October 2010

I’m a pretty big fan of Sunday morning.  For my money, there’s nothing better than a four mile walk with Gretta (before 7am) followed by a fresh breakfast, a pot-o-joe, and the Sunday paper. It’s a ritual of sorts and I’ve really come to cherish it. While reading over this week’s circulars I stumbled upon something so fascinating and mind-boggling that I knew I had to find a way to get my hands on it. To preface, (Chris, I think I can speak for you here as well)  we love Ed Hardy. I know what you’re thinking, and no, we don’t love him just for the t-shirts, the body glitter, or the self tanning solution…and no, it’s not the trucker hats, the colognes, the tattoos or the jeans…it’s the WINE! THE WINE!

That’s right, Ed Hardy aka “The Godfather of the modern tattoo” not only specializes in tattoos, custom denim stylings and comfortable cotton/polyester blends, he also makes and mean Chardonnay. Check it out: http://www.edhardywines.com/

In fact, Ed Hardy knows so much about wine he keeps his Cabernet’s Sauvignon on ice…

Being the wine critic that I am I made my way to the store and picked up Mr. Hardy’s famous Cab and a nice Moscato as well. People, let me tell you something, I know what I’m buying everyone I care about for Christmas this year. The answer: not Ed Hardy wine. But, on a side note, I was able to get my hands on some exclusive hand-woven Anna baskets from Vietnam.


Heya Ma, you could at least give me a lemonade or sumthin!

While we’re on the subject of complaining, I want to complain about the dickheads out there who complain about other dickheads in cutoff shorts. The second set of dickheads I’m referring to aren’t so much dickheads but regular folk, like yours truly, who just want their pants short…shorts if you will. As I was walking past a gentleman and his 5 yr old the other day in a sport store, I said “excuse me” as I moved past them wearing my cut off jean shorts and T-Shirt. As much as I thought he muttered something like ” uh huh,” or “mmm hmm,” it turned out I was in fact..wrong. Indeed he called me a “fucking fag.” Now, if I remember correctly, I DID NOT have his cock and balls in my throat, so clearly I was confused by this outburst..especially in Los Angeles.

I don’t even limit my pant mending to denims…I makes shorts out of thin waled courderoy pants, khaki pants, and sometimes my pajama bottoms if I’m slumbering in the desert. I gotta say, though. I haven’t slumbered there in a little while. Turns out there’s no moisture there, so my cuticles just get crusty.

Anyway, I’ve heard Glee is pretty good.

Keep the hope alive.



I guess my outfit WAS  a bit revealing.

Well, I hate Glee. After one year of episodes I feel that I have seen and heard enough to make this declaration of hatred one of public record. I literally hate every…single…minuscule facet of Glee. Correction: I hate everything other than the teacher/glee club curator’s wardrobe which is entirely furnished by J.Crew. Actually, his wardrobe makes me hate Glee even more because I don’t own that clothing and I yearn to do wear it, touch it, and pickup sweet ladies while sporting it. So, in summation, Glee is a sham of a show. Watch something good like…Words and Colors!