Health clubbing

In general, hotel gyms aren't my thing and I try to avoid them if possible. That said, when you're on the road for two weeks, you make do with what's available so I just returned from a "workout" in the hotel's health club. I guess it's a health club because, in addition to a teensey gym, you can relax on a chaise lounge in a dark closet, enjoy a jacuzzi (three bathtubs seated in a row) or get a massage.

In any case, this is definitely not one of the nicer hotel gyms I've seen. I bumped my head on the low ceiling (so no standing shoulder press) and felt the need to thoroughly wipe down each piece of equipment before I used it. To top it off, it's tiny and I kept getting in the way of the one man who was there, really sweating it up.

Apparently, this hotel health club is also open to the public and the other patron was a paying member, not a mere hotel guest like Panda!!!!. That fact alone boggled my mind because I couldn't imagine paying hard-earned rupees to belong to that gym. But I guess if there's nothing else available...

During the past week in India, I've noticed billboards and signs that publicize gyms. Usually, they're adorned with paintings of overly muscular Indian men in little bodybuilding thongs. And typically, these signs are affixed to run down shacks that look about as hygienic as a chicken coop.

I wanna hold your hand

In our sightseeing yesterday I spotted see several Indian men and teenaged boys holding hands with each other. In a society like India's where homosexuality is completely verboten and underground, this public display of intra-gender affection was definitely a surprise.

Apparently, two men holding hands with each other simply is a sign of affection and friendship, nothing more. The practice is more prevalent in South India, but sightseeing at the Taj Mahal brought together people from all over India, and indeed all over the world.

I wonder if the fact that gays aren't allowed to express themselves openly contributes to the idea that men can hold hands with each other and no one questions their sexuality. Two boys who hold hands don't have to worry that their peers will tease them for being gay. It doesn't have to be awkward when straight male friends physically express their friendship. It's not gay, it's simply bromance.

Multi-national company

I'm working from The Corporation's Delhi office today, which has highlighted some very interesting differences between our San Francisco headquarter offices and the sourcing offices in various regions of the world.

I've been to other office locations, but I think this is the first time I've truly been able to work abroad (My experience in Hong Kong was unique in that I was unable to connect to the network and therefore basically spent a lot of time eating lunch and shopping in the mall which occupied the first few floors of the building in which our office is situated.). Many of the visual cues which distinguish our headquarter buildings are here too in Delhi. There's wood paneling, our brand logos are everywhere, samples hang from racks in the hallways and old marketing images are pinned to the walls.

The cafe, however, is markedly different from ours in San Francisco. For one thing, it's much smaller (to be expected since there are significantly fewer people in this office) and the view is not quite as spectacular (though nothing can really compare to an unobstructed view of the San Francisco bay). Like many things in Delhi, there seems to be little order and the process to place your lunch order was pretty chaotic. And unlike our cafe in San Francisco, instead of an electronic cash register, a lone woman collected money, made change, and recorded each transaction in a notebook.

But the food was such a deal! For 50 rupees (approximately $1.25), I had rice, naan, daal, lamb and raita. And it was pretty tasty!

Furthermore, it seemed like each department took time to eat together in the cafe, enjoying each other's company and taking a collective break in the day. It just reinforces the idea that our office, and Americans in general, rush too quickly through lunch. A more civilized panda wouldn't eat his lunch at his desk, like I do so often.

A teardrop on the cheek of eternity

Along with two co-workers from The Corporation, I went on a tour of Agra's monuments today. It was one of those tours organized through hotels that picks up guests from a number of hotels, fixes them up with a local tour guide who makes sure they see all the touristy sights and provides just the right amount of historical context.

The tour began at the early hour of 6:45am and we found ourselves in a large bus with a lovely couple from New Zealand and a fellow from Chicago, all traveling in India for work. After a two-hour ride, we stopped at a faraway hotel called the Country Kitchen Inn where we were treated to a little breakfast - a choice of "corn flaks" or an "omelatte" accompanied by toast with a fluorescent red jam and some stuffed paratha. Unsurprisingly, the best part of the meal was the paratha.

It was also at the Country Kitchen where we witnessed a waiter pouring tap water into Aquafina bottles. We thusly avoided the water and opted for tea and juices.

Then, it was back on the bus to traverse the two-lane highway to Agra. Upon entering the city, we picked up our tour guide - a rotund little man whose dental hygeine rivaled that of Austin Powers's. He led us to Akbar's Mausoleum, a giant structure made of red sandstone with white marble inlays. Its most notable feature, in my opinion, was a family of black-faced, long-tailed monkeys who approached visitors for food.

Then it was on to Agra Fort, a palatial structure also made of red sandstone with areas built in white marble. It was here that our guide explained that harem women used to dance from place to place. They apparently never walked and when they danced, they made music with their anklets.

After a buffet lunch, we reached what our guide kept referring to as, "the highlight of your tour" - the magnificent Taj Mahal. The monument is truly breathtaking. It was absolutely pure and perfect and beautiful and words cannot describe the experience of seeing it.

Our tour guide gathered the six of us around, positioned us to take "postcard" photographs and explained some of its history. He then hooked us up with a professional photographer who led us to two spots in the gardens. Our tour companions continued ahead without us, but my co-workers and I took the opportunity to pose for pictures. The efficient photographer had us move quickly from pose to pose (one leg on the bench, kneeling down, crossed legs) and yelled at people in the background who would otherwise spoil his shot.

All the while, a group of Indians started to converge around us. Each time one of my co-workers (a woman with blonde hair and blue eyes) posed for pictures, the Indians started snapping her photograph. And once our photographer left to develop his photos, the Indians all gathered around her to take photos with the blonde lady! It was highly amusing.

We spent a good 40 minutes walking around the Taj and enjoying its beauty. I would have liked to see the monument at sunrise, without the thousands of visitors, but I suppose I'll have to save that for another visit.

Afterward, we hit the obligatory arts and craft store where salesmen tried their hardest to push their wares on us. I resisted, mostly because I was a tired panda and wanted to get back to the hotel. Several hours and a seemingly interminable bus ride later, we finally arrived at 10:00pm.

I always leave these tours with mixed feelings. On one hand, I'm glad I saw the major destinations and it was convenient to have a guide explain some of the more significant parts. Of course, it's also nice to travel by air-conditioned bus and to take meals at spots where we don't have to worry about food safety.

On the other hand, it's always awkward being thrust into a group with people you won't ever see again. Small talk is fine for a bit, but it gets tedious and the silence during lunch can be brutal. I also dislike being on someone else's schedule and feel like I get a highly sanitized perspective.

That said, it was an awesome, but tiring day. And now that the weekend is over, I hope to do more sightseeing, but I know that The Corporation must come first.

Gourmet

Franny alerted me to this. I should own it, even though I don't do much, how you say ... cooking.

You must buy I give you very good price

Two of my co-workers from The Corporation and I hit New Delhi to do some shopping. We hired a little car to take us to two destinations: a rug and pashmina vendor favored by Hillary Clinton and a market where goods from all regions of the country are sold.

The rug and pashmina vendor was a little old man from Kashmir who had framed letters of commendation from dignitaries such as Hillary Clinton (three letters!). He was dressed in flowing white pants, a white tunic and turban and had a long white beard to match. He was very friendly and enjoyed showing us the different kinds of cashmere pashminas available: hand-made of cashmere, machine-made of cashmere, machine-made wool, embroidered, plain, etc. It was dizzying to see all the different options, but you certainly could feel the difference in quality.

He also began showing my co-workers some very finely woven rugs: silk on silk, silk on cotton, silk on wool, wool on wool, etc. We soon became experts and identifying rugs by material and how tightly the knots were woven together.

Everything truly was beautiful, with rich colors and intricate patterns. We spent nearly two hours in the store examining his wares and negotiating prices. In the end, we left with four rugs and eight pashminas total.

Next, we went to The Cottage Emporium, a multi-storey marketplace where Indian crafts are sold. We wandered through all the different sections, admiring the metals section, the woodwork section, the tea section, the linens, the saris, the bangles, the furniture, the paper mache and the leather goods. Everything was being offered at very reasonable prices so Panda!!!! sort of went crazy, buying all sorts of fun Indian goods. I'm not quite sure how I'll get everything in my baggage!

Please blow horn

After a plane trip that was delayed both in Cochin and in Bangalore, I'm back in Delhi ... three hours after my scheduled arrival. It's been an interesting contrast in different areas of India, but in both Delhi and in Cochin I've had the chance to experience something pretty unique to the country: Indian driving.

Plenty of people had warned me of the driving conditions in India. I've heard stories about the constant honking, the utter lack of adherence to any traffic laws, cars driving on sidewalks to avoid congestion and animals meandering through the roads.

All of this is true, but I realized there's a certain loveliness to the traffic here. It's not regulated in the same way that it is in the states and drivers have an ultimate goal to keep moving along. Traffic is very fluid with drivers naturally passing each other, merging into and out of lanes (and in the process often creating their own lanes) swerving gently to avoid each other.

I've come to realize that horns here serve a different purpose than in the states. In San Francisco, drivers honk their horns as a last resort. It's a sign of annoyance and aggression. Here, horns serve as a friendly signal to fellow drivers that you're approaching or to the side. Even many trucks have signs that say "please blow horn" on them, encouraging drivers to use their horns liberally. It's all very civilized, actually, and people are very respectful of each other. Thus, cars can drive literally within two inches of each other and no one gets irritated or nervous.

While it does take some adjustment, I think driving patterns in India probably lead to less road rage than in the states. That said, I haven't experienced a complete standstill yet. That might be the ultimate test.

Cruisy conference

Today we had a series of presentations, including one that I had to give at the last moment (my scheduled time was for tomorrow, but I was asked to go today instead). The first half of the day was spent in a window-less hotel conference room. You know, the kind with drapes on the tables and chairs where they equip each seat with a notepad and a pencil etched with the hotel's name.

But for the second half of the day, we were treated to a cruise of Kerala's backwater areas. We saw fishing boats and villages - all while giving presentations on board. Since we wrapped up at 5:30, we did sail around for a while and we were able to catch a magnificent sunset (see picture) before returning to the hotel.

Prophesizing

I just had breakfast with three gentlemen - one from India, one from Bangladesh and one from Sri Lanka. Conversation ranged from business (Tata buying Land Rover and Jaguar from Ford Motor Company) to last night's activities (work for me, shots of some sort of coconut liquor for them) to a healthy lifestyle (apparently I exercise much more than any sensible panda should!).

But what was most interesting to me was how they each tied global warming concerns with the end of the world, as prophesied by Muhammed or Nostradamus. All these signs are in line with ancient prophecies and we should not see our planet existing beyond 2050.

God's own country

I'm in Cochin, a little coastal town near the equator where things are markedly different from Delhi. Whereas in Delhi the air is hazy with pollution, car horns sound non-stop, the pace of life rushes by and everything looks various shades of dirty, Cochin is a lush, tropical, seaside paradise. I'm sure it's thanks to these features that Indians have dubbed this area, "God's own country."

Sure it's much warmer and more humid. And certainly, you have to contend with hoards of little blood sucking mosquitoes (and this is why I'm taking anti-malarial pills), but it really is so peaceful and relaxing here.

We're staying at the beautiful Taj Malabar resort where tourists have come to lay by the pool, drink fruity cocktails, partake in spa services and fill their bellies. I, on the other hand, have been attending our regional conference and making presentations in my hotel room.

Cattle call

I flew from Delhi to Cochin, in southern India this morning, thus ending a 22-hour stay in the nation's capital. Our car picked us up at 5:30am and we traversed the deserted streets to the domestic airport (the domestic and international airports are separate, but a new airport is to be built by the 2010 Commonwealth Games).

The car dropped us off and we were thrust into the middle of a crowd of people, funneling their way through the doors. People weren't exactly pushing, but there was definitely pressure coming at me from all sides, encouraging me to hurry and to squeeze through the airport entrance.

Upon moving through the main lobby, we stood in line to enter another security area. A be-suited man approached me and tried to squeeze his way into the line ahead of me. I think he sensed my annoyance and turned to me and said, "I enter in here?"

With a scowl on my face, I replied, "Um, I think there's a line" and he got in line behind me, but ahead of the dozens of people who were already in line behind me.

Upon entering the security area, our bags passed through a screen before we took them to wait in another disorganized line to check in and get our boarding passes. After that line, we waited in another line to go through the personal security point.

Unlike in the US, security seemed much more lax. I didn't have to take off my shoes, they allowed me to bring through a bottle of water and I kept my belt and jacket on.

Throughout my morning airport experience, I felt like I was in a sea of humanity. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to be doing (thank goodness for my colleagues from The Corporation) and people clearly saw that I was a lost panda, just crowd surfing through the process.

Like the international airport, the domestic airport was pretty grimy. Everything in India seems to be covered in a layer of dirt and grease. I sort of didn't want any part of my self to touch the plane seat, but I really had no choice.

Lights out

Absolutely one of the most annoying things about New Delhi so far is the inconsistent electrical service. I can't count how many times the power has gone out since I arrived approximately 12 hours ago.

It's especially frustrating when Panda!!!! is spending a good chunk of time in a hotel room, working on presentations and other various work that needs to get done in the next few days. On the positive side, my computer kicks into battery mode and I can continue my work. On the not-so-positive side, I have to work in the darkness.

Namaste

Well, internets, I'm in New Delhi for the first time in my life and boy is it a different world from my San Francisco home. Upon arrival, I was surprised at how dirty and run-down the airport was. It's under construction, but I really didn't expect to see exposed wires, unfinished walls, half-lit signage and general grime.

And the ride from the airport to our hotel was pretty interesting as well. I'd been warned about the chaotic driving and the cacophany of horns, but I didn't really experience it - probably because I arrived so early in the morning so it was pre-rush hour.

As promised, I did notice cows moseying slowly along the roads, the air thick with dust and lots of poverty everywhere. People urinating and spitting on the sides of the roads, shacks erected wherever there was extra space and people crossing roads and approaching our car for money (I obviously don't look like a local).

Upon entering the hotel, an attendant held a large mirror under our car. Apparently to check for bombs! I sort of wish I hadn't asked what the purpose was, but I guess it's better to be safe than sorry!

Business Trippin'

The Corporation has sent me around the world for meetings, presentations, factory visits, etc. The big perk to my 22 hours of travel was flying business class, something I'd never done before.

I was quite pleased to see that we each had our own little television to watch movies, some extra room on the width side, and seats that reclined almost fully flat so you could sleep!

Unfortunately, on the first leg of my flight, the seat controls didn't work exactly as planned. When the flight attendant - a stoic, no-nonsense blonde German lady - came to help me out, she kept fidgeting with the buttons and causing my seat to fold into many interesting positions, none of which was the desired setting for our landing. My neighbor could not help herself and was laughing uncontrollably as my back reclined, my feet folded under and my seat raised above the armrest.

Christ is risen

Happy Easter internets! I'm at the parents' house awaiting a large and fancy Easter brunch, replete with ham, seafood omelettes, roasted vegetables, chocolate croissants, easter cookies, fruit salad, blueberry pancakes and mimosas! I can hardly contain myself.

Force your hips forward like you're ... uh, well ... um.

Last month I bought a personal training session with a coupon I received in the mail. I've mostly been anti-personal trainer because I work out frequently enough and I don't really think I should be shelling out bucks for a workout partner. But I thought I'd do a one-time deal and learn some new tricks and mix up my routine a bit. Plus, I got to pick one of my fave, easy-on-the-eyes trainers to work out with and that ain't bad.

So yesterday I cashed in on the training credit and boy was I put through the paces. The trainer showed me all sorts of new moves, corrected my form on some other exercises and really made me sweat.

While he was showing me how to properly do barbell squats, he mentioned that I wasn't being forceful enough on the recovery. He wanted to see me "pop" into a straight position, with my pelvis leading the way. When he demonstrated, he used a fairly sexual metaphor and made us both blush. I think I was tongue-tied for the rest of our session.

LaBeija!

I'm still very distraught that Selives is moving to LA this weekend, but we all tried to put on a brave face and send him off in style last night. After a long day at work, I met up with Selives, Dyson, Roommates A&J and Blanca (Mahogany Sparkle and Lucy Ricardo had already left) and made loud noises at the end of the bar. One of my colleagues from The Corporation was also in the bar and said to me, "Oh, you're with that loud group." Yes, I was.

Mattress and Beetle arrived and we had a fun time taking photos, screaming, singing, dancing, doing shots and watching Selives do his signature LaBeija dance move where he drops suddenly into the splits on the ground - much to the shock of nearby strangers and much to our glee.

There may have been tears, hugging and some heartfelt utterances involved, but that was to be expected. We're all very sad that Selives is leaving us.

Calliope

Last night, Dyson, GarGar and I checked out a relatively new restaurant, Epic Roasthouse which was ... epic. I learned from watching Xanadu last week that one of the nine ancient Greek muses is Calliope, muse of epic history and poetry.

Well, Calliope would be quite proud of Epic Roasthouse with its none-too-subtle decor, portions or prices! The food was quite good, and GarGar's wild mushroom risotto with the ginormous piece of pork belly was impressive. Almost as impressive as the orecchiette mac & cheese (but what mac & cheese isn't good?).

All in all, it was a lovely meal and we discussed our hopes and dreams of luxurious vacations, high-paying jobs and beautiful companions. And afterward, we stopped by Juanita MORE's booty call party, but my appearance was only brief for I had a tummy ache of epic proportions.

Boo. Hiss.

Selives announced that his job has transferred him to a location in Los Angeles, starting Monday. SAD!

Add to this the fact that I'm wishing I were still in New York City and you've got one unhappy panda. I need an injection of SF splendor to turn my mood around.

I need a vacay

Why is it always so difficult to return to work after a fun-filled vacation? I've been working at breakneck pace all day, trying to catch up on everything that's piled up at The Corporation during my absence. And now all I want to do is rest in the sun on a pleasant beach.

Dyson and Gerbil are planning a Buenos Aires getaway, and as much as I want to join them, I just don't think I can do it. Boo.

Buh-bye big apple

Well, it had to happen. Today was the final day of our New York vacay. It all happened so quickly and it feels like it's ending too soon, but I do feel like I'm ready to return to a more stable existence where I don't go out every night and I actually get to the gym once in a while.

I spent the majority of today with Dickinator in SoHo. We brunched, we shopped, we caught up under our matching umbrellas. We watched an episode of America's Next Top Model and we generally had a lovely Sunday.

Afterward, I joined Prec, BrightEyes and Adorable at the New York Eagle where we enjoyed some beers and watched some strapping men play pool. It was a good time but I think it would have been nice to have a friendlier, more engaging crowd.

Then, we headed to Hiro for the Sunday gay event where we danced for a while. It was a decent event and I was pleased to meet some cute Brazilians whom I'd admired at the Eagle, but overall I think I was feeling worn out from the last several days. As fun as vacation has been, I think my body will appreciate a return to normalcy.

Celeb sighting: Driver redux

So, we saw porn star Erik Rhodes again tonight out and about. He is much more ginormous than I would have thought. Usually porn stars are short compact muscle packets, but this one was about my height and wider than a semi. Boys at the club were begging to hang out with him and dragging him all around. I just noticed from afar and pointed him out to BrightEyes.

The L word

GarGar took us to a friend's apartment for a little pre-party last night. It was a lovely New York studio - immaculately furnished and "spacious" for Big Apple standards. The owner, a very fashionable lesbian artiste, was welcoming and promptly fixed us some libations before it was time to head over to her friend's party a few blocks away.

As we walked to the other party, GarGar's drunk friend stopped suddenly, wheeled around and described the host for our next destination. She said that the host was "really not pretty or stylish, but very rich." She went on to say that she had decorated her condo abysmally and that it was a hideously kitchy affair.

It turns out that this was not entirely true. She was certainly not as stylish as the other half-dozen lesbians who assembled at the party, but she was a wonderfully spirited host and had her own lovely flair.

GarGar, BrightEyes and I were the only boys at the party and it was really interesting being among so many pretty lesbians. They commented on how ugly San Francisco lesbians are generally and how New York lesbians are just as fashionable as their Los Angeles counterparts. The only straight creature seemed to be the host's female doggy who insisted on humping GarGar's arm whenever she got the chance.

This is like children’s theater for 40-year-old gay people!

I just saw the musical Xanadu on Broadway and I'm one delighted panda. It was such a fun, energetic, campy show - much better than the movie. The stage version is self-referential, doesn't take itself too seriously, sports two eye-candy leads, features dozens of disco balls and roller skates, pares the plot to its most crucial elements and turns up the homo factor. It was great!

Friday is gay night

Before meeting up with the San Francisco crew in the east village, SameBrain and I checked out the Friday night gay party at the Chelsea Hotel last night. As we entered the basement bar, the bouncer reminded all the arriving patrons that it was "gay night" in case revelers were looking for another type of experience.

It was a small space with only one bar and lots of cute boys but we managed to snag a corner booth. After I made a trip to the bar for some libations, I returned to our seat to find an Australian fellow chatting SameBrain up. He was looking for other happening gay clubs and bars - and turned to my friend for some advice.

It turns out the Australian claimed to be straight, but only likes to go to gay bars. To me that's sort of strange behavior, but not as strange as the idea of a straight man in a gay bar who was wearing approximately two dozen jelly bracelets on his left wrist.

Happy hour hangover

It's a proven fact that Panda!!!! doesn't do well at happy hour. If I start drinking too early, I turn into a drunken blubbering mess due to the fact that a) I cannot pass up a two-for-one deal and therefore order more drinks than I need and b) I don't like going home so I end up staying out drinking way too much and way too late.

Well, we hit the New York happy hour scene and promptly got sloshed last night. All ten of us who are visiting from San Francisco and a few friends from New York gathered together for drinks and drinks.

Ultimately, GarGar, Prec and I ended up at a bar where a drag queen was performing Whitney Houston numbers and I re-connected with a cute Mexican who used to live in San Francisco (but now resides in New York). It was a drinkalicious way to kick off our big apple vacation!

Celeb sighting: Driver

I guess not all gay porn stars reside in California because I spotted Erik Rhodes enjoying a meal at Boston Market, staring intently at the parade of boys walking by outside. I couldn't place him at first, and thought it was someone I knew, but I realized that I had seen his familiar face plastered on party fliers in San Francisco. GarGar and BrightEyes were fixated on our destination - a snack spot where we picked up some hot dogs, swedish meatballs and truffle oil french fries, so they didn't notice the beefy man eating his chicken!

Celeb sighting: The Closer

Continuing on BrightEyes's touristy afternoon of New York, we enjoyed a brisk walk through Central Park. And who did GarGar spot as we crossed the street? Mrs. Kevin Bacon herself, Kyra Sedgwick.

Kyra was totes fashionable and so tiny! I am still amazed at how diminutive actors are in person. She had a tiny little waist and walked with such purpose.

What makes you blush?

It's BrightEyes's first visit to New York so GarGar and I led him through uber-touristy Times Square to see the billboards, the crowds and the flashing lights firsthand. While crossing the street, we were stopped by a fashionable lady who asked if we would participate in her project.

After initial reluctance (and for me, after spotting the boom operator with the dreamy eyes), we agreed to her interview. It turns out she was E. Jean, a columnist for ELLE magazine, who dispenses style advice to women across the country.

We were being filmed for an online spot to debut next month and she asked us, "What makes you blush?" When she turned to me, I answered "NARS has a wonderful blush that I use," and she stopped me mid-sentence and said that my response wasn't usable because the segment's sponsor was Max Factor! Then she said to me, "orgasm?" And I think I probably did blush. Little did I realize that she meant the name of NARS's blush color is orgasm!

I also answered another question about blushing as it pertains to my tranny, wig-wearing comrades. I hope that some of our interview makes it into the segment next month and I do regret not asking her about Nina Garcia, "fashion editor for ELLE magazine!"

Seventh avenue meets broadway

I just landed and am ready for a little vacay!

Skin deep

I went to the dermatologist this morning to examine some sort of "spot" on my neck. It's been there for a while, but I've never really thought much about it. I just thought it was kind of ugly and I realized it wasn't a part of me a few years ago so I decided I should see what it was.

This also served as a good time for me to get a check-up on skin issues in general. Having spent half my life swimming outdoors in direct sunlight, I've sort of resigned myself to a future of skin cancer - and this ugly spot was a good catalyst for me to actually do something about it.

Upon entering the doctor's office, I had to fill out the usual paperwork about health insurance, medical history, etc. I also had to do a diagnosis to figure out what skin type I am (IV, whatever that means). Another form asked what types of skincare products I use and whether I was interested in certain procedures such as botox, chemical peels or other cosmetic procedures. I must admit that I was mildly interested, but realized that my insurance probably wouldn't cover any of it.

When the doctor examined the little bugger, he said it probably was harmless but took a chunk out of my neck to send to the lab anyway. Because he used local anaesthesia, I didn't feel a thing - but it was a very strange sensation to hear his instrument scraping and digging around.

I am the son and the heir

Since Jefe and his significant other are returning to Denver today, I made a special effort to show them a good time last night. Blanca joined us at 80s night where hundreds of revelers enjoyed some good ol' tunes by The Smiths, Siouxie and the Banshees, Joy Division and other nostalgia-inducing artists.

With Beetle slinging 80-cent drinks, it was more crowded and more raucous than any Monday night should be, but that's what makes it fun for all!

Jefe was pleased with the crowd and commented that it was more fun than their previous San Francisco outings over the weekend. One fellow in particular seemed intent on becoming one of Jefe's sister-wives but ended the night disappointed.

Another fellow, however, did not leave disappointed. He left with Blanca!

[Blanca informs me that he did, indeed, leave disappointed since they parted ways promptly upon exiting the bar.]

Twelve martini dinner

The other night I met Jefe and his boyfriend for a late supper at a local seafood establishment. Jefe's boyfriend was in town workign on a multi-million dollar wedding that required several weeks of manpower to set up and decorate. The entire event was shrouded in mystery and the staff had all signed non-disclosure agreements so they weren't able to reveal the identities of the bride and groom.

Jefe is a friend from way back in the day, when Panda!!!! toiled away at a DC-based consulting and research firm. He worked a stint in the London office, returned solemnly to Washington DC and quickly moved to New York, where the pace better suited his rapid-fire lifestyle. It's been six or seven years since I last spent time with Jefe, who's since moved to Denver, so it was really nice to catch up.

But thanks to an ornery driver and something about misunderstood directions, Jefe and his boyfriend showed up to dinner about 30 minutes late. I had settled at our table and passed the time with several cocktails so I was well on my way to drunkeness when they arrived. We were all pretty hungry and not really paying attention to the menu's offerings so we ordered "all the appetizers" and a dozen oysters. And of course, more cocktails.

More flashing lights

I don't know what it is about this disturbing video, but there's something about it I really like.

Flashing lights

So the cab that drove me home got pulled over by a cop on a motorcycle. My cab driver was fined some sort of ticket for speeding on the highway, but the cop was kind of sort of patronizing. I have to admit that I sided with my cabby (not only because I really wanted to get home ASAP) and I felt like the cop was really on the rude side. In any case, it took me approximately 15 minutes longer to get home than normal. But I may have fallen asleep a little bit while the cabby politely provided the information that Mr. Cop requested.

Super Saturday

My grad school alma mater hosts an event called "Super Saturday" where prospective students come on campus to learn more about the program, take a tour and subject themselves to an interview. As an alumnus, I volunteered to return to campus today and grill two prospective students and appear on a career panel to address the group of applicants.

Sadly, I was not really excited about either of my interviewees. One hadn't done his homework and didn't seem to know what was special or unique about the program while the other one's mouth made a weird smacking noise when she talked. She was also kind of dullsville.

But it was good to return for the day even if I wasn't allowed to wear jeans and I had to tuck in my shirt. On a Saturday!

Celeb sighting: Melrose Place

So, this probably doesn't technically qualify as a sighting since VALedictorian and I purposefully purchased tickets to see The Scene, a play starring Daphne Zuniga (Jo from Melrose!). I'm pleased to report that Daphne looked quite pretty even though the play was pretty lame.

We saw it in one of those intimate "theatres" which seated fewer than 200 people so we did manage to get up close and personal. The other actors weren't nearly as exciting as Daphne, but the blonde girl was quite good as a sexy social climber.

Bombed baristas

I was hanging out with Turtle last night, enjoying some libations and watching music videos, when I ran into one of the fellows that works at my neighborhood Starbucks. This slip of a man - I would approximate that he weighs 90 pounds soaking wet - was trashed. He screeched my name and tried to hug me, but in so doing, he spilled my drink and got a little damp. Then he furrowed his brow and stormed off.

Later, an ex-bf of one of Blanca's former flings - and some sort of manager for Starbucks - also arrived wasted. He was barely making sense and searching high and low for a potential conquest. In particular, he kept wondering where Dyson was.

When the two coffee comrades met, it was sort of a trainwreck. They were talking shop, trying to stand upright, bumping into people left and right, making faces that alternated between elated and angry. It was a good opportunity for me to quietly slide away.

Whether or not we can make you a supermodel is now in the hands of America

Niki Taylor and Tyson Beckford host a show that I'm a bit ashamed to admit that I'm watching: Make Me a Supermodel. In it, pretty boys and girls compete to become a "supermodel" through many challenges that are less interesting than the ones on America's Next Top Model. Then, the judges put three of the week's worst performers up for a vote and "America" madly sends text messages or calls in to vote for their favorite contestant.

It's no shocker that all the girls are being voted off. Who else but ladies and gays is watching this show? And I do wonder how many people actually vote. That is, besides the contestants' families and friends.

In any case, the show remains a moderately entertaining piece of fluff, but I think it would be more interesting if the "models" voted each other off the show. The ensuing backstabbing and bitchery might make for classic television and intra-household tension.

I'm going to die of barfness

So Project Runway crowned Christian Siriano as its winner last night and I can't say that I'm surprised. The pocket gay really did pull off some stunning looks even though I thought his final collection where the Pirates of the Caribbean met soft-serve ice cream met '70s tuxedo shirt was a bit much. I preferred Rami Kashou's drapey gowns, but what do I know? I'm not Nina Garcia, fashion editor of Elle magazine.

I have to admit that I sort of fell asleep in the middle of the episode, but that's probably because I had been celebrating Wednesday with Roommates A&J, Mahogany Sparkle, Dyson, GarGar, PorkChop, Selives and Beetle.

Homework

I spent this morning working from home because I didn't want to be interrupted while writing performance reviews. So after I wrote a draft, I decided to run some quick errands and ruminate over what I had committed to paper.

During my excursion in the beautiful SF sun, I dropped off my dry cleaning and ran into Beetle who was similarly enjoying the sunshine and making the most of the morning hours. I picked up a package from the post office and when I returned home, I ripped it open. Inside was a book - and more importantly - a set of DVDs. The complete first (and only) season of Grosse Pointe had arrived! I'm thrilled to revisit this show ... and Al Santos!

Atreyu!

I couldn't believe my ears when I heard this song play at the gym!
I don't think I've heard this song since ... well, maybe since January at Mattress and Beetle's house.

Jumped the gun

It seems I was premature in praising Cashmere Mafia, since the show seems intent on irking me whenever I watch it. Whether it's thanks to the looney costumes, the dialogue or the "plot" twists, it all seems rather contrived.

However, I am enjoying Lipstick Jungle more than I thought I would. While Kitten prefers this show because of its eye candy (Robert Buckley certainly is a valid reason to hop on board this show), I actually do think it's (moderately) superior to the ladies of Darren Star's show.

Umbrella, ella, ella, eh, eh, eh

Look what Cousin Steppynose brought me tonight! I kind of hope it rains soon...

Sunday suburbia

It's not often that I spend time outside of the city, but yesterday I made a special trip to visit Gigi, whose kid count went from 0 to 3 in the blink of an eye. Since we finished graduate school, Gigi has been blessed by the arrival of a 3-year-old daughter and twin 6-month-old sons.

Seeing as how she was responsible for three kids and a sick husband, I traveled out to the East Bay to spend some quality family time. And I brought a cake!

The kids are adorable. So cute and so congenial and easygoing. Gigi is truly lucky that she has such agreeable kids who don't seem fussy at all. Plus, she was able to nonchalantly nurse the babes whilst carrying on a conversation, thanks to her hooter hider.

But it was such a different environment for me. I'm not often around young children (let alone three!) and it was kind of overwhelming! Most interesting to me was how Gigi and her husband just let them go and the kids minded themselves, playing with toys, falling asleep, crying a bit, etc. Meanwhile, the adults ate a lovely risotto and caught up on old times. I couldn't keep my eyes off the little ones, but the parents seemed sort of oblivious to them unless they started to really make a fuss. I guess you get used to kids if you're around them 24-7.

I also decided that if I ever wanted to have kids, I'd have to become more diligent about vacuuming. And cleaning my house.

McHealthy?

So, I may have just visited McDonalds and indulged in a sausage mcmuffin with egg. It's one of my favorite treats and I often feel that I'm allowed to eat one if I'm at an airport, waiting for a flight. Today's excuse? Well, none really. I had just finished a workout and I saw the golden arches so I went for it!

Recently, I've also been consuming many of Starbucks's classic sausage, egg and aged cheddar cheese breakfast sandwiches. It's a great accompaniment to my morning chai or vanilla latte. But as I bit into my sausage mcmuffin this morning, it struck me that it seemed lighter and less greasy than the Starbucks alternative.

So, when I looked up the nutritional information for both sandwiches, it was interesting to find that the mcdonald's variety (and the one I prefer) seems to be "healthier" than the Starbucks one! It has 90 fewer calories, 8 fewer grams of carbs and 3 grams fewer fat! Does this mean I should give myself permission to start my days with a little sausage mcheaven action?

Wretched wireless

I decided to finally untether my laptop computer from the cable that connects me to the internets. Yes, I was finally going wireless!

So, I headed to the store (where I ran into Charlotte York!) and purchased an Apple AirPort Express. Upon installing the device and creating a local network (named "Panda" of course), I successfully connected to the internets from my couch, while watching Rock of Love.

But without warning, everything stopped! I was in mid-chat with Roommate J and Kitten, but I was unable to reach the internets anymore. Several hours later, and after a couple of calls to my internets provider, I'm finally back on the internets, but back through the old-fashioned cable. I think I'm cursed to be always a step behind...

Harriet Tubman tater tots

Last night Mattress hosted a surprise citizenship party (some of us may have thought it was a birthday party. The evite text message was kind of lacking in details...) for a friend who recently became a naturalized US citizen. He prepared a buffet of Americana that featured foods such as the aforementioned Harriet Tubman tater tots, Roe v. Wade RU486 punch, Victory veggies, Liberty Bell something or other, etc. I was impressed with the creative labels, but clearly I can't remember many of them...

After a false start where the guest of honor's phone had run out of juice and he waited for his friends at a restaurant, we were able to surprise him and celebrate his citizenship in the only way we know how. By getting drunk!