Medloc's friend and his replacement behind the disco bar for that night, was pouring them strong and underpriced just for us.
And that's about it. Honestly, the weekend went drive-Carraba's-drinking-drinking-drinking-Red Lobster-drinking-drinking-drinking-drive back. The last night that we were there, Medloc had to work, and we went to the bar all saying "we'll just have one round and then go home and got to bed". Five hours later the bar was closed and I couldn't find the bathroom to throw up, which I loudly announced in the restaurant, causing Traci to shush me and some young queens to thank her for it. I was still drunk when we got up to drive back, making me completely useless in the car.
On the way home we did discover that there is a Whataburger in Gainsville, Florida. As we drove along, Traci suddenly ripped the wheel and careened toward the exit ramp; we'd eaten only an hour or so before, but couldn't pass up the chance for delicious, authentic Texas fast food. Ah, Whataburger, how I love thee.
Other great things came out of that trip, including Russell saying "F your various eyes", which has become a go-to catch phrase (and that's "eff", not "fuck"), me learning that I can totally travel with Traci and Russell, and us seeing and hearing the tale of one of the worst transsexuals I have even seen. So dramatic that there is a (fake) MySpace tribute to her. Just check the pics. Then curse yourself for not being that fabulous.
Why would I post this? Because it's an 8 hour drive from Atlanta to Orlando, and Traci, Russell and I drove it singing this ALL. THE. WAY.
This was back in March. We decided to drive down to the land of Disney and visit our friend Medloc, aka April Fresh, who attended the Savannah College of Art and design, aka SCAD, with Traci.
A warning to all travelers: Orlando is BLAND. Its nothing but highway and chain restaurants and family hotels; you know, Disney stuff. Medloc's house is a bastion of cool in an otherwise intolerable land. Med has the distinct privilege of working at the Parliament House, a resort that caters exclusively to gentlemen, and the place where we spent most of our time. It's fantastic. Something like 5 different bars (patio, disco, piano, Western, etc.), a restaurant where we ended up eating two nights in a row, and a small theater with weekend drag shows. Parliament House is also the home of the two pageants that Medloc owns and produces.
On the way down I was hoping that Orlando would have great ethnic food like other Florida communities, but I was wrong. All food in Orlando is as bland as Disney itself. The first night there we ate at Carraba's, where we were served by the highest waitress in the world, which did NOT make her better at her job, and the last day we had lunch at Red Lobster, mainly because Russell had never been exposed to the magic that is Cheddar Bay Biscuits. We did eat in a decent, but not authentic by and stretch, Mexican restaurant. It's on the train tracks and if a train goes by, you can get 25 cent shots.The best food that we had was made in Medloc's home; Orlando is nothing but an argument to save money by cooking at home.
But oh, the drinking. Traci isn't much of a drinker, but she behaved like a champ. Let's see, we drove down on Friday, so Saturday was truly our day of marathon drunkenness. medloc and I started with some clandestine screwdrivers, then we all piled in the car and headed out to Winter Park, a suburb of Orlando that I affectionately refer to as "Suck City". It sucks so fucking much. As bad as Orlando is, it can not prepare you for the pretentious Starbucksian sucking of Winter Park. Avoid.
But, Winter Park does have a museum of Tiffany glass and jewelry called the Morse Museum. it's an impressive collection, but do not EVER, under any circumstances, go to a museum with two archivists. Traci and I can ruin anything for anyone by explaining exactly what said museum has done wrong. Seriously, this place had watercolors on paper hanging over real potted plants. It doesn't take a master's degree to figure that one out.
We followed Winter Park with lunch at the Mexican spot, then went straight to the bar. Unfortunately the bar Med took us to didn't open until 5 (sinners!), so we shopped for engagement rings for Traci in nearby antique and junk shops, where we met lots of crazy people. Why are all "vintage" stores actually run by crazy-ass pack rats? No ring was found, but Traci did find some atomic Fiestaware. No really, one of the colors is radioactive if you get it warm.
Finally, the bar opens. I can't remember the name, but it was dark and cold like a cave, save the white-lighted lucite boxes that the go-go boys danced on. All bartenders and waitstaff wore bow-ties and underwear and believe me, if you are wearing nothing but briefs to work, you need to think long and hard about your shoes. A lithe young twink in $60 underwear with ratty-ass Vans? No, no, no. Also, young twink, stop bending over whenever I look up. Your sac, encased only in the thinnest, white cotton, is not something I want to see.
Than, as all of my stories go, we got even drunker. A quick trip back to Med's for some much needed rest (you know from all the drinking and complaining) then to Parliament House for the Saturday night drag show and dancing. Yes, I danced, but only because Jeff, Medloc's friend and his replacement behind the disco bar for that night, was pouring them strong and underpriced just for us.
And that's about it. Honestly, the weekend went drive-Carraba's-drinking-drinking-drinking-Red Lobster-drinking-drinking-drinking-drive back. The last night that we were there, Medloc had to work, and we went to the bar all saying "we'll just have one round and then go home and got to bed". Five hours later the bar was closed and I couldn't find the bathroom to throw up, which I loudly announced in the restaurant, causing Traci to shush me and some young queens to thank her for it. I was still drunk when we got up to drive back, making me completely useless in the car.
On the way home we did discover that there is a Whataburger in Gainsville, Florida. As we drove along, Traci suddenly ripped the wheel and careened toward the exit ramp; we'd eaten only an hour or so before, but couldn't pass up the chance for delicious, authentic Texas fast food. Ah, Whataburger, how I love thee.
Other great things came out of that trip, including Russell saying "F your various eyes", which has become a go-to catch phrase (and that's "eff", not "fuck"), me learning that I can totally travel with Traci and Russell, and us seeing and hearing the tale of one of the worst transsexuals I have even seen. So dramatic that there is a (fake) MySpace tribute to her. Just check the pics. Then curse yourself for not being that fabulous.
Monday, June 9, 2008
Junkie
Over the weekend I was shamed by someone purporting to be my friend for not updating this blog in a long, long time. Shame is a powerful drug, so one quick update (I'm at work, not supposed to be blogging. Or reading gossip blogs. Or ESPN.), with some lengthy diatribes to follow. Deal?
I actually have a lot going on! Work is rough, but slowly getting better as we reach our deadlines and as I suddenly become really, really interested in programming and search engine design. Who knew?
I am also looking at PhD programs (I have to go somewhere after my contract is up), and I'm trying to decide if I'm ready to adopt a new kitty. I get sad when I think about it, but I miss having fur around.
Also, I've been to Orlando, Athens, Boston and New York since I last blogged, with a trip to Chicago on the books for this coming weekend. Tres jetset.
On the sadder side of things, Mooky and I are no longer together. My decision. It's sad and it hurts, but hopefully will be for the best.
I actually have a lot going on! Work is rough, but slowly getting better as we reach our deadlines and as I suddenly become really, really interested in programming and search engine design. Who knew?
I am also looking at PhD programs (I have to go somewhere after my contract is up), and I'm trying to decide if I'm ready to adopt a new kitty. I get sad when I think about it, but I miss having fur around.
Also, I've been to Orlando, Athens, Boston and New York since I last blogged, with a trip to Chicago on the books for this coming weekend. Tres jetset.
On the sadder side of things, Mooky and I are no longer together. My decision. It's sad and it hurts, but hopefully will be for the best.
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