08/24/2010
08/05/2010
Probably Just Me But . . .
Is there anyone else a little taken aback when they read the name Colt Ford, accompanied by a picture like this
08/03/2010
Back In My Box (And Away From the Fringe)
Yesterday, I was itching to get back to the day job. This was after a much -needed week off after about three weeks of working this years Capital Fringe Festival. Silly me. I neglected to put in for another week off after the festival. Lucky me. A summer storm knocked out power to our building and the utility company didn't get us on the grid until late yesterday evening. So I'm back and I'm bored. Missing the Fringe. Although I enjoyed my first go around with the Capital Fringe box office gang two years ago, this year was far more enjoyable experience. And here are a few of the reasons why.
Medication and Better Health in General
I was about a hundred and fifty pounds heavier last time I did this and had yet to be introduced to the wonders of Zoloft. So I was happy a'ight with staying put at the packing table and putting together tickets for shows ready to go out. It kept me out of the way of everything else that was going on. I was back on the packing table this year, but I also worked the door for a couple of shows, cookie and candy runs for volunteers, fraternized with a few of the staffers outside of the box (made a special friend over at the Warehouse) and specialized in giving menacing looks behinds the managers' back whenever someone surly came in to bitch about the no-late seating policy. And I was able to crack a smile every so often, laugh here and there or at the least project "an air of happiness," according to Freebird who snapped the following pic.
Fun with Scissors
Guess the meds made me more willing to be a team player this year. So I e-mailed the box office supervisor, MJ about getting the graphics and fonts for the staff shirt in order for me to put something together through Zazzle. MJ assured they had me covered. But I knew the festival folks were fans of American Apparel and I knew American Apparel weren't fans of fatties. They only went up to 2X instead of 4X that I needed. I had to hunt out some Hanes Beefy-T's. Didn't happen. So I had a little rough sartorial algebra with scissors my new staff shirt and an old staff shirt. (2X+2X) + Tugging/Pulling= 4X.
Sidebar When I did I become one of those delusional bastards who thinks he has decent guns because of few sessions yoga and toning whose delusions come crashing down when a photographer snaps him from an unfortunate angle. Hello there, Bingo-Wings!
Night Work
I was more than happy with taking on the night shift, assuming that I was going to get out early enough to head over to Secrets after work was over for a few cocktails and to ogle a few cocks and tails. Unfortunately, getting out at nearly 2 AM that first weekend made me realize I was sorely mistaken. It also made me go from appreciating MJ, who brought me back in to the Capital Fringe fold to loathing her while wondering, "What in the hell has she gotten me into?" After a rough start, we managed to pull it together and operate a little more efficiently when it came to closing and counting out. Still, the only time I ever made it down to Secrets was on Wednesday off. However that was a fun night, I got to act as judge (or human applause-o-meter) for the monthly amateur contest which meant I had a front row seat to all the new talent. And not so new talent, I found a certain contestant "performing" with Vince Ferelli (Google 'em, bastards and be warned! NFSW) on certain "adult site). A friggin' ringer.
Sister-girl
Yup, that first weekend out I was ready to strangle MJ* that first weekend out. And I'm sure she was ready to the same when I decided to ring the alarm and alert her to the fact that her beau was on towards her in the Baldacchino tent while she was innocently chatting up one of the smoking cute guys working the bar. But for the most part, we got along okay and I enjoyed her company, due to the fact that she's a cool gal and in no small part to . . .
Post-Shift Beers, Corona and Cuervo
Because a long trip to Secrets down by the Navy Yard was kind of pointless after work, I was grateful for two happening spots right next door. The Eagle and Capital Fringe's own Baldacchino Gypsy Tent. At the tents, I got hooked on Hook & Ladder and Espresso Ale. Over at the Eagle, I got hooked on checking out the upstairs shenanigans as I downed Coronas and a couple of shots of Cuervo. The shots were my way of keep something short, tiny and Latino in my life, since I was missing out on the other Felipe and the rest of the chicos malos down at my beloved Secrets. That said, I think I may have become a regular at Eagle. They're a welcoming bunch over there. Very friendly, especially the Swedish patrons.
Crushing by Proxy
I had a co-gay this year! Hard to believe, but I was the only one working the box office my first year there (I think!). So being the only gay and only brotha, I was dealing with somedouble quadruple consciousness issues. But this year, with my co-gay, I didn't have to feel like I was our sole representative. CG was a familiar face but he worked on the production the last time I saw him. It was a relief having him around, especially since he seemed even more over the moon than me about a certain volunteer who was under the mistaken impression that hated him the first year we met. Hated? No. A little annoyed that he seemed to punctuate everything he said with a laugh, but cute covers a multitude of sins. This time around I could be a little nicer to volunteer and vicariously crush on him through my CG.
Full-frontal Male Nudity and Talking Vaginas!
I actually got to see shows this years! Another reason, I <3 MJ is because she ignored the fact that I was basically free to work any day during festival and insisted that I take Wednesday, which didn't keep my away from Fort Fringe. I made my down to district to check out a few of the performance. Lucky me, none of them were clunkers.
Chlamydia dell’Arte: A Sex-Ed Burlesque:
The one featuring the vagina that was very vocal about its contraceptive needs along with other hilarious skits, including an interesting and hands-on take on the balcony scene in Romeo and Juliet. The only disappointment for me were the frosting licking skills of one of the performers during cooking show skit. What took her a couple licks to clean, I'm quite sure I could've cleaned off in one.
Assembly Required: How to Write, Produce, and Stage a Musical–The Musical!.
The one with the full-frontal male nudity. The one crotch and ass-sniffing to accompany the love theme for Peenie the Prison Poodle. The one that unexpectedly broke my heart the day after because Darin Ellis, one of the talented supporting players, passed away.
Special Agent Galactica in Irrelevant Acts of Entertainment
This show right here! It's like somebody jacked my mp3 player, put it pink wig and tossed it on stage to turn it the hell out. Special Agent Galactica is a lip-sync artist after my own heart. She managed to bring life songs by Dolly, Stevie (both Nicks and Wonder by way of awesome acapella cover of "Superstition") Bette and Carrie Underwood.
There were few other shows, but I feel like I've already blah-blah enough. And look at that! Almost time to leave my box.
07/29/2010
When Love is Not Enough . . .
I've often imagnined my imaginary boyfriend, Justin Timberlake, shedding a bit of his his pretty boy swag, allowing himself to go a little scruffy, getting in touch with his inner-cub and frolicking with a bear (preferably a black and slightly grizzled Daddy older cousin bear). But never would I have imagined (outside of a bad acid trip) this . . .
They say love is blind and I guess that's why I feel like I rather gouge my eyes than subject myself to this. I don't know if I can forgive this. Unless . . . SNL gives you the Christmas episode to plug this mess and I get follow-up to "Dick in A Box" and "Mother Lover."
06/29/2010
Twangy Tuesday: Scissor Sisters
Updated. Another version-- with Kylie!!!
Yup, the Scissors Sisters. A group better known for glam-rock, pop and disco sensibilities takes on Kylie Minogue's "All the Lovers" and give it a countrified feel.
06/16/2010
Wayback Wednesday: Natalie Cole
06/09/2010
You Know You're Still Fat (and Super Homo) When . . .
Your dream features Glee's Matthew Morrison
and porn star Owen Hawk from his twinkie-licious days and not current incarnation as a dungeon master's apprentice
I dreamed that I was back at my old elementary. Rather than walking around, I was lying down and racing around on a motorized luge. I was in hurry to get somewhere. I didn't know where until I ended up in the music room. Apparently I was meeting the Glee Cast there for a viewing party. Amber Riley and Owen Hawk came in right behind. We're all late and upset that they started watching without us. We get into it with Mark Salling who is acting rather Puck-ish and refuses to restart the episode.
06/08/2010
06/07/2010
06/02/2010
Dear Jake . . .
I came down with a case of Gyllenhaal-itis on Friday. It's a condition marked by fever, unusual hair-growth, and the ability to defy the constrictions of time (e.g., turning three day weekend into a 3 and half-day weekend) with the aid of a magic dagger kick-ass boss. And I figured the only cure was a late afternoon matinee of Prince of Persia. I was sadly mistaken. What should have been-- at the least!-- a fun two-hour thrill ride of a movie was a disjointed, charmless and disappointing film. And Jakey-Baby, I thought I'd finally discovered the secret to quitting you. Just remember this atrocity along with the good times (We'll always have Jarhead and Bubble Boy ) and let you go. And I was ready to let go like a Lostie in the Universal Chursynamosque of Jesus, Allah Buddha and the Frozen Donkey Wheel.
