The Malternative... A trend that bothers my sense of good taste.

So, yeah. There's all these malt beverages now, going around on the coat-tails of their parent liquors. The Unwashed apparently believe that these supermarket prizes contain actual name brand hooch, and the ads support this, but it's a lie. They're King Cobra gone up-market.
And they suck. As a friend of mine put it, "How many times can you re-invent Zima?"
There's crap from Smirnoff, Captain Morgan, Jack Daniels, et al. (Like a vodka tonic, rum and coke or Jack and Ginger are that hard to make.)
It all start with hard lemonade. *shudders*
I'm also having a hard time with real booze being advertized on air. It just seems wrong, somehow. Not Fred-Flinstone-handing-Barney-Rubble-a-smoth-relaxing-Lucky-Strike wrong, but still off.
Not to mention the Trojan Man condom spots...

As I am busy pontificating, I'll give another Jay's Rule of Life, a la the rant about the Police and French Fries. People ask me about spotting gay men. I try to persuade them that a) being gay is about whom you sleep with, not what you look like [Hark the Voice of One Crying in the Wilderness here] and b) (as a result) I have no gay-dar.
I cut the difference and give them my one, rock-solid, built on experience and never-contradicted observation. Gay boys have cute shoes.
Yeah, it's not much, but it seems right. They care enough about their appearance to wear something beside bombed-out Nikes.
I have many cute shoes.

I've been going out a bit recently. I've been going (back) to Orange County Social Club and Henry's. I have even been spotted at Hell.
TBWWBR turns out to be wealthy and frequently picks up the tab. In return, I give him a ride.
(And get him home. The boy drinks like a fish but can't handle his liquor. Friday he fell on Franklin Street, face first. He cut his nose and chin and chipped a tooth. I don't mind so much walking/carrying him home, but I'm not really use to transporting drunk boys home without... um, them being really thankful. If nothing else, being sober and talking to/with a drunk is no fun.)
Back to the story. We both are partial to the Social Club (OCSC = any smoky Indie Bar with some pool and a rockin' jukebox. The fact that it's members only only serves to increase the general level of local Indie Kids' smugness -- "They can't get in, he he...") so we quite often go there. Except, Not-Neil the Recordshop Boy has been there every time. He's even been at Henry's a time or two as well. It's quite embarrassing. I'm pretty certain he likes me, cause I think he asked me out once but I didn't twig till I was down the street. Now he's reluctant to talk to me and I'm embarrassed to talk back.
I console myself by thinking that he, like everyone else I fancy, is really straight.
I do like going out again, though.
(I should go out more and meet more gay people [see the I Need Lovin Entry], but I'm too dumb to know where to go*...)

TREMBLING BLUES STARS and ABERDEEN are tomorrow!!! Yay, yay, yay. *Butt wiggles furiously in prolonged Happy Dance* Over the weekend, I though of finding a lover. It would then end tragically today so I'd be in the right mood for tomorrow night. This did not happen. See above.
And I'm going with Aruni, making it an official Sinister event, especially if Stout Robin and a girl can make one in Wales. I will report back there, anyway.

I watched no Dr Who today.

Word of the Day: Malternative Beverage. This is a drink with malt liquor, like King Cobra. Mostly, it's beer fortified with extra malt so that as it ferments, it gives a slightly higher proof. It also leaves a nasty aftertaste similar to bile (which is why good beer eschews too much and has lower proof). It is the base of the nasty drinks I started off babbling about.)

I'm reading Chap 2 of Book II of Lord of the Rings. Man, last night I got sucked in completely. I don't want to turn into a Big(ger) Geek, but this shit is good. I liked the movie, and this is better.

In other Geekyness, I have a curious habit to question. As I have mentioned, I have a large collection of Dr Who books. Geeky, yes, extremely, but one of the great pleasures of my life. I potter around in them like a retired Englishmen in his garden (think Riiiichaaad from Keeping Up Appearances).
Now one of these books is called I, Who. It's not authorized by the BBC, who own the copyrights on Dr Who,** but lists, summarizes and reviews all the books published since 1991. Every single one of which I have and have read.
So why do I keep re-reading this book? I read it quite a bit, actually, but I have no clew why. I'd compare it to re-watching a good movie (like, say, Clue), but it's more like re-watching Roger Ebert review it. And it's filled with glaring typos that drive me up the wall.
Quirky.

Reason Laura Llew rocks number eleventy-seven-something: No reason she rocks more than usual, but I will clarify a point. I'd mention the specific word I was talking about yesterday, but it's soooo glaringly obvious that it would send me into lipothymies of delight (see: It Pays To Increase Your Word Power, folks) and I wish to keep a tattered cloak of mystery to my person.

*I won't go to the one local gay club. I'm not pretty enough, I don't like super-loud techno, I can't dance, and I always felt like the high-light of the night would be "skanky blow jobs round the back of Krystals Nite Spot." (Oh how I love that term). Though to be honest, I'd go for that, if I didn't have to wade through shirtless muscle boys, twinks in pajama pants (I dunno, I guess the drawstrings make for easier access), the Garth Brooks wannabe and creepy 60 year olds to get them.

**Did you know the BBC bought the copyright for Police Boxes off Her Majesty's Government? The BBC own the design for polices boxes, just because Dr Who travels about in one. It's probably not worth much, as two-way radios made them obsolete, but I have heard they're being re-introduced. (I saw the last blue one ever at the Barnett Bypass in Hampshire (I think), as a birthday present from my Gran when I was 4. There's an actual picture of me someone in front of a police box!! *giggles*)
But still, quirky.

The vast length of this post makes up for my recent neglect.