Acme Heart Maker.
(Via LifeHacker)
Category Archives: Queer stuff
Dinner With PhotogRod
We invited PhotogRod over for dinner and a free movie at the OzFlix festival last Saturday night.
PhotogRod: Thanks for getting me out of my apartment tonight. The café below our apartment is hosting another rock band and I know I’m going to do something crazy if I have to call the manager and the landlord and the police again.
Sharkboy: That has got to suck.
PR: It sounds like I’m just hovering over the band, it’s so loud. Last week they had a punk band. I hate punk bands!
Dead Robot: At least you don’t have a drunk guy above your head.
PR: Are your neighbours bad?
DR: We hear him in the hallway going up the stairs every so often. I think he’s got a night job in a bar. Or at least he’s been in a bar because a couple times he stumbles. Twice he’s woke us up by having to be brought home by friends or police.
PR: No!
SB: Yep! A couple times we’ve been woken up by him falling out of bed or off his couch.
PR: Ha!
DR: True! It sounds like a sack of melons in a bag hitting the floor. BLUBBABDDUBUBAUBU!
PR: But it’s not as bad as a rock band.
SB: True. Hey the apartment we looked at before coming here just came available. It’s right by Carlton and Ontario and its sweeeeeet. Two storey, 2 1/5 bedroom, open kitchen/livingroom, overlooking Carlton. Huge south facing patio.
PR: Really?
SB: Yeah but it’s a bit pricey. When we looked at it a couple years back it was $1700. Plus utilities.
PR: Kinda steep.
DR: Get a third to share or insist that PhotogBill’s harps pay rent. They take up a lot of room. Here. Try the chips, they’re Lay’s Spicy Curry.
PR: (chomp) They taste like shoe. But strangely addictive.
SB: Yes! They do! They make my bum explode.
(BAM! BONK!)
PR: Man your cat is crazy.
SB: He gets really rowdy sometimes. He’s a destroyer. We can’t keep the carpet in the hallway or the throw on our bed neat and in one place. As soon as you make the bed, wham! It’s crumpled on the floor.
DR: Let me try this camera and get a shot of the cat without a non-reflective creepy eye.
(click)
DR: Nope.
(click)
DR: Nope.
(click)
DR: Aw fuck it. Hey dinner is on. “Damn Quesadillas� with rice and over-cumin-ed chicken!
PR: So you saw this “Kenny� guy yesterday?
DR: At the OzFlix opening night, yeah. He was dreaaaamy!
SB: I’ve never seen Deadrobot so star struck!
DR: Thank god for Sharkboy. I stood there like a lump hoping to make eye contact so we could get him to pose, but this Shane Jacobson is the kind of guy that pays attention to whoever he’s focused on. At one point Sharkboy said “Hey! Mr Kenny!� and the woman beside him looked at him and said “It’s ‘Shane.’ �
SB: I said: ‘He’s Mr Kenny to me tonight’. She just turned away.
DR: But we got a few moments with him and Sharkboy got my pic with him. Here.
PR: He’s hot.
DR: Uh hunn! A great guy. Originally he was a roadie for music videos and he started to do improv comedy. He and his brother were goofing around creating characters and he did the first 5 minutes of the film on video his brother’s camera. They loved “Kenny� so much they built the movie around him.
PR: The power of comedy!
DR: Too right!
Later, at the Theatre:
DR: Hey there’s that frigging image I wish we could ban from using for at least 20 years. It’s in all our marketing material. All of it!
SB: Shhh! The event co-ordinator is going to speak.
DR: He looks embarrassed about the Gay Mardi Gras Foam Party on Saturday.
SB: I’m embarrassed about the Foam Party. Who wants to go get wet ‘n foamy in the dead of February? Bah.
DR: Originally it was just going to be Priscilla drag queens and such – Sydney on Dundas, but it ballooned to a Foam Party. Gay excess strikes again.
After the movie:
EmCee: We have a special treat tonight. We actually have Kenny here in the audience. Come on down Kenny!
PR: HE TOUCHED MY HAND!
SB: You should have done that.
DR: Damn.
A nod of thanks to Brett Lamb for the “diablog” idea.
Delilah
I find that the best comedy usually doesn’t happen on stage.
This morning while at the gym, I wound up right across from another guy, both of us fretfully trying not to have our body parts touch in the cramped aisle of the change room. We’re taking great care not to get into each other’s way and to compensate, I’m standing askew from my open locker, making the transition from nude to dressed while he’s going from dressed to nude. I yank at a shirt resulting in my underwear flying across the aisle, landing squarely on his shoes.
“Buh!” he says, in utter surprise.
“Good lord!” I sputter, “It’s like you’re Tom Jones!”
How The Day Went Down
I’ll give you all the readers digest version as that it’s not so interesting if you’re not family.
Friday, Dad, Michele and Rhino and I went to Costco to get some tasty treats for the reception. We spend the rest of the day prepping chocolate covered strawberries to be served with champagne. While I’m on Da’s computer, from the other room I can hear Michele say “Let’s try one.” Pause. “Eurgh!” Mumble mumble mumble… “Get Ted to try one.”
Da brings me a delicious looking chocolate strawberry. So tempting but seconds after biting into one, my mouth is filled with chalk. They had used bitter chocolate instead of semi-sweet. Barf! Off to the store Michele and I go, to replace half the tray they’d started but never tested. Thankfully, the Officiate who did the ceremony loves bittersweet chocolate. They didn’t go to waste.
Then we all go to Olympic Pizza for all the family that had arrived so far. They meet Andy, the Officiate, and we nosh on some predicable, but welcome food. After we go back to the condo party room and set up some. The room seems larger when you empty it of chairs and couches and put in a sole “hoopa” (what we were calling the “altar”).
Saturday. The big day! Sharkboy and I get up to wander down to St Lawrence Market for more reception goodies and wander back to Da’s to finish up the room. No problems encountered, except a caution to anyone renting from Alligator Party Rentals. Check everything you get and make sure you have lots of ID when renting from them. Apparently just a credit card doesn’t cut it for the meager amount we got. And note: a couple glasses were cracked and the linen was dirty. Despite that, the tables were set with pieces that Da had salvaged from his stint as volunteer at The Gardiner Museum.
At noon, the Healeys met the Paquettes for a semi-formal lunch at the Brownstone, arranged by Mom. Actually the Healeys outnumbered the Paquettes 2:1. It was a bit difficult to mix it up when the table was split down the middle by both families. Lesson learned: stagger guests.
Back to the room after lunch and chilled the Champagne. A few last touches and the room was ready. Rehearsal at 5 went by lurchingly. We were all tired, dirty and Andy confessed that this was his first same sex marriage. And the first time he was marrying a friend so he was a bit nervous to get it right. A few tears and lots of nervous laughing, but we managed to get through it ok twice.
Home, dressed, and back to the room for 7. Guests started to arrive 7:30pm. The ceremony started 8:15pm and was done by 9:50pm. Photos by Rod and Bill with family. I have to say that Rod and Bill did a fantastic job with their cameras. Very professional and fun to have at the party to boot!
It went by far too fast. I remember most of it. I wish I could have slowed down before and after the ceremony. I know I didn’t get to talk to half the people as much as I would like and I’m certain I missed a few.
Notables:
My niece Charlotte did a little number half way through the night while she wore a “Body Rock” rap suit. You might remember them from the 90s: little velcro buttons attached to various parts of your body, when pressed makes the speaker worn on your hip chirp out sampled drum/cymbal/rap beats. It was hilarious! Apparently I got one at a garage sale during a big family dinner back in the 90s. She jumped on the chance to borrow her friend’s so that she could entertain the crowd.
Candy Barr showed up to my wedding. Unfortunately the speaker system was way too quiet to perform for a room of 50++ but she did manage to put some jealous faces on sisters, sisters in law, mothers and friends with her outfit and figure. As long as I live, I will never forget my brother John’s girlfriend, Heather, go white eyed and pallid when Candy breezed by the first time. Candy managed to hit it off with my Mom for a while, but I didn’t find out what they talked about.
Thanks to all the Happy Monkeys who showed. Rain and my brother in law, Rhino started to yell at each other in German to which JoyAnn commented “Are they fighting? Or just greeting each other?” They suppressed the urge to yell out “Sounds like a Song!” or “Should have said!” during the ceremony. Thank god.
Thanks to both my and Sharkboy’s co-workers for coming! You were a select few!
The Postman hit on my dad a few times. The Busdriver wondered aloud about when his turn to get married would be. Many times. Jackal (that is, Jack and Michael) looked dashing and Jack was congratulated a few times, being mistook for Sharkboy!
I have to single out a couple people here though:
Fort and Andre: Da’s friends who volunteered to do service all night. I don’t know who else I would have got. They did a super job even after I barked orders at them like Bridezilla when vases started to fall in the breeze. Or candles weren’t lit 2 minutes before the doors were to be opened. How did they put up with me?
Michele and Rhino for cutting their vacation short and spending a few air miles to be part of the day. Same goes for Dan and Mark too. Both brother and sister (and sig. others) reworked their schedules to attend the wedding. Thank you for making the effort and thank you for brining Bernice, the nice Irish ex-wife! I forgot how much I loved her! She lit up the room!
Sylve, Pogo, Max and Shawn: Hell of a speedy weekend. I wish we could have spent more time. Pogo, thanks for walking my mom home at the end of the night. Sylvie: you did a great job representing Sharkboy’s parents. Max, you looked like $1,000,000 and Shawn, I want to see that video soon! I hope you all meshed with the Healeys, they like you very much.
Mom: I know how much you wanted to take over with the preparations. I know it wasn’t the most conventional wedding, but we had a specific vision as to what was going to happen on our day: fast and low key. Thank you for the lunch and thank you for coming. And thank you for hauling that picture of me at 11 years of age, smiling like a moron for the camera, wearing a two tone, velour turtleneck sweater, all around the part for everyone to see. Including co-workers. I love you!
Dad: What can we say? We’ve said “Thank You” about 100 times a day, more so as the wedding approached. You did so much and respected when we wanted so little. Without your help, we’d have done the “After work at the City Hall” elope plan (which I’m glad we didn’t!) You held things together, you hauled things out of storage, you grounded us when we started to wobble off track. I suspect you did a lot more behind the scenes than we actually know about because the day went off so effortlessly. I can’t say thank you enough. You made the day.
And finally, Sharkboy. Meesh. I knew everything was going to be great when you came back from the last dollar store run for supplies. Out of the bag came a light-up Spongebob Squarepants pen that we were to use to sign the register. And we DID. When I saw that pen, I knew that we were going to have a great night. A great start to our lives together. I love you so much.
Oh and by the way, bitch… “For Richer and Richer”? You bastard! You improv trumped me!
Halloween Round Up: Leather, Make It So, F*ck Da Pigs
Yesterday was a good day, my friends.
Sharkboy and I started the day out by going to City Hall and forking over the $130 to get a piece of paper that says we can legally wed. O Bureaucracy, O Mores! I think I fell in love with City Hall as a building, not a concept, this trip because of it’s hushed tones, hip curves and trippy bubble clocks. And zombie like employees who came to their desks with heavy sighs and complaints about scheduling. Lady, I’d love to have your job for a while. I’d be so camp with the same sex licenses…
With that done, we hustled to our respective offices where, as you know, I donned my chaps, cop shirt, C.H.i.P gloves and Masters cap to much ballyhoo around my floor. Pictures below, if you want to jump ahead.
End of day, we met up with Rod and Bill who are 90% convinced that going on December’s cruise would be a great fucking idea. Please dear readers, give them 10% more of a reason. A nice round number like 10 at the table would be fun. We then headed to Wicked for their Halloween show.
Now, I’m a cynical old fart when it comes to Broadway musicals. I whole heartedly agree with the Simpson’s parody of Planet of the Apes or Trey Parker/Matt Stone’s version of Rent (Everyone has AIDS!). They’re lyrically stereotypical and schmaltzy. But Wicked was fun. I enjoyed it. It was well written (other than a few glaring plot holes) and did an amusing job of Lucasing the pre-Oz story.
There were some costumes in the audience. Leaving the theatre, I saw a family of 4 getting their coats on and noted that mom was dressed as Dorothy, one kid as The Scarecrow, the other kid as The Cowardly Lion and good old Dad was
Jean Luc Picard.
…What? The fuck?
I snort a laugh. I look at Sharkboy. He’s already into hysterics. Apparently Dad didn’t get the email saying “Oz Theme!”
Then we went to Church street. It was already 11:20pm and the street was still closed. Some my-tee-fine costumes this year, people. I was suitably impressed, dare I say “Best Halloween EVAR”? Very little repeats (although Dracula was popular) and only one Steve Irwin with a barb through their chest. Best Costume goes to the pair of guys with silver Barbarella-style 60s space outfits replete with goldfish bowl helmets. Damn me forever for not getting a picture. Lots of WTF costumes too. You know the ones: straights wearing boas thinking “Hey that’s enough to get by”. Next year I am going to ONLY take pictures of WTF costumes.
The police win the award for the biggest downers, however. At 11:30, they started to drive their cruisers through the crowd to clear the street. Their horns blazing, they berated the crowd to the sidewalk only to have them spill back out onto the road. I saw one cop physically shove a pair of guys, deliberately blocking traffic in front of Starbucks. Of course after they managed to regain control of the road, the traffic wasn’t that busy and they could have extended the street closure. But I am sure it was a question of paying extra cop salary to have them stay on. Regardless, the 30 mins we had there was fun. I have to say, I enjoy Halloween on Church more than Pride. It has zero corporate involvement and has 100% party vibe.
Halloween 2006 Photos are here, kids.
Lightning Striking
Klaus was David Bowie’s dress designer back in the 70s. One of the first to be taken by AIDS. Way ahead of his time, taken too soon.
Deconstructing Online Photos
Take a look at this Beefcake shot…
Now we all admit to loving looking at ameture cheese porn. Admit it! We love looking at people exposing themselves in more ways than one. We love tearing into these images like a box of Cocopuffs with a diamond ring in it.
Undies shot, check.
Hot bear bod, check.
Hot boots, check.
Under the hot boots… What’s up with that chair? Butch? Old lady??
And finally, the shiny precious throw over the table behind. By this point I’ve moved far past the erotic and well into the “bitter bitchy”.
To be fair, I had this up on my Bear411 profile for a week or two:
…And it wound up being used in a comedic video clip, played at the campground (and possibly for a tv pilot). I was glad someone ‘got’ the joke but the video was showcasing the futility of online profiles, much like what I’m doing here.
The comedy snake eats itself.
Australian Bear Porn
George Hamilton, Healthy
Nearly a month since George Hamilton stumbled into our lives and he’s doing fine. We can’t feel vertabrae on his back and his ribs don’t stick out.
I bet George Hamilton is wanting to get away from these fags!
Introducing…
“George Hamilton“. (Also, check out Seasie awards pix and The Twin Peaks Hotel. Worksafe if you like drag queens.)
Or “Georgie” when we’re feeling cute.
Or “Goddamnit George” when he’s clawing the couch.
Or “Blgarglb! Fuck!” when George Hamilton pushes his butt into my face while I’m sleeping.
Thanks AP for the name. We’re going to try it for a while and see where that morphs to.
And for you people who like freaks, I give you Mu Mu Monday.