Tuesday, February 16, 2010

Another Valentine's Day has Passed

I hope that everyone out there had a spectacular Valentine's Day and was able to do all the wonderful stuff that people do on such a loving and superficial made-up holiday.

Being truly sentimental at heart, every year I do the somewhat cliché but always appreciated romantic evening at home. I get dressed up in a jacket and tie and put on a little cologne. I prepare a nice intimate meal by the fireplace, always with a good bottle of wine. Of course I light candles to give just the right ambience and provide that warm glow of love. And yes, I play some soft romantic jazz on the stereo to set the mood.

After a leisurely dinner it is time to retire to the bedroom where I have previously pulled the drapes, dimmed the lights and covered the bed with hundreds of rose petals. I pop the cork on a chilled bottle of champagne, pour, and begin to get undressed slowly. I climb into bed, sip my champagne, and lie there alone, amid the rose petals, wondering why no one will ever love me.

But this year was different—I actually interacted with other people.

Reezy's Valentine's Day Buffet

My friend Reezy had decided to have a dinner party and was kind enough to invite me. There was a great turn out. I got to see many old friends and meet some new ones and, as you can see in the photo above, the food was incredible.

Surprisingly, I was only sightly humiliated by the fact that I was the only one there alone. Even the gay guys who aren't in relationships brought girl dates—what's up with that? I was going to call them on it but, after a few champagne cocktails, I decided to simply lie and tell everyone that my date was in the bathroom. As the evening progressed and I began to get questioned about the bathroom answer, I cleverly stated that my date had been suffering from diarrhea for what seemed like weeks—I think they bought it because everyone stopped asking me about it.

We all decided to go for a nightcap at Vanessie, a very nice restaurant with a piano bar. The entertainment was pleasant—sentimental love songs with a nice piano accompaniment—and there was a good sized crowd enjoying the show.

The evening ended with an art photographer sitting down next to me at our table and asking me to consider being photographed by her—NUDE! She even tried to get my friends to coax me into doing it. Of course, being the shy and modest person that I am, I said no, but she said that if I was uncomfortable we could start with shots from just the waist up. But that doesn't seem like much fun. I have to admit, seeing my tickle-bits dangling in an art gallery not only makes me chuckle but intrigues me a little bit.

Believe it or not, the photographer is legit—she has done fashion, portraits, and magazine work as well as art photography. Who knows, some day there may be nekid pictures of Teezy in galleries and museums everywhere! I'll keep you posted.

And mom, it is not porn if it is in a gallery—it's erotic ART!!

I will leave you with a little side-hug action to show all of you my love (in a "I gots to have abstinence" kind of way):

You had better beware if you see me coming at you "front hug bound with that look in my eye"!

Fortunately, someone had the good sense to shoot them all dead at the end of the show—you know how those fundamental Christians and their guns can be.

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Thursday, February 11, 2010

Dash Cam—Winter Edition

After the huge box office success of my last film titled "Commuting in Santa Fe" (it has had over fifty views so far!!), I have decided to release a Director's Cut sequel titled "Commuting in Santa Fe—Winter".

This new release contains never seen before footage revealing the intimate and often disturbing world of one man's winter commute within Santa Fe County. This critically acclaimed thrill-a-minute feature is both shockingly real and emotionally poignant and will leave audiences questioning their own drive-time and wanting more.

This film is not yet rated but is intended for mature audiences.

Snowy Commute in Santa Fe

Courtyard Snow, Santa Fe

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Friday, February 5, 2010

Super Whut?

Someone just told me that this is Super Bowl weekend. If you aren't familiar with the event, it's like this game that someone thought would be cool to put on television—all day. Some people even watch it just for the commercials—whtevs—I can't get to my remote fast enough to skip that commercial shit, but to each their own.

Something about the broadcast also compels people to eat all sorts of crazy-ass crap—basically anything that is fried, comes with a dipping sauce or is topped with melted Velveeta. The one really good thing to come from the Super Bowl is the freedom to drink beer all day without judgement. For that alone Super Bowl should become a national holiday.

Before you get all excited I have to tell you that even though it is called "Super Bowl", from my understanding, it has very little to do with bowling—I think that they are just trying to trick people into watching.

Since I am probably the only person left in the United States that does not have cable television, the Super Bowl really puts a kink in my weekend pleasurable pursuits. Since it is believed that everyone in the world will be watching the Super Bowl, the other television networks tend to broadcast really lame junk so it basically renders the television useless for the majority of the day.

Therefore, I have been forced to make other plans.

I have decided to begin the weekend by laying down some dope rhyme with my homies in the neighborhood. Word, we gonna be bringin' that next level shit y'all. Check out a recent vid:

Can I touch you friend?

And, no that's not me flinging my tickle-bits around in the Pink Floyd undies. I'm, of course, the guy with the 40. Remind me and I'll invite all of you to one of our block parties this summer—they're totally rad.

I have loaded a bunch of beer in the fridge and a bunch movies in the queue for Sunday. I don't have any Velveeta to melt on stuff, but I am certain that I can make my own out of food coloring and Crisco.

If you have forgotten that it is Super Bowl weekend and haven't had a chance to grab some movies yet, I will leave you with a little flick to watch about some srsly whack dolls that scare me.

Merry Super Bowl! or Happy Super Bowl! or whatever the hell you are supposed to say.

Alma from Rodrigo Blaas on Vimeo.

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Tuesday, February 2, 2010

Guns Don't Kill People...Babies Kill People

Guys selling Pinon firewood from their trucks In my neighborhood

You may have noticed that my posts lately have been primarily about me, me, me and very little about living in Santa Fe. There are good reasons for this.

First, I find the subject of me to be endlessly fascinating and, unlike some of my family and friends, I do not find the topic "tiresome" or "tedious" or "relentlessly uninteresting".

Second, as seen in the photo above of some guys selling Pinon firewood, it is still winter in Santa Fe and I have a tendency to hibernate. I am certain that there are a lot of interesting things going on here, but who cares? it's cold.

And third, I believe that I am developing a little touch of agoraphobia because of recent happenings both online and within my proximity.

Recently some 22 year old dilt in Albuquerque named Dante Aikins went to the theater to see "Avitar". Evidently it was a popular excursion because the theater was completely filled with movie-goers anxiously waiting to be entertained.

I know that we all sneak things into the movies. I simply wont leave for the theater without my pockets filled with Funyuns, a delisiciousy grilled cheese samich, some gummi worms and my flask of vodka. Evidently Dante Aikins also chooses to sneak things into the theater but, instead of the wholesome goodness of processed food products and liquor, Dante likes to fill his pockets with loaded weaponry.

I am certain that Dante's little gun friend makes him feel all powerful and important like—I am sure that Mr. Gun tells Dante that he is a big man. Unfortunately, while Dante was fondling Mr. Gun in the theater he accidentally dropped it on the floor causing it to discharge into the crowded room hitting one person in the foot.

What did Dante do?

He got up out of his seat, squealed "Who's shooting fireworks in here" and ran to the nearest Red Roof Inn where he was subsequently arrested.


The way I see it, Mr. Gun is like Mary Kate and Ashley. Yes, privately you are friends, they make you feel important and occasionally you might even be caught fondling them. But good Lord, you sure as hell don't want to take those trolls out in public. Stop embarrassing yourself Dante and leave Mr. Gun at home.

I know that Dante is probably a product of his environment and upbringing. One of my new besties that I found through Blogger's New and Improved Next Blog Link posted a little training video from their compound in Georgia that illustrates that it is never too early to teach children the laugh-out-loud humor and family fun associated with shooting guns and the kill.

I wont post their names or a link to their blog because, quite frankly, they terrify me. With daddy asking "Do you like it?" and the sister-wife in the background shouting "Again, Again!", the trajectory of this child's destiny is nearly certain—baby Dante.

And you know that sister-wife's directive to "shoot those waskely wabbits" is just code for "kill weft wing wiberals". Besides, shouldn't her ass be in the kitchen or laundry room or birthin' another baby. I think daddy needs to spend less time teaching junior to fire weapons and concentrate on keeping sister-wife's mouth shut.

And it doesn't stop there.

Just a couple of days ago another window-licker (probably Dante's cousin) stole a parvo and ringworm infected Rottweiler puppy from an Albuquerque animal shelter. What kind of stupid turd steals a dog from an animal shelter? The whole intent of the animal shelter is to GIVE animals away. A friend of mine that volunteers at the Santa Fe animal shelter told me that they will even work with individuals to help reduce or eliminate the nominal spay/neuter fee if necessary.


Meanwhile, the Albuquerque animal shelter is begging that the dog be returned for medical treatment because not only is the dog extremely contagious, but could quite possibly die from the infection.

So there you have it—important events in Santa Fe and beyond. Now I think that you can easily understand why during the winter months I choose to hibernate and tend to dwell on the ever pleasant subject that is me. It sure beats getting shot by children or getting infected with ringworm. Danger, danger, danger—it's everywhere!

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