|
unique visitors since July 27, 2005 |
OK, possums, I'll be in DC this weekend. (Thankfully, at least some of you will not.) Be good while I'm away. And if you see me at Halo or Cobalt/30° tomorrow night, say hi. But no drinks tossed in my face, please, unless they're carefully aimed at my open mouth. If you don't know or can't remember what I look like, you can watch the video here, seeing as how much I love posting pictures of myself. Gotta keep the readership levels up, yo. |
Those of you with RSS readers, or with so much time on your hands that you're always hitting "refresh" on this site, might already have seen this headline. I accidentally managed to send a mangled, incomplete version of this post last night, which I'll blame on the Lunesta.
It's probably a bit ironic, then, because the story I had intended to tell was a cautionary tale about why another harmful chemical, vodka, should be outlawed.
Or, at least, the too-yummy vodka at my favorite new Manhattan gay bar, Vlada.
Hubbie and I met up there with a number of friends after dinner and proceeded to take a tour through their home-brewed infused vodkas. Among those I can recommend personally: cranberry, pineapple, peach, apple-cinnamon, and ginger. I am sure there were others too, but for some odd reason, they're not coming to me at the moment.
After a few more hours and another stop on the way home, something gooey and fattening was sounding very good to us. We're in a bit of a mac-n-cheese rut these days, so we decided to pull out all the stops: a box of Kraft Deluxe Macaroni and Cheese.
A little after 3 a.m., I brought some water to a boil, then threw the noodles into the pot. I carefully set the timer for 10 minutes.
We parked it in front of the TV. But unfortunately, we were on The Cloud. You see, The Cloud has this strange, deeply narcotic effect whenever you lie down on it. No matter how alert you might be, it has the power to drag your body effortlessly off to sleep.
Knowing this, Hubbie prodded me a couple of times and asked if I had set the timer. Of course I had. I'm not all irresponsible-like.
About an hour later, we awoke to the shrill squeal of the smoke detector. I leapt from the sofa to the kitchen in a single bound. The water had completely evaporated from the pot, leaving a half-scorched, congealed mass of macaroni behind, belching putrid smoke.
I hit the reset button on the smoke alarm and took the pot from the burner. Eh, it didn't look all that bad. Besides, when I eat lasagna, I love the crusty, overcooked corner pieces best. I drunkenly devoured my half; Hubbie politely declined.
Yesterday we were lolling in bed into the early afternoon when I heard what I could have sworn was the beeping of the timer on the stove. I went to the kitchen to investigate. Sure enough, the timer had gone off and now displayed "END" on its LCD screen.
I did some quick math in my head. The 10 minutes that I had so carefully entered into the timer the night before had actually been 10 hours. Maybe I thought I was cooking mac-n-cheese the Crockpot way?
Beware, Toby: This could be your life in 12 years!
A hearty hey-now to Fausto & Mark and their zany crew, Jessica and anyone without a website whom I met last night at the monthly Adam New York event.
But someone, please, remind me to go easier on the Grey Goose next time. After a while, it tends to lead me to assault a couple of guys: namely, Ben and Jerry. (Or perhaps weep softly while watching Elliott Yamin's home videos on DVR.)
For those in the New York area, come out to the Starlite Lounge tonight to meet the Feast of Fools in person! They're the gayest podcasters ever. And very sweet guys, to boot.
If you're a New York 'mo and you find yourself heartily applauding this guy (at least until his thesis goes all agnostic at the end), then read no further.
But if you're like me – a young-ish professional looking for more ways to meet quality guys in low-pressure settings, and without DJs whose main goal seems to be wreaking permanent damage on your central nervous system – then listen up:
In November, I attended the launch of the Adam New York social network, which was founded by a pleasant young Brit named David Marrinan-Hayes. There is an online component to Adam at the soon-to-be upgraded website, but there are also monthly real-world get-togethers for those of us who can sever our cyber-umbilicals for a few hours.
The group is open to anyone who lives in, works in or just wants to visit Manhattan to meet like-minded professionals. It is diverse, friendly and not particularly cruisy – an environment that, ironically, probably makes the cruising easier.
The first Adam gathering started with about 20 people, which has since grown exponentially, leading David to move it to a larger venue in the ultra-swanky Soho House. David was kind enough to allow The Malcontent to extend 100 invitations (and possibly more if demand is great) to the next get-together:
7 to 11 p.m.
Wednesday, April 12
"The Library" at Soho House
29-35 9th Avenue
New York, NY 10014 [mapquest]
If you would like to attend, you can either register directly online at www.thisisadam.com or email [email protected], and remember to drop our name. The first 50 attendees get a free glass of bubbly.
Be there, and maybe you'll launch your career as gay New York's next It Boy!
A new gay bar that's actually north of the Garment District? This Upper East Sider is so there!
Ah, Cologne. I am sad to leave you behind, yet also very happy to get back to my own (occupied) bed.
I am air-blogging again from the plane, somewhere over the North Atlantic. This has been a great trip, mainly because I have been able to take a little more time to be a tourist than usual, instead of working 8 a.m. to 11 p.m. every day. Still, it wasn't enough.
I had heard that the people of Cologne were friendly, but that was apparently an understatement.
Cologne is fast becoming one of the major gay hubs of Europe, and it is threatening to dethrone Berlin as the gay capital of Germany. There are two main gay neighborhoods, one of which, Rudolfplatz, my hotel is smack-dab in the middle of. Conveniently, it is the younger and more twinkish of the two areas. The other one (east of here, near the main bridge across the Rhine) is older, hairier and abounding with leather. (Sorry, bears, them's just my tastes.)
On Friday night I went to a bar called "Ex-Corner." (Thanks to the reader who suggested it.) People there were exceptionally friendly, initiating several conversations. I did my best to speak almost entirely in German to them, which most of the natives agreed wasn't bad for not having spoken it in about 15 years.
The bar was playing an interesting variety of music. There was popular American stuff like "Hung Up," the ubiquitous Abba, and some older but fun American songs. (Who knew so many Germans knew all the words to the theme song from "The Fall Guy"?!) There was also a lot of German pop music that I had never heard.
Everybody sang along to almost every song, even the ones in English, and then when they would play these cheesy German ballads, it almost became like the stereotypical German beerhall (but without the putsch). Everyone would grasp arms, raise their Kölsch's high in the air, and sway to the music. It was a very cool tourist moment for me, and it felt great to feel accepted and part of the crowd.
We've all heard so much about how Europeans supposedly don't like Americans very much these days. Maybe I was expecting them to quiz me about Iraq and whether I support the president, or whatever, but there was thankfully none of that. Anti-Americanism might hold sway in some places across the continent, but not last night in Ex-Corner. There were just friendly, fun people.
But how they drink all that beer and stay thin, I'll never know!
By the way, I really must find a way to take photos without making a spectacle of myself, because I need some visual proof that the men of Cologne, as a group, are among the hottest guys I have come across in any city anywhere. But take my word for it, and considering penciling in some travel plans of your own.
A few tourist snaps follow after the jump.
Wow, based on what I knew about Cologne, I expected to find a lively gay life here.
But who knew that I would wind up a short slog from Rudolfplatz, one of Cologne's hippest, youngest and cutest areas for the ho's and the 'mos.
I'm going to have to give whoever booked me this place a big hug!
I think I will try some reconnaissance in between my meetings for more active indulging later in the week.
(Still waiting for reader suggestions! Tap tap tap ...)
Leave it to the boys at Oh La La Paris to leave us yearning for more details!
[Related: Rod 2.0 carried a Tyson strip show earlier in the week.]
It might just lose me my license to practice homosexualism to admit this, but I have never been to a circuit party in my life. And now I am probably nearing the age where I would look foolish even trying to fit in.
I have (coincidentally) missed both Miami's Winter Party and Palm Springs' White Party by only a week each. And while a friend once tried to take me to one of the events for DC's Cherry party, he had gotten inaccurate information about the venue, and we ended up having to go elsewhere.
"When Boys Fly
The documentary follows a group of friends at the aforementioned White Party – not a commentary on the ethnicity of the attendees, despite appearances – presenting a realistic portrait of the highs and lows of the often chemically enhanced revelry.
But if there was an agenda in Stewart Halpern and Lenid Rolov's desert tale of love, lust and and lewdness, I couldn't find it. Instead, I saw a story about boys who came, partied and made mistakes – but, above all, had fun.
Many screen captures and a lengthy video clip, most of which is NSFW, after the jump ...
|
|
MTV's "True Life" series recently followed around several young people who have just moved to New York. (By the way, The Malcontent is now officially the only person in Manhattan without a reality TV show of his own.)
Of course, we're going to focus on "the gays."
As MTV's website describes them:
"Frankie and Dana are two gay friends from Struthers, Ohio. They want to head to New York, but struggle to raise money to get there. When they arrive in Brooklyn, they find a modest apartment that they can barely afford. Because they have to work so hard to pay the rent, Frankie and Dana rarely find time to enjoy New York. Still, they continue saving their money and appreciating New York's accepting environment."
What kind of "gay in New York" TV show is this, with no Fifth Avenue shopping sprees, no spa treatments, no meth binges? Oh, that's right. They're broke.
My favorite moment? When the guy at Duvet asked Dana if she was a trannie.
[Watch video – 9:05, WMV format, high bandwidth]
[Watch video – 9:05, WMV format, low bandwidth]
My transition from DC to New York City since May has been difficult in many respects. It's not easy to carve out a niche in one place for 10 years and then try to remake yourself somewhere else entirely, especially in the fishbowl shark tank of Manhattan.
But if I had to pick the one thing I miss the least about DC? Easy: the smoke in bars and clubs.
Yes, it's true. I am probably one of the most zealous of the anti-smoking zealots you will meet – at least, one of the most anti-smoking zealots with a political background like mine.
What famous TV designer (who briefly tried to deny his identity) was spotted going downstairs – where the "sex rooms" are – in The Malcontent's favorite seedy UES bar, the Tool Box ... and who, according to those who were down there with him, shares something unfortunate in common with Enrique Iglesias?
Bonus blind item: And what male comedic actor, who has strenuously denied being gay or bisexual (despite certain evidence suggesting otherwise), has also reportedly been a patron there?
The Malcontent hit the red carpet again last night in Midtown (click all to enlarge):
|
|
Lucy Liu, with Ralph Lauren in background |
Quincy Jones |
|
|
Matt Lauer |
Bryant Gumbel |
|
|
Chris Rock |
Ralph Lauren |
It was a pleasure to see BoiFromTroy last night for only the second time ever, and to finally meet in person Gay Patriot, Cake or Death, and Party Crasher.
And the woman "female impersonator" at Therapy was, well, just a train wreck.
I remember little else.
I had a wonderful time last evening in New York's stunning Meatpacking District at Soho House (the same one where SATC was filmed), celebrating the launch of Adam New York, a low-pressure virtual and real-world networking site for New York's gay professionals.
David of Adam New York (and the birthday boy) was a very pleasant chap with the most delightful of British accents. It was also great to finally meet the equally pleasant David Hauslaib of the Jossip/Queerty media empire, as well as the Manhattan Offender and many others.
But, oy! My achin' liver!
Happy belated Monday, everyone. It was another busy weekend for me, aided and abetted by the continued glorious New York City weather. There are three sets of photos after the jump:
• A few architectural shots seen while attending Saturday's "World's Largest Block Party" on Madison Avenue ...
• Our utter failure on Saturday night to find a decent gay country bar in New York ...
• And some shots of yesterday's New York Marathon, both from up close and from 300 feet above.
Tonight is DC's annual High Heel Race down 17th Street, and I must say this is probably the greatest pang of longing I have felt for my old city since I moved.
The always risible Running of the Queens is sure to be made more so by the rain that is predicted to be falling when the flag drops at 9 p.m.
The Malcontent will gladly republish any reader photos (email us here). Especially if non-waterproof mascara is involved.
[Image via Metro Weekly]
I sure hope the bodyguards were able to stop the man on the right before he bisected Madonna with his light saber [from MadeInBrazil]:
Friday night my husband and I decided to expand our horizons. Instead of going to a New York gay bar, we went to a different New York gay bar.
Do I dare brave it this weekend?
