For Those About to ROCK: The Annual Pilgrimage for Pookie's Birthday

I'm not sure if doing the same thing for two years in a row makes it a tradition, but I'm going with it. We've (by "we" I mean shamus and myself) all gone home for Pookie's birthday two years in a row now. So that makes it a tradition. And if we don't do it next year, it will be like, "Oh, we're breaking tradition. We have to go home for Pookie's birthday."

Also, if you would like to see my entire collection of pictures from the trip (including some by shamus and some by Pook and some by Honeydunce), click here.

And yes, there's something somewhat wrong about the idea that we've made Pookie so special that trips across the continent for his birthday are a regular event. I have no answers, per usual.

Firstly, you should know that this was the conversation about coming home for Pook's birthday.

Me
So, my DUI hearing is the same day as your birthday, so I guess I'm coming in for your birthday.

Pookie
Awesome. My sister is getting sober for my birthday.

Me
I'm not. I'm really not.

Day One: This is AWESOME.
So, I arrive Thursday night. I have breakfast with mom. I head to court to hang out with MD. Things are done. Things are not done. Things are sometimes frustrating. MD makes me laugh. I head to Pookie's house, where shamus is napping and listening TO THE MOST GOD AWFUL NOISE FUCK I HAVE EVER HEARD. shamus has apparently realized that a cab from the airport to Joel's cost $70. Ouch. He shows me gay YouTube celebrities. This is what we do.

We go to lunch. Pizza and tiny jugs of sugar, or iced tea if you prefer to call it that. We talk to an old lady about a bakery. We go to Jerry's used records. We have cupcakes. shamus cruises the around in a $300 t-shirt. I make the guy at the cupcake store listen to a five minute speech about how I wish I were bulimic because boys would like me better. Shamus does not like cripples. It's a good afternoon. Our sugar high begins to crash, though, and we want a nap, so we head back to Pookie's Hippie Shack.



And ten minutes after we nap ... the Pookie explosion busts through the door. And the world is happy. Though he needs a nap, too. So we all nap.

And then we head to dinner to meet up with Ferris and Honeydunce. There are two things you should know about dinner:

a. It is the first time that any of us are meeting Honeydunce, and while Pookie may not want to hear this, expectations are frankly low since we didn't like any of the last couple of girlfriends of his we met. Or didn't meet because they were noticeably absent at important events. And while we immediately fell in love with Honeydunce, I, in retrospect, feel badly for that poor girl. Firstly, when you put Pookie, Ferris, shamus and myself in a foursome together for the first time in over twelve months, it tends to escalate into an explosion of inappropriateness. At one point, I'll even admit, I go as far as to ask Honeydunce "On a scale of one to ten, how into my brother are you?" What's awesome about the fact that I just wrote that is that Pookie was in the bathroom when I did that and may just now be heating up in embarrassment that I did that to his girlfriend. The poor girl is literally bombarded. And I have to say, she held up like a pro. Like it didn't even phase her. She's the first one I've ever liked. She also had to put up with point "b", which is equally awesome.

b. We happen to be eating dinner in a Thai restaurant that is DIRECTLY across the street from the apartment building where shamus' uncle overdosed on heroin and died. And shamus happens to be sitting in the direction such that all through dinner what he's looking at is the apartment building where his uncle overdosed on heroin and died. For those of you who hang out with shamus and I, you know how sometimes I'll look at shamus and go, "You know, at least I think that the guy I'm dating now probably isn't going to put a shot gun in his mouth and kill himself," and then we laugh at that situation like it's funny instead of tragic because that's how we deal? Well, pretty much throughout dinner shamus would periodically say, "It's AWESOME that I'm having dinner and staring at the apartment where my uncle overdosed on heroin and died," and then we would all laugh like that situation was funny instead of tragic because what else do you do with that?

Honeydunce was a trooper. I love her.



After dinner we head to the Bloomfield Bridge Tavern where Allies has a show that night. Several awesome things, pretty much in this order, happen at the BBT.

- The Pens game is on. With just minutes to go in the third period, the Rangers come back to tie the game. The ENTIRE bar suddenly goes from moderately noisy to DEAD QUIET. Nobody is talking. There is no noise AT ALL. And then, with just a minute or so left, Crosby scores the go-ahead (and ultimately winning) goal and the place goes CRAZY. I feel entirely home.

- Honeydunce introduces me to my new favorite drink, which is vanilla vodka and pineapple juice and it tastes like a pineapple upside down cake.

- I eat six pirogies. Here is a note to self: no matter how much you may WANT the pirogies, they're not going to sit well with you after a Thai meal.



- Beautiful Kim shows up with her finance and somebody else we went to high school with. None of us remember the other kid we went to high school with, but perhaps that is because he probably wasn't hot in high school and now he is HOT.


- Andy and Fred show up and are, traditionally, Andy and Fred.



And then Allies play, and they rock. And my favorite thing about an Allies show is that Pookie spends a not insignificant amount of time playing with his back to the audience, all like "I would be rocking whether you were here or not." And Vesley, whom I hear is about to cut off the mane, hasn't cut if off yet and he lets it down for one song. And the band plays my favorite track, which is a track Pookie wrote after we got home from Hawaii for shamus' 30th birthday the other year. And teenage girls swoon and the Gods of rock smile and all is good.




And Ferris takes us home because Pookie wants to do shamus and I a "favor" by staying at Honeydunce's that night so we can have more space.

I should mention, by the way, that there has been no toilet paper at Chez Pookie since we arrived. I used the last tiny square within the first fifteen minutes. That is all.

Day Two: I got your Kayapolitan right here, and an Ass Cupcake
For the record, I have nothing to do with that Ass Cupcake conversation. I am just here to relay the information.

We begin the morning by meeting up with my mother in Cal, PA. By we I mean me, Pook, Honeydunce, shamus and...Doreen Conaway. Yes, my mother's BFF was in full force too. And later in the day Janet Batemen joined us as well, so it was all kinds of generational. I don't have a lot to report because the visit was in general extremely pleasant and relaxed and my mother serves lots of food and I wash my hair over a sink which is CRAZY since she just basically installed a new shower for me and I accidentally mention that I bought cocaine off of somebody that we all know, which, you know, is problematic information on many levels. And we sit outside and it's warm and breezy and smells like fresh grass and then shamus insists on putting his balls near my face and EVERYTHING IS RUINED LIKE ALWAYS.

Though, you know, that move on his part is really only fair since in Hawaii that one time I stuck my bikini clad butt right in his face. We're even now. Here are some pictures of the day.






Joel, shamus and Honeydunce head back to nap. I take a trip to Chez Woo to visit C-Woo and Tyler and Cienna. Those kids are getting ridiculously big. Cienna is so articulate now - she can have a full conversation with you if she feels so inclined. She's also quite good at getting her way. She'll stand in front of you with a book and big eyes. If you don't read it, she'll just open the book and put it on your lap. Eventually you realize that she's headstrong like her mama and she's going to win. And Tyler is just a flirt. Who likes food. And hockey. We know which parent he takes after. And it's so nice to catch up with C-Woo because she's one of the only people I know who will listen to some of the retardo decisions I'm making right now and not just say, "You're a moron." It's almost like she expects them, which is a good and bad thing.



After that but before a non-existent nap that I had planned on, I meet up with shamus and Ferris for more cupcakes. We take our cupcakes and our coffee and go sit on the steps of a church in Squirrel Hill. I first start explaining that part of the reason that I don't move back to Pittsburgh is because of the lack of eligible men to date. I mean, I'm not going to die alone or anything because I've got some cats and some gays, but I might like to find somebody ... someday. This confession immediately turns into a fun game for the boys called "What about him?" "What about him?" sounds a lot like this:

"What about that douchebag in the track pants and sandals?"

"What about the old guy?"

"What about the punk rock teenager? Oh, wait, he's a little old by your standards."

"What about the guy with bad hygiene?"

And on and on. Then, a conversation that I don't even understand begins to happen about eating cupcakes out of asses. I mean, I don't even pretend to acknowledge what was said. That is all.

We make it back to Pookie's. There is no nap time. There is change and roll out time. So I change, and we roll out. To official birthday dinner, which is at this place.

Joining us at dinner are Moon and C-Woo. B-Funk mystically disappeared on us, but that's how he rolls.

I have many favorite parts of dinner. In no particular order:

- Well, one could not overlook the invocation of "ass cupcake" throughout the entire meal. I'm still unclear as to whether "ass cupcake" is a term of endearment or a verb. I'm not sure I want to know.

- Oh yes, Honeydunce steals Ferris' move and the unicorn is brought out in full force. That's really just funny every time. It's like the jackal, but not.



- Political debate 2008, at which point I move seats. In this argument, Moon argues, shamus may or may not argue (I couldn't tell), C-Woo tries to argue and is shut out and really they're all pretty much on the same side in the end, which is the strange part.

- "Oh, I knew your last boyfriend, I was out on the trail with him when you two were breaking up! He was pretty upset." This is by far my FAVORITE moment. It was actual perfection. If I could have reached across and kissed Moon for giving us that moment, I would have.

I'm not sure if this means that we rock, or that we're middle-aged, but we closed that tapas and martini joint DOWN.




And then ... off into the night.

The Last Morning: On a scale of one to five ...
We spend the last morning before shamus and I fly out at the 61c having coffee. We play this game: "On a scale of 1 to 5, how would you rate Pookie's life so far in the category of (insert category) by the age of 31?"

Pookie doesn't like the game and decides that we ALL have to play if we're going to play.

The next category up is "fashion."

Ferris is wearing a Mac OS X t-shirt. His excuse is that he's headed home to do yard work.

Me
I give Ferris a 2.5 for fashion.

Pookie
I'll give him a 3.5. It makes a statement.

shamus
I give him a stupid point dumb.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, pretty much sums us up. Stupid.Point.Dumb.

Till next year, when hopefully my DUI will be resolved and we once again turn Pookie's birthday into a federal holiday.

 

I Am Thankful for Mimosas

And so Thanksgiving was, as usual, fantastic. It was also, as usual, exhausting and full of cluster. But I am, as usual, very thankful for my wonderful friends and wonderful San Francisco ... and mimosas.

Wednesday, 7:30pm: A questionable call the evening before a three day gauntlet run in San Francisco is to have a dinner guest over. Right? Because then the things you are not doing between 7:00pm and around midnight or so include packing, sleeping or getting cat supplies ready. But dinner is lovely, and by the way there is a fantastic recipe in last month's Cooking Light for a holiday beef stew with Guinness and cranberry sauce. And it is amazing. And my dinner guest is the kind of super sweet dinner guest who shows up with flowers and wine and then offers to restore an antique picture of my grandmother that has some water damage, so that made me fine and content with not packing, sleeping or getting cat supplies ready in the evening.

Thursday, 4:30am: This is when you leave for the airport if you have a 6:00am flight on Thanksgiving morning. It sounds worse than it is in real life. I mean, it's early, but the airport is also peaceful. You're not battling crowds at check in or security or in the parking lots. You can grab a cup of coffee and sit and enjoy McCarrrean's free wireless. I mean, it's early. It means you haven't slept the night before, but it's got its benefits. That is all.

Thursday, 8:30am: This is when you arrive at Chez Halff and take a one hour nap, acting like that hour is going to make a difference.

Thursday, 9:30am: This is when you leave for Chez Kennelco. You were supposed to arrive by 10am, but you know that's hopeless. You say before you leave that no matter what time you get there, you are staying only for an hour because you need to nap before people come over for Thanksgiving dinner.

But then you get to Chez Kennelco, and you are having a wonderful time because Ken and Eleanor and their beautiful children are so lovely and so engaging. And it is sunny and warm outside and so Ken takes the kids out to play football and you get to spend your late morning sitting in the sun and watching kids toss a football in a perfectly manicured back yard on Thanksgiving day. And Eleanor is cooking in such a way that it is required that you pick fresh sage from her backyard garden, which somehow feels like the most appropriate Thanksgiving day chore altogether. And everybody has stories and it's warm in the kitchen and the kids are playing and it's all perfect. And you're a little bit jealous, except that you have to check yourself and remind yourself that your Thanksgiving is wonderful too. It's all good and perfect and delightful.




Thursday, 1:00pm-ish: Is when you arrive back at Chez Halff. You offer to help in the kitchen, and graciously Halff allows you to cut some brussel sprouts. But that is it! No working in kitchen de Halff. It's good that he, as he says, knows his limitations. Around 3ish, Rice, Michael and Ho show up.

And it's the best Thanksgiving in years.

Firstly, the food is amazing. The turkey is rubbed with sage and pancetta butter. Halff has made rich folk green bean casserole for me. There are pies, oh yes, there are pies.

And the company is spectacular. We laugh all night long. We play cards, which involves more laughing and the obvious realization that I can't count, as I'm the only one required to take notes to remember my score. Here is my favorite story of the night, as told by Michael:

"So I'm in the bank, and the teller is a cute girl, but, you know, I'm gay. And she and I are talking, and it's all like we like the same band and all, and we're both being friendly, you know? And so she says, 'Hey, that band is playing next week. We should go.' And I'm all like, 'Does she not realize that I'm gay?' But whatever. So I say, 'Sure. Can I bring my boyfriend, too?' And, no joke, she pauses, and then there's this huge sigh and she's all like, 'Suuuure. Siiiiiigh.' And I just keep on filling out my deposit slip. And she all keeps talking, and I swear to God what she says is, 'Mama told me. She said - you're thirty years old. Don't move to San Francisco, you'll never find a man. Mama told me.'"

Best.Thanksgiving.Story.Ever.





It really was so good. Every part of it. Thank you everybody.

Friday, 10amish: Is when shamus shows up for breakfast and Black Friday shopping. Breakfast, in case there hasn't been enough food yet, is homemade waffles with Halff's homemade cherry cranberry sauce over them.



Pumas are bought, and then...

shamus gets horribly, horribly ill. Horribly ill.

I'm just going to say that Friday is a day we will not recall. There is dry heaving. There is a need for Gatorade just to rehydrate what is lost. It's, well, not too pretty. I love you shamus! I do!

Saturday, 10amish: Is when you arrive at Chez Paul & Dex. It is also when the first round of the Jocelyn, Paul & Dex holiday tradition of mimosas served in huge pint glasses is served.



Holiday presents are exchanged. I get a bottle of Godiva Chocolate Liquor, which is as good a present as you can get. I text the following to Shimmy:

"Paul and Dex just gave me Godiva chocolate liquor, so we'll be drinking high end chocolate orange martinis at Bring the Naughty, Leave the Nice!"

To which Shimmy texts: "I love Paul and Dex."

Don't we all, don't we all.

We meet up with Dale for brunch at some mildly pretentious Castro brunch place, where we feel that the correct follow-up to mimosas is a bottle of wine.




Then we go back to Chez Paul & Dex where there is another round of mimosas and many, many hours of video game. And anime. Video games and anime. The afternoon pretty much looks like this from where I'm sitting.



And then we pass out. It's perfect.

Dinner is in the mall -- yes, the mall -- with lovely AshleighE. Here's a picture, taken specifically because we were in the Muni station and I said, "Hmmm. Soft lighting in here. This would be a very flattering place to take a picture of us.



One would think that that day was full enough, and involved enough drinking, but then Paul and I head out to Trad'r Sams to have cocktails with Melis and Howie. By cocktails, we mean a Black Magic, which pretty much puts us on our asses. But Melis and Howie look amazing. Here's my favorite quote from Melis, who is clearly the most awesome mother in the world (and I mean that seriously - because she knows who she is and doesn't let the fact that she has kids change her core, even if it has to change her outward behavior sometimes).

Melis
You know, what we learned early was that, sure, you could get a baby sitter to stay until 4:00am and you could stay out, but no matter what you did, those kids were going to be up at 6:30am yelling, "Milk! Milk!" And the smell, too!

11:00pm: Is when you arrive back at Chez Paul and Dex and cram in four hours of sleep before calling a cab to leave for the airport again at 4:30am.

It was a perfect, perfect, perfect Thanksgiving. I love San Francisco. I love my friends. I'm thankful for at least two years where I could spend Thanksgiving there with them. I'm thankful, also, for mimosas.

Applesauce had a good time, too. And then he passed out drunk.

 

Are you bored of Africa? I hope not, there's a lot left. Here's a Friday Five in the meantime.

1. Just for Hott Scott: Yo, we made "David Koresh" into a verb today. You win. I mean, you won the first time you described my issues with emotional attachment that way, but now you really win because I've incorporated it into my own vocabulary.

K-Rock
What's up? I heard that you actually brought a boy out in public last night. Um, SMOS. SMOS. SMOS.

Me
Yeah, well, I also invited him to spend New Year's with me in Tuscon because he's awesome like that. But, you know, it's chill because I'm committed to SMOS like you wouldn't believe and he is, as I mentioned, awesome and totally okay with my boundaries right now.

K-Rock
Really? Awesome.

Me
I mean, though, making plans that far out. That just assumes that I'm not going to David Koresh him before then.

K-Rock
Jesus.

2. Just for Catwoman and Pookie: I gave you both the same ringtone on the iPhone! Can you guess what it is? Here's a hint! Once, we were driving home from the theater with my parents and Pookie kept singing it in the back seat and it made my father so angry for the whole ride. Deny your maker, people.

3. Just for shamus?: I want some pie. You probably would like your birthday present, but that's not going to stop me from bitching about the pie that I have not been given.

4. Just for Pookie: I'd type a bunch of running emoticons here and turn on my iChat so we could video chat, but you're THE FREAKIN' ONLINE JUNKIE BETWEEN THE TWO OF US.

5. Just for Hil: Good girl. Tuscon will be fun. Or at least there will be no shortage of things to talk about.

6. Just for C-Woo: Uh, yeah. I seem to have not booked that flight yet. Uh. I'm ALL OVER THAT this weekend.

7. Just for Shimmy: I miss you and I have a story you WILL NOT BELIEVE. In fact, I may just email you right now.

8. Fun with Facebook: You know what's obvious? I'm too tired to write anything good right now. Let's lift what other people have written because it's way wittier. So, I enjoy playing with the "questions" application on Facebook. This week I asked two:

Question: True or False: My new iPhone will make me happier, beautiful in the eyes of others, and a complete person.

Trick said: False. False. False. You were already all of those. The new iPhone will make you poorer, 135 grams heavier, and completely irritating when you make the new Britney song your ring tone.

(I Love) Paul Jack said: Yes, and you STILL paid too much for it.

Salim said: True if you feel happier about it and think others see you more beautiful.

J. Lucas said: False... All Apple products only bring pain, misery, and HPV. infections. In addition, you can't even MMS message with it!

Ferris said: Shut up. I hate you hate you hate you.

C-Woo said: YAY!

Franki said: False! Your iphone will only make you a complete person in the eyes of apple fanboyz. Eitherway, you're now another proud owner of crappy products.

ToniK said: Absolutely true. I now shed a new light on you. You were only kinda cool to me before you got an iPhone, however now you could be the coolest person I know

Emily said: it will at least serve as a nice party trick. people like to touch them...

And after Emily said that, I asked: A multiple choice question inspired by Emily. You and I are at a party together. You walk up to me. You want to: a. Lovingly stroke my new iPhone b. Smack my ghetto booty c. Pet me on the head and say "Good girl" d. Ask me to get you another drink

Trick said: e. All of the above, although I'll bet I wouldn't be the first one at the party to do that.

Kolodny said: f) Tell you to say "Girl Power" so that everyone knows you're still in my posse as Yenta Spice. Because we know that'd never happen in real life or anything.

(I Love) Paul Jack said: b times three.

Shimmy said: Really? I have to answer this? Fine. ALL OF THE ABOVE. Because I frequently DO all of the above, well except for A, and that's only because I have't met it yet.

Franki said: No choices here: A, then use A to perform B (repeatedly too), then select D and give you C only if you come back with the right drink

Lisa said: b. several times. and then tell you to get me a drink ;)

Slappy said: Holy Christ. I'm leaning towards D, but tatsa only because I already know you'd have someone else around to fetch that drink for me.

ToniK said: Beee atch get me another drink! Love you mean it!

K-Rock said: It depends on where we're at. It would probably start with B, then D, then C, then as the drinks progressed, I'd probably ask for the JesusPhone for drunk texting action. 'Cause that's how I roll.

 

A Friday Five In Which I Close the Month With Strippers

1. I am the coolest girl you'll ever date: This is an actual exchange that went on this week.

Runner Boy Via Text
We're still on for Friday?

Me Via Email
YES! But, um, how do you feel about drinking at the Wynn for at least part of the time? I have to do stripper control and maintanence for a party around 10 or so (by which I mean pay the girls, walk them up and make sure nobody is overweight). After that I'm free.

Runner Boy Via Email
Let me make myself clear. I have asked you out on a date and you have counter offered with drinking at the Wynn (one of my favorite hotels), hanging out and "judging" strippers (I have a brain......so no comment), then enjoying the rest of the evening with just you after 10pm. Gosh Jocelyn........DUH!!!!!! :-)

It's true, I am officially the coolest girl you can data. Viva SMOS.

2. Speaking of Strippers: I thought you might enjoy this story. We're planning a party for some bachelors this weekend, and they want strippers in the room. So I call them and say, "Can you be more specific about exactly what kind of girls you want?" They need to think. They need to call me back. And when they do, this is what they want:

"We'd like one blond girl with REALLY big boobs. Once exotic girl, and one Black girl with a great tush."

Listen, if I'm not going to be part of the solution, I'm at least going to capitalize on the problem.

3. A Story of a Camera: This is another story of fun times in LA last weekend. I don't know why World Famous in SF doesn't allow permalinking, which would make this easier, but shamus? tells the story better than I do. Suffice it to say that a camera was taken, incriminating pictures of shamus? looking like a fool looking for his camera were taken and then hyjinx ensued. Click here to read the story, because it's awesome. It's the August 28th entry.

4. Rambling: I have less than 20 days until Africa and still have no visa. I like the excitement of waiting, is what it must be. And I can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to 24 straight hours of flying. Football season, who needs it? Twitter: Best thing since MySpace! Facebook: Better than MySpace. BankofAmerica=BankofEvil. My iPod: Jamming.

5. Friday Playlist. There's no playlist at all this week because, really, there's only one song that we should all be listening to. And it's here. I don't feel right inside right now.

 

"Great news, Jeremy, DoodyBubble is totally available. We can get right on this tomorrow!"

Subtitled: LA is Always, Like, an Adventure





One of the things that I always did love about living in San Francisco is that, if you wanted to go create an adventure one night, there was always something to do to create that adventure and there were always playmates ready and willing to have an adventure. LA is like that for me, too, which is probably why I'm on my way there. (Yes, really.)

I had a good weekend of adventure.

On Friday night, I went with shamus? and Tom to get midnight tacos and then to the Hard Place Pompeii party. Which was at the White Slave Trade. In an alley. In Echo Park. I have three most favorite stories from the night, and also, you can see all of the Hard Place band photos here.

Story Number One: "Well, then I can't help you."
So, let it be said that I loved everybody I met. They were all creative and fun and nice and lovers of the absurd. However, I think that I am not telling anybody anything that they don't already know when I say that I am not so much attracted to LA scenester boys in skinny jeans (which, by the way, in my mind are as much as much a travesty on men as are manpris and Crocs). However, possibly as punishment for, well, pick it, God gave me a little scenester boy. This one was so devoted to his favorite band that he had ridden his bike from Burbank to the show. Because bike was his preferred form of transport, which is important later.

I was not in the mood for game. I had not been in the mood for game to begin with. Bike Boy kept telling me that my gold lame stretch pants from AA were so hot he couldn't stand it, which may have been the funniest thing any boy has ever said to me in my life while trying to pick me up. Because, I think we all know that gold lame stretch pants are not hot on ANYBODY.

It is also important to note that shamus?, Tom and myself had no place to sleep that night. None of us had so much bothered to work that out, and all of us were like "We'll just figure that shit out after the show." That's how we roll. So, at one point, I'm trying to extract myself from the couch with scenester boy, and I'm like, "I need to go check in with shamus? and Tom. We don't have a place to sleep tonight."

Scenester Boy
You can come back to my place. I have a fold out couch in the living room. They can sleep there.

Me
In Burbank?

Scenester Boy
Yeah. Burbank.

Me
What are we going to do about your bike then?

Scenester Boy
We can take it apart and put it in the back of your car. Then you can drive to Burbank.

I see how it is. YES. We're all about the preservation of the environment by riding bikes, but when the possibility of getting laid is on the table - LET'S BURN SOME FOSSIL FUEL.

There were many reasons why that hook up wasn't going to happen, including but not limited to a)I was tired, b)I wasn't in the mood, c)I wasn't all that into it, d)I was on my period, and e)I am way too old and make way too much money to hook up with somebody just so that me and my two gay friends have a place to sleep that night. I totally stopped doing that sometime in my mid-twenties.

Anyway, it's time to extract from the situation. shamus? is about to walk away and I grab him by the toga (oh yes, yes he did) and I'm all like "You can't go anywhere. Help me." So shamus? actually offers up a good excuse to leave the situation. And that excuse is, "Lady friend, do you need a vodka drink? I'll buy you one, but I'm not carrying it for you. You need to get your ass up and walk to the bar."


I give you MAN TOGA.

Now, admittedly, he's given me a perfect reason to disappear. The entire world can see that I need a drink. He's offered to get me one. All I have to do is get up. But immediately the struggle begins in me, and my brain starts screaming "What up, bitch? I can't believe you think I'm getting off my ass to get a drink when you have perfectly healthy legs and arms to bring said drink to me over here." And before I can stop myself, I say, "I am NOT getting up to get a drink. What's wrong with you?"

And shamus? stares at me. Baffled by my reluctance to leave the very situation I just said I needed help getting out of (making this moment a microcosm of my entire life). And he sighs, and he says:

"Well I can't help you then."

And then he disappears. Leaving me there with all kinds of bad touch on gold lame and having to live with the results of the uncontrollable dose of princess in my blood. And in the best news you will hear all week, somebody actually took a picture of this entire scene while it was going down. Perfect.



Story Number Two: Five Dollars, Please.
Shortly after shamus? disappears, I get up and go after him. He is standing by the door with one of the guys from The Passionistas. If you didn't notice it in the photo, the guys from The Passionistas had made their togas from American flags. Perhaps you are offended by this, perhaps you are not. In either case, you don't need to tell me about it because I am not the person who showed up in an American flag toga. I am simply relaying a story that requires you to know that there is a person in a toga made from an American flag.

To this moment, I am not sure how this happened, but shamus?, the guy from The Passionistas and I ended up working the door. I really don't know how it happened. One minute we were talking, and the next minute we were asking people for $5 on their way in. We have no idea where the actual doorman, a large man with questionable dental hygiene, disappeared to. But at one point, the actual doorman comes back. And he's on some substance. And he looks at the guy from The Passionistas and says

"Thanks for working the door for me. Thanks so much. You know, you know, I'm gonna tell you something. You know about all that shit that went down at Roswell? You know? Like aliens and shit? Yeah. You know where George Bush was born? Yeah, like an hour from Roswell. George Bush isn't human. He's an alien implant. And global warming isn't global warming. It's making the climate right for the aliens. I'M FUCKING GLAD YOU DENIGRATED THE AMERICAN FLAG, DUDE."

We did not work the door for much longer. That is all. And for the record, this is how the night ended. If you didn't know better, you would think that shamus? was all emo and I had overdosed. But really, there's just no better way in my world to end a night than curled up asleep next to shamus while he's wearing a bedazzled shower curtain as a toga.



Story Number Three: It's 4:10am! Do You Know Where Your Jocelyn Is? So, we leave that show/party at around 3:30am. Still with no place to sleep. shamus? looks at me. "What are you going to do?" I'm like, "I think I'm just going to get on the 405 and find a hotel closer to Long Beach since I need to be there in the morning." And so the three of us split up. But after I get on the 405, my thought process is as follows:

"You know, Shimmy said to me yesterday that she had to leave her place at 5am on Saturday morning to go for a run. If I just drive all the way to Long Beach, I'll get there a little after 4am, which is right when she should be waking up. That works. That totally works!"

And so I drive my ass down to Long Beach. And I pull up in front of Shimmy's bougie building. And at 4:10am I text her this: "Hey! Txt me back if you're awake!"

My phone rings.

Me
I can't believe you're awake!

Shimmy
I can't believe you just texted me.

Me
Can you come down and let me in?!!!!

And that girl, that wonderful girl, she came down and let me in and put me to bed and made me tea later. Right now, don't you wish that you and I were tight like that? Because if you and I were tight like that, I would possibly show up at your place at 4:10am begging you to let me in, then invading your calm and peaceful home while wearing some gold lame stretch pants and a hoodie, smelling like cigarettes, booze and alley urine and justifying all of this by yelling "YOU'RE SO LUCKY, IT'S LIKE GOD SENT ME HERE TO MAKE SURE YOU GOT UP AND WENT RUNNING THIS MORNING!!!!!!"

That girl is wonderful. I am not wonderful because, really, who behaves like that?

As for the rest of the weekend...
Well, it was pretty much perfect. Shimmy came back from her run, and we went out and had crepes and mimosas (well, I had a mimosa, Shimmy is being good). The I managed to spend $160 on two dresses MADE OF T-SHIRT MATERIAL to take to Africa. Then I managed to spend $70 on two candles. Then I turned to Shimmy and said, "Maybe I should spend some money today." That's when we realized that shopping should stop and went and had PinkBerry instead.

And then we slept. I think the plan was more like "nap," but I slept until Charles called to tell me that dinner was at six. At which point, I was like, "Uh, maybe six thirty - I'm still in Long Beach." And then I arrived at dinner at 7:00pm. Shadalan, Shimmy, Charles and Luci were ALL there before me, and Shimmy didn't even leave until I was supposedly five blocks away from the place.

But that excepted, dinner was lovely. It was beautiful outside. Charles and Luci had brought two lovely, lovely bottles of vino. Shadalan looked like a beautiful Persian princess. Shimmy was hungry. I was thirsty. Conversation was easy and laughter was frequent. And we all left contented.

The next morning, Shimmy and I got karmic-ly cleansed and talked about anger in the world from a Buddhist perspective. You can decide for yourself if that was time well spent for me when I tell you that after I got back to Vegas that night, I had to pull over to the side of the road to talk myself out of ramming my car into the back of the car in front of me to make them drive faster. So maybe that class worked in that I didn't do that, and maybe it didn't in that I still wanted to. Whatever.

After getting cleansed, we filled back up with this ridiculously good diner food that included but was not limited to all of the following on two plates: toast, french toast stuffed with cream cheese and sugar, hash browns, poached eggs, gravy, corn beef hash, some kind of eggs of a scrambled or omelet variety, avocado, bacon, sour cream...you know what, I'm missing something. Even the man sitting next to us was like, "You guys put a huge dent in that for such little people."

And then it was time to leave, and if I didn't have the fact that My Favorite Mike (MFM) was in town and we were having dinner at Rao, I would have cried about leaving.

So.Fucking.Tragic. That's what I'm subtitling that weekend. Only because of that picture of shamus? and I.

I miss you LA! I'm headed back any day now! Seriously!

 

Let's Go Have Breakfast at a Snotty French Patissiere in the Bellagio Recommended by a Gay Male Escort

Which is how shamus and I spent our Sunday morning. But there was lots before that, too.

"The fun" started on Friday evening. After a run to Sephora, we went to dinner at Michael Mina. shamus didn't think that it was funny when I turned to him in mock horror as we entered the restaurant and said, "I can't believe you left your wife-beater" at home. It would have been perfect to wear here."

There are the usual shamus challenges with the menu. I eat more foie gras than any person should have in any one sitting. We essentially force them to set up a wine tasting for us like we're something special. We REALLY like the water and send an email off of my phone to remind ourselves of the name so we can track it down (because it's a snotty import called Llanllyr Source). It's nice. If I had endless cash and a super fast metabolism, I'd have that kind of meal before going drinking every night that I went drinking.

We have some goofy gays take some goofy pictures of us in the goofy Bellagio floral display for the Fourth of July. Here's a sampling.


Me to the gay taking this picture, "This dress makes me look like a bubble." The gay to me, "A bubble of perfect!"


So crazy! shamus with the fake lemonade stand!

It's not time to head to Caramel yet, so we decide to have a drink in the Baccarat Bar. This bar, which xtine and I like to refer to as the bar where the youngins seem to hang out. In fact, I may be able to summarize what happens next with this exchange.

1. I text xtine a picture of the couch featured in just about all of these photos and the message "Your favorite couch in Vegas misses you."

2. She texts back "Tell it I miss it too. At least it seems as though there are no 23 year olds attached to it this time."

3. I text her back this picture and this message:

"Actually, there are two 23 year old Aussies attached to it."

Because this is what happened. When shamus and I walked into the Baccarat Bar, there were no open seats. There were a couple of Gays we were going to go introduce ourselves to and go sit with, but then it looked like the two young gents above were leaving. It turns out that they were only cashing out because their waitress was leaving, but when I asked them that, they insisted that even though they weren't leaving, shamus and I should have a seat. They were fine. The one was freakishly tall (six foot seven, yo). We got to hear all about Australia. They thought shamus and I were related, which is cute. They were fine, but we were ready to be done with them by the time it was time to go. However, important later, I stupidly say, "Yeah, well, if you don't love Pure, and most people don't once they're actually in, we'll be at Caramel if you want to stop by." I surely did.

And then our people all show up and we all head over to Caramel. I will tell you know that you can see ALL of the pictures from that evening here. There are at least three of them where the caption just reads "This is me showing you how to be classy in a club." Enjoy. I've included some of my favorites below though.

Mindy is our server at Caramel. She loves her own name. She also loves Scottie. See how much Mindy and her pale-face love Scottie? Yep. That's love.



There are some highlights. For the record, those highlights don't include me drinking vodak out of the bottle. It also doesn't include when I porno-ed my ass into the air or tried to hump shamus' shoulder. Highlights would include when Sean did those same things after I did. Ha.

One highlight was the dancing man. He was dancing in the middle of the club, if by "dancing" you meant seductively rubbing up and down against the table. GROSS. There was also the hooker, and outside of the stimulating conversation with Mindy, she was the highlight. She was amazing. First, the guy that this African Queen hooker was with was AN EIGHT FOOT TALL WHITE MAN. Secondly, she had on a hot dress, hot jewelry and FLIP FLOPS. Somehow, she managed to grind with dignity against her trick even in flip flops.

But the best hooker story was the one Mindy told us about our African Queen friend. So, you know, the first thing that happens when you get table service is that somebody takes away the lids to all of the bottles that you bought because you're not supposed to leave with them. Our friend the hooker? Ballsy enough to ASK FOR THE LID TO THE BOTTLE OF PATRON so that she could leave with it. Despite her flip flops and line of work, I had expected more of her.

And there we are, enjoying our evening, when suddenly the Aussies join us. And the first thing out of shamus' mouth to me? "Dude, that guy thinks he's about to get laaaaid." Sure, he probably did. Which is why it suddenly got so awkward. I handled this by drinking more vodak and acting like a fool to deflect.

Oh, whatever. Here are corresponding pictures of Sean and I going ass-up in the club to show you how classy we are. Or perhaps you've already caught this delight on MySpace.



It was a good night. I love my friends.

On Saturday, after I surgically removed Redford from shamus, we went to see Oceans 13, which I loved, but George Clooney on any screen wells feelings of love in me. We were going to just grab some food and head home for napping time, but then shamus decided he wanted to SHOP. By SHOP we mean go to the Forum Shops at Caesar's.

Ask yourself, how much is too much to pay for a jacket made of the leather of baby goats? Once you have a number in your head, email me and I'll tell you how much you'll actually pay for that. For that matter, consider how much is too much to pay for a pair of rhinestone accented sunglasses from Coach. This is the game we played. That jacket is HOT though.

And then we had dinner and went to Fremont Street. AND I HAVE SOMETHING THAT HAS MADE ME SO HAPPY. It's a picture of shamus with a half-yard of liquor on Fremont Street. Like heaven delivered.



I ALSO HAVE A PICTURE OF SHAMUS OUTSIDE OF A STRIP CLUB THAT WAS REALLY PROUD THAT THEY HAD 45 DANCERS ON STAFF THAT NIGHT!!!!



Right? Perfect.

I mean, admittedly we made an error. And that error was half-yards of frozen liquor in 110 degree heat. We did not love how we felt. We loved it even less as we became part of this crowd. And this crowd are homeless folks enjoying the free outdoor concert from the eighties metal cover band. I'm not making that up.



Yep. So we went to the Griffin, had some drinks, shamus and his GAY outfit got introduced to an incredibly sweet boy and I was happy that they got along. And shamus broke the ice with that boy by telling the story about the time McK came to visit me in San Francisco and got human feces all over his leather chaps when we took him to My Place. Ice breaker!

We slept well. In the morning, we were going to go to the Coffee Bean, but instead decided that, on the advice of a gay male escort (I mean, Jesus, can we ever tell a story that doesn't involve the invocation of a gay male escort?), we went instead to Jean-Philippe. I mean, why go two minutes to the Coffee Bean when you can drive to the strip instead and eat French pastry. And eat I did: a brioche, a Napeolean AND a crepe. shamus couldn't really eat anything, but he said the pastry was good. Here are two pictures of our sunny, sunny morning.



That's a cute picture of me, right? Yet I got this text from C-Woo first thing on Monday morning, "I'm so glad to be greeted on Monday with a fresh picture of your ass on MySpace."

I miss him, and his gay ass vintage jeans, and his shopping enabling, and his bonding with Redford, and his bougie, bougie ways already. Tear.

And for the record, the picture below is my favorite of the night. Both because, well, that's shamus and I when we're out -- those faces, that silliness-- and also because Hott Scott is there in the background with that whole "I'm not participating" face. Ha.