PEST FEST Day 5: The Hilarious Sitcom

Shauna is ready to pop. She’s due on Monday, but I’m betting that baby is coming Friday. She’s been taking it all in stride, actually, but I think I am starting to freak out a little. We spend a lot of the day apart (her doing her thing, me doing mine) and every time the phone rings I immediately think it is her, telling me to get my ass home to driver her to the hospital because the kid’s head is poking out from between her vag.

Her husband Richard, who has been on an important biz trip in SE Asia, arrives tomorrow (thank God), but I feel like if called upon I am ready to help out. I've got her list of important numbers in my phone, know the quickest route to the hospital, know which questions to ask, read that section of What To Expect When You're Expecting geared towards the husband/partner/gay friend next-on-the-list-in-case-nobody-else-is-around.

Shauna and I have been really close friends for 12 years. She’s really like a sister I never had. There isn’t a whole lot of taboo subjects between us – we’ve seen each other naked (there has been some streaking and skinny dipping in our past); went with each other to get tattoos (ed. note: writing that sounds very strange); have discussed every possible subject with each other; performed any number of super classy body tricks/functions in each other’s presence (this may be more me than her, actually).

Anyway, as close as we’ve been we’ve never lived under the same roof, let alone when she’s been pregnant. Earlier I said that our temporary living arrangement would make a good Bravo reality show, but now I’m thinking it is better served as a quirky comedy on Fox. The part of Shauna would be played by someone like Kate Winslet (Shauna's a proper British gal from the Lake District, after all).

I’d be played by Paul Rudd or Bradley Cooper, both of whom resemble me (OK, perhaps not even remotely close but shut up and just give me this one, alright?) and could accurately portray the unusual, slightly troubled yet funny and sexy nuances of my winning personality (again, just shut up already).

Imagine Kate delivering these lines (actually said to me by Shauna over the last 5 days):

• “Are you actually eating a spoonful of peanut butter?? Right from the jar?”
• “You look different in this photo… quite handsome, actually.”
• “I noticed that you ate that entire pint of Ben & Jerry’s last night.”
• “Is that smell coming from your feet??”
• “You are a negative influence on me. I’m telling everyone that Burgerville was your idea.”

And then there’d be Paul or Bradley, responding to Kate with just a shrug of the shoulders and a look of helplessness towards the camera, and then the audience would burst into laughter and applause. It will be awesome 5000. *

I can only imagine how much better the conversations are going to get once the baby arrives. Stay tuned.

* The show would probably go off the air after 3 episodes and be re-tooled with a talking dog, RuPaul as the neighbor, and me totally out of the picture. But anyway.

PEST FEST [bitches!] Day Three: Olympic Dreams Come True (Sort Of)

60 hours into PEST FEST [b!], and things are rolling. The house Shuana and I are renting is decent, with a deck out back for barbecuing (read: drinking) and nice neighbors. We’re two blocks from Columbia Park and the swimming pool, so there are vague plans for exercising.

At the very least, I’ll be taking Shauna’s dog Jake for walks there (read: I’ll be standing around chucking a tennis ball while Jake fetches it), since we’ve already become BFFs (he constantly follows me around the house and pretty much ignores Shauna now - eat it, Shauna!). Apparently we’re also close to Portland International Raceway, as evidenced by the roar of drag racing car engines (or open-wheeled race car engines, or whatever it is they do over there) on weekend afternoons, which is a good thing because it keeps me close to my whitetrash roots.

I’m mobile now, too, having borrowed a friend’s rickety old bicycle to get around town for the next few weeks. After I post this, I am ditching work for the day (things are slow) and heading into Old Town to buy a skateboard. Unless I wimp out and decide not to get one for awhile, which may happen too.

As the house is only semi-furnished, I’m sleeping on an air mattress (pregnant woman gets the only real bed in the house, whatever). Jury is still out on this one – one the one hand, it makes for a very portable, almost zen-like existence and I can pretty much sleep standing up (last night was my first night on it and I slept like a log; but that might have more to do with the fact that on Friday and Saturday nights I’ve slept a total of 6 hours). On the other hand, it is, well an air mattress.

Side note: about a month ago I got a new debit card from Bank of America, in which some of my purchases go towards financially supporting the US Olympic Team. The debit card has my photo on it and immediately next to it reads “US Olympic Team”, almost as though it is a special debit card for US Olympic athletes, and almost as though I might be one of them. When I’ve used it in Chicago nobody gave a shit, but for whatever reason here in Portland every time I use it I get asked “Are you really on the Olympic Team?” I’ve started answering, “Yes.” You know, just to keep things interesting.

So, if anyone asks, I am totally first alternate on the Olympic Fencing Team. Everyone seems to be buying it, so don’t blow my cover mmmkay?

Now Summer Really Begins: Portland Day Zero

So I’ve been a bit busy these last two weeks and not been lurking on either mine or yourz blogz. And there’s a lot I’ve missed, I gather. My Google Reader is somewhere near 400; Jules is texting my asking if I’m alive; Shain is sending me harassing e-mails (although actually that’s nothing new); Blythe is leaving concerned comments (that’s a lie, actually; Blythe gave up on me long ago); my Technorati authority number is rapidly slipping to 30 (it used to be almost have that); and perhaps the biggest news of all is that Niner thinks he’s quitting Liar’s Club (what he doesn’t understand is the Liar’s Club is like Hotel California, but that’s another matter for another time).

The last two weeks have been really busy with work and school. I won’t bore you with details but yesterday was my Chem final and the culmination of a huge work event, both of which have kept me not sleeping, not eating and generally not in a good mood. I didn’t even really enjoy Pitchfork this year (I think Niner's recap pretty much echoes my sentiments).

Sadcakes all around.

Anyway, that’s about to change. I declare that today my summer truly begins, as in a few hours I’m boarding a plane for a 25-day trip to Portland. I’m calling it “Portland Extreme Summer Trip Festival [bitches!]” (or “PEST FEST [bitches!]” for short).

What will I be doing in Portland for 25 days, you ask? The real question: What will I NOT be doing in Portland -- a little work, a lot of play, some drinking beers in the midday sun, some skateboarding, and lots of catching up with friends (maybe a repeat of this evening, right Recken and Kate??), perhaps a beer with the famous M5K, maybe some kayaking.

My friend Shauna and I have rented a house for the month, and she’s about to give birth to her baby. So it will be a single gay man, a new mother and her newborn baby, and a dog all under one roof for a month. All kinds of craziness may happen (it’ll be just like a really bad reality tv show on Bravo!)

As Kathleen would say it's CHANG TIME. It is definitely Chang Time.

Helen Mirren's Boobs

In keeping with my Helen Mirren's Boobs track record, I present you with, well...

HELEN MIRREN'S BOOBS:

Beat that, KAZ!

(And many thanks to Girl Friday for keeping me abreast of this development.) AND JULIE GONG TOO! (Sorry, sweets!)

PopeYes - HeckNo

Popeyes Chicken is a guilty pleasure of mine.

Surprising, I know.

Usually after a night of drinking at Danny's. Or sometimes for no good reason at all, like maybe I happened to be passing by it and didn't feel like making dinner (as was the case yesterday).

Those spicy chicken strips. Those biscuits! I mean, Daay-am.

Let's just say that as of 6 a.m. this morning, Popeyes will no longer be a guilty pleasure of mine.

Never again, Popeyes. Never. Again.

PS - thanks to Niner, Popeyes will now always be known as "Pope Yes." I mean: look carefully at the sign: Pope Yes not Popeyes.

F*ck Off Fridays: Jort Enthusiasts

Did I miss the fucking memo?

Why the fuck are these in style?

Extra fuck off points for pleats. And acid wash.

Is It Wrong...

... that when I read that Jesse Helms had died this morning, the first thought that popped into my head was:

"God Bless America"?

2008: Half Empty or Just Half Full of Shit?

Happy July 1, everyone!

Sure, it is Canada Day or something like that,but who cares (Airam)? There are more important things to celebrate - like the year being half over.

If the [Cherry] Clan was back in the Old Country, we'd be celebrating these last 162 Earth rotations of 2008 with a traditional feast of game hen, ginger beer and pole dancing. But we are a long way from the Old Country, I suppose, so instead I'll celebrate the completion of 1H08 by eating Hostess products* and reminding everyone that the days are just getting shorter from here on out (and have been for almost two weeks), so put that in yer pipe and smoke it.

Hard to believe that 6 months ago at this time I was in London drinking heavily, wearing a tiara, and making an ass of myself by shouting at strangers on double decker buses. (Wish I could say that so much has changed since then, but -- considering that just this past Saturday I was drinking heavily, wearing clown accessories and still making an ass of myself -- I guess things are pretty much the same.) Just look at how far I've come in these last 6 months!

Speaking of, guess this is a good time to check in on how I'm progressing on my New Year's Resolutions, to see if I need to make some adjustments for the second half of the year.

2008 Resolutions:

1. Ace All My Classes. That's about to fall through the floor, thanks to this summer's Chemistry class. I'm adjusting it to be instead: Ace All of My Classes Not Taken During the Summer.
2. Contribute in a Meaningful Way to the Betterment of Society. Definitely on track for this one. I voted in the Illinois primary; I also gave a woman directions to the Red Line that one night. These definitely count. Kinda.
3. Eat More Vegetables. Making strides in this area as well. There was a salad in April. And guacamole. Lots of guac (that's like 50% vegetable or something).
4. Buy a New Bike. Check.
5. Be A Man About Town, Singing All the Lonely Dirges of My Youth. WTF? I don't even know what this means? I must have been drunk when I wrote that one down. But what the hell, I think I'm actually doing well with this one. Except for the singing part. And the being a man about town part too. Moving on...
6. Finally Get a Handle on Those Communicable Diseases. Damn, not so much. Maybe I'll just put this one on the shelf for 2009.

I think I had more, but I'm pretty sure I've misplaced** the list.

Here's to a PROPER 2H08!!

* This is really no different than any other day.
** And by "misplaced" I mean "threw that bitch into the trash."