Moving on up

Last night a bunch of us helped GarGar move out of his studio and into his new home. He assured us that it would take approximately 15 minutes, but I think we performed the task in under two hours. I'm certainly not complaining - two hours for a move is pretty quick.

But Panda!!!! may have had a few drinks prior to the move. And a few more after the move (to celebrate!). In case you were wondering, moving while buzzed is not a great idea. Sweaty, vodka-soaked Panda!!!

These people were supposed to be our friends

This story is simply outrageous. Not outrageous in a good way, like Jem and the Holograms, but unbelievably, undeniably, outrageously asinine.

What the hell kind of mother poses as a teenage boy to lure a clinically depressed 13-year old girl into a false romance? What kind of grown woman says to an impressionable, vulnerable girl, "The world would be a better place without you."? What kind of monster feels no remorse when her actions result in a young girl taking her own life?

Sometimes, people drive me bonkers.

Commuter catastrophe

My morning commute usually goes something like this... I alight the underground subway system and stand by the doors, reading my paper. For the next five stops (the fifth being my stop), the doors on the opposite side of me open and passengers get on or get off. I'm usually comfortably tucked away by my set of doors the entire time, since mine is the last stop where they open.

This morning, however, between the station where I boarded and the next, the doors I stood by suddenly swung open while we were moving rapidly between stations! Panda!!!! hung onto the bar for dear life, glad that he hadn't been leaning against the doors of death.

When the train came to the next station, all passengers had to exit the train and wait for another one. But at the height of the morning commute, each train that came by was packed with passengers. I waited for five trains before one came by that was empty enough to fit Panda!!!!

I guess I'm grateful that I didn't die a bloody, disfigured death on the wall of the muni tunnel this morning, but the commute sure did put me in a foul mood.

Let the games begin!

Ooh, Internets! Look what NBC is resurrecting! Why does this make me kinda excited?

Not sure Tom Ford intended this

Today at the gym I noticed a new member. A fellow with a mop of well-coiffed hair, a tight purple American Apparel v-neck t-shirt and white sweatpants. Most astounding though, was his footwear. Who wears Gucci loafers to work out at the gym? Nonsense!

Insomniac

Internets, I don't know what it is, but I haven't had a good night's sleep in days. I was exhausted all day yesterday, so I was sure that I'd crash as soon as I got home, but no, I lay awake in my bed, staring at the ceiling.

And today, I just got out of a lengthy meeting where I felt like everything coming out of my mouth made no sense at all. I'm in this strange state of tiredness, delirium and giddiness. It's making me crazy and I hope that my "normal" sleep pattern returns tonight.

The more I think about it, the stranger this phenomenon seems to me because I do feel tired when I go to bed. I know that I eventually did fall asleep last night. I know this because I was painfully ripped out of my slumber this morning by my alarm. But I don't feel rested. I feel resentful that I have to wake up. And crabby.

In the meantime, I'm going to stay caffeinated to make it through the workday!

Ladyboy panda cookies

Yesterday Selives and Mahogany Sparkle returned from their adventures in Thailand. I think they both returned with their boy bits intact, but you never know - and I'm not going to examine them to find out for sure.

Selives presented me with a box of panda cookies last night! Little hollowed-out panda-shaped cookies with flavored cream on the inside! Cute!

I am not a bartender

According to some reports, I squeezed my way behind the bar last night and started grabbing bottles and stealing drinks. And Beetle (rightfully) ejected me from the bar!

I guess I need to remember that I belong on the side of the bar where people buy drinks, not serve them.

Black Friday

I just returned home from a little post-Thanksgiving workout at the gym. On my way home on the muni, a mad rush of people got on my train at the main shopping station. Crazy shoppers with tons of bags, ostensibly full of Black Friday sale items, pushed their way through the doors and grabbed empty seats.

Do people really get up to break down stores' doors at 5:00am? Is it really worth it to grab that "deal" being advertised across the country?

Being in the retail industry, I understand the importance of the holiday shopping season, but I simply cannot get on board. I do my best to avoid all shopping venues on Black Friday. I think it's best for my sanity that way.

Turkey lurkey day

It's Thanksgiving, Internets! I just returned from serving meals in the tenderloin with my buddy Boomcat. This time there was an altercation at the center! One man allegedly pushed another and there were angry words and foul language exchanged. We all stopped to watch the ruckus and the sheriff had to eject one of the diners!

As usual, the food looked and smelled delicious, but I did my best to refrain from spoiling my appetite. But Panda!!!! is ready to chow! My family tends to gather and eat on the later side of the day and now I'm waiting at home, stomach grumbling...

Gobble! Gobble!

The heat is on

While watching America's Most Smartest Model the other night, I noticed that all the contestants ran around the house half-clad. And the more I thought about it, I realized that many "normal" people on reality shows, not just "models", also run around their houses with nary a real shirt on.

It made me wonder if reality show producers purposefully pump up the heat in these houses. From Real World to America's Next Top Model to Big Brother, it appears that the thermostat is stuck at a scorching 98 degrees!

Obviously, this allows for hunky, muscled men to lounge in gym shorts and for perky, taut-bodied women to engage in cat fights while wearing bikini tops and daisy dukes. Definitely a formula for higher ratings.

I'm not really complaining. Just commenting...

Ladies who lunch

Roommate J just met me for a little lunchtime outing since he's not working this week and since I need to eat lunch. We noshed on overpriced, bland Mexican food at the Ferry Building and strolled over to the ice rink at Justin Herman Plaza.

Every winter they set up an ice rink where you can watch kids skate and twirl - all while Britney blasts over the speakers.

Unfortunately, our timing was off and we only succeeded in watching the zamboni clean the ice for about 15 minutes. We kept hoping that he would hurry so we could watch people fall on the ice, but no such luck. Too bad Panda!!!! had to return to The Corporation. I might have stayed all afternoon otherwise.

Southern comfort

My monthly dinner with Bill Paxton and GarGar took us to a soul food restaurant last night. We began these dinners a while back, when Gerbil still lived in San Francisco. The dinners went on hiatus after our bills got a little out of control and we all felt the strain on our bank accounts.

But we've resumed and I was pleasantly surprised when GarGar pointed out that dinner for the three of us totaled less than what one of us paid at our most expensive outing. Plus, we definitely ate our fair share of great food.

Between the three of us, we polished off:

* Little pieces of cornbread, molded into the shape of little ears of corn
* Delicious salt cod and sweet pepper fritters!
* A medley of roasted root vegetables
* A bottle of syrah
* Two orders of fried chicken with a side of macaroni pie and a side of black-eyed peas with collard greens and pork belly
* Two orders of crab and grits
* Two pumpkin pine nut cakes
* A spiced pear in red wine sauce with vanilla ice cream

Pretzel

The new Cirque du Soleil show is in town and I was reading a very favorable review. But I really don't think people should be able to bend like the ladies in this picture! It can't be right...

Milk police

In a fit of altruism, Roommates A&J and I returned to serve meals to homeless seniors today. Today's lunch smelled and looked delicious! Salad, squash, turkey chili and cornbread for the main meal, with a dessert of pears.

Each of us had a different role. Roommate J made sure all the empty plates made it smoothly to be filled, Roommate A passed out the bowls of pears and I had the very important task of handing out cartons of milk. I didn't realize that milk was such a hot commodity, but apparently there usually are attempted milk thefts so it was my duty to make sure each person received only one.

Like our first visit, it was a nice way to spend some time. I was reminded of how privileged I am when one woman came to line excitedly and exclaimed, "I'm so hungry! I didn't eat yesterday." She proceeded to go through the meal line three times.

But the milk really was surprisingly in demand. One gentleman's cup of milk had been upturned by another diner so he came to ask for another cup. We had handed out all the single-serve cartons, so Roommate A improvised and poured him a cup from the kitchen stash. The diner then proceeded to pour four heaping spoonfuls of sugar into his milk and took it back to his table. The Roommates and I looked at each other in disbelief.

I also witnessed one patron who took his milk and poured it over his bowl of pears, then mashed up all his cornbread into the mixture. It was sort of like a pear cobbler/bread pudding concoction and he seemed very pleased with his creation.

After we served all the meals and cleaned up the kitchen and dining room, we ate our own lunch and relaxed a bit. While discussing whether or not our waiter might have been an F-to-M transsexual, the synapses in my poor brain misfired and I suggested he was a "female impostinator." Poor dumb panda.

Itza pizza

Last night I had the pleasure of enjoying a partial Swerve reunion at a fancy pizza parlor in Oakland! Jillian was in town on a work retreat (Get in touch with your feelings! Confront your anger! Hike amongst the redwoods!) so we scheduled a dinner with Shotgun in the East Bay.

5:00pm is not the best time of day to cross from San Francisco to Oakland. It took us nearly two hours to traverse the bridge and get to our destination. But once we made it, we were pleased to squeeze Shotgun, her husband and her extra-cuddly babe!

Our meal was fairly spectacular. We split a salad, a side order of scrumptious meatballs and two pizzas - one that was covered in chantarelle mushrooms and some sort of cheesy yumminess, and another that had some spicy sauce, squid and tasty aioli blobs. (BFJ would certainly have scolded us for not washing our pizza down with coke.) I've been eating pretty decadently this week, so I'm pretty excited to hit the gym later today.

As always, it's great to catch up with Swervers in person. We chat virtually all day long, but it really can't beat our face-to-face time. Even though our visit was short-lived, I'm still beaming from our little dinner excursion!

Panda couture, le fin

This one's a boy panda! And it looks like he's an olympian.

Bon voyage!

Everyone's leaving for fun trips today! Mahogany Sparkle and Selives depart for Thailand tonight while Blanca, Beetle and PorkChop are en route to Mexico to celebrate ChickenHawk's birthday.

To bid everyone off, Beetle organized a farewell happy hour last night. It was a grand time where we drank cocktails, slurped oysters and ate wonderful, wonderful french fries.

Panda!!!! wants to go someplace fun and exotic.

Panda couture, part sept

Naughty stripper burlesque panda!

Chlorinated comrades

Last night I took Swimsation out to celebrate a belated birthday dinner. We had one of the most extraordinary meals I've had in a long time. Squid and pork belly with egg salad! Mixed greens with persimmon and prosciutto! Medjool figs stuffed with gorgonzola! Braised veal cheeks with broccolini! Lamb parts with chickpea fritters! No dessert! (We were way too full...)

Swimsation is one of the fastest swimmers I've ever met in my life. She and I moved to DC around the same time and joined a very fun masters team. In fact, we both lament how we've been unable to find a team that compares in terms of fun, genuinely kind people and talent. The team struck just the right balance of competitiveness and revelry that makes swimming fun.

It's always fun to catch up with Swimsation and I wish we had the chance to hang out more often, or to train together again. She's one of the most caring, funny, intelligent people I know and it remains one of the universe's greater mysteries why a wonderful man hasn't yet snatched her up! I'm sure her prince charming is right around the corner...

In any case, it never ceases to amaze me how my friends from swimming remain some of my most steadfast friends for years on end. There's something about that shared experience of pain, hyper-chlorination and competition that creates strong bonds, I guess.

(And yes, Panda!!!! is one of the swimmers in that photo.)

Panda couture, part six

Is this one a panda doggie?

Not ashamed of marmalade

Without warning and usually without reason, this song gets stuck in my head from time to time. I don't really know why.

Panda couture, part cinq

Albino panda meets Marge Simpson? Vanilla soft-serve atop a panda head?

I want to forgive you. And I want to forget you!

Last night's blow-out fight between our fair heroine Lauren and her former BFF Heidi on The Hills did not disappoint. Even though the show is mightily contrived and the two gals can't really act, I remained riveted to the television screen. The only boring parts of the episode concerned Audrina, dirty Justin Bobby and the largest 17-year-old in the world, Sean Kingston.

I spent several of the commercial breaks on the phone with Roommate J, but he had hit the sauce. During our last conversation, Roommate J was speaking in partial sentences, slurring and not making any sense. He was trying to analyze the arguments being portrayed on the tee-vee, but his thoughts kept trailing off. I giggled.

Panda couture, part quatre

It's as if an albino panda-lady was attacked by tribbles from Star Trek. Tribbles dipped in rainbows!

Naked practice

The other day I decided to do some laps in the pool at the fancy gym. Since it was Saturday, I figured the pool wouldn't be too crowded and I could get a decent workout in.

Well, it wasn't terribly crowded, but I did have to share the lane with a fellow gym member. A speedo-clad, husky fellow who moved through the water rather slowly.

Part-way through my little water workout, I was approaching the wall, where my lane-mate was resting. As I swam toward him, I noticed that he reached into his swimsuit and pulled it down, revealing his shriveled penis!

I was sort of caught off-guard, and I didn't know if he was intentionally flashing me or if he was just adjusting, but Panda!!!! kept swimming, did a flip-turn and swam away.

The incident reminded me of my college days when our swim team would hold naked practice. Of course, being a demure (and boring) panda, I remained be-suited. No one needs to see Panda!!!!'s junk.

Panda couture, part trois

This one is sort of like a panda gone all '70s blacksploitation movie.

The shocker

My girl Kristen Bell, the erstwhile Veronica Mars, made an electrifying debut on Heroes a few weeks ago. Heroes has been one of those shows that I follow, but I've never been one of those die-hard fans who insists on watching every episode and digging around The Internets for secrets to the mythology.

However, with the character of Elle on board, that may change. Tonight's episode promises to feature a lot of Elle - and I'm totes excited.

Panda couture, part deux

This one makes me think of FEATHERS!

Spreading the (gossip) gospel

On Wednesday night, I ran into a friend who wondered why I hadn't been out and about on Wednesdays. I replied that my Wednesday nights have typically been devoted to the wonder that is Gossip Girl. He wasn't familiar with the show, but assured me that he would check it out.

Cut to last night - said friend had not only downloaded and watched every episode of the show, but he had also changed the wallpaper to his computer and his phone to Penn Badgley. Furthermore, he was showing bar patrons episodes on his iPhone! I'm doing my small part to spread the gospel...

Panda couture, part un

Wang alerted me to a cutting-edge designer whose recent fashion show was inspired by me! I'll post some of the better ones. Thanks Wang!

Flying first class, up in the sky

I continue to be impressed with the opening scene of Gossip Girl episodes. This week's began with a grainy burlesque tribute and a few weeks ago featured a Breakfast at Tiffany's dream sequence. But none compare to the high school chorus singing Fergie:

Senseless and non-sensibility

A sensible panda would not have gone out on a Wednesday night, despite the fact that Juanita MORE was debuting a new bi-monthly party. A sensible panda, having made the poor decision to go out, would not have slammed down the raspberry vodka specials. A sensible panda, well on the way to inebriation, would have made the smart switch to water. A sensible panda, knowing that the workday was right around the corner, would have retired at a reasonable hour. A sensible panda would not have woken up on the couch with the television on and a half-eaten chicken pot pie on the coffee table.

That said, Juanita's new party, Booty Call, was a blast! It featured the usual drinking, dancing and disorderly conduct of a good soiree. Bill Paxton was in rare form, refusing drinks and sipping on water. GarGar nearly slapped me when I greeted a young man with the exclamation, "Little chocolate man!" Kitten had his fash'on and Beetle looked tres smart in his vest-flower uniform.

High tunes

A little old Filipino lady delivers the mail to our floor here at The Corporation. We always know when she's on our floor because she wears an iPod shuffle around her neck and she sings along to whatever song is playing. But she doesn't really sing. It's sort of a singing/humming hybrid that sounds like a person suffering from dementia.

But this phenomenon isn't confined to office mailwomen. It's become prevalent on the street, public transportation and, most often, the gym. It's all I can do to keep from bursting into laughter when I hear fellow gym patrons singing along to their '80s power ballads.

I scream, you scream

I just went down to our cafe for a little afternoon treat. As I went to pay for my mint chocolate chip ice cream, a woman stopped, pointed at me and barked, "Bad boy! Bad boy!"

Now, I know I probably don't need to be eating any ice cream, but when a total stranger - a stranger who could probably afford to lose 50 pounds (and that's no exaggeration) - chastises me, I feel a twinge of rage, not guilt.

Then I remind myself that I must keep eating heartily if I want to maintain my panda-like figure!

Rolling blackout

I awoke this morning to my alarm clock flashing 12:00 over and over again. Not a good sign. Apparently, the power had gone out sometime during the night and my alarm clock failed to wake me up. It was now 8:00am, much later than my normal wake-up time of 6:30am!

Fortunately, my first meeting this morning is at 11:00 so it hasn't been a problem. I just don't like feeling all rushed and late!

Yee haw!

The Nonprofit's annual conference is dunzo and I've returned to sunny San Francisco. My last night in Nashville was a blast and I'm left with several strong impressions of the music city.

After the last keynote address, we walked by a bar that advertised "nude karaoke auditions." Auditions? When do you "audition" for karaoke? I was intrigued, but we were on our way to the closing dinner at The Wildhorse Saloon, a bar that seemed to interpret the essence of Nashville through a Disney/Las Vegas lens. At one point, two very peppy southerners tried to teach approximately 1,000 people how to do a line dance. It was insanity. But very fun.

After several hours, ThunderBoy and I left to hit the homo hotspots again and we were pleasantly surprised to see that the bars were busier than our previous outing. Interestingly, both of the bars we went to had a very diverse crowd, ranging from your average twink to your standard bear to your Carson Kressley-esque fortysomething. A few bar patrons left quite an impression on us:

* An obese couple that sat on a couch and watched the goings-on in silence
* A man whose hair resembled a haystack
* A young shirtless man with an underwear model-body who seemed to be on some very strong drugs, as evidenced by the way he swayed against the bar with a blissful expression on his face
* A flirty Dutch nurse-in-training who had designs on ThunderBoy (and about twenty other people)
* A be-overalled couple who appeared to be born during the Great Depression, dancing circuit-style under the disco ball
* A man whose hair resembled Farrah Fawcett's from the 1970s

Overall, my first trip to Nashville was very positive. Good times. Good times.

Bio-femme fatale

ThunderBoy and I were patrolling the streets of Nashville, in search of a non-country watering hole last night when we spotted a tranny in a zebra-striped dress in front of us! We decided that this lovely lady would lead us to our destination. Sadly, as we came closer, we realized that this lady was a bio-femme! Them's big women here in the south!

We did eventually end up at a bar which featured trannies, which were sort of scary and sort of fabulous. I particularly enjoyed the Whitney look-a-like and thought immediately of Mahogany Sparkle.

Panel panda

I'm at The Nonprofit's annual conference and things are in full swing! It's been great connecting with old pals and making new connections and friends. This truly is one of my favorite events of the year, and I love that I have the opportunity to merge the work and the play.

Today I spoke on a panel about sustainability reporting and the questions were pretty good. My fellow panelist kept shooting me bedroom eyes, which seemed a bit weird and at one point he reached for my collar to make sure I was wearing clothing from The Corporation's brands. He mentioned his "significant other" which I think was a signal that he was in love with me.

A little bit country

A friend once told me that he liked country music because every song tells a story. At the time, my conception of country music was dominated by Shania Twain and "Achey Breaky Heart" so his claims fell on deaf ears.

Tonight, after my board duties for The Nonprofit were done, I joined a few of my fellow board members at The Bluebird Cafe, an unassuming little restaurant located in a strip mall near a major Nashville highway.

We were a bit late for the start of the show, featuring one Larry Jon Wilson and his acoustic guitar. Everyone in the restaurant was silent. No throat clearing, still as statues, don't you dare even whisper silent.

We were shown to our tables, served our beers and we watched this master storyteller in silence. I'm not a big country music fan, but Larry Jon was pretty enthralling. His voice was rich with wisdom and he coaxed light melodies from his guitar. He interspersed his songs with tales from his youth - and finally, I understood what my friend meant about country music storytelling.

I hesitated to order my dinner - barbeque! - but my hunger was too strong so I silently ate the meal when it arrived.

Larry Jon sang one song about San Francisco. It was a song about a homeless man asking for money. It seemed pretty appropriate.

Keep the FAITH

I just read that Joss Whedon and Eliza Dushku are developing a new television series called Dollhouse! I still miss the absence of Buffy from my television, so this is absolutely amazing news. I cannot wait!

You tell me that you need me, then you go and cut me down

Internets, I am loving the song "Apologize" from Timbaland's Shock Value album. I must have listened to it several dozen times this week:


But I didn't realize that this song had been released before Timbaland got his masterful hands on it:

Even though the changes are subtle, I think I like the new version better.