Showing posts with label Roger and Thomas. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Roger and Thomas. Show all posts

Tuesday, October 14, 2014

Wedding Week Repost: Straw Hats and Bow Ties

I remember watching an episode of Sex and the City ... I'm gay, so that answers that question ... and Samantha was asking if anyone is ever really happy in their relationship every single day.

Charlotte said she was, and Samantha, stunned, asked, "You're happy in your relationship every day?"

And Charlotte said, "Well, not all day, but, yes, every single day I'm happy in my relationship."

That's how I feel about Carlos and here's a little repost from March 2009 as an example of why ...

Straw Hats and Bow Ties


I have one hard and fast rule — actually I have about a thousand, but we'll deal with this one today—unless you are under six or over eighty, you should never wear a bow tie.

Amended to add: or unless you're Carlos.

Backing up a bit. When I flew to Miami nine years ago to meet Carlos face-to-face, he was picking me up at the Ft Lauderdale airport. I knew what he looked like, and he knew me; we'd emailed and snail mailed pictures. But he told me he'd be wearing a bow tie when I arrived so I could spot him. And yes he was; a cute little bow tie and a bunch of roses. He looked adorable, although that one hard and fast rule played in my mind.

A bow tie?

Come to find out, Carlos only wears bow ties when a tie is needed. And of course, being the 21st century and being Miami, we weren't invited to too many functions where a tie was necessary, so I didn't see him in one for a long while.

Flash forward to yesterday. We're meeting Roger and Thomas at the HuffawFawFaw Hall — it’s actually called Springdale Hall, but at first I thought it would be a pretentious affair, hence the HuffawFawFaw. I showered and shaved and cologned and styled and got myself pressed and dressed and spackled and shined; and Carlos did the same.

He came down the hall wearing a new green shirt and a yellow bow tie. That rule rang a bell in my head. Then I looked at him.

He was the cutest thing ever!

I have changed the rule as of yesterday. No bow ties unless you're Carlos.

But then he put on an actual straw hat, and for a moment I thought I was going to lose it. Straw. Hat. Oh honey.....No.......no. And then the damned thing increased his cuteness level tenfold. I may have to keep him in bow ties and straw hats forever. My heart skipped a little he looked so handsome.

Sometimes you forget, when you see the same face day after day, just how handsome they can be....even in a bow tie and straw hat!

Monday, August 31, 2009

Six Queens, Meryl Streep, Daytime Emmys and Design Star


Sunday was chockfulla stuff.

Chockfulla. Not a word. Sue me.

We had made plans to meet our neighbors, David and Neal, and friends, Roger and Thomas, for a late breakfast followed by a movie. It was going to be a hot day in Smallville, so queens, breakfast and a movie seemed like fun. We were going to meet at 11 AM so Carlos and I got the chance to sleep late, and woke up a little after eight [that's late for us]. I puttered around for a few minutes and by the time I got to the kitchen Carlos had the griddle out and asked if I wanted pancakes.

Pancakes? WTF?

We're having breakfast in two hours!
So.......................No?

Seriously, he was thinking of pancakes as a little something to nibble on before breakfast!
We settled for coffee and juice. And chatting.

It seems a friend of ours bought a new phone and didn't want his old one. Carlos says to me, Byron wants to know if I want his blueberry.
You read right: Blueberry. ::::sigh:::::

I tell Carlos about a girl at work who is, shall we say, an idiot. She's been there for months and still acts like it's her first day. She doesn't know how to do anything or where we keep anything, and is always demanding, not asking, for help. Well, that dog just won't hunt. At one point she demanded help and then turned to look at me.

Don't look at me, I said.

She smiled like that would work.

I said it again, with different emphasis, Seriously, Don't. Look. At. Me.

I'm all for helping people who need it, but people who refuse to learn their job set me on edge and after a thirty-day probation period, the help ends if the stupidity continues.

Enough of this.

We get ready for the movies. As Carlos is the Queen of the Procrastinators--I'm just a member of the royal court--I told him we were leaving at ten-twenty and if he wasn't in the car at ten-twenty he could find his own way.

And I would have.......not really.......so he was ready on the dot.

Brunch was fun. Any time you get six queens together with food it's bound to be enjoyable. There was talk of all things gay: sex, pets.....not sex with pets, please...food, of course, Diana Ross--Thomas didn't know I'd danced with her and he wanted to touch me inappropriately--and IKEA.

Good food; good friends; good times.

And so, since we're speaking of good food and good times, let me rave about Julie & Julia starring the divine Meryl Streep. What a wonderful film. Meryl Streep was Julia Child from the opening scene to the closing. She was six feet tall and puffy and round and totally Julia. Amy Adams was also good as Julie, and it was nice to see her and La Streep in a frothy bit of fun after seeing them both in Doubt. There was such a sense of joy and love and laughter in Julie and Julia's lives that it spilled over into the theater. It was a good fun movie, and La Streep was brilliant, as usual. Loved it. Recommend it. Gonna buy it.

Plus it didn't hurt that Stanley Tucci was in it. He makes my knickers flutter........La Tooch!

After the movie, Roger and Thomas and David and Neal headed to Kroger for their grocery shopping while Carlos and I went to the Homo Depot for deck stain and a new mat for the bathtub.

It's a full life. Don't hate.

At the Depot I looked at paint colors for the living room. The previous owners had painted it Baby Blue.....light LIGHT LIGHT baby blue above the chair rail and then this striation of blues below the chair rail. Seriously, Chez Smallville was once home To People With No Discernible Sense Of Color And Taste.

And that is changing! Dammit!

I am painting all the trim a lovely satin ivory and ripping down chair rail. Then we'll do a Frappe or Oatbran on three walls and a dramatic La Fonda Midnight on one loooong ass wall--I love the names of paint colors! Now, to be fair, i allowed Carlos the options of picking color and he hates anything he considers dark, like La Fonda Midnight, let's say. But he does like blue. And lavender; I put the kibosh on lavender before that got too far.

So Carlos scans the paint samples, talking about what he likes while I keep saying Just pick a color. And he finally settles on a blue he likes. It's pretty, I say. It's also the exact same blue that is already on all the walls.

Carlos is done picking color.

At home I showed him my samples and explained the reasoning and how the look would play in the room and he, well, he sighed off on it. That isn't a misspelling or a Freudian slip. I know what I'm saying, Carlos sighed off on the paint color. But he'll like it; the forest green dining room scared the Baby Jeebus outta him but he's come around.

Back home we relaxed for bit as the rains came, with a bit of lightning and thunder. It turned nice after, with the heat moving away and the cool weather settling in. Speaking of settling in, I sat down to watch the Daytime Emmys for the sole purpose of seeing Bree Williamson of One Life To live win the Emmy for playing Jessica, whose husband Nash fell through a skylight and died right after he found out Jessica's sister was sleeping with a man they all believed to be her uncle. I know. Soaps. But I love me some OLTL. And the scenes Bree payed as her husband lay dying, I thought, were fantastic, and so I wanted her to win.

She didn't.

I wasn't happy. I sat through Rachel Ray and Dr. Phil and Erik Estrada and she didn't win. I sat through a Sesame Street sing-off and she didn't win. I sat through Tyra Banks, and she didn't win. Someone else who left her show won.

This should have won:

I would'a Elvis'd the TV but Design Star was next.


Oh, Dan. Cute adorable Dan in his Carnaby Street cap looking all cute adorable Dan.

The challenge this week was to redo a backyard that had been demolished into nothingness. It was a pool, some fences and dirt. Torie says she'll take the leadership role because she's done model homes. She's set up patios. I'm less than impressed.

It's five minutes into the show and already I know it's Goodbye Torie. Doesn't she know the leader almost always gets the boot; it's written in the rules somewhere I'm sure.

Still, we had drama.

Torie, as leader, doesn't utter a word as they tour the yard, so Antonio, who is looking more and more Fred Flintstone to me, takes charge. He orders Brontosaurs Burgers for everyone while they brainstorm.

Modern. Zen. Pergola. Playset.

Check. Check. Been there.

But, BUT, as they work to prepare the yard for new sod, it finally happens. the Design Star moment I've been tuning in religiously to see: off comes Dan's shirt. Antonio, whose torso seems to be covered in hair and tattoos from the Bedrock House Of Ink seems annoyed at Dan's shirtlessness. Annoyed, or slightly turned on, I wonder.

After that moment of beauty which is a joy forever, Torie tells Dan he has five thousand dollars to spend on a pergola, but she apparently, accidentally, stupidly, gives him ten thousand [of their twenty-five thousand dollar budget] and Dan buys a pergola for $10,648.00. I know the exact amount because Torie and Lonnie kept saying it like ti was mantra to get rid of Dan.

Bitches.

Since they are officially over budget, another Design Star first, but not a good one, Clive spots them 5 Big Ones to finish the job.

As they work, Fred, er, Antonio, gives the play by play:

Torie's in chawge a'da plants.
She's so pissed at Dan for the Ten K pergola that she's not merely digging holes to plant the ferns as much as she's bitchslapping the ground in anger.

Lonnie's in chawge a'da foiniture.
None of which matches and her placement makes no sense. Two chaises side-by-side and the third pushed away. Lonnie clearly has separation issues.

Dan's in chawge a'takin' off his shoit.
Antonio's in charge of sounding like a jealous queen.

But they finish the yard. The judges don't really like it. They don't see zen; hell, Candace doesn't even see design, she just sees shopping. And they critique the Designtestants hosting abilities.

Antonio comes off as gruff and I get the impression he'd like to be a landscaper so he'd have some place to bury the bodies. Just sayin'.
Torie seemed like a beauty queen until her voice went up a few octaves and she sounded like a beauty queen on helium.
Lonnie is dull as dishwater. I take that back because I've seen some pretty flamboyant dishwater. She's just dull.
Dan was less giggly and came off quite well.

Vern likes Dan. He tells Dan he's "telegenic" which is Vern-speak for Take your shirt off and come to my house.
Genevieve liked Antonio and Torie but Genevieve is an idiot. I still don't get why she's a judge.
Candace didn't like Lonnie. The dull card was played again.

Antonio's safe for taking over the lead. he's off to bowl on his tippy-toes with lodge brother Barney.

Lonnie's safe for planting bamboo along the fence. Yes. Planting bamboo and doing really nothing else is cause for celebration.

Dan and Torie. Bottom two.

Dan is chastised for spending nearly half the budget on the pergola, which none of the judges liked anyway. But he is slightly praised on his hosting abilities and shirtlessness. the last bit of praise came, not from the judges, but from happy queens the world over.

Torie is abused for being the leader who does not lead. Oddly enough, she's from Texas like that other leader who knows not how to lead. W, anyone?

After all is said and done, Torie gets the boot. She leaves without the Tiara! I predicted this in minute five, so why did I stay up for the whole thing again?

Oh yeah, Dan. Shirtless Dan.

Now I remember. I couldn't find a picture of him, you know, like that, so this will have to do.

Monday, March 09, 2009

Straw Hats and Bow Ties



I have one hard and fast rule--actually I have about a thousand, but we'll deal with this one today.

Unless you are under six or over eighty, you should never wear a bow tie.

Amended to add: or unless you're Carlos.

Backing up a bit. When I flew to Miami nine years ago to meet Carlos face-to-face, he was picking me up at the Ft Lauderdale airport. I knew what he looked like, and he knew me; we'd emailed and snail mailed pictures. But he told me he'd be wearing a bow tie when I arrived so I could spot him. And yes he was; a cute little bow tie and a bunch of roses. He looked adorable, although that one hard and fast rule played in my mind.

A bow tie?

Come to find out, Carlos only wears bow ties when a tie is needed. And of course, being the 21st century and being Miami, we weren't invited to too many functions where a tie was necessary, so I didn't see him in one for a long while.

Flash forward to yesterday. We're meeting Roger and Thomas at the HuffawFawFaw Hall--it's actually called Springdale Hall, but at first I thought it would be a pretentious affair, hence the HuffawFawFaw. I showered and shaved and cologned and styled and got myself pressed and dressed and spackled and shined; and Carlos did the same.

He came down the hall wearing a new green shirt and a yellow bow tie. That rule rang a bell in my head. Then I looked at him.

He was the cutest thing ever!

I have changed the rule as of yesterday. No bow ties unless you're Carlos.

But then he put on an actual straw hat, and for a moment I thought I was going to lose it. Straw. Hat. Oh honey.....No.......no. And then the damned thing increased his cuteness level tenfold. I may have to keep him in bow ties and straw hats forever. My heart skipped a little he looked so handsome.

Sometimes you forget, when you see the same face day after day, just how handsome they can be....even in a bow tie and straw hat!

Sunday, March 08, 2009

Breathe Right It's Only Brunch



It's a gorgeous day here in Smallville. Just last Sunday it was raining and sleeting and they were talking snow--which never happened.

This Sunday it's going to be 82-degrees, clear skies, beautiful breezes. It's the perfect day to clean up the yard, clear away the last bits of the tree that fell a month or so ago; bag up some more leaves; do some pruning.

Screw that! We're going to brunch!

Our friends Roger and Thomas are members of a private club here in Smallville; they joined because the club--called HuffawFawFaw Hall--has private cabins, and when they have out-of-town guests, their friends can stay at the HuffawFawFaw with their pets.

But the HuffawFawFaw also has a really great brunch and we've been invited, so we're doing that instead of yardwork. I mean, yardwork, champagne? It's a no-brainer.

One rule of the HuffawFawFaw Hall is that men must wear a jacket-and-tie. Apparently it's like Somewhere In Time over there and there are strict dress codes. I'm putting a 2009 penny in my pocket so I can get home later--that's a Somewhere In Time reference for those who haven't seen the film. But see it; Christopher Reeve and Jane Seymour; quite romantic.

So, Carlos and I decided to have a light breakfast of toast, juice and coffee this morning because we're meeting the fellas at around noon for our trip through time. And I'm looking at the t-shirt Carlos wore to bed last night. There's a piece of tissue hanging on it, and I'm just about to tell him, when I realize it's not a tissue or piece of paper.

It's a Breathe Right Strip. He has been doing the snore more lately so he's taken to wearing one--to strapping it on, as he says.

But, as I say to him trying not to spew juice all over, you need to strap it on your nose and not your elbow.

I laughed so hard I scared the dog!

Monday, February 02, 2009

Weekending


With my birthday week celebration winding down--who am I kidding, I am not a big celebrator of my birthday. To me it's just another day. But still, it gave us the excuse to take a day off from work and get out of the house.
Carlos and I headed back down to Aiken this weekend. Some friends, Roger and Thomas, were part of an antique show down there. It's little more than an hour drive down there, and we made it without anyone getting killed--Carlos obeyed the speed limit--and anyone going crazy--I napped a bit.
Aiken is a cute little Southern town, full of charm, and not quite as many rednecks as Smallville. It's kind of artsy--code for 'gay-friendly'--and it's horse country, so there were a lot of people at the show in riding attire--apparently they had just finished a race and didn't have time to change before coming into town, or they want everyone to know that they own horses.
I'll pick 'B.'
We stopped in to visit Roger and Thomas at their booth, and then decided to walk around the show a bit. It was being held in the Aiken Fine Arts Center, a tiny building, and jam-packed full of people, so it was hard to get into some of the booths. I seemed to spend most of my time apologizing to the people I shoved to the ground so I good get a better look at a some bauble, curio, curiosity, gewgaw, novelty, or ornamental trinket. But still I saw several cool things.
As the crowds swelled, and security was called about the guy pushing old ladies in the antique doll booth, Carlos and I decided to make a break for it--to go outside and walk around town.
Right out the door, we stumbled into these two:

Who knew Dixie Carter and Helen Gurly Brown would be at the show? And made entirely of plastic, at that?
Anyhooo....we walked into a kitchen store, with all the gadgets and gizmos and spices, saucepans, meat tenderizers, and I saw this martini glass I simply had to have. It was about three feet tall, and about a foot-and-a-half across. I grabbed Carlos and showed it to him.
I need this.
For what?
Whaddya mean, for what? It's a martini glass.
But what would you use it for? A vase?
No. It's.A.Martini.Glass. I'd have a martini.
Carlos hustled me outta that store but quick, because just down the aisle from that perfect martini glass was a four-foot-tall margarita glass. I was in heaven!
The thought of martinis and margaritas instantly turned to thoughts of food, and, back onto the sidewalk, we began looking for a bite to eat. There was an Italian place, a Chinese spot, some kind of Southern cooking diner, and then we saw a mirage of some sort.
The Cafe Rio Blanco.
A Cuban restaurant in Aiken?
A Cuban restaurant in South Carolina?
I didn't think it was possible.
Inside we saw the tostones and plantains and Cuban sandwiches we'd missed since moving from Miami; and a Frita burger--ground beef, ground ham, ground chorizo. I needed a napkin to wipe the drool from my chin, my shirt, the floor.
We grabbed a table and ordered two Cuban sandwiches and a pitcher of Sangria. There were old photos of Cuba on the walls, and Spanish music playing all around. It was like being in South Florida again, without the humidity and the hurricanes! The owner came by to chat and we spent a good deal of time asking why they chose Aiken to open a Cuban place.
Because there wasn't one here.
Good answer. Good answer.
Then she offered us cortadito's. Sweetened espresso shots. It was heaven. There isn't much I miss about Miami, but a good Cuban sandwich and a cortadito are high on the list. So, if you're ever travelling through this red state and come upon Aiken, stop in at the Rio Blanco Cafe, and say Hola!
Back at the antique show after lunch, the crowds were a bit smaller, so we got to see some things: a nice print--not an original--of a bird for $1200. Rip. Off. A horse blanket for a grand. No. No. Silver ice tongs for 750. Honestly. But there at the end of the aisle, just across from Roger and Thomas' booth, was Susan C. Frankenburg, of Hillsborough, NC. Susan didn't sell the usual early American furniture, or doll clothes, or outrageously priced prints. She had more rustic things, more ethnic things. A silver mirror from Mexico; a transom from Bali; doors from Indonesia; Indian tables and benches, and....and....a clay pot from Africa.
I've said before that I believe in reincarnation. I believe I've been here before and believe I'll be here again. So I am attracted to certain cultures and not to others; certain places and not others. China? Yes. Japan? Not so much. India? Of course. Egypt? You bet. England? Sorry.
But Africa? She holds a special place in my heart. I am intrigued by African countries and cultures, artifacts and treasures. And so, seeing this clay pot on it's wooden stand, I could only stand and stare.
And it wasn't that expensive. Except that the stand wasn't part of the deal. It, too, was African, but Ms. Frankenberg put the two together because she thought they looked nice. I did, too. So we brought both home with us, after bargaining her down a bit on price.
So here are my two new goodies. The pot comes with a rope ring because the women would carry the pots to and from the wells or streams filled with water, and the pots would sit in the rings on their heads.
I'll just keep it in the house, on the floor.



Oh yeah, I almost forgot this story.
While we were talking to Ms. Frankenberg about the pot, and she loved to talk, she looked at Carlos and said, Where did you get your wonderful accent?
Me? he said.
No me. I said.