Cirque du Soliel in San Francisco

I fell in the bathtub.

Steve and I had been in San Francisco for a few hours, we'd done a lot of walking around, took in some sights at the Port of San Francisco which has been built into a giant Farmer's Market style space, and finally returned to our hotel room at the Hyatt Regency-- in all it's 1980s futuristic glory-- so we could shower and get ready for a lovely dinner in Little Italy. We'd been planning this night since Steve found out about the trip, so we were definitely excited. Then I fell.

Now, don't panic. I didn't break anything and there will be no grand lawsuits where Steve and I pay for our house via the generosity of the Hyatt Regency's legal staff. And no, I didn't fall because I found out the Hyatt was having a slammin' New Year's Eve celebration where the headlining act would be En Vogue. No.

I just fell, and I have no excuse for why. I saw the rubber mat rolled up on the corner after I got into the tub and started showering, but I ignored it. Steve and I were talking about where to eat dinner and the next thing I knew my ass was on the cold marble floor, my hands were behind my back, my thighs were wrapped over the tub edge with my feet still in the tub itself and the shower curtain was covering my entire backside.

I didn't feel myself slip, I was just suddenly down and thank God I'd been eating like a pig since we moved into the new house because my bum was soft enough to cushion the fall. I was not hurt. But it was a bit frightening. I'd always wondered how old people can let themselves do that and now I know. It just happens. It's one thing if you're drunk-- you weren't in your right mind and did something stupid and you fell-- but I was just standing there ignoring the rolled up rubber mat. Okay, so maybe that was stupid. The point is that it happened.

Flash forward to the next night. Steve and I went to see Corteo, the new show from Cirque du Soliel and we loved it. We did the Tapas Rogue, which is this snazzy VIP thing where you get wine and appetizers and relax in your own private tent area before the show, sit right up front during the show, have desserts and more drinks at intermission, and it's just an all around wonderful experience.

But here's the thing about Cirque du Soliel shows... When you go there and you see these people doing absolutely amazing aerial acrobatics, flips, and contortions with the human body that you never thought possible, you become jaded.


Like, we're sitting there and they're performing this fantastic juggling act with four people-- rings, pins, etc.-- and they're standing on one another's heads and flipping over one another and tossing at least 20 items at a time and I'm thinking to myself, Well, yeah, sure, you can juggle. But I don't see you tossing that girl from one man to the other while suspended above the audience (pictured below). Even the midgets flew out above us with no harnesses and you guys are just on the ground throwing things.

And then it hit me.

I fall in frickin' bathtubs with nothing happening. These people can twist their bodies and perform amazingly beautiful acts both on the ground and in the air. WHAT THE HELL AM I TALKING ABOUT? I even got vertigo when we had drinks in the revolving restaurant atop the Hyatt (Um, yeah. They do have one and we did go there, and it was PERFECTION! They not only features 70s/80s music but the wait staff was straight out of It's a Living.)

And with that, everything came back into perfective.

Cirque du Soliel is beautiful, and I'm just thankful that we live in a time and place where we can experience such beauty.

Christmas in San Diego

For the first time in a long while Steve and I had a relatively peaceful Christmas. In the past his father, Kurt, has hosted Christmas Eve at his home in Santa Clarita, which is up here by Magic Mountain. Then at 6am on Christmas day we would wake up and drive to San Diego to spend the day with our family. It's usually turned out that either Steve or I would have to work on the 26th, so we would then have to drive back to LA Christmas night. Not fun.
But this year changed all that. Steve's brother, Jeff, hosted Christmas at his place in San Diego. That's Jeff pictured with Steve and their dad. So on Christmas Eve, Steve and I drove down with ease, went shopping with Jeff, then prepared Rachel Ray's Thanksgiving in 60, only we did it on Christmas and it took 90 because the turkey breasts were bigger. But that's cool.

Anyway, we had Rachel Ray's turkey breasts with gravy, a butternut squash lasagna from Giada De Laurentiis' recipe, green brains wrapped in bacon from Paula Deen, Kurt's stuffing (sorry, I don't have a link to that but it's supper yummy) and a lot of desserts. And rolls. Can you tell Steve and I just love Food Network? Seriously, if you're looking to mix it up one holiday it doesn't hurt to use one or two of their recipes.

Then Christmas day we had breakfast with the boys and headed over to my Mom's place for a very Andreoli Christmas. It began with my niece Louise, pictured here with her dollies. The one on the right is Emily of the Lazy Eye and Bald Spot (you can't see it in any picture we tried taking, but Emily has no hair on the back of her head. Or clothes, evidentally.). I love Emily because no matter how many new gifts Louise is going to get on this day, she will always honor Emily of the Lazy Eye as her favorite.


A short while later my sister Eileen and her family showed up, including Hailee and her new baby sister Savannah. Hailee very much loves her Princesses, and in fact last year Steve drew her a headshot of Sleeping Beauty with a personalized note from the Princess herself; last we checked, she's still sleeping with the framed photo.

But she also likes Spider-Man. And dinosaurs. And these new punching mitts. And she especially likes using them when wailing on people like Steve. Here she is winding up for the punch. I was going to instruct her on proper boxing stance but she was strong enough without my lessons. Perhaps next year.


Probably the sweetest thing for this year involved Savannah. She was premature and there were a couple hurdles along the way, but as you can see here she's absolutely beautiful and loves her Uncle Richard very much. She soon fell asleep in my arms, which then cramped up, but at least I didn't need to work out for another day because my biceps are huge from holding her.



So we had a great Christmas, got lots of things for our new house and more candy than we could ever eat; I even got my annual box of Twinkies, which is a long story that I'll explain another time since I'm on yet another deadline, and we leave for San Francisco tomorrow to see Corteo, the new show from Cirque du Soliel.

But this year made me think of the first time Steve came to Christmas. He was naturally nervous being around my huge family and the kids-- he's not really used to kids-- but then this year Louise decided that his lap made the perfect chair, and Hailee kept coming up and whispering, "I love you," in his ear. I guess that means he's definitely "in".

See you in 2006!

WORD OF THE WEEEEEKKKKKKK!!!!!

The word of the week is: Barm

Definition: Noun. A section of skin located between the boob and armpit that is flabby in appearance; generally created when a woman wears a sleeveless dress or blouse that is so tight that the material cuts into her flesh, thereby creating a new appendage.



In a sentence:




Rick and Steve walk into the Emmy party at The Mondrian.
STEVE: Honey, look! It's Paula Abdul. Thank God she's not wearing a tiara.
RICK: What is that thing hanging next to her tit?
STEVE: Ew! Barm! Let's run!
Rick and Steve quickly run to grab a cocktail.

A Christmas Story For You

Hey Everyone,
If you don't get the local mags, I write lots of stories about my family and how they drive me crazy. This Christmas story has gotten a lot of press, but if you haven't read it then here you go.
May you all have a very loving, safe, and fun holiday.
Richard
==========
We Can't Have Anything Nice: Mom, Chaos and Christmas

Christmas at home always drove me insane, and I attribute that fact to my mother.

As the youngest of five children, and with both parents and a grandmother all living under the same Italian Catholic roof, I was keenly aware of how tight money was. That's how madness starts, through necessity.

As a simple matter of survival, my mom shopped by buying items in bulk, never threw anything out that could possibly be used later, purchased anything on sale in case someone might need it some day, and made coupons a way of life. This led to such holiday traditions as all of us kids trotting down to the grocery store and buying, say, two cans of corn each because there was a "two can per person" limit on the purchase. Or on Christmas day we had to open gifts by neatly cutting the tape with scissors because wrapping paper is not only expensive, but it's still in plenty good condition for next year's presents. I don't want you to think we were poverty stricken, but my Mom was never quite sure if wrapping paper or canned corn would ever go on sale again, so we did what we had to do… just in case.

It only got worse with age. Mom still shops as though eight people live at home, although all the kids have moved out, my grandmother's now in a nursing home and my father died 13 years ago. To her credit she has adapted with the times, she now buys for eight adults instead of five children and three adults, because we are all grown up, after all.

So let's do some math. Between all the two-for-one coupons and the "buy $75 of groceries, get a free turkey" type of offers, her garage is a veritable Costco of canned goods, paper towels, toiletries, pastas, rice, and cans of cat food for an animal that has never lived within our house. She also has three full freezers, jammed with frozen free turkeys.

Since I love my mother, though, I did what came naturally … lived in denial about her OBSD-Obsessive Bargain Shopping Disorder.

Unfortunately, that blissful state isn't possible during Christmas because all of my siblings, with their spouses and children, are in Mom's house. We also bust our grandmother, Nana, out for the day, so she sits in her chair yelling for people whenever she needs something, supposedly because she's deaf and can't hear herself speak, but we all suspect it's really passive-aggressive revenge for putting her in a home. At the same time the TV's blaring and everyone's talking over it, while my nieces ask me to play Barbie because I give the dolls creative voices. In order to get from one room to the next you have to step over the pile of old video tapes Mom's going to give to the church at some point, but not quite yet because she has to go through them to make sure there's nothing important on them like the Mary Tyler Moore Special, Murder She Wrote repeats, or the Carol Burnett Reunion that I recorded for her 10 years ago.

And amidst all this chaos, my mother, who secretly wishes she could entertain like they do on The Food Network and goes out of her way to make everything very special, will break something in the kitchen and shout, "Dammit, we can't have nice things!"

That expression was the kicker. I mean, who's she talking to? God? Us? She says it like the chaos is our fault, but come on!

A couple of years back I got a reprieve from the madness. I was working in Canada on a production and spent Thanksgiving with my friend's family. Let's just say, they're the antithesis of mine.

Derek's father is an architect like Mike Brady, having built the farmhouse they live in, and Derek's mother is so domestic she really could have her own Food Network special. We woke each morning to freshly baked muffins, eggs from the farm, and pancakes that Derek's mom wouldn't think of making with a boxed mix. Thanksgiving dinner was turkey and dressing, a potato casserole and fresh vegetables, and rolls Derek's Mom made during the meal, and wine his father brewed in the barn... And, no kidding, I was given some strawberry rhubarb jam to take home as a lovely departing gift.

On that morning, feeling more rested than I've ever felt on a holiday at home, I thanked Derek's mom for all her hospitality and complimented her on everything for the hundredth time. She said quite simply, "It's how I find my joy."

Christmas soon followed, and as I arrived at my mother's house, with noises thrashing out of it that made me think Apocalypse, I was immediately overwhelmed. Inside, one sister was playing with the children, my brothers-in-law were talking about day trading, and Nana was yelling for a shot of brandy. The tension immediately rose from the base of my back and crawled along my spine. Mom spotted me first. Her face lit up as she cheered in this singsong voice, "I get the first kiss!" and trotted over so that my nieces could beat her to me. But when she saw the look of intense, overwhelming exhaustion on my face, Mom grew concerned. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," was all I could manage. "I just need an aspirin." What can I really say? She's my mom, and it's Christmas.

"I'll do you one better!" she grinned in victory and opened the cabinet above the microwave to reveal rows of Advil, Tylenol, Bayer, Children's Tylenol, Tylenol PMS, Tylenol Cold and Aleve -- rows and rows and rows of headache relief! She took out a whole box and handed it to me, proudly saying, "Keep it. Vons had a sale..."

At that moment, when I saw her so excited about this little gift, I realized my mom had done what most people would consider a chore -- feeding a family of eight on a very tight budget -- and turned it into something she could enjoy. And amidst this house of noise and clutter and watching where you walk for fear you're going to crush something valuable, my mom was finding her own personal joy by taking care of everyone in the family, the only way she knew how.

Suddenly, none of it seemed insane at all -- it just felt very nice. So with that understanding I leaned forward and gave her hug.

"What's this for?" she asked.

"'Cause I love you," I answered simply, and as I let go my arm knocked over a glass that broke in the sink with a crash like a chorus of screaming Angels.

Mom whacked me on the arm, gave me a look, and muttered, "We can't have anything nice."

Merry Christmas, etc., etc.

Hey Kids,
This new show is wonderful. Lots of writing, snappy dialogue, bitchy lines, and tons of fun. I signed a confidentiality agreement so I can't talk about plots or things of that nature, but when it comes closer to airing I'll let you know.

That said, I haven't had much time to write this week. Sorry about that. Christmas Eve we're with Steve's family, Christmas day with mine. Should be fast but fun and then I return to work next week on the show. Insane! But again, truly thankful to be working and on something this dishy and fun.

I hope to write about my family since they're always good fodder, but if that doesn't pan out I figured I'd leave you with this lovely postcard:

Smooch!
Richard

WORD OF THE WEEEEEKKKKKKK!!!!!

The word of the week is: Jewdini

Definition: Adjective. A word used to describe a person of Jewish descent or cultural identity (or both) who you enjoy a very successful date with, but then won't return your calls or e-mails for some unknown reason; he or she seemingly "disappears" off the face of the Earth. Also...Verb. To Jewdini someone. IE: Jewdiniing. To be Jewdinied.

In a sentence:

RICK: Hey Susanna, how was your date with that Shylock Rosenberg guy?
SUSANNA: Oh my God! We totally had a great time at the cemetery Screening in Hollywood and then he pulled a Jewdini on me!
RICK: Oy gevalt!

PLEASE NOTE DISCLAIMER:
I have no idea who these random men are or if they are Jews or if they have ever been Jewdinis. Though two of the guys I did get their photos from Jewish Mingle. As for why I have actor Adam Goldberg on here, well, I think he's a hilarious guy and I've been trying to find a way to put his picture on the site. But again, I know nothing of his behaviors.

L'Chaim!

Fabuloso!

Okay, I can't write long but I just got a one-month writing gig on an American telenovella. Es verdad.

I guess someone heard about my Halfrican American or Latino heritage or something and this US company which has bought a Latin American telenovella is adapting it for audiences in the US. It's campy, fun, and it takes place in the fashion world! What more do I need?

I was contacted yesterday, started today, and I'm crazy busy and in love with the whole thing.

I don't know how much I can talk about it, but once I can reveal the details you, my closer personal friends, will be the ones to know.

La Raza!

WORD OF THE WEEEEEKKKKKKK!!!!!

The word of the week is: Hasbian
Definition: Noun. A woman who, after staunchly proclaiming her homosexuality and/or having same sex relationships for a significant length of time, decides she is actually straight. Also... Adjective. A term used to describe a woman who is a hasbian. Or... A curse. Used in place of a noun to put someone down in the same manner as the word "bitch," only it must be an apt description; for example, one would not call Carrot Top a hasbian no matter how annoying he may be.

In a sentence:
The phone rings, and Rick picks it up.
RICK: Hello?
WOMAN'S VOICE: Hi Rick, it's crazy Anne Heche.
RICK: Hasbian!
Rick hangs up phone and goes back to work.

On Q Live, Charo and more!

So I walked into the Q Television studio yesterday and guess who was there.... CHARO! The mistress of coochie was filming an episode of Queer Edge with Jack E. Jett, which is kind of like Graham Norton mixed with Max Headroom on no budget. But Jack has a way of getting some really great guests on his show, like Sandra Bernhard, Alan Cumming, or Julie Brown (pictured here with Jack, himself).

I actually had my digital camera on me-- not the bad spy one, the one that works-- but just as the show finished taping she was rushed to her dressing room and I missed my opportunity. Of course, I didn't think to ask anyone like her husband/escort/companion guy who seemed very nice, or even Jack himself, so I guess it's my fault ultimately. But she did walk by me on three separate occasions and she smiled each time. She comes up to my chest, she's so small. I love her.

Robbie Laughlin, formerly of Queer Eye for the Straight Girl is now the third host joining Joe Becheley and Saskia Weber for On Q Live and he was so sweet and dreamy cute in person. But can I just observe that everyone is tall except me. I always thought talent was supposed to be short but he and Joe towered over me.

Anyway, there was fake snow created on the show (again, no photo), and I was on for two segments where I DIDN'T SWEAR AT ALL! I was so happy about that (it's the little things, ya see). But it's also a bit easier when you get to chat with people because then it's all about listening and keeping on topic rather than trying to hold a segment with one of my rants. Not that I don't like the rants, but I tend to play off other people fairly well.

The first segment was how to get rid of unwanted guests at a holiday party. While I did the basics like "start cleaning and turn up the lights", or say you have gas or crabs when a drunk thinks he's going to score with you, there was also the question of what to do if you hate one of the boyfriends but not the other. So we did some role-playing, where I said Robbie was the annoying boyfriend and Joe (pictured here between Saskia and Janice Dickinson) was the guy we liked. So as a means of getting rid of Robbie, I turned and started making out with Joe-- no there was no tongue, yes Steve knew we were going to do it, and both Joe and I are partnered so this was just acting-- and Joe lifted up my 180 pounds in the process and it lasted a good ten seconds. I don't know if anyone thought it was funny, but the three of us did, and then I explained that this would certainly make any annoying boyfriend leave a party.

I then did a segment on how to kink up your sex life on a budget for the holidays and I dressed in my skimpy Boy Scout costume. Again, NO PHOTO! My friend Meghan was supposed to be there but she got sick and it didn't happen, and I was seriously nervous anyway. The only audience is the crew and I never know if they think this is funny or not-- I kind of go deaf, dumb and blind. The segment also went long, which I knew was happening but there was nothing we could do about it because the hosts had lots of questions. But the producer was happy so I guess that's a good thing.

Going to see The Producers tonight. I'll let you know how it is.

Q TV, Comic Book Conventions, and Saturday's Power Party

Hey Kids,

I have to make this fast because I'm on Q TV again today for On Q Live but I'm also on deadline for Comic-Con International's magazine, and I have a feeling that job I applied for at DIsney is actually going to pan out into something... or at least a writing test that I'll have to perform so they can sample my work. Needless to say, super busy, but...



If you check out today's live broadcast of On Q Live on the Q TV network around 7 or something in the evening you'll see me for two segments. (No, I don't know when the show runs. They don't even have Q-TV in California and we tape at like 4 or something but I'm not sure if it's an East Coast or Central time feed. If you get the network, you'll know, let me know.) Anyway, my first segment is called "Season's Beatings" where I will explain how to spice up your sex life on a budget, and then the second one is on how to get rid of unwanted guests at parties during the holidays. We've been doing some last-minute changes to my bits so hopefully it will all come across well. Here's a picture of the lovely hosts,

The power lezzie party was fun, especially when friends Jeremy and Paul brought the 42" black doll named Sharonda for the toy drive (Um, hi, where were the Marines in uniform accepting these items?). I wish we'd taken a photo, but alas, no, and I couldn't find Sharonda anywhere online. She had a yellow blouse, a blue and white checkered Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz skirt and a matching choker (yeah, choker?) and braided pig tails. And when she laid down she went to sleep. Kind of creepy and yet fodder for hours of jokes.

AND THEN INTO THE PARTY WALKED... Well, I'm not in the business of outing people, but let's just say that it was a famous sitcom mother from the 80's/90's who, if you think about the evolution of her haircuts, all makes sense that she might be a lesbianna. We were shocked, but then excited, and then stunned to find out everyone there knew but us. I hate not being on the pulse.

Last night Steve and I hit our friend Chris Lisotta's holiday party and among the famous faces were author and funnyman Dennis Hensley, gossip guru Perez Hilton, and some chick from Clueless that I didn't recognize. Fun.

I have to go to Home Depot now and purchase a number of things for today's TV appearance; I'm already exhausted. Everyone pray I don't drop another on-air F-Bomb.

Project Runway returns!

Just as America's Next Top Model ends, Bravo starts up another season of Project Runway! Thank God! Now fans of fashion can go from one world of drama right into the next, and this season looks really great because unlike Season One this bunch all has the experience. There's no Wendy Pepper fumbling for how to do your job, this bunch knows their stuff and they know how to turn it out!

I had to interview the gay male designers for The Advocate. Check out my article here!

Our 'Hood, Our Evening, Our Weekend

Our neighborhood is in the The LA Times! This is Chango, the coffee house that's down the block from our house and the place where we saw the Free Fruit map of Echo Park that listed our house. Crazy!

Anyway, LA Times is saying that it's the new up and coming neighborhood, mixing ethnically diverse people (like myself) with hipsters, artists, and gays (like Steve... well, okay, and me. Does that make me a double minority?). It's crazy because when Steve and I first drove into the neighborhood we could feel it was a really special place, loved that it was close to downtown, AND it was affordable. Now it's hip. I think this is the first time in our lives when we've been on the pulse.

Speaking of the pulse, last night we went to the opening of Memphis, this new restaurant in Hollywood owned by the Dolce Group (Dolce, Bella, Geisha House, etc.). I don't have photos yet, but it's located in this beautiful old Victorian House that has survived all the development in Hollywood. It was abandoned forever and these guys have restored it. The building is gorgeous and the seating limited, meaning this will be one of the toughest spots to hit in LA by January. But the party was insanely fun and we hung out with Sid Krofft of Sid & Marty Krofft fame (this is him on the left with brother Marty).

Normally Steve and I scour these parties for celebs we can talk about, take pictures of, etc., but as soon as Sid walked in it was all over. Steve actually met him at the gym a couple years ago, and the two hit it off and always chat when they see one another, though now that Steve is at a new gym they haven't seen one another in a while. I met Sid through that connection, and he's just such a great person to speak with. He's been around, knows the stories and the people, and is truly up on what's what in Hollywood today. But sometimes I just want to grab him and shout, "DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW IMPORTANT YOU WERE TO MY LIFE?"

Seriously, I know the songs to the shows, I used to pretend I was on Living Island with Freddie the Flute, wanted to rock out with the Bugaloos, and I definitely fought crime alongside Electra Woman and Dyna Girl. I attribute much of my love for comics, fantasy, and my drive to become a writer to this man's programs. But of course I don't say that. Instead, we chat about normal stuff and every now and then I'll ask how the movie remakes are going, but that's' it.

Oh, except for last night when Steve and I went back to our car and ran into him a second time on the street corner and I grabbed him in a bear hug. I think I may have had one too many vodka cranberries. Yikes!

So what's on our agenda for this weekend?

Well, I can tell you where Steve and I are NOT going. Even when I was a young buck and frequenting the hard party scene I couldn't quite fathom these underwear parties. All I can imagine are sweaty bellies, saggy butts, and droopy drawers. Trust me when I say that the porn star in this picture (Jason Hawke, if you must know) will most likely not be there (that's what you get for doing porn and signing a photo release that allows your bum to pop up everywhere for time immortal... including on blogs.

This party is also being held at The Factory Nightclub. Does anyone go there anymore? Maybe for Club 1980s (Oh, remember the days of $1 margaritas until midnight, leaving at 2am, and somehow going to work the next morning fresh as a daisy...?). But Saturdays at The Factory? The club hasn't had any great renovations in years, the reputations of the owners are shot, and the clientele is all Hello Kitty. 'Nuff said.

But where we ARE going to on Saturday is our friend Karianne's birthday party followed by the annual Power Lesbian Christmas party; Karianne is not a lezzie, FYI, they just happen to play things on the same day. We'll have a full report Monday.

Stay safe this weekend, and don't kill anyone. 'Tis the season and all...

More Wonderful Things

After my post yesterday, I got this picture sent to me from my same friend Peter. Here he is dressed up as Wonder Boy for Halloween, and he's modeling with Aunt Jemima. You gotta love the West Hollywood Halloween party.

Steve and I went to the West Coast premiere for King Kong last night. It was basically just a screening though Jon Favreau, Tom Hanks, and Rita Wilson were among the people watching in the enormous Gibson Amphitheater; I told them you all said hi. Oh, and every queen in LA was there as well. It was like Gay Pride Universal! The movie was great but long, with stunning effects and a really amazing connection between Kong and Naomi Watts that totally works. And yes, she gets dragged around all the time and never looks terrible but as Steve pointed out, from the Art Deco credits to the wardrobe and sets this movie was made in classic Hollywood fashion where it was all about the glamour and beauty of the starlet. So for us, that was A-okay.

Oh, and in a random smal world that has nothing to do with King Kong... Byron Beck, whom I affectionately dubbed the Mayor of Portland, Oregon's social scene (pictured here with The Reichen), knows the creator of the man panties that I wrote about yesterday. How funny!

Does that mean all things point back to Wonder Woman? Or gay men?... this all requires further investigation.

Super Friends... with benefits

My friend Peter-- and by friend I mean a guy who e-mailed me way back and we've become friendly but never actually met-- knows my sense of humor very well. He sent me this ad for some fantastic Wonder Womann panties.

First off, I LOVE that they add an extra "N" at the end of the name so that there is no copyright infringement. Second, I love that someone would buy them! And why not? As the advertisement says... Dress up as your favorite super hero--only leave the brazziere and golden lasso behind! This Wonder Womann Panty is non-sheer nylon and very sexy! Yes, "very sexy" is exactly what I think of when I see a pic of a little hairless twink wearing these things. I tried wrapping my head around my big ass fitting into those. Hmmm... Wonder Thong, anyone?

Steve and I are actually big (athletic) supporters of someone making adult Underoos, but not like these. More like the real deal that we all knew about as kids but which are now big enough to fit us. We think it would be fun. And perhaps I would wear a Wonder Woman pair-- at least the t-shirt part-- because of the camp value. These skimpy things just remind me dressing in drag, which is great and fun, but not necessarily "very sexy", at least to me.

Although, for those of you curious types, they do sell Bat Mann and Robin underwear and shirts, though those are much more expensive than the Wonder Womann $17.95 pair of manties (um, Men's Panties). That makes sense-- you also get a sleeveless t-shirt-- and at least you may be able to have some fun wearing those whereas I think the WW ones are more joke gifts; but really, was there a legal issue for the briefs on Batman? I wonder...

There are only two times when I dressed up as a super hero and both were for Comic-Con International in San Diego. I was in their masquerade contest, came out dressed as Steve Trevor (WW's boyfriend) in military garb and then spun into the Amazon Princess. Dancing Nazis came out behind me, we did a big performance, my bracelets sparked, we won. I kept that costume with those fabulous boots through every move, but then when Steve and I came to the house we did get rid of it.

The costume didn't fit any longer, it needed repair, I'm one hell of an ugly woman, and honestly... when was I ever going to wear it again?

So when I was eBaying a bunch of stuff that would pay for our move, I found a guy in LA who bought a ton of Wonder Woman material and wanted to save on postage so he came by the apartment to purchase in person; a risky maneuver, I know, but I figured I could spin around and knock him down if necessary. I take boxing. Anyway, he came by, very excitedly bought the dolls, books and toys, and then saw my boots. I was planning on donating the costume to the local AIDS charity thrift store but he offered to buy it-- he told me he was trying to assemble a costume to put on a mannequin-- and since some money is better than no money I sold it all off. No, I didn't make a fortune, but it was nice to see it going to someone who really loved Diana as much as I did.

Oh, and in case you're curious, when I first wore the costume backstage at Comic-Con, a guy dressed as Green lantern saw those legs and that ass from behind and came up to hit on me. Yeah, technically the joke was on him, but if you think about it, maybe those WW panties aren't such a bad idea after all...

PHRASE OF THE DAAAAYYYYYY!!!!!

The phrase of the day is:
Discretion is the better part of velour.

Word!