Family Matters

(Don't we make a cute family? This was taken this past Sunday in my parents' front yard.)

So several things have happened in the past week. You already know about the cell phone debacle. I've actually replaced a good number of the numbers in my cell, thanks to my attentive friends and family. The ones that I won't get back are just old tricks and people that I didn't know well enough to have their email address. If they want to call me, they have my number (unless their cells have met the same demise that mine did).

United lost my bag for a while on Monday. I'm driving a minivan from British Columbia this week; since the speed is in kilometers (um, kilometres) I have no clue what speed I'm driving on the freeway. It's taken until today for my jetlag and lack of sleep to subside.

Friday around lunch I get a call from my dad telling me that my grandfather (his father) had collapsed and that they were rushing him to the hospital. An hour later I got another call from Dad telling me that he died.

I am never really quite sure how to handle death. With people that I know somewhat, I do feel sad for their family/friends, but I don't feel emotionally moved. When my mother's father died very suddenly of a heart attack when I was a senior in high school, I never shed one tear. Sure, he was a nice man, but he was very shy, socially withdrawn, and really never said much over those 17 years. I really didn't have any bonds with him, emotional or otherwise, so while I was sad when he died, my main source of concern was for my mother and her mother (my Mema). Mema remarried two years later, and that husband died about a year and a half ago. I was even less attached to him, but Mema was very upset from her loss (she really did love her second husband, while her relationship with my grandfather was strained).

The only time that I have been emotionally upset about a death was when my Great Grandmother died when I was nine years old. She was a sweet lady that I would visit each time that I came to Mema and Grandpa's house (they lived on the same property). I had never experienced death before, plus I was just an innocent, impressionable child. I had never seen my mother cry before; she did at the kitchen table the morning after Great Grandma died. That made such an impression on me, and since then I have remembered the exact occasions that my mother (or my father, for that matter) has cried in my presence. Not to mention that the movie An American Tail had recently come out; I always think of my Great Grandmother's death whenever I hear Somewhere Out There by Linda Ronstadt and James Ingram.

My initial recations to Pop's death were similar to others: aloof, but sympathetic (I suppose). Pop, unlike Grandpa (the other grandfather), had a lot of personality and carried himself in a jovial, laid back way. Well, up until the last three years or so. Still though, many people felt close to him, both inside and outside of my family. He was kind of a handyman for many people and as to be expected of a person with this type of ethics, never took payment of any kind for his services beyond parts. He was in the CCC Camps in the 1930s, fought in the Pacific theater in WWII with the Marine Corps, served in the Army Reserve after that, was a telephone repairman with BellSouth for over 30 years, and even drove the church bus/van. He was certainly a family man and took care of his wife (who didn't work) and three children.

Any sadness was easy for me to shelve as I had to deal with several logistical challenges that would involve getting me from DC to SC on very short notice as well as getting me from SC to Portland/Seattle as early as possible on Monday morning, as I had a work trip scheduled there (here) that could not be cancelled unless it was under the most dire circumstances (e.g., death of immediate family member or close friend, etc.). I won't bore you with the details (although anything travel related is interesting to me), but needless to say $600 later I made the trip to SC and made it to Portland by 10:30am on Monday morning. I've found that in life if you throw enough money at a problem, it eventually gets solved/fixed.

There were a few touching moments for me personally when I thought about Pop not being around anymore. One was when we were over at their house on Sunday before the funeral home visitation. I got up to leave and looked over at his recliner, where he always sat. All his books were sitting here, and his glasses were on the side table; everything was left just as he would have left it were he just running an errand somewhere. Another one was when I was looking at the collage of photos at the funeral home that my aunts had put together. One picture was of Pop standing in front of the church van with the other man who drove the van and bus, probably about 20 years ago. They were both grinning from ear to ear. I remember riding with Pop in the church van and bus a lot when I was little, and I remember how much he loved that job.

Once I graduated from high school and went away to a college that wasn't within 30 minutes of home (unlike all my cousins), I started to grow apart from Pop. He was getting older and slowing down; I was getting older and speeding up. As I became a young adult, socialized with mostly non church-goers, accepted my homosexuality, moved to the big city, and became a more worldly person, I just didn't feel much of a bond anymore. I guess I let the relationship languish because I knew that if my grandparents knew who I truly was, they would reject me. So why bother putting any effort into a relationship where I had to lie and disguise my true self?

I am not 100% satisfied with how I handle(d) my relationship with my grandparents, nor am I filled with with painful remorse. Like all things in life, the reality is somewhere in the middle. I've moved past that point in my life where I'm willing to lie or mask my true self in the interest of others. It eats at me big time; however, I do it for the sake of my parents, who I love dearly. Yes, they know and accept the fact that I am a boozing fag, but I don't want to put them in a difficult situation where they have to feel uncomfortable around the family or their friends who don't deal well with people who are in any way different than themselves. So I've essentially limited my time with the extended family to only Thanksgiving and Christmas, and even then I've kept my mouth shut (yes, it does happen) and watched the clock. I almost feel that I don't deserve to mourn the loss of Pop because I've been a withdrawn grandson for selfish reasons. But then I couldn't be myself around them; they would have been racked with grief and guilt (like my father was for the first couple of years after I came out to my parents). I'm sure others have had to deal with similar scenarios in their families; I'm certainly not under the dilusion that I'm charting new territory.

However, some good has come out of the weekend. I think I'm starting to form some adult bonds with my cousins; the oldest of which is 31 ... the youngest, 21. All but one of us went to dinner on Sunday night at the local Mexican restaurant (yes, it runs in the family). Afterwards we all went down to my cousin Laura's house for drinks on the patio. Like most members of our generation, they're all a lot more open, accepting, and liberated than previous generations. I know that if I continue to develop these reltionships they will all accept me for who I am. It's there now, but I'm normally not around long enough for us all to hang out beyond the time with the whole family (parents included). That alone would change how I view spending time with my extended family. And frankly, if Pop's death helps draw me closer to my family, well, I think that that would make him happy.

Stop What You're Doing And ...

Back up all your phone numbers in your cell phone. Do it. Right. NOW!

Put them in your iPod (the contacts screen tells you how).

Write them down.

Put them in a spreadsheet.

Pay Verizon $2/mo to have them download your contact updates nightly.

Because you never know when the software will crash on your six month old phone through none of your doing, erasing all your numbers and forcing you to get a new phone in the process.

Didn't I just do this shit last summer when I dropped my phone in a pothole puddle? When will I learn to backup my data???????

Lots more to blog about, I am just too pooped to pop right now.

Good Finances & Bad Viruses

So yesterday I got a wild hair (if you can categorize this as "wild") and decided to download my credit report. For those of you who don't know, the federal government lets you download your credit report for free once a year from the three big credit reporting agencies. The link is here. Anyway, so I looked at mine from both Experian and Equifax (Transunion was being a bitch and wouldn't come up). The only surprise is that I have a $1000 credit line with Dillards, which, while not a bad store per se (think Macy's and the consortium of May Company stores), is a store where I have not made a purchase in FOREVER and frankly don't recall opening said credit card. So I'm going to shut that shit down soon. Otherwise my credit is spotless except for the typical mortgage, car payment, student loans, and credit card. Zero defaults or late payments!

I also had a HIV test last night at Whitman-Walker to ensure that I don't have the "plus" (as I call it). I don't. Which wasn't a surprise but you never know. I still am exposed to risk through giving hummers, cause who wants to wear a rubber when getting a blow job or even giving one? So the counselor explained to me how I can minimize that risk by having the guy put a condom over his tip so that I'm not exposed to any precum. I'm not sure if this guy who was telling me all this was gay, but he was very descriptive, surprisingly so if he was straight. It made even ME blush a little! Though I did do something dumb. There was this ginormous bowl of condoms in the room and the guy said "oh take as many as you want" and I went all charitable benefactor on his ass and said "oh I'll leave them for those who can't afford to buy their own." HUH? Who am I, Ambassador to the Court of St. James? I guess I felt guilty b/c I know Whitman-Walker has publicly gone through some financial troubles in the past year and didn't want to be greedy. Though they probably would love the opportunity to use condoms as currency, since they probably have more of them lying around the office than anything.

You don't have the opportunity for free condoms here like you did in Atlanta. During the Pride parade you could do some serious stocking up from all the profilactics thrown from the floats. I don't recall any flying rubbers in DC's Pride parade last year, and I was standing at the BEGINNING near the Fireplace. My latest massive condom acquisition was actually while I was still living in Atlanta. Rob and I were at Target one day, and I happened upon Target's end-of-the-aisle markdown area in the Health & Beauty Aids section. They had all of these Durex condom scratch 'n dent boxes marked down. Upon examination I noticed that only the boxes were beat up; the actual product inside was perfectly fine. Y'all know that condoms aren't cheap, so I bought up every box they had ... I'm guessing six of them. I'm just now starting to run out of that batch. I don't think that they expire until sometime in '07, so I don't think I'll have to throw any of them out. It's depressing to throw out expired condoms.

Go ahead, call me ghetto, I know. But I own my ghettoness. And have great credit!

Easter Shenanigans, Etc.

So I spent Easter weekend visiting my sister down in Chapel Hill. Aside from the hellish drive down and back (6.5 hrs down, 5 back; a normal trip is 4-4.5 hrs), it was a good time. Nothing wild and crazy, but then lord knows I can use a few of those weekends de vez en cuando (once in a while). We ate out a few times (including some Mexican-esque food and Eastern NC-style barbecue), cooked brunch (complete with mimosas) on Sunday, watched Napoleon on DVD, went shopping, and basically just hung out and soaked up the spring. It was so weird to be in a quasi-suburban apartment complex overlooking a forest. You wake up to the sound of birds (many of them) instead of dump trucks and sirens. Not to mention that their nice, huge 2br/2ba apartment rented for $785/mo. Jealous much? Yeah. How I long for a good cooking/entertaining space like I once had at my house in Atlanta. Even when I sell my house down there I won't be able to buy up here what I had down there. Anyway, stop your bitching, Taylor, that is not the point of this post! (How easy it is to segue into some real estate rant.)

This week work-wise has been pretty good. Glenda, the Great Oz, and the CEO are all over in Tuscany this week on some retreat with the board of directors. Not that I have time to slack off, but it's nice to know that it's harder for them to reach us. Not that the Great Oz would ever speak to me directly, but still. I'm heading off to Portland and Seattle next week for work, which should be nice. I haven't been there since early June of last year, and I'll get to hang out with my friend Tim in Portland. He's getting ready to move to L.A., NYC, or London after wrapping up graduate school, so at least I'll have a free place to crash in a great city wherever he winds up.

Last night the wrecking crew showed up for a prayer circle meeting at the church (OMG, I just got that the church is located on Church Street! How often does that happen?). It was the first time in a LONG time that I have been there during the day where there was natural daylight spilling into the place ... which is both a good and bad thing. ANYway, we had a lovely time. It was actually the first time that Carrie and Dale had been in the same room since their Virginia v. Maryland blogfight broke out. They were both ladies, however, and no weaves were pulled off and no visible scratches were left. Afterwards a few of us moseyed over to Universal Gear to buy our tickets to the Saturday night Cherry dance event. Yes, you read that right, Taylor is putting on her dancing shoes and attending a circuity event for the first time in nearly five years. I guess now that I look like I did when I went to Gay Disney in 2001, I might as well take my look for another spin around the block. Will I be able to hang with the mean girls until 6am? At my advanced age, only time will tell, but I do plan on giving it my best shot! Now, what to wear ...

I went running on Monday outside for the first time in a while (except for the actual 10K, that is). I did five miles on the beloved C&O Canal towpath along the Potomac River from Fletcher's Boat House northward beyond Chain Bridge. It's such a great place to run ... packed dirt that's less stressful on the joints, and pretty much flat. My shins were a little sore yesterday, but it was worth mixing it up from the typical treadmill.

But I STILL Love Technology

"You are LaFawduh. Why are you so sweaty?"

Which Napoleon Dynamite character are you?

Sucking Wind in Santa Fe and Nascent Sex

Nothing like going running at 6000+ ft elevation with 7% humidity to knock you down a few pegs when you think you've made a lot of progress, huh? Wow, I had to struggle to get two miles out of my run today, and even then I had to stop for a couple of breathers. My throat felt bone dry after just one minute. Maybe I should have done the "A" in the "YMCA" before heading out ...


So TBS has come full circle and is re-airing the first two episodes of Sex and the City this week. Yes, every show takes a few episodes (or one whole season) to work out kinks, but some observations:

*THE CAMERAS ... THE AWFUL GRAINY CAMERAS!

*STOP TALKING TO THE CAMERA!!!

*Miranda looks like a COMPLETE lesbian and is acting like one, too.

*Yeah, didn't like Stanford from day one. Stop your whining!

*Maybe it was intentional to make him look like a dork, but the pubes hairdo on that boy Skipper drives me bonkers. Another one that needed to exit stage left sooner than he ultimately did.

Even though I've seen the whole series start to finish, these things will probably never cease to bug me. Kind of like on Designing Women where they had a white brick fireplace in the center of the room for the first couple of episodes. Or on The Golden Girls where they had that gay cook on the first episode or how Blanche's bedroom was where the lanai ultimately was during the first several episodes.

Sunny Days, Sweeping the Clouds Away

Sunday was a fun day ... it was sunny outside and the temperature was mild. I said screw laundry and went to brunch on the Hill. Afterwards I walked all the way to the actual cirlce in Dupont Circle, including around the Capitol and down the mall. Sure, there were lots and lots of tourists, but I had on the headphones struttin' it out to A Darker Diva (thanks Chris by way of Bernie). Plus, I was thinking about how I lived in Washington, DC, but really don't think about it in the context that most people outside of DC think of it. Yeah, I take Metro and traverse lettered streets almost daily, but monuments, the mall, and white buildings? Hardly ever. Last year I only saw the cherry blossoms around the tidal basin because I was driving to National to catch a flight at 6:00am one morning. But it struck me that people come from all over the country -- hell, all over the world -- to walk around and snap copious pictures of all this stuff that I take for granted. Tourists who take pictures? I have no issue with that ... after all, DC does have some sweeping vistas, including looking down the mall from the Capitol towards the Washington Monument. Those tourists who buy those ass ugly flag shirts/embroidered with gold thread sweatshirts/aircraft carrier hats from those here-today-gone-tomorrow ghetto trailers? Yeah, there's a reason that I fall in the minority of almost every issues survey around nowadays.

Oh the weekend. Friday I helped Dale christen his newly-acquired condo in the Zooborhood by spilling half a bottle of red wine on his white cabinets. I'm sure a little spic 'n span will get that right out (I hope) ... all we had to mop it up at the time was toilet paper (the place was empty ... he had just closed on it earlier that day). From there it was stops at JRs, Cobalt, and Apex before a P Street pizza stop at Alberto's on the way home.

Saturday I had to put on my Mr. Furley hat and haul my ass down to the SunTrust before noon to put in some rent checks. Of course it was cold, windy, and rainy. After that I didn't leave the house again that day. I hosted an impromptu cocktail party for my new cast of regulars (all four Mean Girls, the two McBoyfriends, and my darling Dale). I got a preview of Charlene's and Xtina's dance moves in advance of this Saturday's David Knapp at Nation gala, and I learned about a new dance craze that is sweeping the nation (sorry link not available for this one). While it was our intent to stay in and drink for free(ish) that night, we did get a wild hair and make a very fashionably late appearance at Juniors for just a spell.

Well Sunday y'all know a little bit of already, but we made an appearance at Biddy's for long islands ($198 tab in just one hour? AARGH! Yes there were like 12 of us), then a quick drink at the GL, then to JRs. I checked out early to do laundry ... of course I was too tired when I got home and did it tonight.

Okay this post sucks descriptive- and humor-wise, but I am tired and have to get up at like 5:30 tomorrow to go to New Mexico for the next three days for work. At least I'll eat well ... ole!

A Post To Get That Pic Off the Top of the Page

Cynthia McKinney and Naomi Campbell don't have anything on this bitch:

In a detailed statement to police, Jackson said Smith threw coffee in her face after she made a comment about the senator's weight. According to Jackson, Smith came to the office on the eighth floor of the Legislative Office Building at roughly 9:15 a.m. on March 21 and told her chief of staff, Claude Nelson, that she had lost 4.3 pounds.

Jackson said she commented: "Oh, that's good senator, but at the rate you go around, I would have thought you'd lose 20 pounds."

Smith responded by throwing her coffee in Jackson's face, the ex-aide said, and screamed: "You need to keep your (expletive) mouth shut."

Jackson, who at that point had worked for the senator for just over three weeks, said she promptly quit, and told Smith: "Senator, you can't do this to people, it's abusive." Smith allegedly responded by grabbing Jackson's hairpiece off her head and swearing at her.

This woman should have known not to fuck with a senator from Queens. Yeah, that's how she rolls.


"Yeah, I did it, and I'd do it again. No one pays a compliment to me without getting their weave yanked out!! I ain't got no hair, so why should she?"

Fanning the Flames of My Faggotry

So here's a pic of my new hair (and a strange expression) ... I've also changed my Blogger profile pic to reflect the new weave. I'm not especially fond of the fact that I'm wearing a wife beater in the pic, so I may ultimately change it. Like I said, I think I look like gay club trash.

Anyway, enjoy!

What's Wrong with MW?

Okay, so every Thursday I go to the Metro Weekly website to check out their pictures that will be published in this weekend's edition. It's like DC's little gay tabloid, like David Atlanta and Hotspots were in Atlanta. However, the past several weeks have definitely dissapointed me. They have been taking pictures at some odd places and of some busted people. I know they're probably aiming to be fair to all their readers and are making an effort to not go to JRs, Cobalt, and Halo every week; but I'm in a selfish mood and that's what I want to see! Hell, even David Atlanta took pictures at Waffle House this issue! Can you imagine MW doing a photo shoot at the McDonald's on 17th Street, Annie's, or Jumbo Slice? Talk about some busted people! Well, not so much busted, rather, drunk/wasted/hammered/sloshed people. On second thought, hopefully they WON'T go this route. I've already had my picture taken twice at the Eagle and am still pissed about that.

Little 'O This, Little 'O That

I'm bored at work but for some reason don't want to leave just yet. It's too late to start anything new, so I guess I'll kill time by typing.

So I got all my hair cut off yesterday. Yeah, like almost all of it; it's really short now. I had been sporting my wavy, feathery do for nearly three years now ... it was time for a change. Not only did I get it all whacked off down to the "unkempt rolled out of bed gay look," I also got highlights. I saw myself in the mirror last night after I had gotten home while I was wearing just a wife beater from the waist up and I seriously thought that I looked like club trash. I took a picture but it's on my home PC. I went straight from the salon to JRs to meet up with the Mean Girls and two boyfriends, not having told them that I was getting whacked. The reactions were priceless ... dropped jaws, big eyeballs and all. However, my favorite part of the evening was when Rob showed up, made a comment about my shorn locks, and I told him that I had to cut it b/c some drag queen ripped out a handful of it over the weekend in a bar fight. "Are you serious?" What a great story if that was actually true! Well, my sister said that it makes my face look thinner. T-Bird said that I look three years younger. Others at the office have also said nice things. Dale even said that I look like a frat boy ... aww, y'all are all so sweet.

I think that my next 10K will be the Capitol Hill Classic. Hopefully I can trim off some time this race, since I'm sure 50,000 people won't be running in it.

This whole possible Delta pilot strike makes me feel for the safety of my 95,000 SkyMiles. I was hoping to book a trip of some sort once I hit 100,000 ... maybe take T-Bird somewhere in Europe or South America since he needs to get off of North America, plus we haven't traveled together just the two of us in a long time. Or I could just fly first class and tell him about it!

Warmer temps are great since I love spring, but since my building won't flip the master switch for the A/C on until sometime in May, my place gets REALLY warm being on the ninth floor with big ass windows. Not good for someone who sweats like a cold drink left out in the sun.

UGH, is it the weekend yet? It's not been a bad week, but I'm just not in a working mood today.

Enough of this ... it's 6:00 and time for the treadmill!

Doin' the Charleston

So I'm back in the D of C now, 55 degrees and all. Of course it was pouring rain when I got home last night so not only was I walking home from the car in a t-shirt, sage green shorts and flip-flops with my baggage, it was raining. Have you ever tried juggling an umbrella while unloading the car? Not fun.

But the weekend sure was!!! Oh, I so didn't want to leave yesterday. There's just something about Charleston that gets in your bloodstream and sucks you in. It's probably a mixture of beach, marsh, seafood, palmetto trees, salty air, ramshackle coastal houses, and lots of gorgeous Southern mens. Thankfully I just got a great review at work, otherwise I would have been tempted to pack up and move down for good. So I guess I'll stay and postpone my reunion with the homeland for a few more years at least ...

Friday after the 8.5 hour drive down I picked up my racing packet and met up with T-Bird, Rich, T-Bird's sister Jennifer, and Jennifer's boyfriend John for dinner at Juanita Greenberg's - yes, a burrito joint, and it wasn't even my suggestion. However, as soon as we got there we were told that we would be the last ones that they served b/c they just lost their water! It turns out that a water main broke in the city and cut water to tons of people (not Jennifer's apartment thankfully). All weekend I was sucking down water out of the Brita filer on Jennifer's kitchen faucet ... come to find out there was a boil water advisory after the water main broke. Oh well, I never got sick.

The race was Saturday morning, so Rich and I were at the start line area around 6:40am. I found my sister and her friends, Rich's friends, and stretched, etc. Okay, so there were close to 50,000 people signed up for this race, so you can imagine the crowd that was trying to line up. We all had color-coded numbers based on our speeds, but all those dumbass people who were walking the race didn't pay attention and were all over the place when the race started; I had to weave in and out of people and pass people with much higher numbers the entire race ... AARGH! Plus there were some bottlenecks which caused some havoc. Still though, the race was incredibly fun and I finished with a time for 54:48, which was under my goal of one hour. I could have probably carved about three to five minutes off of my time were there not so many people. After the race there was all of this fruit, bagels, and water provided by one of the sponsors and a band playing. Really festive, energetic atmosphere (lots of folks come out to watch the race since it's just one big party). But me being me, guess what I did? Rich, his friend Kathy, and I went up to the adjacent Terrace Bar overlooking Marion Square, where the race ended. This bar is awesome. It's about 80% open air, super-high ceilings, and is a pretty big space. So at 9:00am tons of sweatty runners come streaming into the bar, racing numbers and shorts and all, 'cause it's Miller Time. I met Kathy's (straight) brother and lots of his hot (straight) friends, and we got a table and a couple of buckets of beer. Could have stayed there all day, but we had to go back and go to lunch with Jennifer and Jamie.

That night we had a fabulous seafood dinner at The Wreck, which I'd been to a few times in the past but many others in my party had not. This place is awesome and is quintessential old school Charleston. No sign, only cash accepted, on the docks, in an old shack, and their bar? A gigantic cooler of beer outside.

Of course Rich and I were planning on "going gaying" as he called it. Jamie came along with us for the bar portion of the evening (my darling T-Bird is not a fan of 'da club). Charleston, for a city of its size, has two nice respectable homosexual drinking/dancing establishments, and as luck would have it they're just a block from each other! Dudley's, the bar, was our first stop. I had not been to their new location and was certainly impressed. Great lighting, some cool wraught-iron sculpture on the ceiling with clouds/sky surrounding, floor length windows which opened onto the street, and good music. Cute guys, too, dressed in typical gay fashion with a few preppies thrown in the mix (it is Charleston after all). As the crowd left there for the club, Pantheon, we weren't far behind them. The line was pretty big, but Rich and I weren't deterred. T-Bird went back to Dudley's which got a second wind (as a result of Pantheon's line), and word has it that drag queens bought him shots! Go T-Bird! Anyway, Pantheon is one big, big room with high ceilings, go-go dancers, and a shortage of bartenders (well it was a huge crowd). The music was great ... more pop remixes than deep house, but they were great mixes. I spoke to a couple of people that I recognized before Rich and I hit the dance floor. He even got the number of a CofC cheerleader, the bitch.

The one thing that you have to get used to again in SC is the fact that closing time is 2am. Not just last call, but CLOSING TIME ... as in, kick you out on the street ... aka a "sidewalk sale" as they call it out in San Francisco. At least they now allow bars to use full sized liquor bottles to pour drinks instead of minibottles ... so it pays to flirt with the bartenders there now. After we left Pantheon, I met my friend Matt on the streetcorner (girl was gettin' off her shift, lol) and went back to his place for a brief after-hours (i.e. us sitting on the couch with a couple of cans of Miller/Bud Light) before we crashed. BTW, I am so jealous of his residence ... he shares a house with three others on James Island that backs up to a lake with a dock. What were his plans for Sunday? "Sit on the dock, drink champagne, and daydream about my Flavor of Love marathon later today." Lucky bastard.

Sunday I had brunch with Jamie, Jennifer, Rich, and one of Rich's friends at Hominy Grill, which I hadn't been to in almost five years. Still great, but it was much more crowded now than it was then. Well, it's been featured in The New York Times, The Financial Times, and by that bitch Rachael Ray on one of her shows (well it was probably $40 a Day, which isn't so bad. I want to smack her on 30 Minute Meals). After that I had to sadly bid T-Bird and Rich adieu for their drive back to Atlanta. Those responsible cunts wouldn't blow off work and stay an extra day with me. They should have, because my sister, two of her friends, and I rented a 2br condo for the evening at our beloved Kiawah Island, where my family has been vacationing since I was eight. We made Lowcountry Boil (we've never called it Frogmore Stew or Beaufort Stew like some, but it it still GOOD regardless) had more of my sister's friends over for beer and wine after dinner, and went for a long walk on the beach under the moon.

Monday we all left but not before I had one last South Carolina classic meal ... chopped pork barbecue with mustard-based barbecue sauce. I chose Bessinger's, my favorite BBQ place in Charleston. It did not disappoint. Barbecue, hash over rice, macaroni & cheese, and some iced tea.

So it was wonderful to get back to my roots and be around people who sound like me. And go gayin'. It brought back so many memories from my past as a child, a teenager, and a collegeian. Any boy that I eventually marry has to know that they'll be spending a lot of time going back and forth to Charleston and may wind up spending their golden years there running over bridges, eating shrimp, shopping with me for preppy wares, and flying if we're going to DC ... 'cause if I never see another South of the Border billboard again I may be able to forget the nightmare that everyone sees first when they're entering my lovely homeland of South Carolina.