Tag Archives: gay

Lame Adventure 465: Here comes the Pride

Last Friday morning, I was sitting at my desk at The Grind when I noticed an alert on my iPhone.

Wow!!!!

Wow!!!!

Even though I thought the odds were good that the Supreme Court would rule in favor of same sex marriage, it still seemed remarkable. The cynic in me, which coincidentally comprises 99.9% of my being, never thought that this day would happen in my lifetime. Much to my relief I still have a pulse.

This past Sunday, I attended the Gay Pride Parade on Fifth Avenue with my friend, Milton. The atmosphere, on the heels of this historic ruling, was euphoric. Posted below are some of the more than 1,100 photographs he and I shot of the celebration.

Well said ... even if the placard was corporate sponsored.

Well said … even if the placard was corporate sponsored.

Manly cake toppers.

Manly cake toppers.

Jubilant marcher all wrapped up in the rainbow flag.

Jubilant marcher all wrapped up in the rainbow flag.

Yes, it is!

Yes, it is!

Dancing in the street and left the baseball cap at home.

Dancing in the street and left the baseball cap at home.

Togetherness.

Togetherness.

Grand marshal Sir Derek Jacobi.

Grand marshal Sir Derek Jacobi.

Grand marshal Sir Ian McKellen.

Grand marshal Sir Ian McKellen.

Lea Delaria making a grand entrance to the delight of the crowd.

Lea Delaria making a grand entrance in a vintage gas guzzler to the delight of the crowd.

Bearadonna's back!

Bearadonna’s back!

Little kid marching.

Little kid marching.

Easy rider.

Easy rider.

Easiest rider.

Easiest rider.

The perfect place and occasion to don the gay apparel.

The perfect place and occasion to don the gay apparel.

What the hell is it pride.

What the hell is it pride.

Super charged dude who slipped and fell a split second after this picture was taken. He bounced right back up.

Super charged dude who slipped and fell a split second after this picture was taken. He bounced right back up.

Hello Carmen Miranda!

Hello Carmen Miranda!

Happy faces.

Happy faces.

Got makeup?

Got makeup?

Pride shades.

Pride shades.

Love rules husbands.

Love rules husbands.

Wife & wife.

Wife & wife.

New York Police band playing "Here Comes the Bride."

New York Police band playing “Here Comes the Bride.”

Impressive tattoo.

Impressive tattoo.

What the hell is this?

What the hell is this?

Good advice.

Good advice.

US of Pride.

US of Pride.

Time to wear the golden wings.

Time to wear the golden wings.

Euphoria.

Euphoria.

High energy.

High energy.

Pride pooch.

Pride pooch.

Everyone is welcome and bring the toucan.

Everyone is welcome and bring the toucan.

Nice smiles.

Nice smiles.

Corporate sponsor Chase and an exposed breast.

Corporate sponsor Chase and an exposed breast: together at last.

One size probably does not fit all.

One size probably does not fit all.

More what the hell is it?

More what the hell is it?

Flag tossing.

Flag tossing.

Proud couple.

Proud couple.

Hitching a ride.

Hitching a ride.

Dominatrix with cellphone pride.

Dominatrix with riding crop and cellphone pride.

Waving the flag of the Republic of China.

Waving the flag of the Republic of China.

Pucker up.

Pucker up.

That time of year to wear the rainbow kilt.

That time of year to wear the rainbow kilt.

What the hell is this now?

What the hell is this now?

No so basic black attire.

Not so basic black attire.

Statement cape.

Statement cape.

Riding in style.

Riding in style.

Marchers waving flags.

Marchers waving flags.

Gay dads and their wee one.

Gay dads and their wee one.

What you see is what you get: red headdress and stilt walkers.

What you see is what you get: red headdress and stilt walkers.

Japanese Kabuki fan pride.

Japanese Kabuki fan pride.

Novel way to wear football shoulder pads.

Novel way to wear football shoulder pads.

Pride hijinks.

Pride hijinks.

Dancing in the street.

Dancing in the street.

Seriously hitched.

Seriously hitched.

Pride and joy and iced tea.

Pride and joy and iced tea.

Proud couple.

Proud couple.

Then, when it was all over, Milton and I returned to our respective sanctum sanctorums. I began writing this post and he turned on the TV news where he saw who else, but us.

Bald guy and short woman to his right: Milton and me at Pride 2015.

Bald guy and short woman clad in black in center of frame: Milton and me at Pride 2015.

The Empire State Building celebrating Pride.

The Empire State Building celebrating Pride.

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Lame Adventure 424: Gay Pride 2014

For the fifth year in a row I have attended Gay Pride with my dear friend, Milton. This celebration in lower Manhattan is the largest Gay Pride event in the country, and probably the world. Together, he and I photograph the march to share it with the Lame Adventures audience. Each year, Pride seems to have more corporate sponsors vying for the LGBT dollar, more politicians attending, signifying the value of the LGBT vote, and an ever growing crowd of marchers participating, many dressed in ordinary street clothes anemically waving a rainbow flag. Milton misses the old days when the majority of the participants were flamboyant. He has concluded that with more and more states allowing same sex marriage:

Milton: We’ve become as boring as everyone else.

Have we?

Glam Dyke on Bike at parade's start.

Glam Dyke on Bike at parade’s start.

Dyke on Bike getting spray misted by Tiny Tim lookalike.

Dyke on Bike getting spray misted by Tiny Tim lookalike.

Obviously, three nipples and one pink flamingo.

Obviously, three nipples and one pink flamingo.

Eagle Scout: the Boy Scouts had quite a presence in this year's festivities.

Eagle Scout: the Boy Scouts had quite a presence in this year’s festivities.

Angel in America.

Angel in America.

Bert and Ernie marching.

Bert and Ernie marching hand in hand.

New York City Mayor Bill De Blasio marching with his daughter, Chiara.

New York City Mayor Bill De Blasio marching with his daughter, Chiara.

New York Governor Andrew Cuomo.

New York Governor Andrew Cuomo.

New York Congresswoman Carolyn Maloney, a regular Pride attendee.

New York Congresswoman Carolyn Maloney, a regular Pride attendee.

Grand Marshall actor Jonathan Groff.

Grand Marshall actor Jonathan Groff.

Grand Marshall Rea Carey, Executive Director of the National Gay and Lesbian Task Force

Grand Marshall Rea Carey, Executive Director of the National Gay and Lesbian Task Force.

"Orange is the New Black" float, substitute image for third Grand Marshall, LaVerne Cox, a member of that show's cast.

“Orange is the New Black” float, substitute image for third Grand Marshall, Laverne Cox, a member of that TV show’s cast.

Masked Man with Fishnets Friend.

Masked Man with Fishnets Friend.

Masked Man's no heel shoes that Milton found particularly fascinating.

Masked Man’s no heel shoes that Milton found particularly fascinating.

Pretty girls.

Pretty girls. Focusing on them caused me to miss photographing Edie Windsor.

Laser beam stare.

Laser beam stare.

Yes, that is a live bird atop this green bearded bloke's head.

Yes, that is a live bird atop this green bearded bloke’s head.

Live cat atop this guy's head.

Live cat atop this guy’s head.

Getup purchased with a gold card?

Getup purchased with a gold card?

Doing as the Romans do in New York City.

Doing as the Romans do in New York City.

The gladiators are here.

The gladiators are here.

The gay crusader.

The gay crusader.

Gay Yankee ingenuity when you lack a rear pocket.

Gay Yankee ingenuity when you lack a rear pocket.

Rainbow fan girl.

Rainbow fan girl.

Hello!

Hello!

Lesbian and proud, or just stretching her arm.

Lesbian and proud, or just stretching her arm.

Man in yellow literally leaving little to the imagination.

Man in yellow literally leaving little to the imagination.

Hello sailor.

Hello sailor.

Joyous cop.

Joyous cop.

Fleet of foot flag waver.

Fleet of foot flag waver.

Marching incognito.

Marching incognito.

Peacock.

Peacock.

Peacock network banner and a sign of corporate sponsorship.

Peacock network banner and a sign of corporate sponsorship.

Rainbow flag gown. What will they think of next?

Rainbow flag gown. What will they think of next?

Next is here. Hello Beardonna.

Next is here. Hello Beardonna.

Corporate sponsor Mastercard.

Corporate sponsor Mastercard.

Mastering the possibilities.

Mastering the possibilities.

Twerking.

Twerking.

Power pumping the asphalts in pink pumps

Power pumping the asphalt in pink pumps.

Splits and pass us the Aleve.

Splits and pass us the Aleve.

Dancing in the street.

Dancing in the street.

Starred and labeled.

Starred and labeled.

Magnificent!

Magnificent!

Didn't see that coming!

Didn’t see that coming!

Shirtless fellows in rainbow socks.

Shirtless fellows in rainbow socks.

Old Blue and Lavender Hairs.

Old Blue and Lavender Hairs.

Pretty in pink.

Pretty in pink.

Serena Williams cross-bred Ronald McDonald.

Serena Williams cross-bred with Ronald McDonald.

Gay dads with kids.

Gay dads with kids.

Guys in red boxers gyrating on float.

Muscle Beach guys in red boxers gyrating on float.

Israel float and Michael Lucas.

Israel float and Michael Lucas.

Attitude Man.

Attitude Man.

Everyone say cheese and keep your wings still.

Everyone say cheese and keep your wings still.

Nice to know.

Nice to know.

Butterflies aren't free.

Butterflies aren’t free.

Apparently  Pride was watered its way down to Walmart.

Apparently Pride has watered its way down to Walmart.

Gotcha! Shooting the crowd!

Gotcha shooting the crowd.

 

Lame Adventure 382: Big Apple Gay Pride Parade 2013

Sunday was the annual Gay Pride march in Manhattan. Milton and I attended with cameras in tow. It was an exuberant celebration on the heels of the Supreme Court’s recent decision overturning the Domestic Marriage Act as well as clearing the way for same sex couples to resume having the right to wed in California. The victorious DOMA plaintiff, 84-year-old Edie Windsor, was one of the parade’s three grand marshals. Seeing her was quite a high.

This is also a mayoral election year in New York City. Christine Quinn, the openly lesbian Speaker of the New York City Council, is a mayoral candidate who has recently received Edie’s endorsement. Quinn is leading in the polls today, but former Congressman Anthony Weiner is gaining on her and possibly Public Advocate Bill de Blasio has an outside chance, too. It’s a long way between June and November.

Aside from politicians avidly courting the LGBT voter, the parade was also heavy with product placement in hot pursuit of the LGBT dollar. Big corporations that participated include Delta Airlines, AT&T, Citibank and Coca Cola. Macy’s, Whole Foods and Kiehls had a strong presence, too. Vitamin Water had some poor schmuck or schmuck-ette dressed like a bottle of water march in the steam heat. Overall, the parade was primarily about LGBT people compelled to cheer their recent victories, strut their stuff and feel good about whom they are.

On a personal note, I am very pleased to announce that I experienced my own triumph this year. I did not suffer any further hearing loss, step in any fetid puddles or deep fry any body part, all mishaps I have suffered in past years while covering this annual event with Milton for Lame Adventures. Naturally, I half-expected to find myself swallowed by the sidewalk, but that didn’t happen, either. Therefore, I’ll let the pictures we shot tell the rest of the story.

Love is in the air.

Pride and victory are in the air.

Then, there is this woman who let it all hang out for the duration.

Then, there is this woman who let it all hang out for the duration.

Feeling pumped waiting for the march to start.

Feeling pumped waiting for the march to start.

Dykes on bikes kick it off!

Dykes on bikes kick it off!

The good hair day twins.

The good hair day twins.

The annual showing of balloons.

The annual showing of balloons.

Milton thought this chap's leotard was Dorothy Hamil-inspired.

Milton thought this chap’s leotard was Dorothy Hamil-inspired. His flower made me crave sunflower seeds.

Our award for Best Sign.

The Lame Adventures award for Best Sign.

Grand Marshall Harry Belafonte!

Grand Marshall Harry Belafonte!

Grand Marshall Edie Windsor in hat with red band.

Grand Marshall Edie Windsor in hat with red band.

A bloke we've seen every year at Pride.

A literally bird-brained bloke we’ve seen every year at Pride.

New York Senator Chuck Schumer.

New York Senator Chuck Schumer.

Rainbow Brite.

Rainbow Brite.

Edie Windsor fans.

Edie Windsor fans literally and figuratively.

Product placement.

Product placement.

LGBT center float.

LGBT center float.

Mr. Short Shorts.

Mr. Short Shorts front and center.

Family guys i.e., Mr. Long Shorts.

Family guys i.e., Mr. Long Shorts.

Big cheers for Governor Cuomo!

Big cheers for Governor Cuomo!

Rainbow dress.

Rainbow dress.

Lesbian moms.

Lesbian moms.

Blonde ambition.

Blonde ambition.

Kiehls float.

Kiehls float.

Kiddie pride.

Kiddie pride.

Scooter and bare breast pride.

Together at last: scooter and bare bazoom pride.

Paddles and pads shriek, "NFL!"

Paddles and pads shriek, “NFL!”

Girl pride.

Girl pride.

Butch dyke pride.

Butch dyke pride.

Brokeback Mountain...The Neo-realist version.

Brokeback Mountain …The Neo-realist version.

Shouting pride.

Shouting pride.

Why walk when you can ride the recline-o-cycle.

Why walk when you can ride the recline-o-cycle.

Wilted sombrero pride.

Clapping wilted sombrero pride.

Milton calls this "What the fuck...?"

Milton calls this “What the fuck…?”

New York City police commissioner Ray Kelly.

New York City police commissioner Ray Kelly.

Gay cop color guard.

Gay cop color guard.

Gay firefighters and EMT's.

Gay firefighters and EMT’s.

Cop ordering phone booth perches to dismount,

Cop ordering phone booth perching pals to dismount.

Yes and yes.

Yes and yes.

Attitude.

Attitude.

Of course, Scout Troop 69!

Of course, Scout Troop 69!

Prancing with friend.

Prancing with friend.

The Flaggots are back!

The Flaggots are back!

Bi Request — offering something for just about everyone.

Bi Request — offering something for just about everyone.

Milton: "Not everyone should copy Tarzan."

Milton: “Not everyone should copy Tarzan.”

Pretty boys.

Back to regularly scheduled programming: pretty boys.

Russians are coming.

Russians are coming.

Latino pride.

Latino pride.

Eye-catching.

Eye-catching.

Feathered friends.

Feathered friends.

Exuberance!

Exuberance!

Just the place to find Harem Boy and Mad Hatter.

Just the place to find Harem Boy and Mad Hatter.

"Let's put on a show!"

“Let’s put on a show!”

Actions speak louder than words.

This magic moment.

Boy marching with Rainbow Girl.

Boy marching with Rainbow Girl.

Go Magazine: stick around — meow!

Go Magazine: stick around — meow!

The Big Gay Apple is here!

The Big Gay Apple is here!

Lady bugs!

Lady bugs!

Contrast in styles.

Contrast in styles.

In lieu of feathers, rainbow tube balloons.

In lieu of feathers, rainbow tube balloons.

Marching with who else? A live snake.

Marching with what else? A live snake.

Equality marchers.

Equality marchers.

Nice hat.

Nice hat.

Nice shoes.

Nice shoes.

Strike a pose.

Strike a pose.

Shake that thing!

Shake that thing!

Well accessorized.

Well accessorized.

Perfect day to wear a bikini and feathers.

Perfect day to wear a bikini and feathers.

The Golden Girls have arrived!

The Golden Girls have arrived!

Happy in tape and feathers.

Happy in tape and feathers.

Tribute to grandma.

Tribute to grandma.

Weiner!

Weiner!

Mayoral candidate Anthony Weiner.

Mayoral candidate Anthony Weiner.

Drummer girl.

Drummer girl.

Indonesian pride.

Indonesian pride.

Happy together.

Happy together.

Rainbow flag ears? This guy's get-up irritated Milton.

Rainbow flag ears? This guy’s get-up irritated Milton.

Not housework attire: feathered mask and rainbow cape.

Not housework attire: feathered mask and rainbow cape.

Bustier.

Bustier.

Hold that pose.

Hold that pose.

Feathers.

Feathers.

Having it and flaunting it.

Having it and flaunting it.

Moving on from marriage to fracking?

Moving on from marriage to fracking?

Public Advocate and mayoral candidate Bill De Blasio.

Public Advocate and mayoral candidate Bill de Blasio.

Conversation can be very nice.

Thanks for sharing.

Madonna, watch out! Bearadonna's coming!

Madonna, watch out! Bearadonna’s here!

The Log Cabin Republicans are here — all three of them.

The Log Cabin Republicans are here — all three of them.

Hula hoop lady.

Hula hoop lady.

Mayoral candidate Christine Quinn in orange slacks with her spouse Kim Cattullo.

Mayoral candidate Christine Quinn in orange slacks with her spouse Kim Catullo.

Massive Quinn contingency or as Milton said, "It's like she's Madonna."

Massive showing of Quinn supporters or as Milton said, “It’s like she’s Madonna.”

Gotcha shot of Milton and me.

Gotcha shot of Milton and me.

Lame Adventure 370: People, People Who Need Barbra …

Banner outside Avery Fisher Hall.

Banner outside Avery Fisher Hall.

Are the luckiest people in the world — if they have a friend like Milton. The Film Society of Lincoln Center held their 40th annual Chaplin Award fundraising gala in Avery Fisher Hall on Monday night. This year the honoree was Barbra Streisand. Milton is a HUGE Barbra fan, and I am, too. Both of us have been fans since the 60s when he was a boy in Nebraska and I, a girl in San Francisco, decades before we were destined to join forces in 21st century New York City.

It was a black tie affair with Liza Minnelli, Wynton Marsalis and Tony Bennett performing. The speakers included Michael Douglas, Catherine Deneuve, Pierce Brosnan, Blythe Danner, Ben Stiller and, oh yeah, Bill Clinton was presenting the award to Barbra. With such a superstar honoree and that cast of stellar supporting players, the price of admission cost $200 to $500. Seats at the post-show dinner ranged from $1,500 a ticket to $100,000 a table. On my meager alms, no way could I attend. Milton was resigned to going solo and that bothered him.

A lot.

He is a long-time Film Society member. In March, he purchased his Barbra ticket the second they went on sale to members — members get first crack before the general public. He selected Tier 1, Box 3, seat 5. His seat was close to the stage, directly across from Barbra. The event sold out quickly. It generated $2 million for the Film Society, a million dollars more than any other Chaplin gala honoree. I suggested to Milton:

Me: Maybe they should have held it in Yankee Stadium.

Milton: For those prices, she’d have to sing.

As the honoree, Barbra’s job was to appear, soak up the adulation, accept her award from the 42nd president of the United States and give an acceptance speech. Nice work if you have the resume that rates it.

Last Thursday, something extraordinary happened. The Film Society announced that they were releasing a block of $25 partial view seats in Tier 3. Milton happens to know the layout of Avery Fisher Hall about as well as his own living room. For example, he can point out exactly where he and his mother sat when they saw Sarah Vaughn perform there in 1977. Milton scrutinized the cheap seats and he knew that Tier 3’s, Box 3, seat 15, would not only rock, but it was not partial view. In fact, this was the absolute best nosebleed seat in the house for it was in the box two tiers above his. He pounced and yes, I was there.

The coveted ducat.

The coveted ducat.

Damn fine view.

Damn fine view.

Nerd inside with collector's item Playbill.

Lucky nerd inside with collector’s item Playbill.

I was sitting directly across from Barbra’s box, too. From my bird’s eye view, I could even see where Hillary Clinton was sitting — center orchestra row six on the aisle next to a bald guy that looked a lot like former Federal Reserve Chairman Alan Greenspan. I doubted that was who he was. Other celebrities that I thought I recognized were Bill and Melinda Gates. They weren’t sitting in Tier 3. I saw them riding up the escalator as we were people watching in the lobby.

No bland muzak here; guests were serenaded by this fine harpist.

No bland muzak here; guests were entertained by this fine harpist.

The event was bursting with the Swells of New York. Milton being Milton, he did have some qualms with the way some of the attendees were attired, especially the young woman in the short hot pink sheath with tall black boots.

Milton: Hideous!

He did give the two gay guys in matching skinny blue suits with brown dress shoes a pass.

Milton: They’re making a statement.

Me: Like what, they’re both colorblind?

We both agreed that this gent's red patent leather tassled loafers were great.

We agreed that this sockless gent’s red patent leather tasseled loafers were great.

The overall crowd was quite gay or as Milton put it:

Milton: I see a lot of men with their mothers.

There was a significant lesbian turnout, too.

The entertainment, as expected, was top notch. Liza Minnelli took to the stage first. Even though she now has hip problems and was supposed to perform while seated, she forced herself to stand and she belted her heart out.

Liza Minnelli

Liza Minnelli

Wynton Marsalis serenaded Barbra on his trumpet with Hello Dolly and 87-year-old Alan Bergman, who co-wrote the lyrics to The Way We Were with his wife, Marilyn, sang a very poignant version of that song to her. He wrote some new lyrics celebrating The Way You Are.

Wynton Marsalis

Wynton Marsalis

Presenters included some of her leading men. Omar Sharif and Robert Redford appeared on a screen in previously taped tributes. Kris Kristofferson, her co-star in A Star is Born was there. He recounted that “the bathtub scene” with her was “a lot of fun”. George Segal who starred opposite her in The Owl and the Pussycat, joked that he did not know what was more improbable in that film; his role as a failed writer or hers as a failed hooker. Amy Irving, who starred with Barbra in her directorial debut, Yentl, recalled that their kissing scene was, “The best girl on girl action a girl could hope for.” Meow!

Ben Stiller, who referred to himself as Barbra’s “cinematic son” — she played Mother Focker to his Greg Focker, in some of the Fockers comedies, introduced Bill Clinton. Clinton declared that every great person is driven, “But if that person has massive talent, big brains and a bigger heart, you want to go along for the ride.”

Barbra at lectern; Bill Clinton sitting behind her.

Barbra at lectern; Bill Clinton sitting behind her.

Barbra delivered an eloquent acceptance speech. She recounted tales from her youth, how she longed to be an actress who would perform the classics, but “no one wanted a 15-year-old Medea.” When she was 16, she had to perform a love scene opposite a guy she felt no attraction to. What she did to make the scene work was place a piece of chocolate cake behind him so she could look longingly at it.  She admitted, “Thank God I was given a good singing voice.”  She knew that her vocal gift was the key that opened the doors to her acting, screenwriting, producing and directing careers or, as she called herself, “a hyphenate.”  As she closed her remarks, she mentioned memories and added, “I feel like I should sing a song or something.” The audience went wild, hoping to hear her rendition of The Way We Were, but she quickly waved away that idea.

Former President Clinton returned to the lectern and delivered one more introduction. This was for Tony Bennett. He closed the event by singing Smile. Charlie Chaplin wrote the music to that song which was first heard in the film, Modern Times. Thanks to Chaplin’s contributions to film, this prestigious honor was started in 1972. He was the first recipient.

Barbra in center on stage at event's close.

Barbra in center on stage at event’s close.

Afterward, I joined Milton outside. We agreed that we had just witnessed 90 minutes of bliss.

Milton: I’m so glad we live in New York!

Me: I’m so glad I know you!

Barbra Streisand, 71 years old today and she still has it. (Invision — Photo by Charles Sykes)

Barbra Streisand, 71 years old today and she still has it going on. (Invision — Photo by Charles Sykes)

Lame Adventure 368: Feel the Burn

Recently, I suffered the humiliation of looking at myself in a store’s dressing room mirror. I was even fully clad. This horrifying encounter brought to mind a tale I wrote a few years ago about defeating the battle of the bulge:

Feel the Burn

by

Lame Adventureswoman

The potency of interval training is nothing new. Many athletes have been straining through interval sessions once or twice a week along with their regular workout for years. But what researchers have been looking at recently is whether humans can increase endurance with only a few minutes of strenuous exercise, instead of hours? Could it be that most of us are spending more time than we need to trying to get fit? … There’s a catch, though. Those six minutes, if they’re to be effective, must hurt.

Can You Get Fit in Six Minutes a Week? The New York Times

While at work, boxing 18,000 blue plastic cats, my mind drifted. Fitness is very important to me. It’s such a challenge balancing career and home life with a daily exercise routine. In recent years I’ve fallen behind on exercise, as I’ve doubled my love for Pub Mix.

A fat-full foodstuff.

A fat-full foodstuff.

If I could master interval training sessions six minutes a week — a mere seventy-two seconds a day — and the end result is a body comparable to a swimsuit model’s rather than it’s current compliment, the Liberty Bell, this could surely renew interest in the intimacy department with Tulip, my inamorata of four sizzling months and 6 ¾ tepid years. Last night while spooning, I delicately removed her earplug and cooed, “Are we ever going to do it again or what?” Her response to this love call: a deep groan reminiscent of a dying antelope. Once again I failed to reignite her ardor. There’s no question about it, I am a woman who must get fit in six minutes a week!

Once I achieve a maximum level of physical perfection in six minutes a week, could the principle of interval training apply to other avenues of my life? At this moment, I am specifically thinking about how it could pertain to boxing 17,983 blue plastic cats. Might there be a high-octane approach to fulfilling one’s employment obligations? If my forty-hour workweek were reduced to six minutes a week, I would have so much more time to pursue my life’s goals. I would even have time to recall what my life’s goals once were.

With my life’s goals re-established, I could next focus on travel. Every year Tulip and I visit the same places — her sister, Iris, in spring; brother, Thorn, in summer; my Uncle Cuthbert for Thanksgiving; and our sole brush with celebrity, the prairie dog-whisperer, Agnes Dunk, over the holidays. The monotony of this routine is stifling.  We owe it to our faltering union to see more of the world.  Tulip is averse to any travel above 96th Street or below 14th, but if it were possible to cross the pond and absorb the cultural magnificence of the great cities of Europe in ten hours or less, I’m certain she would be on board to do so in a heartbeat.  A warp-speed tour of the western world would pave the way for a journey east.  Who could possibly resist absorbing the glory of the Great Wall of China in nineteen minutes (or less)?

Then, there is the matter of nourishment and this patriotic habit I’ve acquired of consuming more calories than I expend. If I could both reduce and satisfy all of my food-related urges in fifty-one seconds a day, that would gift me with an additional eighteen hours a week, seventy-eight hours a month, or 936 hours per annum. That’s the equivalent of thirty-nine days in a calendar year. With so much extra time, I could achieve so much more. I could locate lost socks, read the classics, or develop a reality TV series about … time saving! It could strike such a chord with the viewing masses; there could be spin-offs of this series worldwide. As the mastermind, my name would join the pantheon of other legendary female media pioneers – Diane Sawyer, Rachel Maddow, Snooki.

Foolish me, I’m getting so ahead of myself! Now that I’ve completed boxing 129 blue plastic cats, and my work day has drawn to a close, I’m blithely heading to the fitness center for my first seventy-two second interval training session with Adolf, my trainer.  He is a buff young man with a shaved head reminiscent of a potato. It would be so nice to indulge in a piping hot plate of French fries right now. Before I can say, “Pass the ketchup,” he straps me into an exercise cycle, and is maniacally cracking a whip as I pump the pedals with the ferocity of a world-class competitor on performance enhancing drugs.  Within seconds, I am a cycling dynamo. Within seconds after that, I’m crying blood and screaming in agony for my mother. In fact, I’m certain that this pounding-pulsating sensation raging throughout my entire being must be comparable to suffering a massive stroke, a severe heart attack, and stage four cancer simultaneously.

Even though I am exerting myself as if possessed, the seventy-two seconds begin moving in slow motion. Reality reconfigures. I am no longer in the fitness center. I am standing in a shadowy tunnel where a light is shining in the distance and I am hearing voices from my past. I hear my fourth grade teacher, Mrs. Glank, calling out to me, “Come here right now, you ornery brat!” She was run over by a bus in 2007 at age 93, confirming the old maxim that the good die young.

I hear our downstairs neighbor, Ira, crooning The Way You Look Tonight. He is still off-key and as three sheets to the wind as on that night his liver imploded. I conclude that alcohol is served in the afterlife. Comforting.

Who’s this shadowy figure? My nana! She’s wearing her orthopedic shoes and that dress in the print that reminds me of lentils. With her hands on her rotund hips, she bellows, “You eat too much crap and you watch way too much TV!  No fella will ever marry you!”

Just as I’m about to engage in defensive discourse with my ancestor, the training session is over. I fall off the bike, but before smacking into the floor, Adolf catches me. He declares proudly, “You did great! Look, no vomit for me to clean anywhere. Tomorrow, we do swimming, yah?” My exact response to his suggestion eludes me, but I recall the word Nazi figuring prominently.

I return home thoroughly discombobulated. I am unsure if I reached my sanctum sanctorum via taxi, the number two train, or ambulance, but I do know I am standing in my living room, albeit on my hands and knees.

Tulip is reclining on the couch in either a seductive pose or she’s hooked up to an IV. My vision is askew and I cannot tell if she is clad in a mint green body suit and our couch is flesh colored, or she is naked and the couch remains mint green. This is just too much information for me to process in my state of distress.

I crawl into our bedroom. She follows me. While lying on the floor, I pull off my clothes as best as I can. My Quisp cereal tee shirt is bundled atop my head keffiyeh-style.

Tulip is towering over me. I now have a lucid read on her state of attire. She is not wearing a single stitch, nary a throw pillow. She looks at me in a come-hither way I have not seen in eons. I mutter, “Don’t even think it,” and anemically tug the comforter off the bed. Before it puddles onto me, she draws closer and asks, “Wow, are those abs?” As I fade into a coma, I make a mental note to pack my swimsuit for tomorrow’s session — and a few Red Bulls for afterward.

Lame Adventure 318: The Lion in Summer

This week, on Wednesday, my close personal friend Milton bade farewell to the coveted 18 – 49 age demographic six days ahead of his obvious counterpart in the hairline department, Tom Cruise.

Milton.

Milton had a good day.  He had entered the ticket lottery for one of the handful of front row $26 seats to the matinee performance of Wicked, the always sold out musical on Broadway.  He won!

Milton loved the novel written by Gregory Maguire that is the basis for this show, Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West, but he was certain it would be watered down.  During intermission he emailed me.  I asked:

Me: How’s the show?

Milton: It’s empty, but has its moments.

Me: Oh, it’s the story of my life!

Afterward, when we got together at Bettibar, an adorable theater district pub upstairs from the Hourglass Tavern, Milton admitted that he was very impressed with the show’s overall production.  Had he seen it when he was nine he thinks he would have been in such a state of bliss he would have instantly become obsessed with Broadway shows.  He seemed pretty happy about it at the half century mark or maybe it was the shot of tequila he had just pounded talking?

Initially, Milton was afraid to get together with me for he was with a few other dear friends the night before celebrating at the Cheesecake Factory in Westbury, Long Island.  They arranged to have Happy Birthday sung to him.  He was now irrationally worried that I might subject him to the same fate, something he could not endure twice.  What could I say to assuage his fear?

Me:  Are you insane?  Do you know me at all?  Is this the first time we’ve met?

Only if faced with the prospect of torture that would lead to certain death would I ever subject anyone near and dear to me, or even someone far and loathsome to me (yes, I’m referring to you Dick Cheney), to that dreadful public humiliation.  I would not want to be subject to that pain myself so why would I inflict it upon one of my VIP-level friends?  If I had past lives, I highly doubt that any of them included me being a sadist.

Yet, I will admit I did have one noisy trick tucked in my satchel.  When we had moved to a table, I gave him the sound effect birthday card that I bought for him three years earlier in anticipation of his milestone.  One glance at those glitter-coated Audrey Hepburn eyes and I knew this was the perfect card for him.

Audrey Hepburn eyes.

I had no choice but to get it then and there and proceed to wait over a thousand days to give it.  In the intervening three years I misplaced his card twice and I lived in fear that when I would finally present it to him on his natal day proper the battery would be as dead as Rafa Nadal’s 2012 Wimbledon hopes but fortunately, Papyrus uses some fantastically long shelf-life ultra battery.  When Milton opened his card to read the caption, “The Big 50!”, our corner of the establishment was consumed with the sound of a woman shrieking in terror at the top of her lungs.

He liked that.

I was not feeling so confident about his gift, a DVD of one of his favorite films, Fellini’s Casanova.

A slender slice of snafu?

Although he frequently lamented about it not being available on disk, he is a blu-ray aficionado.  Right now it’s not being produced in blu-ray so I anticipated one of two things – he already had it since it’s release last November, or he’d be disappointed that it was not in his preferred blu-ray format.  Much to my surprise he wasn’t even aware that it’s now available on DVD, and he didn’t care that it was not on blu-ray, he was so elated to finally have it.  Score!

I will end this post with a trademark Miltonian observation he shared with me last weekend. Milton was expounding on one of his favorite topics, the male animal, after reading an article in The New York Times called Normal as Folk written by David M. Halperin.  Halperin expounds that the current generation of gay men are blending in more in mainstream society as opposed to their elders.  Milton observed:

Milton: Gay people are not less gay.  Straight people are more gay.  They know it’s sexy so they’re now embracing it.  You can’t tell who’s gay … You can’t ask anyone out any more!

The next day we were in Greenwich Village waiting for the Pride parade to start when Milton discreetly confided to me:

Milton:  Look at that guy over there.  Oh my God, he’s so gay!  But he’s not; he’s straight — with his girlfriend.  Exactly what I was talking about.

I dyslexically looked in the wrong direction at the wrong gay-looking-straight-guy that was standing with his arms wrapped around a woman wearing a sundress.

Me:  He sure looks gay to me.  I feel for his girlfriend.  What’s that about?

Milton: You’re looking at a woman!

Me:  Huh?  [focusing my myopic eyes better on a very androgynous butch lesbian with her femme girlfriend] You’re right!

Pictured below is Milton’s straight metrosexual guy that personifies someone who’s embraced the gay male style.

“Does this French sailor shirt make me look fat?”

Happy birthday buddy!

Lame Adventures 317: New York City Gay Pride March 2012

As we have done every year since I started writing Lame Adventures in 2010, Milton and I have watched the Big Apple’s Gay Pride parade from the sidelines.  We watch it from the sidelines because we have not been tagged to serve as the grand marshals.  What a shock!  This year we arrived armed with two cameras, three camera batteries, and his iPhone.  By the time the event ended, approximately five hours after it began, we had three dead batteries and one bar of iPhone power.  We shot over 2000 pictures and missed so many perfect moments due to our digital cameras’ slow shutter speeds.   We now have a whole new appreciation for sports photographers.  My fellow lesbian New Yorker and blogger-bud Natasia over at Hot Femme (who covered the Dyke March on her site) admires our fortitude.  She is unaware that to cap off the event, I broiled my formerly Casper-white left arm.

Ow.

Enough of my blathering, these pictures will tell the story of Gay Pride 2012 here in Gotham City.

Beautiful weather and blue sky on lower Fifth Avenue in Green Village.

Crowd waiting patiently for parade. Line in street was painted lavender.

Two nice guys that were next to us that were photographed endlessly prompting Milton to observe, “They know how to work it.”

First yike on bike for all you types that love your girls in uniform? The parade is about to start.

The parade is starting and the crowd is screaming.

The usual start – the yikes on bikes!

Lone rider.

Caped crusader.

Strutting his stuff.

Mr. Pansy is here wearing a live bird on his head.

Heritage of Pride marchers.

Rainbow balloons.

Grand Marshal Cyndi Lauper.  You rock Cyndi!

NYC Mayor Michael Bloomberg, looking like he’d rather be elsewhere.

Maybe she’s why Bloomberg is scowling?

I suppose this sign is targeting Milton and me.

On second thought …

Flaunting her Pride!

Diet Coke float boys dancing.

Lady Liberty flies in with the Delta Airlines marchers.

Big cheers for LGBT hero Governor Andrew Cuomo marching with his partner Sandra Lee.

We love our governor!

30 years together and finally allowed to marry thanks to Governor Cuomo.

Pretty boy.

Butch and Femme lesbians.

Star Trek star, gay activist and 75-year-old Boy Scout George Takei.

Hollaback girls.

Dignity marchers.

Raising the rainbow flag.

LGBT Catholics.

NAACP marchers.

Smiling gladiators.

Be yourself in blue chiffon.

Pride chapeau.

Here comes the fuzz.

Faces in the crowd.

Proud NYPD marchers.

Hot yikes on bike, but ladies you’re way behind the pack! Maybe they planned it that way?

Firetruck Pride!

LGBT firefighters marching.

The King and I all-in-one package.

Marching Fido Pride.

Girl Pride.

Pumped!

Flaming Saddles Saloon float blasting “Thank God I’m a Country Boy”.

Tattooed chick.

Hipster hat boy and friend.

News to Milton and me.

“I like that idea … I think.”

Soft focus hot chick.

Striking a pose.

Obama 2012 contingency — yes, we can again (we hope)!

Obama marchers chanting, “Four more years!” Not adding to chant, “Or else we’re screwed!”

Pride and joy boy.

Waving flag in crowd. Milton said, “Thank God we’re not by them.”

Exuberant girl ignores me and high fives Milton. He asks, “What the hell was that for?”

Mercy for all animals, not just gay ones.

Seriously WTF?

Thank you for posing for us Naked Cowgirl and my number is 1-800-LUNATIC.

Here comes the Mr. Natural guys!

I know a good waxer … just sayin’.

Whole Paycheck Pride.

Food float!

Rainbow legs.

Drummer girls.

Jock strap Pride.

Pouting Pride, or maybe the crummy photographer just missed her smiling?

Mastercard happy guy.

Babelicious girl with flag.

Good idea — get rid of DOMA!

Gay dads with their kids.

Log Cabin Republicans — all five of them (the rest read the memo).

Sewing party hat marcher.

Oooooo!

Fairy tale fellas.

Even Snow White and the Wicked Queen showed up!

Letting it all hang out.

Stilted Pride.

Pride is the time and place to wear your pink hair!

Or your pink short shorts.

Pink short shorts with rearview message.

A nurse like no other.

For anyone that forgot his or her bath salts this marcher’s prepared.

Congratulations!

“Let me climb up here for a better view.”

This chap is a wizard with a baton.

Swinging her necklaces.

Cheer leading squad.

Marching band cymbal player, also a good excuse to wear white gloves.

Happy marchers.

Feathered friends.

In case anyone was wondering, there was confetti.

Evita rolls into Pride, but without Ricky Martin.

Feeling confident.

Top hat and blue feathered boa, dressed for Pride success.

Yes, those are umbrella skirts.

“Do you want a piece of this?” Ask Milton.

Spreading his wings.

Anyone need an Adonis? They’re right here!

Gold lame ensemble (note: not wash n’ wear).

Naughty shameless flirts – and this float went by much too fast! Our interest was purely historical (hysterical?).

Dry clean only.

It’s not on a chain!

Ah, a friend of Dorothy’s!

Talented Asian drummer boys.

Frisking concerns.

In case anyone at home is wondering if she’s a lesbian and why she’s marching.

Miss, you on the right, is your name Deborah Harry?

Flaunt those blue lips and Mondrian influence.

Who is this masked man?

Impressive plumage requiring significant doorway ducking.

Winged creature but he did stay grounded.

Was this a do-it-yourself ensemble?

The Roadrunner look works well on this bloke.

Altogether say, “Ahhhhhhhhhhh!”

The very entertaining Flaggots are here!

He caught it! (But it surely would have poked my eye out.)

Flaggots are gender inclusive!

Here she comes, Miss Texas!

Not the type of frock or hat one would wear around the house.

Sunshine on heels.

Blue swirl.

Princess Leia’s hair-do lives on right here at Pride!

Mr. Mermaid or may we call you Neptune?

Gay Peruvians take their float very seriously.

Pants-less feathered pride, a CEO’s wish.

Bill de Blasio marching for votes.

Anti-fracking marcher’s poignant message.

New York Congresswoman Carolyn Maloney.

The Alien.

New York District Attorney Cyrus Vance, Jr. getting his groove on with the missus, Peggy McDonnell.

If you guys insist.

Who needs vanity plates?

To each her own.

Little sleepyhead with Mom. Milton and I know how you feel kid.

Crown available at your local florist’s.

Bear Pride!

Alright, smile for the camera!

Cycling for Pride to be followed with pounding water for Pride and scarfing a sandwich for Pride.

Is that a feather duster she’s wielding? Hm, there are a lot of feathers flying.

No longer closeted Segway rider.

Actual live singing and this guy was great!

Charlie the Matchmaker!

Are these the latest boy band heart throbs? Think again.

Whoever he is, he’s here!

“I gotta go, I can’t hold it. Sorry!”

Hello New York City!

Got sunglasses?

Lambda marchers.

Peacocks on parade.

Skipping a.k.a. how to twist an ankle where I come from.

She does not need to carry her flag on some stinking pole.

Google courts the LGBT crowd.

Crowd member (not Milton or me) pummeling Google Girl with questions.

Gay guy and gal pals.

Running for Pride to flaunt fitness.

Channeling Rock Hudson.

Pride-wear from the circus.

Fitness is no joke with these guys.

Milton and I could do this … in our dreams.

Milton’s shoelace voluntarily untied just watching those guys.

“C’mon, Milton, tie that shoelace!”

“Leave Milton alone, he tied it!”

Dalton school marchers.

Manhattan borough president Christine Quinn and possibly the first lesbian to be mayor of New York City. Go Chris!

Putting her best black boot forward.

Flirt with me – try black boot girl.

Suddenly, I’m in the mood to hear Spanish guitar.

Look, a quartet of matadors!

Never the matador, always the bull.

Olé!

In the event of a rainbow stripe shortage, here’s the reason.

Translatinas float (yes, we can read, too).

Macy’s shilling for shoppers in the name of Pride.

Multi-tasker – both photographer and marcher.

Merry Zip Car studs.

From Logo’s A-list: New York – Ryan Nikulas & Rodiney Santiago. Who knew? We didn’t.

Roman Empire boys.

We’ll keep that in mind.

Pretty young people.

Fabulous showgirls!

You came to the right parade fella.

At least they’re not nerds.

Definitely a geek.

Geek taking a bow.

Gay puppet Pride.

In case anyone missed seeing the 9,843 earlier rainbow flags, here are two more.

LGBT Bikram yoga lovers.

LGBT Russians!

Lez Factor (not related to Max Factor) marching.

Israeli guys marching.

She brings offerings but it’s not food so we pass.

Go girls.

Go Magazine float.

Occupy Wall Street marcher with Madonna issue (must prefer Lady Gaga).

Pride in a rainbow gown.

LGBT Mormons.

Pole dancer making it look uncomfortable; I’ll take the stairs.

Chief.

Mr. Pansy at the end returning to his own planet until we reconvene in 2013.