Masthead Update: Geek Edition

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As always, information about photographers can be found in the sidebar.

The Most Exciting Woman

This morning while making pancakes for breakfast, I asked the boyfriend to put on some music to mask the noise of our upstairs neighbor who does a aerobics DVD every morning. He put on something loud and rocking, but I vetoed that. I decided that today was an Eartha Kitt day.



Eartha Kitt days are the best days.

Bitches Christmas

I wasn't planning on dressing up for Halloween. I'm not a big fan of holidays in general--all build up and the expectation of fun--but I was feeling out of it all week. But the boyfriend had his heart set on dressing up and going out, so I was going to be a fuddy-duddy and tag along, costume-less.

He originally was going to dress in drag with a mask covering the back of his head and be a post-modern Janus, god of beginnings, endings and transitions.

(Yeah, I thought it was lame too, but I couldn't talk him out of it. At the bar, he quickly gave up that idea and just went as "Svetlana, self-proclaimed queen of Russian dance-whores.")

And so, Saturday evening we had to make a last-minute trip to the Hot Topic at the mall for fishnet stockings for this costume.

And while we were there, I found a sexy Rainbow Brite costume, and I was like, hells yeah. I didn't even notice that it was 50% off until I got to the register.

It barely fit, with a plunging neckline that showed off my chest hair and a skirt that fell so short I couldn't wear boxers underneath. Add a blond wig, a red star painted on my cheek, and rainbow leg warmers, and I was the belle of the ball bar.

And even though I totally should have won the costume contest, the boyfriend and I did get a consolation prize.

Two, in fact.

Two phone numbers from two different bottoms who were into us. We sealed the deal with the cute, short red-head last night, and tomorrow night the 6' blonde Scandinavian is coming over to "hang out."

Maybe we should dress in drag more often.

Happy Halloween!

Dear Noah and the Whale,

When I found out you guys were playing a show in town, I got excited, and when I found out tickets were $10, I picked them up more or less right away.

Imagine my disappointment in finding out that you are no longer the band I want you to be. No longer are you the effervescent band that would sound right in place in a compilation of twee British anti-folk music that wasn't featured on the Juno soundtrack because it doesn't grate on you as much over time.

Now, you sound like a cover band specializing in Wilco b-sides.

And everyone in the audience felt it. The boyfriend and I were sitting in the balcony, and even we could tell that by the third or fourth song, everyone was mentally rolling their eyes to the back of their head and muttering "I get it. You were just dumped and Yankee Hotel Foxtrot is a great album. But come on."

In the future, please watch some 30 Rock or something before performing, because I think that if you guys are in a good mood before you perform and not try to cop the 'tortured genius artiste' personae, the audience is going to be most appreciative.

Love,
Bob
(the ridiculous raw youth)

I Really Should Take Up Yoga

(Antonio Anuk, shot by Alvaro Villarrubia, as found on pretty much every gay photo blog in the past week.)

Librarians Gone Wild!

I think I would be much more excited about the high camp value of a competition that features dancing librarians in costumes if it wasn't for the fact that somewhere on the internet exists a video of my mom competing.

I haven't been able to find a video of her team's performance yet, but I'm also kind of afraid to look.

She had a lot of fun doing it, so much so I'm almost tempted to pick up a second job at the local library just so I can do it next year.

Beware of the Book

The boyfriend and I went to a dinner party last night where we made our own spring rolls (which was much easier than we thought it would be) and the guy from the couple we didn't know was incredibly cute.

The first time I saw him, instantly I had him pegged and I could hardly wait until we got into the car to describe him in a forced quip: he looked like the kind of guy who used to masturbate on vintage sean cody, before they went hi-def, back when it was more about corn-fed earnestness and embarassed smiles than ab definition and a lack of tan lines. Oh, how I would have hit that.

And speaking of hitting that, it's about time for one of my posts featuring gratuitous man flesh with all of the good parts covered with the dust jackets of books I've recently read and would recommend. Consider yourself warned about the work-safety of the rest of this post--above graphic via book bench.

Sunnyside by Glen David Gold


Pyongyang by Guy Delisle


Zeitoun by Dave Eggers


Dykes to Watch Out For by Alison Bechdel


The Clinton Years by Taylor Branch


The Humbling by Philip Roth


Provenance by Laney Salisbury and Aly Sujo

The Boyfriend Says Picking Up Guys At Church Is Skeezy

Normally I would agree with him, but we go to a really liberal church, and yesterday's sermon was in honor of Coming Out Day, and he was really cute. He was also totally making eyes at us throughout the sermon, and I wish I hadn't let the boyfriend talk me out of introducing ourselves after the service.

And it's not like I think we could have picked-him-up picked him up. Forgive me the Sex and the City reference, but neither of us are a Samantha, and it takes a lot more than introductions before a jump cut to the three of us in flagrante while Sarah Jessica Parker says a voice over saying "Even though they weren't Catholic, they spent the rest of the morning on their knees" or something of equal asininity.

Most likely, we would have said hello and exchanged phone numbers or IM names amidst small talk about the sermon, ending with vague promises to hang out sometime. At best, we'd hang out a few times before settling in for drinks at a movie at our place, and by the time someone is feeling handsy and confident enough and starts bringing up the possibility of moving to the bedroom, the third will have drank too much and veto fun that night, and the mood will be awkward and he'll stop returning phone calls. Not that that's happened before.

Oh well. I guess that's what Missed Connections are for.

Three Links To End the Week

1. For the first time in my life, I am thinking about purchasing a Playboy.

2. The new Nobel Laureate in Literature looks like a drag queen's take on a Disney villain, and I think it's affecting my take on her oeuvre.

3. This video is more mesmerizing than a lava lamp. Hotter, too.