Some Excellent Live Eurovision Blogs

The majority of the referrals to the site are for Eurovision fans or just mere curious (we won't talk about SWWNBN's pervs), so to help out and give some hits to guys who are the eyes and ears for all of us in Kiev/Kyiv, here are some links to fan/press blogs covering the contest:

• All Kinds of Everything
• Eurovision Kazakhstan Euroweek (much respect to Andy as he's covering the event in both Russian and English)
• OnEurope

Splash Post-Mortem: The Queer As Folk Edition

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Mommy, make the bad men go away

I just got back from seeing Enron: The Smartest Guys In The Room. Lord, I have never felt so rattled by a film since the death scene in Bambi. A powerful argument against deregulation of public utilities, to say the least. The section of the documentary that deals with the California power crisis is particularly alarming, and suggests that Schwartzenegger might have very well been in cahoots with Enron in his power grab for the governship. Go see it.

Day 3 without a cigarette

Well, it seems the lord giveth and taketh away. On the upside, I flip to the New York Daily News's website and read that David Biancculli has rightfully torn NBC's fall lineup a new one. On the downside, Good Day New York has decided that this week, we must have Mike Woods and various citizens of the Tri-State Area sing (horribly) during the weather forecast. Usch, this is the reason why I do not watch the majority of Today.

This is not what I need in the morning, particularly these mornings when my only recourse is chomping away at a piece of Nicorette to death. Not to mention, I'm getting a bit nervous about whether I'll be able to watch this year's Eurovision on TV, since there is no mention of it on the schedule on TVE Internacional's website, at least none that my Spanish-deficient self can decipher. The Capri 120s on my desk are looking so tempting right now. The real challenge will be if I can survive later on today when I go to see the new Enron documentary after working out.

There may be a sudden increase in angry postings

As per the surgeon's request, I gave up smoking this past Sunday (a little less than the mandatory two weeks but close). At first, I thought this was a bunch of hokum, but after reading some of the reasons why, I think I'm going to have to follow the damn rules this time.

This is not going to be pleasant whatsoever. I understand roid rage now.

Chelsea: It's not just a neighbourhood, it's a state of mind

Seen and heard this afternoon at my gym:

Three middle aged men, two of them with spare tires, the other one a little more in shape. They are all looking at the scale.

Man #1: This can't be right. I don't think this is working.
Man #2: Are you sure?
Man #1: Well, look at the balance. It's not balanced.
(Gestures over to Man #3)
Man #1: Look at this. The balance is...oh wait, it's balanced. But something's definitely wrong. Try it.
Man #3: I don't weigh myself.
Man #2: So you don't know your weight?
Man #1: Still, try it.
Man #3: Well, I don't know my weight, so I couldn't tell you if it's right or not.
Man #2: Why don't you weigh yourself?
(Man #3 shoots a Joan Crawford-esque look at the others)
Man #3: I really don't want to know what it is.

I hate to say this, but this could be read by teenage girls.

Sign me up for this!

I don't know what their doctrine is, but if that's what they call their convention then praise Jesus!

Jiminy!

The organisers of LA Pride must be delusional. Yet somehow, it's an oddly appropriate choice for LA.

I'm Still A Millionaire, Wanker

Channel 4 (UK) has a brilliant albeit controversial advertisement featuring celebrities swearing. Grab a pen and paper and see how many times your favourite swear pops up.

Attention BA: This would get Americans flying to London in droves rather than assuming that we are too dumb to know what a car park, pavement, and scorcher mean.

Splash-Rawhide Post-Mortem

A miracle! I did not get harrassed at Splash! Alas, I was the victim of painfully slow service, but more importantly I did not get harrassed!

Unfortunately, due to the slow service (I've been alternating between sections, and now I know where I can sit down have a drink and get it in good time) I wound up going to Rawhide. Why Rawhide? Well, I could say that it's because I'm as old as the bar. Which is true, but not the motivation. The real motivation frankly is because I have read stories of Anderson Cooper and Steve Bartlestein going there. Dammit, I want to say to my children that I saw a gay newscaster in a bar in Chelsea!

Unfortunately, I guess the newsmen don't come on go-go boy night. Instead, I got hit on by a Daniel Liebskind-lookalike who claimed to be an artistic director at an ad agency. That is all fine and dandy, except that he constantly declared his love (not lust, but love) for me.

You can only shake up your Tuesday night routine only so much.

Inside a critic's mind

Howard Kissel, the Daily News theatre critic, offers a revealing look into what makes critics give a rave. I have to say that I mostly agree with him, especially on the subject of transporting the audience to an exotic place. A play should really transport you sight and sound into a place different than a theatre. That would sound like a good argument for film as opposed to theatre, but actually, I think that theatre has the upper-hand over film because it is a live experience.

I should probably admit that I haven't seen a show on or off Broadway in at least a year. Why? The current crop seems to fail miserably in being enchanting or seductive enough to make me part with the cash. Hopefully, the next season will be better.

You're next, Jimmy!

The Journal-Sentinel has a scathing (and rightfully so) article on Representative James Sensenbrenner, who is the Senior member of Wisconsin's delegation to the House. The article states that Sensenbrenner is tops amongst WI representatives in terms of expensive junkets. He claims that all of his trips were related to work, especially as Chairman of the House Judiciary Committee. (Yes, he was one of the idiots who led the charge to impeach Bill Clinton.) I fail to see how visting Liechtenstein TWICE is critical to American security.

He also happens to be "my representative,"* despite the fact that myself, my mother, and the scant few other Democrats in Ozaukee and Washington Counties have been trying to get this fool out of office for as long as I can remember.


*I vote absentee whenever possible and I know that it matters. The first national election I participated in was 2000, where Wisconsin went to Gore by only 500 or so votes, including absentee ballots. In 2004, I voted in New York, which had more to do with the fact that I had just registered here in order to vote for the mayoral election. Next major state election, I'm going right back to voting absentee for Wisconsin. My rationale is simple, my mother still lives there, so what goes down in WI does affect me. Plus, it really does make a difference.

Fun time at Parliament

The CBC (blissful sigh) has a hilarious selection of political insults hurled between MPs during Question Time in Ottawa. It makes you wish that Bush had to meet with Congress on a daily basis, just see what some Congressional memebers would say. Not to mention the absolute fun time it would be to see him defend his Social Security reform.

Oh ya, Milwaukee dat's a happening hotspot, don'cha know?

Even though I liked it better when it was two newspapers, my old hometown newspaper, the Milwaukee Journal-Sentinel is always a funny read. Take a look at this article on nightlife in Brew City.

I know this might make me seem like a snooty New Yorker, but if you grew up there, you'll know why I find this hilarious. Nightlife has always been notoriously bad.

Gay News Roundup

Two articles really stood out this morning as I read New York's two gay weekly papers:

The New York Blade has an article on the upcoming trio of Gay TV networks we will be getting. I'm just taking a stab in the dark here, but I'm assuming that Time Warner has a near vice-like grip on the 5 boroughs, because the only time I had RCN as an option (and yes, I took it) was when I lived in Morningside Heights. This is quite the disadvantage, because Time Warner is only airing LOGO, which is the Viacom supported channel, even though it has here TV (listen, the channel writes it lowercase) on pay-per-view. If we get Lifetime and all of its channels, plus WE, and Oxygen, can't we get a trio of gay ones as well?

The Gay City News has the strangest article that I've been trying to decifer. On one hand, it seems to be talking about some bar on Avenue A called Boysroom where I guess boys get drunk and watch go-go boys cavort about. (Eh, I get the same at Splash and it's closer. Not to mention that I find new-to-the-city NYU students for the most part...loud and annoying.) However, it seems to be considering it a gay parallel to frat house-style partying. Okay, I'm dumb. If someone out there can explain what the point of this article is, I'd be very grateful.

Plastic Surgeon's Office: A Metaphor for Gotham Society?

Yesterday, I spent a good chunk of the afternoon at the plastic surgeon's office for a consultation.

(I will get into the specifics as the day of surgery arrives, but for now, suffice to say that I believe that cosmetic surgery should only be used to subtract and normalise, not to turn into a Jocelyn Wildenstein freak. Google that name and be prepared to be horrified.)

Since I'm very paranoid about being on-time, I wound up getting there too early and spending some time in the waiting room. What a cast of characters! It was a therapist's wet dream:

• A man dressed straight out of the Lands End catalogue, who got increasingly more uncomfortable as time wore on and he realised that he had no reading material, and therefore might be forced to read Blender or Radar.
• A loud abrasive and spoiled high school or college student. (I know I'm getting old, since they are all beginning to look the same) She dropped her cell phone and nasally made a joke to the very charming and level-headed receptionist saying "you didn't call, like, Bangladesh, or something?" She was accompanied by a bleach blond friend who stayed on her own cell phone the whole entire time. It makes me wonder how terrified they must be to actually deal with someone face-to-face.
• A flaming red-headed woman in the throes of middle age, but desperately trying hold onto a youth that has long since left her. She name-dropped P. Diddy and other big social names while caressing her face to smooth out wrinkles that the Botox didn't hit. Once she sat down, she started typing away on her Sidekick like her life depended on aping Paris Hilton.
• A man in a business suit, trying to act all tough and masculine, but appearing like he was just constipated.
• And then there's me: Sitting in the corner, flashing bare ankle (the second Spring comes, off go my socks) and trying to write without bursting into laughter.

I'm Still A Millionaire (XXXXXX)

John Rocker, that beacon of tolerance, is now playing with some minor league team out in Long Island. Apparently he had an interesting exchange with someone in the stands.

I'm hoping "I'm Still A Millionaire (chose your own expletive)" becomes the new stoned college student phrase du jour.


So here's the quick and ranting Splash post-mortem: For once I was going to have company on my Splash night--Garrett. Was trying to sit down and enjoy the videos but was hit upon consistently by a drunk lawyer. Received text message from Garrett that he was running late. The transition over to a club began and I switched places to the far side of the bar, which has more space. I placed my sweater on the seat next to me. All of a sudden a group of drunk and rude Germans plop down next to me, bumping the sweater off. Only when I pick it up, does it occur to them that maybe an apology is required. Instead one of them looks at me with this dazed look in his eyes and says "are yooooou angry?" I give my best passive-aggressive smile and say "no, not at all."

What I should've said: "I'm Still A Millionaire, ya drunk asshole."

Halfway there book review: One Night Stand

I've been reading One Night Stand for the past week right before I go to sleep. I don't quite know what to make out of it. On one hand, this book is clearly not War & Peace and therefore shouldn't be examined on a deeper level; but, on the other hand, sometimes these little stretches of reality irk me.

The stretch of reality with One Night Stand is that I really don't buy Derek's (the lead character) sanctimonous attitude.

Here's a fairly spoiler-free summary of what I've read so far: Derek is a 23 year old handsome, muscular (I think author Ben Tyler means muscular in the lean sense) aspiring actor in Los Angeles, working as a waiter. When the restaurant he works at suddenly shuts, Derek scrambles to find another source of income. In desperation he takes out an ad in a local gay magazine as a legitmate masseur. Derek stays firm in his refusual to give "happy endings." Eventually he meets up with Tom, a client who he does sleep with (because he wants to). Tom, in turn, introduces Derek to a movie star who wants to take Derek on as his toy boy. Derek reluctantly agrees.

I am majorly summarising things here, because there are pages and pages of Derek being all moral and what have you, which is just annoying. Likewise, there's this romance with his ex-coworker Juan that just seems to come out of nowhere. Not to mention, it's a bit unnerving how Juan still refers to Derek as "Boss."

Nonetheless, I am going to give this a shot and finish it to the end, because despite the shaky way to the middle, the road to the end might be much more satisfying.

Happy May Day

It's May Day. I'm a Socialist. I'm in New York. So, voila.

You'd Better Run and Hide

(Courtesy of Germany's song "Run and Hide" Funny that.)

I really did not want to comment on the whole runaway bride media circus in Georgia, but geez...14 bridesmaids and 600 guests? How unnecessarily ostentatious is that? I'd want to escape that hellish wedding too--especially if I had to beard for some fruity branch of a Southern family.

Not that this lady gets that much sympathy from me. Did she have to mention the race of her fake kidnappers? That's a screwy value system that uses racism to cover up for your own neuroses.

By the way, if you saw Saturday Today this morning, you got the hilarious treat of watching Lester Holt & Campbell Brown get gradually more confused as the story unfolded. First, it was "Yay! She's alive." Second it was "Oh, she may not have been kidnapped." Finally it was "I don't get it...She made this all up." Absolutely funny to watch them try to be perky and perplexed at the same time.

If you can, take a brief moment to pause and reflect on the War in Vietnam. As in most wars, there were no winners. As you may remember, my late father was a Vietnam vet and POW. I often wish that I knew what exactly occurred to him there, but perhaps his greatest gift to me was shielding me from some of the horrors that I think may have replayed in his mind on an all too frequent basis.