Men In The US Who Wear Kilts – Don’t Get Me Started!

Actually, I think that this goes beyond the United States but as this is where I live and what I know, I feel as though I can only talk to this issue here in the “states.” You see, this morning I went into the Starbucks near my home (yes, I have two of them – my work week Starbucks and my weekend Starbucks, who says we’re not all creatures – and prisoners – of our habits?) there I was in Starbucks having my usual light-hearted banter with the baristas and then this couple walked in. There they were, her with her badly dyed blonde hair, her too much makeup that at first I almost didn’t notice her partner in crime. There he was in all his over six foot glory, a very large man in what can only be what he thought was a kilt. Men in the US who wear kilts – Don’t Get Me Started!

All at once all the stereotypes of those who wear kilts when they’re not on the moors came rushing to me as I continued my observing of this couple. You see, if you start from the head of this guy in the kilt, he couldn’t be more typical of that sort. First there was the thin but long (past shoulder-length) hair that was not exactly curly and yet not straight but one thing could not be denied, it had the “wet” look. Like a bad Jerry Curl, it was wet and hanging in a way that made it look more greasy than wet (not attractive in the least). Next was the requisite facial hair of a beard and mustache. Both the hair on his head and his face were blacker than black that made me wonder if you got closer if you would see that it was all dyed for “effect.” From the neck down, things became even more confusing.

The shirt he was wearing was a darkish gray shirt sleeved polo shirt (a no-name Old Navy sort of a looking thing, not a great fit, not a great color but you can be sure it was cheap). What was most surprising was the “kilt” itself. It didn’t look like a kilt at all. It was a black pleated skirt actually. That’s right, no green and blue plaid or some other jaunty mix of “clan colors” but a simple black, pleated all the way around skirt I tell you. Of course he had the light leather string pouch around his waist (pushed down from the weight of his large stomach hanging over the top of his skirt) that can only be described as a “tummy pack” instead of a “fanny pack.” The socks were black knee socks but were so sheer that they allowed you to see his hair through them a bit, think women’s stockings. And finally, what is almost always seen when the US men wear their kilts, huge combat looking boots to add a couple of extra inches to his height and overall appearance.

His wife or girlfriend stood beside him quite proud looking at her fine Neanderthal-looking lover and I’m sure that they’re also “Rennies” (read my definition of the “Rennies and why they scare me here… http://hubpages.com/hub/Renaissance_People_Scare_Me ). Years ago I did theatre with a guy who had the “Scottish Fixation” he wore the kilts whenever he could, he had the hair/beard/mustache trio and even changed his last name to “MacLeod” like the character from the “Highlander” series (I only know about this because of this guy) and would often be heard saying he was “MacLeod from the clan, MacLeod” for no apparent reason other than the fact was that this was what the guy said on the television series apparently. Of course there were fundamental problems with this whole issue from the get go. First of all, the guy was Jewish and his real last name was Goldfarb so no matter how many Celtic tattoos he got, kilts he wore, trips to Scotland, alas he would always be Barry Goldfarb and he too looked ridiculous in the kilts he wore.

I guess I wouldn’t mind the whole kilt thing if you were actually a transplant from somewhere where they were actually worn but the fact is that most of the men I see wearing them here in the states are really just wearing them for one reason only, attention. That’s right, there’s really no other reason to wear one unless of course you’re doing it to lower the temperature of your sperm to assist in getting your wife pregnant or you have a yeast infection you’re trying to “dry out.”

But if you must wear a skirt, gents (and yes, it’s a skirt not a kilt when you wear it in the US) at least have the decency to wear a colorful plaid one and wear the proper blouse with it for Gosh sakes. While “basic black” is suitable for most looks; in a kilt unless you’re going to a kilt funeral (for someone else who wears a kilt or in my mind, the real deal, which is burning all your kilts and having a funeral for your wannabe years) I don’t want to see it. Men in the US who wear kilts – Don’t Get Me Started!

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The Gay Agenda (.com that it is) – Don’t Get Me Started!

I know that a lot of people talk about Hollywood’s “gay mafia” and that many people still think that if you’re gay you know everyone else gay in the world. And while I’ll admit there is a sort of “brotherhood of gay men” I’m sorry to say that it’s not as organized as the right wing and religious zealots would have you believe. So if you’ve heard of the gay mafia then you must have heard of the “gay agenda” right? Well what about the Gay Agenda (.com that is)? – Don’t Get Me Started!

According to Wikipedia, the definition of the “Homosexual or Gay Agenda” is “a term used by social conservatives primarily in the United States, referring to advocacy of cultural acceptance and normalization of non-heterosexual orientations and relationships.” Well gee, when Wikipedia writes it that way it doesn’t sound nearly as bad as when I’ve heard it spewed from the religious right as they spit and scream from outside courtrooms with their white trash appearance and demeanor screaming, “Die, fags die!” All the while holding signs up with the word, “agenda” usually spelled wrong. The truth is (and I know I shouldn’t be sending this out there where the “enemy” can read it) is that in fact, I wish us gays were as organized as they think we are. You see I think for most of us gays we’re just going about our lives trying to make a living, deal with everyday life and on occasion we do all get together to throw a parade, a walk for a worthy cause like AIDS or just to watch the Oscars and criticize the fashion. (Hello, where do you think E! and all those networks got the idea) So whatever the agenda is that the world at large thinks were creating in our back alley club houses (believe me, for some gays they have more important things to do in back alleys and club houses) I’m sorry to say, it’s just not happening.

All that said there is hope for us gays. When you type in a Google search for “gay” you usually get a million sites with pictures of naked straight men that gay men like to fantasize are really gay men or at least are willing to be “gay” or commit “gay acts” for them (even if it means a negotiation and a blank check left on the bureau!) however I was delighted when a site that I’ve all ready mentioned on my site, www.bestgayblogs.com decided to branch out if you will with their new site, www.gayagenda.com while there is the occasional “story” on this site about “Real World Tips for Washboard Abs” for the most part the site shares informative gay themed news stories from around the globe. And what is perhaps the best part of the way they deliver this news? Short, to the point (OMG, sounds like me) a few paragraphs and you’re done. So whether you’re reading about “Palin Pushing Those On The Fence To The Left” (God Bless Us, Everyone!) or an “Anti-Gay Bumper Sticker” costing it’s owner some big bucks in Australia, the stories are presented in a quick and easy to read fashion that makes me feel informed without having to lose my status as the self professed short-attention span theatre critic of the world’s dramas! The one thing about this site is that its new so much like anything that’s new, you have to allow it to find it’s “gay legs” (very much like sea legs) so while there are some sections empty now, no doubt they’ll all be filled soon. I encourage you to visit the site and enjoy getting a little more educated about what’s going on out there in the world for all us gays who don’t know one another.

As I often lament about being a forty-something gay, everyone thinks that all we gays do is have sex and try to find ways to annoy Jesus. Well, I wish I had the time, energy and body for all of that but the truth of the matter is that much like I told my parents when I first came out, “I won’t do anything to intentionally embarrass you or make you ashamed of me but I’m gay and because I love you and you love me, I wouldn’t want to lie to you or you to not know this about me.” And I wouldn’t want you to not know about The Gay Agenda (.com that is) – Don’t Get Me Started!

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Those Chinese, Some Hot Shots…Ancient Chinese Secret? – Don’t Get Me Started!

Well now the Chinese have poisoned some Canadians with their candy. What’s it going to take people? Honestly, first the lead toys to the US, baby formula and now poisoning Canada candy? Those Chinese, Some Hot Shots…Ancient Chinese Secret? – Don’t Get Me Started!

I’m not saying that they’re sitting around China trying to figure out what and who to poison next but come on kids, don’t you think it’s just a little too coincidental that everything that is coming out of that place is cheaper and tainted?

And does it seem odd that they seem to be targeting children? (Okay, I know some of you are thinking that I’m way off base on this one but think about it for a second) I mean, I don’t like screaming kids on a flight with me but that doesn’t make me want to poison them. Could the Chinese have some long range plan in mind where they’re going to make the next generation so much weaker that they’ll be able to thumb wrestle us and win every time, taking over our countries? And what of their own children and what they’re doing to them? Anyone watch the Olympics?

The Olympics seemed to make everyone see China with gold covered glasses (most likely covered in lead). But come on, from the dancer who fell rehearsing the opening ceremony and was paralyzed but no one was supposed to know about it, the girl who wasn’t “pretty” enough to lip sync to her own voice in those same ceremonies and the six year olds they passed off for female gymnasts I hardly think that the Chinese are some great humanitarians! Wake up people! And what about their pollution during the Olympics and how they basically used a “green screen” to get rid of the smog before it was shot by the world wide press? Something is going on and it’s about time we found out about those “ancient Chinese secrets” don’t ya think?

Pardon me for my Yankee Doodle Dandy showing but when we sent all of the American jobs over to China where they could beat the crap out of people to work for less than a decent wage in not such swell conditions did we really think they weren’t going to spit in our food? It’s like being nasty to a waiter kids, it never works out well…trust me I’ve worked in restaurants. So here we are in a crisis in America with people losing their jobs left and right and their homes while China sends in cheap crap to kill us, nice.

I guess the big question is how much more poison we’re willing to take? (A question most celebrities only have to answer about their foreheads and the botox they inject) Is no one going to try and regulate what is coming out of this country? Shouldn’t someone be doing something? Those Chinese, Some Hot Shots…Ancient Chinese Secret? – Don’t Get Me Started!

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A Gay High School In Chicago? – Don’t Get Me Started!

Okay kids, get a vodka and ready yourselves for this one. Just when I thought there was nothing left on this planet worth getting all “riled” up about…BAM! I just read online that there was a meeting last week in Chicago about creating a “gay” high school. A gay high school in Chicago? – Don’t Get Me Started!

What I don’t think any of you are going to believe is that I’m completely 100% against this whole idea. You want to make a school for “the arts” or certain trade professions for kids who want to spend as much time as they can focusing on what they all ready know they want to do for a career – as long as the academic requirements are solid I say, “go for it.” But creating a school for kids who are gay is to not only ostracize them even more from society but it teaches them that there are only going to be certain places in this world where you can be gay. As the online world has shown (and as my grandmother used to say) “The gays are everywhere.” Though I suspect that they have always been everywhere, it is no longer about the gay Mecca of San Francisco (thank God) it’s become about being who you are where you are and being okay with it as well as everyone else around you. Sure if you’re living on a compound where they raise young girls like puppies at a puppy mill to be married off and bred by “elders” then you probably aren’t going to be around too many gay people but anywhere else my friends and you can find them. If your problem as a gay man is finding other gay men in whatever remote (or not so remote) location you live in – get online or do what gays have done for years before there was an Internet (what? Now you’re talking crazy, Scott! There was a time before the Internet?) back in the day, you could easily find “the gays” by going to stereotypical hangouts and from all I’ve heard, they still exist. If that fails, see if you can’t make an appointment to have your hair done by your mother’s hairdresser, “Mr. Philip” trust me when I say Mr. Philip is dialed in.

The thing that I object to about a high school for gays is that once again, the straightees find it way too easy to just remove the folk that aren’t like them or what they want their kids to be. Yes, of course you should be thinking the same things you think of today when you think of the civil rights movement and whiteys everywhere not wanting those black children in their schools. What makes me even more insane than the straightees wanting to send the gays to Leper High is the fact that somewhere someone with a degree (most likely) thinks it’s a good idea too. And I’m sad to say that it may even be a homosexual.

I’ve often written about being called a “fag” and being beaten up every day of my four years of high school. Was it fun or did it make me feel comfortable? Hell no. But I still got good grades, managed to be the star of the theatre department and much to my amazement, at my twenty year reunion more people came up to me and told me that they thought I was courageous by just being who I was in high school causing a true cathartic experience for me and putting the whole four years into perspective. (Of course the sad part about that is that I thought I was a better actor than that and was doing a great job at “passing” for straight back in the day) My point is that all the clichés of the world are true, life can be hard, children can be cruel and you shouldn’t put your tongue on a hot stove. (Okay, just threw that last one in there for my own amusement)

My high school experience was far from easy but it taught me how to co-exist with people who couldn’t stand me (for whatever their reasons were) and guess what? Life is exactly like that too. Of course I want all kids to be safe when they go to school (I think we have more to worry about from the kids with guns that have emotional problems than the bullies but that’s just me) and it would be a perfect world if there were no bullying but it’s simply not the world we live in (Please see how the Bush administration has tried unsuccessfully to bully the world). Certain things just can’t be made easier. Yes, we have a microwave that can heat crap food up for us to eat in seconds so that we can get even fatter but learning that there are people out there who are not going to like you because you’re gay, black, fat or any other number of things is a valuable lesson and in my opinion shouldn’t be taken away from kids.

The question isn’t about how much easier it would be to put all the gays on the Island of Misfit toys (a recurring theme from straightees about gays of all shapes, sizes and ages by the way) it’s what the school systems are going to do to better educate students, teachers and parents about tolerance? Look, I can hate everything about you (including that blouse you’re wearing right now that you insist upon wearing even though I’ve told you it makes you look pregnant) but I’ve learned that I can still sit beside you without throwing up or committing some violent act against you. It’s called self control and although it may not be popular among the current parent groups, there are times when you have to tell your children, “no” and demand more from them. That’s right, all of those “family values” groups that don’t want gays to raise children are forgetting a golden rule when it comes to their own children, “treat others as you would like to be treated.”

The good news is that even when dinosaurs roamed the earth when I was in high school, there were kids there who were not afraid to be seen with me and even came to my defense at times. No, these were not the stereotypical fat girls that you’re thinking of my friends but actual jocks whose parents had taught them something or perhaps they found out on their own, that hatred gets you nowhere and while it may make you feel better about yourself at the time for some fleeting moments to be “accepted” by the gang by bullying someone it’s really about your inability to accept yourself that causes you to lash out and your own self hatred cuts so much deeper when you’re alone with yourself. So while I think they’d have a divine cheering squad (all male of course) and the teen lesbians could build a car faster than any boys at the regular high school, here’s one gay that thinks the whole thing is just another bad idea. A gay high school in Chicago? – Don’t Get Me Started!

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Emmy Awards - Don’t Give A Reality Star An Actor’s Job – Don’t Get Me Started!

I’m sure to someone somewhere it seemed like a good idea to take the five reality hosts nominated for Prime Time Emmys to host the show itself. I can see the producers and directors all sitting around thinking this was the perfect solution for their hosting needs. Well kids, you were wrong…so wrong. Emmy Awards - Don’t give a reality star an actor’s job – Don’t Get Me Started!

There is a reason why people become successful as actors. True there are quite a few that become successful due to luck, being in the right place at the right time, having the right look, etc. But what we’ve all seemed to forget (and I do not exclude myself here) is that actors (on the whole) really study their craft whereas reality hosts mostly just tell people they have been voted off. What was shocking was that this should have been easier for them as I’m sure there are plenty of moments when they don’t have a script and must just punt but unfortunately for these five (and us the audience) nothing they’ve ever done prepared them for or made them good in their opening segment.

I can’t help but wonder if they would have come up with this idea if Kathy Griffin was nominated this year. I do adore her show and her on the whole but with her whole, “Jesus can suck it.” In her acceptance speech I’m sure made everyone with the idea to use the reality hosts feel a whole lot better. Well guess what? They needed Kathy desperately.

Over the years I realize that I have become more and more of an award show curmudgeon. Growing up I adored these shows because you could see your fave stars all dressed up and sitting in the same place at the same time. You might see a wacky moment (Sally Field’s “You like me, you really like me”) or you could see a moment that couldn’t help but make you cry when your favorite star became so overwhelmed that you couldn’t help but be overwhelmed too. But I guess it’s just me that I don’t think these people (on the whole) are all as good as the stars of yesteryear, not to mention the fact that they are splashed all over the Internet and newspapers every day so you all ready know what these celebs look like in any given situation.

The other thing that has really taken the excitement out of these events is that thanks to reality television we all now know way too much about the “stylists” to the stars. Back in the day we all thought that the star chose the dress and accessories themselves. Oh sure, maybe they had some help like Carol Burnett went over to Vickie Lawrence’s house to talk over their outfits (okay so this probably only ever happened in my mind) but the point was that the star was the star and not the stylist. And what does a stylist do anyway? Back in my day when I was working retail we were called “sales associates” now they’re “stylists” and have agents just like the stars. The question I have about this particular piece of the award show and star life today is simply, “why?”

But back to the real problem, the Emmy show itself. It’s just shocking when you consider the show started with Oprah and how can you go wrong with Oprah? The answer of course is that you can’t go wrong with Oprah but you have no place to go but down after an Oprah opening. The reality show hosts got worse as the evening wore on but perhaps no moment had me shaking my head more than the Josh Grobin moment. Award shows rarely do the “entertainment” part of the show well. Whether it’s having the wrong person sing the nominated song or having Debbie Allen choreograph modern movement to the music from movies to “show off” the costume design – who could ever forget (though we wish we could) the “modern” interpretation of Driving Miss Daisy she created? Well poor Josh Grobin got to have his ass smacked tonight but good. Now I’m not a huge Grobinite as I’m sure there are people out there who are just that but I do like him but this? Oh Joshy, you lifted me up…but just to go to the bathroom. I couldn’t watch what was without a doubt your most embarrassing moment ever. Josh Grobin trying to be Rich Little with his impersonations of opening songs from shows and being a comedian. Hmmmm, Josh, leave the comedy for the professionals, will you please? And Emmy Awards - Don’t give a reality star an actor’s job – Don’t Get Me Started!

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Trains, Texting And Oh My God – Don’t Get Me Started!

The recent train accident (can we really call it an accident, I mean true, I don’t think anyone premeditated it happening but when something happens due to the blatant stupidity, can it really be called an accident?) at any rate, the horrible train crash that happened last week killing and injuring many was shocking enough but now all the details that are coming out about engineer are enough to make me nauseous for a week. Trains, texting and oh my God – Don’t Get Me Started!

When I first heard that the engineer may have been texting during the incident and that this was most likely the probable cause I was indeed disgusted. Sure disgusted at him but at myself too because no matter how much I know I’m not good at texting and shouldn’t do it when I’m in motion either walking or operating a moving vehicle the point is that yes, I’ll admit that I have texted and sent emails while driving. (Is there a twelve step program for this yet?) I know I shouldn’t but I live under the same cocky American-like impression that nothing is going to happen to me when I’m doing it just those “other people” who aren’t as adept at it or are texting like crazy, when I’m only sending one out every once in a while. Of course I’m completely wrong but I rationalize just like I’m sure many of you do while texting when you shouldn’t. I’ll tell myself things like, “I’ve got one eye on the road.” “I’m only using my right hand to do the texting so my left hand is steering the car, after all, what do people with only a left arm do, huh? They can drive their cars just fine.” And then there’s, “I’m texting while waiting for the light to change so it’s completely safe…oh shit, that guy behind me almost hit me because the light had been green and I’m sitting here texting.”

So when I thought that the story of the engineer (who was also killed in the crash) was all about him texting and the train company releasing a statement that they were banning cell phones for those operating trains (no doubt a memo sent from the Department of the Obvious), I thought that would be the end of it. But oh no, that’s when all the speculation, talking to people who knew the engineer who caused the crash and delving into his personal life that could only mean one thing…there were skeletons that were just barely buried in this man’s life and once again, we gays were in trouble.

I was really sort of shocked when I read the first account stating that the engineer was in fact gay (not at that part…wait for it…) but that his partner (who of course the media was quick to add that his partner had AIDS) had killed himself last year. I read one thing that said he had hung himself in the garage. (Note to self, never hang myself in the garage, it’s the last place anyone would look in my house) Then there was some account by a supposed friend who said that the engineer was very possessive and when he called at one point and the friend couldn’t have dinner with him, he said, “Fine!” hung up on her and she never heard from him again. Okay, all of that I could take but then the final blow (minds back out of the gutter please)

That’s right, not only was Mr. Engineer texting but he was texting two fourteen year old boys at the time of the crash. WHAT?!? Are you kidding me? Another confirmation that gays are all pedophiles who are careless about texting…just what we need, right? ARGHHHH! Was the only thing that came to my mind. Look, I’m disgusted by all of it. I can’t believe that he would be texting and I feel so badly for those families that lost people but please, oh please I beg of the media and the world to not make this about being gay. I know I’m probably screaming out a message that will surely fall on deaf ears but scream it I must.

I guess what really gets me is that I can barely text one person, how this guy was texting two people at the same time and trying to drive a train just baffles me. I consider myself really good at multi-tasking but there are certain exceptions to this rule, one is texting and driving, walking or doing anything but texting and if I had to think of another one…hmmm…the only thing that comes to mind is that I don’t think I’d be very good at an orgy. I don’t get that whole thing or how it works any way. I think I’d be standing in a corner just sort of wondering what the hell I was doing there and if someone or I guess I should say, “someones” engaged me in “activities” I would be preoccupied with the thoughts that they probably only starting sucking my nether regions because mine were the only ones available. And while they were “busy” working on me would I be expected to do something to someone else at the same time? It’s been years since I was a dancer so I don’t know how limber I actually am anymore. And do they make a Twister board for orgies? You know, spin the spinner and then – right hand cock, left hand nipple, tongue to mouth or something? (Read the ten reasons I could never be a male prostitute here… http://hubpages.com/hub/At_Least_Ten_Reasons_Why_I_Will_Never_Be_A_Male_Prostitute )

No, I can’t text and do anything else and I’m disgusted that this engineer thought that he could. I’m so sad about the loss of life but I’m even sadder every time I see a new article about it and they focus on the gay side of this story. Trains, texting and oh my God – Don’t Get Me Started!

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It’s Just The Gypsies On My Ipod – Don’t Get Me Started!

Last weekend I copied my latest musical theatre CD over to my Itunes library on my computer. As I finished the download, I looked and was less than amazed to find that this was the fifth version of Gypsy on my Ipod. I have the Ethel Merman version, the Angela Lansbury version, The Bernadette Peters version, the Bette Midler version (TV movie that it was) and now the Patti LuPone version. (Yes, gay men everywhere will be shocked that I don’t have the Tyne Daly one but to be honest I just never really cared for her in the role. Another blog for another day) I had to laugh at myself that I had so many versions of the same musical on my Ipod and at the same time was wondering if there was indeed a Rosalind Russell version available because although she wasn’t a singer per se, I think I’d like to have that one too. So although some may think that it’s my somewhat effeminate nature or my tooling about in my red and black Mini Cooper, I think if future civilizations are trying to find out who and what I was it’s just the Gypsies on my Ipod – Don’t Get Me Started!

True, the overture for Gypsy to me is the best example of a classic Broadway overture but that’s not why I have all of these different versions on my Ipod and lest you think I’m some kind of hoarder or something, that’s not the reason I have so many versions of this musical. I think the true reason I have this many versions is that I truly believe that each performer brings something new to a role. Now in my years of performing there are certainly the exceptions to this rule (like when you’re the understudy and if you do one extra eyebrow raise that the other performer normally does you’ll have an entire cast and production team all over your ass for “throwing the show off”) but on the whole, while it definitely takes a great written role for a great performance, different performances are also great in different ways. One may be a better singer for the role, one may be a better actor but they all need to make you feel something for them or it’s not a great performance.

I don’t know that there are that many of us who had a pushy mother push us through vaudeville but I do know that the idea of a single mother didn’t start with Julia on the television in the 1960’s nor did trying to live your dreams through your children. (Are you listening Mama Phelps? Or are you busy starching Michael’s Speedo for his next race?) My point is that pushy mothers aren’t as bad as some might think. I grew up wanting to do theatre and so I began at the early age of six with the role of “Tiny Tim” in A Christmas Carol (I could probably still bring the house down with my reading of his only line, “God Bless Us, Everyone.” It’s all about the pause after “us” that makes the audience weep) but I got into “the show business” because I begged. Sure my mother was the one who took me to the auditions and my father begged me to quit every time I didn’t get a part and was devastated but it was my choice, my dream, no one else’s. Yet, if I didn’t have my mother pushing me to do what I was told, listen to the dance teacher, director, etc. I would never have gotten as good as I was – for the greatest never was been there ever was. So although I worked with a  lot of kids whose mothers would pull their hair if they sang a note off key or didn’t get to the mic in front of the other kids performing, my mother was never one of those and I’m eternally grateful.

The thing about Gypsy that I think is pretty universal for anyone who had a parent who was involved in their extracurricular pursuits is that you see that sometimes our parents want it more for us than we do for ourselves. Because they love us, want us to be happy and let’s face it, they want us to be our best. But I think it also speaks to those siblings who were left in the shadows when a family focuses on one “star” in the family (whether it be on stage or on the soccer field). An amazing thing happens to the child in the shadows. Sometimes they grow much more emotionally than the star who was handed the biggest applause because somewhere along the line the other child learned to applaud for themselves.

Let’s face it, the last two paragraphs are a bunch of hooey! The reason we gay men (and a lot of women) love Gypsy is that the music is great, the role of Rose is so great and on some level, if you ever thought of doing drag, it would be Rose’s Turn you would be lip synching to instead of something from Cats or Rent! We gays just love a strong woman – to hold me, to scold me, to guide me, beside me. So why do I have so many versions of this musical on my Ipod? I don’t know kids but it’s just the Gypsies on my Ipod – Don’t Get Me Started!

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Lynne Spears, Big Mac Guy? Why Are All The Wrong People Writing Books? – Don’t Get Me Started!

Long have I marveled at the people who decide to write books. Not so much the ones that write novels or fiction but the ones who feel that they have an experience that they simply must share in a published format with the world. The two recent books I’ve read about have me asking yet another question of the world at large. Why are all the wrong people writing books? – Don’t Get Me Started!

The first book I read about (online, thank you very much) was the one that Britney’s mother, Lynne is writing. It’s going to tell all about her trials, tribulations and no doubt some undulations by both her and her trampy daughters. Now I’m not a mother (though it IS part of what I’ve been called from time to time…you know, “motherf*#ker?” which by the way couldn’t be further from the truth but I digress) but I don’t think that there are any mothers out there who are looking or could possibly relate to Lynn Spears experience. (Unless it’s Lindsey Lohan’s mother who will undoubtedly be writing her book at any moment) So why? What is the reason for her writing this book other than the obvious fact that she can make some money because there are enough “fans” of Britney and Jamie Lynn who will want to know some gory details? I don’t get it I tell you but I do have an idea for the cover of the book. I think that Lynne should recreate that famous shot of Britney getting out of the limo and show her vagina with both girls falling out. You know sort of animated in a comical kind of way. Or maybe she should just put the picture of Britney shaving her head on the cover with a title of “Momma said there’d be days like this…” Anyway you look at it I can’t begin to imagine that it will be informative though it may give “Celebrity Parenting for Dummies” a run for its money.

The second book is from a man in Wisconsin who claims to have eaten 36,000 Big Macs in thirty-six years. Oooh, there’s a riveting kind of book. I wonder what happens on the last page besides heart disease? Actually the man tells all about how he is 6’2” and is a healthy 182 pounds so perhaps it won’t be heart disease. He consumes two Big Macs at a sitting but gave up the fries in the 1980’s on his daily menu and saves them for a special once a month occurrence. He can only remember three times missing days where he was eating his Macalicious treat, one was the day of his mother’s funeral as he had made her a promise not to eat Big Mac’s that day (I don’t know if it was out of respect or disgust, either way, she had to be looking down from heaven very proud that day), another day was when a winter storm caused his local McDonald’s not to open and finally he missed a day when he was traveling and couldn’t find a McDonald’s. He has since remedied the weather thing by keeping several Big Macs in his freezer. (Can you even imagine what those taste like out of the freezer? On second thought, if you’ve ever had one, you’ve had one out of the freezer I’m thinking…but the pickles, onions, lettuce, special sauce, etc. after it’s been microwaved?) So that’s what I learned online and unless it’s a pop-up book or something that just “has to be seen” I think I’ve pretty much got the story and don’t need to by the book or God forbid, see the movie should it be made.

I’m no different than these people really because I too feel that I have a book in me. So I guess I’m living in my Waterford house and shouldn’t throw stones. But I think the story of the DMV putting that I was a woman on my driver’s license and refusing to change it back or the ten reasons I won’t ever be a male prostitute are more insightful and entertaining than either of these tomes that are about to published. But damn it all, I don’t have celeb daughters out of control or the gullet for 36,000 Big Macs so I guess I’ll have to settle for just posting my rants online and hoping that a publisher from somewhere stumbles upon them and asks me to write the story of my life. “It was the best of times, it was the gayest of times…” Why are all the wrong people writing books? – Don’t Get Me Started!

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Democrats, It’s Time To Use The Oprah Card – Don’t Get Me Started!

What is going on with the Democrats? Are we once again on the verge of blowing it? (Not unlike what the Republican senators do in men’s rooms and texting their male senate pages?) Honestly, it’s just too painful to watch again. It’s like watching Gone With The Wind and telling yourself that this time Rhett won’t walk out on Scarlett. Well, hello people? Can you not see the voters walking out and over to the South? (That is how the whole separatist things works, does it not Mrs. Palin?) I think it’s time that we Democrats realized that sometimes you have to fight stupidity with a sure thing. Democrats, it’s time to use the Oprah card – Don’t Get Me Started!

I watched as Oprah started her new season with all of the Olympic athletes from the recent Beijing games. I couldn’t help myself, I teared up in all the same places Oprah did and I didn’t even mind seeing the “Mama Rose” of the Olympic games (Michael Phelps’ mother) crying yet again. I also had to stop and ask myself just why we didn’t (as a country) give those athletes a party upon their arrival home? I mean we were all glued to our sets rooting them on and then we just feel okay to let them come home, go back to their lives with their bazillion dollar endorsement deals and appearing on Saturday Night Live or Dancing With The Stars but not throw them a ticker tape parade in the streets of New York? I don’t get that one but I do get that Oprah knew exactly what she was doing because she’s smart and she knew that no one could resist the Olympians. So someone please explain to me why we’re not being smart using Oprah for the campaign like we should at this point?

I don’t care what you say about Oprah’s slipping ratings, I was in Seattle once and there was a convention where Oprah was talking and the streets were lined with screaming white women in their forties who would swoon at just the mere idea of getting to get a look at her and when you look around who hasn’t been voting in recent elections, it seems to me someone would catch on and start shoving Oprah in everyone’s faces to get us back into the game.

As the Republicans have shown, it’s not about policies it’s about politics. Forget issues, forget campaign promises and forget how badly the Republicans have mucked things up for the past eight years, they’re doing it to us again. They’re fucking us without taking us to dinner or giving us lubricant and we’re sitting still again waiting to play the familiar role of victim and cry rape way too late after the fact. We can’t afford to sit back, be respectful and “see how it all plays out.” We need to bring in the big guns (something Palin understands). We need Oprah.  

I know that we screwed up in the last couple of elections because we got “too Hollywood” for middle America but we’re not talking a Jew like Barbra Streisand or someone like Susan Sarandon here, we’re talking the woman who gets millions of viewers to watch her drive in a car for days with Gayle King and think they’ve been entertained, y’all! If she can do that, she can start to give Obama what he needs…WOMEN AND THEIR VOTES!

So I’m begging you, Mother Oprah (see musical Evita and my comparison of the two at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w4PYSXAxoxM) we need you and all your savvy to help us out here. Please send your Angels (you know, from your network - since you’re the only person I know who owns their own network of angels), put Obama on your “favorite things” show and put his book on your book club selection and let’s start shifting this election back to our side just like the Republicans did, by enlisting the media and a woman! Democrats, it’s time to use the Oprah card – Don’t Get Me Started!

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When I’m Not Happy, Ain’t Nobody Happy – Don’t Get Me Started!

I used to work with a guy who when he was miserable (which was a lot – his favorite response when you would ask how he was doing would be, “Kill me.” This holds to this day in addition to the eight years that I worked with him) So when he was miserable (or at least giving the appearance of being miserable) I would always say that we needed shirts with his picture on them that said, “When I’m Not Happy, Ain’t Nobody Happy” – Don’t Get Me Started!

I have always prided myself on being upbeat and happy-go-lucky seeming when I’m at work. There are too many people in most jobs who are so unhappy why add to the cloud, right? But let me tell you that it can be exhausting. It’s like doing Nicholas Nickelby or something (the stage show that was so long it took two days to see it and they gave lunch breaks each day). You see, when you’re on stage for that long a period of time, you have no re-charge time. Thus those of us who seem like the office sprite (or fairy as it were) go home, take off our smiles and basically become slugs until the next day when we shower, shave, put some Fresca on our panty shields and begin again. It’s a little like the directions on a shampoo bottle, rinse and repeat.

So this morning when I rolled over when I should have rolled out of bed to begin again at the gym which has not seen me in months (I know they’re worried about me) and as I once again found myself sucking in my gut in a desperate attempt to fit into my “fat” pants and began my drive to work where no one seems to know how to use turn signals, their accelerators or anything else that would keep them out of my way and my wrath I realized that some days there’s just no way to do what you’ve always done, to be that happy swell guy everyone loves to think is so happy. ARGHHHH!!!

I’m usually the first person at work so it gave me some time to reflect and put on my emotional makeup. I can’t be this miserable person today I just can’t so I have to find a way to readjust my attitude. I thought of doing some Yoga but the chances of someone walking in while I’m in “down dog” are too great, maybe just some deep breaths but as I’m an “overdoer” I’d most likely end up hyperventilating, hitting my head on the desk and end up not only pissed but with a black eye. No, the idea of emotional makeup I think is the right idea I think. As we all know, when makeup is applied correctly it just manages to enhance your appearance and make it look better but it doesn’t take away the blemishes underneath. So I’m thinking that I’ve got to pull out my mental foundation to cover my bad attitude, my eye lash curler to make my eyes seem less squinty and jaded and carefully apply some rouge to make my disposition a bit rosier. Can it be done? That remains to be seen but what I do know is that just like makeup, it’s a very thin veneer so although it may hold up all day, no one better really piss me off or it will all crack off my face and I’ll become the person no one wants to wake up next to (no makeup, morning breath, fucked up hair and scratching my ass). Because remember, when I’m not happy ain’t nobody happy! – Don’t Get Me Started!

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Why Are We So Passionate About Politics? – Don’t Get Me Started!

Sometimes I even shock myself. There I was, sitting in front of the television yelling at it like a crazy person. On every level I knew that this was not only wrong but a bit embarrassing. Perhaps it was not only due to the fact that I was yelling but the stream of obscenities that were spewing forth from my mouth was shocking (even for me). When my spouse came into the room to see what all the yelling was about I knew it was time to stop watching McCain accept his nomination and time to start watching some sort of inane VH1 pseudo-reality show that had no consequence whatsoever (other than somehow convincing the youth of today that if they just were bitches with large breasts they could someday have a reality show – hello “New York” are you listening?). It wasn’t until a few days later, reflecting back on the incident that I began to wonder, why are we so passionate about politics? – Don’t Get Me Started!

I know why were supposed to be passionate about politics. After all, it is our government, you know the one that is supposed to be “for the people by the people” but other than some donations here and there, I stopped believing it was “by the people” when I learned about the electoral college (something I still struggle with trying to understand its existence now that the civil war is supposedly over). So why in God’s name (or even Liza Minnelli’s) are we all so passionate about this thing called politics?

I started asking people around me and while I’d like to say it all became much clearer and I have some excellent answers for you, the truth of the matter is that in most cases I just ended up riling up other people who began to spew their own political opinion on me giving no insight whatsoever as to why it upsets all of us so much. I didn’t really care who they were voting for but that seemed to be all that people really wanted to talk about for some reason. So you have to begin to ask yourself if we’re passionate about the candidates or just like a good debate or our side (team, whatever) winning? Honestly, as I spoke (and listened to people) I really saw their blood pressure climb and their sense of reason go right out of the window. They said some of the dumbest things I’ve ever heard (not unlike my screaming at the television). At one point I said, “Well, I’m worried that when push comes to shove and people are in those small cubbies doing their voting their going to decide that it’s just better to go with another old white guy because at least we know what that feels like and is all about.” The person I was talking to said, “I hope you’re right.” All that was missing was for them to say, “I’m PRAYING you’re right.” My point is that once again, it doesn’t seem to be about what’s best for the country as much as it seems to be about being “right” or winning.

So if that’s the case, is this just another Olympics for us couch potatoes? Is this our way of cheering on people who have trained way beyond what we ourselves could do but we want to seem as though we could do it if we really wanted to and that they represent us simply because we’re from the same country? I don’t know but it seems to me that there are comparisons to be made there considering they’re both competitive sports and we seem to care more about the medal count and discrediting others who might possibly get in the way of us getting more of our precious medals more than anything else. (Yes, Lord Of The Rings, “My pretty, my precious” reference intended.)

What I discovered was that more than answers I just ended up with more questions than anything else (while getting a lot of people riled up). I want to believe that I personally get so crazed about all of this because it makes me a better American and more connected to the people who will ultimately be in a better position to help this country help its inhabitants than I can from my small space in the world. But there’s a part of me that believes that I’m just another competitive American who wants my team to win, to have someone whose poster I can put on my wall and feel as though their accomplishments are mine too. (Hello, isn’t this why NASCAR is so popular with the masses?) I’ve always known I was a passionate person but I hope for the sake of my spouse, my cats and common decency that I can contain myself in the weeks ahead as both parties spew statements designed to get us all riled up. And if any of you out there can answer my question (without talking about why your candidate is better than my candidate) I’d love to know why we’re so passionate about politics? – Don’t Get Me Started!

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Leave Levi And Bristol At Home – Don’t Get Me Started!

I’m not a convention watcher in the least but I was less than shocked and more than unamused when I saw the front page of the newspaper today carrying a photo of McCain shaking Levi’s hand while Bristol looked on. Who the hell are these two? Why should we care about them? And how in the name of all things that are less than stupid did these two become the “ones to watch” at the Republican convention? Leave Levi and Bristol at home – Don’t Get Me Started!

It should come as no shock to anyone who has ever read my blog that I’m looking forward to having that “celebrity” that “inexperienced” person Barack Obama as our next President. That’s right, although I try to not share things that are too personal my idea of telling you this is so you know that while I will vote for Obama I could care less what the other side does during the next couple of months and also because I will not be one of the many that I fear talk about voting for Obama but when they get into that booth vote with their prejudicial past thinking toward the man because of the color of his skin. So when the hairless cat (otherwise known as John McCain) choose a running mate that is so beneath any sort of standard for what a vice president should be (the only one lower that I can think of right now is that Dick, Cheney) I sort of stood with the rest of the crowd with a finger firmly planted at the crown of my head scratching to see if I could make some sense of the whole thing. But whatever to that whole thing, the thing that has me reeling is the whole Bristol Palin brewhaha going around.

Who the hell (besides her parents and obviously Levi) care about the 17 year old? Why should we spend any time thinking, talking, criticizing her or anything else? I don’t think that she has changed my opinion about anything nor will she (or her mother for that matter). The whole Levi and Bristol thing sounds a little like a cheesy law firm to me or a gay couple (or a gay couple that ARE a law firm).

What I do not get is why Levi had to be a part of the landscape for the convention? Who is this kid and why is he important? (And do you think he’s been able to get the barrel marks from that shot gun Mrs. Palin held to his belly off yet? Go Mrs. Palin and your support of the NRA!) I don’t get it and no matter how you tell me his future mother-in-law is going to be the next Vice President (she won’t be but you deluded kids just keep wishing on that one) I still don’t understand why he’s in the picture. It’s sort of like putting girlfriends or boyfriends in holiday pictures. It’s okay if the pictures are candid shots around the house or something but we adults all know better than to include “almost spouses” in family portraits, don’t we? The thing about adding “almost spouses” to almost anything that is a permanent record is that when the person in question does not end up holding a permanent position in the family, the rest of us are put in the uncomfortable position of deciding if we can keep the photo or if we have to throw it away. The one thing you can never do in these cases is display the photo. So the photo normally goes into a box or drawer, never sees the light of day until years from the incident where you find yourself wondering why you kept the picture and what the name of the person in question was anyway?

The thing is that I just don’t care who knocked up the Vice Presidential candidate’s daughter. Sorry to tell you that I’m not one of the people who think she’s going to hell for having sex without a wedding ring on so why would I care? Do you think that I should get some delight that a conservative who opposes my rights to do anything as she looks down at the rest of the world from her superior Christian perch and will stop at nothing to make sure that I’m continually treated as a second class citizen because I don’t worship Jesus and bang pussy (for the purpose of creating life) has a pregnant teenage daughter? I don’t care about Mrs. Palin, Bristol Palin, Levi or the Baby Palin-Levi that is coming into the world. I’m just ready for it all to be over with frankly and for us Americans to be able to once more hold our heads up high that we have a real leader in the White House and not some world-wide joke.  

It’s bad enough that I’ll have to look at the likes of the hairless cat and his running mate who looks like a bad Talia Shire impersonator (“Yo, Adriannnne!”) for the next few months please, I beg of you leave Levi and Bristol at home – Don’t Get Me Started!

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How I Fell In Love With The Men’s Mini Ped Sock – Don’t Get Me Started!

I didn’t want to do it, I didn’t want to do it! Long have I written (with great fascination) at the men’s sock craze that started a few years ago. I made fun of all the men out there who were wearing these mini socks that looked as though all they were missing was a pom pom on the back of them and a whole squad wearing them to make the look complete. But just recently my guy gave me a pair of his that had gotten too small for him and this is how I fell in love with the men’s mini ped sock – Don’t Get Me Started!

A history on the ped from my point of view and what the hell else is there, huh? I knew the ped from my grandmother who faithfully wore her peds with just about everything I can remember. They weren’t white cotton, oh no, they were the nylon “flesh tone” variety that they used to give women in shoe stores so that they didn’t try on shoes with their bare feet. This was done for hygienic reasons no doubt but you have to wonder if the fungus on someone’s foot couldn’t slip right through the holes in the nylon so that they could lie in wait for the next unsuspecting person to try on that pair of shoes. And as I’m writing this I’m wondering if they in fact have these peds at shoe stores any more. Hmmm…geez I hope so because even if they don’t have a practical purpose, they have a psychological one and that’s just as important to me.

I resisted these types of socks probably mostly because of the grandmother reference I had in my head and also because when you’re an effeminate man, you want to do whatever you can to sort of, well, you know butch up. But was I? I mean, the alternative for me was to wear crew socks but I didn’t want them all the way pulled up to mid-calf because that would be too nerdy so I would scrunch them down. Looking back I realize that I basically am wearing my crew socks like leg warmers and since there’s no chance of me getting into the Olivia Newton-John music video “Let’s Get Physical” or becoming the understudy for Flashdance The Broadway Musical (don’t know that they’re making one but shouldn’t they? I mean I can see the big steel worker opening number as I’m writing this and between the pyrotechnics and the big muscled men sprayed to look sweaty as the Jennifer Beals character comes on looking fit and sweaty for the straightees I think it could be a huge hit!) At any rate, after my revelation or “Come to Peds” (as opposed to Jesus) as you might call it, I discovered that I really had been wearing mock leg warmers all these years and not socks at all.

It was a normal day when I decided to put on the ped socks. I was wearing my new K-Swiss tennis shoes which were cut rather low around the ankle and so I decided that if I was to wear these socks, these would be the appropriate shoes. At first I didn’t even know how to put them on. Being used to giving a firm tug to get socks on I pulled hard enough to make my toes curl and to create a sort of extra sock puff in the back that looked like a second heel. It didn’t take long to figure it out but it took longer than it should have, that much I can tell you. I slipped on the tennis shoes, tied them and away I went. But what was it that was making me feel so free, so alive, so I don’t know…almost a feeling of being naked as the wind swished across my naughty naked ankle bones. I hoped that no one was staring at me as I knew that I had a big old grin on my face that I would never have been able to explain to anyone. Let’s face it, I was hooked.

Of course I was wearing them with shorts. I can’t really imagine wearing this type of sock with other pants as the pant leg scrapes across your naked ankle bone. No I think like most things, these are better used in moderation and at the appropriate times. Yes, I’ll wear the mini ped sock but only with shorts my friends.

But with this admission I must also tell all of my readers who have no doubt read with shock and horror my aversion to these types of socks that I was indeed (for the fourth time in my life) wrong. There I’ve said it. However, I will not go back on the whole not wearing any socks with dress pants that’s just gross fellas but I understand your ped wearing now and that’s how I fell in love with the men’s mini ped sock – Don’t Get Me Started!

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Another Reason We Need Gay Marriage – The Anniversagay – Don’t Get Me Started!

Recently two male/male couple friends of mine were joined in holy matrimony in Los Angeles. They’re what I lovingly call my LA Gays. Although both couples opted for a courthouse wedding for now and will do the whole reception-get-us-a-spode-Christmas-china-gravy-boat at a later date, the point is that they are now married, they have a date to which they can look back and say, “This is our anniversary.” On the other hand, my guy and I celebrated 20 years of togetherness this past weekend and although we’re pretty sure that we have the date right, we really can’t be sure. Another reason we need gay marriage – the anniversagay – Don’t Get Me Started!

If you want to know all the details about our first date we can give them to you (and amazingly enough we both have the same recollections – not always the case) however we really can’t remember the exact date. It was either August 30^th or the 31^st and we celebrate our first date because precisely what I’m talking about, we don’t really have any other date to go by as we don’t have an engagement/wedding or any other date but the first date. And I think (still not sure) that’s a problem.

I’m not saying that we were in love on our first date (although I think that it’s quite possible we were in love on our first date because we were friends for months prior to the start of our dating) but the fact remains that I wouldn’t know what other date to use. I didn’t keep a journal with copious entries about the first time we held hands, the first time we kissed or the first time that we “did the deed” (as we used to say back in the day) so what date should I use? And would anyone really want to use the date they first had carnal knowledge of their partner as their anniversary date? I mean, what do you get for that by year 20? And does that anniversary have things like the straightees have for their wedding anniversaries? You know, like paper for year one and by year 20 you’re up to the traditional gift of China or the modern gift, which is platinum?* What are the carnal knowledge anniversary gifts? Year one is lube and by year twenty it’s a platinum cock ring?

So you see, although many people out there consider us gays subhuman or something akin to monkeys when it comes to mating, we gays need a date to celebrate too. So for those of you who don’t want to save our souls from the eternal damnation of hell and don’t want to retell us the story of Sodom and Gomorrah over and over again please help me (and then I’ll tell all of the other gays, because you know we all know one another) what date should we be using, huh?

I know I should be smart enough to figure this out on my own but we can all see how well I’ve done with the whole thing thus far. I used the first date and now I can’t remember the date that the first date was on so let’s face it, I don’t think that’s the way to go but at this point it’s all I’ve got so that’s what I’m sticking to because it’s all I know and I always say, “Do what you know.”

In talking to a straight guy friend of mine, he says that we should use the date when we started “getting serious” but who the hell can pin point that one? And do you think that’s something you remember? Can you really pinpoint the day you realized you were “serious” about this person? I mean, I try my best to NOT be serious as often as possible so it’s unlikely I would be able to use my own personal serious meter for this one.

Any way you slice it, if you’re like me, you just don’t know what date to use and while I refuse to be pressured into creating my life on some antiquated rules that were let’s face it, not created for us gays – yes I’m talking “marriage” here. (Sorry boys and gals, I still don’t think we need the wedding with matching tuxes – I’m more for something that is more “us” although I don’t know what that is – as I’ve said before, all I’m looking for is the tax break and a way to get into the hospital room if God forbid, anything should happen). The point is that maybe one of you out there have a better idea for the anniversary date. So help a gay out, will ya? Cause at this point it seems to me that we gays have no choice but to get married, if only to get an anniversary date (and the Spode gravy boat). Another reason we need gay marriage – the anniversagay – Don’t Get Me Started!

*Allow me for a moment to go off on a tangent about the whole “traditional” and “modern” gifts thing. I don’t know how many people actually give “traditional” gifts anymore but isn’t that the point? So why do we need the “modern” gifts? If you’re traditional enough to give gifts according to the traditional gift giving guide then you should be giving just that so why in God’s name (or anyone’s else) do we need a “traditional” and now a “modern” gift? I don’t get that either.

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Aveda – The Store – Don’t Get Me Started!

Now I have used Aveda products for a long time. I think they’re great quality products and I totally dig the smell of them. (At one point I even had them mix up cologne oil for me based on the smell of one of their hairsprays) All this to say, that I love the Aveda, however yesterday I ran into an Aveda store to grab a bottle of their “Brilliant” hairspray and with only minutes to spare before I was meeting people for dinner, the last thing I needed was to be held up by the Aveda gal behind the counter. Aveda – The Store – Don’t Get Me Started!

I am what most would consider a power shopper. I know what I’m going in for, how much I expect to pay and how to maneuver to the checkout with the least amount of shoppers so that I can get in and get out painlessly. How do I know how to do this? I spent most of my younger days working retail so believe me when I say, I know what good and bad service is, where the salespeople hide the good sale merchandise (that they’re hiding from the public so that they can get it for themselves later with their employee discount) and the marketing trick of putting the expensive stuff up front hoping power shoppers like me will get confused and dazzled by the latest thing and pick that up and buy it before we even begin to navigate to the back of the store where all the real bargains are kept. That’s right, for the most part I can get in and out in about ten minutes, fifteen if the next season’s stuff is out on display.

So now that you know the above you know that I know exactly where my target is when I walk into most stores and when it comes to a store like Aveda, I know what is where, believe me. So I breeze in and go immediately to the shelf where the hairspray that I want is located. The salesgirl is behind the counter with her back to me (a no-no in all retail, I don’t care if you have to back out of there like you’ve had an audience with the Queen of England, never leave the front of the store without one eye on it because you just lost $500 in merchandise while you were facing the back wall checking in merchandise on the back counter – it’s a little like being on stage, you can never turn directly to speak with a person because you’ll block you or the person you’re talking to, you have to “cheat out” a little so that the audience gets to see your faces).  Within seconds I was at the counter and by the time I plunked down the bottle on the counter and had slid my finger across the face of my Iphone to check for messages, she turned around to greet me. Seeing the bottle and me, she gestured to a tray with tea in little paper Dixie cups, “Would you like some tea?” “No, thank you I just need to get this and get out.” Now any good sales person (i.e., a gay man) would have known from the look in my eye and the turn down of the tea that I meant business and just wanted to pay and get the hell out of there but no doubt due to some rules and regulations sent down from the corporate office, instead of just ringing me up she said, “Well then, can I put some boogie boogie oil on the back of your neck?” (Yes, I made that name up because I wasn’t paying attention to what she said – no, I don’t believe there is any boogie boogie oil out there but then again you never know, right?) I just sort of looked at her and said, “No thank you. I really just want to pay for this.” She seemed to not get my sense of urgency or anything else, she was just going through the checklist of what to say to a guest that someone had given her (I know all of this because I’ve written and implemented these types of procedures for companies). And then, as if this whole thing wasn’t taking too long as it was she asked me if I wanted a bag or not. No doubt the company does this to save costs (though they’ll market it as “our way of helping the world stay a greener place” or something) so after dealing with the bag issue and then her almost trembling at the thought of having to make change for the cash I gave her (even though the register tells you how much change to give) I finally had my hairspray and was on my way out to dinner.

Now I know that some of you reading this are thinking that I was one of those rushing, asshole customers but I can assure you that even though I wrote it here this way, I used all my “pleases” “thank yous” and was smiley and delightfully friendly in spite of the urgency I had running around inside me like a Jamaican from the recent Olympics.

The thing is that I get what Aveda is trying to deliver. They’re trying to deliver a “Zen-like” experience in their stores, a “hey, slow down, you move to fast. Gotta make the morning last” kind of a thing. And I appreciate it when I’m not in a hurry but once the tea gets turned down do you have to offer the oil on the back of the neck? And what’s up with the whole oil thing anyway? Is that new? What happens when I let Ashlee put that crap on the back of my neck? Is it going to get all over my Prada shirt or drip down my back? Eww. I say, serve the tea and the tranquility Aveda but leave it at that please. Unless I’ve got a cold and you’re going to rub Vicks under my nose, I don’t want your salespeople rubbing oil on my neck, thank you. Aveda – The Store – Don’t Get Me Started!

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