Thursday, July 9, 2009

Birthday Bash

The other day while perusing the emails I usually get for erectile dysfunction and exciting business opportunities in the exploding economy of Nigeria, I had the extreme displeasure to receive the following emailed 'invitation.'


Mark Raymond Anderson-Goldstein and Stanley Richard Anderson-Goldstein

invite your child to the year's most SUPER birthday party when

Cody Trevor Anderson-Goldstein (aka Super Man)

turns 8 years old Saturday, August 15th, 2009!

Your child will have to muster all of his super powers to join this SUPER FRIENDS party as we require that all of our young heroes come dressed in homemade, handcrafted 'Old School' super hero, heroine or villain costumes.

(Please no store-bought BEN 10, STAR WARS, CLONE WARS, HIGH SCHOOL MUSICAL, DORA THE EXPLORER, DIEGO or HANNA MONTANA outfits. We not only find the exploitative and abusive employment practices of the Chinese manufacturing establishment offensive, we also abhor the violent, consumerist message cleverly disguised as 'content' contained in these shows. In addition, we've been advised by our family physician that prolonged exposure to the harsh chemicals used during the manufacture of these costumes can cause headaches, seizures, brain damage, and eventual death. As we've just put down a sizable deposit at RED WOOD, LA's most exclusive and expensive private school - this policy will be strictly enforced!)

So we can get a proper a proper headcount, an RSVP is MANDATORY!

Call me crazy, but are these queens CONTROL FREAKS or what?

When George and I drunkenly decided over Sushi 9 years ago what 'fun' it would be to have a kid, we not only fantasized about our future son or daughter's supermodel looks, intellectual genius, and irrepressible charm, we also fantasized about the glamorous 'Velvet Mafia' friends we would have. Like unicorns, elves, and space aliens, there lives an urban legend that a secret society of 'A' list gay men and Lesbians exists. Supposedly, this super-secret society of cultured, effete rich men and women travel the world on their solid gold yachts hosting lively cocktail soirees while discussing the important works of Christopher Isherwood, Alice B. Toklas, and Herman Melville. We had been told by God-knows-how-many queers that the entrance 'ticket' to such a select, chummy club would be a child, as newborns were the new status symbol that practically every gay couple was clamouring for!

Now remember people, this was nearly ten years ago! Nowadays, you can't swing a dead cat in LA without hitting some beaming gay couple, their Starbucks in hand, pushing some dreary, overpriced Bugaboo stroller. I know you've seen them too - their perfectly outfitted baby strapped securely in the BabyBjorn pressed against their maddeningly perfect, gym-worked pecs. Why is it whenever I see these guys, their baby is always peacefully asleep while their golden retriever walks patiently at their side? They look like a Bennetton Ad - I can't decide whether I despise them or want to sleep with them!

(To Be Continued)


  1. How do you do it all the time?

    I mean, the most minute things that we ALL witness, yet, so few see.

    While I know we have similar scenes in Chicago. My latest observations (3 within the last week) are of a silver, sometimes white, 2 door Bently silently coasting up to a traffic light... gleaming.. and, well silent. (don't those monsters have engines that actually make noise or is that too lower class?). In every case there has been a huge African American man at the help (rudder?), perfectly quaffed and stunning.

    I too haven't decided if I abhor them or, well, want to sleep with them too!

    Great job Todd!