WeHo Mark

Weight: 173.5
Alcohol tally: one glass of red, two VBCs. Had the usual suspects over for pre-leaving-for-the-holiday cocktails at the house.

Santa has already brought me a gift by ending the MTA strike in New York, which will make tomorrow's foray into Manhattan infinitely easier. But Santa seems to have been neglecting his duties when he allowed United Airlines to capriciously cancel my flight reservation without notifying me. We only discovered this last night when Joey tried to print out our boarding passes. But Joey is extremely good at raging against injustice, and everything is good to go as of this morning. Knock on wood.

While I can't say I've been working with demon-like efficiency this week, I have somehow managed to pretty much catch up with everything that really needed to get done. I may have to come into the office for a few hours next week, but I don't really mind.

I'm about to ship out, so let me take this opportunity to wish you all a very merry Christmas with love from your faithful Weho Mark

Darn....I was just CERTAIN that the Carver was Gina. Great season finale!

Weight: 172

The transit strike in New York will make Friday interesting. Joey and I will be driving into the city to see "Spamalot" with his brother and sister-in-law that afternoon. At least there will be four of us in the car, so we should be able to make it past the sentries and drive into town.

Busy, busy, busy (okay, I haven't really been applying myself like I should, and I really need to buckle down since I have so much to get done) at work... we fly east on Thursday afternoon for Christmas in Connecticut with my in-laws. Three Christmas parties and a dinner party last weekend... Weight today is 173 (down from 175.5 on Monday). But I'm very happy with what I'm seeing in the mirror these days. Gotta look good for Peter Rauhofer at Circus on December 30...anyone else going? I'll be the shirtless guy with the big smile on his face.

Meth Guy, last seen a few weeks ago quietly sitting on the curb across the street from my house, looking both sad and lost in thought, returned a couple of days ago. To the house. I was puttering around in the kitchen, so Joey answered the door bell. Meth Guy had noticed that the lemon trees* in our front yard weren't producing as much as they had in years past, and offered to keep an eye on them and keep them watered.

(*In over three years at this house, I have perhaps used about three lemons. Passersby pick them off the trees constantly when they're green, thinking that they are limes. They are not. They are merely immature, unripe lemons. So not only do these miscreants not get the limes they think they are getting, they are preventing ME THE OWNER from harvesting any usable amount of fruit. Grrrr.)

I leave for Christmas on the east coast one week from today. And I haven't heard a peep from my parents or either of my siblings about what I might want for Christmas. Have they forgotten me?

It's not that I'm being needy or greedy. But we live on opposite coasts so our lives run completely independently, and generally I get a phone call or two asking what I might want or need, or what size I am, or whether green is still my favorite color or SOMETHING. I don't even particularly want anything at all...my tiny little house is full enough as it is. Perhaps they've all hit upon the perfect gift (whatever that would be), and didn't need confirmation.

Weight: 170.5

Alcohol tally:
3 or 4 glasses of white on Saturday, at a birthday party
3 or 4 glasses of red on Sunday, watching the Survivor finale with the Beefy Boys
1 very girly VBC (a lemon meringue martini; it didn't taste as girly as the name would imply) at the Arclight on Monday
3 or so glasses of white and 2 cosmos at Joey's office Christmas party last night

It actually does cross my mind now and then that I should restrict either alcohol or sweets at this time of year, since they are in such generous supply throughout the holiday season. My abs aren't exactly ripping through all my blubber, after all. I'm slightly better at resisting sweets....at least I've managed to pretty much avoid everything that has been flowing into our offices.

I've had some nice CELEB SPOTTINGS lately. On Sunday we saw Scott Lowell (Ted from "Queer as Folk") hiking near the top of Runyan Canyon, then as we were finishing up at the bottom we passed Jeremy Sisto (Billy from "Six Feet Under"). And on Monday night, while we were having dinner with the Valley Boys at the Arclight restaurant before seeing "Rent," none other than Quentin Tarantino passed by; he was executive producer of the upcoming Hostel which was being screened that night.

Joey and I are heading east for Christmas one week from tomorrow...yikes. I've finished shopping for all the nieces and nephews, and I'm half done with Joey. Still not sure what to get my parents. Thank God for internet shopping. I simply cannot imagine what we all used to do back in the old days.

We have a winner!

Hunky Snowman is the official Hunky Santa at the Beverly Center. Go sit on his lap every Thursday, Friday and Saturday night, and tell him how nice or naughty he makes you feel.

The Grammy nominations were announced this morning. As a public service, here are this year's nominees in two categories that are bound to be of interest to my readers.

Category 70 - Best Hawaiian Music Album (Vocal or Instrumental)
Slack Key Dreams Of The Ponomoe by Kapono Beamer [Kapono Beamer Enterprises, Ltd]

Sweet & Lovely by Raiatea Helm [Raiatea Helm Records]

Kiho'alu - Hawaiian Slack Key Guitar by Ledward Ka'apana[Rhythm & Roots Records]

Slack Key Guitar: The Artistry Of Sonny Lim by Sonny Lim [Palm Records]

Masters Of Hawaiian Slack Key Guitar - Vol. 1 Various Artists
[Daniel Ho Creations]


Category 74 - Best Polka Album (Vocal or Instrumental)
Under The Influence by Eddie Blazonczyk's Versatones [Bel Aire Records]

Time Out For Polkas And Waltzes by Walter Ostanek And Ron Sluga [Sunshine Diversified Ent.]

Polka Pizzazz by Del Sinchak Band [Peppermint Records]

Solecktions by Kevin Solecki [Peppermint Records]

Shake, Rattle And Polka! by Jimmy Sturr and his Orchestra [Rounder]

You do realize that I'm not making this up.

While there aren't really all that many hefty singers in opera these days (and the ones who are tend to be so good that their size isn't a problem whatsoever), it is also true that few singers look as good as baritone Nathan Gunn, seen in this week's premiere of "An American Tragedy" at the Met (with Patricia Racette at top and Dolora Zajick at bottom).

Just a special little Tuesday treat for you.

Time again for Haiku Tuesday!
I wish I could be
having fun with Nathan Gunn
shirtless barihunk

I discovered last night while, uh, "doing research" on the internet before going to bed, that another friend of mine has spend at least part of his career in LA's other film industry. That means that there were two former porn "stars" over at my house on Saturday. It didn't occur to me to look up whether these two had ever worked together.

Weight Saturday morning: 169
Weight Sunday morning: 173
Weight today: 172.5

So what happened? Had a few folks over on Saturday for the annual tree-trimming party, that's what happened, and although I think that the cookie and alcohol intake was really Quite Saintly for me (as compared to normal people), apparently my body greedily soaked it all up. (Oh yeah, there were big tall glasses of vino and giant slabs of cake yesterday after a friend's gayby's christening; that didn't exactly help things either.) But, as is so often the case, I had a terrific weekend. And over 400 ornaments now hang from the tree.

Weight: 169.5

Went to the opera last night with Minnesota Jeff (Joey refused to drive in from Santa Monica) and had a great time. (Sensational performance!) During our pre-performance cocktails, we both mentioned that we were kinda itching to go out. (Thursday is the new Saturday, didn't you know?) "If I weren't in this suit," I declared, "I'd stop by Fubar on the way home for some VBCs." Wouldn't you know it, at 11 o'clock, as I was opening up my front door, I had a call from Smiley Brian urging me to join the boys at iCandy. And a text message from Joey saying the same thing. Well, if I must. I made a 90-second costume change into my slutwear, moved the laundry from the washer to the dryer, mouthwashed my coffee breath away, pulled the trash cans off the street, and 22 minutes later I was at iCandy. (Not bad, considering it's about a 15-minute walk, and I even had to stop at an ATM along the way.) Fifteen minutes after that, we were all skipping across the street to Fubar. Of course, the boys were anywhere from three to nine cocktails ahead of me, and I had no intention of catching up. So I didn't do the cock-for-a-shot thing (this time), didn't enter the... uh... "photo contest" (some other time) and didn't kiss any boys, but I happily knocked back a diet Golden Shower and tried to get into the spirit of things. And then, lo and behold, Minnesota Jeff walked into the joint, which was mighty impressive since he'd had to drive from downtown to Toluca Lake (to change clothes) before crossing the hills again to come into WeHo. Bless him.

Home by 1am. Quite Saintly, really, since I only had an alcohol tally of two VBCs, five hours apart.

Weight: 171

I went to get my neck zapped for the third (and, fingers crossed, maybe last) time last night. It was significantly less painful than the previous two outings, since there just isn't that much hair left. Consequently, the redness had practically disappeared overnight. Since I didn't trust my ability to eyeball the area to be zapped, I had grown out my beard all week. I may be scruffilicious now, but don't worry, your faithful Weho Markie will be clean and smooth of cheek as of this weekend.

Okay, so I've been looking for some time now for this book that isn't currently in print. It was published in 1997 so it's not that old, and it's part of an ongoing series of which I have all the other volumes. (It's so gay, in fact, that I can hardly bear to type the name, so I'll just have to append it at the end of this post with a shy little asterisk.*) All of the other volumes, in fact, are currently in print and retail between about $15 and $40 on Amazon; nothing unusual there. I have been trolling Ebay and Amazon and other online sellers of used books for several months now in my attempts to complete the set, but to no avail. Then, just within the last few days, I've gotten a few emails from www.biblio.com announcing that they have a copy to sell: $128. Sheesh. And then another email from the same source: $821.67!!! I have no idea why this book has become so rare and so sought after. A used copy in "as new" condition turned up yesterday on Amazon for about $100, and I said "Screw it. It's my Christmas present to myself." I'll try to console myself with the thought that I saved about $720.

I just checked Amazon again today, and the four available copies are now going for $199, $249.95, $258.90 and (presumably from biblio.com) $821.67.

Hmmm....maybe I'll sell it for a handsome profit after I read it...


*Ethan Mordden, Make-Believe: The Broadway Musical in the 1920s, Oxford University Press