The Jigtastic Journal of J. Na Na

Usually my subject headings are random and have no correlation to my posting, but this one does.  We had a pet rabbit (I know not why) my junior year of college, and I used to sing the song "Justified and Ancient" by the KLF to the rabbit, and change the words to "Justified Fat Bunny": "He’s justified, and he’s chubby, and he eats lots of carrots."  You’d have to have been there.

I had this bitch roommate in college my sophomore year who used to call alcohol "booze".  Only my great-grandmother ever called it that.  But then, he also had this rather gay drawl to his speech like he was some ’50s movie star.  What a ‘tard.

I’ve taken to this habit of going, "Mmmm" after I’ve eaten something really good, like I’m fucking Homer Simpson.

You know, I’ve never been to Coit Tower.

I got an award yesterday at work for service excellence.  They gave me a a framed certificate, some flowers, gift certificates, and a whole basket full of all the veggie foods I always eat.  It was kind of sweet.

I once got an award for perfect attendance in third of fourth grade, but I was out sick the day of the ceremony.  So I didn’t get it.

Telia Tequila: Annoying.  Lame.  Irrevocably retarded.  I’ve put a price on her head with four-digit bounty for her timely end.  Make haste and waste her, por favor.

"Why don’t you go to a real school?"

–Mr. Alterhausen in passing to a pair of Academy of Art students

Let’s talk for a moment, shall we, about the Academy of Art, specifically, the students who go there. Now lest you think I’m going to launch into a diatribe against them, I hasten to posit that I think the pursuit of fine arts is severley undervalued, yet undeniably important in our culture.

There. Now I’ve said it.

My gripe, although it’s a lukewarm one really, has to do with the fact that these kids act and dress like disenfranchised outcasts. Yet most must certainly come from relatively affluent backgrounds, and I somehow doubt you fill out the FAFSA or apply for a Cal Grant and get all that much for going to the Academy or Art University. Add to that the high cost of living in San Francisco. And the prime locations of their dorm housing can’t be all that cheap.

The clincher is the studded belts, tight jeans, multi-layered shirts, ironic trucker caps and all that compose these kids’ wardrobes. You know, the kind of clothes you buy at alleged vintage clothing stores made to look like they were casually purchased at a thrift store. You may have wallowed in self-pity in high school because you didn’t fit in with the ASB crowd, but I had to buy my own food because my mom kinda slacked off with the grocery shopping and didn’t make us dinner and stuff when I was in high school. And I applied for college and paid my own damn way for the whole four years with little help from the fam. Not to mention the fun of being called "fag" for the eight years of my middle-to-high school experience.

So take your tears and your misplaced sense of outcast chic, and tell it to the marines, ’cause I got no sympathy for ya, kids. Cheers!

Friday night, Mandypants came over, and we all danced and sang to ’80s frat boy rock like Journey, and discussed and drank all night. Saturday, I nursed a most vicious hangover, and missed out hanging out with Tiff Tiff. Sunday, I was back in full gear, and J Co, Mandypants, and I had mimosas at the Goldust, passed on the overly priced buffet and drag show at the Starlight Room, brunched at Foley’s, then returned to the Goldust.

I had my first shot of Fernet, which both grounds you from any flighty alcohol you may have been consuming (e.g., champagne, oy!), and serves as a diuretic–which I discovered just this morning circa 4:00 am when I started pooping soup. At the Goldust, J Co was hit on by an accountant "with heart" (more like a hard-on for her). And we dubbed Irish bartender Lorraine, a "lepricunt".

Good times.

Folsom Street Fair is Sunday. I’ll be one of the four people in jeans and a T shirt, but by God, I will be drunk.

Brava to Trisha from "The Real World"!  On last night’s episode, she really proved herself a shining example of the modern-day Christian.  It really moved me how the song "Open The Eyes of My Heart" reminded her to close her mind to the world.  She is truly a role model of Christ in all her endeavors: cheating on her boyfriend, whoring herself on reality TV, squeezing herself into skin-tight T’s, drinking to excess, and spouting off such scathing retorts as, "Well if that’s the way you feel, then I feel sorry for you!"

Praise be, Trishers!  Praise be…

Speaking of ridiculous bitches, you know Fergie?  I remember her back in the day from "KIDS, Inc.", although I always thought Martika/Gloria had a better voice.  Usually I think her songs are borderline unbearable, but I tell you, a few drinks in you (strong ones, shots, preferably), and you hear one of her songs, and it’s on.  I was at the Cafe the other day and "Fergilicious" came on, and my black ass was the first on the floor, I tells you.

Ain’t it funny what…love can do?

One of my co-workers, a sweet, middle-aged woman named Evelyn, was just attacked and stabbed right outside our office by thieves who wanted her purse.  She’s been taken to the hospital.  She’s honestly the type of person who, though I hate to use the cliche, wouldn’t hurt a fly.  Very reserved and sweet.  She helps coordinate disability management for disabled employees at my company.  And this happened in broad daylight.

We’re all a bit shaken up right now.  Security is here to see if anyone needs escorts to their car.

I really hope she’s okay.  Our office is just a block away from the projects, like so many places in SF.  I always feel like I’m lucky that no one ever tries anything with me, but a six-foot something man is more difficult of a target than a five-foot something middle-aged woman. 

I can’t wait until we move offices in December.

I saw an older lady in line at Trader Joe’s the other day wearing a “South Park” hat. Quite unexpected. But when she broke out her Cheshire Cat wallet, I fell in love. Only in Frisco, baby.

I’m super excited for “Elizabeth: The Golden Age”. I thought the first “Elizabeth” was awesome, and Cate Blanchett rocks my world.

Tucker Carlson should be burned alive for fuel.

Last week, Mandypants and I did a late b-day cocktail hour for her at Lime. It was my first time there, a bit chi chi of a place, but with nice, bright decor, and not too crowded. We sat near this other group of people, among them, a lanky Filipino guy in a business suit who loudly went on about some guy who made 1.3 million dollars, and asked one of his companions at one point, “Do you want a string of pearls that’s forty-thousand dollars or forty-five thousand dollars?”

I hate homos like that who bray on loudly like some ass in heat about money. It’s such a transparent attempt to combat the demeaning feelings of homophobia felt throughout our lives by trying to build oneself up as richer, and therefore, greater. It does suck that we as gay people have to deal with the terrible bullshit of homophobia. But it allows us to see the world in a way we probably wouldn’t have if we’d turned out straight.

Being discriminated against shouldn’t make you want to be better than the rest of the world, but to be a better person, and make the world a better place however you can. How can people not get that?

“Big” was the first movie I ever saw on my own. My best friend in fifth grade and I made the trek to Parkway Plaza back when it was ghetto-free and paid our kid’s fare. In fact, having never paid for a movie ticket myself, I thought it would be some twenty dollars. It turned out to be, I think, three bucks, and not for naught. A great movie. I still think about that whenever it comes on TV.

Ever since they had that “I Love the ’80s” thing on VH1 that featured it, I cannot get Jermaine Stewart’s “We Don’t Have to Take Our Clothes Off” out of my head. Some twenty years old, that song, and still catchy as hell. I remember listening to it in the car when my mom would drive my sister and me to school. The discomfort over the sex-related message of the song was overridden by how good it was.

I made up with an old friend today who I’d kind of cut out of my life. It really felt good, actually.

Yahoo or Google?

“We need to go step to MTV and Viacom, and let’s talk about all these fucking shows that they have on MTV that is promoting homosexuality, that my kids can’t watch this shit. Dating shows that’s showing two guys or two girls in mid-afternoon. Let’s talk about shit like that! If that’s not fucking up America, I don’t know what is.”
–Ja Rule to "Complex" magazine

The irony, of course, being that Ja Rule sings about bitches and ho’s and capping a nigga’s ass.  And that’s…good for America?  I get that not all famous people are smart or even all that intelligible, but knowing this, why are they given a platform to speak on political or social issues?  Perhaps they should stick to postulating and lip synching on stage, and keep their limited-in-depth thoughts on bigger matters to their sad, rich selves.

And while we’s talkin’ ’bout rappers, I can’t stand Akon.  Sounds like he’s singing through a straw.

I’m terrified of large bodies of water.  I used to have this dream where I was sitting in the bleachers of the Shamu stadium at Sea World, and they slowly began to collapse in on each other to form a straight wall that threatened to dip me into the tank.  I’m still scared of large bodies of water to this day.  Pretty to look at, but not to be in.  That’s my philosophy.