I Admit It, I’m The Difficult-Hold-The-Line-Up Starbucks Guy – Don’t Get Me Started!

It didn’t start out this way. In the beginning I was the soy latte guy. Simple, easy, right? But as new drinks came into being and I discovered things like the positive mood altering effects of a Peppermint Mocha, I caved in and became that guy. But then as the weight started coming on from all that sugar and the prices going up and up, I turned to my friendly barista to find a new drink. Something tasty and cost effective (after all, I’m still a Jew). But now, it’s gotten ugly, I admit it, I’m the difficult-hold-the-line-up Starbucks guy – Don’t Get Me Started!

She was a sweet and delightful barista who was from Seattle, the home of the first Starbucks so who better to listen to when she said she had a drink that she liked that she thought that I would like, right? After all, she is the expert and she drank it so even if I didn’t like it, I knew that I was dealing with a professional drink maker and drinker. The drink was that you take three honey packets and squeeze them into what those in the industry (and pains in the ass like me would grow to learn) into a “short cup” – for those of you who do not know, let me educate you. It’s the smallest little cardboard cup you can get in the Starbucks world. After the honey is in the “short cup” you pour three shots on top of it and stir until the honey has been dissolved. Then the fun begins, take a Grande iced cup, fill it with ice and dump the concoction over the ice, top it off with a little soy and voila – you have the honey, espresso delight!

Through the years that I’ve been drinking this drink, my original barista moved back to Seattle and for a long while I just decided it wasn’t worth having to describe the entire process to a new barista. Yes, the magic had gone and with it my honey espresso drink.

Then I started going to a new Starbucks near my new job and I figured what the hey, I missed having the naturally sweetened treat so I waited until a day when there weren’t a lot of people in line and I explained the drink. As the baristas looked at me as if I had asked for something unheard of, they obeyed and slowly I began to teach the baristas how to make the drink. Then something so special happened it can only be described as well, a gift from God. Yvette (an adorable Asian gal with the cutest hair in the planet) said to me, “Scott, do you want the fourth shot?” I didn’t know that they make the shots in doubles so they end up just throwing the fourth shot away. Next she really got crazy, putting the honey not into a “short cup” but in one of their shakers, adding the four shots to the three honeys, shaking it with the ice and soy and putting the whole beverage in a Venti cup. Well, I don’t feel the least bit embarrassed to say that I love this woman.

The good news is that now they start making “the drink” as soon as I walk in and it hardly takes any extra time at all but get a new barista and everyone suffers. That happened last week and I don’t mind telling you that I felt like a real asshole as I talked the new barista through the making of the drink. Now should you want to try this drink there is something that you need to be aware of (besides the fact that they are addicting like most Starbucks beverages) if the barista tries to short cut this by not actually stirring to melt the honey and then ice it, you get hard chunks of honey through your green straw and it’s not good at all. On the whole I think that I’m someone who really follows the rules, tries to not affect others in a negative way but I admit it, I’m the difficult-hold-the-line-up Starbucks guy – Don’t Get Me Started!

 Comment on this blog at...
http://hubpages.com/hub/I-Admit-It--Im-The-Difficult-Hold-The-Line-Up-Starbucks-Guy

Groomer Has It – Don’t Get Me Started!

Okay, so I was more than a little delighted when American Idol, America’s Next Top Model and the rest of my crappy-shouldn’t-really-be-watching shows had come to an end. No more did I have to be faced with a Tivo full of shows to be watched each week. Whew. Well, unfortunately I didn’t count on Animal Planet’s “Groomer Has It” – Dear God, just when I think I’m out they pull me back in! Argh!! I didn’t want to really watch it, I didn’t want to like it (after all, I don’t even have a dog) but alas I’m in. Groomer Has It – Don’t Get Me Started!

Hosted by Jai (one of the Queer Eye For The Straight Guy guys) in more argyle than the law allows the show follows the classic format of all the cooking and reality competition shows we’ve all seen. As Jai makes horrible dog puns throughout out the show the groomers are seen “in the doghouse” where they live and then they come out to do their challenges. The final prize is $50,000 which is not really that much when you consider these people had to give up their lives to be on the show. But I guess being told that they are “best in show” is a prize in of itself. Who the hell knows? And listening to Jai tell the losers to go back with their tails between their legs just pushed me over the edge.

Now, I have had little experience with dogs, we had one when we were little. His name was Apollo Skylab (yes, my brother was heavily into the space program) Apollo was a cockapoo so he had this curly fur that was all black. The first time we took him to the groomer and went to pick him we were sure (and I still think this could be the case) that they gave us the wrong dog. I don’t know if it was that the grooming scared him so much or what but what we got back was a completely sheared dog that was gray. Oh, and had a red bow on each ear. The dog was completely unrecognizable. We didn’t love Apollo any less but he certainly wasn’t our little black cutie we once had. Once my father saw the bill for the grooming, he decided that he would do it himself. You see, he was born and raised on a farm so to him it was not a big deal. Unfortunately, such was not the case for Apollo. He would hate it and as the clippers sounded he would look at us begging us to save him from the fate that was my dad grooming him. I don’t think any of us heard any obscenities quite as much as when my father was grooming Apollo.

But back to the show. I had no idea what a bunch of freaky deaky people groomers are but let me tell you something, apparently they are. I watched the show, “Blow Out” on Bravo about the Beverly Hills salon, I watched the show, “Shear Genius” the hair stylist competition show on Bravo and let me just say that how Bravo didn’t snatch this show up is beyond me. It has the same format, it has a host from Bravo and God knows it’s gay enough.

I guess it’s no better or worse than some other competition shows but come on, I just finished with so many of them. Why oh why, did this show come across my path? I curse you Animal Planet. I curse you reality competition shows. I curse you bad reality show writers of the puny kind. And yes, I’ll be back next week – Groomer Has It – Don’t Get Me Started!

Comment on this blog at...
http://hubpages.com/hub/Groomer-Has-It

A Chorus Line Is Not For The Young Of Age – Don’t Get Me Started!

I came across this review of the current Broadway tour of A Chorus Line and having great affection in my heart for this musical, I just had to write a rebuttal. The original review from the Orange County Register by Paul Hodgins can be accessed through one of the links below. Although I haven’t seen the recent Broadway or touring production of the show, I have seen enough of it on shows here and there (Ugh, Mario Lopez on Dancing With The Stars) to realize that this show is not what it once was nor is it for everyone. Then again, it never was for everyone. I know this first hand as I played “Paul” in a production of the show years ago. And while the production I was in was not on Broadway, it had all the original choreography and staging, directed by a member of the Broadway show. A Chorus Line is not for the young of age – Don’t Get Me Started!

What people seem to fail to realize is that A Chorus Line was groundbreaking on many levels. Nothing like it had ever been seen before and while I agree that the sensibilities of theatre goers as well as the public at large may not find the stories or the way that they are told in this show as shocking as they were in 1975 when the show first appeared on Broadway, you have to remember that this was a first of its kind. Maybe it didn’t need to be or shouldn’t have been brought back to Broadway but maybe just maybe it’s the people producing the show and the kids in it who get the show the least.

You see, the show was a confessional piece about the chorus dancers that you never got to meet or know their stories. It was meant to show the sacrifice and the humanity of the kids who went into this very difficult field with a lifespan something similar to the common house fly but how it meant everything to them. But you see today we’re all so numb to fame (thanks to reality television) that being a dancer in a Broadway show seems so much less to some than getting to eat cockroaches or ants on a television show where you could possibly make money and have your face plastered into oblivion thanks to syndication.

Broadway used to mean something. It was the pinnacle to many people, including this writer. Being a chorus dancer (or a “gypsy” as it’s called) was right up there with fame, fortune and success. Even back in its day the show A Chorus Line was misunderstood. You see, it was a show that asked the dancers to tell their stories in a non-acting kind of way, to just be under the pressure of needing the job and a director who asks to know more of his perspective auditioners than whether or not they can pick up the steps. He wants to know their stories. The show isn’t about flashy costumes or one fabulous number after another, it’s about the stories; stories that were compiled from real life Broadway dancers over a series of sessions and recorded by the playwrights and Michael Bennett then put together masterfully for the stage. Dreams, disappointments, people trying to make their parents notice them and boys who were gay trying to find acceptance in themselves and their work. What a shame that the new version is so “acty” that most of the original message is missed.

Young dancers may hope to get on the show So You Think You Can Dance now instead of Broadway but the stories that motivate them to dance, to strive to be better just may have similarities that existed to the Broadway hopefuls in 1975 that filled the show A Chorus Line. So maybe this production isn’t everything it should be, that’s the true shame here but it’s not that the show hasn’t worn well, it’s that some of us have become jaded beyond our years (are you listening Mr. Hodgins?). In 1975, it was a different time, it was a time when Broadway wasn’t run by corporate offices who only cared about getting Lance Bass in a show so that ticket sales would stay steady. Instead, it was a time when the play was the thing. Call me nostalgic but I do miss those times, ever so.

I decided, halfway through viewing my umpteenth production of “A Chorus Line” Thursday at the Ahmanson Theatre, that there are many reasons not to like this mid-’70s relic, which has aged about as gracefully as the Ford Pinto, avocado-green kitchen appliances and the music of Neil Sedaka. (Read my review.) Herewith is my list of the 19 things I hate about “A Chorus Line.” (Why 19? Anybody who’s seen the thing will be able to answer that question.)

19. Zach’s disembodied Freudian analysis of the auditioning dancers. He’s like the Wizard of Oz as a therapist.
18. Mullets.
17. Tearful confessions about rotten childhoods.
16. Streetwise girls with “moxie.”
15. Bad working-class New York accents. Dees guys and dos gals really get on my noives.
14. Innocent, tremulous young things from the heartland. To a New Yorker, everyone west of the Hudson is still chewing a hayseed when they get off the Greyhound at Penn Station.
13. Unitards.
12. Gay men vying for the “Nellier than thou” contest.
11. Choreographers who yell out “five-six-seven-eight!” when they’re nowhere near the end of the musical phrase.
10. Step-kick lines. For any reason, at any time.
9. Guys who show they’re tough by chewing gum, wearing tight wife beaters and looking like a minor member of the Jets.
8. Gay clichés.
7. Bimbo clichés.
6. Slut clichés.
5. Using child abuse as a dramatic catalyst when the story gets draggy.
4. Never knowing a thing about the accursed show they’re auditioning for.
3. Using dancers’ intimate confessionals as a principal narrative device.
2. Getting the phrase “singular sensation” stuck in my brain for three days.
And the Number One reason I hate “A Chorus Line”: “One.”

This entry was posted on Friday, May 23rd, 2008 at 3:34 pm and is filed under Theater by Paul Hodgins.

 Comment on this blog at...
http://hubpages.com/hub/A-Chorus-Line-Is-Not-For-The-Young-Of-Age

Okay, so I couldn't really put it on the Don't Get Me Started blog because it was just too gay...but click over and read this entry!

http://www.somelikeitscott.com/somelikegay.html

And People Make A Living Writing Horoscopes? – Don’t Get Me Started!

As long as I can remember horoscopes have been in my life. I remember my mother had the book “Sun Signs” by Linda Goodman. I don’t remember ever reading the book myself but I know that whenever I was in a store with my mother I didn’t ask for candy at the register but the small scrolls that you can buy that had your horoscope in it. Do you remember them or does the cheese stand alone on this one? At any rate, my mother (God love her) was into the horoscopes, psychics and I think she even went to a séance once in a supposed haunted house. It made her colorful, funny and just my mom. Well lately I started reading my horoscope online and I just have to say, I don’t know if it’s because I’m older or what but boy do these seem to be a whole lot of crap anymore. And people make a living writing horoscopes? – Don’t Get Me Started!

Now I always tell everyone that I am a typical Scorpio. True, I think I do exhibit many of the qualities that are attributed to this sign – you know, sexy, charismatic, fiercely loyal and also when I’m done with you, I’m really done with you. I mean to the point where I won’t even make eye contact with you. It’s funny, I discovered this years ago. We’ve all had this experience, a friend who really isn’t your friend but you tolerate so that you don’t make waves or someone at work who manages to get out of doing all the work yet is there to step in and take the praise at the last moment. Well, what I discovered was that when I had been pushed beyond reason with someone like this I stopped making eye contact with them. I don’t know if it has to do with the eyes being the “windows to the soul” as they say (and I didn’t think the person deserved seeing my soul anymore or that I was just afraid they’d look into my eyes and see a soulless glare staring back at them) whatever the reason, I find when I’m through with someone I don’t make eye contact.

When I was really little I didn’t understand what the zodiac signs meant so in my mind somehow (probably my older brother told me to shut me up or scare the crap out of me) I thought that whatever zodiac sign you had, that was how you were going to die. I don’t know where I got this and it’s not over yet so you never know but I hardly think my brother will die from a fish (like Luca Brasi “Luca Brasi sleeps with the fishes” from The Godfather) or that my father will be attacked by a lion (he’s not Siegfried or Roy) or that my mother is fated to die from a killer crab attack. But then again, you never know.

But back to my main point (yes, I thought I had one when this began). I used to love to read my horoscope and get the scrolls or the small horoscope books at the grocery store but now when I read them not only do I not believe what I’m reading, there are many days I don’t even know what the fuck they’re trying to tell me. Here you go, here’s an example of my horoscope for today… Now that the Sun is moving through your 8th House of Intimacy, it can enrich and activate your own basic issues. You are usually interested in discovering what is beneath the surface, what is behind the mystery and what is on the dark side of the Moon. Self-discovery is encouraged by self-inquiry. Use language to gain entry, but then use your feelings to get to the real stuff.

Just what in God’s name is this supposed to mean? I don’t get it and I don’t want to get it. The sun is in the 8^th house (when we all know from my musical theatre background it’s the “moon” and it’s in the “seventh house”) and what’s the deal with “basic” issues? I’m much more complex – I don’t have basic issues, I had the DMV telling me I was a woman for three years for fuck sake! Who the hell has time for “basic” issues? I don’t want to do any discovering underneath the surface because right now I have a tan on my body and a gloss on my hair to hide the gray just so I can cover up the surface. And as far as the moon goes, the only moon I know about is when Auntie Mame plays the “Moon Lady” in the musical Mame. There will be no self discovery because frankly I’m tired of inquiring about myself only to be put on hold or having to leave a message for myself. Finally, I don’t possess a great knowledge of language (other than four letter words, obviously) so there’s no way that’s going to provide me with “entry” to the Matterhorn at Disneyland let alone to “the real stuff.”

Alas, perhaps I’ll keep reading the horoscopes but I just think that they used to be better written or something. They challenged you to see the mystery in life or at the very least, made you wonder whether or not you should be driving a car today. You know the important stuff. Can you imagine calling into work, “I know I’m supposed to work today but according to Linda Goodman’s Love Signs not only am I not going to find love today, I’ll be hit by a Mack truck if I drive today. Uh no, I won’t be in.”

Still I think I’m pretty Scorpio-like. So even if the sun is in a house it shouldn’t be in, it doesn’t take away from the fact that people who are born during the same time of the year exhibit some similar behaviors. Whew, well I feel better (that is until I discovered I share a birthday in common with Charles Manson). And people make a living writing horoscopes? – Don’t Get Me Started!

Comment on this blog at...
http://hubpages.com/hub/And-People-Make-A-Living-Writing-Horoscopes--Dont-Get-Me-Started 

Another Postal Increase And I’m Just As Confused – Don’t Get Me Started!

Well, the United States Post Office has done it again. Apparently the increase happened a couple of weeks ago but like most things, I didn’t realize it until I encountered it. Now I’m one of those people who like getting mail and sending mail. I’m almost a little offended by the term, “snail mail” as I think getting a letter (when it isn’t a bill or an advertisement for something I really don’t want) is a romantic thing. Yet time and time again those zany postal people force me to lose it when all I want to do is mail a freakin’ letter! Another postal increase and I’m just as confused – Don’t Get Me Started!

Here’s the deal USPS – you need to just stop with all the pretty graphic stamps unless you’re going to put the price on the face of them. I have no idea how much Peter Pan or Ella Fitzgerald was worth so I couldn’t possibly know if I’m putting enough postage on my mail at this point. If I were Oliver Stone I’d think it was a conspiracy but honestly, does anyone NOT have a drawer full of stamps that are supposedly worth something but you have no idea their worth? (And I’m not talking in a collecting stamps kind of way.) I’m sure to someone (like the one who created this increase) this whole thing makes sense but I’m telling you that to the rest of us, it makes no sense whatsoever. And don’t even get me started on all the two cent and four cent stamps I bought to supposedly make Judy Garland more worthy of getting my mail to the right place during the last postal increase which happened when…twenty minutes before this most recent one?

I mean at this point, what they should be doing is at the very least letting us paste our old stamps into books to hopefully get enough for that Hamilton Beach blender we don’t want to spend money on but at some point will need to make smoothies or margaritas. (Yes, this was a reference to the old S&H Green Stamp books – if you are too young to understand this reference I suggest you Google it)

Like I said, I’m a letter writer from way back. I still have a drawer of personalized stationery I use to send people letters. And I’m proud to say that my letters read differently from my emails. You see, emails are meant to be concise communications (are you reading this all of you people who send lengthy jokes or emails that are so long they feel as though I’m getting another crappy holiday letter in a Christmas card from you?) but letters, ah…letters can be flowery and descriptive as they are meant to be read with a cup of tea and produce a warmth that comes more from reading the letter than from the beverage.

So I’m trying desperately to help you postal system but I’ve never been someone to stand by and help someone self-destruct which is exactly what it looks as if you’re trying to do. I can’t and won’t be your enabler USPS! Oh sure I’ll keep mailing letters but I won’t get suckered in by your Daffy Duck with no price in the corner or try to figure out if the card I just bought has the correct circumference to get regular first class postage or if I have to put every black Jazz artist stamp I’ve ever purchased on it so that it reaches its destination. But I’m a Jew so I can’t throw those stamps away either. So I guess I’ll just over postage everything, allowing this one aspect of my life to be lived to excess. After all, I all ready bought the stamps and since I don’t have any idea how much they’re worth I won’t mind putting them all on the next letter I send. Of course anything that might have to be mailed to our government (the ones who created this mess) they should expect to see the front of the letter covered in two and four cent stamps, because well, Judy Garland whatever the price you put on her is just too good for you. Another postal increase and I’m just as confused – Don’t Get Me Started!

Comment on this blog at...
http://hubpages.com/hub/Another-Postal-Increase-And-Im-Just-As-Confused 

The Store Bought Macaroni Salad Coma – Don’t Get Me Started!

I don’t know if the old saying, “You are what you eat” is true but I do know that on the whole I do try to eat things that are healthy for me (for the most part). Now, that is not to say that I don’t eat ice cream (which let’s face it, can’t be all that great for you) whenever I get the change and a myriad of other things that I know I shouldn’t be eating. So last week when I was in the grocery store and looked over to see that familiar tub of Creamettes drowning in its odd whiteish-yellow “sauce” something inside me convinced me that I needed to have some and so I did. The store bought macaroni salad coma – Don’t Get Me Started!

It wasn’t a large tub but due to my inability to understand or rather be able to police my own lack of bad portion control tendencies, I ate the entire tub that day (Albeit not in one sitting). But what truly amazed me was that after my first round with the macaroni salad I felt something akin to what Snow White must have felt when she bit the poisoned apple the wicked witch gave her. That’s right, within moments after eating it I was out like a light. Now at first I thought to myself that it had just been a long day or that perhaps something else was going on but after the second sitting of the macaroni salad, it could only be one thing…the macaroni salad.

Now first of all I don’t really know why I would eat this macaroni salad. This is not to say that I don’t love me some macaroni salad but normally it’s the macaroni salad my mother makes, not the store bought kind. And oddly enough, though they share the same name, the taste is completely different. I know what goes in my mother’s macaroni salad but can anyone (or will they let us know) what the hell is in the store bought stuff? Homemade macaroni salad uses mayonnaise for the “sauce” and yet I don’t know what the hell is in that gloopy shit they use in the store bought kind. It doesn’t taste like mayonnaise and it has this odd sort of after taste that has a tang similar to something that is just about to go out of date (as we say in my family) or in other words, about to go bad.

Have you ever had someone’s homemade macaroni salad and have it taste like the store bought kind? I think not. So here’s a tip, if you put down on the family or company picnic that you’re bringing macaroni salad, do not try to pass of the store bought shit has something you’ve made, everyone will be on to you very quickly.

At this point some of you are wondering why you’re reading this and I’ll be honest I’m wondering a little bit as to why I’m still going on about it. But you see it stopped me cold, put me in a slumber that couldn’t be disturbed by a fire alarm so it started me thinking that maybe this is one of the best kept secrets when it comes to weapons we could use against our enemies. Maybe we’ve finally learned what else they served at the first Thanksgiving dinner. Between the tryptophan in turkey and the store bought macaroni salad no wonder we got the Indians to turn everything over to us. I see pilgrims in silly hats and shoes with large buckles standing around after the ceremonial meal with all the Indians fast asleep and the pilgrims moving the Indians’ hands on parchment signing over their land. I’m telling you, if and when we find Bin Laden, see if he likes macaroni salad (wink, wink)! The store bought macaroni salad coma – Don’t Get Me Started!

 Comment on this blog at...
http://hubpages.com/hub/The-Store-Bought-Macaroni-Salad-Coma

Gay Marriage, How Nice For The Gays, How Nice For Everyone – Don’t Get Me Started!

Well, for most gays and human beings today saw a victory with the California court’s strike down of the gay marriage ban. It’s exciting and yet there’s a part of me that can’t help but me a bit cynical. I hate that I’m feeling a bit like Bette Davis (sans the cigarette) in All About Eve. Gay marriage, how nice for the gays, how nice for everyone – Don’t Get Me Started!

Of course I want us gays to get the rights we deserve but as I’ve stated more than once, I’m a gay who never really thought too much about marriage. Here I’ve been with the same man for almost twenty years (August anniversary) in a completely monogamous relationship. Can you show me the heterosexual couples (besides my parents) who can say that for themselves? And the sad part is that I never really considered marriage an option because it seemed like some completely ridiculous fantasy for the gays of my generation. Yet despite the fact I’m more committed to this man than most heterosexual couples…oh please don’t give us the tax breaks, make us fight daily for health benefits and the right to visit one another in the hospital and then tell us how subhuman we are and unworthy of the sanctimonious matrimony the religious right wave in our faces like the stupid southerners with their Confederate flag. Angry? You bet but it goes beyond angry it goes to my very heart.

Do I know what love is? I do. Do I know what being committed to one person is? I do. Do I take my relationship seriously? I do. Do I feel our love is sacred? I do. Yet in my state and many others I can’t say, “I do” legally. I don’t know if you haven’t been in this position you can understand just how degrading that feels. To be told no when you feel so much possibility and yes in your heart.

Am I glad the California gays won the right (for now) to get married, you bet. Am I moving to California because of it? No. And does the fact that my state says I’m not legal make me feel less for the man I share my life with on a daily basis? No. In a way I feel like Golde in Fiddler on the Roof (yes, it’s always an old movie or musical reference – paraphrased to suit my needs) “For twenty years now, I’ve lived with him, fought with him, starved with him. Twenty years now my bed is his, if that’s not love what is? So I love him, I know it’s true. Though California gays get to say I do. It doesn’t change a thing but even so, if they can say I do it’s nice to know.” Gay marriage, how nice for the gays, how nice for everyone – Don’t Get Me Started!

Comment on this blog at...
http://hubpages.com/hub/Gay-Marriage---How-Nice-For-The-California-Gays--How-Nice-For-Everyone

Brothers And Sisters Season 2 Finale – Don’t Get Me Started!

For those who read the Some Like It Scott site, you know that last season I wrote about the finale of Brothers and Sisters. Well of course, I was glued to my Tivo all season this season as well, just love the show (and so does my mother) so when the season ended on Sunday there was a huge bump in the clicks to my blog about last season’s finale. I know that people thought it was about this season’s finale and so my Jewish guilt kicked in. Couple that with my Sally Field need for you “to like me, you really like me.” And here we go – Brothers And Sisters Season 2 Finale – Don’t Get Me Started!

To say there were few surprises in the season finale is an understatement (stop reading now if you haven’t seen the finale – spoilers on the way) but the amazing thing was that instead of all of us avid watchers sitting on our sofas shaking our head in an “Oh yeah, I knew this was going to happen” pattern instead it was amazingly satisfying. I don’t know if it was satisfying because we felt really smart that we knew what was going to happen and it did or if it just satisfied our viewing pleasure because it was a classy finale. (Something you rarely see any more)

While I know you think I’d go right for the gay plotlines I’m going to surprise you by not going there…yet. I was disappointed that the whole Sally Field/Danny Glover plotline went a big fat nowhere. I don’t know if it’s because the writers got themselves in over their head thinking for one moment that they could move the Sally Field character out of town and like a shoplifter about to get caught they thought if they just threw the whole thing on the shelf and ran away from it no one would notice or what. Meanwhile, the change of heart by Rob Lowe’s now wanting to be a Daddy again storyline seemed a bit implausible. Then again, I’ve never gone through that experience so maybe they’re hitting it on the head. The Justin and Rebecca romance was written great too. I don’t know about you but me thinks that there may be some surprises here too. What is it they say about being careful about getting what you wish for…is it just me or did I detect a bit of awkwardness between these Shakespearean tragic would be lovers? I don’t know if they’re going to really get together or decide it’s just too weird but I’ll be tuning in to find out, of that you can be sure.

Some characters didn’t get much or any play this season and it seemed odd we wouldn’t see both of Sarah’s (Rachel Griffith’s) kids in the finale or even more than a quick extra-type walk across by the Tommy’s wife character. A little lame, in my opinion a season finale is like a curtain call to me, no matter how small it is, everyone should get a bow.

Now onto the gays (this is for you, Huntley – a pal of the Some Like It Scott site). I too have both the next to last and last episode on Tivo and have watched both more than once. Fast forwarding through the silly new plotline that got introduced like the Scooby Doo gang hanging out in the Mystery Machine of a possible new brother named Ryan (if they find him and he’s had a sex change, they will truly have covered everything on this show) and going straight to the not so straight romance unfolding between Scotty and Kevin. As my grandmother used to say about something that was so good on television – it was peachy. I mean, here you go with the out of nowhere brilliantly played proposal to the whole brother boys road trip to visit the spouse’s not happy about a gay son and less happy about a gay wedding parents. Interestingly enough, though it’s usually portrayed differently I’ll bet there are a lot of fathers out there who would be more accepting of the gay son and marriage thing if their wife would only let them. Though many may have watched it thinking it was pure fantasy, as a gay man whose family and in-laws have accepted him from moment one I’m glad to see a little reality slipping into a nighttime soap opera. I’m so tired of seeing the gays be sluts (hello, writers are listening – yes, we noticed when you were floundering as to what to do with the Kevin character season one) it’s just really refreshing to see not sensationalism but a gay relationship written and portrayed so sensationally. Thank God. Meanwhile Sol, God love you and your fatalistic view of being a gay man coming out so late in life. Writers tread carefully on this one and let’s not suddenly make him a swishy drama queen, please?

And so it’s with a tissue in hand and heavy heart that I bid adieu to the Walker family for their hiatus. I know they’re just actors, I know it’s just a show but I’m just so glad that in the age of needing a family with few of its limbs getting a new house built for them or fatties losing amazing weight with around the clock workouts, it’s good to have a well scripted drama that makes us feel so much. And I for one am a SAG (Screen Actors’ Guild) member who will be voting for all of you as best ensemble cast. The envelope please… Brothers And Sisters Season 2 Finale – Don’t Get Me Started!

Comment on this blog at...
http://hubpages.com/hub/Brothers-And-Sisters-Season-2-Finale

The Gay Tag And Release Program – Don’t Get Me Started!

So there I was sitting by the manmade beach at Mandalay Bay here in Las Vegas this past weekend with one of my best pals and a pal of his that had come over for the weekend. They’re all what I call, “The LA Gays.” So there we were, me sipping a Mojito (I know, so last season, right?) whilst they were sipping their sugar-free Red Bulls and Vodkas (apparently this season’s sip) when my pal remarked to me that there was yet another term I needed to know, “Jack Bro” which is apparently a term for a regular guy who you would never know from his outward appearance that he is gay. This would explain the lack of Speedos at the pool/beach and the enormous amount of board shorts we saw on all the fit and not so fit boys there. Now I’m not one of those people who laugh at my own jokes by any means nor do I find myself the wittiest gay on the block but sometimes, just sometimes, something comes out of my mouth seemingly all on its own and I do make myself chuckle. As the boys went on and on about how difficult it has become to tell the gays from the not gays I said, “That’s why we need the gay tag and release program.” Don’t Get Me Started!

I know, it could never really happen, right? And let’s face it, nor should it. It’s too, well shall we say, Nazi Germany? It’s a silly idea but it made us laugh all the same. But what I came to discover over my day and night hanging with the Gays from LA was that it truly is getting harder and harder to “tell” as we used to say in my day. I remember my grandmother used to watch The Mike Douglas show and Dinah Shore show religiously every afternoon. Any time there was a single male star of a certain age that hadn’t been married, my grandmother would say the same thing, “He’s in his thirties, he’s never been married, do you think???” She never finished the sentence but we always knew what she meant. Sometimes she was right and sometimes she was wrong but she’d always follow it up with the same comment, “The homosexuals, they’re everywhere.” “Yeah” I thought to myself, “even in this house.”

So isn’t this what we’ve fought for all these years and for those of us who grew up with the Marlo Thomas classic, Free To Be You And Me, the fact that you don’t have to be a limp wristed, swishy gay to be a gay? It sounds great but to be honest it’s a bit off putting for a lot of us old fashioned gays. I mean, what good is a gay without gaydar, right? It’s a little embarrassing not to know who is a member and who isn’t and as if it wasn’t hard enough at the pool, a visit to the Strip’s only gay club that night had me reeling. It’s been years and years since I’ve been to a gay bar so I was not all that comfortable to start out with but as we maneuvered our way through the boys and men it suddenly occurred to me that among the typical over tweezed eye brow “twinks” and “daddies” there stood these young men who looked like everyone who ever beat up a gay from my childhood. That’s right, they were muscled out and I don’t know how else to say it but they looked like thugs. You know the type, the type you imagine putting graffiti on park walls and smoking on a corner. They were there with their shirts off, tattoos showing yet instead of “clutching their pearls” as we gays have done for generations when someone said something funny, instead they would put their fellow gay thug in a choke hold. And as if to make the whole picture complete, these thug gays don’t know how to dance. They dance like the “trade” on boxes at clubs for generations. And as they took us over to the VIP area and put our wristbands on so that we could freely enter and exit the more exclusive table area, I started to revisit the whole idea from the afternoon. After all, hadn’t I just been tagged as a VIP gay? And it didn’t hurt a bit. So ladies and gentlemen, I give you the gay tag and release program. Don’t Get Me Started!

Comment on this blog at...
http://hubpages.com/hub/The-Gay-Tag-And-Release-Program--Dont-Get-Me-Started

Who Is Hotter? Clay Aiken or Josh Grobin? Are You Kidding Me AOL? – Don’t Get Me Started!

Long have I tried to get rid of my AOL account but call it nostalgia (or just the fact that my guy likes the AOL) for whatever reason (especially now that I can be reached at scott@somelikeitscott.com at any time) I have kept my AOL account. So like most people, I check my somelikeitscott email, I check my work email and my AOL account. It’s too damn much I tell you. But more than having too many email accounts (a blog topic for another day) the other day I logged on to my AOL account and was shocked at one of the “headlines” on the home page. That’s right kids it was, Who is hotter? Clay Aiken or Josh Grobin? Are you kidding me AOL? – Don’t Get Me Started!

First of all, I did a double take because at first I wondered if I had inadvertently logged onto “some like it gay” (another page on my website, actually titled “the gay, gay, gayer than gay page”) or gay.com or something. Now, it’s not to say that gays can’t be hot because after all, I’m gay right? And although I’ve been with the same man for a thousand years, what I don’t see good looking men? What I don’t sometimes when the light is right (quite dark), the hair works out okay and I’m not feeling fat don’t want to be classified at some point before I die as hot too? (If only for three and a half seconds) So I understand (if don’t totally agree) with the whole current “hot” culture.

Next issue is that I’m not Perez Hilton (not that fat, kids) who feels as though he has to “out” everyone in the universe to gain his own brand of hanger-oner fame. But as Kathy Griffin might say, “Clay Gayken and Ms. Grobin? Come along now ladies.”

And while we’re on the topic of ladies, is Clay Aiken not this generation’s Barry Manilow for the ladies? The women just seem to adore them both. Both seem like the date the heavy girl would get to go to prom. The good news is that he’s clean and buys fabulous flowers, the bad news is that he’s prettier than her and will never try to get to first base (mostly because he knows nothing about sports – outside the locker room). But honestly, let’s face it – like it or not, men are different from women. Women want to like the sensitive man but they’ll never sleep with them. That’s why God invented the gay guy.

Upon reading the “article” I found out that what AOL was really talking about was the fact that both boys had released albums the same week and was asking whose would sell better. But I’m embarrassed to say that the whole try to get you interested headline of “HOT” to get you to click worked, even for me (even if it was in disbelief of the boys in question being put in the “hot” category).

Maybe it’s because I have always been the goofy sidekick in life that I find the whole “hot” thing (you’ll excuse me Paris Hilton) just a little…well…stupid. Attractive, sure but “hot” and the fact that people think they are “hot” put their pictures on websites for people to vote if they’re “hot” or not just makes me feel as though we should all have better things to do with our time. The flipside to that is I guess if it makes people feel better about themselves, good for them.

And while I think both Clay Aiken and Josh Grobin are extraordinarily talented men, let’s face it they are both far from hot. You’ve Clay with that hair that has yet to find an attractive style and Grobin with the pubic hair semi-mullet. I know, hair doesn’t make the man but it doesn’t help either of these men either. So boys, go ahead and go platinum (album only please) and know you’re both wonderful in your own right but hot? I think not. Who is hotter? Clay Aiken or Josh Grobin? Are you kidding me AOL? – Don’t Get Me Started!

Comment on this blog at...
http://hubpages.com/hub/Who-is-hotter-Clay-Aiken-or-Josh-Grobin-Are-you-kidding-me-AOL  

Again The Gay Parade Has Passed Me By – Don’t Get Me Started!

To me it had just been a typical weekend, a little work, some sleeping in late and some staying up later than I should. So imagine my surprise when a new co-worker (a straight woman) called me last weekend needing some help with something at the office and she asked that question I’ve learned to dread, “We had friends in town so we went to the gay pride parade and I was wondering…well, were you there?” No, I was not there I didn’t even know that Pride was last weekend. Again the gay parade has passed me by – Don’t Get Me Started!

Truth be told, I know that I should but I just don’t feel at all like Dolly Levi in “Hello Dolly” when she decides to re-join the human race and sings, “Before the parade passes by, before it goes on and only I’m left. Before the parade passes by, I’ve got to get in step while there’s still time left.” You see, I don’t want to join that parade. Oh now those of you who think that I’m judging it or looking down my nose at it couldn’t be more wrong. It’s not that I feel as though, “Oh, I’m not one of those gays.” No, it’s not like that at all. It’s that for me I’ve never been a parade goer in general. I remember one year when I was living in Pasadena, all my pals came over to watch the Tournament of Roses parade on New Year’s Day and while I always loved watching the parade on television, the night before everyone had gotten drunk at the Disneyland New Year’s Eve party and I ended up having to drive everyone home so I was exhausted and chose to sleep in as opposed to sitting on a curb waiting for a float that looked like space travel made entirely out of hydrangeas to pass by.

I think parades are swell for those so inclined but if you asked me if I’d rather have the right to march in a parade or have hospital visitation rights, I chose the visitation rights any day. I know, it’s probably my age but for someone like me who has always known that they are gay yet has never been to a Pride festival or parade while I’m glad it’s there for others, it’s just not for me. It’s difficult to not say, “let the kids have their parade” when that’s exactly how I feel. True, some would say that the whole “we’re here, we’re queer, get used to it” demonstrations and Pride parades assist the straight world to better accept us and eventually feel okay with letting us visit our partners in the hospital. But I only partially see the correlation.

Some of us join parades, some of us come out to everyone we work with and know and some donate quietly to charities that help us all. Some do all three but for me, I just want to live my life knowing that I’m honest with myself, my guy, my family and friends. In a way (of course without the waving) my parade is my life. Sometimes I’m riding the float and other times I’m standing on the curb looking at the people and places that have gone through my life. And do you know what? There’s just as much pride and wonder in that as all the rainbow flags, drag queens and scenes made from pansies (double entendre intended). So know that I may not have attended Pride but I do my best to live with it every day. Again the gay parade has passed me by – Don’t Get Me Started!

 Comment on this blog at...
http://hubpages.com/hub/Again-The-Gay-Pride-Parade-Has-Passed-Me-By

Why You Should Never Call Anyone “Boss” – Don’t Get Me Started!

Here I thought that there would be certain phrases that we would never have to hear again. You know, like “Cowabunga” from when the Simpsons first came out or “What’s uaaaaaaaaaaap?” from that insipid commercial. You know things like that. Well recently I’ve noticed a trend, mostly used by young men who are finishing washing your car or giving you your dry cleaning. They finish the transaction with, “There you go, boss.” And I hate it ever so much. Why you should never call anyone “Boss” – Don’t Get Me Started!

Perhaps it’s just that I am not the “bossy” type (much more of a Linus than a Lucy) or that I consider myself one of the masses, a worker and not a boss. Now I’m sure if I was writing this back in the 1950’s the House on Un-American Activities would have all ready shut down my blog and blacklisted me because this definitely sounds as if I’m celebrating the worker over “the man” but let’s be thankful for the small strides we’ve made as a culture, shall we?

For some reason that phrase or use of that word just hits me like lemon juice in a paper cut (of which I had happen this week and let me just tell you that if that doesn’t send you reeling I don’t know what will). You see the whole, “there you go, boss” is a phrase that I think you’d hear the black train porter saying in a 1930’s movie and it always just seemed wrong to me even in that context (frankly all of the above seemed wrong – blacks only being allowed to be porters, etc. you hopefully get the idea).

I’m sure I’m beyond not “with it” and that no doubt some comedian or moron who has their own show on MTV started using the phrase because the only way that these phrases come in, out and back into the vernacular of the teen race is because someone said it on some reality show somewhere.

Even reading this I’m sure that I’m overreacting and that most people have no idea what I’m going on about but you see I just think that phrases that put one race, person or whatever down or makes them subservient to you seems a bit demeaning and demoralizing. Now I’m sure the kids who are saying it don’t have all the baggage I do or think this way (otherwise they wouldn’t be using it hopefully) but for those of us who have seen the world for longer than 16 years, we can’t help but read more into the words that are used.  And some things frankly deserve to be left frozen in time (not unlike the man I saw on a motorized scooter in the grocery store with a large confederate flag bouncing around on a long piece of plastic).

If people really want to use the term, “boss” again, I would ask that instead of using it to refer to a person they think of it more as a way to say, “far out”, “Hellaya” or “Cool” as in “That new shirt is boss that you’re wearing.” A gal pal of mine years ago tried to lobby me to begin using the word, “boss” like this but it just didn’t seem as if it was time. Now with seemingly every teenage I encounter calling me “boss” I believe we’ve found its time. Sort of like being the Ernest and Julio Gallo of phrases, “We will use no phrase before its time.” (Yes, you have to be at least forty to get this reference) Why you should never call anyone “Boss” – Don’t Get Me Started!

Comment on this blog at...
http://hubpages.com/hub/Why-You-Should-Never-Call-Anyone-Boss