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"Jill Fenmore, Do You Promise To Tell The Truth, The Whole Truth, And Never Wear That Hideous Blouse Again, So Help You God?"
Summertime, and the living is easy – unless you’re in Genoa City, WI! Discuss!
Firstly I’d like to state I am FULLY aware I am watching a soap opera, a daytime drama, a genre famous for implausibility at the best of times. And I’m down with that – it’s WHY I watch and love. So I will always accept the curve balls. Jill and Lauren are long-lost sisters? I buy it! GC kids suddenly morph into horny teens or young adults? Sold! But what I can’t stand is the dumbing down that keeps going on on the show. If Sharon is relaxing at the Abbott cottage, GET HER OUT OF THE 4 INCH WEDGIES AND INTO FLIP FLOPS! Do we all remember a couple weeks ago when Abby rode into the Genoa City Athletic Club dining room, naked ON A HORSE? Not through those revolving doors we always see, of course, but through some never-before seen entrance just the perfect size. But have you ever actually tried to ride a horse into a restaurant? I have – it’s impossible. NO ONE will let you in. So just do us a favour and find another way to tell us Abby wants her picture in the paper than retarded implausibility I simply refuse to believe. Blind Adam kidnapping Patty via mental hospital ventilation ducts also fall into this category. Read the rest of this entry »
It’s high summer, and many of us sun babies have spent the season as we always do, in as little clothing as possible. Tanks, cargoes, and footwear is usually the flip-flop.
Given my frequent flip-flopping, I’m extra particular about how my big, honkin’ size 12 man feet are tended to, given they’re on display so much. In other words: they get tended to.
So there I was at the mani-pedi salon recently. It was a Thursday, early evening, I was flying out of town the next day for a week, my work was done, I was all organized. Kylie was coming from my iPod earbuds, the mani-pedi chair was set to ‘massage’ … heaven. The woman doing my hands was the aesthetician I usually saw. Today though she had help, a young lovely girl was tasked with taming my flip-flopped feet.
“We all pay our dues,” I mused, watching her work on them. She was sweet and pretty and she seemed to be so happy to have a summer job, even if it entailed dealing with feet like mine. She was taking her time, clearly focused on doing good work.
Until She walked in. I don’t know who She was, but She was radiant. She said hello to all the staff, and then sat down at the reception desk, examining receipts and checking the salon appointment book. Read the rest of this entry »
You Don't Look Like This In That.
An Open Letter To Gay Men Over 40:
Stop. Wearing. Hollister.
As it is, Abercrombie & Fitch pieces are border-line acceptable, and only because we gay men can get away with some Peter Pan – now and then.
But A&F’s baby sibling, Hollister? Originally designed to attract consumers aged 14-18?
Think cougar-in-daughter’s-dress.
Once I accidentally set foot in a Hollister. I made it 5 feet in and felt chicken-hawk wrong. I left immediately, leaving the Bettys and Dudes to enjoy their puberties in the pseudo-surf shop, where the music plays (by corporate policy) at 85-decibels, and a live feed from a beach in SoCal is theirs to enjoy as they mull over the latest Vans.
I know I’m not alone with this, either. In fact my friend Brian vehemently agreed with me just today over drinks on a patio. He’s 44. And I didn’t even bring this subject up. He, too, has noticed this summer the worrisome number of Grown. Men. parading about in clothing that’s just three steps up from Baby Gap.
Here’s a rule, to help you remember: Adults and kid’s clothing simply don’t work together, because of the adult, and the kid’s part.
Sincerely, (like, really, really sincerely)
Shaun
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We'll Get To The Pig In A Minute.
I’ve been watching The Young & The Restless since Patty shot Jack and have to say this week saw one of the oddest episodes ever.
Not in an ‘out-of-this-world’, ‘not remotely possible way’, like the “Silver Chipmunk” or “Ashley is pregnant”, but 44 minutes in Genoa City spent as though I’d just been slipped a roofie.
To wit: In order to jack up the Fenmore family value on the show – now that Jill is Lauren’s sister – we see real-life designer Jeremy Scott fawning over Lauren, in her shit-hole boutique (or “bow-tique” as she likes to call it, which always makes me question if Lauren’s ever left America), about how honoured he, the man who has worked for Rihanna and Madonna, is to have his designs sold – exclusively! – in a store riddled with plastic sunflowers.
The Cobbler's Children Have No Shoes.
“I’ve always dreamed of selling my clothes at Fenmore’s. Ever since I was little I’d take my sister’s dolls and make clothes for them, and then pretend to be Neil Fenmore and purchase all my designs, they were so fabulous,” Scott says, gazing up on a sudden portrait of Neil, that we’ve never seen in the bow-tique ever before: Read the rest of this entry »
My Friend C. Sent Me This Shot Today Of Louis Vuitton In Paris. Note The Lineup To Get In. On A MONDAY. C. Rang Me From His Bath, Weeping From The Agony Of The Day. And You Thought You Had It Hard.
What an interesting day again today in Toronto’s queer community as more Pride drama unfolded. As HIMBO! is read by many outside of Toronto/Canada, I won’t inundate you with the complex details (they are readily online if you care to search). But I will offer up my stance, applicable to the situation at hand here in the city, and virtually anything else going on in one’s life:
Everything we desire – better health, a material object, solutions to problems, a clean-up of an oil spill, a loving relationship, the desire to be heard, a Pride celebration the way we think it should be done – is because we think we’ll feel better in the having of it.
But any time you wage battle against what ‘is’, any time you try to convince others you are right and ‘they’ are wrong, any time you try to control all the moving parts of a situation so they and everyone involved behaves precisely as YOU think they should, you only accomplish one thing and that is you hold yourself back from achieving what it is you really want.
If you know what you want but keep beating the drum of what it is you saw that you don’t want (which caused you to know what you do), you keep yourself from that, from the inspired ideas that can bring it to you, the right words to say, the rendezvous with the people you wish to meet, from genius solutions to the problem, from amazing new concepts that wouldn’t have been borne if the problem hadn’t arisen to begin with – and therefore you keep yourself away from the very ‘feeling better’ that you so strongly desire.
Not everyone is going to get that. I’m posting this though for those who will.
Peace + Love. And Happy Pride!
