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Posts Tagged ‘Gay’

The Whole Object of Travel Is Not to Set Foot on Foreign Land;

it is at last to set foot on one’s own country as a foreign land. ~ Gilbert K. Chesterton

Hello again lovers! How have you been? All is well in the traveling asylum, save for the occasional outbursts of profanity from the Dude. (The PC to Mac switchover has not been an easy trip, so along with that and learning WordPress, and Platform Pro, and Office for Mac 2011, and Dreamweaver, and running a business fulltime, and touring NYC, and let’s face, living with the delight that I am all of the time, and living with a cat and a dog, well, other than the lots of screaming and possibly quiet, private weeping, he’s doing OK, although I fear for the Dude’s blood pressure. To sum up how he feels occasionally is this little wisdom nugget from the Dude: “The next time a person tells me I am ‘living the dream’ I’m gonna kick ‘em in the nuts.”)

It is almost Halloween and I have my decorations up and am just missing a pumpkin or two. I shall find a few and carve their little heads right up.

After a not-quite disastrous but in no way fulfilling Canadian trip, we landed in Maine for about three months. (Canada last year was a delight. Canada this year can suck it. I don’t know. The central part with Calgary and up to Banff and standing on a glacier? Wonderful in spite of the Canadian prices. And Vancouver? LOVE. But Toronto and Montreal? Not so much. I mean, it was OK. I got to see Glee! Live (shut up, they’re cute) and Montreal was cool being all French and shit but the whole trip was just lacking something.)

Anyway, we spent a couple of nights on the coast in Belfast, ME, and I had real Maine lobster and once again I can state that I…don’t like lobster very much. I don’t understand the “huzzah, Maine lobster!” hoopla surrounding it. I can’t justify the expense. It’s bland. It’s very chewy/toothsome and not in a good way. We had the whole Maine seafood experience with steamers (clams), lobster stew (incredibly bland and tastes mostly like hot milk, which *hork*, I HATE milk), and boiled lobster. I did have a lobster roll and that was pretty good but still it’s just lobster, mayo, and some celery and still pretty boring.

After Belfast we headed to Bangor to the Pumpkin Patch RV Resort. Lovely place, nice people but I have to deduct points due to them scheduling a “singer” who was actually a preacher and a homophobic one at that. If you know me at all you know that I don’t DO religion of any sort and I certainly don’t put up with homophobia and bigotry. I did not appreciate being told he was a country singer and leaving out the preacher part. I don’t know if I should link to this guy or not but here goes; Jerry Bennett. So, I was going along with his gospel music, sort of (still not knowing he was a preacher) and sort of going along with his uninspired renditions of old C/W favorites like Charley Pride’s Kiss An Angel Good Mornin’ and the random Tony Orlando and Dawn ditty Tie a Yellow Ribbon, dutifully clapping basically just to make the park people feel better, like coddling really. And then he said he was going to do some of his own songs, and first up, a new one that everyone seems to love and requests as an encore. OK, first off, I find it hard to believe that anyone would choose to see this guy because that bad, bad dye job (Just For Men, Child Molester Blue-Black #10) coupled with a rather thin voice and general skeeviness would assure that I would never come back for seconds if I stayed through a whole show but when you sing a song that you wrote that is about how unnatural homosexuality is and you just need to, “…come out to the barn…” to understand, well, I’m done. I got up in the middle and walked out, hoping that the park people saw me. (I was horrified by the song for a number of reasons and then started laughing because “…come out to the barn…” and basically watch the animals have sex is one of the perviest things I have ever heard.) Keep your kids away from this one. Keep yourself away. He will bad touch your brain.

As a way to cleanse my brain from the perv, I decided to stalk visit Stephen King’s house. He lives part of the year in Bangor, and seeing how I am a fan from way back I steeled my will and went to his house to get pictures of his gate, alternately terrified and hopeful that he would come out and say hi.  Sadly, he did not come out to visit with me, as he did a friend of mine. I choose to believe he wasn’t home that day.

We stayed in Pumpkin Patch almost to the end of September and then went to Bar Harbor for a few days. Fun, but a bit like Key West in that it is very small, very touristy, very expensive, and very right on the water. There was an Irish pub though…

The gallery below is a mix of Stephen King’s house, one beer from Bar Harbor, and Bread and Puppet, which was in Vermont. The pics are clickable (the gallery is cutting the tops and bottoms off the pics for some reason) and have some info if you mouse hover. Oh, there are no pics of it but we went to Ben and Jerry’s. That was actually pretty interesting. And I’m very disappointed in most grocery stores for being big pussies and not carrying Schweddy Balls.

One of the funniest SNL skits ever.

So, after Bangor we went to Portland where I had a chance to meet the overlord of Pajiba, the fabulous Dustin Rowles. If you are not already a reader of Pajiba…get out! Nah, but really, you must go now. Go over to Pajiba, I mean. When you’re done here. If you want.

Portland was nice but the parks there close after Columbus Day so we had to hit the road. We are now in New York City, well, Jersey City (and at the Liberty Harbor Marina and RV park, and it is great) but whatever, and we have met up with Thoth and Lila Angelique aka Tribal Baroque, and if you don’t know them you really must. Thoth is the subject of the 2002 Academy Award winning documentary (short subject), Thoth, and Lila is his protege and together they make some of the most beautiful music you will ever hear. And they are spectacular to watch in person. We were lucky enough to meet them in New Orleans earlier this year and have stayed in touch. Awesome sauce.

So far I have seen Avenue Q, Wicked (yet again), and tonight I am going to Seminar starring Alan Rickman. “Hans fuckin’ Gruber” and “Severus fuckin’ Snape” himself. Oh, and I have a front row seat. Because I am awesome. Jerry O’Connell is in it too but “Vern” from Stand By Me, or “Cushman” from Jerry Maguire? Whee.

Oh, and that whole C25K thing? I hurt my tendons in my knees so badly that I couldn’t walk for a week. No joke. Fuck running. BTW, if you decide to start running, do not, DO NOT run in those Skecher shape-up, elliptical shoes. They will jack you up.

Have I told y’all about naked Thanksgiving from last year? The talent show? I’ll tell you about tomorrow. Just remember this: A 65-year-old man, wearing an Annie costume, full red wig and all, and nothing else. *hork*

 

 

A One-Off On: Comedy

OK, before we get to my one-off o’ week let me do my rant o’ the week: <rant> Excuse ME, Girl-I-used-to-know but what in the holy hell makes you think I would want to be “friends” with you? You are obviously deluded and have lost your damn mind if you think I don’t remember EXACTLY how you used to treat me. Do you not remember how I was the ONLY person you didn’t invite to your parties? Do you not remember that of the 300+ people we had in band that I was the ONLY one, THE ONLY ONE THAT YOU DIDN’T INVITE TO YOUR BIRTHDAY AND HALLOWEEN PARTIES? I remember you passing out invites in front of me. You did that shit on purpose. Well guess what, bitch, I remember so you can take your “Friend Request” and suck it. I hated you then. I hate you now. Jesus Christ, you have GOT to be kidding me with this shit…

OH, oh, and, AND, speaking of Jesus, and before I let this go, you are one of those who treat people like shit and then turn around and call themselves “Christian.” I tell you what; you know what Jesus would do? Invite everyone. In fact, I’m pretty sure he did. I am almost positive that Jesus didn’t leave anyone off of the guest list. </rant>

Now, where was I? Oh yes, comedy, specifically stand-up comedy. I love it. Love it, love it, love it. If I am channel surfing and I run across a stand-up show, I’m stopping. Even if I have seen it a dozen times and know all of the jokes, if it made me laugh the first time, it’ll do it again and I’m watching it.

I have wildly varied tastes in stand-up. I will watch this, except for this hillbilly ass-hat. (God, I hate him. He’s the opposite of funny. Git THIS done, motherfucker.) I love Eddie Izzard. (I got to see him in Philly. Well worth the money.) I even watched some of The Last Comic Standing the other day, which, uhm, yeah, not funny. I think I got A chuckle in an hour.

I watch Rooftop Comedy “That Sucks” every time it is on and I will search for stand-up on hulu.com. I have every cable station known to man and if it is stand-up I will stop and watch at least a little. I can be having a shitty day and it becomes magnitudes better if I happen across a favorite comic.

Now, I as much as I like stand-up I hate when I can see the joke coming, which I can do on most old-school “set up, punch-line, bum dum dum.” (See ass-hat above. Oh my god, man, you’re not funny. You’re teabagger stoopid. And I’m pretty sure your fan base is 99.99999% teabaggers, and not the funny porn kind.) Unless you’re really old-school like Phyllis Diller, Redd Foxx, and so on. Then you are funny because you originated some shit and I bow down to you.

What really, really makes me lose my shit is story-based comedy. If it sounds like a story and not a bum-dum-dum joke, I’m all over that. (Probably because my Dad can tell stories like no one else. I remember laughing so hard that I would get the hiccups and even though I’d heard his stories a thousand times I couldn’t wait to have guests over for dinner so that I could get him to tell the stories again.)

OK, so, back in November when I was down in the Keys, it was about noon, and I was doing all my prep work for my tiny little Thanksgiving dinner, and I turned on some stuff I had recorded earlier when I happened across LogoTV and found this: One Night Stand-Up, specifically episode 4, wherein I met my new boyfriend, Ali Mafi.  I cannot tell you how many times I watched this guy’s routine. I had to have rewound it 25-30 times and it never stopped being funny. I wish I could find a video clip of his story about his family going to the airport but I can’t so keep an eye out, or search your cable, or something because he’s hysterical.

Anyway, Ali Mafi, aka Ali Fame Mafi, should actually have an Ali Mafi-a because I would so line up to be in that family. I’d be the consigliere. I’d be Michael to his Godfather. Fuck it, I’d even be Fredo. (Poor Fredo.) I don’t know how to explain him. He’s this good-looking young man with an evil little glint in his eyes that looks like he would cut a bitch if you dared to heckle. He’s lightning quick, man. I couldn’t see where his airport story was headed, and if he made the story up, he sells it like it were true. You know what I mean? He’s laughing along with the story, not because if he didn’t laugh you wouldn’t know that stuff was supposed to be funny, but because it sounds like a story your best friend would tell when he knows that it is hysterical and you know it will be hysterical and he’s just trying to maintain and get to the end where you can both lose it together. (Simultaneous giggle-gasm. Oh, always the best.)

And lose it, I did. I blew my champagne out of my nose. (What!? It was Thanksgiving. Everyone starts drinking early. And it was the Keys. Oh, fuck off.)  And I got the hiccups, which is the highest compliment I can give. And, not only does Ali tell great stories, but his closing routine made me and the Dude stand up and cheer. It’s about how he is the “epitome of the American dream,” and if  you watch him and you don’t believe him and agree, then Hillbilly Ass-hat probably has room for one more at his show.

I’ll tell you this, Mr. Mafi, when I am finally able to catch you in person, which I hope will be very soon, the drinks are on me. I owe you that. Thanks for, well, for you.