Sorry to be so photo bloggy in place of legit posting lately. I've got a few excuses (pick your favorite!):

A) I bought X-Men Legends II: The Rise of Apocolypse two weeks ago and along with FB and my roommate's boyfriend have been playing until obscene hours of the night/morning. I'm now going through previously played levels to try and find of all Iron Man's armor so I can unlock him for gameplay. (Go ahead - call me a geek. I can take it.)

B) I am engrossed in that previously mentioned book, Stiff. I will be done tonight.

C) Remember I said I was gonna review Stiff for HomoMojo? I'm writing that as I read.

D) I'm lazy. (How lazy? The last of the Chanukah decor just came down this weekend. Don't judge me.)

E) I wrote another HomoMojo piece. Show me some love here.

F) Babies, babies, babies. Last week it was Armi's bundle of joy (she just passed the month mark!) and this weekend was the love of FB's life - a walking, talking genius of a 14-month old. I hope the boy doesn't mind me putting his picture up, but I can't resist showing another happy couple:

She enjoys my company, but still doesn't trust me completely. Smart kid - many people feel that way.

(And how natural does my dearest friend look with a baby?)

See you tomorrow, kiddos.

-J.


This post was sponsored by the Hey! This Post Didn't Suck As Bad As I Thought It Would. Committee.

Evidence.

As promised, here is visual proof of what made my sister hate me and turn my crotch magical (at least according according to Ryan).

Also pictured: me playing ring toss. I was a little tossed myself by this point and it looks like I'm tossing more than a ring, according to one observant co-worker, but I digress...



You may now return to your previously scheduled Friday. I'll be back soon.

-J.

Always a bridesmaid.

Tonight was the big annual event for my company at a fancy restaurant/bar where people have bar mitzvah and anniversary parties. The big draw of this place is that it basically overlooks the entirety of all of the areas I grew up in around the San Fernando Valley. Also? Free food and raffles for prizes like iPods and digital cameras and a trip to New York! The theme was a western/Rodeo evening. Which meant we got to wear blue jeans to work today (not a big deal for some of you, but a nice way to spend a lazy day for me).

Let's get the big news out of the way so you don't think there's a happy twist coming: I didn't win a damn thing. No iPod, no camera, no trip to New York. Whoop-di-f*ckin'-do. What did I get? A free pen, a hat I forgot at the damn place. I also met a bunch people from outer area offices who I've only spoken to on the phone and played the "Who's a 'Mo?" game with my favorite girl (whose gaydar is amazing).

On the other hand, I smoozed with several members of senior management who bought me drinks and let me swear and talk shit with them. For someone thinking of climbing the ladder, not a bad place to be. So the night wasn't a total loss. Free drinks, free dinner, and as Marge Simpson once said, "Eh. A night out is a night out."

Oh! I almost forgot to mention the gay boy moment of the night that will make my sister and more than a few readers jealous. I rode a mechanical bull. But not just any mechanical bull. I rode the bull featured in Madonna's "Don't Tell Me" video. Several work folk snapped pictures of my two rides, the first of which was much longer than 8 seconds I'll have you know. So yes, I should have a picture tomorrow or Friday at the latest.

That's it for the evening, kids. I was very good and only sipped at each of the drinks I was bought so as not to exceed the recommended drink level for my prescribed self. But I'm still more than a little tired. I will retire and read a book which has sucked me in - Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers. I plan on writing up a review for HomoMojo before this weekend, so be on the lookout. As always, I'll pimp out my work here.

Thanks for reading, kiddos. Bang Bang.

-J.

This post was sponsored by the Ridin' High Committee.

Breaking news.

I know this will be shocking, maybe even a little disappointing for some of you.

I met someone this weekend. The instant I saw her I knew I was in love.

I'm not sure how Armi feels about being a mother-in-law only a month into being a new mother, but the heart wants what it wants.

I'll let you know where we register. (She shops Baby Gap & I fit into XXL at Gap Kids. They usually share space to make it easy on you.)

Happy Monday, kiddos!

-J.

This post was sponsored by the Switching Teams Committee.

Scattered.

Business first: a new HomoMojo post from The Groom (psst! it's me) is up in the "Life" section. I hope you enjoy. Leave feedback!

I'm more than a little scatterbrained tonight - two nearly simultaneous posts is more difficult than I thought. Try these on for size - a few random facts that amused me:

I spent the entire day today at work thinking it was Friday. Needless to say, I was disappointed on more than one occasion.

The TVs in the buses broke down in the middle of the little word game they put on in between "news" stories. Damn - now I'll never know what movie _ield _f Dr_ams was going to be. And a word to the wise - if you're going to sleep on the bus (not recommended, by the by), don't snore. I'm liable to strangle you and nobody would notice or care even if they did.

At the gym tonight, there was this guy I couldn't stop looking at. I'm not usually one who goes in for the whole "bad boy" look - you know, tattoos, etc. I'm not turned off by it, but it isn't a major turn-on either. But this guy had what looked like an Egyptian hieroglyph on his chest - a large bird of some sort. And he had on a hoodie that said "The Pogues" on the back. And then he opened his mouth and the most amazing Irish brogue nearly made me drop the freeweights on my foot. It was then I decided to stop by the grocery store and buy some Lucky Charms^tm.

At the store (I decided against getting the cereal, FYI. Who needs all the sugar?), I perused the produce when "I Love Rock N Roll" came on. I instantly became that guy - the one who bops along and even sings a little when he knows the tune in public. The store was nearly empty so I only got noticed by the lil' emo kid who was stocking up on yogurt and soy milk. He seemed amused. I saw him bopping along when he thought I wasn't looking. I'm sure he wasn't as excited as I was when "Circle In The Sand" by Belinda Carlisle came on afterwards. But he did seem to like "Enjoy The Silence" as we were at the check-out.

OK, so I didn't really go to the store for Lucky Charms^tm. I was picking up my prescription at the pharmacy next door and took the opportunity to do some long overdue grocery shopping. $40 later I basically have enough to last the weeknd, if I eat sensibly (yeah right!). Ah, impulse shopping. But I need to make those cucumber sandwiches for my impromptu tea party on Sunday...

...which reminds me that I was supposed to write about my theater experience last night. I saw The Importance of Being Earnest at the Ahmanson - but I'm going to put that one off again. It deserves a whole post to itself because of some funny tie-ins. Sneak preview: Lynn Redgrave was great and the seats kicked ass.

That's all for tonight, kiddos. Bang bang!

-J.

This post was sponsored by the I'm In Tatters Committee.

A Gay Boy In Waiting

Has it really been almost a week since I last posted (and lazily at that)? Here's hoping my three readers have stuck around. Luckily, I have come up with all sorts of pithy observations about life that should continue for some time.

Take today for instance. I scheduled a few hours off from work to go see my doctor. The fun thing about going to shrink's office (besides the time off and the fact that he gives me drugs) is that I get to play a little game in the waiting room. I call it, "What's That Guy In Here For?" - basically I guess people's conditions. The Doc shares his space with a physical therapy practice, so sometimes I play a variation on it I call, "Crazy or Broken?"

(What can I say? When it all comes down to it, I've decided approaching my condition with a sense of humor helps me get through it.)

Today was a banner day. First of all, I was about 5 minutes late for my appointment, which never happens. I knew this wouldn't be a problem, because my doctor is always about 15 minutes behind. But the fact that there were two other people who looked pretty bored wasn't a good sign. To my right was an easy one: a middle-aged guy with an "Operation Enduring Freedom" t-shirt on. He was obviously in for Restless Leg Syndrome (click if you don't believe me), which I read up on last time I was in the waiting room. This guy could have registered at least a 3.0 on the Richter scale. The cutie to my left wasn't so easy to figure out. OK, in one sense he was. The snug Lucky jeans and button-down shirt I'd just perused at Urban Outfitters were a dead giveaway of one thing for sure. The low rise sports briefs were the clincher. I know he wore those because every time he would bend down to get a magazine, RLS Guy & I would get a view of his waistband and generous heap of butt crack. Not that I'm complaining or anything...

Anyhow, I determined he has OCD. He had a folder that he kept flipping through and it was meticulously organized. He was also taking notes on articles he would read and had one of those cell phone/personal organizer combos that he would enter information into every so often. And when he took the first of two phone calls, I found out that his name is James. He was also unfailingly polite to the receptionist and had a smile for me on his way out. If I see James again next time, I've determined I will ask him what he's in for. I want to see if I was right - and if I actually have the balls to do something so forward. Who knows? With two months of drugs behind me, I just may.

Anyhow, the reason I had so much time to analyze James and the RLS dude is because I waited for 1 hour and 15 minutes to see my doctor. He apparently had an emergency which backed up two people and we all suffered the consequences. None of which would have bothered me, except that the radio in the waiting room plays nothing but KOST 103.5 - for those of you not familiar with L.A. radio, KOST is our local Adult Contemporary/Love Songs/Torture Device. Seriously, if you're dealing with depressed and possibly suicidal folks, a mix of Michael Bolton, Celine Dion, Kenny Rogers, and Lionel Richie is not the best idea. I was about ready to call it quits when "Your Song" by Elton John saved my ass. Let me tell you, when an Elton John ballad seems cutting edge, you're in one of two scary places: Dante's Ninth Level of Hell or my mom's CD collection.

In the end, I got into the office for a sit down, a good progress report from the Doc and, most importantly, a refill on my prescription. I also got to work an hour later than expected, meaning I clocked a total of four hours today but got paid for eight - w00t! All this and then I saw some legitmate theatre, where I unexpectedly had second row seats! (more on that tomorrow - plus I've got a HomoMojo piece I hope to post tomorrow and weekend blogging plans, so plug in sometim, wontcha?)

Anyhow, the morals of the story are as follows:

1) It's fun to try and figure out how crazy other people are.
2) Don't play bad love songs for said crazy people. No jury in the world would convict someone who has to suffer "My Heart Will Go On" twice in one sitting.
3) Jay is one funny MoFo when he wants to be. And he really wanted to be one tonight.

Hope you enjoyed. See y'all tomorrow!

J.

This post was sponsored by the Drug Down Committee.

If I had anything in me to be creative, I would. But it's barey 10pm and I am sleepy. So I will leave you with the cutest picture I could find of me. Hopefully, this narcissistic moment won't turn all of you off.

(I said it was cute, not current.)

Three day weekend's a-coming. Woo-hoo!

-J.

This post was sponsored by the I'm Tired And Going To Bed Committee.

I've been up and down and all around...It's all about survival.

(Yes, I know I am a major queer for that reference in the title. Straight boys and Non Madonna-fans can just shrug and move along to the post at hand...)

Sorry about the lack of posting lately. Work has been stressful for multiple reasons lately. (I'd go into detail, but nothing bores me more than writing about work. I spend enough time there, thank you very much!) I will say this: remember when I talked about being on anti-depressants? I have to say that I am SO thankful for them. When presented with certain issues that once would have made me flip out, I've remained remarkably calm and even managed a sense of humor about things that are not funny at all. Is it the drugs or is just idea of them? I think it's the drugs, but whatever, I'm glad I'm at that point.

And OMG I almost never do celeb news here, but who can resist the whole Brad & Angelina "Baby Makes Five" story today? I'll admit it - I'm on Team Jolie and have been since before they got together. Whatever makes you happy, I say go for it.

On that note, I am going to end this anemic for the entry for the day. For those of you interested, I'll be posting (starting tonight hopefully) over at HomoMojo on a recurring basis. I will show up as The Groom - not as JaySix, FYI. That won't end what I do here, but I'll direct you there from now on when I've got a post there and not here. I hope everyone has a good Wednesday. On my agenda? Pilates and the return of Lost! See ya tomorrow, kids!

-J.

Hurt So Good.

Longtime readers will recall that I started a journey almost exactly one year ago. I joined a gym, tired of feeling tired. I also wanted to look cute again (eye of the beholder, I know - it was only my eye I was concerned with). If anyone's keeping count, I've lost about 36 lbs and gone down two pant sizes. But that's not the point, although it is nice. Bored with circuit and with weights and treadmills and ellipitical machines, I have taken to self-flagellation. (Head out of the gutters, kids!). Almost two months, the Princess introduced me to the world of Pilates (invented by the demonic lookin' dude to our left, Mr. Joseph Pilates. I still trust him more than L. Ron Hubbard!)

Pilates is basically a serious of stretches designed to torture. It really makes you realize that Madonna is one crazy bitch. Anybody who can do this on a daily basis is a more than a little tetched. Who knows - maybe there's something in that Kabbalah water that makes you more flexible. At $26 bucks a pop, the red string couldn't hurt, either.

Now, to the right, kiddies, is a simple chart illustrating the basic positions in mat pilates, the discipline I'mpracticing these days. It all looks innocent and harmless in stick figure format, as most things do. But these are things that could get mobsters and nuns to spill secrets. Has anyone here seen Kill Bill, Vol. 2? I'm obsessed with the whole Kill Bill thing. Several times during tonight's class, I felt like Ms. Kiddo when Pai Mai is twisting her arm and threatening to chop it off. Except I knew I wouldn't be cool enough to slice through a bunch of samurai after it was all done. I can barely slice through the shower afterwards.

I do, however, owe the loss of a nagging 7lbs or so that I couldn't drop for about three months to this class. I have an ass all of the sudden and my abs are even starting to come in! Almost a year of machines, walking non stop everywhere and careful attention to my eating habits didn't do that. Getting myself into positions that could make me plenty popular if used recreationally did.

If these are the results of torture, sign me up when Gitmo opens a gym.

-J.

This post was sponsored by the Pontius Pilates Committee.

FauxMo, cont'd.

Due to the compromising of my immune system on New Year's Eve, I've been sick for the last few days. Brave lil' toaster than I am, I even tried to go into work on Tuesday. I left after 4 hours of staring at the screen. Today I finally felt well enough to return to work. And it was the most glorious, 80 degree weather you've ever seen. I even came home for lunch just to soak up the sun a little more. Life in Southern California may be superficial and shallow at times, but it's weather like this that reminds me someone up there likes us. At least they like me. Sorry, I just like to brag on days like this. It makes the Midwesterners jealous.

Speaking of superficial and shallow, I've been back and forthing with a good friend about the content of last Friday's post. He felt I was a little harsh on the gay boys by making it seem like I thought we're mostly vain and self-absorbed. While I think that goes on, that wasn't my intent. So, for those who have read it, I wonder what your feedback is on this. (If you haven't read it, you obviously aren't a regular reader of HomoMojo - they were kind enough to link to it in their "Best of Gay Blogging" this past Sunday.) Anyhow, my buddy - let's call him Mr. McBoingBoing because I like that nickname - did raise some good points. For the record, MMBB is not gay, nor is he a FauxMo. In fact, I wouldn't say he's a Metro. I would say he's a FagStag - one of those rare but awesome straight guys who enjoys the company of gays.

He likens the current Queer Eye-ificiation of America to the birth of Rock'n'Roll, when many kids stopped caring about the color of the skin of their favorite singer. In many instances, straight guys can get facials (no snickering, boys!) and admit it without being looked at funny at the workplace. In a sense, by blurring the lines, we're showing straights how many varieties homos come in. And with, that I can't argue. But we certainly know that pioneers like Little Richard found that of all people, Pat Boone could cover his work and make it more "palatable" (aka less "Black") for radio formats and take it to greater financial success. To be far, history shows us that Pat's "Tutti Frutti" sucks, but at the time it outdid the original on the charts. And Mr. Boone failed to make a hit out of "Long Tall Sally" because audiences preferred the real deal. But you get my point. If all we're going to known for is makeovers, is that really progress?

And for that, dear readers, I'm really hoping for feedback. Use those comments and use them well. I'd love to generate some discussion on an issue McBoingBoing and I have been chewing until our fingers bled all over the keyboard. Plus, it'll make me sure that people are still reading and not just looking nude pictures of Jude Law.

-J.

This post was sponsored by the Faux The Love of God! Committee.

I finally saw it.

There is a world of difference between a well-made film and a great movie. Imagine being in a museum and viewing a painting whose form you can study and appreciate, but doesn't move you as you think the subject matter should. Or a song that tells something so close to your story in an exquisite way, but never hooks you in. Such was the case with my viewing of Brokeback Mountain yesterday. Perhaps I went in with too high of expectations. I thought my heart would be broken by the end of the film. In the end, I was left with more questions than praise.

I didn't dislike the movie, and I had a great respect for the filmmaking. But I found myself reveling in the details rather than the big picture, if you will. A glorious score and soundtrack was at the top of the list, rivaled by Heath Ledger's shockingly brilliant performance. As The Princess, FB, and I left the theater (what? you think I went to a depressing movie on the gloomiest days of this days- old year alone), we were all remarking and marvelling at how his entire body seemed to give way to the character's emotions. The cast was uniformly good (Anne Hathaway has a choice moment of subtlety toward the end of the movie) and the direction was crisp and captured the setting beautifully.

I tried to deconstruct why I didn't connect. FB (anyone remember when he was BF and people thought that meant BoyFriend, not Best Friend and then he changed to FB just to be random and people thought it meant F*ck Buddy? Good times.) and I discussed this at length afterwards and neither of us could pinpoint what didn't connect for us. At one point, FB out it out there, "I'm not going to say I like it just because I'm gay, but...if I were a movie reviewer I'd be a total hypocrite and get everyone to go see it." And here I am, less than 24 hours later, trying to figure out why I didn't "get" it. A lot of people love this movie. A lot of straight people love hits movie. When certain uncomfortable images flash onscreen at one point, I heard and felt the audience wince. This was the same audience that had giggled uncomfortably earlier in the movie during a kiss. The characters, the actors, the story, the idea that these two men loved each other won them over. That's a hell of an accomplishment.

I walked out of the theatre more puzzled than disappointed. I've sat through movies where I'd wasted money and/or time. This was neither or those experiences. I can honestly say I'm still on the fence. I felt great sympathy for these men and their wives and children. Nobody in this story gets a fair shake. It was more than honest filmmaking in that regard. Today, I've been asked by friends and co-workers if I thought it was good (I guess I'm the "gay expert" or something). Each time I've said, "Yes..." and let it hang there for second before trying to explain that I appreciated it more than I liked it, that is to say, I respected it, but didn't love it. I guess in an odd way, the movie made me feel what some people might have felt about Jack & Ennis. It was obviously good art, as I am still thinking about it tonight. Thoughts, anyone?

-J.

This post was sponsored by the Does Mean I Don't Get To Keep The Toaster? Committee