Prologue

After a brief holiday hiatus, I’m back to writing in the blog. The last week has been eventful, to say the least. We’ve had assaults, property damage, teens in their underwear, handcuffs, and a few blackouts (we’re not sure exactly how many). In fact, it’s been so eventful that participating in the events has prevented me from writing about them. But being the trooper that I am, I plan to chronicle every shocking, embarrassing detail and put it out there for the world to see. Well, later this afternoon when I need a break (my lunch break is almost over). We’re going to cover last Monday, touch on Tuesday (bet you think nothing happened that night), and then roar into Wednesday, Thanksgiving Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and end with our horrible Sunday. Yes, everyone’s favorite day of rest, the night that has put me on the wagon for a few days. So put on your seatbelts girls, it’s going to be a bumpy blog.

And in the meantime, check out this out. To paraphrase an old saying: no matter where you go, even Issaquah, there you are.

Dr. Everything-Gonna-Be-Alright

Our little group has experienced some attrition lately, and Matty and I have been discussing ways to address the problem. As with any problem, there are two ways to deal with it: you can treat the symptoms, or remove the underlying cause. Here, the underlying cause is the rash of marriages in the last year. Joey, between fisticuffs, has settled into domestic bliss with Robbie. BT runs constantly around the country with Toby, and I’ve got Carlos keeping me out of the bars and bath houses. More recently Woodsy has found love (or at least mutual dysfunction) with Jimmy, Jerome has Good Mark and a series of sport coats, Evil Mark has his usual gang of underage internet whores, and even JPK found a soul mate at least as crazy as he is. Ben has the yellow hordes of Asia (and, according to rumor, Mike Meola). Paul and Curtis are together (although not in the traditional “love, honor, and cherish” mode), leaving only Matty and Adam single.

As anyone can tell you, having a boyfriend will disrupt your social life. Some, such as BT or JPK, disappear into their boyfriends’ social circles and aren’t heard from until they get dumped and come crawling back to their friends like whipped curs. Others, like yours truly, try to balance our obligations to friends and boyfriends, and end up pissing everyone off and making ourselves miserable in the process. Then there’s the third approach, taken by Joey, Jerome, and now Woodsy: focus on your boyfriend until your friends stop calling, and then schedule a “reconnect event.” Regardless of the approach, the net effect is that people in relationships simply don’t have as much free time as single people to carouse with their friends.

That means the carousing duties have fallen to essentially to Matty, Adam, and Paul (who isn’t really encumbered my a relationship that means anything to him). While Matty and Paul have done their level best to take up the drinking-and-boy-chasing slack, they can only do so much. And Adam is practically useless: he’s rarely on the prowl, and when he is he won’t actually get drunk or hit on anyone. While Matty has happily suggested we just break up all the relationships (he rejected a 12-step program for bitter old queens), I think that this once curing the problem might be worse than the disease. If you don’t believe me, you’ve never seen Carlos when he’s pissed off; he’d kill me with a butter knife. The alternative is an infusion of fresh, single boys into the group.

I, for one, think we would only benefit from some fresh blood. It would give Paul new boys to sleep with, Matty new boys to date (but not get to sleep with), and me new material for the blog. Plus, we could reconstitute a posse that’s willing to go out and get smashed on Monday night because, frankly, no one cares when or if they get home.

The trick (so to speak) is to find and integrate these boys, and that’s where the recent cocktail parties come in. A cocktail party is a great venue for meeting new people: you have the alcohol and music of a bar, but limited hookup-and-leave options and an unspoken expectation that you’ll socialize with everyone. It’s a good idea, but so far the cocktail parties are missing one key ingredient: fresh blood. We can’t meet new boys if the only people that attend are you tired, old married queens we’ve been carousing with since Hector was a pup. The bottom line is this: bring cute, unattached male friends to upcoming cocktail parties, or Matty is going to lose patience and start wrecking your relationships. Well, Paul and Curtis are safe, their relationship couldn’t get any worse. But the rest of you are in real danger, because if the doctor can’t treat the symptom, he’ll cure the disease. (Except for Evil Mark; he has a strain that is resistant to antibiotics). So get out your little black books, fire off some emails, and let’s make the next cocktail party (at Curtis’s, I believe) one to remember!

Tiki Umbrella Orgy Cocktail Party

Friday night was Woodsy and Ben’s Umbrella Drink Orgy Cocktail Party. The Evite said it started at 8:30 pm, so I planned to arrive between 8:30 and 9 pm. I like to give the hostess a few extra minutes to get ready, but I don’t want to be late enough that the ice melts. Plus, Carlos wanted to go to the gym, and I needed to spend some quality time with the sofa, the remote, and a couple beers. Like most of my perfectly reasonable plans, this one wasn’t destined to work out.

Inexplicably, Carlos takes a shower BEFORE he goes to the gym. I’ve asked why, and haven’t gotten an understandable answer (I’ll wait until my Spanish is better), but it’s never been a problem, maybe he just doesn’t work out hard enough to break a sweat. Anyway, he got home just before 8 pm and was changing when Paul texted to ask where we were. Yes, at 8 pm. I called him, told him to put down the crack pipe, and said we’d be there around 8:30, when the party was supposed to start. Paul’s response was: “Everyone’s here, just get here.”

Carlos and I hadn’t eaten, so we ran drove-thru Jack in the Box, and then went down the hill to Woodsy’s. After a virtuosic parallel parking performance (fit the Benz into a spot barely big enough, and behind an SUV with a protruding bike rack) we hoofed it up to Woodsy’s.

Turns out everyone was there, so apparently I missed a memo. The party was sort of tiki-themed, so Woodsy had made up a list of tropical cocktails. Sweet, tropical cocktails. Unfortunately my pancreas is in the same shape as my liver, and I just can’t drink really sweet drinks. I had one, and then ran out for beer like the delicate, redneck princess that I am. When I got back, the party was switching over to playing “Asshole,” which apparently is a confusing card/drinking game. I started drinking beer like I meant it (I can drink without some game to encourage me) and sat down with Curtis and Carlos who were deep in conversation. Turns out Curtis was proposing a little husband swap. Now I can’t blame him; if I were dating Paul I’d want to switch husbands too. With anyone. Really, ANYONE. Paul’s a fun guy but a horrible boyfriend. The problem is that Curtis is an emotional masochist, so Paul’s shoddy treatment is actually a bonus for him. He just forgets that sometimes.

Anyway, Carlos thought Curtis was serious, and started to get worried (the joke, that Paul and Carlos are both Mexican and we’d just switch Mexicans, was lost in translation). I told Curtis that I needed the S2000 and the Discovery in the deal, plus enough food to feed Paul for 6 months (approximately 15,000 tons). Carlos caught the gist of that little exchange and decided to go mingle, but I reassured him it was just a joke.

About this time Michael (aka M4M DC, there’s a long story behind the nickname) finally showed after lots of cajoling. He was in town for the night, so I invited him over. It took some talking though, because he knows our whole group but can’t place names with faces. I told him who was there (Paul, Curtis, Woodsy, Ben, Mike, Aldritch, Jimmy, Stiffler, Tim, Carlos, and I) but he wasn’t sure if he knew them. Until he got there and realized he knew all of them. Besides, Michael’s cute and had on a tight shirt, I knew he’d make fast friends.

Around 10:30 Carlos and I said our good-byes and headed out. Everyone seemed to be settled into the card game, and I wanted to get home before I’d had too many. Of course, that didn’t work out either J On the way home Carlos suggested stopping by the Cuff, and being highly suggestible, I said sure. The Cuff was dead, but we got a pitcher (Carlos drank most of it) and had a deep conversation on attraction and relationships. Well, at least my portion was deep, he just kept smiling and nodding and I’m not sure he understood a word of it. Nick, the muscle-queen-bottom-trick who stole my glasses was there, but he just ignored me. That was a refreshing change; usually he stumbles over and says he’s going to give them back. Yeah Nick, I’m still waiting. Almost a year later.

To put the final nail in the night’s coffin, we stopped at the Eagle on the way home. Yes, I paid a $3 cover for each of us to get into the Eagle at 1 am and spend $4 on a Mason jar of beer. Lame. But Bill Sherman was there with his posse, and one of them was a cute guy wearing a shirt that said “Plow Boy.” The shirt was one of Bill’s of course (he does the Catcher and Pitcher t-shirts, among others). Unfortunately Plow Boy was drunk and cranky, and I was drunk and obnoxious, so I didn’t get a chance to hit it off with him (and deal with a jealous Carlos when we got home). One beer was all I could choke down, and we said our good-byes and made our way home to bed.

Fuelin' Up on Heartache and Cheap Wine

Tuesday, we met Gary. After work, Paul and I went to Rosebud for a drink before Spanish class. Well, for a few drinks. Rosebud had new art, a series of half-naked impressionist monochrome cowboys. My favorite was called “X Marks My Broken Heart,” and it’s only $75 if anyone is thinking about Christmas presents for me. Matty joined us after a while, and then Gary came in, saw Paul, and came over to say hi.

Gary is a blast from Paul’s murky past, the first gay person Paul met after moving to Seattle. When Paul first started at Publicis, he hired Gary to do some video editing, and they ended up spending 2 days in Gary’s bedroom chopping up film. Since Gary has a boyfriend that’s probably all they did (much to Paul’s chagrin). He’s cute and interesting, so we invited him to join us. Paul and I were well into round 3 by this point, and Matty was catching up. Now when I’m around cute guys, I have a natural charm and grace that comes to the fore and never fails to impress. It worked for me again: I was explaining something to Paul, made a grand gesture to drive the point home, and knocked my beer right into Gary’s lap.

Gary took it stoically, and we had enough napkins to sop up the mess on the table and mostly dry his pants. I figured if he had to go home to the boyfriend with a wet crotch and smelling like a brewery, he’d better have another drink. In fact, we all needed another one. The waiter gave a us a dirty look, but served us one more round and closed out the tab. Gary was cute and fun, and Paul should bring him around more, although he will probably keep his distance from me if I’m holding a drink.

We were all a bit tipsy for class, and apparently my red beard and pink cheeks made me look like the young Chris Kringle from that claymation Santa movie. At least that's what Matty and Paul told me. We giggled and squirmed all through Spanish, and earned more than one disapproving look from la Professoria. Afterwards, the three of us popped into Hot Mama’s for a slice, and then over to R Place, where we settled into the couches on the second floor and waited for the rest of the gang to arrive.

Joey and I both had “Get Out of Jail Free” cards from our respective boyfriends, so we had lobbied everyone hard to come out and make it a night to remember. Joey got there first, and in short order we were joined by Curtis, Evil Mark, Ben, Aldritch, Woodsy, and (shockingly) Adam. I had jokingly texted Adam a few time during class and after we got to the bar, and then he called and asked if he could hang out with us. Of course I said yes; Adam’s cute and fun and just the right height if you need a place to set your drink. After a few rounds and a good deal of gossiping, someone asked if anyone sings. And Matty and I got outed.

Matthew and I have, on occasion, sang a karaoke version of the Kid Rock/Sheryl Crow duet “Picture.” Usually when we and all of our friends are so blind drunk that none of us can tell what’s going on. Well we got talked into doing it with minimal (we were at approximately 7 rounds for the evening at this point) effort. I ran upstairs to sign us up, and the crew gathered itself up and transferred to an upstairs table.

At this point no one was feeling any pain. John Ferris had shown up, and by the time we moved upstairs, him and Curtis were all but mating on a windowsill. And speaking of skinny guys in tight t-shirts dry humping, who did we run into upstairs but Madge and the WAH! It was a surprise to see them: the WAH has been scarce since her failure on the Magnolia edition of Who Wants to Marry a Millionaire?, and Madge won’t leave the house except for work or a Timberline DJ from New York. It was good to see them, and we chatted about this and that until the karaoke lady (finally!) called Matty and I to sing. After a blockbuster performance, we retired to the bar for a much-needed drink. The boys were beginning to drift away (I think John, Curtis, and Paul went to have sex in the car or at Curtis's crack house, but they won't admit it), so I gave Adam a final “You’re cute, go hit on someone!” pep-talk, and headed home.

The Hardy Nancy Boys Strike Again!

There’s been a mystery that’s been bothering me: if Matty and BT aren't talking, how did Matty find out that BT was annoyed by the Thanksgiving Evite email entry (see the Random Emails entry)? BT wouldn’t have told him, and we couldn’t think of anyone that they know mutually and both talk to regularly. And oddly, Matty has demurred when asked how he knows.

Well, last night a compelling explanation presented itself. Paul and I were having drinks (more on that in the next entry) when we turned to the Mystery of the Evite Email Entry. In true Hardy Boys fashion (well, maybe more Nancy Drew) we started examining the clues. BT and Matty aren’t speaking, as far as we know. Who do they both know? Well, JPK. JPK and Matty aren’t speaking, as far as we know. But JPK and BT are friends, or at least friendly, and they work for the same company. Surely they discuss these things. And JPK checks out my blog, at least occasionally. Could JPK have seen the entry, told BT, and then commiserated when BT expressed his annoyance?

It seems likely, but that would mean JPK told Matty BT was annoyed. And Matty and JPK aren't speaking, unless it’s in secret... And in one of those “Eureka!” moments you only see on bad TV, Paul and I realized it in unison: for the umpteenth time, Matty must be secretly dating JPK! They’ve done it before, and it wouldn’t violate Jason’s new-found dedication to monogamy, since by all accounts he never put out for Matty in the past. What a bombshell, we had to order another round just to steady ourselves.

Of course we had to confront Matty. When cornered on the couches at R Place, Matty said, confirming our suspicions, “You two have got to stop smoking crack.” While that may be true, the fact remains that Matty didn’t deny it because he can’t. The cat’s out of the bag, the Issaquah Shangri-la is a farce, and there are (maybe) wedding bells in the future when Matty and JPK take their secret relationship public. The Hardy Nancy Boys strike again!

Nothing Like the Holidays

I’ve decided to develop a new hobby: closing bathtub drains during cocktail parties. You know, most bathtubs have a knob or a handle to close the drain so you can take a bath. But no one I know takes baths regularly, and certainly not in the morning when they’re hung over. Who checks if the drain is closed when they stumble into the shower in the morning? And who can remember which direction to turn the knob to open the drain once the water starts to creep up the ankles? We’re used to the drain remaining open, and just turning on the shower and trying to come to life after yet another long, drunken evening. Sometimes I can barely remember which direction to turn the hot and cold water knobs, let alone check to see if the drain is closed or try to remember which way to turn it to open. I can just picture the groggy confusion as my friends stand ankle-deep in a filling tub, trying to blearily figure out how to switch open the drain. This will be fun.

My new, slightly geeky hobby is a symptom of a much larger problem: I am bored. And it’s boredom of the worst kind; I’m not bored because I have nothing to do, I’m bored with the things I should do. You know: work, chores at home, and the home improvements that (as you all know) I’ve so unwisely undertaken. Lately I want to either go to bars and drink, or sit at home and watch TV. And not even watch TV with Carlos; I’m more than happy to let him watch Amore Real or whatever is on Univision in the living room while I sprawl out in the bed and watch Stargate, or sneak in a bit of porn when he’s not listening. Tonight I plan to leave work at 5 pm, go to a homosexual drinking establishment (I’m actually considering the Crescent) and drinking until it’s time to go to Spanish class. Afterward, I’m going to R Place to continue drinking until either I can’t stand up, or I hear a BOOM that is Carlos blowing up my building.

Apparently yesterday’s entry (a series of interesting emails) hit a bit of a nerve. I understand and respect privacy, but I fail to see that any reasonable expectation of privacy attaches to a public act performed on a free, public website. Ergo, people are within their rights to discuss said act amongst themselves. Of course, anyone who wishes to make any general or specific comments on the blog are encouraged to do so, and if you’d like to refute my logic on this or anything else, I am eager to hear your arguments.

There’s still silence from Issaquah; perhaps JPK and D4L are having difficulty assembling the Matthew Phillips Memorial Diningroom Set. Actually, I’m sure it takes a few days to get unpacked, get the internet turned on, and attach the shower douche. While we all eagerly await a new blog entry and invitations to the housewarming, I understand that appropriate gifts for the happy couple are in short supply. Not to give anything away, but if you know where to get a marble statue of monogamy or a front page story on Jason’s HIV test (suitable for framing), let me know.

Tomorrow Matty returns to that apocryphal pit of toxicity, LA. It’s only for a few days this time; he has to be back to host his Thanksgiving dinner. This year Adam has promised to lay off the ganja long enough to make stuffing, but we will let him smoke up before he puts on his Puritan gown for the traditional corn-stalk flogging. Flogging Adam in festive holiday garb has been a tradition at Matty’s since Easter, when we threatened to dress Adam in a bunny suit and whip him. This tradition was inspired by a church in Indiana, which hosted an Easter pageant with a guy in a bunny suit being whipped for Jesus. Johnny immediately coined the phrase Christian Fundamentalist Sadomasochistic Furries, and we decided this had to be incorporated into a festive celebration of the holidays. You gotta be inclusive.

Random Emails

Since I'm still digesting the weekend (check back later for an account of the strange events) here are some intriguing emails I have received recently:


First one is from Matthew, on the subject of his Thanksgiving Evite:

I just wanted to share Brian Westbrook's response to the Thanksgiving evite......... "At his/her request, Brian Westbrook has been removed from the guestlist for Thanksgiving." Looking forward to seeing everyone else on Thanksgiving (or at least soon).


This is commentary and a translation of Jason's love letter in Japanese, from my friend Yuki:

Actually, this is a funny letter. It doesn't make sense both in English and Japanese. I assume you want me to translate from Japanese to English. This is the direct translation.

To Rossu-sama,
You are my lover. I truely like you a lot. You are living any o'clock in my heart. Today is our raw beginning. Very happy with pleasure. I'm thinking to be good that I met you. I love until any clock. From Jason-kun


This one is from Curtis, he's quoting from an article on Montana that I sent him:

"Wholesomeness in a grimy den of liquor is an enduring quality of Montana life." You should emblazon that quote on the door of your home.


That's it for now, I'm still digesting the events of the weekend. I know, you all think it was boring and uneventful for me. Guess again!

The Issaquah Connection

Yesterday’s entry spurred a flurry of email discussion, but unfortunately no actual comments on the blog. Remember the Manifesto? You must comment, or I’m going to whine about being ignored. Yes, I know, you have to sign up for a blog in order to comment. I do not care. Take 5 minutes, sign up, and then make your comments ON THE BLOG. Just because you sign up for one doesn’t mean you have to write one. You all expect me to work my ass off writing this thing, and then you’re too hung over to log in and make an actual comment? Please. If I don’t get some comments, I am going to start public crucifixions on here that will make The Passion of the Christ look like The CareBears Movie.

The flurry of emails (that were not comments, in case you’d forgotten) focused mostly on JPK and his upcoming move to Issaquah. I hadn’t thought about him lately (he jettisons his friends with each new boyfriend) but The Little Shop of Horrors brought him to the fore once again. Apparently all the talk of unicorns and rainbows inspired a few people, because among the emails was the following ditty. In the style of “The Rainbow Connection,” and with deepest apologies to Kermit the Frog, I give you:

The Issaquah Connection

With Ross, every wish will be heard and answered
When wished in Issaquah!
They say he had a boyfriend, but I don’t believe it,
And we’ve been monogamous so far.
What's so amazing (about a one year lease) that keeps everyone blog-gazing?
They say I should wait and see. . .
Screw you we’ve found it, the Issaquah connection,
My Ross, the Crisco, and me! La di da Dee da di da. . .

Well then. I think that pretty much says it all. This was a collaborative effort, so there are additional verses and a couple of different versions. But I think this version really captures what everyone has been feeling from Jason. Every ditsy blond with a checkered past, whether she’s in The Little Shop of Horrors or a cookie-cutter townhome in Issaquah, hopes for a fresh start. And if there’s one think we know about JPK, it’s that he will be fresh (as long as he still has his shower douche).

Somewhere That's Green

After two days home sick, I’m back at the office trying to translate documents using my 8th grade French. My French was never very good, and now it’s rusty, but I’m the only person in-house that can read it at all. So I’ve spent the day stuffed up and achy, trying to understand enough of the words to get rough grasp on what these documents say. It’s less than fun.

This little cold was brought on in part by my allergies, and in part by drinking myself senseless Sunday night. The evening started out, innocently enough, with a trip to the theatre. Matty had an extra ticket to Little Shop of Horrors, and after parking at Pacific Place (you nearly have to blow someone there to get your car valeted), we managed 2 rounds of margaritas at the Mexican restaurant and cocktails at 727 before taking our seats. The show was amazing. The best part was in the first act, when Audrey sang “Somewhere That’s Green.” Audrey was the female lead, a blond with a checkered past who dreamt of settling down in the quiet of suburbia with Seymor:

Still, that Seymour's a cutie
Well, if not, he's got inner beauty
And I dream of a place
Where we could be together at last

A matchbox of our own
A fence of real chain link,
A grill out on the patio
Disposal in the sink
A washer and a dryer and an ironing machine
In a tract house that we share
Somewhere that's green.

He rakes and trims the grass
He loves to mow and weed
I cook like Betty Crocker
And I look like Donna Reed
There's plastic on the furniture
To keep it neat and clean
In the Pine-Sol scented air
Somewhere that's green

Between our frozen dinner
And our bedtime, nine-fifteen
We snuggle watchin' Lucy
On our big, enormous twelve-inch screen

The song goes on in that vein for quite awhile, but I couldn’t follow it because Matty and I were falling out of our seats laughing. We actually got shushed by the people in front of us, so I tried to hold it in and almost gave myself an aneurysm. It was funny because it so closely paralleled JPK’s giddiness about Issaquah, right up to the green grass and the desire to cook. Girls with a checkered past always want a fresh start where no one knows them, and where they are far removed from the temptations of old. Of course I’m sure it will be all rainbows and unicorns, just as JPK predicts. Unfortunately it didn’t work out so well for Audrey: she got chewed up by the plant, and then fed to it by Seymor after he pulled her from it and she died. It’s a little warning D4L would do well to heed whenever he gets an arm close to JPK’s ass. On a more personal note, it was a nice return to the Paramount for Matty and I. The last time we were there it was for Mamma Mia, when JPK dumped Matty the day of the show to go back to Ben. I’m regularly the consolation date (he was stood up by his mother this time) but I don’t mind.

We had drinks at intermission, and after the show went to check out Timberline. It was annoying as usual, so after a round we went up to R Place. R Place was slow; they’ve stopped doing karaoke and are doing “Funk Night” instead. It was painful, so we went downstairs to have a couple of drinks. At this point, it was either wrap it up or step it up. It was late, I was tired, and I had promised Carlos I’d be home by 10 pm (this was close to 11 pm). But Matty was fired up. Paul and Mark were having a bit of a spat, and earlier in the day Matty had gotten involved when Paul dredged up a piece of ancient history about David and told Matty about it. It was a previously unknown allegation against Mark that turned out to be true. So Matty was pissed at Paul for telling him, pissed at Mark for doing it, and liquored up enough to get really confrontational. Henry showed up at R Place, and after a final round (Henry slammed one of the strongest Long Islands I have ever seen) we dragged up to Madison Pub for the endgame. There we ran into Mark, Mike, and some of his friends playing darts. Jerome and his boyfriend Mark were there as well (won’t anyone please shoot a few Marks?), but Matty zeroed in on evil Mark, and between shots of Jaeger proceeded to skewer him.

Mark (wisely) made himself scarce after about 30 minutes of verbal hammering, so we socialized a bit with the other boys. Henry was making some new friends, especially with Mike and his friend Kyle. I’d never met Kyle before, but chatting with him a little I thought, “This guy’s fun, he’d fit right in.” In retrospect I realized it’s because he’s completely crazy, and God knows we have enough of that. Anyway, we chatted for a bit, but one by one the boys started to drift away until it was just Matty, Jerome, (good) Mark, and I left holding down the bar. Reasonable, sensible people would have gone home at that point, so we went up to CC’s for a nightcap. Fortunately it truly was a nightcap; Matty and I hit the wall at the same time and departed for our respective homes.

I arrived home exactly 3 hours late. Carlos was less than amused, and he’s been calling me chico malo (bad boy) ever since. He was actually very eloquent when I rolled in; he’d done some drinking waiting for me, and his English is always better when he’s drunk and pissed off. Fortunately we resolved our issues, but by morning I had another problem: my cold was back. I tried to get up and go to work, but it just didn’t happen. Same thing Tuesday, but today I’m feeling much better. So back to work, back to the blog, and back to somewhere that’s green.

Absolutely the Best Week Ever

Things have been quiet on the gossip front for the past week, and I’ve been too depressed to make up anything good. But to satisfy popular demand (or at least Paul’s demand) here’s some tidbits from the week:

Thursday, October 28th: Allegedly, Paul did something heinous. Or at least attempted it. We’re not clear on the details (mainly because everyone is too horrified to talk about it) but I am fairly sure no laws were broken, and no farm animals or boys under 18 were involved. Meanwhile, I carved pumpkins with Jeff the Gaysian twink, his boyfriend Jeff the white guy, and Carlos. Carlos was the prize for the best jack-o-lantern, which I won handily. Meanwhile, news from this day crosses over to tomorrow because on…..

Friday, October 29: Paul arrived home at 6:30 Friday morning with no idea how he got there. No, that’s not the heinous thing he did, although Curtis was annoyed that Paul stayed out all night. Whatever it was, it was more heinous than that. And then, Paul refused to call in sick to work but didn’t wake up until 11:30 am. Oops. That evening, Carlos and I had beers with Johnny at the Eagle (sounds like we’re playing Gay Clue) while Curtis did something heinous to rival Paul’s heinousness, and somehow equaled or exceeded or at least ex post facto-ly (that’s not a word you idiot, I just made it up) justified Paul’s heinousness. No, I don’t know what, if anything, either of them did but boy it must have been good.

Saturday, October 30: Carlos and I bought groceries, rounded up sailor outfits (for the next night), dressed up as a soldier (Carlos) and a construction worker (me) and went to gay night at Chop Suey with Danielle and Johnny’s ex, Mark. (Note to self: start shooting Marks, they’re getting confusing). The gays that populate Chop Suey, like their str8 bretheren, are skinny, poorly dressed, uniformly nonconformist snobbish indie rockers. But get 2 really strong drinks in them (they all weigh 90 pounds) and they suddenly have a thing for a beefy guy with a beard in Carhartts. I got lots of attention and had fun. Dani was Girlie Show Madonna (vinyl, fishnet, gloves, mask) and got the most attention of all. Paul and Curtis went to bed early to avoid further heinousness.

Sunday, October 31: Carlos and I dressed in matching sailor uniforms and went to T-line, Neighbors, and the Eagle. I drank so much I danced on the boxes at Neighbors in my sailor uniform. My friend Rob got cut off at T-line, but not before he hit on a guy that is fatter than I am but was dressed as a pro wrestler (in other words, in a Speedo). The guy was kindof hot though….. Apparently Aaron Brown was at T-line too, and would have loved the guy in the Speedo, but I didn’t see him so couldn’t make the intro. Neither Paul nor Curtis, to the best of my knowledge, did anything heinous this day.

Monday, November 1: I went to Changes incredibly hung over. Seth was working, and he was even more hung over than I. Seth has started drinking Chivas and water, and apparently a lot of it. Halloween night he wanted a Hot Pocket from Safeway on the way home. Hot Pockets were on sale, so he bought them all. The entire freezer case. He explained how to make the best breaded porkchops in the world, and we drank until we felt better, and then went home drunk to our respective and appreciative boyfriends.

Tuesday, November 2: On this day, God’s chosen Anti-Christ was reselected to lead the nation to Armageddon (site of the final battle in Revelation, it’s just south of Fallujah). I celebrated my imminent internment in a “Religious Freedom Camp for Homosexuals” by skipping Spanish class and drinking myself stupid alone at R Place. Paul went to class and then back to work, but Curtis was kind enough to join me in my sorrow, and we toasted the fact that thanks to the camps, we would soon be very, very thin. The only heinousness was in Red states.

Wednesday, November 3: Everyone in Seattle wore black and wailed about the election. After work and a quick nap, I met Paul, Mark, Curtis, and Woodsy for drinks at CC’s. Mark got the bartender to show us his chest, stuffed dollar bills in his pants, and maxed out everyone’s tab (Paul took the biggest hit, Woodsy the most painful one). Curtis flirted with but refused to talk to a cute cowboy, and I got suitably trashed before going home to make roast chicken for a dutifully grateful Carlos. The evening (besides Mark's behaviour) was surprisingly heinousless.

Thursday, November 4: Absolutely nothing happened today as far as I’ve heard. But maybe Paul and/or Curtis did something heinous. Again. I’m waiting to hear.

And there it is, the events of the past week in a nutshell. Happy now, Paul? To everyone else, have a good weekend!

I Have Arrived at the Truth

I’d like to quit talking about politics and get back to gossip and drinking, but I just can’t. The election has been everywhere the past few days: on TV, the radio, all over the web, even in a Chinese cooking blog I follow. There’s been endless analysis and counter-analysis, mostly declarations that the Democrats are finally done. In fact the Dems have been laid so low that Ann Coulter has turned on her own party, upbraiding Karl Rove for not engineering a landslide (and reminding me of the fable of the serpent who bites his rescuer because, well, that’s his nature). There’s quite a bit of talk how this is a complete repudiation of the Democratic Party; that the country has move irrevocably to the right; that liberalism is done. In a word, hogwash.

Democracy is not a football championship. Just because your team lost doesn’t mean that you should switch sides, or that your principles are wrong. In fact, quite the contrary in this election. This election was won on strategy and demonization, not principles, and it was won by playing off the worst fears and prejudices of people whose way of life is under siege. The winning party did not have a better plan for the country, they identified the fears of their base, and then projected those fears onto the Democrats to bring that base to the polls. How can we counter that strategy without stooping to the same bankrupt methods, without appealing to the worst instead of the best in Americans?

Simple. We just have to tell the truth. Here’s an example: Republicans don’t care about children, they use the issue of abortion to manipulate the voters. You know this is true because they don’t support birth control to reduce abortion, and they’re afraid to amend the Constitution to ban it. They don’t support basic sex education so people can plan for children, and they don’t support a minimum wage sufficient for one parent to stay home to care for a child. Further, they’re not willing to fund quality early education, and they make college loans a handout to big banks at the expense of new graduates. Republican policies do little to help make sure that children are born to couples who are married, stable, committed, and financially able to care for a child. “Abstinence education” is ridiculous unless kids are getting married at 18, and who is ready for a life-long commitment at that age?. Sex is part of adulthood, but the Republicans don’t seem to care if it results in single parents stuck in grinding poverty without an education or a way to care for the child. Republicans care about getting elected, and have hit on abortion as a way to divide the country and energize their base. This is the truth, and unfortunately it was never uttered in this campaign.

The truth is, the American way of life is under siege like never before. Economically, morally, spiritually. The buying power of income peaked in the 1970s and it has been dropping steadily since. A family of four could live a comfortable middle-class life on one income in the 1960s; today it requires a two earners with college degrees to begin to be middle class. Rather than talk honestly with our children about sex as they become adults, we pretend it isn’t there while they’re bombarded with it everywhere they go. Faith and spirituality are trotted out at every opportunity; injected into government and used to demonize and belittle instead of inspire and uplift. Faith is not a tool for gaining office, morals should not be molded to gain political advantage, and the government should make opportunity available to all instead of closing it off for all but a few.

There are a multiple of other truths just waiting to be uttered. It doesn’t seem hard to tell the truth about the Republicans, but Democrats have been unable to do it for the past 2 elections. And still Bush lost the last election and narrowly won this election. My greatest frustration isn’t that we’re wrong, it’s that they are and we won’t say it.

The Faith-based Presidency

A speaker on NPR today (I wish I could remember his name) called Bush’s administration “the faith-based presidency.” He went on to explain that Bush’s presidency is based not only on faith in God, but also faith in himself, and his supporters are people who have faith in George W. Bush as a leader. I don't share the same faith, but I'd like to understand it. In the face of damning evidence, people truly believe Bush made us safer from terrorists, was right to invade Iraq, improved the economy, and is protecting our families from damaging "gay marriage."

Like most people I know, I’m deeply disappointed about the outcome of the election. And I’m troubled about the future of this country. Bush will be changing the composition of the Supreme Court, meaning that gay marriage, abortion rights, medical marijuana, the right to die, the right to privacy, prayer in schools, and a host of other issues will be decided by an almost certainly more conservative court. We are threatened by terrorism, but little has been done to increase security for airlines, chemical factories, nuclear power plants, or container ships. Saddam Hussein, rather than being a threat, assumed we knew which weapons he had and didn’t have, and was performing a rather obvious geopolitical balancing act between Iran, the U.S., and the U.N in order to remain a power in the region. Which makes the U.S. an aggressor nation for the first time in our history, and gave al-Queda both a recruitment tool and room to maneuver in heart of the Middle East. As far as I can tell, all of this should have been plenty to re-defeat him and send him back to Crawford. So why did so many people vote for him?

I keep coming back to faith. Bush's supporters, in spite of all logic, need to believe in the man. And not just have faith in him, but complete faith that he is unquestioningly right. He has the same faith in himself. I feel juvenile pointing out that no one is perfect; that no one has a more difficult or complicated job than the president; and that he is bound to make mistakes. If Bush or his supporters pretend he never makes mistakes, that he never need compromise, then he is put in the dangerous position of either admitting a mistake or covering it up. Iraq is a perfect example, I think the tax cuts (without corresponding budget cuts) are another. I hope Bush and his supporters are right, and that he's infallible, because if he's not we're in for a damaging, and perhaps disastrous 4 years.

Obligatory Election Blather

Today’s election day, and it’s all anyone (including me) can talk or think about. The first exit polls are rolling in close but slightly in favor of Kerry. I’m hoping they stay that way. Kerry is not my ideal choice for President, but he is far better than Bush and if elected I think he will conduct himself adequately, if not exceptionally.

And what if the worst happens, and Bush is elected to 4 more years? I’m cautiously optimistic that a second Bush term would be more conciliatory and more pragmatic than the first. Bush has a number of problems he must resolve, specifically the deficit and the cultural divide, or his presidency will be tarnished and the modern conservative movement weakened, if not completely discredited. (Iraq and terrorism are issues that Bush seems to have gotten a pass on; I don't see how he can repair the damage, but no one seems to have noticed anything's wrong). If we are still fighting about gay marriage and facing record deficits after another 4 years of Bush, I don’t think it’s possible for the Republicans to remain in power. They know that as well as anyone. Without facing re-election, Bush could move to the center without fearing a revolt from the far right. He could make compromises that would solidify his legacy, and silence the nutjobs that hijacked the party after it was destroyed by Clinton in 1992.

Of course I could be completely wrong, and Bush could become a major reactionary. He’s not an idiot, but anyone (for example, Jimmy Carter, who is far smarter than Bush and I put together) can make strategic blunders. I don’t have any insights into Kerry, but I hope he is more thoughtful in his approach to terrorism, and more fiscally conservative than Bush. The tax cuts and resulting deficits have been reckless and politically motivated, and I hope Kerry can clean up the mess. I think Congress will remain Republican, which isn't a bad thing. Although it’s inefficient, I like the president and the congress to be pitted against one another; it makes them battle, compromise, and explain themselves more than if they’re all on the same side.

That’s my semi-formed, semi-coherent opinion on the election as it stands now. I’m keeping my fingers crossed and hoping my nasty hangover from the weekend passes enough that I can write something interesting about how I got the hangover. It was a fun weekend, but I’m still recovering. Enjoy the election, and go vote if you haven’t done it yet.