Last week, ChipSlip tagged us - kinda sorta.

The rules are as follows: List ten songs that you are currently digging ... it doesn't matter what genre they are from, whether they have words, or even if they're no good, but they must be songs you're really enjoying right now. Post these instructions, the artists, and the ten songs in your blog. Then tag five other people to see what they're listening to.

I have no plans to tag anyone by responding but we love us some Chip, so I am going to post this. It won't be as funny as Tony's recent response to being tagged (by one of our other favorite Matts). But it should be painless. I'm also doing only five because FB counts as the other half of the tag, if you ask me. He can put up his five if he feels like it.

1. Candace Devine, Kissed You Again. This a very good friend of FB's out in the "real world." She's amazing and and amazingly nice. And she deserves to be heard. Of the four previews on her website, this one gets stuck in my head the most. More can be heard at her MySpace Music corner.

2. Roxette, Fading Like A Flower (Every Time You Leave). In my freshman year of high school, while everyone else was banging their heads to Guns 'N' Roses' Use You Illusion I & II, I was stuck on Joyride. I can't tell you why, but I also can't bring myself to get rid of my Roxette CDs.

3. Elvis Presley, Suspicious Minds - 28 years ago he left the building for real. This is the only song of his I absolutely love.

4. The Nat "King" Cole Trio, Straighten Up and Fly Right - The King to me, was Mr. Cole.

5. Joni Mitchell, Lucky Girl - My life is incomplete without Joni. Especially the stuff nobody else likes.

That's it for tonight. See you all Wednesday!

-J.

p.s. don't forget to say a little prayer for Madge!

Madge is 47, People!

Every phase of evolution commences by being in a state of unstable force and proceeds through organization to equilibrium...the journey of a thousand miles starts in front of your feet. - The Kabbalah (according to some unreliable internet searching for quotes)

I have no idea what this quote really means.

But Happy Birthday, Madonna!

I'll be back with something more useful later.

ETA: Chip's on the breaking news. Seems Mrs. Ritchie isn't having a great birthday. Drink some Kabbalah water and tie a red ribbon 'round your wrist to ward off any more visits by the Evil Eye. And Evil Horses.

-J.

This post was sponsored by the She Must Be Soaking In It Committee.

I'll hold down the castle...

Since FB will be indisposed this week with his dog-sitting duties, I will be doing my best to hold down the fort. I promise to lay off the Hero Generator. I think it's contagious.

On Friday, a little piece of me hopped on a plane and made its way to Europe…again. Obviously I didn’t go anywhere. I’ve never been to Europe and for the time being, I’ve no plans (or money!) to go. The piece of me that left was the little bit of my heart The Princess always has with her. I think it was stuffed in a suitcase between some protein bars and those cute flip flops I rescued from under her couch just before departure.

(The Princess, for those of you who don’t recall or are just joining us, is my oldest gal pal. We have been friends since high school. Yes, we did go to my senior prom together. No, we never dated. If I weren’t gay, though, it would have been an honor. And a guaranteed disaster. But our parents would have been happy for all sorts of reasons.)

The Princess got word some months ago that she had the opportunity to go to London for a three-month job assignment. Now, going to Europe is old hat to my world traveling friend. Her dad lives and works in Spain and she’s been on all sorts of vacations, school trips and sabbaticals. Last time she left, she didn’t even know when she’d be back! So why then, was this time harder to take than any of those of others?

I guess it comes down to the fact that we’ve grown so much – both separately and together – in the past few years. Recently, she moved closer to me than she’s ever lived before. We now work and live within a three mile radius of each other. Someone can be the best friend in the world from afar, and believe me, she has been. But when they're close enough to make plans at the drop of a hat with, you really become attached - moreso than we realize, usually.

I know my favorite girl is coming back sooner than it seems, but I will miss her for every one of those days that she isn't there to call and ask out for coffee. I got emotional during our goodbyes over tacos and margaritas but held it in. FB and I talked about this weekend about how it was harder to see her off than we expected. And when I got an email from her this morning, I welled up. This isn't like me, I thought. She really is that important in my life.

October can't come quickly enough. I love you, Princess.

-J.

Faster Than A Speeding Bulletin...

Today we debut a periodic Hot & Fresh! feature: Jay & FB’s SuperHero Corner. Seeing as how I have an uncontrollable obsession with the Hero Generator program (thanks a lot, Jason!) I figure I might as well put it to good use. As we feel appropriate, more heroes will join the team roster. So without further adieu, I bring you today’s first official SuperHero Corner:

Ethan Solar (at left), mild-mannered Headmaster of the Brat Boy Academy for Gifted Bloggers, leads a double life. To his students, he’s the source of indispensable advice on fag hags, shaving, and how to make kick-ass homemade protein bars. But when duty calls, when the world needs a fire lit and light shone in darkest corners, his true nature reveals itself…

Enter: Phoebus (at right - duh!), demigod of fire and light, defender of the innocent! Stand in his way – we dare you.

Phoebus stands proudly with our founding members, Wonder (whoa!) Man, Wonder Lad, and Danny Man.

(Click the pics for a better look. And please be sure to check out the Brat Boy School Bulletin, where today Ethan will be displaying the raw material I began with to create his alter ego.)

-J.

This post was sponsored by the League of Extraordinarily Well-Mannered Gentlemen Committee.

I like backpacks and I cannot lie...

To tide you over while I write my real post for today, here's three random news items before we close out our week...

Who says cheerleaders are dumb?

Have you heard of the Kutztown 13? That was me...an, uh 12 other guys.*

Has anyone else seen the Target "Baby Got Back," er, BackPack commercials? (More than anything, I'm bothered we who remember Sir Mix-A-Lot's biggest hit are apparently old enough to have school-age children.) Funny enough, I do need a new backpack and will no doubt be heading to Target for it. Whaddya know? Ads do work!

Later, Haterz!

-J.

*Brownie points if you get the reference. Literally, if you're local enough, I'll make you brownies!

I'm the only one who knows that Disneyland's about to close...

To cap off this rare day of solo blogging, here's a long-overdue photo from the trip to Disneyland:


I'm not British so I'm totally on the wrong side of the car. Also, I can't drive (that's right I live in Los Angeles and I don't drive). Another post for another day...

Better late than never. The ball's in your court, Tony. Tee hee!

Cowboys ain't easy to love and they're harder to hold.

How about a big hand for FB’s wonderful guest post on Breakfast at Tiffany’s last week? A big thanks to Jake for borrowing my best friend and giving him back with no dents, scratches or neuroses that weren’t there already. If all is going according to plan, FB should be acting as a roving reporter at a Hollywood premiere event right about now. He’ll have a trusty sidekick hero support on hand as well, so tomorrow should be filled with plenty of photo-bloggy goodness. We now return to our regularly scheduled blogging…

Lured by the prospect of cute boys and the promise of cotton candy, FB & I attended our first gay rodeo this Saturday. It also happened to be our first rodeo – period. Well, the cotton candy never materialized (and how can you throw a rodeo – especially a gay rodeo - without cotton candy?!?), but the cute boys did, in the form of Pimpin’ (Mr. Pimpin’ if you’re nasty*) and Ceiting. If you’re not smokin’ what my fellow L.A. bloggers are rollin’, you’re missing out. Being a rodeo veteran, Pimpin’ showed us the ropes (not literally – I don’t usually do that until at least the fourth date…). By the end of the day, everyone walked away with something: FB learned the differences between a steer, a bull, and a cow, courtesy of Pimpin’. Ceiting found the cowpoke love of his life, courtesy of FB (I’ll be waiting for an invitation to the wedding, Ceiting…). Pimpin’ got about 50 extra-lubricated condoms, courtesy of the fella sitting next to us, who happened to be a rep for the company. (Hopefully, you’ll find a good use for them this week in Vegas, kiddo.) And I got about 12 of those same condoms, courtesy of Pimpin’, cause he’s a generous guy like that.

Now, some of you may know that last week, FB officially welcomed Matt S. to our little L.A. chapter of the Hater Nation. Based on Saturday, I’d say Pimpin’ D & C-Note (as I’ve dubbed them for no particular reason) are definitely worthy of lifelong membership in the same club. Thanks for the great time, boys! We really do need to work on those t-shirts…

Happy Monday folks!

-J.

*And trust me, folks, if you’re reading this blog, you’re most assuredly nasty. It’s Mr. Pimpin’ to all of you…

O, Danny Man...

By special request (and how could we ever say no to this guy?!?), J6 & FB present:

Jake McCafferty, Scot-Irish Superhero Extraordinaire! Fortified with power of the Catholic Christ, Celtic tradition and a battle axe. And his trusty python, Lil' Jake (not pictured as this is a family blog. Let's just say St. Patrick didn't drive all of the snakes out of Ireland...)

Before you read my post, please do me a favor. Go by Breakfast At Tiffany's and give this blog's good friend Jake some traffic. He's got an amazing guest blogger today.

More moments in Coming Out history…

When I was 14, my parents sentenced me to live five days a week at a high school seminary, save summer and holidays. I still haven’t asked or figured out why. Personally, I think they thought a school where they manufactured baby priests was sure to de-queerify the sullen nancyboy who was eating their food and stomping their floors like a hormonal 13 year-old – imagine that! I felt rejected and reacted accordingly. At church on Sundays, I was the dutiful altar server and we put on a happy show for all of the folks who thought I was some sort of saint-in-training. In reality, I barely spoke to my parents on the weekends, did my own laundry and made plans to hang out at friends’ houses to avoid any incidental contact. At church on Sundays, I was the dutiful altar server and we put on a happy show for all of the folks who thought I was some sort of saint-in-training. And at school, I was bullied and pushed around, picked on, talked about and just plain miserable.

The bright spots were a few friends who didn’t judge me and found me funny. Like many an outcast, I found solace in being the class clown. I imitated faculty brilliantly and told dirty jokes in their voices to anyone who would listen. And I had mad crushes on almost every boy who paid me positive attention. If John Hughes had made a movie about a despondent gay boy trying to learn independence through co-dependency, I was living it without the cool 80s soundtrack or Duckie. (I’d have called it Pretty In Twink or Some Kind of Fabulous, by the way…)

A sea change occurred over the summer between freshman and sophomore year. When I came back that September, I suddenly popular. The boys who had bullied me exchanged simple a “Hi!” in the hallway instead of pushing me into a locker or socking me in the arm when nobody was looking. It was all so surreal, since my hair was overly curly, my skin was in full-breakout mode, and I had just gotten braces on. I’d been waaay cuter the year before. But I was willing to take what I got. Some of the guys even got oddly flirty with me. I didn’t think much of this. Guys, especially the teenage variety, have to flirt with something, after all. It was either me or one of the nuns who taught us English. Braces, acne, and curls were still cuter than a stern vow of chastity.

One Thursday a friend (we’ll call him Logan cause I feel like it) and I wandered the halls after computer class, talking about nothing. We’d flirted all day, in every class we shared. I knew something was up, because usually, we’d be shooting pool or listening to music loudly in the dorm. Instead we ended up behind the stage of the auditorium. Conversation hit that lull that it always does just before something’s gonna give. My heart was racing. And then he kissed me.

We made out until the dinner bell rang. (Yes, our lives were that regulated.) I floated through the early evening in a happy daze. After study hall (I told you life was regulated), we snuck away and made out some more. I was never a great student, but I did even less than usual that Friday in my classes. Before school let out and our parents picked us up, I slipped a note into Logan’s bag before he left. Not an hour passed before I got a phone call at home. One guess as to who was on the other line.

“Um, Jay?”

Barely containing myself: “Hi Logan!” (Surely this was where he was going to ask me to meet him at the mall or go over his house to make hang out.)

“I got your note about how you know, um, love me and stuff…?”

Me, still not getting it: “Yeah?”

“Um, I just needed to let you know that what happened yesterday…well, I was just really horny…and I don’t think, um, I don’t think it’s gonna happen again.”

Sinking in: “Oh. Kay.”

“Still friends, right?”

Lying: “Sure! Of course. Yeah.”

“Good - see ya Sunday.” Click.

I'd love to tell you I learned my lesson from that one. But I repeated the mistake of jumping in, tongue first, several times over the years before it sunk in.

Thanks for tuning in.

-J.

This post was sponsored by the Naked Baby Photos Committee.