Manhattan Offender

So clever

From dictionary.com:

clev·er     /ˈklɛvər/ Pronunciation Key - Show Spelled Pronunciation[klev-er] Pronunciation Key - Show IPA Pronunciation –adjective,  -er, -est.

1.	mentally bright; having sharp or quick intelligence; able.

2.	superficially skillful, witty, or original in character or construction; facile: It was an amusing, clever play, but of no lasting value.

3.	showing inventiveness or originality; ingenious: His clever device was the first to solve the problem.

4.	adroit with the hands or body; dexterous or nimble.

I've just managed to delete every message in my inbox, over 1000 of them, by hitting the wrong button at the wrong time.

Clever is not the way I'm feeling.

Coney Island protesters rock city hall (with hotness)

Just stumbled upon a protest against the mall-ification of Coney Island.  Literally.  Who knew protesters were so hot?

One stop shopping for the gays.

Almost a year after the fact, the paperwork is at last done.  The fact that the same woman that issued the partnership in 2003 ended it in 2007 made everything feel very full circle.  The fact that the person behind me was doing the same paperwork, but after having his ex put a knife to his heart made me feel a bit bourgeois.  In a good way.

Past, Over: Porn again

If it's Thursday, it's Past, Over time at Gawker.  This week the topic is a dude.  Just one dude that I used to see almost every day in the East Village.  And although we were not friends, we did chat on occasion.  He's gone now, as are most of my favorite haunts of East Village past, but he's someone that anyone there in the nineties will be likely to remember.  For a hint to the this week's topic, click below.  A link to the post will go up once it is up is here.

MOre:  What's wrong with this picture? 

MO Movies: Blades of Glory

Movie:  Blades of Glory 
Cast:  Will Farrell, Jon Heder, Amy Poehler, Amy Poehler's husband
Circumstance:  Preview Screening
Accompaniment:  A second date.  Ran into some other folks also attending.
Overall review: Too soon after the NASCAR movie (which although I didn't see, seems very much like this one).  Also, nowhere near gay enough.
Favorite moment:  The skating finale is fun and has some nice effects and stunts.  Also, the chase scene between Farrell and Mr. Poehler.
Internal dialog:  "Wow, John Heder really has milked out that Napoleon Dynamite thing out.  I mean, he's pretty one-note in my view, so he's kind of like the Roseanne Barr of this sort of thing, just playing the same character over and over.  I guess it's good that he started it on the big screen, but the guy has WB CW sitcom written all over him.  Or maybe Fox.  Because he's typical of that kind of actor that the baby-boomers controlling Hollywood are able to pick out and say, "Oh, he's very representative of that generation," which he may or may not be.  But an actor he's not."   
Laugh:  Yeah, totally.  I love gross-out humor, even if it's has inklings of homophobia.  Doesn't mean it's good or bad, but I got my chuckles on.
Cry:  Um, no.
Accompaniment's opinion: Unsure.  It's like, sometimes you're out with someone and wondering if they're trying to please you or if you just agree on a lot.  Assuming that we are of similar mindsets, then I'd say his opinion was similar.
Generally:  What's up with ice skating and being so freaking closeted?  I don't get it.

MOTV: Sizzly fizzly fo’ shizzly

It’s so exciting that Pussycat Dolls Present: The Search for the Next Doll Buttaface Dogs Present:  The Search for the Next Dog is still on the air.  Just to mix things up a little, this week a red-haired Pussycat Doll visits the contestants, says something and then leaves which might be foreshortening.  There was never a red-head visiting before.  Then, just when you thing you know what is going to happen, Robin decides to divide the girls into two groups.  This is amazing because there are seven girls.  Do you know what seven divided by two is?  Exactly.  Nobody does.

New Feature: Wonder Woman Wednesdays

Wifebeater Wednesdays was, well, worrisome.  Despite soliciting models from social networking sites, no one wanted to bite, although many replied thinking my offer was to take their pictures.  As in come to their house and take their picture.  Yikes.  So stick a fork in it; it's dead.

Instead, something wholesome.  Or is it?  Stay tuned for a weekly aspect of a heroine that tends to be universally loved by the gays, misunderstood by creators, and ignored by most.

To start, just the iconic image of Lynda Carter.  (Which clicks up huge, by the way.)

More to come.

Test Time Tuesday: Looka lika lady

You Are 16% Lady

You're a pretty crass, and even a bit crude on occasion. Manners don't matter to you, but they sure matter to those around you.

Are You A Lady?

My Black Party

There is some sort of assumption that I've been here before, but then a self-correction that I have not.  And even having attended, there is a jealousy that my mileage probably varied from that of others.  Why that is will be explained later.

So what to actually write about?

Logistics.  The alarm was set for five in the morning, but somehow my body didn't make it there until seven or so.  And within two minutes someone had their hand on my ass, but just to say hello.  Knowing that my visit was going to be different than most I chose to go it alone.  Seeing friends there was good enough for me.  Not having been to Roseland since that time I fainted at Broadway Bares (a story that should be told sometime) the first order of business was to figure out the layout.  Dance floor, balcony, chill area, um, dark area.  Got it.

State of mind.  That recent illness has caused all sorts of new cleanliness obsessions and hyperhypochondria.  So there in a long sleeve black thermal, dancing was I.  For fifteen minutes, then that was off and through the belt loops.  But there could be no release or relaxation because something was going to happen at ten.  More on that later.

Music.  Yes, there was music, by the very competent Tony Moran during my tenure.  Granted my personal taste would have seen some Ratatat or some Hot Chip up in there, but as the "gay dance genre" goes, Moran is pretty awesome.  And the legs and the hips and shoulders were able to get into Moran's motion.   And soon enough my form was amongst the (2000?) others on the floor.

Decor.  Gigantic lighting system.  And it turns out that the "Holywar" theme was a play off of the Nascar theme, something I had not figured out until arriving.  The purpose of the protective carpeting eludes me as it bunches up and is trippy in the wrong way.

Dudes.  Small dudes, big dudes, lady-dudes, dudely dudes, pretty dudes, ugly dudes, dancing and diddling and dilating dudes.  While I arrived alone, by nine there was one in particular that could dance and move in the same manner, and was a recent arrival like myself (thus, in my mind, clean), and was of the same mental state and was the obvs choice of fulfilling the cliche of making out on the dance floor for half an hour or so with full knowledge that at 9:50 I would just become a new phone number.

Overall.  Great fun, for my limited time there.

So what's this 10:00 'thing' to which you are ungracefully alluding?  That's the time that a (really awesome) videographer met me to interview people as they were leaving the party.  We were able to find boys, girls, men, women, trannies, bears, twinks and people of every ethnicity to share their experience with us and tell awesome stories.  It's a great little celebration of the awesome diversity of crowds.  The results of this will be revealed when they are up later today (on other sites) on Gawker and Fleshbot (same video, different editorial).

Slave of New York

Has it really been six months since I left the city limits of New York?  No, it's been nine.  Nine months of urban living.  Nine months without any vacation time taken, except for my birthday, as people should never have to work on their birthdays.

Enough.  I'm going on a cruise.