Gregory & Greg

I went to visit my friend Peppar in Miami a couple of weeks ago, and she took a picture of me and her son, Greg. Peppar loves my name (and me) so much, she named her son after me! I wish I had a daughter so I could name her Pep. That name might be too much pressure on the poor grrl, though - she would probably be vaguely depressed all her life, like her papa. Plus, on the schoolyard, she would probably be taunted. "Hey, Pep! What's your last name - Tobismol?"

When I was a kid, there was a girl who waited with us at the bus stop. Her name was Jessica, but everyone called her the "Booger Queen" because once someone said they caught her picking her nose. Really, I doubt they actually saw this, because what little girl would pick her nose in public at that tender age? Other kids - and their inherent danger - were everywhere, lurking and spying about. Anyway, once I screamed at the other kids, telling them to stop calling her the "Booger Queen." "Stop!" I screamed. "Stop, stop, stop!" Henceforth, of course, I was the "Booger King."

I really wish I had been in a better mood when I was in Miami. I don't think I was very good company for Peppar. (She knew the risks). I will meet her in Orlando some day, and she and I and Greg will get on a Disney World ride and probably instantly be thrown from it at its apex and dashed to bits on the cement below. (We knew the risks).

In this photo, Greg and I are both wearing our caps. His is a smart number, emblazoned with a Yankees symbol. Mine is camo.

Two Matts

I wanted to take a picture of this guy Matt's risky hoodie, as he's straight, and I love it when the straight guys take risks with their outfits. I decided to crop his head out of the picture, as I'm sure he wouldn't like his face appearing on my deviant, homosexual blog. But then I looked at the picture, and this OTHER guy Matt's face was visible! He's sitting on the steps. How funny, I didn't even plan that. I think the Matt whose face is not in the pic is delicious, but I do wish he would shave his facial hair. Sadly, I will never lick his face, though I yearn to, so I don't feel like I have enough at stake in his face to offer my opinion on it. He should totally publicly trade his face, because then I would buy a majority stake in it and then force him to shave. I have had way too much coffee this a.m.

In drag

I have a bit of a date tonight, I think, so I decided to dress in drag again. I'm wearing Gap and Uniqlo, my old standbys when I don't want to startle someone with my outfits, or provoke a fight. But my shoes are as current as next fall. I believe that several animals were slain to make them. (They knew the risks!) My adorable friend C. M. took this picture of me. I'm holding Caroline Weber's book Queen of Fashion, even! Of course, Weber's book is about Marie Antoinette, and her penchant for fashion missteps. My mother used to sit down after a long day at work, sigh and say, "Ah, to be queen for a day." I would never wish for that, myself. With my luck, if I were queen for a day, it would probably be the day of the revolution. :(

Me and Liz on Liz's last day

It's Liz's last day at work today! : ( I'm sad, because Liz was always like the Peppermint Patty to my Charlie Brown at work. She even looks a little like Peppermint Patty!

I haven't blogged in a while, but not much has happened. In this picture, I'm wearing Michael Kors and BDG. Rock it, Gee Henry!

Citizen clothing

A million years ago, when I lived in San Francisco, I was walking down Castro Street and passed Citizen Clothing. A young salesman inside gave me "the eye" as I walked past, so, as anyone would do, I walked inside and applied for a job. Surprisingly, given my dearth of retail experience, I was hired. I had to lie on my resume, of course, and even had my best friend pretend to be a former boss when they called for a reference. And I stole, stole, stole at that job. I stole all my Christmas presents that year, and I stole a watch and many other items, none of which I still have (except for a white belt that makes me look like a trifling man).

During my recent trip to SF, I walked into Citizen and purchased this greenish shirt, without even trying it on. That's my penance for my months of theft at Citizen Clothing - now, whenever I go to SF, I will buy some ugly item without even trying it on. Just to give them some support.

That young salesman became my second boyfriend, Josh. To this day, Josh is the only guy I've ever had a sexual relationship with where I didn't have sex with him the first time we met. I remember once, after sex, I looked him in the eye and said, "I know that was good for you, Josh, but was it good for the Jews?" (He is Jewish). He didn't say anything in reply, but now he and his current boyfriend go to synagogue together, and have been together for years and years. I'll probably throw this shirt out by next summer.

Mary Jo

Ran into my neighbor Mary Jo. She wanted me to blog about her outfit, so here I am doing so. I like what she has on, especially the skirt, which is something I would wear, if I wore skirts. Mary Jo told me about her ants, which didn't sound so bad to me, and she showed me her diary, which has pages and pages of writing per day. I told her she was crazy for writing in such detail about her days, which she didn't deny. I was just jealous, though. I'm surprisingly reticent both in my own diary and on my blog. As for the ants, the prayer I said for her that day seems to have worked, as she now just has a roach. The Lord, much like skirts, works in mysterious ways.

Me and Chad kissin'

Me and Chad were kissin' on the street. Well, not really, but you know ... I was wearing my spiffy new blue pegged Hickey pants, and a yellow tee-shirt with a bluebird on it, bought at Camouflage from the irrepressible Tony. The pants were not just pegged, they were ankle-busting ... I had to remove the drawstring, even. The lengths to which I'll go to look good. : )