Excessive, world-weary gay manboy brings me out of my slump

Ever since the Oregon State Beavers trampled the North Carolina Tar Heels in last night's College World Series, I've been in a bit of a foul mood. Actually, that's not true. I've been a grumpster on and off for at least a good week or two now. Even that last Red Bull & vodka yesterday did nothing to raise my spirits. In fact, it only served to keep me from uninterrupted slumber last night. So I spent a good portion of the early morning hours perusing the site of my favorite unabashedly crude and so very gay jetsetting fashionista, Bryanboy, who hails from that fabu faraway archipelago. Sure, he's completely superficial, has absolutely no tact, and needs constant stroking of his overblown ego, but God, is he a freaking riot. Reading his exploits for a couple hours managed to keep me from dwelling on toxic thoughts about my crap job, wasting life away, and how I really should do a batch of laundry.

My Own Personal Axe Clix Commercial, Modified

You’ve probably seen it, the Axe Clix ad in which the ex-Mr. Simpson, Nick Lachey, traipses around town going about his everyday rockstar business and keeping count of all the lovely damsels who give him a sultry look or shy smile on a handheld clicker (there’s also an old one with Ben Affleck that I prefer.) So was taking an evening power walk down Kelly Drive with Michele-Ma-Belle and decided to give clicks to all the worthy, health-conscious lads that passed us by. A click to you, sweaty blonde without a shirt. And to you, the dark Latin guy with curls. And one for you, the distinguished gentleman who probably got a lot of chicks back in the day. Two clicks each to the tall drinks of water (or tall drinks of iced coffee, as it were; it’s likely they are basketball players.) And one for you on the bike, who I’m giving a benefit-of-the-doubt-click because you were riding by too fast for me to get a solid look. I ended up with 23 ½ clicks, with the half point going to the 16 year old kid who is going to have a nice look about him in about 5 years if he keeps up his running regimen.

A little more Keane

Found out from my sis the banana girl that Keane's sophomore album came out yesterday. Can't wait to get obsessive & listen to this CD over & over & over like I did with "Hopes and Fears."



Track list for "Under the Iron Sea":

"Atlantic"
"Is It Any Wonder?"
"Nothing in My Way"
"Leaving So Soon?"
"A Bad Dream"
"Hamburg Song"
"Put It Behind You"
"The Iron Sea"
"Crystal Ball"
"Try Again"
"Broken Toy"
"The Frog Prince"

Foiled yet again!!!

Today I learned that the Snow Patrol concert originally scheduled for June 5th (see initial excited post), then rescheduled for June 26th (see subsequent exasperated post), has now been postponed YET ONCE MORE to September 9th. What the hell, already? By September, who the heck knows where I'm gonna be!?! I could be in another country selling cocktails in coconut shells to tourists!!! Arghhhhh...

Ava antics

Rowr. Any closer, I'll claw your eyes out.

Pique-ah-bu!



Jailbait



Uh, say wha'?

Of the structural soundness of roller coasters...

This subject was a matter of great and frequent interest to me this past weekend as I whiled away a Sunday with the family at Cedar Point, an amusement park in Sandusky, Ohio which rivals the likes of Six Flags and Magic Mountain. I was a hardcore acrophobe growing up--bouts of vertigo would strike whenever I looked down from even the most modest of heights. But I have since then eased out of this common phobia, as evidenced by my ability to keep my eyes open during all of the dozen or so coasters we rode at Cedar Point, Millenium Force with its quadruple corkscrews and 200 foot ascent, and 180 foot descent, the equally gravity-defying maXair, to name a couple.

And then there was the Wicked Twister. Wicked indeed. This thing was like two giant upright spiral pasta noodles joined in the middle by a straight track (we'll call it ziti.) The spirals reached a couple hundred feet up into the air & riders are shot up several times up and back over these spirals at mad silly speeds. Now the other roller coasters went just as high, but this one was special in that the tangle of girders and supports holding the uprights didn't seem to be doing their job. As we waited in line for our turn to be thrilled & chilled, I watched with growing fear as the damn thing wobbled to and fro with considerable give during and after each ride. Me: not happy for most of the wait. But I am still alive & yes, I was thrilled & chilled even after imagining my death by the crush of steel raining down from 20 stories above.

Sinking Sun, Beaming Lovers, Bawling Maids

That was the stuff of this evening's walk along the Schuyllkill River with my friend Lori. Our leisurely stroll was welcomingly interrupted by a vivid tangerine sun setting against a palette of electric violets and neon pinks in the sky. This captivating sight drew us to the gazebo by the Waterworks below the Philadelphia Art Museum where we stood and watched the glowing orange orb settle into the Wissahickon trees. Below to our right, a couple had ambled down to the water's edge to enjoy samesaid view. It was Lori who noticed the man kneeling on the ground while the girl began visibly hyperventilating in disbelief at her companion's words. We stared dreamily as the telltale ring box came into view and the girl screamed, "Yes!" Applause burst forth from the dozen or so bystanders and picnickers, including Lori & me. We turned to each other and exploded with insane laughter to learn that we were both streaming a deluge of tears after watching the proposal. That beguiling sun has managed to create a memory once again.

Melted

Picture it: I'm hurrying from a meeting that ended at 7:49pm yesterday evening to the Snow Patrol concert that was starting at 8pm. I'm about 15 minutes late, but I thought to me-self, that's ok, the opening band was probably still playing. As I neared the Electric Factory, the gated entrance, usually peopled with desperate scalpers and last minute concert attendees, was remarkably void of any loitering bodies or any activity in general. Odd, thought I. Approaching the concert venue, I get a bad feeling from the empty parking lot and an ominous 8" X 11" piece of paper taped to the outside doors, which upon closer inspection reads, "Tonight's performance has been cancelled and rescheduled for June 26, 2006." What if I get called on one of my secret agent missions that night? What if I have an important meeting with the President to attend?
What then, I ask you, WHAT THEN? Freaking Snow Patrol. Get on MY schedule, dammit!

Assateague Island

The foreboding drip drop of rain outside shall not dampen (bwa ha) my spirits for the camping trip we've planned down in Maryland this weekend. Tomorrow, a dozen or so of us intrepid beachgoers will fumble around putting up tents in the downpour and await some relief from the wetness. While I regret I won't be able to see my niece who will only be 150 miles away (a little advance notice next time, MVal, gee!), I assure you that sitting thru a thunderstorm on a campsite is a next to decent alternative. But really, the whole affair is gonna be moist, gritty with sand, and fabulous. Ab fab.

Snow Patrol: kicking it in the summer...

Just completed a mutually beneficial transaction with Tara of Manayunk that was precipitated by an ad on craigslist in which the seller (Tara) was hawking an extra Snow Patrol ticket for their show this coming Monday night at the Electric Factory. For a mere trifle, I will be standing in the crowd (trying to pay no mind that they are all a decade younger than me all the while) and swaying with satisfaction to their indie beat. The old mp3 player has been running SP's tunes ragged the past few weeks so I'm giddy, simply giddy, with anticipation at hearing them live.

"Light up, light up, as if you have no choice"

-- "Run", Snow Patrol