Gilded Palace of Sin

iPhone iPass

On the day of the Worldwide Developers Conference where MacJeebus Steve Jobs unveiled the second coming of the iPhone, I was following his every word being uploaded by an attendee from Macrumors.com from the back seat of a VW Jetta cruising down Interstate 75 thanks to my first generation iPhone. I read with rapt attention about the new Apps store, the bona fide GPS and the blazing, near-cable like download speeds of the new AT&T 3G network and instantly started a countdown calendar for July 11— the day this new piece of heaven would be available. At $200, how could I not?

Well, that was until I discovered that AT&T was increasing the cost of my monthly data plan by $10. But that wasn’t the deal breaker for me. AT&T built a faster network and someone has to pay for that faster speed is understandable. But the fact that they are taking away the 200 text messages included with my current $20 data plan and will  require me to pay $5 for that same amount of text messages in addition to the now $30 data plan left me feeling a little...well, violated.

And it was this unease with paying $15 more every month that made me take a step back from the shiny, 3G hype and truly examine what I was getting for such a substantial monthly increase in my bill. The result? Not so much really.

A GPS and faster downloads WHEN I am not on a wifi network.

You see, the new iPhone software will be a free upgrade for ALL current and new iPhone users - so I will have complete access to the Apps store. A GPS? Certainly a cool thing, but in reality —PM’s car already has a GPS with voice prompts that is far more reliable and useful than the blue blinking dot of the iPhone GPS. And the blazing download speed? Absolutely. But I recently checked the amount of data I download from the network and figured out that I do far more web surfing from my iPhone over free wifi than from AT&T’s current network. Atlanta is a pretty wired-up place, so it’s fairly easy to always be near at least one (if not several) available public wifis—and if not—I will hardly die from old age before Facebook loads on the current Edge network.

So, yeah. Nice features—but I’m just not convinced I will use them enough to justify paying an additional $15 a month to have them. If my current data plan WITH the 200 text messages had increased by only $10—there would be no question—I would be making plans to be at the store this Friday. It’s just $5, but it’s also the principal of the thing.

Isn’t it odd how something that seems outwardly inconsequential like that can suddenly make you put the brakes on and re-evaluate something? I wonder how many other times in my daily life I don’t do that when I should.

So for now, I will be holding on to my first generation iPhone (with the upgraded software) and my current plan—at least for another 19 months when my contract expires—at which point, I will re-evaluate my re-evaluation.

3G iPhone,...we coulda had something.

Life Is A Mystery...Everyone Must Stand Alone...

When you call my name, it's like a little prayer...I'm down on my knees, I wanna take you there...

Stan, like a virgin at the Vortex in Midtown

Decapitation: One Flag

Does anyone else find it just a little weird and ironic that a kid was decapitated at an amusement park who’s current television ad campaign features a disembodied head?

And consider this—The head is of an asian man.

The unfortunate kid’s name?

Asia.

And Preserve It Right There In That Jar

The best thing I can say about this week is that it’s almost over. That’s really it. I won’t bore you, but suffice to say that being the lone ranger at the office with a new person still finding their way and multiple deadlines exploding around you, well, can just have that effect on your outlook. But it’s okay—like I said, I see the light at the end of the tunnel and I think it’s looking more like the bottom of a glass. Filler’ up.

So—some catching up to do.

Last weekend was good— highlights included Friday night carb fest at Fellini’s with One(F)Jef and then a late-night gab fest at the pool. Saturday saw me gleaning junk and organizing all the closets in my condo and rediscovering the floor of each. Sat night I met PM at the airport as he returned from an overnight stay in Chicago. We had dinner at Gilberts (on the company dime) and then coffee and a little yummy at Chocolate Pink before training it back to Buckhead. Sunday was spent poolside testing the manufacturer's claim that my new rolling cooler could truly hold 51 cans. It could, but sadly I could not. I had to stop at 18. Interesting fact about me: beer makes me nap

Atlanta Pride is cranking up for next weekend, so I’ve been doing my share to see that all that shirtless hotness doesn’t go unrecorded in megapixels. The festival’s (hopefully) temporary new home, The Civic Center, is an unfamiliar place - so I will be a little lost for the first day I’m sure. Also, I’m coming down from the roof this year to get all street-level during the parade—so I won’t be able to spit and pee on passersby,..well, I guess I still could, but the lack of gravity and altitude would take all the fun out of it

On tap for the weekend—more of the same from last weekend, although the plan is to switch from beer to white sangria, finish David Sedaris’ new book and try a new Mex place called Bone Garden as well.

Crawling

Is it just me or does it seem like today is like the longest day?

...Oh, wait. Doh!

You Make Things All Rhyme

The weekend was the kind that makes you wish it was made of paper, so you could cut it out with scissors and paste it in a book to keep. Nothing overly grand or incredible as a whole, but many separate moments that were just special and wonderful for small reasons and no reason other than for being with the one person you want to be in every moment with—and not a moment without.

Mushy, California wedding moment aside— just kidding, hello to all my betrothed friends in the golden state. The weekend was good—with few downs, so let’s get them out of the way first. As I feared, The Happening just...well, didn’t. Poor script, lethargic acting and bottom line—it just wasn’t scary. Like, at all. And with no scares, you’re left with what amounts to probably the longest snuff film ever made. Definitely wait for the DVD and then use it as a coaster while you watch a much better film—like Ishtar.

Saturday was sleeping in, despite PM’s early risings and being off to do charts and kiddie brain stuff. I barely remember kissing him goodbye as I rolled over and didn’t stir for another three hours. A pot of coffee and some quality time with the Les Paul while watching muted TV later—I did my grocery shopping for the week and then busied myself in the kitchen making the first banana pudding of the summer. That slight tremor was my mother rolling like a dervish in her grave because I decided to see how low fat/low cal I could make this bellymaker of a dessert. Despite the calorie cutting, it was da bomb at our evening cookout—the ending to an incredible spread of grilled chicken, pineapple shrimp skewers, and an excellent Pokie. I think white sangria might be my new drink for this summer.

Since no one wanted the evening to end, we decided to reconvene the afternoon for a mimosa-fueled brunch on the patio at Front Page News in Midtown. Incredible weather and with the corner fans keeping the humidity at bay— we made a day of it, leaving only after the Bloody Mary Bar looked as depleted as a dress rack at Filene’s after the Running of the Brides. Upon saying our goodbyes, PM and I walked down to Outwrite and did some book shopping before taking the long way back to MARTA thru the park—the very lush and green park mind you. Back home, I loaded up the cooler and headed to the pool to hang out with the neighbors for a few hours while PM napped and took in some more brain-porn. After dinner at Wolfgang Pucks Express, we took our Sunday evening stroll with our own Puck through the mansion-bedecked enclaves of Buckhead and reminded ourselves to buy lottery tickets. A Monday morning dental appointment had PM spending a rare—and wonderful—Sunday night at my place. Slept like a baby.

Typing just doesn’t do it justice—I guess it’s true—sometimes you just have to be there.

Week ahead is strangely packed socially. Tonight is haircut and then Casablanca at the Fox. Tomorrow is an after-work Happy Hour at Loca Luna and Thursday is straight date night with the Poodle for Song of the Living Dead —which I was just warned contains “copious amounts of brain eating and you may get wet.” So I’m off to Poster Hut to pick up a splatter shield.

Bad Luck And Trouble

Despite my childhood immersion in the superstitions of my Mother, Friday the 13th has no effect on me. In fact, I even like to whistle past the graveyard if you will by taking extra time to walk under ladders and seek out black cats today. So far so good.

I just read the AJC’s review of Song of the Living Dead, the new musical at Dad’s Garage (site of the infamous Bacon Fest) and I quote:

“a sick, scabrous, sacrilegious orgy of raunchiness and poor taste that derives naughty comedic pleasure by gleefully and willfully offending the conservative milieu."

How can I NOT buy tickets now? That’s like the best review of something I’ve ever read. God! I want that carved on my tombstone or at least on my Facebook profile.

In keeping with the macabre theme of the day—PM and I are heading out tonight to catch M. Night Shama-lama-ding-dong’s new film The Happening. PM is as excited as a little gurl, but I am withholding my giddiness. To me, each film since The Sixth Sense has sucked just a little bit more than the one before it—with The Lady In The water just being out and out atrocious. This could be the one that redeems his barely breathing career as a director or a total waste of $10. Anyway - it will be fun to watch PM bury his face into my shoulder and then jump like a school girl every few minutes.

I can’t just send you away unprotected against the ill fates that possibly await us all today, so better than a rabbit’s foot or four leaf clover, I give you this.

Them Homesick Blues And The Radical Views

When I say five days of nothing, I mean five days of glorious nothing—albeit pool side with the most strenuous activity being raising a glass,,,or glasses rather. Suffice to say that my master plan vacation proceeded beautifully and almost exclusively outside at the pool/beach for hours and hours. I gained somewhat of a tan and lost part of my liver function I’m sure—but I call that a good trade. I did eat some solids —and they weren’t all cocktail garnish either—excellent Tex Mex, Cuban, Thai and Saturday night’s dinner at Boma was perfect. Other adventures included being trapped in an elevator, avoiding Mesothelioma, and surviving another day amongst the queers at Magic Kingdom. I’m telling ya -—the beach is real fun y’all! One of these days, I’ll put my glass down long enough to post pictures.

Vacation's End

Can You Spot The Clevely Hidden Queers?