Bond and Hammer

Valerie Leon

As anyone who knows me knows, I always had a thing for obscure starlets from the 50s through the 70s. Nowhere could you find more obscure starlets than in the James Bond and Hammer Studios films, particularly when Bond films were more British as opposed to "global."

Anyway, there's a site I found tonight that I like that actually aggregates all of the Bond girls, not just the leads. But the sitemaster does lose a point or two for leaving Julie Ege out of "On Her Majesty's Secret Service."

I'm also surprised to find that a good deal of these women actually have their own sites, including Valerie Leon. Valerie, like Martine Beswicke, appeared in more than one Bond film as well as Hammer films.

Superstitious

Me

That is me. I have to take a narcotics test this week so I have thrown away (well, put aside) all of my vices (drugs) for the next few days.

As far as the job, it is all still up in the air. I was ambushed yesterday by coming in for an innocent meeting and then being lead to the CEO's office. Nobody told me that, I'm sure deliberately. I did fine. CEOs are people, too.

Anyway, I don't want to write too much about this here until this is finished. Everything is being handled very strangely. I got a "sort-of" offer. An offer with contingencies. It's a real buzz kill. I think I have about a 35% chance of getting this job depending on how thorough their vetting is. They will find things they will not like if they dig too deeply. I hate to be evasive but I am superstitious and will explain it all when it is over.

It is so ironic, though. It's the ideal job for me, a nice salary, and I have been so dissatisfied for so long yet I suspect it will not happen.

I went to see my Mom and Dad today and I told them all about it. My Dad was so cool. I thought he would say something judgmental like "You should never fabricate anything on your resume ever." But instead he was like: "Everyone does it. I did it 45 years ago and they called me on it and I said to them "would you have hired me otherwise?" And they said "No" and they kept me based on my performance." It was a good story not because he had a happy ending (because I do not expect that) but because I felt better hearing that he was feeling inadequate about certain things at one time and lied too. I love them a lot.

Anyway, I feel a bit emotionally drained from all this. I'm going to look for something fun to post...

Howard Stern vs. Les Moonves

Howard Stern

I love this fight. CBS is more or less suing Stern for $500,000,000 claiming damages because Stern promoted himself heading to Sirius while he was still on CBS. There's more to it than that, particularly if Stern had disclosed to CBS his bonus structure with Sirius whereas he would receive a sizable bonus if Sirius subscriptions increased by the time he got there.

It's so absurd because the FCC fines corporate radio and radio in turn warns and fines talent all the time. Any time CBS wanted Howard Stern silenced they could have pulled the plug.

What I love about this is that Stern had a press conference and personally attacked Moonves and said he was "incompetent" among other things. Moonves is the Chairman of "the tiffany network." He is just not accustomed to people speaking about him in this manner. He was clearly furious and his ego was rankled because he filed suit an hour after the press conference.

I can see why Howard has so many fans because he did what a lot of people fantasize about: He got on a platform and had the opportunity to say why his boss (or ex-boss) was bad at his job.

On another note, I think he looks like Victoria Gotti in the photo above.

Interview # I Have Lost Count

I am going on Monday. I have no idea what we are talking about. He said something about "discussing some issue." Issues = bad to me. However, I am being too literal as people always fuck up emails. I have no idea what to expect...All I know is I took a Lunesta and we'll see how that goes...G'nite

US Olympics Team

Chad Hedrick

So, guess what? They suck. They drink and make fools of themselves in front of the press. They stay out far too late at night. They act like a combo of aging frat boys and people who've never been away from home before. The phrase "ugly american" is making its way through Europe like it's 1957.

This is embarassing. Bode Miller? Hedrick and Davis? Johnny Weir? And on and on and on. What's with these people?

My prediction is that they are so Gen Y now (even if they are not) that they expect to be given medals and endorsements for just showing up.

They should all be grounded.

Grizzly Man

Treadwell and Friend

I caught up with "Grizzly Man" today and it is very good. The combination of the footage, Werner Herzog's narrration and Timothy Treadwell's ego (?) made it one fascinating movie. If you ever reminisce about movies you used to see high as a kid, this is a modern version of one of those movies. The ending is sick. Loved it.

Lisa Edelstein

Lisa E.

Lisa E. popped up in the Jean Harris biopic which kind of sucked/kind of was OK, the big revelation being that Hy Tarnower was hung like a horse.

Anyway, I love when Lisa E. turns up like she does in various movies and TV shows, she always adds a touch a Woody Allen-esque angst to the project.

I remember first reading about her in a 1986 New York Time Magazine profile when she And James St. James prowled the clubs and dubbed themselves celebutants. That's where the Lisa E. bit came in. My friend and I wanted to assasinate them and take their place at the clubs.

Famous People I Used to Know

Nicole Parker

It's funny, I got to thinking about Nicole Parker recently. I knew her from 1989-1992 when we both had the same part time job and I was good friends with one of her roommates. I always liked Nikki. She was very young when I first met her, and very innocent. She was the first person I ever had as a friend who was born in the 70s, she was a baby.

But she was always very focussed on her career. I remember seeing her once at a big house party and she was with this big dude who was all wrong for her. She was flirting with him like crazy and at one point I gave her this quizzical look (as in why him? you can't like him?) And she winked at me. It was all part of the plan.

She was exceptionally beautiful. Dark hair, fantastic honey skin, and amber eyes. But honestly I did not think she was "going to make it." But she had that perseverance. I remember seeing her in some cheesey thing about a girl band on FOX, and some theatre, and then the teen lesbian movie. Then she made "Boogie Nights" and it all took off. Now she's a big star, or at least a big black star. She was always a cool girl and I wish her well. I never saw her take a drink or a drug in all the time I knew her. Probably why she's so beautiful.

Home Improvements

Today I was really good and did all these home projects that I have been putting off. Like, I will not bore you, but my forced air grill covers are really ugly and cheap and the originals are long gone except for two rooms where they are painted over. They are all different sizes and some have built-in louvers that still work and some have no louvers and it is such a headache. I had some custom floor grills made out of necessity in November (as there would have been two holes in the floor) but they cost a fortune.

So today, I measured all of them and ordered 5 since my favorite home store, Rejuvenation, finally began carrying them.

I also finally dealt with this really complicated kitchen window insofar as taking a million measurements and ordering a window treatment.

I have been having a helluva time redoing my bathroom since every store in the world that sells Medicine Cabinets and Wall Cabinets that I like and can afford (Restoration Hardware, Pottery Barn, etc.) seems to be sold out indefinitely. There is such a hole in the market for items like that that cost around $200-$400. All of them are sold out! My only option is to buy something for double that I don't even like or buy something for under $100 which is crap and out of the question. So I guess I have to wait until "May 6th" which is the back order date. Stores must lose so much money this way.

The only thing I put off doing was cleaning the furnace's filter.

This morning I went to the gym for about 2 hours. As I have said before, Saturday is my "bonus" day at the gym so of course I do chest and biceps. The crowd there is still gruff and unfriendly and unneccessarily Alpha Male to me. But I catch them looking to see what I do. Fuck 'em, none of 'em even know how to lift, lol.

I saw one guy later on the stretching mats who I think is on the same team. He checked me out way too fast but I think all of these guys are so afraid of getting beaten up that they don't know how to cruise and I can't help it that they assume I'm some straight guido like everyone else. Anyway, it was his loss because I got a total hard on in my shorts and it was completely obvious. If someone is checking me out it turns me on and I get hard then they look more and I get harder. In Manhattan it usually meant a blow-job in the steam room. In Brooklyn it usually means I have a hard-on then it goes down by itself. Bummer.

Happy Endings

Bobby Cannavale


Short Jake or Tall Maggie?

I saw "Happy Endings" today. It wasn't great but was watchable and at some times even good.

I think Don Roos bit off more than he could chew. At times, the film resembled "The Opposite of Sex" almost too closely which was unfortunate as that was a superior film.

He seemed to be attempting to do one of those Many-People-Whose-Lives-All-Intersect movies that always seem to take place in LA. (Short Cuts, Magnolia, Crash.) Seriously, why do they all take place in LA?

Anyway, Maggie Gyllenhaal is really good in it. I like her and hopefully she will not become annoying like her brother. She has a really cool face, she looks exactly like people looked in the 20s and 30s.

Bobby Cannavale was also in it and I like him, too. I thought he was great in "The Station Agent" and in his tiny role on "Six Feet Under" and he got great notices in the revival of "Hurly, Burly" last year. I would totally fuck him.

Speaking of "Six Feet Under," the closing scenes on "Happy Endings" captioned what would happen to the characters 20 and 30 years down the line. Reminded me of the final "Six Feet Under."

Laura Dern plays her typical angry lesbian type role, literally in this case. I remember first seeing her in "Foxes" where she played this little trouble-maker. I loved "Foxes." It came out around the same time as "Little Darlings" and that was the more jovial film that all the kids my age liked but I gravitated towards the nihilism of "Foxes." That movie has the all time scariest "teen-party gone out of control" scene ever. Plus Cherie Curie from "The Runaways" was in it and she was a hot fuck-up. I remember she got picked up by some creepy couple in a car. I thought it was a man and a woman but my sophisticated (we were 12) friend Laura said it was really two men. She used some term to describe them that to this day I cannot remember.

But back to "Happy Endings." Peter Horton popped up in a tiny role and damn he got old. I remember he was like the "thinking girl's sex symbol" of the 80s on "Thirty-Something."

Maggie Gyllenhaal does a lot of singing in the movie and according to the Internet, it is her voice. I am skeptical as it is an awesome voice. Shocking even. She sings a couple of Billy Joel songs I haven't heard in 25 years ("Honesty" and "Just the Way You Are") as well as some other stuff that reminds me of Blondie's Debbie Harry ballads on "Parallel Lines" and "Eat to the Beat." There's a song called "Shayla" that this song in "Happy Endings" totally reminded me of.

Blondie was my first favorite band. I thought Debbie Harry was da bomb.

Is Jake Gyllenhaal really short? Looks it in this photo. So many guys in Hollywood are so short, it's amazing. Speaking of short, I read that hot US skier Jeremy Bloom is going out for the NFL. In the article it said he was measured at 5'9" and 173lbs but he's usally 185lbs. Damn. I like a short, dark-haired muscly guy.

Jean Harris

Jean Harris

I was reading some reviews of the HBO Jean Harris Bio-Pic airing tomorrow night and it got me reminiscing about 1980. I remember sitting at my kitchen table doing homework with some talk-radio station on when I first heard the news that Headmistress Harris had shot and killed The Scarsdale Diet Doc. I really didn't care all that much but I remember my sister and mother were riveted to that case. Must be something about a crime of passion in seemingly mild-mannered people.

My sister and mother used to talk on the phone for hours it seemed. My mother hates talking on the phone and later told me she was only doing it for Sheila. My sister got married far too young (22) and had two kids by 25. She was the perfect example of unrealized dreams. She always used to talk about opening a bookstore or an antique shop.

She was a lot older than me and when she was 20 she used to take me to the supermarket. I was about 5 and I remember enjoying making believe that she was my mom. She was always a little silly and fun to be with. She had a job in the public library once and all the old ladies who worked there used to fawn over me.

She was very hot, too. She had this whole long dark hair Cher, Liza Minnelli eye makeup, mini-skirts and thigh high black leather boot thing going on. I remember she and her friend Eve asking me once which was better, Eve's green eye shadow or Sheila's blue. I think I liked Eve's. I always put art above nepotism.

Sheila had a lot of boyfriends and I know she only married Mike because she was pregnant. They went to Scotland on vacation and she came home knocked up. I don't know why she did not have an abortion.

Married life never worked for her and she was a horrible homemaker with a filthy house and she was an awful cook.

I think her only outlet at times was movies and she used to take me to a lot of them. Really bad ones of my choosing, just to get out of the house. She was more or less OK until her third pregnancy. By that time she had a part time job and life probably seemed a little better. But that third baby did her in. Too much work. Too crowded. Money tight.

And that last baby was a beauty. I had been close enough in age to the first one to be palsy with her. The second one I was ambivalent about. But the third I adored and I was the godfather.

But that child was a handful. When I was a junior in high school, Sheila became upset about a chemical company opening near her home. She had always been obsessed with 3 Mile Island and "Silkwood", etc. She became convinced that this company was going to poison her.

I distinctly remember the day a line was crossed. She went from being upset to being irrational to being crazy.

It all happened so fast. She lost the ability to function. Almost instantly, she was sent away for 30 day observation. Her daughter and son stayed with me and my mom and dad and her baby went to her sister-in-law's on Long Island. Only writing this now can I appreciate how terrifying this must have been for her three kids. And her husband worked and came to our house for dinner.

She ended up being away for about 9 months. I remember she was convinced that certain drugs (Elavil) had ruined her eye sight and no amount of testing could prove her right. It was complete paranoia.

Things were never the same when she came home. Her husband was weak. Sheila somehow blamed all her problems on my mother and father and, to a lesser extent; my brother and I were guilty by association.

We had been a very close family but after all of this it was in tatters. For a host of reasons, my family moved and after that we had no contact with Sheila and her family. It was too painful for my mother; I was too young and self-involved to care all that much, and my brother and father were somewhat ambivalent.

My sister is in her 50s now. I have not spoken to her since April of 1986. I saw her at my grandmother's funeral in 1991 but she did not speak to anyone. I have not seen my two nephews since 1986. My niece contacted me in 1991 and I took her to lunch but never heard from her again. I have since heard she had a child and is a single mother.

Sometimes I miss the family that could have been but I don't get bogged down in that and instead focus on the family that I have. My sister is a nice memory from when I was a little boy. One of the hardest things about this had been trying to explain to people who knew us why we behaved the way we behaved. Some people just would think "Oh, she's your sister/daughter so you should be moving heaven and earth to see her." But that's only in the movies. In reality, she was a 30+ year old woman with her own family and she made her own decisions and there was only so much beating up my Mom and Dad could take. Everyone's family is different. Enough said.

Pseudonyms and Diane

Going forward, I have decided to use pseudonyms for first names instead of initials. Initials are just too distracting. I was re-reading some post about my friend "N" and it was making me crazy. I kept wishing I had just written "Nora" or "Nan" instead.

So, without fanfare, let me complain about "Diane." I have known her for almost 18 years and she is without a doubt the most impossible person to get together with. Her schedule is so packed plus there is no one in the world she would rather be with than her husband so her life is dictated by his.

Anyway, the last time I saw her she stopped by my old apartment at 8AM on a Tuesday morning to make us eggs. I kid you not. She said something to me beforehand like "Oh, that's one of my things. I go to my friends' places and make them breakfast."

Suffice to say this was the first time I had heard about this in 18 years. Diane is a tad touched, one might say.

Well, I hate people in my kitchen using my Mauviel and the like but I succumbed to her wishes. It was a nice time, but brief (90 minutes) early and weird.

Anyway, we have been trading voice mails since I bought the house. I really want her to see it. (Email is impossible with her--I think she checks every two weeks.) The last VM she left me she said something about getting together somewhere central (midtown.) I was so annoyed. It's all about her seeing my house. So I left her a VM saying something like "I would really like to have you here to see the most significant achievement of my life, my house, yadayada." Even dense Diane would have to get that.

So, we finally spoke and the bottom line is that she can come over, but only on a Tuesday or a Friday. And days, mind you, not nights. I was so aggravated I told her I would check my schedule and get back to her.

She is a perfect example of someone so set in her ways she is inert. It makes me crazy. But I still love Diane. She's a lot older and gets the best pot I've ever had in my life. But Dude frowns upon my smoking grass. He thinks it would be like smoking cigarettes which I quit three years ago. But it's not like Marlboros at all. Whatever. I just want Diane to see this damned house.

Interview #?

I was supposed to talk with the job-guy today. He did not call but sent me an email at 5:30 mysteriously asking me if I could "come in on Monday." OK. I've met him and everyone else in the company. There was no mention of meeting someone else so I dunno, if I was an optimisitc person I would say that I smell an offer...But I'm pessimistic so I"ll hold off on that shopping spree.

Mucking Up an Ad Campaign

Nice Photos, Bad Copy

The Corcoran Group is a local New York City real estate brokerage. They are another example of an industry (real estate) that, like fitness, continues to only measure itself against its competitors instead of the greater business community.

The real estate business is so sleazy that it isn't hard to be the best among them. But this ad campaign is a perfect example of what is wrong with companies run by people who don't understand marketing.

First off, the campaign has so been done before. Barneys New York comes to mind, right down to the B&W photography and the font. So, OK, we can deal with that.

And they are great Tina Barney photos. But look at all that dumb copy. Miles and miles of dumb copy. What a mess. The image should be the message. I bet there were big arguments about this and I clearly the CEO won. But sister, nobody reads all that stuff and you just look insecure.

Anyway, they are looking very elitist which is also not the way they should be going.

They have some issues ahead of them. Barbara Higgins (nee Corcoran) stepped down as figurehead/CEO last October and I suppose this is their relaunch. Except, uh, they still are using her name. I used to think it was bad news to throw away a name that had some heritage, but hell, I think they should have done it. They had an opportunity to rename themselves and position themselves as not a real estate brokerage firm (with all that sleazy baggage) but as a professional services firm. They could have done something no one else is doing but they took the easy route and look so average.

The real estate business is fast changing. I predict that in 10 years companies like Corcoran will be very different and will be gasping for air.

It's funny, Corcoran is widely credited with embracing technology and forcing other brokerages to co-broke, yet now that the consumer has become empowered to use technology to buy and sell on their own and there are upstart online brokerages that charge a lower percentage, they are fighting it tooth and nail.

They are clearly trying to create added value to using a brokerage, it just remains to be seen what that value is.

Hollywood High School

These six all were either in the same class or within a year or two of one another at Hollywood High School in the late 50s. Can you imagine how insecure you would have felt around this student body?


Not Quite Classmates.com

The Pajama Game

Harry Connick

I used to see a lot of Broadway plays and musicals but I don't anymore because I got sick of paying $100 a ticket to sit in a hot theatre in seats designed for petite 19th century people filled with fat 21st century people --- all to watch something which probably sucks and then take 20 minutes to navigate out of a theatre to beat down old women to find a cab.

Ugh. I'm tired just reliving it.

Anyway, I do like to keep up with the reviews.

Harry Connick opened in "The Pajame Game" last night and --- true confession --- Harry gets me hot.

I worked with him once in about 1990 and he was so tall and so nice and so southern and so sexy and so talented and his skin, hair and voice were all like honey. He knew how to flirt with the boys and the girls to keep everyone happy.

Mmm. I'm horny just reliving it.

Ben Brantley raved about the show and I'm happy to read that Brantley can rave as well as he rants.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

February 24, 2006
Review: New ''Pajama Game'' Sizzles
By THE ASSOCIATED PRESS
Filed at 12:20 a.m. ET

NEW YORK (AP) -- Who knew there was so much sex appeal in a piece of musical theater that passed the half-century mark two years ago?

Well, check out the sizzle provided by the Roundabout Theatre Company's robust, thoroughly beguiling revival of ''The Pajama Game,'' which opened Thursday on Broadway.

Much of that oomph -- although not all -- is provided by the interaction between the musical's leading man and leading lady -- Harry Connick Jr. and Kelli O'Hara. As the show's two protagonists, they generate enough heat to warm the American Airlines Theatre into the next decade.

Credit director and choreographer Kathleen Marshall with putting the two of them together in this venerable 1954 musical, with its catchy score by Richard Adler and Jerry Ross and a serviceable yet sturdy book by George Abbott and Richard Bissell.

Back then, it was big hit, peppered with such hit songs as ''Hey There,'' ''Small Talk'' and the tango-flecked ''Hernando's Hideaway.'' The show also marked Harold Prince's debut as a producer and Bob Fosse's bow as a Broadway choreographer.

The story concerns a possible strike at a small-town pajama factory with the union activist (O'Hara) pitted against the plant superintendent (Connick). That they are in love only complicates matters, although in true musical-theater fashion, their eventual happiness is never in doubt.

Marshall has an obvious affection for the material, but her take on ''The Pajama Game'' doesn't slavishly duplicate the original. Instead, she wisely plays to the strengths of her performers, showcasing them in the best possible light.

For example, there's a moment midway in the second act when, during an extended -- and hilarious -- version of ''Hernando's Hideaway,'' Connick delivers a jazzy piano riff on that tango parody, sending it into the stratosphere.

The man, with his chiseled good looks, has a genuine stage personality. He takes ''Hey There,'' sung in the original by the legendary John Raitt, and makes it his own. Connick croons in a style that suggests Frank Sinatra with a dash of Elvis Presley thrown in for good measure.

The svelte O'Hara, playing a character appropriately named Babe, is sensational. She is a performer who has grown from role to role, starting with ''Sweet Smell of Success'' to ''My Life With Albertine'' to ''The Light in the Piazza''' and now this. They are four shows that couldn't be more different.

So when the two of them join forces for that booming country-tinged ''There Once Was a Man,'' the effect is electric, a musical-comedy mating call made in heaven.

One of the other joys in this ''Pajama Game'' is watching an entire parade of lesser known but amazing performers do their stuff.

Michael McKean hams it up agreeably as the factory's time-study man, who keeps Gladys, the big boss' overworked secretary, forever at bay. Gladys is played by Megan Lawrence, a comic of megawatt talent. Lawrence, who scored last summer in the Public Theater's Central Park production of ''Two Gentlemen of Verona,'' is a scene-stealer of the highest caliber.

Peter Benson, who perfected the role of the sweet-tempered nerd in Marshall's version of ''Wonderful Town,'' again demonstrates why he is one of the best second-bananas in the business, here playing a goofy, mama's boy union leader. And Roz Ryan, as another factory secretary, provides heaps of sass as a brassy foil to McKean.

Purists might be upset that ''Steam Heat,'' the musical's signature dance number, has been taken from Gladys and given to another supporting character, Mae, played by the gaminlike Joyce Chittick. Nonsense. A superb dancer, Chittick, ably assisted by David Eggers and Vince Pesce, swivels through the song with ease.

Marshall's choreography pays homage to Fosse's original work. How can it not? But she has her own effortless, ingratiating style that finds expression not only in the show's exuberant dance numbers, but in the fluid, snappy pace of the entire evening.

Derek McLane's factory setting, framed by a proscenium arch covered in big red buttons, has rows of pajamas floating by above the performers in assembly line fashion. They are fun to watch. But then so is this entire ''Pajama Game,'' a prime, grade A example of why musical comedy can be such a joyous experience.



Copyright 2006 The Associated Press Home Privacy Policy Search Corrections XML Help Contact Us Work for Us Site Map Back to Top

More Favorite Porn Stars

Kevin Miles

Kevin Miles was in (mostly) the Mustang group of Falcon movies in the mid-90s. He had a great body, rugged face and a huge dick. I actually even own a title he was in called "The New Coach" where Kevin, was of course, the new coach.

Slightly Scarlett

Rhonda Fleming & Arlene Dahl


Arlene Dahl


Rhonda Fleming

All this serious talk makes me yearn for some 1950s Hollywood Artifice.

Rhonda Fleming and Arlene Dahl were B stars in the 40s and 50s. Rhonda tended to be in Westerns and Arlene made for more sophisticated window dressing. They both had red hair and someone had the bright idea to cast them as good girl/bad girl sisters in a color film noir potboiler called "Slightly Scarlett." I bought this DVD for about 10 cents and it is worth it only to watch Rhonda pick up Arlene from prison in the first 5 minutes. It wasn't very good and if you want to see a better good girl/bad girl sisters B movie, go for Uma Thurman and Kim Basinger in "Final Analysis." Incidentally, Arlene Dahl stole Fernando Lamas away from Esther Williams back in the day and is the mother of creepy Lorenzo Lamas.

Iraq

Iraq is freaking me out tonight. The footage on television reminds me of Vietnam when our troops pulled out or Cuba right before Fidel.

If I was an American journalist there right now, I would want to up and leave. It's just getting too hot.

You know, in the very beginning I supported the war. And not because of WMD. I never believed that shit.

I supported the war because I looked back at history, far back. Dominant civilizations aren't dominant forever. We're all so used to the US being the world's only superpower but it does not mean it will last forever. So I thought overthrowing Iraq would be a good way to get a really nifty foothold in the Middle East because geography is what it's all about. It's always been what it's all about.

Did I know we would botch it up so much? Disband the Iraqi army? Take forever to get essential services up and running? Allow Anti-American sentiment to fester and grow? Water and feed a generation of new terrorists?

No, but I'm not supposed to. The morons in charge are supposed to.

So here we are three years later and if I'm on Fox News Sunday and Brit Hume asks me in his ultra-condescending tone: "Bart, Bart. Are you saying you would prefer Saddam Hussein was still in power?" I would say "Yes. He may have tortured his own people but at least Iraq was not a galvanizing event for the entire Muslim community." We should have left it alone. What a fucking mess.

Girls in Their 30s

I have this beautiful friend named Carly. I met her about a year ago. She was in a class I was taking. There were about 40 people in the class and I noticed her right away because she was stunning and kind of aloof and dressed really well. I pictured her being the trophy wife or girlfriend of some Wall Street guy.

I have always been attracted to the "most beautiful boy/girl" in the class type, especially if they are aloof, so I decided to befriend her.

One day she was wearing these sickly-expensive purple shoes and I told her I liked her shoes. That's all it took. Soon after we were sitting next to one another.

Anyway, as usual, my assumptions were wrong. No Wall Street Sugar Daddies for her. She was single and looking. Never married. No kids. about 3-4 significant relationships under her belt. She was 38 but looked 8-10 years younger and keeps mum about her age until the relationship progresses.

Now, this sounds like so many women I know. They all profess to want to be in a relationship and have a family but none of them do. They all are extremely picky, at least in my opinion.

I literally know six women like this. They run the socio-ethnic-economic gamut but they are all kinda hot in their own ways.

I truly think with some of them that they just don't want what they think they want or else they would have it already:

What I mean is, a lot of these women have had serious relationships, even proposals, but have walked away for a variety of reasons. They have made a choice. As anyone who has ever been married will tell you, you make a choice and it is hard and many times over the years you wonder if you made the right choice and what "could have been" but you make a choice to get married and have a family.

I know I am speaking very generally here and this certainly does not apply to everyone, but I just feel that some of my friends would be better off if they just pulled back and thought a little bit.

Look at "N." She was right up there with the rest of the girls when she had an epiphany: I want a baby more than a husband.

I think among my female friends there are some that want:
-Sex more than a husband and family
-Travel and Companionship more than a husband and a family
-Career/Power more than a husband and a family

And there is nothing wrong with that. People just need to figure out what makes them happy and try to achieve it.

Weight Lifting

Tonight

I like to weight lift because it really gets my aggressions out. The weights are all about mind over matter: If I am on a really heavy rep and don't think I can do it I concentrate and think of someone I hate or some injustice that makes me crazy and boom, up it goes.

I hurt my knee a while ago and need to have it taken care of but I keep putting it off. Because of that I have not done as much cardio and consequently I have gained about 15 pounds in the last 6 months. I think about half is fat and half is muscle.

I have been compensating my lifting heavily and I am getting much bigger. I studied exercise physiology at one time and worked as a trainer at a big chain gym for a while. Big chain gyms are the worst: they are staffed, both at a corporate and a club level, by really unqualified or young or inexperienced people. On a corporate and a management level, they care very little about member retention, just sales. Sometimes someone good will end up working at a big chain gym, but they will not last. They typically become jaded and quit or get fired.

That is really too bad because the fitness industry tends to attract people who are very passionate about fitness but they soon become disillusioned. It is very hard to make a living in that business.

It used to amaze me that they sent trainers out there with hardly any training. One time a young girl came down to my office on a quiet Sunday morning and casually said, "Bart, there's a lady upstairs who is moaning on the floor upstairs. She's cold and sweaty. I asked her if she wanted me to call her husband to get her but she said no." I ran up, checked on the woman and immediately called 911. Her husband came by the next day to thank me. It turns out she had an aneurism and could have died.

My favorite part of working in fitness was working with people who were afraid of gyms. I liked to make them feel comfortable and confident. Sometimes I would even take a class with them so they could see that classes weren’t cliquish. I enjoyed teaching them proper form and bonding with them.

I still see tons of guys to this day who are so concerned with plate numbers that they entirely forfeit form. Just yesterday I saw someone bar curling 70lbs and rocking his arms and back as he lifted. He probably couldn't lift 40 with proper form. I wonder if these people wonder why they don't get bigger? But you could never correct these guys. They always get defensive and say something like "I know what I'm doing."

I love fitness but the fitness industry sucks and it wasn't for me.

Links

I edited my links tonight, primarily to remove those that I feel are really no longer of any interest to me. I feel cleansed already.

The Yankees

Johnny Damon

I like Johnny Damon. He seems good-natured and genuinely happy to be playing ball as well. I might even start watching games again...

Pressure Cooker

My head's like a pressure cooker. That's why I keep this blog. My thoughts about myself (past, present and future) and the world need to spill out. It is an outlet. It is for me. If people read it and get something from it, that is nice and I welcome it, but I am not here for anyone else, just me. I don't care about links with other bloggers or building an audience, I care about keeping my sanity and feeling better.

My uncle died/killed himself when he was 29, long before I was born. He kept a journal towards the end of his life and I read it last about 10 years ago and the parallels to my own life (at that time) scared me: the substance abuse, the highs and lows, the creative thoughts, the inability to focus, the bad breaks, the guilt, the feelings of superiority and inferiority. Sometimes I can't help thinking that he would still be alive if he had an outlet like this, something more interactive.

My father had another brother that died under mysterious circumstances as well long before the other brother. He was a lot older than my father and my father still thinks of him the way a 10 year old would think of a 17 year old that paid a lot of attention to him. My mother seems to think that he was gay. There's no way of knowing anything like this and it does no really matter.

My father's side of the family is filled with "kitchen sink drama." that is, run of the mill tragedy of deaths and illness and children born out of wedlock. My mother's family, meanwhile, is filled with Machiavellian scheming and feuding sisters and missing jewelry and forged wills and lawsuits and paper bags filled with cash found in basements.

I've never been able to figure out who I am more like: the sentimentalists on my father's side or the manipulators on my mother's. Maybe writing this will help me figure it out, even if I figure out that it's not the least bit important.

Ivanka Vs. Alexis

Alexis Stewart


Ivanka Trump

If someone kidnapped Alexis Stewart and Ivanka Trump and asked for, oh, let's say $25 Million in ransom from Martha and Donald respectively, who do you think would make it home?

My money's on Alexis, I'm afraid Ivanka would grow old waiting for Pop to come up with those kind of duckets.

Trump v Stewart: Open the Accounting Books Challenge

Martha Stewart

I can't stand these two. Trump is a buffoon who carries on like he is some self-made man which he is most certainly not (Hello? His father?) while Martha represents these elitist snobs who think that they are high above the swarming proletariats and don't have to play by the same rules.

Who is worse? What a conundrum! I used to despise Trump more, then Stewart, then Trump again, then Stewart again as at the very least Trump positions himself as "local boy done good" which, while far from true, appeals to the masses. Ms. Stewart, on the other hand, clawed her way to the top and there's a long trail of the dismembered behind her.

Anyway, with the latest, I am back with Stewart again.

What is going on with him? Is it just publicity for his dumb show or is he trying to deflect attention away from something else?

If I were Martha, I would have gone right below the belt and issued a release that said:

"My company is publicly traded and its value can be quantified daily. It is currently valued at balblahblah.

Mr. Trump, meanwhile, claims to be worth 10 Billion dollars. It is widely believed in the business community that he is worth 3-5 Million dollars. If Mr. Trump would like to have an "Open Book Challenge" with me, I would gladly comply."

Interview #6

I was going to call this job dude for a status report today. I'm glad I did not as he sent me an email of his own volition telling me he would call me to discuss "next step." Not "steps," but "step."

Uh, OK. How many steps do we need to have here? It was easier for Alito to get a seat on the bench.

I am perilously close to losing interest in this place. It just seems to me that so many employers are so mired in process that they lose sight of the objective.

The funny thing is, I have interviewed with the three people I would report to and:

The one I would report to primarily seems concerned that I am over-qualified,

while the one I would report to least seems concerned that I an under-qualified,

yet the one I would report to occasionally is the only one who seems secure that I am simply perfectly qualified.

Anyway when I met with the person who thinks I am under-qual, he just came out of the gate and ambushed me. I was very surprised but held my own, remained calm and did not get snotty in the least. The conversation went something like this:

Me: I work well with limited supervision.

Under Qual: Limited supervision? Do you mean that you like to work alone and are not a team-player?

Me: No. I mean I am seasoned and realize how busy everyone is and if I need something from you I will not sit around and wait for you to call me but will "manage-up" and call you.

UQ: Oh. Good. We've had some people here who just lock themselves up and work alone.


UQ: Are you serious about working here? I want to make sure you're not just fooling around here.

Me: This is my fifth interview. I would make better use of my time if I was not serious.

UQ: You say your business unit was the top producer and carried the company and then the office closed? There's a disconnect there. What happened?

Me: We had dot-com clients. There was a boom and a then a bust. We had two round of layoffs then ultimately an economic decision was made to close the office. It made more sense than the expense of moving to a smaller space and operating with a skeleton staff. I was invited to move to HQ but did not want to relocate. You can speak to the CEO if you wish.

(This exchange in particular was fascinating. It was as if he had no idea what went on economically in this country from 2000-2004. Who today could be so sheltered?)

Overall, that interview exhausted me. It was like boxing. Maybe he is just an aggressor and likes to see if he can tip people over. Maybe there is more back office politicking than I am aware of. Maybe he had a bad day. But ultimately, it amazes me that someone would be so hostile.

People do not know how to interview. I am constantly amazed by friends who tell me that potential employers did things like showed the desks where they would be working and discussed what their annual bonus would be as it was September and they would not qualify for the whole thing.

Then they never heard from these people again.

As I have said time and again, HR people suck and instead of sending out memos about diversity training and the location of the annual picnic and complicated packages regarding changes in the health plan, they should pull back and begin giving training sessions on how to interview people.

Anyway, I still have high hopes for this job. We’ll see…

Little Blue Pill

I am actually going to go to bed before 3AM for the first time in months. I have taken a Valium, a Vicodin and 2 White Russians and am feeling rather, uh, sleepy. I am going to call this job-dude tomorrow and see what is up. I am completely aggravated by him. It's funny, as long as I keep going to the gym I do not feel like a junkie. See you in the morning...

Dubai Mess

For the last 4 years we have been treated to breathless media reports on our "porous" ports and how only 5% of the cargo is inspected.

Can you imagine the furor if Dems had the white house and gave a contract to run the 5 top ports to a Middle Eastern country? It would be apoplectic.

Anyway, Dubya looks like a fool for:

1) Not knowing about it
2) Blindly defending it

His Conservative base is going to shit at the common sense "wisdom" of letting your "enemies" guard your Achilles heel.

Meanwhile, the entire Arab world is laughing at us as complete ideologues who persist in doing things that adher to our constitution (Fairness) yet makes no common sense.

And, on a purely primal level: we should not be putting a pseudo-country that borders fundamnetalist Islamic states and funnel in US goods to Iran via dummy corporations in charge of our ports. It is ludicrous. I feel about this the way I feel about ethnic or racial profiling: yeah, it sucks, but I didn't see any Japanese women and African-American men pin-pointed as terrorists on the four 9/11 flights so maybe we'll leave them alone at airport security and focus more on young, middle-eastern men.

What kind of a sweetheart deal resulted in this anyhow? This whol thing just has a Cheney odor to it...

Burberry's Baby

I Hate Remakes

Katie Holmes to star in "Burberry's Baby", the chilling tale of a woman deceived by her husband into carrying the spawn of L. Ron Hubbard for a coven of Scientologists.

Katie Holmes vs. Michelle Williams

Jen, Forehead & Joey

I think it is such a hoot what has happened with these two.

I remember watching "Dawson's Creek" the first year it was on and thinking that Katie Holmes was cool and Michelle Williams was very pretty, but very average.

Katie Holmes got all these cool little roles in movies like "The Ice Storm" and "Go" and "Wonder Boys" while Michelle Williams was in some "Halloween" sequel and that dopey movie "Dick."

Then Katie starred in "Pieces of April" and critics really noticed her so she got cast in "Batman Begins." Then...

She has basically thrown her career down the toilet. She looks like a complete fool being tugged around by that egomaniacal Tom Cruise and carrying his coffee (and his baby) for him every where. Now the entire world knows she is a doormat and people are just a tad disgusted by doormats.

Meanwhile, Michelle Williams was quietly having Heath Ledger's baby and the two of them moved to Brooklyn where there were numerous sightings (myself included) and the two of them achieved a sort of organic coolness that is the polar opposite of Holmes and Cruise. Then, "Brokeback Mountain" came out and she got the best notices of her (or Katie's) career. And now an Oscar nomination.

Whoever would have thunk it. I certainly did not know she had it in her.

More About My Type

Johnny Messner


Rick Ravanello

Sometimes I am attracted to men who I catch in these fleeting roles on TV and look them up on IMDB.

Rick Ravanello and Johnny Messner are two such types. I saw Messner a few times on "The OC" and was immediately into him. Totally wide upper body. I even sat through the sequel to "Anaconda" just to watch him walk around wet and/or shirtless.

Rick Ravanello is a little harder to find. He had about a 30 second spot on "Desperate Housewives" last year as one of the construction guys working on Edie Brit's house and he was in this movie called "The Cave" which came and went fast. I am actually interested in seeing that movie because it is based on a genre thriller novel called "The Descent" by Jeff Long which I really enjoyed. It wasn't flawless, but it had some very original and chilling sections.

Anyway, both these guys have dark hair, wide bodies and are rugged. They remind me of guys who would have been stuntmen and never appeared in front of the camera a generation ago. But it basically sucks because I cannot find any decent (shirtless) photos of them online. Oh well.

Very generally, physically, I tend to like guys that are 30s to 40s, have dark hair and are strong. Kind of like me I suppose.

I was never a big proponent of “opposites attract,” at least physically. I actually think a lot of gay men are attracted to men they feel they resemble or men they would like to look like or men they feel are handsome enough to make their insecurities about their own looks go away.

By the same token, many are repulsed by men that remind them of how they used to look (there are a lot of makeovers in the gay world) or how they are afraid they may look. I also think my attraction to certain types is tied into the look of the boys I wanted to be friends with/wanted to be in high school. In high school I wanted to be a jocky guy and be friends with jocky guys. I wasn’t. So, as an adult I turned myself into a jocky guy and now can be friends with (have sex with) other jocky guys.

So much of gay life is making up for the psychic wrongs of our youth.

But that physical type I am attracted to is just a generalization. For me, it all comes down to chemistry and the way someone responds to me.

I had a very intense relationship a couple of summers ago with a 22 year old who had just graduated from college. He was blond and lean and 6’2” (I usually like guys around 5’9”) but he pursued me and that and his overall youth just turned me the hell on. He was such a tease and he had an absolutely beautiful ass (big firm ass on a tall lean kid) and he was suck a size queen and loved my fucking him. It was fun while it lasted.

And just like attraction is all about chemistry, what I enjoy sexually is all about chemistry. Some guys have just made me so crazy to get fucked by while other make me nuts to fuck them. Maybe that is the true definition of versatile. I have no idea. All I know is depending on who I am with I can go either way. Though I have not felt like bottoming in a very long time. I think there’s just so much more selection when you top. I find that the majority of guys I encounter that I am attracted to want to get fucked and that’s cool. But it also means that when I encounter someone I am attracted to who is adamant about being a top, I get off on being a bottom.

Anyway, back to Messner and Ravanello. I think Messner and I would fuck one another but Ravanello looks like a bottom. I’d like to find out.

Dance Class Bully

Pam Anderson & Mamie Van Doren


Sophia Loren & Jayne Mansfield

I thought this was fairly clever: Vanity Fair paired Pam Anderson and Mamie Van Doren in a photograph evocative of the famous photo of Sophia Loren and Jayne Mansfield circa 1958 at Romanoff's. Oddly though, I think Mansfield's nipples have been airbrushed out of this print.

It sort of transcends homage, because Mansfield and Van Doren were both Marilyn Monroe clones (there were many others) and Van Doren is the only one who is still alive and kicking.

And I suppose Pam Anderson is sort of the psychic offspring of women like Mansfield, only she has the business acumen that women of that era lacked.

All said, it's amusing because it blurs the lines. I think it would have been more effective to switch them (Van Doren & Anderson) though.

I used to want to be a photographer. I remember reading "Scruples" when I was a boy and thinking that Spider Elliot (I think that was his name) had the coolest job in that he got to photograph beautiful men and women every day.

My father had worked in a photo lab at one time and was always promising to help me set up a dark room some time. It never happened. I used to be really mad at my parents for not urging me on in one of my artistic interests, but I'm not mad any more. They were far too practical to do that. One of the worst things my mother could ever say about somebody was that he was a "dreamer." She would refer to my cousin or some friend or some neighbor's kid as a "dreamer." That meant that he had no plan and was probably a bartender/actor. She really took no prisoners when she was younger. Today she denies she said half the stuff she said.

I remember one night before bed in 3rd or 4th grade she was kissing me goodnight in my bedroom. Every once in a while she would have a serious "talk" with me before bed. Like to tell me my father was sick or my grandmother was moving out or something. Anyway, one night she asked me if I knew what "gay" was. I did not know and she told me something like: "There are some women who love other women and men who love other men and they live together just like men and women and there's nothing wrong with that." I think I said "Oh, O.K.," and went to bed.

Although the next day I told my best friend and I guess we were lucky he did not tell the whole school because my mother probably would have gone to prison or something.

Anyway, to this day my mother has no recall of this event. We have no idea why she told me, I thought maybe she had an inkling about me, but she says that is not it. More likely, my mother hates unfairness and probably read some story in the paper about something that was denied some gay man or woman and had to do her bit for the cause by shaping my young mind.

I've never really given it much thought before, but it must have had an impact on me. It must have been some kind of green light in my subconscious.

I think I knew I was different when I was in 3rd grade, but I did a great job of blending in. Sexual attraction complicated matters but I was never afraid of it. It (the desire) felt too good to be afraid of. I was smart enough to keep it to myself, though. But I think some perceptive boys could smell it.

From 5th to 8th grade I had to take these awful formal dance lessons at a country club in town. It was about 50 kids although it thinnned down to 30 over the years. We had to wear jackets and ties and the girls had to wear white gloves. It was positively antebellum.

Anyway, in 6th grade these two boys from another school began harassing me in class. My parents were always big on "be calm and act like it doesn't bother you and they will tire of it." I swear if I had a kid I would be big on "If it bothers you, hit them. Hard."

They would get into this riff with one another and me and say stuff like "Is that a new watch? Did your boyfriend give it to you?" Or they would ask me to dance (it was dance class) or do the limp-wristed thing and talk with a lisp. I really did a good job of acting perplexed, of looking at them like they were nuts. The funny thing is, I really did not warrant that kind of attention. I was not a particularly fey boy, more a little nerdy at that time. But I was probably the best target available just then. My saving grace was that I always had a lot of friends, though. I think I confused them and they were backing off until this girl got involved. Her name was "M" and she was just like Norma in "Carrie." Really bad and really mean. And she brought out the worst in these guys, too. They began to scare me a bit. Luckily, this class was seasonal and we did not go to the same school.

But in 7th grade we would all be in the same school. Cut to that first week of school and it turns out that one of the boys moved. That left "M" and the other boy, "A." I will never forget "M" seeing me in the hall and getting all worked up and pointing me out to "A." Saying something like "There he is! There he is!" And "A" just looked at me and her and said something like "Forget it M, just drop it."

And that was that. To this day I have no idea what happened to make it stop.

"A" turned out to be just my type. He had thick, dark hair, a trim waist and a big chest and shoulders. I think he was Italian and German. I spilled a lot of cum thinking of him. I still can. Eventually (11th grade) I was friendly with him and more so his girlfriend. He was nice, a little quiet. I later heard a strong rumour that he is gay. I would say it is about 90% accurate. He has skipped all class reunions and such.

"M," the Norma girl, I eventually got to be very good friends with for a brief while. She was 6 feet tall, thin, beautiful, had reddish-blonde hair and green eyes. Like a total fag I was always telling her she should be a model. But she couldn't care less about looks and stuff like that. It's almost Norman Rockwell-esque for me to think back to a time where someone beautiful and in high school did not want to be famous. She was too busy being in pain and just wanted to be happy. She had a father in politics who practically disowned her because she was going out with a black guy and was one of two senior celebrity "Class Partiers." I just saw her recently. I reminded her that she gave me my first Quaalude. But I never brought up 6th grade. I don't think she has any memory of it anyway.

But I bet "A" remembers. I think the ring leader was probably the boy who moved away. I think when "A" no longer had his influence, he got nicer. If I ever run into "A" I am going to ask him all about it.

Alex's Blog

The blogs I tend to keep up with are, naturally, about interests of mine. It could be politics, movies, sex, gossip, media, etc. Or it could be the view into someone's private thoughts and life (which I think mine is like.) Or it could be because I know them personally and want to spy on them, diss them , keep up with them.

Anyway, I started reading Alex’s blog because I liked the thought of reading the blog of a gay single guy in the city. It was hard to avoid because apparently every other blog has links to it. I like his blog, but I soon found that it was 90% about his sex life and I find reading about someone else's sex life boring. I much prefer hearing about their pain or life or problems with their job or their mother. So, I found myself skipping the parts of his site that most people go to it for and gravitating towards posts about his best friend and a new boyfriend.

I've been in business a long time and I know how sites make money from affiliate programs so it did not surprise me to see so many ads. He gets a lot of traffic and why would he say "no" to running ads?

But there's an anonymous poster who is convinced that "Alex" is not a real person, but a cabal of writers dedicated to churning out "real" erotic stories that then compel people to join these other linked for-pay sites.

This anonymous poster is very articulate and is very calm and has clearly made an in-depth study of the site. The other posters who condemn him tend to be more angry than he is.

(As a matter of fact, I have been surprised by many things on many different blogs since I began blogging:

1) Bloggers who kiss-ass bloggers with bigger audiences in the hopes of getting a link

2) Bloggers who act like blind-sided fans/wannabe friends of other bloggers and defend them like the GOP defends Bush

3) Bloggers who write the most evil and nasty shit about other bloggers

4) Bloggers who will do and say anything to make a buck

Nice to know I can still be naïve.)

I think people get different things from Alex and his blog. Some simply get off on the sex, but there are many ways to get off on sex. It has to be more than that. I think that the fact that this blogger has an identity and a life makes it more compelling. It is kind of like a regular reality TV series with a likable protagonist that has a lot of sex.

Based on the comments, he seems to attract several archetypes:

-Some people consider themselves Alex's spiritual brother and feel a kinship with him and "atta boy!" him.

-Some people are probably a little envious of him and wish they had his life but are nice people and coo and “ooh” and “aah” a lot.

-Some people are envious and wish they had his life and are not nice people and say very vicious things to him.

(When that happens, the people from the prior categories rush to his defense)

-Some people are a little older and wiser and just like to hear themselves give sincere advice to Alex on what he should do because it strokes their egos. That would be me. I know myself well.

-And, undoubtedly, there is the majority which just likes to read his posts and masturbate and would never dream of posting a comment.

So, really, Alex, in some way, is like art because people interpret what he does differently and get something different from him.

Anyway, I defended Alex in a comment recently and anonymous poster did not comment back and call me a "naive asshole" but wrote a really provocative scenario on why he thought Alex was a cabal of writers. I did not buy it but a few hours later went to re-read it and...it was gone.

Silly me, I'm so new to this that I did not even know you could remove comments. That really bothers me overall. I feel that as with newspapers and television, there should be a record. Once something is published, there is no turning back. I suppose that is why a lot of bloggers approve posts before they are published. But let me not get bogged down in a grey area that is really another subject.

Alex simply explained that he got tired of the poster's stuff and deleted it.

OK. I personally would never do that. I think the comments enhance the content. Even enhance his mystique. But it's his blog and he can do whatever the hell he wants.

But, it still bothered me. I could not understand why he was so subjective with what he deleted. Every time the anonymous poster made a comment that was articulate and compelling, it got deleted. Yet when nasty vulgar comments appeared from other anonymous posters, he would leave them up. Was he threatened by what anonymous poster was saying? If it wasn't accurate, it should not matter.

Almost more importantly, why would he leave the nasty and vulgar comments up?

Well, the interesting thing is, in general, nasty, vulgar, mean-spirited comments about anyone we like in life tend to make us rush to their defense for various reasons. So, hypothetically, it would be worth it for him to keep those nasty, vulgar, mean-spirited comments up as they attracted a flurry of defenders.

And that's what got me. "Worth it to keep those up."

Worth it. Implies commerce. Implies a business.

Blogging is funny. It requires no legal information or trademarks or disclosures. It's all about self-publishing and you can say whatever you want to say. About yourself, that is.

Like I said earlier, I'm a marketer. Always have been. There's a marketing term called "Seeding." You put a product in the hands of "Key Influencers." Key Influencers are, simplistically, cool people, people you admire. Then that product gets a patina of cool and other people want it. And on and on until it hits critical mass.

It happens most often with celebrities, but marketers do it, too, with kids in high schools and colleges, particularly with sneakers and other gear. It’s getting even bigger and more complicated now with product sampling. You can actually register with companies like Cornerstone Marketing now and, based on your criteria, you might be chosen to use a frying pan that you can then recommend to your friends, but only if you like it.

This kind of stuff is so blurry. I did some work for a liquor company that used to send hot girls out to bars to order drinks with a particular brand of Vodka. It was to build “product awareness.” But it was all staged. But I go off on a tangent again.

Anyway, suppose you knew a really cool person. He was hot, had a great job and always got great sex. He had a life you emulated or aspired to for one reason or another. Well, there's a chance that when he recommended a book or CD or even a car you might buy it.

Well suppose this person was online and the things he recommended were online, too. There’s a chance you might buy those as well.

So, perhaps there are 3 possible Alexs:

1)The Alex who is the guy he says he is who just likes to write about sex and life and direct you to hot sites he finds cool. That he is in a grey area is just the way that it is. What I mean is, he says he loves porn and likes to recommend sites he finds hot. Yet, he is in an affiliate program for these sites which tends to blur the lines a bit. After all, he is making some click-through/conversion money by going on with gusto about these sites. But whatever. That just makes him a bit disingenuous.

2)The Alex that Anonymous Poster says he is who is really a team of writers that have created a false persona designed to direct people to paying sites. Completely commercial enterprise. I think that stakes are far too low for that. Too much time and effort and too little return.

3)The Alex who is maybe a mix of reality and fantasy. An embellisher. He’s one guy and maybe he started out as a simple blogger but as time went by and his traffic increased he got a little corrupted by the thrill of some ad bucks. He’s a good writer and a lot of shit happens to him but not nearly as much as he says. And the power of seeing that he can influence a lot of people to join a for-pay site is intoxicating.* So, maybe he’s really “Brand Alex,” now, and like any good brand manager, seeks to protect his brand by removing potentially damaging comments.

The bottom line is that I have absolutely no idea if Alex is any or none of the above and I fucking love that.

I am so sick of being so cynical and figuring things out so easily, that for me to have to wonder about this, so much so I wrote a fucking essay, well it’s like Christmas in July.

I am going to continue to read Alex’s blog. And continue to wonder. Thank you Alex and thank you Anonymous Poster, I’m indebted to you both for (unlike 90% of the product Hollywood churns out) keeping me guessing.


*Full disclosure. People are motivated by different things. Some by money. Some by power. It’s all very id, ego, superego.

Several years ago I went through a 6 month period on a now-defunct site where I used to cam with other people. They had a program where, if you chose, people could pay to cam with you. All out of the comfort of your home. Well, I loved camming with hot friends but after I realized some not-so-hot people would pay me per minute and I could set the price, it became like a game to keep them talking to me. The money was never huge, but every few weeks I would get a check for $400 or so and it was cool. But the “power” got me high.

$25 Part III

This morning the salesperson from the store called me and told me to forget about the $25, they would eat it. I'm actually kind of shocked because I figured if they were dumb enough to try and charge me for it, they would push on it. A triumph of sorts. I can now afford...well, what does $25 buy anyway? A bottle of booze? A small houseplant? A book?

Dan Cortese

Fashion Faux Pas

I always liked Dan Cortese. He had that kind of big jocky upper body I go for sometimes. But WTF? There is not one shirtless photo of him on the Internet? That is so straight of him. I know I have some screenshots of him from when he was on "Veronica's Closet" wearing a thong. I will find them.

The only photo that gives you even a hint of his body is this awful faux pas from 1999. What was he thinking?

Anyway, one thing I like about Dan is that he's my kind of guy: still does the heavy lifting and is not all Atkined out and overly lean and shit. I'm so sick of guys with gaunt faces.

In the process of looking for a shot of Dan, I did find this photo of Richard Burgi, though. Very nice.


Richard Burgi on Veronica's Closet

Democratic Dilemma

Bloomberg for President

No matter how you feel about Dubya & Co., you just have to hand it to them: they know how to keep their messages simple, to stay on message, to rebrand old terms to their advantage (pro-choice = abortion rights, suicide bomber = homicide bomber)and never to waver. They have taken the lessons of great marketers like P & G to heart. They have created a brand, an image, and it resonates.

Look at Dubya. Born with a silver spoon in his mouth, a WASP Connecticut Yankee, yet his image is "down home." I remember years ago when Babs Bush first became first lady and Oprah said, "I love Barbara, she looks so country, so down home!" That was, of course, in direct physical comparison to Nancy Reagan. But it was all backwards. Nancy Reagan was a striver with a foul-mouthed, bawdy mother who took a wealthy doctor as a husband who became Nancy's stepfather. Barbara Bush was nearly blue blood. Nancy would have killed to have Barbara's background.

Everything Dubya does is smoke and mirrors. I am still reeling from the election of 2004. Remember that first debate when Dubya faltered and it looked good for about 2 minutes? Then Roberts had to go and mention Cheney's dyke daughter and the manufactured outrage began. The Dems will never beat them at their own game. They just need to be sincere and strong and find a message and stick with it.

It was so ironic. There was Bush, who more or less paid to stay out of Vietnam, and he was perceived to be the patriot because of the dumb war he is waging. And there was Kerry: a real war hero who was perceived to be a peacenik because of some secretly Karl Rove funded "Swiftboat Veterans for Justice" ads.

They are so good at spin. All we heard about before the election was the potential for the terrorist threat on US soil. And people were afraid. I love it, though: All these dopey people who you would see on the news in the middle of the country who say they are afraid of a terrorist attack and are voting for Dubya. Uh, sister, nobody's going to bomb Buttfuck, Nebraska? K?

Republicans always come off as rationale & calm while the Dems look hysterical. Howard Dean blew it because he looked like a mad dog. Juan Williams looks like a hysteric every week next to patrician Brit Hume.

Dems need to find a candidate who can win by being himself. Kerry's persona was so scripted and tested and it came across that way. People can sense that. Kerry was intellectual and Americans are suspicious of intellectuals. When people make fun of George Bush because he has poor grammar, his poll numbers go up. And that's because most Americans have poor grammar and think people who expect their leaders to have good grammar are elitist snobs. Kerry's wife was also a liability. Too rich and too foreign. We like our first ladies like Laura and Barbara. Quiet, iron butterflys, steel magnolias.

Clinton will never win. The worst thing dems can do is get caught up in the romance of Hillary. Don't be dreamers. Americans don't like woman like that. Too abrasive. She came of age in an era when woman had to act like men to get ahead and it's painful to watch.

I'll tell you, there's an article in the NY Observer this week about him, but weeks ago I decided New York's mayor Mike Bloomberg would make a great president. He has been fantastic for the economy of this city. He is a self-made, philanthropic billionaire. He is efficient.

I could get behind his shit so fast, I would even do volunteer work for him and stuff which I have not done for a pol since 1984.

He is just so no-nonsense. He would so poo-poo any bs the neo-cons say about him and I bet it would roll right off.

Mike's my man.

Two More That Suck

The Island


Mr. & Mrs. Smith

As I may have mentioned before, I now give a DVD 20 minutes before I turn it off. Too many movies suck to waste my life sitting through. I also started leaving Broadway shows during intermission about three years ago, and that is also very liberating. The first time was the hardest but the thought of sitting through another 60 minutes of insipid drivel (The Graduate with Kathleen Turner) in an uncomfortable seat did it and it felt great.

Anyway, 20 minute, that's all a movie gets. If movies are now being made for people with extremely short attention spans, they have succeeded in creating an audience with high expectations. If it wasn't for teenagers with nothing to do on Friday and Saturday nights and parents and grandparents at Saturday and Sunday matinees, the feature business would crawl up and die.

Mr. & Mrs. Smith---Vacuous. Kind of like "War of the Roses" meets "True Lies" while trying to be a screwball 30s comedy. Angelina Jolie is some hot charismatic shit--Probably the only real movie star we have today, and all I can say is Jennifer Aniston never had a chance. Her big leery boyfriend Vince Vaughn shows up in the movie, too, which is creepily incestuous. All we needed was Laura Dern or Billy Bob or Gwyneth to complicate matters further. Brad Pitt speaks like he has marbles in his mouth and is not even really very attractive and owes his entire career to his abs's appearance in "Thelma & Louise."

The Island---Trying to be "Logan's Run," "Coma," "The Matrix," even, but digresses into a Michael Bay cacaphony of explosives. What a waste. But a triumph of product placement. Full Disclosure: I actually watched an hour of this before I gave up because I like the genre and I was hoping for at least a flash of originality but everything had been done before, and better. And what good is Ewan if he doesn't show his dick, lol.

Dark Water---You know what? I like Jennifer Connelly but I could not even attempt to watch this, it is going back to Netflix, sight unseen.

Happily, there were no Nicole Kidman movies in the mix this week. I find her animatronic face lends an air of artifice to everything she appears in.

How many free passes do these people get, by the way? Back in the day, a flop or two in a row and you were over. But we are stuck with a seemingly endless supply of Nicole Kidman, Jennifer Lopez and Jennifer Aniston movies.

Film actors and actresses should all be digitalized.

Barefoot in the Park

Wilson and Peet

I love a good skewering of bad theatre or movies and Ben Brantley has outdone himself! This is one of the nastiest reviews I have ever read, I love it. The last few shows I have seen on B'way have been the pits and I wish I had seen reviews like this beforehand...

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

February 17, 2006
THEATER REVIEW | 'BAREFOOT IN THE PARK'
Early Simon, Dressed by Mizrahi
By BEN BRANTLEY
THE mistakes begin with the wallpaper. When the curtain rises on the torturous new revival of Neil Simon's "Barefoot in the Park," the play's eager newlywed heroine (portrayed by Amanda Peet) is discovered applying, with laborious comic inefficiency, hypnotically striped paper to the walls of her first apartment. Not to put a damper on a young bride's early adventures in decorating, but instead of gluing on wallpaper, shouldn't she be slapping on paint? Then at least the audience would have the diversion of watching it dry.

Certainly, theatergoers deserve some form of incidental relief from the parching desert of a production that opened last night at the Cort Theater. Mr. Simon's 1963 comedy, his first Broadway smash, was a valentine to his wife Joan and to the joyful tribulations of being young, untried and uninhibited in the big city. Yet for a work that celebrates the liberating force of spontaneity, this version doesn't have one scene that feels organic, let alone impromptu.

The quip-packed dialogue that is Mr. Simon's signature registers here with the animation and full-bodiedness of projected supertitles. As the current Broadway revival of "The Odd Couple" indicates, early Neil Simon retains its original freshness about as well as sushi. But as miscast and uneasy as this season's "Odd Couple" is, it at least has the momentum that comes from honoring the Ping-Pong rhythms of bouncing zingers. "Barefoot" progresses with the stiff-legged, robotic gait of Boris Karloff as the Mummy.

Given the vitality of the talents involved here, it may seem puzzling that this "Barefoot" should be so lacking in the sap of life. Its director, Scott Elliott, has established himself in the past decade as an inspired rejuvenator of post-mid-20th-century period pieces (including the recent "Hurlyburly" and "Abigail's Party"). Ms. Peet is a rising film star who was seen to fine advantage last year in the Public Theater's production of Neil LaBute's "This Is How It Goes." Patrick Wilson has been wonderfully appealing both onstage ("The Full Monty") and on television ("Angels in America"), while Jill Clayburgh and Tony Roberts arrive in a cloud of happy associations with now-classic films, like "An Unmarried Woman" (Ms. Clayburgh) and a clutch of top-drawer Woody Allen movies (Mr. Roberts).

Yet if you look at these folks' credentials and personas more closely, you'll see that most of them are flagrantly mismatched with their roles, including, by the way, Mr. Elliott. But let's start — though I'm loath to — with Ms. Peet, since her character, Corie Bratter, is the soul of the play.

Originated on Broadway by the young (and by all accounts irresistible) Elizabeth Ashley, and on film in 1967 by an improbably kittenish Jane Fonda, Corie is the heir to the screwball heroines of the 1930's — logically illogical, life-intoxicated women (played by the likes of Colbert, Lombard and Katharine Hepburn) who taught uptight men to get down and cut loose. Mr. Simon was, in fact, resuscitating a type that had mostly disappeared in the 40's and 50's and establishing a mold for the countercultural blithe spirits of the 60's and 70's that Goldie Hawn would make a career of.

Not that Corie is a revolutionary. She is proud to be Mrs. Paul Bratter, and her first desire is to make her new hubby (Mr. Wilson), a fledgling lawyer, a happy home. Yet she is a wild thing, too, whose idea of a good time is to get drunk and ring all the neighbors' doorbells, sample crazy foreign food and, yes, run barefoot in the park in the dead of winter. As her mother, Mrs. Banks (Ms. Clayburgh), a timid suburban widow, tells her: "You're impulsive. You jump into life."

Ms. Peet, to put it bluntly, is no jumper. She exudes the bristly, defensive caution of a pretty woman used to fending off the advances of creeps. And her range of vocal and facial expressiveness is pretty much confined to, at most, two lines of a musical staff. In the right part, she can work subtle wonders within these limitations. But her Corie seems as madcap as Martha Stewart in a business meeting. You can sense that she's trying, really hard, to be funny and freewheeling, but it hurts her. Us, too.

This doesn't give Mr. Wilson's priggish Paul, who must be seduced by Corie into shedding his buttoned-down ways, much to work with. "Is that supposed to be funny?" he asks Corie, after she delivers a typically Simonian put-down. "No, it was supposed to be nasty," she answers. "It just came out funny." But in truth, there is no appreciable difference between this Corie's being funny and being nasty; there's not even much difference between her hysterically sad and hysterically happy.

Even playing opposite an emotional vacuum, Mr. Wilson, in the role created on stage and screen by Robert Redford, manages some appealing bits of comic business, as the fastidious Paul deals with the broken-down obstacle course that is his Greenwich Village apartment. But there's an artificiality in his line readings and gestures, however charming, that suggests that he developed them in front of a mirror. You can't blame him.

Ms. Clayburgh has a winning way with dialogue that can make synthetic one-liners sound like filigree epigrams. Trim and dazzlingly blond, she is a glamorous eyeful in Isaac Mizrahi's rich dowager costumes. Then again, her character is supposed to be a shy, delicate frump in need of sexual awakening. Nothing that is said about Mrs. Banks tracks with what we see of her here.

The role of the Bohemian womanizer next door is one Mr. Roberts could glide through on automatic pilot. He does. Like the rest of the cast, he has been painstakingly outfitted by Mr. Mizrahi in clothing that screams, "It's the 1960's, folks." (In Mr. Roberts's case, this means Birkenstocks and a brocade Nehru jacket.)

This is part and parcel of Mr. Elliott's shtick; he has always been big on time-capsule details. His "Barefoot" comes equipped with a vintage (and sometimes anachronistic) soundtrack that ranges from Petula Clark singing "Downtown" to the Byrds' cover of "Turn! Turn! Turn!" And by the second scene, after Corie has finished decorating, Derek McLane's village-aerie walk-up apartment set could have been ripped from the pages of an early-1960's Better Homes and Gardens.

Is this really what Corie, the raging individualist, would come up with? Perhaps Mr. Elliott is trying to suggest that Corie is, after all, her mother's daughter, trapped in the conventions she grew up with. But "Barefoot in the Park" does not stand up to such psychological parsing. For it to work at all, it has to float without flinching on the surface of its wide-eyed, good-willed romanticism.

Only one of the performers here seems to enter fully and happily into that spirit. His name is Adam Sietz, and he has a small role as a wisecracking but empathetic telephone installer. He is onstage for a total of perhaps 10 minutes. And those are the only minutes in which this show exhales the breath of life.

Barefoot in the Park

By Neil Simon; directed by Scott Elliott; set by Derek McLane; costumes by Isaac Mizrahi; lighting by Jason Lyons; sound by Ken Travis; production stage manager, Valerie A. Peterson; props coordinator, Kathy Fabian; production manager, Showman Fabricators; general manager, Roy Gabay; associate producers, Leah and Ed Frankel, CJ Entertainment/URL Productions, Stephen Kocis and Oliver Dow. Presented by Robyn Goodman, Mr. Gabay, Walt Grossman, Geoff Rich, Danzansky Partners, Ergo Entertainment and Ruth Hendel, in association with Paramount Pictures. At the Cort Theater, 138 West 48th Street, Manhattan; (212) 239-6200. Running time: 2 hours 25 minutes.

WITH: Amanda Peet (Corie Bratter), Patrick Wilson (Paul Bratter), Jill Clayburgh (Corie's mother, Mrs. Banks), Tony Roberts (Victor Velasco), Adam Sietz (telephone repairman) and Sullivan Walker (deliveryman).



Copyright 2006The New York Times Company Home Privacy Policy Search Corrections XML Help Contact Us Work for Us Site Map Back to Top

Halloween Story (Eventually)

I have had some really weird coincidences happen to me in life and I remembered this story today.

I used to be in love with this guy, "R." I worked with him and he was straight and coincidentally his girlfriend worked with my ex-roommate.

He was American and his gf was British and named "E" and they lived with another Brit girl in the East Village.

He was so handsome and smart and nice and was one of those straight guys who just couldn't be straight. There were stories I heard that he had been gay when he lived in the UK, etc.

He always gave off the whiff of accessibility yet hid behind his girlfriend. One night we went out to dinner with a couple of other people (his girlfriend was away) and when we said goodbye, he kissed me goodbye on the lips. I remember pondering over this for days as only a 22 year old could obsess. I figured it was just some Euro thing but my friend and then-roomie Bobby set me straight: Straight American boys don't kiss gay boys on the lips in any way shape or form.

I also had a huge house party not long after that when I finally met his girlfriend. She was possessive and not very charming. The entire party he ignored her and he and I kept making these runs down to the store and acting like two crazy boys in love. There were all these weird unspoken gestures and vibes to one another.

I ended up hanging with these people a lot and I always tried to charm "E" but she never liked me. Eventually, I got to be friends with the girl Brit roommate "N" and her fiancé. I had pretty much embedded myself in their lives. We used to go out to Lucky Strike a lot and I just remember drinking and smoking and coke. Plus they told me lots of stories about "R" and "E" and how they met and their lives back in the UK, and all the gay rumours about "R," etc.

I was so jealous of "R" and people close to him. He was friends with these 2 brothers and I was crazy jealous of them. And as time went by, he got shittier and shittier to me. I don't exactly know what happened but I was still so into him. I used to take cabs home at night and have the cabbie park in front of his building first so I could keep tabs on him. I would play answering machine messages over and over again, listening for subtle signs. Stalker behavior, I know.

His awful British gf got colder and colder to me. One night, we were all playing billiards at that place that used to be on West 18th street. We were drinking and his awful girlfriend was alone with me at the bar and made some dumb, yet nasty, comment about how I should be playing "on the pink pool table." She was always saying dumb homophobic shit like that and trying to pass it off as good-natured humor.

Well, to this day I do not know what possessed me, but I calmly and smilingly "read her." I cut her to shreds. I gave a soliloquy and basically told her:

1) She was a pathetic loser and had no friends.
2) Nobody liked her in the UK or here.
3) She was holding onto "R" for dear life and he would dump her ass soon enough

I had been playing nice for so long and just tolerating her snide comments that I think seeing my true face floored her, she probably thought I was some milqetoast. To this day I have never sliced someone's guts as I did hers and I was high off it for days.

After that, I did not see as much of "R" and "E" but "R" was still chatty with me at work. I did hang with "N" a lot and it was always awkward when I would be at their apartment and "R" and "E" were there.

At some point in late September, "N" and her fiancé got married. "R" shocked me by asking me if I wanted to go to the wedding with him. I don't know where "E" was but one of my favorite memories of that era is riding up Park Avenue on the back of "R's" Harley, my hands tight around his waist.

That evening there was a huge party at their apartment. I got very drunk. Bobby, my roomie, had gotten to be friends with them, too, and came to the party. He told me the next day that he did not like "R's" disparaging remarks about me when I was out cold (more or less.) But I still could not see it for myself.

A few weeks after that, they had a big dinner party. "R" asked me to bring chairs, CDs and utensils and of course I complied. "E" was hateful at seeing me there. She did not say one word to me, as a matter of fact she hadn't since the pool table incident.

We all got quite drunk and at some point everyone left and "E" was passed out drunk in the bedroom. "R" and I were sitting practically on top of one another looking at a photography book. We were very chummy and touchy feely and I knew something was going to happen.

My very first sexual experience with another guy had been a mere 6 years earlier and he was my friend and was supposed to be straight and we had both been drunk so this did not surprise me.

So there we were, our legs touching and something very intimate about to happen, he leaned over and took an eyelash off my cheek and looked at me and...

Cut to the bedroom door being thrown open and "E," hysterical and sweating and drunk and angry and screaming at the top of her lungs: "Why don't you just suck Bart's cock! Huh? R? Huh? Just suck his bloody cock."

There was a moment of stunned silence. Time did stand still. To my credit, I was very calm. I looked at "R" and said, "You need to do something about her, or I will." He then got up and took her inside. No "goodbye Bart." I pissed around for 15 minutes then left.

Well, within a week, "E" was gone. Back in the UK for good. I thought for sure this would herald in "R" as my boyfriend. Me the patient one teaching him how to be gay. There was about a 48 hour period where this seemed possible.

But then what did that fuck do? He started going about with this hot little Asian girl. I used to hang out with all of them and he was mean to her, too, when her back was turned.

But after they broke up, the plot thickened. She and I compared notes and I think she had a really hard time with all the potential gay things (girls never like to believe that their guy is gay or bi) but she liked my filling in the blanks on a lot of his lies and his personality.

He also got her pregnant. And she kept it. This story is just too fucked up. She ended up writing a letter to his mother and father and telling them because he didn't. At some point down the line, she dropped me and her allegiance was with "R." I think "R" spun me as some crazy gay boy who loved him and lied about him. It makes me shudder to think of all of them and the constant pain I was in.

But on to my Halloween story.

With "E" in England, and the Brit roomie married, "R" moved. The Brit roomie "N" and her husband moved to an apartment near me and I used to hang with them a lot and drink and do lines. "R" was so out of the picture.

"N" was a user, too, I know that and we had little in common except partying. At some point they moved and I lost touch with them and had no idea where they were.

Cut to 2 years later.

My friend "I" invites me to a Halloween party on 1st and 2nd. I decline but then I start to drink and at 11:30 feel like going. So I go down but think it's 2nd and 1st instead. I'm wandering around thinking I'm just going to find this party without the address. So, I see a lot of people going into a building and hear party noises so I go in.

I go into the party and think "Uh-oh, I don't know a soul here. Wrong party." Then I look across the room and see two open-mouths. It's "N" and her husband. It's their apartment. Of all the apartments in the city, I had wandered into theirs. Everything was cool, I was actually psyched and they were too sorta, except to this day I don't think they believed me when I said that I just mistakenly wandered into their party.

I don't think I ever saw them again after that night.

Sometimes I am curious about all of these people I mentioned, but mostly not. I think they are all a pretty bad bunch and I'm better off without them. I do wonder about "R," though. Was he gay, bi, or just a user who liked to manipulate people. And how far would he have gone? Were "E"'s screaming comments accurate? I'm still a little mad and I could conjure up some pretty violent sexual imagery starring him and me: me slapping his face with my cock, me fucking his skinny ass very hard, etc. I hope his son, who is like so old now it blows my mind, grows up to be a big fag.