Dr. G. Andrew James

It's a rare occassion that I find myself choked up. But today I tip my hat to my amazing younger brother. As of this afternoon, Andy is a doctor of neuroscience.

There's so much to write about this special guy. And a proper essay shall be writ, but for the time being, I hoist a mug of iced tea to you my little buddy. The world is a better place with you studying the mysteries of the brain.

Now on to the important stuff: can you prescribe narcotics for my friends and I? Kidding! No, really? Can you?

Bedding Down

We need a new bed. Currently, in preparation for moving to Brooklyn next year, Bryce and I are making due switching between the two futons in our apartment. Why buy an expensive bed, pay for it to be delivered, only to have to move the damnable thing in a few months? Why?

Bed bugs! I scratch in the night. I wake up with little marks on me. And I'm certain I heard a squealing noise last night similiar to the aliens from "Alien". I did some sleuthing this morning and was non too surprised to discover that bed bugs are making a comeback! Here are some choice quotes from the article:

"When you're sleeping in your own bed, and you're senseless, they come out and take a blood meal," he says. "That's creepy."
"It's a psychological issue," says Mannes. "You don't want to go to bed and think, "Oh, something's going to bite me and drink my blood."

"There's a major yuck factor here."

Indeed there is some yuck going on! I'm certain a contributing factor is our eating on the futon which then becomes our spot of slumber; our carnal cradle. There seems to be an abundant amount of crumbs in our bed. At a posh dinner, giddy in a wino's stupor, I went as far as to (half)jokingly ask the waitress if I could borrow her crumb scraper for my futon. She darted away and avoided eye contact with me for the rest of the meal. Sigh... Sleep tight dear reader.

I Love Bubbles...

Lisa, wherever you are, please know there is a group of gay men who loved you. You were a drunk. You were crazy. You talked to shrubs. You wore feathered headbands. You loved bubbles. You were unfairly eliminated.

Dandies and friends, I hereby add Lisa to my shrine of "could of been" America's Next Top Model. It's an austere group of former reality television proto-models who should have won their prospective seasons. (Or atleast stayed around longer for fun's sake.) Lisa be comforted you are among sterling peers.

For additional Lisa separation anxiety please check out FourFour and Nervous Breakdown.

I heart you Elyse. I heart you Shandi (even though I see you on the PATH train). I heart you Norelle. I heart you, especially, Beer Weave. I heart you Lisa. I miss you already...

Killer Blog

David Ludwig, 18, stands accused of the murder of his 14 year old girlfriend's parents. Is this his blog?

From CNN.COM: Teens had Web sites
Each had a Web site. Borden's talked about attending prayer groups and her interest in soccer and baby-sitting.
On his site, Ludwig quoted lyrics from a Christian rock band and discussed his affinity for computers and volleyball. He worked as a lifeguard and at an electronics store during the summer.

Edit: Oh! How about this one.

Edit #2: Oh... maybe it is this one? Wow these crazy kids these days. They have so many blogs. Wow. What is most intriguing is clicking through his links for all the opinions of the friends who knew him and the Bordens.

Edit #3: Holy shit (pardon my French) THESE ARE SOME CHRISTIAN WACKOS! Loving it. Loving it. Several of the links blame the liberal media ("LM"). Others are saying LM are putting homeschoolers in a bad light. Ludwig was a Christian homeschooled kid. haha. This is fun.

Edit #4: And - yes, should you believe I am a souless bastard, may I add in my defense, having now read over half of the front pages of Ludwig's links, that his friends are a very compassionate sort. Unfortunately it's a breed of selective compassion. Everyone is praying for the Bordens and for David... However, I haven't seen one person praying for the dead parents. Noone has wished their souls God's speed into Heaven. Noone has even MENTIONED the two cold corpses, this FOURTEEN year old's parents! Instead everyone refers to it as a "bad thing" or simply fail to mention it. HYPOCRISY! It's this kind of blatant hypocrisy that drives me nuts. I want to see some retribution here people! David's friend's blogs: Get on that. Back to the list...

For True Crime fans - check out the Dark Side. Quite a detailed blog covering a subject I find most distasteful, but some find fascinating.

Fat Dandy

Chubby strudel munching fop. My lavendar chemise feels stretched across a pestering paunch which carries three nights of ice cream cake (leftover from the boyfriend's birthday.) Sigh. Idly I eye the locations of the nearest gymnasium. I spy a photo barely a year old which sports the lean rugby physique of your's truly. Ah rugby. It was such a different entity a year ago. The physical rewards were secondary to the sheer exhiliration of running, sweating, tackling. This year, however, the physical rewards were my primary goal and the exhiliration instead gained the weight of exasperation as the swagger proved more of a waddle. And the reward never came. Then again, with no expectation of such, there is always a reward. Sophmore slump? Belly of jelly. Huffin and puffin followed by snackin and stuffin my mouth with sesame seed sticks and dollops of garlic humus. Is one nibble of gouda good enough? No! And then the gym... So close to work. Yet going is more a chore. Sloth thy name is Gayest Neil... Can someone help me with my girdle?

Strudel Strife

Apparently a non-disclosure agreement is quite binding. 133 pages of legal rigmarole which boils down thusly, "Give anything away about the show and you're fired." I gave secrets away regarding Oprah Winfrey Presents: America's Next Top Strudel in my previous post. As a result, I've been fired. SOBS!

Aixelsyd tluda evitareneged ym ot eud tnemeerga eht dear t'ndid I harpO dlot I. She didn't buy my lie though. Still I was canned (although she offered to have me on a show regarding adult dyslexia this winter.) Rachel over heard my weepy confessional and said I should stick with M&M's as a snack food. Not only are the tiny chocolates inexpensive, but its a palindrome food. Damn her! My apologies dear reader. I've been meditating all this weekend trying to exorcise the horrid reality that perhaps I'm not reality material. I'm afraid my vitriol has seeped into this post; much like the creamy drippings of a cholesterol chocked strudel. I SMELL LIKE BUTTER. It's everywhere!

Because of that damn show. Everything I touch: handles, knobs, switches, Bryce, everything is left with a slippery sheen. I am sweating grease due to four straight days of strudel sampling. ALL FOR NAUGHT! All so that wicked woman Oprah can kick me off her show simply for giving our fans the insider scoop they so richly deserve? And you won't believe who she replaced me with!

Michael Jackson! It's too weird. He seems like a rather contrived choice to me. Like something she dreamed up buzzed on caffeine. Hey? Who'd be the CRAZIEST replacement for Gayest Neil? Let's call Michael Jackson over in Turkey (is that where he is) and see if he'll fly here to replace our tattletale dandy on the season finale. Well she did and he agreed. It turns out strudel is an international hit. Wacko Jacko is content to please his European and Asian fans. What better way than strudel? SOBS!

I don't care! I'm over it! I'm over the futile declaration of my strudel love. I felt like a pastry parrot repeating myself over and over. How many synonyms for flakey, buttery, crunchy strudels can YOU bring forth dear reader? Don't judge me! Oprah how dare you fire your star! Was my light shining a little too bright? Perhaps.

Her utter disregard for the judging panel didn't end with me. Oh no. She even replaced Julia with a digitized version of Julia's younger self! Yes, indeed. The change is hardly subtle. Between the third and fourth episodes, suddenly Julia begins speaking and Rachel and I stopped wincing on camera at her cadaverous odor. Was the first Julia a zombie? I'm convinced Oprah is a practitioner of the black arts. No Oprah! That was not a crash moment.

A little Gayest Neil history here for context. In 1987 I lived in a Paris flop house with a troupe of heroin addicted mimes. I was neither a heroin addict or a mime. I was their makeup artist. Painting these mimes' faces was a very easy gig. They'd lay about all hopped up on junk and I'd do them up in little clown smileys and black tear drops. Everything was going ok, and although I didn't relish living in a bombed out warehouse among rats and gothic goofs, I still enjoyed the lifestyle. It all came to a muted halt, however, when the troupe's leader Monsieur Aparte told me with some very harsh gesticulation that my cosmetic counsel would no longer be required. Stupid mimes. I won't get into the specifics of why I was signaled to leave. Suffice it to say, mimes are not deaf. They may not speak, but they can certainly hear the critical things you say to them when their backs are turned. I wanted to burn that warehouse to the ground. I wanted to see them pantomiming a firehose in a futile attempt to save their lives. But never did I savor the delicious taste of vengeance on those dope fiend French fools. Instead I walked away, a single black tear drawn on my very own face.

But now - vengeance will be mine! Ladies and gentlemen. I happily give you the final two strudels of Oprah Winfrey Pres - GAH... the hateful show that shall from now on never be named! Mushroom Strudel vs. Pork Strudel.

Unfortunately I don't know which strudel won the grand honor (buttery sarcasm). Both are delicious dinner strudels and the chefs who created them equally charismatic. I feel Chef Erik "Wheels" Lawrence may have the upper hand in that he is a differently abled professional chef. Oprah certainly loves adversity. Then again Chef Ron is wonderfully cheeky and easily created the most delicious strudel of them all with his delicate (yet hearty) porcine pastry. Sadly none of us will know until the actual season finale... Blame it on Oprah.

OWP:ANTS

Episode one is in the can and already change is underway on MY new reality tv show...

Yes. That's OPRAH WINFREY PRESENTS! Damnit. It took less than 24 hours for Ms. Winfrey to sink her business acumen incisors into the show. She's now senior producer and gets HER NAME splashed all over the logo. Worse of all, I've been relegated to the bitchy judge role! ME? Can you imagine? Simon Cowell, Janice Dickenson and now, Gayest Neil.

I knew this was going to happen. When I asked Oprah why she signed on to do this show she replied, "Let's just say if someone gonna step onto my turf, Oprah gonna step right back!" She laughed but I could see the rage in her eyes. I can only guess that's a veiled threat to Tyra Banks' new self named talk show.

So now Oprah is my boss. Hopefully she'll ask Rachel Ray to stop offering us cheap eating tips. This morning it was, "Always keep a packet of spicy Chinese take-out mustard in your pocket. It can turn a 99 cent street hotdog into an exotic, oriental treat!" I wanted to spit at her.

Let's move on to today's filming. Only one day into this culinary cardio crash and I'm intensely sick of strudel. The eight strudels are: chicken, apple, pork, shrimp, squash, mushroom, toaster and strudel strudel. Strudel strudel consists of crust wrapped crust. I'm anticipating a buttery heart attack, alas such are the dangers one faces during the quest for reality tv stardom.

Today's winner and loser. The first four episodes will be pitting randomly selected strudel against one another in pairs for a bake off, a flake off and a taste off. This morning Squash Strudel and Toaster Strudel were the randomly selected pastry pairing.

Toaster Strudel created by Nameesha Washington of Harlem, New York and Squash Strudel created by Executive Chef Sanjay Jain of San Antonio, Texas.

Bake off: Little Nameesha's Toaster Strudel was ready for consumption in roughly six minutes. The petite darling got the icing all over her hands and her little brother, Ray-Ray, begged to lick it off, much to the panel's amusement. Chef Jain's Squash Strudel consists of eight varieties of squash from three different continents! Very impressive. His pastry also wafted delicately of curry, however I'm not sure if it was the strudel or the chef I smelled.
Simplicity and cutie-patootieness won us over in the end. Winner: Toaster Strudel!

Flake off: Squash Strudel was a thinly built masterpiece of golden crust. Toaster Strudel nearly broke my fingernail. Winner: Squash Strudel!

Taste off: The Squash Strudel was by far the more delicious creation. But Oprah threatened to fire us if we didn't vote for the little girl. I certainly hope Ms. Winfrey won't be so draconian when darling Nameesha and her mediocre Toaster Strudel come up for judging in the finals. Winner: Toaster Strudel!

Toaster Strudel wins round one of Oprah Winfrey Presents: America's Next Top Strudel.

p.s. Julia Child has yet to speak to anyone. Rachel Ray keeps stealing her portions of strudel and saying she's going to make a strudel stew out of them for us to taste. (barf!) I do so hope my strudel-stamina can be maintained for eight entire episodes!

Sky Fell...

The flags are at half mast over the Magical Kingdom today. Confusion during what should have been a routine press junket for Disney/Pixar’s latest animated film “Chicken Little” resulted in the brutal killing of the movie’s star, Chicken Little.

An anonymous eye witness had this to say, “Oh my God. It was horrible! The screaming and the bloody feathers! Oh God, poor Chicken Little! What a horrible way to die.”

The movie’s miniscule star was completing a promotional tour of China’s Liaoning province in preparation for the movie’s November 11th Asian premiere. The province, close to the North Korean border, has killed close to 370,000 birds after nearly 9,000 chickens were found to possess the avian flu virus.

“Chicken Little was definitely in the wrong place at the wrong time,” said Terrell Jones, bus driver. “There was all these little Chinese kids trying to get his autograph. Chickie Wittle! Chickie Wittle! they was saying. Suddenly these guys in white lab coats snatches him up and tossed him in barrel of dead, rotten chickens. They pulled out rusty machetes before anyone even knew what was going on! Shit.”

The press junket quickly became a mob scene as Disney representatives surged to save the star and Chinese health professionals went to business. Photographers caught the gruesome murder on film, but Disney has asked out of respect for the actor's family that none of the brutal images be published.

Said another unnamed Disney employee, “Crying toddlers with posters to be signed. It leaves an impression on you. There are iconic images when I think of China, the lone student standing up against the tanks in Tiananmen Square, for example. But for me it’s forever going to be a little pair of green, horn rimmed glasses laying there with one drop of blood on them.”

Plastic Music

Feeling out of tune? The blogosphere is going to be a more melodic space now that Bryce is hosting his own music blog. I've never met anyone with better taste in (or knowledge of) music. Don't take my word for it. Check out Plastic Music yourself.

ANTS

I’m one pissed off queen! So producers at LOGO feel my “personality” is too gay for the gay channel. As a result, pre-production on my reality TV show has been “put on hiatus” pending recasting. Recasting? How the hell will “Clubbin' wit Gayest Neil” go live without yours truly? Truly disgusting!

The producer, Choco, tells me they’re contemplating hiring a perky co-host in the style of Madisen Michelle from the TV Guide channel. Gah! I argued the point and they said every “outrageous” gay man needs a glamorous girlfriend. “Look at Will & Grace,” Choco offered.

“Look at my ass,” I offered and left LOGO’s offices in tears. Thus I was bereft of my own reality TV show. That was until last night when the Food Network called and offered me MY VERY OWN REALITY TELEVISION SHOW!

AMERICA’S NEXT TOP STRUDEL!

Suddenly that elusive desert island full of coniving strangers became an exclusive dessert island full of delicous strudels. America’s Next Top Strudel has a simple, yet brilliant, premise. Me and a panel of judges sample strudels and over the course of eight weeks determine which one is the most delicious. I think the various chefs have to debase themselves by eating bugs or living in a shed or something as well. I don't know and don't care. Strudel here comes daddy!

Part of me is a tad bit leary. I honestly don’t know how they are going to stretch this premise into eight weeks. Perhaps plenty of recap episodes?

Food Network assures me that I am the STAR of the show. But also on the judging panel will be Rachel Ray, Oprah Winfrey and Julia Child.

Yes! Julia Child. I thought she was deceased too girl, but FN needed a big name for foodies to connect with, so they asked Julia and she signed on. I'm not too certain Julia is completely there though, you know, mentally? We’ve taped the pilot episode and the woman has yet to speak. I’m concerned she may just be a mannequin, or perhaps her actual corpse? Tres macabre! Bon appetit! Below is our very first publicity still.

I'm soooooooooooo excited about my first reality television program. Over the next few weeks I'll be giving you reality show tid bits and juicy, gossip about my co-stars. For instance, did you know cheap-ass Rachel Ray SAVES HER PIZZA CRUSTS? And I don't just mean her own. We were eating pepperoni pizza from the craft services table and she's putting everyone's discarded crusts in a zip lock baggy. I noticed Oprah eyeing her skeptically as well.

"Rachel, why are you hoarding those crusts?" I asked.
"Oh, I like to whip up a garlic butter and sneak them into the movie. They make a delicious and inexpensive theatre treat."

Ew. Missus $40-a-day is cheap and nasty. Dear reader, all of what I've told you thus far probably goes in direct conflict with Food Network's Non-Disclosure Agreement (I haven't read it yet). No matter. NDA be damned! Keep posted for more savory tid bits from Food Network's America's Next Top Strudel starring me, Gayest Neil!

Fraud or Friendster?

Dear Beloved,

My apologies for previously posting such a maudlin message. I was coming down off a hazelnut venti buzz and felt the need to share the personal power of my unsent email.

In regarding my hesitancy to send my friend my actual thoughts in this morning’s email, I looked to a few of the bold emails I’ve received on that sticky web of friends (and foes): Friendster. Ah…Friendster. Do we love you? Do we hate you? What have we learned from you? Well, the people we're stalking on Friendster now know we're looking at their profiles again and again and again. Which kind of sucks. After regarding a few of my past Friendster emails, I’ve learned that mine certainly could use a little more drama, a little more boldness.

Two Friendster users, Suisse and Maysani, have certainly schooled me a lesson on the art of the bold email & the declaration of friendship. That is friendship and the procurement of millions of dollars in an international scheme to defraud a third world nation wracked by civil war. Like I said: DRAMA. My life is a walk in the park compared to these ladies.

But who is paying attention? Friendsters is a bond stronger than hetero-marriage in these halcyon days of cyber camaraderie.

Wow. That’s like totes meta!

The following are actual emails I received on Friendster. The date and name of the Friendster are included. Sadly, neither had photos on their profiles. Enjoy. These bitches are bold (although they could use a spell check).

Please send money immediately. Time is of the essence, Gayest Neil

From Suisse, today (she’s my inspiration for all this nonsense and, yeah it's long.) 11/04/2005:

Dear Friend,

I am sorry if this mail will come to you as an embarrassment or a suprise, I just felt like empting myself to you,I got your contact through yahoo member's directory and having gone through you profile I decided to contact you ,as am faced with total frustration and hardship. My ernest prayer is that you find this mail in good health and blessings. I am presently residing in Abidjan, Cote d'Ivoire.I left my country with my father after the death of my mother during the war in our country and we came here because my father owned a business here, (cocoa business), during the going political crisis here which has turn out into a civil war since 2003,my father was attacked and killed here at the hit of the crisis as the rebels were killing prominent foreigners with the reason that they were financially supporting the government against them and the rebels are accusing the government of doing the
killing.

Presently,I am staying in a REFUGEE camp assisted by the Red cross organisation, due to the way which the camp is securized by united nations forces and after the death of my father,our house was set ablaze, I was unable to meet my needs pay my bills and accommodation. And in my dilemma which was another reason for going to the camp, where I could at least feed and sleep as I did not know anyone here. I take permission to go to the town where they have internet access to enable me correspond with you. Secondly,my late father concealed some amount of money in a trunk box and deposited it in a safe keeping house to the turn of $8.5 million dollars which I will want you to help me move out of this country because of the war here.
But the safe keeping house does not know the true content of the trunk to be cash as my father declared upon deposit as containing art craft for export.

My father confided so much in me after the death of my mother, infact I became his wife, we were so close that we never did anything without my knowledge and opinion All that I want is your sincere and genuine help in helping me safe guide this trunk which means that you will have to come here so that we can meet face to face first before proceeding with this claim, as we have to do the claiming of the trunk which the money is concealed claimed out of the safe keeping house first and the money moved out of this country as I am the named next of kin to this deposit.

I can not allow the money remain here while because of the war here which possess a great risk to as my life andfuture solely lies on it. If you have heard from the news for the past few months now there has been intense fighting and bombing by the French troops which I will like to live here as soon as we have this money moved out f this country.

I will also like upon your arrival here to open an account in any of the international banks of your choice here where this money will be lodged into for transfer to your country, I know that this is our first mail, but I have decided to confide in you from the choice of your word on your profile. I want you to know that for years now, I have lived in absolute frustration, tires and pains without any person around me, no parent, uncles or friend, but God had kept me until now, which I believe that I will smile once again.

Thirdly, I do not want to attach myself to you out of desperation so that I do not get sed rather I intend you helping me to claim this money as I intend living for your
country to start an entire new life and complete my education, as you will have to help in the investment of this money. But I really need your help at this trial and difficult time of mine. I am totally frustrated that my whole mind for now lies on my survival which is securing this money.

Please I am confiding completely in you and I really need your assistance at this point. Thank you, Suisse.

That my friends is a BOLD email. So girlfriend marries her father (deceased) and now wants me to fly to the Ivory Coast to meet face-to-face (bitch lives in a regufee camp but she is able to use the internet?) so I can open a safe deposit box (in the bank of my choice...thanks Suisse) and she and I can escape from the French? Do I look like Sydney Bristow? Lordy. Drama! I got to thinking though, if her family is in the Cocoa Business... does that make her a Suisse Miss? Hah.

Now Maysani. I have a particular fondness for Ms. Maysani. I received her email quite a while ago and was so tempted to respond to her. But the idea of her son, Mustapha, chopping my arms off (or some other horrible fate - I've seen Hotel Rwanda thank you!) dissuaded me from the endeavor. Again, enjoy. (And thank God Maysani is a waaaay less chatty than incesty Suisse!)

Maysani on January, 31 2005

Dear Beloved

Due to the sudden death of my husband General Abacha the former head of state of Nigeria in June 1998, I have been thrown into a state of hopelessness by the present administration.I have lost confidence with anybody within my country.I got your contacts through personal research, and had to reach you through this medium. I will give you more details when you reply.Due to security network placed on my daily affairs I cant visit the embassy so that is why I have contacted you. My husband deposited $12.6 million dollars with a security firm abroad whose name is with held for now till we communicate. I will be happy if you can receive this funds for safe keeping and I assure you a very good percent of this fund I will instruct my son to contact you so please feel free to comunicate with my son. I await your urgent response,

NOTE: Please i would to have a reply of yours in my private email address so that i can easily contact you and also send me your contact telephone number so that my son Mustapha can call and discuss verbally with you regarding this transaction so that you can as well as any question whatsoever. Do please keep this transaction confidential for my family. I await your urgent response. Maysani

Cubicle Chicken

I totally chickened out.

What I wanted to reply…

I had a wonderful time talking and carousing with you as well. I used to be pretty shy and kind of stuck inside my own "wackiness". Sort of using it as a means to escape social interactions while still allowing me to insert myself around those friends, yah know?

Hmm… perhaps I'm being too bold. I'm a bit buzzed from my morning cup of coffee. Whatever - the greatest thing I've learned from moving to this city, is that you must be bold in life, otherwise you miss opportunities.

The opportunity here is a great friendship because I think you’re terribly interesting. I look forward to sharing many a cordial with you.

Instead I replied:

Awesome! I'll look for ya. Call me up. We will be out tonight & tomorrow.

The greatest thing I’ve learned indeed… Cock-a-doodle-doo!

She's Gonna Blow!

I attended Stephen’s weekly Runt party last night (by way of my friend Turtle’s birthday party) at Nowhere Bar (14th between 1st and A). Hardly no runts were in attendance (lest they were underfoot, unseen), however a number of bloggers were!

Roll Call:

Jen of Moufa Is Bad made a special appearance with her lovely dyke DJ darling Liz. Love these girls. Liz, I still have that photo of the watermelon to send you. Jen’s birthday party is approaching this weekend. Perhaps a framed gift is in order?

Jerry of Lo Admito. Jerry and his boyfriend Patricio just moved here from Spain. I know Jerry from long ago during my theatre days at the University of Georgia and then later in Atlanta at notorious 797 Penn Avenue. Patricio is a graduate student and Jerry goes to orgies!

Foxy of Foxy. I have actually met this fuzzy trickster on several occasions, however this was the first time I was sober enough to remember him. Foxy is an enthusiastic furry lifestyler and was hoping that there’d be some leftover Halloween furrage to be found. Sadly no. He chilled in his Fox outfit and still managed to blend in wonderfully among the hip Union Square/East Village crowd.

A wonderful time was had among a variety of friends (who don’t write online journals) – also the boyfriend and I continued our elusive hunt for a certain someone for a certain fun for which I’ve devised way too many rules and have mused drunkenly upon with too many people at this point... Please simply let the deed be done!

The village shaman identified the signals months ago, yet hadn't acted on his intuitions: the birds and forest animals fleeing; the plume of smoke drifting lazily from the volcano top; the ground rumbling harder and harder as every day passed. He knew his pagan Gods were preparing to unleash their fury (ecstasy) on the island. It was only a matter of days probably. Such things are inevitable. The village shaman decided it was his duty to take charge and move the tribe himself...