To Russia, With Love

Dear Friends and Family;

If you notice that I am wearing worn-out shoes, recycling tea bags, or that I am trying to stretch an economy sized peanut butter to last another week, it is because I am saving up for my own Russian mail-order husband. Here are some of my favorites:



Artem Chigvinsev

Dmitri on this season's So You Think You Can Dance (Booja Booja Booja OW!) is a pale shadow of last year's sexy Russian ballroom guy, Artem. One of the "hottest" moments of this year was him smooching octogenarian choreographer Mary Murphy, leading me to ask: what happened to the white-trash blonde he was married to when he auditioned last year? Answer: Who cares?


Gocha Choertkoev

Gocha may seem gay, because he dances ballroom and designs his wife/partner's competition clothes and occasionally dresses like a leisure pirate, but he's just European. I watched him compete in Latin on PBS all through the 90's, and if there was a movie of his life, I think Alan Cumming should play him. He's been on the awful Ballroom Bootcamp show on TLC.

Apparently, the streets of the former USSR are littered with lithe male ballroom dancers, and that's just a waste.

Eugene Mirman

I know it seems like one of these things is not like the others, and you'd be correct. Gocha and Artem are sexy, but Eugene is the sexiest of all. He made comedy at Dante's in Portland last Thursday, making a hot, muggy, packed room forget that we were sweating out all our component molecules. His humor is like a fist made of sweet, sweet endorphins. It hurts and it heals in the same stroke. In a couple days, Eugene will be playing Eugene, OR, and I have considered going to see if the synchronicity causes the universe to vibrate. If we were a "couple", people hearing about us might assume that we lived in Civil-War times, as in: Eugene and Virginia worked the land while trying to avoid marauding Yankees.

Postscript: And it's his birthday today, July 24th, so if you see him- tell him happy birthday.

French Bulldog Meetup

On Sunday, we had a dozen local Frenchies over to sniff and roll all over our yard. We had a little girl named Antoinette and a gentleman called Henri, so I felt that a good portion of pre-Revolution royalty was in attendance. The event came about because of the Portland French Bulldog Meetup. For two hours, my backyard was full of snorting, playing, stinky bulldogs, and now I am left with a yard full of poop...and my memories.


On the left, we have puppies hunting for dropped treats, and above, a tiny puppy sits in a lap.

If I Were Japanese

This is what my self-portrait would be today if I were Yoshitomo Nara, and if he looked more like me. Sometimes, people make me cranky.

Bulldog Patriotism

We were given a year pass to the Oregon Zoo recently, so that polar bear is gonna learn my f*cking name. We went to the counter to fill in the paperwork and the woman in the office said, "And do you have any children?" and I said "Why no, we're wasting our lives..."

I saw this little guy "otter-fellating" in front of a bunch of schoolkids yesterday, so, really, thank God we were at the zoo. I am not sure I could handle that kind of action in my neighborhood. A minute before this photo was taken, he was adorably playing with a purple plastic ball, and then he realized- what do I need this thing for, I can mouth my own junk!

I had a good five minutes at the Boiler Room on Monday, partly because I brought a tableful of supporters. I think that may be "key". An MP3 of questionable quality is available for download on the list at right. If you listen hard, you may be able to hear the booming bass laughter of my friend Ken Fu.


The 4th of July is a day of celebration of the country that invented Silly Putty, the Hulk, the swivel chair and the microwave oven, but it's also the 5th birthday of my little girl Frenchie, Hazel Samedi. She was given a hamburger patty of her very own, which she enjoyed, and she was made to dress as a ballerina, which she did not like as much.