House/Work Dream

When I remember a dream clearly enough, I like to try to recreate it on paper or document the details on a voice recorder somehow. Details fade quickly, unfortunately, and I'm left with only the positive feelings the dream gave me.

Last night I dreamt I was wandering around a model home at dusk. It was huge and I was about to buy it and kick the annoying sales lady out...when everything changed all of a sudden.
For no apparent reason, I was at Albertsons on 3rd and J circa 2002. Only...it was now. The decor and product arrangement simply reflected that year. The Starbucks department was still there and at the register was Renee...but the "grown-up version" of Renee. Big, sexy hair and more make-up. My imagination is a STRANGE place to be in the wee hours.
Anyway, we were working and we noticed that a new Starbucks department was being built right next to the existing one. It had more muted colors, more functional space and it was slightly bigger. It was at this point when my mind realized that this couldn't be real. I was just at this store with Marci a few days ago and it looked completely different--very 2011. THAT was reality. But then...so was this (the 2002 Albertsons). This existence felt just as real as the other. So, in typical journalist fashion, I decided to document it with my (my dad's) camera. Of course, it was in my fag bag...which was in my car, as it usually is when I'm not at home. I stood and debated.
The fabric of this reality was slowly beginning to weaken into the realization that it was nothing more than a dream. Before it had a chance to implode, I turned to go get my camera...and then I woke up.

Disappointed at another failed time-travel attempt, I got out of bed and was even tempted to check my camera for evidence.

Nothing.

Looks like the hunt for a DeLorean must resume.

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!