Monday, July 27, 2009


Today's been kinda shitty. Out of nowhere this afternoon, a wave of anxiety hit and I've been jonesing for a Xanax since. I think I'll have one in a few minutes.

But something just happened to me that made me entire day.

I was standing in the 15 items or less line at Ralphs. It was taking forever and one of the things I've learned about anxiety is that for some reason, it hates standing in lines. I was on the verge of bailing of my three items when I turned left to get out of line and saw the guy behind me. He was black, mid-20s, baggy basketball shorts and an Ed Hardy t-shirt. Then I saw what he was purchasing.

Behind the stick that separates people's food was a large package of tampons. And nothing else.

Poor guy. At that moment I knew I had to stay in line because whatever fucked up shit my mind was putting me through at that moment was nothing compared to what he was dealing with.

Saturday, July 25, 2009


I'm sick and what better way to pretend like I'm productive than to update photos and semi-silly captions to my blog?

Last night it was the day trip to Carpinteria. Today it's more pictures of gay pride than you'd ever want to see.

The parade takes place a few hundred yards from my apartment, so I have to go. This year (and last year) the girlfriend couldn't make it, so I went with my friend John, who is gay. He showed up wearing a white V-neck shirt, which is exactly what I was wearing. I asked my girlfriend if I should change and she said no one would even notice. Continue reading to find out if someone noticed or not.

This is from the porch of the house John takes me to every year. The dude's super rich and has an open bar and breakfast buffet. This year he actually had someone at the door asking who you knew. John said the right name and we were in, but we got there so late all the booze was gone. So we left. Anyway, we're standing on the porch when two guys John knew started talking to him. One of them looked at me and asked John, "is this your partner?" We laughed and John said no. Then he replied, "oh. Well, you're wearing the same shirt..."

This (and the next four) show how many people come out (no pun intended) for the parade. And this is just a very tiny sliver of the route.

Dykes on Bikes always begin the parade because if there's one thing you don't do, it's say no to a lesbian. Especially a biker lesbian.

The house with the big party.

"Oh my god! He walked right past me!" Really doe, this is Gavin Newson, San Francisco mayor and California gubernatorial candidate. Homebody has to win because I've never seen someone who radiates politician like this guy. He's got that smooth character that comes off as genuine but probably isn't. In his defense, he's got great hair and he supports the gays. I don't vote, but I think it's awesome that he's not only in favor of gay rights, but he's marching in a parade. Sure, it's a political move, but even in 2009, it's not a popular one.

Speaking of politicians, here are two people responsible for making Long Beach a great place to live: Robert Garcia and Suja Lowenthal. PS Sarcasm doesn't come across on the Internet.

That takes talent.

These were two of the three DJs who came on after Howard Stern when he was on terrestrial radio. So of course I yelled "Baby Booey" at them from across the street. After four shouts, they looked around and found me waving my arms at them. They saw me, laughed, looked a bit uncomfortable and turned away. John didn't know what I was doing. Neither did the 300 people standing near me. But these radio people knew and they knew I knew and knowing is half the battle.

The pigs were there and I booed them. I take that back. I didn't just boo. I raised my hands above my head and gave them two thumbs down while sticking out my tongue. John grabbed me by my shirt and said, "ohmygawd. Will you knock it off?" I replied, "They might be gay, but they're still pigs." Then he booed them too.

Gay or not, hippies are still irritating.

I'm willing to bet my left pinkie that she was born with a vagina.

John said, "ohmygawd. I'm afraid of them."

That's one helluva sun burn. And a massive overhanging gut.

His dad is very proud of him.


Not after drinking all the alcohol in the state of California, hopping to Nevada and drinking all their booze, then jumping on a plane to Germany and downing all their beer would I be fooled into thinking this was a real chick.

I gotta be honest. This girl was standing directly across from me for a few hours. From my side of the street, she looked gorgeous and I had to take a pervy shot. I swear I'm not that guy, but when there are 30,000 gay dudes around you, tell me you don't zone in on the lone hot chick within your line of vision.

"Right to reject religion." Amen.

Seriously, straight guys, there are like four straight women at this event and each one is a ten. All you have to do is deal with fat dudes in blonde wigs and buff dudes with better bodies than your fat ass will ever have rockin' a mermaid costume.

Pervy pic of a nice ass.

Damn you Johnny Depp and your mainstreaming of pirates.

Back story: This is NOT a cock shot. Rather, that plant just fell off the float and I was taking a picture of the hilarity. That's my story and I'm sticking with it.

I snapped this pic because I've never seen so many people in/on such a tiny car before. It's a two-seater, but the marketing team might want to check out this picture and re-tool their image. There are no fewer than five people riding in this car.

This guy was...You see he kept...And then my friend...fuck...I can't even come up with a joke. Make your own.

This disco car is in the parade every year. Or at least for the past five years. That's how long I've been going.

OK, so maybe I busted some balls here, but in all seriousness, I love the gays and the gay pride parade. It's really an uplifting feeling to see lots of people who get shit on every day just be who they are in the public. And I'd be lying if I said I didn't get goosebumps whenever the friends and family of gay people walk past.

There are plenty of straight spectators, which I think is nice. We need to show our support for people being themselves and if that entails watching what is easily the best annual event in Long Beach, I'll gladly participate every year.

Friday, July 24, 2009


The ol' ball and chain and I headed to Carpinteria a few months ago. I've been lazy and didn't get around to posting these til now. But that probably won't matter by the time you read this.

Carpinteria's a great day trip for Angelenos. It's about an hour and a half away and is amazingly quiet. There's even a restaurant with plenty of vegan options. What's not to love?

We began our day on Linden, which I suppose would be considered downtown if there had been more than 12 people walking the streets. Traffic moves slow and the people who are out are very friendly.

After a few hours of window shopping at a handful of antique stores run by grandmas, we headed to a secluded portion of the bluffs where there's a nice hiking trail and supposedly a killer view of seals. But we're dumb and couldn't find any. The hike was still nice.

If you're in the LA or Santa Barbara area and have a day to kill, hit Carpinteria and tell 'em Jim Hall sent ya. They'll just look at you funny, but getting weird vibes from strangers can be entertaining in a pinch.

The Worker Bee Cafe. I am too afraid to crack a joke about this one for fear that some commie will behead me in my sleep.

The Chamomile Cafe. Plenty of vegan food.

The sign in the window at the Chamomile Cafe. But don't let that fool you. There are some vegan options for breakfast and lunch and plenty of vegan baked goods.

Looking down Linden toward the Pacific Ocean.

Chinatown? What Chinatown? I wish I could say I was trying to get this blonde teenager's ass in my shot, but I wasn't. But it sure makes the picture a helluva lot better, don't it?

Linden looking toward the Santa Ynez Mountains.

Linden has this killer old timey barbershop. Black and white checkered tile and really old sinks. But they were closed.

Carp (that's local slang, ya dig?) has lots of seals, hence the statue. It's located near a grocery store and a makeshift visitor's center comprised of a few bluehairs and a guy who's probably gay sitting on the sidewalk. Pushy lil fuckers too. They wouldn't let us leave until we signed some mailing list.

No explanation needed.

The train drops off passengers about 300 yards from the water and 200 from a taco stand. You can't see that from this picture, but they're there.

Each palm tree on Linden (trust me, there are plenty of them) is dedicated to someone. I wonder if I could get this when I die. Someone look into that for me, will ya?

A plaque of some sort. In journalism school, they taught us never to use lame photos like these, yet it's all I ever take pictures of. Go figure.

Cool hiking area where you're lucky if you pass three people in an hour.

The train runs right through the hiking area. Pretty cool. This shot almost makes me look like I know what I'm doing with a camera.


My nose is so freakin' red right now I could host a children's television program. I've gone through one entire box of tissues and the second one is headed rapidly toward a quick and painless death. The weather was nice and I wanted to go for a run, but I can't be more than five feet from a tissue.

And to make matters worse, when I was in the backyard, I got stung by a bee. First time ever. I was catching some rays, a mere moment from falling asleep, when something penetrated the middle of my left hamstring. I wondered what it was, reached down and came up with a bee in my hand. Fucker. The stinging was like nothing I'd ever felt before. In some ways, I now understand the female side of sexual intercourse.


...then it's updates you'll get. I'm fucking drunk. I sang karaoke for the first time in a long time and it was fun. First up was "What's My Name" by Snoop. Then "Gin and Juice." Then "Baby Got Back." Booyah!!!!!!!

Sometimes shit sucks. Then I get drunk and it doesn't suck anymore. I really dig this.

Tuesday, July 21, 2009


I never thought anyone read this stupid blog, but I've had a few people inquire about my lack of updates lately, which leads me to believe that some of you actually care. For my loyal readers, here's a little news.

It's 10:03 p.m. on a Tuesday night. I'm wine drunk. Too much shit's in my head and I had to run from it. Story of my life. I can't deal so I bail. I'm making dinner so I can't type too much, but this is what's going on.

I've been hiding from all forms of writing, including this blog. I went a little crazy a few months ago and now I'm doing anything and everything that has nothing to do with words. I haven't written in my journal for a while, no blog posts, no money for writing, no nothing. In its place I've been running, hitting the gym and playing basketball. If only that could be my entire life.

Part of me wants to tell the entire story and the other part, the part that has dominated the majority of my life, is telling me to retreat, to keep my shit to myself. No one cares and I'm not all that comfortable revealing just how fucked up I am.

Maybe more later. Maybe not.

Monday, July 13, 2009


Here are links to two stories from recent issues of the District. Yes, they are both about booze.

This first one is about the dollar beers at Fantasy Castle. My friends say it makes me sound gay. You decide.

This second one, which ironically mentions one of my gay friends, is about the white Sangria at Sevilla. It rules.