If you come to this blog to read my entries rather than follow my RSS feed, you may notice that In Sequence looks different than it used to. Some time ago the blogging system I was using, Movable Type 3.*, demonstrated a glitchiness that prompted me to upgrade to the latest version. The upgrade path turned out to be much more complicated than I would have liked. My blog is now wearing an off-the-rack Movable Type 5 template style, mostly because it's too much of a pain to change it to something different. Still, I've finally got things working again, and more frequent blogging should commence shortly.

My friend Joe recently turned 50, and he called me on Gizmo to discuss reaching this milestone. Our conversation is the basis for his most recent Bored Beyond Belief podcast, which he calls A Disgruntled 50 and a T. The T is me.

I think this is my favorite podcast that Joe and I have done together. You can't deny that we have a certain chemistry. If we weren't such flaming queers we would be good candidates for opposite-sex marriage. Joe and I cover a variety of topics, including Miss California and the Golden State's budget crisis. Since Joe is older now, I try to listen respectfully while he reminisces about living in California. I didn't have the heart to remind him that L.A. is Logan's Run territory and if he tried to celebrate his 50th birthday out here he'd be likely to disappear.

In between our discussion, Joe has edited in several appropriate musical interludes. You should listen just to hear Lorne Greene's rendition of "Ringo." You'll find the podcast here.

The Cute Little Red Headed Girlfriend and I dine out often, and in the latter part of this year we saw the cost of restaurant dining out go up significantly. As restaurants struggled with the climb in food prices, we saw portions shrink, substitutions made, and menus change frequently. More than anything, we saw the price of alcoholic drinks go up.

A few months ago, in part hoping to save money, I started making mixed drinks at home. It turns out to have been a good decision, since one of our favorite watering-holes has gone out of business as a result of the economic downturn. Supposedly people all over the country are drinking more as a result of the recession. I also read in a profile piece that lesbian "it" girl Rachel Maddow mixes cocktails for a hobby. So I feel like my new bartending habits have put me in the midst of a trend.

Because the Cute Little Red Headed Girlfriend likes drinks that ideally include a maraschino cherry and a parasol, I have concentrated on learning recipes for sweeter-tasting alcoholic beverages. I've found some that I like at cocktail blogs such as Science of Drink.

I was reading P.G. Wodehouse's novel Uncle Fred in the Springtime when I ran across a reference to an intriguing drink called May Queen. This is actually it's abbreviated name, as the character Uncle Fred (also known as Lord Ickenham) recounts in the novel:

Do we by any chance know a beverage called May Queen? It's full name is 'To-morrow'll be of all the year the maddest, merriest day, for I'm to be Queen of the May, mother, I'm to be Queen of the May.' A clumsy title, generally shortened for purposes of ordinary conversation.

Lord Ickenham is here recommending May Queen to his nephew, Pongo Twistleton, assuring that it will "alleviate the deepest despondency." It's hard to argue with that sort of recommendation, so I decided to locate a recipe. The ingredients were listed in the Wodehouse book but the proportions were vague:

Its foundation is any good, dry champagne, to which is added liqueur brandy, armagnac, kummel, yellow chartreuse and old stout, to taste.

Despite its legendary position within the Wodehouse universe, a good recipe for May Queen is difficult to track down. The best I could find was "2 or 3 parts champagne to 1 part of everything else, and lots of ice" courtesy of another Wodehouse fan.

Further investigation led me to believe that the May Queen may have fallen out of favor with the public due to the priciness of its ingredients. As I tracked them down, one by one, I was much taken with their esoteric origins.

Take, for example, Yellow Chartreuse. This herbal flavored liqueur is made by the Carthusian monks of the Grand Chartreuse monastery in France. Wikipedia tells me that the recipe for Yellow Chartreuse--which some have attempted to steal--has been kept secret for hundreds of years and that no single monk is allowed to know the full recipe at any time.

Three monks, each possessing knowledge of no more than one-third of the herbal ingredients, prepare the liqueur. That's exactly the kind of convoluted, arcane story that you can only get from the Catholic Church and I must say it appeals to me. And yes, you can expect to pay through the nose for that kind of exclusivity. I found Yellow Chartreuse available locally for $54.99 a bottle.

I had to make due without the May Queen this New Year's Eve. But eventually, I will have the necessary ingredients to happily sing, "I'm to be Queen of the May, mother, I'm to be Queen of the May."

My old buddy Joe called me on my recent birthday (October 12, if you're wondering) and recorded our conversation for his podcast, Bored Beyond Belief.

For reasons that escape me, Joe decided to edit out all of his portion of the conversation, so the podcast is almost all me chattering, even though Joe prompted me with questions he planned for the podcast. Those questions included:
"Are you really going through menopause or are you just having sympathetic menopause with your girlfriend?" and "Have you pushed any children in public lately?"

If you don't have time to listen to the podcast, Joe did a fairly good job of summarizing my thoughts on his blog. Although we started talking about menopause, somehow the conversation drifted towards feminism and politics. We end with a discussion that reveals my secret identification with one of the witches featured in the comic book Fables, Frau Tottenkinder, pictured here.

Also, thanks to all those who sent me birthday wishes via Twitter or Facebook.

Everyone knows the mainstream press is beyond reprehensible, and for that reason I try to avoid it as much as possible. But while at the grocery store the other day with the Cute Little Red-Headed Girlfriend, I couldn't help but notice the cover of Newsweek magazine. On it, Abraham Lincoln stands back to back with Charles Darwin, under the headline, "Lincoln versus Darwin: Who Matters More?"

This ridiculous question was displayed under a banner labeling the issue "The (Mostly) Big Thoughts Edition." Astounded by this boneheaded display, I opened the magazine to see if there was more. Indeed, on the Contents page, a teaser for the "Lincoln versus Darwin" article boldly declared, "What You Need to Know." I wondered how they would deliver on this promise. Perhaps a chart of Lincoln's and Darwin's major achievements, with each entry judged "hot" or "not"?

I don't know who writes the cover or contents copy at Newsweek, but I assume that they and the editors who approved this copy all went to accredited institutions of higher learning. May those institutions revoke your degrees, you shameless, condescending asshats. Is this really how members of the "responsible" press (not bloggers) inform the public about the legacies of Lincoln and Darwin? With debasing questions, cutesy comparisons and flip editorial judgements?

I was sad to hear about Yves Saint Laurent's passing last week. He was a fashion icon for me back in the day. I'm not talking about his women's wear, but rather his own personal style. He had a proto-nerdcore look going on that I really liked. I copied it by purchasing a pair of eyeglasses just like his.

The obituary in the L.A. Times reminded me of why I was so drawn to Saint Laurent's person in the first place. There's a quote from his former partner, Pierre Berge, on Saint Laurent's personality: he was "born with a nervous breakdown." That is a description of someone I could spend time with. And then there's Saint Laurent's own testimony that he had "known those fair-weather friends we call tranquilizers and drugs." By a strange coincidence, I have known those fair-weather friends, too.

I used to lust like crazy after Saint Laurent's homes--all of them, but especially his Paris pad. Some thoughtful soul has gone ahead and scanned in some pictures so you can see for yourself how lovely the interiors were.

One reads a lot today about the pressures of "information overload." I spend a lot of time trying to stay informed in various ways, through rss feeds, podcasts, blogs, some radio and print media. Yet I discovered a gaping whole in my knowledge management system while I was browsing at Amazon several weeks ago. There, on the front page, I was greeted with the question, "Did you know that Amazon carries NCAA gnomes?"

Despite my best efforts to stay abreast of the popular, I had to admit: no, I did not know. So I clicked on the link and discovered a huge array of merry NCAA garden gnomes as well as companion NCAA cheerleader garden gnomes. My excitement was intense as I browsed for the Duke Blue Devils garden gnome, only to realize after a few searches and several page refreshes that some schools seem to have gotten quite a big head.

Apparently some schools have won a few too many back-to-back basketball championships and think they're a bit too good for the NCAA Gnome Collection. And this despite being situated smack dab in the middle of yard ornament territory. I guess that's what happens when you go around calling yourself the Harvard of the South. So I've put up an image of Kentucky's team gnome instead, in honor of the improbably large number of bloggers and other people I know in that state.

You may recall reading about the loss of my bedroom slippers recently. Having come to terms with this loss, I decided to go to one of my favorite stores on the web, Zappo's, to see if I could find a new pair for myself.

My search was immediately rewarded when I stumbled across a cozy looking pair with the improbable name "Teresa." That is the name of the slipper, which you see pictured here in lavender, although it also comes in cheetah. It seemed like a true victory for one-to-one-marketing; I mean, the slipper actually had my name on it!

I browsed the slippers at Zappo's some more and I came across yet another winner: "Carmen." As you can see from the image shown here, "Carmen" projects a different image than "Teresa." If I had to chose a single word to describe that image, I think it would be "pretentious." It's generally not a good quality in humans but I think it's alright in footwear.

I was pondering whether my personality is more like the comfy and cute "Teresa" or the somewhat masculine but fruity "Carmen" when I came across "Xena." Naturally, part of me wanted to get "Xena," seen in the image shown here as a svelte black model with faux fur trim. Yet as I reflected on how well the sexy "Xena" suited me compared to frumpy "Teresa" and uptight "Carmen," I found my conclusions did not please me.

"Xena" was just a little too attractive for its own good. "Xena" was forcing me to come face to face with my own inadequacies, my own inability to live up to the larger-than-life image of Xena as represented in this moderately priced bedroom slipper. Who needs that much grief from a slipper? So I browsed some more, hoping I might find a comforting "Gabrielle" slipper to cheer me up. Sadly, I found nothing.

Since I did my first browsing, the "Xena" slipper has sold out. I'm still trying to choose between "Teresa" and "Carmen." If you have a preference as to which one you think I should get, please let me know in the comments section.

The other day I was contemplating the possibility that L Word star Daniela Sea and teen heartthrob Zac Efron might have been separated at birth. The butch lesbian/teen idol connection seems pretty commonplace to me. Certain males can look very feminine in the years before puberty fully kicks in--the teenage Donny Osmond is a classic example.

Interestingly, a certain feminization can occur as men get older as well, or at least that's the message I'm getting from the web site men who look like old lesbians. I found this site through the Thrillest Los Angeles mailing list, which I subscribe to. Bruce Jenner is named as the inspiration behind the site, but it has expanded to include a wide range of men, and they take reader submissions. I don't agree with all the site's offerings but they certainly give one something to think about, much as the old site Lesbian or German Lady? once did. Consider, for instance: Roger Ebert or Walter Mercado. Now tell me that didn't make you think.

A few more observations: I see some of Gertrude Stein--the stance, the clothes--in this photo of Merv Griffin, and I find an uncanny resemblance to Billie Jean King in this image of Warren Beatty. My estimation of both men just went up.

I'm making up for the time since my last post with a catch-up post, summarizing my experience over the last few weeks. I decided the easiest way to do this was to divide the major events in my life into two categories: those keeping me sane and those driving me towards the brink. Here are my highs and lows of the past month:

Keeping me sane

• The Force is with me. The sister and I went out one night together and bought matching Sony PSP Star Wars Bundles. We had both held out on the system until now; she wanted it for Final Fantasy Tactics: War of the Lions, and I wanted it for Castlevania: The Dracula X Chronicles. We both love Star Wars, and Star Wars Battlefront: Renegade Squadron, the game that came with the bundle, proved to be more fun than I expected.


• Karma junkie. Under the Bush administration, I've become impatient with reading the news. I want my news straight up these days, that's why I depend on Max and Stacy's daily Karmabanque podcast. They don't futz around with the intricacies of party politics. They just give me what I want to know, raw: who made how much money killing, oppressing and impoverishing who. Their Gulag Wealth Fund provides a shorthand method of tracking what's really going on.


• Screamin' like a banshee. Joe sent me the CD of Siouxsie Sioux's new solo album, Mantaray, for my birthday. It's pretty gorgeous. Years ago, I remember hearing Siouxsie and the Banshee's song "Desert Kisses" when Kaleidoscope first came out and thinking to myself, "This is kind of lesbian." That's also been my reaction to almost every song on Mantaray. In this case, however, Siouxsie's said a few things in the press to confirm that interpretation.


• Girly stuff. I really, really like the Cute Little Red-Headed Girlfriend's Elmo panties. The hot pink ones, with "Love Me" written in bubble letters above the picture of Elmo on the crotch. I know, I know. TMI.


• Aspirational television. I have been totally hooked on the show Damages. Week after week I've watched in awe as Glenn Close opened my mind to immense new vistas of bitchiness. Through the character Patty Hewes, Close has brought me to understand levels of bitchiness I never even knew existed. I ask myself: can I possibly aspire to such intensely bitched out behavior in my lifetime? Am I up to the challenge? Thank you, Glenn Close. You have raised the bar for me.

• Where there's fire there's smoke. The air in Los Angeles after the Southern California fires has been an abomination--a miserable, foul toxic brew. There is just no way to explain to you how bad the air feels, tastes, smells. The best word I can come up with to describe it to you is: chewy.


• I was robbed. Anyone who has had a girlfriend knows there's a brief window of time after your girlfriend has swiped some an item in your wardrobe when it's possible to get that item back. If you act forcefully within this time period, taking back the item in question, one can retrain the girlfriend, much as one would an errant puppy: "No. Put that down. Put it down. No! That's not for you!"
  However, if one misses this brief window, one has no option but to give the item up. And so I say now: "Goodbye, faithful bedroom slippers! Fare thee well."


• Another one bites the dust. Johnny Bacardi is leaving the blogosphere after five years of publishing The Johnny Bacardi Show. But all is not lost, as he can still be found on livejournal and at his Elton John blog.


• La nausee. While shopping in the Container Store with the Cute Little Red-Headed Girlfriend, I suffered an existential meltdown as I was confronted with the full extent of my own lack of organization. I shuddered as the world was revealed as just so many things in need of being boxed.


• Don't tell mama. I missed Lucy Lawless's show in Chicago, a fact of which I am not proud. But I poured over the pictures and commentary from the event, and I contributed this lovely wallpaper derived from the show, which I encourage you to download. I will be there both nights of Lucy's Roxy shows in January. Email me if you want to meetup.