Angels and Others

And now for something really cute.

2011-11-28T14:38:00.000-08:00

Save Bucky!!

2011-10-31T09:49:00.001-07:00

This is Bucky.
Bucky was a happy go lucky little pug without a care in the world but one day his owners thought it would be cute to dress him up like a character from a Sci-Fi movie. As happens so often in these situations pictures of this "cuteness" have turned up on the internet.
Bucky is now a humiliated,depressed and suicidal little dog.
We here at speckworld beg you...Please don't dress your animals up for Halloween or any other reason. It isn't cute...It's stupid.

If you won't do it for us, in the name of god, do it for Bucky.

Confessions of a Food Porn Addict

2011-10-24T12:19:00.000-07:00

Uh …Hi…My name is Boband I’m an addict.

It all started when I was still in myteens; I’d watch an occasional episode of Julia Child’s The French Chefor The Great Chefs series on PBS for kicks. Nothing major, it wasall just fun. The food seemed so exotic and special and a world away fromanything I experienced in 70’s suburban Virginia. As I got a little olderI began to watch these shows on a weekly basis and discovered Chef Tell who wasnot only one of America’s first star chefs but the inspiration for aMuppet. And all this years before the high priestess of American foodwriting, Ruth Reichl, made another German with an improbable name (WolfgangPuck) a culinary god. By my late teens my habit had grown to include TheFrugal Gourmet with Jeff Smith and Burt Wolf, whose travel related showswere irresistible to someone who dreamed of a life beyond the tract houses andof food beyond mac and cheese.

Time and travel gave me moreopportunities to experience food first hand. After some time in Paris anda few years living in New York I came to understand that an in-personrelationship with food was far better than one via basic cable. But thenit happened: the Brooklyn building I was sharing with six mimes (yes, six andno, it wasn’t quiet) was slated for demolition and I had to find a place tolive and fast. As luck would have it a friend of a friend was looking fora roommate and I moved in to an apartment…with cable. One evening duringa lighthearted session of channel surfing I found my drug of choice, Channel 50the TV Food Network. Here it was, one cooking show after another in aflickering never-ending procession. So what if these shows lacked anyreal production values and the same episodes were aired numerous timesthroughout the day, I didn’t care, it was all I needed. All hot andsteamy, sweet, salty, oiled, broiled, deep fried and all for me whenever Iwanted it. Martha and Mario, Emeril and Sarah were my constantcompanions. Every evening I was at home; every day off I couldn’t get enough.How to slice, dice or parboil. Ever wanted to know were cumquats camefrom or how they made Dove bars? There were shows for that too.

The Food Network will soon celebrateits 18th year of broadcasting and stunoff a sibling network The Cooking ChannelI’m still there remote in hand. Many of my old friends have vanished(Sandra Pinckney, where are you?) or moved on to bigger and better (MarioBatali has toured Spain with Gwyneth Paltrow and regularly appers on ABC’sdaytime show The Dish and MarthaStewart pretty much owns the world…still) but I’ve made new friends. Somelike Ina Garten (who’s recipes you actually want to make), Paula Deen (who’srecipes you also want to make but don’t for fear of a lard induced cardiacincident) who you watch just for fun and others like Tyler Florence, KevinBrauch and Chuck Hugheswho you watch because…well look at them. While theFood Network will always have a place in my heart and my waistline, they nolonger make up the whole of my addiction. Now I have to have my weeklyhit of Anthony Bourdain, the dirty uncle of culinary broadcasting and the only“TV chef” who has found their way on to my i-pod, and yes I Ti-Vo MarthaStewart’s daily show and fast forward through everything that isn’tcooking. As far gone as I am, if I ever want to make baby toys out ofathletic socks just do me a favor and kill me.

Being a dyed-in-the-wool nonbeliever inthings religious I have only had one truly mystical event in my life. OnSeptember 11th ,2001 and the days immediately following, as what had once beenthe World Trade Center smoldered in ruins, the one TV channel out of 200 thatwas not knocked off the air in New York City was The Food Network. Even in one of the nation’s darkest hours my constant source of comfort wasstill there. Maybe something out there does like me. And if that’strue whatever it is must also like watching food prepared by experthands. If only it didn’t like Alton Brown quite so much.

Going Green

2011-10-19T11:40:00.001-07:00

"How like life is the endive, well shaped but ah…so bitter."

I’m eating vegetables. I’m not particularly proud of this fact but it’s the truth. I have eaten more vegetables since starting my diet last Monday than in the previous six months. And not the fun vegetables either, the green ones. No corn, no potatoes, no carrots and no peas. I can, however, eat kale, cabbage and kohlrabi to my hearts content. Kohlrabi? Great, now I have to “google” vegetables to find out just how much I’m going to hate eating them. For the record Kohlrabi is a German turnip with the taste and texture of a broccoli stem. A broccoli stem? Yum! Give me more of that!

I take solace in knowing that my green, leafy aversion is typical of many brought up in my class (blue collar) and my country (the good ‘ol USA) and that many of us were trained to dislike vegetables almost from birth. If your ethnic background, like mine (German/Irish), was one whose default method of vegetable preparation was boiling until unrecognizable, chances are your veggie hating ways were pretty much set at a very young age. I was in my late teens before I discovered that some cultures actually found ways to make their veggies delicious. In defense of my flavor challenged ancestors I will admit that it’s hard to think of interesting ways to cook food while fighting with Mrs. O’Brian over the last spud in Ireland. People who grew up hungry really don’t care a whole lot about taste, as I was constantly reminded throughout my childhood:

There are children starving in Armenia who would kill for your creamed spinach.

My pleas to send the food to the Armenians and end the Great Creamed Spinach Famine of the mid 70’s fell on deaf ears.

I’m sure that I will eventually reap the benefits of eating a wider variety of veggies as soon as my body remembers how to process roughage. But I digress. Vegetables are our friends and almost any of them can be rendered eatable with enough garlic and olive oil.

Oh yeah. Anybody know how to cook a chayote?

So it's come to this...again.

2011-10-11T10:54:00.001-07:00

I’ve crossed
over to the dark side, abandoned all hope thrown in the towel, read the
writing on the wall and turned my back on all I hold dear.

That's right.... I’m on a diet.

No
cookies, cakes, pies or chips. No pizza, General Tso’s Chicken, BBQ or
fried dough of any kind. Just that thin flavorless grayish-green vitamin
fortified gruel-like substance you’re forced to eat when you leave the
matrix.

Ok I’m exaggerating...a little.

I’m on the Weight
Watchers For Men (more on that soon). Wheee!

It’s actually a pretty cool set –up. The best
part of it is that the whole thing is done on line, no meetings. Now
I’m well aware that people who go to meetings tend to be more successful
in their pursuit of a chafe free summer. I’m also aware that if I were
to attend a typical meeting I would more than likely be killed and
possibly eating by a large number of protein deprived housewives and
office workers from Burbank who wouldn’t appreciate my
“unique” outlook on life. So I’m keeping it strictly cyber.

The plan itself is pretty simple. A point value is assigned to almost every
edible substance in the known universe. Depending on ones sex, height,
weight and level of daily activity, one is given a maximum number of
points per day. I am allowed 49 points a day and an extra 49 points a
week to use any way I wish. Just to put things in perspective, I as a
man at 6’1/240 get 49 points a day while 45 points a day would represent
the average daily food intake of a Rufous hummingbird. Not a Lucifer or
Green Violet-ear but a Rufous.I can also earn “Activity Points” by
well... doing stuff. Walking for 20 minutes at a moderate pace earns you
2 points, at a brisk pace 4 points. Running the New York City Marathon 6
points. As a side benefit I get access to the WW message boards. Some
of the posts are in turns heartbreaking and hilarious. It’s hard to feel
bad about eating that Oreo after reading a post by a woman who ate her
son’s birthday cake…all of it…in the car…on the way home from the
bakery.

I hear my detractors already
“He’ll never make it”, “
They’ll find him on the kitchen floor unconscious surrounded by rappers
and clutching what’s left of a Hostess Cupcake”. Maybe they will. Who’s
to say? Maybe I’ll drop 40 pounds and look great. But I know one thing …I’m so hungry I could eat a horse.

I wonder how many points are in a horse?

Christmas and A Question

2010-12-17T12:00:00.000-08:00

I’m a Christmas person. So I surprised myself a little a few days ago when my partner Jeffrey asked,
“What about Christmas do you like so much?”
and I couldn’t really come up with an answer. This isn’t an unusual question when you consider that I don’t particularly believe that the series of events the holiday is meant to commemorate actually took place, or if they did, it was not in the way I was taught in a Sunday school classroom at Fox Hill Central United Methodist Church. It was while I was trying to find an answer to this question that I had something of an epiphany, a secular epiphany but an epiphany nonetheless: my love of all things Christmas has very little to do with the New Testament and a great deal to do with A Christmas Carol. It’s not the Gospel writers (whoever they may be) and the story they tell that fills me with joy this time of year, but Charles Dickens and the story he tells— a story of ghostly figures, overworked clerks, lame children, the unwashed masses and the possibility of redemption for cold hearted, unrepentant misers.
I seem to be clinging to this highly romanticized version of Christmases long past more than ever this year. In all truth I have no affinity for things Victorian or any era prior to the advent of indoor plumbing and antibiotics. However the elements that make up a traditional Yule seem all the more dear to me as I attempt to celebrate the holidays Los Angeles style. As many of you know I relocated to L.A. two years ago and I’m still getting used to the Christmas season away from the Northeast. Contrary to the belief I held as a New York chauvinist, L.A. does indeed “do Christmas.” But like much else I’ve found here, the rules of the rest of America simply do not apply. A certain amount of the strangeness that is an L.A. Christmas has to do with the local landscape and flora. Palm trees wrapped in string lights and festooned with stars are lovely but lose a little something when they line the more rundown parts of Santa Monica Blvd. And while L.A.’s official tree is a high concept light installation downtown, the bright red tree of light bulbs atop the Capitol Records Building is the closest thing L.A. has to a symbol of the season. Of course, the stores are decorated (some beautifully) and that helps. One of the things I’ve always loved about Christmas in big cities is its ability to transform mundane store fronts and office towers into things of wonder.
And then there’s Santa.
Unlike New York where the “real” Santa can be found on the eighth floor of a department store on the corner of 34th Street and 7th Avenue, there doesn’t seem to be any one place to locate Kris Kringle here in the Southland. He could be any number of places and in any number of guises. For sheer authenticity, my vote goes to the Santa at The Grove (an outdoor shopping complex near The Farmer’s Market); he certainly looks the part— big, real beard, and he’s got the jolly thing down to a t. For sheer shamelessness, it’s The Beverly Center’s Hunky Santa and his Candy Cane Dancers who replace “Classic Santa” in the evening hours at the upscale mall. Hunky Santa is indeed hunky. He’s young and buff and oh yeah… shirtless.
Go on honey; tell the semi-clothed bodybuilder what you want for Christmas.
And what can one say about the Candy Cane Dancers? Surely they will prove a welcome distraction for mall weary boyfriends and husbands who’d rather be at home watching sports on tv. It must be a nice change of pace for the “dancers” as well, as relatively few holiday shoppers will shove a 20 in their underpants and ask that they “Make ‘em shake for daddy.”

But for sheer only-in-L.A. strange, nothing tops the “Scientology Santa” at L. Ron Hubbard’s Winter Wonderland on Hollywood Blvd. This Santa lords over a beautiful re-creation of his famed Artic village and workshop worthy of any film in a usually vacant lot adjacent to one of the church’s Hollywood office buildings. To their credit, there wasn’t an e-meter in sight, and everyone seemed to be having a great time. Although I think one of the tourists behind me had a bad case of body thetans. Either that or he was wearing CK One.
I have no doubt that my trials over Christmas, like Scrooge’s, will cause me to love the holiday even more. Until then, I’ll play my Christmas music, light my tree, eat too many cookies, drink a good deal more than I should and read Mr. Dickens’ “ghostly little book” again and again. And so to answer my beloved Jeffrey’s question,
“What about Christmas do you like so much?”
I turn to Boz and his Christmas Carol:
There are many things from which I might have derived good, by which I have not profited, I dare say… Christmas among the rest. But I am sure I have always thought of Christmas time, when it has come round… as a good time: a kind, forgiving, charitable, pleasant time: the only time I know of, in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely, and to think of people below them as if they really were fellow-passengers to the grave, and not another race of creatures bound on other journeys. And therefore, … though it has never put a scrap of gold or silver in my pocket, I believe that it has done me good, and will do me good; and I say, God bless it!

Merry Unnecessary Sequel, Charlie Brown!

2010-12-09T16:47:00.000-08:00

A sequel. They made a freaking sequel?
Now as sequels go this one wasn’t bad. It sucked out loud. Snoopy’s out-of-town brothers Andy, Marbles, Olaf and Spike? Spike? Linus’s little brother Rerun? Rerun? In the words of our hero,
ARG!
I can hear you gentle reader,
Dude, chill. It’s only a cartoon.
To which I reply,
Up yours! This is Christmas television we’re talking about.
It’s really very simple. There is one and only one acceptable Peanuts Christmas special and it was made in 1965. Any impostor specials are unnecessary, sick and wrong.
I’ll spare you an equally heartfelt tirade on Rudolph’s Shiny New Year. Suffice it to say I didn’t much care for it. The only Rudolph sequel I want to see is the one where Yukon Cornelius and Hermey the Elf declare their undying love for one another and open a bed and breakfast on The Island of Misfit Toys employing Bumble the Yeti as a pool boy and all around gofer. I knew that something was up with that elf the minute I laid eyes on him at age six. Maybe it was the hair.
I hear that they’re doing a remake of A Christmas Story.
Where’s my gun?

…while visions of beef log danced in their heads

2010-12-03T14:36:00.000-08:00

Well the holiday food onslaught has begun.Right now in my office there are no less than five kinds of festive snack treats. No one seem s to know exactly where they come from, they just appear in the break room in the morning waiting to be eaten. While I’m not much given conspiracy theories I have entertained the thought that the snacks are delivered overnight by malicious imps fired by Santa and now in the employ of an underworld cabal made up of the owners of gyms and weight management systems. Does anybody even know what Jenny Craig looks like? A more plausible (but far less interesting) theory is that my co-workers have brought these sugary treasures to the office motivated less by the holiday sprit (although I’m sure that plays some part) and more by the desire to have them out of the house.

Now I’m sure that the covert purveyors of these things both sweet and savory believe that they are spreading holiday cheer and no doubt they are. To those of us who can’t help but answer the siren call of a tray of brownies however, it fills this time of year with chocolate pitfalls. The story is very much the same in most every office, the eaters (we know who we are) make periodic trips through the break room to graze (just as we did through Swiss Colony at the mall in our younger years) and the non-eaters have water packed tuna on endive say things like “ Oh I never eat sweets, even as a kid I didn’t like them” and “ I can’t stand that fake meat. I feel awful if eat even a bite” this as I hide a half-eaten Hickory Farms of Ohio Summer Sausage under my sweater and make for the door. I leave the nut encrusted cheese ball to throw my enemies off the track and I haven’t even mentioned Chanukah, a holiday in which you’re actually required to eat fried foods.

Those of us who “shake like a bowl full of jelly” know that we are helpless when confronted with Pecan Log, fresh from the oven Monkey Bread or latkes so we’ll just wait it out until the New Year when we’ll return to counting calories, carbs, points, miles, reps or whatever it is that we have to count to undo the collateral damage done to our mid sections, butts and thighs by the holidays. So until then my fellow pudgy revelers you bring the honey-mustard and I’ll bring the Summer Sausage. Meet you in the break room in half and hour.

The Thanksgiving War of 2010

2010-11-23T14:24:00.000-08:00

Thanksgiving Day (or as it was known in our house, The Day When Some One Cries or Mommy Takes Pills Because You Ask Questions Day) is now upon us and you either have or soon will eat a meal certain to equal or surpass the annual nutritional intake of a good sized Bengali village. I have not returned to my ancestral lands for today’s annual celebration of all things caloric but instead will be spending the day with partner and friends (everyone bringing a dish) as is my usual practice. It was during a discussion of this ad hoc gathering that I came to realize that while the components of the traditional Thanksgiving meal are fairly standard, turkey, stuffing (or “dressing” if your dad wore a tie to work), sweet potatoes, cranberry sauce and the obligatory vegetables the composition of said components varies greatly and opinions regarding this composition occupy a space in the holder’s heart somewhere between religious belief and the love of a first born child.

While strong opinion abounds concerning almost every aspect of our annual feed the greatest controversies swarm not a around the preparation of turkey (be it roasted, brined or even deep fried) but in the stuffing and sweet potato arenas. Crime statistics indicate that domestic disturbance calls almost double over the holidays and while exact numbers are hard to come by many experts attribute up to third of this increase to” stuffing disputes” . In the interest of full disclosure I am a stuffing purest. Stuffing for me is a simple dish of dried bread cubes, a few herbs, maybe an onion and some chicken stock. The preceding items are mixed in appropriate proportions, put into an oven-safe pan and baked so that the top gets all warm and crunchy. That’s it. Now I know that many Americans have a deep love for Grammy’s sausage and sage stuffing, which they associate with feelings of warmth, security and familial love. This is simply wrong. I also know that some people even go so far as to prepare stuffing with chestnuts or in some extreme cases oysters. This is also simply not right and in the case of oysters, dis-gust-ing.

Sweet potatoes are also a highly contentious area beginning with what to even call them. To all those in the yam camp ( you know who you are) unless you live in Sub Saharan Africa, the Caribbean or come from one of the many diverse and vibrant cultures associated with those places you have in all probability never eaten a yam, so stop calling them yams and start calling them sweet potatoes so that those of us who have always called them sweet potatoes can stop hating you and eat. Sweet potatoes again are a very simple dish but one easily destroyed by those wild eyed tuber terrorists who insist upon beating, whipping , mashing and marsh mellowing something that should be peeled, cutting in quarters, covered in butter and brown sugar and baked until mushy sweet and delicious. I don’t care what you mother did, your grandmother did or what recipe your culinary profit received on golden tablets from a sweet potato angel.

While I know I’ve just opened a big ol can ‘o worms and surely ruined Thanksgiving for everybody I’m also pretty sure I won’t be getting any invitation for Thanksgiving dinner next year either.

And to those who in the spirit of the holidays ask “Can’t we all just get along?”

No we can’t.

Happy Thanksgiving

Storm Large 8 MILES WIDE music video

2009-10-02T11:15:00.001-07:00

My new diva!

Robbie Williams - Bodies

2009-09-09T12:08:00.001-07:00

Kuroshio Sea - 2nd largest aquarium tank in the world - (song is Please don't go by Barcelona)

2009-07-24T12:22:00.001-07:00

Mitchell and Webb: Bawdy 1970s Hospital

2009-07-13T11:10:00.001-07:00

It's OK to Dance Again

2009-07-08T10:38:00.001-07:00

Perpetuum Jazzile - Africa

2009-07-02T10:43:00.001-07:00

Perpetuum Jazzile, a jazz choir from Slovenia, does a great rendition of Toto's "Africa", but it's their recreation of a thunderstorm which is really, really excellent.

For You next Trip to Venice...

2009-06-29T16:47:00.000-07:00

...BLVD.

Sceen from the Street

2009-06-22T11:42:00.001-07:00

MMMM Pie.

Seen from the Sidewalk

2009-06-18T16:52:00.001-07:00

"If my wife calls..."

La La La Human Steps/West India Company

2009-06-13T19:16:00.001-07:00

La La La Human Steps featuring dance diva Louise Lecavalier with music my West India Company and a strange intro by Miss M.

1960s LSD Propaganda Film

2009-06-11T17:19:00.001-07:00

Remember Kids. Taking LSD make junk food scream.

Back to you McGruff.

IDAHO 2009: One Voice, One Message, Heard Around the World.

2009-05-19T10:13:00.001-07:00

"Tranquilizers" by Dody Goodman

2009-05-04T15:13:00.001-07:00

Happy Easter Y'all

2009-04-10T13:52:00.001-07:00

Who Let the Jews Out

2009-04-09T16:52:00.001-07:00

Let The Wild Rumpus Start!!!!

2009-03-25T16:02:00.000-07:00

Where the Wild Things Are is directed by visionary filmmaker Spike Jonze, of films like Being John Malkovich and Adaptation previously as well as numerous famous music videos as well. The screenplay was co-written by Spike Jonze and author Dave Eggers, a former Salon.com editor who also wrote Sam Mendes' Away We Go. This is based on Maurice Sendak's beloved children's book of the same name. Warner Brothers will finally bringing Where the Wild Things Are to theaters everywhere in October 16th.

Pumping Rubber

2009-03-08T11:53:00.001-07:00

Pumping Rubber
Published by Bob Speck on March 5th, 2009

As I’m sure you’ve gleaned by now, I’m not really a workout kind of guy.
However, even a fitness neophyte like me understands the need for some kind of quasi-strenuous physical activity as a means to attaining my goal weight. Having spent this year’s gym membership money on a cruise to Mexico (oh yes, I will be writing about it), I was forced to seek out an “at home” way to tone up and shed a few more pounds.
My inability to find an appropriate workout video being a matter of public record, I cast an eye towards resistance training. Nothing major mind you, just a couple of dumbbells and I’d be set. Well, the dumbbells proved a problem from the very beginning. First of all, they’re well… kind of heavy, so I wanted to buy them near the house or the office, but the only ones I could find near the office were pink. I have always considered myself a guy secure in his sexuality, but working out with pink dumbbells was too scary even for me. The only weights I could find close to the house weighed all of two pounds and while it is true that I have the upper body strength of a twelve-years-old girl, I didn’t think two pound weights were going to be much of a help in my quest for brawn.
The solution to my “problem” came not in iron or steel, but in rubber. Yep, industrial rubber tubing of varying thicknesses with a handle on either end. And they were already in the house. My partner Jeffrey had picked up a set of these stretchy little fitness tools as an impulse buy a few months ago, and I commandeered the red one (the thickest and therefore most macho) to use for my lunchtime office workout.
I’m sure that serious (and not so serious) weightlifters out there are doing their very best to stifle laughter (at least, I hope you are) as you picture me standing behind my desk doing bicep curls with what is really nothing more than a giant rubber band, all while sweating like A-Rod waiting for the results of his most recent urinalysis. If it’s any conciliation, I believe you, Alex. You’re not the first jock I’ve known who has no idea what’s being put into his ass… in a locker room… at Yankee Stadium… immediately prior to the third game of the World Series. But I digress.
As I’m typing this with sore arm and shoulder muscles, I can only guess that my rubber pumping workout is having some effect, and hopefully one day soon I’ll be able to incorporate other giant office supplies into my fitness oeuvre. I’m sure that there must be someway to do wrist curls with a three-hole punch.

Noah's Gay Wedding Cruise

2009-02-25T10:18:00.000-08:00

Artist Paul Richmond's take on the ultimate queer cruise. As Ellen & Portia, Rosie and Kelli, Jack Twist and Ennis del Mar, Bert and Ernie, Elton John and David Furnish,penguins and other homo animals ride out the storm sinners like Ann Coulter, Larry Craig clinging to a toilet, Sally Kern, Fred Phelps, Kenneth Starr and a A 'Yes on 8' supporter meet their fates.

Take That

2009-02-20T10:21:00.001-08:00

Take That

Published by Bob Speck on February 19th, 2009

So my weight loss has now progressed to the point (20 lbs) that people are starting to notice and in so much as most of the people I come into contact with on a daily basis are pretty nice they’re mentioning my ever shrinking mid-section. Now for any normal person this would be a godsend, a validation that all one’s hard work and self control has started yielding dividends. As I’m sure you’ve all deduced from my weekly ramblings, I’m not normal. I, being the snarky but (hopefully) lovable curmudgeon that I am, can’t help but receive every compliment (no matter how well-intentioned) as a statement unfinished. And of course the voice in my head must complete it.

Looking good…

Not like you usually do.

You’ve lost weight…

And not a minute too soon.

You’re looking skinny…

Not at all like the great lumbering land beast we’ve come to love.

When complimented by co-workers or casual acquaintances I manage a sincere, “Yeah? Thanks,” and head out of the room before they can see me blush. With close friends I’m not so cordial. After being told by a friend that my weight loss was really starting to show, I replied with a courteous,

Shut the fuck up.

Emily Post (and my mother) would be ever so proud. One probably wouldn’t have to delve too deeply into my Protestant-American-work-ethic upbringing to understand why I can’t to this day take a compliment. We don’t want to get too full of ourselves now do we? Truth be told, I need and like ego strokes as much as the next guy and hope that my inability to take ‘em like a man doesn’t stop their flow in my direction.

Should you encounter me any time soon, please feel free to tell me how good I look and I promise I’ll do my very best not to swear at you. I also promise not to have a tearful Lifetime Television for Women…and gay men breakdown declaring through sobs,

I’m pretty, Mamma.

I’m saving that for when I reach my goal weight.

Pink Lady:

2009-02-19T15:17:00.001-08:00

A Gut Feeling

2009-02-19T14:51:00.001-08:00

A Gut Feeling

In my post a few weeks ago, I lamented my inability to see any real results from my six weeks of dieting.

I’m now very happy to report that thanks to strict adherence to my eating plan and minimal physical activity I can actually suck in my gut. This is kind of a big deal seeing that for the last few years even the strongest contraction of my abdominal muscles produced no visible results. While this “feat” is a little pathetic for a fitness blog, I’ll take what I can get. It also has me wondering what long forgotten feats of physical prowess I may soon be able to undertake. Touching my toes, climbing a flight of stairs without gasping for breath, or maybe even getting off the toilet without grabbing the towel rack and praying it won’t rip out of the wall. The possibilities are endless.

The whole getting into shape thing is a very curious process of discovering hidden abilities. It’s like those kids on Heroes, but entertaining. Not being a “sporty” kind of guy, I don’t think I’m very likely to ever try rock climbing, parasailing or white water rafting, but should the mood (read: mental illness) ever strike, it’s nice to know that I will most likely meet my end by falling from a great distance onto craggy rocks and not stroking out on the walk from the car to wherever those rock thingies are.

Being able to “suck it in” also brings to light a myriad of fashion possibilities. The very idea that one day soon I won’t have to dig to the bottom of every pile of pants at the GAP, or could maybe even walk into an H&M with my head held high is a little intoxicating. I hold out no hope of ever being able to wear anything sold by American Apparel but since heroin addiction isn’t in my immediate future this doesn’t bother me too much.

Rest assured that any new physical abilities I discover will be reported forthwith, but for now it’s time for my afternoon low cal-high protein cereal bar with artificial cinnamon flavor and 3 ( yes, I counted them) raisins.

Mmmmmm, I’m fulfilled.

Going Green

2009-01-15T12:02:00.000-08:00

"How like life is the endive, well shaped but ah…so bitter."

There are children starving in Armenia who would kill for your creamed spinach.

My pleas to send the food to the Armenians and end the Great Creamed Spinach Famine of the mid 70’s fell on deaf ears.

Oh yeah. Anybody know how to cook a chayote?

Bill Burrows, Lou Reed and Me

2009-01-09T10:34:00.001-08:00

Bill Burrows, Lou Reed and Me

Posted using ShareThis

2008-12-31T11:35:00.001-08:00

Merry Unnecessary Sequel, Charlie Brown!

2008-12-21T12:58:00.000-08:00

I’m all for progress. With the exception of cultural landmarks, I’m all in favor of clearing away the old to make way for the new. At least I thought I was until last Monday night. As a Christmas person (yep, one of those) I live for the annual broadcast of those tried and true holiday specials that we grew up with: The Grinch, Frosty, The Little Drummer Boy, Nestor The Christmas Donkey. I love them all. There are, however, two of these juvenile epics I cannot miss: A Charlie Brown Christmas and Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. So imagine my shock as I sat down in front of Netflix Streaming( my new addiction) to watch the gentle tale of the round headed boy, the little tree and idiosyncratic dancing when instead I got something called I Want a Dog for Christmas, Charlie Brown.
A sequel. They made a freaking sequel?
Now as sequels go this one wasn’t bad. It sucked out loud. Snoopy’s out-of-town brothers Andy, Marbles, Olaf and Spike? Spike? Linus’s little brother Rerun? Rerun? In the words of our hero,
ARG!
I can hear you gentle reader,
Dude, chill. It’s only a cartoon.
To which I reply,
Up yours! This is Christmas television we’re talking about.
It’s really very simple. There is one and only one acceptable Peanuts Christmas special and it was made in 1965. Any impostor specials are unnecessary, sick and wrong.
I’ll spare you an equally heartfelt tirade on Rudolph’s Shiny New Year. Suffice it to say I didn’t much care for it. The only Rudolph sequel I want to see is the one where Yukon Cornelius and Hermey the Elf declare their undying love for one another and open a bed and breakfast on The Island of Misfit Toys employing Bumble the Yeti as a pool boy and all around gofer. I knew that something was up with that elf the minute I laid eyes on him at age six. Maybe it was the hair.
I hear that they’re doing a remake of A Christmas Story.
Where’s my gun?

Sit and Spin

2008-12-19T13:47:00.001-08:00

Happy Sequel Charlie brown

2008-12-18T17:03:00.001-08:00

A sequel. They made a freaking sequel?

Now as sequels go this one wasn’t bad. It sucked out loud. Snoopy’s out-of-town brothers Andy, Marbles, Olaf and Spike? Spike? Linus’s little brother Rerun? Rerun? In the words of our hero,

ARG!

I can hear you gentle reader,

Dude, chill. It’s only a cartoon.

To which I reply,

Up yours! This is Christmas television we’re talking about.

It’s really very simple. There is one and only one acceptable Peanuts Christmas special and it was made in 1965. Any imposter specials are unnecessary, sick and wrong.

I’ll spare you an equally heartfelt tirade on Rudolph’s Shiny New Year. Suffice it to say I didn’t much care for it. The only Rudolph sequel I want to see is the one where Yukon Cornelius and Hermey the Elf declare their undying love for one another and open a bed and breakfast on The Island of Misfit Toys employing Bumble the Yeti as a pool boy and all around gofer. I knew that something was up with that elf the minute I laid eyes on him at age six. Maybe it was the hair.

I hear that they’re doing a remake of A Christmas Story.

Where’s my gun?

70 seconds of cute

2008-12-10T15:20:00.001-08:00

There's a new pygmy hippo in the world, in Hampshire, England. There are fewer than 3,000 pygmy hippos in the wild.

Give Them Hope: Gandhi, King and Harvey Milk

2008-12-03T17:26:00.001-08:00

The Thanksgiving War of 2008

2008-11-27T11:22:00.001-08:00

The Thanksgiving War of 2008

Posted using ShareThis

ONE LUCKY PENGUIN!!

2008-11-24T12:52:00.001-08:00

Play with the volume down the music is way annoying.

Confessions of a Food Porn Addict

2008-11-20T10:23:00.001-08:00

Confessions of a Food Porn Addict

Posted using ShareThis

Jobriath I'm a man

2008-11-11T12:27:00.001-08:00

2008-11-04T21:25:00.001-08:00

I HEAR America singing, the varied carols I hear;

Those of mechanics—each one singing his, as it should be, blithe and strong;

The carpenter singing his, as he measures his plank or beam,

The mason singing his, as he makes ready for work, or leaves off work;

The boatman singing what belongs to him in his boat—the deckhand singing on the steamboat deck;
5
The shoemaker singing as he sits on his bench—the hatter singing as he stands;

The wood-cutter’s song—the ploughboy’s, on his way in the morning, or at the noon intermission, or at sundown;

The delicious singing of the mother—or of the young wife at work—or of the girl sewing or washing—Each singing what belongs to her, and to none else;

The day what belongs to the day—At night, the party of young fellows, robust, friendly,

Singing, with open mouths, their strong melodious songs.

2008-11-03T12:44:00.000-08:00

Got Hope? Milk

2008-10-22T12:29:00.001-07:00

You think you can just do what to that hot california constitution?

2008-10-14T10:28:00.001-07:00

BETTY WHITE on SARAH PALIN: "That is one crazy bitch."

2008-10-10T13:45:00.001-07:00

GRAND HOTEL commercial

2008-10-03T16:38:00.001-07:00

Remember when?

Oh Mandy You came and you gave...

2008-10-02T16:04:00.001-07:00

I found this fascinating quote today:

I've just come from seeing your new production of THE TEMPEST at Classic Stage Company, an institution that considered New York's premiere home for classical theatre -- and, as such, one of the major American institutions devoted to the preservation and reinterpretation of the classical titans. Perhaps you noticed me; I was the guy outside on the sidewalk afterward, raving like a lunatic, shouting at my helpless friends about how your take on Shakespeare's timeless fantasy has singlehandedly destroyed culture as we know it.Oct 2008

You should read the whole article.

And that's why we love it

2008-10-02T15:54:00.001-07:00

The Church

2008-09-25T15:17:00.000-07:00

A few words from the philosopher/poet Stewart Gilligan Griffin:

“Stay away from the church, in the battle over science and religion, science offers credible evidence for all the serious claims it makes, the church says ‘ oh its right here in this book, see the one written by the people that thought the sun was magic’ i for one would like to see some proof that there is a God, and if you say ‘a baby's smile’ I’ll kick you in the stomach.”

The Thorons

2008-09-22T11:22:00.001-07:00

A few words from our Miss Cho

2008-09-18T15:07:00.000-07:00

"Don't fucking question my Christianity you fucking idiot assholes. If you continue to have a problem, then talk to God about it, not me, you fucking racist homophobic misogynist fake Christian shitheads. God thinks it is funny that I swear so much. He said I could use his name in vain or whatever. He just wants me to use it. He loves me. So fuck you. And I guess he loves you too. Even though you are fake Christian assholes. If you were truly Christians, you would let gays get married, and send them fucking presents from Bed Bath and Beyond! If you truly believed in Jesus, you would try to be like him and love us, fags and dykes and feminists all. God bless you, even you. You fucking fuckers."

We just fucking love her !!!!

Kellye Gray-Everything Must Change

2008-09-12T15:19:00.001-07:00

Kellye has an awesome voice and has recorded a music video in honor of the Equality For All . She's hoping to have 80,000 hits on it, so please go to the site, forward it to your friends.

Dalida 2.0 - S.E.C.R.E.T

2008-09-10T15:41:00.001-07:00

A "new" song from an all time favorite.
Dalida toujours !

Coming Soon

2008-09-03T16:39:00.001-07:00

the Closet

2008-08-25T12:54:00.001-07:00

Situation - YAZOO

2008-08-18T15:53:00.001-07:00

We find is more than a bit strange that a song can make one feel so old and yet so young at the same time. Alf and Vince at their best.

Liza Minnelli - Nowadays

2008-08-15T20:10:00.001-07:00

Do we needa reason?

I Got You

2008-08-12T23:29:00.000-07:00

Two of our favorite people and proof that heroin actually worked for like 20 minutes in the early 70's

What Everyone Will Be Wearing Next Season

2008-08-05T18:13:00.002-07:00

View From The Street

2008-08-02T18:21:00.003-07:00

Santa Monica Blvd.

A Day Late and a Tenner Short-Kate Bush

2008-07-31T15:02:00.002-07:00

We can't believe that we forgot her 50th birthday yesterday.

Here she is at 16.

Happy Birthday Beautiful

Blondie 1979

2008-07-31T14:44:00.002-07:00

Blondie - Dreaming 1979

One of the songs that changed our life.

It means more now than it did 29 years ago.

Ain't life strange?

Lambda Literary Awards: 20 Year Memorial

2008-07-29T18:05:00.004-07:00

The Lambda Literary Awards celebrated its 20th anniversary in June, and screened a clip acknowledging the LGBT writers and literary figures who have died in the two decades since its inception. While I disagreed with a few of these folks both culturally and politically,they are all my heroes.

Well It Was Good For Me...

2008-07-29T17:41:00.003-07:00

So that's what a 5.4 earthquake feels like.
No..That's OK.
I'll just spend the rest of the day UNDER MY FUCKING DESK!

Christian Bale Hit His Mom? AND...?

2008-07-24T11:34:00.003-07:00

OK. So he slapped his old lady. Who cares?
Look at him!

View from the Street

2008-07-23T17:32:00.001-07:00

"No really mom,the acting career is going great."
Kill me. Kill me please.

View from the Street

2008-07-22T17:41:00.003-07:00

No it's not Morocco or even Valencia it's WeHo.
Who can say what exotic mysteries await behind the iron gates at the magical corner of
Fairfax and Fountain.

Old Spice Centaur

2008-07-18T15:38:00.001-07:00

We're not sure what this stuff smells like but we think we're buying it.

When New York was New york

2008-07-14T21:55:00.003-07:00

We miss those days but not the itching and burning that went with them.

And now a word from our sponsor

2008-07-08T07:19:00.001-07:00

Later Man

2008-07-03T00:58:00.001-07:00

Xanakun

2008-06-26T11:06:00.001-07:00

Two of our favorite things in one Domo-tastic package. Play at full volume for maximum enjoyment.

Rodeo Drive

2008-06-17T12:45:00.002-07:00

View from the Street

2008-06-11T12:51:00.003-07:00

Santa Monica Blvd

West Hollywood

Sumo Sunday

2008-06-10T13:54:00.011-07:00

So last Sunday was L.A. gay pride and being new to the city we of course went to the

...Sumo matches.

and while we're not really sports fans we couldn't resist taking our Japanese sponsor child to experience a bit of his cultural heritage.

Domo can't wait to get inside and see the wrestlers... and the yakatori stall.

Domo loves watching the crowd file in but is a little disappointed that there wasn't a shaved ice stand in the coliseum.

The wrestlers are very big and frighten Domo so he's glad that he wasn't too close to the action.

The Olympic Coliseum just outside the Sports Arena inspires Domo to become more active but the headless statue frightens him and makes him want to seek comfort in fried foods.

L.A. ON FOOT

2008-06-05T18:01:00.004-07:00

Mid-Wilshire

We're Baaaaaack...

2008-05-29T20:25:00.002-07:00

and we're in West Hollywood.

Now that our friends at Time/Warner have connected us once again to the outside world we'll have posts a plenty to let you in on all the news of our big transition.

More later.

kisses

To review

2008-05-14T18:20:00.005-07:00

It has been brought to our attention that some of our readers ( you know who you are) may not be familiar with Domo Kun.

Seeing that some one has recently queried "What up with that purple thing with the fangs?" ,we thought we'd bring everybody up to speed.

Domo (どーもくん, Dōmo-kun) is the mascot of Japan's NHK television station, appearing in several 30 second stop-motion sketches shown as station identification during shows.The name "Domo" was acquired during the second episode of his show in which a TV announcer said, "doumo, konnichiwa" (どうも、こんにちは, "doumo, konnichiwa"?), which is a formal greeting meaning something along the lines of, "Well, hello there!", or "Hello, Domo!", and thus is a convenient dajare. The kun suffix on "Domo-kun," the name used to describe the character in the Japanese versions, is a Japanese honorific often used with young males.

Domo's official website at NHK is http://www.domomode.com/ and a US based fan site can be found at http://www.domonation.com/. Below you can watch a reel of Domo shorts and fall in love with him all over again or for the first time as the case maybe and see just why he's the best thing to come out of Japan since yakatori.

And just for the record Domo is brown. Should Domo appear any other color than brown ( like purple) please adjust the color settings on your monitor.

We're getting closer...

2008-05-11T23:53:00.005-07:00

to sleeping in our own bed again but for the next few nights we're staying at a friends place in Culver City. While the Culver City of today is pretty cool in a hipster suburban sortta way The Culver City of the past is fab-u-los. Basically this little Los Angeles neighborhood used to be the back lot of the M-G-M studios. Now there's not much left from the old days but one of the best to an Oz head like me has to be the Culver Hotel:

The Culver is most famous or in this case infamous for it's connection to the Wizard of Oz. This is the very hotel that housed the Singer Midgets or for those of you who dated as teenagers The Munchkins. The small unassuming building will go down in history as the sight of the worlds biggest all midget orgy. We've vowed to check out the rest of Culver City while we're here something about galleries and restaurants and blah,blah blah. But there's no way we're gonna miss seeing a piece of that yellow brick road inside the now SONY studio lot (tours daily) and if we're really lucky we may even see Vanna White or maybe even these guys?

Represent my little friends!

Represent!

Up at the Villa

2008-05-03T09:53:00.005-07:00

We just had to share a few shots of our temporary home in L.A.

For the next week our so we're staying at the Writer Villa, a short term stay artist's residence in the Los Feliz "hills" . Our hosts are warm and very helpful and the villa is a quiet escape from the stress of apartment hunting and traffic.

Our room.

Our view

Our private patio.

We find it more than a little distressing that we will have to leave this and live in...

THE WORLD but until then,

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

While we are searching ...

2008-05-03T09:41:00.002-07:00

...the slums of Hollywood for an apartment that someone DID NOT overdose in Domo enjoys the day at Universal Studios and hopes to see a movie star or eat a sno-cone. Domo doesn't care much one way or the other.

We Made It

2008-04-29T20:16:00.003-07:00

That's right gang. We've made it to L.A. and are groggy but happy. The flight was early (you know how much we love mornings) but smooth and everything we checked made it in one piece except that bottle of Prada cologne that exploded in one of our bags. Ah the smell of it.

Now for food and BED!

This is the Year

2008-04-21T22:07:00.003-07:00

It seems we're not the first folks to make the switch from the streets of Brooklyn to California's sunny shore. OK so we're not exactly the Brooklyn Dodgers .
But they moved to California and everything worked out for them right?
Didn't it? Anybody? Anybody.......

Angels and Others

2008-04-19T11:18:00.004-07:00

As we begin our long push west we thought that a redesign of the blog was in order. But don't let the light colors or new name fool ya this isn't going to be some smurfy blog with poems about bird and trees and flowers and you can be your ass that we'll be writing a lot more about the "other" than we will about the "angels". While posting may be a bit sporadic over the next two weeks we'll do our best to document the big move in pictures and (snarky) words and keep you up-to-date with all of our adventures in the Land of LA.

L.A. in 14days

2008-04-16T15:16:00.001-07:00

Still packing.

Man do we ever have a lot of stuff.

A blast form our past.

2008-04-02T12:37:00.002-07:00

The glorious Miss B. was a neighbour when we we're young and beautiful. And while we were never as beautiful as she we were at least younger.

Heading West

2008-04-01T10:31:00.003-07:00

That slight scraping sound you hear can only mean one thing. They are indeed ice skating in Hell and we are moving to L.A. The date is set and there's no turning back . The truck with all our worldly processions leaves on the morning of April 28th and Virgin American leaves with us later that day.

We'll also be introducing a brand new blog that will follow us through the first fun filled year. Stay tuned

A monkey on a goat on a rope

2008-02-29T10:53:00.004-08:00

A very cool clip from Russia.
Beats the hell out of some crumby ballet.

We're White And We Like

2008-02-25T10:41:00.004-08:00

Finally, the internet gives us what we have been looking for all these years -- a site dedicated to chronicling only what white people like. Examples being gentrification, difficult breakups and expensive sandwiches. Yep, three for three! But we must admit that we are more than partial to #58, Japan.

Stuff White People Like

Teenage muhtha! means 9 months of trouble

2008-02-21T12:56:00.001-08:00

A trailer for a shock film about teenage sex.
No one will be admitted during the red hot chicken wing scene.

Amy Winehouse Love is a Losing Game LIVE Brit Awards 08

2008-02-21T08:14:00.001-08:00

We just luv her messy self.

Talking Heads - 02.Heaven

2008-02-19T18:44:00.001-08:00

Fuck It... My New Philosophy

2008-02-13T13:28:00.001-08:00

Rugby Drinking Party

2008-02-12T11:02:00.001-08:00

The best way to shut them up

Happy Year of the Rat

2008-02-07T10:36:00.000-08:00

Our thought for the day

2008-02-06T10:18:00.000-08:00

2008-01-30T15:30:00.000-08:00

Patti LuPone - Gypsy - Rose's Turn

2008-01-18T11:57:00.001-08:00

And this children is why we love Miss L