Take that, Buck!
Alastair and I hunkered down last night in front of the TV with a bottle of wine, bread and cheese, a lovely caesar salad (anchovies aplenty!), and some pizza. The occasion — yesterday’s midterm election — was considerably less jovial than our usual get-togethers: Project Runway, Top Chef, Glee. And while it wasn’t good news for the Dems, it could have been a lot worse, especially here in Colorado. We don’t often get political at DOD — this may be the first time we’ve used the “politics” tag– but we can’t help ourselves right now.
As of this writing — 11:15 AM on Wednesday — the Denver Post has called the election for Michael Bennet; both CNN and the Times have him up by more than 10,000 votes over the odious Ken Buck, though have not made it official on their websites. Bennet is also giving a victory speech today at noon. Do we love Michael Bennet? Not so much. The appointed Senator had never run for office when he was selected by Bill Ritter in some old-boys-backroom deal to fill the seat vacated by Ken Salazar. Strange as it may seem, we do have various elected representatives in Colorado he could have selected, people with experience in electoral politics. But no. Combine this with the fact that Bennet is not exactly a charmer and we remain skeptical: about his record, about his abilities.
But Ken Buck. Come on Colorado! He was a garden variety Tea Party wing-nut until he made it personal for your DOD boys, comparing homosexuality to alcoholism. According to Buck, both might have some basis in biology, but that homosexuality is a choice. Really?!? (And does this apply to alcoholism as well? A choice?) Combine this with his anti-amnesty, anti-choice, anti-separation-of-church-and-state crazy conservatism, and we were downright embarrassed for lil’ ol’ Colorado. Until that embarrassment was trumped by anger that he was so popular. So we’re pleased that Colorado voters seem to have preferred Bennet to Buck — barely — and that they rejected all the crazy amendments and that they turned their backs on Tom Tancredo as well. We can hold our heads up reasonably high — at least not duck them down — when we leave the Centennial State, knowing that, like Nevada and Delaware, we didn’t send the Tea Party to the Senate. Our condolences to the gays and progressives of Florida and Kentucky.
Walt and Wendy Do Denver (Part Three)
Friday evening, in my new role as Cruise Director, I reunited with my San Francisco gal pals Walt and Wendy and their super cute companion Jess (who was sporting an adorable chunky necklace) for a post-conference cocktail at The Corner Office located in the Curtis Hotel at 14th and Curtis. CURTIS, much? There was only one question on everyone’s mind that evening: What happened to Whitney!? She was not seen at the conference that day… and her roommate was also missing in action. Was she OK? Did she survive the night? Did she get alcohol poisoning? These questions would linger in our minds for the remainder of the night as we waited for Jess to receive a text message update. So, in an effort to take our thoughts off such worries we ordered some tasty cocktails and a selection of delicious shared plates from our tattooed server: a trio of sliders, empanadas, fish tacos, and tempura shoshito peppers stuffed with crab. Yum! We also took notice of the large amount of ink liberally applied to the remianing staff of the Office. Apparently it was a prerequisite to work that evening’s shift.
The Bar at Beatrice & Woodsley
I must confess, over the past few days I had been talking up BoyzTown to both Wendy and Walt. I’m not sure exactly why… It certainly was not for anything spectacular, like the “Male Revue,” but perhaps more for the fact that something like this actually existed in Denver. The boys were excited. After sending Jess off to her flight back to the City by the Bay, Wendy was ready to go! However, it was too early and I wanted to invite my guests to share a civilized cocktail at Beatrice & Woodsley, the South Broadway bar / restaurant know for its unique rustic cabin interior lined with Aspens and chain saws. [Side note: Walt will need to strengthen his hand-washing skills before using B&W’s one-of-a-kind faucet and sink on his next visit. Just saying. It's a simple pully system people. This ain't the dark ages.]
One round of cocktails, one crawfish beignet appetizer, and one a call into the office later, it was still too early to show ourselves at BoyzTown. So, we decided to stop by the nearby not-so-hot-spot, Compound/Basix. This would be the evening that Walt earned his nom de plume. BTW, I love how every gay bar in this town describes themselves as “Denver’s Best.” Really? I digress. Walt, dressed in conference attire: jeans, shirt, tie, sweater, blazer, and chucks, apparently caused quite a stir among the Compound cognoscenti, earning him many compliments. Some welcomed, so not so much. This struck Walt as odd, but this is Denver where ill-fitting jeans, and an Abercrombie & Fitch t-shirt reign supreme. In typical Blake and Alastair fashion, Walt and Wendy often took notice of the terrible jeans that endlessly plague Menver. One gentleman, who took a break from dancing all by his lonesome commented that Walt looked liked something along the lines of an English poet. Walt also had an interesting and similar encounter at 3:00 in the afternoon the same day with a woman drinking her fifth margarita in the Four Seasons elevator. I decided that if I wanted a little more attention in these parts, all I had to do was wear a tie and a blazer, or something along the same lines. Easy enough.
Give it up, give it up for BoyzTown.
Then, finally, Boyztown. Oh Boyztown. Give it up, give it up for Tyler . Give it up for sexy Tyler. A master of disguise… Tyler was striking up conversations left and right with Walt. Oh, our “Little Nugget.” There was lumberjack Tyler, business man Tyler, and Denver Nugget Tyler. Tyler, just about more than any other performer that evening, put some serious thought into his outfits. Give it up, give it up for Tyler .
All of the BoyzTown excitement must have worn out Wendy. He decided it was time to go back to the hotel for the night… shocking indeed! In the meantime, Walt chatted up Tyler, and we had a rather interesting conversation with Jackson regarding his original Rufskin padded chest piece with adjustable straps. And we were generally enjoying ourselves so much that four hours later, the lights were on and we got the hell out of Dodge!
Before sending Walt off into his cab, we stopped around the corner at El Diablo’s late-night taco window to grab ourselves a snack. That torta had to be one of the best I’ve had in recent memory. If you find yourself looking for something lat at night, I highly suggest El Diablo’s taco window. Quick, fresh, and super delicious.
Walt and Wendy Do Denver (Part Two)
On Thursday, Blake and I accompanied Walt, Wendy, and a small band of Walt’s conference gal pals for our second (and big) night on the town. And dear DOD readers, it was a bigger night for some, than it was for others. I was feeling like your friendly Cruise Director, Julie McCoy by the end of the night, and one of my passengers would unfortunately experience a case of seasickness. No. Lie.
Alastair, your friendly Cruise Director
Feeling lightly lubricated, thanks to a conference-related gathering at the DAM (and the higher altitude), our out-of-town guests were looking to start their evening out in the world on the right foot. I was confident they would enjoy the legendary Cruise Room just off the lobby of The Oxford Hotel, based on my past experience. The Art Deco décor, the neon-lighted wall panels depicting different toasts from around the world, and the classic cocktail menu did not disappoint our sophisticated visitors. After some lively conversation and a few cocktails some of Walt’s gal pals ordered food from the McCormick’s Fish House menu and I quickly began to plan our next move.
Given the night of the week, the size of our group, and the growing intoxication of some, I knew JR.’s, “Denver’s favorite, award-winning GLBT bar” was the right choice. We grabbed our taxicabs and headed to JR.’s, but not before Blake and I stopped by Steuben’s for a quick bite that did not require us to rub shoulders with six other guests.
The Cruise Room at The Oxford Hotel
By the time we arrived at JR’s it was clear that one member of Walt’s conference posse, let’s call her Whitney, was letting the booze get the best of her. At one moment, while everyone was seated outside and I was waiting in line to grab a round of drinks, I look over to one corner of the bar to spot Whitney, sitting by herself, drink in hand, and phone on the bar. Despite her intoxication, and frequent declaration of said inebriation, Whitney continued to throw back one cocktail after the next, and to the surprise of many.
After spotting Mondo Guerra from afar, Wendy decided that he had seen all that JR.’s had to offer and yours truly was feeling the pressure to come up with a solution. Charlie’s, the country western themed bar on East Colfax and home to the infamous disco boots! “No matter who you are, you always know that there’s ALWAYS A PARTY AT CHARLIE’S!!!” But, seriously, Wendy could not have been more excited. Walt was beside himself. I could not tear my eyes away from the somewhat hipster hottie in the torn flannel shirt that was tearing up the dance floor. The same excitement was shared by the rest of our guests, except Whitney, who in our excitement realized that she had disappeared, having taken a cab back to her hotel. I think this realization came to us after Blake headed back home. He had an early flight the next morning to the East Coast. So, unfortunately he would miss out on something that would keep Walt, Wendy, and me endlessly entertained for the remaining weekend.
Whitney's first text message
Whitney’s gal pal, who was sharing a room with her during the conference, received a text from Whitney, which she immediately shared with us. “I just vommmmmmed.” Not long after, another text would arrive. “I so siiick.” Seriously. I still laugh out loud when I say that. Maybe you had to be there… We all felt terrible, especially for the woman sharing a room with Whitney. But, what a journey, and what a way to end the night.
Walt and Wendy Do Denver (Part One)
As Blake recently revealed, there’s been all kinds of busyness going on. No. Lie. This past Wednesday Walt and Wendy, my very good San Francisco gal pals, descended on Denver. And dear DOD readers, Alastair felt the need to impress this longtime couple that enjoys the finer things in life. The result, to be relayed here over a series of posts, was an impressive ride across Menver.
The Lobby at the Four Seasons Hotel Denver
The evening of Walt and Wendy’s arrival, my Oklahoma gal pal and I decided to rendezvous with the pair at EDGE Bar, located in the new Four Seasons Hotel on 14th Street at Arapahoe. Walt conveniently secured a great deal on a room thanks to Hotels.com, foregoing the less than sexy Hyatt Regency Denver. For my Oklahoma gal pal, this would be her only chance to meet the much talked about pair and, honestly, we’ve been very interested in scoping out the interiors of this new, high-style hotel. We were rather impressed by the warm and inviting spaces of both the bar and adjacent EDGE Restaurant. I can see EDGE Bar becoming one of the see-and-be-seen watering holes in downtown Denver… Just one request, PLEASE turn down that loud, pumping club music playing just outside of the entrance.
After a few cocktails (and fancy bar snacks to whet our appetites) we decided it was time for dinner. The original plan to head over to Osteria Marco was derailed since it was well after 10:00 p.m. So, instead, we happily strolled down 14th to Euclid Hall Bar and Kitchen which serves food until midnight, Monday through Thursday. The four of us gave the extensive beer list and meat-laden menu a workout. .. and our server, who was very knowledgeable about the many, many beer choices, kindly offered us a number of tastings. We kicked things off with the Fried Cheddar Curds and a Pickle Sampler. The perfect start for our Upper Midwestern born and bred guests. Walt had the Stranahan Charred and Glazed Boneless Duroc Pork Chop with grilled cabbage that he quite enjoyed. Wendy gave the Chicken and Sourdough Waffles a try. While not profoundly pleased with his choice, Wendy did decide to stop by for a late lunch the next day that he very much enjoyed. I had the Fish N Chips. Beer battered cod, chips (literally chips, not fries), and a nice lemon tarragon aioli. Most notably, we all agreed that our Oklahoma gal pal’s choice, the Kobe Beef Kielbasa, was the hit of the night. Paired with a great Apple Cabbage Caraway Slaw, she made the best selections of night.
After dinner, we dropped the boys off, but not before we grabbed ourselves a sneak peek of the room. My Oklahoma gal pal (who knows her interiors) and I were most impressed by the bathroom. A LCD television is built into the vanity mirror, glass wash basins are underlit for a night-light glow, and the deep soaking tub was notable.
Walt and Wendy's Bathroom
It was just the beginning of a whirlwind weekend. More soon.
We ♥ Mondo Guerra Even More!
Mondo and his Model
His third consecutive win. The bold print and sleek little top. His adorable mother. His wry sense of humor. His humility. His coming out as HIV-positive on national television. His being our Denver neighbor. In short, what’s not to love?
Let’s also have a moment here for Valerie Mayen, whose designs may have bored us toward the end a wee bit, but who gave us one of the best parting moments we’ve had on Project Runway. As she talked about each designer, I kept expecting her to stumble and be less articulate in her description of the next one. But stumble she did not. Her comments were heartfelt, individualized, and moving. Dear reader, I am not ashamed to admit that between Mondo and Valerie and Tim, this DOD boy was sobbing like a small child. And that was not such a bad place to be.
See our Season Finale Wrap-up Here.
Blake’s Book Nook, Vol. III
Following the positive review of her new book in the Sunday Times book review, yesterday I picked up a copy of Rebecca Traister’s Big Girls Don’t Cry: The Election that Changed Everything for American Women. And I read the whole thing pretty much in one sitting last night. I did pause for dinner.
Traister’s book is an account of how gender politics played out in the 2008 election and what this meant for women then and means for them now and in future elections. Traister covered the election for Salon and saw many of the candidates in action. But more than what the candidates themselves said, this book is about how Americans — and the media especially — reacted to what they said, didn’t say, and what some believed they said even when they didn’t really. It’s about how the media dealt with the issue of gender: with the fact of a woman running for president, the first woman in the history of the United States to win a primary election; with a Republican vice-presidential nominee who claimed to be a feminist but was rejected by most others who claim that name; with the potential of the first African American first lady who happened to be as accomplished as her husband. It’s about sexism and sexist expectations for female politicians. And it’s a really good read.
Traister is open about her politics. She is a progressive feminist who votes for Democrats. At the beginning of the primary season she supported John Edwards, who, she rightly points out, had an agenda further to the left than either Clinton or Obama. As she also points out, he is a white guy, and could probably get away with being further to the left than the black guy or the white woman. That said, Edwards could not garner enough votes and dropped out of the race. Traister ends up voting for Clinton in the Super Tuesday primary. But she did so reluctantly, acknowledging that Obama and Clinton actually agreed on much but also that for almost all voters some form of identity politics was at play. One of Traister’s greatest arguments is about the way that those who might not have supported Clinton initially — in part because of her decision on the Iraq war, her being a Clinton, and her increasing centrism — came to do so precisely because of how horribly everyone was treating her. And on this count, Traister provides unassailable evidence. It makes you mad all over again.
And so the book is not an homage to Clinton, who, like all politicians, Traister sees as flawed in certain ways; instead it is an exploration of how Clinton was treated by the media as well as by all kinds of supposedly progressive white men whose vitriol for her struck Traister as pretty misogynist. Hear, hear! But Traister doesn’t stop there; she also looks at the reaction to Sarah Palin, a polarizing figure in all kinds of other ways. And to Michelle Obama, who was required — in the tradition of First Lady HRC — to tone down her own individuality and play up her wife- and motherhood in order to meet with much acceptance. Traister is also interested in the role of women in pop culture: feminist bloggers, feminist activists, newscasters, comediennes. The book includes excerpts from her interviews with Gloria Steinem, Shelby Knox, Katie Couric, Rachel Maddow, Samantha Bee, Amy Poehler, and many others.
I have one quibble with the book, or at least one that won’t be too much of a spoiler. Traister writes about the people who tended to support the different candidates she discusses (by age, sex, race, etc.) and, as I noted, pays particular attention to the ire that many supposedly liberal white dudes had for HRC (also noted by others at the time, including our blogging gal pal Historiann, to whom I will be lending this book). Traister characterizes them, in passing, as straight, but doesn’t delve into that so much. I would have liked to hear more about that, as it was always my impression at the time that many gay men were pretty enthusiastic about Hillary, even if they also had some of the misgivings that I have already mentioned (I’ll go on record, albeit pseudonymously, and put myself in this camp). So what might this have to do with being a straight guy? Why might some otherwise progressive straight dudes have found HRC so threatening, whereas their queer brethren did not? What might this have to do with the ways that straight men and gay men differently interact with (straight) women? I’ve got my theories but I would have loved to have heard Traister’s.
In sum, for those of us who are progressive and feminist, the book is pretty absorbing. For those of us who hope to see the day when a woman sits in the Oval Office, particularly a feminist woman, it’s a must-read. Traister believes that the 2008 elections actually got us closer to that goal. I sure hope she’s right.
A Deluxe Night on the Town
Sketch Wine Bar
Last night Alastair and I met up with our gal pals Christine and Justine for drinks and dinner and then far too many drinks, as it turned out. We rendezvoused (can I use the word that way?) at our fave, Sketch Wine Bar, at Broadway and 1st. There we enjoyed a few glasses of albariño and pinot grigio (we do like our dry whites) as we contemplated our dinner options. We had not made a reservation but we also weren’t ready to eat till around 9:00 and in Denver that is the equivalent of midnight in other cities, so our odds were good. We decided to try the nearby Deluxe; I was slightly worried that it might be too crowded (it’s not a big space, after all) but all worry was for naught. At that hour the place was nearly empty, mostly filled with fellow homosexuals, though of the female persuasion. Seriously, it was lesbian date night at Deluxe.
We ordered a couple appetizers to begin: the monsoon dumplings (filled with chicken and ginger) and the halibut ceviche. Both were quite tasty. We also had a nice bottle of California cabernet (OK, we had two; there were four of us). Justine and Alastair both opted for beef for their main course: the NY strip for Alastair and the T-bone special for Justine. Though both found their meat tasty, neither felt it was properly cooked to order. Alastair had ordered medium because he wanted rare but feared that it would be too rare. It arrived rare, so he got what he wanted but he had to be devious in order to do so. Justine requested his steak “bloody” and it, too, arrived rare. Maybe Alastair needn’t have worried after all; perhaps all meat is cooked rare at Deluxe? Christine and I, so tempted were we by all options on the menu, decided to split two of them. We ordered the Deluxe paella, one of their specialties, which I had had before. And the chicken Bolognese, made with wide flat noodles. Both were great. I am very picky about paella, in large part because there are just so many ways to do it wrong. It can easily be too granular (the rice should be quite sticky and almost glumpy) or it can be too saucy (paella is not gumbo). The seasoning can be off or the seafood portions can be stingy. But Deluxe’s paella suffers from none of these afflictions. It is true that they are a wee bit generous with the peas (and really who cares about peas in a paella?). Christine also found it a bit salty for his taste, but it seemed great to me. Granted, I could also bathe in a salt lick and be happy; in fact, I ended up salting my portion (as Christine looked on, horrified). The pasta was also very nice: well cooked with tangy tomato sauce and fresh ricotta and parsley.
The Bar at Deluxe
Two complaints about Deluxe: the décor needs some help. The leopard carpet is looking tired and the big mirrors and letters commanding one to EAT over the bar are starting to seem a little dated. Particularly when the place isn’t full it all just seems a little bit sad. This is nothing that can’t be fixed pretty easily, but fixed it should be. The waitstaff also seemed, it must be said, intoxicated. There was more confusion than was warranted by the small number of people present. And our waiter also committed what I consider to be one of the Seven Deadly Sins of Serving: he cleared plates before everyone was finished eating. Justine was still working away at his not-bloody-enough T-bone and he was doing it at a table devoid of all other plates. This is the sort of thing that can make a diner self-conscious. All plates should remain until all diners have finished. It’s as simple as that.
After dinner we headed to the nearby and tacky-as-ever Boyztown. And who should we see, but Mondo! Of course he must just have come from Fashion Week in New York and must also know who won this season of Project Runway. It might even be him! We left Mr. Guerra alone to enjoy the evening with his friends and proceeded to order far too many cocktails (your DOD boys were in pain this morning). Alastair also got rather friendly with one of the dancing boyz. Maybe Alastair will start demanding that we go to Boyztown more often to see his newfound friend. Maybe this will be like a gay version of Pretty Woman! (I get to be the sassy Kit DeLuca.)
After Boyztown, somehow we convinced ourselves that we still weren’t done and headed back to the ‘hood for a nightcap AND a second meal at the absurdly spelled Barricuda’s. Yes, with an i. Apparently Barricuda’s is open till 4 AM but their 2 AM last call — get this — is not a last call to order alcohol, but instead to consume it. Anything not imbibed by 2 is actually confiscated. I have never experienced such a thing. What is the reasoning behind this? Can anyone explain?
We ♥ Mondo Guerra
Mondo Guerra
Before I talk about the ways that Mondo Guerra has worked his way into our hearts, let me say a few other things about last night’s show:
- People are really funny talking about Ivy: She can sew, but she’s not so much as a designer. She’s intense and bitchy and exacting. She thinks pretty highly of herself.
- Gretchen — despite a few snide comments about Casanova — seems to have calmed down somewhat from her earlier antics. Perhaps she took Tim’s criticism to heart?
- Kristen Bell? Really?!? Has it come to this, Project Runway? Is she about to appear in some Lifetime TV movie and this was something worked out with the network? ’Cause she is hardly known for her fashion forward choices. Aside from Veronica Mars and that unfortunate looking film about some wedding in Italy with Josh Duhamel, she is hardly known at all. Did you see the dress she was wearing? Did you see the way that Kors and Heidi and la Garcia hardly interacted with her? Did you hear her say that she would wear April’s “dress” on the red carpet? Did you hear her describe herself as punk baby doll? Did you ask yourself why that would be a good idea for an aesthetic? As far as guest judges go, it was a train wreck from beginning to end.
But now on to MONDO! Yes, he may have designed a “junior” outfit (a term heretofore confined to department stores) that the judges hated. Yes, even we may have thought it was a bit silly looking, but for all these reasons, we love him still:
- His description of Ivy: “She’s a powerhouse and a bossy lady.”
- His wonderful turnaround on the Michael C front. Do I love Michael C? I do not. But Mondo seems to have realized that he may have judged him too harshly. And he said this, not only to us at home, but also to Michael himself, apologizing for being a bitch and a dick and a jerk. Props to Mondo.
- And then he did so again on the runway, claiming that whatever faults his outfit had, they were not because of Michael’s sewing.
- His outfits! I loved the little suit with the pink shirt and the bowtie. Adorable!
- His hair! So many options, so many styles!
- His tiny little limbs in those shorts and t-shirts. Alastair and I are on the smaller side ourselves and we do like to see the non-muscled gays represent.
- He’s from Denver!
Mondo Guerra, will you be our friend when you return to the Mile High City? This city needs more folks like you. Where do you hang out? Who are your friends? Do you belong to a little clique of fashionable hipsters? If so, can we join you? Please email us at downandoutindenver AT gmail DOT com.
9/17 Post-Mondo Win Update: Click Here and Click Here for 9/30 Update after his third win.
See our Season Finale Wrap-up Here.
Modernism and Beyond
Friday evening was quite the experience for your DOD boys. They did indeed go to the Denver Modernism Show, but they did so much else last night as well.
Free drinks, entertainment, and special guests were the rule of thumb at the Denver Modernism Show Early VIP Gala… and they use the term gala very loosely. Black Tie it was not. Blake and I had the pleasure of being some of the first to shop the show, alongside our fellow modernism enthusiasts: Mr. and Ms. B, and the fashionable, Ginger Snap. We were kindly greeted, on multiple occasions, by Charles Phoenix, the self-proclaimed “King of Retro.” Our VIP tickets got us two free cocktails: Your choice of Mai Tai, Blue Hawaiian, or some other rum cocktail at the fabulously decorated Tiki Bar. Blake don’t care for rum, but I’ll drink just about anything, especially if it comes free with admission and an umbrella. We were also treated to live music, heavily tattooed hula girls, and some unmemorable entertainment. Yours truly fell in love with some serious chartreuse colored champagne/sherbet cocktail glasses (see below) by the versatile Russel Wright, designed to complement his recently reissued American Modern dinnerware. At twenty dollars a piece, I had to painfully pass, but they would have been a spectacular addition to a mid-century modern themed New Year’s Eve party.
Keeping in line with the mid-century theme, Ms. B suggested dinner and drinks at Bastien’s Restaurant and Steakhouse, located on East Colfax Avenue, near the Bluebird Theater. Blake has visited Bastien’s before, but this was Alastair’s first visit. Let’s say my expectations were not high, but I was tremendously pleased with my entire experience.
Bastien’s is an old school steakhouse and bar with an interesting architectural design. Started by William Bastien in 1937 when he bought out the Moon Drive Inn, the present twelve-sided building was constructed in 1958 and has a sort of subtle Googie flair—an exaggerated modern architectural style seen in the coffee shops, bowling alleys, and motels of the 1950s and 1960s. After a drink at the bar lounge, Blake and I, alongside Mr. and Ms. B and Ginger Snap sat down for a wonderful dining experience. Now, Bastien’s is not inexpensive, but compared to the prices we pay at Potager, this was a bargain and we were well fed! We all started with salads. I had the Caesar, while everyone else had the Ice Berg wedge with Blue cheese dressing and bacon crumbles. My salad came with grilled romaine, a very nice touch, and plenty of shaved parmesan cheese and croutons, along with a tasty balsamic reduction and a DOD favorite, anchovies! Ms. B received something that looked more like half a head of lettuce, rather than a wedge. But who’s complaining!
Moving onto dinner, Blake ordered LaLa’s Steak, a ten ounce New York steak grilled with fresh lime and cracked pepper, served with fresh peppers and pico de gallo. Mr. and Ms. B went with a German theme. Mr. B enjoyed his Beef Liver sautéed with onions, “just like mom made,” and seasoned mashed potatoes. Ms. B seemed very pleased with her wiener schnitzel. Ginger had the pork chop special and I chose the ten ounce New York with Deep Fried Shrimp. It came with a reasonably sized baked potato with sour cream, butter, cheese, and chives, and the steak was perfectly cooked to a true medium rare. Delicious! We ended our meal with some apple pie sizzling skillet dessert with vanilla ice cream. The perfect ending to a perfect meal.
After going our separate ways, Blake and I enjoyed a brisk walk down Colfax to grab ourselves a night-cap at HER BAR located at Colfax and Washington. According to the website Fridays at HER BAR are FemmeBar with DJ Love, who seemed to be spinning an eclectic mix of 80s new wave and current hits by Usher, Gaga, and others. We grabbed ourselves a seat at the bar and a drink. Blake was intrigued by reruns of The Nanny projected onto an interior wall. Is Fran Drescher a lesbian? Is there some lesbian connection that we DOD boys are unaware of? Clearly, the Nanny was a gay icon… I mean look at those highlight clips on YouTube. Just saying.
In any case, the DOD boys seemed to be a magnet for the more interesting ladies enjoying themselves last night. My friend, whose name I did not catch, was clearly a fan of the drink. Tired of waiting for a refill and patience running thin, she decided to continually stand then sit until finally waving her hands in the air as though she was directing a 747 from its final approach to the gate. Blake’s lady friend, Nila, was much cuter than mine… but perhaps just as drunk. I don’t know much about Nila, but the girl liked to dance… and apparently found the two of us very interesting. We later met her gal pal Fay, who had no idea “what was going on.” As the night went on, Nila became even more friendly. I think she may have slightly molested Blake as Fay and I chatted offline. I hope that Nila understood that she wasn’t going to get very far. In any case, we found HER (or HER, or HER, or HER) BAR lots of fun and an amusing way to end the evening. We’ll be back Nila, don’t you worry your pretty little big pocket shorts! And the DOD boys will have their dancing shoes with them next time!
Project Runway, Season 8
The Cast of Season Eight
Needless to say, we here at DOD are super excited for the beginning of Season Eight of Project Runway. I was galavanting around the East Coast on premiere night so only caught it upon my return. It looks like we could have a whole lot of fun this time around. I’m not thoroughly convinced that they are all super-talented, but I’m certainly ready to be surprised. At this point there are so many of them and their clothes come down the runway so rapidly that it’s a little difficult to keep things straight in my head. A few thoughts:
Where is Models of the Runway?!? It is difficult to figure out what’s going on from MyLifetime.com, but the new 90-minute format of PR and the lack of MotR this first week suggest that it is a thing of the past. I have to admit, and though it took me a little while to get used to, I actually really liked MotR. I’m going to miss it. And there is no way that it can be replaced by On the Road with Austin and Santino. You could not pay me to watch that.
There are definitely some cute boys, chief among them Christopher Collins and A.J. Thouvenot. And girls; I like that Sarah Trost.
Jason Troisi would be cute if he never, ever, actually opened his mouth. Not just to speak but because his cuteish face is ruined by something that happens when he smiles. Or, of course, talks. Because he is apt to emphasize his love of breasts or his 100% pure Italian heritage or his penchant for hats that will intimidate others.
Peach Carr may be out of her league but I really hope she lasts. Yes, she tends to overemphasize her age, but she’s also pretty funny. And her name is Peach.
While I loved the convo en espanol con la Garcia, Casanova’s dress (!?!) was horrible. Selma Blair (I heart Selma Blair) was particularly funny about it, saying it could be sold in a store at the mall called Razzle Dazzle that specialized in dresses and wigs. His lack of a first name is foolish.
Mondo Guerra is from Denver!
Nicholas D’Aurizio is going to be a cryer, and it’s not going to be pretty. His model, however, is gorgeous.
There was some pretty ugly clothing sent down that runway, which makes me even more irritated with Heidi for threatening to send home more than one person and almost never actually following through on it. I was perfectly comfortable losing McKell, but I would not have had a problem seeing any of those in the bottom going: it was all pretty bad. And Nina’s face let you know what she thought about every single one of the disasters.
Gretchen Jones may be a bit of a serious Susie (as my Gentleman Friend put it) but her dress was pretty and well made, if a bit on the boring side. Does she have it in her to take it all? We shall see…
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