Flash mob dance party

As I left the grocery store this evening, I heard the sound of loud 80s dance music. It clearly was too loud to be coming from a car, but I wasn't sure where it could be coming from.

When I came to the edge of the parking lot, I realized a group of people had congregated on the corner where a man with large speakers on his bicycle was blasting fun 80s and mash-up music. I had stumbled upon my first flash mob dance party!

People around stopped and stared (like me), others joined in and many simply walked by as if nothing was out of the ordinary. Ah San Francisco, gotta love it!

Never shined through in what I've shown

In the car today, I heard this song on the radio and was instantly transported back to my high school days. Of course, I belted out the song at the top of my lungs.

Female trouble

One of my co-workers looked especially haggard today - so much so that our boss said to her, "You should go home. You look awful!"

She explained to me that she had a terrible headache all day yesterday and today, that she couldn't sleep and that she was feeling generally run-down. When I asked if she should see a medical expert, she replied, "Oh, it's women's troubles and it happens every month for three days. I got it from my mother."

Well, I hope it was from your mother! If your father experienced three day's worth of ladies' problems every month, I'd be very concerned. And confused.

Cameo call

Since I've been out of town so much lately, I felt the itch to re-connect with my SF homo haunts last night. Being a Wednesday, the obvious choice was to head down to Booty Call, which incidentally won the title of "Best New Gay Club Night" in SF Weekly.

Because I'm a working panda, I went in on the early side so I could hang out with Beetle for a while and catch up. I sadly missed his and Mattress's birthday/AIDS ride/Memorial Day blow-out BBQ, which was apparently a lot of fun even without a panda in the midst.

It was also Kitten's debut as a go-go dancer, so I felt I should be supportive even if I wasn't keen on watching him gyrate in his tighty whities for dolla billz. (Un)fortunately, I also left on the early side so I missed his performance.

I also got a chance to catch up with GarGar whose travel schedule is the opposite of mine. Just as I return to town, he exits. And vice versa for the next few weeks.

The photo theme last night was cameo and everyone was taking profile pictures against a large velvet oval. I'm not a fan of my profile, so I'll have to see how it turns out, but I have a feeling it won't be my next Facebook shot.

Do do you got a first aid kit handy

While traversing the country yesterday, I found myself in a situation I'd never encountered before. We were rolling along when suddenly the pilot announced that we needed to stop in Salt Lake City for some fuel. Apparently, we didn't have enough to make it home!

So I put on my headphones and listened to this song several hundred times.Kitten claims it's the only Danity Kane song he likes, but I don't know why you would limit yourself.

Happy jetting

In a few short hours, I'll alight a cramped, little Jet Blue plane to return to San Francisco. I've had a wonderful New England visit and I'm sad to see this fun-filled time come to an end, but I'm ready to get back to my life in the city by the bay.

I was really glad to see Bullet Tosser and her boyfriend last night for dinner before I depart. The boyfriend (whom Bullet Tosser may have encouraged me to call BA, but I refuse) was kind enough to pay for our Latin-inspired meal and this is my official way of saying that, for the record, it's my turn to pay next time!

It was fun hearing about their latest escapades, including a drunken dinnertime marriage proposal a few weeks ago, and it was great reminiscing about our own shared past, like that trip to a swim meet where Bullet Tosser spent the ride lying amidst the car's luggage and farting up a storm. I always have a blast with Bullet Tosser and hope that we will one day live much closer together again.

Lobstah roll

I spent a good portion of the day catching up with Safety First, a friend from business school who was one of the crazier gals in my class - crazy in a great way - always ready to dress up, organize a camping excursion, stay up all night and just have a good time. Safety First now has a lovely seven-week old daughter who dutifully slept as we enjoyed Boston's North End and the amazing Memorial Day weather.

We had lunch outside by the harbor and I enjoyed a lobster roll, which may have been a bit much for my delicate constitution because my tummy is a bit ... rumbly. I also enjoyed the prevalent Boston accent that surrounded us. For example, when we asked how far we could go with the buzzer while we waited for our table, the hostess said, "about one hundred yahds."

I'm about to have dinner with Bullet Tosser (yes, just a few hours after my lunch), then I think my little vacay comes to an end. Boo.

Celeb sighting: Stand for change

Yesterday's commencement was a beautiful event. The warm day was perfect - not a single cloud in the sky - and reminiscent of the gorgeous day when I graduated 10 years ago.

The featured speaker was supposed to be Senator Ted Kennedy, but due to his medical condition, he asked Senator Barack Obama to stand in for him. Obama gave a rousing, inspirational speech. Hew was tremendously better than our own commencement speaker, Oprah Winfrey in 1998.

It was great to see the entire field covered with people who were excited to hear the presidential candidate speak. But it was sort of surreal to see the secret service snipers atop the library, pacing around and keeping a watchful eye over the proceedings.

If Obama becomes the Democratic party's presidential nominee, I'm sure I'd vote for him.

Tick tock

So the university gave me a clock today to recognize some sort of commitment to service. And as fun as it is being at reunion, I have to admit that I'm a bit sad to be missing Opera's SF visit and the long weekend back at home.

In the meantime, our entire class gathered for dinner, including Jillian, Speedy, Rug, and others. The food was pretty horrible and the entertainment (a "cabaret" of singers from our class) ranged from delightful to horrendous. But overall it was a great event and I enjoyed toting around my little clock while shaking it at the all-campus dance off with Lil' Bro' Panda!!!!'s girlfriend and other undergraduate folks.

So it was fun exploring the new buildings and commenting on the discordant architcture and I realized that I'm not as old as most of the other folks partying under the big reunion tent, but yes, I am feeling tres old.

10 years later

I drove from Boston to Connecticut yesterday, to attend my 10-year college reunion. The drive down from Boston was beautiful - hills covered in lush, green trees on either side of the road and a beautiful, sunny day. Driving down reminded me how beautiful New England is and one reason why I chose to leave California to attend college in the first place.

Upon arriving on campus, I felt a little lost. It's been five years since I last visited - new buildings have popped up and I feel considerably older. I also didn't know where any of my friends or classmates were so I wandered around by myself for a bit until I finally found a handful of my friends.

There weren't a whole lot of people from my class on campus yesterday, but it was a good crew. After an all-campus buffet dinner, we enjoyed a performance by alumni from one of the student imrpov comedy groups and we went to a party for alumni at one of the student society houses.

As some of my friends peeled off to attend a college house party, I decided it was time for me to return to my hotel room. I think this whole driving thing might seriously crimp my style so I will have to figure out a way around that tonight.

Today proves to be more fun and catching up. I'm speaking on an alumni panel about corporations and the third world, but I'm really more excited to see some friends, explore campus and to enjoy the beautiful Connecticut weather!

Pre-union

Internets, it's been a fun time in Boston, catching up with friends from my undergraduate days. I first met up with Reebs and enjoyed a wine-fueled French luncheon in the South End. We caught up, reminisced about the past decade and a half and I got to meet her beautiful little baby girl!

And after a nap, I braved the T to Jamaica Plains and met up with Flabs and IronWoman (who was in town for a presentation to some academic-types at Harvard. We had a delicious meal and I felt honored that it was Flabs's first time out after giving birth to her little baby girl. Also joining us was IronWoman's girlfriend, a delightful woman who graciously put up with all our discussion about mutual friends. But the best part may have been stopping at JP Licks after dinner for some coffee oreo ice cream!

Beantown boogie down my back

I just arrived in Boston for a day before heading to my 10-year undergraduate reunion tomorrow. I'm staying at a "hotel" that was formerly a YWCA, conveniently located near Copley Square. My room kind of smells ... industrial. It's kind of like a hospital or a hostel - clean, but not nice.

Anyhoo, I don't plan to spend much time in this room. I already have plans to see Reebs and IronWoman today, then it's off to the big reunion tomorrow!

A night to remember

This past weekend in Seattle, as we drove by Buca di Beppo, we saw a group of well-dressed kids, ready for prom. Boys in tuxes, girls with jewel-toned gowns - all looking anxious and trying to act grown-up for the most important night of their lives!

Fortunately, as we drove by, I yelled out the window, "Are you ready to lose it?!!!" I'm a bad panda.

A crazy maze of LZRs

When I competed in swim meets as a young cub, I donned a speedo (two if the race didn't matter), dove in and swam my little heart out. As I grew older, technology would introduce newer, faster versions of the speedo, like the paper suit, which was achingly uncomfortable in all the wrong places (and for the females would take two additional helpers to squeeze the racer into the suit) and would require that a swimmer begin the process of putting the suit on approximately one hour before the race.

In college, I remember the aquablade, which was just as uncomfortable as the paper suit, but had special little ridges that allowed water to pass more quickly or something like that.

Toward the end of my college career, full-bodied swimsuits emerged on the scene. Some suits were better for certain strokes (with grooves in different parts of the suit) and others boasted different types of technology. Fortunately, my swimming career was in its twilight years as these $100 suits burst onto the scene.

Well, it seems that Speedo has introduced a $550 suit, the LZR, that seems to be stirring up a bit of controversy. I highly doubt my parents would have ponied up $550 for a suit that lasts 5 races, but I'm sure that there are 12-year-olds who sport these swimsuits at age group meets in affluent neighborhoods all across the country.

Since I'll never compete for Olympic gold, I'm going to stick to the tried-and-true nylon water polo suit, a comfortable and long-lasting option. That is, once I decide to start swimming again.

Sleepless in Seattle

I just returned from my first visit to Seattle where I actually got to see the city. My first visit to the Emerald City was in high school for a swim meet. During that visit, I only got to see our hotel, the pool and a diner called Mitzel's Kitchen. The second visit was a few years ago for meetings where I flew up and returned the same day.

This time, I went to visit a friend who was involved in a gay recreational soccer tournament. I arrived on Friday and went to the opening party, which was held in a strange little bar where a lesbian floater kept yelling at everyone for touching the pool table. It was an interesting introduction to Seattle and I'm sure it wasn't the best indication of gay life in the city.

Saturday was a glorious day - sunny and 90 degrees - and I had several hours to myself to do some sightseeing. I walked to the Space Needle, waited in the line to ascend for two hours and spent approximately 10 minutes enjoying the view. Truly, the view was magnificent, but I'm not sure it was worth the two-hour wait, even if they did play "Alone" by Heart and "When I See You Smile" by Bad English while I was in line.

After the Space Needle, I walked to the Olympic Sculpture Garden, which was pretty amazing. The gigantic sculptures (I recognized a Serra and a Calder) are nestled into a little hillside by the water and created a really neat place to spend some time. People were lazying about, enjoying the warm, sunny weather.

I continued my Seattle tour down the waterfront and went to Pike Place Market, where I hoped to see the fishmongers throwing fish at each other. Unfortunately, there was no fish-tossing while I was there and my patience for the intense crowd waned quickly so I continued into downtown.

Ironically, I'd been searching for a refreshing ice coffee for the past hour, to no avail. I could not find a Starbucks for the life of me! When I finally chanced upon a Starbucks, the line was so long that I decided to pass. Fortunately, I found a Tully's a block away - and ducked inside to enjoy the air conditioning for a while.

After my tour of Seattle, I joined my friend who was playing the last game of his soccer tournament. The game ended abruptly because one of the players was hurt badly. So badly that an ambulance came to whisk him off the field!

Dinner at a local Chinese restaurant followed, then a night out at a few bars. Overall, it was pretty lackluster - I'm glad I got to see the city because it truly is beautiful and I appreciated the lush, green scenery, but I'm not sure Seattle is a city that I'd hurry to visit again. I was more excited to return home yesterday afternoon and see Roommates A&J, Mahogany Sparkle and Beetle for a bit.

Chiieew! Chiieew! Chiieew! Chiieew! etc.

Bullet Tosser sent me this video, which made me laugh!

Happy gay marriage day

To celebrate yesterday's CA supreme court decision on same-gender marriage, the city closed off Castro street for an outdoor street party! A huge stage with a DJ booth was set up and thousands of people congregated in the hot weather.

I've never quite experienced anything like this in San Francisco. Usually it's freezing cold at night, even in the middle of summer. Last night, however, people were roaming about in shorts and t-shirts, dancing and drinking and having a great time.

Everyone was in high spirits and people kept exclaiming, "Happy gay marriage day!" to each other. The timing of this bizarro heat wave couldn't have been better. I totes heart SF.

Keep me coming back for more

I keep listening to this song! Rihanna makes everything better.

And then the judge banged his gravel

Selives was back in town for a few days to work through an issue of sexual harassment that one of his female co-workers brought against the company (and him, specifically). This, of course, is ridiculous because Selives is totes gay and the only thing of hers he could possibly have coveted would be her shoes or accessories. Certainly not her person.

Since he was in town, Dyson, Mattress, Beetle and I had dinner with Selives at a new seafood restaurant (very tasty) and learned more about this sexual harassment case. In the process of telling us about his day, Selives mentioned that he was falling asleep in the courtroom (possibly due to the fact that he had been out late the night before, merry-making with some homosexuals) and that he was startled when "the judge banged his gravel."

After dinner, Mattress and Beetle sensibly went home, while the rest of us met up with Mahogany Sparkle, Roommates A&J, Blanca and PorkChop for Juanita MORE's weekly Booty Call party. Much fun, but probably more excitement than I needed on a Wednesday night.

Here come the brides

This post by Gleemonex sort of sums up how I feel. It's great to be a Californian today!

Pretty woman

Contrary to what some believe, this panda is not a prostitute.

Yesterday, on my way home from work, a car pulled over and the driver asked me directions to Haight/Ashbury. So, I explained how he could arrive at his destination, then he asked whether he could give me a ride to wherever I was going. I declined politely and he responded, "Your body looks strong." I continued my walk home as he drove away.

It reminded me of a time when I was in college, studying abroad in Paris. I emerged from the metro station in an unfamiliar neighborhood to meet a friend for a night out. A gentleman pulled over and propositioned me! It was actually a fairly healthy sum of money, but I do have standards. Said standards may be really, really low, but they're there!

The bitch is back

Internets, I think it's clear that this panda watches an unhealthy amount of bad television. So it should be no surprise that I actually think about television ... a lot.

Lately, I've been ruminating on the character of Georgina Sparks on Gossip Girl. An old friend of our heroine's Georgina has returned to New York to wreak havoc on a clique of well-heeled high schoolers. She's drugged her best friend, assumed a fake identity to steal her boyfriend and blackmailed her with a sex tape/snuff film. And all in three episodes! She's despicable and she's vicious and she ratchets up the OMG factor in this show.

It's much like when Heather Locklear joined the cast of Melrose Place in the second season. Before the appearance of Amanda Woodward, our friends at Melrose were pretty tame. After, the series soared to camp heights where outrageous plots and catfights were the norm.

Similarly before that, Joan Collins spiced up Dynasty as Blake Carrington's ex-wife Alexis. What was once a tepid television series quickly became a showcase for extravagance and measured lunacy.

I guess there's just something about a female television character whose moral compass is askew that lights my fire.

Grabbing some beers

Middle Bottom was in town this weekend, after having finished up a project in San Jose. Since I couldn't meet up with him on Saturday (too tired from all the BBQ I ate with Roommates A&J), we decided to grab dinner and some beers last night to catch up.

I can't believe it's been nearly 10 years since I met Middle Bottom, swimming on a master's team in Washington DC. He was definitely one of my favorite people on the team - his caustic wit and biting humor helped give perspective to a team that was at times either obsessed with competition or lackadaisical to a fault.

We spent much of our discussion gossiping about people, catching up on each other's lives and reminiscing about my early twenties. It kind of made me want to return to my DC life - a time when I was in better shape, less prone to get into trouble and more hopeful in my life's goals.

Mama mia

I am a good son. To celebrate Mother's Day (and my mom's birthday) yesterday, I drove down to my parents' house in the suburbs to spend time with the madre. She'd said that she would be available to spend time together at 2:00, after her tennis match, so I showed up promptly at 2, laundry in hand.

Since she was nowhere to be found, I started running errands. I did my laundry, got my car washed, looked into getting a smog check (they couldn't do it on Sunday), went shopping for a new suit (it's wedding season!), went shopping for cleaning supplies and listened to a lot of Danity Kane.

Meanwhile, my father was passed out, snoring away (he's just returned form a three-week trip to Hong Kong) and my mother was apparently at work. When she finally returned, we were off to our dinner reservation near Lil' Bro Panda!!!!'s house. So, even though the moms said I should visit for the day, she was unavailable to hang out. No matter. I got stuff done!

We went to a little Italian restaurant that served delicious gnocchi and shortribs, but was a bit lacking in the service and attentiveness department. Overall, it was a lovely meal, but nothing spectacular. But moms said she had a good time, so I guess that's what counts. And the fact that I have clean sheets!

But I don't even have AIDS

Yesterday, Roommates A&J and I went to a local bar where an Andrew Christian swimwear fashion show served as a means to raise money for the AIDS/LifeCycle. We arrived late and consequently, the patrons and models already seemed pretty tipsy.

After getting beverages and situating ourselves with a good view, one of the audience members, a trashed gay wearing a ribbed tank top and acid wash jeans that exposed his bare buttocks, turned to us and said, "They should do this every Sunday." I responded, "But it's Saturday" and fortunately, he didn't hear me and turned his attention back to the be-swimsuited models.

Having missed the "fashion show," we did manage to catch the end of the event where they tried to auction off the underwear and swimwear to raise additional funds. One eager model got on stage and declared, "I'm straight!" before shaking his rump and contorting his body into a pretty seductive pretzel. He threatened to take off all his clothes for everyone's viewing pleasure if the bidding reached or exceeded $55. When that didn't happen, he got naked anyway, prompting a bar patron near us to say, "Straight boys don't wear cock rings!"

Another model ascended the stage and the auctioneer started the bidding at $10. When there was no response from the audience, he said, "Nine?" Ultimately, I think he raised $15. But not from the drunk lady who kept bidding against herself and ended up spending $35 for a pair of men's briefs.

After the auction, models circulated among the bar patrons, trying to sell shots and raise additional funds. One model approached us and asked if we wanted to buy a shot because proceeds went to a good cause. Because I really didn't know what the cause was, I asked. When he responded that it was for the AIDS/LifeCycle, I said, "But I don't even have AIDS." And without missing a beat, he said, "But people with AIDS would really appreciate the support." Touche, model. Since my irreverent response didn't trip him up, we indulged in one shot each.

I'm head of the class

I'm at Roommate A&J's house and we're watching television and eating BBQ. I'm stuffed. Somehow, we started talking about the song "Popular" by Nada Surf and I thought it appropriate to post the semi-homo-erotic video. It was a great video, indeed.

No time is a good time for goodbye

For some strange reason, Roommate J and I were singing this song at the top of our lungs last night. Who knew there was such a heartfelt video? And is that Rebecca De Mornay of The Hand That Rocked the Cradle starring in it?

Naughty network

I've been struggling with connectivity to the internets (and The Corporation's email and network drives) all morning, so I called our IT helpdesk for some support.

Their helpful suggestions:
1. Please log off and log back on.
[problem persists]
2. Please re-start the computer.
[problem persists]
3. Opening a "ticket" so a technician will come to my location.
[problem persists]
4. Said technician calls to ask if I use a desktop or laptop. I answer cheerfully.
[problem persists]
5. Said technician explains that there may be a problem with my docking station and that if it continues I should call back.
[problem solved?]

White pea

I learned recently that the head coach of my childhood United States Swim team passed away a few weeks ago from prostate cancer. While growing up, he was always this towering figure whose stern demeanor instilled fear in my little heart. He'd be on deck, all 6'+ of him, wearing his wayfarers (you could never see his eyes) and sporting some sort of Hawaiian shirt with flowers or palm trees or something.

His sense of humor was a little off, so you could never tell if he was being serious, but that's what added to his mystique and frankly, kept me frightened of him. He had a reputation for being a tough coach with a short temper, but also a great coach whose swimmers went on to Olympic glory. All throughout my childhood, I admired his swimmers who consistently broke national records, seemed huge and powerful, and appeared to be demi-gods.

When I turned 14, I moved into his group and had the chance to experience his coaching style firsthand. In that year, I made the most significant gains in my swimming (puberty may also have had something to do with it), but I also learned how to train hard. For as much (or as little) talent that was in my bones, it was clear that I had to work hard to get better. And to earn his respect.

It's true that he was a hard coach and expected the most out of his swimmers, but he also had a soft side that he rarely showed. We were required to keep workout logs where we'd record our feelings about practice every day - and he would review these logs from time to time. He always wrote the most inspiring words of encouragement and it showed that he believed in my talent in a way that no one had before. He pushed me to get better and to strive for greatness. In may ways, he helped instill in me a sense of confidence that carries me through my life today.

He also helped me understand that swimming could be a team sport. Your teammates helped to carry you to greatness, but they also could help tear you down. I remember one brutal swim meet in the middle of summer where he made me swim the 400 Individual Medley, a horrific event that I was not at all good at. It was the last day of the meet and all I wanted to do was get it over with, finish the meet and go home. I finished in 27th place or something ridiculous like that, so I returned that evening for the finals session all dry and ready to cheer on my teammates. Sadly for me, enough people had scratched the finals so that I was in 10th place. And scheduled to swim it against one other person in the consolation heat of finals. I certainly didn't want to go head-to-head with someone who had beaten me by a wide margin that morning. And I certainly didn't want to endure that brutal race again!

But despite my imploring, my coach made me commit to the race. He helped me see that it was an opportunity to better myself. To rise above the situation and to improve (even though I had earned a best-ever time that morning). And I remember clearly, swimming this race against one other person, with my entire team at the ends of the lane, cheering me on, while a handful of his teammates cheered for him. And I felt myself being buoyed by my teammates in a way that I had never felt before. Not only did I win my race, but I shaved of more than 10 seconds from my earlier swim - and clearly it's an event I remember nearly two decades later.

The sense of team really was something that I learned that year, and one that I made sure to encourage in my future swimming (and work) situations. This coach definitely made me a stronger, better person today and I'm sad to hear of his passing. From the response I've seen to his memorial service, it's clear he touched the lives of so many people and I'm sure they all have that same sense that they would not be the person they are today were it not for him. Even if you could never see into his eyes and he scared us all shitless.

You got peanut butter in my chocolate

Internets, I've been jonesing for chocolate for the past few hours now. So I finally gave in to my cravings (against my better judgment - summer is just around the corner!) and purchased some Reese's Sticks. It's like a Reese's peanut butter cup, but in wafer form so it's crunchy and lighter. And apparently so I can eat a dozen more.

I build myself up and fly around in circles

Internets, I'm loving this video! The dance at the end is pretty awesome. Is it Amy Winehouse? Duffy? No! It's Adele!

Lucky star

After Dyson's birthday brunch on Sunday, I walked past a little lesbian-run tattoo parlor and impulsively made an appointment for some post-work body mutilation yesterday. I'd been thinking of getting a new tattoo for a while, but hadn't taken the time to find a tattoo artist or to really think about the design. All I knew was that it should be in white ink.

So all day yesterday I fretted about my appointment, but knew I couldn't back out thanks to a $100 deposit and a fear of lesbian retaliation. My plan on Sunday was to get a simple star - on the front of my shoulder - about an inch wide and completely filled in. By the time yesterday afternoon rolled around, the star had expanded to 1.5 inches and had become just the outline.

When I entered the tattoo parlor, I met my tattoo artist for the first time. She was a very tall woman, face full of piercings and tattoos all over her body (duh). Surprisingly, she was on the older side and she had a gigantic mane of hair. For whatever reason, she reminded me of Gandalf from Lord of the Rings.

She didn't really have a "bedside" manner, but was all about business. She apologized for the "bullshit" I had to read through when signing my waiver of liability and laughed when I told her where I wanted to place my little star. Indicating that it was a silly place to put a tattoo, I conceded that it should move inward onto my right pec. Then she laughed at that and wouldn't tell me why she was laughing.

I lay on the table as she prepared the area for the tattoo. And quickly, she started to do her work. I'd forgotten just how much tattoos hurt! Suddenly, I remembered why, seven years ago, I swore my last tattoo would be my last. But it was too late to turn back and I bit down on my gum, clamped down on the sides of the table and looked for something on the ceiling to distract me.

Fortunately, there was another tattoo artist in the room who was going about her business and talking about her daughter. It was her anecdotes that helped keep my mind off of the intense stinging pain I felt on the right side of my chest.

Minutes later, Gandalf stopped and asked me how thick I wanted the outline to be. Realizing that I was far too wimpy to withstand the pain required to fill the entire thing in, I meekly said that it should be just double the size that it was. In reality, I would have liked it a lot heavier, but I really am a panda with a low threshold for pain, so this seemed a reasonable compromise to me.

As the minutes ticked, I became more accustomed to the pain. I wouldn't say that it became comfortable, or even numb, but I could withstand it better than at first. And I didn't have to think about how excited I was to watch Gossip Girl later that night (and the episode was so good).

When she was finally finished, I sat up on the table and realized I had left behind a puddle of sweat from tensing my entire body for the duration of my tattoo. And surprisingly, only 20 minutes had elapsed! Of all my tattoo experiences, this was the most transactional in nature.

Surprisingly, Gandalf's demeanor melted when she was done. She thanked me heartily for the chance to work on the tattoo and insisted I hug her afterward. She also said that I could come back for a touch-up free of charge and that she would be honored to add more designs in the future.

But I don't think there will be more designs in the future. I really cannot handle the pain. Then again, that's what I swore to myself several years ago.

Birthday brunchy

As part of Dyson's never-ending 30th birthday celebration, his family came to San Francisco for a little surprise brunch. I helped Dyson's sister organize the event and keep it secret for several weeks. All Dyson knew was that he was to reserve yesterday afternoon for me.

After nearly ruining the surprise with a last-minute trip to Mexico, Dyson was shocked to see his parents, sister, brother-in-law and three adorable nephews waiting with GarGar and Kitten at Foreign Cinema yesterday. I think, had he known whom to expect, he might have shaved for the occasion.

In any case, it was a delicious meal and so fun to spend time with Dyson's family. With those three cute kids, I totes understand why he high-tails it to visit so much!

The rest of Sunday was spent in the usual fashion - with Roommates A&J, Mahogany Sparkle, Mattress and a host of others. First visiting Beetle, then mingling at the busy bars, amongst the other homos.

At one particular venue, a fellow stopped me and said that he recognized me from elementary school. Elementary school! This is one small city, indeed.

Also at this venue were men selling jello shots. I may have purchased a few. I also may have sneaked a few off their trays while they were not looking. Bad panda!

Peek-a-boo

At the gym today I was doing exercises that I learned from the trainer, including sumo squats, where you basically squat straight down while holding a barbell betwixt your thighs.

As I squat down, I thought that suddenly, my shorts felt a bit looser than before. I reached back and realized my shorts had split open! Fortunately, the gym was pretty empty and fortunately I wasn't wearing my "Wednesday" panties. And thus ended my workout.

Bedazzle

Clipper celebrated his birthday last night by hosting a bedazzling party! It was a veritable sweatshop of rhinestones with three bedazzlers going at the same time and dozens of gays and gals crowding around to adorn their garments. Gymnast's paramour was there, wearing the gayest shirt I'd ever seen (even without bedazzling!) and Linkin Park fashioned a smart looking tie with a spray of sparkles, while I opted for two last-minute bedazzles which resulted in a hole in my shirt. With copious amounts of vodka and Prec showing up with a bottle of patron, it's no wonder this panda ended up getting kinda tipsy.

The party shut down and everyone in their dazzling new garments headed to the bar to continue celebrating. Panda!!!! had on a new hypercolor scarf, which was quite the hit. Only I didn't count on everyone trying to grab it or blow on it to see its magical color-changing qualities!

Ah - chiieew!

Internets, my allergies are out of control! I woke up several times last night and the night before because I needed to blow my nose. I've gone through nearly an entire box of Puffs Plus (with lotion) in the past week and I can hardly breathe.

It's definitely affecting my performance at The Corporation because I sit in meetings, sounding all congested and sniffling. And I'm so self-conscious of it, I can't really think of the topic at hand. Damn you, springtime!

She blogs hard for the money

I'm a professional blogger! Thanks to Gleemonex, who actually is a professional blogger (She's the mastermind behind The Corporation's blog on our intranet.), two of my India posts on Chiieew! have been re-purposed for The Corporation's blog.

I just hope this doesn't mean I'm becoming more and more like Perez.

Get'cha head in the game

It's Beetle's birthday, so in his honor, I'm posting the newly released poster for High School Musical 3: I Swear to God Zac Efron's Not Gay. Happy birthday, Beetle!

I am all the days that you choose to ignore

Radiohead's video for "All I Need" premieres on MTV stations worldwide today. It's a pretty powerful video that I came across last month during my trip to India where a representative from MTV Europe previewed it at a meeting where we were discussing human rights.

The video deals with the issue of human trafficking and child labor through a pretty stark juxtaposition and hopefully will get people thinking about the conditions under which their apparel and footwear were made.