A snuggie for the hand

Who would move to Alabama in his adulthood? Well, you're looking at him! My wonderful friend Nikhil flew back to NYC for the holidays - probably with a banjo on his knee - and it gave me another opportunity to see just how inexorably the swampland can become a part of your entire persona. For what is Nikhil wearing on his hands? He suggested that they were merely "fingerless gloves," perfect for smoking - but I beg to differ. If you take a good luck, you'll probably agree with me that Nikhil is wearing a snuggie for the hand.

William and Emmett

My lesbian friend William and my fabulous friend Emmett had tea and cupcakes in Emmett's apartment. Whenever I take a picture of Emmett, it goes right on my fashion blog, as he is a famous clothier. He is always obsessing about some lurid mass-market fashion transaction he is about to make, or casually mentioning that he must buy a gift for "Heidi" (he was on season 2 of "Project Runway," which I mention for the gays.) We got to talking about the relative value of the body parts of the gays, and William posited that "body" trumps "face" any day. Emmett countered that "d..." trumps "everything." I was mildly disturbed by this, and murmured some vague protestation. Little did I know how prophetic my own words would be, just days afterward. Yes, as I have since been advised-by-life yet again, "d..." does NOT trump "everything," because if it did, I would have the pick of the litter in this stinking city. :^D

Tim and Tunde

My dear, wizened friend Tim (he turns 47 tomorrow - *shudder*) and I went to see the movie "Precious" at Union Square. Tim is precious to me, but much like "Precious," he is downtrodden at the moment. Get in line, Tim Blue! On the way home, we ran into my friend Babatunde, whom I am always happy to see, because it means that there is someone out there who is crazier than me, and I look sane, by comparison! Yay, Tunde!! Tunde is also way more fashionable than I, which makes me secretly hope that one day his insanity will truly be recognized by the authorities, and he will be placed into an institution. Let's see how fashionable he can be in a straightjacket.

I decided to photograph my two dear friends, although we positioned the picture to also capture the lust of the two kissing youths in the pizza restaurant. (That isn't sauce running down his leg.) Ah, youth. I remember you well, though not fondly.

Jamie

Wow, I thought I was bundled up to brave the cold of NYC! But then I walked the streets with the ever-fabulous Jamie B., who was so bundled up, it can't even be said that he was facing the cold. The cold couldn't reach him through that get-up! Rock on, Jamie B. I love you. Fur hat and all.

The silver fox

Peppar's uncle Dempsey is a silver fox! He showed up to her dinner with a bowtie on, even! And the glasses are cool, too. I asked if I could take his picture for my blog. When I am in my sixties - just a couple of years away - I want to wear little bowties and smart suits to dinner, too. Maybe it's the dormant slut inside of me, but seeing a hot old man like Dempsey makes me want to unbutton his suit and slowly slip my hand inside. What would I find there? I've only ever gotten naked with one old man - years ago - and the only thing I remember (other that he worked for a church) was that he was sad, and his skin was both dry and soft, like money. Dempsey is Peppar's son's middle-name namesake, but I provided the first name, so I do not feel threatened.

Jolly & Peppar

Peppar was in town for her 40th birthday! I met her for a delightful dinner at B Bar, and Jolly was there, wearing a warm-up suit bravely accentuated with a fancy tunic. I immediately asked if I could blog about her outfit. She indicated that when it's cold, one must sacrifice part of one's fashion vision. Sadly, I agree. Curse you, winter! She also mentioned that she's a fan of Colin Farrell's, so I promised to send her a very interesting link that may make her an even bigger fan! ; )

William's party

Oscar and I went to my friend William's party for his friend's magazine. Oscar was worried that there would be too many mean gays, but then he ran into some Radical Faeries he knew, and spent the rest of the night talking in some Radical Faerie code that I do not speak. To me, it sounded like "watermelon-coconut-burning man-Massachusetts-retail-retail-watermelon-coconut-blah, blah, blah." I spent most of the evening wondering at William's outfit. What happened here? Was he cold, so he put on an shawl-neck orange sweater? Then, still cold, he layered with a suede vest? For a moment, I wondered if William had had me fooled all these years, and that actually, he is a lesbian. A sweater and a vest! And those were just the layers I saw. But it was all in fun. A fellow complimented my ass, which has never happened before. And I ran into my old chum Johnny downstairs, doing a soundcheck with his band. (I couldn't stay for the performance, as I'm quite old, and have a hard time standing up for rock shows anymore, and didn't have my Boniva on me). I will hang out with William again soon, mark my words.