Sprung

It must be spring. I know this not because the flowers are blooming and the trees are budding. But because within 20 minutes of washing my car yesterday afternoon, it was covered with a fine layer of yellow-green pollen.

Today, it was blue skies and 81 degrees in Memphis.

And it's funny how not only does spring make the world wake up, but people too. More than in springs past, I notice this year how everyone seems to be rubbing the sleep from their eyes, and coming to back to the land of the living.

I've been a little restless and bored the last few weeks, and that's what prompted another template for my site. And I've been too bored with the site to even think about posting much. And because everyone seems to be waking up, there have been a few other things to occupy my time.

There was the Chef's birthday party. While not as wild as last year's Greco-Roman toga orgy, what would a Gaggle gathering be without a theme and costumes? This year's theme was "Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil" and the dress was Southern eccentric. So it was flowers, candles and Southern Comfort punch in JonJon's backyard. And naturally, there was lots of seersucker. And the ladies thought Southern eccentric meant big floppy hats, big swinging necklaces, and lots of makeup. However, I can't believe there wasn't a Lady Chablis. And I think my outfit was more Drum Eatenton in Mayberry.

Last week, I found myself being auctioned off in the Memphis Gay & Lesbian Center's bachelor and bachelorette auction. And there's nothing like the prospect of being sold off to the highest bidder like a piece of furniture to make you feel like either a scratched-up end table or an antique English armoire. However, two grande gin and tonics later, I didn't really care that much. Don't get me wrong, though; I'm pretty impressed with the fact that I brought in $425.

And one of the best moments of the night was when this cute slim character came out on stage, white shirt, tie, short haircut, and glasses. Wade has a soft spot for twinks so he threw up his hand to bid $105.

"Wade, that's a girl!"
"What? No, it's not!"
"Yes, it is."
"Oh dear God, somebody please bid 110."

Tomorrow, Hotass and I are headed to Nashville for a three-day weekend. Hopefully, this will quell any feelings of wanderlust and spring fever for a while

Lastly, a song much less annoying than "Popular" has gotten stuck in my head. While it was intended to be the Dixie Chicks' big giant fuck-you to the conservatives who trashed them after Natalie Maines said they were ashamed to be from the same state as George W. Bush, the song translates pretty well into a big giant fuck-you to anyone who has ever pissed you off, and lets you know it's okay to hold a grudge.

Dixie Chicks - Not Ready to Make Nice

No One Mourns the Wicked

Since he doesn't watch tv or read, I'm not sure how Hotass discovered Wicked. And one of our recent therapy sessions happened to coincide with his purchase of the soundtrack.

Lately, we've had a couple of mutual counseling sessions to help each other figure out life, but the latest one turned into a dissection of the story of Elphaba (aka The Wicked Witch of the West) and Galinda (alias: Glinda the Good Witch).

I read the book and hated it, and because of that, I couldn't understand how the musical could be the least bit entertaining.

So instead of trying to psychoanalyze each other last Thursday, Hotass replaced the video card in his computer, and we listened to Kristin Chenoweth and Idina Menzel.

And I hate to admit that I can't get these fucking songs out of my head. I've downloaded (and that's downloaded legally in case you're wondering) "Popular," "For Good," and "I'm Not that Girl," and they've been in heavy rotation lately.

And it's gotten so bad that instead of driving down Poplar Avenue, I'm now driving down Pop-YooHoo-Lar.

Popular-Wicked Soundtrack

Robbery at the Kodak Theatre

I don't care how hard it is out here for a pimp. It's harder for a trannie.

And that's why Dolly deserved to win Best Song for "Travelin' Thru."

Of course, if a downhome girl from East Tennessee couldn't win, it might as well be some Memphis gangstas representin' the other side of the state.

And I really think Felicity Huffman deserved the best actress award. Come on, she is a woman playing a man turning into a woman. That can't possibly be an easy role. But at least she lost to Reese Witherspoon, who is just cute as a little bottle of buttermilk. I can't rate her perfomance since I didn't see "Walk the Line," but she's just so cute.

I'm not sure I understand the Academy's recognition of Reese and Philip Seymour Hoffman. I'm sure both performances were stellar, but doesn't it seem that it would be easier to play real characters? They had real people to serve as a jumping off point for their roles. Not like Felicity Huffman and Heath Ledger who created their characters basically out of nothing but words on a page.

And did anyone in the world actually see "Crash?" Wasn't that a James Spader movie where people got off on car wrecks?

And it might have been just me but everytime the camera cut to Jake Gyllenhaal, he seemed to be looking at Heath Ledger with the desperate look of unrequited love.

Or maybe it was just the look of sour grapes.

To Flee or Not To Flee?

You barely have time to bask in the afterglow before you start asking yourself the questions about proper trick etiquette.

Should you come and go, and run the risk of being a total cad? Or should you linger a little while, and run the risk of being the one he couldn't get to leave?

If he jumps up to grab a towel, it's a good sign that you should find your pants and hit the door. Which is fine if you don't particularly want to stick around.

What if the pre-foreplay signals said that he was sorta into you, but he's already rummaging for his underwear and putting the lube back in the nightstand drawer before you even had a chance to get your breath?

What if you kinda sorta like him, and he dashes for the stash of towels and starts making the bed? How much uncomfortable small talk do you have to make while you dress, and still get your point across that you'd like to see him again and not seem desperate?

What if he wants to cuddle and you don't? How many uncomfortable minutes have to pass before it's okay to excuse yourself? And aren't the excuses like "I've got an early day" or "I've got to let the dog out" a little transparent?

If you like him and you think he likes you, how do you politely decline an invitation to stay because you really do have a legitmate reason (or maybe you just aren't up for a sleepover) and not seem like you're making stuff up?

If it's your place, and you're not into him, how do you not make it obvious that you're ready for him to leave and still be a polite host?

How come Miss Manners never addressed this? Or should you just go back to thinking with your dick?