One of the top Vids at the Poodle

Enjoy!

This is for Scott And Jim

Fine, it's updated you bitches!

Happy Holidays!

Wow, Toys for Tots was an absolute blast!

This yearly event never ceases to amaze me. The generosity and genuine love that comes from the Long Beach gay community can be simply stunning at times.

The food was fantastic.

The people were wonderful.

The music was great.

Best Christmas party of the year.

Embracing your inner Poodle

Hola from "The City" as it's known - Professor Snoutch here in my first foreign correspondent report. I know, I know, you'd rather get your gay news from Christiane Amanpour (hey, who wouldn't?), but she's at a much less brutal warfront than this so you're stuck with me Hoss. Just imagine the following with a smart British accent, giving immediate credence to the subject matter...no matter...er...how ribald, and you'll be just fine.

I've always known people living in and visiting Long Beach to compare bars in different cities to the Poodle.

"Oh, it's just like the Fox, only smaller on the inside with no patio..." - said of 'Winks' in Phoenix on 7th St.

-or-

"Imagine the Fox with a grand piano and twice as big, and more of a ski lodge feel..." - said of the 'The Grand' in Denver on 17th St.

The list goes on and on...Hell, I've compared the Fox to Martuni's on more than one occasion, just because of it's upscale interior and High Brow High Balls.

But, when you get right down to it, if you're a card carrying member of The Fruit Looperati, then eventually you'll realize that you'll never replace the Fox, no matter how thorough the search. I knew I'd miss the comfort of walking into the bar and immediately knowing SOMEBODY, even if you don't like 'em, at least you know 'em, right? What's the saying - "...the Devil you Know...?"

Last night I had a couple of single malts from the infamous globe bar and ventured out into the City's waiting clutches. There is a moment at which drizzle becomes rain, and it was at that tipping point that I made my way down Valencia from 24th. l darted from awning to awning, turning every few moments to hail a cab to rescue me. The streets were deserted, as triptophan and dealing with relatives had worn the City out. The lights from the street reflected into the growing pools of rainwater, my hurried footsteps running causing the image to glimmer and dissipate. It was quieter than normal...darker somehow. Instead of the din from the countless restaurants and bars, all I heard was the sound of rain, my own breath and the approach of vehicles. The cabbies and their warm and dry passengers laughed like evil villains as they glided past me (in my mind), and I remembered my new mantra: "If that's your biggest problem in life, then you're doing something right" and pressed on to the 'Stro.

I hung a left on 18th and a right on Church and ended up at 'The Pilsner'. I like this bar because there's a pool table, they have a big patio out back, and it's not right up in the Castro, but close enough to walk if somehow one need be gayer (Lord knows I've had my moments, besides it's the best place to buy birthday cards, but I digress).

I walked in and immediately realized that I'm a loner Dottie...a rebel. I know I'll make more friends and get a sense a familiarity soon (especially at the rate I've been going, but that's a whole 'nother Oprah). I did "know" two people in the bar. One was the Co-owner of 'Octavia Lounge' (my current employer) and one was the Bartender. I was introduced to him last time I was there, and so I hunkered down in the seat next to his well. I had 3 Dewars and water, 2 shots of Jack and capped off the night with a shot of Tuoca. This is all in the span of 90 minutes, so I was nice and tight by the time I left.

I sauntered home around midnight, now with no intention of hailing a cab. The sky had reverted to mist and drizzle. I was lit but had at least SOME presence of mind and wore a smile all the way home. It was then that I began to realize that I'd made the right decision.

This is Professor Snoutch, signing off. Hockenoga.

Day of Atonement

Today is the final day of the gay high holy days. November 1st is officially the day of atonement for all of our Halloween sins.

To everyone who ended up with feathers in their drink, I am sorry.
To anyone who had to hold my hair, I am sorry.
To those who had to sweep the carpet at the Poodle, I'm sorry.
No, I don't know where that drag queen came from, she's not my friend. Lo Siento.
Nathan, forgive me. (I can't go into detail)


God grant us the serenity to accept the things we cannot change (like that outfit GIRL, what were you thinking?) ,courage to change the things we can (like my outfit, glad it didn't leave the house) ,and wisdom to know the difference.

Scotch, Tuaca, Scotch, Tuaca, Scotch, Tuaca.....WOW.

Long story short, for a Monday it was quite a Halloween. I'm not totally clear on all details but one things for sure, I had slightly more composure than Jackie O' Nasty.


For this, I am sorry.

Going Out of Business / Grand Opening

Going Out of Business / Grand Opening

As the gypsy blood in us begins to boil over, we tend to succumb to our wanderlust and pick up stakes. In a gay world, where the sun shines a little brighter, lips are a little glossier, and asses are a lot rounder, this “need to leave” is underscored and italicized.

Announcing one’s imminent departure is usually met with one of three responses “Bon Voyage”, “Meh” or the ever-popular “Can I have your apartment?” What most don’t realize is the underlying phenomenon: “The Going Out of Business” Sex. Fire Sale! Everything MUST GO. It’s funny who will fuck you because they think (and they’re probably right) that it’s their last chance to do so. I announced my departure recently and feel I should do a commercial a la Crazy Larry - If I took everybody up on their offers, that is - I would literally be up to my eyes in “inventory”. It’s easy to become slightly bitter…The whole time Mr. Dreamboat is hitting on you, you’re thinking “Oh sure, NOWWWWWWWW you’ll notice me. Now that I’m moving, surrrrrre.” Don’t get me wrong, you still fuck ‘em, you just…find some way…sniff…to work…through…that pain...snort.

To extend the analogy, the only event that trumps the “Going Out of Business” Sex is of course, “The Grand Opening” Sex. Fresh meat. Picture it:

It’s Friday, about two weeks after you’ve arrived at your new City. You’ve had a great week, still very much in the Honeymoon phase with your new job, apt., commute, roommate, dry cleaner, blah blah blah. You just got paid and you’re fresh from the shower. On your bed in a towel, you sit with scissors, clipping the tags off of your new threads. Hair and cologne (just the pulse points dahlink), and you’re out the door.

You emerge from the doorway of the strange new bar, enveloped by the din of strange music, lights and gazes. As your eyes adjust, you roll up to the well and get your “A” drink. Finding an optimal vantage point, you survey the playing field. Everybody’s cuter when they’re unfamiliar. Exotic even. Soon, these will become the faces of your ex-tricks, or no-sex friends and if you’re anything like me, both, as the former usually begets the latter. So, while the new car smell still wafts from their asses, you are swarmed and ravenous and fulfilled. Enjoy it while it lasts.

"That" Guy

Do you ever have to deal with "that" guy?

You know who I'm talking about, some random guy who plops himself into your world and inserts his...ahem....wit and experience into your group of friend's conversation without asking.

In a word, I hate that guy.

Don't get me wrong, I'm all for being friendly to strangers but please don't assume you're part of my conversation with others.

So picture it, a sunny autumn around 6PM and I decide to meet my friends for a few cocktails. Because I drive from Irvine to Long Beach every weekday, sometimes I end up meeting my friends when they're a drink ahead of me.

I walk into the bar, do a quick scan of the loop and there he is, sitting smack dab in the middle of my group of friends.

THAT GUY.

Several problems with that guy:

1. He's in the seat that was intended for me.
2. He's in the middle of my friends, spouting off nonsense.
3. I can tell he's killing the mood. The look of sheer panic on all of my friends' faces tells me that.
4. He wont shut up.
5. Even the bartender is hiding in the back (making it extremely difficult for me to get a drink).
6. He doesn't make any sense.
7. NOBODY BELIEVES HE WAS A GO GO BOY IN 1912!
8. When we decide it's time to go have a cigarette (really to go outside and make fun of him), HE FOLLOWS US!

How does one handle THAT guy?