Leave a Comment » | 
IM convos, my really awesome friends., tibits of happiness | Tagged: haha | 
Permalink
Posted by theothertalkingcat
Hi, y’all. As you all probably can guess, I’ve been back in Portland since Monday afternoon. People seem to enjoy the travel log and I like to reminisce, so here we go.
Night 2: Mark’s boyfriend Jeff and their friend Ian are doing the AIDS/LifeCycle from San Fran to LA. It’s a six day bike ride down California to raise money for AIDS research. Find their names and donate. Or anyone’s name and donate. It’s an amazing cause.
Anyway… They’re leaving for a week and their friend, Nick, is spending two weeks in Sicily vegging out with his little Italian grandma, so their circle of friends decided to go for pizza and beer to celebrate. We congregated under a huge heat lamp in the outside back garden of Jupiter. The boys ordered a bunch of appetizers and pizza. I ordered a GIANT salmon salad which made me feel slightly less like shit after the giant tart we ate that afternoon. I had to sing the next day but I enjoyed a pint of the honey wheat beer. HIGHLY recommend it.
What made this night super interesting were two other non-gay visitors that turned up about half way through the meal. Ian’s boyfriend Sean is a British musicologist pursuing his phd at berkeley. In bound a young british couple, complete with giant backpacks and big smiles and crash down at our table. I hate to admit that I can’t remember their names to save my soul. The dude, just finished his studies and has been hired to be a barrister (not to be confused with a Batista, kids…) in a court in England. What’s the difference between a barrister and a solicitor? The horsehair wig that he has to wear that set him back over $1,000. Yikes. That’s an expensive costume.
So, two straight backpacking brits came through, Greeky. BFD. This dude and his girlfriend took the 18 months before he has to start his new super-swanky job, $10,000, and a backpack full of stuff and are backpacking throughout the world.
They’re course: London to NY to DC to Mexico City to various sections of Central and South America to Texas (I think Houston, but I could be wrong,) to Seattle, through Portland (which they loved!) down the Coast to Berkeley. Then they’re off to LA to Japan (for a month) to China to Indonesia to Bali to India and then back to London.
Isn’t that SOOO badass? I was so jealous when they were telling me this story. They’re mostly staying with friends in these various places (who has friends in Bali???) and most of their money is being spent on plane tickets.
Anyone want to copycat with me? You only live once… 
The next morning, Mark and I woke up and went to another ridiculously California breakfast place, where I ate cornmeal pancakes. I want the recipe. It was like a giant corn muffin but BETTER. Thanks to really cute gay tatted out waiter, Mark was oblivious to the fact that at the table not 2 feet away from us, a lesbian couple was breaking up. Yes, in a public place. I drank about 18 cups of coffee to try to mask listening in on their conversation. It wasn’t a pretty breakup. Why do people choose to do that kind of shit in a restaurant? Over pancakes??
To shake all that off, Mark took me to the Berkeley bowl. You clicked on the link and went, oh it’s a grocery store. How effing exciting. But, NO. It’s not just a grocery store. It’s the most AMAZING grocery store ever. Whole foods can’t even hold a candle to the produce section of this place. You know when you’re making a recipe and it calls for something really strange that you can’t pronounce? They have it here. They had artichokes in six, yes SIX different sizes. No wonder people in CA look so damn good.
We picked up some fruit and I was dropped off home to warm up, shower and change, so I could drive the hour inland to warm San Jose.
What did I wear? The back up banana republic black wrap dress with the white little shelf and my big ring that the Iron Chef and I bought on the streets of Soho together. It was all tied together nicely with some peep toe sandals and spanx. What did I sing? First things first…
I’m supposed to sing at 4:19. Yes, 4:19. I love when companies give you times like that. “You will be singing at 12:27pm. DO NOT BE LATE.” Do you have a stop watch in there? No. If the next Pavarotti walks in, he’ll be spending a little more time on the stage than Suzie Soubrette with the flat high notes.
There was no traffic on the high way. NONE. Granted it was the middle of the afternoon, but NONE? Seriously? Shit, I’ll take it. Because of this marvel, I arrived about 45 minutes early to a hallway of opera singers playing the “who do you know and where I worked thats better than where you worked game.” I made a beeline for the montior and went downstairs to the dressing rooms to powder my nose, make sure I smelled pretty, and squack out some high notes.
What did I sing? Ann Trulove in all of its seven minutes of glory and half of Nanetta’s aria from Falstaff. This was the first time I ever sang the Verdi in an audition and it went well. Stamp of approval. Maybe my new teacher IS teaching me something! Woah!
I hauled my touche out of there and back into the car I went. I had theater tickets that night!
Leave a Comment » | 
dirty martinis, la la la, my really awesome friends., travels | Tagged: beer, singing, trips | 
Permalink
Posted by theothertalkingcat
