My Weblog

The one that wears the bandana?

For many Josh is a bartender/bar back at Mother Lode.

For me and a fair few others we look upon him as a valued friend.

Josh's real passion is photography. And his shutterbuggery is damn good.

He's straight and the guff he takes for it makes him a good sport.

He is also addicted to his bandanna.

I doubt a happy hour goes by that someone doesn't tell him,

"You know you look so much better without it."

It falls on deaf ears as the bandanna provides a shield for his insecurities.

I can say that because he's told me as much.

Anyway, As I was walking home from happy hour the other night...

My stepmother called and I was telling her about my evening.

She asked, "Is Josh the one that wears the bandanna?"

I replied, "Yes. Although we all think he looks better without it."

She said, "No, I like it."

After we hung up I called Josh and told him what she had said.

He replied, "SEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! Chicks dig that shit!"

More than anything, I loved that he referred to my step-mom as a chick.

I'm confident that in the 70's she'd have thought us all lightweights.

Well, everyone except Keith. And Scott & Brian. And Jeff E. Poo.

And Edwin R. And me, once or twice a week year.

Jager: Another Disciple has Seen the Light

About 6 months ago I befriended all-around good guy, Keith.

He's a fixture at Bar 11 but I've pulled him to the dark side of Mother Lode.

Not such a difficult task, of that you may be assured.

In the beginning he didn't like the shots of Jager that kept happening.

Don't get it twisted - it did not stop him from shooting them.

I don't recall the man ever saying no. But he'd give us the obligatory frown.

Anyway. A bunch of us met at happy hour on Saturday.

I was only stopping by so I wasn't keen on any shots. Shocker, I know.

But after an hour or so Keith made a comment, "No Jager today?"

I shrugged, "Nah, I'm not staying long."

He called the bartender over and ordered a round none-the-less.

I was confused, "Wait. I thought you didn't like Jager?"

A crooked grin crossed his mug as he made a wickedly seductive confession,

"I've acquired the taste."

Jager: and another disciple has seen the light.

It left me no choice but to quote my favorite movie drunk from 9 to 5,

"Atta girl."

Beverly Hills Art Walk - May 2013

A lovely event held twice a year. A sampling:

Turning Japanese Or, Not at My Show!

Me. With the very funny actress and popular cabaret artist, Jackie Hoffman.

The most recent role you'd recognize her on would be The New Normal.

I met her at the stage door of her show Xanadu on Broadway in 2007.

But you could say I 'met' her about a year previously...

My friend Rosanne went to see her cabaret show in Hollywood.

Naturally I was early and started fiddling with my new cell phone.

And I ended up purchasing my first ring tone: Turning Japanese.

Like a good theater-goer before I exited my car I set my phone to vibrate.

When I met up with Rosanne I had to play her my new ring-tone.

Which meant turning the volume back on again.

We got a good laugh and then I put my phone in my pocket.

The show started and as Rosanne I were enjoying the performance...

My phone rang, "Turning Japanese, I think I'm turning Japanese..."

Ms. Hoffman was just getting to the punchline of a story and stopped,

"Nooooooooooooooooo! No fucking phones at my show!!!!"

She was pissed and started looking for the culprit in the audience.

As I fumbled for my phone she looked at Rosanne, "Is it yoooouuuu???????" 

I had a flip phone and the only way to stop it was to answer it.

I flipped it & everybody could hear the caller, "Bitch. Bitch are you there?"

Ms. Hoffman was not pleased, "These damn cell phones..."

I turned off the phone as Ms. Hoffman said, "I'll have to start that over."

She did but she had lost her momentum and the story kinda died.

Some of the audience shot me looks like they were gonna get all stabby.

I think we barely made it outta there with our lives.

I was going to tell her this story but you just know she holds grudges.

And a wicked sharp tongue.

I Love the Nightlife

I use the bus stop at Santa Monica & Fairfax a couple times a week.

I have never not seen "B" hanging out there drinking.

"A" is sometimes with her and they are always battle singing.

They tend to scare the old people. But me? I find them fascinating. Natch.

I have never spoken to them, until yesterday. As follows:

***

"A" singing: Love my way, it's a new road. I follow where my mind goes.

"B" responds to the song: Oh yea, I love Annie Lennox.

"A" recoiled: Bitch, that ain't no Annie - it's Simple Minds.

I interjected: Nn-uh, you're both wrong. It's Psychedelic Furs.

"B" gave it some thought: Ok, that might be right.

-- They were quiet for a couple seconds then "B" started a new song --

"B" in full voice: Please don't talk about love tonight...

I cooed: Ooooooh, Alicia Bridges!

"B" kept singing and really growled the chorus: I love the nightlife, I love to boogie on the disco round...

Me: That was one of my rolling skating jams!

"B" rolled back the years: Bitch please. I was on Alicia's float at Pride in 1979. We did the whole song over and over for the entire parade. Honey, I owned the damn Disco Era. It was the best of times eva.

"A" just chugged her drink and laughed: He a fool.

"B" rolled his eyes: Shut up bitch and drink your shit.

The bus rolled up and I boarded to the cool sounds of La Donna,

"B" with arms a-waving: Toot toot heeeeeeeey beep beep.

***

They absolutely made my day.

I was Met by Homeland Security

This is a self-portrait at the Capitol Building in DC - February 2007.

Let me tell you a little story about this photo.

I am someone that loves to travel solo. I have been many places alone:

London, Paris, Berlin, Puerto Vallarta, Mykonos, NYC, DC, etc.

I am also someone who's perfected the narcissistic art of self-portraits.

To set up this photo I placed my backpack on top of a trash can.

I then set the timer on my camera and had 10 seconds to run and pose.

Done. Photo taken. Easy as that.

As I was heading back to my backpack I was met by Homeland Security.

He was hand-on-pistol stern, "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

I thought it was obvious and replied with a shrug, "Just taking a picture."

He continued, "No." I sensed that things were about to get serious,

"It looked like you were running from an abandoned backpack to me."

I was stunned, "Oh my, no. I am so sorry. It never even occurred to me."

He was obligated to asked, "So what's in the backpack anyway?"

I could feel the sweat start to bead as I answered, "Just my laptop."

Next came a few seconds of bowel-testing silence before he relented.

He let me off with a warning, "Technically I could confiscate your bag."

I apologized again as he turned to walk away, "It won't happen again."

I stood there for a couple minutes a little shaken.

I mean, it's not every day that I set-off a near national scandal.

It's also not every day that I nearly shit my pants.

In Fear

My little sister spent a long weekend in a hospice before opting to go home to die in her own bed. Scratch that - she never wrapped her mind around the fact that she was going to die, she was going home to LIVE. And she did not appreciate that she was stuck in a place designated for end of life patients.

So home she went. It was about 10 days later that we lost the poor dear to the ugly grip of breast cancer. She was surrounded by family and I am assured that that made her happy. If for no other reason than she was finally the center of some long-term familial attention.

Anyway, this morning I was thinking about that weekend in the hospice and a scene I witnessed between two 70-something men - one a patient, the other his friend.

I was taking a needed time-out in the lobby when a man came in and asked to see his friend. A few minutes later one of the angels (a term I affectionately call hospice nurses) wheeled out his friend.

For the next half an hour they barely spoke to each other. They mostly just soaked up the powerful presence of one another. When they did talk it was awkward small talk - like the way a lot of guys do in emotional settings. Neither really knew what to say or how to say it, I suppose.

For instance the visiting man might say, "Well, the weather has been pleasant."

And the patient might reply, "That's nice."

Their conversation really was that simple.

I have no idea who they were to each other. Bothers, friends, work associates? No clue - and they didn't provide one either. I tried not to pay attention to them but it was hard not to as the waiting room was fairly small and they were just a few feet away from me. But as an intense people watcher I sat back and tried not to watch.

The main thing I took away from this meeting was fear. Fear permeated every look, every gesture and every word. Both men tried to navigate around it but there was no escaping the fear. I couldn't conceive what might be going on in their heads. Or their hearts.

I could just tell that neither one of them wanted to enact this painful scene. I imagined that they'd rather be on a boat somewhere fishing and not talking to each other. Or sharing a couch together yelling at the TV because some bum intercepted a football in a crucial payoff game. You know, like in the good old days.

After about half an hour the visiting friend said in a low voice, "Well, I guess I should get going. I'll try to see you one more time before..." He stopped himself before he finished his thought.

The patient replied with a slight nob of his head, "I understand. Thank you."

They shook hands and the visitor departed for what I would assume was a great gulp of fresh air from that nice February day while the patient was wheeled back to his room and returned to his bed to wait for the inevitable - in fear.

So She Panicked

The recent events in Boston brought something from my past to mind.

In 2004 I worked with a complete airhead - a real all-around ditz.

She had gotten a kitten & wanted to take it with her to her parents home.

When she got to the airport she was told that she couldn't take it on-board.

She didn't realize that there were certain requirements for pets.

Of course she got to the airport 2 minutes before take-off...

So she panicked.

She took the cat outside the terminal and hid the bag in some bushes.

Then she called a friend to come and get her - problem solved.

As she walked back to the terminal she was surrounded by security.

She was completely confused as guns were drawn on her.

Remember, this was 3 years after 9/11.

She explained what had happened and that it was just a kitten.

They didn't believe her at first but then they heard the bag meow.

Even the police thought this too dumb to detain her for too long.

This ditz nearly closed LAX and still shrugged when she told the tale.

This dingy also never employed the contraction 'you're' when writing:

"Your needed in Teri's office."

An even more serious and actionable offense. If you ask me.

Meow.

I Have Been Catfished

For the last few weeks I have been catfished.

For those who don't know here is the definition from Urban Dictionary.

I should clarify. I was onto the catfishing from the start.

I mean, when you only have 2 photos on your page you're probably a fake.

Hello.

I accepted his friend request to have a little fun and see what he wanted.

So I played along.

Every morning for the last few weeks he'd private chat with me.

There was a lots of use of the words honey, babe, stud and (ugh) daddy.

One time I asked him to email me a few more pics of himself. And he did.

The same two pics from his Facebook page that I had already seen.

Really?

His story was that he's from LA but studying in Turkey.

But his grammar betrayed him like for instance, I wish am there.

Or, I can't wait to be back in LA for to be again in you arms.

Again?

I just kept thinking that the truth would reveal itself soon.

And sure enough this morning - 3 weeks later - this happened:

Malaria? Not exactly what I was expecting. But malaria, really?

Oh, and what American puts the $ symbol after the numbers?

Sure I had my fun but now I've deleted him.

You could say I threw that (cat)fish back.

Reed, not Lee Lewis

While I was in the shower this morning I recalled a conversation that happened on the bus yesterday.

As we were making our way west on Sunset Blvd a passenger seated behind me yelled out to the driver, "Do you know if we passed Clark Street?"

The driver answered back, "I'm not sure I've ever seen Clark Street."

An older man interjected, "Clark Street is what La Cienega becomes north of Sunset."

The driver replied to the gal who asked the question, "Ooooh. Well then, we are almost there."

Then she pondered allowed, "Hmmm, I wonder if it was all part of a divorce settlement. Like, Mrs. Clark got the highlands and Mr. La Cienega got the lowlands."

The older man laughed and said, "She got the goldmine - he got the shaft."

The driver gave his comment a moments thought and asked, "That's an old country western song, isn't it?"

The older man said, "Yes."

That's when I got involved, "It's an old Jerry Reed classic."

The older man corrected me, "Jerry Lee Lewis."

I held fast, "No. I'm pretty sure it's Jerry Reed."

How was I so sure? Well, every morning of my life I listen to the Country Classics channels that my cable provides and they play She Got the Goldmine every damn day. That's how I was so sure.

We were approaching my stop otherwise I would have looked it up on my phone to show him I was right.

What bugged me about the whole thing was his tone. Like a 'how would you know anything about classic country music' that type of thing.

As I was in the shower this morning I started to second-guess myself and thought that after I dressed I'd look it up for piece-of-mind.

But I didn't need to... Just as I was toweling off I heard it playing on my TV. Funny how life is filled with these weird little coincidences.

Jerry Lee Lewis my ass.

Hoppy Easter, Y'all

Don't get it twisted, I'm the Easter not a Playboy bunny.

Morey/George: And So Much More

Yesterday as I was walking along the Hollywood Walk of Fame I overheard one 70-something man coo to another, "Oh look, it's Morey Amsterdam's star." Then he paused before continuing, "These kids today have no idea who he is."

I turned to them and said, "The Dick Van Dyke Show."

They smiled and the other 70-something man said shaking his head with nostalgic wonder, "And so much more."

Twenty feet away I heard the first man (now slightly behind me) coo again, "Oh, and now look, It's George Gobel."

I turned to them and said with a pistol finger, "Hollywood Squares."

Again the second 70-something replied, "And so much more."

It was really touching. I was pleased that Morey and George were getting some love because I'm certain that's not happening all that often.

The 70-something are right - I often see people look at a star and say to their companion with a laugh, "Who?"

Anyway, later in the day I recalled these two sweet 70-something men and allowed my mind to wander to the future...

I hope in 30-something years when I'm walking down the Walk of Fame with a fellow 70-something and coo, "Oh look, it's Olivia Newton-John's star. These kids have no idea who she is."

And some whipper-snapper turns and finger pistols me, "Grease."

I will just as warmly reply, "And so much more."

So You've Unfriended Me on Facebook

A few weeks ago I decided I no longer wanted to be friends with someone.

Someone new that I was hanging out with fairly regularly.

I proceeded to delete him from my Facebook page.

After a few days the silence was telling & he wanted to know what was up.

I texted him back saying that I didn't think 'we' were a good friend match.

This prompted several Impolite responses. All of which went unanswered.

Then he finally noticed Facebook & a couple hours later I got this text:

Oh. So you've unfriended me on Facebook. What a fucking baby.

Don't worry Chuck, I won't bother you again.

Good. That was the goal. And he hasn't. Thankfully.

The power of Facebook is real.

I Met You Before

Yesterday I passed by a woman and her two kids.

She called after me, "Hey, I met you before."

I looked her over and drew a complete blank.

With each hand attached to a kid she continued, "I'm Mama P-Dog!"

Oh yes! I went to her video premiere - and won a couple tshirts in a raffle.

It's a highly enjoyable parody rap.

Anyway, we chatted for a couple of minutes.

Turns out the scouts for America's Got Talent saw her video...

And called her in for an audition. She was thrilled and I wished her luck.

Hey, don't be all jelly cuz I was all on it FIRST.

Marriage Equality

Kind of a big day for gay and lesbian Americans.

The Supreme Court better get this one right.

Her Evil Cheetos

Last night I made a grocery run to my local super market. I needed to stock up for the weekend and catch a few 'personalized' deals before they expired.

I know this store like the back of my hand and chip aisle is my trouble area. I tend to avoid it at all costs. I mean, I could eat chips for breakfast, lunch and dinner. And for my mid-morning, mid-afternoon and mid-night snacks. And anytime in between. Chips and I - we have a problem.

Anyway, last night I made an error in navigation and turned down the chips aisle by mistake and as I succumbed to its gravitational pull I scrunched up my face as if to communicate, "Shit. I'm doomed."

A twenty-something girl saw my face and agreed, "I feel ya."

I feigned a panicked voice, "No. No. No. No. I can't be on this aisle."

She picked up a bag of chips and held them like a newborn to her teet and cooed, "But they are Flaming Hot Cheetos!"

Ewww, that's a chip I'd never ever consider. But for comic effect I sprinted away from her evil Cheetos to the end of the aisle and then turned to proclaim my victory - arms raised over my head, "I did it!"

We shared a laugh as she shot me the bird.

Like Dorothy and Toto

I walked passed this tree in Beverly Hills yesterday with my dog.

I immediately thought of that apple tree scene from The Wizard of Oz.

Like Dorothy and Toto I was on alert to dodge a few chuck'ed apples.

Yea, I was having a wee bit of fun in my head.

I saw this movie when I was 5 and it seems it'll be with me forever.

Which is not a bad thing. At all. Whatsoever.

I mean, the Wicked Witch was one of my first cinematic idols. Still is.

Anyway - I'm hoping this is a project in progress. Cuz it needs more.

Why not add a couple of branch arms with apples on them?

One can be mid-hurl and the other posed in a sassy akimbo.

Hell, it's in the public domain anyhow. And it'd add color the ole 90210.

Maybe I'll leave them a suggestive note of friendly encouragement.

It will read in closing, "Make it so, b!tches. Make it so."

An Insatiable Feast

I adopted this cat a few years ago. She needed a home and I wanted a cat.

She is of the stand-offish variety. Of course that's what I'd rescue.

The only time she ever gives me affection is when her dish is empty.

Then suddenly she's all leg rubs and head brushes.

Well, the last few days she's been quite affectionate and...

I keep checking and her dish is full.

Then I realized she not eating at all. Nothing. Zip.

Hmmmm. She's never not liked her cat food before.

Then I remembered that I picked up a bag of kibble at the 99 Cent Store.

So I went to the store and got her her normal food.

And she had an insatiable feast.

Really? My cat is a 99 Cent Store snob? That just aint right.

But it made me chuck'le.

A Birthday Trip to Indian Wells

Laura, Paula and Brad took me to the tennis tournament last Saturday.

Every year the Indian Wells tournament draws all the top players.

***

This is the second largest tennis stadium in the United States.

Current #2 Victoria Azarenka is at the top of the court.

***

Here you find the four of us getting our drink on in the booze tent.

***

Here is #1 Novak Djokovic on the soccer pitch with RedFoo!

Afterward Novak took the time to sign autographs.

***

More Laura fierceness.

***

Here is Agnieszka Radwanska in a relaxed and fun practice sesh.

***

Here is #4 David Ferrer, #9 Janko Tipsarevic & #29 Fernando Verdasco.

Note: Fernando is a former top 10 player & Calvin Klein underwear model.

ALL three promptly lost after they crossed my path. Whoopsie.

***

Paula with the photo bomb!

***

Here is my boy Rafael Nadal in a stop-motion of his serve.

And now Rafa's backhand.

***

Many thanks to Brad, Laura and Paula for a great day in the desert.

More Than Anything

As I was walking today I passed an old man standing on the sidewalk.

He called after me, "Where are you going?"

I was going to ignore him & just keep walking but something in his voice...

Well, it sounded like he recognized me.

I turned and said, "I'm going to visit a friend."

He replied, "I thought you were taking me to lunch."

I looked at him closely. He was 80-something, very frail and disoriented.

I said, "I'm afraid I'm not aware of any lunch."

He became more urgent, "But I'm ready to go to lunch. Now."

At this point I knew I needed to assist him.

I immediately thought I'd call 911 and stay with him until help arrived.

As I unlocked my phone someone came running from a nearby building.

It turned out to be his caregiver - she explained,

"I had an emergency in the bathroom and he wandered off."

She grabbed him by the arm to help him get back home and continued,

"Thank you for helping him."

He looked at me with his big sad eyes and I barely held it together.

Before he left I had to know, "Where were we going to have lunch?"

His voice was heavy with disappointment as he mumbled, "Canter's."

I nodded slowly figuring he'd probably eaten there a million times.

I wish it could've been possible. More than anything.

I'd Rather Be Over Than Under

I have this client that always seems to overpay. Several times since our relationship began I have had to pop him a message alerting him to this monetary mistake. His reply is usually along these lines, "I'd rather be over than under."

The other day he did it again to which I texted a friend saying that if I wasn't an honest guy I could totally be ripping this guy off.

The reply to that was, "That's not you."

Well, there was an episode from way back in olden times...

Rewind to an 9 year-old Chuck. For a couple of years my family bounced around the South. From Muscle Sholes to Raleigh - then on to Charleston, North Augusta and our final stop before heading back to California was Atlanta.

During our 6 month stint in Atlanta my older brother and I shared a paper route. And since this was the mid-70's we were also in charge of collecting payments in person. If memory serves it was $8 or so.

Well, there was this one woman who was pretty ditzy and always wrapped in a post-shower towel. Every time we knocked at her door for collection she was always in a hurry (looking back I'm thinking she was a woman of many gentleman callers) and never had time to fuss about a receipt.

Eventually a scheme was hatched... As I'm sure you just figured out.

My brother and I went to her place to collect a week later. It didn't phase her. She paid, struggling to keep her towel from popping off. Then about 10 days later we went again. She handed us more money. She didn't have a clue. So we tried it again after another 10 days. This time she actually said, "I feel like you guys are here every week."

I froze-up with guilt and simply shrugged. I took her money of course but the comment was enough to scare us back on the path of decency. Which I have rarely strayed from since...

But hey, my cut of the heist that afternoon paid for a bunch of Zotz and Wacky Packages.

Overheard at Happy Hour

Overheard at happy hour the other night.

A guy walked in and another guy said to his friend that he knew him.

***

Guy 1: Hey. Do you remember me?

Guy 2: No.

Guy 1: You use to work at the Beverly Center, didn't you?

Guy 2: Yes, at Club Monaco.

***

Guy 1 then jogged his memory with the name of a mutual friend.

To which Guy 2 squealed with delight and gave Guy 1 a giant hug.

***

Guy 2: Oh my god. It's been like 17 years!!!

Guy 1: Yes it has.

Guy 2: I still remember our date. Best date I ever went on. Like ever.

Guy 1: We never went on a date.

Guy 2: Yes we did. You met me at my job. And took me to lunch.

Guy 1: The food court at the mall? That's not a date!

Guy 2: Well, you paid.

***

Guy 2 clearly had a little too much happy at happy hour.

It happens.

This Just in from the Red Carpet...

Every year I like to go down to the Kodak Theater and watch them set up the Red Carpet and absorb some of the Oscar hoopla. It's truly can be a zany adventure.

Friday I made the short trek from West to proper Hollywood and toured the encampment and was extremely fortunate to stumble upon this reporter filing her segment. Dressed as a disco ball, no less.

I am pretty sure she is a foreign correspondant. I wasn't close enough to hear her speak but I'm guessing Latin America somewhere.

Well, before I knew it this lady dropped to her knees and began to passionately rub her hands on the Red Carpet like it was a lover about to be mounted. It was bizarre. And awesome. I mean, you ain't gonna get this kind of realness from Mary Hart.

Patience is so rewarding in photography. It's my secret really.

I Needed to Do Something Else

I flew out to Phoenix February 3, 2004 to prepare for the loss of my little sister as did the rest of my family. Nancy hung on for 10 more days before leaving our family on Valentine's Day. The process was brutal and mind-numbing.

This might sound awful but I just couldn't wait to get back home. I needed my bed. I needed my friends. I needed a drink. I needed to cry privately. I needed LA. I needed to do nothing. I needed to do something else.

About 20 minutes after she passed I called Southwest Airline's and booked my ticket home for later that afternoon. Then I called my friend Edwin for a pickup and ride home. He didn't answer and as I was leaving him a message my voice broke and I hung up. I think I managed, "Hey, she just passed and I um..."

It wasn't long before he returned the call and we sorted out the details of my arrival at Burbank Airport. Sure enough he was waiting curbside and after a warm and generous hug he asked, "So, what do you need? Home? Or do you need to get drunk?"

I replied, "Drunk please."

Well, it was a Saturday night. And I was really happy Edwin wasn't going to leave me alone that night.

We ended up at my usual watering hole and over our first beer Edwin and the bartender were bitching about how dumb Valentine's Day is as I remained silent - still frightfully numb from the events of the day.

Finally the bartender asked me, "What about you? How do you feel about Valentine's Day?"

He knew my sister was ill already so I said, "I watched my sister die today."

He cooed, "Oh honey, I'm so sorry. Let me help you out."

And he did. One shot after another. Until I went from one kind of numb to another. With one of my best friend's keeping up at my side.

It was the best hangover I've ever known.

Happy Birthday, Mom!

Today is my mother's birthday. I will not give away her age.

That just wouldn't be wise. What a good kid, huh?

I was thinking of something funny to share with you and I thought of this...

12 years ago I took my mom to see a local production of The Normal Heart.

A highly acclaimed play written in the mid-80's by Larry Kramer.

The work chronicles the first few years of the AIDS epidemic.

It was fantastic and we both enjoyed it tremendously.

One character in the play is a big queen and he was a way over-the-top.

After his first flaming scene my mother turned to me and said,

"Well he was a real Lulu."

I held my breath wondering how the gays around us might react.

It was an uncomfortable silence until everyone started to laugh.

In fact, we created a little delay in the show owing to the laughter.

Lulu. Ha! And I still use it to this day. Cuz I can.

Happy birthday, mom.

Even at the End

Today marks one year since my father died.

As I've said before my dad was one of the funniest people I ever knew.

This man constantly knocked 'em out of the park.

And he never ever let a pun go wanting - that was his specialty actually.

I would like to share with you the last joke I heard him mutter.

It was the day before he died.

***

My pop died of cancer but was suffering from later stages of Alzheimer's.

He was in tremendous pain but he couldn't ever remember why.

That afternoon he walked into the living room clutching his back.

He moaned and asked my stepmother, "Why am I in so much pain?"

My stepmother never lied to him and replied matter-of-factly,

"Honey, you have cancer."

He let it soak in & then said with a eye roll, "Ugh, I wish I hadn't asked."

Maybe not his funniest joke but I'll carry it with me as a great treasure.

The comic timing, the simple inflection, the pained facial expression.

He was a pure and generous funnyman. Even at the end.

 

For Martin Luther King, Jr. Day

A few years ago I went tho the National Civil Rights Museum on the actual Martin Luther King, Jr. Day.

It was very crowded as folks came to honor the man.

And it was a very special moment in time for me.

The wreath in the photo is the place where MLK was shot on the balcony at the Laraine Motel in Memphis.

I believe that a visit to this museum is a must at least once in your life.

Rat Him Out

I have been walking by a private K-8 school every day for a couple years.

Usually I am walking my dog past and the kids stop and say hi to her.

The other day was a bit different.

As we approached a group of 8 kids one of them grabbed his friend...

And pushed him into my little dog.

Well. I lost my mind. I yelled at this kid. And I used a some choice words.

When I got home I debated whether I should call the school & rat him out.

I decided that someone should be made aware of this violation.

20 minutes after I left a message the principal returned my call.

I told him the issue to which he was quite concerned.

I reiterated many times that these kids have always been cool.

But I also wanted a record of my call in case it happened again.

He said, "I can get his parents involved if you like."

He paused and suggested, "Would you like to come down and finger him?"

I blurted out with a fair bit of shock, "Excuuuuuuse me?"

He continued unfazed, "...from the yearbook."

Of course.

Must. Find. Dog.

As I've mentioned before I never remember my dreams. Not ever.

The other night I woke from a nightmare and wanted to remember it.

I got up and wrote it down so that I could share it with you.

So, here goes.

***

I was aware that I was tossing and turning furiously in my sleep.

I think I was trying to wake myself up.

You see, the nightmare wasn't scary it was sad. Really, really sad.

I couldn't find my dog. She was lost or stolen or died or something.

All I can recall is that she was just gone.

And I guess my body was trying to release me from this dream.

I mean, I needed to go find her, right? It was urgent. Vital, in fact.

Eventually I succeeded in waking up.

The sheets were jumbled and I was in a heart-racing panic.

Must. Find. Dog.

My dog always sleeps under the covers near my feet.

Once I calmed down I needed to make sure she was there.

So I kicked her. Not hard but enough to wake her. And bug her.

But I found her! And I was happy once again. So I went back to sleep.

The next night I noticed my dog slept more near my waist.

She's smart like that.

***

My little Girlfriend:

Just. In. Case.

Most of the people I have as friends on Facebook are of like mind.

Some are not and I do enjoy their differing opinions.

This latest round of gun control debates has recently blown up my page.

Full disclosure: I support the 2nd Amendment but...

Some of these guns nobody, and I mean NOBODY, needs.

Today a relative posted a photo of a gun overlaid with these words:

Welcome to my home.

That door you just knocked in was locked for your protection, not mine.

I found it amusing tho I'm not sure that was the intent.

It reminded me of something similar I had seen about 15 years ago.

I was on the bus seated across from a stereotypical grumpy old man.

He was proudly wearing a truckers hat (and a deep scowl) that read:

When they come for my guns they can have them -

BULLETS FIRST.

Again, I loved it. And again, for all the wrong reasons.

I've been around a long time and have never felt the need to own a gun.

But I will make a confession about the first few times I hooked-up online:

I hid several steak knives around my apartment for self-defense...

Just. In. Case.

Happy New Year!

13 is my favorite number so...

2013 is gonna be my be-otch. Trust.

Close to Angels

As it's Christmas Eve I wanted to share a little story of kindness with you.

This may be the greatest singular act of kindness I have ever witnessed.

And I don't even remember the woman's name to give her due credit.

***

In February of 2004 my sister entered a hospice to end her days.

She bucked all expectations and went home - she just wasn't ready.

Turns out she had 10 days more in her and wanted to go home.

While she was in that hospice I befriended a nurse.

This nurse and I bonded and oddly enough we shared a bundle of laughs.

One evening I saw her come in for work but I couldn't find her.

After a while I began poking my head into the rooms.

Eventually I found her in a chair reading to an old woman in her bed.

The room was awash in candlelight and seemed very peaceful.

The nurse looked up at me and shook her head suggesting, "Not now."

A couple hours later she came to me a little subdued.

I asked her if she was ok. She responded, "Yes."

Then she explained, "I promised her daughter that she wouldn't die alone."

I asked, "Did she..." She stopped me with a little nod of her head.

There was not a hug tight enough to thank her for her service.

Hospices nurses are as close to angels as you can find here on earth.

I learned that that weekend. And will never forget it.

The Night I Met Weird Al

So. The other night at happy hour the bartender played an old 80's DVD.

At one point Weird Al's parody of Madonna's Like a Virgin played.

I told the friend I was with that I thought Weird Al was a genius.

And as Like a Surgeon rolled on I said, "Weird Al just never got his due."

Fast forward about 15 minutes and I'm walking into the grocery store.

As I'm pondering a selection in frozen foods Weird Al walked by me.

I thought my mind was playing tricks on me. I mean, what are the chances?

I followed him to the yogurt area where I confirmed that it was indeed him.

Now, I don't usually approach celebs - but in this case, how could I not?

It's Weird effing Al!!!

I tapped his shoulder, "Excuse me Weird, I really think you are brilliant."

He blushed a bit as I asked, "May I take a photo with you?"

He was very sweet, "Thank you and of course."

He promptly whipped out his glasses and constructed his classic face.

Afterward I told him that I loved his work and was thrilled to report,

"Not 20 minutes ago I saw Like a Surgeon at happy hour."

He replied, "Are you kidding?" I shook my head, "Nope. I'm serious."

Weird Al smiled broadly, "Wow, that's really cool."

I thanked him and said, "Well, I'll let you get back to your shopping."

Five minutes later I saw him on the chip aisle and wanted to tell him...

That I thought his Lady GaGa parody last year was pure magic.

But alas, not even Weird Al can get me to go down that evil chip aisle.

Must. Avoid. Chip. Aisle. At. All. Cost.

*****

For you entertainment and pleasure - Like a Surgeon & Perform This Way:

Chux Gangnam Style

So damn dumb.

Those Boys Are Naked

Just a quick little funny from last night.

***

Sheer laziness found me catching a bus to go 3 stops instead of walking.

I took a seat behind a very lovely 70-something black lady.

Along this stretch the bus passes a bunch of West Hollywood gay bars.

Well, by chance we got stuck at a red light right in front of Mickey's.

This particular bar was in full raging happy hour mode.

And the go-go boys were completely visible from where we were stopped.

The old lady looked over and then quickly snapped her head back forward.

Seconds later she couldn't resist another little sneaky peak.

Again she quickly turned away.

She then looked for a third time only this time her gaze stuck.

She said nervously over her shoulder to me, "Oh, those boys are naked."

She seemed kinda titillated so I pointed to the sign over the door & joked,

"Oh. Well it's your lucky day. There's 'No Cover Charge Tonight.'"

She replied hand-to-heart, "I don't think they want me in there."

I said, "You show up with a fist full of ones and they ain't gonna care."

She giggled like a naughty little girl as the bus rolled on again.

How Could She Not?

In February it will be 9 years since my family portrait was forever changed with the untimely passing of my sister owing to breast cancer.

Today is Nancy's birthday and every year I like share a memory to honor her special day. Usually they are on the 'grab-a-tissue' side but not this time as I reach back to our teenage years.

My little sister was probably the first person to accept my lifestyle. You see, we were less than a year apart so in essence she grew up with it as 'natural' nearly as much as I did - how could she not?

I mean, we moved around a lot and often it was just the two of us left to entertain one another. Until high school when we went our separate ways. The drama department was my calling and it kept me pretty busy and she had her things - which don't spring to mind at the moment.

In my senior year the spring musical was a great show called, Pippin. I didn't get a proper role but the show has a lot of dialog spoken by the chorus members and I was favored with many of these lines and by extension kind of created my own character. And it was a stand-out, of course.

Anyway, there is a scene in which I refused to give Pippin his sword to go into battle to which he insists, "But I'm Pippin, one day I'll be king." I hand over the weapon with a catty retort, "And one day I'll be queen."

During the three-week run it got a lot of laughs. Sometimes even applause. People got the implied foreshadowing with which I laced my voice. I looked forward to that scene each night - it felt liberating.

The night my sister was in attendance there was a little commotion after my confessional thespian moment. Later that night when I got home I asked her about it she replied, "I was sitting next to some jerk who said to his friend that you were already a queen." She paused and then continued proudly, "So I slugged him."

Awe-some-ness.

I'm not sure why this is memory that came to mind to share with you today. Probably because I didn't appreciate her gesture enough at the time and I need to know if is it too late to thank her for it now?

***

Yea. I didn't think so.

World AIDS Day

It's World AIDS Day.

I think every damn day should be World AIDS Day.

Hard to believe we are over 30 years into this thing.

I hope one day SOON they will find a cure.

Please spare a thought for those living with or affected by AIDS.

Life of Crime

This slab of vandalized sidewalk is about a block from my place.

Every time I see it I think two things...

One: Way to set an example for your kids bucko.

And two: Takes me back to 5th grade. As I'll share with you now.

I was a good kid. I wasn't much into mischief nor was I a troublemaker.

At school I had like-minded friends. Ok yea, I was usually teacher's pet.

Whatevs.

During a San Diego heatwave while on recess with Linda & Ken one day...

Ken noticed that the schoolyard asphalt was unusually soft from the heat.

So we began to pick away at it. Who wouldn't, right?

A couple of days later the three of us were called to the principals office.

Naturally we assumed we were getting more praise as model students.

Nope. Instead we were getting busted for vandalizing school property.

The three of us sat there with stunning looks on our faces.

Looks that said plainly, "But how did he know?"

The principal explained, "You're good kids so we won't notify your parents."

Phew. Cuz you know I was shitting bricks.

He continued, "But next time, don't carve your names in the asphalt."

Happy My Day!!

My mother's people came over on the Mayflower.

So really - this is my day. Be thankful for me.

Where Was The Nanny's? - A Christmas Story

I believe that the three year-end holidays should never ever overlap.

It makes me crazy to see Christmas before Thanksgiving.

Or even in November. I say Christmas belongs exclusively to December.

And just who are these people that need Christmas up before Halloween?

I know a few of them, actually.

The day after Halloween I walked into a clients home and was assaulted,

"When, what to my wondering eyes should appear?"

Bloody Christmas decorations - in full boost. UGH x 1,000,000,000.

After a jaw-dropped look-about I noticed something woefully amiss...

On the mantle hung 6 stockings - 4 for the dogs and 2 for the owners.

Um, where was the nanny's I thought to myself? I am vital after all.

Well, as you can see below I fixed the oversight the next day.

And they are leaving it to hang. After I confirmed that it was indeed clean.

Too small you say? Nah. It's big enough for a big ol' honkin' gift card.

"And to your right..."

Norma posing for my Coke bottle glasses photo project.

The other day I stopped to talk to Norma while she was walking her dog.

She is over 70 so I like to make sure that she's OK.

As we chatted a one of those Hollywood site-seeing vans rolled by...

The young joker manning the microphone informed his passengers,

"And to your right you can see Betty White walking her dog."

Norma turned toward the van and waved with a camera-friendly smile.

Then she back to me and said under her breath, "What an asshole."

For Walking Home Drunk

A year ago today I was released after a very long night spent in jail.

Why was I in jail you ask? Well I'll tell ya... For walking home drunk.

Yes, you read that right - walking home drunk.

The same exact walk I've been doing for at least a decade or more.

I left happy hour around 9PM and passed a pair of police officers.

They deduced that I was really drunk and asked me where I was going.

I told them I was going home. They told me to make sure that I do.

When I got to the corner I ran into a friend I hadn't seen in a long time.

We engaged in one of those whatcha-been-up-to conversations.

It lasted about 15-20 minutes. Then I crossed the street for home.

The next thing I know a cop car stopped me in the middle of the street!

It was the same two cops that told me to go home a bit earlier.

They were not happy that I had lied to them. (Even tho I hadn't.)

I said, "No. A friend stopped me. I am heading home, I swear."

They proceeded to handcuff me and put me in their car.

I pleaded, "Seriously, I live 3 blocks away. I was truly heading home."

One replied, "Well, now your heading to jail."

It was pointless to argue so I accepted it and there you have it.

I spent the night in jail. For walking home drunk. At 9PM.

It wasn't so bad. It was strange - but not so bad.

And I have nothing bad to say about the police officers either.

I mean, they could have just taken me home. But whatever.

Well, what I didn't realize is that I was really actually arrested.

I thought I was thrown in the drunk tank to sleep it off.

But no. I needed to appear in court. For walking home drunk.

When I appeared before the judge she said,

"This is such a waste of my time. I can't even fine you for this."

She told me to do 12 AA meetings and it would be dismissed.

I thanked her and she replied, "See you in 2 months."

A couple of weeks later I attended an AA meeting.

It was held in a bar. I kid you not.

A bar that had Jack Daniels displayed all over the place.

After the meeting I went to get my court paper signed...

The guy asked me, "Do you really want to be here?"

I said truthfully, "No."

As he signed he said, "Then forge the rest. They won't know."

I scrunched up my face so he explained, "We're anonymous."

I calculated his words and mumbled, "Oh. Yea."

So the night before my follow-up court appearance...

I took my AA sheet to happy hour and had all my friends sign it.

I may have even spilled a little Jager on it.

The next day I got off - for walking home drunk.

Halloween Flashback: 2002

As Thurston Howell III from Gilligan's Island.

With a cut-out photo of Lovely - on-a-stick.

It was epic.

A Halloween Memory

My costume for Halloween 2002 was Thurston Howell III from Gilligan's Island. Complete with Lovey, on-a-stick wrapped in a boa. It was easily one of my best Halloween efforts.

This morning I changed my profile photo on Facebook to a photo from that night. It got me thinking about Halloween's past. One in particular sprang to mind. So if you'll indulge me - allow me to take you back to October 1975...

In early '73 my father uprooted the family from a pleasant life in Northern California to try something vastly different in the Deep South. For the next couple of years we bounced around and pocked the map rather efficiently before landing in Atlanta.

Honestly the only thing I got out of Atlanta was my obsession with Olivia Newton-John. But that was bound to happen anywhere.

After about six or so months in Atlanta there was another major upheaval. This time we were heading to the new promised land - San Diego. And we were doing it on the cheap in a small U-Haul. My sister and I were allowed 2 boxes each.

Trying to whittle your life down to two boxes - even at 9 years-old - is pretty tough. I had recently began collecting empty cans - beer and soda. I had them prominently displayed on my window sill and for some dumb reason I was attached to them. So, that was most of box 1. You should have heard the hell I caught in San Diego when I was setting them out... 

Anyway, Halloween found us somewhere in Texas. That morning my little sister Nancy began grumbling about it being Halloween. Just the previous year she and I had been characters from a Saturday morning show called Lidsville. I was Charles Nelson Rielly's Hoodoo (shut up) and Nancy was his sidekick Weenie the Genie. We rocked.

I'm not sure Nancy missed dressing up as much as she wanted some damn candy!

As early evening came upon us my dad pulled off the highway in some random small Texas town. He drove around until we found a store and my mother went in and bought a couple of cheap masks. Then we drove a little further until we found a street humming with trick-or treaters.

We were given about 45 minutes and as Nancy and I went from house-to-house we began to fill up our little sacks. Then as Nancy and I headed back to the car we were approached by 3 or 4 older boys. They circled us. And before we knew it we'd been knocked to the ground in a tug-of-war for our bags of candy.

My bag was gone in a split second. But Nancy put up a much better fight. She may have been small but she was a spitfire and ain't nobody gonna get her sack of candy. She was so proud of herself for fending them off - whatever.

When we returned to the car my mom inspected us for injury and after she determined that we were fine my dad drove back to the store and they bought me a few candy bars.

And Nancy gave me her Smarties.

Now Who's Stupid?

Early yesterday evening I was rushing down the street to get to happy hour. There was a refreshing beer and sassy banter waiting for me. And more importantly my fans hadn't seen me in a few days.

While I waited for a stoplight to change a homeless-ish guy with a big open sore on his upper lip asked me, "Hey, you wanna here a joke?"

I politely denied him confessing that, "I'm in a hurry."

He ribbed me a little, "Who the hell doesn't have time for a joke?"

Ah, logic. I said with a bit of 'do-it-quickly' in my voice, "You're right. Go on ahead - tell your joke."

He smiled and started, "What's is the only thing that Locks of Love and gay men agree on?"

I was a bit confused and asked, "Hold up, what is Locks of Love?"

He replied, "Some hair charity wig shit."

I said, "Oh." Then I continued, "I don't know, what do they agree on?"

Brace yourself, this is his punchline, "Neither will accept anything under 8 inches."

I smiled and said, "That was the joke I missed the light for?"

He said, "You know that was funny."

I smirked, "You are sooooooo stooooooopid."

He pointed at me and replied playfully, "I see you laughing. I know you're gonna go tell that joke later."

I was in fact laughing - but at me... calling him stupid. Hello.

Cut to 30 minutes later and I'm goofing around with my fans beer firmly gripped in my hand when all of a sudden the lame joke teller/open sore hoster walked in looking to see if anyone would share a game of pool. There were no takers so he bounced - but not before some fuss about his shoes. I dunno know what that was about, it was a Brian thing.

Anyway, after he left I told everyone that he had just stopped me on the street to tell me a stupid joke. Curiosity seized Scott who just had to know, "What was the joke?"

I proceeded to tell it and after the punchline flat-lined I said, "I told him he was stupid." Then I continued sheepishly with a confession, "Then he told me that I'd be telling that joke later."

Scott found a satisfying victory in this and wagged his finger at me, "He was right! You just did! Now who's stupid?"

Hands

The first thing I thought about when I woke was a story from last night.

At happy hour last night I randomly spouted,

"Hey you guys, what ever happened to Bree Walker?"

This prompted a friend to tell a childhood story about his Aunt Wanda.

It was a great laugher... As follows:

***

One summer when I was a kid I went to Kentucky to visit family.

Well, my Aunt Wanda had deformed hands like Bree Walker.

This one time Aunt Wanda made some really huge biscuits.

I was used to regular-sized ones and being 8 I was confused.

So I asked her, "Hey Aunt Wanda, why are your biscuits so big?"

She replied in her thick southern drawl, "Cuz my hands is fucked up."

Me, Jesus and the Homeless Guy

The other day I went to catch the the bus on the Sunset Strip.

It was a sunny day and I wanted to stand in the shade of the stops shelter.

A homeless guy foiled my plan as his big ol' nap hogged the whole area.

Actually, I almost tripped over him. So did Jesus.

I texted my friend Joe about these 'only me' events.

Chuck (with pic)s: So Jesus and I almost tripped over this homeless guy.

Joe: Did Jesus stop to help him? You know, cuz that's what HE does.

Chuck: No, he just did this overly surprised sitcom-y shoulder shrug thing.

***Seriously, it should have been accompanied with a rim-shot.***

Joe: That's not very Christ-like.

Chuck: He was in a hurry to get to the farmers market across the street.

I sent him a pic of the market and captioned it with a biblical reference.

Chuck: Maybe he was late for his meeting with the bread guy.

***

As the bus arrived the homeless guy stirred and grumbled at the noise.

I pulled out a dollar and handed it to him. He did not thank me.

Totally understandable - waking from naps is a total bitch for me too.

This is Shadow

This is Shadow. I see her out and about once or twice a week.

Her owner is a sweet lady in her 50's. English might be her 3rd language.

I have always loved when foreigners pick up slang. Well...

Shadow does not like people and always tries to hide behind her owner.

And every single time her owner reminds me thru a staccato'd accent,

"She is a-fraid of her own sha-dow."

I wait for it and it never fails to produce a warm and genuine smile.

I hope Shadow never takes to liking me.

It's a simple pleasure I am not yet ready to give up. Ya know?

My Date with the Space Shuttle

A friend invited me to the Observatory for the fly-over.

I said no. I had commitments. And truthfully - I wasn't really interested.

As the day progressed the news was filled with the Endeavor's air tour of LA.

I was a little bummed I wasn't going to see history fly around my city.

Then as I was walking down the street I looked up and...

It was bearing down on me. I must admit -it was pretty dang AWESOME.

You Never Looked So Good or, Splat - Part Two

Last week I ran into Richard Simmons on the Sunset Strip.

He was in a sparkle sequin-studded cut-out tank on a Thursday afternoon!

He was also rocking wings and had an arm akimbo in deep conversation.

He did take a moment to say 'hi' after I took this secret picture.

I quickly added him to my 'Bitch Stole My Look' album on the Facebook.

It was well commented on including one from Edwin,

"You could never look so good."

***

Tho I may be goofing on him a bit here I happen to love this man.

He has done great things for the overweight and obese community.

That and about 25 years ago he once paid me a compliment.

He was standing behind me at Tower Records with a armload of CD's.

When I turned to see who was making the commotion behind me...

He lit up at the sight of my young face and exclaimed,

"My goodness, those are the best set of blue eyes I've ever seen!"

***

Splat.