Thanksgiving — today was like a sitcom


Happy Thanksgiving!

The clip above from “WKRP in Cincinnati” is one of the funniest clips in sitcom history — clearly, the gang had not researched that turkeys do not, in fact, fly.

My day was close.

Because of a busy work schedule, I had to bow out of Thanksgiving with Donnan and his family in Sacramento. So, I worked. After returning home, I rushed upstairs to drop off my briefcase and grab Louie so he could pee. Well, I left my cell phone and keys sitting on the kitchen table. Do you know that feeling you get the moment you have a realization? Mine was when we were in the hall, I heard the door close, and felt my pockets for my keys. They weren’t there. Fuck!

We went outside and Louie did his business. That had to happen. Upon entering the building through a in-the-progress-of-closing garage door, we raced into the building and up to the apartment. I rechecked the door as if it would suddenly open. Shit!

Our neighbor is away, so the “holiday guide to living in XXX Apartments” was still tucked in the apartment # sign of his place next door. It had the phone number of the locksmith contracted by our management company. Yes! However, Louie and I went door to door knocking to find a neighbor with a phone so we could call. Guess what? No one on the 4th floor was home. So, we went to the third floor and to the apartment just under ours. I heard music. BINGO!

I knocked and they answered. After the obligatory gay moment to see how they arranged their furniture versus us (we have the same layout), my downstairs neighbor let me use his phone to call the locksmith.

“We’ll be there in 4 to 5 hours,” the guy from the locksmith told me.

I was ready to cry. I then asked to use the phone to call Debra and Teddy to tell them that I wouldn’t make it to Thanksgiving dinner. But, you know what? I am so dependent on my cell phone, I actually don’t know ANYONE’s phone number — Chad Fox has an extra set of keys to our loft but I don’t know his number by heart. Shit (again)!

I didn’t even know Donnan’s number. Wait a minute – I did. As I dialed it, his voice mail picked up. “You’ve reached Donnan…”

So I left a frantic message for him to call Debra and tell her I’d be late and to call Chad and ask if he could race down in a cab with the extra set of keys. “But you can’t call me back,” I reported. “I don’t have my cell phone.”

With a shaky voice and a tear in my eye, I announced to the apartment full of people that Thanksgiving was canceled for me and to have a good time. They did not ask me to join their festivities. Louie was scratching at the door outside. I had to go sit in the lobby and wait.

Fortunately, three new phone books had arrived for a new tenant. They make a fabulous chair. I resigned myself to the fact that I would miss Thanksgiving when my neighbor who had leant me his iPhone got off the elevator.

“Hey – the locksmith called. He has another call in the area. He’ll be here in 15 minutes!”

I was psyched. And, yes, about 40 minutes and $75 later, he let me into the loft.

And, I had Thanksgiving after all.

I just wish that the poor WKRP gang had realized that turkeys don’t fly. But, it made for a great sitcom moment!

What I do remember about WKRP was Gary Sandy’s package…

Where has time flown to?

I can’t believe that it is already Thanksgiving. I’ve neglected my blog (among many other things) in the past few months as I’ve moved into a new job. Some of the items in my life that I normally would have covered go unreported at DanNation. Here are ten items that would have garnered posts (and didn’t):

  1. Donnan and I spent our one-year anniversary living together on November 3 (and our two year anniversary is coming up in 2 months)
  2. Louie had another cancer scare which turned out to be a false one (last week)
  3. My facial hair is everywhere as I take the helm of running a start-up business in Silicon Valley (I promise pictures if I become a bear)
  4. The days have become shorter and the nights colder – and I sleep less (everyday)
  5. My new work laptop has Microsoft Vista — absolutely the worst move forward in computer software I have ever encountered (Nathan and Adam – I am now a true Apple convert)
  6. The results of my South Beach Diet are looooong gone (sometime around Labor Day)
  7. The Jimmi & Dan Variety Cast #27: The boys interview Ryan Reynolds (mid-October)
  8. #7 never happened (of course)
  9. George W. Bush is still our president — and I haven’t even taken time to bitch about it (I just heard his voice on “Nightline” and thought to write about it – seems that his alcoholic daughter Jenna is getting married)
  10. My continued blog posts about lack of blog posts (at least once per week)

Now it’s Thanksgiving and what are we doing? Not too much. Donnan’s wonderful mom, Pilgrim (she was born on Thanksgiving) is in town and they are headed to visit Cousin Charlotte in Sacramento. I need to work on Thanksgiving Day (believe it or not), but plan to join Debra and Teddy for a late-in-the-day Thanksgiving dinner. Donnan and Pilgrim return on Friday and we rejoin for the rest of the weekend.

When I think that Thanksgiving is upon us, I can’t help but think how fast this year has passed. We are all another year older. I always find it unbelievable how quickly time flies by me. The sad part of how fast time flies is that I have not seen anyone in my family for almost two years. However, part of me is quite happy that I will not travel this weekend. I can’t even fathom the thoughts of sitting in an airport terminal with screaming kids around me, snow falling outside the terminal as a muffled voice on the loudspeaker announces yet another one hour delay, and fighting for a bag of 17 peanuts that is thrown at me from a queenie flight attendant. While I will miss family — including everyone in my far and close life — part of me is looking forward to some quiet and alone time on Thanksgiving Day. Who said that being alone is all that bad?

Besides, I might have time to blog #1 through #10 above. Hey Jimmi, should we record a new show?

If you are in San Francisco and have a pulse, please do not hesitate to be our guest…

I’m still here…

…at work and not blogging very much. I’m also suffering from the remnants of a tequila hangover (a long story). All is good and I’ll be back soon.

14 below in a plywood shack

I am still at the office.  It isn’t as much fun tonight as it was on Friday.  Three days here make me feel like the dude on the left.  Dude?  Remember, I’ve been hanging with all straight guys for a weekend.  In fact, we just opened our first beers of the night (remember, I’m with straight dudes).  Someone asked if there was a bottle opener and our new product manager had one built into the bottom of his flip flop.  Woooaaaa!

I did have a chance to talk with my college roommate this evening.  We remain close friends but we don’t get to spend much time together these days.  He is COO of a large internet company back east, is married with three kids, and commutes between New York and the DC area every week.  Of course, I live in San Francisco and my life is centered here for the long term.  But, we do have a chance to talk every few months and today was one of those times we were able to spend 30 minutes on the phone.

The topic of a ski trip that we all took in 1984 came up.  It was the end of our freshman year at Dartmouth and I wanted to show my friends a fun time over Christmas break.  I had heard that my cousin Ned owned a “ski house” near Sugarloaf Mountain and brokered a deal with him to use it for a couple of days.  I invited my various new Dartmouth friends to go skiing with me, and after delivering some kind of half-dead plant to Ned and his wife as a thank you present, I was ready for my first “adult” vacation.

Ron, Russell, Craig, Walter, Dave all arrived from their respective homes and we headed to the mountain.  We got there early enough to hit the first couple of runs of the day before the ubiquitous New England ski ice reared its ugly head and made skiing a deadly activity.  At about 4pm we were cold, wet, tired, and ready for beers at the “ski house.”

I scrupulously followed the directions scribbled on my three-ring notebook paper.  As the headlights of our car shone on what was supposed to be the house, our mouths dropped.  We had arrived at a plywood shack with a few mismatched doors and windows.  It was dark, but through the New England night we could see a chimney protruding from the tar-paper covered roof.

“Well, there’s a stove.  It will be fine,” I reassured everyone.

Damn.  The key Ned had given me worked.  It was the right place….

We flicked on the light switch to see antiquated furniture and old skiing equipment.  Bare mattresses held hastily folded blankets and pillows.

“Let’s get a fire going!” someone yelled.  I, on the other hand, found it a higher priority to open a beer.  I watched my breath as I exhaled and some of froze when it hit my Budweiser.

I think Dave and Walt got a fire going in the old cast metal stove.  Craig found a meat thermometer in the icebox — it read 14 degrees.

“Drink,” I told everyone.  “It will make you feel warmer.”

An hour later, we still were wearing our winter coats, teeth were chattering, and the meat thermometer read 15 degrees.  Since the plywood shack had no insulation, it wasn’t going to get much warmer.  At least we had good buzz ons (a great ’80s term, by the way).

It was time for bed.  I think it was I who suggested that all six of us share a bed for warmth (of course).  We found every blanket we could and piled it on top of us.  Spooning took on a new meaning.

Someone did put some wood on the fire during the night.  The temperature had risen to about 24 degrees by 8 a.m.

Needless to say, we spent the next night in the basement of a friend’s parents condo.  It was heaven.

So, Ron and I laughed this story to death today.  I had totally forgotten about it.  It’s strange what sits in the recesses of our minds until provoked by some variable in the present day.  And, it all came in the middle of a hellish launch of my company’s new web site.  Maybe it was reflecting on how far we have come that triggered the story.  At any rate, I really needed it!

Friday night




Have a great Friday night.  I am.  I did cry for awhile today about not going to see the show with Donnan, but at least I’m not going because I’m sick, injured, or dying.  It’s all for a good cause – our financial future.

Be green.  Talk with you soon.

When worlds collide

I have been incredibly preoccupied (from blogging, that is).  I am spending a lot of time running a business of which I am excited each and every moment.  It is my thing.  I have recently forgotten about my blog until my world here on the net hits me up side the head.

I woke up this morning for a 7 a.m. call with a business partner from New York.  I hit 101 in my car at 9 a.m. (I usually take the train but missed the bullet trains by the time I was ready to leave).  I took a call from an advertising partner — a site that advertises and provides support to women who blog.  We spent 45 minutes or so discussing the aspects of a deal we are working on together when I had to bring up my own blogging life.

ME:  Tell me a bit about your organization and blogging.  I spend some time with my own blog in the gay blogging world. [Uneasy feeling comes into my stomach bringing up such fodder in a business meeting].

HER:  What’s your blog?

ME:  It’s called

HER:  YOU’RE DANNATION!  I just read you last week.  You posted something political!

ME:  You didn’t scroll down to my Folsom Street entry, did you?


Did I actually post something political?  I don’t even remember.  It’s been awhile.

All I know is that we now have a business partner who reads this blog (Lisa – any comments?)

My real age




Nathan ran a blurb today that he is younger than his real age based on the RealAge Calculation. I took the test, and I am actually 4 years older than my biological age (or 45.9) according to the test. I guess my fondness of alcohol, no sleep, and my past life as a smoker altered these results. And, oh yea, some bouts with LSD, mushrooms, ecstasy, and some stimulants (way in my past) also contributed. Oh — I also forgot that both biological parents died of lung cancer before the age of 60. And, that I consistently drive 10 mph or higher over the speed limit. One more thing — I have had depression and have a skin disease known as psoriasis (that’s a whole other post).

Well, at least the results of the test were not that I am 102 like Bea Arthur (a.k.a. Darin). I can be thankful for that.