I am the best French kisser in Chile Verde

[Yayayayayayay! A new frock makes a girl feel so good. A delightful afternoon yesterday with Chay resulted in my new look. Whaddaya think? Too faggy? Too Easter egg? (Warning: I like Easter eggs.) Anyway, I hope Andrew won't be offended that I've finally graduated from one of Diaryland's stock templates. Now, I just need pictures. And, now that I look at it, maybe a title. Coming soon.]

[Chay and I spent less than an hour on the redesign, and did a good, long walk around north Oakland and Berkeley: College Avenue all the way thru Rockridge and Elmwood, then thru campus down to Shattuck, then up to Telegraph and back to Rockridge. I'd done some of the walk before, but it was good to get a local perspective. My hazy image of some of mom's and grandma's old haunts is becoming clearer: Grandma was in Berkeley High's class of '35, and lived in Albany, Kensington and El Cerrito before moving to Sonoma, and Mom was born in Berkeley and went to El Cerrito High. But my knowledge of the area has been sketchy. Of course, a good companion to provide color commentary was necessary: thanks, Paul for the great day!]

[The celebrity cavalcade just keeps coming! What long unused understudy of Barbra Streisand's, who later found fame opposite Divine and Tab Hunter, just wrapped up two weeks au cabaret in San Francisco? John and I got our Lust In The Dust DVD cover signed, and felt like old school queers, listening to Lainie belt out such standards as "Embrace Me," "Over The Rainbow," and "The Man That Got Away." It's was a lovely ninety minutes, but I'm getting a real ache to participate in something a. butch, and b. contemporary. Any suggestions?]

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