Hey girl I got somethin' real important to give you
So just sit down and listen
Girl you know we've been together such a long long time (such a long time)
And now I'm ready to lay it on the line
(Wooow) You know it's Christmas and my heart is open wide
Gonna give you something so you know what's on my mind
A gift real special, so take off the top
Take a look inside -- it's my dick in a box
Not gonna get you a diamond ring
That sort of gift don't mean anything
Not gonna get you a fancy car
Girl ya gotta know you're my shining star
Not gonna get you a house in the hills
A girl like you needs somethin' real
Wanna get you somethin' from the heart
Somethin' special girl
It's my dick in a box, my dick in a box babe
It's my dick in a box, my dick in a box girl
See I'm wise enough to know when a gift needs givin' (yeah)
And I got just the one, somethin' to show ya that you are second to none
To all the fellas out there with ladies to impress
It's easy to do just follow these steps
1: Cut a hole in a box
2: Put your junk in that box
3: Make her open the box
And that's the way you do it
It's my dick in a box... my dick in a box babe
It's my dick in a box, my dick in a box girl
Christmas; dick in a box
Hanukkah; dick in a box
Kwanzaa; a dick in a box
Every single holiday a dick in a box
Over at your parent's house a dick in a box
Mid day at the grocery store a dick in a box
Backstage at the CMA's a dick in a box (yeah-wow-wow-wow-wow-wow)
A dick in a box, a dick in a box, a dick in a box...

a semi-charmed kind of life

i wish third eye blind would make a comeback. i followed these guys around back in the late nineties, and even had a chance to interview all the band members after a small show in san diego. i remember how nervous i was meeting singer stephan jenkins for the first time. he exudes crazysexycool. charlize theron dated him. vanessa carlton is still dating him. but after i read this homage he wrote in 1998 about his hometown, i got hooked. i kept the article from details magazine. it inspires me. enjoy.

Love ‘n Haight near the Golden Gate
By Stephan Jenkins

It takes six months to be from San Francisco. Like many U.S. cities, it's a place where people reinvent themselves, but San Francisco is uniquely fertile ground. Big waves hit the shore at Sloat and 47th, where the U.S. ends and San Francisco begins, shaping a no-nonsense surf culture that's a scene unto itself and providing a beautiful sight for anyone with eyes wide open. The atmosphere is different, too: There's a purity about the city. Salt air comes in from the sea and chills it at night-and good sleeping weather brings big dreams.

My friends and I were drawn to San Francisco by the same impulses the Beats were in the '50s. They made more than a bookmark in North Beach, with City Lights Booksellers and a bop scene that lived and died before the strip clubs came and went. Now North Beach lives again at night. What used to be the punk Mecca Mabuhay Gardens is now the Velvet Lounge, and swing bands pull snazzy crowds on Broadway. And although that scene's silly pearls and musty suits strike me as people slapping on their grandparents' fashion statement in order to accessorize some meaning into their culturally anemic lives, I like that they want to get dressed up and dance around in the night.

Scratch a San Francisco scenester and you'll likely find rich parents or a day job at Excite, replete with stock options. But the freedom I moved here for required a vow of poverty. My time living the party life in the lower Haight was interrupted when I had to sublet my room for a year to a chilly German medical student. I slept in the pantry, next to the cleaning products, carefully setting the bleach at one end and the ammonia at the other so that they wouldn't mix and kill me while I slept.

There's a certain dignity to struggling in San Francisco, but it's hard to starve without eating your hopes. The competition to get an opening slot at the Paradise Lounge is so intense that musicians who have never met profess to hate each other. In the words of Puffy, they'd rather see you die than see you fly. As I see it, this is San Francisco's "official" music scene: one big bummer to be avoided. A city that has always valued eccentricity has a scene that's basically a knitting circle of charlatan bass players and hack writers who bitch about one another behind each other's backs. In order to belong, they put a killing mood on people's individual impulses.

The good news about this scene is that it doesn't really matter. The best rave I ever went to wasn't at some trendy club but in the kitchen of a girl's flat in North Beach--two turntables and a hundred people. It was hard dance heaven.

So I've stayed in San Francisco, believing in the sounds I hear in my head and making connections with people who do the same. They're out there now: Beth Lisick chronicles the life of a skinny girl in spoken word at Cafe Du Nord. Charming Hostess shocks the Great American Music Hall with hard Bulgarian freak music. Glitter Mini 9's Mauri Skinfill punches out Lilith Fair softness with two-minute hard-rock knockouts on the very doomed Eleventh Street corridor:

Watching from the crowd as they tune up, I think there's something beautiful in the struggle to live and make music in the City. And it's comforting to know that I come from such a place, that there are people here who don't care that San Francisco is usually as bleak as the next town and that rock is dead as a doornail. They're the ones who turn this snuff film of a life into The Wizard of Oz. I love these people and I've got props for my town. There's no place like home.

post christmas hangover

there are 5ive people working in my office today.
heidi
cram
nicole
welynne
renea
that's it.
returning stuff at fry's electronics with errica tonight.
seeing dreamgirls tomorrow with heidi and wel...at the arclight dome.
love my new phone.
miss london. a lot.
veeg

i feel fantastic

to honor the occassion, i've decided to post a fantastic photo of the fantastically delicious chris evans, from fantastic 4.
i want to see dreamgirls this week, but i'm not going to pay $25 for an advanced screening. i've gotten 4 props for the diesel cap i wore to work this morning. i remember getting this at the castro store a few years ago, during one of my favorite trips to frisco ever. okay enough talk. let's just look at chris again:
yes, please.

give it on up to homelessville

dear justin,
i
love
you.
thanks.
mC
ps: this shit is the ham's new obsession:

happy holidays from skid row

so the gucci squad and i threw a holiday party at jeff's last night, celebrating the holidays and exchanging gifts. one of the guests is a client at jeff's work, a pre-op woman named jala. she was full of joy and just happy to be part of our loud and obnoxious group's festivities. she had nowhere else to be last night, no friends, not even family close by. it was jeff's idea to invite her over, and all of us welcomed her as if we had known her for years. i was asked to take jala home after the party was over, and at the time, i only knew she lived in downtown l.a. when i asked her specifically where she needs to be dropped off, she told me she lives on skid row. driving late at night to the housing building where jala has resided in the last month and a half was an unforgettable experience. i've only heard of skid row and barely seen pictures of it. it's a lot different seeing it in person. it was cold late last night, the streets were empty, except for bundles of clothes, trash heaps, people walking about, doing whatever it is they do on such a quiet night. the people who weren't sleeping on the ground just walked by and never made any eye contact. i felt an overwhelming feeling of guilt when my eyes glanced down to my door locks...just to make sure.
we dropped jala off at a building that has a bright blue neon sign that just says "hotel." it had a security guard outside, and was well-lit inside. she was very grateful to us for inviting her to the party, giving her food and tea to take with her, and the ride home. jeff offered some advice to her, stuff like "don't go out tonight," and "make sure you take your meds, and visit the office for more counseling." i drove away feeling so lucky and thankful for what i have, because i've spent so much of the last year wanting things and always looking for things that i don't have. i know better now.

i just rode the elevator with...

you may know him as beverly leslie, karen walker's gay nemesis on will & grace. i'm so going to miss working at the cnn building.

year of the 'tis

i'm just going through my interview tapes from 2006 and i've got (a record) EIGHT one-on-one interviews with teen star ashley tisdale. i should write a book about her. oh wait, i've done that, too! seriously, i think the poor girl has seen me way more times than her family. here's a rundown of the months that the 'tis and i had our chats: march 13, august 24, september (four days in london), october 5, october 6, november 10, november 26, and yesterday december 6. i'm not even counting red carpet events and other quick run-ins. wow.

ps: the motorola krazr billboard on sunset blvd. is totes perverted

weekend warrior

friday night, heidi and i went to the black eyed peas concert at staples center. i gave her a mini tiara to wear. she then changed her name to "the dauphine" the rest of the night. said tiara stayed on, even as we danced to practically every song. the peas are amazing to see live, it's pure pop music fun. fergie doesn't sing...she saaaaaaaaaaaaangs hehe. apl.de.ap represented for the pinoys in the crowd, but the latinos were a louder group, especially when taboo brought out frankie j. will.i.am (this is officially the most use of a period in one blog) rapped faster than the speed of light in one song, and then he played "hotel california" on guitar, and then played the drums with one hand. all that talent, and all i remember him for is this (thanks to heidi's careful observation):


will.i.am = rudy huxtable

saturday morning, i got a deep scaling procedure and three fillings done at dr. ang's in north hollywood. they are nice there, but they are not a provider in my insurance plan so i ended up paying them on the spot. put a dent in my wallet since i planned to shop, but whatever. i went home for a bit, and chatted with sotiris ("tossy"). he had a fed ex package for me, and i had to pick it up downtown. jeff came along, and we had lunch at this wonderful, euro-style cafe called metropole in the downtown arts district.
i had another night at divine design, and i met an inspirational man named doyle phillips. he is around 70 years old and had been volunteering for the past six years. he lives in pasadena and is active with the performing arts and theater community there. i think he was even a director for the pasadena city playhouse years ago. anyway, we talked for a few minutes during my break, and he really inspired me to keep doing what i love, no matter what age, and still make time to do charity and volunteer work. i made a promise to doyle that i will be back next year.
did some shopping yesterday, i'm almost done with holiday gifts. i picked up jeff in the afternoon and went to the reopened observatory. we had to park near the greek theater and take a shuttle. it's reservation only, and we had free tickets. the view of hollywood (sign included) and all of los angeles is breathtaking. it was a clear day, too, so we were lucky. they modernized the outside a bit, putting a cafe for patrons to enjoy the view. they also opened up the bottom part of the observatory for exhibits. on our way home, we stopped by tatak pilipino in los feliz, because they're having a close-out sale. it gave me an idea for more gifts, including my secret santa at work.

divine design part one

i got off my lazy ass last night and volunteered for project angel food's divine design shopping event. it was gala night, so i had to put on my new black "producer" slacks. i checked in at 8:30 pm and then i was assigned to the menswear section. my job was to be "merchandiser" for ted baker london, tommy hilfiger, ralph lauren, and surrounding areas. i haven't worked in retail since banana republic in 2000, so this brought back a lot of hellish memories - except it was 1000 times more fun than actually having a retail job (read: can't get fired for dancing while folding the merchandise, flirting with customers, taking 10 minute breaks...every 10 minutes).

the dj booth was right next to my designated area, so that rocked. he played everything from rick astley (!), to madonna (!!), to sheila e's "glamorous life (!!!)" i also walked by jai rodriguez and carson kressly, hoping they'd make me token asian on queer eye.

okay, a few observations:

1) ted baker london has got some fucked up measuring system, where shirt sizes are single digits. a size 3 is about a medium on planet earth, and a size 7 is roughly an extra large

2) eric mccormack ONLY plays gay. he's actually married. and actually much, much hotter in person. he was very nice, and actually picked up a blazer from me.

3) rich people heart sales, too.

4) straight guys don't do divine design.

5) crazy-haired magazine stand lady (the one on cahuenga, right down the street from my work) has been volunteering for years, and she is in charge of snacks and refreshments for the volunteers. she makes one hell of a turkey sandwich, btw.

i've got one more work night to go, and i'm so excited. i'm hooked and plan to make this a yearly thing. plus, i get a free shopping pass for sunday and monday, and that's when they roll out the 70 to 80 percent shit.