Star Wars III – Yoda is a Badass

Last night, in the midst of hype, crowds, and even a Storm Trooper from Endor, I showed my full Geek colors and stood in a two-hour line to see Star Wars: Episode III – Revenge of the Sith, and I have to tell you… it was good! George Lucas finally broke out of his stink bomb mode and made a decent move. Yes, it was cheesy, especially the Darth Vader Frankenstein scene which would’ve only been more over the top had he screamed ‘I am alive!’, and Lucas sucks at romance, can Anakin be more fake and Padmé more two-dimensional?, but he did recapture the spirit of the original three.

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I will be an Olympian!

Up the hill I pedal. Slowly turning the gears, my lowest, as the seemingly vertical road keeps stretching out in front of me. Up and up I go, around the curve, and still up, till finally, with thighs burning and sweat pouring, I crest the hill. Now it’s easy to pedal and I shift up quickly into my highest gear. Spinning, twisting, turning, I am now flying at maximum speed through the turns of Rock Creek Parkway’s Ross Drive, screaming with delight as I pass trees and time in a blur.

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Skipping San Diego Style

So I am out in San Diego for the weekend and it’s a high school flashback for me. More than my 2002 visit, this time out I am reminded so much why I left Vero Beach, never to return. Like my feelings for Ile de Ngor in Dakar, I love the beach, it is in my blood, but it is not my whole life now. And San Diego is all about the beach.

From a view of it at the top of every hill, to the salt in the air, to the clothes everyone wears, this is a beach town.

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Dream Date for Sale!

I bet you’ve never asked yourself that question. I never asked it either until last night when I wandered through the packed throng of bidders, wearing my ‘Buy Me!’ sticker, and feeling like a prize steer. It was odd seeing folks scan me like a piece of meat, and not in the usual gay man in Dupont kinda way either. There were women, hot women, wealthy women, women who would be waving $20’s in the air even before I took my shirt off. Women, and men, who were at Whitlow’s on Wilson to bid on Babes for Boobs, the Third Annual Celebrity Dream Date Auction to raise money for the Avon Walk for Breast Cancer Research. And I was a Babe up for bidding.

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The Ms. Pac Man Challenge

Into the bar he walked and across the way he looked. She was there, his nemesis, ready and waiting. Was he ready? Could he challenge her, was it to be a duel to the death? Only one way to know he thought, challenge her now or else, live in fear and denial his whole life. So he did, and they went to the Ms. Pac Man, drinks, and thumbs at the ready.

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