12
February
2013
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February
2013
12
February
2013
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February
2013
A Babysitting Reward
After a few hours of babysitting a pair of rambunctious two-year-olds (damn me and my stupid sugar-laden cupcake surprise), the only reward is a good strong cocktail – in this case a negroni. I have it on decent authority that when there’s another person on hand to share babysitting duties, it’s okay to have one. Not that moral judgment or condemnation would ever come between me and a drink… but it’s classier to pretend.
Is there a more perfect moment than that dusky time when you take the first sip of a drink and the world opens up all its possibilities?
Cheers.
12
February
2013
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February
2013
The Morning Aftermath
God, kids get up early. And for what? They don’t have a job, they don’t even have to go to school at two years old, but still they’re up at the crack-ass of dawn, waiting for someone to join them. The problem is, when your fun Uncle doesn’t get to sleep until 2 AM because you’re screaming, he’s not going to be able to get up that early. That’s what Dads are for.
Give me a couple of hours to adjust to daylight, and then we can begin again.
That said, there’s no better way to greet the morning than with these two smiling faces.
11
February
2013
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February
2013
All Hell to the Pope
Since when do Popes resign? Not since the 1200’s actually. But this current one has, citing old age and ill health, and if anyone buys that then they are beyond dumb. I just cringe as to what sort of atrocities he has covered up or committed that would lead to such a decision. I mean, if any entity can hide and protect its leader from all accountability, the Catholic church has proven to be it, so for the Pope to resign indicates that some serious shit went down.
I wouldn’t be so flippant or critical of a religious organization if its own head hadn’t said such vicious things about gay people, or worked to actively suppress us and the fight for marriage equality. Being that he’s done exactly that, I am not unhappy about his resignation, and I only hope the Catholic church – in which I was raised – takes this as an opportunity to enter the last century and make itself at least somewhat relevant should they wish to survive. The writing is on the wall, guys – evolve or get out of the way. As for the Pope, well, let’s hope for his sake that he’s as blameless as he pretends to be. Let me know if you see any of his former wardrobe on eBay.
And until a successor can be found, worthy enough to fill his red Prada shoes, enjoy Benedict enjoying these shirtless men. Only in the Catholic church, kids…
11
February
2013
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February
2013
Week in Review: 2/4 ~ 2/10
As this big week of incongruous days begins (Fat Tuesday, Ash Wednesday, and Valentine’s Day), and we try one more time for the Boston bed delivery (re-scheduled thanks to Nemo), it’s time for a quick look back at what happened in the first full week of February. Quite frankly, it’s nice to see that our Winter is moving on – we’ve cut a wide swath through it already, and the groundhog did not see his shadow (not that that foolish beast knows a damn thing). Let’s get on with it:
- Â My friend JoAnn came up from Boston to spend a winter weekend of Mexican meals and tequila-laced fun. That’s the sort of thing that gets me through the winter. Fajitas & ritas, baby.
- Gratuitous nudity and hunky shirtlessness continued with posts of Gregory Michael, The Rock, Mark Kanemura, and perennial favorite Tom Daley, while David Beckham and Mario Lopez battled it out for the best underwear bulge in motion.
- A few quotes from some of my favorite books filled this space with some “vintage” shots of those days when I had a much smaller waist-line here, here, and here.
- The weekend started out wildly enough, with a visit to my parents’s house and a snowy overnight with my brother and the twins.
- And my most favorite post of the week was the first Couple Profile I did on Cody & Wayne. We need more love stories like this, and they cannot be shared enough.
10
February
2013
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February
2013
A Cozy Night with the Twins (In My Bathrobe)
Donning our pajamas (and a terry cloth robe I found in my childhood closet), we hung out on the couch for a Friday night in the same spot where we used to watch ‘The Dukes of Hazzard’, ‘Mr. Belvedere’, and ‘Dallas’. Tonight it was a DVD – ‘Adventures in Babysitting‘ – fitting for any number of reasons.
We had but one incident of trouble, when Noah looked at me out of the blue and said, “I will hit you.” Huh? What did you just say to me? “I will throw you in the garbage!” At that my brother started laughing, but while Fun Uncle may be fun, he doesn’t tolerate that type of talk. I told my brother to stop laughing, and I looked at my nephew and said sternly (in the unmistakably-non-joking tone that means serious scary business to children and adults alike), “Don’t ever talk to your Uncle like that. That’s disrespectful. Your Uncle loves you and would never say anything like that to you. You will never talk to me like that again.” And I took him into the other room for a time-out until he said he was sorry (all of about a minute.) We rejoined my brother and Emi for the movie, at which point he promptly told my brother, “I will throw you in the garbage.” Where did he learn that??? Needless to say, the second time-out was worse than the first, and I wasn’t the one giving it.
I’m told this was the result of not having a nap. (But I did have one!) Luckily, the rest of the evening passed without incident, and we watched the remainder of the movie in relative peace. It was one of the nicest ways to spend a snowstorm – memories of my childhood intermingled with the memories my niece and nephew may one day have of their Uncle.
(As for my wardrobe, Emi & Noah didn’t seem to mind, unlike the rest of you bitches that will no doubt come for me on FaceBook…)
10
February
2013
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February
2013
Weekend with the Family
Bringing it on home this weekend, I spent Friday night at my parents home, with my brother and the twins. When I arrived, the house was empty (I wanted to get there before Nemo hit) so I walked around in the quiet and surveyed what was happening to the house under the presence/pressure of the twins, starting with crayon on a number of doors.
Soon the twins returned, and it was time for a nap. That’s the kind of plan I can get behind, and I made the most of it, sleeping for about an hour and a half. Unfortunately, the twins did not follow my example, staying up with my brother and resulting in some crabbiness  later on. (Oddly enough, I can be crabby with or without a nap. I will say this: being awakened by the gleeful shouts of two younglings is much preferable to the shouts of an impatient husband.)
For dinner, I roasted some winter vegetables, and we had the asado that Dad had made earlier in the week. (Well, my brother and I did – the twins had a little rice I believe.) The light was growing dim, and the snow was starting to come down. It was time to get into our pajamas… and a robe…
10
February
2013
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February
2013
Soft Focus, Soft Light, Snarky Bitch
Some days it’s best not to increase the sharpness. Some days are better left in bed. Some days you take the hazy visage with you, and the world grows cloudy where you go. Some days you don’t want to roll over and play, so you don’t. (Is this starting to feel like a tampon commercial to anyone else? Or dog food? Depression?) There – I’ve taken the piss out of my own post before it even got going, I’ve screwed myself as far as extending it into something deeper, and I’ve saved you the trouble. It was only a matter of time before my snarkiness came back to bite me in the ass. Turns out getting bit in the butt isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be.
[Insert obligatory pic of my ass crack here. And here. And here. And here… and here…]
10
February
2013
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February
2013
A Little Bit of Italy in Albany, Via Utica
Matt Baumgartner has already brought bits of Mexico (Bomber’s), Germany (Wolff’s Biergarten), and England (The Olde English Pub) to the Albany area, and his latest – Sciortino’s – aims to bring a little bit of Italy, by way of Utica, to Broadway. Housed in the former Miss Albany Diner space (and right next door to the Biergarten), Sciortino’s keeps things simple and casual, drawing on Mr. Baumgartner’s Italian heritage (the restaurant was named for his grandparents) and his upbringing in Utica (there is even a Utica Special, featuring any beverage, Utica greens, your choice of riggies, and Pizza Frita).
The pizza is a big part of the place, served in ample square slices for easy take-out (two make for more than an average meal), or in a larger size for more mouths. The tomato pie (with its simple red sauce and Pecorino Romano cheese) is another Utica classic, but there are other offerings, including a white pizza (broccoli, ricotta, and mozzarella) and a BBQ pizza, along with standard toppings that you can add for an additional cost.
A few Italian staples are also on hand, from a chicken or eggplant parm dish to the aforementioned riggies (chicken, sausage, or shrimp), as well as baked hats.
At such a comfort-food place, a smattering of sweet treats for dessert is expected, and the towering ice cream sundae certainly delivered. Give me a cherry-topped mound of ice cream and whipped cream, and I’ll practically cream my pants. It’s my favorite kind of happy ending.
09
February
2013
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February
2013
Bringing It On Home
The house where I grew up is filled with four people on this Friday night – the same number that filled it when I was a child – only tonight, while my parents are in Boston for the weekend, I am babysitting with my brother, and his two kids have finally drifted off to sleep. The snow is now falling steadily – the thrust of Nemo, in the limited capacity it brought to upstate New York. Still, we don’t yet know when it will stop, so there is a slight sense of tension, the possibility of being snowed in.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dl5usKhGz60
We watched ‘Adventures in Babysitting’ earlier in the evening, and this Sam Cooke tune is stuck in my head – ‘Bring It On Home to Me’ – not quite the ‘Babysitting Blues’, but it will do. Incidentally, the soundtrack to this movie is criminally under-rated – not just for The Crystals and ‘Then He Kissed Me’ – but also for this gorgeous bluesy tune. It puts one in the mind of the past, of lost regrets come home to remembrance. Not only about a lost romance, but about a lost love, or the ache of loving someone who simply isn’t able to return that love, not in the same way, not in any fulfilling way – and having to give it up and let it go; it’s how we learn to grow up, even if we’re in the middle of our thirties. That piano, that violin, and the longing in that man’s voice. How we beg for what is just beyond our grasp… and for what has already gone away.
My brother turns off the television and heads upstairs. I turn the switch to the last lamp and allow my eyes to adjust to the darkness. The comforting glow from the street lamps and the snow spills in from outside. It is quiet, except for the echoes of Mr. Cooke’s pleading in my head. In this house where we spent our childhoods, the Brothers Ilagan trudge upstairs, putting the place to bed until the morning.
09
February
2013
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February
2013
Tom Daley’s Spinning Bulge
It’s been at least one hot minute since Tom Daley showed up here in a Speedo, and that’s one minute too many. Here he is, bulging out with all that centrifugal force, and you see now why science is our friend. At any rate, it’s nice to be reminded of this past summer, and the ones yet to come. After all the snow, it’s a nice respite.
09
February
2013
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February
2013
I hold the lock, You hold the key…
It was over 25 years ago this week that ‘Open Your Heart‘ hit Number One on the charts – and I remember it like it was yesterday. (Featured photo culled from ‘A Night at the Hotel Chelsea.’) It remains one of my favorite Madonna songs. That’s all – I already wrote about it in the afore-highlighted links – what more do you want from me?
09
February
2013
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February
2013
Spotlight on the Hotel Chelsea
On a summer weekend in 2009, July 16 to be exact, I arrived off the train in New York and walked to the Hotel Chelsea. I didn’t know then that it was tottering on its last legs, soon to give up its ghosts, but I should have been able to tell by the wretched service and the even more terrifying conditions. The biggest cockroach I’ve ever seen in my life – far larger than anything I’ve ever encountered in Florida or the Philippines – scurried under one of the resident doors on the first floor, right next to the room in which they initially wanted to put me. It was the only time I absolutely refused and made them find me another. Not that I fared much better in Room 532, but it was the perfectly-run-down version of seedy that lended itself to the photographs I got for ‘A Night at the Hotel Chelsea‘.
It would be great if I could offer you some sort of gritty take on the artsy-fartsy scene of Chelsea, bluntly making bold proclamations on the crumbling state of the hotel, and what it meant to its storied history. But to be honest all I felt as I hunkered nervously down into a bed no doubt ravaged by all sorts of bugs  was this: I am way too old for this shit. (And I was right about the bugs – my back and neck and even the tip of my nose ended up getting bitten by some creatures in the night – such is the price you pay for getting naked in questionable environs.) Crappy hotels and dodgy lodgings are the province of the young, and I say let them have it. I was done. The next day I checked into the Club Quarters by Rockefeller Center, where there were clean sheets, soaps, and a blandly modern color scheme. It was heaven.
It was, however, worth it – for the honor of saying I stayed there, and for the raw material for one of The Projects.
08
February
2013
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February
2013
Ben Cohen: Back with a Bang (And Shirtless)
Lest anyone think we’re favoring David Beckham over Ben Cohen, let me rectify that right now with this quick post. Someway, somehow, I’m going to get Mr. Cohen to be one of our Straight Ally profiles, even if I have to write it without his input. (Which, let’s be honest, is likely to be the way it goes.) With his ‘Stand Up’ foundation, he is one of the most prominent examples in the sports world of what it means to be a straight ally, and his work to stop bullying is admirable. If you happen to know Ben, tell him to get on the telly and call me. In the meantime, enjoy these fun, furry photos.
08
February
2013
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February
2013
An Even Shorter History of a Prince
I realized I could live a moral life, that I should, as an adult, live a life dictated by duty. If I chose I could find beauty by living in the real world; I could probably find beauty by working day after day at meaningful drudge. I often had that anxious, desolate feeling that I was wasting my time, that I was wasting an afternoon, a weekend, a whole life, by not choosing to do the right thing – the work that would simultaneously wear me out and sustain me. I was striving for the, ah, mature life. Here, I said to myself, I’ve been waylaid by the most sinful temptations, and if I don’t change now I might wander around forever wadded up with stupidity of my own making. I’d gotten distracted by laziness, by narcissism, and I’d also become clever in a despicable way, clever like a mild version of Milton’s Satan, Satan-lite, if you will. I could think rationally, but without any sort of spirituality. I was disconnected from anything moral, or from a sense of awe.
