As a result of recent experiences, I’m establishing some strict policies if I ever open up a venue that hosts comedy and/or music. They are as follows:

1. No children. We won’t ever be doing children’s amateur night, so there’s no reason to drag your kid out past his bedtime.

2. Yes, we have a bar. Yes, you may drink. If you start talking loudly and bothering other patrons, we won’t throw you out. We’ll call the police and have them taser you. Then they can throw you out. No refunds.

3. Heckling or singing along loudly at any time will result in the same fate as generic drunken loudness (see punishment above). If the performer wants audience participation, they’ll ask for it. So until then, hold onto to your “A” material like, “Freebird!” and “How hot was it!?”

J.

I couldn’t figure out why people were giving me such funny looks when I announced excitedly, “I’m going to see Fantasia on Friday!” last week. Finally, one savvy person asked, “The movie or the singer?”

Yikes. What a reputation killer that misunderstanding could be in some circles.

J.

Snakes on a Sunday

Really, there isn’t much I could say about Snakes on a Plane that you couldn’t already guess. Basically, “More fun than you might think” is about all I’ve got to offer. If you think the idea’s hilarious, you’ve already seen it. If not, you probably won’t see I unless your boyfriend has a movie night when it hits DVD (assuming you’re together that long…). There’s snakes, a plane, Samuel L. Jackson and plenty of screaming. This one was all about the audience. All that was missing Thursday night was Chad - Hollywood, as usual beckoned, although he did meet for drinks ahead of time AND managed to sell his ticket (plus another we found) to some fellow moviegoers. The movie and the audience did not disappoint. Both seemed to be acutely in on the joke.

It seems that cable TV’s been preparing for this as well. Pay channels offerings included: Flightplan, Stealth and Red Eye (was Airplane not available?!?!?). Sci-Fi took the cake, however. The marathon included Pythons, Pythons 2, Boa vs. Python,King Cobra, and Snake King; they pulled out the big guns. Curiously absent from the game? Animal Planet. A mini-marathon of Meerkat Manor - a favorite of mine, though hardly related programming – seemed to be the only programming on slate.

All I wasted my time on was Red Eye. Not enough winks and nods, not to mention a total lack of snakes to make it entertaining. And the wanna-be Wait Until Dark ending only served to emphasize how badly they must have wanted to cast Jennifer Garner but had to settle for Rachel McAdams instead.

What was really missing from the weekend was a Sam Jackson marathon. I would have expected Starz to at least have The Negotiator on tap. If that wasn’t available, any movies that prominently feature the word “motherfucker” would have sufficed.

J.

This post was sponsored by the What Do You Expect Out of Sunday Blogging? Committee

Watch this space.

Marquee view from the Loft at the The Troubadour.

Stay tuned for the rundown.

J.

UPDATED (finally!) 08/21/06 :

Drunken people and comedy don’t mix.

Oh, don’t get me wrong – drunks can be very, very funny to watch and be around. But as audience members they suck. Some people seem to think that heckling is a sacred part of the comedic experience. And when full of cheap vodka, these folks very often take it upon themselves to do God’s work. Most seasoned comedians know how to deal with hecklers. And the occasional audience member helps out by either threatening or out-shouting the heckler.

Unfortunately, none of these things were going in my favor on Tuesday night. The show at L.A.’s legendary Troubadour was at capacity and by the time we arrived, the floor was packed. We were given passes to the upstairs lounge, which is usually a really nice place to be. There’s a bar and a window that you can see the show through. The sound is piped in through speakers and there’s TV sets giving a view of the stage, just in case you prefer the comfy seats along the corner to the barstools. Predictably, as the night progressed, the space in front of the window got more and more crowded. (Pressed up against the glass, these people reminded me of kids at Sea World, trying to rouse Shamu into eating their little brother.) And people not standing by the window got more and more drunk. And louder – much, much louder. The show ran late because Brian Posehn and Zach Galifianakis were shooting something or other and were behind schedule. Zach never made it and we had to leave before Brian took the stage.

It got to a point where all we could hear over the din was raucous laughter from downstairs and the clink of cheap plasticware a few feet away. What really tripped me out was that a few of the comics (including Bob Odenkirk) came upstairs and proceeded to talk over their fellow comics’ sets. It’s one thing for a guy who works for the phone company to decide it’s his duty to “challenge” the fella onstage. It’s another thing completely for someone who knows what it’s like to stand on that stage to make it hard for paying customers to hear what they came for. OK, rant is over. I get nosebleeds from the soapbox sometimes…

In any event, the moral of the story is: Shut the hell up when you’re at a concert of any kind. People don’t pay to hear you talk – especially me.

J.

This post was sponsored by the Fists Make The Best Muzzles Committee.

When in doubt, use links.

This one's gonna be short, so I'm use a lot of hyperlinks to dazzle...

Is the term “Banana Republican” better suited to refer to our Log Cabin friends or the nice folks who fold shirts and lie to folks about the size of their asses down at our local mall? These are the things that keep me up at night and occupy me while I should be working. Hence why I am not upwardly mobile.

Also: if anyone has four tickets for the 10pm showing of Snakes On A Plane at Grauman’s in the big theater, please be so kind as to give them over to the any charter member of the Midnight Movie Mafia. It seems that we underestimated the public’s fascination for a surefire cult classic. If it comes down to it, we’ll settle for the little theater at 10:15p but it would feel like cheating on our usual spot.

For today, that is all. I am going to see The Comedians of Comedy tonight and will be unable to type later as my guts will surely be busted.

Before I go, I'll leave with this odd sign I saw while outlet shopping with Armi this weekend:


Now I ask you, who does a product labeled "Hobo" appeal to, especially at regular price of $59.99?

-J.

This post was sponsored by the Hyper-Zeldas Committee.

The Invisible Line

Million dollar question: At what point should one “Let things go,” or "Get over it”? Is there a table that breaks it down neatly? And who says that we shouldn’t “lower” ourselves to level of our enemies (or at least our annoyances) if just for the moment? What’s their basis for such an argument?

What quantifies a “connection” or “friendship” or “relationship” after all, is nothing more besides our own perception and expectation, however realistic or not those may be. It follows then, that what consititutes a "betrayal" isn't so easily quantifiable, either. From this perspective, it’s all about how up-to-date the prescription on your emotional glasses is. Realistic expectations yield realistic disappointment or delight.

Sure, I’d like to think that I’m one of the nice guys – forgiving and easygoing, non-judgmental and ready to give everyone the benefit of the doubt. But I know better than to delude myself. So why fight such inclinations toward my true nature? Why not rip someone to shreds, no matter how insignificant they really are to me (to say nothing of the rest of the world) when the occasion calls for it?

After all, thanks to a forum such as this, people who have never met me know about my struggle with depression, about funny and touching childhood memories; there’s some stuff here my parents have never heard and probably never will. If I’m willing to share all of that, what rule of good taste keeps me from giving in to my baser instincts?

I’ll tell you what keeps me from giving in. The idea of joining the ranks of those people who fight in public places or in front of their kids; the ones who hold acquaintances hostage while they turn classrooms, workplaces, and bars into impromptu group therapy sessions; those who would bleed all over the internet, holding their cherished victim status to garner sympathy, all the while leaving out details that might point a few fingers in their own direction? Not tempting in the slightest.

No, I’ll be content to share my darker thoughts with close friends over drinks or Thai food. Hating is an art show and nowhere does it say that can’t be an invitation-only event. In the end, my dignity and self-respect are worth more than a few moments of flesh-rending, no matter how good it may feel at the time.

Besides, that’s what LiveJournal is for.

-J.

Super-zeroes...

Blogger and I are off to a rocky start this week. Tonight's the first time I've been able to get it to work since Monday. Still, by request, here's my return to observational blogging...
Last Friday, I made a rare venture into WeHo. Normally, my observations involve twinks making spectacles of themselve. And while they were out in force at Micky's, they were far from the center of my attention. Everybody knows my fascination with superheroes knows no bounds. So when a geek in a Green Lantern t-shirt (the um, green shirt on the right) walks into a gay bar, not only does it make for a great intro to a joke, it catches my eye immediately. Superhero night at Rage isn't until later this month. So what would bring a wayward stag into Micky's on a Saturday night?

He seems to be searching, never staying in one place too long, but never starying into the light. A secret identity is vital, I suppose.

He heads to the bathroom - a costume change, perhaps?

While he's gone, it becomes too clear: In walks The Flash.

OK, so it was a fellow geek in a Flash t-shirt (the, um, not green shirt above), but still, you get the point. He scours the place, obviously in search of his teammate - a blind internet date, I assume. Of course, GL's busy having a secret meeting in the john, the speedster leaned against the wall, with a view of the bar and at least two of the go-go boys. I like to think that he was cruising for sidekicks while waiting for his prince with the ring.

But the Lantern emerged from his private Hall of Justice and zigged when he should have zagged. For what seemed like a few lightyears, they stood on opposite sides of the club, where my company and I could get a view of both of them. Maybe if either of them had approached the bar and ordered a shot of truth serum, they might have seen through the haze. But apparently they were unable to detect one another. A villainous plot or just the ineptitude of gay geeks to socialize? In any event, this double agent decided to not play goody goody and superhuman take its course.

Finally, the Flash dashed off in a huff. I assumed a fire or cat up a tree needed him. Green Lantern followed close behind, after consulting his cell phone. I imagined a "battery low" message - he could charge his ring and his phone all at once.

I finished my screwdriver and moved onto watching the go-go boys with the amusing nicknames David and I had applied to them (i.e. Mel Gibson, Tentpole, Laguna Beach, etc...). Apparently, my greatest superpowers are apathy and observation. If Stan Lee's show makes it to next season, I hope they change the title to "Who Wants To Be A Supervillain?". I Could Care Less Boy would be first in line.

Oh, and they were totally wearing the wrong shirts. GL was a total Flash and the Flash would have made a perfect GL.

J6 Tip O' the Day:
For those who thinking of blind internet dates using identifying outfits, if you're so inclined, may I suggest going with a proven, long term couple?

That or Bert & Ernie masks should do the trick.

- J.

This post was sponsored by the How fucking hard is it to find a superhero t-shirt in a gay club?!?!?! Committee.

Back By Popular Demand...

...or on the heels of the requests of some pushy Midwesterners (not to mention some Midwestern expats...). I thought about making my sabbatical an actual 30 days ( but a funny thing happened - I actually got the itch to write about things! So here I am. Since it's been a bit, I thought we could all use a little recap on what's gone down since last we all checked in to Chez Jay:

Coming Down.
I went off of Prozac. This was under the watchful eye of my doctor. Basically we felt that I’d learned to manage my condition(s) well enough to try and handle it on my own. If it doesn’t work, back on the wagon and we’ll see where we go from there. The first week or so was a little weird. I thought maybe I was having seizures or a stroke - just the side effects as chemicals were exiting my body. But as of now, I’m side-effect free and not falling apart. So onward and upward, as they say.

Boybands? What next - Gays in theatre?!?!?!
Lance Bass came out. Boy, this was one of those moments I wish I’d been blogging for. Back when *NSYNC was popular, FB and The Princess and I had nicknamed Lance “Ellen,” due to his uncanny resemblance to Ms. DeGeneres. Imagine our amusement at what looked like a parody of her Time “Yup, I’m Gay” cover on People. Bottom* line: A People cover is still better than Us, not as cool as The Advocate, and total confirmation of D-List status. This, I suppose, will ensure him a reality show or at least some further appearances at Kathy Griffin’s side.

*I’m assuming here, but come on – you really think that Reichen’s not in charge in bed here?

Geek Pride
I attended a couple of days of the annual San Diego Comic-Con. I met up with an old friend who I almost never see and got stay with my favorite cousin, who lives in SD. The 19th Annual Gays In Comics forum was the highlight of my Saturday and I got to meet Phil Jimenez, who I didn’t even know was gay. That we’re both L.A. born, Hispanic, comic geeks, and gay was a nice moment of solidarity. I’m hoping to score an interview with him for HomoMojo sooner than later. He swears he has a great explanation of why Wonder Woman's not a lesbian.

Always wash behind your Earbuds
I have a habit of washing sensitive equipment only to find it more durable than suspected. I once washed a flash drive from work and discovered it was still functional the next day. So it was only with mild surprise that FB made the rather hilarious discovery in the dryer the other day – the earbuds to my iPod. Better than forgetting to take the actual iPod out of my jeans, I suppose; but still a bummer. I ran out and found a pair of acceptable replacements (and no, I didn’t shell out any more money for an official pair) only to discover last night that apparently earbuds can survive just about anything. I’m thinking of writing Apple and seeing if they’ll put in a commercial after I explain how durable their fine products. If that doesn’t work, I’ll try the good people at Cheer and explain just how mild their fine products are.

A reading rainbow...
It I just needed to reconnect with my love of words and my own vocabulary through reading. I finally gave up on trying to read American Psycho. I've had the book for a year and tried to get past chapter two for months. I threw in the towel and hunkered down with Augusten Burroughs instead. Running With Scissors and Dry, with liberal doses of David Sedaris, kept my brain working. At some point or another, I expect to be ready for Patrick Bateman's bloody adventures but I guess I've just been feeling more madcap than murderous lately.

Well, that feels like a nice, soft re-entry. I honestly don't know what's coming next. I have a few pre-packaged musings ready to go so as not to leave gaps, but for the most part, I should be ready to observe. Also, there's a new layout coming - I can feel it. I just need to find and/or create it. So stay tuned - I think we're just getting started (again!).

J.

This post was sponsored by the Back To Gay-sics Committee.