I hate to start out any entry with bitterness or hatred or negativity, but this must be said. If I hear Celine Dion wailing about how she drove all night just one more time, I'm going to sprinkle arsenic in my own espresso and wait calmly for relief to come.
* * *
Twenty-six days until the Queer As Folk season three premier. How happy am I?! It's been about nine months since I've been able to quench my thirst for beautiful gay men ploughing each other on a weekly basis. I started psyching myself up for it with this morning's shower music selection. I slid the QAF UK soundtrack in and hit repeat on Jimmy Sommerville's cover of Can't Take My Eyes Off of You. Then, for good measure, It's Raining Men was the score behind my eye-makeup application. Tomorrow morning will be the soundtrack for QAF US Season One; the next day Season Two. It's gonna be a gay ol' week! Oh, I know, the writing is horrible, the acting is mediocre at best and the production values are on par with my chequing account just before pay-day. But, hello!
Gorgeous! Gay! Men! Having! Sex!
What more do you need?
* * *
My mother had an appointment to have her picture taken today. Some kind of promotional thing for the financial institution she works for. She was wearing a grey top under her suit jacket, and as lovely as it is, I suggested that she perhaps try something that brings forth her colour a little more. She told me that it's a black and white picture. So then I said that she definitely needs something else. My long-ago theatrical agent said that wearing black, white or red would always wash you out in black and white pictures. I have no idea whether this is true, but why tempt a bad picture, right?
"So what about this one?" Mummy said, holding up a black velvet top.
I sighed. "Mother, no black, white or red. It'll wash you out."
"So what was wrong with grey?"
"I don't know, but isn't grey just a few shades from both white and black, thereby still in the same family and to be avoided? Plus, I can't imagine that it'll do you well in a black and white photo."
"Ok. Fine. What about this?" And she held up a red blouse.
"Mother, dammit! No black, white, or red. Or grey!"
"So what do I wear?"
"Anything but black, white, red or grey."
"What about my suit jacket? That's black. My other suit is grey. My other suit is red!"
I sighed again. "Mummy, the jacket doesn't matter. It's the colour that's directly below your face that you need to worry about."
"So I can't wear the black top with the red jacket, then?"
My God. My mother is not a stupid woman. But she has the ability to lead a perfectly sensible life while still maintaining a slight sense of cluelessness.
Lovely. Well, now we know where I get it fromů
Right. Off I go. Enjoy you day, my beauties. Wear the colour that proves you're happy.
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