Monthly Archives:

September 2012

One Day More!

This is for my friend and co-worker Sherri (long-suffering wife of Webmaster Skip), who tomorrow shall return to join us in the trenches of employment after being out on a well-deserved maternity leave for the past few months of hell. No one is happier for her return than me, and not just because I get to give all her wretched program work back to her – but because the office was a lot less fun without her. Welcome back Sherri!

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Squeezing the Sperm

“Squeeze! Squeeze! Squeeze! all the morning long; I squeezed that sperm till I myself almost melted into it; I squeezed that sperm till a strange sort of insanity came over me, and I found myself unwittingly squeezing my co-labourers’ hands in it, mistaking their hands for the gentle globules. Such an abounding, affectionate, friendly, loving feeling did this avocation beget; that at last I was continually squeezing their hands, and looking up into their eyes sentimentally, as much as to say,—Oh! my dear fellow beings, why should we longer cherish any social acerbities, or know the slightest ill humour or envy! Come; let us squeeze hands all round; nay, let us all squeeze ourselves into each other; let us squeeze ourselves universally into the very milk and sperm of kindness.”

~ Herman Melville, ‘Moby Dick’

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Apple Crisp Fall Day

Baking and cooking are things that I usually only get into during the Fall and Winter seasons. Cocktails can be done year-round, but to turn on the oven or stove requires cooler temperatures and the desire to get cozy. To that end, this weekend marked my return to the kitchen. A bag of Macintosh apples was resting on the kitchen counter, so when I woke up I did a quick online search for an apple crisp recipe and used the following, as it seemed the easiest:

Apple Crisp
5 cups apples, peeled, cored, and sliced
1/4 cup flour
1/2 cup oats
1 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup butter, softened
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup water
1 Tablespoon lemon juice

Peel, core, and slice apples, then add to baking dish with water and lemon juice (I added the latter to keep the apples from going brown, but it’s probably not necessary as once they’re coated it doesn’t matter). Mix the dry ingredients with the butter, then pour over top of apples. Bake at 375 for 40 minutes.

Waking Andy for a demonstration of the assembly and operation of the apple-peeler-corer-slicer that we bought from some Pampered Chef party many years ago seemed to go against the surprise element of the breakfast I was making for him, so I did it the old-fashioned way, peeling them without mechanical aid, then slicing them up without a corer. Once I got the hang of it things went smoothly, but I was thankful for the lemon juice.

I may have had too many apples, but they filled the baking dish so I let it go – next time I’ll go heavier on the crisp – as that’s the best part of this whole thing anyway.

 

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Sexiest Sunday Post Ever

Meet male model Joseph Sayers, whom I recall from an ‘xy magazine’ spread he did about 15 years ago. He’s aging much better than me, but rather than envying that I’m going to be happy for him. It’s always nice to see someone from xy make something out of their life. [See: Benoit Denizet-Lewis.]

But enough of my blabbering…

What would you do for an uncropped version?

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A Little Whitney

 

Say what you may about Whitney Houston, the lady at her best could sing better than anyone else in the world. Far more than that, I have to believe that she did the best she could do, and it couldn’t have been easy all the time. I remember the first time I saw the clip above – back then I was just starting to tire of the Bobby Brown antics and the drug rumors and all the rest of it, but then she walked out onto that stage all by herself, and at the 02:15 mark I felt the incredible power and loneliness she must have felt – what it was like to put yourself out there for the whole world to judge and ridicule and condemn – to have a family and a career and the incredible pressure to be absolutely perfect in every way. The camera angle at that moment somehow captures that more than any words could have, and the simple way she turns this Dolly Parton song into an anthem of determination, of loving who you are going to love no matter what – well, it moved me. From that moment to this one, I was a fan of her talent, despite its accompanying demons. We all have them.

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Names & Faces

On a recent rainy night, I perused FaceBook and Twitter, seeking out friends or acquaintances, anything to alleviate the boredom and stagnation. A slice of life paraded before me ~ status updates, tweets, and posts of people I loved or knew or had never even met – and somehow we were all connected, loosely or tightly, in the fabric of existence, the tapestry of being online, of being in this world, of simply being ~ and I suddenly felt an ache in my heart. Typing alone before  a glowing computer screen, as Andy watched television in another room, I was struck with the sublimity and the absurdity of it all. Is this what we have been reduced to? Or is this evolution? I was torn. Music and videos and pictures, art and beauty and ugliness and hatred ~ all at our fingertips, waiting to entice, waiting to entrap – and through it all I hope for something more, for some human connection where this means more than the motions, more than the sum of its parts… and for all the bells and whistles and elegant design, I remember a summer day at the beach, dripping sand onto a sand castle just before it washed away, and how much more that meant – how much more that will always mean. And the very foundation upon which this entire site is built suddenly washes away with less grace than that sand castle did.

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Milo Ventimiglia’s Banging Butt

Sometimes an actor’s talent gets lost amid all the other assets he has on display. Such is the case with Milo Ventimiglia, whose performances tend to get overshadowed by other things. 

It’s not a bad problem to have, and he wears it quite well. 

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Now THIS I Have To See

A Filipino film that tells the story of a bitter, aging gay man. HELLO.

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A Shirtless Andy Samberg

Continuing with our brief quirky-yet-sexy thread started by Paul Rudd, this is Andy Samberg, whose movies hold absolutely no allure for me whatsoever, but who has a certain sexiness that far surpasses the hit-or-miss essence of Mr. Rudd. He’s just dorky enough for me to adore.

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Is My Fly Down?

Whenever I do something foolish or absent-minded, Andy will say ‘McFly? Hello McFly?’ At first I thought my fly was open every time, then he explained it was from a movie, ‘Back to the Future’ – which I have, to this day, never seen. A time-traveling car? Not my scene. Apparently, I’m in the minority, for one of the big draws of the FireBall Run was this vehicle – the original one used in the movie.

Since I’m not the biggest Michael J. Fox fan, I don’t think I’m missing out. Having recently watched one of the Indiana Jones films from that same decade, I find that many of those classics just don’t withstand the test of time. Let’s face it, there’s only one ‘Adventures in Babysitting’ produced every ten years or so.

I will say that I did enjoy the interior lights, and the fact that the car played music both inside and outside. Still, if this thing somehow ends up in our driveway, I’m going to be pissed.

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Paul Rudd: Naked & Pixelated

Paul Rudd has never really done much for me, being one of those quirky guys that some people find incredibly sexy, while others couldn’t be less attracted to him. I’m somewhere in the middle on that spectrum, but when I saw the New York Times’ poster for his current Broadway effort ‘Grace’, I did a double-take because of how decent he looked. Then I found these other pics, from a Saturday Night Live stunt, and returned to my usual apathy.

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Team Ogunquit-A-GoGo

The Fireball Run is an eight-day, fourteen-city, 2500 mile adventure, where 40 teams compete on a life-size trivial pursuit type of game. While that alone would peak the interest of thrill-seeking types, this endeavor comes with serious mission: finding Missing Children. Each team is assigned a missing child, whose photo and information is disseminated on flyers along the journey. Though the advent of social media has broadened the reach in these cases, the number of people and places the teams touch in person is even more moving.

The trek runs from Independence, Ohio to Bangor, Maine – and it was on their stop in Schenectady, New York, that Andy and I caught up with them – the main reason being our pals on Team Ogunquit-A-GoGo ~ Leanne Cusimano and Robert Levinstein. Back in May, when we were last enjoying a delicious meal at Leanne’s restaurant in Ogunquit, ME – Amore Breakfast – she was debating the idea of doing this. We both encouraged her, saying it sounded like a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to challenge herself, all the while supporting a noble cause.

A few months later it was a kick to see it all come to fruition, and to watch their I-Love-Lucy-like adventures as they traversed the country. As I mentioned, it’s one thing to have fun and meet a great group of people on such an expedition, but quite another when it’s for such a great cause. For further information, check out their website, www.FIREBALLRUN.com.

 

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Make A Wish & Blow

These are the ashen remnants of my Fall wishes, lying on our Boston windowsill, waiting for the wind to whip them away. On the first day of each season, in a tradition that Andy taught me when we first met over a dozen years ago, we make a list of our hopes and wishes for the season ahead, then burn them as an offering to the universe. It is a ritual I have come to love, if only to remind us of the passing of time, the demarcation of the days, the way the hours wait for no one. My wishes, oddly enough, are not for material possessions as one might assume – there are no Prada bags that make the list, no Tom Ford Private Blends inked out upon the page. They are far more basic and, again at odds with what the world thinks of me, far more selfless. In those wishes hides the truth, and by burning them I keep it safe.

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The Battle of the Butts Redux: Channing vs. Joe

When I posed the question of who had the better butt between Channing Tatum and Joe Manganiello earlier this week, I got a few responses, but it ended up in a virtual dead heat. I hate a tie, so I’m re-posting the challenge, this time with a couple of GIFs to give a more realistic view of their assets. So, do you still stand by your original man? Once again, Channing is on your left, Joe is on your right. Choose wisely.

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