friday night camera fun!

Oh yes, I think I am going to like this camera.

I'll start at the beginning...



I had been hanging out with my buddy Megan, who is in town visiting from Cleveland. That's her, posing in North Beach. I've known her for almost 20 years now...she and my sister Hillary were friends in high school, and she's pretty damn cool. She's also an aspiring photographer, specializing in photographing rock bands, and we took a ton of pictures together. Oh, she also once took a 7 year-old to a Ween concert. I love it...she fucking rocks. She actually lives back in my old neighborhood in Cleveland Heights right now. So I hung out with her and her friend in the Mission for a few hours, where we invented a few new cocktails. Apple juice and Absolut Citron with a slice of lime is pretty damn good, actually. I bade them farewell, then went to the Castro to go look for a friend of mine who asked me to help him film a scene of a documentary he's making.

Unfortunately, my friend was nowhere to be found. Didn't answer my calls or return them, and wasn't home. Who the hell knows what happened.

I figured it'd be easy to get a cab in the Castro, and it was just a few blocks away, so I walked over. The evening was about to take an unpredicable turn, because just as I was going to get into a cab (I was wearing dumpy-looking pants, a baggy shirt, my hair was a mess, and I hadn't shaved in two days), I ran into my friend Wally, who grabbed my arm and dragged me into Daddy's on Castro.

Oh boy.



That's Wally, by the way...and yes, he's wearing a hot Members Only jacket. Hey, he looks good in it...the kid can pull it off. I run into Wally EVERYWHERE...in places we least expect to see each other. I've run into him in a secret Tenderloin speakeasy, Safeway, randomly on the street, every hot house party I've been to in the past year, and even The Abbey in West Hollywood.

Hey...we're two jet-setting homos with full dance cards, what can we say?

"We're going to a party, ChadFox, come with us," Wally informed me.

"No, Wally, I look like shit and I'm tired and I jus-"

"Oh, fuck off. You're going to get in the cab and come to the party," Wally cut me off, and walked out the door, with his friend in tow, drinks in their hands.



"Uh, Wally, you can't take that outside-"

"Oh, who fucking cares? It's a go-cup!" He called a cab, apparently thinking he was in New Orleans or something. Why he called a cab is beyond me, since Castro Street was choked with them at the time.

"Fine." I got in as the cab rolled up and took us to the party in the Lower Haight.



That's my friend Cole there...he was at the party, and yes, he likes to dress up. He actually modified that shirt himself. The knives in the background are a nice touch, too. Anyway, he looked hot, and like a total rock star. We actually got a chance to talk, and I don't know if he was sincere or it was the alcohol talking, but he said he missed seeing me and hanging out with me since Chris F. and I broke up. It was so sweet...and another MoreBoy, Matt, said the same thing. Matt and I chatted for a bit, and he made a few taxicab confessions to me...like I said, maybe it was just the alcohol, but it was funny and sweet nonetheless. It totally made my night, actually. I've always liked those boys...they have great energy and intelligence, and their creativity is just off the charts and absolutely inspiring to me. That's what I like about Cole...he does whatever the hell he wants and always makes it work.



Hot!

He was also sporting homemade mukluks:



Like Wally with his Members Only jacket, only Cole could pull that look off and look amazing. I adore that boy.

Now, if there's one thing smart, creative, wildly and scantily-clad gay boys filled with alcohol like to do at San Francisco house parties, they like to pose for pictures. That's why I got this shot:



Oh, you'd better believe that one is going in the show. That boy's name is Chris D., and I think I had better stop meeting so many Chrises before I run out of last initials. Thank god Daigle dropped his first name so he's no longer a Chris.

Anyway, I just love Chris D.'s nipple. I wanted to bite it, actually, but refrained:



Nippleriffic! Nippleabulous! Nipple- oh fuck it. It was a nice nipple.



That's Andrew there, with Chris. He was wearing a pink cowboy hat with rhinestones...totally hot. Andrew is pretty cool, actually...he's a mathematician, schoolteacher, artist, and musician. Another brilliant, creative mind I feel fortunate to be around. Now, the light was low, and I didn't have a tripod with me, so these photos are a little blurry...sorry.

Andrew looked a little ill at ease, so I told him to make out with Chris. They did as they were told:



Which of course put Andrew at ease:



At that point, I was getting tired, Chris disappeared, and Andrew and I spent about an hour just shooting the shit in the kitchen, hanging out, and talking.

Somehow, I got my grubby, skanky self home, where I slept quite soundly...almost missing the Bay Area Blogger Roundup at KRON-4 on Saturday morning...