Holy Crap! Did you see Six Feet Under?


So due to the collusion of baby duty, Bob Mould's party, and the two-day power outage, we just got around to watching this week's episode of Six Feet Under last night. Can I just say I did not see that one coming! I love it when a long-running show that I've watched since the first episode ties in ancient plot lines with little or no regard to more recent viewers. It makes me feel special. Part of the cool "been here with you since episode 1" club. Buffy and Angel were other shows that did that. Christ I sound like a geek. Oh well....

So is he dead???? Jenny and I say yes. Poor Character-Who-will-not-be-named-to-spare-the-videotapers-out-there, we hardly knew ye.


Baby baby, you wanna make us stay up all night

Whhhaaaaaaa! Whhaaaaa! WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA [choke] AAAAAAAAAAA [silent tongue vibrating] AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!! [Repeat for six hours]

That was Jenny's life last night. I had to go to bed at 1am in order to actually make it to work today, and Jenny took a big one for the team. Thank you honey.

FYI, Jenny is the best mom in the world.



Apparently, I look gay.

Due to my music magazine press contacts, I received an "exclusive" invite to attend the listening party for Bob Mould's new album, "Body of Song," at a bar in D.C. last night.

Bob, for anyone who doesn't know, was in the seminal band Hüsker Dü and later produced some of the coolest, heaviest albums made during the First Wave of Cool Alternative Music Before Alternative Music Was Popular (FWOCAMBAMWP)® back in the early '90s. Then he came out of the closet, moved to D.C., and became a DJ. Go figure.


I arrived at the bar, a lower Adam's Morgan joint called Duplex Grill, and immediately noticed that the only women in the room were Bob's PR agent and two bartenders. So it turns out that the Duplex Grill is a gay bar. No big deal, I have nothing against gay folks, obviously.

I sidled up to the bar and ordered an $8 Jack and Coke (HOLY SHIT!!!! $8!?!?!?! Now I know why Jenny and I stay home on Fridays...that and the baby, I guess. But I digress.) to kill time while Bob and his homeys set up the private party area.

As I'm sitting there, a couple of other guys there for the press event sit next to me, and when I strike up a conversation, one of them (who was also gay) pipes up with, "Oh, you're here for the Bob thing? I had you pegged as a regular here." When I ask why, he says, "You have the look."

"What's the look?," I ask.

"Oh, you know, the hat, the shaved head, the square, rimless glasses, the cargo shorts." At which point he grabs one of the other patrons to bolster his point. "Doesn't he look gay?"

"You're straight?," the other patron asks me.

"Yep," I reply, showing my wedding ring.

"Well, you look gay."


So there you have it, I look gay. I don't know whether to be flattered or what, but it is pretty funny.

To top off the evening, when I asked for directions to the men's room, my new friend gave me some sage advice: "Don't linger in there. You're a new daddy."