Happy Birthday, Harry

Today is Harry Potter’s 39th birthday and to celebrate I’m gonna make 13 t-shirts, 11 bathing suits, ten pairs of shorts, eight pairs of underwear, seven pairs of shoes, six pairs of socks, three pairs of pants, two hoodies, two polos and one button-down disappear.

Ready?

Wingardium mimosa!

And now, off to P-Town!

P.S. This isn’t the first time I’ve done magic on this blog.

Home Alone 6: So Very Alone

It’s been a mere four days since Bevan and Sid ditched me for the Cape and already I’ve settled comfortably into peak hermithood.

Since their departure I’ve binged four seasons of Schitt’s Creek, slept an average of 10 hours per night and slathered every last beauty concoction in our medicine cabinet onto my face skin.

Mercifully, I’m slated to head their way on a redeye tomorrow night for nine days in P-Town followed by four in NYC. When I return to the Bay I’ll be one year older, zero percent tanner and, hopefully, a hell of a lot less busted than I appear in that selfie.

H Takes Manhattan

My sister caught my five-year-old nephew stuffing legos and a blanket into his backpack this afternoon, the teepee from his playroom rolled up on the floor next to him, and the following conversation ensued.

Kelly: What are you doing?

Harrison: Packing.

Kelly: I can see that. Where are you going?

Harrison: New York.

Kelly: How come?

Harrison: To see the beautiful lights.

Kelly: And what’s the teepee for?

Harrison: I don’t want to pay for a hotel.

Something tells me that kid will do just fine in the Big Apple.

Bryan and Jess Do SF

My little brother Bryan and his female wife Jessica have been told by a medical professional to expect a tiny human of their creation to arrive sometime prior to Thanksgiving which is why they traveled to my home in California to partake in a pilgrimage that they and, from what I understand, other heterosexuals refer to as a “babymoon”, a vacation of sorts, usually in the woman’s second trimester, celebrating parentlessness one final time before a miniature person wreaks havoc upon their foreseeable futures.

During their “babymoon” we did things, neat things, such as:

  • run with gays

  • stuff ourselves with meat

  • eat dim sum

  • see Hamilton

  • hike Twin Peaks

  • consume burritos in Dolores Park

  • tour the dome at City Hall

  • lie with my domestic animals

It was v. (very) enjoyable and I was e. (extremely) sad to see them leave though possibly less sad than Ellie who, at one point during their stay, made off with one of Bryan’s running socks which we later found, unmolested, in our bed, Ellie sound asleep beside it.

Yay, I’m Gay

It’s Pride Week in my neck of world and to kick it off I rode Bevan’s coattails all the way to the state capital last night to rage at the governor’s mansion.

Unbeknownst to me it’s two thousand degrees in Sacramento in June and I forgot to put on deodorant so I thought it appropriate that the first hand I shook upon entering the manse belonged to someone v. tolerant of dude sweat—former NBA player Jason Collins, the first openly gay athlete to play in any of the four major North American pro sports leagues.

Other LGBTQIA+ movers, shakers and allies in attendance were Governor Gavin Newsom, Senator Scott Wiener, Empress Nicole and the Stuart Milk.

Oh yeah, these studs, too.

Remember when I didn’t wanna be gay?