Wasted Wednesdays

A shot from our night at Mustache Mondays a couple of evenings ago...


(via www.buttdickandpussy.blogspot.com)

Toasted Tuesdays

Woah. Mustache Mondays was something else last night. It was a nice distraction from the whole BJ Vs. Whip Photo debacled. Here are some of the highlights...

1. Fade-Dra hooking the Woodsman and myself up. Thanks GHOULfriend.

2. Jer Ber Jones working it out.

3. Finally getting to experience the legendary The Ones live on stage.

4. Conversing with homeGHOULs Fade-Dra, Squeaky, Jer Ber, Alice Cunt, Victor, Blossom, & Sean DeLear.

5. The fight that broke out during Rye Rye's surprise performanace + the aftermath that consumed La Cita.

6. Sean DeLear's vocal bashing to the bloody vermin who squrmed his way back into La Cita.

7. Meeting Nashom Wooden of The Ones.

8. Two margaritas. Thanks Woodsman.

Today's Special: Wisdom

I'm feeling 95% better today. I'm much improved. The illness seems to be on the outs. Thank heaven. But of course, despite the fact that my physical is on the up, my mental & emotional is on the down - I'm quite overworked at the moment. And it stems from that damn issue with BJ and the photo. Argh.

The main bits: BJ wanted to continue to talk about it when I was clearly over it. I didn't have the energy to deal with that shit because of two reasons: my mom's visit and my unwellness. I was planning on calling her this evening to clear up this situation, but she jumped to conclusions before I had the chance to explain myself. She decided to send me a not so pleasant message on Faceplace and remove me from her friends listing. This enraged me.

The bitchy response: I complied a letter to her that I would then send to her via Faceplace. It was not very nice. Honestly, it was quite brutal, but in my opinion I was speaking the truth, and verbally releasing my emotions. I won't go into the details of the letter, but I will include a quote that I listed within the body. I'm sure you will get the idea of where I went with it all...

“What is the common denominator of all your fucked up relationships? You bitch. Fix yo’ mutha fuckin’ self. You the only bitch been through all this bad shit. Look inside yourself.” - Sheryl Underwood

My current standing: I'm still quite angry with the entire situation. I hate dealing with drama, but if you bring it, I will serve it. And I don't deal well with the whole passive aggressive behaviour. Especially when a friend uses it on me. So the way I feel right now is due to the fact that this situation was "taken there".

Following up: BJ responded to my message. She informed me that the words where "pretty harsh" and it made her "really sad". She also said she understood and would "back off". Whatever the fuck that means. She did not apologize for going overboard on the removal of friends and calling this situation a "failed" relationship. From this, I am still quite pissed off. But at the same time, not at all surprised.

Such A Fucking Lady

Some old school Adele Givens shit from Def Comedy Jam... work!

Banned By Popular Demand

Holy hell. The flow of insanity runs deeps in these parts.

BJ can be a piece of work sometimes. And this is coming from a piece of work herself (moi).

*gather thoughts*

To keep a long story short, BJ didn't approve of a comment which read "Now you can add "teabagged" experience to your resume." with an attached photo which I posted on her Faceplace wall. A photo that she clearly posed for. A photo she took, not one, but two times. One for Mr. Black LA, and one of my personal collection. I posted the one from the Mr. Black LA website. Anyway, she removed the posting which in turn irked the hell out of me. Why you ask? I'll tell you...

She has a tendency to post photos of myself and others that she deems alright on her end, but heaven forbid if you do it.

This reminds me of an old acquaintance who bitched me out for sending out mass e-mails to my friends. He asked me to take him off the list because he didn't approve of mass e-mails. I obliged his request. It seemed odd to me that he did not practice what he preached as I continued to get numerous messages from his e-mail account and his mass mailings.

Hypocrites all of them.

Anyway, since this is MY shit and I can do what I please, I will post the link to the photo of BJ's embarrASSing moment and you can make the call if it was indeed appropriate or not. And if you truly know me, it was appropriate, but fuck it, I'm over it.

http://mrblackla.blogspot.com/2010/03/mr-black-la-tuesday-march-2nd-2010.html

Hot Cup Of Tea

I love Alison Goldfrapp.

February 28, 2010

Alison Goldfrapp walks alone

Her style has spawned many imitators, but the fortysomething superstar hates being pigeonholed for her music or her sexuality

(Ryan O'Toole)

'I had my faith restored in youth and rebellion with that squat party in Mayfair. We used to do that all the time,' says Alison Goldfrapp

Paul Flynn

I meet Alison Goldfrapp at Soho House the morning after the Brit Awards. She is fresh-faced, wearing a vintage silk shirt with a zebra galloping across it, but I never once see her eyes, as she keeps a pair of classic Ray-Bans perched on her delicate little nose throughout. At 43, she has sparrow-like dimensions and a flurry of blonde curls, but when she roars, she has a delicious negativity that you can almost feel her attempting to reign in. So, did she watch the awards last night? “Absolutely not!” she exclaims. “I am not in the slightest bit interested in watching it or any other awards ceremony. They are all random. That one is about cash, and how much cash you can make, and lots of people sitting around patting themselves on the back for making cash.”

Dismissing the entire music industry in three easy sentences? Just another day at the office for Ms Goldfrapp. With the unusual combination of a convent education set against a bohemian Hampshire upbringing, Goldfrapp was always going to push the boundaries. She famously rounded off her degree show in fine art with a performance that combined yodelling with milking a cow. A spell as a collaborator with Bristol’s favourite dystopian, Tricky, and guest spots with the balding rave nerds Orbital were her greatest musical accomplishments of the 1990s. But then she hooked up with her long-term collaborator in Goldfrapp (also the name of her band), Will Gregory. She says that for the entire writing process behind making a record, it is just the two of them in the studio. No engineer. No tea boy. “We make our own bloody tea, thank you very much.”

The band were then signed by Mute Records’ Daniel Miller (“One of the only men in the industry whose opinion you actually want to hear. The rest you want as far away as possible from what you do”) and, owing to the dream-like, filmic texture of their first record, Felt Mountain, Goldfrapp were mistakenly dumped in the then voguish chillout camp. Perhaps marked by this early cataloguing carelessness, one of Alison Goldfrapp’s pet hates is piped music. When she toured her most recent album, she says she would look in the lobbies of hotels for the wires to the sound systems, because she wanted to cut them.

Throughout the course of their records, they have engaged with vintage European electronics, glam-rock, pastoral acoustics and 3am mirrorball classics, without ever losing the central flavour of what it is to be Goldfrapp — which is, eminently danceable, sexually brooding pop of the highest order: the kind Madonna would probably make if she could just stop being so high-achieving.

So, after a decade in the record industry, it seems musical times are in danger of catching up with Goldfrapp. There are mini-Frapps everywhere, standing moodily by their synthesizers in some distinct, eye-catching plumage. From the Madonna-ish steel of Gaga through the brazenly retro La Roux to the almost “Tonight, Matthew…” tribute acts Little Boots and Ellie Goulding, Alison Goldfrapp’s accidental spawn have cut a swathe right across culture.

One cannot help but wonder if she would rather be operating on a more even playing field in the record industry, 20 years younger. “No. I feel for all the new young ladies that are around at the moment. They are probably having their arses worked off because they’re young and hungry. I’m sure that record companies think of them as more malleable, and I think that’s really tough for them. That stuff really takes its toll on you, very quickly. You can’t be creative when you’re being shoved around from pillar to post all over the planet, and then, when things stop, just be expected to turn out another album. You learn your tolerance levels of how much stuff you can and can’t do with age. It is a lesson you have to learn.”

Goldfrapp’s fifth record, a concise nine-song set by the name of Head First, opens with a suite of three tracks that are the most transparently pop of her career. It feels as if she has turned in her straightest pop record, ironically at a time when she is at her least straight. “Who started off straight? I didn’t start off straight. That’s someone else’s perception, not mine.” She is now going out with the film editor Lisa Gunning, but looks aghast when I ask if she is now a lesbian.

“What? Am I saying that? I feel like I’m in an amateur therapy session. No, I am not. I think of everything as being about a person and a relationship, and I am in a wonderful relationship with a wonderful person. It just happens to be with a lady. I’ve had some wonderful relationships with men, too. I mean, I’ve had some shit ones — haven’t we all? But no, it’s a relationship with a person and that’s how I see my sexuality. It’s something I’ve thought about for a long time and it concurs with my philosophy on life and sexuality. I don’t think it can or should be pigeonholed. I’ve thought about this since I was a teenager. I’ve always found it claustrophobic to think about having to put things into categories like that. My sexuality is the same as my music and my life. Why does it need a label?”

Unlike music, surely there is a political impulse behind homosexuality, though, whe­ther you like it or not. “Of course, and I appreciate that. Maybe I’m lucky in that I haven’t had to face it as much as someone who feels that they are definitely in one camp. Maybe that’s the difference.”

Of course, the point with Alison Goldfrapp is that she doesn’t need to be 20 years younger to compete with the peers she accidentally gave voice to. There is always something of the impetuous teen about her. She looks utterly delighted when I note that the lyrics of Head First have the openness of a teenager in love. “I had my faith restored in youth and rebellion quite recently, actually,” she says, “with that story about the squat party in Mayfair. I just thought, we used to do that shit all the time. I was quite relieved by it in a way. Obviously, you don’t want people to get hurt or messed up, but I loved the fact that they were just having a party. And that they had ruined Park Lane. I mean, brilliant, no? It made me laugh. I found it almost heart-warming. I got quite nostalgic for a moment.”

It's Re-GINA If You're Nasty

Despite being sick, I am still able to keep my energy up for my mom's visit. We went to see Dreamgirls last night at the Ahmanson Theatre. I know, I know... that's pretty gay, but fuck it, I'm a big homo who loves showtunes, so stick it! Ok, I may not LOVE showtunes, but I can roll with the biggest queens who live and breathe musicals. And besides, you got to love the character of Effie. Go girl.

Well to continue on the diva theme (read: homo), the three of us (my mom, Woods, and I) attended the one woman show of the incomparable Jenifer Lewis entitled "Hot Flash" which was held at the Renberg Theatre. Good lord that woman is something else. I had figured the show would run about 90 minutes tops. I was wrong. She went on for about 2 hours. Work it girl. And as always, she was amazing.

I'm really quite happy my mom enjoyed it so much. I kind of knew that she would, but it's always nice when she really does have a good time at these shows we take her to. I love taking her to these shows that she would not be able to experience back in Tucson. It's true, I'm a momma's boy. So what.

At least with the combination of two shows, my mom was finally (I use that term loosely) able to spot a few celebrities. Last night while driving into the Center Theatre Group's complex she spotted Jeremy Renner getting out of a sports car. While tonight, she got to see the legendary Marla Gibbs (Flo from "The Jeffersons") and my personal favorite... Regina Hall of "Scary Movie" fame! And since I just saw my boo Regina Hall, I have to include the absolutely best and most hilarious clip of Brenda from the first of the "Scary Movie" series:



Oh, if I wasn't so sick, I would have thrown myself at Regina, but alas, I am quite unwell at the moment. Next time, next time.

Sniffle X 2 Cough X 2

What perfect timing. It looks like I am dealing with the beginning stages of having a cold. Of course this couldn't have started last week. Instead, it's happening today just as my mom is scheduled to fly in tonight for the weekend. And what a weekend at that! We have a complete weekend chock full of shows, trotting around town and such. Sigh.

I find this highly unacceptable on my part. Damn my body! Oh well, I just have to suck it up and deal with it. I'll have to keep myself in high spirits and avoid passing my sickness to anyone else. At least my mom doesn't mind as she just worries about my health and will more that likely try to make sure I am doing alright. Yay for mothers!

Now it's time for Orange Juice, then the typical Mexican remedy of chicken noodle soup & Sprite. *cough*

Caught With Your Pants Down

Looks like I won't be stopping by Griffith or Elysian anytime soon.

Pelotas Azules

So I have returned from being out this evening. Tonight was not the usual night filled with club hopping and socializing. Instead, I spend my Saturday night at a sex party. I attend these sex parties every few months. It's an exclusive club, but not the bullshit kind of exclusive you might think. There is a purpose for the exclusivity. It's quite nice actually, because of the selection process the parties are loads of fun and "hot" (the generic form of the word), as well as well planned and managed.

Anyhow, the night was rather lackluster on my part. Sure the sex that was happening was "hot" (generic form again), but it was one of those evenings where my game was non-existent. The guys I were into didn't seem to be into me, and when it did seem as if a guy I was into was about to make a move (or vice versa) it just fizzled out. In this type of situation, timing is to blame. I'm not frustrated by any means as these scenarios present themselves ever so often so I'm sure the next party will make up for this one. At least the party allowed me the opportunity to see a few of my "acquaintances" there, as well as having some of those "hot" visuals permanently burned into my mind.

Now the best part of the night was the post-party shenanigans. Woods and I ventured to one of the Hollywood Denny's for some junk food - you know... fried cheese sticks, hot wings, onion rings, ice cream shakes, soda pop. Yum. Well little did I know the meal would come with first class entertainment. You see, the clubs had just let out so the restaurant was crawling with classy nightlife patrons all decked out in their new Sean John digs, Hollywood hooker styled stripper heels, and freshly styled weaves. Cute. The whole restaurant was like a South 36th fashion show. South 36th is a reference for my Tucson peeps.

Well across from our table was this small group led by this amazonian female who was rather loudly blunt with her feelings about this and that. Oh, I can tell you that she kept me in stitches with her ghetto lingo and one liners. Here are a few that I can muster up from my memory...

"If you throw some money on the floor, she'd strip for you"

"Sir... sir... sir... I need to tell you that woman was horrible. I wanted to slap the hell out of her. She made my experience here very unpleasant"

"Edith was the shit, but that other girl... I almost slapped her face"

Now you may think to yourself "Whip, how is that classic?" Well, I guess it's one of those situations where you had to be there. Her delivery shouting those lines were remarkable. Lady Amazon could work the hell out of those words. But I will say that the line that leaped out into the Drunken Ghetto Comment Hall Of Fame was this little ditty...

*drumroll*

"If she don't take my order soon, I'm gonna take off my panties and piss on the floor!"

Now how could you not love that. I had to hold my Dr. Pepper in my mouth otherwise I would have spit it out all over Woods who was sitting quietly across from me.

Oh, how I wish BJ, Raya, Alaska, Crystal, Rapunzel, Sims, MommaT, or any one of my other crazy crew members had been there to share those moments with me. They would have ate it up. I guess I will have to hope for a repeat performance as I plan to take those bitches to that Denny's the next time we are out on the town. Good times await!

At least the night ended on a high note as my balls are a shade of blue I never seen. Lovely.

Make It Clap

My current curiosity/future obsession is what is becoming the Sissy Bounce movement. I got a Faceplace notice from Some Thing (Friday nights at The Stud - google it) informing me that Big Freedia was set to perform there. I followed the link to view the video, and let me tell you - woah! I was in catapulted into sheer happiness.

You can view this little piece on Big Freedia:



The burning question now is... when is Big Freedia going to come to LA?!

I Love Me Some Shane McCutcheon

I posted the following photo on BJ's Faceplace wall yesterday with the question: "Wasn't she on The L Word or something?"


I swear that little teen sensation looks like a full blown lezbitarian to me. Work it sister!

It has been the consensus between Woods and I that little Justin Bieber looks like a hipster lezbot. Which I find hot. But on the other hand, I don't find anything hot about little Justina, but I guess if you are a tween then this would be your cup of tea. Good for them.

And btw, Faceplace is what I call Facebook. Yea.

Slave To The Rhythm

Last night's post was definitely a prelude to my mood for the majority of today. I was feeling quite depressed. It was one of those feelings that you kind of know that it's happening, but in full denial of it. The definite signs of me living on the low end are sleep deprivation, subconsciously intended starvation, disinterest in sex/masturbation, and isolation. And I was serving all of it, honey!

But now I am viewing this day in a whole new light. A rebirthing if you will. I decided that I would set easily obtainable goals for myself in hopes that I can, I mean will, complete them. I want to take baby steps. And when I finish them, I will more than likely find the inspiration in it. I soon then will become a cheerleader.

I do have to credit my love of music to get me through to the other side when I get into these scenarios. Listening to "You Got The Love" by The Source Featuring Candi Staton really pushed me over the edge into clarity. I remember tuning myself into this classic dance song many years ago back in San Diego when I would get all beat down about my then living situation. It had the effect to open my eyes and see passed all the bullshit. And I'm happy to report, it's still working it's magic today.

So now I am going to take a disco nap so I can possibly go out to a show this evening. Then I can return home for a nightcap, only to add a dose of my nightly ritual, then a good heaping of sleep. This boy needs it. I want to start tomorrow on a brand spanking new vibe. All I can say to that is: Go Girl!

In Need Of Head (hunter)

I'm so over not working. Yea, it was cute for a while, but I'm honestly done with it. I guess I've been done with it for a long time, and maybe it has had an affect on my overall well-being and mental state when I come to think of it. It gets to down when I reflect on the last few years. I kind of wish I didn't decide to go the "personal time" route when I got laid off from my last job what feels like eons ago.

Now here I am - frustrated, looking for direction in my life. Should I go back to school? Should I attempt to find full time work during this economic climate? And if I do even find work, how will I do with making less money than I did when I was working? Hell, at this point, I guess some money is better than no money. But it also makes me feel like I'm starting all over again in the employment field. And that just bothers me to bits.

Here's the thing - I've always been one who loved to work. Early on, I loved actually being at work even tho I wasn't into the whole seriousness of it. I was always a bit sluggish when getting myself into the mood, but child, one I was there, I was there 110 percent. And I've always been like this as far as I could remember - ever since my first position at NYSP when I was 14 years young. Granted, it was a summer job, but I truly loved it. And I never stopped. Until...

When I first got laid off while I was back in San Diego, I saw it as a new chapter in my life. A "what to do next" sort of thing. I conversed with Woods about moving to LA and within a matter of months, it happened. I was finally living in the city that I love. And I could thank Woods for that. But on the other hand, I should have said no to our discussions about me not working. I should have just moved here, got settled and look for work right away. Or at the very least, gone to school. But I didn't.

So here I am. A man/boy/guy filled with thoughts of "could haves", "should haves", and "would haves". A mountain of dissatisfaction, resentment, and irritation. I feel borderline depressed when I even contemplate the entire situation. I hate it. I hate not have the money like I used to. I hate not having the pride like I used to. I hate not having the social interactions like I used to.

Ugh, I could go on and on with this, but I need to stop myself. The only thing I can do in order to help myself is to get on track with this. And I feel I have been slowly. I have been skimming the employment listings on craigslist over the past two days and so far, I have found a few that I am interested in. So I think I shall finish up this rant and get to resume sending, because the only person who can get me out of this funk is myself, so I better not lollygag any longer. I've had my fun, and I'm ready to move on.

Bang The Drum Slowly

I'm still in awe from Trannyshack this past Friday night. Here is the clip I uploaded of Squeaky Blonde's gorgeous performance.



I love Squeaky.