I’ve found a bunch of random photos lately. So here’s one.
MB and friends’ daughter, Belle, at the piano. MB is actually playing. Belle is, uh, trying. With all her might, you see.
not suitable for kids below — i’m serious!!
BE FOREWARNED!!!
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so this scene dragged by at one point
Uhm. I’m just relaying some of the scenes from Gaye Pryde here.
PARENTAL ADVISORY. I’M STILL SERIOUS!!
So I was out front of Boheme at one point during the parade. We were serving street-side iced drinks and hot coffee, blah blah. I was minding my own business, literally. Trying to mostly keep my head down. The crowd just beyond me was thick, so it was actually somewhat hard to see the parade, except for any elevated floats. But I was just standing there — yo dee doh — and these two chicks walked by — more accurately, uh, one chick was dragging the other behind her on a leash. The leashed one had her hands tied behind her back and wore these — I’m not sure exactly — shorts, I guess, red garbage bag looking things. I’m not into BeeDeeSM — (don’t know how to write that to avoid spam) — shocking, I know, but maybe there’s a name for them other than “red garbage bag shorts”? A name I don’t really want to know? Anyway …. it’s kind of shadowy in this photo, but the leashed one there was also topless. Yep. I was pouring coffee when right in front of me — Hulllooo! — there they were, her beleaguered girls, n*pples painted over to look like glitter stars. And leashed girl was very ornery, as part of the whole bit, I imagine. Pulling on her leash, not moving when called, moaning, being a very bad dog! or whatevs. MB had his cell phone and snapped some pictures, more in utter disbelief than anything. I think it was one of the most insane things I’ve ever seen. They did this up and down the sidewalk, their little BeeDeeSM tug of war, being totally into it — unless they saw someone snapping a photo. Then they would stop and pose.
Maybe they’ll get a nice shot for this year’s Christmas card.
pryde sidewalk, one block west
best gaye pryde comment
“My people are gross.”
~ My virgin — because, well, he’s afraid of gaye sex but now that I think of it, why does everyone tell me everything, anyway? — gaye friend J, muttering under his breath while watching float after float of shiny muscled men gyrating in Speedos.
I was so choked with laughter I nearly fell over.
another brilliant gaye pryde moment
I was grousing to my gaye friend C about a particularly impossible customer who’d just come through Boheme. He listened sympathetically and then raised his hands to Jesus revival-style, crying, “Oh, LAAAWWD, please DRY this river of retardedness flowing through heeyah right now!!”
tomorrow is gaye pryde
All day every day this week, the gaye people came. “Are you ready for pryde? Are you ready? It’s gonna be crazy. Are you ready??” That’s what they’d say. Scaring me like that. I don’t know if I’m ready. Don’t ask. And I hate hate hate crowds. For all I know I could be curled up in a corner at Boheme by 9 a.m. sobbing for my sock monkey Funny Baby.
Hey — that could be a whole parade float by itself. Bereft broken people sobbing for their sock monkeys.
Anyhoo. Stay tuned for a full gaye report.
But I know you’re all reading Harry Potter.
uhm …
Hahahahahahahahahaha!!
Can’t help lovin’ dat mine of mine.
a very tie-dyed christmas continues
Check us ouuut!
Moments later, that same Christmas ….
My brother S (now The Banshee’s dad), baby nephew (sister’s kid), and me — still exhausted and still tightening the upper lip. That’s not the way I really smile. To me, my tight upper lip in both these photos says it all.
And S, my surfing/swimming/water polo coaching brother — drat him, anyway, actually looking good in the freakin’ tie dye. Oh, and Buddha Baby’s left eye is now glowing red, like it’s become radioactive from all the explosive tie dye exposure. I tried to fix it, and it would not un-redden. It is supposed to be a red eye, I guess. The red eye of Buddha. I also somehow managed to make it look like I have a little shiner there above my eye. Just so you know, I was not beaten into submission to get me to take this photo! It just felt like it.
Also of note: At some point that Christmas, my hair morphed into a handy scouring pad.
scanacus interruptus
is OVER!
Someone in this house abscondated with my scanner, oh, about 2 months ago? three months ago? Whatever — a long time ago — and now, finally, after much delightful wheedling on my part, the scanner is back in my hot little hands — uhm, where it never should have been in the first place, quite honestly, because I’ll just go on, all devil-may-care, and scan horrors like this:
I …. I … I …. uhm, haha …. OH SWEET LORD IN HEAVEN!! This is …. oh, I’m having palpitations. I cannot even speak — write — whatever. Okay. Calm down, Tracey.
NO!! I CANNOT!! THIS IS THE WORST THING YOU WILL EVER SEE — EVER!!!
All right. Okay.
This was a Christmas many moons ago. That’s our older nephew in my lap. His name, I believe, is Buddha. Frankly, he’s the least offensive thing in this photo, so forget about him.
Okay. Explanation #1: My dad is actually a very talented artisan. He’s done amazing stained glass and is now into woodturning. So he goes through these phases until he decides he’s mastered the craft. This, horribly, was his tie-dye phase. So guess what we all got for Christmas? On the upside, and much to our collective relief, he abandoned the craft pretty quickly after Christmas when he realized he’d already traveled to the heart of tie dye and that it was very short trip, indeed. I don’t know why or how, really, MB skated out of wearing his for all the pictures that night, but I salute him, wily little devil. Look at Tie-Dye Buddha, though. He’s about 3 months old in this photo and clearly displeased, “See what I mean about material possessions?” he seems to be exhorting us all with his wise little eyes.
Explanation #2: We start opening presents at midnight on Christmas Eve. As you can see from the tee shirt bounty, the present opening is over. We are exhausted. Or I should say, I am exhausted. MB looks like a lively little elf, frankly. But me? Look at me, poor thing. My eyes have drooped from bedroom to basset hound and my upper lip has disappeared from hours of fake smiling about our explosive tie dye extravaganza. My hair is frizzled Bride of Frankenstein. And MB …. well, MB is wearing a festive Christmas beret! Or maybe he’s in a Che Guevara phase. Which is kinda the opposite of tie dye, mon. In this photo, we are weeks from being married. And looking at it now, I just scream, “Waait! There’s still time to rethink this, you goobers! LOOOOK at her, man! She is a mess with no upper lip and basset hound eyes and frizzled Frankenstein hair who willingly poses for pictures in tie dye! She is clearly mentally compromised! And LOOK at him, honey! He is …. well, he’s not posing in tie dye, that’s for sure, so he’s probably too smart for you but, uhm, he has a distinctive nose, nyaah!! CAN YOU LIVE YOUR WHOLE LIFE WITH THAT? CAN YOU???”
(Oh, I just found another photo from A Very Tie-Dyed Christmas, but I don’t have time to scan it now– it’s late!)
Tomorrow, mon.