old friends are the best

I have been friends with P for 36 years. She's in Thailand this week, I got this photo and we exchanged enmails yesterday.



P: I rode this elephant yesterday and now my back is killing me.
R: Think how the elephant feels.
P: Why do I talk to u?
R: Looks like he's screaming in pain.
P: I hate u.
R: How long did it take him to get up off his knees?
P: Fucker.
R: What did u buy me in Bangkok?
P: A sapphire.
R: Really???
P: Yes.
R: I hate u 2.

Big brother is.....

Click here before placing your order.

New York state of mind

I made my reservations yesterday for Azerbaijan. I didn’t feel like spending my birthday by myself this year. So I’ll be visiting S and P in Baku. I decided to spend 2 days in NY before heading on to London and then Baku.


Every time I drive by Miss Liberty on our town square I get the urge to head north.

New York is the best and oh so addictive. My mother was the one that got me hooked on NY. She was 19 when she married my father and when he was shipped overseas in 1942 Western Union moved her to NY for the duration of the war. She was a country girl from Texas in the big city and she loved it.

Her tales of Broadway shows, movie premieres, great restaurants and bars, Central Park, and incredible museums thrilled. So when I turned 19 and met BC we headed for NY like Mom. The 4 years we lived there were wonderful. After we left NY we still had to go back at least once a year for a fix.

Our last visit was in 2002 though. And this will my first time back since BC died. I’ve been out of the loop here in the sticks so I need some input. I’m too old for the gay bars but I want to see at least two shows. (Damn Sondheim for not having a new show) Any suggestions? And what about restaurants? I don’t need glitz, just good food and atmosphere. So any suggestions from you NYC boys, girls, or recent visitors will be greatly appreciated.

spread the word

Yesterday I let Sam outdoors for his morning romp. The great thing about living in the country is that I can let Sam run free. He doesn’t stray too far but he does head into the woods while making his rounds checking out his kingdom. Usually I accompany him on his rambles but yesterday I busy checking airline schedules to Baku, Azerbaijan.

Twenty minutes later I heard him scratching at the back door. I went to the door and opened it. Sam flew into the house, streaked down the hallway, and bounded up the stairs. But that 5 second dash past me left the unmistakable odor of…skunk. Obvious it had been Sam - 0, Skunk - 1.

To those of you fortunate enough NOT to know what skunk scent smells like let me just say that farts under the blanket are nothing. Nothing!, I tell you compared to a skunk. Sulphur fumes from the river Styx in the Fifth Circle of Hell can not be worse.

Finally I tracked Sam down to my bedroom where I found him furiously rubbing his muzzle on my favorite oriental rug. I managed to drag him downstairs and confine him in the mud room while I drove to town for a remedy. First I bought 10 quarts of tomato juice. And then I found S.O.S., Skunk Out Shampoo for Pets and bought 2 bottles. Then I headed home to confront the problem.

Poor old Sam was cowering as I drug out a wash tub and pulled on rubber gloves. Gagging, I put him in the tub and proceeded to douse him in tomato juice. The tomato juice remedy is just a silly old wives tale folks. It only made Sam smell like a rancid Bloody Mary. Next I tried the S.O.S. and two bottles later he was only marginally more fragrant. I decided to call the Vet before I banished Sam to the garage. He laughed and gave me a recipe which I am now duty bound to pass on to you.

Take 1 quart of 3 percent hydrogen peroxide (available from any drugstore), 1/4 cup of baking soda (sodium bicarbonate for you science types) and 1 teaspoon of liquid soap, such as Ivory. Mix and immediately apply to the stinky pet. Rinse thoroughly with tap water. Worked beautifully. So there. Now spread the word.

Instead of smelly Sam in the garage there is now only the smelly rug in the garage. Note to self: when in Baku buy replacement rug. Unfortunately I haven’t had the same results in ridding the house of all lingering scents. So today all windows are open and when the maid arrives she has her work cut out.

But she will be forewarned. I did post a sign on the front door: “abandon all hope, ye who enter here”.

tea and sympathy

I like the Brit DIY Home/Living shows. I’m addicted to BBC’s Changing Rooms, House Invaders, Ground Force, Design for Living, Life Laundry, and the best of all: House Doctor.

House Doctor shows tips for people that are having trouble selling their homes. The host and narrator of the program is the very lickable likeable Alistair Appleton … mmm… Alistair. But I digress.

The House Doctor is actually an American, Ann Maurice. She’s no nonsense, brutally honest, and not very diplomatic. "What were you thinking? Flowered carpet and stripped wallpaper? It looks like a French tart's boudoir." I love her.

One thing I learned from Ann is when selling your home do not neglect the exterior. Curb appeal is important. The buyers’ first impression starts when the car door opens. So mow the lawn. Tidy up the yard. Paint the front door. A few pots of colorful flowers on the porch put the potential buyer in the right mood before he’s ever stepped inside.

Since I’m selling my house I decided to tart up the landscaping a bit. I usually leave the outdoors to my lawn service/landscape company. I mean I’ve got 63 acres. You think I’m going to mow the 12 acres that aren’t wooded? Not a chance. Sunday I decided to go to the local nursery and buy a truck load of flowers to plant in front of the gates, along the drive, and in the beds in front of the house. The delivery guy and I unloaded the flats of flowers and placed them next to the spots where I intended to plant them Monday.

But Mother Nature is a bi-yotch.

3:30am Monday I was awakened by a huge storm. Jagged lightning. Earsplitting thunder. Gusting winds. Rain blowing horizontal. All followed by golf ball sized hail. I was sure that windows were going to break. It was quite a show. When the hail stopped it was about 2 inches thick as far as you could see.

When I got up yesterday morning I went outside with my coffee to survey the damage. And fellas, I was horrified. There were… Dead… Pansies… Everywhere. Massacred. The inhumanity! I called the lawn service company to come out, pick up the poor broken bodies, and haul them off. I was too heartbroken.

I don't want sympathy. I want Ann to come over, slap me around, and tell me what to do next. But if she’s busy that’s OK. She can just send Alistair… mmm… Alistair.

EVilMom, this one's for you

Dear Sandy,

Since I think of Aaron as a surrogate nephew I guess that makes you and I siblings. So Happy Birthday, Sis!

Aaron wanted to do something special to honor you on your birthday this year. He wanted to get this tattoo:

But I talked him out of it. He was drunk. And wanted it on his forehead. I hope I did the right thing.

My warmest regards,
Ray

I am an only child

I am grumpy this morning. I read another blogger’s post about her sister. It unfortunately reminded me that I have a sister of my own. I don’t like to acknowledge that I do. I haven’t talked to her in years.

We had an OK relationship growing up. I was her big brother and she worshiped me - as was only right. After all she had messed up my perfect gig as an only child. I looked out for her. I helped her with her homework. If she did something wrong and was about to be punished I told my parents I was the real culprit even if I was innocent. Big brothers do that kind of thing.

She grew up, married a real jerk, and somehow had three terrific kids. She and the jerk were constantly broke though. My parents and I were called on weekly to bail her out of one financial mess or another. The gas company cut off service and removed the meter. Help! Kited checks that finally bounced. Help! Repossessed car. Help! And we would give. And give. And give. After all as my father said, we didn’t want her children to suffer and it was only money. But it was actually more than money. There was also the disruption of our own lives while we scrambled to fix hers.

My parents were both in very ill health the last years of their lives. And concern for them brought me back to Houston. BC and I uprooted our happy lives abroad and moved back to the city we hated. Our lives were quickly consumed with driving my parents to doctor’s appointments, pushing wheelchairs, changing diapers, maintaining oxygen machines, and bedside vigils when they were hospitalized. I could have used my sister’s help. I needed her to take over for an hour or two so that BC and I could escape to a restaurant occasionally. Instead I had to hire a professional sitter. My sister would show up only when she needed money.

Finally I had enough. I turned off the money tap. I told her that our dying parents couldn’t afford her and that I wouldn’t give her another dime of my own either. Her infrequent visits dwindled even more. My father died. And the last year of my mother’s life my sister never once visited or called. BC and I scrambled to make up excuses to my mother. Big brothers do that kind of thing.

God may forgive her. I choose not to. I can't excuse the hurt she caused my parents.

When my mother’s obituary appeared in the newspaper it read that she was survived by two loving sons, BC and I, and three grandchildren. There was no mention of my sister. I wrote that obituary.

My own true love

*Inspired by Alan Cumming.

the only gay in the village

Like Dafydd in BBC’s Little Britain I am the only gay in the (my) village. And I like it that way. I am totally out here and everyone knows it. It gives me somewhat tawdry status but status none the less. All the locals know who to come to for fashion advice, fabulous recipes, and gossip.

God was in his heaven and all was right with the world until yesterday afternoon. I went to the Three Forks Market to buy mushrooms for a risotto I was making for dinner. I stopped dead in my tracks in the produce isle when I spied the nelliest flaming flamer I’ve ever seen squeezing the melons. No, No, No!!! Not another gayer!!! He better be a tourist because I am the only gay in the village and I’m not giving up my title.

Now excuse me while I run to the pub for a bacardi and coke because it’s a gay drink. And I am gay, gay, gay. I am the only gay in the village .

Warning! Plot spoiler ahead!

Am I the only one that thinks this would make a great episode for NBC's "Law & Order"?

in my hood

As I stated before, I live in the country. The nearest town is a sleepy little burg. It's one of those picturesque towns you sometimes see in the South. There is a square in the middle of downtown. In the center of the square is the statue of some obscure Confederate general. Most of the Victorian buildings surrounding the square house antique shops. There is a tea shop, a handful of law offices, and a post office. Not a lot happens here.

The most popular item at the Along The Way Café is the meat and three special. Actually gossip is the most popular item but the food is good too. Gossip is exchanged over steaming plates of meatloaf or chicken and dumplings or fried catfish with sides of butterbeans, fried okra, and greens. Sweet tea and cornbread or biscuits included. Conversations tend to center on last week's local high school football game. The ever changing hairstyle of the Calvary Baptist Church preacher's wife is also a popular subject.

Most cars here sport one or more Support Our Troops stickers. The cab company will pick you up, drive you to the Piggly Wiggly, wait while you shop for groceries, and drive you home for $3.00. If you want a haircut you go to Brenda's Beauty Box if you're a woman or Pop's Barber Shop if you're a man. You want a salon you better be prepared to drive to Nashville. Everyone knows your name here or at least who your people are. "You're one of those Taylor boys, aren't cha? I know your people."

The times, they are a-changin' though. We had a murder in our town last week. This was no jealous husband/cheating wife job so popular in the South. No siree. This was a shootout right on the town square and not between two drunked up rednecks. Our murder was between two rival rappers. Junior rap stars you might say. One was 18 one was 20 and both had record deals. NY/LA/LV, you got nothing on us. Did I mention our murder had an extra twist? Both of our Notorious B.I.G./Tupac Shakur/Jam Master Jay wannabes were white boys.

The football team and the preacher's wife get a pass this week. At the ATWC the only gossip is the cave boy rappers. Try the peach cobbler fo' shizzle.

Zip, zero, nada

I'm going back to bed.

For Sale

I called the realtor this morning and told her to list the house. I’ve been heading toward this decision for months. I had no epiphany. There was no flash of insight.

I will leave with no regrets. This house was designed and built by and for us. But there is no longer an “us”. Only I remain. And it is time to move. It is time to reconnect with the world.

It is too quiet here, acres of silence. I need noise. I need the pulse and rhythm of a city. I have had enough clear clean air and solemn woods. Give me traffic noises and exhaust fumes again. Give me crowds.

I’ve lived here in solitude while hurting, then slowly healing. I am not fragile anymore. I am strong.

Roy Rogers made me gay

My favorite TV program when I was a kid was "The Roy Rogers Show". Roy was cool. He was "The King of the Cowboys" with his trusty golden palomino, Trigger, and his faithful dog, Bullet.

He fought for Truth, Justice, and the American Way. Every week Roy would battle claim jumpers, outlaws, bank robbers, escaped convicts, cattle rustlers, assorted bad men, and whip their asses. He was my hero and he turned me into a big homo.

After all my hero:

1. was married to Dale Evans, "Queen of the Cowgirls", who looked like a bad drag queen,

2. wore more wore fringe than Dale and was into hankies,

3. was also a biker,

4. had a jeep named NELLYBELLE,

5. and his theme song was "Happy Trails".

*sigh* I never had a chance.

Because all the other kids have one

[start soundtrack]

1. It is a good bet that I am older than you. Oh shut up.
2. It is also a good bet that I am taller than you. I am 6’6”.
3. I have wanderlust. I will accept any excuse to travel to a new place.
4. I keep a packed suitcase so I can travel as soon the moods hits.
5. I want to be a travel writer in my next life.
6. I am a dog person.
7. I have a 13 year old yellow Labrador Retriever named Sam.
8. My dog has his own passport.
9. I am a lapsed Catholic.
10. Religious fanatics of all faiths scare me.
11. My favorite season is autumn.
12. My first car was a new 1967 Mustang. I wish I still had it.
13. I am an Aries so lead, follow, or get out of the way.
14. I have not spoken to my sister in over 2 years and I never will.
15. Houston, TX is my hometown. Hated it. I couldn’t wait to get out.
16. I have lived in 18 cities in 8 countries on 5 continents.
17. Of all those cities I love London the most. I still own a home there.
18. I am a city boy but I now live in the country.
19. I hate country western music.
20. I never had allergies until I moved to the country.
21. I have had one LTR. It lasted 32 years.
22. I don’t like being single.
23. I broke my clavicle on a transatlantic flight. I fell. I was drunk.
24. Due to that fall I now have 3 metal plates and 10 screws in my shoulder and I can now predict the weather.
25. I don’t drink as much I used to.
26. When I do drink it is usually single malt scotch, or a dry martini, or red wine, or beer, or….
27. I have 56 pairs of shoes.
28. I love shoes but I hate shining them.
29. I often go barefoot.
30. I was a vegetarian for 5 years.
31. I am a great cook. When I lived in Paris I took courses at Le Cordon Bleu.
32. I can’t whistle.
33. I was bitten twice by a camel.
34. I hate camels.
35. I quit smoking 16 years ago and I still miss it.
36. I collect art.
37. I wish I were an artist.
38. I worked very hard, invested well, and retired at 48.
39. I do a lot of volunteer work now.
40. I am passionate about theatre and film.
41. I believe in reincarnation and karma.
42. My favorite comfort food is chicken pot pie. Ye Waverly Inn on Bank St. in New York make the world’s best chicken pot pie IMO.
43. I broke my arm when I ran over a dog while riding my bicycle.
44. I was at the 1972 Munich Olympics when Arab terrorists killed 11 Israeli athletes.
45. I lost a good friend on American Airlines flight 11, September 11, 2001 when it was hijacked by Arab terrorists and crashed into the World Trade Center’s North Tower.
46. I believe all terrorists must be destroyed.
47. As a child I learned to speed read so I could read more library books.
48. I own over a thousand books.
49. I will loan you money before I will loan you a book.
50. I have never attended my high school reunions.
51. I used to double date (girls) with Patrick Swayze in high school.
52. I once smuggled banned books out of East Berlin on a dare.
53. I danced in an off Broadway play and I wasn’t a member of the cast.
54. I only did 53 for one performance.
55. I have blue-gray eyes.
56. To avoid the draft during the Vietnam War I told the selective service board I was gay.
57. My draft classification is 4F.
58. I am the same weight as when I was in college.
59. I wore glasses for years before I had lasik surgery.
60. I am an Eagle Scout.
61. My mother and my lover died in a 2 month period.
62. I tried to commit suicide a year later.
63. I am grateful everyday I did not die.
64. My hair is now more salt than pepper.
65. I love board games.
66. I love card games even more.
67. I am a good bridge player.
68. I do not have a green thumb. All house plants fear me.
69. I tan easily and I rarely burn.
70. I love spicy food. Thai food is my favorite.
71. I have been an American Express cardholder since 1970.
72. I require very little sleep.
73. I love coffee but not tea.
74. I take my coffee black. No sugar. I hate flavored coffees.
75. My pet peeve is people that can’t do simple math in their heads.
76. I hate housework so I have a maid.
77. I am clueless about automobile engines and could care less. Why would God invent auto mechanics and AAA if you weren’t meant to use them?
78. I bought my cell phone to call AAA if I had car trouble.
79. Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday.
80. If you have no place to go for Thanksgiving dinner you are always welcome at my table.
81. I love my friends and I tell them I love them often.
82. My favorite trashy movie is “Valley of the Dolls”…….. “They drummed you out of Hollywood, so you come crawling back to Broadway. But Broadway doesn't go for booze and dope. Now get out of my way, I've got a man waiting for me”.
83. I read with Patty Duke at a movie audition. I didn’t get the part.
84. I can’t ice skate.
85. I had weak ankles as a kid.
86. My favorite QEFTSG member is Tom Filicia because I can’t decorate for shit. I am missing that gay gene. Besides, he’s cute.
87. I have met a lot of interesting people that became friends when traveling on trains.
88. I love trains.
89. I don’t care for cruise ships. Hotels on water. I don’t get the point.
90. I enjoy sports but I never excelled at them.
91. I love skiing and scuba diving.
92. I wish I had practiced more when I took piano lessons.
93. I like all fruits and vegetables except watermelon. I hate the texture.
94. My favorite any time vacation city is Paris.
95. My favorite restaurant in Paris is Le Coupe-Chou at 11 rue de Lanneau. If you go be sure to try the Gratin Dauphinois. Tell Christian I sent you. (I don’t get a kickback).
96. My favorite color is sage green.
97. I always write thank you notes.
98. I seldom write letters.
99. I was born in London and have dual citizenship.
100. My favorite ice cream is Häagen-Daz Rum Raisin.

[roll credits]

*fin*

A Star Is (Not) Born

My love for the theatre was cemented May 1961. I was 10 and in the 4th grade. Our elementary school operetta that year was “The Frog Prince”. I played both the frog and the prince. I had two solos (I still know all the lyrics) and my own follow spot. I was hooked. Applause: good.


Over the next years I had dance lessons, voice lessons, and acting lessons. I did community theater, dinner theatre, local television commercials and radio spots. I won best actor in state UIL competition my senior year in high school. My best friend won best actress. I enjoyed it all immensely.

Houston was home to a lot of talent in those years, Brent Spiner, the Quaids - Randy & Dennis, Patrick Swayze, Shelly Duvall, Trey Wilson, Roxie Lucas, Cindy Pickett, Brett Cullen, and Thomas Schlamme among others. I knew all of them. I've acted with some of them. I am still good friends with most. I have a lot of stories. Some you may read here. Some you won’t. I’m loyal.

I had one semester of drama in college before I changed majors. I might have had some talent but I never had the drive, that fire in the belly. My friends had it in spades. I don’t have any regrets.

But if you were to point a spotlight at me I might just break into a chorus from “The Frog Prince”.