He's engaged? You mean he's ...enGAYged!

He's very flamboyant. Not in the obvious way, but in the "speaks volumes" way.

+1 gay point

No, wait, his dad is gay. So that's just his default demeanor.

-0.5 gay points

But my gaydar is infallible. The J.A.C.C. trip to L.A. speaks for itself! And he lived with Marcus in the house of hedonism!

+5.75 gay points ... and an extra two for his gay little Rav4

Wait...I remember bringing over cleaning supplies and disinfecting his bathroom on two separate occasions because the thought of it only getting dirtier bugged me throughout the day. No effen way.

-20 gay points

Of course, he looks happy with his fiancée.

-innumerable

Congrats on your straight heterosexual-type marriage to your lovely woman-wife. May you have much straight happiness in your non-gay lives :-)

Why am I over clubbing? (not talking about baby seals, by the way)

Because when I was 22, Hillcrest bars and clubs were a sanctuary where I could be free, flirty and openly flamey without worrying about anyone judging me.

But I'm 27-and-a-half now, and I realize that there are few places where people are judged more harshly than in the average gay nightclub. These establishments are full of (and run by) people who are stuck in a very shallow mindset. That's the point of going there. Guys want to make a connection with someone who fits the parameters of what society has deemed to be attractive. Yes, apparently we need someone to tell us what attractive is.

Anyway, clubs offer young gay men a variety of diversion. The three most popular examples are drinking/dancing, anonymous sex and the possibility of a relationship. It's an ingenious moneymaker, by the way.

When I started going out to Hillcrest with friends, the whole experience was so new and spectacularly defiant against what society had forced on me up until that point, that the drinking/dancing part took up 80 percent of my attention. The opportunity for finding love held an interesting 15 percent and the sex took the remaining five.

Now that I see that every day can be Gay Pride Weekend if I create the right mindset, I'm able to see clubbing for the expensive, nightly beauty pageant that it is. I see that I'm not quite as flamey as I thought I was (which is neither good nor bad, just an observation) and I don't need a guy's fleeting interest to boost my self image. (Though free bottle service would be nice for freakin' once)!

I still love Hillcrest very much, but not for its clubs--for "adult" reasons. (No, not THOSE kinds of "adult" reasons). I love the gentrification, the variety in entertainment, dining, real estate, community resources...it's where I want to live.

Okay, okay. I'll still go out if my friends drag me out for old times' sake. Call me nostalgic. Especially at Manic Monday 80s Night at The Brass Rail. It's no Babylon or The Abbey, but any club that makes me jump on the stage and makes me queen out to Queen is good in MY book!

The Upside of Being FLAT BROKE

• You find out that your car is so economical that you can make a round trip to Mission Valley from Chula Vista AFTER your gas gauge goes below empty. Just don't take the steep 805 hill out of MV. I barely made it to Adams Ave. alive! :-o
• You realize the value of your coinbox.
• You find wonderful places like Grocery Outlet, Smart and Final, 99-Cent Only Stores and Save a Lot.
• You realize that NOTHING is free.
• You nevertheless find awesome almost-free things to do. Like flask-hour at Fiesta Island.
• You start to pack as many errands into your day as you can because you don't want to waste a trip to Mission Valley on JUST a drive to school. 
• You begin looking forward to Tuesdays because it's $1.25 Fish Taco Tuesday at Rubio's.
• You lose half a pound because you can no longer afford things like Carne Asada Fries, Gelato or LIFEBLOOD :-(
• You gain four pounds because you find out you can easily make things like eggnog, ice cream and croque-monsieur at home. 
• ...wait...that's not a good thing. Scratch that last one.

I think lots of rich people suffer so much because they've never had to deal with what we handle every day: the "what am I going to do" factor...the knowledge that we may not have a place to live or enough gas to drive. To many people, money means fuel. A fuel that's made for burning on the slightest whim. To me, at least now, it means opportunity. I hope I can remember that if I ever make a lot of it.

I Wonder Why...Verbal Apostrophe S

I blame grocers. Henry's, Vons, Ralphs, Albertsons, Trader Joes...they all have it. Strangely only a handful still print the actual apostrophe in the logo. Saves money on ink to just hack it off, I'm guessing. By no means is my overdramatic blame limited to supermarkets. Eateries are infamous. Denny's, Baja Betty's, Marie Callender's...

We use these iconic names so often that we no longer associate the name with the kind of establishment that may have (at one point) been run by a singular operator with a borderline-narcissistic affinity for his own name. We now figure that the name of ANY place of commerce or entertainment can carry the audible 's sound after it.

My sisters always say "Piatti's," when referring to Piatti Ristorante & Bar. Ryan has been known to say, "Fumari's," and I've heard many a casual speaker say, "Corvette Diner's."

There are exceptions, of course. I wouldn't say, "I'm going to F Street's," or "Meet me at Target's." In all fairness, if I were going to either, I probably wouldn't be telling you. Maybe it's the unvoiced guttural stop from the letter T that cancels out our impulse to slap an 's onto the end of it.

Whatever be the reason(s) we've developed this habit, I'm open to hearing your hypotheses.

Until then, remember that the apostrophe has its uses:
-to indicate ownership (Famke's incredible height; Seamus' haggis recipe [after names ending in s, only an apostrophe is added, no additional s]).
-to replace letters (the a and d in rock 'n' roll; the o in isn't, etc).
-as a quote within a quote ("And then I said, 'His was totally bigger!'") in which case it ceases to be an apostrophe and becomes a single quotation mark.

Vine of Sodom

That's what I love about this century. Got a question in your head? Consult wikipedia. Today, my curiosity led me to Sodom and Gamorrfmslfijsposegoaflihaetoa. I don't know how to spell it. I could check my browser history but I'm lazy (a downside of the luxuries that living in this century brings us)...plus, I don't want to forget the point I had in mind while starting this entry.

So I have a dream of owning a restaurant. Maybe a few, each of varied clientele. I'd really like for one of them to be called Vine of Sodom. Sounds like a dark, sophisticated wine bar that takes risks in order to please its guests. Of course it also sounds like something that would make the female members of my family faint. Except for Pattie of course. She'd just laugh her ass off. Which is why she'd be in primary charge of running it. I'd probably be checking the back stock of mozzarella at Licorice Pizza...or making sure those damn teenagers I hire aren't stealing my carne asada from the cooler at 5 South (yeah, I kind of stole that name from Ricky).

Anyway, I like double entendres and funny names like that. I'm sad that some of them are taken though, like A Salt and Battery. But at least the boys (Danny, Ed, Steve and my dad) can still have their own microbrewery: Davy Jones Lager (you have to be buzzed and in a pirate-y mood to get it).

Some of the menu items I'm working on:
- Tequila Mockingbird (tequila-lime quail)
- Anne Rice Pudding (made with blood-red wine)
- Shia LaBeouf Bourgignon (hmmm...prepared by a whiny cook and served way before its prime)?

Just kidding Shia. You know I love you. Well...no. I'm really quite indifferent toward you.
It's Ryan and Perla who misguidedly love you.
Anyway, that's all for now. Here's to good wine and the flashes of genius they provide us.

Cheers

From Out of Left Field - Movies

I consider Superbad and The Hangover to be overrated. I'll watch them with a friend if he or she whines enough...and offers me boxed takeout. But I probably wouldn't contribute money toward renting either one...or even contribute hard drive memory toward downloading them.


Superbad: It was funny when that guy's ass got hit by the car when he was fumbling with the beer, but beyond that I longed for more payoff.


Hangover: There are so many plot devices and scenarios that the movie could have done without. I just find myself drifting off into my own world, imagining what I would do in their situation—a weekend in Vegas. I'd start with something dastardly, like using the brother-in-law character to clean out a few tables, then dropping him off at some arcade and finally getting the real party started. 

The Sweetest Thing, on the other hand is wonderfully random and I always feel satisfied after most of the laughs. And it's not because I engaged in movie-theater-head for the first time when I saw it. Unfortunately, no one seems to share my enthusiasm for this gay-friendly classic. I'm sure one of the main reasons it didn't fare better at the box office is that people don't like seeing pretty girls act like fratboys. I think it's both empowering and hilarious when they don't mind dropping the dainty-lady cliche for the sake of a good laugh.


I also liked Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist, which surprised me. But hey, so did Kill Bill...but for very different reasons!

Bucket List - First Draft

in no particular order

...well, maybe descending in importance..HAHAH no, not really:

1. Be a homeowner. I know, it's SO not me to have something so materialistic at the top of my list, but it will pave the way for me to afford things later in life. There's really no investment like long-term owning. Wow, I sound square.

2. Own at least one restaurant. Only a few of you know about my idea, so I certainly won't publicize it here. But if you don't know about it and you see me on the street, feel free to ask me about it. Talking about it always gets me fired up (in the good way) and happy :-)

3. Spend a whole month as a blond. I've done it for two or three days at a time (and liked it), but I've never let it "become the default" in a manner of speaking.

I think it's becoming. Furthermore, I could care less what anyone thinks when I'm sporting the gilded locks. You can't really put a price on empowerment.

4. Spend a summer in Whereverthehelliwant, Europe. Yes, just skipping from hotel to hotel with my baby and a group of fun people through the most amazing parts in Europe. I'm thinking a party bus would be the best way to experience Tuscany, the Swiss Alps, Paris, Amsterdam, London and the many islands of Greece.


5. Become the "Dinner Party Guy." I'm on my way, but it's always a matter of finding the time and funds to do it right. Furthermore, I want to HOST dinner parties, not just bring the token off-the-wall gay dish. Call me a control freak, but I take great pride in being able to pull off something that brings people together and makes them glad they came.


6. Help someone with my writing. As much as I love Rage, I really don't believe I've ever helped anyone realize anything. The pieces I've written are fun and I cherish the memories I've made there, but no one's keeping back issues of memorable interviews but me. I'd really like to make a difference in someone's outlook. Preferably with one of my "big is beautiful" rants, lol. There are so many people who put themselves through needless torment because they've accepted everyone else's shitty consensus that equates being fat to less-than-human. If I can reverse or even slow that horrible trend, it will be a privilege.


7. Discover, write about, summarize and publish a step by step tutorial on finding our own happiness from within. Long term. I'm talking YEARS down the road. This one's a biggie that has yet to be tackled! Obviously! LOL


8. Finish that pamphlet about demolishing society's rigid injunction on men and removing the damaging taboo from the previously unspoken benefits (and overwhelming joys, heheh) of prostate health/stimulation. This one I can totally crank out over winter break! ...seriously you guys have NO IDEA what you're missing down there. Like mega-WOAH. That's all I'm sayin.


9. Publish an innovative, user-friendly but refreshingly thorough cookbook. C'mon, you really didn't see this one coming?? David loves cooking. David loves writing. David loves correcting people in a modest tone but in an unmistakably narcissistic and self-adorning way.


And 10. Have more foresight and control when it comes to anger. When I hear a vicious remark directed toward me, I notice I've not evolved past that high-school-stage of "return fire immediately." In fact the only thing that HAS evolved since high school is the venomous brand of psychology that I've learned to use to ruin someone's day. As effective and useful as my current arsenal would've been back then, it becomes as useless today as any other knee-jerk recourse. 
I end up feeling very bad once the remarks escape my mouth and I realize the hurt I've caused to the human being to whom I directed them. In future verbal altercations, I'd like for my first gut instinct to be a realization that the person attacking me is either feeling vulnerable, threatened, previously offended (and therefore feeling justified) or has randomly misdirected frustration toward the first available target—me. (nothing personal). That new thought process would really help many things roll off my back and prevent things from escalating. Unfortunately, knee-jerk reactions are among the hardest habits to break and replace. 


Speaking of breaking and replacing, I'm sure my long-windedness has ruined any interest you readers may have had, so I'll replace your longing for sweet release with a closing paragraph. 
I'm sure more things will be added and others will be checked off soon. If you have any recommendations, let me know! I do, after all want to die happy.

I Miss You. Please Come Back

Just got out of the shower. I'm clean in every physical sense of the word. *wink*

I feel good that all I have to do tonight is pay my phone bill and get a good night's rest. But I'm also saddened. My favorite and best-performing antiperspirant is starting to lose its mesmerizing aroma. Underarm products aren't known to do this, generally. But I save this one for special occasions. I just love the smell. Normally this loss of quality would simply prompt a visit to CVS Pharmacy. Alas, this wonderful product is no longer on the market. Thanks a LOT, Avon! *cyber frown*

Derek Jeter's "Driven" is a line of men's fragrance-related products--none of which particularly fiddle my diddle, save for the antiperspirant. Maybe it's the mix of chemicals or my own psychological wasteland filling in the imaginative gaps, but this product takes the standard aroma and makes it blossom with notes of sea-breeze, hot-guy-smell and the unmistakable scent of what I can only describe as "the possibility of imminent sex." Needless to say, it's amazing. Or should I say, was. Like I said, the stick itself is losing its payoff aroma. Thank the gods it still smells wonderful after I apply it on myself. Unfortunately, I now have to use it all before the good smell is depleted.

Of course, this isn't without its upside. I've decided to start a blog-arc with this same title. Every once in a while, I'll list wonderful things from the past that for one reason or another have gone extinct. With any luck, some of you might know about a new way to get them...or maybe a contact to reach and demand a reintroduction of said product. And it doesn't have to be limited to a product.

One listing may be, for example, that wonderfully tangible Christmas Eve/Day feeling from childhood that has now been replaced by incessant calls from creditors reminding you that you can't buy your family anything for the holidays because you're late on a payment, despite the fact that you've very likely paid the full balance minus interest.

Anyway, here's my first list!

1. Those little edible decorative silver balls that could be found at baking supply shops. About the size and shape of a BB (ball bearing), only silver instead of copper, they looked awesome on cakes...and glued to stuff, shhhh...but are now unavailable because the USDA doesn't like letting us eat products containing lead. Pshhh, whatev.

2. Imaginarium Stores. Places of wonder, delight and awe! Well, at least that's what we thought when we saw the amazing fiber-optic-lit door sign. In reality it was just another clothes store disguised as a toy shop to drive us kids nuts. To their credit, creating a separate entrance of our own was a class move.

...and finally, Furr's Cafeteria. I don't remember that much about this place, other than the deliciously drab 80s architecture, and the fact that we were never allowed to eat here unless it was one of my aunts' birthdays. I have peculiar parents. Also, I'd never had such unnaturally smooth mashed potatoes as a kid...until KFC. Then I went to culinary school and realized that good food can actually come from places other than a box.

That's about all I can think of for now. But more is sure to come soon. I'm suddenly craving decade-old mashed potatoes from a box. I hope my boyfriend doesn't dump me for reading that last line. I'm already on thin ice for the boxed wine incident.

Skin Deep

Class was fun today. Nancy and Julie are awesome about not making me feel like "the guy who's in their way" during production. I made Scott some chocolate molds and truffles. Tomorrow I'll start the chocolate box that will carry it all :-) I hope he likes it.

In the meantime I'm sure my body will decide to break out from the buttload of chocolate we've been tasting. There's such a variety, and such great differences in texture and taste. Nevertheless, it's all loaded with sugar, so unless I start exfoliating and applying astringent right now during class, I can expect a charming little surprise or two enveloping my face tomorrow morning. In my defense, I DID throw quite a few cacao nibs into the chocolate mix that I devoured. I'm still not sure what antioxidants do, but they're packed with them. I hope they at least minimize the zitfest I'm warily anticipating—if not heal me of all my ailments.

One thing I don't foresee it helping me to accomplish is that weight loss goal. Well, I'd hardly call it a goal. More like a..."wouldn't it be nice if...blah blah blah." Cacao nibs are basically what is known as cocoa mass—cocoa solids and cocoa butter. Meaning that, as filled with antioxidants as it may be, the remainder of the nib consists of what women use to soften their skin!

I'm not stressing out about it...mainly because that would further provoke a breakout. But I'm starting to see that, regarding weight loss, time is of the essence. No, my biological clock is not ticking...in the traditional sense. I just don't know (once I lose an ideal amount of weight) whether or not I'll need to overdose on vitamin E to avoid a skin condition like this:

I'm not all that young anymore, so my skin elasticity isn't what it once was. I don't want to resort to surgery. My wallet has been fucked enough already. I'll no doubt ask myself every step of the way why I'm losing weight.

Social acceptance? Fuck no. I'll likely spit in the face of every shallow douchebag who hits on me—because I know he would never have lowered himself to do so before.

Health reasons? Maybe. But honestly, my cholesterol is fine. It's not even higher-range fine. It's FINE fine. The only trouble spot would be my blood pressure. Which means that once I lose weight, I won't be at risk of a heart attack while fending off a hate bashing or running from zombies or whatever.

Because Scott wants me to? Yeah, that's probably it. I'd do a lot for him. He says he worries about my health. That's reason enough for me.

But one thing is certain. I'll never have a problem speaking my mind to any shallow, elitist asshole who makes others feel bad for not resembling a malnourished cookie-cutter image of "perfection."

Sexy has a broad definition. That's reality. Anyone who wants to make it a narrow, exclusive snoot club is living in a fleeting fantasy with a definite expiration date. No one will look 18 and trim forever. It's high time everyone realizes that and gets over this skin-deep mentality. And regardless of how sexy you are in anyone's eyes, it doesn't make you any more deserving of happiness or love than anyone else.

...I wonder how many more post it will be before the stop ending in rants...

November Rant: Bullshit Societal Habits

I just finished the last slice of my delicious but vanilla-heavy and crust-too-thick pumpkin pie. T'was nice, but I predict hunger pangs very soon. Possibly within minutes if I don't stop talking (or typing) about food! But really, the pie itself was snagged to silence the hunger already present after the spartan duck/rice dinner I rationed for myself.

Scott has a point. I should lose weight for health reasons, and at the very least to experience the fruits of bullshit society (my words, not his). By that, I refer to our society that treats some much better than others. Who, you may ask? Skinny, tall, white people with big dicks (big dicks-mostly applicable to males). If you fall into this category, you're set for life. Even if your face wouldn't be permitted anywhere near a catalogue or magazine, possessing the aforementioned qualities ensures you unfair but unparalleled treatment. Why? Because, whether it's a business or social setting, CEOs (and most other people with money, but not all) think they've earned the privilege of associating only with those whom they consider aesthetically pleasing. In other words, those whom they'd like to fuck. It's as simple as that.

I'm not saying one who fits the previously mentioned mold gets a free ride. I do say there's undeniable favoritism and ever-present difference in consideration. Comparatively, there's a "last kid picked to be on the team" pattern that the rest of us have to deal with in order to get ahead in the same game.

I'm very grateful for employers (and other groups of people) who provide a sanctuary for us and actually measure us by our aptitude for the job at hand, our social charisma, our determination...ANYTHING BUT OUR FUCKING BONE STRUCTURE OR WAIST SIZE.

Clearly, I've got anger issues to deal with. But that shouldn't be taken to mean that there isn't something inherently fucked up with the way beauty is praised above all else. We know it's fleeting. We know that ALL OF US will start to be categorized as "fugly" at one point or another in our short lives. So why expend so much energy trying to fit in, therefore contributing to the shit-machine? Because it's a money maker. Not for you or me, of course. But for the already-rich.

Don't believe me? Ask Anna Wintour and her skeletal army of models. Short of saving money on cloth materials, fabric pushers like her have no valid reason to use such waify models. And with the frequency the word "fat" is unjustifiably thrown around in that field, one might understand why I've included the entire institution of modern fashion into my broadening definition of the word "bullshit."

If anything is worth strife, it's happiness...and the demolition of the obstacles that stand between it and us. Take a moment to think before you say something nasty about someone who you've been brainwashed to consider too short or fat or hairy or ugly to wear something, or to be seen in public...or to enjoy their own lives. Think about the many ways YOU don't fit in. Would you be hurt by the words you're about to say?