1985: Jeff at age 6

My friend Jeff in North Carolina turns 20 today. That’s the age he’s giving. Who am I to argue? I’ve only known him since 1980, so I can’t really say for sure. A big old “happy birthday” anyhow, despite the fact that Jeff opted to pass the milestone in Myrtle Beach rather than San Francisco.

So I’m working my butt off this weekand finding very little time to do much with the site.

For those who are following closely, I have finally moved all the relevant phone lines and moved my office into its new home (thanks to Dan for the assist). Aside from the fact that I can now avoid working by looking out the big bay window, I can also hear it when the trash truck comes.

Ooops.

Having just returned from running my trash downstairs in my bathrobe, I’ll continue babbling about nothing now. OK…maybe I’ll babble about the cute garabage man who let me throw the bag into the truck all by myself. He smiled at me. Awww…

Mistake of the week: frozen chopped collards. Fear them.

Disappointment of the week: no flowers on Secretaries Day.

Frightening sight of the week: the phone tree in my basement as I tried to figure out what line went where.

Damn it was hot the past couple of days…

Of course, by San Francisco standards, this means it may have hit 80F (27C). Longtime readers know that I have no great love for overabundant sunshine or hot weather. It’s especially annoying given that it was rainy and windy and pretty damned cold last week. A little compromise might have been nice.

I felt precariously clse to white trashdom Thursday night as I sat here in front of the fan, with the TV tuned to “Scared Straight: 20 Years Later”, and wearing nothing but a pair of beat-up gym shorts. I felt the urge to put an old upholstered sofa out on the porch and have a beer.

Of course, I then realized that, while I do have a deck (which is sort of a porch) I still don’t own a sofa right now, upholstered or otherwise.

Tonight’s plan is to hit one of the local taverns and pick up some nice boy with an air-conditioned apartment.

Yeah, I know I’m a weather wimp. I realize that my definition of “hot” may sound a little ridiculous. The lack of a discernible summer is one of the main reasons I moved to San Francisco, and one of the things which may ultimately keep me here. It’s pretty much a given that I’ll never get the urge to move to Florida or Palm Springs.

Things I love today: air-conditioned supermarkets, Frosted Mini-wheats, re-watching my video of US Tour 1997 for the first time in months, not shaving.

Things I hate today: Gap commercials, parking tickets, the moths which have invaded my kitchen, the weather, perpetual construction everyplace I go.

Things I wish I had today: a sofa, a Double-R Bar Burger from Roy Rogers, an air conditioner, the time to take a good road trip.

So yesterday sucked, but I’m well-fed and relatively happy today. Amazing what a few quality moments in the frozen-food aisle at Costco can do.

Mmmmm…bulk shopping. Ten-packs of videotapes, mayonnaise in jars the size the size of some small cars, and mile-long frozen kielbasa. Boxed sets of Andy Griffith Show re-runs and Teletubbies adventures. All the second-rate Disney movies and books by Tom Brokaw. And, of course, the piece de resistance: the food counter with those “hot dog and a Coke for 69 cents” or whatever combos. What’s not to love?

Speaking of consumer frenzy, why is it that I always buy a bunch of three bananas at the store and always (without fail) end up eating one and eventually throwing away the other two?

Still speaking of consumer frenzy, they just mentioned both Kinko’s and Photoshop on “King of the Hill”. Whatever happened to the Megalomart?

And speaking of prime time cartoons, I’m sorry to hear that Wilma Flintstone is dead. I’m even sorrier that, if I’d said “Jean Vander Pyl is dead”, no one would know who I was talking about.

Still speaking of prime time cartoons, SF Mayor Willie Brown is doing his own show on cable TV. How much do you bet he won’t be asking himself many hard questions? And how much do you bet he’ll always be quite fashionably dressed?

And speaking of fashionable, what is this fixation that very faggot in America has with Abercrombie and Fitch all of a sudden? I found more links to THEIR web site than I did to the Advocate while researching the April Fool’s gag. It’s sort of become an instant cliche. I just don’t get it…

And yes, I’ll stop now, before I start another completely random free association…

Hallelujah! McDonald’s has added sexual orientation to its non-dicrimination policy. Now queers have the right to cook really vile-tasting fast food for five bucks an hour. I’d imagine domestic partner benefits aren’t an issue. Does Master Ronald even OFFER benefits to his plantation workers? Maybe just to the overseers…

Maybe they need a visit from Michael Moore and crew. Yer humble host is most excited about his new show, The Awful Truth, which starts this weekend on Bravo. Michael Moore rules the universe as I currently see it. Among the planned excursions on the show: Michael drives a van full of sodomites through states which still have sodomy laws, videotaping the felonies they commit therein.

Beats hell out of another Friends re-run, huh?

In other breaking news, I’ve managed (thanks to Dan) to obtain something I’ve been wanting for a long time: an original Charles Chips cannister. For those of you who have no clue what a Charles Chip might be, this was a company which used to do weekly home delivery of potato chips. Yes, it sounds as strange to me as it does to you.

My aunt next door got Charles Chips delivered. Most of my other neighbors did too. I always felt a little inadequate as a child because we never had one of these cans in my house. Mom and Dad boughts Lay’s at Winn-Dixie instead.

But now I have one. My life is almost complete.