Disturbing Resemblance

Does everyone remember this guy/girl?

I, for some reason, felt like a glutton for punishment. But I needed a good laugh. A friend of mine told me to look up a certain drag queen, and this he/she came up in one of the searches. So, I watched some of his/her videos. All I can say is WOW! I now know what it’s like to watch someone lose their mind!

As I was watching one of his/her videos, I ran across one. Watch this and think REALLY HARD of what it reminds you of.

Here are the vids…

Now…what does this remind you of? Scroll down…

Keep scrolling….

If Britney Spears comes up missing…I think we all know where the first place authorities will be looking…

Someone PLEASE shoot he/she before it ruins the name of gays everywhere!

New Additions

Just to let certain fans know, there are a couple of new videos on the “OUR VIDS” tab.

Nothing fancy, just Seth being Seth.

Enjoy.

When I Get Bored…I Think…

As I sit here, watching a movie, eating Jack In The Box for the third time in two days, not working the fourth day straight, hung over, thinking about when I’m going to start my New Years resolution of working out while simultaneously watching someone else work out on Youtube, I can’t help but think about weird, strange, and funny sex fetishes.

I have compiled a list of what I find to be weird, funny, and/or strange.

Penis Mutilation! Yes…I even found a video! It literally made me dizzy watching. Enter if you dare!

Smashing rotten eggs in someones armpits.

Vomiting on an Asian girl.

Foot fetishes.

Fat girl fetish.

Woman covered in blood fetish.

Eating poop fetish.

There’s the ever popular farting on cakes fetish.

Tubgirl fetish.

Plushie fetish.

Food fetish.

“All Natural” woman fetish.

Tight jeans fetish.

Hairy Man fetish.

Piercing fetish.

Shower fetish.

Dendrophelia…having sex with plants.

Britney Spears fetish.

Animal sex.

Sex in public.

Anal sex.

Pirate fetish.

Hurting women fetish.

And last but not least…lesbian abuse porn!

Get Used To It

Bowling Again

This past Sunday, Seth and I finally got to go bowling.  It’s been over eight months since our last bowling night with Scott in Kansas City and since we’ve been here in CA, it’s been hard to get these folks into doing the same.

My sister and her family invited us to join them at one of the alleys here (Scott, it was the same one we all tried to go to when you were here).  It was fun, but I hate the way they run this particular place.

First, the cheapest they had was $70 for 2-hours of play.  Here’s the rub…it’s for two hours EXACTLY.  Not a minute more.  So we were almost done with the third frame of the second game and I was up to bowl.  I’d had a particularly good first game, beating the second highest score (my brother in-law) by over 50 pins.

This isn’t saying much, because my winning game was a 151.

Anyway, as I threw the ball for the third frame, I got a strike.  (the fifth for me so far that day)  Then I happened to notice the lane had shut down and so my strike wasn’t counted.

I complained to the little twinks running the counter that for $70 you should get 2-hours or 2 games.  Especially considering every time the lane would go to reset, the ball guard (that drops down in front of the pins) would get stuck and would take 2 minutes to raise back up.

The little prick behind the counter said that wasn’t their problem and if we wanted to complain, take it up with the manager, who, conveniently, was on vacation.

I told him I WOULD be complaining to the Better Business Bureau, and to pass that little tidbit on to his absent manager.

Anyway, Seth and I are joining the LGBT Bowling League and we start this coming Thursday (at a different establishment, thank you).

So Scott, on your next visit here, we will have some like-minded bowling friends ready to entertain you.  And you won’t have to worry about BOB and his cheating…or any other bad attitudes.

Oh, and we will have the Skittles and Runts ready for you.

A Chilly Reminder

About eight months ago, I made the monumentally scary decision to uproot my thirty-some-odd year life in the midwest and relocate to sunny California.

It was time for a change (some would call it a mid-life crisis…and they would be wrong).  I’ve mentioned my recent divorce as one of the factors; my family living here in CA being another.

There are many things and many people I miss from there.  I think about them all quite often.  Not a day goes by that something here doesn’t remind me of someone there.

But there’s also something about the mid-west that I don’t miss…

…the weather.

I was watching the news early this morning and one big headline (other than the Senate confirmation hearings…which I find myself mysteriously glued to more than the OJ trial) is about the frigid arctic blast that’s swooping down from the north and settling on my old stomping grounds.

It was -44 degrees in North Dakota…and that wasn’t even factoring in the wind chill.

Well, not to rub it in the noses of those folks back East, I am loving the fact that we are not there now.  About the worst I’ve seen it here (cold wise) is the dew that collects on the palm trees and drips down.

Brrrrr.

Can’t wait for Spring.

Inauguration Day/Moving Day

I watched Comedian Mark Russell at a recent event in Chicago, Illinois, when he found himself sitting next to Valerie Jarrett, an adviser to President-elect Barack Obama.

Russell asked her whether President Bush’s staff members were going to remove all the Os from their computer keyboards, alluding to the 2001 incident in which President Clinton’s departing staff removed Ws from some White House computers.

Jarrett said no, but that didn’t stop Russell from speculating what really happened when President Bush’s daughters, Barbara and Jenna, gave Obama’s two daughters a tour of the White House recently.

“The Bush daughters showed Sasha and Malia Obama around,” Russell joked. “Barbara showed them where all the bedrooms were, and Jenna showed them how to make a fake ID.”  I really like that one.

I see humor in the presidential transition, but the actual operation to move both families in and out of the White House is serious business.

It’s a side of Inauguration Day that most people never see: a grueling, precisely timed workday involving scores of staffers that follows six months of careful planning.  I learned, recently though, that the staff had started packing up the Bush’s much earlier than is usually the case.  Even the staff can’t wait to get them out, it seems.

A man named Gary Walters worked at the executive mansion from 1986 until 2006 as chief usher in charge of moving presidential families in and out of the White House. Walters described how the complicated move is completed in only six hours.

At 11 a.m., after the Bushes and Obamas depart the executive mansion for the Capitol Hill swearing-in ceremony, empty moving trucks will roll up to the south side of the White House, Walters said.

The drivers put down their tailgates, allowing most of the White House’s 93 staff members to begin loading the Bushes’ belongings into trucks and unloading Obama family items from other trucks.

“Staff members all have been given very specific jobs on that day, almost down to the minute as to what their responsibilities are,” Walters said.

The move is designed to be seamless, painless and invisible while millions of Washington visitors — and millions more watching on TV — follow the inauguration ceremonies and the parade that follows.

By about 5 p.m., before the Obamas move from the parade viewing stand to their new home, the presidential move must be complete.

“Their clothes will be in their closets; everything will be put away,” Walters said. “There should be no full or half-empty boxes will in view. Furniture will be set in proper places. Their favorite foods will be in the kitchen or the pantry. The chief usher will welcome them into their home and ask them what they would like to do before going out to enjoy the inaugural balls.”

Incoming first lady Michelle Obama’s mother, Marian Robinson, will also be moving into the White House residence, which has 24 rooms on the second and third floors. The Obamas have hired California decorator Michael Smith to use an allocated $100,000 to redecorate the space.

“I think they’re going to find that this is really conducive to family life,” President Bush said recently. “President-elect Obama has got a 45-second commute to see his girls.”

In the West Wing of the White House, the political jostling has begun among new staffers to grab workspaces near the center of power: the Oval Office.

There, the carpet is changed with each new administration to suit the incoming president, Walters said. Possibly, the office desk will be changed, as will paintings that will be hung on the wall.

Books on the Oval Office shelves will be changed per the new commander in chief (from “My Pet Goat” and “Dr. Seuss” to “The Defining Moment: Franklin Roosevelt and the First Hundred Days“), as will accessories to be placed around the room, Walters said. Staffers may tote in a new sofa and chairs — or busts of past presidents.

Following tradition, Bush is expected to leave a personal letter written to Obama. Past letters have offered the new president private words of advice and reflection.

Several Democratic presidents have chosen to hang a Thomas Sully painting of President Andrew Jackson in the Oval Office, said political scientist and historian Martha Joynt Kumar, an expert on the White House. “In the residence, many presidents have brought their personal paintings to decorate their living space.”

After movers tote out boxes of office materials from Bush staffers, the West Wing will become a dusty workspace, with empty bookshelves and the odd three-ring binder left behind, say veterans of the White House press corps.

As in previous moving periods, contractors may come to slap on a coat of paint or lay carpet as the new crop of staffers finds their workspaces.

“It was incredible,” former Clinton staffer David Seldin said, recalling his experience on Inauguration Day 1993. “I think people were overwhelmed with the sense that it was real and the sense that something that you had been working on as a political campaign is actually becoming part of the government.”

On Tuesday, once the whirlwind moving operation is finally done, Chief Usher Stephen Rochon will probably greet Obama the same way Walters did Bush in 2001.

Standing near the doorway to the White House North Portico, Walters recalls, he said, “Hello, Mr. President, welcome to your home.”

Oh, and about those Os on White House keyboards — I heard that two Bush officials said that outgoing aides won’t be getting payback on the incoming Democratic administration.

There is an understanding that Bush will be furious if there are any pranks, especially after cordial transition between the two administrations, the officials said.

I Shall Miss-Underestimate Him When He’s Gone

It’s not every day you’ll hear me say this…mostly because I never thought I would say this.  But now that we are a mere ten days away from the end of the Bush era, I started thinking about all the reasons I truly will miss him.

One half second later, I could only come up with one.

The Bushisms.  I know many of you have heard of these little gems…but you’d be surprised to know how many people never really paid that close of attention to the words – twisted and mangled as they were – that came out of his mouth each and every day.

So, in order to edumacate the masses on the treasure that was Bush 43, as well as to honor the man hisself, I present the latest in the looooooong list of Bush mis-speechifyin’.

(Note:  I know this goes on an on and on and on…but this guys’ words are like fucking peanuts or potato chips…you just can’t stop eating them up!!! Also, please forgive the skipping around on the dates of these, I’ve stored so many of these into so many documents on my PC that i just posted them as I opened them.)

“That’s called, ‘A Charge To Keep,’ based upon a religious hymn. The hymn talks about serving God. The president’s job is never to promote a religion.”—Showing German newspaper reporter Kai Diekmann the Oval Office, Washington, D.C., May 5, 2006

“And so, in my State of the—my State of the Union—or state—my speech to the nation, whatever you want to call it, speech to the nation—I asked Americans to give 4,000 years—4,000 hours over the next—the rest of your life—of service to America. That’s what I asked—4,000 hours.” —Bridgeport, Conn., April 9, 2002

“I want to thank the dozens of welfare to work stories, the actual examples of people who made the firm and solemn commitment to work hard to embetter themselves.”—Washington, D.C., April 18, 2002 (Thanks to George Dupper.)

“The public education system in America is one of the most important foundations of our democracy. After all, it is where children from all over America learn to be responsible citizens, and learn to have the skills necessary to take advantage of our fantastic opportunistic society.”—Santa Clara, Calif., May 1, 2002

“We ended the rule of one of history’s worst tyrants, and in so doing, we not only freed the American people, we made our own people more secure.”—Crawford, Texas, May 3, 2003 (Thanks to Tony Marciniec.)

“Now, there are some who would like to rewrite history—revisionist historians is what I like to call them.”—Elizabeth, N.J., June 16, 2003

“I’ll be long gone before some smart person ever figures out what happened inside this Oval Office.”—Washington, D.C., May 12, 2008

“And so the fact that they purchased the machine meant somebody had to make the machine. And when somebody makes a machine, it means there’s jobs at the machine-making place.”—visiting the Silverado Cable Co., Mesa, Ariz., May 27, 2008

“And I, unfortunately, have been to too many disasters as president.”—discussing flooding in the Midwest, Washington, D.C., June 17, 2008

“The German asparagus are fabulous.”—Meseberg, Germany, June 11, 2008

“One of the things important about history is to remember the true history.”—Washington, D.C., June 6, 2008

“Throughout our history, the words of the Declaration have inspired immigrants from around the world to set sail to our shores. These immigrants have helped transform 13 small colonies into a great and growing nation of more than 300 people.”—Charlottesville, Va., July 4, 2008

“Should the Iranian regime—do they have the sovereign right to have civilian nuclear power? So, like, if I were you, that’s what I’d ask me. And the answer is, yes, they do.”—Speaking to reporters in Washington, D.C., July 2, 2008

“I think it was in the Rose Garden where I issued this brilliant statement: If I had a magic wand —but the president doesn’t have a magic wand. You just can’t say, ‘low gas.’ “—Washington D.C., July 15, 2008

“I remember meeting a mother of a child who was abducted by the North Koreans right here in the Oval Office.”—Washington, D.C., June 26, 2008

“And they have no disregard for human life.”—Describing the brutality of Afghan fighters, Washington, D.C., July 15, 2008

“But oftentimes I’m asked: Why? Why do you care what happens outside of America?”—Washington, D.C., June 26, 2008

“We’re fixing to go down to Galveston and obviously are going to see a devastated part of this fantastic state.”—Houston, Sept. 16, 2008

“This thaw—took a while to thaw, it’s going to take a while to unthaw.”—Alexandria, La., Oct. 20, 2008

“I want to share with you an interesting program—for two reasons, one, it’s interesting, and two, my wife thought of it—or has actually been involved with it; she didn’t think of it. But she thought of it for this speech.”—Washington D.C., Oct. 21, 2008, discussing PlayPumps International, which improves access to clean water in Africa.

“Yesterday, you made note of my—the lack of my talent when it came to dancing. But nevertheless, I want you to know I danced with joy. And no question Liberia has gone through very difficult times.”—Speaking with the president of Liberia, Washington, D.C., Oct. 22, 2008

“I’ve been in the Bible every day since I’ve been the president.”—Washington, D.C., Nov. 12, 2008

“I’ve abandoned free market principles to save the free market system.”—Washington, D.C., Dec. 16, 2008

“Oftentimes people ask me, ‘Why is it that you’re so focused on helping the hungry and diseased in strange parts of the world?’ “—Washington, D.C., April 18, 2008

“It would be a mistake for the United States Senate to allow any kind of human cloning to come out of that chamber.”—Washington, D.C., April 10, 2002

“My attitude about the world changed, and I know the attitude about the world from a lot of folks here in America’s attitude changed.”—Discussing the Sept. 11 attacks, Fairfax, Va., April 10, 2007 (Thanks to David Stanford.)

“I said to her, make sure the rug says ‘optimistic person comes to work.’ “—describing his instructions to the first lady in choosing a rug for the Oval Office, Tipp City, Ohio, April 19, 2007

“There are some similarities, of course—death is terrible.”—on comparisons between the wars in Vietnam and Iraq, Tipp City, Ohio, April 19, 2007

“My job is a job to make decisions. I’m a decision—if the job description were, what do you do—it’s decision maker.”—Tipp City, Ohio, April 19, 2007

“And so, what Gen. Petraeus is saying, some early signs, still dangerous, but give me—give my chance a plan to work.”—in an interview with Charlie Rose, April 24, 2007 (Thanks to Dana Stevens.)

“One of my concerns is that the health care not be as good as it can possibly be.”—On benefits provided to military personnel, Tipp City, Ohio, April 19, 2007

“If you’ve got a chicken factory, a chicken-plucking factory, or whatever you call them, you know what I’m talking about.”—discussing the sorts of jobs many illegal immigrant workers perform, Tipp City, Ohio, April 19, 2007

Party? What Party?

“I’m thinking of throwing a little party,” I tell my pal Cole, as I hold the phone with one hand and fold a mountain of laundry with the other.

“No big thing, really, just a few friends getting together for the holidays,” I persist over the dead silence on the other end of the receiver. “Maybe you and Shane, me and Seth, and four or five other people who –”

“Shane and I can’t make it,” he answers before I can finish.

“But I haven’t given you the date.”

“Look, Daniel, you know I’ve had health issues,” he counters nervously. I explain to Cole that the American Medical Association has yet to classify “exceedingly dry cuticles” as the kind of condition that requires actual bed rest. “Still…” he mutters as his voice trails off.

That night in bed, I turn to Seth (love of my life, father of my child/dog (Kitty), official party co-host). “Darling, I was thinking it’s time we throw a little party,” I venture.

“That sounds great, sweetheart.”

“Really, pumpkin?”

“Of course, angel. I do have one small request, though.”

“Anything, honey.” He lifts his head and hands me his pillow. “Put this over my face and then hold it there until, oh, I don’t know … let’s say, I stop moving.”

There are lots of areas in which I excel.  As I’ve already mentioned, I can fold laundry with one hand. I’m also quite capable of catching the cold of just about anybody living within my zip code.

I have the kind of magnetism that wordlessly beckons a guy wearing half a cantaloupe on his head to come sit next to me during long subway rides (as proven in L.A.).

And, though I’m hard-pressed to explain exactly how I do it, I possess an almost mystical ability to purchase appliances, furniture, and clothing approximately six minutes before the extremely pricey item goes on sale.

The thing I can’t do is host a genuinely wonderful party.  Steve was always better at that sort of thing.  I usually just played court jester while he hosted.

I attempt to invite several other friends, but one has elected to schedule elective surgery for that date (you know you’re in trouble when a friend would rather have his hammertoes corrected than have dinner at your place); one claims our last brunch was like “a hostage situation with lasagna”; one — and you know who you are — pretends to be her own housekeeper, repeating, “I sorry, no English” over and over; and two different people choose not to attend but still make me swear that I won’t flambé anything again … like it’s my fault they couldn’t get their eyebrows to grow back after the crêpes Suzette incident of 2005.

I crawl into bed that night a broken man. “Why do I suck at parties?” I ask Seth.

He narrows his eyes. “Is this one of those trick questions, like when you ask me if you need to lose weight and I say, ‘Well, I suppose we could all stand to drop a pound or two,’ and you spend the next 36 hours likening me to Satan?”

I make a mental note to explore why I suck at relationships on some future night. “No,” I insist, “I really want to know what I’m doing wrong. Give it to me straight, Doc, I can take it.”

He smiles and puts his book aside. “That’s just it; the only thing you’re doing wrong is constantly striving to do everything exactly right. You want the prettiest cocktail, the freshest flowers, candles lit, music playing, dinner timed, conversation sparkling, and you drive yourself and everybody else nuts trying to achieve it.”

I would like to be the kind of person who receives this information with an open mind and a grateful heart. But my first instinct is to take my boyfriend up on his previous offer and smother him to death with his own orthopedically correct goose-down pillow.

The problem is, I know he’s right.

I am part geisha girl, part drill sergeant, with just a soupçon of control freak thrown in for good measure. I want everyone to relax and have a good time, but that has to start with me, and I’m about as laid-back as a caged hummingbird guzzling a can of Red Bull while awaiting biopsy results. You can keep your meditation, your reflexology, your gin, your tonics — I’m just not the mellow type.

I approach a petite Italian woman from the old country to figure out when this started. “Mom, have I always been a perfectionist?”

She attempts diplomacy. “Well, let me put it this way — you used to like to dress up in my clothes when you were maybe 3 or 4 years old.”

“What does that prove? Lots of little boys play dress-up.”

“True,” she says, “but you tried to bulldoze Grandma into tailoring the clothes to actually fit you.”

“Well, excuse me for realizing that a skirt should hit just above my knee.” We are quiet for a minute. “So how do you throw a really fun party?” She reminds me that they used to hire Magical Marv for my birthdays. I remind her that Magical Marv chain-smoked and seemed to hate children.

“Yes, that’s what your dad and I always liked best about him,” she deadpans. “Anyway, the only thing I know about giving a party is that we can never get the extra leaf into the dining table and I usually forget to serve one of the side dishes.”

This leads me to a new theory: “Maybe bad parties are hereditary, like green eyes and diabetes,” I say to Seth.

“Okay, that’s it,” he announces, grabbing the phone. Before I can lunge at him, he has dialed our neighbors Martin and Robert and invited them to come for dinner “in about 15 minutes.”

“Are you insane?” I shriek as I stuff everything littering the floor and coffee table under the sofa. “This is grounds for divorce,” I bellow, only to be reminded that we never got married. “That’s because I don’t know how to throw a wedding,” I hiss as I pull off my stained Sunday night yoga pants and rummage through the laundry bag for my slightly less stained Saturday afternoon yoga pants, marveling all the while at the fact that I don’t do yoga.

Needless to say, Martin and Robert are four minutes early. “Hey, guys, can I offer you…” I do a quick scan of the refrigerator, “a dollop of mayonnaise?” I have hit rock bottom. Somewhere Martha Stewart hangs her head in shame. Seth gives me a hug. There is no place to go but up. Our neighbors split a diet Snapple, we order in Thai food and proceed to talk and laugh and pass chicken satay for three straight hours.

What can I say? It is, to date, our most successful dinner party.

Oh, To Be There

I was thinking about the upcoming inauguration of Barack Obama.

What it would be like to attend such an historic event.

I’d give anything to be there two weeks from Tuesday.  But then, knowing myself the way I do, I’d want to be in two separate places at once.

Of course I would want to be on the mall close enough to witness the swearing in of a new President – like I was when Bill Clinton took the oath in 1993…fantastic seats (it’s good to have well-connected friends) – as stated, the historic backdrop would be well worth the January chill in the air.  Oh, to hear Maya Angelou recite again.

But there’s another place I’d love to have a front row seat…the South Lawn at the White House.  At the exact time of the inauguration.

See, right at the time the newly-elected President is being sworn in, the out-going President’s staff is packing up his belongings and he is saying his last goodbyes to staff and residence.

After the past eight long years, it would be nice to be able to watch G.W. board Marine One for that last ride to that last ride on Airforce One that will take him, Laura and those two vicious dogs of theirs off to the EX-Western White House in Crawford, Texas.

I didn’t have this desire to be bi-located when the first Bush left office.  Sure, his wsn’t what you’d call a stellar Presidency (though he was infinately more suited for the job and Presidential than his son), however, at that time I was less involved in the political process than I am today and therefore starstruck by the Clinton mystique.

Short-lived as that turned out to be.  (NAFTA, DADT, MONICA, etc.)

Now, I can’t speak for Obama’s mental or emotional condition, nor his political professionalism (having never met or spoken to the man personally), but I doubt I’d be very far off the mark when I predict his reaction after taking his first step into the White House AS president.  Doubtless it will be the same for him as for all of his predecessors…

Complete and utter awe.  A heavy cloak of humility will wash over him.

I would imagine that is about the closest feeling you could get to American Nirvana.

Sadly, and as is always the case, no incoming President gets more than a few minutes to savor that feeling of Political Xanadu.  Especially this new President.  He has to hit the Oval Office rug running, as it were.  Because the state of this Union – ney, the World – is dismal and he will spend every waking hour trying to halt an ever-speeding global downward spiral.

It’s not as though he has very big shoes to fill (sorry George, I know that’s a touchy subject), unless failure on a global scale is a station Barack has always aspired to.  No, Obama just needs a political broom and mop the size of Oakland, because it’s going to take some great big bucket of bleach to clean up and sanitize everything the out-going administration soiled along the way for the past eight years.

Still, I wish I could be there to see both the inauguration and the Bush exodus happen.