Bad Advice

Vacation!

When the going gets tough, the tough move their asses to Provincetown for a couple days. This is the night view from the deck of our hotel. In the morning the sound of seagulls wakes us up—that and the intense sunlight streaming into the room. I love our hotel—Dyer's Beach House—but no blackout shades here!

I spent the first part of the trip with my friend Julie. Where once we had big '80s hair, we're both sensible blondes now. Then El Spyro got to town for a few days. It's like having two different vacations in one. And I need at least two to get past the building bullshit and also losing two different sources of income. I'd like to tell you I used the time to contemplate the next chapter of my life and had actually come to the conclusion that maybe yoga might be the thing for me. I'm such a deep thinker. And then I read this story about the two most insufferable people who ever lived (and bred!) and realized all my scorn for yoga was well deserved.

There was also a little writing and researching. Like every asshole and their mother, I'm working on a memoir and found out some truly disturbing things about my past. So in the interest of enjoying the rest of my week, I put that away and had a hearty laugh over Julia Allison's book proposal instead. It's unintentionally hilarious and completely stupid, but I have no doubt that some publishing house will buy it and print that instead of something anyone with half a brain would bother reading. Lest you think I'm just a catty jerk, Marisha Pessl's book, Night Film, is completely riveting and Michael Cunningham's, Land's End, is a gorgeous ode to Provincetown. I'm reading the shit out of this vacation and loving every second of it. I just started Danny Bland's, In Case We Die, and I'm addicted.

We also some some art here in town. And go figure, I discover a New York artist, Harry Folsom, to love.

Today if the oceans allow, it's whale watching and more oysters! Tomorrow, home. And in case you're thinking of robbing the joint while I'm away, I have a live-in catsitter who'll kick your ass and leave it for Inky to devour.

Christmas cheer, don't jeer!

As I may have mentioned, I just got back from Paris . . . well, I guess it's nearly a month now. The glow has vanished as quickly as my savings did, but hey, who wants to ride out their old age in comfort anyway? While we were in the City of Lights, I had this idea that we would do a Christmas photo shoot and then come back and turn the picture into a funny, obnoxious personalized card for all our friends. Well, procrastination prevented that from happening so here we are with Santa, in the midst of a Parisian Christmas market. I don't think any of us actually bought anything, but it sure was festive! The French Santa was everything I'd hoped for—scrawny, dirty, and possibly a little bit drunk. I only wish this was a close-up.

Thanksgiving in Paris

I really did not want to come home. I can't believe it took me five million years to finally get to Paris and even after spending a week there, I feel like I only saw a teeny tiny slice. Everyone knows that Paris is beautiful and sure, I knew that too, but breathing it is very different from looking at photos.

We did not get to the Eiffel Tower, though we sure did enjoy looking at it. We rented a cute little apartment in Le Marais, and couldn't have been happier with our location. Our street, Rue Beautreillis (which I mangled so badly, even English-speaking cabbies couldn't understand WTF I was saying) was quiet and cobblestoned, just off a busier street, between Saint-Paul and the Bastille metro stations.

This door to nowhere was just down the street from our apartment. Around the corner from our place was one of the most charming things we saw, the Musée de la Magie (Museum of Magic). You go downstairs into this basement with vaulted ceilings and it's like you're walking into another world. Vaulted ceilings, antique magic tricks—we even saw a magic show. There's also a room full of automatons, which were just incredible.

We did actually leave our neighborhood, though we probably could've been happy spending the entire week exploring it. I have more photos on my Flickr page. I don't even have anything smart-alecky or obnoxious to say about the trip (and that kills me!), because the whole thing was so perfect.

This was definitely the most social vacation I've ever taken. My sister Sue and her man came in from London for a couple days. My friend Scarlett came close on their heels. We hung out with Carmine and Terry, who moved there from Brooklyn a few years ago and saw my friend Suzanne who I haven't seen since Provincetown a few years back.

Other highlights included the Salvador Dalí show at the Pompidou, along with well-worth-it-for-the-view expensive coffee on the roof, Pére LaChaise cemetery, where we saw Oscar Wilde's grave and this old Frenchman told us (via his friend who translated) that the reason the cross on the next grave was crushed was because some dope climbed on it to try and kiss Wilde's monument. The cross cracked and sent the dumbass to the hospital. We saw Michael Clark Company on Thanskgiving night, way out in the crazy suburbs of Paris. It was fantastic to see real dancers perform the same moves that me and my non-dancers had a great time mangling at the Whitney Biennial. We had to walk through a mall to get there and on our way back, all the stores were closed, but people were in the mall, practicing their breakdance moves! So crazy, unexpected and fun!

I mean, it was so jaw-droppingly beautiful that Spyro and I only argued once or twice—once when he told me he wants our next vacation to be to Hawaii (eww) and the other time on our massively long, airline-delayed trip home, which I'm willing to give us both a pass on. The only semi-bad thing that happened was that I left my Kindle behind on the plane and Air Canada has been too inept to find it. Even the Parisians were nice to us! I want to go back again immediately, but I'm also worried because now I have this perfect memory of an amazing trip. What if I step in dog shit, get pickpocketed, and have a Frenchman be rude to me next time?!

From the mixed-up files. . . .

First off, could this kitten possibly be any cuter? I think not. If you're interested in adopting, please contact me. I'm fostering and while saying goodbye is going to be like a knife to the heart, three cats in one small apartment is just too much. Maybe if I could train them to use the toilet it'd be a different story, but for now, I can only have two.

In an effort to get rid of stuff, I was going through some old files and found my all-time favorite NY Times story, about a brother and sister from New Delhi, who slept with their mom's body after she killed herself by imbibing the "drink of silence." This lethal cocktail contained crushed remnants of the family's diamonds and pearls. I highly recommend reading the whole creepy piece.

There are Morrissey sweaters for sale. Unfortunately they're "vegan friendly acrylic," but they're so cute, I'll suffer.

The Large Greek and I are going to Paris next week and I'm a little nervous. In the eight years together we've never left the country together. Not even to Canada. He's a HORRIBLE traveler and I'm unsympathetic and kind of mean when stressed. And he will stress me out. Also, none of my clients have paid me this month, which means the trip will either be lean and mean or fun and cruel to my credit cards.

I'm still writing my column for the Seattle Weekly. If you're interested, you can read it here. I'm also still co-hosting The Mike & Judy Show. This week we welcomed Lincoln Restler and filmmaker Amy Nicholson.

101 Things I Love, #91 – 75

I just got back from a mini-vacation (#91) in P-town (#90), with my friend Jules (#89). While there, I enjoyed a lobster roll (#88), plenty of outdoor showers (#87), a frigid ocean (#86), and crisp white wine (#85). I also hung out with Julie's sweet Blue Heeler, Gomez (#84). I took the ferry to get there! (#83) We were lucky enough to meet the incomparable Ryan Landry (#82), who invited us to the season's last drag extravaganza, "Showgirls!" (#81). It was incredibly relaxing (#80) and I am kind of sad to be back in Brooklyn. (Though I was happy to see Spyro (#79), Inky (#78) and the light o' my life, Mabes (#77).)

Pictured is my going-away lunch at the Lobster Pot (#76) and Julie's boobs (#75).

Sniff.

This past Saturday, my friend Kiki the Astrosexologist and I took a little road trip up to Hudson. My friend Dan lives there and he'd told me about a giant, all-day garage sale that was happening, so we were excited to hit it. Unfortunately, "all day" upstate means something a little different than it does in the city, so almost everyone had mostly closed up by the time we got to town at 1:30. But it was a fun trip anyway and Kiki found the cabinet of her dreams in one of the few sanely priced antique stores.

Me, I got a very sweet shelf, but I desperately wanted to purchase this adorable tissue dispenser. I just couldn't justify spending nearly $40 on something so desperately in need of a shampoo and new 'do.

What I Did Over My Puerto Rico Vacation!

¡Hola! I'm back from Puerto Rico and have almost finished resizing my photos. You can see almost all of them on my Flickr set.

We stayed at the Conrad Plaza on the Condado, which was muy bonita. I LOVED our ocean-view terrace and our incredibly comfy bed. Oh, look, here's a photo of our bed—where all the magic happened!

Our trip lasted five days and was very fun, though I am not a hot-weather person and don't really see myself going to the Caribbean again anytime soon. I LOVED our hotel. There were three pools—oh look, here's a revealing shot of me in a swimsuit!

Psych!

We spent most of our pooltime at this pool because it was unpopular and therefore uncrowded. It didn't have the swim-up bar or waterslide, but it was also lacking screaming children and drunken jackasses, which made it a win. 

Final Vacation Destination!

My blog went koo-koo this morning and posted this without my permission. I guess trying to blog from your iPhone is a bad idea because this suddenly showed up a month after I tried to post it.

The weird baby is from Edward Gorey's house.

I'm in Provincetown, MA, stuffing myself full of lobster rolls and hanging out with my old pal Jules and my new pal, Gomez (he's her new dog). It's not easy to blog on an iPhone, so I'll keep this short. In case you were wondering, the new Pet Shop Boys CD is the soundtrack to P-town.

The Extra "P" is for Extra Provincetown!

Most of last week was spent relaxing on beautiful Cape Cod. Provincetown, to be exact. My friend Jules was kind enough to invite me, and we spent the time walking her cute little dog, Gomez (see below), eating lobster rolls (okay, that was just me), and reading books. BTW, I highly recommend Joe Queenan's new memoir, Closing Time.
 
One of the highlights was a trip to Edward Gorey's house. Isn't it cute? Apparently it was covered in vines when Gorey lived there, but they've since cleaned it up.

Yet another weekend getaway.

This past weekend—thanks to the kindness of my friends Betty and Peter—was spent in a beautiful little house by Lake Valhalla in Cold Spring, NY. That's me in the lake, doing the "supastah" pose from Superstar, the Mary Katherine Gallagher movie. Bad movie, but my man finds Mary Katherine very hot—so I do what works for him.

Speaking of the Large Greek, here he is by the lake. Note that he would not actually go into the water because he was positive that doing so would leave him covered in leeches. Oddly enough, he's not the only one who thinks this, because when I told my friend Bob that I'd gone swimming in a lake, he also told me I was crazy to swim with the leeches! What the hell?!? I didn't see one leech, though I did run screaming out of the water after a fish brushed by my ankle.

I need to get the hell out of New York. At least part-time.