Lost: One Website

Doesn't there seem to be, as Miss Tim Gunn would say, A Lot of Look going on here? If you're posed naked with your ass poking at the camera, tarted up in your best Roy Rogers ensemble and the viewer's eye is distracted by your bibelot cabinet, perhaps you should consider restaging the shot.

Plus, I'm pretty sure Diane von Austinberg and I have picked over each and every one of those adorable crystal whatnots in various junk stores over the years. And discarded them.

And I am not about to consider whom he might be tipping his hat to outside those partially drawn blinds. Are his neighbors used to this or is he just friendly?

All of this is in way of a plea from mrpeenee. Somewhere there is a terribly amusing website that comments on photos, much like this, that they find on personal ads. I run across it every now and then and immediately forget its name. If you know what I'm talking about, please pass along the url. No shame will be attached to your ability to provide this, honest. I think it's something like "Regrettable Decors," but I'm not sure.

Thank you in advance.

Wet Times

I never consider my office particularly cozy except during those rare San Francisco storms, like we had yesterday. Black skies, drenching rain, flooded streets, the whole thing. And there I was, looking out from the sixth floor feeling smug. Then, by the time I was ready to go home, the clouds had rolled by.

It's a sweet life.

On the Town with Peenee

So, once again, my lucky underpants did not let me down. Saturday was a lovely quiet day.
We started out with a vigorous round of Catch the Scrap of Paper with Saki. He won, he always does. I think he cheats. On the upside, I got through it with no flesh wounds. Yay.

R Man yakked it up with our Michigander friend Professor Puffy Pants. R Man was, as usual, very nicely turned out for a morning of not doing much.

We went over and snagged the Urban Street Pirate. This is some of the Pirate work. Candy Darling

and a self portrait, Tim the Baptist. Having talented friends is always a plus, I think.

I have fancy new shades. I have them because I am cool.

I mentioned our favorite restaurant, Chow, has finally reopened It's still as good as ever, thank heavens, but I made a terrible mistake by adventurously ordering egg foo yung for breakfast. Turned out a bad idea, made worse by the fact everybody else had deliciousness on their plates. Bastards.

We went on a grocery run at the latter day hippie, lesbian, communist, worker-owned collective, vegetarian Rainbow Grocery where an excessively earnest fellow shopper rebuked me for taking photos. He explained "The Whole Food people are always trying to steal their ideas." Sometimes it all I can do not to start slapping everyone in reach.

Carrots as proprietary information. Don't tell the vile Whole Foods, whatever you do.

Cherries on Folsom Street are blooming. In October. Who knew the End Times would be so attractive?

Artsy

I'm also very fond of the Fountain of Neptune in Florence.
I am very cultured.

Ride 'em

This is one of my favorite statues, Theseus and the Minotaur, at the Victoria & Albert. In looking for a picture of this, I was struck by how consistently all the published ones are pretty much this orientation, head on from the front. One supposes the bearing is favored because it is the tamest. The statue is located in the intersection of two halls, so when I first saw it, I was looking at it from the side and the impression of it portraying a humpy young man being butt-fucked by a studly bull thang was most pronounced. In fact, the impression was emphasized by the angle making it look like his club is his Club, if you know what I mean, rising stiffly from his groin.

I know plenty of high minded people are offended by this kind of homocentric interpretation; the work, just like the myth, represents man overcoming evil or his worse nature, the concious over the dark unconcious, the super-ego over the id. But sometimes a cigar is just a cigar and a half bull chimera being straddled by some marble porn butt is buggery.

Shakin' All Over

The 20th anniversary of the Loma Prieta earthquake is coming up on Saturday and the city had a drill for earthquake preparedness (what a clumsy noun) today. Apparently nobody wants to think about bad news on a Saturday. Sirens went off a moment ago and we all ducked under our desks, even me, like a good little boy. I should have been thinking disaster thoughts; instead, I was realizing what a nice place for a nap that particular corner would be. I’ll have to bear that in mind.

I’m just not good about earthquakes, I was raised in a swamp, after all. I was getting my hair cut when the Loma Prieta earthquake hit. Coincidentally R Man was also getting his do done a block away. We have agreed to never have our hairs cut simultaneously since. It’s the least we can do for seismic safety. The earthquake only lasted 15 seconds and by the time I figured out was going on, it was over. So much for duck, cover and piss your pants. I was still staring at the Vietnamese lady who had been cutting my hair as she huddled under the counter, squawking like a chicken, when everything finished shaking. She offered to finish my hair when she emerged weeping, but I passed. Something about the way she was trembling put me off. I’m sensitive that way. I walked around for a couple of weeks with half-cut hair. Nobody noticed.

We figure we’ll have to walk home from work after the next one, even though my office has massive stockpiles of supplies all ready for us to hunker down here. The thought of surviving a disaster and then living with my coworkers for any length of time, even if my cubicle does seem to have a nice nap corner, is a grim one. I plan on taking my chances hiking through the Mission homeward bound.

The Return of Whatshisname

Hello? HELLO? Is this thing on? How do you work this? Where am I?

It's been very kind of everyone to be concerned about mrpeenee's absence, snarkiness included. I have no excuse - I'm through being sick, I didn't have anything better occupying me, I've simply been lazy and unmotivated. The laundry piles up, voicemails go unanswered, and mrpeenee remains a dusty echo. But I'm back! And I have ... nothing to report. When you've been lying around doing nothing, it's hard to come up with juicy tidbits. Not that I mind imitating sediment, still and all....

Let's see. Hmmm. I dug up and moved a bed of liriope. Our favorite restaurant, Chow, reopened FINALLY after a grease fire last month. We built numerous fires of our own, but in the fireplace, mostly because Saki the Evil and Adorable cat demands them. R Man found a cd of Peter Paul and Mary's greatest hits, which I have listened to with my teeth gritted until I may need dental intervention. You know, the yoozh.

Also, we've had word from the much missed Thombeau of Fabulon. He's doing well, his breakup with Fabulon was amicable, no hard feelings, it was just too much work keeping a nonstop stream of fabulosity coming for his demanding fans. But I do miss the wacky splendors of it all.

I close with an image that is a salute to it. Fabulon, how I miss you.