Four Conditions Of Society.

Yeah, that, well, the Yankees gave their all against the Mets and could have done a little better, but I'm sure they had fun nonetheless. Much more fun than sitting in the sweltering 611 waiting for drugged out C&C wearing hostesses to get a clue. And a crepe. And to place it on our table.

It was 90 degrees out this weekend, and with Pride Weekend in full effect, sun burn was in. I've seen quite enough navels for the time being. I watched Brokback Mountain on Bravo with Anonymous D. They seriously cut out 3 seconds of Jake and Heith wrasslin' in a tent because we have no idea. But when it came time for Jake to ravage some tittied up thing in the back of a Dodge no edits were necessary. And that really is what Pride is all about. Bravo, and quality programming. Like America's Next Top Media Whore This, and America's Next Top Media Slut That. They've got it all, edited for conent, and never never too gay.

Send In The Clowns.

Pride weekend and my ass is just killing me. No seriously. I was standing up at my bus stop yesterday morning, and I was standing, and sitting, reading, and all that stuff that I'm suppose to do before my bus comes, but it never comes. So I have to jet, I mean speed walk from 15th and Republian to 1st and Marion. A 45 minute walk in anyone's book, but I did it in just over a half hour. I got out of bed this morning, and my ass, legs, feet, and body generally are barking. I'm gonna put in some Barbara Cook. Then maybe some Julie Andrews, get my hair did, buy a new pair of britches, and then retire in the garden. Tomorrow the manhunt begins. You all celebrate Pride in your own way, but for God's sake keep your clothes off.
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I have no comment on the Subway Series at this time. Although like most things I admire it would undoubtedly look better in the nude.

I'll Tell You Where It Goes.

Sunday brunch at IHOP is being pushed aside so that we may watch this mornings' Yankee game against the Reds. Yesterday's game saw the girls regress into a gaggle of bickering brats, and I'm afraid today's game warrants my first attentions.


I guess it probably started in the second inning when Georgie struck out with bases loaded. And he can be a huge sourpuss when things don't go his way. This is when I decided to make myself scarce, and I went to get my shirts pressed, bought a marketing basket, a new butter dish, and Cheez-Its were on special. Big mistake.


Derek shares a moment with Kenny.


RoRo spends a moment with Kenny. That's how it is.


Derek glares at the pitcher after striking out with two men on (which under normal circumstances is really hard to do) and I just think he looks like a kitty that has just lost her tuna. Growl!


And he actually lowers himself into a dispute with the home plate umpire.


And Michael of all people (who does the NYT crossword puzzle as well) has to get up all in that piss and make a spectacle of himself. Utterly beneath his dignity. And Josie isn't helping matters.

Yo La Tengo was on the crossword puzzle yesterday. Yesterday's puzzle was easy peasy. I hope today's is harder. I'll be doing it while I watch these nasty little bitches remember how to play baseball like gentlemen. Which should be facinating for me.

Established As A Precedent.

All my usual coffee joints were jam packed yesterday morning, and I was a little miffed to say the least. I walked around a block before I decided to walk a few more blocks and check out this place. People's Republic of Koffee (notice the "k") is located on 12th next to my favorite convenient store and a tattoo parlor I simply would never have time for. I ordered my usual iced Americano, and I noticed the sign, Americano, and it was still far too early to even giggle. The girl behind me, who btw is testament to the fact that the goth movement is alive and well in Seattle, ordered an "Iced Dictator", and then it struck me, could all the drinks here have special clever names? You know like Otter Pops or something. I wasn't sure, but I didn't stick around to find out. They serve Inteligentsia coffee which isn't really bad, but it's hardly a standout on the hill.

The fun didn't end there. Anonymous D and I went down to the Freak Show (aka Farmers Market) and we were scarcely disappointed. On the way we ran into the babbling white haired uber-liberal that will talk your ear off about tree bark if you give him the chance. At the entrance some tweaker was yelling at a lady in a car as she drove off, and then he kicked the car, but hardly in a menacing way. I noticed all the rock show tee shirts on display, Built to Spill, Broken Social Scene, Joan of Arc, and will someone please tell me when wearing a Joan of Arc tee shirt became the thing to do? All mine are in storage in Idaho or somewhere insane, and I'd like to know if I should dig them out. I bought some baby bok choy at the market, and while I was staring off in the distance one of the guys asked me if I was confused. I thought to myself "you really have no idea", but I just pointed at some basil, and asked him what it was.

On the way back we stopped at a lovely garage sale where I bought the most adorable English tin. It's for candies. I'm going to fill it with jellies, and creams and all the usual fineries. I should get a lot of use out of it with all the entertaining I do.
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Not sure if you noticed, but over the weekend the Yankees swept the Astros culminating in an embarrassing 13-0 victory. I thought it was a tad excessive, but it is Texas, and you really have to take your hat off to the girls for giving the people of that sorry state something to do besides watch cars drive around in circles. Really fast. Over and over again. All day long. In lawn chairs.

I think today is a day for a light colored cardigan.

Ground Rule Double.

I read this book over the weekend and Pony was right. I couldn't put the steamy salacious thing down. Even when they talked about their ginegine's I just couldn't look away. I saw the movie with Compadre a few months ago so understandably I had low expectations, but I found a used copy in shop up the street so I decided to give it a whirl. And I'm glad I did. It was a perfect time to read the tome coming off the season finale of The Tudors which was, by the way, frakin awesome.

I know that some people have made nasty comments about the historical accuracy of the book and blah blah, but having a great affinity for English history myself, and having only brushed the surface in my modest readings I could certainly appreciate the amount of research and work that went into this book, and the result was quite nice. I would say breathtaking, but I'm afraid that might sound twee. In any case, I liked it better than some transgressive shit about a hobo that pays black prostitutes to piss in his mouth.
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The girls still played with their balls while I was busy reading, and playing with Compadre. Too much to cover in this humble post, but the general contours are as follows: Jason is back to form, Georgie is seriously back in business, pitching is effective, Derek is seriously rocking a delicious new fade, and still continues to rock non-stop, and no, I have no idea what's in Joba's pocket.

Homosexual Stimulation.

Only human.