Manhattan Offender

Like, spring?

One of the victims of my recent ailments has been the apartment.  My little abode is a little mess, so I did the logical thing:  placed a craigslist ad for a helper.

Unfortunately, all the responses sort of missed the mark, from the overly chummy ("Meeting more people in the neighborhood is always great.") to the overly scary ("I am a straight guy, and I do not play games.")  Left to my own devices, a concise plan was made to hit the kitchen.  Surfaces, floors, windows (inside and out), nooks, crannies, refrigerator.

With this completed, a self-treat was in order.  Feeling people-deprived, the plan was to walk down the piers, then up Christopher, have one beer, go to the Eagle, eat one burger, have one beer and return home.   Among the three locales, there were bound to be known quantities.  This theory held as true:The following were seen (in order of appearance): 
    Starting at the Dugout:  Dustin, Bryce, Neil, Nello, Tom, Dan, Scott, Ed, Paul, Joe, Peter
    Then after a ride to the Eagle with three of the above:  The majority of the above plus Paul, Vasco, Eric, Alex, Tony, Chris.
Yes, an incredibly dull listing of generic male names and not my usual style. 

The point of this scattershot post being that after a too-long hibernation, the city is back.  Or, as the most common greeting was "I haven't seen you in forever," maybe I am.  Or maybe it is a bit of both.

Playing the Indiana card

After Devin Hester's 92 yard kick-off return on the first play of the game, it seemed as if the Vegas odds-makers (as well as just about everyone else in the world) were going to be right.  As Paul played the tunes and assurances were made to some that the Colts were indeed from my homestate and not Baltimore, my eyes continued on the large screen showing the game at the Eagle. 

Despite being brought into a conversation about Alexander McQueen concurrent inexplicably being asked to explain the so-called 'bear' aesthetic (while wearing a Lagerfeld sweater), still the game was at top of mind.  Following the never-so-appropriate Purple Rain by a drenched Prince, it was out the door to rush home during the third quarter with the assist of a friend (of a friend) with an SUV still thinking that the game would go to Chicago.

As the true result became evident the bad part was having no one with whom to celebrate.  So the resolution to not send mass text messages was broken and, without regard to sports-knowledge of the recipients, out it went.

"Indi-FUCKIN-ana bitches!"

Following are the responses:

• "Huh?"
• "Ok!"
• "Yay for your winning of the superb owl."
• "Lovey ain't gettin' no lovey 2nite!"
• "Con-fuck-ulations!"
• "Congrats, cornfed."
• "Don't rub dat shit in ma face!  I was rootin' for them, tho' I secretly wanted Prince to win."
• "U suk" - from a Chicago native to which the reply "SUCKago!" was sent.

And they say that I cause trouble at the Eagle?

Louis Rosano somehow managed to be locked overnight on the Eagle's roofdeck following Sunday's Beer Blast.  (I'm suspect ing Jagermeister was involved.  Isn't it always?)

Waking up on the roof Monday, Rosano yelled for help.  His cries were heard by a parking attendant across the street, but were ignored.  Said parking attendant Rigo Rodrigo, "I went to lunch and came back.  He was still up there."  Rodrigo, fully nourished, called 911; a police rescue unit used a ladder to bring Rosano down.

Louis Rosano may be the bestest mostest shamelessest drunk of the year.  Accepting no personal responsibility, he said after coming down from the roof, "You know they're supposed to check the club at closing.  Well, the idiots didn't." 

No snarky commentary here.

(MO hugs to Dan for mailing this Daily News story.)

Sunday Sunset

Click for bigness.

SCORES scores with the gays

The Folsom East Street Fair always features something interesting to see.  Although nothing may ever top the sight of a man carrying a cat on his shoulders and that same cat pooing on the man from two years ago, this year features another event right in the neighborhood.  SCORES will be going gay for the day with a benefit for the Gay and Lesbian Anti-Violence Project.  Since my last visit to a strip club was Billy's Topless back in the day (sigh ... Billy's), this seems to be a good chance to get out of the sun on Sunday.  Granted, SCORES is no Billy's (as this virtual tour verifies) with Daniel Nardicio running the show you just know it's going to be fun.

(Via Queerty.)

The Manhattan Offender Interview: Michael, the sketchy

Number nineteen in a series.

1. What's your secret to staying so beautiful?
   I stick to a strict diet of red meat, bread, and cheese. I suppose weight-lifting and cardio helps. So does staying away from smoking and drugs (poppers aren't a drug, right? Please, Lord, let poppers not be a drug...). Oh, and every eight months, I replace my blood with that of a Polynesian boy named Kali.
2. Is it true what the tabloids are saying about your relationship?
   Look, what I do with ex-football player-turned pro wrestler Bill Goldberg in full leather gear in our fully-equipped playroom is nobody's business but mine, his, our blindfolded bukkake slave's, the director's, camera guy's, key grip's, and craft service people's.
3. This new project of yours is certainly taking everyone by surprise. Tell us about it.
   I am so glad you asked? It turns out that my kick-ass sketch troupe, Skeeger, is doing a little show called Boy, New Sketches Are Hard to Write: The Best of Skeeger this week.  All of the greatest moments from our past seven shows are here in one hilarious hour. It's a great opportunity for people who've never seen us to check out what all the fuss is about, as well as for loyal fans to see some of their favorite sketches again! Plus, it's only five measly dollars. (C'mon, people. We're practically paying you.)Also, I've got this blog thingy. It's called So I Like Superman. I say funny things in it.
4. Who are you wearing?
   Admittedly, I'm wearing Old Navy, Gap, and yes, even Target. I know, I know. I'm like the gay antichrist. Or, as he's sometimes known, Christ.
5. Would you ever do a role that required nudity?
   Definitely. But only in a film called The Breathtakingly Beautiful Penis of Michael Francis Hartney II.

You can learn more about Michael at So I Like Superman.

Or see Michael in the flesh!  Boy, New Sketches Are Hard to Write: The Best of Skeeger, runs Wednesday, March 8th through Friday, March 10th at 10pm at the Access Theatre (380 Broadway, fourth floor, two blocks south of Canal).

Show me one gay republican hottie

This one simple little post by Joe.My.God brings me to confess two things. 

First, MO is really good with, like, math.  The guidance counselors et al always wanted me to be an engineer or mathematician (whatever that is).  Whatever.

Second, once upon a time, MO was a registered republican.  The appeal was that of laissez faire government, which, in retrospect is so utterly clueless and, with the desperate marriage of religious right to corporate interests, not really what the republican party is about anymore.  As a more realistic world view came into play, my party affiliation changed.

Genuinely, though, anyone that in this day and time that calls themselves a republican, gay or not, just seems to be a bit off, right?  Last summer, while effectively intoxicated at the Eagle, a guy, lets call her Ellephant, with not one, but three Bush/Cheney buttons bumped into me.  Turning around and eying the buttons, my immediate thought was that it was meant to be ironic, and not started laughing, but also tapped Fang's shoulder and pointed out Elle's buttons, attracting much attention.

Apparently Elle's buttons weren't meant to be ironic.  Oops.

Which brings me to the reason that republicans, especially gay ones, are not hot.  They lack humor, sparkle, wit, glamor, joie de vivre.  But they can change.  I did.

(Via Queerty.)

The Cat, the Rat, the Rabbit, and the Bat(h)

Manhattan was just a wild kingdom this past weekend. 
SIGHTED!  Cat poops on man at Folsom Street East!
SIGHTED!  Rat (apparently vegetarian) at Zen Palate!
SIGHTED!  Rabbit in the basket of seemingly normal looking cute guy's bike!
SMELLED!  Bat(h) so very needed by the guy sitting next to me at Batman!