409: you’re just the davila in disguise

Sometimes I think of gay men as Pokemon. As I love men so much, and fear rejection from cute men when the mere flicker of an idea of asking one out crosses my sad adolescent heart, I think “Ok, I’m gonna ask one of my gay boyfriends out on a date”. Which is presumptuous and rude, I know, but I can’t help it. You are my Pokemon. In times of trouble or conflict, there you are, ready to emerge from the NARS powder foundation compact I keep in my handbag whenever I need to go to the movies or need a date for the company Christmas party.

Friday, June 30: Khloe and I hang out after work — I accompany her as she goes shoe shopping at the five different Akira stores that sit within three blocks of each other in Wicker Park. We have dinner at Feast and enjoy the loud drunk middle aged yuppie types at the next table. We make up skits as we have dessert and tea at Caffe DeLuca up the street. It’s at DeLucca where we see a rude man and his indifferent girlfriend treat our waitress poorly, so I over-tip to compensate.

Sunday, July 2: I do the walk portion of Race to the Taste with a bunch of folks from work. It’s kinda rainy, actually, which I love. I walk with Holly and her baby Fletcher under a black cotton umbrella. The light rain wakes Fletch up when it falls on his nose, but he seems to fall right back into sleep as he lulled into the pace of our walking. Holly, Fletcher, and her husband Rob (a co-worker of mine) take off after the race, leaving me the tickets they received in their Taste of Chicago goodie bags. So does Megan, and Dan, and Lindy, and David. So I’ve got oodles of tickets to spend later in the week when I plan to go. The rest of the day finds me hanging out with Adrienne and Kathy after the race. Mitchell’s in Lincoln Park for breakfast, Thousand Waves in Lakeview for a few hours of napping, hot tubbing, and schvitzing (they’ve got two saunas). Maria arrives in the early evening, in Chicago for less than 48 hours to visit a friend who’d just recently had a baby. Maria suggests, and we all agree it is a fantastic idea, dinner at Café Bolero. Delicious.

Monday, July 3: Work work work. Work is slow, but at least it’s air-conditioned. It’s like a ghost town in the afternoon, so many people having left early to go to the fireworks or hit the Taste. I spend a sticky evening at home with Maria, Jacinda, and Joe, drinking beer and eating pizza.

Tuesday, July 4: Breakfast with Andrew and Rozi at Milk & Honey in Wicker Park. After a quick wait in the hot sun, where we can ogle the cute puppies walking by with their parched owners, we sit down in the cool of the cafe for eggs and pancakes. After breakfast, we want to hang out with people we love in some patch of green near a bit of sun. We invite ourselves over to Jacinda’s, where a birthday barbecue for Jacinda and Jalissa’s mom, aka “Ja-Mamma”, is planned. Jacinda graciously invites us to come out, so out we drive to Forest Park, making a quick stop at the Jewel for popsicles and other ice cream novelties. The afternoon is spent cracking jokes, eating popsicles, watching the dogs make fools out of themselves, playing with snaps, and taking pictures of each other with my Elvis disposable camera. In the evening, after cake and more ice cream and water guns, Andrew and Rozi leave to meet some friends for the fireworks at OPRF. Jalissa and Thomas return to the city, and I go see the fireworks for myself with the remaining J’s: Joe, Jacinda, Ja-Mamma. We sit in the bleachers on the football field, crowded in by families and big groups of teenagers and elderly couples. Jacinda and I walk back to the car, ogling the wares displayed in some of the fancier boutiques on Lake St.

* Friday, June 7: I went to the Taste of Chicago with Joe, Jacinda, and Kathy. I remember most of what we ate:

* jerk chicken
* peach cobbler
* mustard catfish
* rainbow cones
* mango rice pudding
* cherry cheesecake
* “cheeseborgers”
* samosas

And I flirted kinda lamely with a guy at the Verizon booth. Yay me?

Sunday, July 9: Kevin’s birthday brunch chez moi. It’s stupid hot, as usual, but this does not stop us from sitting around a hot oven so we can eat bacon fresh out of the pan.

Friday, July 14: Go see Strangers with Candy with Thom, Jacinda, and Joe. No notes except that we all laughed our asses off.

Saturday, July 15: On the way to the Guatemalan chicken place with Kathy, there is a lot of traffic. All we’re trying to do is get our chicken and get home in time for Mo’Nique’s Big Fat Chance on Oxygen. Driving is fine, but pedestrians had an interesting idea of where the sidewalk ended and the road began. Lots of weird men mouthing words I could not understand. Molly joined us for chicken and Mo’Nique, and we even stayed up to watch this hour-long special devoted to the wedding planning of LisaRaye “That chick who was in ‘The Players Club'” McCoy. Did you know she was related to Da Brat? True story.

Sunday, July 16: Ramone had a birthday party at Delilah’s. We took over the upstairs, where we had our own bartender, birthday cake, pizza, and free beer. Delicious! There was a lot of silliness and I got to hang out with Foster for the first time in forever. Foster’s friend Lisa was hilarious, so I’m glad she just moved here from Detroit. Girlfriend found an apartment, got three job offers, and two joint gallery shows in the space of a weekend! That is what i call mojo.

Tuesday, July 18: Revival week at Trinity. I go to the evening service with Kathy. Service was excellent. I sat next to an adorable toddler, whose father introduced himself as Anthony and the boy as “Anthony, also”. I just about swooned.

Friday, July 21: I don’t stay late, though I do promise to come in on Sunday. I can’t stay — after three straight nights I have to go out before I go crazy, so I have dinner at Lula Cafe with the usual suspects (Joe, Jacinda, Andrew, Rozi) and Khloé. Lula has smartened itself up in the six years since my last visit. We plan to go to the 2008 summer Olympics in Beijing, so if anybody has any leads on hotels or housing for those games, let us know now. The bathroom is longer a small closet accessible only through the kitchen. There are dimmer switches, sleek banquettes, and platinum cards wielded by older couples with precocious children. We were all running a little late to dinner, as there was insane traffic into the city for a Bon Jovi concert at Solder Field.

I’m going to let that sit for a bit.

After dinner, Joe, Jacinda, and I go to a party given by my co-worker Sean. Though we are stuffed from dinner, we drink more and I stuff my face with sushi. Sean’s apartment is so tidy and there is a big fluffy dog that all I want to do is do like Goldilocks and curl up in the spare bedroom. I’m not tired but why do I feel like if I lie down I’ll sleep through the weekend? Not good.

Saturday, July 29: Andrew and Rozi walk into Orange on Harrison, Andrew smiling at me, Cathern, Khloé, Jacinda, and Joe and Rozi looking confused: “What a coincidence! You’re here for brunch, too?” It takes her a second to take us in, all of us bearing packages and parcels wrapped in paper decorated with footprints, rattles, and ducks. This is Rozi’s surprise birthday brunch. We’re seated and immediately get to talking about what kind of juice to order, how August 20 is really not all that far away, and exactly how hot it was supposed to be the rest of the weekend. I didn’t know what to get Walnut until I thought about how I was little and I wish I still had my books from childhood. I got Walnut a few books for his (or her) first library. ‘Pat the Bunny’ and Pat the Puppy. A fuzzy book of all the main characters from the Peter Rabbit books. And a guide to baby-friendly places in Chicago. Jacinda is knitting Walnut the cutest sweater ever — it has Squirrel Nutkin buttons for crying out loud. It was so cute I wanted to eat it. Which is such a fucked-up thing to type, but it’s totally true.

Tuesday, August 1: Jacalyn and I get our nails done. She gets the whole mani/pedi deal while I get just a pedicure. I want my hands free the whole time we’re at the place (Nail Pro on Madison between Wells and LaSalle, in case you were wondering) so I can read all three pages of Lance Bass coming out of the closet and right onto the glossy pages of People magazine. I’m a little disappointed, if only because his interview was lacking in the kind of hot mess drama I had expected from the only known gay member of ‘N Sync. I wonder if it would have been any more exciting had he been a Backstreet Boy? Oh who cares.

*songs*
Spoon – I Turn My Camera On; The Gossip – Listen Up!

*links*
http://www.snakesonaplane.com
http://newyorkmetro.com/news/features/17571/index.html
http://www.avclub.com/content/node/50448
http://www.salon.com/mwt/feature/2006/07/17/sleater_kinney/print.html
http://forums.fark.com/cgi/fark/comments.pl?IDLink=2179935
http://nymag.com/arts/all/approvalmatrix/18461/index.html
http://www.nytimes.com/2006/08/03/fashion/03ROW.html

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~ by Jasmine on August 4, 2006.

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