Category Archives: General

A lazy post, as I’m scheduled to be taking a break in Boston this weekend, and pre-populating posts is tedious business at best. Let’s take a look back at ten previous March 2 entries on this blog, assuming I was so consistent. 

In began in black briefs on March 2, 2014, and in white briefs as well. 

On March 2, 2015, it was the weekly recap with a naked male model.

Holy fuck, I cooked a duck on March 2, 2016.

Playing the numbers game on March 2, 2017, and a quokka.

A 15th anniversary of this very website took place on March 2, 2018.

A sneak-peek of a Madonna Timeline featured her ‘American Life’ album on March 2, 2019 while the Jonas Brothers returned with this ‘Sucker’. 

March 2, 2020 featured this lion-hearted recap.

An attempt a these Ogunquit oaties opened March 2, 2021, and Dr. Angela Davis was Dazzler of the Day.

Red and gold flowers bisected winter blue for March 2, 2022 and Ariana Debose was Dazzler of the Day.

On March 2, 2023, winter blues looked beautiful and Russell Tovey was Dazzler of the Day. 

A while way back, our bathroom mirror/medicine-cabinet/light source became unhinged and let go of two of its mirrors, leaving storage shelves of toiletries and medication and cuticle oil (three scents!) on disagreeable display. The other day, a Wayfair ad for precisely the item I was looking for – a modern mirror/medicine-cabinet’LED light – went on sale for about $600. (Don’t even ask the original price.) After scouring the specs and comparing with some other offerings online and in person, I decided this one looked like the best of the lot, so I read through the fine print of the “professional installation service” they offered as that’s always a concern. The policy read as such:

This item requires installation. We recommend adding professional installation so you can enjoy your item quickly, conveniently, and safely.

This was a big item. 48 inches wide, 32 inches tall, and 115 pounds. One person could barely lift the unwieldy thing, much less install it. At least, that’s what sense told me. Angi put the blame squarely back on Wayfair for not setting up the original appointment correctly. This is when Wayfair got involved.

I explained that I had purchased a professional installation, and assumed that that meant the requisite number of people with the requisite knowledge of installation would be sent. Sending one person with the task of a “mirror wall hanging” seemed to indicate they had absolutely no knowledge whatsoever of their own product, and no idea that it needed an electrical hook-up as well.

A long afternoon of text chatting with WayHelp Wayfair’s Social Media bot, who later became Alicia, Bill, Kallie and Jacob (I’ve got the screen-shot receipts to prove all this, and more) resulted in them unable to work with Angi to set up a two-person service, and putting it back on me to cancel the first rescheduled date, order a new one for two people and pay out of pocket, after which they ‘may’ reimburse me. I asked about the electrical aspect, to which they replied “What Angi would consider installation would be hanging the cabinet but not the electrical aspect.”

So they are planning to have one person hang this enormous item, not connect it electrically, and call it a day? That’s Angi and Wayfair’s apparent answer. I reiterated that this was an item that required electrical work – hello, it’s a light! In their own explanation of what they don’t provide it says, “For plumbing or electrical installations, there must be an existing line or the pro will be unable to complete your service.” There is an existing line right where the item is to be hung. But alas, installation is just hanging this thing, so Andy and I will have to find an electrician to do that.  (At one point one of them suggested that we have someone on hand who might help with the lifting – I’m out of town that day and my husband just had hernia surgery, so that seems dumb.)

We should have just done the work ourselves and not even bothered with the installation fee, but I’m waiting to see how tomorrow works out because I ordered this with the good faith that the product and service would be rendered as represented. The last that Jacob said was that “I think we can wait until March 2nd to see if this item can be assembled (installed) by one professional.”

Spoiler alert: it can’t. 

If I’m wrong, I’ll happily update this post accordingly. 

And if I’m right, I’ll also happily update this post accordingly. Watch this space!

And if by some miraculous miracle Wayfair and Angi decide to treat this customer with the basic services that have been purchased, then I’ll be happy to take down this post. Until then, the search engines for ‘Wayfair customer service’ or ‘Wayfair nightmare’ or ‘Wayfair awful service’ or ‘Angi fraud’ or ‘Angi terrible service’ or ‘Angi sucks’ can rev up for anyone considering a Wayfair installation service. 

UPDATE: Saturday morning, March 2, arrived, and with it the second ‘pro’ that Wayfair had hired from Angi. He was great – and he confirmed what I had told Angi and Wayfair multiple times: the item could not be hung or installed by one person. Well DUH! He also said that Wayfair and Angi had been pulling this sort of thing many times, only requesting one person for jobs which needed multiple people to complete. There’s much more to say about the chats I had to have with Wayfair and Angi, and if they fail to appropriately correct this maybe I’ll post those receipts. People love to read about such drama!

UPDATE #2: After several disappointingly rude discussions with Wayfair and Angi, on chat texts and on the phone, which took up two days of time and increasing aggravation, I requested the refund on the installation service, which I think (can’t be sure until it goes through) is happening. We will find our own installer, which only delayed our bathroom from being functional, but I simply don’t trust Wayfair or Angi to do this properly. I posted a new blog to give a quicker synopsis than this lengthy entry offered, and shortly thereafter I got a message from Wayfair saying the following:

“I have been speaking with my manager regarding your displeasure with the Angi installation service, and what was included. Wayfair, would be happy to help, with providing a discount on your order, so you could hire someone locally. I do see the Angi service was refunded ($72.35) already. We would be happy to issue a discount of 30% on that bathroom cabinet… which would have us issue a refund back to your card for $181.43. I look forward to your response.”

I thanked that final rep and said I appreciated their help. What baffles me is why they think paying me back $250+ is better than simply contacting their service company (Angi) and having them send two people instead of one based on my original request. I asked why there was such a change in tone and practice with this discount offer after days of questionable correspondence. They replied:

“On occasion, we do not always solve issues correctly, and do apologize for that! We looked at it from your perception, and too were frustrated that Angi left you hanging not once but twice. In addition, all the added time you have spent on this order, we felt a discount would be the best way to help. I do want you and all customers to return to shop with Wayfair.”

We shall see… 

This is the extra day that makes 2024 a Leap Year. If I cared, I’d google the original and reason for it, but I really don’t. If you do, look it up yourself and tell me if it was worth it. While supremely uninterested in the reasons for it, I’m fascinated by the fact of it, the same way I’m fascinated by the extra hour of time we trick ourselves into thinking we get with Daylight Saving Time (coming up on March 10). The idea of a whole extra day that appears once every four years feels like some literary machination to get characters into or out of trouble in service of an otherwise non-existent narrative. These days life is tense enough without adding more drama to it, and perhaps that’s why I’m not so keen to discover the origin of the Leap Year. 

Instead, I’m doing a different kind of leaping – with a few links leaping to sunnier and funnier days. 

Last summer began in hopeful fashion, and it required a second part to begin.

Summer in shades of gray, also requiring a second part.

Solstice of summer.

Another summer post that needed another summer post that needed another summer post… 

Summer begins where the boys are.

It’s finally happened – I’ve turned into an almost-old man. (By the way, the original title of this blog post was ‘ He’s Got Legs and He Knows How to Use Them’ – still torn about whether I made the right decision…)

The realization of old-manhood came as I was halfway down our driveway to pick up a package that had been delivered to our mailbox. I got the message late at night and slept on it, and upon remembering it first thing in the morning, I just threw on an overcoat over my long-sleeved t-shirt and underwear, then stepped into a pair of ancient, battered slip-on sandals that Andy and I have been sharing for years, and made my way out into the cold, sunny day. As I reached the end of the driveway, I looked down at myself and saw what any of the neighbors might be seeing – a middle-aged guy with crazy hair and glasses, bare legs and sandals, with an overcoat hopefully buttoned in the right holes whose occupant was too scared to fully check. (Some things are better left unknown.) When I got back inside (and the short walk back into the house was much quicker than the walk out as my brain woke fully) I realized that I actually didn’t care. Moreover, I wanted to capture the reality of it, so I took a few pics with my phone to commemorate the early-morning occasion. 

It is a most unflattering photo you will see below, but not inaccurate, and if we’re going to be real here – my main endeavor whenever possible – we are going to be super-real. That means owning and acknowledging and accepting all 48-and-a-half years I’ve lived on this earth. It means being ok with being perfectly (and often wildly) imperfect. It means being messy and crazed and unkempt, and embracing all of it at every moment. 

That makes for a sillier, and happier, life.

It also makes me feel less alone, because you are all just as fucked-up in the morning, and I don’t see any of your asses out posing for pictures. Good day.

When you haven’t been to Raindancer with your bestie in a couple of decades, you have to order a Colossal Flowering Onion. So it was that Suzie and I found ourselves on the receiving end of what is indeed a Colossal Flowering Onion, in all its fried glory and horseradish sauce splendor (and no, we did not completely finish it). We were in town for the Still Remains show, and decided to do a catch-up dinner at one of Amsterdam’s stalwart haunts. 

When I arrived (we were traveling separately) I sat in the parking lot for a minute and watched as an older couple got out of their car. The woman hurried ahead, while the man, in white hair, walked around to the passenger side to examine something before catching up with her. It was such a commonplace scene, and not at all noteworthy, except it reminded me of my parents, and all the dinners we had there over the years. Such simple scenes would not happen now that Dad was gone, and I took it in again. There was a pang of sadness, the insidious sliver of loss, but it was ok. I pulled my coat around me and rushed out into the winter’s brutal cold.

At our table, I noticed the salt and pepper shakers, thinking of how well they went together, and how strange it would be for them to be apart. But Suzie kept the talk buoyant, and I never let on what was in my mind. Not that she would have minded or that I intentionally wanted to keep it secret (clearly, as I’ve poured it all out here) – I just stuck to other people’s drama, and we ended up having a fine dinner before the show. 

A little fried food goes a long way toward comforting new wounds, as does an old friend. 

We have reached the final week of the final full month of winter, and while arch may come in like a lion (and often leave like one too) the very first wisps of spring are carried on the wind, and a little feeling of hope is in the air again. With that happy thought, on with the weekly blog recap…

It began on unsteady legs and uncertain terms.

What February 21st has looked like for the past ten years.

Circus Maximus.

Like a vagabond.

Apple Pay is as easy as I used to be.

See Tom Holland topping Shawn Mendes.

Time was…

That microwave chocolate cake in a mug.

A return to Cape Cod realigned the chakras or whatever else needed alignment.

It offered a glimpse of a swan, and a stunning sunset, as only the Cape can.

Suzie and I made a surprise appearance at my brother’s band’s show this weekend for his birthday eve – see this little write-up on Still Remains here. 

Dazzlers of the Day included David Archuleta, Pamela Anderson and my very own brother.

A gift from my friend and the universe, a Cape Cod sunset is one of life’s most spectacular treasures. Just as my phone chimed to signal the close of my meditation, JoAnn burst through the door and ordered me into the car to catch the sunset. Unsure of its appearance after the snow squall, she saw it happening on her way back, and we quickly drove down to the shore to catch it dipping into the water. 

The sky was incendiary – more glorious than any photo could ever capture, more magnificent and moving, and it took the breath away just as much as the chill in the air. Such beauty was worth a little time in the cold, and we stood there, over twenty-five years since we first met in Boston when we were young. With this single sunset, I felt the happy and heavy weight of those decades. 

I understood why JoAnn would often stop here for the sunset. There was a splendor to the sky that whispered of the divine, and somehow brought us closer to a sort of spirituality that transcended all religion and wonder. It was mystical and majestic – it was its own act of faith, as much of a covenant as a rainbow. 

You don’t always realize how starved the soul can be until it can be fed by such beauty. Calmly, we surveyed the magnificence in ways we could never fathom twenty-plus years ago, appreciating and acknowledging the gratitude of simply existing amid such glory. 

A dinner with several dear friends awaited us at JoAnn’s cozy abode, and our quick little chapter on this return to Cape Cod comes to a quietly contented close. 

Sensing that I needed a dose of the Cape’s rightfully-renowned natural majesty, JoAnn drove me out to the water. Years ago our friend Lee had sent us out to walk a pair of dogs she was watching, and we took them to the stretch of beach we drove past now. Lee has been gone for almost ten years – another loss, another bit of emptiness never to be filled – but as we drove by and the afternoon light hinted at spring, it felt more like acceptance than torment. We reminisced a bit about that day with the dogs, and somehow Lee was back with us, laughing and smiling and as amused as we were touched. Our loved ones do live on, even as our winter storms rage. 

The sky changed swiftly then, as though reminding us of it transient nature. You can count on friends; you cannot count on the sky or the weather. A wall of dark gray approached from a distance. We made a stop by the water and got out of the car to take it all in before the weather shifted further.

A lone swan swam in the water, its feathers echoing the white clumps of snow still unmelted. JoAnn eyed it warily, warning me that the swans here weren’t of the friendly sort. A temperamental swan prone to acting out, I thought – a creature after my own heart. Beauty and danger. 

We stood there for a while, as the swan circled its patch of water. Before it could reach us, we were back in the car and driving directly beneath the wall of gray that had now become a ceiling, and a quick little snow squall. This is the Cape, again, in another of its facets. Beautiful and ferocious. 

We made it through the squall, which was soon over, and the sun was back in the sun for my afternoon meditation. JoAnn had an errand to run, and one more gift to bestow before dinner with a few surprise friends. I settled in to the deep breathing, and the sun conspired to grant us grace…

The last time I was in Cape Cod it was beneath the cover of darkness and sadness and loss. JoAnn had just lost her mother, and though I was in no shape to be there, I had to make the trip for her, just to give her a hug at the wake. There’s nothing to be said at such moments, but it means something to be there when you can. At that time – the cruel November of 2019 – my social anxiety was saddling me with panic attacks, and being around people was becoming more and more difficult, but Kira offered to accompany me and we made the trip to see our friend as she bid goodbye to her Mom. 

Shortly thereafter, COVID hit, and we were bound to our homes without travel for a couple of years, during which time JoAnn was able to make a couple of trips up to Albany, and we would occasionally rendezvous in Boston, as we did this past holiday season, but I couldn’t carve out a Cape Cod return until last weekend. It was, as always, worth the wait, and more than worth the drive. 

Out of all of our friends, I would have bet that JoAnn and I would have been the last ones anyone thought would stop drinking and partying – yet all these years later that’s precisely what has happened, and we are both happier and better for it. Life has knocked us about and taken some of those we love, and maybe that’s made it easier to take better care of ourselves. I don’t know, we’re still finding our way – and it’s easier to do that work together. 

The world has changed dramatically since 2019, but the beauty and balm that Cape Cod has always been for me remains the same. It’s a feeling that enriches and sustains the soul, a brush with the sublime that leaves me better than I was before, if only for a moment. Those moments reside happily in memory, accessible on the coldest winter nights, ready to warm with their magic and love. 

That JoAnn should bring me back to such beauty is a fitting testament to our enduring friendship. Her home has truly become her own, with a renovated kitchen and bathroom that are simply exquisite – the ideal embodiment of her taste and style, and a welcoming interior countenance to match her personality. (I’ve already reserved the bathroom backdrop for a photo shoot in service of a new project – but I really just want to dive into a long bath there.)

On this Saturday, I arrived to the new-to-me renovations, and we quickly settled in for an intense session of catch-up before heading out to see some of the afternoon light before it went away for the day…

The passing of time is rarely felt as it happens. Our senses are far too unrefined to feel the shift of seconds, even as we hear them ticking away. Time is too moody in the way it shifts – ebbing and flowing in waves slowly drawn out or quickly smashed. It’s also dependent upon mood and perspective – and just one of those variables differs from person to person, and hour to hour. 

We gauge time largely through hindsight, when we look back at photos from the past. We don’t see it pass day by day in the mirror every morning – we see it only when we look back farther than a day. Time terrorizes in such insidious ways, ever the great equalizer. 

It feels like we only just started winter, as if that December date was right behind us, when really we have less than a month left to the season of slumber. Realizing that, I had a bit of a panic. As anxious as I am for winter to pass and spring to arrive, I wondered if I truly appreciated these slower days. I wanted them to mean something more. I wanted there to be more healing. More peace. And I don’t know if that’s happened. Maybe the not knowing is the real answer. Maybe time is the only answer. I still don’t know. I still doubt. I try to be ok with the doubt. 

Did I lean into the stark days of winter? Will there be something more trying to this season, I wonder. A brush with despondency once felt like the only way to move forward. My mind now feels scattered. Sitting down in the living room, I attempt to literally ground myself, sinking into the floor and allowing gravity to pull every part of me flat against the ground. This is where I find myself often these days: on the floor, grounded in the only way I can muster when the mind takes flight.

You can’t fall down when you’ve already been laid flat. 

The realization of mortality then shakes and shifts the ground beneath me, and nothing is revealed as stable in the end. That’s when I learn there are many ways to be grounded, one of which is to remain in the motion, undulating with the wish and whim of the world, floating like a single pink petal from a cherry blossom, so sure of its life, finite and small.

The circus has come to the town of my mind, as whispers of a new project grow louder and more insistent. It appears that this website has thus far survived the updates of the host company, so I am scrambling for something to post since I was banking on a few days of down time. Alas, no rest for the wicked. 

These pink-themed top-hat-topped ringmaster pics are from the promo blitz for last year’s 20th anniversary of ALANILAGAN.com. As I gear up for a possible new project, look for more re-treads and outtakes from previous efforts. It’s been a while since I was in creative gear, and over the last few years I’ve learned not to try to do everything I used to do. That means focusing less on substantial content here while I move into making something new. My content and output on this blog is such that one week of posts here once amounted to an entire project in and of itself. That means the volume is equal to 52 projects a year. Something has to give if I’m going to produce a new one, and so the schedule will be lighter. It’s all good. And I want to take this year a little bit easier anyway. 

So peruse the past posts when things get barren here, particularly the past that once felt so much like a circus. There’s still some crazy in this old horse.

This website could feasibly go on for the next ten years simply recycling all the old posts that you know you never read and that I no longer remember, so let’s give that scenario a whirl with this post. We will be traveling back in time for the last decade, checking out other posts that were made on this date. It’s absolutely as ridiculous as it sounds. Hang on to your hats!

February 21, 2014 – In which a lonely grapefruit reminds of the past and a naked Dan Osborne wows with that body.

February 21, 2015 – In which some of my previous laziness comes to light (I always did love a good re-post, especially if someone else wrote it) and Tom Ford revealed further evidence of his brilliance.

February 21, 2016 – In which another Tom Ford post forms the bulk of the day. I’m nothing if not consistent, which means I am nothing.

February 21, 2017 – In which a reference from ‘The Golden Girls’ informs a cocktail of the moment and plans were made for the Harry Potter play.

February 21, 2018 – Oopsie daisy! There was no proper post for 2/21/18, so here’s a weekly recap around that time to give you a feeling and a flavor, with bobsleigh butts and such. 

February 21, 2019 – In which I thought I might put an end to my tea-bagging (spoiler alert: I didn’t) and some basic office refrigerator etiquette in a quote for which I never quite asked permission. Or forgiveness.

February 21, 2020 – In which the world was about to be felled by a global pandemic, and I sought ways to be more mindful at every moment. 

February 21, 2021 – In which the age-old question of ‘Who needs new clothes?‘ gets an almost-answer and the brilliance of James Baldwin received worthy highlight. 

February 21, 2022 – In which we hit upon a semi-snarky weekly recap and continued our meditative journey while the wind raged.

February 21, 2023 – In which we go back only one year, to a time when I took the twins to a winter outing in Saratoga and later reminisced of how I got sick for the first time in four years. 

Rather than end on that dour and sour note of sickness, let’s go back an extra year, before this batch of a decade began, to see what was up on February 21, 2013: oh look at that, just posing without purpose or aim or, ahem, any clothes whatsoever. What a difference a decade makes. 

 "This is a show...

that I have no idea what is gonna happen to my voice.

I don’t know where it’s gonna come from, but give me a voice…

and let me put on a great show tonight.

And let everybody do the same, amen.” ~ Madonna, ‘Truth or Dare’

Is this thing on? Well, I have no way of knowing what is going to happen, so if this post is up, perhaps this site will go on like that Titanic theme song and a lost bit of ostentatious jewelry. If that is the case, my plans for a mini-vacation will have been dashed, and so I’m pre-populating this space for the next few days with jewels from the past. Pay particular attention to all of the blue links – they will guide you on all your ways!

That opening quote, by the way, is Madonna’s turn in ‘Truth or Dare’ right before she cancels a few shows and has to silence her voice. It seemed fitting in the event that I lose my voice here. (There’s always social media, but that’s mostly devolved into plugging this website, so it seems pointless.) Here’s the ‘Like A Prayer‘ performance from ‘Truth or Dare‘. Epic.

We’re quickly approaching the 35th anniversary of the ‘Like A Prayer’ album, and if we’re still around there will be a post to commemorate that next month. If not, bookmark this one. From Madonna to summer magic…

The featured photo was from a few years ago in happier pool times, and it felt like a good juxtaposition in the midst of this mild but still chilly winter. Apricity – may it find us soon again. I’m doing some preliminary planning for summer, given that the squirrels just shredded our patio canopy. The travails of living with wild creatures in the backyard…

A new canopy has been ordered, and the old one will soon be disassembled and added to the dumpster that must be secured for next month. Spring cleaning is on the way. In the meantime, keep your fingers-crossed that this site lives to post another day…

Monday morning is usually the slot for our weekly blog recap, but I’ve been out of town, and this site may be down for a bit if the revamp of our host company mucks things up as it’s expected to do. I’ve been mulling a little vacation anyway – this winter is ripe for the quiet that might ensue. On with a recap for anyone who missed anything…

The shock of a vibrator when all I wanted was some sequins. 

Tom Holland bottomed for Henry Cavill.

Tuesdays, am I right?

A Valentine hodge-podge.

I wore the red underwear.

Rushing toward spring.

We are the worst sign.

It’s a Wordle miracle.

Harry Styles in and out of his underwear.

The Middle Ages of Connecticut.

A very styled-out Ryan Gosling.

Nothing but excited for this.

Frozen hot desert.

Are you ready for prom season?

Tom Daley in a self-crocheted speedo.

Dazzlers of the Day included Jake Gyllenhaal and Jay Perry.

For all those gearing up for not-prom season (and it’s never too early to start planning for that shit), here’s a happy little short film by Morgan Jon Fox on the subject. Brought a tear or two to my eyes in the best possible way. Happy crying!