Of the many times I have visited the Pacific Northwest I had never ventured out into the surrounding countryside. That sort of exploring is not easy to achieve when you’re flown in for a seedy, late-night dance gig and whisked away right afterward. From previous visits to Seattle and Portland I knew both cities have a green attitude and encourage bicycle travel, which I have come to miss lately in my mobile world. This time my visit was focused on experiencing the real Seattle with my tour guide Sam.

As you may have guessed because it’s so damn obvious – I loved Seattle and it could be one of my new favorite all around cities. There was water everywhere you looked and the best part of it was that you could, at any place really, pull over, get the dog and go for a swim, hike or just sit there and wonder why you didn’t live there.

Every single time I’ve been to Seattle or Portland the weather was sun-shiny gorgeous – even in winter. Then someone informed me that non-sunny days far outnumber the sunny ones, that moist is the word du jour and I couldn’t count on my freakish luck to provide fair weather as a resident. Crap.

Here are some lovely photos I took with my phone.

As soon as I saw her name on the phone display I knew mom had bad news. After eighteen years of companionship, the last of my childhood pets had to be put down. Homer was one of seven animals that occupied our household throughout the years – the last after Charlie, the dog I got when I was six died.

Homer was more than a cat and as much a part of the family as I was. He even had his own place setting at the dinner table where he would wait patiently in the chair for his food to arrive like a king on his throne. In contrast to this image, Homer was truly an outdoor cat and made every attempt to earn his keep on the homestead. His contributions to the household included came in the form of beheaded bunnies, tufts of feathers and various vital organs strewn about the patio. I know Ma Hazzard wasn’t thrilled with those “prizes”, but Homer was always particularly proud knowing he didn’t come home empty handed. He would charge in, throw himself on his back, do a little jig and then perch in front of the TV and clean himself, basking in his success.

I think he was happiest in the vast woods that surrounded the house we lived in when I was still in school. My brother and I would take off for the afternoon to hunt for toads, set small fires and engage in general mischief. Homer would be right behind use like a golden retriever excited for the next adventure. Unlike most cats I encounter, Homer never ran away from visitors. He would be right there when the first guest arrived to greet everybody with his signature vocal salute and dance. He bravely hopped on the lap of anybody that was seated, making himself a great place to see and be seen, relax and enjoy the gathering.

Homer and my dad were very close, don’t ask me how but those two were real buddies. When my dad was dying at home Homer would hop on his bed completely aware of where the tubes and wires were and would literally tip toe around the medical equipment until he got next to my dad to lay down and spend some time with him. It was clear he knew what was going on and was trying his best to comfort his friend.

It’s sad to watch something you love wither away. As a parent to an animal I can identify with the idea of trying to do everything in your power to make them better. Mom tried all there was to try. It got to the point where there were no vocals and no dance. It had come time to drop the curtain and bid him goodbye. We will miss you Homer Pierre. And when you see Helen, Harvey, Hamlet, Heidi, Rambo and Charlie tell him we said “Hey”.

At the gym the other day I over heard one of the guys talking about “Whitewater” and how his dog slipped on a rock, cut her foot and fell into the river. Wait a minute? River? Was he talking about some state park up north? I didn’t know so in between presses I casually asked him what Whitewater was only to find out that 20 minutes from my condo is a preserve in Whitewater Canyon. All this time and I never knew an actual river flowed through this area from the mountains. Needless to say, I canceled my plans for the next day and told Petey we were going to see some water.

I was stoked to find how close this thing was to me. The drive east into the mountains became cooler and greener; always a good indication at this time of year. The road took us to a Ranger Station. All around the log cabin were warnings of mountain lions, rattlesnakes, black bears and bighorn sheep. It was nearly 100 degrees out so the only thing I really had to worry about was the rattlers and since my plan was to be in or around the river I wasn’t that concerned. Besides, those guys are pretty considerate when it comes to letting you know that you or your dog is too close for their liking.

A short walk along a very primitive stone-lined path led us west to a beautiful oasis-like scene. It was a river, not a creek, but a wide, flowing river that moved so fast in some spaces that it became “white water” from the small waves that crested over the rocks and such. I felt like it was Christmas morning! I unleashed Petey and jumped down the small dirt cliff, slid all the way down to the river and ran into the water. As I sat on a rock and felt the water creep up my legs and soak my shorts, I looked down and schools of tadpoles in all sorts of development were wiggling all around my feet. The water was so clear that I was tempted to dunk my head and have a drink, but for obvious reasons, I did not. About an hour into the walk we came upon a rugged shelter made of sticks, twine and brush. This is the shit that you see on that Discovery Channel show about the guy who is in the Outback or somewhere completely remote and drinks his piss and eats worms.

Being here has not been easy, but having this jewel in my backyard makes it a little better for sure.

Sorry for the last minute notice, but sometimes these things come together rather suddenly. You know, like a car crash. Tonight is my guest bartender premiere at the newly reopened and infinitely improved Micky’s in the heart of boystown in West Hollywood. If you’re in the area stop by and say hello. If things go well tonight this may turn into a regular event. *grin*

I spent the week of Thanksgiving in Southern Florida going between Miami and Ft Lauderdale. There is a strip bar called the Boardwalk in Ft. Lauderdale where Chi Chi and I headlined from Wednesday to Saturday. I was not the only one there. I shared the bar with 5 great guys from FabScout Entertainment:

Colton Spencer, Bruno Bond, (me), Dean Tucker, Ryan Raz and Josh Hart.

Aside from my little number and Chi Chi’s music I counted about 25 different guys dancing around the bar, stage and wherever they could find room. Some were straight, some were gay and there were a couple of them that had the most enormous dicks I had ever seen; it must be in the water.

Oh come on, he’s hot! Just don’t ask me why…

The guy dancing to my song was straight and from Venezuela… I heart-ed him… I have no idea because he is SO not my type. Chi Chi took the camera from me and asked, “Why do you like that?”

With the thin and gorgeous Chi Chi LaRue.

At any rate, I drank too much, stayed out way too late and had way too much fun. This post will make more sense when the video is finished. I went a little crazy with video during that trip!

Thanksgiving Double Trouble.