Crushes

After drooling over the cast of Christopher Nolan's new movie Inception, I got to thinking about my most serious famous-people crushes. I've never been one to find 'obviously' hot dudes very hot (apologies if this offends any past or current boyfriends). In fact, after compiling my list I realized it's comprised completely of nerdy-looking comedic actors, and while I'm not sure if this is solely my preference or influenced by the existing options, only one man on this list happens to be a gentile.

NAME: Seth Meyers. OCCUPATION: Ohhh Seth. Not only does he read the crap out of the cue cards on Weekend Update, he's the head writer at SNL. THING I LOVE MOST: He always looks like he is about to laugh. SUNDAY MORNING WOULD BE : A relaxing urban retreat. Pastries, great coffee, NY Times crossword puzzle, one mimosa each on his roof deck before taking a long walk through a new neighborhood.

NAME: Andy Samberg. OCCUPATION: SNL cast member, Lonely Planet co-creator, Justin Timberlake's muse, owner of a fantastic pair of lips. NERDY THING I LOVE MOST: He shared the love. His two best friends from high school are now writers on SNL and probably get free William Rast clothing on the reg. SUNDAY MORNING would be spent in Lorne Michaels suite at the Waldorf, ordering room service and playing pranks on the bell hops.

NAME: Dustin Hoffman. OCCUPATION: He graduated. NERDY THING I LOVE MOST: Well he's kind of old now. A SUNDAY MORNING WOULD ENTAIL: Shag carpeting, hungover parents and a time machine. I adore present-day Dustin Hoffman, (anyone for I Heart Huckabees?) but dear LORD was he fine in the 60's.

NAME: Joseph Gordon-Levitt. OCCUPATION: Jon Lithgow's syndication cash cow, Indie film darling, clothes hanger. I LOVE how well this man can wear a suit. He always, always, always looks fantastic. And look! He's a smoker! A SUNDAY MORNING WOULD ENTAIL a quick jaunt to an outdoor flea market to hunt for vintage couture, two venti iced coffees to fuel our early afternoon drive to Topanga Canyon for lunch and hiking, and probably a healthy dose of misanthropic people-watching. (I imagine him to be super snarky and cleverly judgmental. Sigh.)

NAME: Marry me. OCCUPATION: Marry me. THING I LOVE MOST: Marry me. A SUNDAY MORNING WOULD ENTAIL: Marrying me.

'You're A Whore... You Know That?'

Oh, Don Draper... you cunning linguist.

While Mad Men has been on sabbatical (though Don has been busy feeding lines to Mel Gibson's sweet mouth), some of us have been driven wild with anticipation of the season four premier. Is the newly formed Sterling Cooper Draper Price Agency thriving? Is Betty still in Reno trying to finalize her divorce? Has Peggy gotten knocked up again? Are Roger and Jane still smitten in their May-December relationship? Do Joan's hips really not lie?

Whether any of that made sense to you or not, you are invited to come celebrate the return of televisions most provocative, misogynistic, booze-fueled show. It plays at 10pm this Sunday, however we encourage you to pop in around 8 to enjoy a Manhattan, dry martini or Tom Collins.

What's that you say? The kids will already be in bed and you have work in the morning? Man up. We're keeping our kid up to mix the cocktails (Gina pours a strong drink) and no one is interested in your hangover...that's why you have a bar in your office and stock in Alka-Seltzer.

Proper dress is encouraged (ties, fedoras, muted colors for men, bright knits for the women) and please feel free to bring the makings for your favorite cocktail, or coordinate with someone else and split the materials. We'll have basics and some light fare (potato chip and tuna salad casserole, jello mold, oysters.)

See you on Sunday... 1964's going to be a crazy year for the gang on Madison Ave.

Things I Love Today

Pictoral Musings

The Buck.

The heat.

The coolest spot in the house.

The grub.

The men.

The Banderas-Griffiths.

Come Mosephine in My Flying Machine

As I mentioned before, I had the opportunity to spend the Fourth in Brogue, PA. While most of you probably know this urban metropolis for its Susquehanna River Dam, Mennonite population and lack of cell service, the real attraction is The Buck. A mecca for those with a penchant for American cut-off tees and their real purdy sisters, The Buck is a Demolition Derby grandstand.

Like that isn't exciting enough, our group became famous to the crowd through Mo, who decided it was too obvious to drive to Demo Derby, and instead flew there.

True story.

Above you can see him circling down into the parking lot. Enjoy this amateur video and please don't hate on my snarky comments when asked to get out of the loading area. In my defense I was swigging a Tom Collins out of a Deer Park water bottle in an otherwise 'dry' county and my friend was fucking coming in for a landing BECAUSE HE FLEW THERE.

I hate when the Mennonites make me curse.

A Collaboration... A Celebration.

So I Have A Question...

...do you wanna have a slumber party in my basement?

Le Sigh

Life has been rather hectic as of late. Work is at DeathComInfinity levels, which is perfect because it is averaging at 100 degrees each day. I love summer but come on, that kind of heat should be illegal.

Despite the heat and work overload, there has been time for extra-curriculars. I spent an evening playing SPUD in Mt Vernon park, sailed the Magothy, saw an advanced screening of Eclipse, celebrated America with the Amish at demolition derby in Lancaster, tubed so much I think I busted an organ skipping across the water, and drank whiskey lemonades in Ruxton with some of the planet's finest people.

The theme of this summer has been PLAY! I'm finding a lot of peace in realizing that getting older doesn't mean you can't buy a giant red ball at Target and hurl it at your friends in the middle of the city, or that you shouldn't put a life jacket on like a diaper and bob around a river, or- as shown in the picture above- cartwheel off a tube.

New Business Plan.

CraftHope

Faced nightly with the sadness in Anderson Coopers eyes while he catamarans the Gulf, I've been scouring the internet for ways to help. I was weary of giving money to the organizations springing up all over the south, and feel very fortunate to have come across a facebook post about crafthope.com.

There is a woman in Florida accepting seamless t-shirts and Dawn soap which are used to clean marine life affected by the oil spill. Evidently the original Dawn formula has been used for this purpose for decades, and now Dawn is donating a dollar to the Marine Mammal Center for every bottle purchased.

We began cleaning out our closets and gathered last Tuesday to drink wine, chat, and develop massive blisters from cutting the shit out of some t-shirts. (I'll provide a tutorial if anyone is interested, but I'm sorry for ya if you cant figure out how to cut off hems and seams and fold the two t-shirt rags you will be left with.)

We finished around 170, and once the booze wore off the next day, it occurred to me to roll each shirt, put them in bundles of ten and secure them with the hems we had cut. This little repurposing stint earned me three gold stars in my internal battle to disassociate from my wasteful upbringing. For the record, "recycling" is something liberals do for attention, and it's important to remember that 4wheelers, trucks and motorcycles are the right, right-winged way to get around in style. It's always exciting when I have my little reformed-agendad breakthroughs. (Although if you see him, please tell my father I voted for McCain.)

The group reconvened last night to cut EVEN MORE shirts. One of our little deconstructionist seamstresses got ClearChannel to donate shirts, and shipping costs. They also let us borrow a van, because that was the only reasonable way to transport all the shirts we ended up with. It took five hours, fourteen hands and six pairs of scissors, but we made it through almost all of them. Blunt scissors tossed to the side, our beleaguered hands began rolling, tying and stacking our little dolphin-cleaning rags.

In a situation that seems so helpless, it felt great to find a way to give our time and effort. Though BP can't launch our jersey bundles into the pipe to stop the oil, our rags will be used with the Dawn soap by Gulf coast volunteers to help clean the marine life affected by this catastrophe. It's not much, but it's something.

For more information on this project, visit www.crafthope.com. So far they have 800 shirts collected, and I'm really proud to say that our donation will add close to 600 more.

Pride

Like Tracy Turnblad before me, I'm a Baltimore chick who can get down with Different. This weekend was Pride, and the streets of my gayborhood were closed to traffic, open to equality and covered in glitter.

The afternoon kicked off with the discovery of "Beer Light." A sixer cost three dollars, and while it's price tag was certainly alluring, we were more interested in the notion that, in 2010, a product could be brand-less. (I'm lying, it was totally the $.50 per beer part .)
Soon we were good and drunk, and so began the Pride Purchases. Above we have Rob "Everyones Gay on Pride Day!" Tate sporting a rainbow tie, tight white tee and bi-curious smirk...
...And here are Baltimore's Best Mechanical Bull Riders donned in homemade wrist bands, pink snow leopard and rainbow earrings...

...And then there was this guy, who decided on one "statement piece," instead of accessorizing.

Sigh. I wish everyday was Pride day.