At first I didn't get the big deal over his messages; he just sounded like the typical guy I've chatted with from Los Angeles. But as I listened more closely, I began to hear the voice of a future serial killer. Creeeeeepy.

We've all met guys like this before, haven't we?

UPDATE: The guy has been identified! "Dimitri, whose real name is James Sears, is a disgraced doctor who was charged, then later acquitted, of sex assaults on several female patients in the early 1990s." Now he sells a manual on how to seduce women. He has a web site too. You Canadians are so lucky to have such an expert!

Next time I'm at Nellies, I'm totally gonna use "you're extremely elegant" and "I couldn't take my eyes off of you" on the gurls to see what happens. Stay tuned!

It was sunny and rained all of five minutes the entire weekend. Thanks, weathermen!

Instead, we watched a Dateline mystery. It was about a man who pushed his wife off a cliff so he could collect her life insurance and start his life anew.

The story made me feel unsettled. I looked at Rob and asked what any normal guy would ask his sodomy partner, "Baby, you're not ever going to push me in front of a Metro Bus, are you?" He assured me, "No, my little cocoa puff. I will not murder you." "You promise, schnoogie woogie?" "I promise, sweet nectar of my gay melon." Pheeew...no murder for me (by him) -- yay!

If it's a trip we've traveled often, we rarely have any problems. But if it's a new excursion, the likelihood is very high that we will not be speaking to each other and all of our fingernails will be broken by the time we reach our destination.

Last weekend we took a road trip to Raleigh, NC to attend my friend Bobbie's birthday party for her 4-year-old son -- which was off the fuckin' chain, yo. I had not seen her since she gave birth to this kid, so I definitely wanted to be there to see if she kept off all the baby weight. Plus, given the location, I wanted to see how many of the kids were already hooked on meth and take some photos.

The weather has been very bizarre lately, like The Rapture is near or something, or maybe a Lindsay Lohan CD is about to "drop" soon.

Is this weirdness all a direct result of climate change? Hmm. Then I saw a large rainbow in the sky and figured The Almighty was just a bit late decorating for Pride month up there. He made a rainbow for us. Awww. Such a sweet furball, He is.

But when I plugged them into Manhunt, I was told I needed an account to view member profiles. So I set up a limited free account just to see some reader dick -- which were nice, by the way.

Anyway, I received an email from Manhunt last week telling me I was in violation of their rules for not having a profile pic on a free account. Meee-owww. At first I was all, I don't care; delete my account, pig. Then I thought, hmmm, I should hold onto it...just in case...I need it sometime.

So I added a faceless pic and wrote an innocuous profile that said something like, "I have a boyfriend, so I'm ONLY looking to make FRIENDS who will let me piston-fuck them from time to time, cuz that's what friends are for." What? I was just being ironic. Geez.

Then I thought, OMG -- I bet this is one of those ABC News John Quiñones "What Would You Do?" gotcha reports, where he films some actors making a scene to see if anyone helps out.

So I put my headphones back on and walked away, waiting for Ms. Quiñones to run up to me with a cameraman and yell, "Why didn't YOU do SOMETHING to assist?" And I would have been all, "Get off my dick, John Quiñones. I don't want to be a part of your stupid show, John Quiñones. That's why I didn't help. It's all because of you. You're creating a cry wolf environment around the country and I'm on my way to the dentist -- so piss off, John Quiñones."

A few years ago I ever-so-slighty chipped my front tooth. It was rather pathetic. I was putting a glass dish in the microwave over the stove and somehow it hit my mouth. The sad truth is I was stone cold sober, too. Naturally I was all owwww and tasted something chalky. I ran to the mirror and saw a small chip on the bottom of my tooth.

UPDATE: This blog has a great run-down of the clusterfuck that is Nissan Pavilion. He also calls out Radiohead for their hypocrisy playing "eco-friendly" venues. Well done, sir.

Radiohead performed last week at Nissan Pavilion and their fans are not pleased. Not because of Radiohead, but because of the venue. Why Radiohead continues playing there, I'll never know. And it's not so much the venue; it's how fucking horrible the traffic situation is getting in and out.

I swore that place of ten years ago when I attended an Alanis Morissette concert -- shut up, she's good! -- with Radiohead opening. Obviously this was way before Radiohead got all freaky-deaky and abandoned the things that kinda attract me to a song -- y'know, like the melody. I recall the show started around 7:00pm, yet I remember still participating in a daisy chain of cars at 11:00am the next morning, drunk on carbon monoxide and softly singing to myself, "I..want..you..to know..that..I'm...still in FUCKING VIRGINIA."

If an artist wants my money, they need to come closer to ME. No one is worth waiting in Virginia traffic -- not even Weezer. *shudder*

Wolf Trap isn't much better. Merriweather Post Pavilion is slightly more attractive, but it's like 45 minutes away and in Maryland.

This is prolly why -- along with ticket prices and body odor -- I rarely go to many concerts these days. It's part of being in your thirties, I think. You start to develop fussiness, which may actually just be a disguise for becoming more responsible with self-gratifications.

I may venture out of my hole, but these days I'm all about Verizon Center or Taco Bell Arena or Citibank Stadium or the Sacks Fifth Avenue -- in partnership with Payless Shoes -- Theatre or the 9:30 Club or Constitution Hall or any other place located in DC -- especially when the artist's tour itinerary claims they are playing in Washington, DC. You just have to come to ME and be worth it. That's all.

Don't worry -- she doesn't read this site. She knows about it, but has never asked for the link. I did warn her a few years ago that she probably wouldn't appreciate my potty mouth. I thought she still might be curious...but no...she's really not. I mentioned that she might enjoy something I wrote a few months ago, but she said, "I have no interest in reading your opinion on certain discussions." And by certain, I think she was implying anal. As if I would ever discuss that nonsense here. Gross.

Anyway, I rushed to order her flowers today. 1-800-Flowers doesn't have a category for retirement flowers, so I searched around. I'm not so knowledgeable about floral arrangements. However, I do know that carnations are a big no-no for any occasion. I only know a few types of flowers by name. Gerbers are my fave! So I mainly go by pretty colors.

I tried to steer clear of the typical flower colors I've gotten her before, like pink, red, orange and yellow. I stumbled upon an arrangement called baby boy blue or something. Hmm...baby boy blue sounds like a cool retirement color. It included some white and purple flowers as well and came with a keepsake. Even better! I tacked on a balloon that said congratulations and placed my order.

I went back to the site a couple hours later to check the status of my same-day delivery order. The thumbnail of the flowers I ordered looked pretty; I assumed the keepsake was the pretty vase it came with. I wanted to see exactly what her co-workers would witness as my mom was flushed with admiration and they were thinking, wow -- what an awesome and caring son she has, so I clicked to see a larger photo version of the flowers I ordered for her.

Uh. Oh.

Hidden within all the beautiful flowers was a little frame with a photo of a boy...a baby boy. And the keepsake? It was a baby rattle.

fffffffuck!

My mission to look like the doting son who had flowers delivered to his mom AT HER OFFICE on her last day was completely in jeopardy. Instead, I would be seen as the mildly retarded son who ordered his 60-year-old mother "congratulations on the birth of your newborn baby boy" flowers -- with a fucking rattle...on her RETIREMENT day.

Shut up -- I was in a hurry! And it was grouped with all the other same-day delivery flowers. How was I to know?

Exasperated and crying, I called 1-800-Flowers and explained the situation. Luckily, the order had not yet been sent to the local florist. A pleasant woman offered to correct the mistake, once she stopped laughing in my ear for about a minute. Ha ha -- sooooo funny. She easily swapped out the baby boy flowers with some more appropriate non-baby purple flowers -- with no rattles. Whew. Heart attack avoided. I will not be made a fool of -- again!

My parents have sold my childhood home in Rochester, NY and are moving to Bristol, Tennessee in August to begin their retirement years. And no, Bristol is nowhere near Nashville. I looked it up. It borders Virginia.

It's an odd choice considering they don't really know anyone in Tennessee. My mom's brother has a vacation home there, but that's it. I guess Bristol is a vacation hot spot!

I've never been to Tennessee. When they first told me they were moving there, I instantly thought of this. I mean, what I'ma 'spose ta do when I visit? Then I remembered that Chris Crocker is from Tennessee. He said the following about his home state:

"We don't have pride and rainbows here. We have MySpace. We don't have bathhouses. We have outhouses."

Sadly there are no major airports close by. So I guess I will be taking a hot air balloon to visit. That will be nice and relaxing. I'll wave to you when I pass over your town.

In her sweet, Southern accent, my mom said:

"I caint wait fer y'all to visit! We can take a road trip to Dollywood!"

I reckon this next chapter in our lives will surely be innerestin'.

If you visit Aqua Grill in Rehoboth this summer, you can thank me for the Purell sanitizer dispensers now placed throughout the venue. You're welcome.

Anyway --

We had a lovely time over the holiday weekend in The Land of Lesbians and their Labs, courtesy of the wonderful hospitality of generous men named Tim & Donn. Sadly Donn was away at some car show in Atlanta, but his spirit was still felt by many.

Their home was full of delicious men who all educated me on the wonders of the world.

Love it.

One of the first things Brett said to me was, "You come across as more intelligent in person than you do on your blog."

What am I here -- Nell?

On Friday -- after I was apparently rescued, naked and muddy in the woods -- we met and bear-hugged in his hotel room. Then we forced him to participate in a cleansing ceremony in Dupont Circle. He had to burn a tennis effigy while chanting, "Hey hey, ho ho, tennis talk has got to go" and "I will not be a deuce this weekend." He cried a little, but disavowed all tennis references for 72 hours. Afterwards, we lit candles and sang "Amazing Grace."

The highlight of the weekend was biking around DC on a beautiful sunny day. Only two bikes were left to rent Saturday morning. One of them was a Pee-wee Herman-like bike, which Brett rode with pride and sass. Luckily he only mowed down a couple tourists, culminating in a collision with two beefy muscle dudes jogging in Georgetown. Thankfully they refused to press charges after hearing Brett's tearful plea for leniency. I think it also helped when he said after the crash, "Well, if that don’t just put some pepper in yer gumbo."

We took Brett to Plum Blossom to feast on sushi with Clickboo and Dr. Jeff. Brett ate his sushi like a champ and even commented, "It's good!" Mission accomplished.

I've said it before: Plum Blossom has some great Japanese food, but really needs some bodies to seat at their fine tables. The husband and wife owners are currently providing all table service. The wife doesn't speak very good English, so you need to be patient. Bring along some paper and pencils to draw some of your requests if necessary. These are just simple growing pains, but the food is worth it. Plus, the sushi chef is a dead ringer for Long Duk Dong. Love him.

By request, we took Brett to Blowoff. I hadn't been in months. Nice to see so many friends and meet some new ones. Sadly the Saliva Pit appears to have folded. I was hoping Jimbo would carry the torch during my absence, but like an Olympic torch running through China, it was extinguished.

Brett ALSO told me I look too mean in my photos. I don't see that; I see it as me coming to terms with my unphotogeniosity and adjusting accordingly. But to appease him, I give you....a smile.

Brett's a lot more than just tennis bravado and body exhibitionism; he's a charming, complicated man-boy, who would give you the Boiish shirt off his back if you needed it. At least he better! Oh, and he's also more intelligent and tighter than his blog leads you to believe.

I'm convinced if we lived near each other, we'd hang out and even swap baseball caps from time to time.

Both Brett and Jimbo have better rundowns of our exhausting weekend, complete with pretty photos.

Dolly is furious about what he did. After listening to the clip, I don't see how anyone could think it was anything other than an audio gimmick.

Don't watch listen to this around the easily offended.

Luckily some of these '80's bands are not always forgotten.

The Regeneration Tour is heading to the DC area this summer. It features a bevy of '80's bands who scored a handful of hits back in the day. Normally this would appeal to my inner cheese-geek, but when I checked out the fine print, I was disillusioned. It should be called "Belinda Carlisle & a Bunch of Lead Singers from '80's Groups."

Artists on this tour:
The Human League
ABC
Belinda Carlisle
Dead or Alive
Naked Eyes
A Flock of Seagulls

Sounds like fun, no?

A more accurate line-up would read:
The League
A
Belinda Carlisle
Dead
Naked
Of Seagulls

None of these groups feature the full band these days, or even one or two members of the original line-ups. LIES! I expect this deceit from Guns N' Roses, but from Naked Eyes, c'mon!

Naked Eyes was always a duo. The other half of that duo died a few years ago. :( That's like a Donnie & Marie tour without Donnie! Or worse, the Thompson Twins without Alannah!

VH1 had a great show on a few years ago called Bands Reunited. Some guy ran across continents trying to track down the original members of '80's bands to get them to agree to one more concert. He was usually successful, with groups like The Motels, Berlin, Kajagoogoo, Romeo Void, Frankie Goes to Hollywood, Klymaxx and A Flock of Seagulls participating despite all their internal issues. It was riveting television filled with the necessary drama. Sadly after two seasons, the show was not renewed. I guess, as a music network, VH1 felt Flavor of Love, I Love New York and The Surreal Life fit better within their mission statement? I dunno.

It would be great to see the original line-up of A Flock of Seagulls again. But if it's just the lead singer, Mike Score, performing under the branded name, I have no interest in seeing "them". He is a douche, as witnessed on Bands Reunited. I'm pretty sure if Kelsey Grammer and a Crate & Barrel ottoman had a child, it would look like him.

My interest in attending might be piqued if Dead or Alive (aka Dead aka Pete Burns) were on the bill in DC, but she is not. I want surprises!

Still, if I scored free tickets and a ride to the traffic nightmare known as Wolf Trap, I would consider getting my Chess King wear out of storage one more time, to show solidarity amongst my fellow kids in the hall.