This review on men’s fragrances is hysterical! I laughed out-loud. Thanks Choire! Speaking of gay, have you noticed that the definition of the word, “gay” is morphing? Yes, yes it is. Before, if you called someone “gay,” especially on the east coast, it was synonymous with “stupid,” “dorky,” etc. But recently, I am seeing “gay” used as a complimentary word. For example, the “gayest heterosexual.” My straight male friends take it as the highest compliment when others think they are gay (in the homosexual sense). Why? Because now, being gay is associated with having style, looking good, feeling good, being outrageous and free, and being surrounded by that rare breed of women who are not only beautiful, but FUN. See what I mean? You KNOW it’s true.
Soon, you’ll hear, “Hey Bob! Looking mighty gay today, have you lost weight?” And the ladies will say, “Wow, have you seen Albert? How gay is he, right? YUMMY!” Trust me, you’ll see.
Alright, what do we have here? Incompetence in the office, check. Hot tea, check. An attitude that will either have me being worshipped or murdered by the end of the day… CHEEYECK. Last night I didn’t make it to the Ould Sod (pout), but I did get out and about. M.s. and I were both in a funky mood (bound to happen every now and then), just tired and stressed about our own little things going on in our own little minds.
I wasn’t expecting the art exhibit to have poetry as well! We arrived at Balboa Park, got an unreal perfect parking spot right outside the museum, and went in to find my father among several people, listening to a speaker introduce the emcee for the evening. Some poetry was thought-provoking, the art was interesting, some poetry hurt my head to listen to, but overall, it was a nice, relaxing, inspirational way to start out the evening. I could feel my body letting go of tension, I could sense myself relaxing and becoming carefree.
We left after Ted’s performance, and went to dinner. I felt spacey, almost meditative, not “all there,” somewhere in a preoccupation that I couldn’t place. M.s. snapped me out of my reverie with stimulating questions about the world and the decrease in attention to quality over the last century. Brain cells given a jump start, I was suddenly more alert. By the time we got home, tired and full – of Thai food, of thoughts for what we had to accomplish before the week was through – we decided the Ould Sod wasn’t in the cards for the evening.
I passed out snoring before he made it into the bedroom. I mean, breathing in a sexy way, of course… heh, heh. I don’t even want to know if I was drooling.
So that was yesterday, but what about today? Tonight, a new club atmosphere, and the birthday boy BETTER fucking be there, or else. You don’t want to know what “or else” means. It promises to be a fun time, with friends I haven’t seen in awhile (ain’t that the way it always happens?). Oh! And hair by Ronaldo first (for M.s., of course, ooh la funky). My father almost tricked me into telling him where I’m taking him on Friday night. NO! I will resist the urge to spill the beans! But tomorrow, I’ll give some hints. I’m not made of stone, you know. I can tell you this, though: it will be a GAY affair!