Hawaiian Reeves

Hawaiian would like to give a huge shout out to L’il Tim, who continues to leave comments (unlike some other people I know) and who will soon be off to law school.  It’s good to know that some people actually look forward to law school, and that they even plan to finish it.

This reminds me, of course, of someone I once dated.  Someone with a very peculiar and distinctive voice who always, always identified himself with his first, last, and middle names when calling me despite the fact that I lived alone and whose mother still did most of his grocery shopping.  Unlike my most recent crush, this man actually loved law school, and after three years of practicing law, very much wished that he could still be in it.  So maybe there’s a happy medium between loving law school and loathing it, and here’s hoping that L’il Tim finds it.  I’ll also be hoping that he finds the shelf of sale denim at the Scoop location in the west village, where just last week, women’s GoldSign jeans were tagged at $39 in just his size. (There’s a reason I call him L’il Tim, and it’s not just because of the bling and the jail time.)

So today, I look a bit like a candy cane.  A tired candy cane, of course, but a candy cane nonetheless.  My skin and the sun do not get along, and so after watching this woman:

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Hawaiian would like to share with his readers that today, he is in much, much pain.

I’m not really sure what it’s from exactly, except that perhaps my body is rebelling against all of the recent activity that seems so unlike me.  I’m about to take a vacation for the first time in more than a year, I’m not really involved with my television in the way that I usually am(though this is still much to discuss), and I’ve been thinking much, much more than I usually do.  All of this should be enough to put me off balance, I suppose, but I think the cherry on the top of this Monday is that I “went out” this weekend for the first time in ages, and despite not drinking and not doing anything else particularly damaging(I never do that anyway) I literally haven’t been able to sleep since.  And trust me, I’ve tried.  But instead of sleeping, I just lie in bed feeling like I have a fever, suffering some semi-permanent dehydration, and wondering why, exactly, it feels like my entire body is buzzing.  If all of the bottles of water hadn’t been sealed on Friday, I’d swear someone slipped me something.

Going out anywhere gay is something that, in the past, has never been remotely enjoyable, but I tried a different bar and a different neighborhood this time, and like so many things lately, this turned out to be a completely new experience for me.  I had a few surprisingly good conversations, decided that gay men here aren’t all vile, and, in a truly absurd moment, was asked to pose for the cover of “100% Beef” magazine by their head photographer.  Seriously.  I thought it was a joke too, but no.  And no, I’m not going to do it.  I don’t even take my shirt off at the beach…  I’m definitely not going to do it for a magazine cover.  Unfortunately, this incident gave me the nickname “Porn Star” for the rest of the night, and was a bit of a problem when later, I met a man who managed to get my attention in more ways than one.
Since I don’t drink, I don’t dance, and I don’t sleep after doing it, going out for me has to involve some greater purpose.  Anything with this sort of price tag really needs to be worth i(not that I’m sure anything makes this kind of headache “worth it”).  On this particular trip, I met a guy who does indeed seem worth it in some sense, though he currently doesn’t live here.  And yes, this one was also a law student, but a very different make and model.  One that actually likes law.  And likes San Francisco.  And will be here permanently just as soon as he wraps things up in New Haven.  I had no idea I could like Yale that much.
This whole process of finding someone new to date, or at least someone I want to date, reminds me in many ways of dealing with the new season of Project Runway.  I mean, I’ve been given an entire new cast of prospects, and now I have to figure out if I think they’re attractive, if I believe they’re talented, and if I like their personalities enough to actually want to them around week after week after week. My initial personal favorite is Robert Best, but I think that’s just because I like a man who’s not afraid to undo a few buttons on his shirt.  He also does this thing with his upper lip that reminds me of Lisa Marie Presley, a woman who has managed to hurt me oh-so-good on more than one occasion.

But after my short-lived Nick fascination from last season, I’m unwilling to have back-to-back favorites from West Hollywood.  Also, Robert wasn’t in a single frame of footage from the clips of what’s happening this season on the show, and if I’ve learned anything lately, it’s that I’m not trying to get attached to someone who’s not going to be around. (Well, i’ve also learned that cameraphones have now made all activities in gay dance clubs potentially unwise.)

So then whom?  I can’t really pick a favorite from just one garment, and for the moment I’m not nearly so focused on the designs as I am actual staying power, so for this week, at least, I’m going with Laura Bennett.  The clown red lipstick on white skin throws me off, and I get that same sort of frightened drag queen vibe out of her that I get out of Rene Russo at times…

But there’s also part of me that thinks in her high-waisted dresses and tight chignon, that she’s a little bit Maureen O’Hara in her prime.  Frankly, it might just be because with her taste in clothing and five kids, one of them is bound to be gay, which is possibly a trophy among the rich and well-heeled architects of Manhattan.

Speaking of which, I’ll be there for the rest of the week.  I’ll attempt to post at least once.  Maybe twice.  But with no TV and no sleep, who knows what you’ll actually get out of me.

Does anyone else have an early PR favorite?