If You Can't Say Something Nice...

If You Can't Say Something Nice...

Then shut your whiney ass up and quit yer bitchin'. I am still here, still feeling shitty, but I will survive; and I have nothing really to say, I just wanted to post something because I am sitting here downloading the entire album of La Cage Aux Folles (the musical) on iTunes over my antediluvian dial-up connection, and I haven't got anything better to do for the next hour or two... besides cleaning, or getting ready for my show tonight (Cookie After Dark, Martuni's at Market and Valencia, 7 p.m., I have no idea what I'm going to wear), or taking a nap, or anything useful.



Let's see if we can think of anything positive to say while we wait.



Caroline and I saw Charlie's Angels Full Throttle on Friday evening, and enjoyed the hell out of it. Aside from the thrilling action, the joke-inside-of-a-joke writing, and the really fabulous soundtrack, this film was a fashion orgasm. When Demi Moore was wandering around her dimly lit penthouse wearing a cocoa satin bra and panties with a full-length bias-cut sable coat, masturbating her big golden gun and making evil plans on her cell-phone, I almost turned hetero. And that whole burlesque-show sequence got me all steamed up, too... the tits and ass were nice, all firm and boyish the way I like, but the lace and leather and ribbon and PVC accessories were what really had me going. And there were quite a few male eye-candies, too, like that surfer-assassin who didn't have any lines and got killed too early on (Rodrigo Santoro, woof). Of course, the whole Thin Man thing was terribly confusing (what was that all about), and there was a suspension of disbelief required that might sprain one's mind if one thought too much about it. But basically it's a very entertaining all-around movie, well worth the $4.99 I paid for it.



We also took in The Graham Norton Effect on Comedy Central after the movie, and enjoyed that a lot as well. I saw Graham in his one-man-show last year and loved his style, his humor and energy, but I'm not sure about the talk-show format. He seems better at amusing the audience than actually interviewing a celebrity... with him, the celebrity has to do all the work and serves little purpose in the show except to play straight-man to Graham. But then, I've only seen the one episode so far. I'll be keeping an eye on it in the future.



You know, the Upper Haight isn't nearly as trashy as it used to be. Caroline and Angelique and I were there yesterday, hunting for gold-glittered top-hats for the A Chorus Line production number we're doing for Ducal Ball (next weekend, God help me), and I found so many stores I have to go back to as soon as I have money again; plus we ate at this amazing little restaurant called Citrus, it's an Asian noodle-house but with a California gourmet tone. There were lots of little hippie kids still, but they were a lot prettier than the hippie-kids that hung out there when I was young myself... more than once did I want to grab one of those four-inch-wide waifs with the gorgeous shoulder-length hair and ass-riding jeans, and take him home for a meal and a good scrubbing (etc.). The parking situation sucked, though... next time I'll have to go on a weekday when it's raining or something.



That's all I can think of now. Actually, I think I will go have that nap... I slept very poorly, had weird dreams (but nothing with a narrative, just jumbled-up sexy anxious weirdness), tossed and turned and woke up a lot; though I couldn't stay asleep past nine, I'm teribly tired. Then I'll get ready for the show; I think I'll wear some of my waistless glittery things, my blue beaded shift gown for one, and some other comfy standby TBD for the other.



In the meantime, here is something pleasant for your eye: