I feel Spring today. Not that it is much different than the previous few days but perhaps because we’ve had a string of sunshine and warmth my soul has gotten in the mood. When we lived in San Jose, Spring was heralded with the aroma of Osmanthus fragrans all around the valley. As well as the apricot blossoms and such – but that intense scent of Osmanthus was pervasive. I detected that yesterday on a short walk, which triggered memories of life in the suburbs, with a garden and a long warm season. (Cue thousand-page recollection here, a la Proust. No, on second thought I’ll spare us all. My francais is rusty anway.)
Boo wants to help blog
In San Francisco, nothing means Spring has arrived like the annual GAYVN awards. This time hosted by Margaret Cho, with Janice Dickinson and Alec Mapa too! At the Castro Theatre, third year in a row I believe.
Stop AIDS Project is sponsoring the “Tailgate” pub crawl event tonight. Should be lots of fun and people – given the great weather I expect to see everyone out.
The stars are in town for the event, check out either of the Gold’s gym locations. I saw Nick Moretti working out at the Castro location today. Looks like his ribs are healing okay. And of course, they will be out tonight at the Tailgate events. See you all there!
P.S. When Gay Today asked who was the person most likely to have an After-party only a publicist could cover up the answer was (ta-dah):
“Is there even a question that it’s not Erik Rhodes? That’s why we love him! We just hope we’re there when it happens!”
Erik called me the other day to say he would be in LA for a shoot and do I want to tag along with him for the weekend since we hadn’t been able to catch up with each other when he was here in SF for the GayVN Awards last month. Erik hates San Francisco, and with my employment (or lack of) situation, we seldom get to see each other anymore. I checked my Southwest points, and since I could get a free ticket and my boyfriend is in a tennis tournament anyway all weekend I decided to go. So Friday afternoon I fight my way through the SFO check-in and security screening to catch the LUV plane to LAX. Erik has a Falcon assistant meet me at LAX and I assume he’s still busy on the shoot. I told him I want to check it out sometime but, Erik being a shy guy at heart when you get past his muscled porn-star exterior, I haven’t pressed it. I tell the driver to head up La Cienega because it looks like he’s going to try getting on the Santa Monica freeway instead, and I nearly have a panic attack. We’re headed to the Marmont. I stay there whenever I can to soak up the celebrity history. Keep your shiny cool W in Westwood; give me John Belushi’s bungalow. I don’t tell Erik that. He just thinks I get a special rate at the Marmont. I’m not even fully checked in and I get a call from Erik, on his way to get me. It turns out he finished shooting Thursday; today he was on a “personal errand.” Shy yes, but horny too. Mary, Joseph and Jesus hasn’t he been laid enough this week? Three hours later we’re seated at Mozza’s the new new in spot for foodies in LA. I’m impressed, and we get a great table too. We’re pretty looped already from cocktails (sidecars, Erik sticks with the classics) at Abbey in WeHo. We chatted with Chi Chi for a while there (love her!). But too soon we’re in the car again and head off into the traffic on Beverly, with Erik’s Falcon assistant, and Erik is trying to tell the guy how to get to the restaurant. I try to think of a polite way to tell Erik he’s reading the google map reverse directions but the driver is already pulling up under a portico and we’re there. So like I said, we get a great table; in fact we’re within spitting distance of Jake Gyllenhaal and Matthew McConaughey (I thought those two had broken up?) so I have to force myself not to gawk. Then I see why Erik has brought us here. Erik gives a royal hand-wave to a table (next to the kitchen LOL) and I recognize among a group of people apparently having some sort of party one of Erik’s ex’s. So I know something’s up, and can’t wait for the fireworks to break out. Porn-star bitch fight? Tossed martinis? This trip is so worth it already! I look around for Chi Chi’s reality show “Live and Raw” crew in case they’re hidden somewhere here. Anyway we take our time ordering and have another cocktail. Next thing I know Erik decides “it’s time.” He tells me to get down under the table. Do I hesitate? Do I question why on earth I should get down on the floor under a table at Nancy Silverton’s new restaurant in Larchmont on a crowded Friday night, just a spit away from Jake Gyllenhaal? Hell no! I’m on my hands and knees hidden under the long-drop tablecloth but for my Ferragamos (yes you heard that right; I may be unemployed but I’ve got good shoes). Erik didn’t brief me, but he knows I’m one to play along with a prank. I hear him making a low-frequency moaning sound, gradually rising in volume and pitch, and this repeats and he throws in some oh yeah oh yeahs. I get it so I add in some muffled choking sounds. I’m wondering if he’s seen When Harry met Sally, isn’t he too young for that? I’m worrying I’ll never get back in this restaurant but then again I’m only in because of Erik anyway. So I keep playing along. Luckily, and this is relative to the context, his ex arrives quickly to start the porn-star bitch fight so I get out from under and pretend to go to the bathroom before I get a drink thrown at me. Erik and his ex trade insults that would have done Joan Crawford and Bette Davis proud. His ex runs out of the restaurant. No drinks were harmed in the exchange. Erik is such a great guy he tells the waiter to charge the other table’s tab to him. And with that, and before I can even nibble an hors d’ouevre, we leave for a private party.
