To tomorrow’s hellish commute

To all my friends in the East Bay…good luck getting into the city tomorrow.  This is a MAJOR artery in and out of San Francisco.  Gone.  In flames.  At 3:45 a.m. today, some poor schmuck was driving his trailer truck with thousands of gallons of gas attached too fast.  Tomorrow, we all pay ($10 million to replace, they say).  Maybe he will make Donnie’s Mug Shot Monday!

I’m busier than Sanjaya

It seems that as I get older, time goes by faster. This week is no exception. With a flurry of activity in my life (all seemingly good), I join other bloggers in apologizing for not posting. Not for lack of content, but rather lack of time. Jimmi and I have also not recorded a new podcast but intend to this weekend. Don’t be surprised if one of you end up on the show!

First, my best friends from Santa Fe are in town for his mother’s 7oth birthday all week. They brought along my goddaughter, and its awesome to see her (and them). With dinners and drinks scheduled every night, we have enjoyed The Slanted Door, Cafe Americano, Bistro Yoffi (where Donnan sang with the jazz trio last night), and other indulgences. I am finally home tonight for the first time since last week.  However, he took one look at me and observed “you look wrinkled.”

Second, my dogwalker just had a son, and her husband (who had substituted for her over the past several months) has been recalled to Iraq — so, I’ve spent time trying to find a new dog walker — to no avail. Does anyone need some extra cash walking Louie? Email me and let me know. I have to say that I don’t feel envious of my dogwalker’s world right now…

Third, I wasted my time watching “American Idol Gives Back” last night. As much as I believe in the cause they are supporting (diminishing poverty in the U.S. and in Africa), I can’t say that watching Ryan Seacrest and Simon prance around Africa in their Hugo Boss helps me sympathize with the children they are trying to help. Kudos to them for “giving back,” but when Simon is such an asshole all the time, his credibility as a philanthropist is difficult for me to imagine. And, I’m glad Sanjaya is gone but he has been busy — trips to D.C. for the correspondent’s dinner, a trip back to Los Angeles to appear in AI’s studio audience, and other public appearances. Why do the least talented performers end up with all the gigs?

Fourth, work sucks.

Fifth, I did book a trip to Phoenix in May to visit Darin and Jimmi. I really need a weekend away. Unfortunately, my husband will not join me due to work but I’m going anyway!

Tomorrow’s Friday and I am ready…!

Something I wrote in 1994

I applied for my MBA program 13 years ago. This past weekend, I was cleaning my files and found my long-lost application essay to Stanford Business School. I didn’t get in. But, I loved this essay then and I love it now. I forgot all about it. And, here it is word for word…


There are many adjectives that can be used to describe you. Choose one, and provide a personal anecdote or professional experience that illustrates its meaning.


Many people who know me well would have various words to describe me. A former girlfriend has said that I am a combination of Charlie Brown and Jack Tripper. My mom would probably describe me as wonderful. My best friend would probably use the adjective hyper-sensitive. My gas pedal would most likely say I was impatient. But when I think of a word to describe me, the word screwball comes to mind.

Don’t get me wrong! I am very serious about my professional career and can solicit a large gift from the most apprehensive of prospects. I accept my job as a non-profit fundraiser as a crucial element in addressing the university’s budget crisis. But, you see, one of my heroines is Lucille Ball. I admire her comedic reactions because I often find myself in similar unbelievable situations. And I do not even try to be Charlie Brown or Jack Tripper. For example, one day about a year ago I went to the grocery store to replenish my refrigerator. While I was parked, a swarm (well, about six) wasps had flown into the back of my car. I returned and started driving home. All of a sudden they attacked me. While I was swatting them, I sideswiped a bus stop sign and knocked off my side mirror. Two days later I drove to the dealership for a replacement mirror. A large trailer truck was unloading cars and I backed into a new parking space. In the process, I upset a fire hydrant. After a loud thud, I looked into the rear view mirror to see Old Faithful gushing upwards. I know this scenario sounds like the script for a bad situation comedy but it actually happened!

My point is that I feel the lighter side of life is necessary in day-to-day existence. A famous magazine describes “laughter as the best medicine” and I agree. One of the people at whom I laugh most is myself. When my filing cabinet toppled on top of me one day in my office and I was in pain, I laughed. I wanted to send a message to my colleagues that all was well. Like screwball Lucy, I will sometimes wear a crazy costume or disguise but mostly to the extent of wearing a tacky tie to work. I probably will not name my child Little Ricky nor will I play a bad version of “Glow Worm” on the saxophone. Most likely, I will never socialize with a married couple named Fred and Ethel. However, I plan to approach all my endeavors with the utmost good intentions and, most importantly, an underlying sense of humor to get me through the low points. This is how my heroine, the screwball, approached every episode of “I Love Lucy.”

In the complex world in which we live, with all its pressures and problems, a sense of humor has never been more important. There are many reasons for us to hurt, but when we watch Lucy, we laugh. When I die, I want people to remember me for all my accomplishments, friendship, sincerity, and my love of life — but, most of all, I want to be remembered just as we remember Lucy. As a screwball. God rest her soul.

I didn’t get into Stanford Business School. But, it doesn’t really matter, does it? My words still resonate with me 13 years later. That’s something I never expected when I originally wrote this piece.

Let us know if you will attend…

Our Evite for the upcoming Gay Blogger Summit II is now live — if you didn’t receive an evite and would like to join us, please be sure to go here and invite yourself.  If that doesn’t work, be sure to email me at and I will add you.  Or, leave a comment on this post.  You see, you have no excuse NOT to attend!

When: Friday, June 22, 2007 (during San Francisco Pride Weekend 2007) – around 7ish

Where: The Gallery Lounge – 510 Brannan Street (at 4th Street) – San Francisco, CA

Why: Why not?

There’s a new guurl in town, and she’s sucking dick…

Darin, Jimmi, Chris, and all my friends in Phoenix –

You have a new neighbor! I envision him guesting on the “All Prep and No H” podcast and swimming with Jimmi in his pool. Maybe hanging with Chris and Michael as they decorate an oversized running shoe for Phoenix Pride. Perhaps sipping a cup of coffee at Mel’s Diner. Get ready — here she cums!

Ted Haggard heads to Phoenix

(Sung to the tune of the theme from “Alice”):

“Early to meth, early to rise,

And in between I poked and squeezed and worshiped his size.

Going through life with chaps and dykes, it’s hard to pee.

I had to get soused, get out from under and fuck his deed.

There’s a new girl in town, and she’s looooking good.

There’s a fresh dimpled ass in the neighborhood!”

Boys, greet him with your welcome wagon…

Over 100,000 served…

Sometime in the past day, a reader from British Columbia, Canada was visitor #100,000 to my l’il ‘ole blog. It’s kind of cool that I am still doing this — on the other hand, I can’t believe that my blog has lasted this long. And connected me with incredible people whom I can call friends.

What started as “Turning Forty” and has evolved into “DanNation” has proven quite a pet project.  While I don’t have anything to say on some days, on other days this blog serves as a conduit for my state of mind, emotions, and humor.  When I read a past entry, I go back to a day or incident over the past several years that I would have otherwise forgotten.  I relive an incident where I can look back and see growth and progress between then and now.  My memory is refreshed with forgotten party or bumped head in the locker room.  Or, I laugh again at a snarky comment from a reader.  And in some cases, I am reminded of a religious nutcase telling me that I will burn in hell.  I look forward to seeing you all there, by the way!

When I was a little queer, I had a diary hidden under my bed with an easily-breakable lock.  I was worried about someone finding my deepest and darkest secrets.  30 years later, not only do I not have this diary hidden under lock and key, my life is here in all its glory for anyone with Google to find.  Hmmmm.  I guess I have nothing to fear anymore.  That’s a really good thing.  Will I wake up some morning and say this pet project is done?  Perhaps — like with every good sitcom, there has to be a final episode.  Even Bob Barker is retiring after 35 years.  I guess I still have a ways to go.

Here’s to 1,000,000!

For all those who said that it didn’t matter…

…if George W. Bush won the presidency or not in 2000 and 2004. Who did not vote in either election because “their vote wouldn’t matter.”  Who were unconcerned about the far-reaching impact of a Bush Presidency, including Supreme Court appointments.  Who underestimated the influence of the religious right on national policy.  Who don’t care that the government is in the business of telling us who we can love and who we can’t; what we should do with our bodies and what we shouldn’t; and finding out what books we read, who we call and where we travel; and how we live our lives…

…need to read about today’s tragedy:

High court upholds first federal ban on late-term abortions