Atticus West

Houston and Rita

2005-09-26T18:03:00.000-07:00

FRIDAY NIGHT:
Yeah! Reports are that we will miss the bulk of the hurricane. There is still the real threat of tropical forces winds and heavy rain. We expect some of Houston to be without power.

The hospital is like a summer camp. With so many doctors and staff, and almost NO patients, we’re sitting around playing cards and watching television. I go to bed when someone breaks out the Taboo board.

I am given an air-mattress, pillow, and blanket. My choices are to sleep in my office (an interior room with no windows!) or in a large room with cots lined end-to-end. Most people choose their offices.

John and our friends call me to tell me what a party they’re having! They made sloppy joes, watched movies, and are playing spades. Everyone is relieved that the hurricane has by-passed us, but they plan to remain together to monitor the rain and wind damage.

SATURDAY MORNING:
Pretty anti-climactic. There are strong wind gusts, but only slight rain. We are under a tropical storm advisory until 4pm.

My biggest plan for the morning is to figure our where to shower and get a cup of coffee. Everything is closed, but they say they will provide breakfast at 8:30am. I don’t know when they’ll send me home, but hopefully later this afternoon.

Thanks for riding out the storm with me! I feel very lucky to have such a wonderful family.

P.S. Fill up your gas tanks now, because many oil refineries were destroyed and gas prices are expected to rise.

Hurricane email from Houston hospital

2005-09-23T12:54:00.000-07:00

My brother just emailed me from a hospital in Houston:

Hey, dude.

I don’t have access to the rest of my email list, but this server is still up and running. Could you forward this to the whole family?

HURRICANE UPDATE - THURSDAY

John and I spent the past two days weather-proofing our house. Houston has been crazy: there is no bottled water, plywood, batteries, or gasoline. When shipments come in, there are 3-5 hour lines to get supplies, and you’re not guaranteed to get anything before they run out.

We managed to find a handy-man to board up some of our more exposed windows. We have some pretty strong storm windows on the rest of the house.

FRIDAY

The roads have been jammed for the past 24 hours. People have been sitting in their cars on the freeways for over 12 hours. With no gas and food, people are forced to turn around and return home or sit by the side of the road and wait for emergency services to provide some gas or direct them to hastily-erected relief shelters. The mayor announced if you have not left by last night, you should be prepared to weather the storm.

John decided to invited some friends to our house. We made a central shelter in our living room, which can be blocked off from any windows, and moved all of our bottled water, food, and cat supplies. We filled lots of buckets with water for sanitary purposes. The weather service announced the first thunderstorms would move in around noon, and the bulk of the storm will hit sometime between 2am-6am.

I reported to work for a 72 hour shift. Fearing the total devastation of the city, Texas Children’s organized all available staff into two shifts: the “riders” who will remain in the hospital for 72 hours and the “relief team” who will report on Sunday (if possible.) I arrived at noon to find all the parking lots had been filled up. I managed to find one of the last spots in the outermost garage (on the fifth floor, thank goodness). The hospital told me to bring enough food and water to last myself three days. They have set up dormitory-style air mattresses for people when they are not working. Most people are sitting around, resting, waiting for their shifts to start.

We don’t anticipate any power loss or structural damage in the hospital itself, although we’re pretty much ready for anything. The biggest concern is after the hurricane has passed, when people seeking medical care and shelter could quickly overwhelm our capacity.

I send out another update when I can.

Thank you for all your love and support.

Carl

NASA finds new planet further than Pluto, can I name it?

2005-08-01T10:31:00.000-07:00

NASA announced that they found a new planet today. It's supposed to be bigger than Pluto and three times as far from the sun. What's more impressive is that it hasn't been named yet. Recommendations have been submitted to the International Astronomical Union. The nerds will probably pick Ceres. If they're cool they'll pick Bacchus. This is assuming they stick to the traditional Roman god names like Mars, Neptune, Saturn, etc. I'm hoping for a really kick-ass name like Minerva or Diana. Go Wonder Woman!

Read more at NASA.

Artist recreation of the new planet (left) and the sun (bright thing to the right). Image credit: NASA/JPL-Caltech

Battlestar Galactica bullet wound to the stomach

2005-07-29T15:41:00.000-07:00

The best show on television is Battlestar Galactica. Sci-fi fans are not the only ones addicted to the drama and twists and turns of this show and no self-respecting gay man would admit to liking a Friday night show; yet here I am.

The season finale aired on network TV two weeks ago — which you can see here, thanks to SCIFI — and since then I've seen it twice. Per day. It's. That. Good.

Episodes air on Friday night at 10/9 central. Great — now I've got to get TiVo 'cause I ain't staying home on a Friday night.

PS My birthday is on Thursday, August 4. The eight days and eight nights of celebrating me has already begun! I feel like myself again — self-centered and shallow — no more of that nerdy sci-fi crap. Until 10pm tonight of course.

"Friendster" of the Rich and Famous: aSmallworld.net

2005-07-28T14:30:00.000-07:00

It boasts to contain "the most popular restaurants, hotels, and night clubs in over 60 major cities" including St. Tropez, Sydney, Sao Paulo, Zurich, and Shanghai.

You can only be invited for the most part, but man having access to party, festival, exclusive sporting events, and the worlds most popular, well-connected, and most wealthy has got to be awesome.

Welcome to aSmallWorld.net.

Wired reports that there are 68,000 socialites, princes and barons, on aSmallWorld's database, including Paris Hilton. They all share the same social circles, hang-outs, and resorts. aSmallWorld wants to become the leading "global social networking community."

So where's my invite, bitches?

Buying "Cummings" at Sephora in Scottsdale, Arizona

2005-07-28T11:53:00.000-07:00

In June I posted a photo of Alan Cumming's new fragrance, Cumming. I found it for sale on Sephora. But buying Cummings is about the most embarrassing thing I've ever done.

I walked in with my friend Gavin, just to see if they had it. It was more of a dare, but really, I had to do it. We walked all the way in, and towards the back. I've only been to the entrance of Sephora before, the store is laid out in a long gauntlet of aromatic shelves and the most absurd amount of make-up I've ever seen which is a lot because I know a few drag queens. We probably were not the first guys to walk in because I was attacked by sales women trying to sell me shit I didn't need. Seriously, I don't need Sean Paul Gautier perfume — I really don't.

I scurried into the back shelves, where the thankfully, the men's products were organized. Quickly I realized I was going to have to ask someone for help.

Shit.

I found a girl who didn't look intimating while Gavin conveniently hid behind some counter and played with cotton balls unbeknown to me.

"Excuse me, do you have Alan Cummings, new fragrance: Cummings?" I asked in my most friendly voice.

"Huh? HEY GIRLS, THIS GUY wants to know if WE HAVE a PERFUME called CUMMINGS?" she shouted across the store. I looked behind me, couldn't see Gavin and realized I was all alone with 10 women staring at me plus all the customers in the area.

I think I muttered a stream of profanities under my breath. I tried to control the situation a bit by saying I saw it online and that they did have it. But really, she just wanted to yell out "THIS GUY WANTS CUMMINGS" across the room. There wasn't anything I could have done to ease my pain.

Gavin reappeared a few moments later with a fuck'n amused smile on his face.

I forgave him soon after, he's a cute bastard. And the Sephora lady and I laughed for a while, too, before she confessed that her favorite part of the job is helping someone find a perfume called "Banged."

***
Check out the Cumming commercial, but maybe not at work.

HOW Design Conference photo booth

2005-06-17T15:47:00.000-07:00

The HOW Design Conference in Chicago had a photo booth this year. I convinced my friends Cody and Laurie to cram themselves into the booth with me. Here's our story:

Photo #1: Laurie, Cody, and I sit in the booth. I'm jealous that Cody got the sombrero and I got the viking helmet.
Photo #2: (sigh) Yes, I'm the one in the viking helmet.
Photo #3: And damnit, I LOVE MY VIKING HELMET.
Photo #4: Laurie's leaves too early and will forever be known as breast woman. Cody seems amused that her book is bigger than his face.

Later that weekend I dragged Amanda into the booth with me. God, I love taking photos.

Photo #1: We are so fuck'n pretty. God it hurts.
Photo #2: Just kidding, we're not that vain!
Photo #3: In fact, we're dorks ... dorks who are fuck'n pretty!
Photo #4: And we'll eat you if you don't agree.

HOW not to piss off your idol

2005-06-17T15:17:00.000-07:00

Stefan Sagmeister is the Elvis of the graphic design world. He's a graphic design rock star and his popularity is only equal to this brilliant talent. He once carved the text for an invitation into his skin (think bloody chest and visible pubes) and promoted a fashion boutique with text made out of toilet paper. His commercial work is in high demand yet he took a year sabbatical to just ... think.

At the HOW Design Conference this weekend I got the chance to meet him — I knew this was a one in a lifetime opportunity and I only had a few seconds to make the best impression possible.

From a few feet away, I could tell he had an accent. I was talking with a Swiss friend prior to meeting Sagmeister, she asked me to find out if he, too was either Swiss or maybe German.

Me: Hi! How's it going?
Sagmeister: Great? How are you?
(Sagmeister signs my book.)
M: Oh, fine. Thanks! So are you Swiss? Or German?
S: (quickly) Niether! I'm Austrian.
M: (thinking: you pissed him off, dumbass) Oh, well what's in your iPod right now?
S: (annoyed) My iPod just got stolen on the way here.
M: (thinking: change the subject!) Can I take a picture with you?
S: Sure — ah
(click)
M: Thanks!

I bolted away from him and got out of site as quickly as possible. Later that weekend I saw him standing up — he's massive. He's like six and half feet tall. Like all rock stars.

Message from Spain

2005-06-07T14:16:00.000-07:00

***A special message from Michael currently in Spain for a semester***

Imagine it: 04 of June, me all cute in my best knock off armani shorts, Puma flip flops and guccy swim bag (yes with a y). I am walking with a slow and steady technique across the Barcoleta beach, which is famed for its nudity and its large community of gay men. Spain is beautiful.

I walk with much granduer past the several gawking gay men and settle myself to the right side of the lifeguard pole. I lay out my mat, my book, my lotion and Im all prepared for a casual day in the sun. As I peek over my DKNY glasses that I just purchased from an Islamic man for 5 euros, I notice that all the men around me are about 18-20 years old and are surrounded by several men of much more maturity. They are being massaged, cigarettes are being lit, and caresses to the groin are noticeable.

I am then approached by a man about 50 years old and asked in Catalan, "Quanto costa?" Since, I have been shopping here in Barcelona for a week now, I know that means "How much does it cost!" He thought I was a whore. A simple, well dressed and nicely tanned prostitute.

I later discovered that only the men for hire set on the right side of the guardpole, and the other decent horny homos sit on the left side. My reputation in spain is now tarnished cause im a cheap hooker...

I miss you,

Michael

Paulina Rubio and Ryan Seacrest are dating

2005-06-06T12:51:00.000-07:00

Mexican sensation/goddess Paulina Rubio is dating Ryan Seacrest. According to US Weekly, she persued him. Which makes sense because women from the US think he's gay. Mexicans, however, they like their men pretty ... like me.

"Don't say good-bye"

Paulina Rubio, international wonder and self-proclaimed "Golden Girl"

Cumming, the fragrance by Alan Cumming

2005-06-06T12:33:00.000-07:00

Get your bottle of Cumming today at Sephora.
3.4 oz Eau de Toilette Spray suggested retail value: $69

From a gay/latino frat boy himself...

2005-04-29T13:50:00.000-07:00

Last week's gay/latino frat party entry did not go unnoticed. Here's an email from my favorite lock-picking frat boy in Minnesota:

...my gay, Latino frat parties were not as clear cut as you mapped out. Oddly, enough there were a few similiaries. JLO and Drag queens were not any of them.

However, I'd like to share my experience.

M. M. Latino, Gay Rush Week:

Monday: Meet/Greet, Potluck, check out new recruits... who would be good brothers... who would be good in bed? Ends with watching Porn on common room's TV

Tuesday: Kegger/Martis/Pot/ Extacsy... Everyone gets pretty wasted and allows for mutual straight boy on boy touching... nothing gay about that?

Wednesday: Cook out/football... great opportunity to feel up brothers sober... Ends with watching Porn on common room's TV

Thursday: Stripper Night... get the boys honed up... force a strip down... streak run... ending at my bathroom with how many brothers can we fit into the showers... whole time taking pictures to whack off to later
Friday: Bigger Brother contest... Brothers whip it out to measure who has the bigger dick. Helps in forming good nicknames when pledges are accepted (i.e: Meat, Horse, Thimble, or Pencil Dick)
Ends with watching Porn on common room's TV

Saturday: Bars.. ends with four brothers, one girl, porn and lots of lube

Sunday: Watching football, golf, and PORN on common room's TV
I certainly think my Rush Experience was a lot more fun.

Coco's Baptism in Bham

2005-04-19T07:02:00.000-07:00

I like Jennifer and I can totally understand her pain in leaving Brad. But breakdowns at a baptism? That's unfortunate.

jen went down with courtney and david for it...as some of yall know since they were spotted at the highlands. but here is the juicy part...they had some people over for dinner and after a couple glasses of wine jen started to lose it! she was saying that she didnt' want to divorce brad but didn't have a choice because he had slept with jolie (that is what she calls her). anyways she kept having crying spouts and courtney finally turned to her and said "i thought you promised you weren't going to do this"!

Gay Frat Parties

2005-04-14T16:22:00.000-07:00

Hip hop music booms across the courtyard today. The Latino Frat is promoting their organization again. "Latin" and "Frat" are not the most common words normally used together. Then again, "Gay" and "Frat" are not usually used together either but three groups at school can claim that one, too.

So what do these frats do other than play hip hop in front of the Student Union Building or watch TiVoed Queer As Folk and play drinking games? I have no idea, but I have some ideas.

Gay Rush week:

Monday: Beauty night slumber party (bring your own pampering gels and lotions) meet and greet
Tuesday: ~~Kegger~~ Marti party
Wednesday: Gay.com blind hook-up double dare
Thursday: Scavenger hunt (from gay bar to gay bar) that ends with mandatory streaking in front of
Friday: 7 mintues in heaven/Spin the bottle with other Gay frats on campus
Saturday: Karaoke (read: impromptu skag drag shows) to Spice Girls, Britney, or Jill Scott, and JLo — bad performances will not be invited back
Sunday: Invitation only hot tub party sponsored by WET

Latin Rush week:

Monday: La Raza potluck, meet-and-greet
Tuesday: Watch JLO videos at Roberto's house
Wednesday: DJ Raggeaton cook out
Thursday: Smoke out and stripper night (white girls only)
Friday: Celia Cruz festival (Anthony, the Frat president's older brother will be dress as Celia in drag complete with a white wig.)
Saturday: Lowrider show
Sunday: Invitation only Juanes concert

Now that I think about it, both are pretty gay. And gay, straight, Latino, or stereotypically white, all frats do have something in common: a love for JLo. And dragqueens.

Naming Britney's Baby: Nyla or Cheeto?

2005-04-13T14:46:00.000-07:00

You voted America! According to Entertainment Weekly's poll twenty percent of us (including me!) want Britney and Kevin to name their forthcoming child "Nyla." Hardcore Spears fans will note that "Nyla" was the name of her failed restaurant. Choosing "Nyla" over the moniker "Cheeto" was a difficult decision for me. Then again, who knows what her baby's daddy will make of it on their upcoming UPN reality show. You know they read big of gossip about them. There hasn't been anything this exciting since Mary Kate Olsen checked herself into the fat farm. I'm so excited!

Car crashes are sexy

2005-04-12T22:54:00.000-07:00

Joss Stone is the new poster child for Gap jeans now that Sara Jessica Parker's three-year contract has finisehd. And why not? She can fly through a windshield and still look sexy. Well, I think the dude actually makes her new music video pretty hot. So. F'ing. Hot.

But Stone's new video for Spoiled doesn't make sense to me. And if it wasn't for the male model I might not have replayed it five billion times today.

I was hoping Joss could answer a few questions for me:

Can you explain how the cute boy steals the teddy bear from you while shards of glass whizes past (but never touches) you?
Why does it take one third of song to crash a car in a cute guy?
Did Mariah Carey instruct you on how to make your hair flow all crazy around you while the rest of world comes to a screeching halt? 'Cause that's like magick.

Incredible Easter Eggs

2005-04-12T07:54:00.000-07:00

The best gift I recieved from a fan last month was the Incredibles on DVD. The best gift this month was finding all the Easter Eggs hidden on the two disks. If Jack Jack Attack wasn't enough for you then check out all the hidden features.

To find the Easter Eggs wait for the omnidrod to appear in the upper right hand corner of the menu screens. If you're watching it on your computer you can just click on it. If you are watching it on a regular DVD player you'll have to position your pointer on the very last selection of the screen, then once the omnidroid appears press down to select it and hit play — like really fast. Not all screens have them, and they appear after 20 seconds.

I'm still trying to find the Sock Puppet version of the film, so if anyone finds it, let me know. Happy hunting!

For more secrets look here or here.

Britney and Kevin on UPN

2005-04-11T16:36:00.000-07:00

Britney and Kevin will star in their own UPN show. Maybe you’ve seen it, it was called Nick and Jessica a few years ago.

DDR

2005-04-11T16:25:00.000-07:00

I finally beat a level at that Dance Dance Revolution thing. My dignity is long gone and I had so much fun loosing it.

N.O. is the new OC

2005-01-03T13:48:00.000-07:00

As in any trip with Merce there was a cute def guy, this time his name was J. He was a cute boy from Mississippi (a Latin OC Luke lookalike) his hearing aids glowed in black-light, which I would have never noticed if he hadn't leaned in each time I said something. God, he had an amazing jaw. (Some guys are breast guys, some are size queens, I ... like jaw lines and side burns.)

Our bed and breakfast in New Orleans was actually quite nice and not as scary as you'd think considering Michael made the reservations online (after Google-ing the words "gay men New Orleans" — but that's Michael for you).

He'll also tell you that he didn't have sex in a dark warehouse, "IT WAS AN ABANDONED HOUSE!" because somehow, that sounds classier as in "model home in Orange County". Or at least it's supposed to, but like I said, that's Michael for you.

Sexploits aside, he's a good kid. Not that sex is bad, because it's not, but ... oh hell, he looks younger than both Merce and me but he's neither younger or less entertaining. For instance: he called the b & b's front desk five times before we could find it. They knew our names and personalities before we even arrived. He befriended the check-in lady, I befriended the night staff. His connections gave us extra towels, mine gave us expensive Marti Gras beads. We also befriended three sisters from Texas, who we called the Lunch Ladies. We shared stories about our stay, more specifically we traded scandalous stories from the previous day for food and tour recommendations — a fair trade, I'd say. We have tons of stories, but to make them we need to be very well fed.

The rest the hotel room gave us was the other important factor. Our room was tiny, there was no full length mirror, or panel to panel vanity station in the bathroom. There was no tub, and no seating space save for the king sized bed. The walls were purple and the fireplace didn't work, it was for show only; and what we wouldn't give to spend one more week there in what was in our mind the perfect trip.

At one point I arranged to have both Merce and Michael out for dinner so I could have quality time with Dan, a 5'8" blue/blonde boy from back home in Chino ... I mean Yuma. I didn't kick them out, I'm not a bastard, I was looking out for them. They shouldn't be spending so much time watching the first season of the OC on DVD. Granted they should be schooled in the exciting world of Ryan, Marissa, Seth, Summer, and of course all things Chrismakuh. But once they start talking like Summer I know I've done my job. "Okay, ew."

I wouldn't call Michael the slut of our group, that wouldn't be entirely accurate as you well know. But I, myself am more of the dating type. We both collected guy's numbers but I was happy to schedule two official dates with Aaron and Dan (and a handful of spontaneous pseudo-dates in between).

There were sluts in New Orleans, don't get me wrong. There were the gorgeous and hairless-eighteen-year-old-looking-strippers who danced on the bar. Actually, I'm sure most of them were older than that, but a 5'9" twenty-some year old guy with an amazing swimmer's body and boyish good looks dancing in Spiderman underoos is kinda ... well, hot. So in some way's I'm an OC Seth Cohen type, only instead of Wonder Woman lasso of truth fantasies, mine have more to do with male web-slingers.

He was breathtaking too — that stripper — especially when I saw him taking a break, alone, smoking his cigarette across the street in his second story loft. I met some locals who went to high school with him; I found out his name, his age, and a juicy tid bit that he's quite the nelly boy when he talks, despite his attempt to keep quite and drop it like it's hot. On the other hand, I could live without the fake bulge in his "shorthes." (That's the phonetic Spanglish equivalent for "tightee-whities" for all you non-Latinos ;) I'm sorry for all the old geezers who actually believed he was that well endowed or a top.

The staff behind the bar was also quite extraordinary. Lawrence gave me free drinks every time I waited in his line. They also let me bypass the line to get inside the club with my handy VIP pass. I believe this made me the Cameron Diaz (from The Sweetest Thing) and not the Selma Blair that they thought I was. (By the way, Michael still has to dry-clean that shirt he borrowed due to a certain black light reflective stain he acquired in an abandoned warehouse — okay, ew.)

Merce, Michael, and I had a perfect trip. We got our fill of the Bayou, we ate soup with half a crab sticking out, and we didn't have to drive anywhere — except out of the parking lot. Michael claimed he could back out better than he could drive forward through the converted stable which now housed cars. We dodged all the walls, but damnit if Michael didn't at least back into the only trash can dragging into the street with us and laughing the entire time — but that's Michael for you.

From the bathroom in New Orleans

2004-12-30T01:03:00.000-07:00

iPod your very own photo for $20

2004-12-20T16:14:00.000-07:00

Don't ask me who these gay guys are. My calf muscles are not that big.

Now for those of you with any designer know-how or Photoshop 101 class, this may seem like a sham, but mostly it's a gut wrenching feeling of "why didn't I think of doing this?"

Yet Kevin Muoio and Dave Schroeder of ipodmyphoto.com are revolutionizing the holiday card this year. For $20 you can get your very own photo ipod-"ed."

You can also get t-shirts, gift cards and baby portraits from the site.

But if you want me to do it, I'll gladly take your $20.

The Lohdown: Lindsay Hospitalized

2004-10-26T21:36:00.000-07:00

Let us all pray for Lindsay's quick recovery.

She's in the hospital now with a mysterious illness. Production of latest movie has stopped, she's rescheduling her cameo appearance on That 70's Show.

Lohan's publicist Leslie Sloan released information that Lindsay has a 103 degree fever.

It's gotta be stress.

The girl is filming Herbie during the day, working on her sitcom on the weekends, and recording her album at night. Who wouldn't be stressed out? The girl's a model of efficiency and applied talent.

Get better Lindsay. Don't rush the album. We can watch your "Rumors"; video on iTunes and watch Mean Girls on DVD in the meantime.

Note: If you're a subscriber or AOL member you can read more about this at Entertainment Weekly.

Ashlee Simpson's SNL fuck-up

2004-10-24T22:56:00.000-07:00

*An open letter to Ashlee Simpson*

Dear Ashlee,

You can't sing. You can't improvise. You can't dance. You can't even perform with pre-recorded vocals.

It's official - you really don't have ANY talent. I've been willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. Your first single was fun, and unlike your sister, it hit number one on the Billboard chart. Congrats. You're famous only because you have a busty older blond sister (who breaths lyrics rather than sings them which is totally annoying by the way).

You wouldn't be here today if Jessica wasn't your sister. And it's outrageous (and egotistical) of you to say otherwise. It's almost as outrageous as saying you make "punk" music. YOU ARE SO POP MISS SIMPSON! Don't try to act like you're something other than a manufactured trend. You are anything but counter-culture like to claim to be.

You father markets you as the anti-Jessica, we get it. But unless you shave your head or make some really original music, you're still bubble gum pop. Your guitar heavy band only makes you guitar heavy bubble gum pop, not rock.

And what was with the whole Ryan Carraba thing? How could you date him? You know he's a woman right? He's hot but he's totally a chick. His hair even has more volume than yours. Never date a man with better hair than your own.

So if you want to be noticed, you can keep doing what she did last night on Saturday Night Live. It's bad publicity, but any publicity is good for you right now since you won't be making fans from your wide vocal range. Your lack of vocal expertise and weak song-writing ability only supports your role as a manufactured star with no talent.

Here's what happened in case you forgot. After singing "Pieces of Me" and going to commercial, your band started playing the exact same song for your second number. First the shock set in, the dubbed lyrics played as you stared into the camera. The song was going on and your lips were SO. NOT MOVING. You then walk off the stage and the band continues to play their hearts out. SNL goes to commercial half-way into the set. When the credits roll at the end of the show, you have the audacity to blame it on the band! You claim they started the wrong song which is why you bailed.

Um? Excuse me, Miss Simpson take some responsibility, you could have easily stopped them or at least made the whole thing into a joke. But you bailed. You bailed and your lip-sync vocals carried the song to it's bitter end when you quit. Get a real job. Or get voice lessons, I hear Hiliary Duff knows where you could go to hone your skills as a chanteuse.

--Atticus West

My Fork

2004-10-17T21:55:00.000-07:00

Is it sad that I eat quickly, too quickly, and am so engrossed with dooce.com that when I finish my meal and look down ... my fork will only have three prongs instead of four?

It had four, I know it did, because I just washed it - good as new - before I started eating.

And don't ask me if I ate it. I have no idea. My Healthy-Choice-Country-Breaded-Chicken-meal-in-a-box delicacy didn't taste any crunchier than usual and honestly, I don't usually eat plastic.

Party like a Princess

2004-10-14T14:49:00.000-07:00

Holiday Travel tip #34 from Atticus West

When booking a flight or a hotel, always be sure to select your appropriate title to embrace your inner celebrity.

Audioblog: Police Barricade

2004-10-13T17:33:00.000-07:00

Help, the police have barricaded me in on campus! I can't get out, no one can. Okay, so I'm really not at the presidential debate. But I'm right outside trying desprately to get home in time for America's Next Top Model. Here's my (out of breath) recount watching 66 police officers race by with W in tow while running from the cops.

My First Presidential Debate, a photo album by Atticus West

2004-10-13T13:30:00.000-07:00

The third Presidential debate is here. Outside my window I see MSNBC, CNN, and countless other camera crews from around the world running across campus.

MSNBC and CNN both have huge tents with booming cameras, crowds of students, and rerouted air conditioning (it's in the 90's today so, it's like official, winter's here). It feels a lot more like New Year's Eve and the last day of finals both rolled all into one. Every-time they air a piece the crowd goes wild. It sounds like a football game right outside my door.

So look for me on TV everyone!

Yep, I'm the cute one with the sun in my eyes. I'm voting for JFK!

Bush supporters are scared Kerry will win and actually do something as President. Suck that thumb, kiddo, Gorgie's going bye, bye.

And of course, what's a Presidential debate without an orange chicken?

Don't let my colleagues fool you: they speak German and Mandarin Chinese but not a lick of Spanish. We saw the sign and knew we had to have it!

We just found out that the Foo Fighters are opening for John Kerry today at the beach party. A beach in Arizona you say? Sure.

Some people don't vote ... but really, I only took this photo because of the cute boy walking my way. I'm more than just politically active, I'm shallow, too.

--Atticus West

Watch Team America, get a free sweatband

2004-10-12T23:56:00.000-07:00

If there's any reason you should see Team America, a marionette movie premiering this Friday, make it for it's pivotal scene:

There are only three kinds of people: dicks, pussies, and assholes. Dicks fuck pussies who think they can control them. But that doesn't mean assholes are safe from dicks, dicks fuck assholes, too. In fact, pussies are a lot like assholes, they're only and inch and a half apart. But dicks and pussies have to be careful, because if they aren't then they'll both be covered in shit.

I don't care much for racism, classism, sexism, nationalism, etc ... except when it's equal opportunity bashing, like Strangers With Candy or this very movie. Then again, the song where the actor "Gives everyone AIDS" is so shocking, it's funny. Sad, isn't it?

Or something like that. It's more touching on the big screen ... um, like the fucking scene. Scary. Or the barfing scene. Scary. Or the plastic surgery fiasco. Scary.

And if you can, wait through the credits to hear a bonus song by our favorite Korean dictator.

So tell me this: What action movies has Helen Hunt done?

UPDATE: Here's the sweat band they gave away at the movie. Want one? Email me at atticuswest@yahoo.com. I'll pick a lucky winner and you can have your very own, complete with it's own plastic ziplock baggy.

Shoplifter

2004-10-10T21:35:00.000-07:00

Getting arrested for shoplifting wasn't my plan for the day, or any day for that matter.

My friends were crafty for my birthday this year and bought me CDs from my Amazon wish list. Most of them didn't buy them online, but rather from Target and Best Buy.

Fast as I was to update the list, I still received two of the same CDs. Fortunately there was gift receipt attached to the duplicate. The return policy was clearly printed out on the front for my convenience. I taped the receipt to the top so I wouldn't lose it and waited for a new CD to catch my eye, one worth trading in the unused and unopened disc I kept on my desk.

Today I planned a trip to Best Buy, I grabbed the CD and drove into the next town to return it. I followed in a guy caring a car radio in box, stepped inside, and headed towards Customer Service. I planned to leave the CD there and look for a replacement like any other store would have you do.

Half and hour later, my patience for the unmoving line burst. When I was finally helped, the woman informed me I couldn't return the CD because I didn't come within 30 days of the purchase. (Note: the incomplete return policy did not include that handy piece of information on the front. On the back was the same policy with the 30 day stipulation. Bastards.) Furious and defeated I headed out towards the door. That's when it happened.

Doorman: Excuse me. Can I see your receipt?
Me: Oh, sure.
Doorman: Why didn't you stop when you came in?
Me: Huh?
Doorman: Where's the tag?
Me: What tag?
Doorman: How do I know you didn't take this from the store and bring in an old receipt?
Me: What? I came here to return a CD. I got two for my birthday but the woman at the counter said I couldn't.
Doorman: Oh really. And what did this "woman" look like.
Me: *perturbed* She's the short girl over there *points to customer service* next the blonde girl with really bad roots, you can't see here because she's short and there's someone in front of her.
Doorman: Why didn't you get a yellow tag when you came in?
Me: What tag?
Doorman: WHY DIDN'T YOU STOP WHEN YOU CAME IN?
Me: WHERE?
Doorman: HERE!
Me: *biting my teeth* There wasn't anyone here.
Doorman: THERE'S ALWAYS SOMEONE HERE.
Me: THERE WASN'T WHEN I CAME IN.

I DON'T STEAL! At this point I was ready to deck the guy. I can't believe I let a fuck'n turd get me mad, he so wasn't worth it. Yet he fuck'n accused me of stealing a fuck'n CD I already had. FUCK'N IDIOT! It wasn't my fault he stepped away from his post for the minute out of 2004 when I walked into his Best Buy. Fuckwad.

I got over it a few minutes later by cussing loudly, breathing deeply, a three hour gym routine, and watching The Prince & Me on DVD – something I swore never to watch. Oh, I rented with my own money you Best Buy fuck.

Electrolysis is for Everyone

2004-10-09T20:16:00.000-07:00

Saved message, Tuesday, 11:50am.

Your new voice mail is sexy, man. I'm sitt'n here ... touching myself. Actually I took a pain pill and I 'm a Stepford wife right now. Because I'm having hair removed -- electronic hair removal -- which is painful.

So I took pain pill left over from my testicular surgery and I'm having a little glass of wine.

It's a spa and I love everyone here.

I'm gonna look beautiful when I leave - I may get some Botox!

Anyway is MISS YOU and uh ... call me. Bye.

If my friends didn't leave the best messages I would never check my voicemail at all. So I entertain them in two ways during my greeting to continue their honestly brutal updates. First, I change my greeting only when I'm sick. That way my voice is always three octaves lower than normal and I can pull off a professional masculine demeanor. Ha! But then I start laughing during the recording process - it's an absurd idea that I have a booming voice. They tend to get off on the chuckling; weirdos - I love 'em.

Marc Acito: hottie author

2004-10-05T21:47:00.000-07:00

He wrote me back!

Hottie author Marc Acito responded to an email I sent him regarding this very site. I gave him a few links (as well as a nasty photo of yours truly) of which he checked enjoyed. Buy his book, damnit - not because he's cute or talented, but because he put me at the top of his fan-favorite list. Yay, I'm a groupie! And I get to see him in three weeks.

Thank you Pop Culture Junkies for making a boy's dream come true. (To see the picture that sealed the deal go here. I'm on the right, my shirt mysteriously revealing abs.)

He's got a boyfriend of 18 years or so. He also (inadvertently?) gave me his home and cell phone numbers. Hello! I'm a fan! Dare I call or will that automatically get me a restraining order?

--Atticus West

The Lohdown

2004-10-04T23:47:00.000-07:00

An open letter to Hillary Duff:

Dear Miss Duff,

Lindsay Lohan appeared on the cover of GQ this week. After reading it, I felt more in awe of the girl. She's so 18; but her photos convey a women three times that age. How the heck does she do it?

Down one shelf and to the left sat a sickly looking issue of Blender Magazine with your mug gracing the cover. You wore a tight Mickey Mouse shirt and short reveling A-skirt. I really liked your photo where you sat among instruments with the tiara and pink dress. Lindsay's pictures, however, were more mature, more interesting. Yours were a bad rip-off of Britney Spears' Rolling Stone cover shoot from four years ago. It made me gag seeing you show some leg.

Your article reached of Lindsay Lohan. Sadly, Blender chose to run a pull quote of you saying "Sometimes I hate Lindsay Lohan!"

Please get over it. The red-head didn't even mention you in her article.

I hope you don't blow up. It must be hard pretending to be a natural blond (you look so much better as brunette). Truth be told, I was almost liking you, too. In fact, I was planning on seeing "Raise Your Voice" this Friday ...

... alright, my motives are mostly driven because Oliver James is in it.

But please, I fear for your sanity. You can't live by constantly feeling that there's someone better, prettier, and more talented than yourself. There always will be - just be yourself, don't let the competition bother you and keep on making movies with cute boys. That's all we ask of you.

Best,
Atticus West

(Thanks to Kyle for the wonderful new title!)

(BTW, Rumors by Lindsay is fuck'n fierce. The remix is all over on line top 40 stations, unfortunately not my own local station.)

Shark Tale: A Little Bit Gay and A Little Bit Racist

2004-09-29T23:03:00.000-07:00

Merce, Carlos, and I were some of the first people in line for the pre-screener of Shark Tale, or as it should be called: Gay Shark Tale. Jack Black's hilarious performance as a shark who's a little bit "different" was touching - as much as it could be in an over-the-top stereotyped blaxploitation animation flick. Jack's portrayal as a shark masquerading as "Sebastian, the dolphin" was well received from the collegiate crowd we joined at the theatre.

The obvious comparison to Finding Nemo lies in Shark Tale's almost complete failure to create a sense of depth and texture from the most important element of an underwater adventure: the water itself. Objects floated somewhat naturally, but everyone interacted in what looked like air. The confusing lighting (everything has faux-twilight 3-point studio lighting) and predictable pattern of air bubbles for every movement (big and small) was also annoying.

And you gotta question the film's racist casting. The "taxi" fish were Middle Eastern, the "car washing" workers were Mexican, the manager was painfully "white," the "mob" leader was Italian.

Renée Zellweger was a joy however, providing the most heart and just as much humor as fellow comedian Jack Black.

Spoiler Alert!
Catie Couric was perfectly cast as a ruthless reporter fish; Missy Elliott and Christina's cameos were worth the price of admission alone.

All in all, the movie made me laugh more than it bothered me how racist we still are as a country - if of course you can overlook the tragically strong influence of MC Hammer and Sir Mixalot in Will Smith's performance. See this movie because it's fun and gay, gay, gay; don't see this movie because you're looking for Ellen, Ellen, Ellen.

Hey, I'm a Cypress.

2004-09-29T22:02:00.000-07:00

I got this e-mail today that can tell you what tree you are by your date of birth. Huh? Fear not, the message also tells you that it's "really cool and ... accurate." So here I am:

Aug 04 — Cypress Tree
Cypress Tree (Faithfulness) — strong, muscular, adaptable, takes what Life has to give but doesn’t necessarily like it, strives to be content, optimistic, wants to be financially independent, wants love and affection, hates loneliness, passionate lover which cannot be satisfied, faithful, quick-tempered at times, can be unruly and careless, loves to gain knowledge, needs to be needed.

I really like the "strong, muscular part." And the "passionate lover which cannot be satisfied" part. I did a little research with Google and found that all cypress trees grow quickly. Honestly, I'm a little disappointed that the e-mail didn't mention how hard my wood is.

How I Paid for College: A novel of Sex, Theft, Friendship, & Musical Theatre

2004-09-29T14:49:00.000-07:00

Marc Acito has become my new favorite gay author. Yes, that means that porn start/writer Aiden Shaw has been bumped to number two on this list. (Now that I think about it, I've never even read anything by Aiden Shaw, but the fact that he's a hot porn star automatically makes him first on my list - until now.)

Marc Acito author of How I Paid for College: A novel of Sex, Theft, Friendship, & Musical Theatre and "The Gospel According to Marc."

Mr. Acito's story about pan-sexual high schoolers who's search for sex is only dwarfed by their creativity in mischief is just one reason to pick up this read. But I you could also read it to learn how to launder money, blackmail your senator, or just to find out why the heck there's a smiling buddha on the cover.

In the book, Edward's dad won't cough up the dough for a college education at Juliard. What's a poor bi-sexual to do? Get a job of course - oh maybe some blackmail and theft - it is $10,000 a year school for god's sake. But rather then tell you the story I'll leave you with a few of my favorite quotes.

Kathleen:

I told my girls that when it came to having sex, stick with oral. No one ever got knocked up for giving a blow job.

Edward's thoughts:

One look at Doug and I'm harder than Calculus.

I cup my hand to my ear which is the International Recognized Signal for "I can hear you, you stupid cow."

The benefits of laziness are immediate.

Paula (the dramatic big girl/best friend):

Edward, lead us not to Penn Station but deliver us to E train.

Don't be so provincial.

A game the characters created in the story is called Creative Vandalism (CV for short). CV is a form of social disobedience but with flare. CV is dressing up in a priest's uniform and buying beer. Who in there right mind would card a man of god? It's brilliant. CV could also be dressing up park statues with risque clothing.

CV is only for artists, kids at heart, and fools. What would you do?

Atticus West: The Movie

2004-09-28T21:49:00.000-07:00

A common conversation starter for me is:

In the story that is my life, what's your theme song? What song is playing when you walk in the room to meet me?

Of course, as a Pop Culture Junkie my song changes every week. This week it's "Lose My Breath" by Destiny's Child.

My movie would start as I walk across my college campus. The beginning titles are designed by Imaginary Forces (the guys who did X-Men, Spiderman, Seven, Bicentennial Man, Dead Man on Campus, The Avengers; they were also the guys who did the introduction of Charmed and Ally McBeal). It's a lot like the music and attitude of Mean Girls with all the cool typography and camera movement of Daredevil.

I walk through campus in low-rise boot cut dark washed Diesel jeans. I have proportionately long legs so I perpetually thank the baby Lord Jesus for the low-rise fad. God knows I've invested in enough jeans to last me through my fifties - and by then I'll be so fuck'n happy to be stuck in my generation. All kids born in 2023 will laugh at me but they'll will be wearing leather pants from genetically superior cloned cows that start at their thighs and end at their knees - so fuck 'em; young bastards, put on some draws, a'ight?

But back to my movie: (que music) I'm wearing black 2xist briefs with my junk pointed towards my nuts; again, they are low-rise and I love them because they're nice and snug and they keeping my daily erections cleverly disguised and continually pointed down. Remember: low-rise jeans + boner peaking up and out of your pants = disaster.

I'm also wearing a soft-to-the-touch non-black/non-grey/non-white but merry colored t-shirt with a cleverly designed logo over my chest. The logo is a tasteful word or phrase that people will ask about or compliment on it's humor and originality.

Naturally, the camera catches the horny lingering glances from the boy-men on campus. Eight guys eye-flirt with me. The guys I pass are different from yesterday, I take different routes on campus constantly looking for short-cuts or new points of interest. In any case, the guys are usually shorter than me with small hands, blond with James Franco side-burns and usually nineteen years old.

I discreetly check them out in return but the real fun is searching for new sorority chic t-shirts on the gorgeous Greek girls. Every year their designs improve. My favorite this year is the tight-army green-boob-displaying number with white letters that reads "The Few, The Proud, The Theta." Brilliant.

I walk ironically into my office - I'm not a student after all. I'm the youngest full-time designer in my office. In fact I'm always the youngest, often times younger than the interns. I can't help that I'm so gifted in design or that I started college early. The credits would mostly end here, the really unimportant ones like "casting by Gina Lee" and "shot entirely on location in Arizona" continue to play until I put my black one-strap-over-the-shoulder bag under my desk.

My phone rings, I pick up, "Hi! This is Atticus!" I say.

End Scene.

8 Going On 30

2004-09-28T21:41:00.000-07:00

When asked to imagine myself I picture myself as an eight year old boy. I just turned 24 and because I see myself as kid I'm saddened. I suddenly realize that the years are flying by unlike the eternity a year's time used to be. My friends and I will turn thirty soon; for our species we're "halfway to death."

The movie 13 going 30 starring Jennifer Gardner embraces my age bracket. As a small child, Jenna wishes to be "30, flirty, and thriving." In five years when I'm 30 I also wish to be flirty and thriving.

Graphic design as a career path is unlike the more traditional courses my siblings have chosen. They have degrees in pediatrics, accounting, statistics, engineering, and psychology. In time, they will garner massive amounts of money as is appropriate for the lives they have earned. It's possible to gather that kind of cash in my profession, one only needs connections, a strong portfolio, and talent. Thank god; I'm highly involved in graphic design professional organizations and I've earned numerous awards for my work.

The life as a doctor or an accountant wasn't suited for me, nor was I wired or motivated to become either of those things. As a child, I was placed in Chapter One Reading - a place phonetically challenged slow readers. Other children caught on to concepts faster than I. I hated getting sick, I was home sick the day my second grade class learned how to tell time on a clock with hands. I didn't really master that skill until 11th grade. To check out a zip drive and a mouse for art class I was forced to record the time off a wall clock that was displayed with two such hands.

I envied the gifted kids in class; they were cocky fast learners. But everyone reads slower out loud so if we had to follow along in text books I would read entire passages as other people read aloud. I hated surprises - like running into a word I didn't know or couldn't pronounce. And because I concentrated so hard on what I was reading I often neglected to think about or even remember what it was I had read.

These days I read hundreds of pages a week in books and magazines. My favorite books are trashy teen age or twenty something fantasies about pop-culture and sexuality. I read more graphic novels than actual novels and I feel no guilt whatsoever.

I'm not an Ivy League graduate; I have a Bachelor of Arts in Visual Communications. I express image through strategically placed words, pictures, colors, papers, and texture. I make legible and easily digestible art for the masses and couldn't be happier. Or some shit like that.

Lindsay at the gym

2004-09-28T21:36:00.001-07:00

The playlist at my gym (Pure Fitness) now includes Lindsay Lohan's "I decide." It also features Hilary Duff's "Fly." I guess if you're going to choose to put one on you might as well put the other. It's sorta like being politically bipartisan or maybe they started a new music contract through that soul-less company that produces out of date CDs like Now That's Pop Music! Either way, it's odd to hear Lindsay and Hilary smashed in-between Chingy and Missy Elliot tracks.

Since my new job requires me to us a PC as well as my trusty ol' Mac, I now have access to new music on AOL. Sadly, Lindsay's new song bites but Destiny's Child "Lose my Breath" has become my song of the week! And is it just me or does Darkchild put his name on everything he produces? I've heard his name at least a dozen times the past two years on songs by JLo, Britney, Brandy, Aaliyah, Destiny's Child, and even Tyra Banks.

Nip/Tuck and 8 bottles of wine

2004-09-28T21:36:00.000-07:00

During a wine tasting party tonight, the topic of amazing television programming came up (as it tends to do around me). The two unanimous favorites of night were Nip/Tuck for favorite TV show and mystery bottle number 5 for best red wine. God only knows what the vintage was, and I'm too drunk to even remember it's name.

I was also happy to hear that lesbians, gay men and straight women all loved Julian McMahon's performance on Nip/Tuck. He's superficial, he's sleeps with everyone, he's so fucked up, and yet somehow, very lovable. I've adored him since his stint as a sexy demon named Cole on the WB's Charmed. Everyone had to, which probably explained how he managed to return to the show every season after the Power of Three killed him.

And of course we talked about sex. How can you not when you've had wine and a discussion around Nip/Tuck? I've always been a fast learner. I didn't have sex until I was 22 and by 24 I had finished my whore phase. Most people do it in six years and I did it in two!

I was a nerd as a kid — still am. Praise the Lord and the Lady! Happy Maybon everyone.

How I Paid for College : A Novel of Sex, Theft, Friendship & Musical Theater and Playing with Boys

2004-09-28T21:35:00.001-07:00

Scene from Merce and Atticus's trip to Las Vegas
Setting: Virgin Megastore

*at the magazine rack*
Atticus: Ok. We got Teen People and Us Weekly. We need more. We'll read these in like an hour and the drive back to Phoenix is like five times that.
Merce: We should get Alisa Valdes Rodriguez's new book!
Atticus: Oh my God I almost forgot! Playing with Boys! It's called Playing with Boys. I saw it at Borders back in Phoenix.
Merce: Or that other book.
Atticus: Yeah! What was it? How I Paid for College something or other?
Merce: There was a review of it in Out this month, remember? We can get the title 'n author from there.
Atticus: You're a genius ... find the title and I'll ask the girl at the desk where it would be.

*on the way to the counter*
Merce: I can't wait for Dirty Girls Social Club to come out in the theatre.
Atticus: Yeah! J-Lo bought the rights to the movie. It's gonna rock!
Merce: Ha, ha, ha. The full title of the other book is: How I Paid for College: A novel of Sex, Theft, Friendship & Musical Theatre. I'm going to love it.
Attiucs: Ya know, I worked in a library for two years. I can find anything with the dewy decimal system, but this store is not laid out the same way.
Merce: Um ... whatever kid.

*at the counter*
Girl Behind The Counter: Can I help you?
Atticus: Yeah. Where's your adult fiction section?
GBTC: *sneer*
Atticus: We're looking for this book, um what is it? Playing with Boys and eer ... How I Paid for College.
GBTC: Right. This way please.

*on the way to the book section*
Atticus: Hey Merce, there's the book we're looking for!
Merce: I know! Where's she taking us?

*at the book section*
GBTC: Here you go.
Atticus: Something's not right here...
Merce: ?
GBTC: You said adult fiction didn't you?
Atticus: OH MY GOD THIS THE PORN SECTION! There was never PORN at the library!
GBTC: I'm so sorry. But when you said "adult" I just kinda figured you wanted books byPlayboy.
Atticus: And erotica? (*to Merce*) Don't we look gay?
Merce: I think we do.
Atticus: It's not like we can hide it.
Merce: I know!
Attiucs: Thanks for helping us, but we saw the book back there when you were walking us over to your porn.
Merce: Thanks! Have a great day.
GBTC: You, too.
Merce and Atticus: Thanks!
*Merce and Atticus skip arm in arm away from the big boob section*

Jack and Bobby

2004-09-28T21:35:00.000-07:00

Actor Matt Long of Jack and Bobby has officially stole my heart away from Chad Michael Murray.

Jack and Bobby premiered tonight. The story is of two brothers raised by a single authoritative woman. One boy will become the 51 President of the United States, but which one?

At first I thought it would be Jack (played by Matt Long). He's the popular cute older jock brother. Bobby's the weirdo misfit controlled by his mother. The trailer gave away the ending as to whom would become the President. Bobby asked Jack "Will I ever be cool ... Will I be cool if I hang out with you?" No, Jack replied.

But I changed my mind after seeing that trailer. I was right with my new theory, but saddened with the other surprise. We learned tonight that Jack will die before Bobby becomes our 51 President.

I love the characters already. I know what it's like to be Bobby, I grew up as a geek motived by my father to remain that way and proud of it. But I also know what it's like to be Jack. Jack's the guy I've always wanted to date and so he's the guy I've tried to become. (And on a less serious note: black hair, sideburns, and a square jaw line always made me weak. It's a flaw in me, and I'm ashamed to admit it. Those blue eyes of his aren't to shabby either.)

But perhaps it's because I'm not Jack that I really like him so much. I know it's soon, maybe too soon to feel so connected to both characters. But exactly 30 minutes into the show I felt the beginnings of a tear forming. So, yeah I'm hooked. I hate you WB.

Watch Jack and Bobby (and the whore) on the WB at 8/9pm.

Jennifer Coolidge on Joey

2004-09-28T21:34:00.000-07:00

The best thing about the Friend's spin-off show Joey will be: Jennifer. Mega blond Jennifer Coolidge appears as Joey's agent. Rejoice!

Must List by Atticus

2004-09-28T21:33:00.000-07:00

This fall marks a return to the classics. Although classics never die, one tends to forget about such things in the constant search for the "now" and "what's next." Here are some helpful hints on what's in and what's out this season, use the tips below to make yourself a little better (i.e. a little more like me).

Take a course in gymnastics this year. You've always wanted to do a back handspring and there are plenty of gyms out there that offer classes for adults, especially out of shape adults.

Shoes designs from the '70s are a safe back to school choice. There are 703 choices of Puma sneakers for sale on Amazon. Odds are good there will be a color combination just right for you. Just please - please - remember to match your shoes with your shorts, not your shirt.

If you own one of those fancy Nike I'm-a-bag-but-I'm-really-a-purse contraptions, please burn it. For those of you who may be tempted to buy one, don't let the practical nature of such a bag influence your dignity. They're a nasty hybrid - much like capri - that should never have been invented. Five years from now when you see a picture of yourself wearing one you'll cry and destroy the photo. So save yourself the pain and humiliation.

That goes for wearing the collar up on your polo.

Yes, I know they boys are wearing shirts like that in the Abercrombie stores, but you're not one of them. They're evil and stupid, can't help shoppers, and rely on their own shallow physical beauty way too much.

But feel free to shop there; if you're going to buy a pair of shorts or a polo that'll last for three years by all means spend the cash there. Just don't expect them to have sizes other than large in the color you want. Those are purchased by the employees before they hit the shelves. And don't buy something that a million people own. Make your own outfits with items from various stores or buy from exceptionally rare and well tailored labels.

Have fun shopping this fall and remember: color is your friend. Get lots of it and try not to wear kaki, black and white all the time.

What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas ... except this post

2004-09-05T20:15:00.000-07:00

Ghetto Fab

2004-08-25T23:05:00.000-07:00

When I moved to Arizona my VW Golf held everything I owned. Since then I've bought the world's most comfortable queen-sized bed, a cheery-stained Denmarket L-shaped desk, and various matching/unmatching book shelves. My VW also gets amazing gas mileage and its description is everything I strive to be: frugal, economical and stylish.

But my car - named Beepers - is also getting old, I took him in today for his 80,000 mile check up. Recently, he's also had the tendency to shut off during highway driving. It turns out Beepers had an electrical malfunction, he blew a bulb in the mechanics face this morning - that's my car - sassy 'til the end!

Scheduled check-ups always cost a lot of money. Luckily, VW and my local dealer send me tons of coupons and I'm not above combining them any way they'll let me (because I'm frugal, remember?). This time I got 10% off plus a free rental car.

What I didn't bank on was getting a land yacht - the only car the rental place had left was a Ford Explorer. I was pretty sure an Explorer wasn't a station wagon but I couldn't remember what one looked like. The lady at the desk showed me to my rental, my jaw dropped and my eyes widened but I didn't protest.

The green, lefty, liberal, environmentally friendly activist in me hated the vehicle, but the boner in my shorts from being able to see people in their cars from above while bumping Timerland (Brandy's new album) on the sound system seemed to disagree. This feeling can't be worth $80 in gas a week, plus it can't be entirely safe to drive in a thing so erect ... er, I mean tall.

Lindsay Update: Wilmer and Matt

2004-08-25T22:01:00.000-07:00

Matt Dillon has signed on to play the villain in Linday Lohan's upcoming movie Herbie: Fully Loaded.

Lindsay's parents say Wilmer is an angel. Have they seen their daughter and her boyfriend at the clubs? Some may say that he's the lucky one having Lohan for a girlfriend but have you seen the lips on this boy? My god - she's the lucky one.

Undefeated in Something ... Finally

2004-08-25T21:53:00.000-07:00

After sixteen games, my volleyball team remains undefeated. We got the gold this season in a shut out that defied logic - how could a team as beautiful as we are be so fucking good at something other than ... well ... looking good? It ain't practice, that's for sure, I think we practiced once the entire season and one guy was drunk before we got onto the court. It ain't height, four out of six of us are 5'7" and under.

Whatever it is, we won. WA-HOO! We won.

Of course this means that we have to celebrate, and there's only one way to do this properly - a ten hour bar crawl honoring not only our immaculate win, but the new 2am last call. Everyone has their job to make sure this will be an event to remember. One fabulous person will create a soundtrack for the night including every team member's theme song plus our own team theme song. That person just happens to be me - I'll post the playlist when it's complete. Another person's in charge of creating the bar map we'll follow with the utmost respect (or until we pass out on the pavement). Yet another will secure a designated driver under that age of 21 that will courier us around town in a super-low fuel efficient but incredibly roomy Cadillac Escalade.

Going Home

2004-08-23T09:20:00.000-07:00

My mom turns 51 today. I surprised her by coming home this weekend. Actually, I flew in on Friday night, my sister and I hung out at her house until 10am on Saturday morning at which time my parents arrived — just in time for lunch. Lunch at 10am? Who are these people?

I had other reasons for coming home. My grandmother has been ill for some time and I want to see her as often as I possible. For me that means once a year but I haven't done so well, I've skipped a few years since I went off to college and I'm trying to do better. My grandmother has lupis, she's gone through some pretty horrible physical aliments from the disease, but she still has three things that have kept her going: her faith in god, her intelligence as a wise woman and love for her family.

My grandmother was the one person I never thought I'd come out to, but thanks to a boyfriend named Brandon, that's all behind me. He inspired me to be honest with her, who knows how long she'd be here? Some people can't come out to their grandparents or even their parents because they're afraid of getting written out of the will. I've never had that problem - my family has always been poor. When I was little, my biggest fear was poverty, I hid my home from my friends and never invited them over on weekends. When I got over that, my life took a big change for the better.

Love I understand, family obligation has been more of a personal challenge for me. In the past, I've never had to worry about family. Everyone could take care of their body and personal space. But as the days go by, I realize that family isn't as physically well off as I believed them to be.

My mom was exercising her arm this morning. She recently had surgery on it, but it lacks range of mobility. For four weeks, she'd had someone drive her around. She seems to enjoy the that part, but the fact is her arm isn't healing.

She made a joke at lunch yesterday, one which I only realized was indeed a joke today. I touched her arm and commented on how solid it was. She replied that it was all muscle. Over the phone a few minutes ago my aunt asked how my mother was feeling. "Fine," I said, then added, "and her arm feels solid, it's so muscular." She just sighed and told me that it's so sad my mother's arm is stiff and she can't use it. I hadn't thought of that before, I just believed my mom when she said she worked out her bad arm. I choked on the next comment into the phone, staring at my mother and finally seeing her fragility. She's a strong woman but my dad's the one taking care of her and the home.

Truthfully, I didn't come come for selfless reasons. Quite the contrary — I came home for complete selfish reasons. I was hoping that this weekend would be my escape. I'm leaving a job I've had for over three and half years, a job where the staff has become my family. I broke up with my boyfriend of almost four years at the the beginning of July. I was feeling alone and lost. I thought home would have been an nice escape from all that. The irony is that visiting my family has forced me to deal with the thought that my family won't be here forever. Soon, I won't be able to come home anymore.

I don't have a husband or a family of my own. I have amazing friends that love me and care for me, I'm thankful for that. But life isn't so easy and it hurts.

I still have three hours with my family. I'm going to spend them wisely by enjoying their company and telling them how I feel about them.

Athlete of the Day: Elizabeth Callahan

2004-08-18T17:14:00.000-07:00

She's a crazy woman — at age 52 — she's the oldest athlete in any sport at the Olympics. This is her third Olympics but she's been on the national shooting team for 16 years. Currently, she trains at a corrections facility in Washington, D.C.

But she's not today's Athlete of the Day because of her accomplishments — oh, no. She's today's athlete because of her choice painfully cookie tossing yet oddly inspiring choice in music. Rhapsody lists athletes favorite songs (or radio stations) on the NBC Olympic website. Here are her favorite songs, which truth be told, are as bad as her hair. Good luck, Elizabeth!

Michael Phelps Spokesperson for Super Low-Rise Jeans

2004-08-16T16:38:00.000-07:00

He's built like a fish — his shoe size is 14, which make his feet perfect flippers. His wing span is longer than his actual height of 6'4" which means it takes him less strokes to cover the same distance a normal person need. Finally, he has short legs for a tall guy so he carries less dead weight in the water. And have you seen that suit he wears? He's a natural spokesperson for super-extra-good-lord-that's-low rise jeans.

I applaud the dude for being the youngest Olympic contender since the '30s. He was 15 at the Sydney games and turned pro a year later. Had he won all eight gold medals (he won a bronze yesterday) he would earned an additional 1 million dollars from Speedo, his sponsor. Plus, he's hot so, like I'm paying attention.

Lindsay Lohan Update

2004-08-09T16:02:00.000-07:00

(Andrew — I apologize now for being a bastard and for what I'm about to reveal.)

***SPOILER ALERT!***

If you plan on seeing the Teen Choice Awards come Wednesday Night avert thine eyes!

Lindsay Lohan won four, yes, four surf boards on Sunday. All were for her role in Mean Girls opposite Tina Fey and rising star Rachel McAdams. Her winnings were in the following categories:

Best Movie Actress in a Comedy
Best Movie Hissy Fit
Best Movie Blush
and Movie Breakout Star Actress (for both Mean Girls and Freaky Friday)

Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie hosted ... blah, blah, blah ... Lindsay Lohan won FOUR awards! Rejoice, for all is right in the world.

Check out the Pop Culture section of Entertainment Weekly for more information.

— Atticus West

Lindsay Lohan Update

2004-08-02T19:30:00.000-07:00

Lindsay has some fantastic movies coming out next year. Herbie: Fully Loaded is already in production. That classic white Volkswagen with a knack for helping couples hook up finds itself in the world of NASCAR racing and that just screams campy fun. A VW in NASCAR? There's no cast listing online, so who's she going to fall in love with you ask? Let's take a poll — which twenty-something stud do you want to see Lindsay hook up with in Herbie?

In another movie called Gossip Girl, she's the toast of adolescence in New York's Upper East Side. Her father's a gay jet-setter, yay for that! But her world comes tumbling down when her ex-best friend returns and catches the eye of her hottie boyfriend. For those of you who thought I was completely heartless when it came to eating disorders, note my change of heart. In this movie, Lindsay's character has bulimia — fear not, it's still listed as a comedy on IMDB and I'll enjoy myself thoroughly.

Fashonistas is a movie where Miss Lohan finally leaves high school behind. She will star as Vig, a young fashion designer who's plans for revenge on her editor backfire. She'll find solace in becoming an anonymous "It" designer during her demotion as a fashion assistant.

I spoke too soon about the school thing, she will play another high schooler in Dramarama. Her parents pull her out of her prestigious high school for a more affordable public education after a harsh economic situation.

Finally, Lindsay will play a sexy Manhattanite and three time lottery winner in Lady Luck. She'll then become broke and take a job to bankroll her search for a would-be love. Could that synopsis be any more vague? Thank you IMDB for your help in this entry.

All of these movies are slated to be released in 2005. Good luck Lindsay, I can't imagine when you're going to find to sleep or date in the next year.

Until then we have two DVD's to keep us busy. Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen is now available on DVD. More importantly, Mean Girls hits the DVD shelves on September 21. Oh, how we love both Lindsay and fellow co-star Rachel McAdams (from The Notebook). What's your favorite Mean Girls quote?

1) I can't wear hoop earrings. She says it's her thing. My parents got me these really cute earrings and I had to pretend I didn't like them.

2) There I go again with the word vomit ... I couldn't stop talking about her. The weird thing was, even though I hated her I still wanted her to like me.

3) Uh, he's your cousin.
I know, but he's such a good kisser!

4) You can't like Aaron! He's Regina's ex-boyfriend. That's like against the laws of feminism or something.

5) Wow, your house is amazing!
I know, righhhhhht!

Ed note: All movie information is subject to change. If you have a correction, tell me about it. If you find this entry like three months later (that'd be November '04) don't freak out if it's all inaccurate and shit.

Birthday in the Dog Days of Summer

2004-08-01T21:12:00.000-07:00

Most of you know this blog is total shit. Yes, I've done some pretty crazy things, blogged about them and then denied they ever happened. But generally I don't take myself seriously in my entries, (mostly because there's a half naked picture of my to the right of this). This blog is an act of escapism and I love every moment of it.

I love that my friends read it. I love that my family reads it [God, could they be any more open minded after reading about their brother/son (that's me!) having sex with other guys?]. And I love that people who I've never met read it and email me about it. Hello, fellow bloggers.

This week I'll have my birthday. I won't get anything materialistically big or expensive. The Amazon wish list I made and sent to my family will go unanswered. My friends will buy me beer (just one — 'cause that's all it takes to get me shit-faced). And I'll think about Ryan and Brandon.

Ryan is was my nephew ... woah, back it up ... People ask me if my parents are upset that they have three gay sons. No? Why would they be — one's a doctor, one's an AIDS research assistant with a master's degree in math and statistics, and I'm a freak'n stud. No, they're not sad.

Granted, I come from a Latino family. If anything (one could go so far as to say: the only thing) my parents want is that our last name continue, we must procreate. My sister has a baby boy but his last name is hyphenated, our last name is second, so that doesn't count.

So there was pressure for my eldest brother (the only straight guy out of my siblings) to somehow make a boy. He's married, his wife already had a girl from a previous marriage. So they tried ... and they tried. Finally, she was pregnant with — get this — a baby boy! Yay. The pressure was off any of us gay children to miraculously create a man child. My brother's wife gave birth to Ryan in 1999. He was born in the children's hospital across from my college dorm. He was born almost a full trimester early.

Then he died.

On my birthday.

Well, actually, I'm being a little dramatic there. He died a few days before my birthday. The funeral was on my birthday. I remember buying myself a nice little birthday suit — grey dress dress pants with cargo pockets, a greenish-grey Banana Republic dress shirt, and a fantastic grey Perry Ellis tie that matched both the slacks and the shirt. I was the best dressed person at the funeral.

The funeral took place in Las Cruses, New Mexico. I met cousins I never knew I had. I also met my dad's childhood friends who lived there. They all loved my dad, they said he was the funniest person they ever knew. They said he'd always make them laugh out in the cotton fields. All I could say was, "My dad?" Surely, they were talking about somebody else. But they weren't, my dad was all that back in his day. Whodathunk? I had always looked down on him, thinking I was so much better than either of my parents. They were the boring ones and I was the amazing urban fag. I realized then that I was stupid and had no respect for my family extended or otherwise.

Come to think of it, I was even hit on by some of my cousins. Hello? Perry Ellis tie, Banana Republic shirt, cargo fuck'n slacks — gay, gay gay I tell you!

My birthday of 1999 was also the day Brandon left for Puerto Rico. I loved that kid. We dated that year, I broke up with him because I was arrogant and thought I could infiltrate a Christian cult, bring them down, and in the process expose them to all things gay where they would then accept my kind and embrace diversity. Hell, I'd be happy if they embraced women as leaders and church that only met once a week.

Well, I got my wish, but I was so focused on said mission that I inadvertently broke up with Brandon. Lame, I know — I really liked him. But by breaking up with him, he was able to do the one thing he couldn't/wouldn't do while we were dating; he went to Puerto Rico, his father's country.

I remember crying on the floor of the hotel room that night. My mom and dad where in one bed, and my sister in the other. I slept on the floor, I wanted to sleep there, I knew they wouldn't hear me or feel my body shaking in waves of emotion. I'll let anyone see me cry in a movie or a commercial for Folger's coffee, but not when it comes to my birthday and feeling sorry for myself.

This summer I broke up with my boyfriend who I'd been with for the last three and half years. I'm not sad that we broke up, but I miss knowing that someone is there ... for times like these.

So forgive me if I'm a little fuck'n depressed on my birthday. Forgive me for feeling a little lost in thought when you talk to me. Forgive me for not calling you back because you want to fuck tonight after my volleyball game. Forgive me for being sensitive when you point out my shortcomings. Forgive me for making mistakes.

All I ask is that you give me a few days, I'll get over it. I always do. I don't mind becoming a year older and I'm not expecting another fantastic birthday. Yet, each year of my life gets better and better and for that I'm extremely grateful. Thanks for reading, sorry if you didn't laugh this time.

Birthday Wishes for Atticus West aka redrocketboi

2004-07-29T18:30:00.000-07:00

'Tis the season for birthdays. I'm still celebrating Lindsay Lohan's. And as luck would have it, mine is coming up rather soon.

Yep, yep, yep. You know you've made it big, when other bloggers post your photo on their website along with a simple but appropriate birthday wishes. M@ (yes, that's right — pronounced "Matt") was nice enough to do just that. Thanks, big guy.

Y'all may think that we (Ed note: actually, just me) here at Popculturejunkies are just pretty people that don't feel emotion. Some of you seem to think that I'm a cold heartless Simple Life obsessed carb-addicted bitch. Hey, I cried when Yoanna become America's Next Top Model. And know that it hurts daddy when you don't leave comments.

So to celebrate my birthday I'd like to share with y'all some of my favorite comments from dear faithful readers. Yay me, Happy Birthday!

On Mary Kate Olsen
From NotYou: You sick bastard. How dare you make fun of the poor girl. I hope one of your female family members/friends/wife/daughter dies from an eating disorder so someone else can make fun of you. Asshole. Burn in hell you dickheaded monster, bastard, cretin and loveless, gay looser!

I don't like the Twins but that doens't mean i'm laughing at the misfortune of others. FUck you fucking shit head.

Ed note: I really like the fact that NotYou mentioned that I'm gay. I hate when 13 year old girls hit on me. So, um, thanks.

From C-Marie: UR A FUCKING ASSHOLE...i mean is that all ur time is used for is making ppl feel like shit. That was pathetic. i mean mary-kate is in a serious matter and ur making fun of her. GO TO HELL. i hope something bad happens to u soon cuz u ficking deserve it for that comment. I cant believe u wud have a heart like that. O wait u prolly dont have a heart u sick bastard. Mary-kate is beautiful no matter wut and shes going to get help, and shes going to look as good as ever. and ur comments r going to make her prove u wrong. I dont have the time of day to read this so im going to exit before i go crazy. again...UR A FUCKING BASTARD AND AN ASSHOLE AND I HOPE U ROT IN HELL ASWELL.

xoxo,
c-marie

Ed note: Still, C-Marie gives the love when she ends with "xoxo." Love ya, too.

From Mystic: u fucking dick.

From Icy: you're a total loser. a LOSER hu luuvs to see others in ordeal. learn to keep ur mouth shut and not to hurt others with it. MK rocks big time.

From Ashley: Wow. I'm wondering if you recognize your own personal insecurity as you maliciously rip apart a successful, inovative entrepreneur who has conquered things that most adults don't in a lifetime. Sounds like you suffer from the same disorder as MK. I mean who really comes up with "its-not-my-fault-I-have-an-ass-the-size-of-a-Japanese-bullet-train." Personal experience?

On my idol Lindsay Lohan
From Mike: I think Lindsay Lohan is super terrif because she enforces for our young Americanas that their bodies are ugly and they really should be getting boob jobs by the time they are old enough to drive. Go Lindsay!

To us, ahem, "older" Americans, Lindsay reminds us that it's ok to pump your skinny teenager full of silicone, because she probably make you lots of money in movies. At the very least, your busty 17-year old will have a much steadier summer income writhing on a pole in some strip mall in Florida than frosting baked goods at Cinnabon.

Ed note: Although not totally directed at me, mess with Lindsay and you mess with me.

Ed note: This post contains one lie. This really isn't a photo of me — I'm much bigger in person.

—Atticus West

Cowboys And Angels

2004-07-29T17:01:00.000-07:00

Aside from the Out Far! Gay and Lesbian Film Festival weekend which falls around Valentines day, there are four other gay movie nights that the organization cosponsors. The premiere last night was titled Cowboys and Angels written and directed by Irishman David Gleeson. Much like our last gay movie night (which showed Latter Days), the event was sold out with a line forming an hour before the movie even started.

I met Jeremy there, Merce and I are trying to spend as much time as possible with him. Next month he leaves for Japan to teach English for a year. There were others that joined us, met us there or that we ran into while we waited in line. Merce dropped off an extra ticket for us to use. The festival organizer — Amy — saw us and gave us free movie passes for Colin Farrel's new movie next Tuesday. "Hey do you wanna help tear tickets again?" Merce and I are amazing ushers, we talk to everyone and rip those tickets in half like it's nobody's business, so we said sure.

Amy called my name from the floor of the mall. I looked down from the balcony where the line was and could have sworn she said come on down. Naturally, I told people to "MOVE! GO! THE MOVIE'S STARTING", after roming up and down the line cajoling them into making the trek down the stairs and into the theatre. I was pretty proud of myself. "See Jeremy," I said, "That's how you get the party started." The line stopped. I looked down again to see the festival organizer say, "Not everyone! Just you! And bring your friend."

Well I felt stupid. I dodged some ticked off people who were excited to get in and made my way down to the special screening. Some dork grabbed my shirt. I hate being touched by angry queens, especially if they have a good reason to hate me.

Ticket tearing is actually a very social job. You make sure everyone knows they need their stub to get back in, if for any reason they decide to leave the movie. You dodge the horny boys that want to touch your abs. But most importantly, you get reserved seating in the VIP section that's roped off to the general gay public. I love it!

We tore tickets for twenty minutes. There were some speeches made, a few thank you's went out, but mostly there were giveaways being hurled into the audience. Amy said she'd get us after the speeches were over, but she forgot. The doors automatically closed in front of us. "Fuck this. Let's find our seats," I suggested. We walked in a few minutes after it started, but enjoyed the rest of it.

College, cute gay boys, Irish accents, hot chicks who can through a punch, the fashion world — it was a pretty entertaining movie. But what's more important? Seeing a good movie, or being seen at a movie full of homos? If you get the chance, volunteer for the next gay film festival in your city. And wear a cute shirt.

Christina Milian' s "Dip It Low" Video

2004-07-26T18:36:00.000-07:00

This morning my local hip-hop DJs where talking about Christina Milian's new music video "Dip It Low." Currently, the song is number four on the R&B/Hip Hop charts. Christina Milian is now a celebrity sex symbol even though she's already produced one hit song "AM to PM" and wrote hits for other singers which include Jennifer Lopez.

What pissed me off is that the DJs — the masters of music, the leaders in new music, and homophobic annoying prank callers painfully devoid of any humor — didn't get what the video was about. It's called "Dip It Low." Yes, it's about sex, obviously. But the theme of the video, set design, and clothing is inspired by various Asian cultures. So is the — get this — calligraphic ink they used to "dip" Christina in and "spin her all around."

Calligraphy is important to some Asian cultures. It's an art which goes back four to five thousand years ago in China alone. The DJs went so far as to describe the video as a hot chick being covered in tar. Yeah, 'cause tar will let you spin around on a slab of marble by hot guys in no shirts. No, tar is sticky, dumb shit.

Jesus turns 32 while I battle West Nile

2004-07-26T18:30:00.000-07:00

Friday marked a very important date in the history of the Catholic Church. No, I got that wrong — Friday marked a very important day for my friends and I because Jesus (pronounced hay-soos for those unfamiliar with Latin culture) turned thirty two. Naturally we got together for for a big alcoholic buffet with side platters of Zoloft and Malibu Rum cherries. Friends indeed — Omar and Merce walked me to my car afterwards, afraid I'd get lost along the way.

But I'm getting ahead of myself …

I'm such a boy about going to the doctor. I never get sick (or I'd like to think) and I heal quickly like that comic book character Wolverine. But for two weeks I haven't slept more than an hour at a time without waking up with godforsaken neck pains. Troubled and confused that my mutant powers were malfunctioning, I hung my head in shame, made the appointment to see my doctor and anxiously awaited his diagnosis. He made it perfectly clear that I couldn't drink when I took the medication he was prescribing, and that I should in fact take two each night before bed. Seriously afraid that I was battling the West Nile virus — but more afraid that I wasn't beating said virus, like really quickly — I graciously accepted the prescription. It was for muscle relaxers.

To me, prescriptions are more like movie tickets; the person at the counter gives them to you with four other pieces of paper that look exactly the same and somehow your expected to fish 'em out a few minutes later for the ticket tearing person while the line gradually becomes more anxious and angry behind you. So much like a movie ticket, I managed to loose it in about thirty seconds and just forget about it for a few days.

But I still couldn't sleep.

I finally found the prescription in my car when I was reaching for some stale Trident gum in the driver's side door. Even if I didn't take them all, I could always sell them on the black market, right? Who wouldn't want muscle relaxers? I gave the pharmacist my paper and she looked at me. She just looked at me, then "Have you ever bought from us before?"

"I've never bought drugs from anyone," I said. I was equally alarmed that she thought I was a user and that I didn't know the proper procedure with my pharmacist dealer. And that was that, she made me promise that I would not take the meds on beer or alcohol and that I'd only take one a night. One a night? My doctor said take two.

Fast forward to the party …
I'm offered a drink from the first person I meet when I walk in the door. "Um. No thanks." I'm offered a second drink from the birthday boy. "I can't. I'm uh ... (on meds)," I whisper. I sit down next to a big girl talking trash about the pretty girl that just walked in the door.

"Here. Take this!" She said an then she tries to force a rum filled cherry down my throat! She pushes it against my lips, I whip around in my chair, and then turn back and shout.

"I CAN'T DRINK! I'm on medication." I clearly state.
"Which one?"
"Zoloft."
"Me, too. It's in my purse. Want some more?"
"Um, I was just kidding." Freak.

So the party was odd. I got force fed a fat chick's cherry and I managed to keep people out of the party by not being bright enough to learn how to open the front door. Let me explain. I swear I'm not that stupid.

Did you ever see Jurassic Park? Remember the part where the velosaraptors learned how to open the door by pushing the handle down and then pushing the door open? Well, this was like so much harder. Really. I ran up to the newly cleaned glass door and pushed on the large bar and assumed it open. Nothing happened. The people on the other side semi-smiled. My smile turned to worry, I looked at them and with my eyes I said, "I can't help help you." So I booked it and ran back to the Zoloft girl with a glowing tit (she said it was her phone).

Someone must have opened the door for those poor sad people at the front door, they were dancing and drinking a few minutes later. I'm told that if I press the green button near the door, it opens.

I hear the door bell, someone else arrived — I can finally be helpful! I ran to the door. I pressed the green button. And nothing happens. The door doesn't swing open so I pressed it again. And again. And again. I hit the green button with all the life in me when I heard Jesus (that's "hay-soos") call to me. "Lonnie," he said, "hit the button and open the door ... at the same time!" Oh, that's all?

I do what he said and it opens just fine. But come on, the button is like four feet away from the door. No one in a wheel chair, an eight grade education, or with short arms is going to have what it takes to open such a door. But thanks to Jesus any ol' velosaraptor can do it. Now that's evolution! Happy birthday Jesus.

Lindsay vs. Hilary For President in '04

2004-07-22T19:12:00.000-07:00

It’s not that I like Lindsay Lohan more than Hilary Duff. I just don’t think Hilary is even in the same league as Lindsy. Sure, deciding who to love and ultimately vote for is a personal decision and one you shouldn't choose willy-nilly. You're going to enthusiastically throw away $8.50 to see them in a movie so allow me to make the choice for you! To be fair, let’s take a look at their platforms (not their shoes, but how they stand on specific issues):

ON GAY ~~MARRIGE~~ PEOPLE:
Mean Girls portrays positive examples of empowered gay youth. The movie actually has a message that says you should be yourself.

A Cinderella Story perpetuates unhealthy stereotypes of gay men (and synchronized swimming). Everyone in this movie is annoying; we really watched it to see Chad Michael Murray and Jennifer Coolidge.

ON ONE’S ROOTS:
Lindsay is a proud to be a red head.
Hilary tries to be a blonde. But anyone who actually saw the Lizzie McGuire movie would know that she should be a brunette. She’s hot with dark hair – it makes her look more like Jennifer Garner, and that’s a good thing.

ON MUSIC IN OUR SCHOOLS (read iPods):
Lindsay signed a five-record deal with Tommy Mitolla (Mariah Carrey’s ex-husband. Thalia’s ex-husband?). And she sang in two of her last three movies.

Hilary’s first album is pathetic. Yet ... I hate that I like her first two songs. Wait, did I just compliment her? Plus, her sister is much more talented in the vocal department. But this is really what bothers me: why do you never mention that your new song is a duet and that it is indeed your sister? You don’t want her infringing on your share of the marketplace do you?

ON CHAD MICHAEL MURRAY (cause he deserves his own section):
He’s my hot boy of the year, bumping Orlando Bloom off the chart. Sorry Hil, but he’s sloppy seconds for you, Chad was already in a movie with Lindsy a year ago called Freaky Friday. Jamie Lee Curtis won an award for her role opposite Lindsy and it had an awesome soundtrack.

When Chad asked if he and Hilary were dating on the set of A Cinderella Story, he said, “No. She’s too young, she’s more like my sister.” Ouch. The sister comment is always death. Besides, Chad is 22, Lindsy is 18, and Hil is only 16. That makes Chad the perfect age for our favorite red head or for me.

ON ~~SOCIAL SECURITY~~ AGING:
Lindsy had a cool invite printed that promoted her 18th birthday. She even has a favorite drink. Being able to admit that means she won’t have a problem denying she likes the sauce later in life because she’s not trying to protect her fake “all American blond” girl image.

Lindsay is energetic, creative, and talented. Her credentials over-qualify her for pop star of the year. She signed with Ford modeling agency when she was only four — and she happens to be the first red-head they ever signed. She showed her versatie acting prowess in both Parent Trap and Freaky Friday aside from singing her own songs. The choice is clear: vote for Lindsay Lohan for coolest teen in ’04.

Riechen Lehmkuhl's Amazing Fourth of July Weekend

2004-07-06T18:42:00.000-07:00

Festive indeed, this weekend brought America's favorite gay reality TV stud Riechen Lehmkuhl to Phoenix. Reichen was a Captain in the Air Force before becoming one half of the winning team on CBS's Amazing Race.

He arrived on Friday hours before I met him. A mutual friend introduced us to each other and before I knew it, we were all three talking and swimming in the pool.

We transferred to the hot tub where I learned Riechen likes his feet rubbed. I asked how he spent his birthday this year to which he said, "Whatever my manger wanted me to do that day." Ouch! He had been auditioning for roles in Las Angeles all week long, the hot tub was the highlight of his week. There was a full moon above us while we chatted.

Fourty minutes later, a few more guys joined us, a some sang Cole Porter songs while Riechen enjoyed the copious foot massages. The hot tub was quite shallow, which made everyone's limbs lie under or over someone else's. There was even a cute naked dude in the mix sitting to Reichen's left and to my right.

On Saturday I ran into the Amazing Race winner again, he was the guest of honor at another party. He said he had been signing calendars (photographed by Kal Lee) throughout the day and that he was happy with how it turned out. I was introduced to other people and lost sight of him. Later, I was waiting in line for the bathroom, a door opened to my left and I saw him and … ahem … a few other people. I saw someone's legs in the air, I won't verify who's they were. Email me for racy details.

So, how was your weekend?

Hung

2004-06-29T17:47:00.000-07:00

Usually, grammar isn't talked about unless you're four or using double negatives. But then I had a talk with a poet and an sports comedy writer. I may not be as grammatically correct as either of them, but I am immature enough to make them laugh.

Dude 1: Don't you hate it when people use the word supposebly?
Dude 2: Ha, ha. Yeah. Or irreguardless.
Me: Um, yeah... (Mental note: don't use either of those words ever again.) What I want to know is how do you know when to use hanged or hung?
Dude 1: An object can be hung while a person is hanged. For example, the painting was hung on the wall ...
Dude 2: Right. And that man was hanged
this morning.
Me: Wait, so I a guy can't be hung?
Dude 1: Right.
Dude 2: Um ...

Collin Farrell is super hung. Groeg has the best commentary on it.

Roller Derby's Comeback

2004-06-28T17:42:00.000-07:00

She drops her elbow on the girl in front of her. They both go down — a teammate comes in from behind to stop the fight — and when the jabs start connecting, a dog pile of women in roller skates builds high into the area.

I thought the roller derby would be a lot like wrestling, the winner would be decided beforehand and the match would ultimately be about character building and theatrics. I was wrong. By then end of the first round, I see a broken nose. I see audience members receiving damage by rouge skaters flying out of the ring. I see two players twist their ankles. I see dozen's of falls, elbow drops, punches to ass. Yeah, that's right: punches to the ass. I even see a woman's skate connect to the head of her archrival. Oooo, that hurt! I even see blood.

Welcome to the Roller Derby, and all female league of angry, hostile and very independent women. The Arizona teams are: the Bruisers (in nurse's outfits or course), Furious Truck Stop Waitresses, Iron Curtain (Russian's in Tucson?), and Smash Squad with more teams coming. Other women's leagues have started in New York, Texas, Kansas, California, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Colorado and Wisconsin.

My favorite part is the penalty round where the player with the most errors has to spin the wheel of shame. Tonight, the unlucky woman's spin lands on Rosy Butt Boulevard! The audience is ordered to the center of the ring, the skater is escorted around it and everyone is given the chance to slap her ass as hard as possible. This is one fucked up sport, but I'm all about audience participation.

Gay Bulimia

2004-06-26T16:40:00.000-07:00

Gay guys work out too much. Not all of them do, but it seems like bodybuilding is could be akin to gay bulimia. Guys at the gym look in the mirror and you KNOW they see a geeky scrawny pathetic looking dude staring right back at them — there's no other reason to be that muscular! I, on the other hand, love what I see when I look in the mirror; which is why I bought four more mirrors this weekend. Enjoy.

Which Olsen Twin Are You?

2004-06-24T19:40:00.000-07:00

Often feeling like two different people, you try to do the right thing, eat the right foods, and market the trendiest products in your Walmart line appropriately titled Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen. You continue to make bad movies that miraculously do well on DVD and currently your popularity is at an all time high.

But this week you've had to make a very difficult choice, either: a) turn yourself into a rehabilitation center where you'll spend thousands of dollars forcing people to make you eat or b) escape to enchanting Tokyo where you'll happily promote your new (and painfully awful) movie New York Minute. Yes, you're an Olsen. And damnit, it's good to be disgustingly rich.

But who are you? Who are you really? You've grown up in the media spotlight and you are worth billions. With the constant pressure to be innocent, perfect, and naturally redheaded - like goddess Lindsy Lohan - how can you truly know who you are?

That's why you must take this simple quiz (but mostly because the last one was so popular and passionately requested).

What did you eat this morning?
Fruit and Egg Beaters ('cause that's low in cholesterol you heard).
Nothing. And since you didn't eat yesterday, you probably shouldn't eat today either.

What kind of boys do you like?
Blond football jocks.
Dark haired boys who's father owns one-third of Dreamworks SKG.

Which of the following best describes the image you see in your mirror?
Flawless.
Lard faced, its-not-my-fault-I-have-an-ass-the-size-of-a-Japanese-bullet-train, I hate you! You look like a heifer! A fat heifer!

On your recent appearance of Saturday Night Live, you played a paparazzi working the red carpet. You shouted this to the actress portraying you:
Thank you for smiling! God you're so nice!
You look thin! Eat a sandwich!

Also, on Saturday Night Live you made a commercial for your two new fragrances, Mary Kate and Ashley. Which one best describes the setting in which you should use your scent?
For moonlit walks, romantic diners with men twice your age
For when you're feeling bloated, unattractive, hideously unpretty, or just plain fat

You died your hair. (God help you.) What color is it now?
Blond
Anorexic red

How long does it take you to get ready in the morning?
All I need is 25 minutes to curl my hair and slip on a Prada skirt with a flattering Versace scoop neck top.
At least an hour, it takes me half that time just to fit my thunder thighs into these size 0 jeans.

How many pairs of earrings do you own?
I don't own earrings. I own expensive Jacob the Jeweler original bling.
Three or fewer, I hate wearing jewelry if I know I'm going to binge and purge in a public toilet before any PR work.

You usually picked the first answer. Your name is Ashley Olsen. You're stable because you only have one first name. If you had to hyphen that shit, you'd be no more than a hillbilly. You'll go far because you're good with people even if you ain't all that bright. Congratualtions! You're going go Tokyo. You're boyfriend just dumped you but who the fuck cares? Come fall, you'll be enrolled in NYU anyway. New York guys are so hot.

You usually picked the second answer. Your name is Mary Kate Olsen and you're the ugly one. See you in rehab! Don't forget to write. And eat a sandwich already!

Nip/Tuck Premiere, Season Two

2004-06-22T17:20:00.000-07:00

“The world is our oyster and we’re going to chase the bitch with a champagne chaser.” Playboy Dr. Christian Troy (Julian McMahon) says in tonight’s season premiere of Nip/Tuck. Full of gore and violence, the episode also features Aisha Tyler from Friends who seems to be unhappy with her clitoris. But that’s not what got me interested. I’m happy to find that Nip/Tuck will be shown without any commercials thanks to XM Satellite Radio. FX is trying so hard to be in the prime time spotlight. Here’s to a good show that pushes the boundaries of acceptance free from FCC fines. Cheers!

Season one is now available on DVD. Enter to win $10,000, a home makeover, a Hawaii spa retreat for two, or a New York trip for two with shopping money included at the official Nip/Tuck website. Good luck.

Now tell me, what is it that you don’t like about yourself?

Dodgeball

2004-06-21T15:57:00.000-07:00

“If you can dodge a wretch, you can dodge a dodge ball.” Absurd? Yes. Totally nut-busting hilarious? Also, yes.

Ben Stiller’s new movie is a true underdog story. More importantly, how many movies does one get to make where one can peg one’s own real-life wife in the head with a dodge ball? Ben cranks one at Christine Taylor and you have to wonder if he hating doing it or relished knocking his beautiful wife in the noggin.

Vince Vaughn is a stud. Vince Vaughn in leather — although odd — is worth the price of admission. Don’t forget to watch for b-list athlete cameos.

If you liked Zoolander, you’ll love Dodgeball. If you hated it, spare yourself the pain. I loved dodgeball as a kid. As an aspiring gymnast, it gave me a socially acceptable atmosphere to practice tumbling, back tucks, and, rolling. I didn’t even try to throw a ball, but dodge as many as I could. Sissy? Of course, and this only led to Xtreme PowerVolleyball — which combines international volleyball rules and Tai Chi Chuan.

What childhood sport would you love to see made into a movie?

Which Simple Life Girl Are You?

2004-06-18T23:47:00.000-07:00

Figuring out if you're the Nicole Richie or Paris Hilton of your friends can be difficult. This quiz will help you find out which one you truly are. Keep track of how many A's or B's you have, this will determine if you're the whore or the instigator.

Your daily hour of shopping ends with a credit card bill sent to daddy for the following amount:
1. $12,760.02
2. $2,986.68
When giving fashion advice to a friend you say:
1. Those would be great to hitchhike in if we run out of gas!
2. Will you please model your chaps for us? Just the chaps, with nothing under them.
How would your humble group of millionaire friends describe you?
1. The narcissistic pretty one.
2. The fun one with the amazing personality.
Your fashion faux-paux for the week is wearing:
1. Mermaid regalia. The bra makes your boobs look big.
2. A Juicy couture track suit. It's super comfortable.
Just before going to bed you say this to your best friend:
1. Good night, bitch.
2. Good night, bitch.
You're already famous for being famous. Which of the following best describes your current career track?
1. Most censored butt crack on television and avid poop scooper.
2. Professional fundraiser through street walking/grass-roots organizing
Your phrase of the day is:
1. That's hot.
2. That's sexy.
What's your dog's name?
1. Tinkerbell
2. Honey

Mostly A's: You're hot, you know it and you flaunt it. Daddy has tons of money, you don't worry about much except how people will react to your new outfit. It's a good thing you capitalize on your outer beauty now, it might not last forever. Plus, your friends look to you to find a place to hang out at night. You're fashion addicted personality is the perfect Paris Hilton match.

Mostly B's: You're friends rely on your smarts to get them through tough times. The only downside is that you need a pretty friend to put you in the spotlight. Your outgoing personality and seemingly endless supply of catch phrases makes you the Nicole Richie of your group.

The Rental Car That Fought Back

2004-06-18T12:18:00.000-07:00

There’s a gas smell coming from my air conditioning. Poor little Beepers (that’s my car), he seems to be leaking both engine coolant and gas. Luckily, my service rep at the VW shop will often give me a deal to help out with costly repairs. This time I’m really going to need it, the repair bill alone should be $600-700 for the fuel tank.

Phone conversation with my rep at 4pm:
VW: Your insurance guys won’t be in, it’s 6pm on the East coast.
Me: Okay.
VW: You wanna come down here and get a rental car?
Me: I have an event tomorrow—I’ll need som’um ...
VW: I’ll pay for it.
Me: Well, shit. If you’re gonna pay for it, I’ll be there in an hour. How long you there tonight, Kathy?
VW: I leave at 6pm.
Me: I’ll be there at 5pm.

She has my papers waiting when I get there. I walk over to the rental place and I’m excited to see a cute guy working. I’m also a little turned on when the dude tries to speak Spanish with the car wash Latinos bringing in the car keys. “How many cars are there? uh ... quantos cars are there?” he says. Que cute, no?

But then he offers me a Cavalier. Kill me now.

The car already knows I hate it even before I start driving. I don’t buy the extra insurance cute rental guy tries to sell me— that probably makes me suspicious in the car’s eyes. But, it drives well enough and I’m excited to see that I like four of the six presets on the car’s radio: r&b, rock, hip-hop, and dance stantion. We might get along after all, I think to myself as I bump Justin Timberlake’s “Cry Me A River.”

When I get home I swing open the door with quite a bit of force (you have to do that in my VW just to open the damn thing) ...

... and it slams right back into my head. Bastard.

Our big gay family

2004-06-14T21:50:00.000-07:00

I’m shocked to discover that traveling with gay men is much like traveling with a traditional modern family. There’s the mom, eldest daughter, middle daughter, youngest daughter, and of course the cousin that’s always over for dinner.

The eldest sister is Amir. He’s got the body everyone wants. He’s got the cute boyfriend that everybody wants. He’s got the lips everyone wants to kiss. He’s got the car everyone wants to be ride in. But his hair ain’t real — not with those extreme highlights and extensions. Somehow, he doesn’t seem to know how beautiful he is and probably sees himself as less than perfect. He can communicate with everyone and anyone because the dude knows like four languages and he’s the first one you notice in our family because he’s also one of the tallest. You don’t want to fuck with him either. Just by looking at you he can make you cry or run away. It’s ironic too that his name means first-born because he will always be our oldest sister.

Then there’s Justice. He believes himself to be an only child even though he’s the only adopted one. He’s the fun trendy one everyone wants to be around. He’s got more energy than a flock of cheerleaders and more talent for sports than anyone ought to have. He’s a jock in every sense of the word, he’s good at every sport he gets involved with but somehow manages not to rub in the fact that we all suck in comparison. He’s ghetto fabulous and constantly makes us laugh. We love Justice, he’s the center of universe to us so logically, it makes sense that he’s the middle sister.

There’s Brock, the cousin. He’s in the military, tough, and angry (don’t ignore his bleeding head, you’ll regret it later). He’s constantly driving to the ends of the Earth for us ‘cause he lives like nowhere near anything. He’s got the jeep you can break into with a pair of scissors and the fact that no one does speaks volumes to how cool he is. He can fix anything if given the right tools. He can fix anything from a squeaky car to an armored battle tank. Just don’t forget his name, if you forget and ask him more than four times in a night, he’ll never let it go.

Then there’s me. I ask if everyone is okay, I make sure everyone feels welcome and invited. It’s for this reason that I seem so popular, it’s my empathy that lets me notice everyone’s mood and state of mind so I can deal with them. I’m the responsible one of the group even if I don’t see myself as that way, ‘cause that’s like so domesticated and I don’t want to be no tied down bitch-whipped chicken head. I’m the one who checks to make sure all the doors are locked but I’m always looking for new things to do and exploring things outside my universe. I’m crafty and well connected. I’m the mom; and I hate that. I completely despise it — I want to be cool. I want to be the fierce, pregnant, out of wedlock teenage Latina mom who insists on having my baby alone. Fuck the father, I’m pretty sure he’d be gone if he knew I was rock’n jelly. Besides, I like being a whore every now and then dancing at the Pussycat club.

Oh, and when we travel, don’t use my loofa. I hate that. I brought my own fuck’n shampoo, my own goddamned body wash; I even brought extra pillows and a comforter just in case anyone needed them, which they did. I don’t even use a pillow at home. I don’t move in my sleep, I stay on my side of the bed because I’m used to waiting for my baby’s daddy to join me at night, knowing full well that he’s never coming home since he left me for a younger version of myself. In the morning I wake up before everyone else so I can have some quiet time alone with my homemade buttermilk cornbread muffins I stole yesterday from autie Cocos.

Queer As Folk Babylon Tour cancelled in Flagstaff Arizona

2004-06-13T00:34:00.000-07:00

We're at the Wendy's dive-up window in Flagstaff, Arizona. Hours before we had just seen 80's icon Tiffany perform at Flagstaff's Pride in the Pines. Five urbanite gay men sit in the car contempating their worst nightmare: being trapped in a small town with nothing to do. Gasp! So we eat.

AUTHENTIC MEXICAN FOOD IS MADE FROM LARD

2004-06-11T17:10:00.000-07:00

I’m fond of heart smart food, especially anything wrapped in a tortilla. Chipotle is a dream come true. People complain that the food there isn’t authentic enough to be Mexican food and so they won't even eat there. I agree that it isn't authentic but who wants their arteries to collapse? How can anyone hate a heart-smart burrito the size of Vin Diesel’s forearm filled with chicken, black beans, rice, and sour cream that you can order online and pick up in ten minutes? Certainly not this young Latino.

But occasionally I go to Oaxaca (pronounced oh-HA-kah with special throat phlegm clearing emphasis on the syllable ‘HA’), best Mexican restaurant in Phoenix aside from Barrio Cafe. But why is it that in order to be “authentic” EVERYTHING must be made from lard? I think I’ve even heard a Chicano folk tale where God creats the first man out of leftover solidified grease from a Folgers tin can located above Jesus’s heavenly stove.

Giving thanks to Jesus’s cooking, I leave Oaxaca with a full stomach. My face seems oilier than when I arrived. Looking in a mirror I notice that I have an ugly pimple on my forehead. I really hate popping pimples, and I hate people who try to pop them for me. That's like — so gross. This one’s already somewhat popped so I help it along, much to my discomfort and aesthetic ethics.

Todd then asks me what I have on my face. I say it’s a pimple and think nothing more of it. What I don’t know is that the blood is oozing out in all directions creating a faux-bullet wound on my forehead.

Lesson of the day: Do NOT pop your pimples.

THE COMPLETE FAGGOTS GUIDE: BECOMING A WHORE AND NOT LOSING YOUR FRIENDS IN THE PROCESS

2004-06-09T21:33:00.000-07:00

Writing blogs and not posting them for a while has given me insight into who I am and where I’ve come from in the past year. I didn’t think I would change that much and maybe I really didn’t. But I’ve been responding to my surroundings in much different ways and I think I know why.

Change #1: Body
When Merce and I started working out, I hoped I’d get bigger, but I wasn’t expecting my ego to grow along with my biceps. I now have 11 inch arms and an 8 mile long ego. My ego also came equipped (upgraded?) with a homing device that alerts me to any cute guys in range (ages 18-29, of course). Cool as it is, I can’t turn it off! I stare at men, violate them in my mind, and occasionally get their phone numbers. Men who perpetually cruise are weird. I used to hate those guys.

Change #2: Mind
Knowing I have a good body has increased my self-confidence. I used to be the thin (or fat depending on how far back you go) geeky Latino boy with large cuneiform shaped eyebrows. And look at me now – I know I look good and that makes me a bonafide little shit. I used to hate those guys.

Change #3: Spirit
My social life has completely change. I’ve developed irrational fears like getting fat, having a 5 o’clock shadow, disliking pop music, and turning 30. I used to hate those guys! More importantly, I’ve neglected my friends. Tricks come and go, but friends are much harder to find … especially online. Luckily, I’ve been hard at work developing these guidelines for all to follow.

So I present to you now:

The Complete Faggots guide to becoming a whore and not losing your friends in the process.

Rule #1:
Friends come first.
When offered the chance of really amazing sex with the high school looking jock you’ve always dreamed about or seeing Lindsey Lohan’s new movie ALWAYS choose your friends and the movie. A year from now you’ll find a younger jock who will be more than willing be your wide receiver.

Rule #2:
Friends come first.
If you’re on a trip with your friends, let’s say — oh, I don’t know — to Madonna’s concert and the MGM Grand hotel in Las Vegas and you meet a cute boy in lobby do not offer to walk him to his room. You’ll never leave, you’ll miss the concert, and your friends will disown you or fly home without you. Furthermore, if you run into said blue-eyed hottie with amazing side burns, butt-flattering pants and cute Diesel shoes from the lobby down by the pool, do not ditch your friends for a few hours for the best sex you’ll ever have. Your friends will know what you were up to by the glow on your face and the smell of lube radiating from your body. Trust me on this one.

Rule #3:
Friends come first.
Noticing the pattern, yet? Every one has a really hot friend that your complete circle of friends (and their much older gay brother) wants to bang. You pull the guy act with him and make him laugh, but never give any indication that you want him or even find him attractive (the friend, not your brother). You become the alpha male of the group and that’s when he notices you. "You’re not like other guys," he’ll say. Wrong! You’re exactly like other guys, your friends are just honest enough to play the part of drooling faggots. Do not fuck him (twice) and hide it from you friends. He may leave the group entirely and never come back, fearing that he can never face the first guy he fucked. Your friends will wonder what happened to him. You’ll know of course, you’ll have images of the virgin in you mind, as you say, "He was fun, though."

Rule #4:
I comes before U.
This should actually be discussed beforehand. And it's really not a rule so much as it’s an option (and an alphanumeric principle).

Rule #5:
Friends can come second but not very often.
You have got to have some kind of sex life, because then you’ll have nothing to laugh about with your friends. I’m really good at this rule. I’ve broken all the rest numerous times, but I’m trying to be a better friend and get his one right. When it’s my birthday and I want to celebrate it at Six Flags in California, it’ll much more fun with the guys then if I go by myself and meet gorgeous boys with shining pecs, muscular thighs and beautiful brown eyes all on my own. Right?