Voguin’ to the Oldies

“Don’t just stand there
Let’s get to it
Strike a pose
There’s nothin’ to it…”

Unless your sciatica is acting up, that is…

via Towleroad

To Honor America…

Independence Day is nearly upon us. And what better way to honor the founders and commemorate their valiant struggle to throw off the shackles of British imperialism than with an exhilarating display of patriotic fireworks?

Why, stupid club?

La Soiree des Coiffeurs Adjoints was held at Supperclub. It was actually a great layout for a hair show, since there was plenty of room on two levels and good sight-lines from both.

Beyond that, though, Supperclub left much to be desired. So, some helpful tips for club owners and staff who may find themselves hosting a hair show.

• The hairdressing demimonde is a thirsty one. So, if you rent your club out to a couple of hundred hairdressers and their friends and hangers-on, you might want to have more than three bartenders working – and you might even consider opening up that second bar. We’d all buy more drinks more quickly; the bartenders would make more tips; and you, the club owner, would make more money on the ridiculously overpriced liquor. It’s win-win-win…

• When you agree to rent your venue to a paying client, you’re unlikely to endear your establishment to said client if one of the staff is constantly shooing guests away from the best seats (or, in this case, beds – more on that later) in the place. Had his efforts been focused instead on selling bottles of wine to all of us thirsty drunks, everyone would have been much cheerier.

• Pretty much everyone at this event is a legitimately hip, stylish and/or trendsetting individual (though, regrettably, I am one of the notable exceptions). They are not douchey poseurs who think that being treated with contempt by a not-as-cute-as-he-thinks-he-is staff member is some sort of sign that they’re in a super-hot, cutting-edge VIP nexus, where the Olsen twins hang out while the Misshapes spin. In other words, you can drop the attitude – you’re a waiter, not one of the Grimaldis…

• Finally – beds? Really? Do people actually still think that’s hot? As a grown-up with unimpaired motor functions, I find the idea of eating in bed at all (let alone in public) completely unappealing – not just in terms of its impracticality (how does one cut up one’s steak?), but from a personal hygiene perspective. My first thought when I saw all those beds was “crabs” (and I don’t mean Dungeness…). I suppose it seemed all fabulous and new when the girls on Sex and the City went to the club “Bed” FIVE YEARS AGO (after Berger dumped Carrie via Post-It) – but, c’mon, it’s 2008… It’s time to move on… I’m an old married lady who hasn’t been out on a Friday night in months – and even I know the whole “bed club” thing is tired…

La Soiree des Coiffeurs Adjoint

Went to the diPT assistants show Sunday night.  As always, the hair was amazing – everybody did a great job.  Unfortunately, my skills as a photographer were not nearly as good as the styling skills of the assistants – so I didn’t get any really good pix.  But here are a couple of photos – see the rest on  Flickr.

The pork just keeps on comin’…

Tried a new recipe Saturday from Gourmet: Barbecued Pork Burgers with Slaw. Since I don’t have a barbecue, I used the broiler (about 6 minutes per side); and I jazzed up the burgers just a bit by mixing in some sautéed onion. Also, omitted milk and added lemon juice to the slaw part of the recipe. Served on brioche hamburger buns from La Boulange. The burgers were, if I do say so myself, delicious – and pretty darn easy, especially since everything can be made ahead.

War is heck…

Too much pork? Yeah, I’m also too rich and too thin…

Perhaps I should rename my blog – I was thinking either “Complete Sausage” or “Complete Pork-rage”. At any rate, I was back at Boccalone today. The same nice salumi lady helped me out – she remembered me from yesterday. When I mentioned I’d blogged about my previous lunch, she asked me the name of my blog – and had actually seen my post! She remembered it because she thought it was a great name for a blog (well, duh, of course…). Anyhow, thank you nice salumi lady!

Today I got the hot Italian sausage sandwich with peppers. It was really good – the sausage was zippily spicy, but not overwhelmingly so. And it was meaty – not too much fat in the sausage and certainly no grease… … My only quibble? The distribution of the peppers was a little lopsided, with one end getting the bulk of the peppers. But seeing as this was day two of business, I’m totally willing to cut them some slack. I think I might ask for a little mustard next time too…

I actually considered stopping in to pick up some meat for dinner tonight, but that seemed exceedingly gluttonous (as opposed to just ordinarily gluttonous…). I’ll likely be in tomorrow after work — a warm Friday night in the City seems like the perfect time for a dinner of salumi and salad…

Reason #47 Not to Be a Vegetarian

Boccalone, a salumeria run by the fellows from Incanto, opened today in the Ferry Plaza. Which is great – because I was just saying the other day “I really need to increase my intake of highly-salted pork products.” Picked up the little “to-go” box, containing mortadella, prosciutto cotto ( “cooked ham” – a lovely and buttery ham; not like prosciutto di Parma, which is much chewier; this was silky and tender) and some kind of fancy salami. Stopped for some bread at Acme and I was in hog heaven (actually, I guess it was the hog that I was eating that was in heaven – unless he was an evil hog, who went to hog hell… All I know is that he was delicious ).

My only critique? I didn’t need all that mustard (very good spicy whole grain mustard, just way more than necessary) and I could’ve used a couple of cornichons to round things out. I suppose I can just keep a jar of them at my desk.

Sandwiches also available. I’ll be sampling soon and reporting back as usual.

Non, je ne regrette rien…

For a good portion of the last few years at my job, I’ve had the great pleasure of sitting next to my friend, Claudine. On July 3, I shall bid her a fond farewell, as she moves on to the greener pastures of the intertubes. And I shall miss both her company and her skillful and très amusant banter.

No longer will I be able to pepper my constant chattering with bon mots en français with the assurance that at least one person will not need them translated; nor will I have a reliable source for updates on all the latest goings-on in the center of the known universe, New York.

No more will I hear her constant trumpeting of her attendance at Smith College. (“Hey Claudine, I like your cute shoes!”; “Thanks – did you know I went to Smith?”). And we will likely never resolve our ongoing debate: is she a Carrie or a Miranda?

Finally, and perhaps most dishearteningly, my pool of friends and colleagues who regularly laugh at my jokes, be they sophisticated or sophomoric (the jokes, that is, not the friends and colleagues…), will be reduced by one.

Bonne chance, ma petite amie! Tu me manqueras…

How to Shower – Finally!

I hope Details or GQ publishes a version of this for guys – I can’t figure out where in this process to wash my balls… Though I have now started to towel off AFTER my shower – that’s been a big improvement in my showering regimen…

from Jezebel

Three score and ten years ago…

My father was brought forth… And just tonight, we celebrated the 70th anniversary of his birth – and Father’s Day – in the traditional Cohen family manner, i.e. Linda cooked 1/4 of a cow, some carb- and fat-laden accompaniments and a few delicious vegetables to give the whole extravaganza a sheen of healthfulness. Oh, and then there’re the two desserts (I know – only two! Linda’s slacking…) We had a lovely time – with a bare minimum of sulking, arguing, veiled insults and tearful recriminations. In other words, the evening was a roaring success…

Oh, and we got sent home with a slab of meat and half of a tarte au fromage sucré avec crème citron et myrtilles. Yeah, I know, sucks to be us… Thanks Lindy! And happy birthday Fuzzy!

“OMG! Get the fire extinguisher!” (due to the many candles… get it?)

Yum!

The Golden Girls – Live!

Saw the all drag queen stage production of the “The Golden Girls Live – The Gay Episodes” last night. It’s a line-for-line reenactment of two episodes (the one with Blanche’s gay brother Clayton; and the one with Dorothy’s lesbian friend Jean falling in love with Rose). Needless to say, it was a riot. And as good as those four ladies were playing Dorothy, Blanche, Rose and Sophia, the guy who played Clayton in the first episode (with a woman in drag as his “life partner”) and Jean in the second was a riot. His rendition of Clayton was so over-the-top swishy, he made Liberace look butch in comparison. For the role of Jean, he donned a mullet wig and a Dinah Shore sweatshirt, looking and sounding like a lesbian long-haul trucker.

After the show, we headed to Pink with Steve and Bo – there was supposed to be a birthday party for one of Chris’s colleagues. So we paid the $10-a-piece cover charge to get in – and found a half empty bar! $10 to get into a bar – for reals? We turned right around and asked for our money back – and the folks working the door were quite nice and gave us a refund with nary a harsh word (unlike the time Chris demanded his $2 cover charge back from the doorman at Badlands and was banned for life… but I digress).

Next stop: Truck. Fun little place (though the breakdancing FTMs were a little annoying) on 15th and Folsom. After a drink there, Chris and I were ready to head home, but Steve and Bo insisted we accompany them to Chaps II. Much livelier (and better looking) crowd than our last visit, but it’d been a long night for us two old queens, so we headed home after one drink (or was it two..?) A fine night was had by all…

Uh-oh…

Fox News disseminates Barack’s birth certificate…

Shakesville via Gawker

OMGWTFSTFU

Warning! The image below may cause high-pitched squeals of delight and uncontrollable baby talk. Viewing this image for extended periods is not recommended, as drooling incoherence may result.

Baby Needs a New Pair of Pumps…

For the baby hooker, baby tranny or baby tranny-hooker in your life.

Heelarious via dlisted

Thank you Tila!

Tila Tequila in US Magazine, talking about her her MTV “reality” show, A Shot at Love with Tila Tequila, and the pivotal role it played in the recent California Supreme Court decision overturning the ban on same-sex marriage: “Before it came out, everyone was still a little apprehensive about [same sex relationships]. Then they realized, ‘Wow, everyone is really into this stuff, and it is fine.’ The next thing you know, [gay marriage] is legal.”

Oh, the kids these days – not just sexy, but political trailblazers!

from Gawker

No Perils at Pauline’s

Dinner at Pauline’s Pizza last night. Half Italian combo, half veggie special (sweet corn, savory, ricotta salata, chile purée). Delicious as always.

However, be advised that the pepperoni on the Italian combo apparently have heat-shielding properties similar to the tiles on the space shuttle. Thus, the Italian half was a normal pizza temperature, while the unshielded veggie half was the temperature of molten lava. Very tasty lava, but molten nonetheless.

Why, Miss Apparently Able-Bodied Lady?

The Embarcadero YMCA elevator is the slowest in the City (yes, even slower than the one in my apartment building). Yet, I have to take it every time I visit the gym, since the bike racks are on the roof – five floors up. It’s always a trial…

Ordinarily, this very slow elevator is used only by fellow bike parkers; gym members in wheelchairs; the physically infirm; and employees carting equipment from floor to floor.

So why then did the quite-clearly-not-physically-impaired-lady-in-her-mid-thirties not only call the elevator to the fourth floor; then wait for a period of several minutes; then board the elevator with a chirpy hello; and THEN TAKE THE ELEVATOR ONE FLOOR DOWN TO THE THIRD FLOOR? You’re at the gym! Try the stairs!

And I’ll wager that once she got to the third floor gym she hopped onto the Stairmaster for her workout… It was not long after this that I had my encounter with Mr. Fatty Cyclist. Needless to say, it made for a crabby trip home…

Alphabeat – “Fascination”

Chris hates this song, but I think it’s super-cute – as is the video. It’s kind of like “Walkin’ On Sunshine 2008″.

What’s all this then?

“Death Star? No, sorry, never heard of it – but it’s probably closer to downtown. You can just take the 43 Masonic and transfer to the 38.”