The Machines Are Trying To Kill Us

I am now seeing these everywhere around the city.



Did somebody forget to test their new software before loading it on all the traffic light systems? Sheesh.

Shall we call Child Protection now?

This Halloween turn your daughter into a centerfold.

Traditional Values

Tolerance be damned ... fruit bagels are immoral.

Worst Name Ever

I just drove past, no really I swear, Analy Veterinary Hospital.

"Sure, we'll examine Fluffy ... but pretty much no matter what the problem is ... we're just gonna cram stuff up her ass.

No Fair! Mom! Make Him Stop!

Mario Lopez made fellow Chorus Line cast member Nick Adams put on a baggy sweatshirt because he's upset that Nick's biceps are bigger.



Mario Lopez is a whiny little bitch.



Fucking little brat.



Whatever. I'd still do him.

One of these things is not like the others

Since when do we let white guys into our city's roving bands of break-dancing acrobats?



In 16 years in New York City, I have never once seen a white guy in one of these troupes. I stopped to watch figuring, "These Latin and black boys all have fantastic rhythm. If they let in a white guy, he must be awesome." He wasn't. He sucked. He wasn't even trying. He looked like a bored backup singer for a crappy lounge act.

So very, very confused.

It Came From Craigslist

If you enjoyed,

"Want it from behind while you play Super Mario Brothers?"

Then you'll love,

"Guide to Gay Personals Ads"

and

"My roommate is obese and I am looking to have an intervention."

You're welcome.

WTF, Steve?

I compared the browser loading speeds of an original iPhone and an iPhone 3G side by side. The new iPhone with 3G was consistently slower. With 3G off and both phones using EDGE the newer phone was still slower.

WTF?

How embarrassing for Apple's "Twice as Fast" ads.

I'm guessing this is a software optimization issue that will be addressed in the coming firmware patch.

A Cunning Plan That Cannot Fail

I got so sick of misplacing my USB flash drive that I put it on my keyring. Perfect! Problem solved! What could go wrong? There's no way I'd leave the drive plugged into a client's server downtown and not notice until I got home at 2:00 AM costing me $86.92 in taxis. That would just be stupid.



In other news, did you know that a darkened, deserted conference room with lovely nighttime views can be an oddly peaceful place to collect your thoughts? If you're stressed and trying to cope, I suggest a lovely Chardonnay / Sauvignon Blanc blend to relax the soul and lubricate the mind.

David Mania, Delicious and Disasterous

There so much more to be said about David. But I wanted to separate the sincere from the sarcastic. Ready for a huge helping of tragic and tacky? Here we go....

There is entertainment to be had while viewing the David. The slightly uncomfortable looks on the American frat boys' faces betray their delicious inner turmoil. "Dude, I'm being told to look at a naked man as an object of beauty. I don't know how to cope with this."

It seems other people are curious about the model as well. Here's a fascinating bit of visual speculation about David.

The whole city of Florence is in the grip of David Mania. Now, when I say the whole city, really I mean tourists and the vendors who sell them crap. I'm sure the locals wouldn't touch this stuff any more than I would.

Some of it is done with a certain charm and affection. David Reloaded by Maria Paola Pozzoli offers many reinterpretations of David.

CARTIER DAVID


DISCO DAVIDS


DEVIL AND ANGEL DAVIDS


GAY PRIDE DAVID


and my favorite ...

ROCKY HORROR DAVID


Remember Mel Brooks' merchandising pitch? "Spaceballs the T-Shirt, Spaceballs the Coloring Book, Spaceballs the Lunchbox, Spaceballs: the Breakfast Cereal and Spaceballs: the Flame Thrower"

It seems the world's most famous set of cock and balls needed this treatment. And since the official museum gift shop is not inclined to serve this crass market, Florence street vendors offer David's not-so privates on everything.

DAVID'S JUNK THE APRON


DAVID'S JUNK THE POSTCARD


DAVID'S JUNK THE PUZZLE


DAVID'S JUNK THE POSTCARD WITH SUNGLASSES


There's really no end to it. It's pretty horrifying but I have to admit there's a little part of me that likes it. Florence may well be the only city in the world where man parts are proudly displayed on every street corner. That's awesome.

Hot Guys, Yet So Creepy

Pinup calendar of hot Venetian Gondoliere?



Sure!

They’re athletic, fit, work outdoors, sing Italian love songs and work in a desperately romantic job.

---

Pinup calendar of hot guys who have taken a lifelong vow of celibacy?



Really. Fucking. Creepy.

Ever Wonder What A $35 Dollar Ice Cream Cone Looks Like?

Yeah, me either. But I got to find out when I was naive enough to order gelato in a touristy shop with no prices posted. What a scam! At least it was yummy.



If you're wondering what the hell is up with my haircut, it seems clear my Washington Heights Dominican barber did not understand my instructions. But when the first thing he removed from my face was the hair that attaches the right side of my mustache to my beard, objection seemed pointless. So I just decided to be zen about it and let him finish the job. If figured I wasn't getting the haircut and shave I had in mind. So why not see what he had in mind? Apparently what he had in mind was "Guido".

Nothing sells better than ...

... a Microsoft Windows system error.



I see this around town a lot, a computerized window display running Windows that has crashed. It sure does inspire a lot of consumer confidence, no?

Unexpected Plans

Ever have one of those lazy weekend mornings when you think you have no plans for the day, but then it turns out you're giving a class on fellatio?

Ya, that's the day I'm having. It seems that at a dinner party some weeks ago I told a friend's new fiance, who I'd known for all of 15 minutes, that I'd teach her how to give great head as an engagement present to my friend. So now they've come to collect on what seemed like a whimsical, fun idea after a few drinks but is now terrifying under the sober light of day.

Are offers made while drunk even valid once sobriety sets in? Aren't there rules or escape clauses for this kind of thing?

Christ.

Well, guess I'd better go prepare ... I've got a blow job workshop to deliver.

Booze got me into this. Maybe booze will get me out of it ... or at least through it. Where's the tequila?

Clueless, Really Really Clueless

I rather like skinny, nerdy, intellectual, art fags. I've been known to call them "hipsters" occasionally ... a word I've been using for a few years now.



Well apparently no one self-identifies as a hipster and I wish someone had told me. Yes, it seems "hipster" is a pejorative. And I found out in the worst possible way when I said the following to a client who works in fashion.

"So you're growing your hair out, eh? I like the new look. Very hipster."

He was not pleased.

I'm The One Your Mother Warned You About

I'm fond of saying that I'm a bad influence on everyone around me ... drink more, fuck more, stay out late, ditch work for fun.... But really my goal is not so much to encourage people to do bad or destructive things. It's encouraging people to indulge ... indulge passion, desire, impulsiveness, decadence, whatever. Just do something to remind yourself you're alive while you are.

As Auntie Mame said, "Live, live, live! Life is a banquet and most poor suckers are starving to death."

Which brings me to my point. I believe there should be more good sex in the world and if it's not me then it may as well be people I know. (Then I get to hear about it later.) I got a friend laid this weekend. It isn't the first time. But this time it was notable for several reasons.

1. It was a hetero hookup.
2. My new friend and I had recently decided to help each other meet people. Realizing our differing orientations would make this tricky, we agreed to alternate playing "wingman".
3. So having entered into our pact, my friend got some nookie on our second excursion.

Not bad, eh?

Don't you wish your wingman was hot like me?

Now before I break my own arm patting myself on the back, let me admit that I nearly botched it. Oh, I did a fine job of target acquisition. But then I broke one of my own rules for myself by making a crass and awkward joke calling attention to the two love birds' interactions.

Learn from my folly. Never do this.

My rule was and remains, "Never interfere in other peoples' flirtations." Big kids can sort these things out for themselves.

If I can't keep to this simple rule, I have no business playing wingman.

Ghetto Fabulous!

When you're shopping for a home to call your own,
it's always great to find one of these in the backyard.

What the Fuck?

I accidentally discovered the Crunchy Frog of ice creams.



I thought I'd bought just plain old chocolate ice cream. But see how it says "habanero & chipolte pepper blend"? Yeah, neither did I. 'Cause the type is freakin' microscopic.

It set my mouth on fire.

This Grim Duty Falls To Me Then?

Hillary Clinton appeared on a "pro" wrestling show with a new nickname.



To my amazement, no else seems to have made the obvious joke.
So I guess it falls to me....

The Mad Haircutter

Suppose you get a bad haircut.



No shame in that ... happens to everyone.



So you ask your friend with the hair clippers to fix it for you.



Unfortunately you fail to consider that your friend is a lunatic who considers even banal events to be opportunities for performance art.



You also fail to fully appreciate the implications of this event occurring in the presence of friends with cell-phone cameras.



Nor does it occur to you that your lunatic friend might get off on the idea.



What would happen then?



Well ... you'll get your haircut fixed, to be sure.



But be prepared for an unexpected turn of events.



And, of course, it goes without saying that the whole thing is bound to end up on the Internet.

Gee, Thanks

Lost, ABC's fantasy suckfest full of hotties, intrigue and sex now has a gay character. He's the psychotic, evil, sorta-sea-captain-looking guy.

Now, I'd get my panties in a bunch about the gay character being psychotic and evil except everyone on that loony island is one or the other. The interesting ones are both. So fine.

He's a total eyesore but he has a taste for the finer things in life. He enjoys Manhattan hotel suites, room service and super-hot, foreign boys. This is a man I can respect.

So what hot, man-on-man action does Lost have to offer?

"Arturo, we have some business to conduct. Could you leave us alone for a minute?"

Stage direction: Kiss on the cheek. Arturo exits.

What?!?!

That's it. No hot hotel action. No showering. No lingering bedroom shots. No running around in very little clothing like ... say ... all the straight characters.

Nope. None of that for the queers.

Gay = Get off screen as fast as possible before you make anyone nervous.

Go fuck yourself, Lost.

Look Ma, No Pants

If you're a straight guy at a beach bar and you create a commotion dumping a daiquiri in your lap, I supposed you just sit there being embarrassed with ice-cold, soggy genitals and suffer.

If you're a gay guy at a beach bar and you create a commotion dumping a daiquiri in your lap, just parlay the event into the beginning of a show. Calmly get up, remove your shorts and rinse them in the beach shower. Show off your fabulous underwear in the process. Take a bow. Sit back down.



Congratulations. You've just converted embarrassment into several offers for dates.

I love being gay.

Travel Diary of a Moron, Continued

(This post will make more sense if you read the one immediately prior first.)

When I wrote the previous post I thought my travel misadventure had concluded. Pero no. There was more to come.

When I got to my flight, the one two hours later for which I’d volunteered on which I was supposed to be flying first class, I was told I couldn’t have the seat printed on my boarding pass. “That’s the pilot’s seat.”

Um, what? He’s not going to in the cockpit? This bird must have a helluva cruise control.

“We have three pilots.”

So the third one sits in first class and … what? … Pilots the champagne? Pilots the Sandra Bullock movie? What?

But I didn’t say any of that.

So apologies were made, along with further concessions, and I was downgraded back to coach an escorted to the back.

When the flight attendant and I got there, it emerged that an aisle seat was not available because quite a few of the passengers had rearranged themselves to reunite several families. This exasperated the attendant who proclaimed that this just wouldn’t do and began demanding to know where people had started.

The attendant informed everyone that I had been in first class and had suffered the ignominy of a downgrade and was therefore entitled to an aisle. As tensions rose, arguments began, objections were made, the demands, voices were raised and a mother was, quite literally, about to be separated from her two children.

I hadn’t asked or wanted everyone to be dislodged for my comfort. I’d just wanted help finding a seat on a very crowded plane. I had this moment of absolute clarity.

I could now be the hero or the jackass from first class. I picked hero. While I do often enjoy being the magnificent bastard, being just a plain ‘ole bastard is a bummer (Plus, I didn’t want to baby sit.)

In my most magnanimous voice I announced I had no desire to separate this good lady from her children and would be happy to take the only remaining seat, a window.

I was hailed as the savior of Flight 718. The mother thanked me repeatedly over the course of the flight. I was complimented by many. I received more apologies and concessions. The crew gave me freebies the whole flight. And at the end of the flight, one of the attendants, the gay one of course, shoved a bag at me and said, “Your duty free, sir.”

I had purchased no duty free. But this has happened to me before. I knew exactly what was in the bag (left over goodies from first class) and exactly what to do (nonchalantly say thank you and do *not* look at your loot until after exiting the plane).

There’s something about both traveling and putting on a sport jacket that turns me into a gentleman. I find myself using more pleasantries than usual, saying things like, “I’d be most grateful,” “You are too kind”. I call people “ma’am” and “sir” and I perform more acts of random kindness.

What I did on the plane was barely worth notice. I don’t relate it here to hold myself up as some shining example or to seek praise. It was the obvious thing to do … the only thing, really.

My point is this … I like this version of me. I’ve noticed this in the past. And I try to find ways to remind myself to be this “Dale” instead of selfish, pushy, contrary “Dale”. There are many factors that affect which “Dale” shows up on any given day. But the most reliable one is so very simple.

Dress the gentleman, act the gentleman.

I find if I overdress just slightly, whether it’s work, a party or just putting on a jacket when the rest of the tourist schleps are wearing shorts with black socks, I am a better version of myself.

And that feels good.

So let’s make a final accounting of the travel misadventure that started with me missing my flight as a direct result of being a colossal idiot.

If there were any sense in all this, the airline’s attitude to me would have been, “look, stupid white boy, you missed your non-changeable flight ‘cause you’re a moron and you should be on your hands and knees thanking us for getting you to your vacation at all.”

I’d hang my head in shame and accept my well-deserved ridicule.

Instead I walked away with:

Two bottles of wine
A dozen mini-bottles of liquor
A sack full of sweets and munchies
And a whopping one THOUSAND three HUNDRED dollars in free travel vouchers

I win.

Don’t try this at home kids, I am a free travel perks professional.

Me + iPhone = A Very Special Kind of Stupid

Yesterday I went LaGuardia to head to Mexico for my fabulous Mexican scuba holiday. And now ... 24 hours later ... here I sit ... still in America ... at Newark Airport.

I wish I had a great story to tell, like, “A gang of May Kay Stylists hijacked the plane because they ran out Final Net Hairspray on Long Island and it was the fastest way to get to New Jersey.” Alas the explanation is far more mundane.

I am an idiot ... a huge, raving, colossal idiot.

I arrived at the airport a healthy hour in advance and had no problems with check in or security. And then, thanks to listening to music videos on my iPhone, I missed my flight while they paged me repeatedly over the P.A.

I’ve missed subway stops plenty of times thanks to my iPod/iPhone. But never have I missed a plane.

I was terrified that my ultra-not-changeable, not-refundable, frequent-flyer ticket would mean I lost out on my whole holiday. I watched my plane pull away without me. And when I failed to get the standby seat on my last chance to make my connection, I left the airport filled with despair and shame.

But travel gods smiled on me. The airline rebooked me onto a flight the next day, this one non-stop! But it gets even better. I got upgraded to first class and also received $800 from the airline for volunteering to get bumped to a flight 2 hours later. Ever the travel perks schemer, I made them throw in a pass for the first class lounge and a meal.

Stupid never felt so good.

From now on when I arrive at the airport I am setting an alarm on my iPhone twenty minutes before boarding that will interrupt whatever trash, europop boy band videos are conspiring to turn me into a retard.