Fantastic Flyer!

Please note that the bologna used is vegetarian Bolo-no. I should also point out that this flyer was generated by DJ Solomon, and all excellence is his doing.

48 Hours With Eddies

Eddie looks up an angel's drawers

I am happy to report I got to see my hero, Eddie Izzard, do a show in Seattle last weekend. I was surprised that the ever-helpful Seattle Stranger curiously promoted the (sold-out) show as being titled "Work in Progress", as it actually was a work in progress. No merch, no tour, no makeup or Uma Thurman breasts (which Wikipedia claims his Sexie rack was modeled from). This set had ramblings about history, language, war, 300, sharks, Wikipedia, Alien, and a fly that hit him in the face onstage. If it sounds like established Eddie, it is, but with new directions, ideas and punchlines, and further honing of his own Eddie-ness. He got a little upset at the PNW tendency of the crowd to scream "WHOO!" at random times, stemming his flow, but I hope that he understood on some level that we are just so filled with love for him that it occasionally escapes our bodies with a high-pitched "woo" noise. I was so excited that I didn't have to fly to El Lay to see one of these, I didn't mind driving from Portland and back in 24 hours.

I had to get back to town to do a comedy workshop with the guy who books for Letterman, veteran comedy scenester Eddie Brill. It was super-great and educational, and he told me about visiting a comedy club that Eddie Izzard ran in London, which may be called Screaming Blue Murder, and I didn't know ever existed. After spending the day working on my act with him, I now feel free to drop his name at every opportunity. Example: "Well, as my good personal friend Eddie Brill, Letterman's comedy booker, says: I'd love a Grande Soy Latte."

Thanks to Tara for the fantastic pictures.

Sexie Motherfucker

At the Crystal, no longer On the Crystal

I got to see one of my favorite people at the Crystal Ballroom last night. He made a Depeche Mode joke, got one of his fans onstage to do part of a song, and wore every jeweled brooch available in the Pacific Northwest. He claims to love Portland as much as we love him. Answers to unasked questions:

Q. Who is winning in the Rufus fanbase, gay men or poetry-writing teenaged girls?
A. Do you want that answer based on individual number or combined weight?

Q. Who is slightly more gay than Rufus Wainwright?
A. Rufus Wainwright dressed as Judy Garland.

Q. What will a line of people waiting to get into the Crystal Ballroom steadfastly refuse to chant?
A. "The Roof! The Roof! The Rufus on Fire!"

Anyway, it was wonderful and very theatrical. Another musician's son opened, his name was Lemon or Lenin or something. He did one song that sounded like the Muppet Show hit, The Rainbow Connection. What's he trying to do, out-gay Rufus? I don't think so, brother.

Oh! Wikipedia claims that Rufus is a descendant of Dutch colonist Peter Stuyvesant, and according to my family, so am I. O cousin Rufus!

Postscript: A handsome gentleman let me know that after the show let out at one ayem, Rufus serenaded the late-night crowd at Silverado with karaoke until closing time. I wish I had the energy of young people!

Shady Dealings in Scapoose

I had no idea that my bulldog was into the occult.

I was in Scapoose recently. Yes. Don't be jealous. I was in Scapoose, minding my own business, and I was SHOCKED to see my own little bulldog, Hazel, naked and dancing in front of flames in some sort of doggy occult ceremony. When I asked her, she said she did not know anything about the illegal trash fire, but hail Satan.

A Night In Bagdad

Here's my set from the Bagdad Theatre last night. It was a magical evening, what with the Harry Potter line from Powell's wrapping around the block, the confused young ladies leaving the Tegan and Sara show in hoodies and identical haircuts, and a great attendance to a late-night comedy show! Thanks so much to the promoter, Tristian Spellman, and to everyone who came out, by whom I mean Amy, Chris, Chris, Darrell, Margo, Cara and her posse, Marc, Randy, Jane and her sister and her sister's sister, Pete, Alex, Mike, Megan, and everyone else who I forgot to mention. You're the best. It was an honor to open for the hilarious Susan Rice. She started stand-up in 1983, so I should be as funny as she is in 2030. I can't wait! Thanks to the Marconi Radio Show and Holli Pappan for saying my name on the radio, and thanks for Marconi for inventing the radio wireless by stealing it from Nikola Tesla.

Time-Travel Shocker

A fantastic individual has passed me this blog of antique photographs: imagine my surprise to learn that my own Chico is 92 years old!

That's 644 in dog years!

No wonder he doesn't like kids in his yard.

I've Never Really Been, So I Don't Really Know.

Here is the incredibly beautiful view of the island paradise Cozumel from inside the air-conditioned plane. I remember this moment vividly, because it was the last time I would be happy for a week. Looking at the other people on the plane, I began to wonder if I was going to like resort life. They appeared to be tanned, puka-shell-wearing, bikini-sporting, flip-flopping, entitled rich kids. If you can't tell the difference between paint thinner and vodka, and you believe you can outdrink the house at $200 a night, you'll really like an all-inclusive resort at Cozumel. If you want to swim with dolphins for $100, have sex with one for $200, or beat up a drugged, beached shark for $300, you would also enjoy Cozumel. It was a jillion degrees, and I was constantly surrounded by yammering, drunken, horny morons. I found myself compelled to steal other patron's kidneys, not for the black market but just to throw in the sea for sexually abused dolphins to eat. At one point, I overheard a lobster-red gentleman explain to a young lady that tequila is like sex. Because I quickly covered my ears and moved away, I have had to extrapolate that they both burn going down, and in both cases you may have to eat a worm.

This five-foot iguana had to serve as a dog surrogate during our trip. He liked bananas, and tried to get the tip of Spouse's finger as well. He could change color from bright green to orange, depending on what he felt like and what the current magazines claimed was fashionable.


Having a whale of a time in Cozumel
The wedding, long story short: It was a hundred degrees on the beach at 4PM, and I got to wear a floor-length polyester gown. Please note my whale necklace, picked out for me by my sister the bride, who did not feel that asking a six-foot tall person to wear the world's largest mammal around her neck would hurt her feelings. My other sister got a bee. Bees give the world honey and cute animal costumes. Whales give blubber and waxy vomit. Family is overrated.

Terrorista

I am waiting at the airport for a midnight trip to Mexico, "mobile blogging" on a Nokia 770, and have brazenly managed to sneak a 4.0 oz container of contact solution past the armed guards and the large signs sternly admonishing that nothing over 3.4 oz was permitted. I am giddy over my smooth criminality. Now all I have to do is work out how to take down an commercial aircraft with 0.6 oz of ReNu combination soft contact disinfectant/storage solution. I will be back soon, and many thanks to you if you are one of the three lucky people who agreed to watch my animals.

Six Degrees Of Simon Pegg

New York Gossip! My little sister is friends with a popular film director's sister, who has been dating Edgar Wright, the adorable, slightly Goth director of the fine films Hot Fuzz and Shaun of the Dead, not to mention the phenomenal UK TV Series Spaced.
I'm four degrees away from Simon Pegg and Nick Frost! I am still only one degree away from my sister.

I wish *my* brother Robert was a famous director, but now Youtube has given him a place to expose his films to the world. I did the women's costumes for this fine feature film, Kung Fu Girl's Club. It has a certain...Charmed.

The Miss of Sythifuth

So, I like my teeth so much, I recently had them Saran-Wrapped to keep them nice for company. Really, I hate them so much, I got clear braces. I'm only on my third set, and already a buck tooth is sliding in line next to his friend, millimeter by millimeter. It's scientific! It doesn't hurt, but it feels like an elevator full of people pushing up against each other, and some of them have inappropriate erections. Another interesting side effect is that many people I mention my braces to immediately tell me about the flaws they hate in their own teeth, many of which I barely noticed. However, if you see me in real life and notice that I'm lisping or spitting, that could be why. Or it could be that I'm a gay cobra.