Evil


Let's do a little mental exercise, shall we? C'mon, it'll be fun!

The picture above is that of a baby walker. I trust you've all seen one of these contraptions in action at one point or another (despite the meagerness of your lives). Now try to imagine a similar jig... not for babies, but for dogs! Doggie slips into a little harness supported by a lightweight aluminum frame. The whole thing is on wheels and doggy scoots along the ground with the effective body weight of a mutt on the moon. Can you see it?

Well get this. I saw a woman walking her dog in such a contraption today! (I wish I had my camera with me, but I didn't.) The little dog was scooting along free and easy. Barely an effort.

When I caught hold of this, I did what came most naturally to me. Now, those of you who know me probably know that sometimes I say out loud thoughts that are in my head. You might also know that sometimes I have no idea how loud I'm talking, despite the fact that I'm talking really damn loud. As this woman and her pooch cross in front of me, I go: "DAMN WOMAN, YOUR DOG NEEDS TO TOUGHEN UP!"

She shot a nasty glare in my direction, as if to say, "Go put on a rice hat and build me a railroad, Chinaman." Okay, maybe I was overly-defensive there. But in any event, there I was... standing next to a woman whom I had clearly just insulted. I weighed my options:

1. Pretend I never said anything in the first place and give the woman a bewildered look. Bank on the fact that her being a white, older woman from the upper east side also makes her cuh-ray-zee. See if she will crumble under her own self doubt.

2. Think of a witty follow-up line to diffuse the tension. The downside of this option is that I have to think of a witty follow-up line.

3. Run away.

In that moment of truth, I went with Option 3. I think my mom, my friends, my minister, every teacher I've had from Kindergarten thru 12th grade, and my parole officer would all be proud of me.

Evil
The bugs are eating me alive. I swear. The past two nights I've hardly slept because when I'm not furiously scratching my feet, legs, arms, neck, and other places, I am lying still, feeling little insect nibbles on my skin.

This morning, I woke up with a tube of toothpaste beside my pillow. My feet and ankles were smeared with a flouridey-fresh tartar control formula. (Yay!) But why? In fact, I noticed that my legs, both elbows, parts of my forearm, my stomach, upper left thigh, and neck all sported clumsily applied circles of toothpaste. Apparently, my semi-conscious self wandered to the bathroom during the night to find a cure for these crazy bug bites.

Is my bed really THAT dirty? I never eat on it or anything. What can it be? Is my blood just that much better tasting than my neighbors' blood? There is a girl who lives one floor below me and she's quite the chubster. Hey bugs, if you're reading this... GO SUCK ON HER! Leave me alone. Please.

One Word

Bukkake!

Evil
Weird dreams last night.

In the first one, I heard the chattering of several teenage girls outside my bedroom window. I lifted the shade and peered outside. It was five or six teenage girls, all black, gathered on the fire escape for a quick smoke and a chat. They didn't see me. In the dream, I wondered to myself why I had never before noticed that huge fire escape.

In the second dream, I was still in my bedroom, still in bed. I heard the rickety door to the fire escape swing open. I lifted the shade and peered outside. It was a single teenage girl, still black, but in a light-skinned sort of way. The fire escape is no longer huge, but it's now much closer to my window. In fact, it's right at my window. I see the girl. She see me. She is embarrassed, stomps out her cigarette, and goes back inside.

I live on the 5th floor. The living room window of my apartment faces a small office building. One of the offices has sheets of shatterproof plastic installed on the outside of their windows. I noticed late last night that when the lights are out in the office, when it's dark outside, when it's dark inside my apartment, I have a clear and illuminated view of the apartment directly beneath me, reflected from the sheets of shatterproof plastic. That is, when the girl who lives in there has her halogen lamp on, as she did last night.

She is blonde. Last night, she wore a tight beige top that wrapped her tight body. I didn't see anyone else in her apartment but I'm not sure if she lives alone. When she went to the bathroom, she closed the door behind her. She watches TV with a severe forward lean. I wonder what drew her attention so. She sews. I watched as she pulled thread through cloth with slender outstretched arms. Who sews these days? Apparently, she does.

DAMN
	ouch, apparently Chad is out for 12 weeks and fantasy football GMs everywhere are scramble to take Chad off the depth chart and debate if Dante Culpepper will have a good year. What about Vinny? Who knows....he looked done last year but reports say he is in awesome condition. It might be over.

On Saturday, I checked out the Sprite Liquid Mix Tour in Concord, CA. Boy was it hot!. The bill was Talib Kweli, The Roots, O.A.R. and the headliners N.E.R.D.

I know its strange, how does N.E.R.D. headline over The Roots and what are the alt-southern frat rockers O.A.R even doing on that bill.

Not sure, all i know is that Pharrell is the Biggest Popstar out...and little girls were screaming their heads off singing along to "Brain" a rap about bj. Very interesting and a great show.

Evil
Where is X-TIAN? Clearly, this place falls apart when a certain Big Head is not around. Personally, I am too busy with my 12-step program to spend much time with you tool boxes. But I couldn't resist posting these pics:



WOW! Sexy.

(And that Kournikova chick isn't too shabby herself.)

Evil
Actually, thirteen year old girls have the advantage when it comes to writing screenplays. They just crank out something that might or might not be junk but every 27 year old with a Joey Tribbiani haircut is running out to see it under the assumption that the movie is about a thirteen year old girl who falls in with the wrong crowd and subsequently gets her vag poked (repeatedly). Oh, that IS what this movie is about?

Thirteen


In case you have not noticed I have been speeding to catch up ever since I got back from Brazil. I was kind of so busy down there I have not had a chance to sync up with simple stuff (say the California Recall etc or the new fall season of TV or the movies!)
I have been meaning to watch "Swimming Pool" but have not gotten around to it yet. However i think before I watch that I will watch thirteen from Fox Searchlight.

Apparently its about some thirteen year old girls freaking off, which would normally be enough for me to sign up but when you add in the advertisements I have been seeing in the Times and the NY Times Magazine Article I read today with Nikki Reed (the cowriter and co-star) it seems like a legitimate film.

Btw, Evil and I should be embarrased. Some thirteen year old girl cranked out a movie script and he and I are tooling around trying to find character motivations for some of the characters in our opus, At the Seems.

Good to be Home
For those of you who don't know, I have been laying low in O-Town for the last few days because its nice and hot and muggy down here and I needed to compress my entire summer into one week (its technically winter in Brazil where I was all summer so really I missed out on summer. Does that sentence make sense?)

Yesterday, for kicks, my mom threw in some home video from the mid eighties, in between making fun of my mom's hair style I slid in that I resembled something not unlike an ewok (just so no one would be mad at me for making fun of their hair). Of course, then my mother blew across the screen in something that might best be described as a silver jumpsuit and a rather intense perm. My brother commented that she also belonged some where far far away, battling the empire.

Before anyone got popped in the face for having a smart lip I went off to the outlet stores and did some shopping.
Purchases included

Assorted work out gear
Red Fitted short sleeved shirt
Linen Pants
2 containers of Body Wash

My mother looking over the spoils of my shopping victory quickly asked where the blue ascot was.

Good times....

How Old Are these People

Watch With Kristen today told me that the ratings for The O.C. though strong, were probably not where they should be. Which bummed me out because I think its a great show staring the guy with the scary eye brows, the guy who played Dave Rygaski (the asian fetishist, christian guitar rocker on Gilmore Girls) and assorted actors who look to old to be in high school. Check these people out.

Lets be serious are these actors who play Ryan and Marissa, respectively, really supposed to be in High School. Now before you all hit the IMDB and tell me that Mischa Baron's entry says she was born in 1986, let me just say, I know and I checked. But one should also note that she was born in England, which would probably make her British and everyone knows that Brits age quicker than most (Nigella Lawson aside). Anyway, I no longer remember my point except these people don't look like high schoolers, still the show rocks hard.

In addition to the O.C. I will be adding either Jake 2.0 or Tru Calling ( I haven't seen either yet, but one or both will be worth watching) as shows i will actually try to watch (as opposed to shows I just say I watch, I'm looking at you West Wing and you too Six Feet Under) in addition to my old standbys of Angel, Gilmore Girls and Alias.

Evil

Whoa! X-TIAN got his eyebrows waxed?! I'm as progressive as the next dude but hey, I gotta ask... at what point does metrosexuality cross over into full on gayness?

Getting one's eyebrows waxed?

Spending the afternoon at a male beauty parlor? (More on this later.)

Lifting weights with your buddy and then saying something about your girlfriend complaining that you have a flat ass and your buddy goes, no way, you so don't have a flat ass and just to prove it your buddy bets that he can't stick his cock in your ass and before you know it your mom is at the door asking if everything is ok in there because she heard all the grunting. Is THAT gay?

In any event, props go out to X-TIAN because I think he may well be The Original Metrosexual. Way before the NYT article. Back in 1999, X-TIAN came up to me one day at work and suggested that we go get our nails done at John Allan's. WHAT? John Allan's also offers a "full service" package that includes shampoo & conditioning, hot face towel, haircut, manicure, and a shoeshine. They'll even bring you a pint of beer or cocktail while you're being serviced. The only disappointing part is that "full service" doesn't include a BJ, but maybe metrosexuals aren't into that kind of stuff? Someone please verify...

Lastly, I have appointed myself to the post of X-TIAN's manager. In exchange for managing his business career and negotiating his contracts, I get a 10% cut. Additionally, I am currently negotiating with John Allan's to sponsor the Metrosexual Move of the Week feature.

(Bonus: Here's a classic comedy bit to brighten your day, scumbag.)

Evil
PARTY LIKE IT'S 1999 (B.C.)

I've heard it suggested that once you go black, you never go back. Personally speaking, I'll take electricity any day. The city went black for all of 16 hours, which in the grand scheme of things doesn't seem like such a big deal but let me tell you, I went batty by minute five.

Luckily, it turns out that my downstairs neighbors are incredibly proactive people. They dropped by to ask me if I had any perishables in the fridge. I said no, but I did offer them some sausage and salty nuts. They declined, but invited me down to the front of the apartment for the Blackout BBQ.

The girls went to buy charcoal while all the dudes in the building made a fast break for the nearest Indian convenience store with a liquor case. It's obvious everyone had the same thing on their minds: Someone is going to get "blackout lucky."

People brought down their perishables and folding chairs and sat and drank beer while a girl whose pants kept threatening to fall down tended to the fire. The grill was set up on the garbage can cubby and the folding chairs mingled among the day's uncollected garbage. The rats, whose turf we had overtaken for the night, retreated for fear of getting BBQ'd. This was a classy operation.

We had to drink fast because nothing was going to keep the beer cool for long. The girls waved to passers-by and shouted, Happy Blackout! At some point, I think propositioned the blonde, but I think I did so in a very sloppy way. It was classy. Very classy.

Waiting

While we wait for one of the 3 NY based contributors to check in with a report from The City that Electricity Forgot (anyone?) I figured I would hold down the fort.

I arrived at my home in the Oakland Hills (tentativily titled "The Who Knew 2" House , The Real Gay World House? i dunno you decide) on sunday evening to find no one there. None of my 3 roommates were there and I had to break into the house. I ran around the outside till I found an open door and entered. At this point I realized that I was a 6'2'' Latino breaking into a 1.5 MM dollar home in the Oakland Hills looking incredibly hairy and very suspicious. Also, I was not sure this was actually the right house as I had been working on 6 hours sleep in the last 72 hours. Not Good. Not good at all. I sat down and sorted thru all the mail hoping to find one of my room mates stuff and calming down. No luck. Luckily I had the lease agreement in my bag and realized that Mr. Roos is the same Mr. Roos who signed the other part of this lease. I calmed down found a couch and passed out.

By tuesday night, i had moved most of my stuff into the house and was officially able to breathe. I sat down and caught up on some TV. After watching some Queer Eye for the Straight Guy, i finally got around to watching The O.C. which might be the best show on TV ever. The only real comparison to 90210 is that no one on the show (outside of Seth) looks like they are 25. Other than that, the show is clearly superior. Of course, at this point in my mind the only thing I remember about 90210 was the 7 season story arc about whether Donna and David would have sex and the secondary 3 season story arc where we were waiting for Val's head to stop growing. Anyway, loved The O.C. but watching that right after Queer Eye got me all stressed out:





The convergence of Peter Gallagher's out of controll eye brows after watching Kyan get all freaked out over some fat guy's back hair reminded me that I was in bad need of an EYE BROW WAXING.

Peter, buddy, you're on TV, your eye brows have been freaking me out since American Beauty, get something done.

Metrosexual move of the week
Wednesday, motivated and disturbed, I hopped down the hill to College Ave, got a hair cut and a waxing. While getting my waxing, I noticed that they had all sorts of Nickel brand men's grooming products at 40% off, i started doing doing my dainty dance, all excited about how my facial skin was going to come back after 3 months of neglect in Brazil. They were discontinuing carrying the line, but would be happy to special order stuff for me to pick up whenever I got waxed. i was all set! Yah! The women also shared where I, a man of class and distinction could go to buy men's grooming products without risking stigmatization from people who would not understand or accept. I nodded at them appreciatively and agreed to come back in a month's time. My whole life, coming together before my eyes! YAY!

At least till, I decided I would jog back up the hills to my place, which is about 2 miles away and at some substantial elevation. Woops. Boy did that suck, 90 degrees, running up hill, at NOON, with all sorts of loose hairs from a haircut and mildly irritated forehead from the eye brow waxing. There was question as to whether I would make it. I'm still not sure how i did, seeing as how I had to stop to scratch the itchy loose hairs everywhere. ILL

wow, sorry, i dont have a meaningful ending. whatever...

what the hell is going on in NYC? HELLO???

Kicking it up a notch
Yo, due to popular demand, we are going to keep the blog going. However, I must admit, I think we need to kick it up a notch and bring some new blood into the blog. Over the next few days I will approaching certain charismatic individuals (such as yourselves) about posting from time to time. I think so far the blog has been a raging success, from our in depth sports to coverage to our anticipation of the current "cool gay stuff" fad. In honor of all that, I got a new feature "Metrosexual Move of the Week" and other stuff coming along the pike.

My flight back from Brazil is worth mentioning. My Itinerary went like this

8pm flight from Sao Paulo to Miami was delayed for two hours, so it departed at 10pm local time. My visa had expired so I had to sign all these form indicating I would pay some fine once I returned to the country. I laughed at the federal police officer and offered a calming "sure, whatever". In the Duty Free I picked up some cachasa, which was realy smart what with me carrying an 80lb backpack and a shopping bag full of souveniers.

5:30 local time. I arrive in Miami after watching Down with Love (booo) and Agent Cody Banks (yah!) My opinion on these movies is entirely dependant on my tolerance for the females in the film. I have not enjoyed a film Renee Zellweger has been in since Empire Records. On the other side, I thought Angie Harmon rocked. I finally understand why Jason Sehorn can't cover me on the football field anymore, he spends all his time staring at his wife. I know I would. But I digress, I got to Miami and was informed I had to clear customs and immigration and the department of agriculture and whatever else AFTER I claimed my baggage, and after all the processing I would again recheck my luggage. At every point, I was told that I need to run to make my connection to Orlando.

"I'm not telling you to run, but if I were you I would run. Where have you been?"

"waiting for my luggage."

"well hurry up"

"the plane was DELAYED. Its not like its me that sucking, the plane was two hours late"

"whatever"

"god damn right whatever...what?"

In orlando i met the parents and Bump who took me to breakfast, after making fun of me for two hours and then dropped me off again so I could go to HelL. A. because the Scooter was marrying his long time love, Cathy, in SB (congrats to those crazy kids, ALL the BEST BABY)

In the airport in Atlanta (don't ask) I stopped to use Laptop Lane and was immediately bombarded by Thai and others on the IM. before I jumped off I downloaded a bunch of taylor dane songs, I was delirious with exhaustion, but for some reason i was thinking of Taylor Dane, strange.

In the rental car ( a penis shaped silver Dodge Intrepid) on the 405, I nearly broke down crying. I was tired and for some reason it took me an hour to go 13 miles to get to the free way to SB (13? I dont remember).

I arrived to the rehearsal dinner at 8pm Pacific Time (after a quick check in/shower at the hotel) and somehow found a second (or a third wind). By 2 am, I was in a Special K with 5 other people buying booze to take back to my hotel to continue drinking.

By 8am saturday morning, I was re-enacting scenes from leaving Las Vegas, I woke up shaking and still more drunk than hung over surrounded by bottles and odd mixing ingredients (squirt? hawian punch? what?)

The wedding itself was outstanding, casual elegance is the best way to describe it. Definitely one of the niftiest weddings I have been too (aside from the classic Cheo wedding where I was also a groomsman and got to wear a top hat and had a cane that I could use to ditty bop with had I needed to. Shout out to Cheo) The couple looked smashing and the families represented themselves well by taking the microphone to share a few amusing annecdotes and make moving speeches. For myself, I did my part as groomsman and balanced out the height (all the bridesmaids were over 5' 11''!!!) and take up some space. I too, was elegant, if understated...and worked hard on not sweating, which is a lot more work than it seems.

Somehow after the wedding, we did a rinse repeat on the whole drinking in my hotel room pissing off the people next door. Around 4am we tried to get some cabs and encountered an annoying front desk receptionist. Dr T (of the infamous Crack Pack) amused himself by crank calling her for the next hour or so!

By Sunday I was on the plane back from LA to Oakland. I got to my new house (pics to be posted forthcoming) and had to break in to get in the house as no one was there.

this is a long entry. back later with more.

BACK

I have not posted anything for a while so I figured I would just riff and hope to say something interesting

Mike Tyson is broke which is pretty nuts. I remember running into the Champ at the Time Hotel I was hanging out with some people I did not know (or like for that matter), so in a sad attempt to impress them I tried to roll over and pretend I rolled with Iron Mike. I was all like "Champ, let me roll with you, yo" he looked at me and said something to the effect of "you gotta be kidding me". Still love ya Champ.

Who else is pumped up about watching "O.C." on Fox this Fall???


I think the standard by which all facial hair should be judged is George Michael. This picture does not even do justice to what is actually going on with his face. There is a lot of stuff going on there. Check it out for yourself when you can.
Seriously, it must take 3 shaves a day to maintain that stuff.



Counting today, I have two days left working and 3 days left in SP. I would be remiss if I did not give a shout out to the crowd that more or less adopted me while I was in Brazil. I am going to make up names for most of them right now; Charles River Bandit, PrincessPZ, DirtyP for keeping things interesting and the crew at New Citi Flats for keeping me from smelling interesting.

Evil

From upper left: Jaime Cerda, Pedro Feliciano, John Franco, Jae Seo, Jason Phillips, Vance Wilson, Tony Clark, Jose Reyes, Ty Wingginton (not pictured), Cliff Floyd, Timo Perez

Although the Mets are having a crappier season than Big Brother 4, they ARE leading the league in something... According to the Elias Sports Bureau, the Amazin's are the team to beat when it comes to amazingly gay facial hair... at LOTS of it. I only noticed this today while watching the Mets vs. Cardinals on channel 11. This is what happens to people who don't have cable TV: they get stuck watching the adopted stepchild of New York baseball. Wait, did I have a point? I'm not sure. All I know is that I spent the last 30 minutes on mlb.com pulling the URLs of Mets players. How GAY IS THAT?!? (Someone shoot me.)

Evil


The nice thing about summer is that you can buy peaches and plums on the cheap. There's a Pakistani guy up the street who mans a fruit stand on weekdays. I buy a crapload of peaches and plums from him and he'll usually throw in a mango or whatnot. That guy is cool. Peaches and plums are cool. But you know what's NOT cool? Those damn fruit flies.

I'm trying to get the fruit flies to leave my apartment and one of the things I'm doing is to not have any organic matter in the garbage cans. So I find myself sitting around, eating peaches and plums... but what to do with the pits? Well, I've recently developed the hobby of pelting pigeons with fruit pits. Hey, I'm no Doc Gooden, but it turns out that my arm isn't half bad. I might even try out for Little League next spring.

On an unrelated note, I'd like to point out that X-TIAN is applying a double standard to me vs. Gary Sheffield. Why does Gary Sheffield get a big WORD UP, whereas I got a decidedly negative reaction for saying the exact same thing just the day before:

EVIL: i look tooly in a dress shirt
EVIL: there's too much room around the collar
X-TIAN: why is that?
EVIL: i am temporarily under my normal weight
X-TIAN: oh
X-TIAN: why temporarily?
EVIL: my shirts have to accomodate for a 20 pound swing
EVIL: in the winter i'm around 180 pounds
EVIL: right now i am 162
EVIL: i sweat more in the summer
X-TIAN: thats pretty gross
EVIL: i guess
EVIL: i hope no one notices all this room around my collar
EVIL: it's embarrassing
EVIL: i am wearing a $95 but ill-fitting shirt
X-TIAN: nice